#I don’t think getting their company shut down should be presented as equivalent to a genocide but w/ever

[meat-loving-meat]

I’m thinking about Modern!AUs in fanfiction and why sometimes they’re some of my favorite fics and also sometimes the Worst™️. (<-that is a joke. There is no such thing as bad fanfiction, just fanfiction I don’t personally like.)

Because I LOVE Modern!AUs that ask interesting questions about how the setting of a story impacts the characters—how much of the setting can you remove while still being able to recognize the characters in question? All of it? None of it? What new problems would living in a world with planes and phones create for these characters? How are the social and political tensions of the original canon reflected in our own world?

The “problem” (again, not an actual problem, just a personal preference) is that most Modern!AUs COMPLETELY refuse to engage with any of that. They instead become a stale rehashing of the original canon except with lower stakes. Nothing about the modern setting adds interest, and everything interesting from the original setting falls away.

I think that a lot of people write Modern!AU fics to deescalate the conflict of the original canon and give the characters more relatable problems, which isn’t universally terrible, but it can so easily become boring. I don’t WANT to know what it would be like if one of these characters was a florist and the other was a tattoo artist; I want to know what would happen if you gave one of them a gun.

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost

↣ inspired by @haik-choo’s post

↣ wc: 1.7k 

↣ warnings: some self inflicted pain (nothing major!), cheating mentions, serious heartbreak. 

↣  song recommendation:  tolerate it - taylor swift 

↣  preamble (as written by haik-choo):  akaashi keiji doesn’t get that not everyone can understand how someone feels with one look. he puts an extra sugar in his coffee and expects you to know that he wants to go out to a bakery, he clicks his red pens a few extra times and expects you to know that he needs refills – he says he has a lot of work tonight and expects you to make him midnight snacks. to him, that stuff is easy. why can’t you understand him? he does it for you – he shouldn’t have to say it out loud. you should already know what he’s thinking. if you don’t, maybe you don’t love him as much as he thought you did.

The complexity of love has never been accurately represented in the media. Films present reality through the lens of a fractured mirror to provide viewers a sense of emotion they cannot find elsewhere. Fairy tales are perhaps the worst form of media to exist. They are created to be consumed by young impressionable children who develop unrealistic expectations that are later thrust upon the unfortunate souls that become their partners. You were one of those children who bought the falsities sold to you. Love was something magical, the intertwining of two hearts.

You were sixteen when you fell in love for the first time. Enthralled by how one emotion could paint new colours in the horizons, you allowed yourself to fall… it was perfect, until you found yourself crying on the bathroom floor, wondering why the fairy tales lied to you.

You were seventeen when you first experienced heart break. Even now, you can remember the shame that drenched your soul when you learned that the one you loved, had slept with someone else. Each inch of your skin was tainted by your “prince charming.”

That night, your mother had to drag you out of the bath. The pads of your toes and fingers had shriveled up, while your arms and legs burned a bright crimson from the incessant scrubbing. Yet the tingling of your skin was merely a scratch in comparison to the laceration inside of your heart, and there was no band aid that you could apply there.

That was December 3rd 2014 – the date you abandoned your foolish ideals.

You met Akaashi Keiji exactly six months later.

If you were ever asked to describe the mystery that is Keiji, where would you begin? Were there truly any words that could accurately capture the very essence of his kind soul? Or the depth of this mesmerizing eyes? How would you possibly begin to explain how a single caress by his calloused fingertips had melted away the imaginary grime that had coated your skin? If anyone was prince charming, it was him.

But little did you know that sometimes he doubted whether you were his Cinderella. His happily ever after…

The first indication of his veiled concerns occurred in your last year of high school. With the departure of his third-year friends, Akaashi was titled captain of the boy’s volleyball team. While he enjoyed volleyball, he was never obsessed with the sport like his best friend. Volleyball was his hobby, nothing more and nothing less. He was more concerned with maintaining his high academic record than securing a ticket to nationals. Last year balancing the various fragments of his life was simple. But the absence of his friends weighed on him, each day the anxiety increased until he could barely sit without jitters swarming his limbs. As his girlfriend, you should have known the stress he was battling… Sure, he was pushing you away, but you should have known why.

Yet, when you attempted to thwart his efforts to establish distance, you were chastised for your lack of understanding.

“Y/n. I am busy. Please do not disturb me during practice.” Not the slightest bit of respect was allocated to you, despite your status as his girlfriend. And while his pointed response was undoubtedly directed towards to you, his attention was on the practice commencing inside of the gym. “Listen, I need to go back. If you want to talk, consider picking a more appropriate time in the future.” Rolling the towel within his grasp, he refused to acknowledge you beyond sharing these words.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” To even utter an apology stole the limited resolve you had to address the situation. How much did you have to degrade yourself to fix a relationship he evidently did not want?

But the following day at lunch period, a dozen roses were delivered to you with an apology note attached to the stems. It was only natural for you to grant him the forgiveness he sought. Dismissing his actions was simple once you rationalized it as a normal reaction to an abundance of pressure. Diamonds may be created under pressure, but he was no diamond, and neither were you.

The second indication of his concealed doubts did not emerge from a set of actions, nor did it include the exchange of harsh words. Rather, it was his silence that nurtured your insecurities and provided you confirmation that while he was your happily-ever-after, you may not be his.

To celebrate Keiji’s 19th birthday, his mother had offered to host a gathering at his childhood home. When the details of the party were conveyed to you, excitement had fluttered to life inside of your stomach. It was the perfect opportunity to develop your relationship with the woman who had raised your wonderful boyfriend. Yet, not even the purest of intentions would save you from the humiliation that awaited you that night.

At one point of the evening, Keiji had vanished for a considerable amount of time. Naturally, you searched the house for your boyfriend. When you peaked inside of the kitchen, you found him engaging in a conversation with his mother. You almost called out to him instinctively, except your vocal cords denied you access when you caught the end of their conversation.  

“Has she been tending to your needs yet? Or has she remained as useless as before?” The older woman clutched the stem of her wine glass, with a scoff clawing at her throat. It seemed that the liquor coating her tongue had turned the muscular organ into a knife.

Keiji stood with his back pressed against the kitchen island, listening without a reaction. The nonchalance emanating from his demeanour indicated that this was not the first occurrence. No, this had happened before, otherwise he would have had some form of a reaction. A flinch – a twitch – anything. But he stood still, emotionless, distant. The targeting comments were equivalent to a whisper in the wind – not deserving of a response, nor a stir.

“Keiji, you are aware that you are wasting your time and yet you stay with her?” The sigh falling from her stained lips was extended to emphasize her distress, and the gentle sound was enough to weaken your knees.

No longer able to support your own weight, you leaned against the wall, allowing your eyelids to flutter shut. Your fingers tangled with the fabric of your shirt as you waited for his response.

Say something – anything. Just tell her she’s wrong.

Yet the denial never came.  

The first two indications were shoved aside, dismissed with excuses that would serve as a band-aid on your decaying relationship. But then came the third.

The third indication of his doubt occurred on an average college night when you were in the process of selecting your outfit for the night. Bokuto had arranged an unofficial Fukurodani reunion for the boy’s volleyball team. As Keiji’s girlfriend, the invite was naturally extended to you. Usually your boyfriend would be in higher spirits knowing that he would soon be in the company of his high school friends. But tonight, a frown remained etched into his features, not wavering for even a single moment.

“Which one? I don’t want to be underdressed. But on the other hand, Kou is always dressed really weird. So, I don’t know.” Two outfits were presented towards the male, a scarlet cocktail dress and a navy pantsuit with a low cut.

“Does it matter, y/n?” The sharp remark was blown out with a heavy sigh. It was as though he could not muster the energy to care for your feelings. Or perhaps, he simply chose to display his inner conflict, with no concern of the consequences of his decision.

The noise was startling enough to strip you of the excitement that once animated your movements.

“I guess not, but is it wrong that I want to look good for my boyfriend?” The counter question was voiced barely above a whisper, with each word sounding fainter than the last.

“Maybe if you knew me well enough you wouldn’t have to ask.” His eyes did not meet yours, rather they stayed fixed on the writing utensil within his grasp. “It’s not that hard, y/n. You just don’t care enough to put in the effort.”

The verbal assaults implanted daggers into your chest, but the pain would only become worse – since he was not done just yet.

“If you refuse to love me with your entire heart, what is the point? Let me go.”

“Keiji!” Pain cut along the inside of your throat from the shriek erupting from your chest. Had you ever screamed his name in quite a harsh manner? Liquid blurred your vision, and with your air-filled organs wheezing in distress, your words were stated between staggered breaths.

“I am not a fucking mind reader.” The fog of desperation encompassing you was comprised of poison, one that soon threaded throughout your system. The properties of the poison enflamed your lungs, burning the organs and halting the flow of air. Instinctively your hands were sent to your skin, clawing at the flesh as if you could simply rip out the emotions suffocating you. “Just because I don’t love you the way you think I should, doesn’t mean I don’t.” Whether the words spilling from your lips were responsible for the bitter taste in your mouth, or the tears now gracefully parading down your cheeks was unknown. Either way, the release of the steaming liquid eased the burning sensation in your lungs.

“I’m done, Keiji. I’m done.” Slowly claiming your insides was a thin layer of ice. By now, you had run out of excuses for his behaviour. There were no longer any band-aids you could use to tend to the wounds. The question of whether your boyfriend considered you “the one” was answered.

Despite the ache weaving into your muscles, your feet dragged you to the front door. A piece of you desired to catch one final glimpse of him – as your heart knew this would be the final time you would see him. But afraid you would lose your resolve to leave, you pressed the car keys against your palm, and remained fixed on the exit.

Behind you, the brunette voiced a weak apology – you were unable to catch the exact words, as they were muffled by the fabric of his sleeves. But not even the sweetest words could remedy the situation. Since, now you had accepted the truth.

Love was never a fairy-tale, and Akaashi Keiji was not a prince. Love would never be what you wanted it to be, and it would always hurt.

Love would always hurt.

A/N: I ended up finishing this today because I got into a bad mood and so I needed to channel it into something lol 

Taglist: @sayakaaaaaa @sanitisegermsfree @haikyuufairy @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @amberalisa @graykageyama @yourstarvic @chaichai-the-weeb @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop  @rajablast @idiot-juice-enthusiast @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut  @athenarosaline @memes-and-money @coconut-dreamz  @mismatched-loves @elianetsantana @tsumume @tsukkismamagucci @the-golden-jhope @camcam1617 @prettyforpapiiwa @swoonhui​ @neobakas​ @azumane-kun @elephantloser​ @dreamstormings​ @anejuuuuoy​   

~ message me to be removed from the general taglist + bolded means I can’t tag ya 

[9worldstales]

MCU Loki: Is character development what we see in episode 1 or not?

I’ve discovered there’s a debate if what happened to Loki in episode 1 can constitute character development or not so I felt like sharing my two cents about it.

So, character development.

Character development IN THIS SPECIFIC CASE refers to the changes a character undergoes over the course of a story as a result of their experiences (positive or negative) and actions (successful or unsuccessful). Change can be positive or negative as the character can improve himself but also can sink into an abyss of depravity. It’s worth to remark changes is not necessarily always triggered by something they did, it can very well be something that happened to them that caused them to change… but the point of character development, IN THIS CASE, is that there has to be a change in the character. He can’t remain the same.

So… I’ll pick Tony Stark because his situation in “Iron Man” presented plenty of parallelisms with Loki in “Loki” and not just because some like to consider Tony too a narcissist.

So, same as how Loki was taken captive by the TVA, Tony Stark too was taken captive by the Ten Rings. For three months. There Tony is forced to see how the weapons he produced were used by terrorists to kill other Americans and who called him “the most famous mass murderer in the history of America” and were honoured to have him in their hideout. They originally were meant to kill him but since they realized he could be of some use to them, they’re willing to keep him alive because they want his help, not to search a Tony Variant but to produce more weapons. Tony though, understands once they have finished using him, they would dispose of him. Tony also has the major problem of being told to have only a week of life due to the wounds he suffered.

In this part of the story Tony is just a victim, he doesn’t really get to do something, negative things are merely poured onto him.

It parallels what happens to Loki for most of episode 1.

He’s beaten, taken captive, informed he’ll be killed, his execution is postponed because they decided he could be of use, he’s told he’s a murderer, a liberator of eyeballs who wasn't born to be king but to cause pain and suffering and death, all so that others can achieve their best versions of themselves. He’s also told he caused his mother’s death. And, all right, Mobius won’t immediately tell him what he wants him for, but it’s pretty clear he wants him for something.

So, back to Tony, when we have his character growth? When he reacts to all that was poured on him and react not just by fighting back in a typical Tony style (using his brain to create something that would allow him to fight the Ten Rings and escape) but also by changing things. Once he’s back home Tony announces he won’t produce anymore weapons.

The man who said...

Tony: Is it better to be feared or respected? I say, is it too much to ask for both? With that in mind, I humbly present the crown jewel of Stark Industries' Freedom Line. It's the first missile system to incorporate our proprietary repulsor technology. They say the best weapon is one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree. I prefer the weapon you only have to fire once. That's how Dad did it. That's how America does it. And it's worked out pretty well so far.

...becomes the man who say...

Tony: I never got to say goodbye to Dad. I never got to say goodbye to my father. There are questions that I would have asked him. I would have asked him how he felt about what this company did. If he was conflicted, if he ever had doubts. Or maybe he was every inch the man we all remember from the newsreels. I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them. And I saw that I had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability. I had my eyes opened. I came to realize that I have more to offer this world than just making things that blow up. And that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International until such a time as I can decide what the future of the company will be.

This evolution makes sense. It feels believable. Why is that?

Let’s go back to Tony Stark.

Tony stark didn’t mean to be ‘the most famous mass murderer in the history of America’, he was sure his work was protecting people, he didn’t realize it was used by the bad guys, likely because he just accepted his legacy of son of Howard Stark and didn’t bother to think at it any further.

When he discovers things aren’t how he assumed, after a moment of discomfort in which Yinsen had to motivate him...

Yinsen: I'm sure they're looking for you, Stark. But they will never find you in these mountains. Look, what you just saw, that is your legacy, Stark. Your life's work, in the hands of those murderers. Is that how you want to go out? Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark? Or are you going to do something about it? Tony: Why should I do anything? They're going to kill me, you, either way. And if they don't, I'll probably be dead in a week. Yinsen: Well, then, this is a very important week for you, isn't it?

...he started fighting to change them. It fits with Tony’s personality, it makes narrative sense, it’s well presented, it’s believable on a psychological standpoint (yes, a person like Tony Stark would do this) and from an empathic standpoint (yes, if I were in Tony Stark’s place I would do the same).

When Tony gives his speech in which he shows he has changed, he surprises the people who have no idea what he went through, but not the viewers. For the viewers his reaction is perfectly believable.

So why, for a part of the fandom, what happens to Loki doesn’t feel equally believable since his experience parallels Tony? Why part of the fandom feels there was no character growth at all?

Well, I can’t answer for everyone, everyone probably has his own reasons but merely by keeping up the comparison with what happened to Tony Stark we see how the thing doesn’t work the same.

A premise here, I know there will be people tempted to think Mobius is the stand in for Yinsen because Mobius is likable and, ultimately, he’ll become Loki’s friend.

He’s not.

Yinsen was held captive by the Ten Rings, his life in danger same as Tony. There’s a moment in which they even threaten him and Tony has to stand in to save Yinsen’s life.

Mobius, as far as Mobius and Loki know, is not another prisoner of the TVA, he’s there willingly. Yes, he’s operating under the false belief he has been created by the TVA but he’s not aware of it. In that moment, as far as Mobius is involved, he’s a willing operative of the TVA, someone in with authority, in control of Loki’s life...

Mobius: Mmm... Luckily, he believes in himself enough for the both of us. And, hey, if it doesn't work, I'll delete him myself. He's really arrogant.

...and the TVA is his purpose, his life and he believes it to be real.

Mobius: It's exactly the same thing. Because if you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kinda ridiculous. Existence is chaos. Nothing makes any sense, so we try to make some sense of it. And I'm just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me all this... My own glorious purpose. Cause the TVA is my life. And it's real because I believe it's real.

He doesn’t feel threatened by the TVA, coerced. He’s doing what he does because he believes he’s playing the good guy.

Mobius: All that time, I really believed we were the good guys.

So no, Mobius here is not the equivalent of Yinsen, he’s the equivalent of Abu Bakaar, the guy who tells Tony he’s ‘the most famous mass murderer in the history of America’ and wants to persuade him to cooperate with the Ten Rings, in the same way Mobius wants to persuade Loki to cooperate with the TVA. Keep this in mind because it’s relevant and easy to forger since we know how things will develop in other episodes.

And okay, now let’s go back on track.

Let’s talk of the motives that caused the change in Tony Stark.

Tony is shown by Abu Bakaar something he previously wasn’t aware of, how his weapons are used to kill Americans, that, by building them, he became an accomplice in killing Americans, which was something he didn’t want, hence the change.

Loki is shown… the events of “The Avengers” which he was aware of and which, of course, doesn’t impress him much…

Loki: No. And I remember. I was there. Anything else?

…as the show didn’t play the card of the sceptre influencing him as they say in the official web. Mobius doesn’t tell Loki ‘you did this but you weren’t in control of yourself, you were manipulated by the sceptre’ no, Mobius tells him ‘you did this’ and Loki’s answer is basically ‘yeah, I know, so? Why should I care?’

So Mobius moves to the events of “Thor: The Dark World” and, more specifically, to how Loki ‘caused’ Frigga’s death.

This is something that, in theory, can work as equivalent of Tony Stark being told his weapons are used by the Ten Rings to kill Americans. Loki clearly didn’t want any harm to befall on Frigga, whom he loved dearly. We know that in “Thor: The Dark World” he sufferd a lot for her death, blamed himself and changed (or better, in the authors’ original intentions, he mostly reversed back to how he was before “Thor” but this is a topic for another meta).

For who doesn’t remember the movie in “Thor: The Dark World” after Frigga’s death Loki:

- agreed to help Thor

- brought him and Jane to Svartalfheim

- put up a show for Malekith according to Thor’s plan without betraying Thor

- protected Jane TWICE, the last time risking his own life to save hers

- stopped the Kurse from killing Thor by stabbing and killing him and, in the original plan for the movie, he was also meant to die doing so. Even if you go by the ending the movie ultimately had, Loki has protected a human, cooperated with saving the universe from the Dark Elves and saved his brother’s life instead than letting Thor get killed.

It’s quite a change from how he was in “The Avengers”.

Then great, we’ve something that could push him to change, right?

Wrong.

For start because what Mobius says had happen to Frigga in truth hadn’t happened yet and wouldn’t have happened to THIS LOKI as he wasn’t carried back on Asgard because he escaped with the Tesseract. THIS LOKI has escaped and so wouldn’t end up captive on Asgard, wouldn’t be jailed and wouldn’t be there when the Kurse would intrude in Asgard’s prisons so there’s no way he can do something that would lead to Frigga’s death. Problem solved.

We continue with the fact that Mobius can’t prove to Loki this would have happened had Loki been carried on Asgard. Let’s forget how the version of what happened he gave to Loki is wrong and misleading. Even if he’d been absolutely truthful, what he does is to show Loki a video... but how can he prove this is the future that was meant to happen and not a lie he’s telling him in order to manipulate him? Tony saw his own weapons being in the hands of the Ten Rings, one of them exploded in front of him, wounding him, he disassembled some of the others, he’s sure the Ten Rings has them. But how can Loki be sure what Mobius is telling him is true and not just an illusion? A lie?

But whatever, the series tries hard to sell us through Loki’s reaction that he believed Mobius’ words about this being true because he totally loses his cool at that scene. So, okay Loki believes so will this change him the way it changed him in “Thor: The Dark World”?

Nope.

Tony changes because he does something to actively prevent Americans from being killed by his weapons, he shuts down their production and he involves himself personally in the fight against terrorists with a weapon only he controls, the Iron Man suit.

What does Loki do to prevent Frigga’s death?

Nothing.

His attempt at escaping might have been made more urgent by this piece of info but was something Loki had tried to do from when he’s been taken to the TVA… and in the following episodes Frigga’s fate will be completely forgotten, as if Loki has stopped worrying about it entirely. When talking with Sylvie about Frigga in episode 3 he doesn’t use it as a motive to explain why he wants to gain control of the TVA, to change his mother’s fate… nor it’s something that inspire him to fight the TVA, because that role belongs to Sylvie and Sylvie only. When he’ll try to persuade the other Loki Variants to help him, again he won’t mention Frigga, just Sylvie. Frigga won’t get mentioned not even when Loki will reach The Citadel at the End of Time and Miss Minute will try to tempt him. She’ll offer him glorious power and Sylvie, nor her nor Loki will try to bargain for his mother’s life instead. No, from episode 2 onward what Loki learnt in episode 1 goes forgotten, so let’s focus solely on episode 1.

Some believe Loki in episode 1 changed because he admitted he didn’t like to hurt people, that he’s a villain and helped to cooperate with Mobius.

Mobius: Loki? Nowhere left to run. Loki: I can't go back, can I? Back to my timeline. I don't enjoy hurting people. I... I don't enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I've had to. Mobius: Okay, explain that to me. Loki: Because it's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear. Mobius: A desperate play for control. You do know yourself. Loki: A villain. Mobius: That's not how I see it. You try to use that? Loki: Oh, several times. Even an Infinity Stone is useless here. The TVA is formidable. Mobius: That's been my experience. Listen, I can't offer you salvation, but maybe I can offer you something better. A fugitive Variant's been killing our Minutemen. Loki: And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him? Mobius: That's right. Loki: Why me? Mobius: The Variant we're hunting is... you.

Only… this doesn’t really work.

Why?

Loki has tried escaping and has been forced to realize he can’t, that’s why he cooperates, that’s why he gives Mobius an answer to what he asked for...

Mobius: Do you enjoy hurting people? Making them feel small? Making them feel afraid?

... why he agrees with his accusations...

Loki: I know what I am. Mobius: A murderer? Loki: A liberator. Mobius: Of eyeballs, maybe.

...and ultimately accepts to work for the TVA.

This parallels Tony refusing to build armies for the Ten Rings, being tortured and, ultimately agreeing to build weapon for them, at least verbally. And let’s remember if it wasn’t for Yinsen’s words Tony might have given up. It’s Yinsen who encouraged him to fight back.

Yinsen: I'm sure they're looking for you, Stark. But they will never find you in these mountains. Look, what you just saw, that is your legacy, Stark. Your life's work, in the hands of those murderers. Is that how you want to go out? Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark? Or are you going to do something about it? Tony: Why should I do anything? They're going to kill me, you, either way. And if they don't, I'll probably be dead in a week. Yinsen: Well, then, this is a very important week for you, isn't it?

So this doesn’t constitute Loki changing, just accepting he’s powerless against the TVA and must play along with them. Playing along with someone isn’t something new for Loki, the episode even lampshades it.

Mobius: Well, let's start with a little cooperation. Loki: Not my forte. Mobius: Really? Even when you're wooing someone powerful you intend to betray? Come on.

So no, him being forced to accept the TVA is powerful and therefore deciding to cooperate with them is not a change. This series sets it as a normal Loki behaviour… as well as the fact it’ll immediately turn out he intends to betray them.

Loki: Very nice. I mean, it is adorable that you think you could possibly manipulate me. I'm ten steps ahead of you. I've been playing a game of my own all along. Mobius: What, charm your way in front of the Time-Keepers, hustle them, and seize control of the TVA? Am I getting warm? A double cross by history's most reliable liar.

And what for? Power, glorious power.

Loki: I'm going to overthrow the Time-Keepers. And, uh, cards on the table, I could use a qualified lieutenant.

Loki: Oh, yeah? What about you? Your years-in-the-making plan was to tear the place down, create the ultimate power vacuum, and then just walk away. I'd never have done that.

Nothing of what happened on this episode changed what the “Loki” series claimed to be Loki’s character prior to the “Loki” series. At the end of it he’s cooperating with someone more powerful than him so that he could betray him and take the power from him, which is how this series claimed all the Lokis (except Sylvie) were.

There’s no change.

There could have been, what happened in episode 1 could have worked for Loki in the same way it worked for Tony Stark but it didn’t. The authors even stated that his friendship with Mobius started in episode 2, not in episode 1, likely when Loki believed Mobius was sticking out his neck for him and offering him his sympathy.

Loki: Okay. Why are you in there sticking your neck out for me? Mobius: I'll give you two options, and you can believe whichever one you want. A, because I see a scared little boy, shivering in the cold. And you kinda feel bad for that ice runt. Or B, I just wanna catch this guy, and I'll tell you whatever I need to tell you. Loki: I don't need your sympathy.

So we’ve a problem.

The authors rambled more often than not on how much episode 1 changed Loki, how what they called ‘Mobius’ therapy session’ was good for him… but failed to show it in a way that would make sense with the settings set by the series.

If the series states Loki is one who, prior to arriving to the TVA, was used to cooperate when intended on wooing someone powerful he intends to betray and ends with him being willing to cooperate with the TVA after discovering it’s powerful so that he can betray it later, we go exactly back to the starting point. There’s no change, not in this episode.

His words about not enjoying to hurt people but it being merely a play feel like a forced admission of a truth he couldn’t possibly not know and his admission of being a villain isn’t followed by any genuine attempt at changing something in himself. He just acknowledged the role the TVA wanted on him… because he’s trying to woo them so that he could betray them later on.

If we want to stretch things A LOT we might assume seeing Frigga’s death worked for him in the way being told Odin died worked for Thor in “Thor”. It made him more determinate to protect the person he loved, a.k.a. Sylvie… but it stands up poorly, in part because Loki completely forget Frigga, and how she’s going to die in the TVA approved timeline, in part because, although the Loki and Sylvie love story has cute moments that make you wish you could root for them, in truth that too is poorly constructed, with Loki falling for Sylvie for hazy reasons in less than 12 hours (according to the series because she doesn’t want glorious power, according to the authors because she’s a female variant of himself), in part because… well, it doesn’t really feel consequential, it feels more like it’s me forcing such reading because I’ve heard over and over that what happened in episode 1 is supposed to matter, it’s supposed to have changed Loki somehow and so I’m grasping at straws to fit it in the story when it’s actually just forgotten.

So, the real problem is that the series doesn’t bother showing us Loki changing as a direct consequence of what happened in episode 1 in a way that’s relevant and directly consequential.

Sure, it made many happy to have Loki confirm out loud what many in the fandom already figured out, how he doesn’t enjoy hurting people, that it’s all a play.

Sure, it seems self reflection to have him admit he was a villain.

Sure, since many were deluded into thinking the people at the TVA were on the good side, it might feel like an improvement to see Loki agree to side with them.

Sure, the episode, with its parallelisms to what happened with Tony Stark, made us hope it would lead Loki to ultimately do like him.

But when all is said and done, if you look at the scenes in contest and then watch the following episodes, none of this goes anywhere and it couldn’t go anywhere.

We know originally episode 1 was planned to be very different and end just the same, with Loki accepting to cooperate with the TVA. This means the only things that were relevant in the plot that had to be in episode 1 for the series to work were Loki being captured by the TVA, being forced to acknowledge its power and accepting to work with it.

The so called and overly incensed ‘Mobius therapy session’ wasn’t something so fundamental to the plot the story NEEDED it to work and, ultimately, the story forgot it, to focus on Sylvie and on how SHE was the one who changed Loki (as well as Mobius, albeit Mobius changed him in a smaller measure) turning what happened in episode 1 into some sort of ‘Eastern egg’ for who needed to have his mind refreshed on what happened in the other movies in which Loki starred, albeit as the scenes are decontextualized, if you don’t remember well the movies, you’ll end up drawing the wrong conclusion.

It’s sad because Tom Hiddleston’s performance as he watched those scenes was great, possibly the best in the whole series, I mean I heard plenty of people who totally felt for Loki, me as well, because his pain was so raw, so palpable, and this episode just had this BEYOND HUGE amount of potential to turn Loki into another Iron Man… so it’s so very sad to see that in the end it was all dissipated like a soap bubble, never used so that Mobius and Sylvie could be the ones to cause the change in Loki. Which yes, it’s understandable as the story wanted to give them more relevance but feels like a complete waste of an otherwise good opportunity to have Loki decide for himself, due to what he had learnt, a different course in his life.

But whatever, that’s it. Sad, a waste, but that’s the story they decided to tell us, so it comes to no surprise some weren’t sold there was character development here, while they were willing to buy it in “Iron Man”. The story just didn’t build up on what happened in episode 1; it used it like a filler.

Of course though, people can have other reasons than the ones I’ve listed not to see character development. I can’t speak for everyone who didn’t see it… but I’ll say the ones I listed still could work for many.

Lastly, it’s worth to remark this doesn’t mean episode 1 isn’t enjoyable... it is. Hiddleston’s performance is so damn awesome I’ll never get tired to remark it, Wilson does great and this episode brims with potential. But the sad thing is that it remains unfulfilled, episode 1 just doesn’t deliver what he seems to promise, a change in Loki.

[missinghan]

radiant ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : college!au ; love-hate relationship!au ; frenemies to lovers!au ; fluff

❖ word count : 10k.

❖ warning : explicit language & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : you've made a mental note to yourself never to make dumb bets with J.One again because who knows you'll fall for Han Jisung over two cups of boba?

one.

College. 

That specific morifying seven-letter word can literally make someone jump off a cliff. Like straight up, Lucifer would rather drink and bathe himself in holy water than to join one of the world's most traumatizing systems. Where knowledge is being drilled into people's mind like a tattoo, and it's not even a cute one, one that you most likely will regret later. 

Man, what a life. 

After highschool, most people thought they were ready, physically and mentally. That's not true. Did you really think that you're ready for monotonous lectures, for back-to-back assignments with ridiculous deadlines, for cramming forty slides of the PowerPoint presentation from your professor the night before an exam just because your brain cells decided to say 'fuck it' in the middle of the lecture ? 

No one's ever ready for living to torture themselves. 

Not even Hwang Hyunjin. Hyunjin, the boy you grew up having him right by your window. Hyunjin, that one kid in class who would always hand people his homework whenever they asked for it. He's too kind for this world, for his own good, you often say that to yourself but Hyunjin isn't really all that great. 

He too takes pain in turning in assignments to the T.A and dreads his 9am classes tremendously. But, since he's got a rich ass uncle who has some spare apartments lying somewhat near college ( as long as he preserves the place and invites someone over to help paying the bills ), he doesn't have to deal with the struggles of living on campus. 

And you, just happen to have the honor to live with him. Well, more like temporarily to see how things will work out later. You despise living on campus anyway. 

"What's with the long face ? Did Minho ramble about his cats again instead of working ?" Hyunjin walks into the living room before dropping his keys into the gold-accent bowl that he previously purchased from a garage sale. It's quite convenient, actually, the keys never end up under the couch or some random drawers again.

You look up from your laptop screen, sparing him a glare and focusing back on your assignment. Being a media major is equivalent to taking lots of notes and a shit ton of reading which is a pain in the ass. Meanwhile, a theatre kid like your roommate has his midterms and finals as setting up plays for school's events. Pfft, privileged people.

You don't hate-hate the idea of going to school like some people, in fact, you genuinely love learning, but you're in desperate need of another word for 'child labour' to be applied to this ... situation.

"Ohoho.. It's way worse, trust me, you don't wanna know." You lean your head sideways on one of the pillows, words slightly slurred with your cheek being pressed against the soft surface.

Hyunjin raises his voice from the kitchen area. "Did he confess his love for you or something ?"

"Jesus no ! You know he's not into me like that." You almost screech and sit straight up. "We were supposed to finish our project that's due this Friday. And guess who else was there ? Another chick showed up ! I swear that I wasn't hallucinating, he brought a new one home every other day. She said she was just 'a friend'." You make the quote-on-quote sign with your fingers to emphasize.

You pull on your own hair dramatically with all your might, hissing under your breath just by recalling it. "And whenever we had a twenty-minute break every hour and a half or so, she keeps brushing herself against him, acting all innocent about it. I was deadass pissed off—"

"Woah woah, I don't think it's that—"

You throw your hands in the air helplessly, suppressing the urge to throw a tantrum. "It is that bad, Hyunjin ! The chick doesn't know how to take a fucking hint !" Whatever, Hyunjin is probably too tired to wait for you to finish complaining about some random classmate drooling over Minho because they do that all the time anyway.

"Damn." He sips on his apple juice. "I should come over next time. Might be a not-so-shitty, watered-down version of 'Fifty Shades of Grey'."

You shoot him a glare, closing your laptop shut. "I instantly regret moving in with you."

"Why ?" Hyunjin pouts and plops himself next to you on the beige-colored couch. He reaches for the remote on the coffee table while obnoxiously sipping on the box of juice.

"Because apparently, you love weird, gross, mushy noises as much as Minho does." You answer flatly, burying yourself deeper into the white fuzzy blanket. Actually, no. Living with Hyunjin isn't as bad as you're trying to make it sound.

He might not cook, but he knows some decent restaurant with reasonable prices. He might be all over the place sometimes while panicking over an upcoming exam but at least he keeps his space organized ( unlike Han Jisung, whose closet is a perfect resemblance of World War III ).

Hyunjin throws his apple juice into the nearby bin while scrolling through the 'Romance' section briefly. And sharing the same Netflix account is probably the best decision you two have ever made. "What's worth-hating here ? No smelly kids, no not-having-enough-personal-space problem. There's good food, a cute, quirky roommate which naturally equals good company. You're living your best life right now. The only downside to this is that you have to deal with my questionable sleeping habits."

Fine. Hwang Hyunjin is cute, and a total heartthrob to the entire school. You won't be surprised if every single male student hates him with a passion ( which they do ). Not to mention, all of your female classmates would be more than happy to finish all of your assignments within two days as long as you hand over his number. Although they might want to reconsider due to the fact that this good-looking boy is also that person who records his alarm by yelling at the top of his lungs into his phone speaker.

But, a good friend wouldn't do that, because even God doesn't know what those creepy girls would do once they had their hands on his phone number. This is also why you always get dirty looks from everyone just because you just happen to be his plus-one for everything.

And Hwang Hyunjin only needs a plus-one when Seungmin decides to hate him on that day ( which is almost everyday ). So there goes your reputation. You're probably nothing but a mediocre girl who just doesn't know when not to be all over her hot best friend in the people's eyes.

Hyunjin snaps his head towards the front door when the bell rings then proceeds to turn back to his roommate, showing those ridiculously adorable puppy that naturally implies as 'Get the door for me, will ya ?'. And although all you want to do is to slap him with your laptop, you still stand up nonetheless. You undo the chains and slides the lock over before swinging the door open.

"Hyunjin, I was wondering if you wanna come see us perform this Saturday. You know, at the school's mini music festival. 8p.m. Got two tickets to spare. You can get yourself a plus-one or something." And before you - with an obnoxiously loud tone, the leather jacket and Balenciaga cap - is Changbin, who sassily brushes past you and makes a beeline towards the couch, where Hyunjin is man-spreading, wrapped up securely in his white fluffy blanket.

He lazily sits up from his previous position, receiving the tickets with half-open eyes. "I'll go. As long as 'Wow' is on schedule." 'Wow' is 3racha's first and most definitely last attempt of a love song but somehow, it's managed to get itself a special place in Hyunjin's heart. Well, more accurately, everyone's heart.

Changbin cocks an eyebrow. "It's first on the list actually." He then turns to you with a smirk spread across his lips. "Whatcha say, Y/N ? We all know your favorite line is 'Excuse me noona, do you have a boyfriend ?' from the lovely J.One." He refers to one of Jisung's lines in a love song which he wrote at the age of 16, Changbin wasn’t even 18 himself then. Good times. And now literally every girl is more than ready to throw themselves at him anytime, anywhere. Chan really didn't lie when he proclaimed 3racha as 'hot'.

You shake your head with a timid smile tugged on your lips. "I don't think so Bin, I'm having midterms on Monday, J.One can be saved later as my midnight snack whenever I wanna grill his ass for pestering me during the golden hour aka 3a.m."

Midterms sound good enough for an excuse because everyone would literally kill keep their A-s on those report cards. But unfortunately, you can't just play on the infamous SpearB that easily because apparently, being roommates with Hyunjin has absolutely nothing to do with improving your awful acting skills.

Just then, the most inappropriate, insufferable, infuriating, and other synonyms for 'annoying' clapback clicks inside Changbin's brain when an imaginary lightbulb pops up at the top of his head. "Man, you two are really out there banging each other in secret—"

And out the door he goes before you feel the need to personally stitch up his lips with your terrible sewing skills from elementary school. You close your eyes and takes in a deep breath, shutting the door behind your back while Hyunjin is too busy laughing his ass off on the couch.

This is getting to the point where you don't even need Han Jisung to be here to have the urge to strangle him, because his trash friends are no help at all.

two.

You step onto the bus with your earbuds on, right hand dropping the bus ticket into the glass box that's neatly placed right beside the driver's seat. Another day, another 4 hours of lectures and 2 continuous shifts which is another 5 hours at the café on campus, in which, sucks. But, what makes it even suckier comes right in three, two, one..

"Two people please !" A disturbingly obnoxious voice chirps right behind you. Just then, a figure dashes through the couple who are currently throwing daggers at him with their eyes. Not this again. You groans to yourself before sliding an extra ticket into the box because you definitely know better than to mess with a cranky bus driver. That boy over there really gotta pay for that shit.

Then, you take a seat beside the window, deciding to ignore the pest who just made you spend an extra ticket for his ride. You really should have taken another bus instead of the 325. Suddenly, a hand reaches towards one of your earbuds and pulls it out quickly. A puff of air hits your left eardrums like a rush of electricity, causing you to jump a bit.

"Can you stay still for a good span of 10 fucking seconds ?" You deadpan and and snap your head around. And before you - with slightly damp fringe covering his warm brown orbs, cute button nose and peachy lips ( gross ) - is Han Jisung. More accurately, the bane of your existence.

Jisung chuckles loudly at the big scowl on your face as he angles his head to take a proper look at you. You look like you just rolled out of bed, literally, not even metaphorically. Sweatpants, flannels and sneakers are the way to go if you're gonna be on your feet all day running around to serve sleep-deprived students and professors. Of course you look like a complete bum, it's 9a.m. What did he expect ?

"Aw." He pouts. "Where's the fun in that then, little cub ?"

And when Jisung reaches a hand out to pat your head, you frowns at his particularly ridiculous nickname for you and slaps his hand away. He watched the new remake of 'The Lion King' before the new semester started and cried like a total baby when Mufasa fell off the cliff, said Felix. Honestly, you wouldn't blame him because those devastating thirty seconds remain to be the most heartbreaking scene that Disney has ever invented. But still, the nickname is painfully unoriginal.

"Man, I hope you bombed your midterms or something." You speak up flatly, a slightly better retort lingering at the tip of your tongue but you're far too tired to argue with him anyway. And not to mention, your previous statement is completely useless because if Hwang Hyunjin is that kid who works his ass off to get good grades then Jisung is the complete opposite of that. He can sleep through ten lectures and still get a minimum of 90% on his exams. The perks of being a prodigy since newborn, can't relate.

Jisung feigns a painful expression, scrunching his nose up in fake agony. "How supportive of you, so incredibly validating." He cocks his head upwards carelessly, giving you a full view of his side profile.

Okay. Despite his annoying personality and questionable nicknames for everyone then Han Jisung is kinda attractive. You get it, you get it, Hwang Hyunjin is attractive but this prick is another kind of attractive.

Whenever he screams his heart out at the mic on stage, there are literal silver and gold specks floating in his eyes like an explosion of stardust scattered across the whole universe. And the way he conveys his emotions into his lyrics to perform an entire song on stage is just tremendously remarkable. No wonder all the girls always come rushing in when J.One is on stage.

Wait, were you thinking about Han Jisung or J.One ? But no, Han Jisung is J.One. It's just that J.One is slightly cooler than Jisung because he doesn't pester people until they have a cardiac arrest. Whatever, your brain is already yelling for retirement.

"You are coming to watch my performance right ?" Jisung suddenly leans over, your noses almost touching. Being the idiotic person that you are, your body immediately locks itself in place, hissing slightly at the current proximity. Great, now what ?

"Ooh." A low whistle escapes his lips. "You were too busy checking me out. It's okay, that's understandable. Not everyone can have a close-up of J.One's out-of-this-world visual." He flips his imaginary long hair and you make a gagging noise.

"I was not !" You exclaim upon embarrassment, cheeks turning into a bright shade of coral. "There's just something in your teeth."

"Uh huh, I doubt it." Yeah, he would never buy that. Jisung smiles at you cheekily and once again, Han Jisung has proved that he's the kind of guy who has the particular type of smile that makes you want to knock their teeth out. Although you can't help but fall for it nonetheless. Very typical of you. "So, are you coming or nah ?"

Your heart tingles a bit, and you feel like you can just pass out right here right now on this stupid bus in the middle of this stupid conversation with his stupid boy and his stupid smile. "No, I have my midterms on Monday. Guess who's pulling all nighters again ?" You push his face away because if not, you might as well just explode and make a fool of yourself.

"Ahhhh, why not ?" Jisung whines as if there's no tomorrow. "It's not like you enjoy drowning yourself in Kang's 40 slides of 'History of Media 101' anyway." Now, for once in a fairly long time, the bastard finally said something that wasn't complete bullshit. And you're starting to reconsider your decision because although Han Jisung is undeniably insufferable, J.One can make it up with his dope performances. But then again, you really just don't want to see his face on Saturdays.

Suddenly he rolls himself over again, his lips drawing a devilish smile. You can tell already from the dangerous look in his eyes, it's not going to end well.

"Are you in for a bet ? If I win, you'll have to go. But if you win, I'll do whatever you want me to, for an entire week. You're basically the privileged one here, don't even deny it."

three.

Changbin wakes up from his long nap to find Chan having his eyes glued to the laptop's screen as if his life depends on it. It makes him wonder how long his friend has been working on the rearrangement of all their songs for this Saturday's music festival.

"I see that you're making quite the progress." He grunts slightly before sitting up straight. The small faux leather couch that their school has in the band practice room isn't exactly the most comfortable thing to sleep on. But after what seems like an eternity in the lecture hall, tolerating the professor's rant then Changbin wouldn't even mind sleeping on the floor.

Chan slowly peels his eyes away from the screen and blinks numerous times so that he won't potentially go blind. He looks over at Changbin's slouch figure on the couch, tapping away on his phone and smiles dumbly at some memes that Minho just DM-ed to their group chat.

"Damn right, I just finished chopping up the bits of back-up vocals. I feel like my back is so fragile that it might break in half if I stand up." He runs a hand through his mop of black hair that's nowhere near the definition of 'doable' and yawns into his other palm.

He peeks over his shoulder to see Hyunjin and Felix sleeping while leaning against the mirror, Minho laying on top of Jeongin as he chuckles creepily at his phone. And Woojin is too busy singing his heart out with his guitar in the corner to notice Seungmin capturing everyone in their greatest glory, meaning when they're all a hot mess.

Changbin swings his legs over and slips into his black Adidas slides, walking over to Chan in a sluggish manner. He crouches down a bit while squinting his eyes to take a proper look at the laptop screen. Chan indeed has finished most of it, no wonder he looks ( and probably smells ) like trash. "I'll give you a hand, just send these over to me after when you got home." He says, giving his friend a pat on his back.

"Yeah sure," Chan puts a hand over his mouth to cover up another yawn. "By the way, where the fuck is Jisung ? He hasn't been answering my texts all morning."

Changbin gives him an indifferent shrug. "He said he would be on campus all day on Thursdays since he has classes and work right after- hold on he's texting me."

[ 5:23pm ]

piece of shit : where are you guys ?

baby changbin : band room, clearly you never listened.

[ 5:24pm ]

piece of shit : yeesh, I was busy you ass. texting y/n and all.

baby changbin : it was fucking 3a.m. !

[ 5:25pm ]

piece of shit : whatever, we'll be there in two.

He pauses for a while and lets the words sink in. Why "we" and not "I" ? Since when this was a plural thing ? Did all of those lectures and serving sleep-deprived students fuck up his brain cells ?

Wow, now Changbin feels bold to assume that Han Jisung even own brain cells. And before he can show the texts to the rest of his friends to make fun of Jisung while he's not here, the glass door swings open. Hyunjin and Felix jolt up in surprise at the same time, almost bumping their heads together at the creaking sound.

"We got you kids boba, wake up wake up hurry hurry SCHNELL !" Jisung screeches loudly when he pushes himself through the front door, accidentally making you bump your forehead into the dull glass surface.

You follows him inside with a big scowl on your face, quickly passing Changbin the plastic bags. Yes, you can hear the polar bears crying in the distance loud and clear but unluckily you only have two hands for ten cups of boba.

"Why boba all of a sudden ?" Minho looks up from his phone in boredom as Jeongin is utterly dying underneath, slapping his palm repeatedly against the floor in exhaustion.

Minho feels ( kinda ) bad for him and decides to roll himself over, setting Jeongin free from his miserable state. "Did you two go on a date or something ?" The youngest one's features morph into a frown, eyeing the two up and down in caution when he crosses his legs together.

You make an unimpressed face and glares at Jisung, who's currently hogging the entire black couch on his own. "Who the fuck would make their date carry everything then ? You tell me Jeongin."

Woojin stands up after craning his neck and shakes his head in disapproval. "My greatest disappointment, Han Jisung, would do that unfortunately." He walks over to Felix and Hyunjin to get himself a cup from the bag.

"Let's be honest, you'd still date him even if he does that anyway. I haven never seen any other girl who has the courage to personally rummage through his disastrous closet just to steal a hoodie." He takes a sip and smirks at the black hoodie that you're wearing. Woojin thinks you should definitely give yourself more credit because personally, he can't be bothered to step into Jisung's room, much less his closet.

You're still slightly confused for a moment there but quickly look down and almost gasp in realization. "I can explain—"

"Don't worry Y/N, if he ever mistreats you, you best believe that he's not gonna see tomorrow's daylight." Felix supplies unhelpfully over a mouthful of boba. Since when did he become such a nuisance ? But he's not entirely wrong because if no one volunteers to skin Jisung alive when he leaves you with a broken heart then Hyunjin will literally disown him. He doesn't care if it's legal or not because even a law student like Woojin would be on his side in this.

You hold up your hand defeatedly. "The jerk purposely left it on my couch back at the apartment. And Hyunjin didn't want to return nor wash it so I was obligated to do that myself. Eventually, the hoodie just ended up on a hanger right behind my bedroom door. Not to mention, I was running late earlier and had nothing to wear." You finish your sentence, realizing that your roommate has been giving you a 'wtf' face all his time.

"Out of reasons already ?" Chan chirps, raising a dark brow.

Okay.

In your defense, it's a goddamn good hoodie. The material is actually really nice that you might accidentally fall asleep if you wear this to class. You didn't mind the design on it either, kinda boyish but very funky, almost hippie looking. And last but not least, the smell of it is intoxicating, leaving you yearning for more. That's also equivalent to Jisung smells nice ( ew ) and your cheeks automatically heat up at the thought of feeling like he's hugging you whenever you wear it.

You frantically try to explain with expressive hands. "Look, guys—"

"You're going this Saturday !!" Jisung's voice suddenly booms behind your back as he declares loudly like it's the most worth-knowing thing in the whole wide world. The guys trade confused look with each other, not knowing what nonsense their friend is babbling about. Whatever, they don't have to either way. "You're going, you're going, you're going !"

You look over at Hyunjin's cup in disbelief, completely full and untouched. Meanwhile, Felix has already finished his drink in between the 15-minute conversation. You blinks and quickly comprehends the new amount of information, you lost the bet. Which means...

Screw midterms.

four.

Screw the music festival, you’re not going anywhere.

“How’s this ?” Hyunjin steps out from his room with a white dress shirt tucked inside his skinny jeans. And you hate him even more now because your roommate looks totally #boyfriendmaterial in every outfit that he’s been trying for the past half an hour. Really, Hyunjin should give himself more credit for his looks because you bet girls would still throw themselves at him even if he showed up to school looking homeless and all.

You look up from your phone in boredom. “Looks good to me.”

Upon your flat reply, Hyunjin shoots you a glare. “Good ? It only stops there at ‘good’ ? Then which item in my closet appeals to you as ‘spectacular’ or ‘breathtaking’ ? Should I just hire a personal stylist or something ?” He wants to snap at you but ends up whining like a elementary school kid that’s not allowed to drink his favorite soda from the vending machine.

“Dude, eat a chill pill.” You frown slightly at his particularly dramatic ass ( tsk, drama majors ) and decide to put your phone down. “You’re going to a music festival, at uni. Not attending some kind of award shows for celebrities.”

Hyunjin snickers before clicking his tongue. “And you’re planning on wearing that ?”

Your roommate is stressing himself over being overdressed for an event. You, on the other hand, haven’t even made up your mind about an outfit yet and your plus-one is picking you up in less than 30 minutes. And you’re still here, on the couch, in your pyjamas. Call it madness but personally, you wouldn’t mind wearing this to the music festival. Music is technically art in some kind of shape or form and only uncultured swines judge those who prefer being comfy over fashionable.

Come on, it’s art. Your pyjamas can express yourself in some sort of way right ?

“Stop shitting on my Mickey Mouse sweatpants as if it’s something straight out of the 1910s.” You protest, urging to throw the jar filled with gummy bear on the coffee table at his precious face. Mickey is definitely not going anywhere since you guys have been bonding since middle school.

Hyunjin pauses in the middle of his track going back into his room. Suddenly he turns around and smiles at you creepily. “It’s Jisung, isn’t it ?”

Yeah, no. Most definitely not. Still not him. Nuh uh. Okay… Maybe it’s because you don’t want to embarrass your plus-one because he’s also a total heartthrob. Maybe, it could be something about the fact that you’re afraid you’re not gonna look as good as your roommate. Or maybe it’s something inside the can of Redbull that you downed last night while rewatching the last episode of ‘Goblin’. You don’t even like Redbull.

Shit, you’re running out of excuses already.

“Actually, I was thinking that it’d be better if I didn’t show up.” You confess timidly, scared to meet Hyunjin’s confused expression.

When you gather enough courage to look up, he looks absolutely unimpressed and partially disappointed. “And you’re just gonna rain-check on Choi Yeonjun like that ? Changbin’s not letting this slide, I’ll tell you that.” He shakes his head in disapproval, this time turning on his heels to walk towards his bedroom door.

Something inside your stomach is tickling, as if it’s trying to tell you that you’re about to commit some kind of unforgivable sin if you don’t go to the festival. And just when you’re about to ignore it and wrap yourself up warmly on the L-shaped couch like the lazy bum that you are, your phone buzzes.

[ 4:24pm ]

yeonjun | I’ll be there in five.

five.

Only losers go to a music festival without a plus-one.

Hyunjin is one lucky bastard because Seungmin is tolerating his ass for the day. Meanwhile, Woojin is too busy pestering Felix to let him sneak into backstage looking for Changbin. And by now, everyone probably knows that Minho is secretly obsessed with Jeongin since he's decided to stick himself to the youngest like the spoiled parasite that he is. But that's not the point. Point is : you're terrible at navigation so you're obligated to get yourself a plus-one.

And he just happens to be Choi Yeonjun, that one business major who's secretly a dancer that left everyone's wig flying to Africa during last year's prom. You two have walked past each other before between periods and since he's an acquaintance of Changbin, he'd always wave back at you with the sweetest smile. You see him as a fun person to be around, kinda like a sunshine.

But what you didn't know is that, if your group of friend's chaotic energy is 3000, then Yeonjun alone is already on another level.

"Why the long face Y/N ? Enjoy the music, relax, let the night set you free !" Yeonjun chuckles at the frown on your face as he swings an arm over your shoulder. You can already tell that he's getting a bit tipsy from his tinted red cheeks and his breath smells like beer. Never knew the guy couldn't go heavy with his alcohol. Much like your roommate himself.

You peel the red plastic cup away from his hand to abandon it on some random table, dragging him away from the bar before his friend - Beomgyu, offers him some kind of sketchy looking drink. The kid is only a freshman and you feel like you should strangle the person who permitted him to be the bartender for the night.

"Alright, that's enough beer for you." You tell him mild-seriously, partially because you don't want him to end up knocked out in the middle of nowhere and partially because you can't contain someone who's drunk, not even yourself. "Let's find Soobin, I bet he's running around campus looking for your ass."

"What do you mean he's looking for my ass ? He's at home playing stupid boardgames with stupid Taehyun." Yeonjun slurs, shaking the haziness away furiously before fluttering his eyes upwards. "Look !" He squeals a little bit too loudly for anyone's liking. "It's your boyfriend !"

You abruptly put your index finger on his lips. "Shh shhh ! Han Jisung is not my boyfriend ! Watch your mouth, please, I beg." You hush him and glance around to look for any signs of Hyunjin or Felix popping out from a random bush to make fun of you. "We're barely friends, why would you think that we're dating ?!" You cry dramatically, cheeks burning with a bright shade of pink.

The blue haired boy makes a thinking face, which you think it's undeniably cute, before pointing towards the stage. "Because he's looking at you ?" He says cluelessly, giggling while clapping happily like a seal.

You unconsciously lift your head to eye the stage. Time seems to stop when you realize Jisung has been staring at you all this time. His expression is unfathomable. Your heart starts thundering loudly inside your rib cage, so loud that it overcomes the loud EDM music in the background, so loud that you're afraid he might hear it even when he's so far away.

In this light, in the middle of your chaos, there is Jisung. And he's absolutely otherworldly, radiant, dazzling, coruscating. Gosh, you can go on forever if your brain cells allow you to.

The moment he breaks eye contact, that's when you're pondering over who is it that your heart is beating for. Han Jisung ? Or is it just J.One ? Because you've seen Jisung as a total pest who never takes things seriously, who always makes you pay an extra ticket for his ride to uni, who spontaneously sends you derp pictures of him in the middle of a lecture. But no matter where you go, he would constantly pop up inside your mind out of nowhere. Like a phantom.

Suddenly, Chan's voice booms through the speaker, making you jump. "The performance of 3racha will be delayed due to technical errors. We apologize for this inconvenience." You stand there dumbly, blinking numerous times for his words to sink in. The question here isn't really 'what?' but 'why?'. 3racha take music very seriously and they're not the type to slack off any performances even if it's just for a school's small event.

You snap your head back to the stage, Chan and Changbin are talking to a technical staff, an apologetic smile blooming on their faces. But wait, where the fuck is Jisung ?

"Told ya !" Yeonjun hiccups into your ear. "What kind of non-boyfriend will cancel a performance just to come and see you like this ?" You should have gone with Hyunjin, you really should.. You bet he's not even half as drunk a Yeonjun right now since all Seungmin drinks is kombucha.

Unexpectedly, and also expectedly, you find yourself staring at Jisung, who's speed-walking towards your direction, like a complete dumbass. There's fire flickering at the back of his irises, burning intensely onto you. His brows are knitted together, his jacket hanging slightly over his shoulder, teasing you with a flash of his biceps. You also notice how the microphone is still there, in his hand.

Did he fucking leave the stage just to see you ?

Jisung breathes out a puff of smoke from the chilly air. "Y/N, got you."

Your heart actually feels like it’s hanging on the edges when your name rolls off his tongue so tenderly. "And you are ?" He looks over at Yeonjun with an almost disgusted expression, his hand instinctively reaching for yours. You don't blame him either way because Yeonjun looks like he just made it out of one of the world's most traumatizing lunatic asylum with shitty security. And Jisung wouldn't let you walk around with a crazy guy attached to you like a total creep. Not when he's monitoring.

“Y/N’s plus-one ?”

“Well that makes two of us.”

Yeonjun holds his hands up as if he's being held at gunpoint. "Easy, dude, I'm leaving. I'm leaving. She's all yours." He laughs, sounding almost too nervous to be true because Jisung is somewhat scary whenever someone gets on his bad side. Just ask Highschool Hyunjin.

"You're wasted as fuck, what makes you think that I'll let you go home alone like this ?" You say, flinching slightly when you feel Jisung tightens his grip on your hand. He cocks a brow as if he's testing you.

"Nah, I'm not going anywhere. Just gonna swing by the bar, Beomgyu probably came up with something to knock me out." Without a proper goodbye nor a hug like his normally playful self usually does, the blue haired boy turns on his heels to walk away from the scene. And you exhale deeply out of relief, not because you hated Yeonjun's company, you might actually hang out with him again. Just not where there's alcohol.

Jisung still hasn't let go of your hand yet, and surprisingly, you don't want him to. "I take that as you two aren't dating ?" He questions, studying your features more closely. You're really pretty, he thinks. Jisung has never once hesitant about using the word 'pretty' for you and he's not afraid to show it either. It's just that you never bothered to notice.

"No ? Hyunjin decided to ditch me for Seungmin and Yeonjun's a mutual friend through Changbin so we texted, and he picked me up after when Hyunjin left." You give him a weird look, confused by how pissed off he looks right now. "And I take that as you're jealous ?"

Jisung laughs humorously, his voice doused in dry sarcasm. "Huh, funny. Last time I checked, you were supposed to be backstage with me since you lost the bet, not clinging yourself onto some hot guy from Changbin's Biochem 101." Of course Jisung is pissed off. How could he not when you're all smiling and laughing with another guy, when he has an arm over your shoulder, holding you so lovingly, so tightly ? Another guy that's not him.

You widen your eyes at how ridiculous he sounds, almost in disbelief. "Excuse you ? Since when 'being backstage with you' was even a thing in our bet ?" Yeah, completely unheard of. "And I was not clinging onto him, I'll have you know that he chugged on a bottle of Hennie and ended up wobbling around like a fucking toddler !"

Your voice is getting louder and louder by the second, chest heaving up and down in anger because he is in fact, being extra insufferable tonight. You haven’t seen him acting like this since he officially declared cold war with Hyunjin back in junior year highschool.

"Oh yeah ? Then what ? You liked that ? It makes me sick to the stomach seeing you giggling at one of his stupid jokes. You seemed so fucking comfortable even when he's this close ?" Jisung tugs in your arm to pull you closer, his cool breath fanning your forehead. Your cheeks unknowingly feel hot, but you're not going to admit it to his face. "You're completely okay with this ?"

You grimace a stiff smile. "Of course I am." Oh boy were you wrong.

"Even now ?" He places his hands over your shoulder to bend down, angling his face so that the tip of his nose is brushing over yours. His gaze pierces right through you, leaving you completely stripped and vulnerable. And you hate every single part of this. You hate how you heart is swelling, how his touches burn like fire, how much effect he has on you with such minimal effort.

Jisung says with a devilish smirk blooming on his lips. "Hmm ? I don't know Y/N, you look pretty burnt up to me."

"It's because of the heat—" You instantly regret what you said when it starts to rain. Droplets of water repeatedly tap against your skin like clear champagne. A cloud shadows over you two and another splatter of rain comes along. Goosebumps rise on your skin at the cool sensation as your limbs lock themselves in place. Jisung has never broken eye contact with yours since then, specks of good and silver floating in his eyes like a brilliant explosion of a supernova.

Just when you thought your lips was gonna collide, something unexpected happens. Jisung takes off his jacket and swings it over your shoulders. He gently holds you by the waist as he hurries you inside, your gaze never once leaves his features. He's saying something but you can't quite catch it, it's hard to concentrate when he's being all affectionate and sweet to you like this.

You are far too busy telling your heart not to explode.

six.

Felix stomps over to your table and slams his tray of food down aggressively. Everyone peels their eyes off what they’re doing for the time being, throwing a weird look towards him. With a satisfied smile on his face, Felix drops his notebook onto the table. Changbin glances at him with an expressionless face, almost yawned in boredom. “And how did it go again ?” He drawls tiredly as if he has heard the same joke over and over for an entire week.

“You know that feeling when you feel like you’re completely detached from your own body and just stare at yourself from above ? I was up there, mind blank while my mouth couldn’t stop blabbering about what ever the fuck was on those slides. I ditched my Flashcards, completely untouched, 5 minutes has never flown by so quick. Boom, the professor didn’t even think twice about giving me an A.” Felix leans back on his chair comfortably after wrapping up his story.

Seungmin scrunches his nose at his friend. “Yeah sure, it’s an A. Big fucking deal.” Kim Seungmin basically has a full scholarship straight to college in the middle of his senior highschool year, you can say that he has the right to be unimpressed.

Minho shrugs indifferently, scrolling through his feed to kill some time. “It is for Yongbok apparently, give him a break. You know he hardly gets any when his brain only consists of Seo Changbin and Fortnite.”

Felix hisses at the older boy like a cat when you accidentally step on its tail, threatening to gouge out one of his eyes with the plastic fork on his hand. Minho being on his ass 24/7 just makes college that much more of a hellhole. He can’t help but roll his eyes in annoyance because no one is even trying to spare a ‘Good job’ or ‘Good for you’. He might actually need new friends, Felix ponders.

But wait, something’s missing.

Jisung didn’t even try to make fun of him. And he never missed a single chance to pester him or call him out every time he’s all giddy over good grades. In other words, his secret life as a potential nerd has been foiled thanks to Han Jisung. But apparently, girls find it hot when a nerd is secretly a dancer.

He looks over to his friend and frowns furiously. A hood thrown over his head, eyes glued to his laptop screen, Jisung looks extra antisocial today and Felix can feel something’s off because he would be jumping around, yelling into your ears by now, not making a PowerPoint presentation. “What’s wrong with you two ?” He asks, noticing how you’re also acting strange.

You’re mindlessly scrolling through Twitter, and stop abruptly at a new post from @j.one. It’s a picture of Jisung grinning while gripping on a microphone followed by a caption “Always have so much fun performing w/ my bros, @spearB & @cb97 - photo by @princehwang #SocialSaturday”.

You almost snickered, feeling the need to change it into “#TBT”. Not only because this photo was taken months ago for a summer music festival nearby Uni, but also because this bright side of Han Jisung no longer exists. He hardly talked to you since Saturday, ignored you when you made eye-contact with him on the hallways, didn’t even ask you to pay for his ride.

Basically, he’s making a fuss out of nothing. But you wouldn’t say that it feels good not having him call you ‘little cub’ 50 times a day or send you random messages during a lecture like ‘go out with me ?’. You never take them seriously anyway because he can’t like you just like that, right ? “Ask him, not me.” You raise a brow towards Jisung, earning a glare from him as a reply. “I’m not the one who’s being petty over me going to a music festival with Choi Yeonjun.”

Jisung sighs dramatically and shuts his laptop close. “Is that all you got ?” He inquires sarcastically as if he’s gonna set you on fire if you dare to try him.

“That’s what I said the first time we played Mario Kart together, isn’t it ? I totally kicked your ass, to the curb.”  You protest as the blood running through your veins slowly boils. If it weren’t for Hyunjin to hold your shoulders in place, you would have thrown hands at Jisung.

Jisung slams his hands onto the surface of the table harshly, almost knocked the whole table over. “Yeah, that’s why Chan never lets you drive because you’re exactly the reason for all of our wild turbulence. Because you suck at driving !”

You feel like you’re being held in a chokehold, literally and metaphorically because you can’t even drag Jisung down to the very bottom of Hell when you’re fully capable of doing that. Not before you kill him with your bare hands.

“I mean one of us had to have the guts to drive everyone back after a party where y’all got fucking wasted. College parties are so lit, they say. Who the fuck does three keg stands in a row just to run around the neighborhood shirtless later on ?!” You clatter loudly, earning a ‘wtf’ look from the students at the opposite table.

“Who wants another milkshake ? It’s on me.” Woojin interrupts the two of you, already pulling out his wallet in a rush.

Jisung’s ears automatically turn red, and you smirk at the sight of his pink cheeks upon both embarrassment and anger. “What did you just say ?”

“Ten milkshakes it is.” Chan drags Woojin out of his seat and the two of them helplessly walk towards the canteen cashier from across your table. He’s already given up, you can tell. Because if not, he would just personally hang Jisung upside down on a tree ( his natural habitat ) so that he can cool down before he said something he’d definitely regret later.

You push Hyunjin away and stand up right, staring at Jisung dead in the eye. “What’s wrong ? Cat got your tongue ?” Are you finally getting back at him ? Is this how victory taste like ?

“Say that again and I’m gonna— ugh ! Christ, I hate you !” Jisung sounds like he’s on the verge of exploding and you’re absolutely enjoying every single moment of this.

You mock him in amusement. “You’re gonna what ?”

“I’m gonna fucking kiss—“

Before Jisung could finish his sentence, Minho pulls his friend backwards and Jisung once again lands on his bottom, onto the wooden bench. “Okay, I don’t wanna ruin the heat but at least spare some of your sanity for the sake of publicity, yeah ? You know, if you guys wanna make out that bad, there’s always a restroom.”

Sanity ? For the sake of publicity ? Well, that changes everything. “WE’RE NOT GONNA MAKE OUT LEE MINHO YOU FUCKING BASTARD ! DON’T MAKE ME KNOCK KNOCK UPSIDE YOUR HEAD, YOU FILTHY PIECE OF SH-“ You’ve come to a decision that if Han Jisung doesn’t end up somewhere six feet under the ground, then Lee Minho - aka his best friend - is taking his bullet for today.

“Woah woah, Y/N, easy girl, easy.” Hyunjin holds you back with both hands. Okay, he gets why Jeongin doesn’t want to come over whenever you and Jisung are breathing in the same room now.

Jeongin scrunches his nose as he obnoxiously chews on his tuna sandwich. “Yeah, you guys need to cool down a little bit. You know, just chill out. That’s enough for your ‘friendly banter’, let the others enjoy their lunch in peace, will you ?”

You and Jisung continuously give each other death stares for the rest of your lunch break. Even when Chan and Woojin come rushing back with five cups of milkshakes each, even when it’s your favorite flavor in the entire world, it can never put out the fire of wrath that’s burning furiously deep inside. All you want to do is to have Han Jisung down on his knees and beg you for his life like how King Stefan did to Maleficent. The only difference is that Jisung actually doesn’t have a daughter.

Is that too much to ask for ?

seven.

[ 2:35pm ]

yeonjun | hey, I need to talk to you…

yeonjun | nearby café after school ? I can just wait if you’re getting out late.

You read the message on your way out of the lecture hall and widen your eyes. The hour displayed on your screen reads ‘3:45pm’. You immediately push your way through the crowd of sweaty students and run down the hallway like a psychopath. God, Yeonjun has been sitting alone at the café like a complete fool just because of you. Now you feel like a terrible human being.

“Woah, where are you going in such a hurry ?” Hyunjin yells at you loudly when you brush past him and Jeongin.

You hastily shout back at him before continuing to run. “Don’t wait for me ! Just spare me some left over !”

When you arrive at the café, you feel like you should give yourself a pat on the shoulder because you don't think you’ve ever run that fast before in your entire life. Not even for the marathon competitions during middle school.

And the café looks somewhat different today, something smells weird too, you notice. Then you realize that they just repainted the whole thing, replacing the old teal blue color into a warmer brownish color. The walls and windows are decorated with fairy lights, like a cherry on a sundae, it’s perfect for the upcoming winter break. Because students aren’t just gonna come here for the caffeine, they’re gonna hog this place for themselves sooner or later to get at least one aesthetic photo for the holiday.

You quickly spot Yeonjun sitting alone in the color while having his headphones on, slowly dozing off to the music. His cup of iced macchiato remains untouched with water dipping on the sides. A pang of guilt hits you almost instantly when you start walking towards his direction. As you sit down on the opposite seat, Yeonjun suddenly startles and shakes his sleepiness away.

“Hey, I’m so sorry, my phone was off all day.” You say with an apologetic smile on your face, feeling the guilt keeps piling onto your shoulders. “You could just leave or something, I wouldn’t be mad.”

Yeonjun removes his headphones and laughs slightly, scratching the nape of his neck. “It’s fine,” He waves his hands at you to tell you that everything’s okay. “I really need that short nap after all. God, I was dreading my neuroscience assignment all day. But hey, I really need to talk to you, that’s why I was so determined to wait.”

“Don’t even, Yeonjun. You could have just gone home and rest.” You shake your head at him in defeat. You swear to God, he’s too kind. “What’s so important that you wanted to talk to me so badly ?” You ask while flipping through the menu. The weather has been pretty chilly lately, it might be nice to have a hot chocolate.

Yeonjun’s ears turn red at your words and he starts to dart his eyes around, scared to meet your eyes. “I— uhm, look, I just—“ He stammers with tinted pink cheeks, which you find ridiculously adorable. “I just wanted to say sorry for what happened on Saturday.” He manages to squeak out and you have to hold back the urge to laugh. “I shouldn't have drunk that much beer, right ? You should feel lucky that I left you with your boyfriend because I may or may not have thrown up all over Beomgyu. He almost kicked me off a cliff, I’m not overexaggerating, I swear.”

That’s not true. Yeonjun should be the one who needs to feel lucky because not only didn’t Beomgyu leave him on some random sidewalks, he personally called Taehyun to bring him extra clothes and had an Uber to get them three back home before midnight. He knows Beomgyu is too utterly soft for him to murder him in his sleep anyway.

You smile at him before waving the waiter boy over to punch in your order. “Choi Yeonjun, it’s fine, really. You’re so much fun to hang around. But next time, no more beer for you, get it ?” Upon your teasing, he lets out a nervous chuckle. And little did you know, he’s planning on telling you something much, much more horrendous. “And how many times do I need to tell you that Jisung is not my boyfriend ?”

“Just not yet.” He corrects you, and you’re stuck between the ideas of strangling Han Jisung and throwing Choi Yeonjun off a cliff. Or maybe both. “You guys caused quite the scene during lunch break. You two bickered like an old married couple. Not to mention, you’ve probably ended up on everyone’s social medial by now.”

Your eyes widen in terror. A tape of you, and Han Jisung yelling at each other at the top of your lungs is on the Internet. Since a young age, you’ve come to realize that nothing on the internet ever really goes away. And that thought scares you shitless. Great, now everyone will think of you two as that one loud couple who always argue over stupid things. “I’m so fucking screwed— give me a sec, someone’s texting me.”

[ 4:12 pm ]

han | where are you ?

y/n | why would that matter ?

han | you’re on a date right ? with him.

y/n | han jisung are you watching me ? wtf you creep !?

[ 4:13pm ]

han | do you like him ?

han | just answer me honestly for once.

y/n | so you ARE jealous. hah, busted.

But wait, why would he be jealous ? That makes no sense.

[ 4:14pm ]

han | so what if i’m jealous ?

Your heart stops as a small ‘huh?’ escapes your lips. Yeonjun looks at you with a confused expression, almost develops a mild interest in what made you so flustered. But he guessed it either way because it’s too obvious who’s the only person that has this kind of effect on you.

han | i was the one who asked you out first, it’s not fair !

y/n | ...

y/n | hey, are you drunk ?

[ 4:15pm ]

han | i’m as sober as i can be, enjoy your pretty little date y/n.

When everything’s already a mess, when you’re at a loss for words, Hyunjin’s abrupt call is something else more than just fuel to the fire. “Y/N ! Have you seen Jisung ?” Your roommate sounds alarmed on the other end and your stomach automatically twists into a knot.

“No, I haven’t seen him since lunch… why ?” The uneasy feeling has been ghosting your gut since you received the questionable texts from Jisung, and you’re afraid to hear what Hyunjin’s gonna say next. “What’s wrong ? What happened to him ?” You bombard him with questions after questions, fiddling your fingers nervously in fear.

Yeonjun quickly senses something’s off and reaches his hand outwards. He places his hand over yours gently, rubbing little circles to remind you to calm down. There are a thousand bad scenarios running through your mind like lightning of what could have happened to Jisung. What if he’s about to do something stupid ? What if he’s hurting, and no one ever asked ? What if… it’s all because of you ?

“Hyunjin, just fucking answer me !” You almost snapped, finding the silence on the other line extremely disturbing.

He replies breathlessly, as if he’s already given up. “He’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone ?” You can’t believe your own ears at this point.

Hyunjin sounds like he’s about to have a mental breakdown. “Changbin said he hadn’t been home when his shift was supposed to end at 3. Chan said he wasn’t on campus either, nor the band room. We’ve checked everywhere, not his house, not the usual boba place, not even his favorite get-away spots. He ran away, Y/N, no one knows why. And I’m scared..” Your heart instantly drops to the pit of your stomach.

Not even his favorite get-away spots.. We’ve checked everywhere.

But Jisung would never tell them about all of his get-away spots.

eight.

Jisung unlocks his phone and sees several missed calls from his group of friends along with endless texts but his eyes only linger on some particular ones.

[ 7:23pm ]

y/n | can we just talk this out ?

y/n | this is so fucking childish of you.

y/n | I don’t care if you want to kick me out of your life.

y/n | I’m coming for you.

Jisung doesn’t know whether he should be crying or laughing. Basically, he’s emotionally restrained.

Because apparently, life is preposterous. One moment you’re laughing while being pissed off when he annoys the heck out of you. Then later you would ditch him to have yourself wrapped around another guy’s arms. Hours ago, you were on the edge of pushing his limits into the unknown and now you’re being all concerned and worried about him. He feels mildly exasperated partially because you’re playing with his heart, and partially because he allows you to do that.

He has been watching you from behind all this time. He always has so much on his mind that keeps him awake at nights but never really knows how to convey his feelings for you into words. Maybe that’s why J.One can only write love songs in vain. So being the genius person that he is, he thought ( and still think ) that the only way to approach you was to make fun of you. He can only call you questionable nicknames all day because he doesn’t have the heart to actually call you ‘babe’ in a genuine way. He would always end up spitting out something less than appropriate or stick his nose into your business because he can never fathom the courage to say a simple ‘I love you’. Yes, Jisung knows that he’s a coward for making such excuses but the thought of putting his heart into someone else’s hand scares him shitless. Not that he has never gone through a heartbreak before but the scars never really go away.

Honestly, Jisung has never thought that he would end up liking you this much. He still vividly remembers the day that you two met for the first time. It was freshman year highschool, he got signed up for a role in the drama club at the time being thanks to Hyunjin and suddenly he saw you sitting alone in a corner, struggling over a piece of prop for the set. 

Even when it’s the awkward phase, you took his breath right away like ‘whoosh’, leaving him utterly speechless when your eyes collide.  From then on, you’re the ‘nothing’ that people ask him about whenever he looks like he’s spacing out. You’re the only thing that keeps lingering in his mind, impossible to forget. He finally understands why people are always so giddy about their crush because once you like someone, everything changes. Like how your smile seems to be even brighter than the Sun, how your goofy laugh feels like music to his ears, or how every little thing that you do affects him way too damn much. Woah, he understands why his group of friends said that he’s so whipped for you now.

Jisung doesn’t know what to think or what to feel anymore. He really doesn’t. He hates how you keep switching between ‘the Y/N who hates Jisung with passion’ and ‘the Y/N who genuinely worries about Jisung’. It drives him nuts not knowing how you really feel about him. Jisung swipes his index finger upwards and presses the ‘Airplane Mode’ button from the Control Center settings. He can’t afford having Chan or Minho screaming directly at his ears after when he ran away like that. Maybe he is childish after all.

“Han Jisung !”

Jisung snaps his head backwards to find you standing there, disheveled hair, hands supporting on your knees with a glint of fierceness in your eyes. With the dim source of light from the Moon, you’re glowing under all of the sentimental glory that leaves him completely flustered. He’s really predictable, he thinks. Of course you’d know that he would end up choosing the park where he used to hang out with Seungmin since kindergarten. It’s also where he bawled his eyes out after his first breakup, having you rub little circles on his back and tell him that everything’s gonna be alright.

“What are you doing here ?” He asks soullessly although his heart his yelling at him to fall into your embrace.

“I told you, didn’t I ?” You say, breaths growing more even by the seconds. “I’m coming for you, I don’t care if you’re gonna kick me out of your life because I’m not allowing that.”

Jisung snickers, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “You rain-checked on Choi Yeonjun just like that ? Aren’t you afraid that he’s gonna break up with you tomorrow after finding you that you’re rummaging through the entire city to look for me, an absolute bastard who never leaves well enough alone ?”

You shoot him a stern look, brows slightly furrowed. “You didn’t let me finish, how rude. I’m trying to prove a point, don’t you see ? If I really didn’t give two fucks about you then why would I be here ? If I was really dating Choi Yeonjun then I could have just stayed at home and cuddled with him until Hyunjin kicked him out of our apartment. It’s been almost three hours, Jisung. Three fucking hours. I was running from place to place like a psychopath, got lost on some random streets, just to find you. Yes, just for you.”

He squints his eyes at you skeptically. “And your point is ?”

“I care about you.” You don’t even need to consider anything at this point and that has Jisung’s jaw dropped to the ground. “I could never hate you, even if I do, I can’t hate you for the rest of my life for my own good. Even when you call me ‘little cub’ fifty times a day, even when you make me pay for your ride, even when we almost threw hands at each other during lunch break, my feelings for you never change. Not even one bit.” You state confidently, taking long strides towards him.

Jisung looks at you with a blank expression, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know Y/N. You’re a fucking hot mess. For all I know, you second-guessed most of your decisions in life. What if you decided to pull—“ That’s it, you’re not enduring his ‘what if’-s bullshit any longer.

Without a word, you grab Jisung by the collar and pull him flush against you. When your lips collide with his, it feels like you’re being sent to the Moon and back continuously. Sparks of joy, lust, and mixed emotions ignite inside his heart when you trace your tongue over his then it explodes like a firework that lights up the eerie darkness effortlessly. Jisung slowly gives in and melts into the kiss, his hands snaking around your waist to hold you closer, feeling your warmth radiating off on his flannels. You’re the first one to pull away, hands trailing behind the nape of his neck.  “I can say that giving away my first kiss is enough to prove that the only thing I’ve never second-guessed was liking you.” You say breathlessly, trying to ignore the rouge on your cheeks. 

“I am your first kiss ?” He widens his eyes slightly.

You scoff at him while trying to act casual. “Be grateful at least you brat.” Jisung chuckles softly at you, slightly taken aback at your bold action as the feeling of your lips on his chills him to the bones. “Point taken.” At that moment, you quickly realize how his warm brown eyes hold their own galaxy with the stars shining so brightly that makes your heart swell. At that moment, you also realize that Jisung is your Sun because his smile alone can light up the whole celestial sphere. Meanwhile you’re his Moon because no matter what happens, you’ll always be here to brighten him up on the darkest of days.

And you both know that as long as you have each other, you will forever be radiant.

[danddymaro]

So A Date? | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Y/n ( Reader) | Word Count :  3760

Summary: This is a  pretty much meaningless one-shot. If anything it's pretty much a shitty attempt at posting something quickly. I honestly thought it'd be pretty cute,  It actually came to me one day when I was thinking about him going back to his basic cut, but I quickly realized that I actually love Bucky all stubbly and long haired. Does he look like a bum? Kinda...

But poor baby, He's a cute little bum. He's a sweetie, and though I personally love clean shaven men he's a special case, you know? I don't know about anyone else.

Italics in quotations are thoughts = ‘Example’

Italics Without are flashbacks = Example

So A Date ?

Snips of dark, chocolate-colored strands littered the floor, making the restroom tile look like an unkept barbershop's flooring in need of cleanly maintenance. Scattered, severed strands decorated the surface beneath him and he knew it would take him a while to clean, but for now, his focus was on the clear mirror and its reflection.

And as he dragged the razor down the side of his face one last time he was met with the final result.

Slowly, Bucky touched his now smooth face with his free hand, marveling at the obvious change between his old look and the present one. Tapping the razor to the edge of the sink bowl a couple of times to draw out the remainder of the wetness and little pricks of hair, he turned off the running faucet.

With a slow exhale, he came even closer to the mirror, leaning into the counter and deciding to take the last once-over at his work to make sure everything was in order.

Truth be told, he hadn’t used a razor in a long time, letting his facial hair take it’s own course, growing naturally along with his actual hair.

As he looked himself over in the rectangular mirror he let out a shaky sigh, forming an even shakier smile,

‘Looks alright.’ he thought to himself with relief, placing away the chromed safety razor on its little stand again. Dabbing on a bit of aftershave he forced a smile, one that extended far more than he had accustomed to nowadays, trying to see what the expression looked like on his ‘new’ face.

The small experimentation lead to an entire catalog of faces, observing how they looked on him and he came to a single conclusion,

"I don't look half bad,” he said nodding at his reflection in approval and giving the man in the mirror a rather cocky smirk.

‘Hey handsome,’ he thought complimenting himself, certain he could make at least a girl or two swoon if he actually tried.

In his preoccupied state, he failed to notice the new company that observed him from the doorway, a risen brow settling over his face as he watched the freshly groomed man.

“Well look at you,” He said in an amused voice, making Bucky stop entirely.

The brunette felt like an idiot. Naturally, the feeling came to him as he was caught doing something so embarrassing.

‘ Better Steve than anyone else,’ He reasoned.

At least that's what he convinced himself...

Holding back a chuckle, and instead, offering a less mocking smile, Steve walked in, putting a hand to his friend’s shoulder,

“Well, care to say what lucky lady are you taking out today?” Steve asked in a jovial manner, unable to hold down the enormous smile he had on his face. In turn, Bucky rolled his eyes and faced back to the mirror, ignoring the amused gaze of his best friend.

“So, you think it looks good?” He asked marveling at the smoothness of his chin and cheeks, running his right hand down his face in an exaggerated manner, dismissing Steve’s little comments best he could.

“You bet,” was the immediate answer.

The blonde didn't even think twice and perhaps it was the nostalgia speaking, openly welcoming the change back to something familiar from his past, but Bucky did look good in his opinion.

“Soooo….” Steve started, “ In all seriousness, who are you taking out, hmm?” Steve added, but not without shooting the other man a knowing look.

And It seemed he had his own idea already gearing up in his head, and just wanted to tease and in the process get an actual confirmation.

“No one…” Bucky grumbled, slouching up, wanting to disappear somewhere else.

Few people knew Steve the way Bucky did, which was well, annoying.

Butt headed too.

So, in other words, Steve Rogers was the equivalent of a brother.

Most often a younger, annoying one.

“I see, so, if you're not taking her out tonight, I imagine you're still trying to impress her? Right?” Steve said poking at the subject, placing a hand to his chin in wonder.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Bucky said sighing, already debating on whether he should knock the blonde out or not,

‘I could… but the question is whether or not I should,' the brunette contemplated with an actual consideration.

“I think you do,” Steve said smugly giving him a mischievous grin, far to unfitting to be left on his face for as long as it had settled.

“ Come on. You might as well just spill it, Buck,” Steve said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

“Just Shut up,” Bucky replied with a huff. “There aren't any beans to spill here,” he added. “I was just in need of some grooming, nothing more, nothing less and that's all,” He said defensively, placing his two hands on the bathroom counter, leaning into it idly.

“Hm...no, no I don't buy it,” Steve said skeptically, shaking his head, unconvinced.

“It's (f/n) right?” he questioned Bucky, not missing an opportunity for the confirmation he knew he’d get. He stared directly at his friend, observing him with scrutinizing eyes.

It took a while to answer the question, but after a minute of silence, Bucky responded, with even less enthusiasm than before, sounding completely flat this time around.

“No,” he said stiffly, his lips pressing firmly together.

And there it was… There was all the proof the first avenger needed, written all over the brunette's face,

“Yes, it is!” Steve exclaimed snapping his right hand’s thumb and middle finger together with a loud popping sound.

There was nothing in the world that would convince him otherwise...

The reason Bucky’s sudden change had happened was because of her, and there was no other way of putting it.

“You know, without that mop of hair I can actually see you better.” Steve pointed out chuckling the entire time he spoke, ready to break down into hysterical laughter. Wiping a tear from the corner of his left eye, he let the last few giggles escape him before he spoke again ;

“ Didn't know you were actually capable of glowing red.” he voiced.

And sure enough, on Bucky's fair skin, there was a noticeable change in color blooming across his face, spreading to the tips of his ears.

“No. I don't,” Bucky said stubbornly, deciding to hold his ground. His face did not shift from the gaze set on the sink and decided to stay there to avoid giving the blonde a better look at his embarrassment.

After all, he could only ride out the lie as far as it could stretch.

“I can see you, you know that right?” Steve informed him, actually going as far as to jab his finger to the heated skin.“ No… you… can’t.” Bucky said slowly with a low voice, shoving the words out his mouth through tightly gritted teeth.

He couldn't admit that he was blushing like some young teen.

“For god sakes! Bucky There’s a mirror right in your face!” Steve exclaimed, doubling over in a fit of laughter, holding his chest with his right hand. And he didn't think it could get any better, but as Bucky’s eyes shot up to the reflection, Steve saw the look of shock plastered all over his red face betray him.

And to think he had actually convinced himself that he had actually remained impassive the entire time...

Bucky stared wide-eyed as he saw the look that betrayed him staring straight at him, mocking him, and boy did he feel stupid. The reflection before him was also of the blonde and he didn't make it any effort to hide his amusement, continuing on with his enjoyment.

“The lighting here is shitty,” Bucky said complaining, unable to stare at himself any longer, and shot his eyes straight down again, glaring at the water faucet instead. Rollin his eyes, Steve caved in, but only to give a bit of solace to the brunette, seeing how much he was fuming, to the point he was quite literally pouting.

Nothing in the world would convince Rogers that the blush on his best friend’s face wasn't because of the (h/c) haired woman, because it was just an evident fact.

“Fine, fine, “ he said putting up his hands in defeat, giving a sluggish shrug.“ Ok, You win Bucky, I'll pretend you're not trying to impress someone.” He said simply. “Someone here….in this same building, “ he added quickly.

“Whose looking for you by the way,” he mentioned in a ‘just so you know’ sort of manner.

The grim and sour look on Barnes immediately vanished as he heard the news, “She is? “ he breathed, unknowingly letting his face lift up to show a burst of joy.

His eyebrows rose high and his entire expression became lively, glowing with a softer and tamed color of pink.

“I see you're all excited. ” Steve pointed out nonchalantly, but looking rather smug.

He was right and he knew it, and though he found the denial kind of amusing and well to simply put it, cute, he would rather have Bucky just admit that he liked (f/n).

There was no harm in it, and hey, he was his best friend, wasn't he?

If anyone should know it was him!

“You're not lying to me are you ?” Bucky said immediately, glaring with suspicion.

“Come on, you get so defensive about her, but yes, She actually sent me out to look for you…” Steve continued in a dull tone. “ but you can choose to not believe me,” he added.

“Ah,” Bucky voiced with a short nod. He didn't say much afterward, and neither did the blonde, leaving them in an awkward silence which was cut short by the blue-eyed blonde minutes after.

“Your girlfriend sent me here.” Steve blurted out quickly, unable to hold it back any longer. He had almost suffocated trying to withhold the words, and it felt like a relief to have them flood out.

Rolling his head back in annoyance, Bucky stared up at the ceiling asking just what he did to deserve the pestering he’s had to put up with so far,

“Are you done?” He asked closing his eyes and breathing through his flared nostrils.

He doubted that there was a medicine strong enough to relieve the pain of the headache he’s grown since he started being interrogated.

“No…,” Steve said softly, in an almost too quiet voice. He sounded like a chided kid, making Bucky feel just a bit guilty for being so callous and rude.

“Can I have one last one?” Steve said in a pleading voice sounding kiddish.

' Well, at least I don't feel bad anymore,’ Bucky thought deadpanned, agreeing albeit reluctantly, but nonetheless gave the go.

“Fine, Go ahead… but make it quick,” he said preparing himself for what stupid little joke his friend had in store.

“Bucky’s in love…” Steve sang, using both his pointer fingers to move left in right at the rhythm. Staring at the blonde with a lukewarm stare, Bucky shook his head and brought up his hand to grip his forehead.

‘This is the man leading us,’ he thought hopelessly as the blonde continued to sing, ignoring the look of exasperation being shot at him.

“ Finish up and let it out now, I don't want any of this when I take her out tonight. Not a single joke, snicker, or peep! “ Bucky said glaring at him with a scowl.

The mini-concert stopped, and Steve stared in awe with a slack jaw.

“Hold on…. Are you Serious? You're going on a date, and you're saying you don't like her?“ he said In astonishment, dumbfounded at whatever logic was playing in the dark-haired man’s head.

“It's not a date. We're just hanging out together… “ Bucky said softly, sounding unconvinced himself.

In all honesty, he didn't know himself what it was. He was used to being alone with her, so he couldn't really count going out with her to eat a date.

But then again...if it wasn't a date, why was he so nervous about spending some time with her? Enough to make himself look so presentable and clean?

He had even bought a new shirt, a button-up one to make him look a little classier than the old rags he called his wardrobe.

“Alright, so Alone? “ Steve asked slowly, still trying to understand.

“Yeah, problem?” Bucky said before pressing lips together.

‘ We are going to be alone…’ Barnes thought to himself. ‘ but we already get together alone… so, it isn't a date, right? ' he asked himself, scratching the side of his cheek.

“So ...A date?” the blonde questioned with a flattening tone, “You guys are out alone, you're over here grooming yourself and She's Getting all dolled up -” He started to say, laying out all the fact and counting them on his hand before his friend cut him off,

“She’s getting dolled up?” Bucky asked surprised, feeling an invisible punch to the gut at the news.

So she was trying to look good… for him…

Right?

The idea of her getting all pretty just to meet him up caused a weird little feeling to rise up from inside. It made him want to dance, go out into the tallest building he could find and give a howl of excitement and sheer joy.

‘ Would I look stupid if I showed up with some roses?’ he asked himself, biting his top lip with a look of concern.

‘Would that be too forward and desperate?’ he thought worriedly.

“ She's having Clint do her makeup. “ Steve said in response to Bucky’s question, bringing him out of his little world.

“- wait, Buck, You didn't know that?” he added raising a brow.

Steve had assumed the reason Bucky was trying to look good was that he had a date with the pretty ( h/c) haired woman. That's the entire reason he even bothered to pick on his buddy with such certainty.

“Wait, Bullshit, Clint? Barton? He's doing her makeup? “ Bucky asked laughing, Not believing the assassin had it in him to glam up girls. He made Steve shoot him an equally amused grin, bringing the man out of his previous thoughts.

“Hey, He's actually really good, “Steve said in defense, beginning to laugh as well. ”I've seen his work, believe me. He does some top-notch work,” he said pointing up a thumb of approval. “ He did Tasha's hair and makeup last new years,” he said smiling.

“ Oh yeah, she had all that glitter going on. “ Bucky replied, recalling that she did look nice that day, and actually drew in a lot more attention than she did usually.

‘ So...My doll’s really going all out…’ Bucky thought with a faint smile. ‘ So guess I’m not the only one worried here...’

" Say, you wouldn't happen to have some cologne would you?" He asked his friend somewhat sheepishly.

“For your da-”

“Yes for my date,”

.......................................

[Later]

If anyone were to ask him, he could state with certainty that (f/n) (l/n) was possibly one of the most beautiful women he’d encountered up to date.

And he’d always believed her to be pretty, right from the moment he first saw her.

But when he saw her for the first time that night he gawked, his jaw lightly slacked, “wow,” he said softly, at a lack for any better words.

Wide-eyed she stared at him too, taken back by his own appearance, “ Oh Bucky!” she said smiling grandly, “You look amazing!” She added squealing in delight.

He looked more than amazing, he looked incredibly handsome!

Without a second thought, her hand came up to touch his clean-shaven face and traced his jawline with the tips of her fingers.

The touch of her fingers on his face caused a very small tingle to run up his spine, going unnoticed due to her preoccupation and intense focus on the lower portion of his face.

“As sharp as a knife” she commented mesmerized and seemingly mystified. “ Steve’s doesn't get shit on you, ” she breathed still oblivious that she had so openly touched him and continued to do so.

He looked down at her confused, but nonetheless grinning, “what are you going on about (f/n) ?” he asked being thrown back by her rather strange comment. He couldn't understand what she was mumbling about, but he knew it had to do with his face by the way her eyes were glued to it.

Her hand suddenly retracted back, snapping to her side in a stiff movement.

She looked embarrassed and sheepishly smiled at him, peering up at him with sweet (e/c) colored eyes. “ I...I was talking about your jawline,” she said laughing nervously, scratching her wrist with an unenthusiastic finger to take the edge of the fluster she felt.

“ It's just... it’s really sharp, you know? I didn't know it was under that beard of yours,” she added with a small, amused breath.

It wasn’t like they’d never touched, they were good friends and all, but even then, she wasn't too keen on touching him so much, being one to respect boundaries.

Her worries sedated upon gazing at his face again, noting he looked more confused than disgusted or troubled.

“You ok?” she asked him, cocking her head to the side, seeing his expression.

“That's a good thing right? The whole sharp knife thing... my jaw? ” He said unsure, closely eyeing her response with anxious eyes. Laughing at his perplexion, she closed her eyes in a full look of enjoyment,

“ You look amazing Bucky, Really!” she said simply, shaking her head at his obvious insecurity, which in her opinion was completely misplaced.

“You're laughing at me, “ he said sighing, “ Hard to believe you when you're laughing like that. Be honest with me…I'm not all that sensitive.” Bucky said to her.

“No,” she said with all seriousness, “Seriously, you look good..” she said sensibly, touching a hand to his arm, giving him her own form of comfort.

Whenever she did that, he knew she was being sincere, he knew she was on his side.

“You really think ?” He said feeling his cheeks warm, looking away with growing insecurity, remembering the way Steve had noticed the obvious coloration growing on his cheeks earlier.

She had caught a glimpse of his blush and giggled, finding it cute to see him so flustered.

To think she ever found the guy to be intimidating...

He was much too sweet, much too pure to be scary,

“Definitely” she giggled, hiding the action with a modest hand.

“ But I will say, It's kind of weird seeing you like this,” she said smiling. “It will also take some getting used too,” she added afterward.

“Yeah?” He responded. “How? Don't tell me it's a bad weird?” He said hastily, almost throwing up his entire stomach at the growing anxiousness she was giving him.

‘Please don't tell me you hate it.’ He thought inwardly groaning.

“I already told you you look great!” she assured him.

Why was he being so weird about it?

“ It’s just that you don't look like Bucky anymore,” she added softly, quieting down rather suddenly. She said nothing more and stared down at her feet, thinking about something she kept hidden from him.

“I still am a dummy.” He responded just as quietly, not knowing what much else he could say.

“Yeah but, the Bucky I've come to know looks -“

“Like a bum?” He finished for her.

“No…. He kind of looks… well, he just looks rugged and kind of sexy actually,” she admitted, slightly embarrassed, her voice barely going above a whisper as she finished the sentence with obvious struggle.

He tightened his jaw at the confession.

“You don't say…” He said through clenched teeth, swallowing down the loud roar of anguish he almost let out.

‘Crap. ‘ he thought to purse his lips. ‘That’s what she likes?’

To him, it didn’t matter if he looked good if she wasn’t into it...

The whole reason he decided on the big change was for her anyways,

'Just Great,'  

With that being said, it meant he'd spend the rest of the year growing his hair out and growing that stupid stubble back like before.

She wanted a bum, he'll give it to her.

“ oh no, “ she said worriedly, stopping entirely, and blocking his path. Standing before him, she looked up in worry. “ You look great! I didn't mean to put you down!” she said immediately.

“Change isn't a bad thing really! It’s just my Bucky has a different look!”

“ My Bucky,” That’s all he heard, all he could focus on.

“I’m still your Bucky silly, ” he muttered. “I’ll always be,” he added just as softly, forming a grin, looking down at her with one of his practiced smiles and effectively making her glow pink.

‘At least It was worth it,’ He thought to himself, thinking back to earlier that day when Steve had caught him.

And while of course, the handsome perk up was something that would make just about any woman swoon, it was his little murmur of words that made her heart gear up, face burning.

She’d been wondering all day if she overdid it. She was uncertain if wearing her little, black dress was too much.

She’d second-guessed herself as she saw the finishing touches of her makeup which was more than she was accustomed too as well.

Though she did look pretty, she was concerned that she was going overboard.

“So a date?” Clint said flatly, brushing up her eyebrows.

“Not a date,” (f/n) replied back, her voice soft, contemplating, doubt set onto her with the question alone.

‘It’s not a date...’ She reasoned, ‘ I mean, it’s not like we never hang out together,’ she added, wringing her hands together. ‘Or is it?’ She thought with delight, the possibility of it being one exciting her.

Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, Natasha rolled her eyes,” It’s totally a date,” she said chuckling.

'I guess we've been threading on yes and no for too long,' she started, ‘I’m such an idiot,’ she thought while giggling.

She wasn't dumb, and she wasn’t imagining things...

“Well, looks like we’re here,” Bucky said pointing his chin up, the sign above them reading the name of their destination.

He put his hand out for her, smiling dazzlingly, “ My lady,” he said cheekily.

“My Bucky,” she said back with a kittenish tone as she took his offer, making him chuckle, and she couldn’t see it, but his heart throbbed, his lovely doll unknowingly responsible for his heart’s exited, jumping beat.

[monchikyun]

XIX. never let me go

Connor would love nothing more than to just initiate stasis and enjoy the current moment, the same way Gavin does. Seemingly at peace, the man clings to his body like the android is his favourite teddy-bear. His heart-rate is steady, breathing is even. No nightmares are raging behind those closed eyes, and Connor can’t help but feel a bit jealous. Not of Gavin, specifically, but people in general. People who have the ability to sleep and let themselves be carried to a world of their mind’s own creation. Sure, it might not always be a pleasant experience, but no matter what one’s brain decides to show its owner, they still have the ability to escape the reality of their waking life. Connor’s version of a shut-eye is nothing like the one in which humans get to lose themselves. When he enters his so-called sleep-mode, everything just… stops existing to him. It’s more like a small, temporary death. He can’t believe that several months ago he wished to never leave that state, to be allowed to interrupt himself from living, permanently. 

Not just then, though. It’s not like he didn’t hold his gun close to his then active LED only days before the start of December. It’s not like he still doesn’t fantasise about the sweet embrace of the eternal void at times when there's nothing or no one to distract him. 

Like now. Although he technically has a company right next to him, accumulating their mutual heat, he senses he’s missing out on something important. Due to Connor being a machine, there are many things they won’t be able to do together, and he thinks that it’s fine, that he doesn’t have to try and force himself to adapt his being to that of his partner’s. Gavin wouldn’t most likely appreciate it if Connor went ahead and got himself some of the new updates that have been designed to make android appear more organic anyway. 

He quite likes his own body, likes that he doesn’t have to waste money that he doesn’t have on food and other necessities he can function without.  

Gavin shifts, though almost imperceivably, still, he strokes the side of his face, relishing in the warm tickling of his breath against his bare neck. As he’s now, all safe and almost tranquil, all he can contemplate about is their possible future. His own demise hasn’t even crossed his mind. It hasn’t done so in a while, maybe not since their first proper hug. Having a close, nurturing relationship is one of the healthiest things one can do for themselves, he is well aware of this fact, but that doesn’t mean that all his previous doubts are suddenly gone. 

They haven’t even talked about what they wanted to call each other. To Connor, the title of a best friend is more than enough. He doesn’t need anything else. Maybe he’d like it, but it’s far from being a priority. Things are near perfect as they are. As long as they’re together… a condition which presents the biggest issue. The ugly truth that he’s been trying to hide from. 

His entire mental stability depends on the presence of one person. He realises that’s wrong and probably dangerous, still, he doesn’t care. Why shouldn’t he rely on someone for happiness, isn’t that what humans have done since the beginning of their time on Earth? Seek out company and with that, reassurance?  

Connor is no different. He just needs someone to stay close, and the right person just happens to be his irritable partner. 

He wants to say that he’s certain that Gavin won’t ever let him go, but how can he be, really. Anything can happen. The man can die tomorrow and then what would Connor do. Look for another company like a dog that has lost its master? No, he thinks himself pathetic enough that he would just give up on everything, including any and all socialisation. The pathway towards leaving this bane of existence would be wide open to him, and he would be more than willing to step on it. It has been terrifying enough seeing the possible funereal of his soulmate and now he’s back on a similar track of thoughts. He should be used to it by now, to his inner unrest and all the gunk that comes with it, but he still can’t keep calm, not even a semblance of it. He lets himself spiral down to the horror-infested basement of his mind too easily, and getting himself out is all but simple.  

Luckily, there is help available right beside him, currently beginning to stir lightly in his arms. Maybe he could make it into a valid excuse for waking him up. 

“Gavin.” He starts with a quiet whisper, not enough to disturb even the lightest of sleepers. 

The man mumbles something that has little to do with any words known to men and takes a breath through his nose, a sign that his first attempt might have been successful after all.

“Are you still asleep?” Connor dares to increase the volume of his voice, hoping to make his awakening as pleasant as could be, while not appearing to be the selfish one who would interrupt his well-needed rest just because he feels a bit sad. Or scared. Panicked, perhaps. He can’t really tell, emotions are not really his area of expertise. He just knows that he can’t focus on anything but the turmoil of bleak images overwhelming his entire self. There are tears forming in his eyes, his first natural response to everything that reminds him of the finality of death. He really is weak, isn’t he. A weak little robot not coming to terms with the concept that is the circle of life. 

“You tryin’ to suffocate me?” comes a small, breathless question, bringing him back to the grungy motel room that has become their safe haven for these past several days. 

He can’t relate the words to anything that’s presently happening, at least not for a couple of seconds. Then he notices that he has been clutching Gavin to his own body using too much strength without a conscious choice to do so. He immediately releases the struggling man, giving him a needed space to catch his breath. The loss of direct contact makes him almost shiver with something unidentifiable, like there’s ice forming on those places that were being warmed by human touch. His eyes are darting everywhere but his friend, hands gripping the sheets like he needs to hold onto something lest he floats away. The unspoken apology stuck in his throat, stubbornly refusing to get out of there.

It's not the first time he goes through something like this, though there is usually no one around to witness this inconvenient state of mind. He isn’t sure what to call this, not sure if it really matters.

 Right now, he's just immensely grateful that there is someone with him. He loathes having to deal with it on his own. 

"What's wrong?" the man in question asks, careful gentleness embedded in his voice. He places his palm on Connor's shoulder ever so tentatively, like the android has suddenly lost his integral structure. If he has, he'd need every bit of support to rebuild it back. A small touch like that is not nearly enough. But he takes what he can get. 

"More visions?" 

"I… I don't know. Just… I think telling you about the accident broke something in me. I can't… I can't stop picturing all the worst scenarios and… it hurts. I keep preconstructing both mine and your death and it’s making me go crazy." 

Gavin puts his arm around his shoulders before he finishes talking. He immediately leans into the contact, being glad that for once he is able to abstain from crying. 

"Maybe you weren't ready to-" 

"No, no I'm glad I told you. It's not that." 

He assumes time has little to do with his current situation. It's been almost a year and the pain still drowns him. Not always, but as soon as he's about to forget, something grabs his leg and pulls him deep under. 

He gathers his courage and pulls Gavin into yet another embrace. He really must have been touch-starved, only now getting his supply of what would be the android equivalent of oxytocin. 

"I'm sorry to say this but I came to the conclusion that…" he pauses to second guess his confession, only to decide that revealing this part of himself would only be advantageous to his healing process in the long run. 

"I need you."

 It surprises him how easily those words have come out. How it doesn't make Gavin's body flinch in the slightest. 

"I realise that it's not right nor fair, but-" 

"Shhhh," he places his hand on Connor's mouth, like that would stop him from vocalising his sentiments. Still, it takes him off guard and he obliges, "Shut up, Con." 

This time it's Gavin who does the squeezing. 

"I get it, I get it."  His reassurance strokes his soul and drapes it in budding calmness. 

“I’m never letting you go, I promise.” He isn’t sure what exactly Gavin means by that, but it still turns the unsightly pain inside of him into something less so. Something he would dare call beautiful.

“Hell, you’re only a one-year-old, of course you need someone to look after you.” That manages to elicit a chuckle out of him, which in turns makes Gavin place a sweet kiss on his cheek. 

Connor thought that he’s given the man all the love that he has before he finds out that feelings aren’t a constant. 

Love always changes, always shifts around. In his case, it’s growing like a garden blessed by spring’s good weather. He’s one of the lucky ones, ones who are able to keep its light-source near. 

It’s hard not to smile now when he finally understands. And why wouldn't he, really, when the world sits within his arms.

-----

it seems this fic is 50% two broken idiots in bed thinking, occasionally talking, and when we’re lucky, snuggling

[basilone]

Hey Eva! All these holiday feels floating around have got me thinking - what does the Form and Void universe do for holidays? Is it more seasonal, like the solstices? Do Gods have feast days or particular times of year when they like to be honored?

Hi Merc! *waves* Ahhh, I’m all up in my holiday feels for sure! It’s so cool to get to talk about the Form & Void equivalent of these.. though I wound up pouring this into a small fic format, as inspiration suddenly struck! Hope you’ll enjoy the read, haha. ;) Thank you for this one!

-----------------------------------------------

He’s somewhat fond of foxholes.

Sure, it’s not ideal that the ground is really hard and that the air all around nips into freezing temperatures even during the brightest part of the day. Tab doesn’t much care for the fact that his toes feel like they’re never going to be warm again, nor does he care about the veritable piles of snow that surround them worse than the Germans do. The earth is difficult to sleep on, though the hibernation mode that exists in Easy thankfully extends to most of the bugs that he knows normally have no issue with making a nuisance of themselves.

His foxhole, however, feels remarkably cozy during these evening hours. Tab’s certain that a huge part of that is the present company and the three spare blankets they were able to get a hold of between them. Another part, he’s not loathe to admit, is the fact that present company is now huddled up against him and perfectly content to be pulled into his arms.

“Almost midwinter now,” murmurs Chuck. “No Festival of Peace this year.. It’s a really big thing down in San Francisco. They go nuts with the lights and everything.”

“Yeah, Babe’s been chatting big game about the Philly lights too.” Tab laughs and shakes his head. “Way he carries on, you’d think Philly – will-fight-anything-Philly, Chuck, of all places – is Peace’s favorite spot to hang out in. Any city that birthed the likes of Guarnere should automatically be exempt from that, right?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Do they have it up in Indiana, too?”

“Small pockets, maybe, but not really where I live. They’re bigger on the harvest celebrations. Lots of random prayers and celebrations for weather gods down in the fields. Fire’s got a healthy hold on the general public, too.”

“When was Fire’s big day, again? November?” Chuck blinks up at him, then sits bolt upright. “Joe Toye Day!”

“Joe Toye Day, yeah.” He grins up at the man. “What was it he said? ‘My god’s just gonna have to share?’”

“What a character, honestly. Even you don’t say that about the week-long debauchery you’ve got going in spring.”

“Hey,” he says, playing up the indignation, “it’s not that big of a debauch. We’re just very free love about things in that week. People like it. Lots of babies, lots of flowers, lots of marriages.”

“Your god’s celebrations are banned in, like, fifty different cities that I know of,” laughs Chuck, crawling back into the warmth of his embrace now that the cool night air begins to take hold. “They upped your dosage of the suppressants around that time just so none of us would feel the urge to jump your bones, man. That’s some serious free love shit.”

“There’s plenty of me to go around.”

“Gods spare us.” Chuck’s tone is teasing and remarkably free of condemnation. It’s one of the reasons why he’s so fond of the Californian, even when the man’s life choices remain utterly baffling at times. “Hey, do you think Wisdom’s got a celebration?”

“If she does, it’s probably midsummer or something? Winters doesn’t look too pleased with the snow and Nixon’s been complaining about the cold for a day and an age now. Doesn’t seem likely she’d have a celebration when her chosen hate the cold, huh?”

“Right. Some don’t seem big on celebrations, though.”

“Or we just don’t know about ’em. That happens, too.” He shrugs. Wraps his arms tighter around Chuck. “Couldn’t tell ya about Fate, or Home, or what something like Chaos would want for a celebration..”

“What about War?”

He snorts out amusement. “I wondered when you’d get to her.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s cute, really,” Tab says, “you trying to figure her out from this very safe distance. I tend to think.. She’s got everybody on their knees for her right now, with this fighting we’re doing. Probably doesn’t need a celebration for it.” He hums as pink and golden hues dance upon Chuck’s skin a moment. Smiles at the knowledge he’s still entrusted with, even in the midst of this icy winter that’s trying so hard to keep him away from his god. “You should ask her when you see her next. She’s been out there walking the line. Shifty almost shot her the other day.”

“No fucking way.”

“Way. He says she just laughed at him and complimented him in the same voice Speirs uses when he’s impressed but doesn’t want to show it.”

“I’m not gonna ask her.”

“Ask who?” interrupts Lieb’s voice from above them. “Mind if I..?”

Tab extends an arm upward. “Hop in, you little shit,” he says. “I’m trying to get Chuck to go talk to War about her celebrations.”

“Does War even have those?”

“Ow, Lieb, fuck, keep your bony knees away from my thigh,” complains Chuck.

“Chuck, seriously, you don’t have to elbow –” Tab hisses as a particularly sharp jab lands in his ribs. “Lieb, for fuck’s sake, don’t dislocate my – Settle the fuck down.”

Lieb’s unruly hair tickles his chin. “Shut up, I’m barely even touching you,” the other Californian grumbles despite the fact that his head has come to rest on Tab’s chest beside Chuck. Not for the first time, Tab wonders how it is that his arms always wind up being home to the two unruly members of the golden state. “Why the fuck were you talking about War? Are you on your Speirs bender again?”

“I don’t have a Speirs bender.”

“Yeah, you do!”

Chuck sighs as Tab and Lieb both unite their voices to let him know just what they think about that. Tab pats his head in mock-compassion. He’s gotten used to Chuck’s intermittent comments about Speirs and that god of his, marked by the threads of affection he can see clear as day in the man’s countenance when he does. Tab’s not cruel, mind – he’s seen flashes of it in Speirs, so blink-and-you-will-miss-it that he would be convinced he missed it if he hadn’t seen War’s eyes trace Chuck’s presence for well over a fortnight now – but Chuck doesn’t seem to want to believe that there’s anything there at all.

“Changing the subject,” says Chuck, then, and this too is predictable, “does yours have any celebration, Lieb?”

“Fuck yeah. Several throughout the year. Most of them are a they-tried-to-kill-us-but-here-we-are vibe, you know, because historically we’ve been persecuted a lot?” Lieb’s voice is barely more than a mumble. There’s something frosty in his breath that makes Tab shiver. “I like the sea-parting stories that happen at some celebrations a lot. Some older Ocean-chosen can do that. I can do it in a glass of water, but nothing else.”

“Seriously? I wanna see that. Why the fuck didn’t you show us?”

“Chuck, man, fuck off, I learned how to right before we got to Mourmelon. It’s too cold for it now anyway.”

“We could melt the snow.”

“Fucking great, genius,” snipes Chuck at Tab’s murmur, “let’s melt the snow with our minds or something because there’s no way we’re gonna be warm enough to melt anything otherwise.”

“Could ask Toye?”

“Yeah, and have Guarnere remark about how water-splicing is a useless talent again? I think the fuck not.”

“Like he’s any use, sitting there getting stabby about our enemies as if they’re just gonna magically appear in front of him if he wishes really hard,” snorts Chuck, relentlessly unforgiving of any remark that’s set to harm Lieb. “I think it’s cool. You’re cool.”

“Did you hear, Tab? I’m cool now.”

“That’s great, Joe, real great.” Tab yawns. “Can you two shut your yaps now? We’re on noise discipline.”

“We’re on noise discipline,” mocks Chuck halfheartedly, snuggling closer to Tab’s side as he does. “Do you think your god’s gonna celebrate the removal of that stick from your ass?”

“Yeah, that stick’s gotta come out before the grand debauch.”

“It’s not a fucking –”

“Gentlemen,” interrupts Nixon’s amused voice from above them, “debauch or not, we’re on orders. Keep it down. Set an example.”

“Yes, sir.”

Yes, Tab thinks warmly to himself as Lieb buries his laughter against his uniform and Chuck’s body shakes with barely contained giggles, foxholes are good for sharing. He brushes a fleeting kiss against their brows. Isn’t surprised when there’s sighing instead of complaints. Even unruly Californians, after all, need a mark of love to drag them through the cold.

[dweetwise]

yes hello i am back on my bullshit again, presenting you yet another felix x ace! (also i’m taking the creative liberty to call the ship riconti because it sounds like a cheese or something and i found it funny) anyways, this one is just me thirsting over the oktoberfest skin through ace, ft. some suggestive language but no nsfw!

word count: 2781

Felix X Ace: Clothes make the man

The whole thing starts as an offhand comment.

"—I mean, it's clearly tailored. He pulls it off,” Ace is telling Meg, who has been complaining about Felix's stuffy suit and even stuffier attitude for five minutes straight. “But it's so impractical!” the girl argues. “Wasn't he on some kind of field trip when he was taken? What kind of guy wears a suit to that?” “I don't know, but I'm not going to complain about free eye candy,” Ace smirks, and Meg rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot rich snobs are your thing. Sucks you can't scam him for his money in here,” Meg snarks. “Excuse me for having taste,” Ace shoots back. “I wish I had a suit like that. Do you think it's Gucci?” “Burberry,” an increasingly familiar voice answers from behind him and Meg whips her head around to look at its owner, eyes wide in shock at having been caught gossiping. Meanwhile Ace, liking to think he has more self-control, schools his face into a pleasant smile and slowly turns around to face Felix. “Would have been my next guess,” Ace says, trying not to let it show that he's mentally slapping himself for essentially thirsting over Felix when the other was within earshot. “I like the cut. You've got good taste.”

He’s feebly trying to save some of his wounded ego, but probably ends up laying it on too thick. Felix fidgets a little, maybe not used to getting compliments, before he seems to catch himself. He meets Ace's eyes and the hint of a smirk tugs on his lip.

“Wish I could say the same,” Felix says, pointedly looking at Ace's flamingo sweater, before turning around and walking away and leaving Ace to gape at the unexpected sass from the normally serious man. “I take it back, I like him!” Meg snickers beside him.

The Entity seems to share Ace's enthusiasm for Felix's fashion sense, and only a few trials in Felix is already in a different suit, this one a grey plaid.

“Hmm…” Ace pretends to mull over when they're working on a generator together. “Did you see something?” Felix asks, hurriedly glancing over the top of the machine to try, in vain, to spot the killer. “I think the navy blue suits you better,” Ace smirks at his own pun. “Though the plaid certainly makes a statement. Shame that statement is ‘I'm a grandpa at thirty years old’.” “You know, in my job, gold is really only used for trims. Any more than that is just tacky," Felix deadpans, not even sparing a glance at Ace's obnoxiously golden silk outfit. “And it's thirty-eight.”

Ace doesn't bother suppressing his grin over the fact that Felix seems happy to go along with his silly banter.

It becomes sort of an inside joke between them, and when Felix shows up to the campfire in a porn stache and driving gloves, Ace chokes on a laugh.

“I’m sorry, is this an 80's theme party?” Ace jokes. “Careful you don't end up on a propaganda poster with a stache like that.” “Why are you wearing an eye patch?” Felix immediately shoots back. “Is this the 16th century? Should we break out the rum and set sail?”

Ace hears Quentin snort beside him.

“It's a pilot outfit,” Ace argues, pulling his jacket with the pin-up print tighter against himself defensively. “No, mine is a pilot outfit,” Felix deadpans, and Ace can't really argue, not when the other is wearing a bomber jacket and pilot glasses and leather gloves. “Yours is a blind truck driver.”

Bill coughs out something akin to a laugh on the other side of camp and Ace bites his lip to stop himself from doing the same.

“Can I borrow the shades some time?” Ace forfeits the argument, and Felix smiles just the tiniest bit. “Sure.”

And Felix actually follows through with the promise, switching sunglasses with him when Ace later complains his own don’t go with his outfit. It’s a pretty cute gesture, like they were close friends or even a couple, and when Felix snorts and tells him he looks ridiculous it just serves to make Ace smile brighter.

It’s not like the exchange or the ones before it mean anything, it’s just harmless joking with the occasional flirt. Ace still thinks Felix is attractive, but he doesn’t have any illusions that the man would be into him like that, with what having a girlfriend and unborn baby back home, not to mention Ace having a good ten years on him in age. Still, he appreciates that Felix goes along with his cheeky comments, at least not grossed out by or taking offense to Ace’s flirting.

He only gets to keep the shades for one trial, because the Entity has blessed Felix with another outfit for Ace to offer his unsolicited opinion on.

“Oh my god,” Ace comments when he spots the horrendous, grease-streaked mop in place of Felix’s normally expertly styled hair. “Are you a closet hipster? Is an avocado smoothie going to fall out of the hat?” he quips, eyeing the fedora that is, in Ace’s humble opinion, vastly inferior to all of his own hats. “I needed a disguise to lay low for a while, and what better way to hide in plain sight in a big city?” Felix defends his unkempt hair and dirty t-shirt. “What’s your excuse?” he shoots back.

Ace glances down at his generously open shirt—gold again, just to annoy Felix—and tacky sequin pants.

“Vegas, baby,” Ace grins. “If you’d ever been, you’d know.” “I’ve never been happier to say I haven’t,” Felix chuckles. “I don’t think I could handle more of… whatever this is,” he says, gesturing to Ace’s outfit. “When we get out of here, I’m definitely taking you,” Ace quips. “I just want to see you cry over all the flashy satin and fake gold.”

Felix doesn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment like Ace expects. Instead, he stares blankly in confusion for a few seconds, before his expression settles into a smile Ace can’t quite place.

“Alright,” Felix simply says, and combined with the soft smile it’s enough to make Ace nervously look around camp for a distraction. “Hey, Kate!” he hollers, spotting the songstress braiding Meg’s hair. “You got a hairband for our friend and his questionable hair style over there?”

He ends up regretting the question as soon as Kate insists on braiding Felix’s hair and the normally standoffish man, somehow, goes along with it. He can’t believe he’s jealous for someone getting to touch the grimy, unkempt strands, and it sure as hell doesn’t help that Felix seems to like it. Kate looks thrilled to get to spend some quality time with the man, chatting about this and that and taking way longer than necessary to make the hairstyle, and Ace ends up walking away and pestering Dwight to play some cards with him so he can at least win at something.

His win streak over the poor boy is interrupted when Felix later sits down with them, gesturing for Ace to deal him in, and Ace can’t quite hide his pleased grin that Felix would rather spend time with him than the beautiful girl who just played with his hair for half an hour.

“Better?” Felix asks him, turning his head to display the most pathetic French braid Ace has ever seen, ending in a ponytail that’s barely an inch in length. “Much better,” Ace says, definitely referring to the company and not the state of his hair, and even the normally diplomatic Dwight gives him a weird glance over his cards after taking in Kate’s handiwork.

Only a few trials after the incident, Ace has the pleasure of spawning together with Felix in one of the Yamaoka maps. When he sees a horrendous checkered pattern from the corner of his eye, he knows he’s in for a treat.

He quickly turns to face the man, nearly tripping over some shrubbery as the Entity decided to place him in some inconvenient bamboo. He meets Felix's eye, opening his mouth to start a snarky comment, when his thoughts come to a complete halt upon seeing the entirety of the outfit.

“Well? Get it over with,” Felix demands, crossing his arms self-consciously and—lord have mercy—blushing a little.

Ace's brain is reduced to white noise in the equivalent of ‘hhhHhhHHhh’ while he just stands there, feet still in the stupid bamboo, and stares.

Felix's hair is now an impeccable undercut, a few loose strands framing his features beautifully, and the perfectly trimmed stubble adds a rugged charm to his handsome face. The vest is stylish, a navy blue similar to the suit Ace likes, and the checkered shirt shouldn't work with it but it does, and there's even a matching handkerchief in his breast pocket. Ace's horny brain immediately goes to hanky code and shut up brain it's in the wrong pocket—

Ace mentally shakes his head and looks at Felix's pants instead. And that was a bad idea, because he’s wearing fucking. Leather. Pants.

Again, it should look ridiculous, but Ace feels himself start salivating at the idea of them hugging Felix's ass—ugh, focus!

The pants have small ribbons on the sides and the entire ensemble is so goddamn adorable and sexy that he can't even deal. And Ace has seen a lot of handsome men during his life, mostly in the mirror, but right now, Felix takes the cake.

Felix's attitude shifts from embarrassed to curious when Ace isn't immediately opening his big mouth like usual.

“If this is how all Germans dress, it’s a tragedy I’ve never been,” Ace flirts, his dick having taken over his brain and his mouth running on autopilot.

Instead of insulting Ace's panama hat and favorite pink shirt, Felix clears his throat and averts his eyes.

“You don't look too bad yourself,” Felix mutters, cheeks heating up again as he twiddles with the cuff of his shirt.

Ace idly wonders if the bamboo bush is big enough for them to make out in without being spotted—brain, focus! The guy is just being polite, no need to jump his bones!

They've got the usual back-and-forth out of the way, but Felix still isn't moving to start the trial, regarding Ace warily and fidgeting, and he's just so fucking hot—ugh, he needs to say something, doesn't he?

“God, the things I'd let you do to me," Ace thinks while he says ‘We should find a generator’ because he's not going to creep Felix out any further—

Felix chokes on nothing and his face flushes bright red, and Ace belatedly realizes his brain got its wires crossed and he definitely said the first bit out loud. Shit, that was definitely out of line, and if Felix hasn’t been offended before he sure as hell should be now.

There’s a screech from his left and Ace has never been so glad to take a bonesaw to the shoulder as when the Nurse teleports next to him and interrupts their awkward conversation, Ace finally running out of the goddamn shrubbery while clutching his injured shoulder. Strangely enough, the Nurse doesn’t follow him as he runs up to the temple, and soon after he hears Felix yelp instead, the killer chasing him around the shack.

Damn, now he somehow needs to make it up to Felix both to apologize for his foot-in-mouth syndrome and for him taking the Nurse off Ace’s back.

Unfortunately for them, the Nurse isn't playing around this match, and when she returns to tunnel Felix right off the hook, Ace barely even gets the chance to yell out a “Move!” and throw himself in the way of the attack, much less talk to him about what happened earlier.

Soon Ace is walking back into camp, the second to last to have been sacrificed, only Claudette remaining in the trial and trying to find the hatch. He's already prepared an apology, and hopefully he'll be able to joke it off and Felix won't be weirded out by him. Well, at least not more than usual.

But then he spots Felix talking to Dwight by the edge of the camp, and Dwight freezes mid-conversation upon seeing Ace, before his face twists into a—smirk? Since when has Dwight smirked?—and he says something to Felix before taking off, walking over to where Steve and Ash look to be engaged in a game of tic-tac-toe.

Ace doesn't even have time to ponder why Dwight suddenly seems like he knows way too much, because Felix is approaching him and he knows this is a make or break it situation.

“Dwight seemed awfully smug, huh?” Ace jokes to buy himself some time after his carefully crafted apology flies out the window when he sees Felix’s serious expression. “We need to talk,” Felix says, looking and sounding every bit the stern businessman Meg thinks he is. “Yeah, alright,” Ace agrees and tries not to deflate too much upon essentially being shut down before he can even try to make things right.

As he follows Felix out into the woods away from prying eyes, he considers whether it's even worth apologizing if their friendship is done with anyway. He just hopes this won't cause unnecessary drama within the group, the others sure as hell don’t need to get involved.

His train of thought is interrupted when he's suddenly pushed against a tree, letting out a startled yelp that he’ll later vehemently deny. Shit, is Felix going to beat him up?

An arm wrapping around his hip is finally enough to pull Ace out of his racing thoughts, and when he looks up at the man he finally realizes that Felix is definitely not upset with him, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline upon seeing the clear bedroom eyes thrown his way.

“Is this not okay?” Felix asks, his dark gaze faltering from insecurity. “Naw, baby, just took me by surprise,” Ace practically purrs, a lazy grin spreading over his face as the familiar confidence returns, his hands running over Felix's shoulders appreciatively. “I thought you were upset with me from before, not that you'd take me up on the offer.” “Well, I—” Felix starts, clearing his throat self-consciously. “I've wanted this for quite some time, and Dwight said you probably wouldn't be opposed, so…”

That's what they were talking about? And Dwight convinced Felix that Ace is down to fuck? Shit, he needs to get the kid a fruit basket or something to thank him.

“He's definitely not wrong,” Ace says, trying for a seductive look but probably ends up leering stupidly from the anticipation instead. But apparently it gets the job done, because Felix pulls him tighter against him and leans in for a kiss.

And okay, wow, apparently he wasn't lying about really wanting this, because there's an urgency in the way he practically devours Ace's mouth, letting out an appreciative groan when Ace parts his lips and encourages him to deepen the kiss.

So maybe he should be worried about Felix's girlfriend or his sudden interest in men or whether he's looking for more than a casual fuck. But Ace has never been good at thinking certain things through and he's not about to start now, not when he has a breathless and flushed Felix pulling away from the kiss and looking at him with lust-blown eyes.

“I've wanted to do that for a long time,” Felix breathes, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smile. “You really should have just asked,” Ace smirks, a little amazed that he managed to miss all the signs, because there’s nothing subtle about the way Felix looks at him now. “I was working up to it,” Felix argues. “But then you started practically eye fucking me—” “I was looking respectfully,” Ace corrects, causing Felix to snort. “You stood in a bush and drooled, and then propositioned me,” Felix points out. “Yeah, and you liked it so much you blushed like a virgin and started flirting and took the killer off of me—which, thanks for that, by the way—” Ace starts. “You're welcome.” “—and… why did I think you were mad at me again?” Ace realizes. “No idea. I thought it was pretty obvious why I dragged you here to ‘talk’,” Felix emphasizes, gaze roaming appreciatively over his body. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Ace encourages, flashing his signature smirk in challenge.

And Ace learns that no matter how much he likes Felix's outfit, getting to help Felix out of it is even better.

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Director’s Cut Chapter 16: So Close But So Far From Home.

Director’s cut chapter 15

Virgil froze at the sight of Logan above him, his hair tousled and jostled by the wind that was picking it up and messing the perfectly styled strands from earlier. His body went limp at the way Logan’s eyes were locked on his tail. Virgil slipped through Logan’s hold and, even though the prince tried to reach out and catch him, he fell.

The water hit his back much sooner than he thought it would, pooling around his sides and cradling him. Slowly, the water lowered him down until he was fully engulfed, his vision blurring before clearing. He felt little tendrils of current around his sides, the water’s version of greeting him. He laughed, twirling, his cares briefly forgotten for the joys of having his tail and being unrestrained in water for the first time in four moons. Poor short term memory leads to being able to forget about something until reminded of it (see when Elliott asks about his time on land.)

He swam, as fast and as far and as deep as he could. Taking in the feeling of it, of using those muscles for what they were meant to be used for, loving the feeling of the cold current hitting him in the face as he fought against it, the water playing with him as a greeting and a way of telling him he was missed. Virgil swam with abandon. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the next curve, the next dip, the next unexpected current blasting him in the side that was completely expected from how many times he’d swam this path. Behind him were his troubles, the anxiety of having to hide a secret, the pain of his lungs drying out when he overexerted himself, the fear of Logan rejecting him, and the want to get back home.

Now, all he has to worry about is getting home, back to his bed of seaweed and sea moss, back to the clam shell he could pull down and hide from the world in, back to his family. So, he pushed himself as fast as he could, testing out his muscles and the healed wounds, really trying to find his limit. Eventually, the currents turned him toward home and he swam into the mer equivalent of a courtyard. This swim could be described as a very long stress relieving stim session as he gets reacquainted with his natural stims and surroundings. 

He looked up at the castle that housed the royalty of their blessing. Swimming up, he bypassed the hallways and servants, going directly to the window he knew was his. A wistful smile crossed his face as he thought of how hard this would be if he were on land, causing his mind to be distracted when he entered.

“Ripple?”

He snapped back to his current surroundings to find the only mer to ever call him that and fifth in line for the mer throne, his sibling Elliott, sitting on his bed. “Elliott?”

“Virgil!” Elliott launched themself off the bed, their black tail swirling as they collided with Virgil and sent them both spinning into the water outside the window. When they both calmed down, Elliott guided Virgil back inside and sat him on the bed. “I want to know everything. Where have you been for the past four moons, why do you look so sad, how are you?”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh. “Calm down, one question at a time.” He flopped back onto the bed, his back sinking into the seaweed and sea moss that comprised the mattress. Strangely, he missed the bed back in the human castle. He was home but he’d never felt further from home in that one instance, his heart longing for something, and someone, he didn’t want to name. “To answer every one of your questions would take too long.” He’d missed this particular tactile stimulation. 

Elliott sat beside him. “Then how about just one, you absent-minded guppy. How are you?”

Virgil curled into their side, tail wrapping around Elliot’s. “I’m tired.” 

“Emotionally, mentally, or physically?”

His tail and muscles ached from the now unusual exercise that trip was when it used to be just an afternoon trip. “All of the above.” Virgil shifted so his head was in Elliott’s lab, nuzzling into their midsection in a way that told them he wanted his hair pet. They obliged, nails scratching his scalp as his hair was brushed between their fingers.

Virgil was overcome with the sense of finality, of his time on land being over. He felt tears leak from his eyes, joining in the water. With his face hidden from Elliott, he doubted they even knew he was crying. When the tears slowed, he spoke again. “Do you believe emotional wounds can heal?” Another instance of emotions that are too large for the situation. 

Elliott’s hand paused in it’s journey through his hair. “With time, and a little work, yes. Do you want to talk about it?”

Virgil shook his head. “No, I’ll just beat Andy at racing tomorrow to lighten my mood.”

Elliott laughed. “That’s not the healthiest way to deal with exhaustion, you know.”

Virgil shrugged. “How would you suggest I handle it?”

“To truly give substantial advice, I’d have to know the full story.”

Virgil groaned and rolled onto his back, the top of his head butting into Elliott’s side. “It’s a long one that covers the full four moons I was gone.”

Elliott looked around the room, pretending to check the position of the sun coming in through the window. There wasn’t any sunlight, only the blue glow from the lanterns. “It looks like we’ve got all the time in the world.”

Virgil let out a giggle at that and Elliott smiled. “Okay, I’ll tell you.” He shifted to lay closer to the head of the bed tugging Elliott into a horizontal position as well. “Do you promise not to interrupt?”

Elliott nodded. “Cross my heart and hope to be stung by a jelly.”

“Okay, it all started when I went to visit that cliff again.”

“You promised me you’d stop doing that!”

Virgil grabbed a loose clump of sea moss and tossed it at his sibling, watching as the plant floated gently against their face. “And you promised you wouldn’t interrupt!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Virgil started his story again and got through it with limited interruptions that, to Elliott’s credit, were mainly when they didn’t understand something. When he was done with his tale, he waited for his sibling’s response.

Elliott sighed. “I can’t tell you how to live your life, Virgil, but I can tell you that it sounds like you’ve got it bad for this human.” To their credit, they didn’t say human like most mer would, with disdain or even anger. Instead, they said it like it was a perfectly normal word. Virgil was grateful for that. “If you want to pursue a relationship with him, you’d have to talk some things over like proper adults but I don’t see why you can’t at least talk to him again.”

Virgil shook his head. “I still love him, I know that. I also know that I saw him kiss someone else after spending moons by my side. I can’t help but wonder if his company was out of pity or if he truly cared for me. If he did care for me, was it as a lover, or as a friend?”

“Oh, Ripple.” Elliott rolled over, cradling Virgil close. “You’ll figure it out in time. Meanwhile, is there anything you want to focus on? Maybe give your mind a break from him?”

Virgil’s eyes wandered around the room, lingering on the chests lining the walls that contained his collections of sea glass, fishing wire, and smooth shells. He had an idea wiggling it’s way around his brain but he knew it was going to be a bad one. “Elliott,” he began slowly as his eyes stayed trained on the chests, “I’m going to say something that’s going to sound crazy.”

Elliott laughed, sounding like they were almost asleep. “You just told me you had legs for four moons, how much crazier could you get?”

“I want to make Logan a Necklace as a way of getting over him.”

Elliott sat up. “What?!” They no longer sounded half way to sleep.

Virgil shrugged. “It could work.”

“Are you sure? The act of making a Necklace is extremely personal and should not be taken lightly.”

Virgil nodded. “I’m sure. I’m hoping it will help me let him go as I think of all the reasons I love him and put them into the Necklace.”

Elliott sighed but laid back down, snuggling into Virgil’s back. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Virgil rubbed his sibling’s hand in thought, hearing their breathing even out behind him. “I hope so too.” He whispered to the night.

Chapter 17 doesn’t have any notes as Virgil wasn’t present.

Director’s cut chapter 18

[attack-on-yuri]

Rain

Rain. 

Yang was never much of a fan of it. She recalled how when she was growing up the earliest sign of murky skies, shaking trees and the absence of the warm sun always meant a day locked in the house. So you can imagine how to an energetic child such as herself that was the equivalent of torture, simply because she could no longer run around outside. But now that she was much older the rain brought upon the young blonde a similar dread, but for much different reasons. 

Pain. 

It was the pain she felt where her right arm used to be what brought her down on rainy days. The cold weather accompanied by the lack of sunlight meant that when she was wearing her prosthetic, it would act out, and get stiff due to the compressing of the metal, or that the muscle fibers which had been violently torn apart in the process of her amputation would ache. Atlas technology was well on its way to making the lives of those who were handicapped much easier, but even the most refined technology could not compete with the laws of nature. 

Yang shut her eyes trying to drown out the pain. She began to count her breaths, a technique she had picked up due to being bedridden after the fall of Beacon. Whenever she found herself frustrated, stressed or in pain, she would count each breaths and organize her thoughts. 

The room was dark. The only audible sounds were the rain drops which intrusively crashed against the glass of the window, and her teammates muted snores. 

“You alright?” 

A voice broke the silence and Yang opened her eyes. She could faintly make out a silhouette at the end of her bed. 

“Blake?” Yang whispered, afraid to disturb her other team members. She sat up. “What wrong, are you okay?” She couldn’t make out the details of her partner, but she could tell it was Blake. 

“Whats wrong with me?” Blake replied. Yang instinctively pulled her knees into her chest, giving Blake room to climb up from her bottom bunk and adjust herself at the foot Yang’s bed. “I’m fine, I’m more worried about you. You were breathing all funny and tossing around a lot.”

Yang’s eyes widened in embarrassment and she moved her gaze towards the wall. She had not been breathing heavily or making a lot of noise, she didn’t want to disrupt anyones sleep, but she failed to take into account her partners very sharp and developed hearing.  Between worrying that she might have unintentionally awoken Blake and feeling embarrassed at the fact that she was caught in a weird moment, Yang wondered how many other nights have passed where Blake has had to stay awake and quietly endure the noises that only a Faunus could hear. 

“You know you can talk to me. It’s not the first night where you’ve barely gotten any sleep.” Blake quietly accused, easily maneuvering herself in the dark, she reached forward and squeezed Yang’s hand. “I’m here, okay? I’ll always be here.” Yang gritted her teeth and continued to direct her eyes at the wall, but Blake could see something written in the blonde’s face. An expression Yang felt confident that the rooms darkness shrouded. 

Pain. 

Discomfort.  

Frustration. 

These were the emotions clearly displayed on Yang’s countenance. Emotions which Yang tried very hard to keep to herself, and control. Not because she did not wish to burden others, but simply because she was so accustomed to being the strong one. To not showing a moments weakness in the face of adversity. To never letting her guard down. Blake couldn’t help but feel her chest tighten at the scene before her. Yang was so big. In both strength and size, yet right now she felt so small, so vulnerable.  

“What hurts?” Blake carefully whispered, her eyes now damp with tears which threatened to fall. 

Unsure of her words, and afraid of making things worse. She could not stand seeing Yang like this. She had never seen Yang like this. She wanted to hold her, stroke her hair and tell her that everything was going to be alright. That whatever she was going through, whatever she was thinking, they could face it together. The past few days had served as a bridge. Blake and Yang had slowly grown closer and closer. Opting to going on missions together, and just enjoying each others company whenever they had the chance. Both of them constantly expressing deeper unspoken feelings.

Lightning broke through the darkness, which was soon followed by the full echo of thunder. 

An unconscious movement caught Blakes attention. Yang pulled her left hand from Blakes gentle grasp and she cupped the spot in her right arm where injured skin met the metal from her prosthetic. 

“I don’t like the rain.” Yang finally murmured, squinting her eyes as a sharp pain raced through her right arm. It ached. It ached so much she could scream.  She tried to soothe the pain away by rubbing the spot in small slow circles. 

“Is it your arm?” Blake asked, moving a bit closer. This question finally won Blake Yang’s full attention, her violet eyes finally meeting Blake’s gentle stare. 

“I-” Yang tried. 

She could not bring herself to talk about this. Not with anyone and especially not with Blake. Adam had been a sore subject for the both of them for a really long time. It was something they were still working through together. All the pain he had caused them, both physical and emotional. He was gone, but somehow he was still there. Every time her arm hurt, he was there. Blake had already gone through so much because of him. The last thing Yang wanted was for her partner to feel guilty or responsible for the pain Adam kept causing from across his grave. Yang drew a breath and closed her eyes. 

“I’m really fine, Blake.” She said, in a dismissive tone.

“You’re not.”  Blake challenged, standing her ground. Her chest sunk at the idea of Yang lying to her. Why would she at this point? After everything that’s happened. 

“You worry too much.” 

“Yang-“ “We should go to bed, we have a long day of training tomorrow.” “Don’t push me away!” Blake finally snapped, a little too loudly, alarm screaming in every feature of her face. 

Thunder made its presence known and it began to rain harder. The sound so strong it resembled an airship taking off. They both sat there, quietly, and listened, never taking their eyes off each other. They worried that their conversation might have disturbed their teammates but the sound of both Ruby and Weiss’s light snores confirmed that they were still sound asleep. “Blake I-” “You can’t keep protecting me. I’m not weak, I’m not fragile. Whatever it is you want to tell me, but you feel like you can’t, I can take it.” 

Yangs eyes began to finally adjust to the darkness of the room and with this she noticed Blakes eyes, watery and pleading, and with this discovery Yang felt a sense of guilt begin to overwhelm her. She never wanted to hurt Blake. The reason she kept things to herself was for that very reason. She never would have thought that in keeping something to herself, in order to shield Blake away from sadness, she would be causing her sorrow. Yang closed her eyes and leaned in, touching her head to Blakes shoulder. The unexpected movement caused Blake to stiffen, and without missing a beat Yang put a solid arm around her partner and held on. 

“…It hurts.”  Yang finally breathed out. Her breath caressing Blake’s neck, sending shivers down her spine. “It really hurts.” She continued to explain. “Not all the time. Just when it rains.” And at this explanation Blake recalled the way Yang had stroked her own right arm earlier, as if she were trying to soothe a distressed child. “And I can’t help but feel…”  “Like he’s still here.” Blake supplied. “Yeah.” Yang chuckled. “Not always though. Just…sometimes.” Blake wrapped her arms around Yang, and closed her eyes, finally the tears which had threatened to fall earlier made their way down her cheek. “I’m so sorry.” 

Yang further nuzzled herself in the crook of Blake’s neck. Never had they physically invaded each others personal space before. Not like this. They had hugged before, and Blake had even fallen asleep on her partners lap during a mission briefing once. But never had they been so intimate. “Don’t be!” Yang almost shouted, breaking away from Blake’s hold. “Blake it’s not your fault. It never was and it never will be. I’ve made my peace with everything that’s happened. I’ve moved passed it, I promise. It’s just that there’s a physical pain sometimes.” At the mention Yang once again rubbed her right arm. She dropped her gaze and lowered her voice. “That’s it, that’s all it is.” 

“I wish I could make it all go away.” Blake replied, cradling herself, aware of how much she missed the warmth of Yangs closeness which had been present a few seconds ago. 

She knew Yang was being honest with her. She had been aware of the degree of the physical trauma Adam’s actions had left. Even though the cut was quick and clean, Yangs body would never be the same. 

Two sure hands gripped Blake’s shoulders, causing her to snap out of her quick daze, and look up. Once again she found herself staring deeply into Yang’s eyes. Yang looked at Blake and regarded her with warmth and affection. 

“You being here is enough, I promise.” 

They let a comfortable silence fall between them. What had been a deafening rain had calmed into a light drizzle. The sound of Ruby stirring in her sleep made Blake aware of the time. 

“Stay.” Yang pleaded, as if she were reading Blake’s thoughts. She began to lean back and gently tugged on Blake’s hand. “Please?” 

Blake smiled and without further invitation or convincing she maneuvered herself between Yang and the wall and got under the covers. They faced each other, and Blake could make out the very faint sound of Yang’s quickening heartbeat. A shy hand made its way to Blake’s waist and nudged her closer. Blake complied and fully gave into Yang’s embrace. It was warm, it was comfertable, it was home. 

Yang cleared her throat. 

“Is… Is this okay?” She asked, fully welcoming Blake into her embrace.

Blake closed her eyes and hummed in response, now wrapping her arms around Yang, returning the hug, and removing any seed of doubt her partner might have had. They had a lot of things they had to work out regarding the past and what has happened. But they would work on it together. They would also have to eventually talk about their growing feelings for one another. But that was a conversation for another time.

Not tonight.

“Goodnight, Blake.” “Goodnight, Yang.”

[satonthelotuspier]

For day 6 & 7 of Wangxian week I present the first WangXian POV for Soulmate’s Regret AU feat Mobster LWJ and Cop WWX.

Prompt palettes for the days are: 

Day 6 – Sacrifices – Devotion – Role Reversal AU

Day 7 – Passion – Marriage – Soulmate AU

Yes, I went with six prompts because why do 3 when you can do 6?

CW Mild spice at the very end.

“So we should just be OK with the fact he’s married to one of the biggest fucking gangsters in Shanghai, should we?” Su She demanded, knocking his shoulder against Wei Wuxian’s. And really, if he didn’t hear this at least once a month, Wei Wuxian would be fucking livid about now.

He did though, and so did his colleagues.

“Soulmate Covenant says you can’t be held accountable for or discriminated against because of who your spouse is. He moved out of organised crime when they met to avoid conflicts of interest. And Nie Mingjue would never ask him to get involved in a case that could be linked to the Lans. I’ve no idea why you’re being a dick, Su-xiong” Luo “Mian Mian” Qingyang said in irritation. Because everyone had had enough of his constant sniping this month. “And besides, watch your mouth, or you’ll end up with a law suit for defamation, if there was any proof, anywhere, of the Lans being the biggest fucking gangsters in Shanghai they’d be behind bars already”

“Fuck off, why are you pretending? They’re up to their necks in the criminal underworld, but heaven forbid we admit it. If it wasn’t for pretty boy here and his mouthy brother being the Lans’…” Su She trailed off at the unnatural silence that had suddenly taken over the group.

“Yes? Please do continue, what would you like to call us, before I knock every tooth you own, or ever will own, down your throat? Nothing? Can I help you with your sentence? Bitches, maybe? Whores? Cock-sluts? Or maybe the term you were looking for was lawfully wedded husbands?” the newly arrived Jiang Cheng asked in his frigidly cold voice, the one that said he was three seconds away from nuclear detonation.

Wei Wuxian sighed, trust his fucking hotheaded brother to turn up just in time to exacerbate the situation.

Su She seemed to find his spine then, either he didn’t think Jiang Cheng was perfectly willing to get himself suspended for punching another officer, or he just didn’t care.

If it was the first, he definitely didn’t know Jiang Cheng.

“Well, it’s fucking odd that everyone knows the Lans are behind half of the criminal enterprise in this city, but there’s no proof anywhere. Odd, when they have sleepers in OC and homicide. Sounds to me like someone’s feeding information to them”

Wei Wuxian leapt forward to catch Jiang Cheng’s fist before it could connect. Mian Mian was at his other side, holding him back.

“He’s not worth losing a week’s pay over, Jiang Cheng” he said soothingly. But Jiang Cheng was livid. He had the motivation Wei Wuxian didn’t over the issue.

He was the man who had sacrificed his marriage for his principles, (in name, if not legality) and to have his commitment to his career questioned would twist the knife into a never-healing wound.

“You pretend you’re all high and mighty, pretend you’re so pure and special because you supposedly “walked away” from your husband when you found out who he really was, which apparently isn’t a criminal, but everyone knows you still bend over when he tells you to, fucking hypocrite”

At the point he was released Jiang Cheng realised there was no need to continue to attack Su She, because Wei Wuxian’s fist had already put him on the floor.

***

Jiang Cheng tutted for the fifth time on the drive to Wei Wuxian’s place. “Why did you have to go and do something as dumb as that, Wei Wuxian?” he eventually broke the silence.

“Are you seriously reaming me for doing something you would have done two minutes earlier if I hadn’t had a hold of you?”

“Yes?” Jiang Cheng said in annoyance.

“I see, you just want to be the only one of us with the reputation for being a hothead, a bit of a maverick, am I right?”

Praise be, but Jiang Cheng actually cracked a smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Jiang Cheng smile. At least one that wasn’t half-sarcasm, half-wolf about to attack.

“I’m mad because you punched that asshat because of what he said about me, not what he said about you” Jiang Cheng told him, shooting him a look before returning his gaze to the road.

“He’s just a homophobic, jealous asshole, you shouldn’t have let him get to you” Wei Wuxian said as they pulled up at the gates of his house and Jiang Cheng leaned over to punch the buzzer. They were waved through as the gate guard recognised them.

“Big same, bro. But you shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of shit at work, whether it gets to you or not. Not when you sacrificed the job you loved, and the career you were blazing, for the man you fell for. The Soulmate Covenant exists for a reason, and Su She just put a nice big black cross next to his record, I’ll make sure Nie-da-ge hears the full story. And don’t get in trouble on my behalf again, Wei Wuxian, especially not when what he says is true. I can get into my own trouble, honestly” he pulled up on the drive.

“Shut up, Jiang Cheng. I lost it because he was twisting the knife. He shouldn’t talk about what he doesn’t know about. None of them know how walking away from Xichen-ge almost killed you, how choosing your career over your husband was the hardest thing you ever did, but you did it to keep to your principles. No way does he get to stick the knife into you over that”

There was a half smile, as Jiang Cheng leaned over him to open the car door, “Go on, fuck off, get back to that husband you’re so devoted to” he mocked.

“Want to stay for dinner?” Wei Wuxian half took the hint and unfastened his seatbelt.

“No, I’m good, thanks”

“You know Lan Zhan doesn’t blame you for leaving Lan Xichen, don’t you? He wouldn't mind you coming to dinner. He loves his brother, but he knows Xichen-ge lied to you from the beginning”

“Withheld the truth” Jiang Cheng corrected automatically. At Wei Wuxian’s raised eyebrows he shrugged. “I’m fine, I’m going to go and get a drink instead”

“Fine, be antisocial, I don’t care. But really, come to dinner next week, I might need the company to stop me going crazy on suspension”

“Nie-da-ge isn’t going to let it last that long, I can assure you. But OK, I’ll consider it. Now go and see your husband”

Wei Wuxian nodded once and jumped out, slamming the door behind him.

***

Lan Wangji was in his study when Wei Wuxian went to find him. As a courtesy he knocked loudly on the door before he heard Lan Wangji call his name.

They were very careful to ensure full privacy existed between them in terms of their chosen careers, Lan Wangji didn’t want to drag Wei Wuxian into his business, and Wei Wuxian didn’t want to be dragged into it. What he didn’t know he couldn’t feel guilty about knowing.

Jiang Cheng hadn’t been wrong, he’d loved his job in organised crime, and they were an amazing team, but, unlike Jiang Cheng, he’d walked into the relationship with Lan Wangji, his soulmate, the person who the snow leopard on his hip was meant to signify, with open eyes.

He’d known who, and what, Lan Wangji was, and he had loved him so much he chose to marry him anyway. Jiang Cheng had mockingly used the word devoted, but it wasn’t a lie. They were devoted to each other.

He pushed into the study at the acknowledgement it was safe for him to do so, and was met half way by Lan Wangji who wrapped him up in his arms as they reached each other.

“I need this” Wei Wuxian murmured after a few minutes, propping his chin on Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

“Tough day, Wei Ying?” he asked softly and Wei Wuxian nodded.

“Well, actually, I suppose not. I’m suspended though”

Lan Wangji pulled back a little to frown at him, concern in his light amber eyes.

“Just an argument with an asshole who was ragging Jiang Cheng, and me. There are always people who think we’re feeding you information”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepened, but Wei Wuxian poked him between the brows, “Turn that frown upside down, Lan Zhan. It doesn’t bother me, my conscience is completely clear on the issue, I don’t mess in your business and you don’t mess in mind”

Lan Wangji nodded after a few seconds consideration. Wei Wuxian knew he was contemplating annihilation for anyone who dared upset him, but he was calm and sensible enough to let Wei Wuxian deal with it in his own way.

“I don’t want anything getting back to Lan Xichen though, promise me?”

If Lan Xichen heard anyone had been disrespecting Jiang Cheng they couldn’t always guess how he’d react; it would enrage Lan Xichen, who would try to control the situation, or Jiang Cheng, who would then be pissed off at everyone.

“Mn, fine” Lan Wangji agreed; “If Wei Ying buys my silence, that is” Wei Wuxian’s eyes opened in surprised amusement. He knew Lan Wangji only teased, of course, something his husband had learned slowly during their marriage.

“Your pirate’s heart is showing again, husband” Wei Wuxian mocked gently, and Lan Wangji nodded, his pale eyes crinkling a little, which was his understated equivalent of a grin.

“Mn” Lan Wangji allowed himself to be backed up to the desk, as his hips his the edge Wei Wuxian stopped, cupped his face gently, pressed a soft kiss at the corner of his lips before capturing his mouth in a full, passionate. He put pressure on Lan Wangji’s shoulders, and his husband complied and allowed himself to be pushed backwards against the surface of the desk.

When he could delay breathing no longer, Wei Wuxian pulled back a little, admiring the hungry look on his husband’s perfectly formed face; one which was likely mirrored on his own.

“Tell me, Lan Zhan, what will buy your silence?” he asked as he he began to tug gently at the waistband of Lan Wangji’s tailored pants.

“I want you to fuck me, Wei Ying” the vulgar words on Lan Wangji’s tongue sent a shiver down his spine and caused his hips to cant up into the v between Lan Wangji’s thighs, which were bracketed at either side of his waist. They both shuddered at the contact.

“As my husband commands” Wei Wuxian agreed, his voice thick.

[thenonsenseuniverse]

Coffee Cups and Leather Jackets pt. 7

Hamilton Modern Au Hamilsquad x Reader Thomas Jefferson x Reader PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7

Summary: After finally getting away from ‘The King’, You decide that maybe it’s time you talk to Jefferson about his own interests in you. Meanwhile, the Hamilsquad decide to come up with a plan to get Y/N at The Blue Coats. Washington confronts them.

          You had been sitting through dinner with these three imbeciles for about an hour and a half, and you could feel your self-control slipping. Within that hour and a half, all Sam, Charles, and George had discussed a range of things from how the school should stop accepting lower classmen as they only tarnish its ivy league reputation, to insulting the Hamilsquad, to simply talking about their classes. Throughout these discussions, George’s hand seemed to be restless on your skin. It went from your shoulder, to hand, to your knee, before finally resting on your thigh. You didn’t like his touch, but you played along. 

“What I don’t understand is why, despite being the smartest and most powerful man in the school, we’re still not liked by the student body. Hamilton humiliated me in front of the entire student body when I was giving my proclamation on how the student body should be behaving and how we should be treated. He called me a dog!” Samuel whined putting his head on the table. 

You sighed, growing tired of being submissive, and turned to him. “Do yo-you ever think th-that m-m-maybe it’s for that very reason that pep-uh-people disrespect yo-you?” They all went quiet and looked at you. You shrunk back into George’s chest shyly. “I-I-I mean, p-people don’t like, um, like being t-to-told what t-t-to do. People like the H-Hamilsquad believe in f-freed-dom, and th-that people should be a-b-ble to be them s-s-selves n-no matter who th-they are or wh-where they come f-from. So of c-course it’s going t-t-to upset th-them if you outright oppose them. Inst-stead of working against their be-believes, you n-need to allow them t-to pr-prove themselves wrong. Th-then provide th-them the resources to see th-things yo-your way. “

Charles rose a suspicious eyebrow at you. “Are you saying that our King is wrong? He is never wr-”

“Oh do shut up, Charles.” George cut him off as he stared ahead thoughtfully. “ So you’re saying I should let them go, have their independence, and let them realize just how much they truly need me when their alone and complaining of their own?” You nodded, and he hummed in agreement as he smiled down at you. “I suppose that is what happened to you, isn’t it? I gave you a little more space than usual, and next thing I know, you’ve come to senses about those scum and now your here with me.”

Huh. You hadn’t thought about it that way. You, of course, knew that wasn’t the case, but simply nuzzled deeper against his chest. You could practically feel him grin as he began to run his fingers through your hair. 

“Y/N has a point, boys. This strategy would take much less time and energy and we wouldn’t have to use our sources through the school as much.” You slightly narrowed your eyebrows at this but said nothing. George brought his fingers under your chin and smiled at you. “I always knew you would be of great value to us, Y/N. You’ve only been part of the group for a day and already your slipping into your role by my side.”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You didn’t like his tone or the way he was looking at you right now. You needed to end this. 

You smiled up at him. “Thank you, my King, it's good to know that at least someone appreciates me.” You then let out a subtle yawn and glanced down at your watch. “However, as wonderful as this day with you has been, I’m exhausted and-”

George sighed and chuckled. “Of course, I completely forgot. You have English with Mr. Green tomorrow at 8pm.” You felt your blood go cold slightly. He knew your schedule, apparently, he knew your history, and he no doubt had more knowledge on you as well. This means that this man knows more about you than anyone except your family. You didn’t like this. George seemed to pick up on your confused fear and ruffled your hair. “Don’t look like that, it wasn’t too hard to find out your schedule. Just a matter of pulling a few strings within the administration's office. Your information is safe with me.” He snapped his fingers and signaled for everyone to rise. “Come on, we’re taking Y/N back to their dorm. They have a midterm to study for.” The more he talked the less at ease you felt. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist as you were leaving. “You know, if you need help, Samuel is majoring in English. I mean, not that your grades are slacking, they’re stellar actually. But Samuel is our communications and English expert, I handle all the business and sciences and Charles...” He paused for a moment before sighing. “Well Charles is trying his best, but he’s loyal; I’ll give him that.”

After that, they did as promised. George got the driver to bring them to your dorm and kissed your hand before you left. “We’ll save you a seat at our table at lunch, Darling. Be sure to be there.” His words were final and left no room for you to say otherwise. He then flashed you a bright smile and waved as the car pulled away. 

The moment it was out of your sight you let out a huge breath as all tension left your body. “Well, that was fucked up.” You mumbled under your breath as you entered your dorm. 

As you entered the comfort of your bedroom, you reflected on the past week or so.

You finally confronted your shitty friends on their shitty behavior and dumped their asses

You met Jefferson and his friends on the same day. Which, to be honest, it was kind of creepy, but you were too sad and lonely to notice at the time.

And finally, you just went on the equivalent of a date with your long term stalker as per Jefferson’s request and am now scared to leave your dorm lest you be followed by his perverted ass. 

When had your life become so dramatic? When had you allowed it to become this? 

The image of a magenta leather jacket flashed in your mind.  Jefferson. Looking back on your first interaction with him, it all seemed staged. There were similarities between how he treated you at that moment and how George treated you when you pretended to be in that same situation. They both desired to manipulate your pain to get what they wanted. They both seemed to have extensive knowledge about you, George more so than Jefferson. 

Was it possible that Jefferson was hiding things from you? Aaron had briefly mentioned that he had been obsessed with you at some point. 

But why? What so interesting about quiet little Y/N? Why did both Jefferson and George, arguably two of the most powerful students on campus, deem you worthy of their attention?

Just thinking about all of it gave you a headache. You’d deal with it tomorrow, for now, you had to sleep. George was right about one thing, you had class in the morning and if you didn’t want to be a sleep-deprived zombie you had to go to bed now. 

You curled up under the covers and allowed sleep to overcome you.

***

At the same time, across town, the Hamilsquad was entering The Blue Coats.

They were exhausted. Ever since they had seen Jefferson and Y/N at the cafe a couple days ago, they had been working non-stop to come up with a plan to get them back. However, nothing seemed to be good enough. 

Laurens plopped himself onto the nearest bar stool and slumped his head against the counter. “What are we going to do?” He groaned.

Alex scoffed and joined him. “There’s not much we can do with Jefferson spewing non-sense in their ear.”

Herc shook his head as he took his seat. “No there’s got to be away. I mean she just met Jefferson. She’s known us for over a year and a half. Yeah, we fucked up, but the fact of the matter is that she knows us.” 

They all turned to Laf as he silently sat down staring intently at the counter. Alexander rose an eyebrow at his behavior when suddenly he was hit with an idea.

“What! Laf is friends with Jefferson. He can get inside information for us.” 

The Frenchman sighed and looked up. “I do know him, but we’re not quite friends. More like he did me a favor once and now I owe him once.” He narrowed his eyebrows as he turned to them. “What confuses me is Jefferson never does anything without a reason. Everything is planned out and done with precision. So what does he want from Y/N?”

As they asked themselves this question, Washington appeared from the back and seemed to relax at their present. “Ah, boys! I was hoping I’d see you tonight.”

Hercules smiled at him. “G. Wash! What’s up? It has been a while since we’ve last been in.”

Washington batted off the welcome and looked at the with an air of authority and seriousness. “Can any of you contact Y/N? They were here earlier tonight with some...questionable company and didn’t seem entirely at ease. I want to make sure that they’re okay.”

The boys glanced at each other as Alex let out another groan of frustration. “I know! They’ve been hanging out with that no good Thomas Jefferson and-”

Washington frowned at his words. “They weren’t with Jefferson. Although that makes me worry even more. I trust that man about as far as I can throw. But no, they were here with that nasty little shit George and his posse. I offered them an angel shot, but they denied it. The whole thing just felt off.”

The entire Hamilsquad felt their blood run cold. Y/N hated George. He was a stalker, creepy, and possessive. He had been trying to get his grimy little hands on them since the moment he saw them. They had always been there to protect them though, always there to stop it. 

Why would they go out with George willingly? Why would they put themselves in danger like that?

“Oh Y/N,” John whimpered out. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

[kob131]

[youtube(.)com/watch?v=y4DPZGlNP8I]

“If you’re just here to disagree with the title and shit on me or read the title and are coming here for confirmation bias, I’m sorry to say neither of those is happening.”

Well then, considering my goal here is to just have SOME kind of intellectual take: Then I shouldn’t have a problem. Especially since not only do I have a low opinion of certain cites for only having circlejerking around RWBY (looking at you Crunchyroll) and have attacked RWBY properties before (see my adamant refusal to buy Grimm Eclipse and my INTENSE dislike of the RWBY comics). So I can't be classified as a fanboy or a hater.

“*laughs at the Jaune haircut*”

MangaKamen, everyone has mocked the haircut. I’ve seen plenty of funny memes about it. This is just mildly annoying.

“*Calls the writing trash*”

Yeah I’d take that as any indication of quality except that you’ve missed the point about the show NUMEROUS times in the past, like shows with the same writing and follow FatManFalling (AKA a known liar about RWBY.) So that means nothing to me.

“I think it’s good to discuss my issues with the show.”

You already have. Numerous times. Why not just discuss it in general so people like me can get where you are coming from instead of just the issues? 

‘Well people already praise the show a lot.’

And people bash the show a lot too. That’s why it’s good to discuss BOTH sides of your view on the show.

“I still don’t like RWBY as a whole”

No shit. Why would your opinion on the show as a whole change from this one Volume? I still love the Simpsons, doesn’t mean I don’t hate the newer seasons. This isn’t shocking, this is 100% logical.

Can we please talk about the new Volume?

“Something something copyright claim.”

Let me go ahead and borrow a meme from M.K.-

GET TO THE POINT!

Seriously, I’m just here to judge your analysis. This stuff is just annoying me and making me think you might have a vendetta against the company which would affect your opinion.

“Contrivince: Robyn is dumb for going out on missions which would allow the government to shoot her or her competitors to attack her.”

... MangaKamen, if the government shoots an anti-establishment candidate, they risk an uprising while making that persona martyr. Same thing with competitors.

It’d be the equivalent of assassinating someone by strapping dynamite to your chest. Yes it might work but you’re more fucked.

Also, you’re a fan of JoJo as indicated by the Pillar Man theme you used before right? Well, how many times should a protagonist have been killed by their enemies only to just conveniently pull out a new power or something to save themselves? Like with Kakayoin Vs. Death 13. That battle is built on the contrivance that Death 13′s Stand can lock out other people’s stands in their dreams because ‘their soul is unguarded’ but it can’t do that if said Stand was also summoned before sleeping (even though Stands have never been able to manifest if their owners are not conscious.) That’s about 3 contrivances in one battle, let alone some of the more major stuff like Jotaro and DIO having the EXACT SAME Stand ability (without foreshadowing and contradicting previously stablished Stand abilities.)

See this is why I want to hear your WHOLE story. If you explained that the strengths of the show don’t do it for you (like they do with JoJo): then I’d understand. Media is based on exchanging suspension of disbelief for appeal. But without that context, your arguments just look hypocritical.

“Robyn’s image should be ruined because she is stealing from the government.”

Except that Mantle sees Atlas as corrupt and uncaring, thus justifying Robyn’s actions in their eyes. Jesus Kamen, we can observe this in real life (90% of the Democrat candidate’s platforms are built on this.) Did you just forget that about Mantle and Atlas or what?

“Why are we just staring at each other? I dunno, just to look cool? *also shows Weiss’ head bobbing up and down and her mouth moving while she’s talking.*”

*sighs*

Before you say. ‘Well this is just a joke!’-

When someone makes a joke about hating a certain group of people or a similar target: we know the joke is predicated on you thinking that group or such is bad. For a less controversial example, I can make the joke: “Lol Tommy Wiseau’s basically an alien!” Yes it is a joke but you’ll still find it funny under the pretense of insulting him. And there’s really no other way to interpret the joke in the context that its suppose to be funny.

Why did you put that there MangaKamen? You ACKNOWLEDGE that you’ll have issues from the RWBY fandom so why are you making jokes that do not work unless interpreted in a way that hurts you?

“If you’ve been keeping up with the show then you know EXACTLY where I’m gonna go with this!”

*shows off a pile of beaten up bodies*

Yeah, wanna see how you fare?

“Penny is seen as the guardian of Atlas-”

Mantle.

That distinction is VERY important.

Why?

A.) Mantle is not the same as Atlas. The people of Mantle in fact HATE Atlas a lot. It’s kind of like the Forsworn Vs. The Nords in Skyrim: They technically live in the same area but are at odds with one another.

B.) Penny was given that job by Ironwood, a native to Atlas and is often shown to not understand Mantle’s issues as well as widely disliked by Mantle.

And C.) No one in Mantle is ever shown talking positively about Penny, unlike say Robyn. No one is shown to treat Penny as their guardian. 

You’re about to imply that ‘Because Penny is established as the guardian of Atlas, no one would possibly believe that she killed people!’ but everything the show SHOWS us imply the opposite: they’d believe Ironwood used Penny to suppress them and try to kill their supposed leader.]

First step into this argument and you already made a fatal mistake.

“There’s security checking for these things!”

And your proof that Tyrian went through the security? That he didn’t simply slip into the crowd when it was filling up? Something he’s easily shown to do due to his stealth?

... None? 

Good to see your MatPat impression is still as good as ever.

“Fanaus have night vision!”

[Pyrrha: "No, I have the answer! It's night vision. Many Faunus are known to have nearly-perfect sight in the dark." (Cardin growls at the correct response)]

-Jaunedice Pt.1

Many. Not All. Many.

It took me five seconds to look this up. rwby episodes-Episodes on the RWBY wiki-Jaunedice Pt.1

I expect you to be able to do the same.

Strike 2.

“Plenty of people have thought of this factor on YouTube-”

You mean the same platform with CinemaSins and Matpat?

Yeah, not helping your case.

“No one thought to pull out their scrolls when people started screaming?!”

A cellphone flashlight can barely illuminate a dark drawer, let alone a pitch black auditorium-sized warehouse. Even then, this all took place within a couple of minutes and people are screaming. Panic tends to shut down parts of people’s brains. Even then, who is shown to have scrolls in this scene? ... No one? 

So not only would it not help with the darkness, not only would people not think about it in such a situation as they’d be more concerned with fight or flight but the poor as shit Mantle population might not even HAVE commonplace scrolls.

Strike 3. You’re done.

You’d get on the case of anyone else presenting points like these to a piece of media you like. You’ve done it numerous times with MatPat alone.

By your own standards, you’ve failed to make any sort of case.

I don’t care if it’s ‘just an opinion.’ You still need to base it off of objectivity in order to have a point. You did not. Therefore, you matter as much to me as a Game Theory fanboy does to you.

And before you get on my case and call me a RWBY fanboy: there’s a channel by the name of Th3Birdman who tackles CinemaSins videos and shows why they are wrong. As I have indicated before, I do not like CinemaSins. Therefore, I would like this channel correct?

No. This channel suffers from many of the same issues they call out in CinemaSins, Padding sin counts, sinning jokes, making annoying noises, ignoring evidence, political bias- They are just as guilty.

Same with you. My issue isn’t ‘you’re calling out something I like’- It’s ‘you’re breaking your own standards instead of abiding by them.’

Try again when you be consistent.

[erinptah]

The Secret Commonwealth review: It was...pretty underwhelming, mostly

Finally got the audiobook of The Secret Commonwealth checked out from my local library!

(Here’s my review of its predecessor, La Belle Sauvage, if you want to start there.)

It’s 20 hours long. Whoof.

As for the contents…look, it was well-written prose. I didn’t get bored while listening. (Rereading that last review, I realized I’d written the same thing about the previous book, too.) But in retrospect, there sure was not a lot that happened in those 20 hours. Some notable action bits, in between a lot of padding.

And my reactions mostly consist of…complaints. Not “this is hideous, time to ragequit the series, this is an unqualified anti-rec” complaints, more a low-level churn of frustration.

(There’s one scene I know has made someone else outright refuse to read it, though, and I think it’s totally reasonable. More on that later.)

So I’m gonna try to unpack a bunch of it here. Hopefully in enough detail that, if you haven’t read it yet (and don’t mind spoilers), it can help you make an informed decision about whether it’s worth spending 20 hours of your life on.

Spoilers start here!

The Story

We open with Lyra as a 20-year-old student at St. Sophia’s, a women’s college in Oxford. She’s made some kinda-friends, including former booty calls that she’s still on good terms with, but she’s badly estranged from Pantalaimon.

Their rift is exacerbated by a couple of books she’s read that are popular with young intellectuals lately. One is a philosophy book, one is a novel, both of them seem broadly Ayn Randian in the sense that “teens/college kids get really into these books and decide it’s smart and fashionable to adopt their moral framework, ignoring both the logical failures and the ways in which this turns you into a horrible person.”

She’s been staying at Jordan between semesters, but political drama forces her to move, and that’s when Oakley Street swoops in to make contact. They’re the secret Magisterum-thwarting spy organization that Hannah Relf worked for in La Belle Sauvage. Employees now include Alice Lonsdale and Malcolm Polstead, who fill Lyra in on the events of the previous book.

Lyra crashes at Malcolm’s parents’ inn for a bit, but her fighting with Pan gets so bad that he takes off, leaving a note. He’s going to confront one of the authors of the fashionable/terrible books — who lives in Germany, so this could take a while.

Since Lyra can’t just hang around and go through the motions of a normal life while her daemon is visibly missing, she takes off too. First on a detour to the Gyptians, then on a sorta meandering cross-continental journey of her own.

Along the way, both Lyra and Pan keep uncovering new details about this ongoing side plot:

It turns out there’s a place, I think somewhere in the Middle East, where daemons can’t go — same as the area in the North that witches use for separation ordeals. If a human crosses that area, they arrive at the growing-place of a type of rose that won’t grow properly anywhere else, whose oil has the same effect as the seed-pod sap used by Mary Malone in the mulefa world — you can use it to make a Dust-viewing lens.

This rose oil can also be used to make all kinds of super-cool products, like the World’s Best Perfume and the World’s Best Rosewater, so it’s valuable for lots of reasons. But a few researchers have caught on to the Dust-viewing power, and the Magisterium has caught on that some dangerous research is happening with roses, so they’ve started destroying every rosebush they can find in the general region — wreaking havoc with the global economy in the process.

(They’re also trying to convince the general population that God Says Roses Are Immoral now. If this book had come out 5 years ago, I could’ve made some great connections with “there’s widespread successful Magisterium propaganda about how nobody should like or respect the work of botanists.”)

And there’s a related plot where Lyra’s uncle (she actually has one! Mrs. Coulter had a brother!) is playing a long game to re-consolidate as much Magisterium power as possible under a single individual. It gets us some good dramatic sequences…which I feel no need to break down here, because they’re exactly the ones you would imagine, with exactly the outcome you’re already expecting.

One of Uncle Wannabe-Pope’s employees is Bonneville Junior, the son of the miniboss from La Belle Sauvage. He’s a trained alethiometrist, but is more interested in his personal vendetta against Lyra than his actual job. Takes after Dad in that he’s not very deep or complex, just a straightforward fun-to-hate villain.

Pan eventually makes his way to the Terrible Author’s home, where he discovers that things are weird and creepy, but not very specific. Doesn’t achieve anything in particular, either. Disheartened, he sets off for the Region of the Weird Roses, with the idea he’ll meet Lyra there.

Lyra, meanwhile, has a notebook they recovered from an explorer who went to the Region of the Weird Roses. It includes a list of other (non-witch) people across the world who’ve been separated, because apparently they’re more common than you’d think, and have a secret support network. So she visits a few of these people along her trip, with an endgame goal of Weird Roseville.

Malcolm also makes his own journey toward Weird Roseville. I think it was part of an Oakley Street investigation into “what does the Magisterium have against roses these days?” In the middle of it, Bonneville Junior confronts him (Junior is having trouble finding Lyra, but has a secondary vendetta against Malcolm for killing his dad, so this is almost as good). Malcolm talks him down.

At last Lyra, Pan, and Junior all hit the same “creepy deserted town in the general area of Weird Roseville.” But none of them manage to interact before the book ends.

…In my LBS review, I said it had serious middle-of-the-trilogy syndrome, a whole lot of setup for no payoff. TSC spends very little time following up on any of it. To be fair, the Original Trilogy has happened in the meantime and this book also tries to address some of the events from that, but the vast bulk of it is even more setup for no payoff.

Complaints, Broadly Organized By Theme, In Loosely Chronological Order

Lyra at St. Sophia’s:

I really like how the opening sequence involves Lyra noticing a friend is in distress and helping her out! (Friend’s dad is in the rose-using business, and his company is going under.) And then…that’s the last we see of any connections with female friends her own age. In the entire book.

One of the Terrible Rationalist Books is spreading the idea that “daemons are a collective hallucination.” This is not a “rational” idea in this world! It would be like saying that faces are a collective hallucination!

And Lyra is the least likely person in this world to buy into it, because she’s visited a world without visible daemons, and got empirical proof (via Will’s and John Parry’s separation ordeals) that even under those conditions, they still exist!

I can appreciate the idea of Lyra and Pan being traumatized and scarred and having trouble, but this, specifically, is a nonsensical thing for them to argue over.

The book also gestures (not very hard, thankfully) toward the idea that Lyra is doubting the existence of magic in general. Which, again, is the equivalent of someone from our world deciding it’s rational to doubt the existence of weather.

Also, it seems like Lyra/Pan haven’t had any contact with witch society through these years. Why not? If anyone’s going to have sympathy and understanding and support groups for their separation-related trauma, it’s the culture where every single member formally goes through the same thing! And I’m sure Serafina would be delighted to see them! But they don’t even consider the idea.

Lyra and Malcolm:

Yes, they’re being telegraphed as a future couple, and yes, it’s just as creepy and unappealing as the internet has been saying.

And, look, I’m not going to say “20-year-old Lyra is too young to date anyone she wants.” Not after we got through all of Original Flavor HDM without saying “12-year-old Lyra is too young to go on an interdimensional journey with no adult supervision and save the multiverse.”

But he was one of her teachers when she was 16, and his POV includes remembering how he had to actively shut down sexual interest in her then, and here in the present Lyra still thinks of him as kind of a distant authority figure, and that’s weird, okay?

They only have a couple days’ worth of actual interaction before being apart for the rest of the book. That’s not enough time to believably develop their dynamic into something believably-potentially-romantic. So the narrative doesn’t try.

…but it still has multiple people ask Malcolm if he’s in love with Lyra afterward.

The foreshadowing on Lyra’s side is all in how she keeps thinking about how similar he is to Will. (Cat daemon, killed someone when he was a tween, etc.) Because that’s what we all want for Lyra’s romantic future, a knockoff Will-substitute, amirite?

Separately: Malcolm and friends tell Lyra the whole backstory about the magical boat trip from La Belle Sauvage, but it doesn’t seem like she tells them anything about “that time I went on an interdimensional journey, built a group of allies from multiple worlds and species including literal angels, killed God, and permanently rewrote the nature of death.” I feel like that should’ve come up!

General daemon stuff:

There’s a moment in the early chapters when Pan, wandering alone at night, considers eating some small critter (the kind that an ordinary pine marten would eat). It’s not like he’s going through a species-identity crisis, either. It’s just written as…a thing a daemon might do. So that’s weird.

In the original series, daemon separation is a major, improbable ordeal. Under normal circumstances, a human and a daemon being dragged apart past their distance limit will just kill them. At Bolvangar they figured out a severance method that would leave you physically functional, but dead inside. Witch-style separation only happens at this special daemon-repelling place in the North (you don’t have to be a witch to use it, see John Parry, but they usually don’t tell non-witches it exists), or on the shores of the World of the Dead. So far, so good.

In this series, we find out that there’s another place on this Earth with the same daemon-repelling properties. It’s also remote and isolated and associated with Cool Weird Stuff (the cities in the Northern Lights vs. the Dust-revealing roses). Again, so far, so good.

…And then we find out that random people can just kinda do a separation ordeal anywhere. Okay, it already happened to Malcolm in La Belle Sauvage, but now it’s all over the place. Lyra keeps spotting people on the street without daemons! Pan teams up with a kid who got dragged apart from her daemon in a shipwreck, and it didn’t kill them! It’s too easy. It’s unsatisfying. It undercuts so much of the monumental feeling separation had in the original trilogy.

It also makes it even weirder that nobody was able to hook Lyra and Pan up with a support group. Oakley Street couldn’t suss it out? Her friends among the Gyptians couldn’t catch an underground rumor and pass it on?

Related: when we saw daemonless kids in The Golden Compass, they were treated like horror-movie monsters. Like zombies, ghosts, bodies walking around without heads. But when people clock Lyra as being daemonless here, they treat it like it’s something immoral. Like she’s walking around topless and needs to cover it up.

There’s just a general pattern of rewriting HDM’s established rules about daemons, and not for the better.

And speaking of rewriting established rules…general alethiometer stuff:

There is a New Method for reading the alethiometer. It involves pointing all three hands at the same symbol, which already seems like a gimmick, not a useful way to frame a question.

And somehow, that gets you the answers in the form of…magic visions. No intuition or interpretation needed! The sights and sounds just get funneled directly into your brain!

The reason this isn’t a Plot-Breaking Hack is because it makes the user super-queasy. You can only use it when you’re in a position to be sick afterward, and people would rather not use it at all.

Lyra spends most of the story with the alethiometer, and without all the symbology books that go with it. She avoids using the New Method because of the nausea, but she also avoids using the Classic Method, on the grounds that it apparently can’t get her anything without the books.

She’s been studying these books for years now! Couldn’t she at least try to read it, and make her best guess at the interpretation? Maybe sometimes she gets it right, maybe sometimes she’s wrong and things go sideways and she realizes in hindsight which of the symbols she misread, maybe sometimes she gives up and gets depressed and puts it away without drawing a conclusion at all…but nope, she just flat-out doesn’t interact with it.

Midway through the book, Lyra gets a tipoff about a kind of truth-reading cards. That’s fine; we know there are other methods of truth-reading in the multiverse, including the I Ching and Mary Malone’s computer. Makes sense as a new tidbit of worldbuilding.

But towards the end of the story, someone helpfully gifts Lyra a deck of the cards. And she spends some time trying to infer answers from how the pretty pictures on the cards fit together. More time than she spends trying to infer answers from how the pretty pictures on the alethiometer fit together.

The alethiometer didn’t need a New Method or a total replacement in the narrative…but apparently it’s getting them.

And what was the point of Lyra dedicating herself to studying those symbols, for years, if she can get better and more-accurate data from a set of symbols she’d never seen before until this week?

Pan’s international voyage:

This all started when Pan got the idea that Terrible Author had “put a spell on Lyra and stolen her imagination.” Which sounds like a figure of speech at first, but no, apparently Pan thinks this guy is literally magic.

And yet, somehow, not magic enough to be dangerous, even for a single lone daemon whose only plan is “confront him directly and demand that he fix it”?

Most of the trip is uneventful, since it’s a long string of Pan successfully keeping out-of-sight.

There’s one clever part where, once he’s in Terrible Author’s hometown, he finds a school for the blind to ask for information. That way he can say “my girl is totally standing right over there, don’t worry about it, now, any chance you know where Terrible Author lives?”

…of course, the first person he asks has exactly the right answer and is happy to share. Convenient, that.

As mentioned, Terrible Author’s setup is suitably creepy and off-putting, but Pan doesn’t figure out anything about why. Doesn’t investigate. Didn’t come up with any kind of plan beforehand about how to coax Terrible Author into undoing his evil spell. Pan just confronts him, demands he fix Lyra, realizes this hasn’t fixed Lyra, and leaves.

There’s a bombshell much later on when Lyra finds out that Terrible Author is separated! And, although there’s a daemon who hangs around with him, they don’t actually belong to each other! This is fascinating and disturbing and would’ve been so much more satisfying if, you know, Pan had figured this out and was actively trying to bring the information to Lyra. Or, heck, if anything had been done with it at all.

Shortly afterward, Pan runs into this girl who just happens to be separated from her daemon, and is available and happy to team up with Pan, so they can head off to Weird Roseville together. Convenient. Again.

Lyra’s Bogus Journey:

Lyra has a much harder time staying out of sight than Pan, so she gets a lot more interaction along her trip.

Most of it is a long string of the same convenient “running into people who are helpful and friendly and have exactly the information she needs to move the plot along.” (More details on that below.)

When this happened in the original trilogy, it was the alethiometer deus-ex-machining her in the right direction, which worked! But here it seems to keep happening by accident. (She brings the alethiometer, but, as mentioned, she doesn’t use it.)

The Conveniently Helpful People also keep telling her (with minimal prompting, and what seems like total honesty?) whole backstories. All of which are more interesting than the actual narrative she’s going through.

They also occasionally mention God/the Authority, and Lyra doesn’t have much of a reaction. I wish, just once, she had snapped “it doesn’t matter what the Authority thinks! Or rather, what he used to think, since my boyfriend and I killed him when we were 12!”

The convenience also could’ve worked if Oakley Street agents were being cool and clever and actively tracking her journey in order to help. She does run into a few of them, but that seems to be by accident too.

And it could’ve worked if there was other magic steering her along — she keeps dropping the phrase “the secret commonwealth,” meaning the world’s hidden population of faeries and other supernatural creatures — but as of the end of the book, none of Lyra’s friendly helpers have been revealed to be anything other than human. (Some are modified in exotic ways, but they were human to start with, at least.)

Even farther towards the end of the book, after this long string of people being Conveniently Helpful For No Reason, she ends up in a train car with…and I wish I was making this up…a bunch of soldiers who are Inconveniently Attempted Rapists For No Reason.

That record-scratch moment your brain just did? That’s how it feels in the book, too. The attack comes out of nowhere, there’s suddenly a big action sequence with Lyra fighting back, their CO shows up and makes them let her go, and then she leaves the train and heads almost directly to the next bunch of Conveniently Helpful People.

If anyone wants more detailed spoilers, either to be prepared before reaching the scene or to decide whether you’ll read it at all, let me know.

To be blunt about one thing: from the in-scene descriptions I would’ve said none of these guys actually managed to get their dicks out, but a few days later we get the book’s first and only reference to Lyra having periods. And she doesn’t think “oh, thank republic-of-heavens, I’m not pregnant,” which suggests she knew it wasn’t a risk, but the whole Narrative Reason you write that in after an assault scene is because someone is afraid it’s a risk, so, what are you even doing, Pullman??

Okay, switching tracks.

Some of the people Lyra encounters, usually with personal stories that are way more interesting, and I wish they’d been [part of] the actual main plot:

A guy who meets her at a train station, says he has a friend who needs her help, leads her out into a maze of city streets where she explicitly thinks about how risky this is because she’s totally lost…but she does the mission and it’s fine and he leads her right back to the train station afterward.

The friend is a human who’s been modified by “a magician” to be some kind of fire-elemental person, and wants Lyra to help find his daemon, who was modified into a water-elemental form — a mermaid! This is cool and fascinating and scary and raises so many questions —

— and they get killed immediately after Lyra reunites them, and we never find out anything more about it.

The killer is the magician, who had been holding the water-sprite daemon captive. (And is possibly also the guy’s father? Finally, someone who can beat Marisa and Asriel in a “Bad Parenting Juice” drinking contest.) Which, again, is fascinating and evocative — how do you become a magician? Or are they born, like the witches? How many are there? What kinds of things are they doing in the world? —

— yeah, we don’t find out anything about that either.

Murderous Magician Dad just gives Lyra some helpful plot information, then sends her and the train-station guy off on their way.

A couple of guys who intervene when Lyra is being harassed at a bar.

They steer her outside, she’s prepared for a fight, but they hold up their hands and say they’re friendly, and also, they noticed someone steal the alethiometer bag off her earlier, so here, would she like it back?

They give her some helpful rumors, too. Don’t remember which specific ones, but they lead her to the next plot point.

A rich elderly princess who’s on the Daemonless International Support Group list, because her daemon fell in love (!) with another woman (!!) and eventually ran off with her (!!!).

Lyra thinks to herself that she’s seen other situations where a daemon and their human have different feelings about a romance. Just thinks it in passing, and then it’s gone. I want to see these situations! I want on-page exploration of multiple ways they can work! How do they correspond to the feelings of people in worlds where all the daemons are internal?

As for the princess, I already knew it was going to be a big scandal — two human women in that day and age could never be a couple, at least not in public, and A Literal Princess is a very public figure —

but then, in spite of the scandal, the princess moves in with the woman! And they travel together, they work together, they share a bed, she explains to Lyra that she played the role so thoroughly she made herself fall in love with the woman!

…and then it falls apart for some reason, and the princess leaves, but her daemon insists on staying. So that’s how they get separated. Deliberately walking away from each other.

There’s a brief reference to the idea of him wishing he was the other woman’s daemon, instead of the princess’s. How does that work? How do you get so disconnected from yourself, and in such a skewed partial-match with someone else, that you end up with that kind of yearning?

In case you can’t tell, I want to read this novel. I would trade the entirety of The Secret Commonwealth for this novel. No question, hands down.

Instead: Princess says “if you run into my daemon, tell him I’d like to see him again before we die?” Lyra says “sure, can do, thanks for the brunch.” And then, you guessed it, that whole scene is over and done with and we never get any follow-up on it again.

A pair of agents from Oakley Street, who say “hey, Lyra, have you considered using some basic disguise techniques, like dyeing your hair and wearing glasses?”

And then they give her a lovely haircut and a dye job and a spare pair of fake glasses.

This isn’t anywhere near the beginning of Lyra’s journey, by the way! This is more than 80% of the way through the book. There’s no special reason she needs it more after this point.

It’s like Pullman suddenly realized a disguise might help, wrote the scene at the point he had reached, and then never went back and edited to put it in a more meaningful location.

The stranger on a train who shows Lyra the deck of “exactly the same as an alethiometer” cards, gives her a demonstration of how to use them, and then leaves the whole deck behind for her to keep.

A married couple who don’t share any languages in common with Lyra, and don’t seem to have a lot of money…but feed her and let her stay at their house overnight, for free, even daemonless as she is. They also give her a free niqab so she can move around less conspicuously (she’s still injured from the fight with the soldiers).

A priest who invites her into his church, isn’t bothered when she takes off the niqab, helps treat her injuries, and gives her a motherlode of useful details about highly-illegal dealings he’s not even supposed to know about, but will unveil to this total stranger who just wandered in, because she needs them for the next plot point.

This when Lyra finds out that someone in this region has resurrected the Bolvangar method. But this time they aren’t kidnapping random children for it. No, they’re paying for it. If you’re poor enough, and desperate enough, and can’t spare any more kidneys, these people will buy your daemon to sell on the black market.

The city has a whole secret underclass of illegally-severed people working in the sewers.

Meanwhile, rich people who’ve been deserted by their daemons can purchase a stand-in. This is what Terrible Author did. Of course, it’s not a true replacement, but the dealers boast about their ability to make an excellent match.

There are also people who buy separated daemons for other scientific/experimental purposes. Details left to our imaginations.

This is a horrifying sinister mindblowing discovery, as much of a bombshell as the original Bolvangar was. I mean, it would’ve hit harder if Lyra had uncovered it by spying, or tricking someone into revealing the information, or anything more elaborate than “asking straightforward sorta-related questions and getting this whole sordid story infodumped by the first guy she asked,” but it’s still big.

So it’s gonna shake things up something fierce, right? Maybe Lyra won’t go full-on “calling in the cavalry to tear the place down” until Book 3, but this would be her new “stepping through the doorway into the sky” moment — where the horror of what she’s learned galvanizes her into making a pivotal decision, where she starts laying the groundwork for the revolution —

— no, of course not, this is where she starts going around to the hideouts of various undercover daemon-sellers and asking if they can help her find Pan.

Come on.

And this brings us to the end of the book. One of the black-market daemon-sellers guides Lyra to the creepy abandoned town where the final scene takes place.

In these last moments, the audience (but not Lyra) finds out that this guy has ulterior motives. Which would make it the first time in the whole book when “Lyra or Pan takes a Conveniently Helpful Person at face value with total credulity” turns out to be a bad idea.

(And, I mean, he’s a black-market daemon-seller. If anyone on that list was obviously an unethical scumball who shouldn’t be counted on….!)

Finally, a few things that don’t fit into any neat lists, but annoyed me enough to mention:

1) People curse in this book. Which is notable because they didn’t in HDM, and it wasn’t just the adults watching their mouths around tween Lyra — we got plenty of scenes that only had people like Mrs. Coulter and Lord Asriel in them. Those two would definitely be dropping f-bombs if it was a routine part of their world’s language, and this book reveals that it is.

So every time it happens it breaks your immersion, pointedly reminding you “this isn’t a real world, it’s a fake story where the author can switch the profanity-filter on and off at will.” Does it enhance the narrative in a way that’s worth the tradeoff? I don’t think so.

2) Before I read the book, I’d heard vague spoilers about “a character with a mermaid daemon,” and figured it was someone from a cool magical species — hopefully more expansion/exploration on the fairy from La Belle Sauvage whose daemon appeared to be “a whole flock of butterflies.”

But no, it’s a magically-modified human. His situation doesn’t get explored that deeply before he dies, or connect with anything else in the story. The fairy, meanwhile, does get mentioned when Malcolm tells Lyra about meeting her, but she doesn’t reappear or get any kind of follow-up.

In spite of the title, the only explicit appearance of any members of the “secret commonwealth” is some little glowing spirits, basically wights, that Lyra watches over the side of a gyptian boat one time.

3) There’s a scene where a bunch of people gather in a meeting hall to protest the Magisterium sabotaging their various rose-related livelihoods. A couple Magisterium reps are there. Malcolm is also there, and his POV basically goes “huh, looks like all the exits have gotten the doors shut. And barred. And suddenly they each have an armed Magisterium agent standing in front of them. That’s weird. Gonna keep quietly observing to find out what happens next.”

This guy is supposed to be a cool experienced anti-Magisterium spy! This is basically a giant neon sign flashing COMING UP NEXT: MASSACRE! (It is not a misdirect, either.)

And Malcolm sees it, but doesn’t read it, or take any action to try to subvert it, or even move to defend himself — it’s just like any cheesy horror movie where the audience is shouting LOOK BEHIND YOU at the unwitting character who’s about to get murdered.

Wrap-Up Thoughts

Whatever happens in the final volume of this trilogy, it might reveal things that redeem some of the problems in this book. But I’ll be honest, I’m not holding my breath.

And when I think about reveals that would address these problems, everything I come up with is stuff that should’ve just been in this book.

For example: let’s say the Fair Folk are directly involved after all, intervening to steer Lyra and Pan down the most convenient paths. In particular, the guy on the train who only appears long enough to give Lyra a set of alethiometry cards + a tutorial on how to use them — I really want him to be Fae. It’s so contrived and random if he’s not.

But the readers should know about it! Back in HDM, we would get scenes about the plans and activities of all the other factions at work. It might take a while to discover the exact details of (for example) the witches’ ultimate goal that Lyra was part of, but we knew they had a goal, and were supporting her in service of it. If the Secret Commonwealth is actively involved in the plot, we should’ve gotten that by now.

Semi-related: I feel like, if the rest of the book was better, then I’d have no trouble explaining a lot of the Lyra-specific issues as “she’s super-depressed, not in a place to make great choices or take a lot of decisive action.”

But it’s not like she’s drifting around in a trauma fog that hampers her ability to get things done. Her journey, while not perfect or threat-free, still comes together with improbable smoothness — as if the writing hasn’t noticed that she’s not being proactive and prescient and well-coordinated and overall super-competent about it. Meanwhile, other characters are underwhelming in the same way. (Looking at you, Malcolm “I Can’t Believe It’s Now a Bloodbath” Polstead.)

So it doesn’t seem like a conscious narrative choice to write Lyra this way. It just seems consistent with the complaints I have about everything else in the writing.

…let’s be honest, I’m almost certainly gonna read the third book anyway. I’m enough of a completist that it’ll bother me not to, I don’t have a lot of hard-stop dealbreakers that would make me bow out anyway, and, well, I do a lot of work that requires time-passing listening material. The Secret Commonwealth is nowhere near the most-frustrating audio I’ve used to fill that time.

But it hasn’t left me excited or optimistic or Shivering With Anticipation, either.

Mostly I just anticipate getting some useful stuff done while I listen, and then having a final set of reactions to work through in another one of these posts.

[moody-bloosh]

match ups for ivory úwù

I wasn’t the anon that sent in the idea, but may i present my feeble attempts at matching you up with beefy bois! i couldn’t do parts 3 and 4 because my brain juice is weaaak, but I’ll add them in! I haven’t written in a while and english isn’t my first language, so a lot of things here are clunky :((( hope you like these nonetheless huhu

Part 1: You’re very interesting to the bigg buff Jonathan because of your diverse interests in literature and the arts. I think their equivalent in the Victorian era would be a mix of the classics and popular culture. You and Jonathan talk at length about classic literature, theater, the opera, and then you’ll surprise him when you suddenly bring up last night’s music hall performance, or your increasing collection of penny dreadfuls. You’ll find yourselves in long conversations about art and archaeology. They’re intimately connected, so you guys talk at length about culture, history and life in relation to the arts. I feel like, when you’re both feeling goofy, you create your own fantasy world complete with complex lore and its own characters (I mean, comm arts major with a talent for literature + archaeology major = fucking awesome high fantasy shit). If you guys had written down all that you talked about, you would have taken Tolkien’s throne in the fantasy canon. 

Jonathan is absolutely charmed by your affectionate side. Your confidence with your affections prompts him to be more relaxed f around you. Being the son of a prominent family and heir of a fortune has its own pressures that bear down on him, so being in your company, where he feels like he doesn’t have to put up any pretenses, is a breath of fresh air. He’s still a fine and dandy Victorian gentleman (you know how Victorian society is, hold hands and BAM you’re married), so while he may not hug you in public, he hugs you a lot in private! Big bear hugs! Lots of strolls in the garden while you clutch on his big beefy arms. Affectionate boi when the both of you are alone.

Part 2: Kars is also drawn to your intelligence and knowledge. While he’ll never tell you this, he enjoys learning about humanity’s ventures into art and literature through you. It’s the teacher in you showing. Despite being an eevil weevil creature of the night, he has a playful, mischievous, borderline patronizing character. He’ll tease you a lot. He finds your displays of affection charming, but, you guessed it, he loves to tease you about it. If you want to hug him, he’ll make you ask sweetly for it. If he’s feeling like an egomaniac, he’ll patronize you for showering your affections on the destroyer of humanity. Both instances will fluster you, but will get you that hug in the end. And by hug I mean getting pulled into his lap and get doted on like a pet. I mean it’s nice. Knowing that you’re a hopeless romantic, he teases you for gaining some perverse satisfaction of living the dream of being with a “monster” like him who can take your life should he wish it. You point out that he hasn’t yet, and that shuts him up. You don’t have to tell him that you’re a pushover, it’s pretty obvious to him, but he also knows that you’re improving this part of you. He helps in his own way, by challenging your resolve. He taunts and teases you until you put your foot down. It pleases him.

Part 5: Fugo will initially be suspicious of you when he learns that you want to be a teacher. His traumatic experience in the academe left a deep wound on him, and he’s still healing from his experiences. This causes him to be uptight and withdrawn in your first encounters. When he sees you teaching Narancia so patiently, even when you have repeated yourself several times, he finds himself infuriated in your behalf. He shows signs of hitting him until you meekly call him out. You were distressed for being in the middle of a crossfire between two short-fused mafiosos, but when you continue to stand in the way between him and Narancia, while talking through your distress to appease the situation, he reconsiders his opinion of you. 

Fugo is an emotionally constipated, awkward wreck, so he can only traipse around you as a way to show his interest. He feels hopeless until he sees you reading one of his favorite books. He uses this to start a conversation with you. He’s smitten when your eyes light up and begin gushing about your favorite book: your favorite characters, the story, and when you delve deeper into your analysis prompts him to also engage in the conversation. This eventually leads to more conversations that gradually reveal yourselves to one another and chip away at Fugo’s walls. I see you guys going on dates to the museums, galleries, and movies. You also enjoy night ins where you both read a book, watch a film, and just enjoy each other’s company.

 Fugo is a possessive lover. As a disowned child turned mafioso, he has a jaded view of the world. And with you coming into his life like a ray of light snaking into the cracks of his dark life, he’ll put you in a pedestal. It depends if you can convince him to loosen his leash on you, but pedestals are too narrow, too stifling to move in already.

For part 3, I match you with Kakyoin, and for part 4, with Rohan!

I - i juST 

WAHH THIS IS NOT A FEEBLE ATTEMPT ;; I CANT BELIEVE SOMEONE ACTUALLY DID IT ;;; you made my night omg this is so sweet and precious im crying ahhh 

[mcmcntomorii-moved]

     Mountains might not have been too much of a change for Mukuro, but being transferred from Tokyo to a weird, secluded mansion in a mountainous area of middle America was a whole different thing. Sure the sounds in the laboratory were the same, but the vast amount of silence one would get when going outside for anything was the strangest part to her. After years of living in a bustling city, all the city noise soon became normal, and the silence was the most deafening thing.

     It was bound to happen, honestly, with her achievements earning some advancements in the B.O.W. field, Mukuro would have been moved to somewhere more secluded to work on Umbrella’s more larger and potentially profitable projects. One of which was the reptilian species of B.O.W.s that were in the process of being worked on. It was assumed that the serpentine B.O.W.s were unfit for production, but after further discussions between higher-ups in the company, they figured that it would be beneficial to bring in another researcher into Arklay Laboratory.

     That’s where Mukuro came in and despite already fluently knowing English, she was given a translator assistant to help her. Upon first meeting him, Mukuro already knew that she was going to dislike him, skittish and timid, like a rabbit, Mukuro thought as she stared at him. The longer she stared, the more frantic the man became until he finally uttered an introduction.

     “F–Frank Holland, Miss Ito, it’s… really nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you… well… I’ve read a lot about you, I mean… not in a creepy way of course just in a–” He began to stutter out, causing Mukuro to tune him out right after he gave her his name. Noticing that as he spoke to her, his eyes darted to the space around her, not bothering to make eye contact with the woman. Internally sighing, Mukuro’s gaze shifted around the room that would be her new workplace.

     The room was spacious and white, of course, the only thing that held Mukuro’s interest was one wall that held various terrariums containing different species of snakes. Ranging from venomous to a few nonvenomous breeds, continuing to ignore whatever her new assistant was blabbing out, Mukuro stepped over to the terrarium wall. As she watched the snakes, she soon noticed that they all were staring back at her, an odd characteristic, she thought.

     “O–Oh! Right,” Frank began to bumble out, following Mukuro a few steps behind her, “these are the test subjects that you’ll be work–”

     “Clearly,” Mukuro interrupted him, causing him to jump slightly at the cold tone her voice held, her gaze snapped over to the man and caused him to flinch again, “where are the files on the animals.” It was more of a demand than a question but Frank swiftly maneuvered around the room and grabbed all the available files on the snakes.

     After placing them on the immaculately clean countertop, silently, Mukuro started going through each and every file. There wasn’t a whole lot, which wasn’t surprising, there weren’t many people here who devoted their time to the snake B.O.W.s, most were here for the T-Virus. Sure, she might not know exactly what goes on in these labs but she honestly couldn’t care less. If she were meant to know, then she’d get told or be paid to know the extra information. Tuning out her ‘assistant’ again, Mukuro proceeded to read one of the thicker files.

     “Yawn,” Mukuro spoke, interrupting Frank again, “which snake is that one?” She asked as she looked up at him, Frank nodded and pointing to a large terrarium on the wall.

     “He’s that one,” Frank said in a shaky tone. Raising an eyebrow, Mukuro stood up and walked to the terrarium, inside was a considerably larger, almost the size of a black mamba but maybe add on a few feet, brown snake with no intricate patterns. He looked like he could easily blend in on a tree branch or fresh dirt. Regardless, Yawn was not a species that Mukuro could identify right away. “He was… manufactured,” Frank explained still on the other side of the room as if he were afraid the snake would break the glass and attack them.

     “I see,” Mukuro hummed as she and Yawn had a sort of stare down, almost as if they were sizing one another up, “interesting. How and what do you feed him?” She didn’t turn towards Frank as she asked.

     “We’ve been feeding him whole live rabbits as of late, though… that gate back there. We hit a button and release a rabbit into the enclosure.” Mukuro nodded,

     “From here on, we’ll stop feeding the snakes like that. We’ll be hand feeding them.” Mukuro stated and before Frank could interrupt her, she continued talking, “if these are going to be B.O.W.s we’d want them to be able to be handled without hassle. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. I assume we have vials of antivenom?”  Frank wordlessly nodded at her question, “then we shouldn’t have too much of a problem.” Finally tearing her gaze away from Yawn, Mukuro stepped away from the terrarium wall. Her heels the only noise echoing off the walls of the lab.

     Days began to pass and the hand feeding technique that Mukuro inducted started to show positive results. Along with the hand-feedings, Mukuro would take out a snake every so often and hold it. Sure, it freaked Frank out, but Mukuro couldn’t care less so long as Mukuro didn’t handle them improperly or show any sign of fear, they never struck out at her.

     Currently, a large Yawn was draped around her neck, his head resting on her chest as he snoozed and Mukuro wrote her report on the past couple of days with the snakes. Everything was at the perfect noise level for Mukuro, the only sounds were some machine beeps and the sound of her pen scratching across the paper. Mukuro felt at peace as she occasionally strokes the snake that was currently draped and snoozing around her shoulders.

     That was until Frank shuffled in and began to do his work. Mukuro always hated any sense of having someone else in her workspace, be an assistant or even a stranger just popping into her workspace for something or a question. She absolutely hated being bothered, so when her assistant came in, Mukuro’s writing stopped and she watched Frank titter about. The change in attitude in Mukuro seemed to awaken Yawn as his head rose and also took to looking at Frank, who, now sensed eyes looking at him, turned to look back at Mukuro and her new serpentine friend. As he was about to open his mouth for a greeting, Mukuro interrupted him.

     “Don’t. Think about it. Your presence annoys me. And your voice even more so,” she stated and looked back down at her reports, continuing to write down. Mukuro then spoke in a volume that, if Yawn was capable of hearing, he’d be the only one to hear her. “If you were to kill him, I’d have no qualms.” She gently stroked the snake’s head as it rested on her bosom again.

     Over the next few weeks, Yawn continued to grow, enough so that he had to be transferred to a larger terrarium, something equivalent to the large aquariums that hold the sharks that were worked on elsewhere in the lab, and his feed consisted of young deer and other animals of equal size. And Mukuro’s progress and attachment to the B.O.W, was earning her recognition from the higher-ups in the company.

     “Frank. You need to feed Yawn, I have a meeting to attend to.” Mukuro said as she gathered the file on the B.O.W. and Frank, who by now, knew not to speak to Mukuro unless there was a question she asked of him ( which was rather rare ). He only nodded and swallowed in fear as he looked at the extremely large serpent as Mukuro left the lab.

     In this meeting, Mukuro presented the information she collected on Yawn during her time in the facility, even mentioning how the other snakes didn’t fare too well and were eventually fed to Yawn when they showed no signs in improving stats. Taking note in the accomplishments Mukuro achieved, she was rewarded with the information about the viral outbreak that happened a few days prior as well as a shot of the vaccine. She was then told to abandon her work at the lab and return to her home and laboratory back in Tokyo.

     Normally, Mukuro would have been ecstatic to learn that she could return home, but a tinge of hurt and pain hit her heart when she learned that she’d be leaving Yawn behind. The serpentine B.O.W. had become not only her project but something akin to a pet or even a friend to her, in a strange way.

     “Very well, thank you,” Mukuro stated and bowed respectfully to the others in the meeting, just as she was about to leave, she was stopped to be informed that she was not to tell anyone else about this. That the rest of the Umbrella employees here aside from Wesker and Birkin were to remain and die on the premises. Nodding once again, Mukuro notified that she understood and promptly left the room.

     Her gait was normal as she walked back to her lab, her first assignment to herself was to release Yawn and then leave. Not caring about the clothing and what other, little, personal effects that she brought with her, which, was just some makeup and toiletries, Mukuro didn’t really bring anything that could identify her, should this illegal lab be investigated. Which, hearing the mention of the outbreak, might be soon if she didn’t leave ASAP.

     Entering the lab, Mukuro first noticed the severe lack of Frank, glaring at the empty space, Mukuro’s glare swept the room until she landed on Yawn’s tank and effectively locking gazes with the large serpent. After learning about the t-virus outbreak, the sore and tumor growths on Yawn’s body as well as the increased aggression he showed when attacking his meals, made a little more sense. Albeit not knowing everything about the virus, she paid attention to meetings were notes on the virus were shared. With her gaze softening somewhat, Mukuro approached the thick glass and placed her hand on the surface, her long, acrylic nails lightly tapping against the glass. The tip of Yawn’s head pressed against the other side.

     “I have to leave,” she spoke softly, “but I cannot let you stay in this cage while I’m gone.” As she spoke, her eyes darted to the side of Yawn’s massive jaw, spotting a piece of torn white fabric hanging out and a smile spread on her lips. “Thank you, my friend. I hope you let him suffer.” She swore that Mukuro saw Yawn’s head nod slightly as she removed her hand, Mukuro went to the door of the enclosure, entering the code to release the locks and walked inside to the other door of the enclosure that led outside and pulled that door open and stood to the side.

     “We must part ways now, my friend. Be safe.” Yawn remained in the enclosure for a few seconds, as if seeing if she’d close the door before he moved, “quickly now, Yawn, I need to leave.” Mukuro spoke in a bit more firmer tone, and as if he understood, the large serpent slithered out of the large glass tank. Mukuro stood watching him slither out into the woods.

      Silently saying one last goodbye, Mukuro walked back inside to retrieve her files and leave the facility for good.