#apparently this is one of those click for resolution moments too

[ninjigma]

QuinObi Week Part 2/5 - First / Next

Day 2: Knighthood/Raising Padawans Track: 'How Bad We Need Each Other' - Marc Scibilia (Spotify / YouTube)

"I'll grab the bags." "And I will grab the Padawans." "But they're already-" The sound of excited squealing from Aayla and Anakin echoed throughout the halls, Obi-Wan unable to stop his own laughter from joining in and Quinlan smiling broadly at seeing the joy return to his friends face.

Kind of just a fun moment for the group, one of their first missions all together, pretty early on in Anakin's journey to become a Jedi. I have a whole little fic thought up for this that I am so sad I didn't get the chance to write but it is the one I am most tempted to work on and publish later anyhow, because it is just an all around bit of fun for the little family XD

Enjoy!

@quinobiweek

[mysticmellowlove]

yan streamer being delusional

a/n - bro i need someone to pick me up, tell me why i had three back to back assignments and it's the end of the semester. STOP PUTTING ALL THE ASSIGNMENTS AT THE END OF THE SEMESTER!!! also I'm getting there with the requests! swear to god I'll put more stuff out soon, i want to leave these stupid lab reports behind and get back to fucking submissive men.

warnings; gn reader pronouns, yandere behaviour, yandere streamer, yandere male, sub yandere, kinda a joke but not really, not edited at all

word count; 1544

If fifteen year old you were to look into the future you probably wouldn't have liked what you saw. As a freshly graduated student with a bachelor's degree the whole world expected you to be some professional business partner but here you were... modding for a popular twitch streamer.

In all honesty it wasn't that bad, and the environment around job hiring was insane at the moment anyway. You wouldn't have been able to find a job even if you tried. The streamer paid well enough, especially considering all you had to do was flag underhanded and inappropriate comments. It was lucrative... for someone who didn't have a home loan to pay off.

A sigh left your mouth as you watched the chat scroll by. You had been watching this guy before you even got a job underneath him, sometimes background noise was good while you were studying. His content had taken a turn from those quiet streams where he talked about daily life to what he was doing now though. Now he was much more popular and he played only the newest games.

Did you wish sometimes he would go back and check up on his old game profiles? Yes. Did you care enough to suggest that to him? No. Life moves on.

Your eyes trained on a particular comment, distasteful as usual, and you got rid of it. Flagging and banning the commenter so your streamer could look into it later.

"Thank you Sugar." Your lips pursed. The job pated well, the content was interesting and you didn't have to leave your home. The chat filled up with heart emojis and kissy face emojis. Some of them were even customised to look like your discord profile picture (designed by the other person who had seen it; the streamer himself).

There was just one downside, both the streamer and his chat were weirdly into you. Or you as a mod you guessed. Still, you didn't mind it, at least not usually. Human interaction was good, even if it was through a screen.

The rest of his stream went well, thanks to the effort of you and the other mods. As soon as the screen had closed you pushed your chair make and groaned as your stretched your muscles out. It was pretty late and you were kinda hungry. There was a little restaurant that stayed open later than usual on the ground floor of the apartment building you lived in but the quality was questionable.

After deciding that your stomach was going to eat itself you threw on a jacket and grabbed your wallet before leaving the apartment. It would be nice to get some furniture soon. University debt couldn't last forever right?

As soon as you left your apartment the sound of someone coming down the stairs made you turn your head. The exact second you looked at them though your head snapped back to your door. Eyes wide, mouth open... that was the streamer! Your mind ticked, did he live here! In this shoddy building with the rates too high for what it was? But he was... relatively well off. His room was decked out in those fancy led lights and he had a really comfy-looking chair. His PC set up was apparently wild from the small glimpses you had gotten and yet he lived here. In the same building as you did.

It was in that moment that something clicked in your mind, people had lives outside of the internet. A resolute nod made you finally leave your doorway and join him on the trek downstairs. Half the time on the way down you wondered in he thought you were trailing him, the other half was spent wondering if he was hungry too.

There was no way he knew it was you though. You were faceless online and even though you knew him there was no way anyone would peel that information from you.

"Hey, I like your sweater." Your face went white as you saw him stop at the bottom of the stairs, a boyish smile on his face. Your sweater... his merch. Your lips pressed into a thin line, the world was playing with you today. You cracked your knuckles, this could go two ways.

"Yeah, haha... nice stream tonight boss man." His eyes widened. Tonight was just supposed to be you getting off from work and then grabbing some food. You had an interview tomorrow and yet here you were revealing yourself to your employer.

"You're one of my mods! It's nice to meet you in person, I can't believe I live in the same building as one. You getting food as well?" You guessed it wasn't all bad. Talking with him like this reminded you of his old streams, when he had only a couple hundred viewers.

"Yeah, crazy right." You commented as the two of you made your way to the restaurant. Since it was so late at night there wasn't a line to get take away so you made it through in record time. In the restaurant and even on the way up you chatted with the streamer until he basically dropped you at your door.

Before you went inside he asked you one more question, which one of his mods were you. After you have him the answer and watched him walk away you went inside and began to eat. Today wasn't as bad as you thought after all.

His door slid shut with an audible click as he gently rested his food on the counter. What were the chances that he'd meet his favourite person of all time tonight? His beloved mod, Sugar. A short wheeze left his mouth as his smile spread into a wide grin.

He didn't know what it was about you but just getting to know you before he hired you made him feel giddy. You two were a match made in heaven. You had wit, jokes and a kind side as well. Basically you were everything he had ever wanted and more.

And you lived in the same building as he did.

Now he had an excuse to talk to you outside of the work you did for him, he'd be able to get to know you better. Maybe he'd even manage to make you fall in love with him just as he had for you. Just thinking about it made his heart flutter and his blood run hot. His cheeks grew warm as he forgot all about his late night dinner. Instead, he wobbled over to his couch and fell onto it.

Your profile picture had been of a stereotypical soft edit, a practical joke from your friends that you hadn't bothered to change. He was ashamed to admit that he had jerked off to the picture before, sometimes he even took your chats out of context and used them to fuel his fantasies.

But, you looked nothing like how he thought you would. He was expecting some sort of catfish who went onto discord to try and get middle-aged men to give them money (he hadn't minded that fantasy either, there was something so hot about not being able to freely do anything without your partner's permission.) but you were completely different.

You were a burnt-out graduate just like he was.

Soon he found his hand resting on the outside of his underwear, pretending it was your hand. Would you be soft and embody your online persona or would you be so pent up that you used him to your content? His hand tightened in response to his thoughts, sending a wave of pleasure right to his stomach.

A short groan left him as he closed his eyes and stroked. He pulled his clothes down and circled his tip, trying to keep his hips still as he envisioned you sitting before him.

He finally had a face to the name and now his imagination was running wild. Was your skin unblemished? Did you have tattoos, what was the colour of your underwear. His heart beat faster as he realised he'd finally be able to find all these things about you out. You lived on the floor below him, he could sneak in anytime he wanted!

Maybe he'd take some of your clothes, dress himself up in them and pretend that you were making him parade around as some sort of doll. Did you own any toys? He'd take those two and revel at the closeness. You had used them on yourself...

He swallowed, it was getting harder to breathe. His hand worked furiously on his cock, the sensation more punishing than pleasurable. Surely that was what you would do if you found out about all the dirty things he had thought of you doing to him.

As soon as he had started he found himself cumming. His mouth dropped open in a silent scream as the pleasure rocked through his whole body while he came down from his high. As soon as he was able to calm himself down he shut his eyes and grinned.

This was going to be fun.

[galkyrie]

First Kiss

Jason had thought about kissing Tim before. Early in the morning, when the pre-dawn sky was signaling their time in the shadows was up for the night, he thought about it. Sometimes, Tim'd look at him a little too long or his lips would quirk into a little too lopsided of a grin- the real one, the one reserved for his friends- and he'd think about it.

Moments like now, when the only clear way out of the unbelievably shitty situation they were in was certain death. Sacrifice, for the greater good.

Watching Tim fight against unbeatable odds, the downturn of his lips broadcasting he'd come to a similar conclusion about the way out of this? He wanted to throw his helmet off and kiss him for the first time. For the last time.

Jason loved this city. So fervently that it once felt like there was no room for anything else. He could do good here, still- had been doing good. Making his second lease on life really count.

He lived for this city.

But-

He'd die for Tim. If it was gonna be one of them- and nobody else was even close enough to the breach to be a factor, too busy trying not to be overrun- it should be him. It seemed fitting to have to do this in an old cathedral.

"Babybird," the endearment sounded off coming out of the helmet, far too monotone for the affection it carried when it left his lips. "I'm trustin' you to take care of my turf-" he kept himself calm as he spoke, ducking when Tim signaled and launched himself into the air from his shoulders, tossing disks in a rapid-fire spin.

"Shouldn't be too hard for ya- seein' as you live there already-" Bruce was fighting his way up to their position by the breach, Jason noted- probably having done the same math they had regarding their odds. He wasn't going to make it down the pews to the chancel in time to take either of their places, not at this rate.

"Hood, you don't-" Tim started to argue, landing in a roll before stabbing at one of the invading creature's joints with his bo and twisting until he heard a crack. Jason'd usually compliment the fancy footwork, but there wasn't time. Wasn't time to argue, either.

"You don't see any better option-"

"It doesn't have to be you-"

"It can't be you." His tone left zero room to argue. He- for all the good he did- Tim was better. Balancing the work in the light of day and in the dark- knew himself well enough to be able to walk up to his own line and work with people who crossed it without losing himself. He was Bruce if the man could truly wrestle the darkness and win. He wasn't an echo screaming out in that dark.

"Tim," the man's fighting was taking on a frantic edge- this argument was going to be meaningless if Tim got sloppy and got himself killed. "Take care of them for me, promise?"

"I," Tim spun again, driving his staff through a mechanical lens and activating the stun function with all that built up momentum, "I will." It was almost too quiet to hear. "I'll take care of them all." He promised, flicking his wrist and setting the ring of planted disks around them to ignite.

It bought them a moment in the onslaught- apparently all that Tim needed, because he was pressed up close and flying through the steps to unlock his hood before Jason could process the explosions around them.

Lips pressed to his, slightly chapped from the frigid winter air. It was everything he could've asked for in that moment, months of working cases together, sharing late-night meals, trading lingering glances clicked into focus.

He didn't dwell on how many of those moments- how many idle daydreams would've been able to come true, if only he'd done this when they'd had time-

Tim had done everything he could to buy them this much. It wouldn't do to use it to despair.

He kissed him back, guns dropping in favor of gripping his waist to savor the moment.

"I love you," Tim declared, resolute when he broke the kiss. "Remember that," he added, and Jason felt the blade slice through his hand.

Tim didn't hold back, using every bit of force to drive the knife through his hand and into the altar behind them.

Jason screamed, the pain spiking along his nerves a pale imitation of the wrenching feeling as he watched Tim bolt for the breach and leap into it. The tear in the universe shuddered, and Jason got a grip on the bloody hilt of his own blade and yanked hard. He wrenched himself free, heedless of the pain in his desperation to get to the breach before it-

Energy burst through the breach, hurling him back with the force of it. Bruce raced forward, catching his body as it was thrown back before he could make impact with the cold stone wall. Jason couldn't hear anything, eyes glued to where the tear folded in on itself, the only indication that he was still yelling the burn in his throat as the breach vanished, taking Tim with it.

[siopaofrog]

Red Feathers of Fate || Hawks x Reader

"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break . . ."

A speck of red in the distance. In the air. A pinprick so bright and contrasted, a bleeding papercut against the cloudless blue.

I stopped my stride. The crowd flowed over me, like water over stone.

I would say the speck was floating or falling but—no, the way it turned was too sharp, too alive and resolute, like it had a working mind of its own. In fact it veered right, straight towards me, and just as I yelped and hopped out of its way it whizzed past my eye with the speed of a bullet. I spun my head around and squinted, then, gasping I realized—that speck was a feather.

“Hawks,” I breathed.

And just like that: My feet fled. I couldn’t help it. Before I could actually halt and think I was already kicking off my heels and racing after it, tossing half-hearted sorry’s to those I elbowed into, panting and pumping my arms as if my entire being depended on it. For whatever reason—I thought maybe that it did.

Common Sense screamed, yanking its hair and seething: You have a job, idiot!

I know.

Boss already hates your guts.

I know.

And yet—still I ran. Bare feet slapping against hot cement, arm outstretched, eyes trained on the blur of red. I ran.

I needed to catch that feather. Somehow.

My brain kept complaining, bellowing, perplexed by my impulsivity. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t even believe how my feet carried me. Sure I would run and exercise here and there, but nothing ever prompted me to go at it like this. Something about that red feather immediately magnetized me to it, like if I ignored it, I would never get this chance again.

Just then another blur of red swirled above, and what appeared to be in droves. They came in at dizzying speeds after that first feather, and what was once a pinprick became a smattering, then a broad and vibrant brush stroke across the sky.

I couldn’t help but grin. It was beautiful.

“Watch where you’re going!” snapped me out of it, as I almost tripped into some scowling, grumbling fellow with a mohawk, and I clumsily found my footing again. At that moment I wished for some quirk of speed or flight or, well, anything.

The flock of feathers surged in a tide-like motion, made a right, then settled and eddied above the rooftop of a building only a few blocks down. It was my chance. I slowed my sprint to a halt at the entrance, hands on knees, trying and failing to catch my breath.

I climbed my way up. Finally, here. Here at the rooftop access, hand grasping the knob, hoping the feathers were still waiting. Hoping that whatever was here, whatever I was led to, would satisfy that feral-like impulsivity. That need, that knowing that I had to follow them. That hope that something wanted me to follow them.

Click.

Bright, blinding light. And there he was.

“Keigo?” I said, and just like that, the feathers ceased in midair and fluttered down about him. He raised a hand, let one drift into his palm. His head, turned up at the sky, body bruised and beaten, wings nearly depleted. Only a few feathers clung to his back. A moment later he spun around, hazel eyes meeting mine.

“(y/n),” he said, and smiled ever so crookedly. “The hell you doin’ up here?”

I let my shoes hit the cement and laughed, relieved. “Running after you, apparently.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips tugging up more and more.

“I saw your feathers and I just—I ran.” I took a few steps forward. “Something told me to. I had to.”

“It’s been too long, (y/n). Way too long,” he said, and started towards me with a visible limp. “But you caught me at a real bad time, angel face.”

I met him halfway and pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder, where ran a long, crooked, and bloody gash. “Keigo...”

He seethed at my touch and I quickly pulled away, but he gave me a silly smile and brought my hand back, this time to his chest.

“You just want me to feel your pecs,” I teased.

“Me? Never.” But I could see the pain in his grin and gaze.

“Seriously. What happened to you? And your feathers...?”

“Ah, that.” Keigo glanced at the plush piles of red surrounding him, and blinked hard. Grunted. “Fuck it hurts. But don’t worry about me. I’m honestly just happy to see you again. You know what they say about endorphins anyway—our body’s natural painkillers. I feel better already, just talking to you.”

I laughed. “You always have something good to say about an awful situation, don’t you?”

“You know me. Too goddamn stubborn to let it drag me down.” He grinned, but I only stared at him with the sort of look of love and longing, because it really felt like we hadn’t at all lost contact or care for one another.

“I miss us," I said breathlessly.

The grin departed, and slowly he placed his hand over mine atop his chest.

“Me too,” he whispered, letting out a faint breath of a laugh. Relief, maybe. Hesitantly, he brought his hand up to my cheek and swept a few strands of hair behind my ear. “I’m… I’m so sorry. For everything. For running away.”

I tilted my head, staring up into his eyes, deeply. They looked torn, tired, so darkly blemished.

“Don’t be sorry. Please. I know why you had to leave." I glanced at his injuries, his horribly beaten body. "I know how grueling it is. You’re just trying to be the hero everyone expects you to be.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I never did deserve you, (y/n).”

“Oh, stop that.”

Keigo’s eyes flicked from my lips, back to my eyes, until he tapped his forehead to mine. Gently. Lovingly. We closed our eyes.

“I never should have run,” he murmured. “I—I’ve missed you, you know? Every fucking night without you felt like a horrible nightmare. I couldn’t escape it. I’m so... so tired of running.”

“Then don’t run.” I opened my eyes slightly, and he did as well. “I never stopped loving you, Keigo. I never stopped looking.” I traced my hands up his chest and combed through his hair, breathing him in. Sand and pine, undeniably.

“You didn’t?” he asked, blinking at me.

I shook my head. “Of course not, silly."

And with that he hooked his arms about me, pausing for a moment before pressing his lips to mine. He leaned into me, placing soft kisses along my jaw and brushing his lips across my ear.

Breathily, he said, “It was fate then, wasn’t it? Fate brought you here.”

I kissed him, bit his bottom lip, before glancing cheekily at the feathers surrounding us.

“I don’t think fate had anything to do with it, Keigo."

[scoobydoofenshmirtz]

The Horny Cinematography of Seasons 4 and 5 of Supernatural

So I made this kinda silly post about how horny the late Kripke era of Supernatural was and it was mostly meant as a joke, but then it got me thinking. So I did a little bit of digging, went through some memorable scenes, and noticed some actual patterns in the way Dean and Castiel are shot versus other characters. Disclaimer: this is not exactly a scientific analysis. I didn’t rewatch the entire two seasons for this and there are probably shots with other characters that I missed that go against it, but this is just the general trend that I noticed. 

Click on the images for higher resolution. Analysis is under the cut.

So the general premise of this analysis is that Cas and Dean are shot noticeably close-up, typically staring intensely into each other’s eyes. I think we all know about the whole staring thing, but the actual close-ups were way more intense then I think some people might realize, especially when compared to other interactions between different characters. Cas in particular is shot very close-up frequently whether he’s talking to someone else or by himself (there are so many gorgeous close-ups of Misha in season 4), but the intense eye contact is pretty much only with Dean. 

It starts off almost immediately in 4x01 Lazarus Rising where in Dean and Castiel’s very first interaction, they stand very close and the camera focuses on their faces. First we have two close-ups, then in what is maybe my favorite shot in all of Supernatural, Castiel steps in closer to Dean and the close-ups get even tighter. He tilts his head and stares thoughtfully at Dean with those big blue eyes. Cut to Dean’s look of discomfort after being told (very accurately) “you don’t think you deserve to be saved.”

Things amp up in literally Castiel’s second appearance in 4x02 Are You There God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester with one of the horniest Destiel scenes in the show (again this is only their second interaction!) We have Castiel unexpectedly showing up at Bobby’s house, Dean sassing him, and Castiel stepping very close to Dean and saying “You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.” This is a very tense interaction with some beautiful low key lighting that pretty much went extinct after season 5. Notice how tight the frame is, even compared to 4x01. These are extreme close-ups where both Dean and Castiel’s chins and foreheads are cut out of the frame. 

Castiel’s third appearance in 4x03 In the Beginning is a lot more prominent as he has many scenes throughout the episode instead of just one. I’m not gonna include pictures of all of them because there’s lot, but there are plenty of close-ups and intense gazes between the two (e.g. sitting on the bed, “Hello Dean. What were you dreaming about?” which according to Misha, Kim manners said was “too gay” but they did it like that anyway) and contains the first time they touch and the first time they are shot in more high key lighting. Go rewatch the episode if you want to see more lovely close-ups between Dean and Cas. 

Next I would like to draw your attention to episode 4x07 It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester. This is Castiel’s fourth appearance and the first time we see him interact with a character who’s not Dean. This is where the differences between how they’re shot start to become apparent. First we have Sam’s first interaction with Castiel (greetings blood freak) that is shot with standard close-ups. Eventually, Dean comes in, conversation happens blah blah blah and we get to the more intense discussion about how the angels want to destroy the town. The discussion is between Dean, Cas, Sam, and Uriel, but Dean and Cas get most of the focus. The camera tells us that they are the main subjects in this scene. Dean and Cas are shot more close-up and tighter and they are standing closer and looking in each others eyes unlike Sam who is looking back and forth between them and standing a few steps back. 

Of course this doesn’t stop in season 4. Here is a similar example from 5x02 Good God, Ya’ll! but the difference between Dean and Cas and Sam is even more obvious. This is the “I'm hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you,” exchange which I find interesting. Some people could say here that Cas means “you” plural as in Sam and Dean but the Camera is so focused on just Dean and Cas while Sam just sorta hangs there in the background. 

One thing that I think is interesting is that these types of shots-extreme close-ups with two characters looking into each other’s eyes and standing no feet apart-are not necessarily exclusive to Dean and Cas, but they are usually in a different context. Pretty much all (at least that I could remember) the other examples of this type of shot are between one character and a villain. Below we have three fairly intense confrontations between characters, Sam and Uriel in 4x07 It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester, Dean and Alastair in 4x16 On the Head of a Pin, and Dean and Cas in 4x22 Lucifer Rising. The composition is almost exactly the same with similar lighting as well, but one of these things is not like the other. Very obviously Cas is not a villain and this scene in particular is a huge moment for his character that cements his decision to fully rebel against Heaven for Dean. 

Also characters that tend to be that close together looking into each other’s eyes in two shots are usually villains except for Dean and Cas. Below we have a shot of Ruby and Sam very close together right before he drinks her blood and a very close-up shot of Dean and Alastair both in 4x16 On the Head of a Pin. Compare that to the two shot from 4x02 Are You There God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester above for example. There is a certain sexual nature in these two villain scenes (and a lot of villain interactions on Supernatural in general). Obviously, Sam and Ruby are literally having sex, but Alastair is also portrayed as a villain who sexually objectifies his victims (the torture scene with Ruby, calling Dean “Daddy’s little girl, etc.) but Cas is not a villain and yet the framing is very similar. 

Now I want to compare two fight scenes, one in season 4 and one in season 5. Here we have the fight scene between Ruby and Sam in 4x09 I Know What You Did Last Summer. Ruby is of course a sexy lady who Sam sleeps with in a sexy fight scene where she “proves” that she wants to help Sam by killing the other demon instead of Sam. But of course, the fight scene in 5x18 Point of No Return is shot way more close-up and Dean and Cas are inches away from each other. While I wouldn’t described this scene as “sexy” (Cas is literally beating Dean to a pulp) it is way more charged...intimate isn’t exactly the right word but there’s a similar but more intense erotic energy than in the fight scene with Ruby. 

Unrelated side note: there is a great use of breaking the 180 degree rule in this scene that I think works way better in this instance at disorienting the viewer than the shaky cam does. 

Next I have some random examples I noticed that show some of the different shots between characters. We have Anna in 4x10 Heaven and Hell right before she has sex with Dean. It’s fairly close-up, but still pretty loose framing compared to a lot of scenes between Dean and Cas. Anna’s entire face is still in the frame. Then we have a scene between Sam and Ruby in 4x09 I Know What You Did Last Summer that is also not as close-up as a lot of Dean and Cas scenes. On the bottom is a shot from 5x17 99 Problems which is I think the closest Sam and Cas physically get in these seasons before they ever hug. It’s more of a medium close-up than most of the scenes between Dean and Cas where they get that close. Lastly I have probably the tightest close-ups between Dean and Cas from 4x16 On the Head of a Pin. It’s similar to the shots from 4x02 but the context is pretty different with Cas trying to reassure Dean about the apocalypse. I know these don’t really have a theme but I thought they were good examples of the general pattern.

Finally I would like to point out a scene that is sort of the opposite which is the infamous staring scene in 4x21 When the Levee Breaks that goes on for like an hour. I don’t really know what to say about this scene only that I can’t believe it’s real. They literally just stand and stare at each other.

So what’s the point of all this? I honestly don’t really know. None of these observations are hard and fast rules and I’m sure there are times when other characters are shot like this. However, Dean and Cas seem to be the only ones consistently framed this way-tight close-ups, staring into each other’s eyes standing zero feet apart. What does it all mean? To me it shows that their bond is unique and special (profound you might say). It’s not even like they’re shot in a similar manner to love interests, it’s that their framing is unique, it stands out. Was it on purpose? Maybe. How shots end up looking is interesting because it really is the work of a lot of different people including the director, the cinematographer, the editors and more. I don’t think they were thinking “we should film Dean and Cas in this very intense way because they’re in love” or anything, but they obviously recognized there was something special between these two characters. And truly, the intentions don’t matter all that much to me. What’s there is there, and watching it the first time around I noticed how close Dean and Cas always were and watching it back post 15x18 all those shots stand out even more to me. There’s really no conclusion here, but I think it’s interesting to look a bit more closely at the cinematography in TV shows that we don’t always think of as having the highest quality production. There’s a lot of layers to be discovered outside of scripts and acting and things we tend to focus on more as viewers. 

[nillegible]

(Part 3 of Stay, the MY time travel fic. Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 )

It’s several more weeks before he meets Qin Su again, and it’s like having a sword shoved through his gut a second time.

He thought he’d gotten over her death in the weeks since, but apparently not.

Meng Yao’s skills at administrative work, honed to perfection over years of managing Jin sect, had resulted in a series of rapid promotions, as more and more people realized that Meng Yao was not only capable but willing to do boring meticulous drudge work and do it well. By the time Qin Su returns from her mother’s small, secluded clan, Clan Liu, Meng Yao is one of Qin Cangye’s personal aides.

He keeps his face when she thanks him for saving her life just barely. It’s so hard, when she looks so young and carefree, untouched by the grief for a lost child, of a secretive husband who never turned to her.

Meng Yao had done that to her.

I didn’t have a choice, he’d cried to Er-ge, in a temple and felt justified. In front of her sweet face, that defence dies a quiet death.

She’d killed herself, when she heard the truth, and for one moment, in between the grief, the rising terror of an unknown enemy stalking him, he’d hated her for it. Do you think you have suffered more than I? How dare you take your own life, while I still didn’t give up?

But he owes her better than that, so he smiles, and promises the Young Mistress Qin that it was Meng Yao who was honoured to have been of assistance to her. He remains perfectly cordial, always, in her presence. He doesn’t hide away, doesn’t take paths around the buildings that she frequents, even though every time he sees her again, it hurts.

This pain, at least, Meng Yao deserves.

He’s careful not to get too close though. He makes his excuses not to join her where he can, and never shows her the attention he had in a previous life. He didn’t expect this to be noticed, but as he’s learned the hard way, some eyes are always sharper than Meng Yao would give them credit for.

*

When Qin Tianyu approaches him for tea and a discussion of the talismans that Meng Yao has been reworking to be more efficient, he thinks nothing of it. When they’re working on writing some together after, and the talisman master carefully broaches the topic as if it wasn’t intentional, Meng Yao can see the Sect Leader’s interest in the matter.

“Meng Yao has been noticeably cold to Su-sizhi,” says Qin Tianyu.

Meng Yao looks up, sharply. “I have no quarrel with Qin-guniang.” How did I miss this?

“I said cold, not a quarrel,” he returns calmly. “She is the only one you do not call shijie.”

“She’s the heir, it’s polite, Qin-shishu,” Meng Yao says, even though he knows it’s not good enough. Everyone else calls her Su-shijie, quite enthusiastically. He endures the carefully considering look that Qin Tianyu sends his way. His mask had held up beneath Wen Ruohan, Nie Mingjue, Jin Guangshan, and Lan Xichen. He would not be unmasked by the a simple elder of Laoling Qin.

But Qin Tianyu just nods, as if confirming something to himself. “The idea was floated that Meng Yao joined Qin sect for Su-sizhi.” he says, and Meng Yao freezes, wary. “After all, Sect Leader Jin does not need another spare heir.”

Meng Yao sits in silence, work ignored as he tries to decide on a response. He had briefly considered before approaching Sect Leader Qin that it may look like this from outside, but had reasoned to himself that as long as he showed no interest in Qin Su, it would blow over, and he’d look like any other disciple. That people would find it suspicious that Meng Yao was not angling to marry her to become the next Qin Sect Leader is a surprise.

So, what should he say to turn this suspicion astray?

“This humble disciple is merely Sect Leader Jin’s bastard son. Young Mistress Qin deserves better,” he says, hoping that was vague enough to be acceptable.

“Meng Yao professes to be remarkably unambitious,” returns Qin Tianyu, lightly. Liar, he’s saying, even though for once Meng Yao isn’t actually lying. Qin Su did deserve better than what he’d given her. He’d loved her enough to know that. But unambitious people cannot do what Meng Yao did to keep his place at Wen Sect. Couldn’t remove the head of Wen Ruohan and end a war.

Unambitious people would not do all of that, just to become one of threw personal aides of a minor Clan Leader.

“Maybe I used it up,” says Meng Yao. From the way the elder glances up, he realizes that he had been silent long enough that he believed he wouldn’t get an answer. But Meng Yao has found his words, and there’s nothing to do but continue, “My mother wished to be a Jin concubine. She wanted me to do anything it takes to secure a place within Jin Sect. That it was the only way for me to live well.”

And she was wrong. She was as wrong about this as she was about Jin Guangshan. It had been a constant, grinding pain, to know again and again that the person he loved above all else had been so incredibly wrong. Meng Yao had thrown himself life and soul into trying to prove her right, into gaining his father’s regard and living well. He’d fought desperately, thinking that if only he gathered a little more influence, that if he did just a little bit more, then he’d succeed. Get the recognition his mother craved for him.

At some point, spite and fury had taken the place of love and duty, but he had not wavered in his goal. But he’d still never proved her right; had murdered his own father, and sat in mourning like a filial son, truly mourning how much he’d failed.

Nothing that he did could ever make up for it. This time, he knew better than to even try.

“It was my mother’s ambition,” he says aloud for the first time. Perhaps to a broken woman who did not even own herself, it had been liberating to imagine owning so much, to be in control of her own fate. “It was hers, but I…”

He falls silent, and after a few moments Qin Tianyu returns his attention to his paused work. For several minutes, he just watches the hypnotic way that the talisman master draws the same talisman again and again with the most minute of differences, to be tested and ranked according to efficacy.

“But you?” he prompts, when the stack is complete.

I want to live. That single, animalistic need, that had kept him alive through so much that would have killed others. I will not die here. Not now.

“I want to live,” says Meng Yao. And then continues, unable to stop, “I wanted her to live, too.” And when she didn’t, when illness wasted her away, taking her from him in pieces, unable to save her for want of something as immaterial as gold… something had broken in him.

Qin Tianyu nods, serene, as he gathers up the completed talismans. “Meng Yao would do well to think about why.”

Why?

You think your life is worth more than theirs? All the people you sacrificed, to live just a few years longer?

“Why shouldn’t I deserve to live?” asks Meng Yao, sharp. “Why shouldn’t we… why are our lives to be discarded at the whim of those stronger than us?”

“Silly child,” he says, “You have survived. You are alive. Now what?” Meng Yao just stares. “Perhaps Meng Yao should consider getting on with other things.”

Get on with what? Meng Yao had turned down Sect Leader Jin’s offer, had given up the name Jin Guangyao, just to escape the tragedies that that would precipitate.

But he was alive now. He was alive, and had time – perhaps even unmeasured time, so long as he stayed out of his father’s way. Perhaps he wouldn’t cultivate to near immortality, like those stronger than him, but he could live nearly a century more. Now what? Why are you alive?

It was so unlike him to not have a plan, but for once he hadn’t really. He didn’t…

“Meng Yao,��� Qin Tianyu snaps, and when Meng Yao looks up, he’s leaning forward over the table, hand out and hovering over Meng Yao’s wrist.

“Master Qin?” asks Meng Yao, but rather than answer, the elder gently touches his fingertips to Meng Yao’s wrist. The pressure of foreign qi is familiar; light and diagnostic, before it withdraws.

“This old teacher apologizes,” he says, when he’s done. “I did not mean to cause you distress.”

“Not at all, this martial nephew is glad for his elder’s guidance,” says Meng Yao, taking his hand back and holding it to his chest. “I will meditate on how to prove myself more useful to Qin sect in the future.”

“Meng Yao, you misunderstand. No, rather, it was this master who misspoke. I did not mean to imply that you must prove yourself.”

“I understand,” says Meng Yao, after a beat. Spoken aloud, it must have sounded more cruel than he wished. But that was still what he meant.

There is no resolution after that. Qin Tianyu seems unable or unwilling to explain better, though he clearly thinks about it for a while. Finally, he dismisses Meng Yao, who leaves with the talismans. The lingering unease of a conversation that went poorly is left to fester in the room, while Meng Yao retreats to the disciple quarters immediately.

He resolves to work harder.

[AN: What do you think? Too OOC? I'm hoping to give MY a proper and slow redemption story, but it’s a toss up whether it’s going well or not. Thannk you for reading, please drop a comment in the replies if you have writing advice! I’ll be so grateful!]

[Click here for part 4!]

[ramblingguy54]

The Forbidden Fountain of the Foreverglades!: The Importance Of Owning Up To Who You Are As An Individual.

We’ve spent our whole lives at each other’s throats, Scroogie. But what if we could do it over again knowing everything we know now, avoiding the same mistakes.

Okay, this episode was simply great and important development that brought Goldie’s characterization to an apex that we’ve been waiting to see explored more after seeing other signs of her humanity in her episode with Louie back in Season 2. Forbidden Fountain of the Foreverglades explores the idea of one’s past and again as seen with other stories, Rumble for Ragnarok, explore the theme of one’s own legacy and how to grow from that. In this case, the focus is seriously on Goldie, with Scrooge getting some development on the side. It’s been made evident time and time again that while Goldie does have a heart underneath her complicated nature, she’s never been able to confront those feelings head on, where this episode brings that up to the forefront. Goldie, now being young again, has an easy resolution to atone for her shifty actions at Scrooge before, like leaving him in that frozen small ice under the assumption he could break his way outta anything, instead of lending him an honest hand. Goldie in the reboot is a very complicated individual who’s been reluctantly content from running away from how she honestly feels, until now with this apparent fresh start she & Scrooge both have as another chance to rewrite their own histories together being complex distant lovers. However, just like with any insightful character study, Goldie is faced with another moral dilemma, regarding quite a dark twist of how the Fountain Of Youth steals away other unsuspecting bystander’s youths and gives it away to whoever drinks that energy in said water which has absorbed it. It adds an unsettling lore to this story’s universe, while having Goldie’s character challenged at the notion of can she live with herself, knowing that she’ll be stealing life itself from other people to benefit her needs? Goldie is no stranger to double crossing others for the sake of gold/treasure for her own goals, but there is a tremendous difference in stakes that she doesn’t want to face. So, she resorts back to doing what Goldie does best that has been her biggest weakness throughout the reboot. Running away to save herself the trouble, rather than facing the music on what she should be doing to truly atone and change as a person. These particular shots really struck me with their symbolism surrounding Goldie’s characterization in DuckTales 2017′s storytelling. It really nailed home the message of Goldie’s emotional struggle to truly face Scrooge and admit she was wrong for her own past actions.

The symbolism in this shot really stood out upon looking back at certain moments. There Scrooge is in the reflection of the sword Goldie held and threw down into the ground. It’s the perfect punchline to show that Goldie’s priorities still solely lie with what benefits her most importantly, instead of being openly honest with herself of caring for others genuinely, like Scrooge most of all. Serious props to whoever boarded that moment in the creation of this episode because I felt that connection in what it was trying to convey. Goldie in that moment was still being selfish with trying to save her own hide, since Scrooge could never bring himself to steal from others dishonestly and would prefer to returning toward who he once was. Your past isn’t an enemy, but rather what you allow to learn from those experiences, good or bad, that define who you are as a whole. Goldie still hasn’t connected those dots yet, but there’s of course another person she remembers in her attempt to make another clean get away that finally makes the perspective click in this stubborn duck’s head.

Louie Duck. The kid she values as much as Scrooge. Maybe even like the son they never had quite frankly.

That was something I adored about this episode was the subtlety of how it conveyed Goldie’s vulnerable side. Words were never spoken here in this moment, but you can damn well tell that she’s having a serious epiphany about making the same decisive mistake again of running away from those important to her in life. Seeing Louie all scared and concerned about what’s gonna happen to them made Goldie in turn realize that stealing other peoples’ years of their own lives isn’t something she can bring herself to go through with. More or less, it was a terrible reality check that stealing youth from others is like hurting Louie in the process because it would be no different from deeply scarring the kid, too. Someone who respects Goldie for her cunning wit and how much they have in common for causing trouble as “evil masterminds”. It’s an amazing moment that brings Goldie full circle in her arc as a character that makes her go back in poetic fashion for Scrooge to help, which is something she didn’t do in their origin story of how these two hopeless romantics fell in love, while they were frozen in that little iceberg years ago. Scrooge & Goldie’s chemistry in DuckTales 2017 has been so well crafted in showing that it’s because they got so much in common with their interest in treasure and gold that it’s what has kept them from being together, besides Goldie’s own actions as well in the series up to this point, of course. If this is really the last season, than this episode was one Hell of a send off for Goldie’s journey from being a selfish and crafty adventurer, toward becoming what she’s always had underneath it all. Someone who does care.

The cherry on top of it all? These two love birds finally kissed at last! What I loved is how Goldie took the approach first with that idea. It’s so funny seeing Scrooge’s shocked reaction, but being more than happy to be so forward about it all. These two are in love and I can just hear the fireworks going off in their heads, as they’re making out in this brief important moment of romance.

This was such a damn great episode that brought closure to Scrooge & Goldie’s complicated history together being rivals and also lovers, as well.

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Blank Spots [21] PAIRING: (Somewhat pre-established) Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader, could be seen as an OC. REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: After waking up at the base of a steep incline and nearly freezing to death, you stumble upon a group of strangers who swear up and down that they know you. WARNINGS: Some creative license for amnesia. Violence, kidnapping, death. NOTE: Hey, it’s been a good minute since I posted another part to this. My summer hasn’t been off to the best start, but I found some motivation returning to continue this series so here we are. I hope you enjoy, I’m still trying to find my legs again so I apologize if things are a little rough. Anyway, thank you all for the patience!       TAG LIST: @on-my-way-to-erebor / @otherthingstoreid @ireallyhonestlydontcare @elanisha @darlingsdevil @cirillamylove @bunnyreese12 @rollyjogerjones @callmemythicalminx @r4reland @itsnothingwithoutchaos

The only sound that filled your ears for the last couple hours was the noise of rope feverishly rubbing against the wooden leg of the bedpost you had been tied to. 

You could feel the ache in your arms and the burn of the rope against your skin. You could feel the pain of the bruise forming along your ribs when you had been kicked around for fighting back--back when you believed you still had time to get Jack and get the hell out of this place. However, that was hours ago. A voice in the back of your head said it was too late now to try to save Jack, nightfall had darkened the room they had put you in for the time being and the sun going down had mercifully allowed things to cool off. However, you knew the window of opportunity to help that poor kid had closed. 

“Shit--” you cursed, pausing in the rubbing of the ropes that bound your wrists to pull against them in some futile attempt to snap them again, your jaw aching with how you clenched your teeth. The rope had loosened some, it was probably your only sliver of hope in this situation. Yet, the exhaustion from both the current situation you found yourself in and trying to break them for hours now was getting hard to ignore. 

With a sigh, you slumped and allowed yourself to bow your head in defeat. Momentary defeat. You had survived falling off that mountainside, you could survive this. At least, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself whenever you battled with the urge to quit. 

However, the sound of footfalls heading toward the room would have had you stilling anyway. You let out a slow breath as you heard the door open, only glancing up a moment to see the stranger there before dropping your gaze to stare hard into the floorboards. Whatever he had to say, you didn’t want to listen. 

“You gettin’ a little warm there, miss?” he asked, the tone suggesting that his words didn’t carry a single tone of compassion. “Ain’t got the best breeze back here.” 

Don’t buy into it. 

You heard him walk closer, his boots shifting into your view before you found yourself glancing up at him as he seemed to study you. After a few moments, he let out a short huff. 

“Don’t much understand the reason to keep you ‘round--then again, didn’t see much reason to take the boy neither, but he’s with them Italian fellers now.” 

That news had you dropping your gaze, pressing your lips into a thin line as you shook your head. It only just confirmed what you had been thinking, but it still pulled at that terrible sense of guilt in your gut. Should have done more for him, should have fought harder. 

“Though, heard you got a nice little number on your head. Given those folk you ride with murdered all those Greys in town, figure we’re keepin’ you around to offer the new lawmen that step up to that. Don’t know yet.” 

That information was dropped on you like he was talking about the weather, your gaze lifting back up despite yourself in some confusion. You figured you would have had a bounty from when you had been riding with the gang previously, but it was another memory that you didn’t really have or could recount exactly how much was on your head. Apparently it was enough for them to keep you alive, if only to collect on it later. 

There wasn’t going to be a later, you were going to make sure of that. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked after a few moments, catching his attention as he was about to turn to leave from the looks of things. 

“Figured you might give me some reason in why we are keepin’ you here,” he said with a light shrug, cocky and nonchalant. Well, you guessed that was all you were going to give you, falling back into your lapse of silence. 

Eventually, he turned and walked back toward the door, bored or moving on to more important matters. However, upon hearing the door shut once again, you renewed your attempts at fraying the ropes. God, you knew the pain once you were free was going to be rough, but you couldn’t sit by and wait for whatever resolution this was coming to. 

You knew the gang wouldn’t sit by and let Jack get kidnapped, and you figured that them taking him meant that the Braithwaites were counting on them showing up eventually. 

                                                          ***

The first tug and snap you felt of a rope finally being cut was almost in time with the first sounds of gunfire. The feeling pulled a short somewhat breathless laugh from you. Night had fallen, leaving the room to be cast only in the dim light from one of the candles as you sat there with a small, relieved grin. Still, you knew your time was limited and you had to get yourself free before things only continued to escalate. While it took a couple more attempts to release the rest, the ones that came after were somewhat easier and eventually you were able to free your hands. 

You could feel the ache in your limbs, hands, and fingers as you rubbed lightly at the angry red and bruising marks on your wrists. However, the commotion growing louder and closer had you lifting your head toward the door. You weren’t too sure just what was happening, but if there was a chance that the gang had shown up, you needed to get out to them. Debating on if you should sit for a while, wait to see if your ‘guard’ returned, you decided that was just wasting more time. 

You gathered yourself to a stand somewhat unevenly, the ache in your limbs and the light swaying in your head from where you had been hit a couple hours ago made you pause for a few moments. 

Being unarmed, you knew there wouldn’t be much of a chance for you to fight your way out. However, with the chaos, you figured it might give you enough cover. 

Heart in your throat, you moved toward the door. Move down a couple hallways and this could be over, yet it didn’t seem like things were going to play out that way. In the time you had taken to get yourself out of the bindings, the man from before had been making it back toward the room. So, as you reached the door, it swung open to reveal him standing there. It had to have only been a moment, but the seconds that ticked by as your hope dropped down into the pit of panic that formed in your stomach felt like whole minutes. 

Instantly, he reached down into his holster to remove his gun and you moved without thinking as you lunged at him. Given the hours of physical exhaustion that weighed on your limbs in your attempts to escape and him already riled up from the gunfight, it was a bit of a futile attempt. Yet, it was enough to keep you from getting a bullet to the gut or worse, slamming your body against his that knocked you back against a table. 

He shoved you back hard, the motion giving you a moment to grab at his firing arm as you tried to make a grab for his weapon. He fired off a shot, the noise putting a dull ringing to your ears. Still, you kept your hold until he struck you in the side that sent you buckling at the knees somewhat, ripping his arm from your grasp that sent you tumbling to the floor. 

You glanced up as he stepped quickly toward you, hearing the click of a bullet being loaded into the chamber as he aimed the weapon down at you. However, if he intended to kill you, he seemed to be a little slow to do so and you acted without thinking. You lashed out, kicking him hard in the knee, the sudden motion and attack sending him stumbling down almost on top of you. The clamouring for the weapon began again, this time you managing to rip the weapon from his hands. Your captor tried to pin you to the floor, pressing hard against the side of your head and tried to hold your arm down. However, you managed to shift the weapon up and fired off a shot. 

You had felt the barrel come into contact with the side of his vest, the bullet ripping into his side as he let out a loud howl at the pain. In doing so, it gave you enough time to shift him back, ignoring the fresh blood that stained your torso as he seemed to push himself off you. Though, you almost didn’t register what happened next. 

He had risen up somewhat on his knees, your gaze catching the murderous intent in his own, and then a bullet from behind seemed to rip through the top of his skull. 

Scurrying back, you shoved him fully away as he fell forward, completely dead. Not really registering who had just shown up in the doorway, you raised the weapon up as they stepped toward you. Thankfully, you hadn’t quite had the mind to fire off a shot before the familiar voice seemed to break through the rushing in your ears. 

“Easy! Easy, it’s John!” 

You stared up at him for a moment, taking him in before the small bit of relief settled. With a small exhale, you lowered the weapon as you glanced toward the man you both had just killed. 

“Is Jack with you?” he asked, the question causing him to look up at him. 

“What?”

“Jack.” 

“No--No, he’s...he’s not here,” you said, trying to gather yourself to a stand. You could feel the pain in your ribs from the struggle, but it certainly could have ended worse. 

“...Damn it,” John cursed to himself before he reached out to help steady you somewhat, “C’mon, we need to get outta here.” 

You nodded almost numbly, following him out toward the main part of the house. You could hear that woman yelling vaguely, the smell of fire and smoke hitting your nostrils. God, if John hadn’t found that room or if you hadn’t found a way out of there, they would have burned you down with the rest of the building unaware. Did all of this really happen in only a couple hours? It was clearly night once you were back outside, lights from the lanterns and the building that was slowly starting to burn to the ground. Still, in the commotion, your thoughts fluttered by without too much reaction from you. 

That woman, the Braithwaite, was kneeled on the ground. You could only vaguely pick up on her saying something about Bronte, the name pulling hard at the guilt and fear in your gut you had over Jack. You could have done more, should have done more. Reasonably, you knew trying to escape with him when you had been tied up and had to work all day to get the ropes cut was impossible. Given the time frame, you had already been working against the clock even before you knew you were. 

Still, it was a hard feeling to shake. 

However, the sound of your name broke you from that train of thought as John led you toward where the gang’s horses were. Arthur stepped forward, placing a hand against your shoulder as he seemed to look you over somewhat. 

“Couldn’t find you anywhere, thought they’d moved you along,” he said after a moment. 

“Would’ve left without any the wiser if I hadn’t heard the gunshot,” John commented, sounding exhausted. Considering what was happening, you couldn’t blame him. “Got there just in time, I’d say.” 

“They were keeping me and were going to hand me over to the sheriff as some sort of...I don’t know,” you replied, finally finding your voice, “John...thank you. I’m...I’m so sorry about Jack.” 

John gave you a short nod, “C’mon, we need to get back to camp.” 

“Yeah, you’ll ride with me,” Arthur said, placing a hand between your shoulder blades and he walked with you toward a familiar horse. 

You were going back to camp, this whole ordeal was over yet in a way it certainly wasn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to glance behind you, wanting no more than anything to get the hell out of there. Arthur climbed into the saddle behind you somewhat, seeming to catch onto the exhaustion in your limbs as he wrapped an arm around your middle before starting the ride back to camp. 

“They hurt you?” he asked after a few moments, “You’re covered in blood.” 

“No, it’s--it’s not mine,” you replied, keeping your gaze on the path ahead of you as Arthur continued on at a steady pace. 

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything further as you both continued on down the path. However, your mind lingered on the events of the past couple hours. God, you had no idea just how your day was going to turn, worrying about Arthur when you should have been doing so about yourself and Jack. You thought about killing that man back there, firing a shot into his side and John planting one in his skull in your hesitance to do more. There was a part of you that hated that--what’d happened to you? It never used to be like this, did it? Stilling at the thought of violence and defending yourself? Couldn’t even protect a damn kid? 

“Hey,” you heard Arthur’s voice in your ear, suddenly feeling the warmth of his chest against your back, the tightness of his arms around you. The two of you weren’t moving anymore, stopped just off the path you were taking back to camp. You hadn’t been aware of the way you had started breathing, the stinging at your eyes and the shaking in your limbs. 

“It’s okay,” he continued, “Ain’t gonna let somethin’ like that happen to you again.” 

“It’s not that,” you replied after a moment, letting out a shaky breath, “I was there with Jack, I knew they had Bronte coming to take him and I did nothing. I could’ve done something and I didn’t.” 

“That ain’t your fault,” Arthur muttered, not releasing his hold as much as a part of you didn’t feel like you deserved the comfort. Still, you couldn’t help the way you were leaning back against him, even if he was holding you there himself. 

“I don’t know,” you muttered, blinking back some tears. 

“We’re gonna get the boy back, he’ll be just fine,” Arthur said, “Nobody in that camp is just goin’ to let him be taken, made that clear tonight. Might’ve damn well lost you in that, too, if John hadn’t been listenin’.” 

You weren’t too sure about that, you had gotten out by the time John had shown up. Though, you didn’t have the energy to argue that in the moment, knowing that they knew you were taken with Jack must have worried him too. With a small exhale, you brought a hand up to grip at his forearm comfortingly. 

“I want to help get Jack back,” you said, “even if it’s in the smallest of ways.” 

“We ain’t sure just how these fellers are,” Arthur replied after a moment, loosening his hold somewhat, “With everybody we just lost, I don’t know if…” 

“Lost?” you asked, turning your head slightly as much as you couldn’t face him fully in the saddle. You saw him nod softly out of the corner of your eye, Arthur letting out a sigh. 

“Yeah, Sean…” he muttered, “Them Greys set us up in town, he got shot and died before we could do anythin’.”

“...God,” you replied, shaking your head lightly as you felt your shoulders drop. 

You and Sean weren’t close, the last time you had really spent any time with him was on that terrible robbery job and now...shit. You weren’t even sure how Karen was going to take this either, you knew she and him were an item. How did all of this happen on the same day? It was...you had no idea how to feel. 

Awful. You felt awful. 

“Yeah. So, maybe you can understand my hesitance to let ya run headlong into danger,” he replied, spurring his horse into a trot again as you shook your head lightly. 

“I know, I understand. However...I need to do this. Please.” 

“...I can’t say I’m gonna enjoy it, but I can’t hold you down if you’re gonna be doin’ this,” Arthur replied, “Least give me some peace of mind to make sure you ain’t doin’ anythin’ alone if you’re helpin’ get Jack back.” 

“Fine,” you replied with a nod--that was more than fine. You weren’t going to pretend that you could get that kid back by yourself, but you wanted to try. Hell, you were still trying to process Sean on top of everything else, you knew you probably weren’t thinking too clearly. 

Still, you reached down to where his arm was wrapped around you, wrapping your fingers around his own. A silent thanks, you knew given the situation he could have been a hell of a lot less negotiable. 

You just wanted to help, if only to make up for the trauma that poor kid has likely gone through. Even somewhat. 

[yandere-daydreams]

not a request, but a concept- i love a sadistic, dom lucifer just as much as the next person, but consider; emotionally unstable, sad lucifer who literally just needs a hug. on the outside he seems to be cool and asshole, but then he goes to his darling and just... falls apart

It’s a request now, anon. I’ve been dying to write for any kind of emotionally vulnerable, soft Lucifer, especially if he can only bring himself to stop being, y’know, *like that* when he’s alone with his Darling. It’s a lifestyle. 

TW: Toxic Relationships, Emotional Manipulation and Unhealthy Mindsets.

~

Lucifer was not a man of great emotion. 

That’s not to say he couldn’t be passionate, you’d be the first to attest to his intensity. He felt, but he did so privately, behind closed doors and rarely then, at that. You could count the number of times you’d seen him laugh on one hand, and over your time with him, the closest he’d ever gotten to crying was a half-choked word and a scowl slightly less engrained than the one that usually graced his lips. You didn’t have a problem with it. If anything, his composure was a little boring, even his most out-of-character actions coming off as planned, predictable. You didn’t like predictable. You didn’t dislike it, but you couldn’t say it provoked much fondness for the man who carried such a sterile air of responsibility. 

You didn’t feel too bad about it. The feeling was mutual, as far as you could guess. 

Even now, lying next to him, the intimacy was manufactured, made of some mechanical obligation you couldn’t seem to rid yourself of. His bed was big enough for two people to sleep at arm's length, and yet, his chest was pressed against your beck, hot breath fanning across the nape of your neck whenever he exhaled. Labored breaths, louder than they had to be. You wondered if he was just doing it to break the silence, but you didn’t see the point in making an effort. Silence wasn’t awkward until someone felt the need to fill it, a concept you’d thought Lucifer understood. Regardless of how tightly he had pressed himself against you. 

You yawned, stretching as you sat up, leaving velvet sheets and down-stuffed pillows behind in favor of the cold chill his room always maintained. Your clothes were somewhere, but you couldn’t see them from where you were sitting. By the door, maybe, or the skeleton he’d strung up in the corner, the one you had yet to decide the source of. You swung your legs off the side of the mattress, intending to begin the search that would single the end of the night, but a strong arm wrapped around your midriff, pulling you back into place before you could take a full step. Lucifer was just barely holding himself up, but his weight was soon settled onto you, his abandoned territory quickly reclaimed. 

His voice was tired, deep and rough. Not exhausted, but ready to be. “Stay,” He mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin. “You don’t have to leave, yet.” 

You laughed, the soft sound turning into a sigh as you leaned against the headboard. You squirmed, slightly, testing Lucifer’s grip, but finding it loose was a bittersweet discovery. He wanted to hold something. You were replaceable, and both of you knew it. As soon as you were properly settled, his head was pressed into your chest, resting just below your shoulder as you tried to find something to do with your hands. Eventually, you settled on raking your fingers through his hair, attempting to find his usual neat part in the disheveled mess. “If you want to sleep with someone, I’ll let Asmo in on my way out,” You replied, only half-joking. “You know I prefer my own bed, Luci.” 

“Mine’s bigger, more comfortable. Way better than your’s.” A weaker, throaty noise found its way past his pursed lips as you ran your nails over his scalp, and you smiled, drinking in the way he leaned into your palm. It was a new reaction, albeit a minor one. You let him continue without interruption. “Better than Mammon’s, too.” 

You grit your teeth, hoping your tension wasn’t visible. “I thought you said you wouldn’t--” 

“I wouldn’t talk about it? I have a right to know what my brothers get up to, (Y/n).” His voice was firmer than it had been, but if there was any force behind his resolution, you couldn’t tell. Resigned wasn’t the right word for it. Accepting, maybe, but that seemed just as wrong. Still, his touch was soft as his fingertips brushed over your hip, drawing seamless, shapeless patterns in your side. “I don’t care, if it helps. I’ve seen how you treat them, and I know you’re…” He trailed off, pausing for a brief moment. Something had seeped its way into his tone, something venomous, the inflection only becoming more apparent as he went on. “I know they’re special to you. There’s no reason to hide it.” 

You clicked your tongue, kissing the top of his head. “There’s no reason to be jealous, either. You’re just as special to me as they are.” 

“Am I?” He pushed himself up, making a point of meeting your eyes, despite how adamantly you refused to return the effort. “You say that, love, and you’ll say it again a thousand times, but it’s hard to believe you. I see how you avoid me, how you keep yourself at a distance. If I was special to you, earning your attention wouldn’t feel like a chore. I shouldn’t have to see you try to split yourself seven ways.” There was a slight pause and another sigh, this one more agitated than the last. “If I was special to you, I wouldn’t have to share at all.” 

“I can’t have a favorite,” You countered, fighting back the frown pulling at the corners of your lips. “It wouldn’t be fair to the others, or me, or anyone. They won’t be happy if--”

“They’ll learn to live with it.” He over you, now, one hand on your waist and the other kneading at the sheets, his knuckles turning white as he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. He melted against you, making no attempt to hold himself back from the gentle affection. You were too caught off-guard to resist. “I give up so much, I tolerate so much. I deserve this, don’t I? Right now, I feel like I have to put you on a leash just to get you away from those parasites--” 

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you tightened your hold on hair, dragging him up to his height and pressing your lips against his, stunning Lucifer into silence. The kiss wasn’t assertive, nor was it aggressive, but he let out a low, elongated whine, biting at your lips and attempting to further the gesture, although his efforts were in vain. You pulled away without warning, leaving him to pout and nip at your jaw as he tried to regain your attention. But, you were lost in thought, a wide, delirious grin spread across your lips. You couldn’t help it, you were too excited to suppress it. 

He hadn’t done this before. He’d never been so desperate. 

It was unexpected. 

It was new. 

And you had a feeling it’d be a long, long time before you got bored of this side of Lucifer, too.

[cryotome]

Some thoughts on the first 4 routes of Olympia Soirée

Ok, I've finally finished the first 4 routes, good and bad endings (though I have yet to check all the memoirs) and I figured I'd do a little review before I move onto Himuka and Akaza.

My play order wasn't the recommended one since I just wanted to start with the boy I vibed with in the common route (Kuroba!), so I ended up doing Kuroba - Riku - Yosuga - Tokisada. I wouldn't say it ruined my experience - if anything I liked doing Tokisada's route last as it delved deeper into some of the games' antagonists arcs.

For people who want to go from the least to most emotionally heavy routes, the recommended Riku-Tokisada-Yosuga-Kuroba order is the best option. It should be said that all routes so far deal with some heavy topics of discrimination, fantasy racism/classism, rigid traditional gender roles and so on, and some routes feature dubcon and SA, so that's something to be aware of if you're thinking of picking this up.

With that said, here's some opinions!

The common route was surprisingly lengthy and didn't have any choices, however I really enjoyed it and thought it was well paced. I enjoyed just experiencing the story without stressing out about which guy I would end up with. The journey of Olympia from "a doll" to a person capable of making friends, learning about the world and relating to others was great and she got more development in the common route than Steam Prison's Cyrus got in the entire game (I can't help but compare these games as the premise is similar) Like everyone else I did get annoyed by repetitive flashbacks - they weren't quite as common in character routes but happened enough to be irritating. I'm also not super keen on the sidekick (sorry Daifuku) but I realise Olympia needed someone to talk at. Plus, their backstory was quite cute.

I did find Olympia's personality a little inconsistent at times, as she went from being forward and assertive (and fun) in Riku's and Tokisada's route to a typical timid MC with Kuroba and Yosuga.

As for LIs, I'm gonna discuss spoilers in all 4 initial routes, so don't click if you haven't played them all :)

Ok, here we go.

Riku

PRECIOUS BABY.

Seems like many enjoyed Riku's route, I did too. In a classical tsundere fashion he made a terrible first impression, but after seeing his softer side in Kuroba's route I was intrigued and wanted to learn more about him. (on that note, can we talk about how he's almost absent in everyone's routes? I guess unlike someone like Kuroba he doesn't make for a fun quirky side character, but still..would've been nice) I feel like the story lingered for ages on Olympia trying to figure out his identity but once Riku became an actual character in his story things really picked up.

I loved his backstory, loved his chemistry with Olympia and loved seeing him grow as a person. That final conflict resolution was extremely random (RANDOM WAVE just washed the bad guy away? alright), but I'm starting to think none of the writers actually know how to conclude a story because it just seems to be a Thing that happens with everyone.

Tokisada

I left Tokisada for last because I really couldn't get myself to play a route with a guy that looks 12. In the end, I did like his route - I loved the moment he accepted his role as a professinal wifeguy. Go you, Tokisada :') His CGs were really nice and steamy but they definitely aged him up (he even sounded different) during those moments for things to be less weird, which makes me wonder...why make him look and sound like a little kid in the first place? I know he's on his coming of age arc, but still.

One of the things I found most fascinating in this route was Kanan and Kaina's relationship and Kanan's revelation that a certain bodypart fell off from haku?? And i was like..no...it can't be..and then I got to the bad ending. And apparently there's more on that in the memoir which I've not read. As expected, the conflict was kinda poorly resolved with Kanan never really getting the punishment he deserves. This game really doesn't like killing people in good endings (unless they don't have sprites i guess)

I would like to nominate Bad Ending with Kanan here as the most fucked up one in the entire game 8) I love a bad ending that isn't just sad, but also kinda twisted and makes you go "wait what...HOW?? WHY???" and that one was definitely it.

Yosuga

Ah, Yosuga. I wanted to like you so much. You were so fun in everyone else's routes. Alas I'm afraid Yosuga works better as a wingman for me.

I mean, I suspected he has a dark backstory and I actually liked the actual resolution with The Baddies not actualy being The Baddies. And I liked his connection to Olympia through Tsukuyomi.

But the incident on Tennyu island, and then him holding an actual grudge over women of the white killing some purple guy seemed so illogical and gross and not consistent with the rest of his personality. I could understand him having a deathwish and being depressed and traumatised, but it could have been handled better - maybe if Olympia actually stood up to him? This is also where Olympia's "hair colour change for yes, murder for no" as a replacement for concent became pretty tiresome.

There were some touching moments later but I never quite pieced together what he's like as a person in the end.

Weirdly enough I really liked one of the bad endings. It was..probably one of the spiciest scenes in the entire game so far?? I swear to god, Olympia actually voices her wishes for once and then they fuck and I guess she kills him off-camera which doesn't seem like her, but also. It was hot, so I'll allow it. Sorry, Yosuga.

Kuroba

Favourite Boy in a Non-Favourite Route.

Like I said, I loved Kuroba since his very first appearance. I'm in the minority in that I like his design the most (idk i like his short hair, makes him stand out? and his expressions are so cute? and he's handsome more than he's cute?? also The Voice) and i like flirty characters as long as being flirty isn't the only thing I've got going for them. In Kuroba's case the flirtiness was definitely just a superficial trait and he was funny and smart and capable. His first half of the route was a lot of fun with all their little courtship and dates, and then... it kinda got ruined.

I still don't know why Kuroba had to dramatically proclaim how he's using Olympia. I thought he was roped into it but I don't think he was? And after the whole Nagusa thing happened he was really inappropriately posessive/aggressive which pissed me off a bit. He definitely redeemed himself later and that CG with him kneeling in front of Olympia was adorable. As always the story did not resolve in a 100% satisfying way with Nagusa not getting what he deserves - it made me pretty angry.

I would be ok with Nagusa living if he got Tokijikutan Ne treatment for his haku. Surviving and yet losing every stupid superficial thing he cared about? That'd be amazing. But no, I guess we can't have that. (I actually forgot exactly what happened with him towards the end...guess I should've been taking notes)

Looking back at it, Kuroba's bad ends are my least favourites too, I guess I just don't find getting murdered very sexy, but i guess some people might be into it. I JUST THINK HE DESERVED BETTER.

I should also mention that since Douma was very much positioned as the Big Bad in the common route and Kuroba was my first, I did believe Olympia when she didn't want to trust him. I fully expected Douma to have some kind of diabolical plan when he asked Kuroba to murder Nagusa and I was excited to see what it was when I did the bad ends. Of course, no such plan existed, and now that I've played through other routes I know that Douma's just a grumpy ol' dad who gives no fucks. (Unless we're gonna learn more about him in the remaining 2 routes) Anyway, this just makes that whole resolution so much dumber in retrospect. I feel like Kuroba's best ending never really came to fruition and instead we just got an ok one.

I can only hope for a fandisk to give me more Kuroba content v_v

And now, to finish the last remaining routes. Not looking forward to Himuka as he's just way too young and feminine looking for my tastes, and I just can't imagine CGs fixing that the way they did with Tokisada. But I hope the Plot will make up for it. Akaza on the other hand...I have high hopes for him :D Fingers crossed!

[shouldntcryoverit]

the art of discordance

a captain rex x jedi fic during clone wars era :))

no warnings i think uh yeah hope you enjoy let me know ig...

next chapter

CHAPTER ONE -

A new general. That’s what the rookies had heard, though Rex was reluctant to believe the Jedi Council had the guts to replace Skywalker. After a good few months, the captain had learnt of his general’s unique ‘disposition’, and getting a new general to step in was what he least expected.

That was until the ship landed just outside their camp and she walked out. Even from his position sitting further back on some crates, Rex could make out the figure, identifying her as one of the jedi knights, though which one escaping him. Perhaps the rumours were true.

He watched as she walked closer, hands placed purposefully and eyes wandering over the other two jedi in front of her. The commander crossed her arms defensively, though her master seemed unbothered by her arrival, excited even.

“master?” Ahsoka coughed

“oh snips!” Skywalker bleated with the same enthusiasm he had wagered throughout the interaction “this is Jaida Reyes”

“the one from your padwan stories?” Ahsoka said with smug conviction

“my reputation precedes me” her accent was crisp and calm, though her tone radiated a coolness that Ahsoka couldn’t help but feel distanced by “though i’d rather be known for my skills with a lightsaber than helping Akin steal from Obi-wan”

Ahsoka held back a snicker as Rex walked up to the three, absent minded as he double checked his comm.

“General Skywalker, we have the new coordinates” His attention tried hard to divert to the new face.

“ah thank you” Anakin turned to his friend “this is my captain, Rex”

Rex nodded at his introduction.

“i’m the new co-general, General Reyes” her face settled into the beginnings of a smile, but faultered and remained her neutral, placid gaze.

The young jedi watched with focused eyes as they walked the short distance towards the briefing tent. Already her presence seemed to spark rumours among the men, and she watched as the younger looking troopers sent her inspecting looks. It was to be expected, honestly she never wanted a big formal introduction, but she didn’t know that her arrival would breach the news so quickly.

When they arrived, the tent was half full. An open and decorated holo map was in the centre, with at least two clones at each marked entrance point.

“Boys” Skywalker called “we have a visitor”

She rolled her eyes slightly at the flamboyant gesture, but stepped forward anyway. “I’m General Reyes, apparently Skywalker wasn’t trusted enough to run his own battalion, so i got called in” Her hands rested behind her back, but a small grin encroached her face as the snipe made a few troopers smirk.

“excuse my fellow jedi, she’s never been good at taking second place” Anakin fired back, earning another set of grins.

Reyes crossed her arms as her smiling face resumed the same placcid one she’d kept previously. “i have heard nothing but good things, and i look forward to serving with you.”

The Captain moved forward from the side of the room and clicked to change the holo map, it made a small beep as he did.

“The 212th met a settlement of droids over this side of the ridge. Last report was that they were able to move forward at the threat subsided.”

“so what does that mean for us?” Jaida’s brows furrowed as Rex layed the plans out for her. Already her mind was scoping escape routes and vantage points, but she remained seemingly unbothered by the conflict describes. Rex couldn’t help but feel unmotivated by her apparent lack of interest.

“our initial plan was to take out the last forces left on the planet after the seppie defeat, but intelligence believed the 212th accidentally did it for us”

She scoffed “so we’re here for a clean up?”

“hope you brought something fun to do” Ahsoka scorned.

The efforts were limited within the first hour. Already the men were tired of the same scenery and nothing but expansive flats. The sun stood high in the sky, illuminating the landscape in a orange hue. It wasn’t hot nor cold, everything about the mission mediocre, something Reyes particularly hated. It wasn’t just her with an annoyance, she could sense the captain’s distrust. She understood it, only hoped it wouldn’t comprimise her efficiency.

As if nothing interesting was ever going to happen, a yell from a trooper a little further ahead broke the methodical thump of the machinery.

Soon followed was the sound of gun fire. Each shot was slow, until finally the enemy was visible.

“Find cover!”

“you did say you wanted action” Anakin quipped, earning an actual chuckle from her usual pursed lips. It almost caught Rex off guard.

It was unavoidable, the lack of cover meant the men were almost completely exposed, accept for the three jedi that stepped forward, sabers ignited.

Reyes was a new sight, though she didn’t look out of place on the battle field. Her lighsaber was different, instead of the usual one blade, hers had two, both green and glowing as she tactically spun it round and round, catching blasts as if it were sport. Even her fighting style seemed new, she fought with elegance and structure, each blow purposeful and strong.

Her focus was planted entirely on the enemy ahead, so much so that she failed to notice the trooper settling down beside her.

“karking droids, never seem to die” she muttered, deflecting a few more blasts.

A muffled laugh came from beside her and the familiar blue and white etched her vision.

“I’d get used to it general” a trooper grinned

Jaida turned and grimaced, an offering of acceptance. As she refocused her mind to the task at hand, a thought slipped through.

“trooper, get those three and come with me”

Her request caught the clone beside her off guard, but he complied none the least.

The five of them rounded behind the line of defence, all the way to their republic.

“uh, sir, what are we doing?” a soldier with a hand print on his chest asked, gingerly as the new, seemingly scary, general climbed onto the side.

“if i can prime the ignition gear and jinx the starter cable, I can force it into their ranks and it’ll, with any luck,” she popped her head up with a half devilish grin “turn them all into scrap parts”

It was the trooper with the cog on his helment that relaxed first “heh, they teach you that at the temple?” he quipped

“nope” she gestured for them to cover her as she popped open the side “they taught me it on florrum” she said with a smirk, before diving back into the mess of wires and sparks.

Jaida’s plan worked, and effectively too. After a very short battle, the men finished their sweep and prepared to bid the timeless campaign fairwell.

Once back on the ship, most clones settled down for the trip back to Coruscant, and Reyes followed suit, though only subtly checking that everyone was well and okay, before continuing her sweep on the ration packs. After she deemed her check satisfactory, she retreated to the command rooms. The door slid open and revealed Rex standing over a report, absent minded to say the least. His shoulders tensed momentarily as the door swooshed, and she noticed the sour taste that seemed to flood his tongue when he met her eyes.

Jaida cleared her throat, and planted fists against the table, propping herself up.

“i’m sorry, we lost men” Jaida spoke calmly, slightly softer than her usual tone.

“with all due respect sir, you don’t seem all that bothered.” Rex mentioned.

“captain” “it’s not something i’ve grown accustomed too yet” Jaida countered, though her argument didn’t cause Rex’s stance to loosen. She cleared her throat

“i’ve lost people before, and I know what it’s like to loose someone in battle, though i don’t know what it’s like to loose your brothers. i did not want this” her tone was instructive, but it softened all the same and her true compassion fell through.

Rex paused for a moment and met her eyes again “i shouldn’t have blamed you, my apologies, general”

“relax, captain”

“it’s uh, Rex, sir” he corrected. It was when he lifted his hands to the side of his helmet that Jaida realised she had never actually seen his face. It came off, and revealed a strong jaw and cheek bones, all toned perfectly set. His eyebrows arched above his eyes, a slightly different shade of golden brown than his brothers. Of course the main difference was his hair colour, short and stark blonde.

“Jaida” her response made Rex frown ”if i have to call you by your name you have to call me by mine. Jaida” she explained

“sounds fair”

“good” she smiled for the first time, and Rex liked it.

————————————

The night after an assignment was always filled with either anecdotes or silence, a relief or devastating. Jaida watched as the men loitered around crates of rations and equipment, all with distant smiles; tired.

She had previously been stuck at the medbay after the medics caught sight of her, a few gashes on her cheeks the real cause - nothing bacta wouldn’t heal, but she learnt quickly of their head medic, Kix, and his ability to scare even Jedi into looking after themselves. After making peace with the captain, a warmth had begun to spread about her.

Now, she stood against the cold duraplast walls of the Resolute, picking aimlessly at the scarce red dirt left on her hands.

“You okay Jay?” the question broke her mindless thought.

“yeah, i am” she looked up to her friend knowingly, Anakin grinning as he always did.

“Generals!” a trooper with geometric tattoos called out “come sit with us”

She turned her head sharply and gazed over the haphazard array of lounging clones

“I ought to check the ration packs” she tried to excuse.

“you should take one sir” Another clone encourage lazily “deserve it after that rescue”

She blinked for a second, unsure if it would make more sense to agree or deny. Before she said yes or no, Anakin had already collected her on his way to his own seat in the game.

Jaida sauntered over and handed each clone a bar before taking one herself, sitting down cross leggedly just as graceful as she did anything.

“sir, i don’t like it” she spoke between chews “name’s Jaida”

“well, Jaida, general’s told us a little about your career together, got any stories?”

“many” Jaida gave the first ghost of a smile any of them had seen from her yet, however small it may have been, and lent backwards against another log “Anakin ever told you about the time we climbed to the very top of the temple walls?”

[aster-aspera]

Just a short chapter I wrote for new year.

CW: child abandonment, homelessness

Pairings: romantic/platonic DLAMP, romantic anxceit

Happy New Year everyone, I hope you have a great day/night and I hope 2021 brings everyone better tidings <3

Masterpost

Janus ignored the urge to straighten his bowtie before walking up the small path that led to the house. As much as he wished he could make some final adjustments to his look, his hands were currently full, with flowers on one side and his cane on the other. He figured dropping either to fiddle with his bowtie would be a rather ridiculous look.

It would be fine, he told himself. It was just a small celebration at their house, it didn't matter how he looked. They loved him, they wouldn’t judge him.

And oh, those words. They loved him.

The thought made him simultaneously want to leap with happiness and run for the hills as fast as he could. It was so terrifyingly new and at the same time it felt so comfortably familiar. The phone calls that lasted way longer than they should. The bad days when all of them came over and baked him bread. The banter over the comms when he was too tired to join in on patrol. They loved him.

A raven haired head popping itself out the door distracted him from his brooding.

“Dude, are you just gonna spend the whole evening standing in our garden or are you gonna come in?” Virgil asked.

“I was just admiring the flowers,” Janus drawled.

Virgil raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Come in, everyone’s waiting for you.”

He stepped inside and handed Virgil the flowers.

“Aww, are those for us? How sweet,” Virgil cooed.

Janus definitely didn’t blush. “It’s polite.”

“It’s romantic,” Virgil teased.

“Virgil,” Janus sighed, trying to sound exasperated but only managing to sound fond.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. Come on, I need to start frying the gulab jamun.”

“You’re making gulab jamun?” Janus asked, pleasantly surprised. They were apparently a famed treat in this household.

“Yeah,” Virgil stopped when he walked into Roman.

“And now he shows up,” Virgil snarked “Here, go put these in a vase, I have dessert to attend to.” He shoved the flowers into Roman’s hands and quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

Roman beamed at Janus. 

“Hello darling,” He purred “You look absolutely stunning.”

“You are not allowed to use that nickname, it’s mine, I licensed it,” Janus protested.

“Oh, but I just love the way it flusters you, darling.” 

Janus could feel the heat creeping all the way from under his collar up to his cheeks. Roman was definitely getting back at him for all the times Janus had flustered him in costume.

“Roman, stop,” Janus sighed as he gently pushed his shoulder.

Roman just chuckled and led him into the living room, where Logan was arranging some snacks.

“Guess who arrived!” Roman announced to the entire house.

Logan looked over and smiled brightly.

“Hello Janus, you look good.”

“As do you,” Janus complimented as he walked over to shake his hand. Logan ignored the proffered hand and pulled him into a hug.

Well, okay. He hadn’t seen that one coming.

Of all four of them, Logan was the least keen on physical contact. Patton and Roman were always going in for surprise hugs and even Virgil would frequently rest his head on Janus’s shoulder. But Janus had only ever seen Logan hug his boyfriends. And that one memorable time when Janus had nearly drowned and Logan had cuddled him to keep him warm, but he really prefered not to think about that.

“Will you be joining us for patrol?” Logan asked when he pulled away.

“No, not today.” Janus lifted his cane a bit to illustrate his point.

Logan nodded understandingly. “We’ll be happy to have you on comms for tonight.”

Janus made his way into the kitchen, where Patton was sliding something into the oven as Roman bothered him.

“You can’t bake something at 1800 degrees, Roman, that’s not how baking works.” Patton sighed. He noticed Janus entering the kitchen and beamed at him.

“Dee!” Patton smiled at him. “I’m so happy you’re here. Food’s nearly ready. ”

“Why not? 10 minutes at 180 degrees equals 1 minute at 1800 degrees. That’s how math works.” Roman interjected.

“Well, it’s not how ovens work,” Virgil groaned, from where he was bent over the frying pan, a little closer to the hot oil than was probably safe.

“If you guys would just listen to me, food would be ready in a minute,” Roman sighed.

“Virgil’s right, sweetie, that’s not how ovens work,” Patton said.

Virgil stuck his tongue out.

“Very mature,” Janus laughed.

Eventually, when all the food had been baked at an acceptable temperature, they gathered around the table.

“So, does anyone have any new year’s resolutions?” Patton asked them.

“New year’s resolutions are just a festive way of lying to yourself. Nobody actually keeps them,” Janus said.

“See! He gets it,” Virgil said triumphantly.

“Come on,” Patton pleaded, “humour me.” 

Virgil sighed and rolled his eyes, but Janus could see the fondness in them.

“Well, my new year’s resolution is to take more time to read books I’ve been meaning to read. I have a whole pile of interesting paperbacks,” Logan went first.

“Of course you would choose something so nerdy,” Roman teased, “My resolution is to spend as much time as possible with you, my loves,” He swept a grand gesture over the room and Janus tried not to think about how he was somehow included in that, “and I vow to give you all the kisses and hugs you deserve.”

“Well, next year I resolve to make better bad decisions and to remember to write 2021 instead of 2020,” Patton chimed in with a bright smile, “but in all seriousness, I hope to spend more time writing next year and maybe sign up for some art classes.”

“That’s a great idea, Pat, I might join you for those,” Virgil said.

“See, now you have some new year’s resolutions too.”

“What about you, Janus?” Logan questioned.

“Well, I guess if I have to, I resolve not to kill as many people this year,” He answered sarcastically.

Patton shot him a look. “Try again.”

“Fine,” Janus sighed, “I resolve to read more books, I guess.”

“Splendid resolutions, my dear lord of the lies,” Roman praised.

“Are we going to eat now? We have to patrol in a few hours,” Virgil complained.

“As always, you really have your priorities sorted, Virgil,” Logan said teasingly.

Logan shrugged himself into his costume with precise movements and fastened the cloak at his neck.

“You know, I really don’t get the cloak. Isn’t it awfully impractical?” Janus asked him from where he was draped against the door frame.

“Maybe, but I distinctly remember it coming in handy when you nearly died of hypothermia. How would people say it? It saved you ass?” Logan answered smugly.

“That was one time, you can’t tell me you wear a ridiculous cape,”

“Cloak.”

“Whatever, because someone might fall into the harbour. How often does that even happen?”

“More than you’d think. Also, Batman wears a cloak.”

“Batman is designed by nerds who don’t even know how to throw a punch, it’s a wonder you haven’t tripped over it yet when vaulting over rooftops.”

“Unlike some people who don’t need a cloak to trip when vaulting over rooftops?” Logan asked, voice full of faux innocence.

Janus growled exasperatedly and punched his arm, in the friendly way.

“As much as I love hearing you two bicker, we do need to start patrol,” Roman interrupted.

“Bye, Dee!” Patton hugged him and gave him a quick kiss on the nose before bustling out the door. 

Roman and Logan followed in quick succession, pressing kisses to his cheek and forehead. They sauntered out of the room, leaving him reeling with the ease they had done that. 

Virgil smirked up at him from where he was sitting at the computer, looking over some police reports. 

“What?” Janus asked him.

“Nothing,” Virgil replied with a shit eating grin, “You just look awfully cute when you blush.” 

“I’m not cute,” Janus snarled.

“Whatever you say,” Virgil replied as he walked past him. He stopped for a moment, staring into Janus’s eyes. His look didn’t bode well for Janus. He placed a gentle hand on the back of Janus’s neck and then pulled him close. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, his eyes drifting to Janus’s lips.

“Very,” Janus managed, his voice a little rough.

Virgil leaned forward and pressed a soft but insistent kiss on his lips. Janus felt himself leaning into it, the sweet taste of honey and saffron overwhelming his senses.

After what felt like a mere fraction of a second, Virgil pulled away. Janus made a small noise of protest and Virgil chuckled.

“Later,” He promised, “I have to go patrol now.”

He walked out the room, leaving Janus feeling lightheaded and wondering if the others were as good at kissing as Virgil. He sincerely hoped so.

~

Patrol was surprisingly uneventful. Generally, the statistics indicated there was a rise in crime around the holiday period. New year itself was always quite a hazardous day, with the large crowd of people out at late hours and the fireworks masking any sounds that could give you away. 

Yet this year, Logan had found himself inexplicably looking out to the new year. Maybe it was the fact that a certain former villain had enthusiastically agreed to come over and celebrate.

Whatever the reason, the city had decided to grace them with a calm night and Logan sat on a rooftop ledge, watching Virgil teach Patton a back handspring on the adjoining rooftop.

“Can you do one of those?” Janus asked him over the comms as they watched Patton fall onto his back for the third time.

“They’re not too hard.”

“That doesn’t answer the question, nerd,” Roman chimed into the conversation from where he was checking out an alleyway somewhere.

“I’m sure I could manage it,” Logan sighed.

“Like Patton’s managing this one?” Virgil quipped as Patton landed on the ground once more. Logan was incredibly grateful for the shock absorbent breastplate he wore.

“I nearly got that one!” 

“Sure, pat.”

“Shit,” He heard Roman hiss through the comms.

“What?” Janus’s voice was immediately on edge and Logan heard the familiar clicking of keys, telling him Janus was probably pulling up the live feed from Roman’s mask.

“Oh,” He said.

“What’s going on?” Patton asked, righting himself from the wet rooftop.

“A kid,” Roman gasped.

Logan felt his heart clench. 

“Is he hurt?” Virgil asked.

“No, not as far as we can see, but he does look malnourished,” Janus explained.

Logan got up and quickly swung down from the rooftop, the others right behind him.

They entered the alleyway, where Roman was crouched in the corner, whispering quietly.

He looked up and gestured for them to stay back. They obliged, Patton sitting down against a wall as Virgil walked a bit further back to make sure no one would enter the small street.

Logan leant against a dumpster bin, trying not to look too threatening.

“It’s alright, we won’t hurt you. Could you just tell me your name?” Roman asked gently.

“My mom told me never to give a stranger my name,” The kid deadpanned.

Logan smiled, if the kid was quipping back, he couldn’t be in too bad a shape.

“Touché” Roman chuckled, “you can call me prince.” 

“Like the singer?” The kid asked with an audible chuckle.

“No,” Roman sighed and Logan heard Patton giggle.

“Well, you probably should have chosen a better name then.”

“Probably,” Roman said, “At least give me something I can call you, if you’re not gonna tell me your name.”

The kid thought for a moment. “Fine,” he drawled, “You can call me J.”

“Ok, well J, that corner doesn’t look all that comfortable, if you would come with us, I’m sure we could find you more suitable lodgings.”

“No!” J snapped, fear colouring his voice.

“Why not?” Roman asked, clearly taken aback.

“You’ll just stick me in the system and... they don’t want me there.” J choked up a bit and Logan saw Patton’s eyes fill with sympathy.

“No, we won’t,” Roman promised.

“Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do with me then? Nobody wants some abandoned street rat.” J sighed bitterly. Logan ached at how he seemed to have given up any hope of someone caring for him. The poor kid had clearly been through too much in his life.

“Do you really have no one left?” Roman asked.

“Do you think I’d be sleeping on the streets if someone still cared about me?”

Roman looked back at them helplessly.

“Isn’t there anywhere he could stay on short notice?” Virgil asked.

“I have people,” Janus interjected quietly.

“Dee, no!” Patton exclaimed, “we’re not going to drop some kid off with those thugs you work with.”

“Not like that,” Janus sighed and Logan could almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know someone who works for me who’s really good with kids. He and his partner have fostered kids before. I think they could help him.”

“Really? You think he’d just be okay with it if we rolled up with a kid?”

“I’d have to discuss it with him first, but I’m certain we can find a home for J, if not with this guy, we’ll definitely find someone else.”

“I could ask my moms,” Patton conceded,” I don’t think they’re up for another kid, but they might know someone who wants to take care of him.”

“And what for tonight? We can’t really show up at someone’s house and just drop him off.” Virgil said.

“Take him to our home,” Logan suggested.

“Are you crazy? That’s a huge security risk,” Virgil burst out.

“We can’t just leave him in the cold to freeze,” Patton protested.

“I have a safe house near where you are, just take him there,” Janus interjected.

“Is that settled then?” Roman asked them from where he was still crouched in the corner, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Yeah, I think so,” Patton replied.

“Okay kid, let's get moving. We’re taking you to a safehouse near here,” Roman told him.

“Did you explain everything to him?” Logan asked, he really hadn’t heard Roman say anything.

“Of course, you guys were too busy bickering to notice.”

J still regarded them warily and Logan was vaguely worried he was going to bolt the moment they got out of the alleyway.

“Hey,” Logan said, trying not to sound too awkward, “we’re not just going to abandon you to the system. We're heroes and that means we’ll find a way to help anyone.”

J just looked up at him with an unimpressed expression. “Right.” He shouldered past Logan, heading to where Virgil was waiting.

Patton quickly caught up to them, probably because Virgil was looking at the kid like he wanted to flee to the nearest rooftop.

“So you’re really not gonna tell us your name?”

“No.”

“You guys want me to head to the safe house too?” Janus asked, ignoring their chatter.

“We’d love that,” Roman beamed, “We might even be just in time for the new year.”

They got J settled on the ratty couch in the squalid safe house. It wasn’t a terrible safe house, it was actually quite clean. It just clearly wasn’t used for much except the occasional emergency.

Janus arrived quickly, dropping a bag filled with what Logan presumed was food.

J froze when he saw Janus. “Deceit?” He asked and Logan felt his stomach plummet. Of course the kid would be afraid, they had trapped him in a small space together with the city’s most notorious crime lord. It didn’t matter that Janus had never and would never harm a child, his reputation was terrifying enough.

But inexplicably, the kid’s shoulders relaxed and he seemed moderately more at ease.

“You know, most people don’t look so at ease in my presence,” Janus said, clearly also puzzled by the reaction.

J shrugged. “You’re not that bad, you’ve helped a lot of my friends, gave them jobs and places to stay. You do more for the street kids of this city than these heroes.”

Roman gasped in mock offence. Logan shrugged. It made sense, they didn’t have the resources or connections to help kids like J, but Janus had been putting an effort into helping the worst off in their city for years. It seemed his efforts hadn’t gone as unnoticed as they had previously assumed.

Janus grinned at them, his expression smug and then grabbed something from the bag. 

“Here,” He held out a soft sweater, “this is for you, it would be a shame if we went through all the trouble of getting you here and then you died from hypothermia.”

“You could just invest in a space heater for this place,” Virgil complained.

“Sure, because this space is used so often. It definitely isn’t a waste of money to purchase heaters for all those safe houses I barely use,” Janus snarked.

J ignored their bickering and sauntered over to the window, pulling the sweater over his head.

“Hey, guys,” Patton interrupted, “I think it’s time.”

Logan looked at the time on the corner of his display. He was right, the clock told him there was only one minute left of this year.

They all gathered round the window, looking out over the city.

“To new beginnings,” Patton announced.

“To new beginnings,” They all replied. J just rolled his eyes.

Logan felt Patton clutch his arm and Janus loop an arm around his waist as bright fireworks exploded over the city skyline. He looked over at his friends, how they stood gathered together, their faces awash with the colours of the fireworks. 

And he looked at J, the young kid who was staring at the fireworks as if they were something magical, his hands tangled in the sleeves of his sweater. 

Logan promised himself he would do everything to get him a good home, he deserved so much more than the world had given him.

New beginnings, it was a fitting sentiment.

[ethanlivemere]

Half-Life²: Anticitizen - Chapter 3

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

_____________________

Chapter 3

Trespass

The true citizen knows that duty is the greatest gift.

The true citizen conserves valuable oxygen.

The true citizen cooperates with his Civil Protection team.

The true citizen’s job is the opposite of slavery.

The Consul’s brief messages echo across the pavement, each one followed by a hollow chime. It has an almost hypnotic effect, as I find myself staring up at the cluster of screens hanging over the intersection. It’s an Orwellian sight to behold: the citizens going about their day while the Consul’s watchful gaze looks down from above.

The true citizen embraces the Universal Union.

I think back to my encounter with the Vortigaunt. It had been a shock to hear English words coming from the mouth of the alien. Its voice was guttural and rough, and it continually made insect-like hissing and clicking sounds, but it spoke English nonetheless. Quite eloquently, even. Vastly different from Black Mesa, where the hisses and clicks had been the only components of their communication. But perhaps the bigger shock in seeing the Vortigaunt was not what it said, but the way it spoke to me. Like I hadn’t killed dozens of its kind in Black Mesa after seeing them slaughter my coworkers. After such hostility, I expected this Vortigaunt to charge up a bolt of green energy and attack me, and my instincts wanted me to reach for a weapon I didn’t have. The last thing I expected was for it to greet me as an ally.

“Your presence gives us hope, Freeman,” it had said. “As you saved my kin in the border world, so shall you save us again on this miserable rock. For now that the lesser master lay defeated, the greater must also fall in time.” Ah, so that’s how it is, I thought. When I killed the Nihilanth, I freed the Vortigaunts from their enslaver, and now they expected me to do the same once more. I remembered the slave camps and factories on Xen, where, for just a brief moment, they didn’t attack me – until the Nihilanth’s Controllers arrived and forced them to fight. They must have realized I was their one hope for freedom. A freedom which, ultimately, was very short-lived.

The Vortigaunt then walked to the contraption that held another one of its kind in its dark liquid. It placed its two-fingered hand against the glass and, despite its alien features, I could see sadness fall across its face. “The Vorti-cells drain power from my kin to support the Combine’s machinery. Those who enter them seldom emerge. The few who do are weakened almost to the point of collapse. Truly, it is a fate far worse than the shackles I bear.” The shackles were different from the ones worn by the Nihilanth-enslaved Vortigaunts. Instead of shining green, they were a dull gray. Their design remained very similar, though. Wrist bracelets, a collar, but also a sort of codpiece that I didn’t remember seeing on the Nihilanth’s slaves. Apparently the Combine deemed it necessary to cover the Vortigaunts’ loins – even though they housed no visible organs of any kind.

The Vortigaunt proceeded to grab a broom from against the wall and told me it had to resume its duty or suffer punishment. It seemed rather ironic, almost comedic even, that an alien race powerful enough to power factories was also being employed to sweep the streets. Recalling the instructions Jeremy had given me, I asked the Vortigaunt if he knew how I could get to the Manhack Arcade, where Barney was supposed to meet me. “Ah,” he responded pensively. “The Manhack Arcade. The hall of the unwitting executioners.” He proceeded to give me clear directions. I was to go to a place he called the Stenographer’s Chasm and then continue in a straight line. I wondered what he meant by ‘unwitting executioners’, but before I knew it, he had already said his goodbyes and disappeared around the corner.

The strange encounter had left me confused and a bit shaken, but I resolutely continued my journey and followed the Vortigaunt’s directions. I had a hard time imagining what this ‘Stenographer’s Chasm’ could be, but I could never have imagined what it turned out to be. An enormous, Combine-modified warehouse consisting of one long room that extended far into the ground, filled with rows of workers perched on stools behind desks, frantically typing on typewriter-like machines. But the stools and desks weren’t on the ground: they were mounted onto single, suspended rails that ran across the room. There were multiple levels of these rails and desks reaching all the way to the ceiling and down into the chasm. The workers had nowhere to go. My guess was that at the end of their shift or when their quota was fulfilled, the rails transported them to a place where they could safely dismount their stools. Until then, they could do nothing but work. I didn’t know what it was they were doing. What kind of paperwork could the Combine have? They didn’t seem like the type to bother with those kinds of things too much. Then again, an intergalactic empire is bound to have some unavoidable paperwork. Probably keeping track of resources and the like.

More disturbing sights awaited me, though. It all began at a building that produced a continuous sound of whirring and chugging, like a giant steam engine. Looking through the window, I saw a black and white tiled hall that was filled with enormous, diagonal pistons moving back and forth. At their base, people were working on the large engines that seemed to drive the pistons. I then realized that the engines weren’t just large, the figures knelt at their base were also small… they were children. Children, no older than twelve, were working on heavy machinery under the watch of Metrocops. And that wasn’t the only factory where children were being forced into labor. A bit further down the street was a smaller brick building that housed a large furnace. More children were stationed at a conveyor belt that lead into the furnace. They took white, ellipsoid objects from barrels and placed them onto the conveyor. They weren’t being burned in the furnace: they reemerged out of the side, attached to the ends of poles, and were transported into another machine. I had seen the white objects before on the brown-robed, flamethrower-wielding beings in the station and on posters that Jeremy had referred to as ‘Cremators’. These were Cremator heads. I tore myself away from the windows and continued my way through the industrial area. I never looked through another window again.

The factories eventually made way for a busier commercial district, which is where I find myself now. It’s the busiest place I’ve seen in this city, apart from the military parade. This must once have been a street with many successful shops, but now most of the display windows stand empty. One of the buildings still in use houses the same ration dispensers I also saw in the station. Another one showcases multiple television screens, all of which display the Combine logo.

“Can you believe it? Free TVs!” says a citizen gazing through the window.

“Don’t get too excited,” his companion replies in a cynical tone. “Those things only have one channel: the Consulcast.” He points over his shoulder at the cluster of screens overhead, where the Consul’s many faces are still naming the values of a true citizen.

But the Consulcast nor the free TVs are the reason why there is so much traffic on this street corner. In fact, I’d wager the Combine strategically placed those here so that as many citizens as possible would be exposed to the propaganda. The real eye-catcher everyone seems to be here for is across the street: the Manhack Arcade. It’s a large building that forms the corner of the street. Completely Combine-made, no recycling of old buildings. The people in the street flock towards the wide entrance on the corner, which is flanked by two Metrocops. Above it hang a number of yellow posters and banners and even more screens, all showing Combine logos and imagery.

I wonder if I should go in. Jeremy told me Barney would meet me at the Manhack Arcade, but it’s unclear if that means outside or inside. It seem risky going into a Combine facility, but it doesn’t seem like the citizens get scanned like they did at the checkpoints, and I could probably slip by the two guarding Metrocops unnoticed by hiding in the crowd.

I wait a little longer, hoping Barney will show himself. The clouds have gotten darker still, and before long a light drizzle starts pouring from the sky. Not only am I not dressed for rainy weather, I also want to avoid getting into too much contact with this water, which, judging from the greenish color of the clouds it originates from, could have all kinds of toxins or undesirable pH values. And so, when an exceptionally dense group of people approaches the entrance to the Arcade, I join them and walk past the Metrocops without either of them giving me a second glance.

Inside is a corridor that leads to the main room. Like the Stenographer’s Chasm, it’s long, tall, and extends down into the ground. Instead of rails with desks and tired workers, this room is filled with catwalks leading to strange machines. Citizens queue in front of them and when it’s their turn, they step onto a pedestal in front of the machines, grab hold of two control handles and lean forward to place their heads in some sort of virtual reality display built into the arcade.

A screen above the player allows bystanders to follow the game. A citizen near me has just started: at first, the screen shows only a grid of red lines in a black void. Then, the grid bends and reshapes itself into a three-dimensional environment that resembles a ruined building. Several humanoid shapes appear in yellow and orange tints, like heat vision, but with a clear red outline to them. The player navigates the environment, seemingly flying, and moves towards the outlined targets. The targets start moving around, trying to evade the player, but eventually he catches up to one. It’s not clear what happens, but when the player bumps into the target, the red outline disappears and a score of one hundred appears in the bottom right corner of the screen. “Ha ha, got one!” the player exclaims. Another nearby player is already at a score of eight hundred, when one of the targets suddenly rushes at him, holding up some kind of long object. The screen goes black and the words ‘GAME OVER’ appear on the screen. “Damn it!” the man shouts. “I was almost at my high score!”

Something’s not right. The way the targets move – it doesn’t look like a video game character. Much too erratic and lifelike. And from what I’ve seen of the Combine so far, I doubt they would put effort into providing ground-breaking AI technology for their panem et circenses. The Vortigaunt’s words echo through my mind: ‘the hall of the unwitting executioners’. I can put two and two together, but I don’t want to. I refuse to believe that what I fear is true. People slaughtering their own, cheering while they do it – and without ever realizing what they did. Or, at least, I deeply hope they don’t.

I don’t want to stay here any longer. Watching these innocent people enjoying the Combine’s twisted games turns my stomach. I have to find Barney. But how can I simultaneously hide from the real Metrocops and try to get Barney to see me?

As I pace through the room, I notice a Metrocop eyeing me. It’s hard to tell with the gas masks, but it seems like his gaze is following me. Is he Barney or a suspicious guard? I try to act inconspicuous and wait for a signal. Suddenly, the Metrocop turns away and walks towards a door. He interacts with the locking mechanism and it opens before him. He throws another prolonged glance in my direction before stepping through, out of sight. I wait. The door doesn’t close behind him. I cautiously make my way to the door. It leads to some sort of backstage corridor, clearly a ‘staff only’ area. I can’t see the Metrocop. I look around the Arcade one last time, but none of the remaining guards seem to notice me, so I enter the corridor. It’s cold and dark, and my footsteps are loud on the metal floor. I arrive in a small room with one of those Combine consoles. The wall is lined with a rack containing dozens of small, deactivated drones whose purpose I can’t discern. I hear the door I entered through close.

“Hey, you!” I hear from one of the neighboring corridors. A Metrocop – the one I followed in here – enters the room. “Do you have your identification?” He menacingly steps towards me. Seems it wasn’t Barney after all. Tough luck. “You are not supposed to be in here. I need to see your identification.”

Well, I seem to have gotten myself into a sticky situation. The Metrocop is trying to drive me into a corner, drawing his stun baton. “Overwatch, restricted incursion in progress in sector 8. Permission to enact civil judgement?” he says to seemingly no one. There’s a short blip and a burst of static following his question. I’m not thrilled about the prospect of ‘civil judgement’, so I decide not to wait until he gets his answer from whoever Overwatch is. I place my hands on my head, feigning surrender, while I scan the exits. The corridor back to the main Arcade hall is sealed and I can’t tell where the others lead, so I’ll have to trust my instincts.

Either the Metrocop has received his permission from Overwatch, or my eyes darting around the room have made him suspicious, because he suddenly swings his stun stick at my head. I try to duck and the blow lands against my elbow, sending a shock through my entire arm as blue sparks fly from the weapon. In response, I kick at his shin as hard as I can. He grunts and loses his balance, and I take the opportunity to dart down the nearest corridor. I hear the Metrocop’s heavy boots give chase behind me as he mumbles a status report to Overwatch. I round a corner, praying I won’t run into a dead end. I see a T junction ahead. Suddenly, I hear a deafening bang behind me, and the sound of a bullet hitting metal. Damn. He has a gun. I have to reach the junction as fast as possible. No time to look which way to go. As the echo of the gunshot fades out, I speed off into the left corridor just before another bullet plunges itself into the wall.

Suddenly, my surroundings open up into a larger room that’s two thirds Combine architecture and one third concrete rubble, remainders of whatever building was here before they installed their Arcade. I could get out through the collapsed walls and floors, but I’d be an easy shot. There’s also what looks like a Combine elevator with a bright red button inside it. I have milliseconds to make a decision. How far behind is he? Can I pull it off?

I slam my fist into the red button, rush back out of the elevator and then dive behind a half-collapsed wall. The doors close and the elevator starts to rise as I flatten myself against the concrete, bent rebar poking into my shoulder. My left arm is numb from the shock of the baton. I hear the Metrocop charging into the room. I hold my breath and pray he falls for my trick. It’s a trick as old as time. He stands still and I wait, my heartbeat ear-deafening.

“Subject is headed for top floor, secure perimeter around elevator.” I have to keep myself from sighing in relief. He isn’t gone yet. In fact, he seems to just stand still in front of the elevator. He must be waiting for the elevator to reach its destination. If he waits for the top floor units to report an empty elevator, my cover is blown.

“Copy,” he says. My functional right hand grabs hold of a loose chunk of concrete near me. I hear him walk a few steps, and then a couple of beeps. “Elevator power disengaged. Heading to your location.” With that, he walks out of the room, and I can finally breathe again. They don’t know the elevator is empty yet. They think they have me trapped in an unpowered elevator. Now to finally get out of here.

Easier said than done, as it turns out. The ruins are a concrete maze, and I constantly have to watch my step. It doesn’t help that the rain that seeps down through the broken ceilings makes everything slippery. The downpour has changed into an outright storm: the water beats down loudly on the concrete and every now and then a roaring thunderclap tears through the sky. Meanwhile, I guess the Metrocops discovered I wasn’t in the elevator after all, because I suddenly hear the cold, disembodied female voice – Overwatch, I assume – echo through the air once more: “Individual, you are charged with anti-civil activities: 63 criminal trespass, 148 resisting arrest, 243 assault on Protection Team. All local Protection units: code alert: locate, contain, prosecute.”

I spot one of the lambdas painted by the resistance group on a pillar. It leads the way down a slope of collapsed floor into a sub-street level area. Knowing the Metrocops are looking for me again, I try to speed up my pace a little while heading down – a mistake. The wet rubble gives way and I lose my footing. The world spins around me as I slide and tumble down the slope. I try to shield my head with my arms. I roll over the floor after reaching the bottom before coming to a stop.

I lie on my back as my surroundings come back into focus. I’m in some sort of underground sewer chamber: I see a ladder on the wall leading up to a manhole cover and there’s a grate in the ceiling through which light and rain pours down in a small waterfall, though the ground I lie on is thankfully dry. I do a quick damage report: my palms are chafed and I’ll undoubtedly have a few bruises, but no lasting damage. I’m lucky I didn’t hit my head on any of the protruding edges of the concrete.

I become aware of a sound, just barely audible over the storm. It sounds like a fire – no, more like a flamethrower. At the same moment, I notice the dancing orange light on the brick wall, and my nostrils are assaulted with the stench of burning flesh. I immediately jolt up. Pain shoots through my back at the sudden movement. I look around and immediately spot the source of the sound: there’s a Cremator standing on the opposite side of the room. The two lanky, leathery-skinned arms sticking out of its brown robe carry a heavy flamethrower which, I notice for the first time seeing one up close, is connected to a spherical fuel tank in the middle of its stomach with a thin tube. ‘Flamethrower’ might be an incorrect word, however. Instead of producing flames, it shoots the green particle jets I also noticed being used to clean trains in the station. It must be some sort of corrosive liquid that only affects organic matter. The source of the orange light on the walls turns out to be a burning pile of charred flesh being sprayed by the Cremator. The flesh is being set ablaze by the green particles, but not only that: where the jets hit the flesh directly, it seems to blacken and disintegrate. Despite the fact that the corpses have turned black as coal and have been turned into an amorphous, ever-shrinking pile, I can still make out just enough to see that these were once people.

The Cremator stops what it’s doing and turns its white, oval head towards me, alerted by my sudden movement. Its tiny, expressionless eyes lock onto me. I hear mechanical breathing from the Cremator’s mouth-tube as it steps closer. It tilts its head like a curious animal before it points the nozzle of its weapon towards me. I could try to run, but I doubt I could get far enough to evade the scorching cloud. I briefly wonder if I should not have moved an played dead. It probably wouldn’t have saved me from being disintegrated.

“Cremator! Stand down!” A Metrocop charges in and stands between me and the Cremator. “This prisoner is property of Civil Protection and is to be transferred to Nova Prospekt for processing.” The Cremator tilts its head again, then turns around and returns to its previous work. The Metrocop turns around to face me. I should be worried, but I’m not. Despite its distortion, I have already recognized his voice. I once again hear the click of the mask detaching and am greeted by Barney’s smug grin. I’ve never been happier to see that stupid grin.

“So Gordon, is this what you call ‘not drawing any attention to yourself’? You’ve got practically every Metrocop in the sector looking for you!” He reaches out and grabs my arm to pull me onto my feet. The numbness from the stun baton is almost gone, though it now hurts from the fall instead. As I rub my elbow, I glance at the Cremator. It seems to be minding its own business, but I don’t feel comfortable hanging around near it much longer, and I wonder if it’s a good idea for Barney to unmask himself and be so friendly with me in its presence. Barney follows my gaze and says “Don’t worry about him, he won’t bother us again. They’re not too bright, these Cremators. Mindless synths. They were made to be janitors, primarily. Destroy biological waste, contain the Xen infestation…” He looks down at the charred corpses grimly. “… clean up after the Civil Protection patrols.” He beckons me and starts walking. “The reason he was about to disintegrate you is because you are not a registered citizen or Combine unit. So to him, you would have to be either a Xenian creature or a very lively corpse. Either way, you were considered ‘unauthorized biological mass’ and had to be disposed of.”

We enter an underground utility tunnel. The sounds of the storm fade away as we follow the cables and pipelines down the dimly lit corridor. “You’re lucky I found you,” Barney remarks. “Those Immolators of theirs can give you a nasty burn. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you at the Arcade, I was held up by unforeseen complications on my shift. I had just gotten back to Dr. Kleiner’s lab when I heard the local CP units go crazy over some guy causing trouble at the Arcade.” He flashes me a smirk. I tell him what happened at the Arcade, with the Metrocop I had thought was him. “You got baited,” he replies. “Some CPs will bait citizens into breaking rules, like trespassing, just so they can enact some civil judgement.”

We march through the underground network in silence for a while before I cautiously bring up Jeremy. Barney sighs sadly and lightly shakes his head. “Yeah, I heard what happened.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly choosing his next words carefully. “Listen, Gordon… don’t worry about it, okay? I can probably pull some strings to make sure he turns out okay.” He doesn’t sound all that certain. “Either way, don’t blame yourself. Each of us knows the risk in what we’re doing. We’re all prepared to... go all the way for our cause.” I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Barney is being uncharacteristically serious and grim. This is not the same man I knew before Black Mesa. Then again, the same goes for myself.

His face lightens up again and he slips back into his usual grin when we go down a side tunnel with another lambda, at the end of which is a short staircase with a metal door. “Well Gordon, looks like we’re finally here.” He opens the door and the sound of machinery pours out. Not harsh, loud and aggressive, like the Combine factories, but light beeps and clicks over a soft hum. A familiar sound that invites me inside. The sound of science.

_____________________

Consul screens

Stenographer's Chasm

Piston hall

Cremator factory

Manhack Arcade exterior + Citadel

Manhack Arcade interior

Cremator

Underground

And for the first time, there aren't just images for reference, but also sound: here is the original Vortigaunt voice.

As always, really excited to share this new chapter of Anticitizen with you. We've finally reached Kleiner's lab, so from now the story will start picking up pace. And as always, please let me know what you think :)

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Unchained Melody (Obsessed!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: It’s two years after Thanos’ snap when you’re kidnapped. You wake up one day in the middle of nowhere, alone in a cabin with none other than Captain America. But he isn’t the hero everyone remembers anymore; there’s a darkness to him, an unhinged edge that’s driven him to stop asking for permission and to take what he wants. And, after watching you for a year, what he wants most is you. (Please read the author’s note!)

A/N: This story contains non-con elements, oral sex, kidnapping, drugging, and a very out-of character, insane Steve Rogers. I like to think that this story takes place in an AU where he kind of went off the deep end after Thanos. So keep that in mind as you read! Parts of it were inspired by this post, and the two songs I mention in this story are Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers and Dream A Little Dream of Me as performed by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Enjoy!

There was music playing from somewhere close by. The song was familiar, but its sound was scratchy, grainy. The soft whir of some sort of machine accompanied its lyrics as you slowly regained consciousness.

Oh, my love…. My darling… I’ve hungered for your touch a long, lonely time…

You gulped even though your throat was as dry as bone, and your tongue felt almost papery as it darted out over your lips. The lighting of the room was dim and low, but your eyes stung nonetheless as they started to crack open. Your limbs were heavy, too heavy to move, and so you made neither movement nor sound as you gradually grew accustomed to wakefulness.

When you could finally make it out, you saw that the ceiling was high and made out of wood, and a ceiling fan was hanging from one of its many exposed beams. You blinked and furrowed your eyebrows as you turned your head towards the music, ignoring the rest of your surroundings until you found its source – an old, battered record player resting atop a dresser that had been shoved up against the far wall.

Your eyes darted around the unfamiliar space, cataloguing everything else within it silently. Plush rugs were scattered about the room, and atop them sat rustic furnishings. In the corner, there were two armchairs sitting in front of two bookshelves; the dresser and a wardrobe were placed on the opposite side of the space, and you were resting on a bed that was right in the middle, pressed against the back wall. There were several heavy blankets covering you, and the quilt sitting on top of the pile was made of soft flannel.

Panic started to seep into your veins, but you pushed it aside as you attempted to sit up. It was as if someone had attached 50 pound weights to the end of each of your limbs. Your movements were sluggish and stilted as you scooted around atop the soft mattress; it was as if you were drunk, but your head was too clear for that to be the case. Clear and confused.

When you were eventually sitting up, you pulled your legs to hang over the side of the bed. There were two doors that you could see. One of them was opened just a crack, but you could see white tile floors on its other side; you were willing to bet it led to a bathroom. But across from where you sat, there was a second one, firmly shut. That was where you were headed.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered what little strength you possessed and pushed yourself off of the bed. The second your feet hit the floor, though, your knees wobbled, and within moments you were falling to the floor. Your left elbow took the brunt of your weight, jarring your body so hard that your teeth clattered together.

“Fuck,” you groaned, rolling over onto your back. You didn’t need to look to know you’d be sporting a bruise soon.

You lay there, closing your eyes and listening to the record that was still turning on its player.

Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea… To the open arms of the sea, yeah…

You had no idea where you were or how you’d gotten there. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep in your bed at home, but after that it was all blank, and you were starting to feel afraid. You needed answers soon, before your anxiety could get the best of you. But judging by how fast your heart was beating, it wouldn’t be too long before it sent you headfirst into a panic attack of epic proportions.

Before you could muster the will to try and stand up again, you heard a rhythmic sound coming from the other side of the closed door. It was faint at first, but then louder as it approached.

Footsteps.

You had no time to try and scramble away as a man barged into the room, his blue eyes immediately falling to your prone form on the floor. Your eyes widened as you took him in – he was a monolith of a man. Tall, built, sturdy – you could see his biceps bulging beneath the flannel he was clad in, straining against the material as he hurried over to you.

“Oh my gosh, doll, are you alright?” he fretted, kneeling down beside you. You tried to squirm away as he reached for you, but you might as well have been fighting against a tree as he resolutely picked you up.

“How did you get on the floor, baby girl?” he continued, placing you down gently on the bed.

You drew your knees up to your chest and inched away from him, narrowing your eyes.

“Who…” you croaked, clearing your sore throat before trying once more to speak. “Who are you?”

He shook his head at your question as he sat down on the bed, seemingly oblivious to your fear.

“Are you hurt? How long have you been awake?”

“Who are you?” you once more asked, ignoring his concern. “Where am I? How did I get here?”

The man sighed through his nose as he arched an eyebrow at you, and in the silence that followed you took the opportunity to study him.

A thick but well-groomed beard had grown out over his face, and his hair was dirty-blonde and of medium length, curling up at the ends as it rested just a bit shy of his shoulders. There was something familiar about him; you could’ve sworn you’d seen him before. You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“You’re safe,” he finally sighed, snapping you out of your observations. “We’re in a cabin in upstate New York. I brought you here two nights ago.”

Your eyes widened once more, and when he reached out to set a hand on your knee, you drew away as if his touch would burn you.

“Why can’t I remember coming here?” you demanded, scooting as far away from him as the bed would allow. “And for the last time, who are you?”

“Before I tell you,” he started, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, “I’m gonna need you to calm down, ok? Take a few deep breaths; I promise you that everything is ok.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and hugged your knees tighter, but despite your barely-restrained panic, you did as he said. You closed your eyes and took a long, deep breath, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth. You repeated the process twice more, feeling your heart slowly start to beat a little slower, taking the edge off your fear.

When you finally opened your eyes, though, the man was sitting much closer to you than he had been before. It was enough to make you jump, and your heartrate picked up again when you saw the unsettling smile that had spread over his features.

“Good,” he praised, reaching out to set one of his massive hands on your shoulder. “Good job. Keep taking those deep breaths.”

You shrugged him off, desperate to put more distance between the two of you. But if you scooted any further to the left, you were sure to fall off the bed.

“Can you please tell me who you are now?” you murmured. Something was off with this guy; your instincts had been screaming at you from the moment you’d heard his footsteps, but the soft, borderline desperate look in his eyes now had them wailing at a deafening roar despite how familiar he looked.

“My name is Steve,” he finally told you, and then it all clicked into place.

“…Captain America?” you asked incredulously.

As soon as you realized it, it became so obvious. The beard had thrown you off at first, but there was no denying that this was America’s legendary hero. It had been a while since you’d heard anything about him. Apparently, he’d had a falling out with Tony Stark a few years ago, splitting the famous Avengers apart and turning them against one another. And then, after that, Thanos had come to Earth.

It was now two years after his devastating snap, and you’d almost forgotten about Captain America and the heroes of yester-year. But now you were face to face with him in a cabin that was supposedly in the upstate of New York.

The captain didn’t seem to care about your shock upon realizing his true identity, though. At hearing the name of his alter-ego, he’d rolled his eyes and looked down at the bed.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I…used to be. But it’s just Steve now, doll.”

“I… I don’t understand,” you stammered. “Was I in danger, or something? Di-did you save me from someone; is that why you brought me here?”

He seemed to consider your words, turning them over in his head before piercing you with his gaze once more.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess you could say that; I did save you from someone.”

“Well who was it? Did anybody get hurt-“

“I saved you from yourself.”

You paused, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I…don’t understand. How-“

“You were so…lonely,” he sighed. “You’d been on your own ever since the Snap, right? When I found you, I could tell that you’d lost everything, just like me. You just…floated through life. …It broke my heart.

“But it’s alright, now,” he insisted, leaning towards you. “I saved you from that loneliness. I saved us. Everything will be better now that we have each other.”

You blinked once, twice, before his words finally sank in, and you felt tears prick at your eyes as you came to the earth-shattering realization that Steve, that Captain America, had gone crazy.

That was what had seemed so off about him from the get-go; you saw it plainly now. The frenzied edge to his smile, the way his eyes were opened just a little too wide, how they focused just a little too intently on you. His hands were clenching and unclenching in his lap, unable to stay still as he watched you predatorily; he was completely unhinged.

“No…” You shook your head, turning away to climb towards the edge of the bed again. “No, no, no-“

“Sh, sh, sh,” he hushed, and before you could try and stand up, his arms were snaking around your waist and pulling you backwards towards him. “It’s ok; it’s ok…”

“Let go of me!” you cried, trying your best to thrash around in his grip.

But it was of no use; he pulled you into his lap and pinned your back against his chest. His strength was inhuman as he used only one arm to keep you in place; the other ran up and down your arm in a gesture you were sure he meant to be soothing. But as his fingertips trailed up your bicep and into your hair, you couldn’t stifle the sob that escaped your lips.

“No, no, no, don’t cry, doll,” he begged, running his digits through your tresses. “It’s ok; I’ve got you now. God, I love you so much.”

You froze upon hearing that word.

“…Love me? You… you don’t even know me,” you whispered, but he just chuckled, the sound rumbling lowly through his chest.

“Of course I do, doll. I’ve been watching you for over a year now.”

Your blood ran cold, but Steve carried on, oblivious to the terrified tear that was trekking down your cheek.

“I saw you one day at the memorial park, looking at the monuments they made for the fallen,” he started, leaning forward. You felt his nose bump against your scalp, and you felt as if ants were crawling up your spine as he inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in your scent.

“You were so beautiful; at first, that was the only reason why you interested me so much,” he went on. “But then I ran into you again at the grocery store, and I knew that there was something else about you, something special. After that, I couldn’t get you out of my head – I had to follow you. I had to figure out what it was that was drawing me in.”

You bit your trembling lower lip, and once more Steve shushed you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Whimpering, you tried again to free yourself from his grasp, but his arms didn’t even budge.

“Before I knew it, months had passed. Time got away from me a little while I was watching you,” he confessed. “But I was content to stay at a distance. You weren’t ready for our love just yet; it’s taken you a long time to heal from everything. But then… he came along.”

You froze at the sudden anger in his tone, and it scared you stiff.

“Who…? Who are you talking about?” you asked, jolting when a growl tore its way out of his throat.

“That punk who moved in across the hall,” he clarified. “He wanted to take you away from me; he wanted to touch you-“

“Drake? Drake is just a friend,” you insisted, squirming away from him. You twisted and pulled and finally, finally, managed to tear yourself out of his grasp.

Your limbs were still weak, but adrenaline was fueling your movements as you scrambled off the bed. You didn’t stick around to see if Steve was following you before taking off through the door he’d come in through. Bypassing the cozy-looking living room, fleeing past the kitchen, you saw the front door and made a beeline for it. But when you stumbled outside, your feet skidded to a halt.

Snow.

It was nighttime, but the snow gleamed and glittered under the moonlight. White covered the ground in a thick layer, and even though you were still under the protection of the porch’s roof, you started shivering as you looked out over the landscape before you. The only thing you could see were trees and bushes and the snow as it fell down in fat flakes. There was no car in sight, nor were there any neighbors. Just you and Steve and the wilderness.

“You should come inside, doll. It’s cold out.”

Gulping, you slowly turned around to find Steve leaning in the doorway, watching you with a sickeningly fond smile.

“I know this is a lot for you to take in,” he sighed, crossing his arms. “But we can take it slow; I want you to be happy with me. …All I ever want is for you to be happy.”

You sniffed as fresh tears welled up in your eyes, and Steve made a small, pitying noise as he stood up straight and stepped towards you.

“Aw, hon, don’t cry-“

You ducked the arm that he tried to wrap around you, staggering past him. You looked around the cabin frantically – for what, you had no idea. You just needed to be alone, away from him. You needed to think.

With a sob, you turned back to the bedroom, running past its doorway, past the record player, and into the bathroom. Your feet slipped on the slick, white tile, and you hit the floor hard, this time landing not on your elbow, but on your hip.

“Doll! Be careful; c’mon, I’m not gonna hurt you-“

You turned around and kicked the door shut before he could reach you, rising up onto your knees to slide the lock into place. As soon as it was locked, the handle started moving, and you scrambled backwards on your hands and knees as Steve pounded on the door.

There were three knocks against the door before everything fell silent, and you held your breath as you hugged your knees. The quiet was deafening; the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat pounding in your ears and the muffled sound of the record player. But then, finally, there was a sigh from the bedroom.

“Fine,” Steve huffed. “Stay in there if you need to; I’ll give you some time to think. But I think we both know that this door can’t keep me away, doll. I’m letting you lock me out.”

There was a beat of silence again as he moved away from your door, and you almost missed the next words he mumbled under his breath.

“’Cuz I love you.”

You waited with bated breath for the sound of his retreat, and it was only until you heard the bedroom door click shut behind him that you let your tears start to fall.

_________________

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed. You’d sat there weeping quietly, wallowing in self-pity as you wondered how you’d gotten yourself into such an insane situation. Eventually, once the tears and the worst of your anxiety had passed, you’d moved over to the sink, cupping your hands to greedily drink from its tap until your throat stopped aching. From there, you mechanically gathered towels from the linen closet and spread them out in the spacious bathtub in the corner. Once it was sufficiently padded, you’d hauled your sore, tired body into it and curled up, burrowing your head in your arms as you contemplated your situation.

First, you thought about what you already knew. One, you were trapped in the middle of nowhere, with no knowledge of how close the nearest neighbors or town were to you. Two, Steve Rogers, a super-soldier from the 40’s, claimed to be in love with you. He’d gone so far as to abduct you just because you’d made friends with the guy who lived in the apartment across the hall from yours, so it was safe to say that three, he was insane.

Next, you established your goal – escape. But to accomplish your goal, you would need to form a plan. If he had a car, you needed to get the keys to it. If he didn’t you needed to convince him to bring you into town somehow. And if he had a phone, you needed to steal it and call for help.

You were quickly becoming too tired to think, though, and without meaning to you slipped into a deep, tired, dreamless sleep.

You could have slept for hours or minutes, but you still would have felt just as disoriented as you woke up to a pounding at the door.

“Doll? I made dinner; come out so you can eat.”

Drawing your blankets tighter around yourself, you pressed your back against the wall of the tub as the knob started turning again.

“Are you ok in there? Please open the door.”

You made no move as Steve pounded at the door again, and your heart leapt into your throat when you heard him heave a long-suffering sigh.

“Ok; you leave me no choice.”

A startled scream ripped itself out of your throat when the door was suddenly pulled off its hinges, and you clapped a hand over your mouth as Steve leaned it up against the wall. He glanced over at you as he wiped his hands on his jeans, making sure the door wouldn’t fall over before starting to saunter towards you.

“Sorry, doll. But I did try to ask you politely to come out.”

Steve knelt next to the tub, taking in the little nest you’d built for yourself with a look of amusement.

“You know, we have a king-sized bed in there for when you get sleepy,” he teased. “You don’t have to nap in the tub.”

You frowned, and his smile fell. With a look of disappointment, he combed his fingers through his hair before standing up.

“Come on; dinner’s ready in the kitchen.”

With that, he gently wrapped his hand around your bicep and helped you to your feet, and he surprisingly let go of you once you were out of the bathtub. He inclined his head, silently gesturing for you to follow him before he started walking out of the room.

You wanted to stubbornly crawl back into the tub, but you were suddenly hit with a delicious, succulent smell that immediately had your mouth watering. Your stomach growled loudly, and you huffed before placing your hand over it.

“Traitor,” you whispered to your torso.

You chewed on your lip as you pensively followed Steve into the small, warm kitchen. The table therein had already been set, and your stomach once more let out a wail once you spotted two plates piled high with spaghetti and meatballs. A small basket of garlic bread sat next to a bowl of pre-grated parmesan, and there were two empty flutes sitting next to a bottle of champagne.

“Have a seat,” Steve said, pulling a chair out for you.

Your eyes drifted down from his face to the chair he’d pulled out for you, and with a sniff you made your way to the opposite side of the table, pulling out the other chair and sinking into it. Steve sighed but raised his hands up in a sign of surrender before sitting down.

“I get it; you’re angry with me,” he huffed. “I can understand that. But maybe you’ll feel better if you eat. I promise it’s good; it’s my mom’s old recipe.”

Your eyes never left him as he began to scoop spaghetti onto your plate. His muscles flexed as he reached for the garlic bread next, picking up two large pieces and depositing them on your plate.

“The bread is just from the frozen isle, but hopefully it’s good too,” Steve continued on, his tone casual. You blinked at him incredulously as he started making his own plate, shooting you the occasional smile as he carried on, seemingly oblivious to how crazy the whole situation was.

Eventually, your hunger got the best of you, and you stopped staring at your captor long enough to pick up your fork. The food, you begrudgingly admitted, was very good, and as you ate, you studied the cabin, trying to take in all possible escape routes and objects that could be used as a weapon.

“So.”

Steve’s voice made you jump, and your eyes snapped back to him. He had already finished his food and was currently leaning back in his chair, twiddling his thumbs as he watched you.

“What’dya think of the cabin? It’s cozy, right?”

You didn’t answer him, instead just sighing and setting your fork down. You eyed the glass of wine that he’d poured for you; truth be told, you would love a drink right now. But you didn’t want to let your guard down by getting tipsy; you needed full awareness to make it out of this.

Steve sighed before leaning forward, placing his elbows on the table as he considered you.

“Doll, c’mon. You gotta talk to me eventually.”

“…What would you like me to talk about?” you slowly asked him, voice still hoarse. “The fact that you kidnapped me? Or the fact that you’ve been stalking me for upwards of a year?”

The only indication that your words affected him at all was the small tick of a muscle in his jaw. His eyes didn’t so much as darken at your tone, but you could tell his teeth were clenched together.

“How did you like the music? I tried to pick out some records I thought you’d enjoy.”

“You won’t get away with this. Eventually, someone will find us,” you taunted him. “And when they do, I’ll tell them everything.”

His lips pressed together, and with a clang, his fork dropped to his plate, but he made no move as you pushed your chair back.

“Honey, please,” he sighed, clenching his fists. “Just calm down, ok? There’s no need to be so confrontational. Try and finish your food-“

“I don’t want to finish my fucking food!” you cried out, pushing the plate away from you. “I want you to let me go, you freak! You-“

Your words dissolved into a startled scream when Steve’s fist came down on the table. The loud bang it produced was accompanied by the sound of splintering wood, and your eyes darted down to see a deep crack running along the table right where his hand had struck it.

“Watch your fucking language,” he growled. “I am trying to have a nice dinner with you, and I’ll be damned if I let you speak to me that way under my own roof. Calm. Down.”

In the moments that followed Steve’s outburst, the only sound you could hear was that of your own breathing, fast and scared and impossibly loud within the heavy silence that had fallen over the table. Tears welled up in your eyes as the captain stared you down, and you didn’t dare say anything until he looked away.

“…Sorry,” he finally murmured. “Just… Finish your food, please. I want tonight to be nice. For both of us.”

You felt your blood run cold at his words, but you were too frightened to do anything other than what he’d said. With a shaky hand, you picked up your fork and mechanically began twirling spaghetti onto it once more, not daring a glance up at the man seated across from you.

“Thank you. How is the food?”

“…Good,” you whispered. A tiny voice in the back of your head said, fuck it, and without further thought you took a sip of your wine. And then another. And then, before you knew it, your glass was gone and Steve was pouring you another.

“That’s my girl,” he praised. The words made the wine feel sour in your stomach, but you hurriedly took another sip to calm your nerves.

Once you were finished with your meal, you sat back and cautiously met Steve’s eyes. He gave you a warm, close-lipped smile before leaning across the table, laying his hand out palm up. When you made no move to hold it, he stood up with a grunt, and as he rounded the table you felt a spike of fear stab through you.

But he only knelt down beside your chair, snatching your hand and cradling it between his own.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he breathed. “That’s why it took so long for me to do anything except watch you. But I… I love you, doll. I need you more than I need to breathe.”

He paused, looking down at your hand. As he brought it up to his lips, you suddenly realized just how potent the wine was; your senses were starting to feel foggy at the edges, and his skin felt like a furnace as he ran his fingers along your palm.

“I know it’s crazy,” he mumbled. “I know I’m crazy. But with everything that’s happened… I’m way past caring. I needed you.”

“I…” Your voice trailed off, and with uncoordinated limbs you pulled yourself to your wobbly feet.

“I need to go lay down,” you slurred, but Steve only smiled, standing up and pulling you against him.

“But the evening’s only just begun,” he purred.

It was then that you realized that being drunk didn’t feel like this; the alcohol didn’t explain the heaviness of your limbs and the static in your brain.

“What…What’s in the wine-“ you stammered, weakly struggling against his arms.

“Shhh,” he shushed you. “Shhh, it’s ok. It’s nothing that’ll hurt you. And you won’t pass out or anything. I just…didn’t want you running away again. All that stress isn’t good for you, you know.”

You let out a quiet whine as he picked you up, carrying you bridal style into the bedroom. You could no longer move; in fact, you could barely keep your eyes open as he set you down on the bed. But your heart still leapt in fear when he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Wait here for just a minute,” he said, as if you had any choice. “I wanna do something with you.”

Your body slumped back against the cushions as he turned to the record player, and you watched out of the corner of your eye as he placed the needle over a new track. The sound of an old-fashioned jazz band immediately filled the air, quickly accompanied by Ella Fitzgerald’s familiar, sultry voice.

Stars shining bright above you…

Steve’s arms were wrapping around you once more, and your head spun as he lifted you upwards. He maneuvered you carefully, adjusting your limp arms until they were draped over his shoulders with a patient smile. Your feet dangled, occasionally bumping against his shins as he held you aloft, beginning to sway back and forth with the tempo of the music.

Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you…’ Birds singin’ in the sycamore trees…

Dream a little dream of me…

“I remember when this song first came out,” Steve whispered against your ear. “I always knew that I wanted to dance to it with a woman I loved someday.”

You closed your eyes as tears started dribbling out of them, staining his flannel as Steve swayed with you in his arms. This was so fucked up, so insane, but you were helpless to every one of his sick whims.

Stars fading, but I linger on, dear…

“Still craving your kiss,” he softly sang along, his voice so quiet that you almost didn’t hear it.

He danced to the rest of the song in silence, never loosening his grip on you, and even when the music stopped, he still swayed with you in his arms. The scratching of the needle against the finished record was almost drowning out the frantic beat of your own heart, which only grew faster as Steve carried you back to the bed.

He laid you down gently, making sure your head was supported by plenty of pillows as he kneeled over you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, pushing an errant stray of hair out of your eyes. “You’re all I ever think about, you know.”

Your eyes widened slightly as one of his hands started creeping up your thighs, and you weakly made a noise of protest as he started prying your legs apart.

“I know, baby,” he cooed. “I know. But I need to show you that you don’t need to be afraid with me. And I’ve already waited so…so long…”

His body shifted until he was kneeling between your spread legs, licking his lips as his palms started inching upwards under your shirt.

“You’re probably not ready for all of me just yet,” he mused to himself. “This is already a big adjustment for you. But…”

He tilted his head, eyes skimming down to the pajama shorts you were still wearing from your house. It seemed like forever ago when you’d gone to bed in your ratty old apartment, alone and totally oblivious of the horrors to come.

Your head lolled to the side as Steve suddenly gripped the hem of your t-shirt, and you willed your arms to fight back as he started taking your top off. But the most you could manage was a slightly twitch of your fingers as he pulled away the shirt, tossing it to the floor before letting his hands greedily cup your breasts.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rolling them beneath his palms. “I knew they’d feel perfect. You’re so soft…”

His fingertips left goosebumps in their wake as they traced down your chest, skimming over your nipples as they traced a path to your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut, and a muffled sob escaped your lips as he started pushing your shorts down.

“No, no, it’s ok,” he insisted, pressing a peck to your cheek and pausing in his movements. “It’s ok, doll. I’m not gonna make love to you just yet. I just want you to loosen up a little.”

He gave you a soft smile, rubbing circles against your hip with his thumb.

“I want you to see how good I can make you feel,” he breathed. “And I wanna make you want me the way I want you.”

Pretty soon, you were completely bare beneath his demanding gaze, his blue irises flitting up and down your body as he drank you in.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you like this,” he confessed. “But you’re so much better up close, baby.”

He leaned forward, hesitating a second before pressing a chaste, almost shy kiss to your lips. You could feel his smile as he pulled away only to capture another kiss once again, this time letting his tongue dart out to swipe over your lower lip. His teeth felt sharp as he sucked on it, nibbling and worrying at your lip until pulling away a few seconds later.

The callouses on his fingertips felt rough against the inside of your thighs, and you squeaked when you felt him grind his hips against you, his jeans the only barrier between you and his hardness.

“See what you do to me?” he chuckled, pushing your hair back to whisper against your ear. “You have no idea how many times I’ve cum thinking about you.”

His lips descended onto your neck, sucking bruise after bruise in a bright purple trail down to your collarbone. One moment, his teeth would be biting you so hard that you cried out, but then his tongue would be lathing over your flesh in a way that almost drew a moan out of you. But you were too afraid to get caught up in the pleasure behind what he was doing.

Your lack of response didn’t seem to both him, though, as he dipped his head, pressing a kiss to your sternum before cupping your tits between his hands. He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples between his lips and starting to suck on it. The noise of his tongue dragging along your flesh combined with your quick, ragged pants in a staccato rhythm that matched his hips as they continued grinding against you. Unbidden, a moan escaped your throat, and you wished you could take it back the minute you saw a wide grin spread over Steve’s lips.

“See?” He crawled back up, cupping your cheek before kissing you once again.

“I told you I’d make you feel good,” he murmured. “It’s ok to enjoy this; it’s ok to love me.”

His eyes sought yours out, a flicker of vulnerability rising from their depths.

“Please love me,” he whispered.

Even if you’d been able to fathom a response, you were unable to do anything but look up at him pleadingly, silently begging him to stop, to let you go and end this madness. But if he understood what you were trying to convey, he ignored it, once again crawling down your body until he was face to face with the apex of your thighs.

A grunt escaped your throat when one of his fingers traced your pussy lips, and you were horrified to hear how wet you’d become.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a soft laugh. “You…you do want this, huh?”

You tried to summon the strength to shake your head, but it didn’t come. Instead, all you did was lay there as his digit drew a line from your entrance to your clit. Steve’s other hand came up to spread your legs wider, shoving your thighs apart as his finger descended once again.

“I’ll take care of you, dollface,” he promised, eyes focused on your pussy. “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of you.”

You made an embarrassingly high-pitched noise as he slid his middle finger inside you, slowly dipping down into your core until he was knuckle-deep. Shame washed over you as you listened to the squelching sound of your pussy, and automatically your walls clenched around him, sending shocks of unexpected pleasure through you.

“Ah, god,” he moaned, thrusting his finger a few times experimentally. “So tight. How are you so tight, baby? Hm?”

He licked his lips before leaning forward, and you whined when you felt his breath ghost over your folds. And then his tongue was delving past them, lapping at your clit at a slow, even pace that immediately took your breath away. Your fingers twitched, aching to grip onto the sheets or his hair or something, even though you knew you were powerless.

A second finger was added to the one still inside you, and another stilted moan left your lips as he started thrusting them, dragging them tantalizingly over your walls as his tongue started circling your bud. Your eyes blinked shut, and you tried to fight against the rising pleasure building up inside of you. But it had been so long since you’d done this with anyone, since anyone had touched you like this. You’d been so touch-starved since the Snap, and so alone, and Steve’s fingers were grazing against that one spot inside of you so perfectly. His tongue was velvety against your clit, and your mind was buzzing with how good it felt.

His words echoed in your head you felt the orgasm swelling up within you. It’s ok to enjoy this, it’s ok to let me love you. I love you…

His tongue left you as he ventured a glance up, and you couldn’t help the small noise of protest that you made at the lost contact. He grinned mischievously, increasing his fingers’ pace as your eyes popped open. A louder moan ripped itself out of your throat, and he chuckled as your eyes started rolling back.

“You’re mine already, aren’t you?” he growled. “Look at how much you want this; you need me. Admit it.”

Your mouth hung open as the knot inside of you tightened, but you needed something more to send you over the edge. You needed his tongue on your clit again; you were desperate for it. All thoughts of morality and fear were gone in the face of your pleasure, and you whined as Steve started to slow his pace.

“Say it,” he commanded. “I won’t let you cum until you tell me you need me.”

You gulped, your head rolling to the side as you tried once more to shake your head; you could barely blink your eyes open, much less speak. But the hard look in his eyes left no room for debate, and one particularly hard thrust of his fingers had you babbling what you hoped were coherent syllables.

“N-need y-oh! Need you, S-steve, please, pl-please-!”

That was, evidently, good enough for him, because in no time his head was between your legs again, his tongue placing fast, light kitten licks to your clit. You bit your lip so hard that you tasted copper, but you couldn’t even register the pain as pleasure wrapped you up once more in its tendrils. You panted for breath as your pussy clenched around him, and when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, you were gone.

You cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your voice raspy and tired. Your body felt as tight as a bowstring despite its temporary paralysis, but slowly you began to relax. Or at least, as much as you could with Steve still lazily lapping at your pussy. He licked up your cum as he watched your face, his pupils blown so wide that his eyes almost looked black. You shivered at the sight, feeling ants crawl up your spine at how possessive the look was.

When he finally did pull away, his beard glistening with your juices, you were completely spent. Sleep was threatening to overtake you, and you were so exhausted that your fear was settled to a dull roar as Steve crawled up to lay beside you.

“You were so good, doll,” he praised. “And you tasted so good… I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

He pulled your hair to the side, pressing a kiss first to the column of your throat and then to your lips as he pulled the covers up around the two of you. His arms snaked around your waist, and you could feel that his cock was still hard as he pressed it against your hip.

“Tomorrow we’ll talk some more,” he whispered. “But for now, just sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

In your tired state, you couldn’t tell if his words sounded more like a promise or a threat, but you were already slipping into sleep when he kissed you one last time.

“I love you, doll. And I ain’t ever gonna let you go.”

______

I’d like to dedicate this story to my PPC anon! Thank you for always being so kind to me. Your support means the world!

[taekooktimeline]

June 2 & 3, 2020 (filmed) - Soop Episode 8 -

That night it was Tae’s and Joon’s turn to cook. Shortly after they began, Jk made his way to the upper house in case they needed help. It was a common scene to see Jk in the kitchen during their stay, whether he was called upon or joined voluntarily - this occasion being the latter.

The first thing he asks is about how well they were handling themselves in the kitchen.

He continues by making a snarky / teasing comment as he lightly chuckles, jokingly. He’s alluding to the fact that both Tae and Joon are inexperienced cooks. He first looks at Joon and his pasta.

He then moves to observe Tae and changes to a supportive tone, letting him know he’ll happily eat it no matter what the results are. He’s being realistic but telling him to not be afraid to make mistakes.

Jk reassures him by saying one can’t mess up meat - it’ll always taste good.

Tae let’s his insecurities afloat by saying he would never cook again if he messed up such a delicious steak that was so difficult to botch. Jk was well aware of Tae’s lack of confidence when it comes to cooking & that was his way of encouraging him.

Since there is nothing to help them with, Jk silently watches his phone and stays close, waiting to see if he was needed. This precise scenario is actually unfamiliar - at least to Soop viewers.

Jk let’s out a couple more compliments about Tae’s meat before leaving to take a nap. He must not be too interested in the aglio e olio spaghetti since it’s a blander dish by nature.

Later on Jk literally held onto his bed as Hobi woke him up, but once on his feet he checked his phone and then began to run towards the kitchen as he tried to keep on reading his messages. He was apparently eager to eat steak because it appeals to his taste buds, which makes sense. “I really want to eat steak,” he sings.

He stops running to finish reading his messages before entering the kitchen.

Heavy speculation: Turns out Tae needed assistance and couldn’t leave the meat alone. Joon had left him around 5-10 minutes ago, depending on how long Hobi had to insist to Jk to wake up. Could or could not be related to Jk running while checking his phone as there is no way to know. Decide as you wish.

Hobi goes for paper towels while Jk asks what he could do to help - something he has done with other members as well. Tae says he only needed paper towels and plates.

Tae then expresses concerns about his cooking, seemingly having some trouble.

Jk stays as his cooking assistant from that moment onwards - a role he excels at. He first finds paper towels inside the kitchen and stays right by his side -

Then Tae asks him for some help with the seasoning. They cook in harmony -

Jk is the most wanted -

Full cooking scene:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1LidgpCh7yKntT0_1VcUq-GhNKS4Wj-eN/view?usp=drivesdk

Later that night, Hobi and Jk spot Tae just as he started lighting fireworks so they make their way to him.

Jk quickly joins Tae, who hands him a firecracker, while Hobi asks about other members.

Taekook are too entertained to worry about the others whereabouts.

They pass the lighter between the two, heavily involved in the bonding activity. “When else will we ever get this opportunity?” they later said.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1n2_p1Qd4wUt3qtwWjoatGchl9GWk_fD3/view?usp=drivesdk

Jimin joins them too and all four enjoy the spectacle.

Taekook are the only ones setting the fireworks off. They must be the most excited and daring, taking into account Hobi was pretty scared of getting near.

Tae lights three at once - quite courageously - and runs off. Hobi about Tae: “He’s so eager”.

Hobi and Jk dance in front of the sparks which Tae vocaly marvels about. They are surely having fun together.

Tae prompts Jk to do the same as him and light three at once - scary to do as it’s time sensitive, but with beautiful results. He tried to listen but ran off at 2. This is faintly reminiscent of “we always got scolded together, even back then”.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1mUkfEzN38QYCXD1TrqV-ATBDD3_e4OSK/view?usp=drivesdk

June 3 (filmed) - Tae wakens Jk to watch the sunrise, which they later mention. He is seen leaving the floating house a little after the first rays of light start illuminating the sky. *There is debate about whether Tae spent the night in Jk’s room or not, but we think the footage is inconclusive. It doesn’t contradict the official story but it’s also compatible with Tae staying over so decide as you wish. Some think Tae must have stayed over because he wasn’t shown entering the room, but remember this was a 1 or 2 hour long sped-up timelapse with many missing frames (many cuts). It was only luck that a single frame of Tae exiting made it into the final footage. The frame can't be seen in the weverse app due to differences in resolution, compression and frame rate compared to weverse’s desktop version (which is where the illegal uploads came from) as a professional explained to us. We checked the official desktop version and Tae’s frame is still there meaning BH didn’t try to hide it. In layman’s terms - there is no conspiracy from BH to backtrack and omit Tae leaving the boathouse. In order to modify Tae out BH would have to reupload the one file, meaning those viewing via Weverse on a desktop computer would also not see Tae. Only one file is processed and encoded to work across as many devices as possible. This means different versions of the same video in different formats with different compressions - but all derived from the one upload (according to the below cited individual who works in tech). Disclaimer: this individual works in tech and had discussions with her partner, who is also in tech. Please fact check. 

Additionally, not turning on the light is respectful since Jk wasn’t obligated to get up. As previously said, anything is possible in this case (as far as if Tae stayed over / when he arrived at the boathouse).

https://twitter.com/tkgkurm/status/1316082109253996544?s=21 or https://twitter.com/borahaestreet/status/1316137683958329347?s=21 or https://www.instagram.com/p/CGS8Ub3IovM/?igshid=6ibd8ghe4ens 

The next we see is Tae walking with his selfie camera to Jk to watch the sunrise together. It seems like he was coming back from the main house.

Adorable, sleepy Hobi joins them. Tae says “you did it!” which implies it had been taken into consideration. The gathering might have been talked about the previous night or it could have been spontaneous where Tae woke him up without a warning and hoped he’d make it out of bed. Both Tae and Jungkook happily greet him.

https://twitter.com/flirtaeguk/status/1315991107562401792?s=21 

Jk is also sleepy and keeps yawning alongside Hobi, unlike Tae who is very much awake. They both made an effort to accompany him. Jk yawning -

Hobi yawning -

He asks Jk if he pulled an all-nighter.

Jk denies and explains Tae woke him up. *Personal opinion: Sara is inclined to think Tae was the one to pull an all-nighter while he hung out in Jimin’s room judging by his state of alertness (I’m used to doing it and they are too) and how there’s footage of vmin in Jimin’s bed from earlier that night. It’s not easy for Tae to wake up early. Anyhow, it’s not impossible he later hung out in Jk’s room. Regardless of what happened Tae chose & dared to get these two out of bed at such ungodly hours just because he thought the scenery was nice - lacking apprehension - which means he feels very comfortable with them.

Tae disappears and Jk immediately wonders where he went.

*Just for fun - the editors added an adorable caption for Tae canoeing:

Jk giggles when Tae reappears and asks him if he’s having fun - happy to see Tae enjoy himself.

He then compliments his rowing skills.

This causes Hobi to also comment. Jk agrees with an “exactly”.

Jk adds onto it pointing out more details about Tae’s good technique.

More of Jk yawning -

Jk films Tae with his selfie camera. At the start, he says “V” in a deep, playful voice - presenting him to the public (note the subtitle in the below pic - the English subtitle didn’t show “V” when Jk says it but it’s written in the Korean subtitle next to Tae).

When Tae softly asks them what they think of the scenery - looking directly at Jk - the younger sweetly replies with the following -

the original Korean text notes “GCF” (making reference to Jk’s filming skills):

https://twitter.com/borahaestreet/status/1316019584776826883?s=21

and https://twitter.com/flirtaeguk/status/1315996054337150978?s=21

and https://twitter.com/taekook1206/status/1316223828985487361?s=21

; Full sunrise clip:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/18uvnNmmboRHRaITTpa98ZKfpCO48abiZ/view?usp=drivesdk

Later on - it seems the members went back to bed after watching the sunrise. Tae wakes up at 12pm and is surprised he slept so little.

He then walks from the main house to the floating house, where Jk is staying.

He doesn’t bother changing out of his PJs as he makes his way to the floating house.

It’s uncertain whether he checks his breath or simply rubs his face as he walks there.

We find out he is, indeed, coming to visit Jungkook.

Speculation - There is debate if Tae locked the door when he entered. Decide as you like.

Personal stances: Sara is basically sure that Tae didn’t lock comparing it to the distinctively different & loud sound it made when Jk locked the door while playing with Jimin (Ep 7 behind the scenes, Jk locking the door: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1729xJUd1fvff5MozK0J7meAj4tZEOZ0w/view?usp=drivesdk ; Hobi closing the door without locking which generates the same “clicking” sound as in Tae’s occasion: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ITikRqRtKYJjVEjCxrF3t42UBu1IcuB6/view?usp=drivesdk) combined with the unlikely context, while Kayla thinks it’s possible (since we don’t see what they are up to for those two hours - maybe Tae unlocks it at some point (not saying they were up to anything but maybe just wanted privacy) + three non BTS listeners seemed certain they heard the door lock when shown the zoomed in clip without context - who Tae is, what room he’s in, etc … but who knows). As we stated above, it’s debatable so please decide as you wish. 

Tae closing Jk’s door -

https://twitter.com/taetae_pteryong/status/1313898743939305472?s=21

It turns out Tae preferred to keep on resting with Jk rather than alone in his own bed, even if he had to go on a little walk. He throws his cap off and leans over Jk, his face close. 

Note Jk’s raised arm as he slowly turns to have an idea of their positions.

Here Jk’s tattooed arm is blurred next to Tae’s head - Jk still facing upwards.

Tae says “move over” while Jk sleepily groans in protest.

Jk groggily rolls to his side, an act that conveniently gives Tae the space he was searching for & that prompts him to climb over to be the “big spoon” in the cuddle. His foot skims over Jk’s as he latches a leg and arm around him.

some close ups of Tae positioning himself (mostly for their feet since it’s quite intimate) -

https://twitter.com/recorder331/status/1313910423075266566?s=21

  In a sweet moment that indicates closeness, Tae tries to pull the blanket up on him so he can be closer and warmer as he cuddles.

Jungkook appears to pull Tae’s arm closer - although it’s unclear. We have differing opinions. Decide as you wish.

https://twitter.com/loveforvguk/status/1314153041659125760?s=21 

Tae then playfully boops his leg against JK. He may have wanted him to wake up after all but stay in bed, calmly laying together for a while - although they both ended up feeling too cozy.

Full clip:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/15UX3WLZ9jrNjHY5kNo876VQcLUc4-Ux6/view?usp=drivesdk

Hobi heads their way apparently two whole hours later with the intention of waking Jk up. The below images confirm the approximate timeframe.

Hobi says he’ll go wake Jungkook up, seemingly unaware that Tae had joined him in bed.

Once he gets there he first calls for Jk, pauses and also calls for Tae in a higher, slightly surprised tone. Goes to show it was unexpected for him.

Hobi is insistent, they have to eat and leave the cottage soon.

Jk stretches and gets up relatively quickly - although looks sleepy. Taking into account the cut, it must have been a couple of minutes since Hobi entered.

Hobi looks on and doesn’t leave until they get up. He had to make sure. This may be strongly subjective but he seems to have a somewhat wary demeanor, looking at them as if he was studying the situation.

Tae suddenly sprints out of bed.

Note Hobi’s face -

He pauses at the door for a bit before reminding them to hurry up. He might think they are capable of going back to sleep and miss lunch. Maybe that’s the only reason he looks faintly concerned, but that’s up for interpretation.

Publicly debated topic - There was a clear cut between Hobi entering the room and when he talks to Taekook, finally getting them out of bed. ARMY pointed out that the door was left more closed after Hobi entered, but when we see him again - after the cut - it’s wide open meaning someone crossed it in the meantime, which makes people wonder. Jk’s feet also change position which means there was substantial movement. This has led some to believe that Taekook were cuddling quite intimately and the cut was made to hide it. 

Skeptical stance: Please keep in mind all content is edited, with cuts, and we don’t necessarily believe this is a big deal. It’s just being noted since it was a widely discussed topic. 

Observations(both anticlimactic & open): Contrary to popular belief, Hobi did knock on Jk’s door in ep 7 when he was alone. The cut could’ve just been made to shorten the moment since TK didn’t want to get up. Maybe Hobi went back towards the door after getting a response from them, opened it, hesitated & decided to make sure they got up. Judging by their feet, Tae was already on his back before the cut - same as Jk who was even starting to turn towards the wall. Seeing that their positions weren’t compromising prior to the cut and that Tk were shown cuddling just moments before without a problem, I don’t think BH tried to hide anything with this specific cut. You can decide as you wish. Nevertheless, I think them cuddling before Hobi entered was very possible which is explained below. 

Door looks more closed -

As you see, prior to Hobi’s entrance it is indeed possible that Jk was hugging Tae if you observe his legs and how he starts to turn the other way around. His left knee is lifted and folded which would be the one folding over Tae (in the speculative case) while the other leg was straightened. Why the need to move right when Hobi enters? Also, in this action one of his legs is left without a blanket to cover him which could indicate he was closer to Tae just seconds before.

However - still prior to the cut - Jk had already turned towards the wall with both his knees facing that way, therefore, there was nothing to hide anymore - if there ever was.

Tae was also on his back if you look at his right foot’s toe facing the door (the foot with exclamation points is Jk’s facing the wall).

In the next scene, the door is wide open and Jk’s position has changed further - rolling more on his side, straightening his legs and fully covering them with the blanket (except his foot).

https://twitter.com/_k91230v_/status/1314470859361247232?s=21

or may view footage of this in Korean here -

https://twitter.com/hellotae_vv/status/1314213325505400832?s=21

; Full clip:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1AVMFqki3PWhCcXlN-rKrEGloODWk9l95/view?usp=drivesdk

Taekook sit next to each other as they eat - possibly the last two to join. They grow impatient when they finish eating and get up. First it’s Jk and then Tae follows suit, surrounding the table to go where he is.

It seems like they cross a few words - although not heard - and for some reason Jk hands his phone over to Tae. We’ve noticed the editors can alter the volume of their mics as Jimin is heard muffled at some point during this scene.

Members urge the duo to sit down so they can say thank you.

Taekook then can be seen walking together towards the main house, but choose to engage in different activities.

Full lunch + tk walking:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qLT2eoYEy_HI8CIbv7Iti-C29io1wZ92/view?usp=drivesdk

While Jk quietly carved wood -

Tae searched for playmates for a water balloon fight - clearly still playful unlike what they tried to portray in ep 6. Tae is certainly calmer compared to his younger self, but he still likes to joke around. The pandemic affected his mood and this was a time for healing, but his core personality didn’t drastically change and it was a recent situation. In late 2019 (around early November) Tae said these words: “They say I’m restless, but that’s who I am. I think that’s why they gave me that nickname. I don’t think my personality will change no matter how much time passes or how old I get. I’d like to be considered a playful person to everyone”. As we said, we reiterate they must have used Tae’s recent mood as the perfect excuse to naturally justify the separation strategy they had been using to pretend they drifted apart these last years.

 Back in Seoul, BTS visit the studio to record the theme song for Soop. Even though there is an empty chair, when Tae comes back from recording his part, he proceeds to sit on Jk’s lap, who doesn’t protest. This is what Tae saw as he was entering the room -

He walked past Jk playfully smothering Hobi to leave the paper -

And turned around to look directly at them.

He hesitated for a second - standing still in front of them without looking around - and went for it, claiming his seat on top of Jk.

Jk was smiling, maybe about Tae or maybe about the silly singing he was participating in along other members. Regardless, he was in a good mood & unbothered.

Tae let himself fall flat against Jk, completely relaxed.

Jk started to feel a bit asphyxiated after a while so he gently incorporated himself, making Tae sit straight but with no intention of pushing him off.

Tae stays there for a considerable amount of time, both comfortable and smiling whenever something funny happened.

Note that the members seemed to play a sort of musical chairs. When a member returned from singing, he would take the seat of the person who got up to go record. Therefore, the argument that Tae avoided the seat for Joon isn’t very credible. No one else sits on a lap and no one else had an issue finding a seat when he wanted. (Tae sitting on Jk’s lap: https://drive.google.com/file/d/14UhAYnWI4YWrMNoK3wa69m_tod-X7c9m/view?usp=drivesdk) 

When all go in but Yoongi, Joon suggests the members sing in a breathy tone, to which Tae says it’s his speciality.

However, Vmin then show solidarity in hyping Jk’s voice. Right after they agree to an airy tone for the chorus, both Jk and Jimin start softly singing to themselves, but Tae doesn’t hesitate when he suddenly turns to Jk and grabs him by the arm to pull him to the center. As Tae is doing this action, Jimin asks the rhetorical question “isn’t he the best at it?”

Tae has a precious grin adorning his features -

Tae affirms Jk is the best at capturing the breathy tone BTS is striving for as he leads him to the center of the group. The younger shows modesty by questioning their decision as he says “why? why?”.

Notice Tae’s arm still pulling him -

Tae then gestures to the mic, insisting.

He briefly gives Jk’s arm an encouraging pat / light grab as he says again Jk should sing in the center.

Jimin agrees and says Jk is the chorus.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1RqnHIjmLPjzxsBKaXbJEkbbiYZT7XQmK/view?usp=drivesdk 

Towards the end of the recording session, Tae goes in to record a solo soulful piece (Jk follows after). When Tae begins, Yoongi and Jimin immediately turn to Jk and start laughing loudly, with Yoongi clapping as he laughs (other members also laugh). Jk grins.

Speculative stance: Yoonmin may have turned to Jk because it was expected he’d go in after Tae and “duel” as Yoongi later says. Perhaps they turn to him to gauge his reaction at following in recording his soulful take after Tae. 

Jk introduces Tae with a “Here goes V” - raising expectations.

Yoonmin look at Jk as they laugh -

Members really want Jk to record the ad-libs he was doing while sited. They call it a “war” and an “ad-lib battle” (keep in mind neither Tae nor Jk uttered those words).

Once Jk is done and gave them all good laughs, Joon asks him to go back in to do a final ad-lib. Mirroring his prior actions, Tae excitedly hunches forward to get him off his chair and into the studio, very much looking forward to more of Jk’s hilariously soulful singing.

TK ad-lib battle:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1x1JYtCG-bwBD6WZWwUQ2WaLpi7gw2-CG/view?usp=drivesdk