#every single character from this show will be stuck in my head until it releases and probably for a couple billion centuries after that

[boonsandwhatever]

Because yes.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I didn’t plan things this way, but it turns out it’s Mental Health Weekend in my stand-up comedy watching. By which I mean the three stand-up hours I downloaded to watch this weekend happened to all tackle that subject, in wildly different ways. Which isn’t that massive a coincidence, I guess, as a lot of stand-up hours do this. But these ones really find three quite different and specific takes on the subject.

Dan Rath – I’m Not Doing Well, Folks (2023)

Do you like Sam Campbell? Well, meet his weird Australian friend! Seriously, I’ve also heard the show Greg Larsen was doing last year, and I’m increasingly convinced that Sam Campbell is the normal one among his people in Australia.

I’d heard Dan Rath’s pervious show, Cockroach Party, which was released as one of the ABC comedy podcasts. I liked it, but I think I kind of listened to it at the wrong time, while on break at work. Listening to this one while at home doing nothing makes me think his shows deserve more attention, because there were a lot of jokes that I would not have caught if I’d been less careful. Anyway, for whatever reason, Cockroach Party made me like him, but I’m Not Doing Well Folks (which was his 2023 show and was just released on YouTube) has made me think he’s brilliant and has moved far higher on the list of people I’d love to see live.

I laughed out loud so many times when watching this, hard and uncontrollably in the way that you usually don’t when just watching something on your own in your room. The whole show was constant and quick and ever-changing so you never really settle down and stop laughing so much.

There were only a few topics that he stays with for a significant period of time, one of which is mental illness, so that’s why I said this was on theme. It’s very much not “let me be confessional and vulnerable about the dramatic mental illness I’ve suffered” (not that there’s anything wrong with that, the other two shows I watched today were that and they were also great). It is jokes about autism, in what would be a case of “Oh, you can’t say that” if he weren’t autistic. At least, I think he’s autistic. He repeatedly says he’s autistic, and the vast majority of what he says during this show is clearly not true, but if there’s one claim in this whole show I don’t find it hard to believe, it’s Dan Rath being autistic.

It's not storytelling comedy, it’s definitely not sketch or anything like that, there are a few one-liners but most bits are longer than that, it’s not not character comedy but not the way Anna Mann is a character. The way Joe Wilkinson is a character. It’s a really, really funny character. His stuff about serial killers made me nearly cry with laughter. It had a few little bits that I recognized from Cockroach Party, but most of it was new, and I thought nearly every single bit was good. His disarming way of saying something offhandedly and then immediately moving on got me every time.

I’m going to have “I don’t give a fuck if the robots take over. I’m autistic, they’ll hire me as an interpreter,” stuck in my head for a while.

Lulu Popplewell – Actually, Actually (2023)

I have to admit: I mainly watched this show because I fucking hate Love, Actually. I didn’t see that movie until last year, which I guess was too late in life to watch it. Too late in my life, and too late in history, as a lot of the shit that apparently “seemed okay at the time” really no longer seemed okay by then. Though I’m pretty sure I’d have thought this even if I saw it when it came out. I turned 13 in 2003, and I spent a fair bit of 2003 telling people that various things on TV were sexist, and getting told to stop being oversensitive, and then as an adult I read these articles that say “Wow, I can’t believe all the blatant sexism and homophobia in the sitcom Friends that no one noticed at the time!” Well I noticed! But no one listened!

I didn’t watch Love, Actually in 2003. I watched it in 2023, because my mother talked me into it. It’s been a running thread between my mother and I since about 2003 that she always wanted a daughter to do things like watch romcoms with, and when I was 13 I’d just say no and it would turn into big fights, but as an adult, I try to occasionally be more flexible. And sometimes they’re good! Sometimes I learn that my knee-jerk hatred for all the feminine-coded things that were forced upon me in my youth is misplaced, and these things can be fun. I’d thought Love, Actually might be like that. Not really my sort of movie, but if I agree to suspend my disbelief and buy into the world of romcom tropes, then it can be fun.

Love, Actually was not fun. Love, Actually was pure shit from start to finish, no matter how much I tried to remind myself that you’re supposed to relax about the less believable bits. There is a certain level of romanticization of workplace sexual harassment that I’m willing to overlook for the sake of trying to enjoy a romcom with my mother, and this movie was many times over that limit. I was truly amazed by the large number of different types of terrible people they managed to fit into one movie. I’d heard people say before that “You know, when you really think about it, that story in Love, Actually isn’t even really romantic, it’s creepy and mean that he tries to steal his best friend’s wife.” As though that’s that biggest problem! As though attempted infidelity is even worth commenting on, when it’s next to severe sexual harassment by literally the most powerful job in the land! Or that other workplace harassment where a guy follows his non-English-speaking employee to a different country? And then Alan Rickman is just walking around cheating on his wife in the background. I think Martin Freeman was all right, oddly.

I don’t mind a movie about terrible people, but portray it that way! Give us a movie about creepy horrible people getting away with it all the time. Not a movie where we’re apparently supposed to hope things work out well for some of them. Honestly, I’m shocked that this got by even by 2003 standards.

Anyway. I know Paul Sinha’s done a show talking shit about that movie, and I wish he’d recorded that because I’d love to see Paul Sinha apply his brand of intellectualism to taking that apart. But this week I saw that NextUp has up a show that Lulu Popplewell streamed from Edinburgh in 2023. She played one of the children in Love, Actually, and is now an adult. From the description, I got the impression that a lot of the show would be her taking down Love, Actually. I watched the show because I wanted to see that.

So you can imagine my surprise when it was in fact a show about mental illness and addiction, and the Love, Actually thing was just a little bit of structure around which she tied it. Luckily, it was quite a good show about mental illness and addiction, so I don’t blame her for clearly using the eye-catching fact that she was a child actor in a very famous movie to sell it in her blurb. That got me to watch, and I liked what it turned out to actually be. And there was some talking shit about Love, Actually.

She talked about a bunch of things I find interesting, the way addiction can be an underlying personality trait and if you’re addicted to one thing you’ll probably keep getting addicted to other things, and addictions to “obvious” things like alcohol can be deeply interconnected with gambling or shopping or video games or disordered eating. I said at the beginning of this post that comedians talking about mental health is hardly rare, which it isn’t, but she definitely covers some of the “harder stuff” than what you normally hear, or than what most people experience (in as much as most people experience some amount of mental health difficulty). She talks openly, but while acknowledging the awkwardness that can come with that kind of openness, about psychosis and addiction and rehab. In addition to a specific perspective she has on how misogyny affects women in the public eye.

And she makes jokes. That seems worth pointing out, it did make me laugh. It started a bit slow; for the first fifteen or so minutes I was thinking this might be one of those shows where she says interesting things but doesn’t make me laugh much. But the more she established herself within the show, the better her jokes got, and by the end she made me laugh out loud several times. I thought the second half of this show was definitely stronger than the first, but none of it was bad. Her persona went very fast from “privileged child star” to “absolute mess” (as it so often goes with child stars), though she keeps reminding us that she’s in recovery now and is in a place to talk about it with some perspective.

I enjoyed this one, and like I said, I did get some of the complaining about Love, Actually that I’d hoped for. I’m glad I watched it.

Richard Gadd – Monkey See Monkey Do (2016)

I was reminded of this show’s existence by the fact that his new TV show Baby Reindeer has just come out, which I haven’t seen but would look to watch at some point, it looks very interesting. That reminded me that last year I had a quest to see or hear every Perrier Award-winning show for which I could find a recording. I’d never seen the Richard Gadd one that won in 2016, so I looked it up, and found that it did get filmed for those Soho Theatre sessions. I added that to my collection. In case anyone wants to keep score with me, my folder with (audio or video) recordings of Perrier Award-winning shows now has the winners from: 1999, 2003, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2013, 2016, 2017 (x2), 2018, 2019, 2022, and 2023. If anyone knows of others that have been recorded, please let me know.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect with this show. I’d read that it was pretty conceptual, and I’d read that it was about trauma, but I hadn’t expected just how much of both those things it would be, until I watched it. It was a lot of both those things. It wasn’t stand-up with a couple of props in it – it was a story told via recorded audio and video and a man in a thematically relevant costume who runs on a treadmill for most of the show, which is a very physically impressive feat, aside from anything else. And it wasn’t just a show that gets into trauma – it was 47 minutes of trauma. And I thought it was great.

I hesitate a bit to say too much about it, partly because it feels weird to “rate” something so personal (even though all comedy is subjective and “rating” it is always kind of bullshit). Partly because I don’t watch a lot of comedy that gets to this level of “conceptual”, so I don’t feel confident in my ability to know good stuff from bad stuff when I see it (though I’m not the only person who thought this one was very good, they gave it an award and everything). And partly because I found a lot of it so impactful that if anyone is considering watching it, I don’t want to spoil too much (though it’s a show from 2016, I don’t think spoilers are a large issue).

He got into a bunch of interesting stuff in this show, about masculinity and sexual assault and mental illness, presenting in what I found a very immediate and hard-hitting way. Especially the sounds and whatever else he was doing to bring to live his descriptions of anxiety.

It often annoys me when comedians comment on how an audience “isn’t sure if they’re allowed to laugh” at something they’ve said – because often, the comedian is overestimating their own edginess, what they’ve said wasn’t “too uncomfortable” to laugh at, it just wasn’t that great. In this Richard Gadd show, he never said “I can see the audience trying to decide whether they’re allowed to laugh right now”, but there were multiple points when I could tell the audience were trying to decide whether they were allowed to laugh at that funny bit. Or maybe I’m just projecting, because that’s what I was doing.

This very much was one of those shows people make jokes about because they’re a bit overdone and can be painfully embarrassing if not done well – a comedy show that lets itself have significant portions that aren’t funny, they’re a person telling us very honestly and intensely about something harrowing. But I do like those shows when they’re good, and this one was, and about something important. And some of it was definitely funny. I would like to watch his new TV show at some point.

[adultswim2021]

Space Ghost Week

Wherein we cover an entire season of Space Ghost Coast to Coast over the course of a week

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #54: “Boatshow” | December 12, 1997 | S04E21

A Very classic episode, even though musical episodes are almost always bad. Musically, you could pick this one apart, but it’s very Space-Ghosty (scrappy, imperfect, weird, and exceptionally funny). Andy Merrill wrote this one, and they had to do very little re-writing for the draft he handed in. The writers described the rewriting process as simply adding more stuff to the episode, which might explain this one’s slightly beefy running time (15 and a half minutes). 

This one features Steve Allen, late night host/legend. When I was a kid, he was always this guy who would show up on shows (like this one!) and be fawned over. I’ve yet to find a single person who doesn’t respect Steve Allen. The fact that this was only a few years before he passed away is pretty impressive, because the guy is undeniably sharp. He even speaks Brak-ese. A real pioneer; he did Letterman-esque stunts on TV back when Letterman still had his egg tooth.

Speaking of Brak, Brak’s at his most palatable here. His songs are dumb but catchy, and the music goes along great with them. His final line “I’m really very sad!” has been stuck in my head since forever. Other slightly edgy bits include the runner of Space Ghost and Zorak ganging up on Moltar, berating him unfairly every time he tries to sing, even going as far to declare “we hate you!”. Space Ghost was never REALLY a kid’s show, but this is maybe as unwholesome the Cartoon Network ever got. 

Andy Dick fills out the last half of the show, and it turns out they interviewed him specifically for this episode (he even mentions Steve Allen during his interview). He improvises songs and they miraculously come together. This is mentioned on the audio commentary track for this episode on DVD; the music was actually done by a 30+ piece orchestra, which is why they mixed it in 5.1 surround for the DVD. 

Andy Dick, like Brak, is maybe at his most tolerable here. In the 90s he was just seen as an affable nerdy guy who you could stick into your show and probably get a funny performance from. It wasn’t until The Andy Dick Show, his MTV sketch comedy series, did I start realizing that when he wasn’t part of an ensemble of geniuses that his comedy instincts were mostly garbage. The Andy Dick Show was painfully unfunny. Way too much reliance on unfunny riffing. Basically, every project where he is the main creative voice behind it is comedically worthless.

Okay, this is the Andy Dick bashing portion of the write-up, so buckle in: His musical comedy albums are complete dreck. In high school, I thought very highly of myself and my ability to write funny things, even though most of that stuff is humiliating to read nowadays. But I went through a phase where I tried to write funny songs, and even at my most egocentric I realized I was a very bad song writer and kept those pieces hidden on my computer. Andy Dick’s original songs remind me of those terrible, no-talent high-school-brained attempts at comedy. Except he RELEASES HIS.

Okay, my Andy Dick story: I attended the annual Bridgetown Comedy festival in Portland, OR, and sat through a show that I remembered very fondly from a previous year. It was a show where all the comics did characters. Andy Dick was top-billed on this show, and the grand finale. His guitar player (who I learned later was his son), went on stage and started vamping: “who’s ready for Daphne Aguilera?” the lack of excitement was palpable, but people politely cheered. Daphne Aguilera, if you’re not familiar, is an Andy Dick character from The Andy Dick Show. She’s Christina Aguilera’s little sister who is also trying to make it in showbiz. It’s also worth noting that we were well past this joke being relevant at all. Who the fuck was talking about Christina Aguilera in the early 2010s? 

Daphne doesn’t come out right away, and it doesn’t seem like it’s part of the bit. There’d been rumblings about Andy Dick having fallen off the wagon while in Portland, and terrorizing various venues and shows around the festival. So the guy played guitar for what felt like a few minutes, and then tried to announce Daphne again. It was extremely clear something was wrong. Where the fuck was she?

She eventually shows up, and Andy is clearly really fucked up. Daphne sings a song about being great, and how she’s better and more famous than the audience members watching. So, that was the joke: A celebrity is an egomaniac. Pretty original stuff. At least, this is what I could discern from the lyrics I could actually understand: Andy was barely intelligible singing this song. It was really sad. People started filing out of the venue almost immediately after he started singing, and you sensed that it felt like a very moral decision on the parts of those leaving. I was part of a big group hanging out in the back, and I don’t think any of us left. The room emptied out to an incredible degree, where I feel like 90% of the audience left during the song. At the end, the 10% of us that opted to keep witnessing the train wreck were treated to the grand finale, “Daphne’s” dress falls off. She’s not wearing underwear. Andy had tucked his penis between his legs. That was the big punchline. But then Andy “accidentally” untucks, so his dong flops out in front of what was supposed to be hundreds of people, now just a few dozen. He pretends to be bashful about it while letting his brain hang unfettered.

I remember overhearing Ron Lynch laughing hysterically and saying to somebody “he asked to go ahead of me. He wanted to do THAT before MY set!” If this episode and that incident tell you anything, it’s save Andy Dick for the end.

[moohnshinescorner]

HAPPY RELEASE DAY!!!!

Body Check by Teagan Hunter is now live! 

I have two goals this season:

Be named captain of the Seattle Serpents.

Stay single.

I’m right on track…until she happens.

Auden Sinclair.

We’re stuck together for a night when our plane is forced to make an emergency landing, and that’s all the promise we make—one night, then we go our separate ways.

Except she pops up again.

Then again.

Suddenly, she’s everywhere. In my head and in my bed, completely taking over my life and ruining all my plans with her quippy comebacks, her smarts, and a body that fits against mine just perfectly.

The problem? Auden is off limits. Forbidden. Strictly in the DO NOT TOUCH zone. She goes against all the rules, but never have I wanted to bend them as badly as I do when it comes to her.

This might be one battle I’m not going to win…

  Download today or read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited

Amazon: https://bit.ly/3CvPU2A

Amazon Worldwide: https://mybook.to/BodyCheckTH

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/43L7Emu

MY REVIEW

Ohhh. I love, love, love this book. It was a wonderful and fun read. I love that some players from our favorite team the Comets, have new roles in this book. And the surprise at the end has me over the moon.

Aurdan Sinclair is a self made billionaire who owns The Sinclair hotel chain. She is independent, beautiful and strong. She also doesn’t believe in love. A chance meeting with a tall, dark, handsome and grumpy man changes everything for her in the blink of an eye.

Hutch has one goal in mind….win the cup. Yet his team the Seattle Serpents suck. His goal to change that will require sacrifice and dedication. That means no girlfriend or settling down in love. Little does he know a plane ride is what will set wheels in motion that will be out of his control.

I absolutely love the hockey books that Ms. Hunter writes. They are so energetic, engaging and entertaining. Each book is full of romantic fun and barrels of laughs. Let us not forget that each book is a steamy little number to make you feel the heat and desire between the main characters. Each story uniquely created for each character giving them lifelike roles in every fantasy. I truly enjoy and love each one she writes. Can’t wait to see which Serpent Single falls next.

Meet Teagan

TEAGAN HUNTER writes steamy romantic comedies with lots of sarcasm and a side of heart. She loves pizza, hockey, and romance novels, though not in that order. When not writing, you can find her watching entirely too many hours of Supernatural, One Tree Hill, or New Girl. She's mildly obsessed with Halloween and prefers cooler weather. She married her high school sweetheart, and they currently live in the PNW.

Connect with Teagan

Website: www.teaganhunterwrites.com

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[walkintrafficjam]

Poem

The regret binds me still-- in space

The in-between that used to be our place

This curse I bear forevermore

My heart aches red for an escape

Waiting for judgement by the silver gate

I’m foolish I know

All I need is one word from you

For you, I surrender

Clasping your hands against my neck

Let me feel the tightening of your grip

For my tears to swell out

Washing my pride away

I want to feel the cut of your fingers

For them to etch onto my skin

I beg for you to let me bleed

To give me a release

So time can tick

So wind can hound

So my world can spin

So the birds can sing

One more time, I want to see you

Where our line of fate crosses again

Like the day of our beginning

I'm clinging to the very end

I’m foolish I know

I’m still waiting by the gate

The song's title is translated to "Aphrodite of Death". Feel quite in theme for me.

Context:

YONKS. For my first post, I'm throwing a big bone here for you to chew on. One of my in-progress poems. To be fair, I don't think there is such a thing is a fully complete poem. You just work on it until you give up lmao. I cringe at this because I don't know how people think of me after reading it. I like to write poem that describe my emotion and theme but not exactly what actually happened to me.

I tend to experience intense event through metaphors. As in, when facing conflict, imagery and analogy would flash across my mind like an intrusive thought. I will literally feel it as if it is happening. One example is after having a really bad falloff with a friend, I would feel myself being pull down as if I'm becoming puddle. I feel light-headed weak, and sick. I feel that metaphor physically and that thought of being a puddle pops up in my head while experiencing it.

Explanation:

This makes it super convenient for churning out poems! An allegory can be truer than the actual event itself! Encapsulating and highlighting its very essence. Throughout this poem, there is mini little references of association pulled from different areas in space and time in my life. Won't give away too much but here is some stuff I wanted to convey: Guilt. Stagnation. Mercy. Judgement. Yearning. Time.

Have you ever feel like time stop with a person? When you are with them, you are in your own world where time and people temporary fade into the background? a different plane of existence. To me, there is a duality in it. What if you stuck there and are unable to revert back to reality? It can be a nightmare.

I am really bad with expressing weakness which is why I wanted to write something that feels very humiliating to explore and grow. I was reading a Webtoon where a character declares that she would let the other person strangle her to death to show her love. Very intense. I kinda get it though.

Possible changes and improvement:

I can move the line about "being foolish" and "waiting by the gate" to the beginning so it can begin and end with the same two lines. It represents a repeat of cycle that can never be completed or satisfied. Stuck in time. Lines about "time ticking" to "bird singing" can be improved to create layered meaning. Right now, they are only a placeholder to show the wanting of time moving and growing.

Main takeaway?:

Uhhh... express how you feel sometimes? My unwillingness to admit certain things contributed to my demise. And it's okay for you to make mistake and feel. It's cruel how others would shame the very humanness of feeling. You are cutting people from the very source of living.

Also, write poems sometimes? It doesn't have to be good and can be very therapeutic! It's nice because it hones all of your thoughts into a single tangible piece. Every since I wrote this, I haven't ruminate at all!

WOWZA, now you have to try. See you next week!

[nsheetee]

Awaken

Pairing: chenle x reader Genre: friends to lovers AU, fluff, mature content Length: 6.4k Summary: When Chenle invites you on a last minute trip to his family’s home in China, you’re excited at the prospect of a small vacation and about spending time with your crush. Surprisingly, Chenle’s extended family is there as well, and a series of events quickly awaken something new in both of you. Warnings/Details: female reader, explicit sex (breeding kink, unprotected sex [please stay safe], creampie) disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. the characters and events are not a reflection of reality or meant to offend in anyway.

“What do you mean you can’t come? We were talking about this literally last night, and not even 12 hours later, you can’t come?!” Chenle practically screams into his phone as he stuffs random pants and shirts into his open suitcase. “Explain yourself, Park.”

“My mom suddenly wants me to come home.” Jisung sounds apologetic and slightly timid, “She said she’s cooking dinner tonight for our family and if I’m not at the table she’ll cut my tongue off. I know she won’t actually do it, but... I don’t want to test it.”

Chenle sighs, sounding bothered by this predicament, but Jisung knows his best friend isn’t going to be that sad about his absence. It’s not like Jisung has never been to Chenle’s house in China, and although he loves the place, he knows this won’t be the last opportunity for him to fly there. When Chenle sighs once more, this time just to be annoying and show how irritated he is, Jisung speaks again.

“Don’t be like that. You love visiting your family, just think of it as an opportunity to spend more time with them.” Jisung hears Chenle fall onto his bed on the other side of the line.

“I do love to visit, but my whole family is either younger than nine or older than thirty-five. I just want someone that’s my age to be with me if I feel lonely.” Jisung pouts at that. Chenle is an outgoing person and loves to be around the people he’s comfortable with, so hearing that he gets lonely without his best friend makes Jisung’s heart hurt a bit. However, an idea suddenly pops into his head.

“Hey, you actually do have another friend our age, and I bet she would love to go to China with you.” At the mention of a ‘she,’ the only ‘she’ both Chenle and Jisung know at the moment who would want to hang out, Chenle sits up straighter on his bed and his heart rate speeds up.

“Oh, ___?” He tries to sound nonchalant, “I’m not sure. She would be meeting my family, won’t she think that’s weird? And what if she feels uncomfortable? It’s not like she can just go home—”

“There are lots of what if’s, Chenle. All I know is that she finished her finals and is on break, and probably deserves a small vacation for her hard work.” Jisung pushes, suddenly excited that he can’t come on the trip if it means Chenle can get closer to you. “Just ask her. I promise it won’t hurt.”

“If she says no, it will hurt my pride. So, that’s a lie.”

“Chenle.” Jisung replies flatly.

“Fine, fine, I’ll ask.” Chenle plays with the hem of his shirt, thinking about how nervous he got over this trip just by adding you into the equation. With some last goodbyes and a promise that Chenle will update Jisung about everything that happens this weekend, the call ends. Chenle fidgets through his phone, procrastinating calling you, but when every single app is checked and there is only the phone icon staring back at him, Chenle sighs and finds your contact, pressing the call button.

After meeting you through Jisung, you and Chenle quickly became close friends. You’re both easy-going, prefer staying up late at night, and okay with being lazy at home, so hanging out together is easy to do. It also doesn’t hurt that you’ll eat literally anything Chenle cooks, boosting his pride tenfold when you praise him endlessly for his cooking. Actually, one night at his house after he made dinner and you shared a bottle of wine on the rooftop of his house while looking at the night sky, wishing the light pollution didn’t erase all the stars, that’s when he figured it out.

You’re important to Chenle. So, so important.

He knows he has feelings for you, and that he cares about you deeply. He is aware of your presence whenever you’re in the same room and gets that longing feeling in his stomach when your attention is taken away from him. There is no doubt that Chenle is in the middle of falling head over heels for you, but he always feels the need to keep a few steps back.

He walks on a tightrope, on one end is friendship and on the other is love, and he’s stuck in the middle. You’ve given him hints of attraction and subtle nuances in your words that could possibly mean you have feelings for him as well, but nothing concrete enough that gives Chenle the confidence to walk further along the tightrope.

Maybe, just maybe, this trip can bring you two closer to the end of this balance beam.

“A trip?” Chenle hears excitement in your voice after he explains what happened with Jisung, and he feels hopeful, “That sounds like fun!”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in three hours.” Chenle feels giddy and nervous at the same time, his leg bouncing up and down to portray all of his feelings.

“Oka— Wait. Three hours?”

“Bye!” Chenle abruptly ends the call before you can ask anything else or change your mind, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He takes a few deep breaths and then stands up, continuing to pack his things. This time with more skip in his step that’s fueled by the promise of your presence with him for the whole weekend.

It’s already nearing 6pm when you arrive in Shanghai. You follow Chenle closely as he leads you through the airport, looking really confident about every turn he makes as he weaves through the busy and tired looking people. However, you’re both thrown off your path when a large window on your right catches your eye, the night view of the city of Shanghai making you stop in your tracks and swerve to take a closer look.

Your hands smudge the clean windows as you lean in and stare at the enormous city, the sparkling lights and tall buildings look like you just took a flight to the future, not just a few hours south.

“It’s pretty…” You trail off, not really talking to anyone in particular. Chenle, who followed you to the window and also stares at the view from beside you, smiles at the comment.

“You like it?”

“It’s amazing…” You sound like you’re in a daze, which makes Chenle smile wider.

“I should show you the view from the balcony in my room. It’s ridiculous.” Chenle nods and gives the view one more glance over. His words bring you back to reality, making you shiver.

In Chenle’s bedroom… where so many things other than watching the night sky can happen.

You heat up in embarrassment at the dirty thoughts, yelling at yourself in your head for thinking like that when Chenle probably meant it in the most innocent way.

“We should probably get going..” Chenle seems completely oblivious to your predicament, yawning as he turns around and continues walking through the airport. You follow him, lightly biting the inside of your cheek as your previous thoughts fly through your mind again.

The Shanghai airport is crowded, almost over-crowded. After traveling further through the airport, it gets hard to follow Chenle’s leather bucket hat that bobs through the sea of people and you have to grip onto his backpack so that you don’t lose him. He feels the sudden weight on his bag, turning around to see you struggling.

His hand finds yours, making you release the grip on his zippers and instead intertwine with his fingers, turning to look forward and once again leading you to baggage claim. Your hands start to sweat and you feel embarrassed, but Chenle doesn’t seem to mind as he squeezes your fingers softly and glances back at you to make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t let go of your hand until your luggage arrives, and when he does release your hold, you feel very cold and empty from the lack of Chenle’s touch.

“Mom, I’m home!” Chenle yells into his house, dragging his suitcase behind him and taking off his shoes, “I brought a friend.” You both leave your things at the door and Chenle hands you some slippers, then you follow him through the house in search of his mother. You find her in the kitchen, stove on and several pots and pans cooking food at once.

“Chenle!” She exclaims after seeing her son, and then her eyes fall on you.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet her, slightly unsure of what her reaction to you will be.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing your girlfriend here.” She laughs gleefully and leaves the stove to come closer, almost jumping on the tile floors over to you.

“Oh, we’re n-” You begin, but Chenle cuts you off.

“Jisung couldn’t come, so I brought ___ here instead. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” She smiles, which makes you relax a bit, “You’ve never brought anyone here other than Jisung, I was beginning to think you don’t know anyone other than him.”

It’s your turn to laugh, covering your mouth as you glance at Chenle to see him roll his eyes with a sour look on his face. Before he can retaliate, his mom cuts him off.

“Well, since you’re here, could you set the table? I’m running late on dinner and I need extra hands. Get out eleven plates and those high chairs we keep in the closet.” She quickly makes her way back to the stove after warmly rubbing your arm, moving faster than your eyes can follow as she adjusts spices and stirs.

“Why so many?” Chenle asks.

“Your aunts and uncles are coming over today.” At that information, you turn to face Chenle with an unsure look painted on your face.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You step closer to him and whisper, “If you’re having a family dinner, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Of course it’s okay. Don’t even worry about it.” Chenle gently grabs your shoulders and turns you around, forcing you to walk out of the kitchen and back into the foyer. You  collect your luggage and head upstairs.

Chenle’s house has an impressive three stories with several bedrooms, an office, and a lounge room in the top two floors and the rest of the important rooms on the first floor. You didn’t see much of the backyard, but you caught sight of several trees that surround the house, making the area more private. Considering this place is close to the city, you’re amazed at how all of this belongs to Chenle and his family.

His room is on the third floor, and you take a look inside when he sets down his things on his bed. The balcony he mentioned earlier is covered with long white curtains and his bed is wide, taking up a good chunk of space. On the other side of the room, a TV hangs on the wall and there are several gaming consoles hooked up. Overall, a normal guy’s room.

“You’re next door…” He mumbles and leads you to the room next to his. The layout is a mirrored version of his room, only the balcony is replaced with large windows and the room is more generic looking rather than lived-in like Chenle’s. You set your things down and glance out of the window; you’re met with the canopy of trees that grow in his backyard.

“And your bathroom is right here,” Chenle’s voice brings you back to the room, showing you inside the bathroom, “And if you need anything, my room is right through here.” He opens a door in the bathroom to reveal his room on the other side. You nod and walk over to the bed, plopping down on the soft covers.

“Your house is amazing. I feel like I’m staying at a fancy AirBnB… but I don’t have to pay for it and there’s a family staying here too.” You both laugh at that, but your comment has you questioning your stay here some more.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to take your time away from family.” You bite your lip and look up at Chenle, looking for his honest answer. You’d hate for Chenle to not spend all the time he can with his family while he’s here, considering he can’t visit often.

“I am 100% sure that you’re okay to stay here. I think everyone will l-love you.” Chenle clears his throat after his stutter, hoping you wouldn’t question his sudden nerves surrounding the topic of love.

“Okay.” You nod and rub your hands over your thighs to rid yourself of anxiety. You only keep asking because you hate to be an intrusion. But if Chenle is sure that your presence here is okay, then you’re going to enjoy this vacation to the best of your abilities.

“You get settled, I’ll go help my mom. I’ll get you when dinner is ready.” Chenle turns around to leave the room, but you stop him.

“Oh, I can help. It’s the least I can do, and it seems like there’s a lot to get ready.”

“But you’re a guest—”

“I don’t mind.” You smile and leave the room first, looking over your shoulder as if to beckon him to try and stop you. Chenle doesn’t, partially because he wants to spend any second he can with you, even if it’s just setting the dinner table. But he also doesn’t stop you because that would mean grabbing onto your hand and pulling you back, and Chenle almost had a heart attack at the airport the first time he did that. Thinking back on it, the action felt natural but it still startled him, and he can’t get the feeling of how your soft hands feel in his own out of his head.

“Hey, wait up! You’ll get lost.” Chenle calls out and quickly follows you out of the room.

Chenle’s family loves you. In fact, Chenle thinks they love you just a little too much.

From his mom cooing at you as you help Chenle properly set the table to his aunts and uncles endlessly talking about your hobbies and school, it seems like you’re the life of the party tonight. However, that’s not what catches Chenle’s eye.

As he’s carrying some drinks to his dad and uncles who decided to sit outside after eating, Chenle passes by the living room to see you and his nieces and nephews playing. You’re reading a book to one of the younger kids while the others are coloring next to you and constantly showing you their art, seeking your approval or ideas on what they should draw next. Chenle’s two older nephews are playing tag around the table, and overall it’s just a whole ruckus. Chenle only has a chance to glance into the room for a second before continuing his trip outside to deliver the drinks.

As he’s coming back in, he’s startled by his older nephews who took their game of tag out into the hallway, almost running into Chenle.

“Woah, woah, woah. You shouldn’t be running in the hallway, get back in the living room.” Chenle ushers the boys back and once all of them are in the living room, he shuts the doors completely to keep anyone from going back out. His eyes land on you, you’re in the same position as you were before, but now you look up at Chenle and give him a warm smile while patting the spot next to you.

Chenle sits with his legs crossed while facing the same direction as you, looking over his niece's artwork and complimenting their scribbling, and then leaning back against the couch to mirror your position.

“I guess it’s more fun to play with the kids than with the adults?” Chenle asks, making your attention move from the TV screen where a kid’s movie is playing to meet Chenle’s eyes.

“Don’t you find it fun to play with kids? I think there’s never a dull moment with these guys.” You laugh and motion around the room as if to make your point.

“So, you like kids?” Chenle asks.

“Yes, a lot.” You nod, watching him look away and nod at your words. “What about you?”

“My nieces and nephews are… a bit too wild for me.” He admits, “But I like kids. I would like to have my own kids in the future.” Chenle speaks without really thinking about his words, just talking to you about anything is nice. When he realizes what he said at the end, his eyes glance over at you to gage your reaction.

“Same here. There’s some special sort of happiness that comes with having kids. I see it all the time on mothers’ faces, and I always wonder what it feels like. I bet you can’t really find that kind of feeling anywhere else in the world.” You muse, and Chenle quickly agrees with your sentiment, involuntarily gulping as the thoughts in his head rampage.

Could you get anymore perfect for him?

You look down at your thigh, for some reason not being able to look at Chenle in the eye. “I think… You’ll be a really good father, Chenle.”

Just from your simple words, Chenle’s heart begins to pound in his ears and warmth spreads through his chest. He watches you shyly look up at him, not being able to do anything but stare at you for fear of his body moving without his control.

“Can you please read again.” His youngest niece breaks the staring contest between you two with her question, pulling your gaze away from him. When your attention is on his niece, he quietly slips out of the room and stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

He paces around his bed, his hands running through his hair as he tries to figure out

what just happened. You said you like kids. You said you would like kids in the future. You also said you think Chenle would make a good father. Are you purely giving him compliments or… could you be hinting at something else?

Why does Chenle feel like his heart might explode any second if he keeps thinking about you. On second thought, he looks down, his pants might be the thing that explodes. Chenle sighs, slightly embarrassed that he got hard by just thinking about you.

You looked so cute playing with his nieces and nephews, so kind and genuinely warm hearted to them that it melted Chenle’s heart. He wants to see it again. He wants to see you reading a book to them and changing your voice for every character, listening intently as they tell you story after story, rubbing their backs gently as they color.

Chenle wants to see you like that with his kids.

His own thought scares him a bit, and he sits down on his bed while trying to calm his breathing. He’s even more surprised at the shot of pleasure that runs through him at his own idea. He feels his stomach turn pleasantly at the thought of a little you and him running around, you showing your love to both Chenle and your child.

Warmth grows in Chenle's heart; he wants it so bad.

He can imagine the picture so clearly in his head that it hurts him to think about it, since he knows he’s far from that point in his life. That doesn’t stop him from getting turned on, though. He digs the heel of his palms into his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to think of something —anything— else. Why is it that whenever you’re around, he can’t think of anything, but whenever you’re not around, he can only think of you?

‘It’s useless’ he sighs, scooting up on his bed and moving his bedsheets away.

Sitting against his head board, Chenle grips his sheets in one hand and his other slides down his stomach, tickling him slightly, and over his crotch. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes and focuses on his warm hand stimulating his member. He can’t help but let out a soft sigh at his own teasing, but soon has had enough and quickly pushes down his pants and boxers to let his dick spring out. Using some precum that glistens as it runs down the side of his dick, he starts pumping his shaft, eventually getting fully hardened.

His wrist turns every time he reaches the end of a pump and he slides down the headboard as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. Chenle is good at staying quiet thanks to the years of practice in his full house, but he can’t help the whines he emits every so often when his fingers move over his tip.

But soon, Chenle turns frustrated. He’s doing all the things he knows his body likes, but his orgasm is just too far away still. He becomes impatient, starting to shift his hips around and rub his length faster as sweat builds on his forehead, but it only hurts his wrist and makes him itch for his orgasm more.

Every time Chenle thinks of you while getting off, he feels a bit guilty.

He hopes you don’t mind it, but you hold a place in his heart and Chenle is very attracted to you, it’s impossible to think of anyone else when he’s in this position. So, Chenle takes a breather, and when he continues his stroking, he thinks about your tiny hand replacing his instead. His eyes immediately roll to the back of his head and he finds it hard to keep himself sitting up.

Chenle’s head is tilted back, his jaw dropping open bit by bit as he moves on to thinking about your warmth mouth around his cock, the way your face would look as you glance up at him and kiss up his thighs before sliding his member through your lips again.

Chenle has to shove the duvet he has been gripping into his mouth to stop the moan that almost leaves his throat, his eyes screwing shut as he imagines how good your wet pussy would feel around his dick, sliding in and out as you chase your own release. He loses composure when he imagines what your pants and moans would sound like in that situation, what your nails would feel like gripping onto his shoulder for dear life, and what the flesh of your hips and waist would feel like under Chenle’s hands as he drives you harder onto his cock.

Chenle eventually starts thrusting his hips up into his hand, desperately chasing his high to the very highest peak. Chenle has thought about you many times while jerking himself off, but this time around, the thing that makes him tip over the edge is the thought of his cum shooting into you. He lets himself fall into the pleasure, seeing stars at the thought of his seed filling you up. He milks himself as strings of cum land on his thighs and pants, going to the very last stroke until it almost feels painful.

He limply falls over on his bed, breathing heavy and ears slightly ringing from the intensity he brought upon himself. When the feeling goes away he opens his eyes and listens to the sounds of the commotion downstairs, his mom and aunties playing with the kids, and the cars that drive by outside his balcony. When he looks over at the bathroom door, his heart drops all the way to his stomach and his head turns fuzzy from panic.

You’re right there.

Maybe you think he doesn’t see you, half hidden by his bathroom door, but he sees your hand resting on the handle and he hears your heavy breaths all the way from across the room. A part of him wants to dig himself into the covers and never come back out, but he pushes that embarrassment away so he can think clearly. You’re just standing there, no doubt just saw him come, why aren’t you leaving?

“___,” Chenle calls out, his voice lower than you expected and making you flinch behind the door. “Come here.” He says it softly, but in a demanding tone, so you open the door all the way and look at him. A mess of sheets surrounds him and his hair sticks to his forehead from sweat, all of this is illuminated by the dim moonlight coming from the balcony. Taking small steps to him, you don’t know what to do with your hands or where to look, but Chenle makes it easy when he pulls you down on the bed next to him.

“Did you like what you saw?” His question startles you, “Tell me the truth.” He adds on. You nod, a question of your own coming to mind.

“Why did you say my name when you were doing… that?” Chenle’s eyes widen, not aware of your name slipping through his lips. “Tell me the truth.” You say back at him.

Something in Chenle tells him that things won’t be the same way between you two after tonight no matter how he tries to amend this situation, so he thinks he might as well take it as far as you’ll let him.

He leans into you slowly, lips sliding past your cheek and teasing the skin there, stopping to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Because I was thinking of you, why else?” He likes how you shiver, he likes seeing the goosebumps on your shoulder from his words. Scraping up as much courage as he can, he leans all the way in and places a hot kiss below your earlobe. He waits for you to push him away, but you only grab onto the front of his shirt for leverage, so Chenle continues. He presses slow and open-mouthed kisses down your neck, almost too slow, until he reaches your shoulder where he bites down gently, raising a sharp gasp out of you.

You push him away and look at his eyes. Chenle is afraid that you’ll tell him to stop because this surely means he screwed up, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the next words that come out of your mouth.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. I’ll make your dreams into reality.”

Chenle’s jaw drops slowly at that, looking over your face for any signs of a joke. But fire burns in your eyes and the hand that’s holding onto his shirt pulls him in, lips crashing together in your very first kiss.

It’s hot, the room and the kiss and the way your hand falls down to chest and stomach to reach his dick, once again twitching from just the slight sting your nails give him as they travel across his body, not to mention the way your tongue slides into his mouth, exploring every corner. The kiss is wet and messy, but neither of you care right now.

“Was it like this? Hm?” You pull away while tilting your head, somehow looking innocent as you start to pump his dick, the same way he did not too long ago. Chenle shakes his head, pushing on your shoulder to get you to sit on the floor. As you slide onto your knees Chenle grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, wiping his hands on it, and throwing it behind him, not caring about how dirty it will be after.

When he looks down at you between his legs, your little hands moving his pants and boxers all the way down his legs, he thinks he must be dreaming. It has to be fake, you look too good with his spit covering your lips and your hands spread out on his thighs, looking up at him curiously as if to ask for what he wants next. This has to be a dream, but when he feels your soft hair bunching up in his hand and the first touch of your puffy lips on his sensitive tip, he knows this is anything but a dream.

He’s all too excited when his hips push up into your mouth and his hand tightens in your hair. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t help how good you’re making him feel. His toes curl, his mouth releases little whimpers and pleas filled with your name, probably the most vocal he has been in his entire life.

You don’t mind the roughness from him, you like it actually, the wetness building in your core proof of that. The sight above you, Chenle’s head tilted back and the outline of his abs flexing every time your tongue swirls around his dick is more than enough to get you heated, desperate for some friction between your legs. Just when you think Chenle is going to cum, he pulls you away from him, surprising you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, suddenly afraid you did something wrong. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut hard enough that the dimples under his eyes come out. He lets you stand up, but grabs the back of your thigh to pull you closer to him.

“I should be good to you, I can’t let you sit on the floor and suck my dick all night, as much as I would like that.” That makes you chuckle a bit. Chenle smiles, moving your shirt up and peppering kisses over your stomach, right above your waistband. You remove your shirt, feeling Chenle’s hands play with the buttons and zipper of your pants.

“What’s next?” You ask after he slowly slides your pants off of your legs and throws them behind you. He looks at you, his eyes conveying how nervous he feels by your question. He’s not sure how you would feel about the next part of his fantasy.

“Can I come in you?” He asks so fast that you almost don’t register his words, but when you do your eyebrows quirk up. When you don’t say anything, Chenle continues, “I know this is kind of wild for our first time together, but I promise I’m clean and—”

“Sure.” Chenle shuts up at that, his eyes wide as he tries to read your face through the lack of good lighting. “I trust you. Do you trust me?” When Chenle nods, you climb onto his lap, your lips meeting again in a softer kiss than before. You grip the strands of his hair in the back of his head as you gently sit down on his thighs. Chenle immediately grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, chest to chest and hips against hips so that you can feel his dick pressing against your center, raising a strangled gasp out of you.

Chenle takes that moment to slide his tongue in your mouth, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you against him while his other hand moves your hips against his own. His dick rubs against your center, the slickness that has seeped through your underwear making Chenle shake with pleasure. He kisses down your neck and chest to leave hickies on the top of your breasts while continuing to grind up into you, starting to feel obsessed with how you sound every time his dick rubs against your clit.

You’re in the middle of taking off your bra when his hand that was moving your hips moves to your front as he runs two fingers over your covered slit. It surprises you and you let out a moan, forgetting about your bra and covering your mouth to stop yourself from getting any louder. He moves your panties to the side and slides one finger in to test the waters, you clench around him instantly and sigh in relief at how he curls his finger in you.

“Relax,” He mutters and removes your bra all the way for you, his hand once again finding a palace at your waist to steady you on top of him, “I got you. You’re safe with me.” He mumbles against your shoulder between kisses as you get adjusted on top of him. Your nails that were gripping into his shoulders relax a bit, and he adds a second finger to stretch you out some more. Your shaky breath tickles Chenle’s ears when he does so, but eventually you start grinding down on his fingers.

Chenle takes a moment to watch you grind onto his hand, your eyes shut as you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. You even look pretty like this, how is that fair? Chenle can’t help but express his feelings in the form of kisses over any part of your skin he can reach. You’re pretty sure he has kissed everywhere by the time he pulls his fingers away, making you turn your attention on him.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He gives you one last chance to back out, but you nod your head in agreement, your head cloudy from pleasure and your whole body begging for him to fuck you already. He nods too, guiding his dick into your hole and letting you slide down him inch by inch. Every move downward sends his mind blank and his stomach tightening, watching how he disappears into you and twitching from how tight you are. You keep clenching around him and it’s driving him completely insane. He leans back on his hands, breathing deeply to keep himself under control.

When you’re sat all the way down, Chenle takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers together to place your hand against his cheek. You’re not sure if he even realizes he does this since his eyes are still shut in pleasure, but the gesture makes you smile a bit.

When Chenle thrusts up into you, your smile drops. Fuck, that feels good.

Chenle releases your hand and instead takes a hold of your hips keeping you steady as he thrusts up into you in a steady rhythm, drawing out unstoppable groans and moans from both of you, not caring about who’s hearing you two. His hips slap against yours with every move, sending you closer and closer to your high as you hold onto each other. When he stops for a moment, no doubt tired from all of the work, you continue to roll your hips against his.

“Ah—” He groans at your movements, “Oh my god, ___, don’t stop.” He moans. If you thought Chenle’s singing voice sounded heavenly, then you think the voice he used to moan your name might be out of this world, filled with so much feeling and lust that you don’t think he can even register what he’s saying anymore.

You feel your orgasm approaching all too fast, and when Chenle’s hips start to move again, you think he might be close too. That’s when you lean into his ear, the same way he did to you when he started all of this just a while ago.

“Come in me, Chenle.” You beg him, and his hips move faster, the grip he has on your hips so tight you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You can’t think about it right now, though, as his cock moves in and out of you mercilessly and your name tumbles out of his lips once again.

Your orgasm breaks open throughout you, spreading like a wildfire through your nerves. You’re sure you can feel Chenle all over you and all around you as you come, pleasure filling you up from your head to your toes. As your muscles flutter around him, Chenle lets go too, white and hot springs of his sperm shoot into you. He continues to fuck it into you, slowing down when he feels both of you almost topple over from fatigue.

He slowly lays down in his bed, careful when he rolls you to the side. Sliding his dick out, he watches his white seed flow out of your pussy and down your thigh, his lips opening in awe and surprise at how much he likes the sight.

“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly realizing the redness around your hips and waist from his own hands.

“Oh, I’m great. I’m wonderful, actually.” You sigh out, your eyes closed as you are still trying to get over the orgasm Chenle gave you. Your words make him chuckle, a bit of cockiness peaking through.

“Huh, I guess I’m that good, yeah?” Chenle makes sure to send you a closed lip smile, and you peak an eye open to hit him gently against the arm before retracting and falling limp again, both of you not able to control your bubbling laughter.

Chenle always imagined what the other side of the balance beam would look like— how it would feel like. Now, as he looks at your messy hair, your shining skin under the moonlight, and your quiet mumbles about random things as you cuddle under the blanket, he thinks it may feel just like this.

Later, after you and Chenle cleaned up a bit and got situated under the covers with you laying your head on his shoulder and him tracing stars, hearts, and the Chinese characters of his name on your back, Chenle gets a phone call.

“Hey, how are you? How’s it going with ___?” Jisung asks on the other side. Once you hear his voice, you perk up and tilt your head to look at Chenle with a raised eyebrow.

“Everything’s good, really good, actually. How’s your family?” Chenle asks back, stopping his tracing for a second to flick your forehead gently, making you slightly scowl at him.

“Good, my mom didn’t cut my tongue off, as you can probably tell.” Chenle lets some air out of his nose in the form of laughter at Jisung’s joke.

“So, why did you call?” Chenle hums into the phone, burying himself closer to you under the covers.

“Don’t you remember? You said you would update me on anything that happens while you’re over there. Did something happen?” Jisung asks and Chenle can’t contain his smile as he answers.

“Park Jisung, I’m so glad you couldn’t come this weekend.”

“What? What does that mean—”

“I’m hanging up now.” Chenle ends the call, throwing his phone somewhere on the bed and wrapping his arm around you, cuddling closer to you and finally falling asleep.

[whosscruffylooking]

Bad Bounty Chapter One: Reunion

Sergeant Hunter x Fem! Bounty Hunter

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Maybe mutual pining? Nothing too gross.

A/N: hunter was already attractive in season 7, but i managed to suppress my feelings for an ANIMATED character. alas, the bad batch has cursed me and i have finally accepted that he is my latest comfort character.

“You hold onto friends by keeping your heart a little softer than your head.”

“Clone Force 99. Welcome back, ” Commander Cody extends a hand to Hunter who firmly shakes it.

“Apologies for showing up late, we-”

“Got stuck handling some unexpected complications during a mission. I understand Sergeant Hunter,” Cody winks.

“What have you got for us this time Commander?” Crosshair mumbles, twisting his toothpick around between his teeth.

“This one is going to be a bit different boys. It’s not exactly…sanctioned by the GAR. Let’s call it a favor for an old friend of mine.”

Crosshair straightens up, suspicious of Cody’s statement, “We may bend the rules from time to time, but we don’t do favors.”

“This is an efficient mission that ultimately will aid us in the war, provide you some easy target practice…and helps me relieve an old debt I have to pay.”

“Is there a reason you can’t do this yourself?” Hunter questions.

“We’ve been called into battle. Besides, this separatist encampment is one we have failed to infiltrate time and time again,” Cody responds.

Hunter shifts, struggling to comprehend where this is going, “What does attacking a separatist encampment have to do with repaying a debt?”

“There is a Senator stationed on Drahgor III…a corrupt senator at that. One who has a significant bounty on his head. My dear old friend is a bounty hunter I met on Ord Mantell. Your job will be to take out the clankers and retrieve any data you can from the main database. Meanwhile, my bounty hunter friend will secure the bounty and you’ll go your separate ways.”

“Who is this Bounty Hunter?” Crosshair inquires.

“Glad you asked,” Cody exclaims, “Y/N!”

The clone troopers twirl around to see you approaching them. Your manner is conservative yet confident. One thing you have become an expert at is never striving for attention. Instead, your presence demands it.

You nod at the troopers, “Clone Force 99, it is a pleasure to be working with you.”

Surveying the team, your eyes first fall on Crosshair. His distrusting look reaffirms the defense you raised long before wandering onto the landing platform.

Gotta keep an eye on that one.

Next, you glance over to Wrecker. A massive lug of a man, but he has the noticeable demeanor of a gentle giant. Something about him reminds you of a plush toy you once owned as a child.

Tech catches your attention next. He is clearly the intuitive one. He will either be a pain to deal with, or a beneficial asset.

At last, your eyes meet Hunter’s. Such a tiny gesture of nothingness feels like you’ve just been thrust into a timeless world of something far more significant. You quickly dismiss your gaze, but soon find your eyes wandering back to him. His eyes are already on you.

Tech quickly picks up on your silent interaction and nudges Hunter to break him of his trance. Hunter quickly snaps out of it and clears his throat. He is dumbstruck by his response. His heart beats recklessly.

Taking note of his counterpart’s vitals, Tech is left unsettled by the quickening of Hunter’s heart rate. “Hunter, I need you to focus on your breathing. Your heart rate is abnormally high.”

Setting your sight once more on the rugged clone trooper, you catch the ever-changing hue of his cheek…the one that isn’t covered in dark ink. A hint of red paints his untouched skin.

He clears his throat, “Erm-thank you for alerting me Tech. I’ll be aboard the ship.”

Cody shrugs his shoulders at you, “I guess you’ll brief them on the ship. Have a safe trip.”

“Thank you Cody, ” you clap him on the shoulder and follow the rogue crews lead onto their ship.

++++

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚊𝚢

“Where are we going to go? We need somewhere we can set up camp that isn’t easily tracked, ” Echo declares.

“There is one place I can think of, but I’m not sure that Hunter will be a fan of the location, ” Tech announces apprehensively.

Hunter lets out a groan and tightens his fist.

Wrecker laughs, “Hunter doesn’t like this idea! Which means I like it even more!”

Glaring at Wrecker, Hunter abruptly stands and stomps off into the cockpit.

“Where is it?” Echo inquires. He leans in, intrigued by the atmosphere that has suddenly befallen the Marauder.

“Let’s just say…we’d have to get help from an old friend.”

“Ha! An old friend!?” Wrecker blurts out, “Try an old fla-”

“That’s enough, ” Hunter commands, having regained his composure, “We will attempt to make contact this evening and if we have no response by the morning, we will seek out other options.”

++++

All night Hunter stayed up, much to the dismay of his crewmates, awaiting an incoming communication. His mind told him that it would never come through; his heart made him believe…or at least hope otherwise.

He stretches his arms into the air, releasing a hardy yawn. Tech enters the cockpit, “Anything?”

“Nothing, ” Hunter responds with a hint of despair clouding his words.

Just then, a muffled echo transmits through the comms unit. Hunter nearly falls out of the captain’s chair as he scrambles to the commlink.

“This is Phoenix 178095 trying to contact Clone Force 99. I repeat, this is Phoenix 1780-“

“Copy Phoenix 178095, this is Clone Force 99,” Hunter announces almost frantically.

The only response is silence…until, “Hunter? Hunter, is that you?”

The rugged clones grasp on the comlink tightens, and he touches it to his forehead. His eyes are locked shut, his breath unsteady.

“Yes. It’s me.”

You hear his guttural voice and suddenly, your memories which you’ve strived to suppress come flooding back, knocking the wind out of you.

Attempting to swallow the lump that insists on crowding your throat, you press down the transmitter button, but fail to express your thoughts.

“What?” A menacing voice echoes out, “Lothcat got your tongue?”

You chuckle, pressing the comlink to your forehead, “well if it isn’t my favorite piston head.” Piston head, a nickname you have used to refer to Crosshair for as long as you can remember. You find it fitting because term is in reference to a droid, similar to the droid-like manner in which Crosshair carries himself.

“So!” Shouts a third, brooding and somewhat childish voice, “Are we bunking with you or what?”

“Yes Wrecker, you are more than welcome to stay here.”

“Thank you, ” Hunter softly says into the comm’s mic. His voice still brings warmth to your soul, although the communicator slightly alters it.

“Get here safely.”

“Always do.”

“I know, ” you affirm and disconnect the commlink.

Looking around at the empty room, which mere seconds ago was filled with the sound of your closest friends’ voices, you feel once again plagued by loneliness.

It has been nearly three years since you last spoke to them. Choosing to once again shove your feelings down deep inside you, rather than let the pain consume you, you prepare for their arrival.

++++

“Maybe one day we will meet again, when all of this is over. Perhaps then we will have the freedom to say all that we have long held in, ” you exhaust yourself in the effort to fight back the words that are bottled up inside of you.

A void and emotionless, expression spans across his face as he finally acknowledges the weight of the moment. A single tear threatens to spill over, and he clenches his fist to fight back the giant hole that is forming in his heart.

“Y/N, ” he utters, “I-”

“Hunter! It’s time for us to go, ” Tech calls out.

++++

Your entire body jerks to a standstill when you hear the hum of their ship landing.

Hunter feels a sudden sickening sensation throughout his body.

“Deep breaths, brother. You don’t want your little reunion to be overruled by sweaty palms and rosy cheeks, ” Crosshair teases.

Hunter groans, “We are here for a short period of time until we can safely get back to Kamino. Until then, this is strictly business as usual.”

“Whatever you say Hunter,” he flicks his toothpick into the garbage receptacle with perfect aim.

The leader of the clone force, known for being courageous, daring, and valiant has abruptly shifted to a timid and uncertain man. But that’s just it. He felt like a man. A feeling only familiar when around you. Every other day of the rotation, he is merely a defective clone—a misfit who despite his enhanced abilities, is thrown into combat, aware of the fact that he is completely dispensable. Because he is merely one of hundreds of thousands of others just like him, he feels like he is just another carbon copy dispersed off of a factory line. Yet, around you, he never felt that way.

He watches out the cockpit window and sees you emerge from your homestead. His heart somersaults.

“Shall we disembark Hunter?” Tech asks.

He nods.

You are so lost in your thoughts that you hardly notice the troopers exiting their ship. It isn’t until Wrecker has scooped you up into his arms that you are jostled back to reality.

“Wreck!” You cry out in excitement as you wrap your arms around him.

Crosshair lends you a wink that you flirtatiously mirror. It’s always fun seeing him fight back a cheeky grin.

Tech is clearly holding back, so you eagerly close the distance between you two and envelope him in your arms. Initially, he hesitates but rapidly works up the bravery to reciprocate.

Chuckling at his hold on you, you tease, “I don’t know who gives the stronger hugs! You, or Wrecker.” He quickly releases you and straightens his glasses.

“Who’s this?” You motion towards the pale, almost sickly-looking clone. In fact, he looks more like a machine than a clone.

“I’m Echo, ” he extends his hand to you. Accepting it, you introduce yourself in return.

Hunter appears from behind the group. Suddenly, you lose the ability to think straight, let alone speak. His eyes meet yours and you share a somber smile. Each taking a step toward each other, you close the distance between you. Unable to resist any longer, you throw your arms around him, drawing him tightly to you.

For a moment, he stands frozen. Hunter has imagined the feeling of taking you into his arms again more than he would like to admit. At last, he pushes his thoughts aside and encircles your waist with his strong embrace.

You can feel his heartbeat slowly accelerate; at least your heart isn’t the only one threatening to beat out of your chest. You seemingly melt into each other. His hands softly tracing circles on your lower back.

Knowing that this moment cannot last as long as you’d both like, you hesitantly pull away from him. His hands grip at your hips as if he is begging you to not stray from his grasp. Your heart yearns to pull him back into your embrace and to stay there with him forever.

Becoming aware of the world around you once again, you feel your face flush into a crimson red.

“Why are they just standing there like that?” Wrecker leans down to whisper to Tech.

“Sometimes, the most important messages do not need to be said with words,” he responds softly.

[kimnjss]

tricky part | knj

⤑  series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: fluff?? (idk, man. i think they’re cute.) ahem, some smut... nd we get a little angsty, of course.

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 8.1K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: (mentions of alcohol abuse). slight dirty talk, cursing, fingering, nipple play, handjob, unprotected sex, cumshot, doggy style, light hair pulling, multiple orgasms... i think that’s it.

⤑ chapter song: tonight (i wish i was your boy) - the 1975 (the entire song is namjoon is swear...)

⤑ A/N: hiiii! this is wicked late ., i took a nap today nd it was amazing . let me know what you think !! x

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 17:09

It takes longer than usual for you to get ready, stuck in the mirror contemplating whether or not what you're wearing is good enough. If maybe you should put your hair up instead of letting it fall freely. Would it be showing too much? But you wanted to show a little, right? This was a date after all, who didn't tease a little on the first date?

But this was Namjoon. Sensible, cautious, easily frazzled Namjoon. Would it turn him off? Or fluster him so he's showing off that cute dimpled smile of us. The one that he let slip when without even noticing it, cheeks flushing pink as he tried to avoid eye contact. Gosh, he was so cute!

Okay! Perfect solution, you're thinking as your eyes find the hair elastic on your dresser. You'd bring the hair tie and feel things out, read the room, and with the first desire to jump his bones, you'd tie your hair up. Giving him a perfect look at your shimmery collarbones, thank you Fenty, and the slope of your neck. No doubt he'd find himself thinking about pressing his lips against your skin at the sight of it.

Boys were simple. All of them. A mere flash of skin and they were putty in your hands. Joon was cute with it, though. So you'd let it slide. 

Your phone lights up, humming against your sheets. His name flashes in bold, waking up the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Weird. He must be here, no doubt outside waiting for you right now. He'd think you looked nice, right? Grant you one of his lingering stares that he's always so quick to avert.

That's when you knew you caught his eye. Pride warms your chest each and every time you're catching him. It took a little bit more effort to get Namjoon to turn his head. Yet, he was still a boy at the end of it. He'd end up looking at you one way or another, it's all about how you present it.

Which is exactly why you were yellow. A yellow two-piece that highlights the best parts of you. And you're sure you've made the right decision when you catch the stutter in his step, eyes flickering from your face to your legs then back again. Forcing himself not to look away the entire time you're walking up to him, black platform heels carrying you with ease. Only a few inches below him with them on.

“Hi,” You're saying with a grin, hand reaching out to grasp his bicep. Giving it a little squeeze and watching the way his eyes go wide. He's wearing sweats but still looks so good. As if he's stood in front of you in a three-piece suit, although you might be exaggerating.

He doesn't shake you off but doesn't exactly relax in your touch either. Fingers tapping against his thigh and you can't help but wonder if he's holding himself back from touching you. Lame. “You're wearing yellow,” He says after a moment, stating it as fact rather than something that was intentionally done for him and his attention.

Eyes rolling on a laugh, you're nodding your head. “Yeah. You like yellow,”

“I do,” His nod is curt and his tone is military.

Huffing, while stepping forward, easily pulling him a bit close to you. “Okay, rule number on to this date...” Lifting a single finger for reference. His eyes flicker to it before he's looking back down at you. “You're not allowed to think tonight, got it? No analyzing, calculating. Weighing the options. Just do and talk, get loose.” Giving his shoulder a playful shake, you're shocked to hear the laugh that falls from his lips.

Like an actual, really pretty laugh. “Alright, deal.” A proud smile threatens to split your face when you feel his hand lift, hesitant at first but landing on the small of the back. Albeit, just to guide you, but it's still something. “Let's get going,” He's guiding you with the gentle hand on your back, barely touching you but you're stomach was doing backflips.

How quickly the roles reversed. Hands clasped in front of you, urging yourself to calm down. To stop acting like some thirteen year old who still hasn't had their first kiss. You were twelve years and eighteen kisses past that. Get it together.

“Where's your car?” Stepping on your tiptoes, attempting to peak up the street to spot it. “Actually, what kind of car do you even drive? I've never seen it?” Eyes shifting up toward him, a quizzical look on your face.

You're missing the soft, “I don't...” That falls from his lips because you're brain is working overtime to guess what car he could possibly drive. “Hm, you kinda look like a Chevy guy... maybe a Honda? But, I could be wrong. Definitely not a sports car, though.” You couldn't imagine Joon in one of those loud, low to the ground car.

Whipping through traffic as if where he had to go was much more important than all the other people on the road. Yeah, that didn't fit.

He's taking offense to this for some reason, nose scrunching, and hands finding his hips. His steps even come to a halt. “Hey. Why not a sports car?”

You're letting out a laugh, not at him, of course. Just at how adorable he looks right now. Actually pouting, with his arms crossed in the middle of the sidewalk. You've never seen him like this, not even sure where this new Joon came from. But he might be even cuter than the Joon you knew and had a huge crush on.

Moving toward him, not even bothering to stop yourself from poking his pouted lip. “Come on, that's totally out of character. You're practical and sensible. You wouldn't splurge on a sports car, that's not even durable. Those cars get torn apart in accidents,” He's not really mad, obviously. Which is why it doesn't take long for him to lose the face.

“So which one is it? Honda or Chevy?”

A large arm is dropping around your shoulder, tucking you into his side as the two of you continue your timed steps down the sidewalk. “Neither. I don't have a car. Or my license,” Eyes nearly popping out of your head with his words, stopping in your tracks to get a good look at him. Just in case you might've heard him wrong.

But he shows no signs of correcting himself or clarifying what he had just said. “Wait. So how are we going to get there!?” Did he expect you to walk!? All the way to Daejeon? In these shoes... they were cute, but not the most comfortable. And they didn't need to be because they weren't meant for walking 100 miles at a time!

“We're gonna take the train, of course. How else?” He's not even looking like he knows he's talking nonsense.

Like, honestly. Did he expect you to ride a gross train dressed like this!? What if you got robbed? Or kidnapped? Or worse, thrown up on!? This outfit was irreplaceable, one of a kind. No way could you take it on a train, that wouldn't do. “No. That won't be necessary. I'll just call one of my drivers, they'll come get us,” You've got your phone out before you're even finishing your sentence.

Namjoon is quick to pluck the device from your fingers, a sly smile playing on his features as he tucks it into his pocket. “Let those people spend time with their families. It's Sunday. There won't even be that many people,” Two firm hands placed on your shoulders, he's turning you effortlessly. “The train, it'll be fun.”

“You're the only guy, in the universe that thinks riding the train will be fun.” He's laughing again and it's not cute as it was a few minutes ago. “Oh no, I meant fun for me. You're gonna hate it,”

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 17:37

Just as you predicted, the train is gross. And sticky. Crowded and sweaty. Joon holds you close as you weave through the sea of people, fingers laced with yours. Although you know it's purely for survival purposes, the flutter in your heart still rises from feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

You try not to make a huge deal about it. People rode the train every day and considering how many of them were in here, they've all survived. You'd be fine. Especially with this six-foot angel clearing the way for you at every turn.

Joon finds a seat for the both of you against the wall. Close with your thighs pressed together and he still hasn't released your hand from his grasp. It's cozy beside him, warm. Leaning your weight on to him, you try to be subtle but probably fail. He's concentrating on something on his phone and from the quick peak you were able to sneak, you see he's checking on your reservation for tonight.

Stomach flipping at the tiny fact he made a reservation for you two. It's so Namjoon to want to be triple prepared for anything, but the fact that it's in your favor makes you happy. No idea why, but that was the truth of the matter. More often than not happy when you were around him.

Even cramped in this stinky train, his hand in yours was enough to convince you, you were in the back of a limo. The unfocused chatter around you replaced with soft music that you'd play. Probably something he likes to listen to. His taste in music was quickly becoming yours the more time the two of you spent together.

He's dropping your hand for some reason that you don't realize until you're looking up to see him standing. Offering his spot to some brat with a broken leg. What the heck? Were you supposed to hold hands with this kid? Up without a word, didn't even bother to ask if you wanted him to get up.

Joining the other people standing, holding on to the railing and you're quickly deciding you don't like the distance. He watches as you stand to your feet, nose brushing against his chin. “Sit,” Gesturing to your now empty spot, earning a raised brow from him. 

“Come on, Yn. Your feet are gonna hurt. Just relax,” He tries to lower you back into your spot, but you're moving to the side with a shake of your head. “I'll be fine. Just sit,” Catching the stubborn glint in your eye, just begging him to argue, he chooses to drop it. Switching spots with you and sinking into the empty spot.

Not even a second after he's settling into the cushion, you're dropping yourself onto his lap. Arm wrapped around his shoulders, legs between his. Bum pressed firmly into his thigh. “Did you really think I was going to stand?” You laugh. He doesn't even look the least bit surprised, eyes rolling – but you catch the smile on the corner of his lips.

His hand finds the outer part of your thigh, holding your body steady as the car jostles. He doesn't move it even after the machine has settled, has even taken to tapping out a rhythm against your skin.

It's nice. Your new favorite song.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:17

You had to hand it to the guy, Kim Namjoon knew how to put a date together. Pure perfection from beginning to end, you're not sure if it's his careful attention to detail or the small possibility that he wanted to impress you... you've decided to go with the latter.

The entirety of dinner was spent talking about everything and nothing. Actually getting to know each other aside from the surface level, 'I make good music and you screen it while balancing your massive crush on me,'. He was telling you about the time he first met Yoongi: second year of high school, Yoongi was a really cool Senior, the type of cool guy that everyone knows, but like doesn't talk to anyone. He found Joon making out with some cheerleader in the band room, her hand down the front of his jeans... and made it all of his business to tease him about it for the rest of the semester. 

Never would you have deemed Joonie as the type to take part in such excessive PDA, and although he insists it was not his idea... well, agree to disagree.

You were even telling him about the first time you got blackout drunk, which resulted in you being banned from every last Shake Shack. The only thing you remember from that night was getting in the car to head to the club, already started pre-gaming beforehand. But as Jungkook likes to tell it, you were a melting pot of 'types of' drunks. 

Started the night trying to fistfight the bouncer, after only fifteen minutes in the club, which resulted in you... and all of your friends being kicked out. Went from not-so-discreetly trying to mount your boyfriend at the time, Jackson, to crying on the bathroom floor Shake Shack all before you were puking in the booth, after swearing (a million times) that you 'weren't gonna throw up'.

Followed by a screaming match between you and Hoseok as he apologized a thousand times over to the employee he had to call over for the mess, trying to assist her while she tried her best to keep a smile on her face. Jungkook carried you to the car, full-blown had to haul you over his shoulder as you screamed curses at your brother.

You don't remember any of that, though. Next thing you remember from that night after getting in the car to leave, was waking up to the sound of loud video games, hanging half-naked off the side of Jackson's bed.

You're more embarrassed than you though, telling that story out loud. how bad you used to be. That was the worst of it, but the other times weren't too great either. Of course, you've calmed down a bit. Really tried each and every time you were sent away to clean up your act. And you were good for a few months after you came back, and then you were not.

Surprisingly, Joon doesn't look disgusted when you tell him. And you're not sure if that's a good thing or not. Either he's extremely understanding or he was expecting your most embarrassing story to be something of the sort. You hope for the former but suspect the latter.

In reality, though. Namjoon found himself trying to figure out just what could've been going on in your life that you felt like any of that would help. He now knew with you there was always something hidden, a reason to your behavior that you oftentimes liked to brush off. Must've been bad. You probably had a hard time.

The highlight of the night, though, was hands down the play. You're not even sure if he knew what it was about when he chose it, but you were falling in love from the moment the current went up. Characters so vivid and engaging, dealing with real-life shit all while living in fear of the darkness that looms over their tiny village.

It wasn't hard for you to get totally immersed in the show, laughing along, getting upset, crying. And Joon stays seated by you the entire time, holding on to your hand. Not so sure when he picked it up, but he hasn't let it go in a while. Not that you were complaining. You liked the tiny shocks that followed every brush of his fingers.

He smiles when you laugh, laughs when you get upset, and wipes your tears when you cry. You're so sure, he missed the entire show.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:20

“You know, my best friend's an actor. Kinda a big deal at his agency... I could talk to him?” Joon throws in casually as the two of you make your way out of the theater, talking as he tosses his empty popcorn carton into the garbage. As if he didn't just drop some life-changing news.

You've heard of his friend, Kim Taehyung. Was an extra in his very first big drama role, a historical one where he faced an untimely death. The two of you never crossed paths and shared zero scenes together, but it was still pretty cool. To you. He didn't know you from a hole in the wall and the last thing you'd do was act like anyone's biggest fan.

But, this? What Namjoon was offering... that could be huge. The start that you needed and you wouldn't even have to go through your father. You could do it all on your own... kinda. “Oh! That would be amazing, Joon!? Why didn't...”

As quickly as the excitement hits you, it's being knocked right out of your body. The job that you already have and everything else that surrounded it. No way could you accept this. “Actually,” You're forcing a smile for Namjoon to see, “Let's put a pin in it. I want to focus on the company,” You wonder if it sounds as robotic as it feels.

“Why? You hate that place?” His hand has found yours again, arms swinging slightly as you walk. There's this curious look on his face like you're not making any sense. And you're not.

Why wouldn't you jump on the first chance to ditch that hell hole? The opportunity was right in front of your face, so why wouldn't you take it? You must be an idiot. Stockholm Syndrome? “Can I tell you a secret?” You're whispering despite the fact it's just the two of you on the street.

“Sure,” Gently, he's pulling you just a bit off of the path. Figuring whatever you have to tell him might be something he wants to sit down for, so he's getting comfortable on a bench, tugging you down beside him.

Not once letting go of your hand. “Hoseok is putting out an album in a few months. He's been juggling that and work-work. The time when my dad came down to talk to me... about the whole Hyungwon thing, he said he'd tank the album if I didn't start acting right,” That actually does surprise Joon, eyes going wide as a barely audible gasp leaving his lips.

You can just about guess what he's thinking, 'what kind of father...?'. And the easy answer was, yours. Your type of father would. Your type of father has. “That's why I need to stay focused. I can't screw up, he's been working so hard. I wouldn't be able to live with myself I ruin everything for him. Again.” That was a story for another time.

“Yn. That's fucked up. Does Hobi know?”

Scoffing, your eyes roll automatically. “Of course not and don't tell him. He thinks our dad is the best. 'Strict, but the best'.” Your tone changes slightly to mock his deeper voice. “Thinks he's hard on me only because of how I act and while I know that doesn't help, that wouldn't change anything. We're all just pawns in his game. His stupid Legacy.”

It's weird because you don't even sound sad. Just numb. Like you've accepted that this was how the way things were and this was how they were going to be. He wished there was something he could do, stand up to your dad for you, tell him all the things you're afraid to. But that would be stupid, for him and for you. It wasn't his place and he'd only make it worse. No matter how badly he wanted to just step in, there was really only one thing he could do.

Your hand is much smaller in his, soft and cute. Nails painted a pretty deep blue to compliment the yellow of your dress. Squeezing softly, he's lifting his lips into a smile for you to see. And since he's been trying to take your advice and stop thinking so much, he's lifting your hand. Pressing feather-like kisses against your knuckles.

The gesture so sickeningly-sweet, you're not sure if you should puke or cry. Or both. He's looking up at you, smiling really wide before he's moving closer, lips finding your forehead making you feel warm all over. Butterflies holding a wrestling match in your stomach and you might just burst into tears.

“I can't interfere with your family. Especially when you're not asking me to. Just know, if you ever want to start doing what you really want I'll support it. I'll support you.” You feel the pressure building behind your eyes, the thickness in your throat. All over three stupid words that you had no idea you've been waiting to hear.

It's overwhelming. Desperately fighting back the wetness that teases your waterline. With a hard blink and a huff of air – you're pushing a smile onto your face. Aware of how fake it looks, but it'll have to do as you lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” You're grinning, hand patting his knee before you're hopping up from your spot beside him on the bench.

A hand extended down to him. “Come on, dessert on me!” You giggle because it feels right. And he takes your hand, allowing you to pull him from to his feet. Tugging him along behind you with your face pointed to the night sky. Not saying anything until you're sure your voice won't break.

And even then it's a quiet mumble, “You've earned something sweet.”

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:59

Your hair has gone up. Revealing the slope of your neck and the shimmer on your collarbones. And as you predicted, Joon watches you through the entire process. Lips wrapped around your ice cream cone, holding it in place as your hands move quickly to pull your hair out of your face. His gaze dropping to your mouth as you lick mess the treat his left from your lips.

Hook. Line. And sinker. 

“Do you have any weird kinks?” You don't even look at him when you say it, focus on creating a peak on your ice cream cone.

Joon's choking a cough out around his shaved ice, eyes blinking hard as he clears his throat, lifting his gaze up to you. “Excuse me, what!?” An easy laugh falls from your lips, shoulders shrugging slightly. Taking pride in how easily you could fluster. “You know... weird kinks. Things that get you going, but are kinda weird,” 

“Like a fetish?” You're shrugging, barely interested in the choice of word. “I'm sure there's a difference, but for the sake of this. Sure,”

He had to have something, there was no way he didn't. Everyone had something and you refused to believe that he was even composed and well thought out in that area. There had to be something that made him lose his cool. Had to be.

“Uhm,” He's clearing his throat, cheeks seeming to grow darker the more time you spent staring at him. “I wouldn't say it's weird, but I like...” His attention falls to his dessert, twirling his spoon around in the frozen shavings. Would you think it was too weird? Consider it a deal-breaker and decide to not talk to him again. You probably wouldn't even care, there wasn't much that you cared about he was finding.

But, you could surprise him. And what if... wait, why was he even stressing about this in the first place!? “Why are you even asking me this?” Such a random topic interrupting your peaceful silence staring at the water.

Again, you lift your shoulders in a shrug. “I'm curious. Here, I'll tell you mine.” You pause to flash a breathtaking grin up at him. “Put your hand up,” Joon doesn't even hesitate to lift his palm, heart stuttering when you're pressing yours against his. As if you're comparing sizes and he can't help but curl his fingers down into the space that's left.

“See that? What you just did? Drives me crazy. And also...” Hand dropping from his to lay flat on his chest and on reflex his muscle is tensing, pecs jumping underneath your touch. It's actually so sexy you contemplate dropping to your knees right then and there. You suppress the urge, but don't make any moves to lifting your hand. “Big hands? And muscles. Phew. Throw in a pair of cute dimples and it's over,” 

It's obvious at this point that you're literally referring to him, not intentionally of course. He just happened to check every last one of those boxes. “Why's that?” He's staring at you with these eyes that you've never seen before. Dark and filled with want.

You liked it.

“Makes me feel cute and small, I guess. Like if you... or any guy, but let's just say you, were to use your big hands to pick me up and hold me there while we-” His eyes go wide when he catches on to the end of your sentence, rushing out a frantic, 'Oh okay, I get it!'. Watch as you bursting into a fit of giggles.

He ignores you, taking to peering around the bridge, checking for anyone within earshot that might've heard what you were about to say. Only to find that you two were the only people out here. Unless he was worried about judgmental glares from the birds, you were fine.

“So...” He's starting only after he's done his full scenery check. “You like feeling small, then? That's interesting,” Forever impossible to read, no idea what he meant by interesting, but as always you were running with it.

Steering this night, which had been an amazing date, in a direction that was a little less PG. Brow arched and a smirk playing on your lips, you move into his space. Hand sliding down the front of his body, meeting his waist. Holding a soft grip on the fabric of his sweater, you rise onto your toes, nose just inches from his.

“And? What do you plan to do with this information?” Could swear a small gasp falls from his lips, feeling your free hand tug on the long drawstring of his pants.

There are a million and one thoughts running through his mind right now. Every last one of them revolving around you. How good you look underneath that skirt, how good you smell standing this close to him. The way he could see the faint freckles on your cheeks, faded from your makeup. Yet, through all of his mangled thoughts, there's one that stands out amongst all of them.

You're so beautiful.

And not in the ways that you'd think. Yes, your face fit the standard, and the confidence you carried yourself with was more than deserved, but there was more. Beautiful underneath all of that and he could see it and even with this new stiffness tenting at the front of his jeans, it's all he can focus on.

Soft giggles fill his ears, coming from you realizing the way he was staring at you. Not saying a single word, just looking. “You're stalling. What's yours?” Taking a step back, you allow him a chance to breathe. Just barely noticing the twitch of his arm, ready to pull you close to him again.

“Okay, fine.” Joon's saying with a roll of his eyes, not the annoyed one that you've grown used to. It's playful, cute paired with the smile on his lips. “I like...” Large hand reaches out, landing firmly on your hip, effectively catching you off guard but he doesn't even give you a second to react before he's twisting your back toward him.

A shiver dancing down your spine as the tips of his fingers gently trace the link in the middle of your back. Actually having to bite down on your lip to keep from any noises slipping out in response to his light touch. “That. It looks sexy,”

Now you know how he feels when you tease him. Breathless and flustered all because he touched your back!? Come on, it was about time you got your shit together. Turning in his grasp, your features morph feigning confusion. “You like backs?” 

“No! Not just backs. I Mean the dip... and if there's dimples back there. That's always a plus,” He says with a shrug, but you know exactly what he's doing. It was your game, basically invented it.

But judging from the flutter in your chest, he was better at it. “I have dimples back there,” It sounds dumb to your ears, like 'duh, he knows that stupid.. that's why he said it,' but you can't think of anything else to say. Thoughts clouded with how good being touched by him felt and coming up with ways to get more of that.

And he's moving as if he's read your mind, arm wrapping around your waist. Pulling your body to him with this newfound boldness that has a shocked gasp falling from your lips. “I know you do,” His voice is so deep and so sexy, only loud enough for the two of you to hear. You could spend hours just listening to him talk, no doubt. God, you needed to get it together.

“Oh, yeah? You've been sneaking peaks?”

He nods. Like, doesn't even bother to try and hide behind some half-assed explanation why he might've noticed, just owns it. He's so hot. “I'm very observant,” His words have you wondering what else he's noticed about you. How much time did he spend just 'observing', as he liked to call it.

You could figure that out later, there were much more pressing matters at hand right now. Kissing him. Through with the back and forth, you needed to feel his lips against yours. The fragmented memory of the first and only time was quickly fading, you needed something fresh.

With your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, you lean into him. Chin tilted up and eyes slowly falling closed, you're just inches from his mouth when that deep voice of his is breaking through. “Are you gonna kiss me?”

“Wow, you are observant,” Breathing out a laugh, you're nodding eyes lifting to find his. He even looked good from this close. “Wait.” His quick movements startle you, a not so cute squeal filling the night air as he bends to lift you, effortlessly wrapping your legs around his waist.

You're both laughing, like side aching chuckles. And you're certain you've never seen him like this before. Eyes forming crescent moons as loud snickers fall from his grinning lips. He's pretty. You're so dazed by that simple fact that you don't notice the way his laughter has died down into soft breaths.

Not until silence is falling over both of you and he's leaning up to press his lips against yours. Large hand lifting to tangle in your hair as he kisses you.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 23:29

And he doesn't stop kissing you. Not on the train home where you sit on his lap and he swallows every last one of your whines. Not on the walk to your place where he keeps his arm around your shoulder, occasionally leaning down to press kisses against your cheeks. Even stood at your doorstep, you're still like teenagers who just discovered making out.

“Do you want to come up?” You're murmuring against his lips, sentences barely coherent through the push of your lips.

He's registering your words a few moments after you've said them, pulling back to reveal the worried expression on his features. Doesn't say anything, though. Like he's stuck between taking you up on your offer and whatever concern is plaguing his mind.

And then it's hitting you. “Hoseok's out with some girl. Just in case you're worried about that,” You don't miss the way his face relaxes, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. Pulling a blase expression, moving into your space again. “Why would I be worried about that?”

Eyes rolling, you let out a laugh. “Oh, my mistake.” You mock, turning to unlock your front door. Joon is following steps behind you into the house, no sign of Hoseok in sight. Not like he'd really care, on Namjoon's part. Just give you an ear full about how your actions would affect the company.

So, you're glad he's out. In no mood to hear any of that tonight. “Do you want a glass of wine?” Namjoon is following you into the kitchen, nodding along to your words.

He just can't seem to take his eyes off you. Followed your movements from the pantry to the cabinets all the way to the island where you poured alcohol into glasses for the two of you. Watched the way your lips tickled the neck of the bottle, sucking up the droplets that had spilled, dark eyes finding his the moment you're pulling back.

Daring him. To do something. Anything. Joon knew he needed to be bold. Impulsive. Throw caution to the wind and deal with the consequences later. It's how you got what you wanted all the time and right now, he wanted you.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he's rounding the island. Closing the space between the two of you. Hand cupping the side of your face as he wraps an arm around your waist. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, rhythmically. “I don't want wine,” Your heart hammers in your chest.

“What do you want?” You ask, although, you already know the answer.

He takes to showing you rather than telling you, using the grip he holds around your waist to lift your body onto the counter. Stepping into the space between your legs before he's covering your mouth with his. 

This kiss is much different from the others, no longer testing the waters. There's determination behind each movement of his lips. Both hands gripping your waist, pulling your body forward until his hips are pressed to yours. His tongue slips past his soft lips to graze your bottom lip. And you're opening up for him without a moment of hesitation, fingers tangling in his messy locks, and pulling – a low groan emerging from the back of his throat.

He's pushing his body flush against yours, hips lifting rightly and you feel the twitch of his cock through his sweats. Sweet moans fall from your lips with every roll of his hips, deliberately pushing down desperate to feel more of him. Your senses are filled with him. The taste of his tongue, the sweet smell of his cologne, how good it feels to have him pressed up against you.

Strong hands roam around your body, gripping the fabric of your skirt tight enough to have it inching up the smooth skin of your thighs. Gently cupping the back of your neck to hold your head steady as he licks into your mouth. He can't seem to make up his mind, greedily wanting to touch all of you at once.

You're meeting everyone of his upward thrusts with a downward roll of your hips, moans growing louder between the two of you with each brush of your most sensitive parts. And you want more. Legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, you needed more.

“Fuck, princess.” He's gasping out, not leaving a moment to spare for you to marvel at the pet name that fell from his lips so easily. His mouth makes steady work on your neck, suck red blotches into your skin as the palm of his hand moves down the front of your body. Sneaking underneath the hem of your skirt, your body jolts when he's pressing the tips of his fingers to your slit through the soft fabric of your panties.

Pretty moans fill the room as he teases you, fingers tight in his hair. Heady becoming heavy for your shoulders as the pleasure he's ensuing washes over you. “Namjoon,” You're gasping, hips bucking up when he's pressing his fingers against your sensitive clit. Above the cotton, but each stroke has electricity cruising through your veins.

He chuckles as your whines become more insistent, hips following the movement of his fingers. “That feel good?” Head bobbing frantically, your legs spread wider for him. So sure, you're soaked all the way through from the way he's palming roughly at your panties. He's confirming your thoughts with a groan and a breathy, “You're so fucking wet,”

“Please, Joon. More.” Panting as your hips lift up toward him. He's grinning wide, pressing a soft kiss to the skin of your neck before he's nudging your panties out of the way. “So greedy,” He teases, at the same time his fingers find your clit. He's pressing lazy circles into the sensitive nub, taking his time despite the needy roll of your hips. “Tell me what you want,” Dark eyes travel up the length of your body to your face, you don't even bother to mask the moan that slips at the sight.

An experimental finger teases your entrance, sneaking in past the first knuckle before quickly pulling out and repeating the same action. If it wasn't for the solid stiffness pressed against your thigh, you'd guess that he was torturing you for the hell of it. But judging from the steady rut of his hips, he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

You couldn't wait any longer, though. This moment has plagued your thoughts since the first time you were meeting him. What it would be like to be with him like this. Have him fuck you. You'd surely die if it wasn't now. “Fuck me,” The words come out more whiny than you originally intended but, hey. “Please, Namjoon.”

“Soon, princess.” He promises, sinking his middle finger into your tightness. Eyes flickering between your bodies so he can watch the way the single-digit disappears within your walls. So fascinated with the movement of his own fingers and egged on with your pretty moans, he's quickly pushing another finger in.

Namjoon's mouth finds yours, swallowing every last one of your hushed moans as he fucks into you. Scissoring you open with his long fingers, free hand tugging at the bottom of your top until it's around your waist, tits spilling out. He's groaning against your lips as his palm cups you from underneath, thumb lifting to brush against your nipple.

His head is lowering until he's able to latch his lips around the hardening bud. His sharp teeth graze over it slightly, gentle tongue washing over the slight pinch of his bites. You're whimpering at the feeling of his thumb pressing into your clit, back falling against the cool countertop as your hips move in tandem with his fingers.

It's not long before he's nudging a third finger past your walls, lips moving to mouth on the other side. Thumb moving expertly over your clit while his fingers provide such a delicious stretch, you're squirming beneath him. Searching for something to grip onto as the pressure begins to build in the pit of your stomach.

You take to tugging his hair, pushing his face against your chest as your back arches off of the counter. Wanton moans filling the room, you're being so loud but you can't find the strength to quiet down. Not while he's making you feel this good. And then all at once, he's pushing in deeper, fingers curling and brushing against that rough patch of skin hidden deep inside of you.

“Oh, fuck! Don't stop, don't stop.” You're chanting over and over, hips rocking into his palm and Joon has no plans of stopping. Not when you sound like that, each whine and whimper shooting straight to his cock. He feels the way your walls flutter around his fingers and he's quickly lifting his head to watch your face.

There's a sheen layer of sweat on your forehead. Eyes rolled back as your lashes flutter, lips slightly pursed. Jaw falling slack, a breathless gasp slipping at the same time he feels a gush of wetness surrounding his fingers. Incoherent mumbles of thanks fall from your lips as your body shakes. He keeps his fingers buried inside of you, thrusting slowly until your words are dying down to soft breaths.

Opting to give you the time you may need to regain your composure... which only lasts a few seconds before you're sitting up. Arms and legs pulling him toward you. “Fuck, that was so good.” You say through a laugh, mouth finding his in a sloppy kiss as you work to pull his sweatshirt from his body.

Joon follows your lead, working on tugging his sweats out of the way. Your soft hand meets his, gently pushing it out of the way and dipping into the front of his boxers. Palm closing around his thick shaft and your eyes are going wide, fingers not being able to meet around the base.

“Holy, fuck...” Your hand drags over his length, more so measuring him than anything. Excitement igniting in your chest the longer it takes for your hand to meet the tip. Which is leaking with precum at this point, you feel it when your palm finally covers the tip and then use it to make moving your hand back down easier.

His hips follow the movement of your hand, attempting to fuck into the opening your palm created. Spaced out as the pleasure slowly clouds his mind. He looked so good. Chest and stomach flexing as he moves, shining underneath the dull kitchen lights. Brows furrowed and jaw clenched, making dimples appear at the sides of his mouth.

Your free hand slides down the front of his body until the tips of your fingers are brushing against his balls. Massaging them underneath the slight pressure while your wrist twists over his cock. “Yn, baby. Wait... fuck,” His hips are stuttering to a stop, hand reaching down to still the movement of your palm.

“I won't last,” A soft pink dusts his cheeks as he looks up at you, eyes glossed over and barely focused. He's letting out a breathless laugh before he's leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I wanna fuck you first,”

The admission is waking up something entirely different inside you. Something you can't easily place and are in no mood to decipher. Instead, you grin, returning the kiss to his lips before grinning. “Fuck me, please.”

That's all he needs to hear before he's taking a step back from you, not giving you a moment to feel his absence before he's sliding you from the counter. Hands on your hips to turn your back to him, his large hand resting on the middle of your back. “Bend over,” Voice deep in your ear, you'd very much walk off the edge of a cliff if he was asking you like that.

You bend forward without any protest, the cool granite pressing against your exposed nipples. Joon holds a hand just above your ass, the other wrapped around the base of his cock – guiding himself toward your aching core. His thick head nudges against your tight hole and you both gasp as you swallow him in.

He takes his time, allowing you to feel every inch as he slips in. And you don't miss the way his thumb has moved to rest in the indent just above the swell of your ass. Pulling your body toward him with his grip. His huffed breath tickling your back the moment he's bottoming out.

Palms formed fists beside you, concentrating on your breathing as you get used to the feeling of being stretched this way. Slowly, he's pulling out until the head is catching at your entrance then he's pushing his way back in, your body sliding up on the counter with the movement. The stuttered movement of his hips slowly shifts into a steady rhythm that has a string of moans falling from your lips.

Strong, bruising thrusts into your backside paired with the gruff groans that escape his throat. He's so deep, the tip of his cock nudging against your g-spot with each thrusts forward. “Fuck, look how perfectly you take my cock, baby.” He groans, eyes glued to the way your lips are wrapped around him.

All you can muster back in response is a weak whine, a garbled cry of big he was... or how good he feels. Mind nothing but mush at this point, the overwhelming pleasure from the way he was fucking, softening your brain. Either way, he takes the incoherent noises as a compliment, speeding up the snap of his hips.

You all about lose it when he's reaching down to grip your hair, lifting your body onto his, keeping a steady movement of his hips as he reaches around you to find your clit. Rolling it between his knuckles until he's feeling that familiar squeeze around his shaft. Soaking up every whimper and every cry as he brings you closer and closer to release.

“You gonna cum again for me, baby?” Gasping out, your head bobs up and down, back arching in hopes to steal more than what he was willing to give you. “Please, make me cum.” He can feel the way your walls flutter around him, the whine in your voice. And since he's inclined to give you whatever you want, Joon's angling his hips in a way that he knows will make you cum.

And it's not long before the pressure is snapping in the pit of your stomach, loud cries filling the room as your hips lift into a shake. Walls clenched so tight around his cock, it's enough to nudge him over the edge. He fucks into you with great fervor, leaning your body back onto the counter as his hips snap against yours.

Thrusts becoming sloppy and untimed as he feels himself falling apart, an odd mixture of curses and your name falling from his lips as he feels his body tense. He's pulling out as a hurried afterthought, hand acting as a lame substitute for your wet core as he strokes himself to completion. Spilling onto your back with a strained groan.

And then the kitchen goes silent, nothing but the sounds of your heavy breaths and the hum of the fridge filling the room. Neither of you says anything, both trying to come back to your senses. A few moments pass before he's hearing the soft sound of your giggle, body rising off your stomach to turn and face him. He looks so dazed and fucked out, cheeks flushed and eyes blown. Hair a mess and breath ragged. He looked so hot.

A hand finds the back of his neck, fingers tangling into the soft hair there. Joon's grinning when his eyes find yours, an arm wrapping around your waist. Pulling you closer, because it never felt like you were close enough. “We just fucked,” You state the obvious, can't find it in yourself not to.

It was nice. You liked it. You liked him. Everything about him, you just found yourself liking. His laugh. His smile. How easily he was annoyed. The cute dimples. The sound of his voice. You liked him.

“Yeah, we did.” He's replying, a little breathless but he still manages to lean down to capture your lips with his. A short kiss that has you leaning up, silently asking for me. He denies you with a cute shake of his head. “Let's go upstairs. I wanna go down on you,” Okay, bold Joon was something you were definitely going to have to get used to. 

He's twirling you around when you don't move to lead him, large hand dropping to tap against your ass cheek, pulling a giggled squeal from your lips. “Ah!” You're laughing when he's reaching to do it again, instead taking hold of his hand. Fingers easily intertwining as you tug him behind you.

His back pressed to yours, cock growing hard against your backside as you lead him up the stairs and into your room. The sound of laughter only growing between the two of you.

Yeah, you liked him a lot.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 23:58

Your body is warm against his, back pressed to his chest. Soft moans filling the air as he holds you close, pushing into you, chasing yet another release. This time in your bed. With you in his arms and it feels different. It feels nice. It makes him wonder... what's next? If there's something more for him to hope for.

He wanted to be with you, to put it simply. Never would've imagined it'd be you, but now he can't imagine it being anyone else. But things just sometimes worked out that way. Namjoon wanted to be yours, but in turn, he wanted you to be his.

Somehow, he felt like that might be the tricky part of it all.

— daughter of the ceo of the biggest record label, it’s obvious she’d get whatever and whoever she wants. but what happens when she’s meeting the one person that refuses to play into her spoiled brat act?

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[maxwell-grant]

What are your thoughts on Jekyll/Hyde and his archetype of the human periodically changing into a monster ?

Jekyll & Hyde was the 2nd horror story I read following Frankenstein, I got it off the same library and it always stuck very strongly with me even before I got into horror in general. I even dressed up as Jekyll/Hyde as a kid for a school fair by shredding a lab coat on one side and asking my sister to make-up claw gashes on my exposed arm and paint half of my face, although in hindsight I think I ended up looking more like Doctor Two-Face than Jekyll/Hyde, but I was 12 and didn't have any Victorian clothing to use so I had to make do. The first film project I tried doing at film school was intended to be a modern take on Jekyll & Hyde, and I didn't get much farther than a couple of discarded scripts

Much like Frankenstein, Mr Hyde as a character and a story is something that's kind of baked into everything I do artistically. And it's not just me, as even in pop culture itself, none of us can escape Mr Hyde. I would go so far as to argue Mr Hyde may be the single most significant character created by victorian fiction, if only by the sheer impact and legacy the character's had.

(Fan-art by guilhermefranco)

Part of what makes Mr Hyde such a powerful and lasting icon of pop culture is that the very premise of the book invites a personal reading that's gonna vary from person to person. Because everyone's familiar with the basic twist of the story, that it's a conflict of duality, of the good and evil sides, but everyone has a more personal idea of what those entail. Some people make the story more about class. A lot of readings laser-focus on sex and lust as the driving force, and there's also a lot of readings of Mr Hyde that tackle it to explore a more gendered perspective, and so forth.

I don't particularly take much notice of the Jekyll & Hyde adaptations partially because the novel's premise and themes have become baked so throughly into pop culture and explored in so many different and interesting ways, that I'm not particularly starving for good Jekyll & Hyde adaptations the way I am for Dracula and Frankenstein. The Fredric March film in particular is one that orbits my head less because of the film itself (although I do recommend it), but because of one specific scene, and that's when Jekyll first transforms into Hyde on screen.

Out of all the things they could have shown him doing right that second, they instead took the time to show him enjoying the rain.

Just Hyde taking off his hat and letting it all cascade on his face with this sheer enthusiasm like he's never been to the rain before, never enjoyed it before, and now that he's free from being Jekyll, he gets to enjoy life like he never has before. It's such an oddly humanizing moment to put amidst a horror movie, in the scene where you're ostensibly introducing the monster to the audience, and it makes such a stark contrast to the rest of the film where Hyde is completely irredeemable, but I think it's that contrast that makes the film's take on Hyde work so well even with it's diverging from the source material, even if I don't particularly like in general interpretations of Hyde that are focused on a sexual aspect.

Because one, it understands that Jekyll was fundamentally a self-serving coward and not a paragon of goodness, and two, it also understands one of the things that makes Hyde scary: He wants what all of us want, to live and be happy. He's happy when he leaves the lab and dances around in the rain like a giddy child, he's happy when he goes to places Jekyll couldn't dream of showing up, he's happy as a showgirl-abusing sexual predator. Hyde is all wants, all the time, and there's not that much difference between his wants, his domineering possessiveness, and the likes exhibited by Muriel's father and Jekyll's own within the very same film, which also works to emphasize one of the other ideas of the original story, that Edward Hyde doesn't come from nowhere. That no monster is closer to humanity than Mr Hyde, because he is us. He is the thing that Jekyll refused to take responsability for until it was too late.

(Art by LorenzoMastroianni)

While many of the ideas that defined Mr Hyde had already been explored in pop culture beforehand, Hyde popularized and redefined many of them in particular by modernizing the idea. He was the werewolf, the doppelganger, The Player On The Other Side, except he came from within. He was not transformed by circumstance, he made himself that way, and the elixir merely brought out something already inside his soul. To acknowledge that he's there is to acknowledge that he is you, and to not do that is to either lose to him, or perish. Hyde was there to address both the rot settling in Victorian society as well as grappling concerns over Darwinian heritage, of the realization that man has always had the beast inside of him (it's no accident that Hyde's main method of murder is by clubbing people to death with his cane like a caveman).

I've already argued on my post about Tarzan that the Wild Man archetype, beginning with Enkidu of The Epic of Gilgamesh, is the in-between man and beast, between superhero and monster, and that Mr Hyde is an essential component of the superhero's trajectory, as the creature split in between. That stories about dual personalities, doppelgangers, the duality of the soul, the hero with a day job and an after dark career, you can pinpoint Hyde as a turning point in how all of these solidified gradually in pop culture. And I've argued otherwise that The Punisher, for all that his image and narrative points otherwise, is ultimately just as much of a superhero as the rest of them, even if no one wants to admit it, drawing a parallel between The Punisher and Mr Hyde. And he's far from the only modern character that can invite this kind of parallel.

The idea of a regular person periodically or permanently transforming into, or revealing itself to be, something extraordinary and fantastic and scary, grappling with the divide it causes in their soul, and questions whether it's a new development or merely the truest parts of themselves coming to light at last, and the effects this transformation has for good and bad alike. The idea of a potent, dangerous, unpredictable enemy who ultimately is you, or at least a facet of you and what you can do. That these are bound to destroy each other if not reconciled with or overcome.

You know what are my thoughts on the archetype of "human periodically changing into a monster" are? Look around you and you're gonna see the myriad ways The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde's themes have manifested in the century and a half since the story's release. Why it shouldn't be any surprise whatsoever that Mr Hyde has become such an integral part of pop culture, in it's heroes and monsters alike. Why we can never escape Mr Hyde, just as Jekyll never could.

It is Nixon himself who represents that dark, venal and incurably violent side of the American character that almost every country in the world has learned to fear and despise. Our Barbie-doll president, with his Barbie-doll wife and his boxful of Barbie-doll children is also America's answer to the monstrous Mr. Hyde.

He speaks for the Werewolf in us; the bully, the predatory shyster who turns into something unspeakable, full of claws and bleeding string-warts on nights when the moon comes too close… - Hunter S. Thompson

There is a scene in the movie Pulp Fiction that explains almost every terrible thing happening in the news today. And it's not the scene where Ving Rhames shoots that guy's dick off. It's the part where the hit man played by John Travolta is talking about how somebody vandalized his car, and says this:

"Boy, I wish I could've caught him doing it. I'd have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It'd been worth him doing it, just so I could've caught him doing it."

That last sentence is something everyone should understand about mankind. After all, the statement is completely illogical -- revenge is supposed to be about righting a wrong. But he wants to be wronged, specifically so he'll have an excuse to get revenge. We all do.

Why else would we love a good revenge movie? We sit in a theater and watch Liam Neeson's daughter get kidnapped. We're not sad about it, because we know he's a badass and he finally has permission to be awesome. Not a single person in that theater was rooting for it to all be an innocent misunderstanding. We wanted Liam to be wronged, because we wanted to see him kick ass. It's why so many people walk around with vigilante fantasies in their heads.

Long, long ago, the people in charge figured out that the easiest and most reliable way to bind a society together was by controlling and channeling our hate addiction. That's the reason why seeing hurricane wreckage on the news makes us mumble "That's sad" and maybe donate a few bucks to the Red Cross hurricane fund, while 9/11 sends us into a decade-long trillion-dollar rage that leaves the Middle East in flames.

The former was caused by wind; the latter was caused by monsters. The former makes us kind of bummed out; the latter gets us high.

It's easy to blame the news media for pumping us full of stories of mass shootings and kidnapped children, but that's stopping one step short of the answer: The media just gives us what we want. And what we want is to think we're beset on all sides by monsters.

The really popular stories will always feature monsters that are as different from us as possible. Think about Star Wars -- what real shithead has ever referred to himself as being on "the dark side"? In Harry Potter and countless fantasy universes, you have wizards working in "black magic" and the "dark arts." Can you imagine a scientist developing some technology for chemical weapons or invasive advertising openly thinking of what he does as "dark science"? Can you imagine a real world leader naming his headquarters "The Death Star" or "Mount Doom"?

Of course not. But we need to believe that evil people know they're evil, or else that would open the door to the fact that we might be evil without knowing it. I mean, sure, maybe we've bought chocolate that was made using child slaves or driven cars that poisoned the air, but we didn't do it to be evil -- we were simply doing whatever we felt like and ignoring the consequences. Not like Hitler and the bankers who ruined the economy and those people who burned the kittens -- they wake up every day intentionally dreaming up new evils to create. It's not like Hitler actually thought he was saving the world.

So no matter how many times you vote to cut food stamps and then use the money to buy a boat, you could still be way worse. You could, after all, be one of those murdering / lazy / ignorant / greedy / oppressive monsters that you know the world is full of, and that only your awesome moral code prevents you from turning into at any moment. And those monsters are out there.

They have to be. Because otherwise, we're the monsters - 5 Reasons Humanity Desperately Wants Monsters To Be Real, by Jason Pargin

(Two-Face sequence comes from the end of Batman Annual #14: Eye of the Beholder)

For good or bad, Hyde has become omnipresent. He's a part of our superheroes, he's a part of our supervillains, he's in our monsters. He lives and prattles in our ears, sometimes we need him to survive, and sometimes we become Hyde even when we don't need to, because our survival instincts or base cruelties or desperation brings out the worst in us. Sometimes we can beat him, and sometimes he's not that bad. Sometimes we do need to appease him and listen to what he says, about us and the world around us. And sometimes we need to do so specifically to prove him wrong and beat him again.

But he never, ever goes away, as he so accurately declares in the musical

Do you really think That I would ever let you go...

Do you think I'd ever set you free?

If you do, I'm sad to say It simply isn't so

You will never get away FROM MEEEEEE

(Art by Akreon on Artstation)

[aeonmagnus]

Happy 20th Anniversary Robots In Disguise!

This year, and today in particular, marks the 20-year anniversary of Transformers Robots in Disguise airing in the United States.  This was the official English language dub of the Japanese show Transformers Car Robots, which aired in Japan the year before.   This show and it’s accompanying toy line were a big shift in the Transformers brand and affected how things moved forward in the new millennium.  It was also a big influence on me and this website in it’s early years, so both the brand and TFW2005 may not be what it is today without it.

We hope you will read on after the break to check out our celebration of Robots in Disguise on it’s 20th!

Intro

The following is not a comprehensive article on the show proper, but rather a trip down memory lane from my personal perspective.  It was a period of change in my life, in the fandom, in the brand, and in the world – all happening at once.  Robots in Disguise was smack dab in the middle of it all and I think that’s why it still resonates with me all these years later.  For a deeper dive into the world of Robots In Disguise you can check RIDForever.info, a site I maintain just about RID and Car Robots. The 2021 updates are here, and the 2017 round of updates are here.  I’d also suggest checking the TFWe issue all about RID over on the 2005 Boards.  Now, onto today’s festivities…

The Show

RID, and yes I say RID as if it is the only RID.  If you must reference that other RID show and it’s off-shoots, refer to it as RID 201x, thanks. 😊 RID aired during the Fox Kids programming block on a Saturday morning, with additional episodes set to air each weekday during the afternoon hours.  Instead of stretching the show out over the course of 30+ weeks with only a new ep each weekend, they were going to blaze through it non-stop.  By the end of the first week, we would have been 7 eps in.  That however hit a big roadblock due to 9/11 just three days later.  While some local markets did air the episodes, many larger city networks, and especially east coast markets, stuck with news coverage.   Many of us did not catch the early episodes on TV the first go around.  In addition, several of the episodes got pulled from TV due to depictions of buildings being destroyed and other similar visuals which understandably could upset children that just experienced 9/11.  So right off the bat, the new millennium and new era of Transformers were dealing with a new reality.

The show, for those that don’t know – was a weird one-off in Transformers history.  We had G1 and then the G2 remixes for a bit.  Beast Wars came on the scene and ran all the way through 2000 with it’s successor – Beast Machines.   During the Beast Wars era – Japan did a couple of their own Beast Wars shows, non-CGI extensions of what we saw in the US.   Their market wasn’t quite ready for full CGI so they stuck with traditional anime.  When Hasbro decided to continue Beast Wars into Beast Machines, Takara went a completely different way – a traditional animated show which brought back Autobots and “Decepticons”, mixing them in with the beasts.  They focused the toys on a couple new and complex molds, then filled the rest of the line with repaints of previous toys.  Old 2nd tier Beast Wars toys, G2 Laser Prime, and even some Generation 1 molds in the form of the Combaticons got new life as new characters in this show, capped with the biggest TF of them all at the time – a repainted G1 Fortress Maximus, now Brave Maximus.  It was the prototype for what the Transformers brand did for years to come – repainting old toys into new characters.  Universe, Classics, Botcon, and even some Generations runs used this method to give us some great toys in the 00s.

While there is a very complicated and long explanation for how every single Japanese show is one continuity, to someone casually starting with Car Robots it was a refresh, a new story, a new arrival on Earth.  The Autobots vs the Predacons, and eventually the Combatrons/Decepticons. It was a hard cut from the last 5 years or so of CGI Beasts.  Hand drawn traditional animation featuring vehicle Transformers.  It wasn’t G1, but many of the folks who grew up with G1 were just getting out of college around this time.  They were rediscovering their childhood love of Transformers through Beast Wars, flea market finds, raids on their parents’ attics and basements, and for the internet savvy – imports of Japanese reissues from Takara.  It was a perfect storm of nostalgia; a return to Autobots and Decepticons was welcomed by kids and adults alike.

RID and TFW2005

In the years leading up to Car Robots, I was just getting into the internet, coding, design, some digital music, and all the possibility that came with it.  Beast Wars, especially when it hit Season 2/3 and the inclusion of G1 lore, really got me focusing on Transformers again as a hobby.  I eventually combined the two newfound hobbies into one and Transformer World 2005 was born.  At no point did I ever think it would last 20+ years and take over my life in the way it did.  I started the full version of TFW2005 around April 2000, with some starts and stops before that.  That was right around when Car Robots started airing in Japan.  Through the magic of 56k internet, I was able to connect with folks in Japan and get them to send me VHS tapes of Car Robots.  Really nice, high-quality tapes too, I still have them hehe.  To the younglings reading – try to picture this: no youtube, no video sharing. The concept of streaming anything did not exist yet. Napster and the eventual peer to peer stuff hadn’t fully kicked off.  Plus, we were all viewing the internet on giant computers in our rooms at the speed of 1x on your phone.  Less than 1 bar 3G mobile speeds today.

Yes, someone recorded episodes from TV to video tape over there, did that a couple weeks at a time, then physically mailed them across the world to me, who then got them on the internet.  Can you imagine waiting weeks to watch an episode of TV the size of a twitter profile avatar?  Crazy.  Uploading a full episode to the internet was a big pain in the ass, not easily done.  I decided to get a converter that allowed me to plug my VCR into the computer and encode the tape into digital format.  From there, it was reduced using Microsoft’s WMV technology so that the episodes were about 5 MB each.  30 minute episodes at 5MB each. Dimensions – 176 x 144 pixels.  4k video today – 3840 x 2160 pixels.  You can imagine that video looked like crap.  But we didn’t care – we were blown away.  Old school animation, vehicles, some cool Japanese anime vibes, it was what we as G1 fans kinda had in the back of our heads on what Transformers should be in a new era, and we were seeing it.  Most of us had no clue what they were saying or what was going on.  Also didn’t care.  I still to this day think CR/RID is better like that.

So one of the first things TFW2005 did on the internet was provide these super small windows into Car Robots and what was going on in Japan. It helped get US fans hyped up for what Transformers could be. It got us wanting the toys, and importers bringing the Takara toy line over were moving serious product.  It helped swing Hasbro, who was planning to return to Autobots and Decepticons again down the road, to move that schedule up.  Instead of running Beast Machines until 2002 and then starting what we now know as the Unicron Trilogy, it was cut short.  Robots in Disguise as a toy line and show came over in 2001, ran fast and hard for a year with non stop releases, got extended because it did so well, and then faded into the Universe line of repaints.  The new millennium of Transformers was here and Robot In Disguise kicked it off with a bang.

Wrap Up

As we all continue with collecting Transformers now, regardless if you tagged into the fandom during G1, Beasties, the Unicron Trilogy, the Movies, or just yesterday – let’s take the time to give Car Robots and RID some props!  It set the tone for what the new millennium of the brand would be.  It gave us some toys ahead of their time.  It solidified the repaint as an accepted thing in the hobby. And it gave us one crazy 39 episode run of TV that’s still a fun ride 20 years later.

For those that would like to learn more about RID and Car Robots – I still maintain a Robots in Disguise website that archives everything I have or came across.  There is a lot there if you want to go on a tour of all the awesome Car Robots and Robots In Disguise era stuff.  Check it out at RIDFOREVER.INFO! FIYAH!

Let us know what you think and remember from the good old days of RID on the 2005 Boards here!

Epilogue

If someone over there at Hasbro is reading – can someone please figure out who owns the rights to the show in the US market and then get it out on DVD in full, finally?  Work all that funky licensing stuff out (if there is any) and get it done.  The US has never had access to it via an official release.  Maybe get it up on YouTube like G1?  Something.  Announcing plans for that before the end of 2021 would be a nice 20th anniversary tribute.

[babybluebex]

desperate hearts (and bodies) [sebastian stan] NSFW!!

➽ pairing: sebastian stan x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 2.5k ➽ summary: while watching his new movie, sebastian makes a deal with you: you’ll watch the movie until the credits roll, or else.   ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. explicit language, smut, fingering (f!receiving), teasing, slight dom!seb ➽ a/n: i have no logical explanation for this, so just have it lol​

It took a lot of convincing to have Sebastian watch one of his movies. He hated seeing himself work and, ever the perfectionist, found apparent flaws in his performance that neither the director nor editors had “managed” to find. He was against it at first, but, when I told him that I was too scared to watch his new movie The Covenant alone, he agreed. This man was such a pushover. We had known each other since high school when we paired together as scene partners for our school’s drama department. Seb was a senior when I was a freshman and we always got along, albeit at a casual distance. It wasn’t until we were in college together and I was randomly assigned him as a student mentor that we grew close, eventually kissing and fucking and revealing our long-boiling feelings. 

We had been together for nearly two years by this point, and I had seen him through every single professional role. When we reunited, he had just had a small role on Law and Order, and he had only gone up from there. The Covenant was the first horror-type movie he had ever done, and I had gotten a basic-enough synopsis from him for me to avoid it. However, being the dutiful girlfriend that I was, I wanted to support him and watch it, and that’s where the begging came in. 

Sebastian was a pushover. One hell of a pushover. I usually had to pout and he gave in to me, but watching his own movie came at a larger price, not that I minded it. As we sat down to watch the movie, my knees still ached from our earlier “negotiation”, and Sebastian grabbed my legs and hauled them into his lap. He clicked his tongue a few times, then said, “Baby girl, why didn’t you tell me?” 

“It doesn’t hurt,” I shrugged, but winced when he pressed a finger into the red patches. 

“Right,” he said with a smile. “And I’m the Queen of England.” 

“Put on the movie, would ya?” I chuckled. “Shut your mouth.” 

“You love my mouth,” Sebastian teased, tickling my thighs, and I sighed. 

“I do, but it’s annoying sometimes,” I said, and I kissed my finger and pressed it to his bottom lip. “Movie. Please?” 

The moment he came on screen, I felt a familiar heat in my stomach. He was a piece of shit high school guy in this movie, but he was so insanely hot. The female characters were falling all over him, but I would be lying if I said that I didn’t share the affection. “Aww, look at you,” I cooed, leaning over to tickle his chin. “Little teenage dirtbag Seba.” 

“Is this why you wanted to watch this?” Sebastian laughed, smacking my hands away. “To make fun of me the whole time?” 

“No,” I said. “I want to support you, damn it. I just have the privilege of making fun of you.”

Sebastian sighed, playing shaking his head, and he whispered, “You’re gonna kill me, woman.” 

“I sure hope not,” I said, turning my attention back to the screen for a moment. “But it looks like Pogue might. What the hell kinda name is Pogue anyway?” 

“I wish I knew,” Sebastian shrugged. “Oh, she was nice, though,” he added, pointing at the blonde girl on screen. “Really sweet. Said you were pretty.” 

“You showed her a picture of me?” I asked. 

“Well, not intentionally,” Sebastian said. “I was using a Polaroid of you as a bookmark and she handed me my book at one point in the makeup trailer and asked and… You know I love talking about you. I had to indulge her.” 

“You keep getting better everyday,” I told him with a smile. 

“You too, baby girl,” he said. “I’m getting a beer. You want one?” 

“Nah,” I said. “But if it comes with a tall Romanian, I might have to rethink that.” 

“Two beers, coming up,” Sebastian said, sitting up to go. Before he fully stood up, though, he tugged me close and kissed me slowly. His kisses were to die for, and I would never grow tired of them. His tongue dipped into my mouth and his hand began to inch my shirt up, but I grabbed his wrist quickly. 

“Stop trying to distract me, Seb,” I whispered, biting his plush bottom lip. “We’re watching this movie.” 

“Fuck,” Sebastian hissed, and I released his lip. “Thought I had you there.” 

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” I told him as he stood up. I watched him as he walked to the kitchen, pulling his jeans back up his hips, and I couldn’t help but admire his ass. Even in high school, Sebastian had a nice body, and it had only gotten better with age and time. I turned my attention back to the movie, and Sebastian quickly returned with our drinks. I took a sip of mine before settling fully into his lap, and his arms went around my waist. “Okay, hold on, I’m confused,” I said quickly. “So those four guys are, like, witches? Wizards? Can guys be witches? Anyway, there’s four of them, but they sense a disturbance in the Force?” 

Sebastian laughed deep in his chest. “I mean, pretty much,” he said. “You’ve got it.” 

“Chase is the fifth power,” I said quickly. “I’m calling it right now.” 

“Woah, hold on, what makes you think I’m the bad guy?” Sebastian asked with a quirk of his lips. 

“I just know, man,” I said, taking another drink. “I know how these movies work, and you’re super hot-- more than the leads, actually-- and you’re a new guy. The bigger twist would be if he isn’t the fifth power.” 

Sebastian hummed for a moment, then he sighed and mumbled, “Fuck me, you’re good at this.”

I gave a victory laugh and kissed his cheek, and he sucked his teeth in fake annoyance. “You’re way too smart for this, I’m never watching any movies with you again,” Sebastian grumbled. 

“Aww, Seba, don’t be like that,” I pouted. “I still wanna watch this.” 

“Fuck!” Sebastian huffed and threw his arms in defeat. “What do I have to do to turn this movie off?” 

“You said that I’d have to suck your dick and we’d watch this movie,” I began. “And I did, and I did it good. So, we are watching the movie until the goddamn credits roll.” 

“Mmhmm,” Sebastian grumbled, drinking his beer. “Alright then. Until the credits roll.” 

Sebastian put his drink down a few minutes later, his hands slotting between my thighs. His hands were always freezing and it was a usual thing for him to warm his hands on some part of me; sometimes, it was under my arm or on my tits. Today, it seemed, was between my thighs. His thumb stroked my skin in slow and languid motions, and, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was innocent. He gave a sigh from his plump, pink lips, and he leaned his head on my shoulder, his eyes stuck to the TV screen. My fingers threaded through his hair absently as I watched Chase and the other witches go about their high school antics, and a familiar pressure grew between my thighs when the camera moved into a locker room. Sebastian was there, his shirt undone and his tie hanging loosely around his neck, and I gave a small gasp. 

“Everything alright?” Sebastian whispered in my ear, giving it a delicate kiss. “You seem a little shaken up.” 

“I’m good,” I replied. “Just… Your hands are fucking cold, man.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian chuckled. “It’s a curse, baby girl. But you seem… I don’t wanna say it because I don’t think you deserve the satisfaction, but… Are you turned on?”

I shrugged. It was embarrassing as hell that I was turned on by Sebastian in a movie, especially when I was sitting in his lap. “You know I love your abs,” I mumbled, picking at the label on my beer bottle. 

“So that’s a yes?” Sebastian hummed. He leaned in and kissed my neck, his thumb moving just a bit higher up my thigh. “Just the sight of me gets you all hot, huh? I don’t even have to be doing anything.” 

“Seb--” I began, but his lips attached to the spot on my neck that we both knew was my weakness. He gave it a few gentle nips with his front teeth, then soothed the sting with his tongue, and I clenched my teeth together to control my noises. His hand went higher and higher still until it reached the hem of my panties, and he slowly pushed his fingers into it. He was quiet and gentle as his hand moved, continuing to kiss my sweet spot as his palm pressed against my heat. The heel of his hand was right against my clit, just barely making enough contact, and I wriggled helplessly to get him where I wanted him. 

“Watch the movie, baby girl,” Sebastian whispered, his voice low and rumbling. “You’ll miss something important.” 

I groaned softly. “Sebastian,” I mumbled. “Please, love--” 

“Please what?” Sebastian whispered. “What do you want, baby girl?” 

“Touch me,” I panted softly. “Please.”

“You said we were going to watch this movie until the credits roll,” Sebastian said slowly. “I’ve already seen it-- fuck, I’m one of the leads--” My legs tightened at his words, trapping his hand against my wet heat, and he laughed. “So, you’re gonna watch this movie. The entire thing. And you’re not gonna worry about what I’m doing. Alright?” 

I nodded, fixing my gaze on the screen once more. I didn’t expect him to push on as quickly as he did, but he ground his hand against my sensitive clit almost the moment I agreed. I gasped in surprise and I felt Sebastian smile against my neck as he continued to kiss my weakest spot, and he whispered, “Goddamn, baby. So wet for me.” 

His fingers nudged me open and the tip of his middle finger began to press into me. He was moving just too slow and it was annoying the hell out of me, and I lifted my hips to have his finger in deep. “Oh, no,” Sebastian whispered, his voice a low rumble. “Don’t do that. Just relax, baby.” 

“Seb--” I whined hopelessly. I knew that, no matter how much I begged, he was ultimately going to do what he wanted. He was an ass that way. “Please, babe.” 

“Please what?” Sebastian said, dragging his teeth along my neck. 

“More,” I whimpered. I was so fucking pathetic, but Sebastian just did something to me. No matter what, he could break me down to a crying, begging mess of a girl. 

“More?” Sebastian repeated. “Like this?” He added his ring finger with excruciatingly slow speed, and his thumb came to rest on my clit at the same time. My thighs quivered at the feel of his cool rings on my wet and tender skin, and I whined high in my throat. “Oh, so good, baby girl. Taking my fingers like this, such a good little whore.” 

For a moment, I dared to look away from the television in favor of my boyfriend, and I found his steel-blue eyes locked on my face. A single dark eyebrow quirked, and he said, “You just can’t follow rules, can you?” Then, seeing my flushed face and bitten lips, clicked his tongue and cooed. “Aw. Want me to fuck you stupid, baby? Doesn’t seem like that’ll take too long.” 

“Seb,” I breathed. “Just…” I flexed my hips, hoping that he understood, and he gave me a devilish smile.

“This is the good part,” Sebastian whispered in my ear, and his fingers began a slow and steady pace. “Watch it, baby girl.” 

My entire body was burning hot, and I squirmed in Sebastian’s arms. He was on screen, his eyes tinted fully black as he pinned one of the boys to the floor, and I felt a spasm of lightening in my stomach when his fingers finally found that spot inside of me. I jostled in his lap and bit back my moan, and he gave a little huff. “How bad do you want it?” He whispered. “Bad enough to beg for it?” 

“Yes,” I sobbed. “Please, Seb, please, fuck me. I need you so bad, please, please, Seb.” 

Sebastian groaned deep in his chest, and his mouth latched onto my neck. He sucked at the sensitive skin, surely leaving a mark, and he dragged his fingers in and out of my wet heat. “Look at that,” Sebastian whispered as Chase landed a kiss on his opponent’s cheek. “I am the bad guy. You were right. How are you so fucking smart, baby?” 

“I know you,” I said, my cheeks burning with his praise. “You wouldn’t play a good guy.” 

“Ah,” Sebastian sighed. “I knew you were smart. Now, be a good girl for me and come all over my fingers. I know how bad you want to. Maybe, if you keep being so good for me…” His lips brushed my ear before he gave me a soft kiss on my hot cheek. “I’ll let you come on my cock later.” 

Sebastian’s thumb made fast circles around my throbbing clit as I tried to do as he told me and watch the movie, but I was completely distracted. I could feel his hard cock through his jeans, and the thought of having him fuck me while his movie played was enough for me to shout “Seb!” and make a mess on his fingers. My thighs trembled as Sebastian shushed me comfortingly, and he pushed my hair aside and cradled my face in his free hand. “Oh, good girl,” he whispered softly. “So, so good for me, baby. Are you feeling better now?” 

I nodded and swallowed thickly, my throat dry and tight. Sebastian brushed his lips against mine warmly, and he finally pulled his fingers from my throbbing cunt. The room was dark, only the television giving any light, but I still saw his fingers glistening in the light. He handed me his beer with his free hand and, before I could say anything, popped his fingers in his mouth. I watched him for a moment before taking a drink; even though the beer was a little warm, it helped soothe my throat. “Thanks,” I said softly. 

“Mm,” Sebastian hummed around his fingers, then pulled them out. “For what, baby? You know I like making you feel good.” 

“I don’t know,” I said. “I just always like to thank you.” 

“No need for that,” Sebastian said. “I know you appreciate it.” There was a pause, and then he groaned. “Fuck, c’mon! You guessed the twist in the first ten minutes!”

“It’s--!” I started. “It’s a PG-13 horror movie! These things are formulaic! You-- You aggravate me. Good thing you’re cute.” 

“Or what?” Sebastian laughed. “You’d dump me?” 

“Maybe not dump you,” I shrugged. “But I certainly wouldn’t let you fingerblast me while we watched a movie.” 

Sebastian laughed, his eyes crinkling up, and he said, “God, you act like there wasn’t any romance.”

I scoffed. “Was there?”

“Oh, baby girl,” Sebastian chuckled. He pulled me back into his lap, my thighs straddling his waist, and he kissed me hard, his tongue dipping into my mouth. “I’ll show you fucking romantic I can be.” 

[jolynej]

I’m Not in Love

Summary: You and Prosciutto, both determined to keep things casual, are sent out on a mission to eliminate a target, but something goes wrong and you end up hurt, forcing Prosciutto to come to terms with his feelings

A/N: I started this weeks ago, but have been so busy that I haven’t had time to properly finish it until now! I’m a very slow writer, and I struggle with creating longer fics that exceed 1k words, so this was a huge labor of love! I hope that y’all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: heavily implied nsft, violence, guns, minor character death, blood, Prosciutto being a bit of an asshole, fainting

You both told each other when you made this arrangement that it was strictly physical and that you were only doing this out of convenience and carnal desire. Sure, he’s very attractive, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about lingering in bed and pretending that you’re still asleep if only to savor his body heat and the weight of his arm across your torso for a few more minutes. But you couldn’t possibly cross that line.

The lives that both you led didn’t allow for the luxury of developing and maintaining romantic — or any, really — relationships that were outside of your work. You’d lost friends and family members to the steady passage of time and lack of communication. It came with the territory of the job, and though you’d tried to justify your drifting relationships by assuring yourself that it was done to protect those you used to hold close, you knew that was just an excuse you told yourself so that you could sleep at night.

The initial adjustment to your new job was tough in that aspect, but Prosciutto, aside from being your mentor, slowly became a comfort and a confidant for your bouts of anxiety and late night regrets of leaving your old life behind. You’d joined him outside at night on the balcony of the hideout plenty of times. He would self-soothe with cigarettes, exhaling out his demons in the shape of a puff of smoke whilst he listened to you reminisce on your happier, less bloody days.

“It’s a damn shame you’re so good at you job,” he’d told you one particular night, when the orange and white city lights below cast a bright glow over his sharp features; yet simultaneously, it accentuated the dark circles under his eyes, and the shadows beneath those jagged angles of his cheekbones and jawline made him look far older than he was. Prosciutto looked beautiful as he did horrible.

You just shook your head and smirked, inquiring, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Kid, there were many different paths that you could’ve picked from,” He stops briefly to take a drag of his cigarette. “But this is what you opted for.” The blond flicked his cigarette and snuffed it with the toe of his oxfords, answering with, “All I’m saying is that you had your whole life ahead of you, and instead of getting a normal, decent job, you decided that this was worth the Louboutins and those diamond earrings of yours.”

“It’s good that it ended up working out for you.”

His compliments were usually pretty backhanded, but you could tell that this wasn’t just because of his usual condescending behavior. He seemed almost... sad and guilty, but then again, it could just be from the shadows on his face exaggerating his features.

“I’m glad you’re damn good at your job, too,” you remarked, leaning against the railing, savoring in the feeling of the warm, summer night wind caressing your face.

Soon, you found the touch against your cheeks was replaced by his calloused fingers and then his lips, giving birth to a routine that would continue every-so-often: you’d join him outside at night and would wake up in bed next to him in a tangle of limbs and satin sheets.

Maybe it was only natural that you and him would end up growing closer and more intimate.

—

This little arrangement between the two of you continues, and with each time you bare yourself to him, you struggle with your developing feelings. After you had slept together that first night — before you had a real chance to give yourself a proper chance to evaluate your own feelings — he assured you that the prior night’s events had meant nothing to him, that it was a mistake. He apologized, confessing that the rendezvous had stemmed from a place of pent up arousal and convenience and that it wouldn’t happen again.

That’s what he’d said the second, and third, time too. But by the fourth time, you’d both decided to become ‘coworkers with benefits’ as you’d so eloquently put it. It’s purely out of physical need and mutual trust and nothing else. There’s no time for romance.

—

The following spring, you were sent out together to a job on the coast, and were given a shared room at a hotel near the warehouse where your target was supposedly going to be tonight. The assignment had worked in your favor, you’d both arrive mid-morning, have time to scout out the location, go back to the room for a quick fuck, then proceed to the location, clean up, and spend the night between the sheets until you both passed out from sheer exhaustion.

“The target should be on location this evening,” he informs you casually as he’s sliding on his trousers, as if he hadn’t just fucked you into the mattress. He gives his watch a quick glance before speaking again. “Which gives us approximately an hour before we need to head out.”

You nod, reaching for your clothes — his hand stops you, grasping your wrist. “Let me clean you up first,” he says, briefly locking eyes with you, before averting his gaze just as quickly. “If you’re going out you should at least be comfortable.”

While Prosciutto walks off to the bathroom to retrieve a glass of water and a washcloth, you look down at your naked body. Your combined releases dribble down your thighs, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the sticky, wet sensation on your lower body.

He’s back approximately a minute later, the glass is set upon the nightstand, and he’s kneeling, still shirtless, at your feet with the wet washcloth in hand. He cleans you up in relative silence, and the intimacy and vulnerability in this situation is not lost on either of you. It hangs around like a heavy fog that both of you desperately try to ignore, hoping that it’ll dissipate.

Under different circumstances, you’d love to be able to cradle his chin in your hand and confess every single romantic thought that you’d ever held for him, and in turn, he’d press tender kisses up your thighs, and trade the rag for his tongue, cleaning you up with a few slow licks. Instead, you give him a curt, ‘thank you’ and get dressed.

Your little trysts were littered with subtle, more domestic moments like this one where you wanted to push the boundary between what is and isn’t appropriate when you’re in a friends-with-benefits situation with your coworker. Even without the romance that you so desperately craved, there was still a strong sense of intimacy and familiarity with each ‘Was I too rough?’ or ‘You can sleep in here tonight’ that could only stem from a certain level of trust and comfort.

The rest of the time leading up to your assignment was spent going over your plan of attack and working out any loose ends or confusion on either side, and as he spoke, you couldn’t help but allow your eyes to travel down to his plush lips and the exposed patch of skin from his half-buttoned blouse that, when he shifted at a certain angle, allowed for you to catch a glimpse of a dark red bruise where your lips had been.

You were passing the threshold, the imaginary line. You’d stepped on it, gotten it stuck to your feet, and try as you may to deny its presence and scrub it clean from your skin — you could scrub it raw, until you bled — it wasn’t something you could erase.

As he’s stepping out of the hotel room, you glance back to ask him if he’s ready, but you’re caught off guard by the buttons of his shirt. They’re all closed completely save for a lone button rendering the bruise no longer visible. Inquisitively, the blond quirks up an eyebrow, silently asking if there’s a problem.

“I’m just ready to get this over with,” you sigh, matching your stride with his as you both exit the hotel and journey to the warehouse.

The target doesn’t show as planned, much to your and Prosciutto's dismay and annoyance. You had both searched the large building and its surroundings as thoroughly as possible but still the target hasn’t made an appearance. There aren’t even any hidden clues as to where he’s run off to. As pissed as you both felt in that moment — you were cursing to yourself and your partner was leaning against a metal structure with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth — Risotto was going to be absolutely furious.

Unlike most contracts where you were paid after the deed or half before and half after, the client had paid a hefty sum up front and with a dark leer he was insistent that the job be completed as soon as possible. Something deep within you knew that he would not be the type of man whose bad side you’d like to be on.

Defeated and angry, you both decided to bite the bullet and head back to the hotel to inform your superior of the unfortunate situation. Just outside of the hotel, Prosciutto glances over at a payphone on the street corner.

“Go on inside and shower and eat, kid, I’ll talk to Risotto.”

“Are you sure? We can speak to him together, or I can just sp—“ He cut you off with a hand patting your cheek, gently thumbing your skin. He was stressed and so were you.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” he manages a tiny half-smile. “I’ve got it.”

Yeah, you are stressed as all hell, but at least you didn’t have to be at the receiving end of Risotto’s wrath — for tonight anyway. Thinking about Prosciutto opting to do so in your stead and acting out of concern for you sends a cacophony of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. He has always looked out for you ever since you’d joined, but this was something more than just him looking out for a junior member of his team. There was no way that he’d touch Formaggio or even Pesci like that, with such a pure tenderness that leaves your skin tingling from where his fingers were.

Making your way up the stairs to your shared room, the sensation of butterflies immediately flees from your stomach and instead, an eerie, insidious feeling begins to tiptoe up your spine, and you get the sense that something is very, very wrong.

One of the hall lights has gone out, and the other is flickering in random spasms as it emits a faint buzz. With each step towards your door, the broken light fixture seems to dim and buzz louder until it makes one final loud screech and dies completely the moment that you touch the door handle, and as soon as your fingers gripped the metal handle, an overpowering jolt of electricity fizzles throughout your entire body, sending you doubling over in pain, desperately croaking out for your stand as you fall to the dingy carpet.

The world around you seemed to morph into blackness and little snippets of sounds — you weren’t sure if you were still awake or if you’d lost consciousness — but you clung onto what you could decipher to the best of your ability. Static, the plodding footfall of someone running on carpet with urgency, the unmistakable click of a gun, a heavy thud, then silence.

You crane your head and espy a familiar pair of oxfords, and with a sigh of relief you feel your eyes grow heavy.

—

You come-to in the backseat of a car, and if it weren’t for the intensity of the events before you passed out, you would’ve happily shut your eyes to the steady thrum of the car speeding down the road. A bubble of panic rises up your throat, throwing your senses in overdrive as you carefully assess your surroundings. You find that a suit jacket has been draped over you like a makeshift blanket, and the familiar scent of cologne, tobacco, and cigarette-smoke is an instant relief.

Looking up, you find Prosciutto is in the driver’s seat of the car with a plain, white tank top in the place of his button-up. The bones of his knuckles are prominent due to the strain and force of his grip on the steering wheel, and they’re dotted with specks of red that extend up to his forearms.

There’s an evident scowl on his lips, which are scabbed and bloody from worrying teeth marks and not from — what you can safely assume given the sound you’d heard earlier — a gunshot to the man that had been in your hotel room.

“The target was dealt with,” he says upon seeing you awake, and he disguises it with a cough, but his entire face softens with a relieved sigh. The visible tension in his bulging veins on his forearms eases along with the death-grip that he has on the steering wheel; Prosciutto settles one hand on his thigh, splaying his fingers out on the fabric of his trousers, feeling for something in his pocket — cigarettes most likely. He’s still antsy and tense, alternating between his hands on the wheel to search his other pocket.

You have a myriad of questions wreaking havoc on your brain, which is still a bit fuzzy from the electricity and has brought on a dull headache. With the blazer clenched tightly to your chest, you fiddle around until you find a pack of his smokes and pull them out, holding them in the air with a dopey, lopsided grin that says ‘lookee here!’. It earns a playful eye roll and a smirk from Prosciutto who brings his hand back to take them from you.

When you offer the box up, your fingers brush, and you swear that he leaves his hand extended towards you a moment longer than necessary. The sensation sends a full-body chill through your veins.

“Put the coat on, kid, I don’t want you freezing up and getting sick in the car.” He’s staring straight out at the road, but you know the sentiment is there, beneath the layer of sweat and blood there’s worry. “Go back to sleep,” he orders in that gravelly, stern but caring tone of his that he uses on you when he gives you orders, and only you. In a way, it’s not that much different from how he talks in bed, and the familiarity has you warm all over. God, you’re in love with this man.

“I’ll wake you up in about an or two, capisce?”

—

You’re awoken by Prosciutto opening the door of the backseat and calling your name. You can barely see him, he’s almost a dark, looming figure in the night. The sky in the countryside is worlds away from the city skyline that you’re accustomed to. Behind him, there’s a sea of twinkling stars, and the bright crescent moon hangs proudly behind his head like a half-halo, and he appears to you like a fallen angel, still clinging on desperately to something good and holy that someone like him does not deserve. In his right hand, he holds a shovel, and his arms and face and tank top are caked in the weight of his sins, blood and dirt and sweat; you surmise that the closer you get to him, the less the moon resembles a halo and moreso a pair of horns. Again, the night is playing tricks on you.

“I’ve buried the remains,” he explains. “I decided it would be easiest to just take care of it myself until we can get you checked out. We don’t know the full extent of the damage that you’ve received or what effects that my stand could have on you in this state.” It’s a poor excuse, and you both know it, but it’s easier for him to lie to you when his facial expressions are harder to see.

Still, you don’t know if it’s from the adrenaline in your blood, your feelings for him, or some leftover electricity that’s done something to your brain, but you decide to call him out.

Sitting upright, you say, “I still could’ve helped, Prosci, otherwise there would be no point for me to come on this mission with you. You’ve done more than enough to help me, and I… I really appreciate everything that you’ve done to help me, but I have to work to earn my share of the payment!

“I can’t just lie back and let you treat me like some doll or damsel in distress!” You spout, wadding up his blazer and tossing it at him. He catches it with a growl, and the shovel clatters to the ground with a resounding clang.

He’s crawling across the backseat, hovering over you like a mangy beast; truthfully, you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so unhinged and disheveled. His scent bears no resemblance to the comforting aroma of his suit-jacket, and instead, he emits a pungent odor of grime and sweat, evident by the damp, dirty stray pieces of hair that encircle his face and the thin layer of earth that stains his skin with splotches of gray and brown. He looks like he can hurt you, and for a second you make the mistake of thinking that he will.

“Kid, you need to listen to me! I—“ he huffs, but upon seeing your face up close, all scared and doe-like, he kisses you. It’s emotional and hurried and needy and far unlike any previous kiss that you’d shared. It’s not spurred on by wanting or lust but by love and a great fear of loss.

“I love you,” he whispers like a gasp when he pulls apart from you. “I love you,” he says once more, softer, sweeter. “I love you.”

In his eyes, you can see every word that he leaves unsaid, his confession of how afraid he was that he’d never see you again, how he panicked and saw red and shot the man on sight, how he carried you to the car with a metaphorical knife stabbing at his heart, and how he almost cried from relief when he saw you open your eyes.

“I love you, too,” you say back, smiling, kissing him again with that same passion as before.

[blue-eyes-tattoos]

Here are my favourite fics written in 2020! ✨

(Obviously there’s tons of great 2020 fics I haven’t read yet)

Pt. I = everything over 20k words

Sorted by word count. Hope you enjoy!

📔 Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo | @crinkle-eyed-boo 115k

(E, Larry, Exes to Lovers, Artist!Harry, Writer!Louis)

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

📔 Have Love, Will Travel by kingsofeverything | @kingsofeverything 97k

(E, Larry, Friends to Lovers, Road Trip)

Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series. It soon becomes obvious to their viewers that there’s something more than friendship between them. Eventually, they figure it out.

📔 You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey | @harryrainbows 95k

(E, Larry, Canon Compliant, Exes/Enemies to Lovers, Fake Relationship)

Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

📔 The Murmur of Yearning by MediaWhore | @mediawhorefics 93k

(M, Larry, Historical AU, Slow Burn)

Four years ago, Harry Styles was forced into a marriage of convenience to enrich and ally both his and his promised's families. The sudden, and slightly suspicious, death of the Marquess of Haxshire, however, brings great disturbance to Crescentfield Hall and, as his late's husband's closest male relative, Harry unexpectedly finds himself the head of a family he never felt he belonged to.

📔 Nothing But You On My Mind by nonsensedarling | @absoloutenonsense 84k

(E, Larry, Enemies to Lovers, (modern) Royalty AU)

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

📔 Untamed Hearts by Layne Faire | @laynefaire 69k

(E, Ziam, side Larry, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

It could have been the heat of the summer sun; it might have been the silvered sheen of an early harvest moon. If he dug deep enough, Liam could find every reason ever needed to explain away what happened. In the end, though, it all came down to two meddling friends, a touch of Prince, a bit of Keats, and the moon over the ocean. Its a recipe for disaster. Or love. Probably love.

📔 Live a Thousand Lifetimes by Layne Faire | @laynefaire 58k

(E, Ziam, very minor side Larry, Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Exes to Lovers, Farm)

It’s 2025. After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour. With the whirlwind about to begin again, Liam re-evaluates the last ten years - the fame, the money, the people who changed his life forever - and the person who walked away.

📔 The Recklessness in Water by LarryOn 51k

(E, Larry, Enemies to Lovers, lifeguard!Harry, unemployed!Louis)

Louis Tomlinson is miserable. He's stuck on a family vacation at a lake cabin in New Hampshire when all he wants to do is bemoan his sorry existence and wallow in his sweatpants. As if the humidity and mosquitos weren't bad enough, he becomes the singular target of an obnoxious lifeguard named Harry.

📔 Need So Much Of You by lululawrence | @lululawrence 47k

(Not Rated, Larry, Canon Compliant, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers)

The would-have-been canon compliant, fake relationship, friends with benefits, friends to lovers fic where Louis wonders if this thing going on with Harry is going to break him or change everything for the better.

📔 We Can Take The Long Road Home by pinkcords | @pinkcords 46k

(E, Larry, Strangers to Lovers, Road Trip)

Harry and Louis fall in love down the coast of California.

📔 Caves End by jacaranda_bloom | @jacaranda-bloom 40k

(E, Larry, famous/non-famous, Farm)

The one where Harry has lost his future, Louis has lost his past, but maybe together, they can find a way through the dark.

📔 Say It Back by wordsnnotes | @quelsentiment 40k

(T, Larry, side Ziam, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, College/Uni AU, Asexual Character)

Harry doesn't know what he wants; Louis is too caught up in his problems to care about what he wants; Niall knows perfectly well what he wants, and that's to be everybody's best friend and comic relief; Zayn thought he knew what he wanted until he's reminded of the past; and Liam has come to terms with the fact that it's okay not to know what you want sometimes.

📔 Until by allwaswell16 | @allwaswell16 38k

(E, Larry, side Shiall, famous/non-famous, Enemies to Lovers, Farm)

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

📔 Love Moves Like The Sea by flamboyo | @chrysopon 33k

(M, Larry, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Sharing a Bed)

Spending two weeks in his uncle's old house by Lee Bay beach is not Louis' ideal holiday, but sadly is the only one he can afford this summer. Spending those alone with Harry, his best friend who he has spent the last five years in love with, may make everything a little better, though. Away from everyday reality, alone somewhere that makes you forget your past and gloss over your future, maybe it's time for two friends to finally explore what they haven't said (but felt) for years.

📔 If Love Was Easy, They’d Call It Hockey by drowninshallowwater | @drowninshallowwater 28k

(Not Rated - there is smut though, Larry, Hockey AU, Friends to Lovers, hockey player!Louis, doctor!Harry, feat one of my favourite bands in a supporting role)

The one where it takes a broken collarbone for Louis to get back what he lost, even if it is seven years down the road.

📔 Sunflower: Vol. 1 by ourownstrings | @ourownstrings 27k

(M, Larry, side Ziam, farmer!Louis, florist!Harry, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Depression)

“Real farmers love mornings.” Louis hated that sentiment. But then he wasn’t a real farmer. He just got stuck in the family business and drags himself to the farmers market where he put on his best sunny sales pitch. That is until he meets the new flower vendor. The flower boy who is even wearing floral-patterned clothes as he sells bouquets. Suddenly, Saturday mornings are the highlight of his week.

📔 Walls Are Just Walls (You Are My Home) by logogram | @et-y-etc 26k

(E, Larry, famous/non-famous, Friends to Lovers)

After being injured in a hiking accident, musician Harry and his bodyguard are stuck on the trail with no cell service, no supplies, and with nightfall coming. Louis, who’s a wilderness first responder, comes across them, gives first aid, and calls for a rescue.

📔 A Road To Something Better by taggiecb | @taggiecb 25k

(E, Larry, writer!Louis, mayor!Harry, Friends to Lovers)

Louis Tomlinson, famous romance novelist, has just had the rug pulled out from under his feet when his boyfriend leaves him without notice. What's the most appropriate response to this? Move a thousand miles away and seclude himself in a tiny lake town, of course. But nothing is as he expects it to be in the very best way, especially not the handsome mayor of McAll, Idaho.

📔 You Burn so Bright You can Blind Somebody by heartmeetsbreakx | @heartmeetsbreakx 20k

(GA, Ziam, minor side Larry, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, YouTuber!Liam)

Liam is a popular YouTube vlogger and sometimes Zayn is his cameraman. Liam's subscribers start analyzing their relationship and it changes everything.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 12

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: It’s sort of funny though, to imagine Din being defeated by Gideon’s sword. 

It’s sort of funny, except...

Well. 

It isn’t really funny at all.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,704 (good lord I’m tired...)

Warnings: angst, swearing, one brief moment of sexual harassment, lots of assumptions made, Dark Din returns and some familiar characters make themselves known

Author Note: Believe me I want Din and Cupid reunited as much as all of you do, but my dark side keeps saying just stretch it out a little bit longer 😈 All the love to each and every reader out there, the support you give me keeps me sane and happy each week ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 11 and Part 13

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

You wipe furiously at your face, smearing tears across your cheeks, while inwardly cursing yourself for showing weakness in front of Gideon. A lump forms in your throat as you replay the last sixty seconds on loop in your head, imagining exactly how Din will react to each sentence, especially those last two words: let go. This will be the one and only time you’re thankful you can’t feel Din’s half of the bond. If he’s feeling even a smidge of the throbbing, torturous pain you’re feeling right now, experiencing both sides would have overwhelmed you. Of all the commands Gideon could have chosen, why would he choose to taunt Din with that one? It’s as if the Seraph is purposefully trying to piss Din off.

Maybe he is insane, you think, not for the first time, just as he starts to clap his hands together in applause.

“Well done,” Gideon says, almost in admiration. “You’re a much better actress than I imagined you’d be.”

“It wasn’t an act,” you snap back.

“Regardless, you’ve served your part well.” He reaches forward to pat your head, and you honestly deserve an award for not giving into the urge to break his hand. “If it would make you feel better, I could make you forget this moment ever happened. Should I require you to send a second message, it would certainly make it all the more bittersweet for you to think it was your first attempt.”

His words make no sense at first, and you merely sit there in the chair blinking back at him, some distant part of you aware of how your eyelashes are still wet and stuck together. Involuntarily, you find yourself recalling Din’s reaction to your memory loss, how he had muttered under his breath he thought someone was responsible for the blank spots. Your mouth falls open in shock as Gideon’s meaning clicks.

“You...You tampered with my memories?” you whisper.

“It wasn’t personal. There are holes in every Cupid’s head.”

Why would he use his powers so cruelly and invasively? How does he choose which memories to erase? These questions and more run through your head, but you don’t voice them aloud. Everything you’ve heard about and actually seen in person about Gideon has solidified your opinion he is a certifiable control freak. Of course he would use his memory-erasing ability to further establish his position of authority amongst the Cupids.

Your eyes drift to the Cupid twi’lek behind him. “Is that why she’s here? You brainwashed her into joining you?”

“I made my own choice,” she replies, tone as sharp as the knife she twirls with nimble fingers. It doesn’t gleam like metal, instead faintly sparkling just like your arrows do. Kyber crystal, you realize with a chill of uneasiness. “You don’t see me in a collar, do you?”

“Indeed, I cannot alter memories, only erase them. It was free will that brought Xi’an to me, not manipulation,” Gideon says with a smile, but his eyes glimmer in a way that makes your throat close up with fear. “She has become a loyal and valuable ally.”

Valuable. One word and your suspicions are confirmed. Collared or not, Xi’an is just as much a toy for Gideon to play with as you and Din are. The only difference is she doesn’t seem to realize she is one. Or, and this is a dangerous possibility, she does know and simply doesn’t give a damn.

“She’s your ally?” you echo, nervously licking your lips. “What does that mean?”

“She has dedicated herself to the achievement of my goal.”

You know he’s purposefully baiting you, but still you find yourself asking, “And that goal is?”

Gideon leans forward, invading your personal space even as you jerk backwards in your seat. The smile has been wiped from his face, replaced with narrowed eyes and a twisted scowl. He deliberately presses the unlit laser sword against the middle of your chest in the space between your breasts, thumb teasingly hovering over the activation button.  

When he answers, you’ve never heard anyone else speak as seriously as him.

“To finish what I started.”

The words linger in the air the same foreboding way Din’s reapers linger around hospitals. You don’t realize you’re not breathing until Gideon steps back after several pounding heartbeats pass and your lungs are on fire. You suck in a breath of relief, but your body remains tense, recognizing the dangerous situation you’re still stuck in.

“Mayfeld,” Gideon addresses the man armed with three guns who immediately straightens. “Take her back to her cell.”

You don’t resist as Mayfeld grabs you by the upper arm and tugs you out of your seat. It’d take a miracle to incapacitate him and everyone else in the room before they subdued you. No, you can’t make any rash decisions. The right moment will come, you tell yourself. It has to.

...Right?

“So, what’s it like being Death’s soulmate?”

You’re jerked out of your thoughts by Mayfeld’s voice. You side-eye him, keeping your mouth firmly shut.

“I mean, I’ve heard he never takes off the helmet,” he continues, unbothered by your silence. “But surely you must’ve seen what’s underneath there. If it were me, I’d definitely wanna know the face of the guy I’m allegedly destined to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Allegedly?” The question slips out before you can stop yourself.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not so much a believer in fate or destiny or true love. And now that I know the guy who’s the boss of Cupid operations?” He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Forget about ever trying to convince me the universe has a mortal’s best interests in mind when it allows a Seraph as bat-shit crazy as the Moff to have the power he has.”

“If you think he’s insane, why do you work for him?”

“The pay’s good,” he answers with a laugh. “Plus, if he really does pull off this plan of his, well...let’s just say I’d rather be in his corner than anywhere else.”

“You do realize though that anyone in Gideon’s corner is an enemy of Death’s?” you say, half-taunting him half-genuinely curious about his reaction.

“That thought has recently crossed my mind,” is all he replies.

The conversation comes to a halt when you arrive back at your cell. Mayfeld pushes you inside, but the force is noticeably gentler than the thug who had manhandled you earlier. Standing near the pallet, you watch as he digs a remote out of the pocket of his pants and activates the laser grid with a single press of a button.

Interesting.

You expect Mayfeld to immediately return to Gideon’s side, so you’re surprised and more than a little confused when the man continues to linger. A minute of silence ticks by and your confusion changes to frustration. What does he want?

Just as your mouth opens to snidely voice the question, the baby chooses that precise moment to sneak back into your cell. Your heart leaps into your throat as you rush forward to grab him, torn between forcibly shoving him back into the hole or foolishly attempting to hide him behind your back.

“There’s the little green guy,” Mayfeld says, and you pause at the audible note of cheerfulness in his voice. The baby coos in your arms, waving his hand in the man’s direction.

They kriffing know each other?

Mayfeld notices your bewildered expression. “What? You think none of us noticed he doesn’t like staying put? We might be mercenaries, but we’re not complete idiots.”

“You’re a heartless bastard,” you spit, holding the baby tighter against your chest. “He’s a baby and you’re doing nothing to get him out of here.”

“First of all,” he counters, holding up a finger. “Ouch. And second,” he points that same finger directly at the baby, “that little guy is older than me so calling him a ‘baby’ isn’t exactly fair.”

Your eyes sweep over Mayfeld, estimating him to be at least forty. You then look at the green face smiling back at you. Yeah, there’s no way he’s telling the truth.

“You’re a liar.”

“Maker, the hits just keep on coming.” Mayfeld rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie about his age?”

“I…” you trail off, unable to come up with an excuse.

“Exactly.” He nods smugly. “Look, he fooled me, too, with those big brown eyes of his. If I hadn’t witnessed what he can do when that collar’s off, I might have been suckered into releasing him. He’s cute, sure, but he’s also secretly a menacing gremlin.”

You frown. “What do you mean you’ve seen what he can do?”

“I mean he’s got powers. He can lift things with his mind, throw men against walls five times his size like they weigh nothing. What’s worse is he uses those powers to steal. I had a pack of cookies I was saving and he levitated them right out of my pocket.”

Your disbelief falters at that last bit. You had already surmised the baby had stolen the cookies, but not like this. Looking down at him again, the collar stands out more prominently than ever before. Xi��an told you they were purposefully designed to prohibit the use of powers. Why else would the baby wear one if he didn’t possess some type of special ability?

“You really have some serious trust issues, don’t you?” Mayfeld says, almost sounding impressed by your stubborn reluctance to believe him.

“I’m currently being held hostage by a psychopath,” you retort. “I think I’m allowed to be suspicious of a mercenary who says everything that pops into his head.”

His lips purse. “Alright. That’s a good point.”

“Isn’t it risky?” you ask, stepping closer to the gate. “Sharing all this information with me?”

“Only if you don’t appreciate the value of it all.”

Your brow furrows, not understanding.

“Look,” he lowers his voice meaningfully. “One way or another, Gideon and Death are gonna face each other and only one side will win. Gideon wins, great. Status quo unchanged. But if your soulmate wins?” He grimaces at the prospect. “By talking to you, I’m trying to cover all my bases here.”

Your brain works rapidly to fill in the blanks. “So, let me get this straight. You think that by getting on my good side, Death won’t murder you?” A wide grin stretches across your face, not the least bit friendly. “Oh, honey, you’ve got to do so much better than that. With what you’ve given me so far, the only kindness he’ll spare you is ripping your throat out quickly so you don’t suffer long.”

Take the bait.

“Oh, yeah?” A flicker of nervousness flashes across his face. He shifts his stance, arms crossing over his chest. “What would I have to do to not have that happen? I’m, uh, open to suggestions.”

Good, good, good.

“You get me the keys to these collars, I can guarantee you’ll walk out of here with every limb attached and not one drop of blood spilt.”

A long beat passes wordlessly. It would be completely silent if not for the baby’s quiet whining as he cuddles against you, unsettled by the tense atmosphere.

“You’re not the only one with trust issues,” Mayfeld says at last. “Maybe you can guarantee Death won’t kill me, but how do I know you won’t kill me with your bow yourself?”

You say nothing, not because you’re guilty of thinking of that specific scenario, but because you don’t know how to convince him you haven’t considered it. Anyone else in your same predicament would undoubtedly shoot him the first chance they got. He is an enemy after all. A minor one, true, but nevertheless contributing to the effort of keeping you separated from Din. He also clearly only has his own self-interest in mind, making him unpredictable and untrustworthy. Who’s to say he won’t attempt to double-cross you somehow?

All these reasons are valid and should make you hate him, but something inside of you isn’t allowing you to commit wholeheartedly to the feeling. And as much as it pains you to admit it, you know that ‘something’ is fear. You’ve never killed anyone before. Shot someone with an ichor arrow? Yes, several times, but not once was the wound fatal. As your list of escape options continues to dwindle though, you’re terrified of the possibility you’ll have no choice but to personally be responsible for ending someone’s life.

“There’s my answer,” Mayfeld says. His words are distressingly ambiguous, but it’s the way he bobs his head in a decisive manner and turns his back on you that causes your stomach to tie itself into knots.

Throat suddenly dry, you struggle to choke out, “Wait, I—”

He starts whistling an upbeat tune as he walks away, ignoring your attempts at reclaiming his attention. You listen hopelessly as the sound gradually grows farther and farther away, until eventually all you can hear is silence.

And once more, it’s just you and the baby alone in the cell.

~~

You lie on the pallet, staring up at the ceiling with the baby sleeping on your stomach. You reflect on everything that has happened since you left Arvala-7, taking every moment apart piece by piece to figure out what you know.

From what you’ve witnessed, you don’t think your superiors are involved in or even aware of Moff Gideon’s plans. Lang, Hess, and Morgan were his associates, not allies like he’d called Xi’an. The difference is subtle, but profound in meaning. You wonder if the three of them have had memories erased too, if they know Gideon was responsible.

He had told them you were being hidden away to prevent other Cupids from knowing you had a second soulmate, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Gideon wants you as his hostage because you’re Din’s soulmate. He wants to use you as leverage to get Din to do what he wants. Initially, you assumed that meant kill those who Gideon considered enemies, but that assumption was proven incorrect when you sent the message to Din without naming even one potential target.

Unfortunately, you think that is not the only wrong assumption you’ve made recently. Gideon had forced you to tell Din to let go. The bond had cried out with agony when you’d said the words out loud as it had thought you were telling Din to let go of you. But looking back at the incident with a clearer head, you find yourself wondering why hadn’t Gideon included those two extra words if that was what he meant? It’s not like there wasn’t plenty of space left to write them on the paper.

If he didn’t mean for Din to let go of you, then logically that would mean he wants Din to let go of something else. Something important enough that Gideon is taking advantage of your relationship in order to convince him to release it.

But what could Din possibly possess that Gideon wants this badly? Din doesn’t own anything valuable except for the Crest and his armor, and you doubt either of those will further progress Gideon towards his goal.

To finish what I started.

Hours later and you still can’t figure out what the kriff he’s talking about. No matter which way you twist or turn the phrase over in your mind, it’s incomprehensible. What did he start? When did it happen? How does he intend to finish it?

Considering how your previous assumptions were both flawed, you really shouldn’t be making another one, but you can’t get the moment of when he’d pressed the sword against your chest out of your mind. The action itself screamed intimidation as well as sexual harassment, but when you think about how he did it at the same time he revealed his goal, your gut instinct is telling you to definitely assume the two are connected to each other.

And then there’s Mayfeld’s comment about there being an inevitable clash between Din and Gideon. He had sounded so certain there would only be one victor, but, unlike you, he hadn’t immediately placed his bet on Din. Which makes no sense to you. Everyone knows it’s an indisputable fact Din is the most powerful entity in the universe, second only to the Maker. The chance of Gideon winning their fight is so slim it’s infinitesimal.

It’s sort of funny though, to imagine Din being defeated by Gideon’s sword.

It’s sort of funny, except...

Well.

It isn’t really funny at all.

~~

Over the span of Din’s existence, he had witnessed entire civilizations wiped out by war, genocide, disease. No matter the reason behind the tragedy, the universe always called him there in the final moments to walk amongst the ruins left behind, to watch those last to die mourn those who passed before them. In those moments, he felt powerless, knowing there was not one thing he could do to change any of it.

He realized the universe was trying to instill a lesson in him: what is meant to happen, will always happen. Regardless of who is hurt in the process.

And maybe he would have surrendered to the harsh teaching if his angel hadn’t been stolen from her rightful place at his side. No one, not even the fucking universe itself, is going to stop him from getting her back.

From their first meeting, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Then when she asked him question after question about his likes and dislikes, his hobbies, his favorite sights in the galaxy—he made the risky decision of trusting her. He revealed his face to her, allowed her to know every part of himself, and was stunned every time she didn’t fear or run away from what she discovered. He didn’t know whether to consider her stupid or brave, but the moment he first heard her laugh at one of his sarcastic quips he knew it was a sound he wanted to hear everyday for the rest of eternity.

When she showed him her marked hand, claiming they were each other’s soulmates, he swore to himself he’d dedicate himself to her happiness. Anything she wanted or asked for, he would give to her without question.

Except now she has asked him to do the impossible: to let go.

He replays the transmission enough times every word, every quiet hitch of breath, and every subtle twitch of her facial features is embedded in his mind. Bo-Katan heaves a sigh after the eighth loop, squeezing the bridge of her nose as if a headache was forming, but he can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the hologram long enough to glare at the reaper. She doesn’t have a soulmate, therefore she can’t even begin to fathom how it feels when his half of the soulmate bond slams itself against the invisible wall separating him from his angel with all the unhinged ferocity of a feral beast.

If Din didn’t know his angel as intimately as she knew him, he might have believed those were her own words coming out of her mouth. However, throughout the entire length of the message he notices how her eyes nervously flick to the side every few seconds, as if she needs to reassure herself someone offscreen isn’t making any sudden movements. It’s all the confirmation he needs to know she’s being used as a mouthpiece against her will to demand Din gives up searching for her.

Din refuses to yield to the whims of an enemy who doesn’t have the balls to face him directly.

He channels his seething anger into steadfast determination as he stretches his powers out across the galaxy for a second time, this time searching for the twi’lek Hess so graciously identified for him. Her being the one to have dragged his soulmate out of Cupid headquarters couldn’t have been a random circumstance. If she has even the slightest notion of who the elusive immortal is that is responsible for shielding his angel from him, he’ll beat the name out of her just as he had her Cupid superior.

Bo-Katan, never one to stand still when she can be doing something useful, sends a message out to her fellow reapers to fill them in on the developing situation. Only Din can give them orders to follow, but she strongly recommends they interrogate any Cupid they come across for information about Xi’an.

Transmissions start flooding in an hour later of reapers reporting what they’ve learned. Turns out Xi’an is the type of person who finds joy in antagonizing others. No one claims her as their friend nor do they know what region of the galaxy she usually operates in. The most interesting tidbit learned from the interrogations is that several Cupids have admitted they often saw the twi’lek in the archives at headquarters, studying datapads and flipping through holobooks.

“She was searching for something,” Bo-Katan murmurs, brow creasing thoughtfully.

“Or she was gathering information on someone’s behalf.” Din’s eyes remained closed, focus split between the conversation and the search. “Only Cupids are allowed at their headquarters. She’d have no issue slipping in and out without anyone giving her a second—”

Every soul has a unique aura that can only be sensed by power-sensitive beings like himself. No two are the same, similar to fingerprints and snowflakes. Having a specific target in mind hastens the search of detecting them amongst the trillions of other beings inhabiting the galaxy, but it is not the fact that Din’s powers have just locked onto Xi’an’s soul that has his eyes snapping open. It is her location.

She’s on Umbriel.

“Stay with the ship,” he tells Bo-Katan.

Din teleports before the reaper responds, arriving at the front entrance of his soulmate’s apartment in the next blink. The front door is wide open and his jaw clenches as he recognizes the gesture for the taunt it is. Rolling his shoulders back, he enters the apartment, purposefully shutting and locking the door behind him.

“About time you showed up.” As soon as Din hears her voice, he’s reminded of a loth cat screeching when its tail is grabbed. The anger he’s been forcibly holding back starts to simmer beneath his armor, fingers twitching at his sides with the desire to wrap around her throat and squeeze.

He finds a purple-skinned twi’lek Cupid standing in the center of the living room. Or, what used to be considered the living room at least. Every piece of furniture has been broken and torn apart. The pile of newspapers kept in the corner are shredded and scattered across the floor. If he didn’t know how precious they were to his angel in her quest to reclaim her memories, he wouldn’t have cared about the mess, but he does know and his wrath increases exponentially.

“Xi’an,” he says, the name bitter on his tongue like a curse.

“The rumor mill says you’ve been looking for me,” she drawls, looking coy and fluttering her eyelashes. “I gotta say, I’m flattered by the attention.”

“Tell me where my soulmate is and you won’t meet the same fate as your boss.”

Her head tilts, tapping her fingers against her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Are you referring to Hess? I heard no one’s been able to reach him lately, but since I report to someone of much higher ranking I could hardly bring myself to care.” Her lips curl into a wicked smirk, revealing the faintest glimpse of her fangs. “You’ve piqued my interest now though, what’d you do to the bastard?”

“I ripped out his soul and crushed it into dust.”

She giggles, unpleasant and shrill. “How scandalous.”

His patience snaps.

“Enough of this.” He steps forward. “Tell me who you work for and where is my soulmate.”

A pair of knives appear in her hands, summoned in the same quick manner as his angel had drawn her bow.

“My answer to the first part is no. And as for the second, you need to be more specific.” She sneers. “Which part of her are you looking for?”

The noise that tears itself out of Din’s throat is one never made by another entity before. It is an outburst of ravenous fury, a promise of bloodshed and carnage, and a predator’s roar before they consume their prey all blended into one deafening war cry.

Xi’an maintains a brave face as she throws knife after knife at him, but as each one harmlessly deflects off his beskar and dissolves into a flicker of light, he sees her mask begin to crack, revealing her nervousness.

She resorts to throwing punches when he’s close enough, but there is no finesse and each one is sloppy. He catches her fist mid-swing with his own hand and twists, shattering her wrist. She gasps out a curse, but the unexpected reappearance of her mischievous smirk manages to catch him off guard.

“Are you gonna do it?” she asks, voice tight with pain, but the intent to provoke him is clear. “Unleash that beautiful darkness I can sense writhing around inside of you?”

He pins her against the wall harsh enough her teeth audibly clack against each other. Still she keeps smirking, still her voice drips like poison into his ears.

“You know you want to, sweetie, so just let go.”

Din’s powers lash out, incensed by those two words he’s sick of hearing. Latching onto her soul, she starts to choke, but the deranged glimmer of glee in her eyes makes him think she’d be laughing if she could.

Darkness starts to ooze out of his armor, resembling thick, black smoke. He can feel the sinister energy emanating from the very core of his being, as if the box it’s been trapped in has been unlocked and is seconds away from bursting open.

Some distant, far part of him is ringing every warning alarm and urging him to stop. But he ignores that voice of reason when he sees Xi’an’s soul start creeping up the back of her mouth, glowing brightly as it squirms in a futile attempt to free itself from the hold of his powers.

He grits his teeth, impatience prompting him to tug at it again, and—

The world lurches and transforms in a blur. When his vision adjusts, he’s no longer standing in his soulmate’s apartment, but instead surrounded by an abundance of scorched trees. Chest heaving, he struggles to clear his head of violent thoughts and make sense of what just happened.

Someone suddenly calls out from behind him, “I summoned you here to speak with you.”

Din recognizes the speaker’s voice before he actually turns to see the female togruta. She wears her usual blue-and-silver tunic and a brown headpiece embedded with a gem over her montrals. The ground is green beneath her feet, the only glimpse of flourishing nature for miles.

“I was in the middle of something, Ahsoka,” Din answers, stalking forward until they stand nearly toe to toe. He’s lost count of how many encounters they’ve had with one another over the years, but no matter the number he remains reluctant to consider her a friend since the Oracle has the irritating knack for disrupting his life when he least desires her presence.

She stands tall, but her hands move to rest on the hilts of the two sabers attached to her belt. “Have you forgotten your creed? When the universe needs you, you listen to it.”

“My soulmate needs me!” he shouts, trembling as another pulse of dark energy discharges from his body. It washes over Ahsoka like a harsh gust of wind, but while she remains unaffected, the patch of grass withers instantaneously.

“The universe recognizes that,” Ahsoka says, and while her calmness does nothing to ease his frayed nerves, her next words have him freezing in place. “And I’ll take you to her so long as you promise me one thing.”

Tentative hope slices through the erratic storm of frenzied emotions in his chest like a beam of sunlight. He searches Ahsoka’s face for the faintest hint of deception, but finds only sincerity.

“What is it?”

“You cannot kill Moff Gideon.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @oh-no-a-whovian​, @over300books​, @chibi-yuki​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[blindrapture]

Cannot believe I finished Empty City. That was in some ways the most rigorous puzzle I've ever had to solve. I worked consecutively from like July to September, then took a long break (with the game frequently on my mind), and worked again consecutively for the last week. So it wasn't like egregiously challenging, but I mean, this is my first game, I was building from scratch. It was at least challenging.

There are things I wanted to do with the game and was not able to. Small examples are like "implement elevators," I seriously tried that in many ways for several days straight and it just.. was not happening, not with the way GBG physics works. Also "an actual health system," I got one working and even had it implemented up until the last days, but there just weren't any danger scenarios that got that complex, in fact the existing danger scenarios were designed around one-hit death. Big examples include "substantial Metroidvania progression," which was the plan for a long time but the 'narrative flow' settled in a different looser maze form. Also, "25 maps instead of 5." Aside from the more obvious reasons I stuck with 5, there's also GBG's natural limitations: you can only have 78 games saved onto your console, period, including your own. A 25-map game would certainly be more substantial, potentially very ambitious if Game Swap Nodon are incorporated with sufficient complexity, but that's.. nearly half of a player's space taken up by one game.

So. That's stuff that Could Have Been. But then we have the Empty City that is.

(As this is where I talk about the game i just released, I will put this under a Read More.)

It started with the thought, "can I make a game I'd love to play?" That game would have to be first-person. GBG has lots of tutorials but does not cover first-person. Luckily, within the first weeks of its release, players had figured out and released various attempts at first-person engines. I looked to them for inspiration/to wrap my head around the concepts (particular credit goes to a Desert Simulator, a big desert walking sim), but in the end I designed my engine myself. It had to feel right, and so I had to have my finger on every single element. (Spending most of my time baked actually helped in this regard. I was in the perfect headspace for tediously tweaking and then testing and Internalizing/Evaluating The Feel of movement, atmosphere, perspective.) Seriously. If you play Empty City, take the time to goof around in the first map and really sense the feeling of movement. Your character has weight and a presence, and that was not by default, that took countless iterations. (Example: Holding RT shows you your hand, which is an Adventure Game sorta UI mechanic, but in this context it's like you're consciously extending your arm in front of you. This is how you interact with objects. And it just feels right, like spreading your wings in Untitled Goose Game.)

So. A first-person engine, one that feels.. "feel-y." What game would I love to play from that? Well, my mind drifts to a few staples: Half-Life, specifically secretcity (the aesthetic of my subconscious!). Something like a blend between secretcity and Metroid, but not overtly Metroid, more like emergent Metroid. What if it started like The Witness, but as you explore the maze around you, you start picking up some visceral (basic) combat, and the game gradually opens up to become like Metroid? Like a Metroid slow-burn, with a crowbar, set in secretcity. The aesthetic is surreal: an "endless" inexplicable maze of brick wall and broad space. There are no humans anywhere, but there may be things that resemble humans around the corner. Writing on the walls suggests you are not the first to have gotten lost here. The barrier between "realistic city" and "checkerboard floors floating in a black void" is just a few wrong turns away. It is not a horror game. It is a game with a poker face that may get scary. And then go back to the safety of long stretches of nothing.

Yeah. That's Empty City. That's the kind of game I made. I was under many limitations, including my own patience but also GBG's restrictions. These set the boundaries for my canvas, and if/when you play the game, you may notice ways I worked around them. Sometimes with notable success-- this technically being five games, but they connect to each other and even transfer items from one game to the next. I figured out how to do that. I did not have any examples to work with at the time. I also "hand-drew" and often "hand-wrote" art for this game……. with a joystick. Yeah. Maybe I should have led with that one.

What I'm trying to say here is. Temper your expectations, but also get perspective. I have reason to be proud of this.. strange ambitious evolution of a walking sim.

Empty City is here. It has been made manifest. On a Nintendo console.

I want people to play it and be surprised.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Choose Your Own Whump 2

With A receiving the most votes on my last post, for this adventure we are going with a drugged Villain whumpee. Sorry about the generic name for this one, I really couldn’t think of anything else ^^

I hope you enjoy, and thanks to everyone for replying to the last post! As always, votes can be sent in through any method you want. Comments, asks, and PMs are all just fine. I’ll see it!

CW//Falling off a building, hostage situations, shapeshifting, medical abuse, extensive talk of sedatives, brief mention of a needle

Please note that the third scene of this piece is from the point of view of a drugged character, and thus the scene has some aspects that could be described as unreality. Please skip this scene if this would make you uncomfortable.

The video was grainy.

It was always grainy. That was the strange thing about it-- everyone carried around miniature computers in their pockets, equipped with tiny cameras that would have rivaled the most powerful devices of years prior. Any civilian could take a 4k quality video on some social media, but the moment anything actually important was happening, technology seemed to regress twenty years.

Hero supposed it didn’t matter. Their memory of the incident was certainly clear as day, better than any camera could ever capture.

And yet...

They clicked a button on the remote, and the clip restarted.

The sides of the screen were blocked out in fuzzy grey-- the video having been taken through the bars of a metal fence. Between them, the camera focused at first on the foot of a brown brick building, before panning upwards, only stopping upon reaching the roof. It took a moment for the visual to adjust, focusing against the glare of the sun overhead.

Two figures, on the building’s roof. Two figures seen so often together, in so many similar videos.

The standoff had taken from dawn till sunset. How Villain had gotten into the building unnoticed had yet to be fully understood, but, regardless of method, they wasted little time in taking hostage a group of professors, eating lunch together. A single one had been released, bringing with them a message:

“Everyone leaves. No one comes in. Everyone stays outside the fence.”

It had seemed like a trap, at first. Of course it had. It wouldn’t be the first time that Villain had played such a trick. After much debating, however, evacuation was deemed to be the best option, and the campus was soon barren.

The hours afterwards had been as long and hot as they had been nerve-wracking. The very thought of following orders from Villain made Hero’s stomach twist, but their orders were incredibly clear: Don’t do anything stupid.

It was an incredibly difficult order to follow.

Establishing a line of communication had been the hardest part. Villain had quickly disconnected any security cameras in the vicinity, alongside confiscating any technology their hostages might have held.

In the end, it was decided that a reporter would be the one to go in. One of the most recognizable faces in the city, and one that was neutral. Not fighting for either side, but representing the citizenry.

The whole plan bet on one fact: That the shapeshifting Hero could pull of the imitation.

It worked. At least, it worked for as long as it needed to. Villain accepted the olive branch, and allowed the supposed reporter to enter unharmed.

Of course, the illusion broke as soon as Hero opened their mouth. No matter how good they were at changing their shape, it did not change their voice. In the brief moment of confusion, the hostages had managed to make their escape.

Leaving only the two nemeses, and the building as their battlefield.

It was hard to remember the fight. They had waged so many battles against one another, they all seemed to blend together, at one point or another. There was broken glass, pushed over tables, exploding equipment, and then-

And then they were on the roof.

Villain was stupid, but they weren’t, well, they weren’t stupid. They may have had the moral compass of a kleptomaniac feline, and the brain cells to match, but they had common sense. A sense of self-preservation.

Forcing them to the edge of the roof... it was supposed to be like pushing them to a corner. Trapping them.

In the video, the two figures danced. Forward, and back, until one took the lead. Until they were up against the edge, with nowhere left to go.

They were supposed to stop. They weren’t supposed to fall.

They stopped their own fall, or at least they tried. They were telekinetic. Of course they did. But they were surprised, or confused, or, or something. They slowed themself down. But they did not stop. The force with which they struck the concrete parking lot below was more than enough to knock them out.

The video ended.

And... that was it. The end. Years and years of battles, some won, some lost, all ended. They should have been happy, and they were! They hated Villain, sincerely and truly hated them.

But no other villain fought like them. No other villain had their tongue, their wit. Their skill. Their fight.

Villain’s defeat should have been epic! The ultimate confrontation of good and evil, of chaos, and order.

Yet, their downfall was a simple trip.

In the corner of Hero’s TV screen, small white text helpfully reported to them just when that video had been recorded.

One year ago.

One year, since that day. Since Villain’s downfall. And now...

Hero’s phone buzzed. A text message. The confirmation of a meeting.

One whole year, and still, Hero’s mind was consumed by their lost nemesis.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━   

The diner was terribly busy, and yet, when Hacker walked through the door, Hero had no doubts as to their identity.

Despite their rather stereotypical appearance, there was nothing about the person’s manner that would have indicated the sheer amount of time they spent behind a computer screen. They greeted the receptionist, pointed to Hero, and exchanged a few words beyond that. With a smile, then, they parted, and made their way to Hero’s table.

Their manner only seemed strange when they sat down, and Hero noted that the way they smiled seemed to pain them.

“Is this seriously what you people act like?” They hissed through bared teeth. “Can I stop smiling now? Or will they look at me weird?”

“They’re already looking at you weird.”

“They are?”

“You- You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh thank god.” Immediately, their expression fell into one far more analytic. Far less friendly. “I, uh, don’t get out much.”

“Really?” Hero raised a brow incredulously. 

“I’ve got more important things to do than, uh, than going out. Anyways.” They stuck a hand outwards. It was partially covered by a fingerless glove. “I’m Hacker.”

“I figured.” Hero shook the offered hand. “I’m Hero, though I suppose you already know that.”

“You’d think people here would be, uh, a bit more in awe? It’s not everyday you get to eat in the same building as a superhero.”

“Keep your voice down, please.”

“Oh, sorry. Is it, like, a secret? You don’t have a secret identity, do you?”

“No. But when I’m out of costume, I’m not exactly that recognizable. So let’s keep it that way. Kapish?”

“Kapash. But, still, oh my god. This is so cool! A real life hero...”

“Yeah... Yeah. A real hero alright.”

A hero who could hardly focus during battle. A hero who infuriated their team leader more than they aided them.

“Anyways.” Hacker raised their head, a far more natural smile coming onto their face. “I have the... thing.”

“You mentioned that. It’s about Villain, right?”

“Mhm.”

The person across the booth leaned down, prying a laptop from a carrying case and placing it atop the table. It was a bulky thing, and as soon as it was turned on, the shrill sound of fans struggling not to overheat filled Hero’s head. Hacker clicked around a bit. They gripped the edges of the device, as if about to spin it around, before they stopped, frowning.

“It’s been a year now, hasn’t it?” They commented.

“Since Villain was captured. Yes. 374 days.”

“You remember?”

“Yes.”

“You miss them, don’t you?”

It was so direct. Hero couldn’t help but stutter:

“I don’t- Of course I don’t miss them. I hate them.”

Hacker looked up over the laptop screen to give them an incredulous look. It wasn’t a convincing lie.

“I don’t miss them.” Hero stood their ground. “But I want to make sure they’re contained.”

“I just... I don’t know if this is something you want to see. You’re trying to move on, and-”

“Show me it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. If it’s something to do with their containment, I need to know about it. I can’t let them hurt anyone else.”

“Well, that’s not the problem here. If you’re sure.”

With a sigh, Hacker spun the computer around, so that it’s screen faced Hero.

They weren’t sure what they expected. Some kind of... deep web threat? A message from Villain? A copycat? An escape attempt?

But they didn’t get any of that. Instead, the screen displayed a simple PDF. Medical records. At the top, in bold letters and a rather ostentatious logo, the header read:

Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization

For the most part, the page was Greek to Hero. A slew of ID numbers and attending physicians with far too many acronyms following their names. What did make sense to them was the spreadsheet that made up most of the page, labelled:

Approved Daily Medication Dosage for Patient: Villain

The spreadsheet took up two pages with solid text. Hero did not recognize the medication names, of course, but they did not need to be a doctor to understand the entries written under the column labelled “Medication Purpose.”

Every single data cell, even as they scrolled to the bottom of the document, contained only one word. The same word.

Sedation

“This is...” Hero muttered, furrowing their brow. Scrolling up and down. This had to be wrong, somehow.

“I don’t understand most of it.” Hacker commented sheepishly. “But, uh, I have a few friends with some more medical knowledge than me. They’ve never seen anything like it. It’s more than enough medication to sedate a fucking elephant- sorry, excuse my language.”

“It’s fine.” The confusion in their voice was rapidly melting to fury.

“Even for major surgical procedures... nothing near this level would ever be used.”

“This has to be a mistake.” Hero shook their head. “A mix-up. Maybe it’s like... all the medications the facility ordered. And they just labelled it wrong.”

“Well, if it’s a mistake, they’ve been making the exact same one for an entire year. I’ve got 374 of these files. Newest one just got uploaded a few hours ago.”

“And they’re always the same?”

“With some minor dosage adjustments, but yes. That’s not, um, that’s not all of it.”

Hacker reached over, dragging the computer back so that it faced them again. There was more clicking this time, along with typing at a speed that made Hero’s fingers hurt, just to watch it.

When the laptop was spun back around, this time, it was a video.

A camera feed.

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Villain felt about to choke on their tongue.

It wasn’t a new feeling. More or less, it was the only thing they felt, anymore. That heavy block of muscle in their mouth, threatening at any moment to block throat choke air no air no-

They were losing their words again. Words... wordsssssss... Voices. Voices spoke words. Sometimes, they did. Sometimes they grumbled and muttered and sputtered and murmured like a car murmured. Cars... or was it cats? No, cats didn’t murmur. They purred. What else did they do? Not bark... no, barking too loud for cats. Cat go mew mew, real quiet like.

Cat’s meow, that is a cat’s voice. There were other voices, too. Quiet like cats. Two of them, two voices. They knew those voices, those were the doctors’ voices. The doctors liked to talk a lot. They talked, but they did not see. Or... no. They were not seen. Villain did not see them. They wanted to, but their eyes were broken. The engines in their eyelids would not run anymore, would not open the garage door, Sally!

One of the doctors’ voices got closer. A million miles away, a hand was laid upon Villain’s wrist, flipping over their hand so that their palm faced downward.

“Let’s move it.”

It was a silly thing to say. Nothing moved in this place. Nothing that Villain could see, as their eyes were broken.

“Is the other vein healed enough?”

“It’s going to have to be.”

Silly words... Villain wanted to laugh, but their muscles were firmly locked away behind a padlock.

“Okay.” The doctor sounded so sad. Why were they so sad? Villain’s mouth was full of soil. The doctor was tired. “I’ll get the rest of the medicines.”

“We’re going 30 milligrams up from yesterday on the Propofol.”

“Oh? Why?”

“They opened their eyes, yesterday.”

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Hero felt sick. In the top right corner of the security footage, the same logo from the medical records was displayed. The Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization. Below it, a subtitle.

“Keeping the city safe.”

Was this safety? It shouldn’t have been. They had known, of course, what had happened to Villain after their capture and very brief hospital stay. It was what happened to all villains. They were sent to the rehab unit.

A therapy program. Helping villains to control their powers and reform their lives. To return them to the straight and narrow. But, now that Hero thought about it...

Villain was the only one who had never been released.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Tell someone about what is happening - Who should Hero tell? (They are on a small team, as well as part of a larger Organization, for reference.)

B.) Attempt a more direct approach. Visit Villain in the rehab program - Should Hero try to rescue Villain immediately?