#except for the fact there's a think line between oh wow and yikes and I fear I'm heading into yikes

[crimsonblackrose]

Oh no. I’ve been writing and haven’t been paying attention, just trying to hurry...and I just looked at the chapter count and it was longer than I thought it was and I just did the math for them all and I fear...this might be becoming too long.

[dropofgoldensun]

water glass | h.rj.

pairing: renjun x reader

genre: restaurant au, college au, angst, fluff, waiter!renjun

word count: 5.7k

warnings: mentions of date drugs (not renjun), suggestive intentions (also not renjun)

summary: a dinner date gone wrong… or, if you look at it another way, a dinner date that almost got you in a terrible situation. almost.

a/n: not sure i really like the prompt of the way this date goes wrong, but renjun as a waiter? yes, always yes, 1000 times yes (also yikes the editing on the title in the picture rip XD) (also this is a repost because tags weren’t working the first time i posted this, i’m not sure why hjhdfjgfd)

Ever since you had laid eyes on Shin Youngjin, you’ve been harboring the largest crush on him. He was perfect — his voice had a comforting effect on people, his intelligence was said to be as sharp as his jawline, and every time he ran a hand through his hair, you felt yourself melt.

Unfortunately, you had been told by many individuals that Youngjin didn’t date — in fact, no one had ever seen him on campus with a girl longer than “was necessary”, which you took to interpret as “conversation made for class purposes only”.

But fortunately for you… he had seemed to make an exception.

That day when he had approached you of his own will, while World History class hadn’t even started yet, he’d leaned down next to your ear and whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

Maybe it wasn’t the best pickup line ever, but it had blood rushing to your cheeks before he’d even started speaking (the wink he added afterwards didn’t help). One thing led to another, and the two of you had exchanged numbers. Youngjin promised to take you out to dinner one of these days.

“As a date?” you’d asked, not quite believing him.

“As a date.” The half-smile that traced his face was killing you slowly. But in a good way.

And this is how you find yourself tonight, wrapped in a dress that your roommate had suggested you wear (read: aggressively barricaded the door with a chair and told you that you are NOT going out like that on a DATE who do you think you ARE (Name)??).

Youngjin, ever the gentleman, opens the door to the restaurant for you. You’re vaguely aware of the hand that he has around your waist, but you decide you don’t mind. It’s Shin Youngjin, for God’s sake.

A waitress leads you to a booth and the two of you sit, a shy smile gracing your face as you open the drinks menu. Not long after, a young man in a black apron appears, and you notice the shining tag he wears on his top: “RENJUN”. He greets the two of you politely and tells you that he’ll be your server tonight, placing glasses of cold water in front of you both. “May I get you started on drinks?”

Youngjin looks at you expectantly, but you shake your head. “Ah, I don’t do alcohol.”

His eyes seem to glint at you, and he nods. “I don’t either,” he says, staring at the side of your head as you, unaware of his gaze, hand the beverages menu to Renjun.

Your server looks between the two of you. “Water’s fine? Okay, I’ll leave one of these menus here, just in case you change your mind.” His attitude is professional yet cheerful, and you wonder if you’ve seen him at your college. Before you can say anything, though, he’s gone, the dinner menu left in his wake.

“I feel like I recognize him from somewhere,” you tell Youngjin, tracing the condensation on your glass thoughtfully. “From school.”

“Hmm, maybe,” he says, not really interested in talking about your waiter. “So, Miss (Name)…” His velvety tone makes you blush. “What else do you do, besides being the only interesting subject in History class?”

Oh, oh wow. It’s not even a good line, but you’re smitten (unfortunately), and you know that (also unfortunately).

You’re in the middle of discussing how you spend your free time in your dorm rooms when the man in front of you has the audacity to whisper in that ever-so-secretive way (the same way that he makes you feel like putty), “What do you say we head back to my place when this is over?”

Now, although you’re quite convinced that Youngjin is The One™, you’re not foolish enough to agree to something like heading over to a near-stranger’s dorm. “Maybe some other time… but tonight I want to go straight back to my place.” You know that he might be disappointed, though, so you consolingly add, “My roommate made me promise her to tell her how the night went.”

He seems like he wants to say something against that, but instead he smirks. “Ah, yes, never keep your roommates waiting… I’ve had to learn that lesson the hard way.”

“Care to share?”

“Of course…”

A few minutes later, you catch Youngjin staring at your neck. Why would he — oh, of course, you deduce, he’s probably staring at your necklace. You play with it, explaining that it used to be your mother’s as you rub your fingers over the smooth circle. He’s a good listener, nodding as you continue, still staring at your necklace.

Renjun comes back after noticing that both you and Youngjin have closed your menus. Seeing that you aren’t ready yet, he takes your date’s order first before turning to you.

As your gaze is focused solely on the list in front of you, you barely notice Youngjin reach across the table for a napkin. You miss the small white tablet that falls from his sleeve into your water cup, dissolving quickly into nothing.

Renjun, however, doesn’t. Though he was only able to see it out of the corner of his eye, he has no doubt in his mind what it was. He knows where this will go, and it is in that split second when you look up at him, oblivious to what just happened, that he decides that he must do what he can to spare you, prevent you from even touching your glass of water.

You tell him your order and he writes it down absentmindedly, desperately trying to think of ways to take away your cup. To buy time, he asks about the toppings you want, and oh, what about these other toppings that aren’t even included in the dish? One is a repeat question, and he realizes his mistake only after the words are out of his mouth.

A look of confusion crosses your face. “Um… yes please?”

“Didn’t you already ask her that?” Youngjin asks, his suave attitude now borderline impatient.

“Uh — um yes, my apologies.” Renjun bites his lip nervously, not liking the expression on your date’s face while still trying to figure out how to deal with the water. You probably wouldn’t want him to outright say, “Your boyfriend spiked your drink!” That would be rude, and he doubted you’d even believe him.

He’s running out of time when —

An idea finally hits him.

And unfortunately, it’s a terrible one.

And even worse, it’s the only idea he has.

He leans to take your menu and, while retrieving it, the floppy bound leather knocks your glass onto its side, the contents spilling onto the table. And you.

You’re surprised to the point where you don’t even know how to react, but Youngjin stands up and points an accusatory finger at your server. “You did that on purpose!”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Renjun bows at a ninety-degree angle, pretending to panic (and, with the way Youngjin’s glaring daggers at him, he’s beginning to not need to pretend anymore). He quickly picks up the overturned cup and returns it to its upright position, scrambling to dab the water off the table with the spare handkerchief he has in his apron. “I’m new here, I’m so, so sorry…”

That’s false. Renjun’s parents own the restaurant, and he’s been working here longer than any of the other employees (that is, if he counted all those days he spent as a ten-year-old cleaning tables before opening hours and making sure each one had enough napkins and chopsticks). But he’s twenty now, meaning that he has ten years of practice under his belt, ten years of learning that obviously included how to not be clumsy with large menus.

Your date starts to raise his voice. “First you ask her the same question twice, then you spill water on her — if you must know, she is my girlfriend, so don’t even think about —”

“Youngjin, it’s okay.” It makes you weak when you hear him call you his girlfriend (even though you aren’t), but given that your date looks like he’s practically about to tear your waiter to shreds, his hand already clutching the off-white collared shirt, you feel the need to speak up. “He’s new here, and it was just water, anyways.”

Reluctantly, your date releases his grip on the server, sinking back into his seat.

“I’ll go to the bathroom to clean up,” you say, sliding out of the booth and heading towards the back of the restaurant.

Renjun’s hands linger over the napkins, collecting the water in swift, sweeping motions that guide the water away from dripping off the edges of the wood.

Youngjin’s eyes linger on your figure, watching your hips sway and disappointed that, tonight, he would be unable to see them swaying again, although at a different place, his place. Licking his lips at his fantasy, he clenches his jaw as he notices Renjun cleaning the table.

He has a feeling that the waiter saw the tablet, but then remembers that he should have been taking your order down at the time. He curses your server under his breath, which Renjun, ever the professional, pretends not to hear.

In the bathroom, you take paper towels and flatten them, lightly pressing them against your dress, hoping to soak up as much of the liquid as possible. It’s not quite as effective as you had thought it would be, but it’s a better solution than no solution at all.

You’re just exiting the bathroom when you see Renjun, standing against the wall opposite the door. Had he been waiting for you?

His expression makes it clear that he has. Looking around to make sure the two of you aren’t being watched, he whispers, “Your friend put something in your drink.”

“What?” Confusion is evident in your tone, so he continues.

“Your friend. He dropped something into your water.”

“Sorry… I’m not following…” You bite the inside of your cheek.

If you were this dense, he’d best be more direct about it. “Did he ask you if you were interested in going home with him tonight?”

“Huh?” Your eyebrows furrow, and Renjun has never felt more frustrated.

“Did he ask you,” he says slowly, leaning closer to you and lowering his voice even more, “if you were interested — in going home with him tonight?”

A chill makes you shiver, not because it’s cold, but because he’s right. “Yes,” you breathe. “He did.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said no,” you whisper, gulping as you’re starting to put two and two together.

Renjun steps back. “Right before I took your order, I saw him reach over your glass and drop something that was small and white, but I didn’t see it after that, so I assume it dissolved. I don’t think I need to tell you any more.” He pauses, waiting for you to say something.

You can’t believe it. Your Shin Youngjin? And to think he would stoop so low as to slip a tablet into your water in hopes that you would drink it and…

That doesn’t sound like the genuine, charismatic Youngjin you know.

“How do I know you’re even telling the truth?” You fold you arms and Renjun sighs.

“I’m not actually new here. This place belongs to my parents; I’ve been working here since I was a kid.”

“So?”

“So,” he says, trying not to sound annoyed with a customer he’s known for barely five minutes, “I would probably know to avoid knocking over drinks with a menu.”

“But what you’re telling me — about the thing he put in my drink — that just doesn’t seem like something he’d do.”

“Do you even know him that well to begin with?”

The blunt words hit you like the ice in the water, landing abruptly onto your skin and making you stare up at him in shock. But before you can tell him to get out of your way, the question finds its way into your conscience.

How much do you really know Shin Youngjin, other than seeing him regularly in World History?

Then you remember the arm he’d snaked around your waist as you were walking into the restaurant. And, although you didn’t notice it at the time, you vaguely recall his hand resting at your hip, daring to slink lower on your body than it already had.

And, if you can remember that, then you might also be able to assume that oh, maybe he wasn’t looking at the necklace you were wearing, maybe he was looking somewhere else, maybe his gaze was lower than your neck and you hadn’t realized it because you were too focused on him.

Because, when you look at the world — and Shin Youngjin, who up until now, was your world — through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags look like flags.

Renjun watches the realization dawn on your face, and as you glance back up at him, you no longer seem confused. Rather, you seem helplessly distraught.

“What do I do?” you ask, begging him for an answer.

“Dump him,” he says, as if it was the most obvious thing to do.

“What? I can’t just straight up tell him that I’m leaving!”

“Yes, you can,” says Renjun slowly, maintaining solemn eye contact with you. “Because you are your own person, and if you don’t like the way someone is treating you, you can tell them to piss off.”

You send a pleading look at him, but he shakes his head before you can even say your question.

“No, I’m not doing it for you, because it has to come from you. You’re the one he’s mistreating. Also, I’m pretty sure that if I say one more word to him, he’ll punch me.”

“Will you come with me?” Your voice is a whisper, your eyes are sincere. “Please.”

A pause, and then: “Okay, but I’ll have to stand slightly apart from you two. Don’t worry —” he adds, “I won’t be too far away.”

“That took quite a while,” Youngjin says as you return to your seat.

“It was quite a lot of water,” you reply, smoothing down your dress.

“I think we ought to complain to management about this,” he muses, glaring at Renjun, who’s wiping down a table a little ways away.

“But Jinnie, he’s new —”

“This is how new people learn: from their mistakes.”

“Youngjin, please.” You finally gain his attention. “I know you’re upset about the spill, but I’m not. I talked with him earlier and he formally apologized. I forgave him.”

“You forgave him.” His tone is one of disbelief, as if something was wrong with that.

“Yes.” You stand up, trying to maintain your composure. “And do you know what else we talked about?”

“What.”

As you stare at him, you realize that he is no longer the shining Youngjin that you’d viewed him as just an hour earlier. Instead, you see that he’s impatient, unforgiving, selfish.

And, as his actions from tonight had clearly displayed, you see that he has no respect for others. He didn’t care whether you said no to coming home with him, because he was going to try to have it his way. He didn’t care what happened to you — he only cared that he got what he wanted.

“We talked about how you drugged my drink when I wasn’t looking.”

The bomb you drop in the conversation makes him stand up, as if the spark was right underneath him. He tries to defend himself. “Whoa whoa whoa — I didn’t put a thing in your drink! I’m not that kind of person, (Name), you know that. And besides, why would I?”

“Because I said I wouldn’t go home with you tonight. And I meant it, and you ignored it.”

“I didn’t — I swear, I didn’t touch your drink. Did you see me do something that made it look like I had?”

“No. But someone else saw you.”

Renjun had moved onto another table, one placed in your peripheral vision if you were staring at your date. Your gaze flits to him, and he gives you a look, one that you can’t quite put into words, yet one that tells you what to do next.

“You’re despicable,” you say to him. “I hate your attitude towards me; it shows how you treat women.” You stand up from the booth and gather your purse and phone. “And I hate how aggressive you were with our waiter. Don’t even try to call me, or text me. I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”

As you begin to make your way towards the exit, his voice calls from behind. “You have nowhere to go.”

You can hear the arrogance in his voice when he says it, but you turn and face him with the most repulsed look you can muster, rooted in the absolute disgust you have for him. “I’d rather have nowhere to go than to be at your mercy. Goodbye, Youngjin.”

You spin on your heels and make your way into the outside air, already cold from the night but frigid from the slight breeze. He was right — you did indeed have nowhere to go, no ride to catch. Maybe an Uber would be the best option, so you look up the phone number before realizing that neither you nor Youngjin had tipped.

It takes a couple of minutes to find the back entrance to the restaurant, which is hidden by a wall and stacked boxes. This must be where the deliveries for supplies go through, you conclude. And that door seems to lead to the kitchen.

It swings open easily, maybe even too easily, the flimsy metal grate of the door wobbling as you try to close it without making too much noise, but in vain, you hear an “excuse me” from behind you.

Caught.

A lady with smile wrinkles bows out of common courtesy, and you bow out of respect. “I’m sorry, dear, but we don’t allow customers in this part of the restaurant.” She clasps her hands in front of her apron, the plastic of her head cap crinkling as her hair falls down when she stands upright. “May I walk you back to your table?”

“Oh, um —” You try to explain yourself without sounding too nervous. “Is it… is it okay if I stay back here for a little bit?”

She tilts her head to the side and leans forward, listening.

“I — I came here on a date, but he put something in my water — and our waiter knocked it over so I wouldn’t drink it, and — then the waiter told me about it, and then I — I talked to my date about it but he got angry with me, and he was being really rude and making me uncomfortable…” Your eyes dare to tear up and you lower your head in shame, embarrassed to admit such a thing to a stranger.

But she understands and nods, taking pity on you. “Stay here as long as you need,” she says, her eyes filled with sympathy. Then she sits you down on an unused chair, asking if you’d like something to drink. “Barley tea while you wait?”

“Yes, please…” Your tone is an odd combination of grateful and miserable.

A few minutes later, Renjun walks into the kitchen, relieved that your date had finally stormed off. His sleeves are rolled up from cleaning tables and he sighs, tossing the dish rag into a nearby laundry basket.

And then he notices you, holding a cup filled with something he assumes is tea. “Why are you still here?” he asks, a part of him breaking inside when he sees your expression.

It’s awkward as you try to put the cup down while fumbling with your purse. “Well I — I forgot that I hadn’t tipped, so I just — I wanted to —”

“You don’t have to.”

You stop, a couple of dollar bills between your fingers. “Why not?”

He shrugs. “You just don’t. I only brought you water… which I knocked over, so the more reasonable thing to do is for me to pay for your dress.” His mouth twists and he looks away, feeling partially guilty.

But you don’t stop the conversation there, frustrating him slightly more. “Oh, my dress? My dress is fine, it was just water.” And it’s awful, because now Renjun can’t think of anything else he can do to make everything up to you, make tonight not a complete failure of a date for you. Dear god, this is like when Mom tries to pay the check after a dinner with friends. Do I need to FIGHT you for the bill?

And then he has another idea, and he isn’t sure whether it’ll be good or not.

“I’ll take you out to dinner,” he says bluntly, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can arrange them into something more polite.

“What?”

“Well if you’re still hungry — and if you want to, sorry that was a bit too straightforward —”

“I want to.”

It’s something barely louder than a whisper, but he hears you and unties his apron, folding it up and placing it on a counter. “Mom?” he calls. “I’m taking my break now.”

One of the chefs turns around, and you realize it’s the lady who allowed you to stay in the kitchen and gave you barley tea. She takes one look at the two of you before saying, “Oh, okay! Have fun!” and delivers a teasing smile to you both.

Renjun’s ears are pink. “Mom —”

“Yes, I heard you! Go take your break, Jun!”

You and Renjun prove to be very indecisive over where to eat (“Um… do you want to eat in the restaurant?” “I don’t mind, where do you want to go?” “I don’t know.”), which is the only reason why you’re eating churros for dinner. It has nothing to do with the fact that your friend doesn’t want to eat at his family’s restaurant (he says).

But Renjun knows the owner of the churro shop a block away, who said that you guys didn’t have to pay (he doesn’t tell you that it’s because his friend’s proud of him for finally getting a girlfriend, which he doesn’t object because hey, free food). And they’re good churros, so who are you to complain?

As you sit across from him inside the parlor, you learn that he does, in fact, attend the same college as you — you happen to be in the same year and you even have your life skills class together, which surprises you both (and despite it being a class of a hundred people, you wonder why you don’t seen him more often).

And he learns your name, something he realizes he didn’t know yet. He hadn’t felt the need to, since it was just you and him, but now he feels slightly embarrassed for not asking it sooner.

Your previous feelings pass with the time as you watch people enter and exit, walk by the glass windows of the place and peer in curiously. Renjun’s a good storyteller, weaving anecdotes of his college friends into your mind that play like a movie — Lee Donghyuck, his classmate from the music section in the arts department; Na Jaemin, his friend from and captain of the dance team; Lee Jeno, his roommate of two years and best friend of ten. And after a while, you find yourself longing to get to know the boy sitting in front of you, to possibly share some experiences with him, to fall into his memories and join him there.

By the time you finish your churros and walk around the streets, a question — ignored until now — arises.

“Renjun…” Your voice trails off, and you become painfully aware of just how many things still separate you. He may be in your class, but he’s still very much a stranger. A pretty stranger, but a perfect case of seeing yet not knowing.

“Hmm?” He turns his head, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Why are you… being so nice to me? You barely know me.”

“Well…” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks, starting to make things slightly awkward. “I didn’t approve of what your friend pulled earlier, no one deserves for that kind of thing to happen to them —”

“No, I mean all of tonight. You prevent me from drinking the water, and then you help me get rid of Youngjin, and then you take me out for dinner — why?”

He sighs. “What happened in the restaurant was what anyone would do. But I didn’t want you to be upset after everything… so I asked to hang out with you more, because I wanted you to at least have an okay night.”

Something inside of your chest blooms as his words reach your ears, a giddy feeling that only comes from the thoughtfulness of a stranger… and perhaps from other things, too but you’re not quite sure.

You’re caught up in your mind in dilemmas of your own. How can you express your gratefulness after all that has happened? He acts as if his acts were nothing, not knowing the effect it had on you. How do you thank him?

And you realize where your thoughts have left you, your gaze landing on his lips.

Oh.

Blood rises to your cheeks as you dismiss the notion, hastily looking away.

No, that’s a bad idea.

Quite terrible, in fact.

After considering what he had said earlier, Renjun is hit with a sudden thought and he swallows nervously, facing you. “I realize now that I’ve become too involved in your life tonight. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to mess everything up for you.”

You raise your eyebrows at his change in demeanor. “What are you talking about?” He doesn’t reply, so you continue. “You saved me. And… you encouraged me to speak out because I was uncomfortable, and I really appreciate that. You didn’t mess anything up, Jun.”

His ears burn a bright scarlet, unseen by you in the darkness, but he reaches up to touch them and you think you might know why.

 “Um — well, what I’m saying is —” You stammer under his gaze, which is fixated on you, only you. “— I really enjoyed spending time with you tonight.”

The lights on the sidewalk are able to illuminate his expression, but it’s not enough for you to notice the pale pink dusting his cheeks. “I did, too.” His voice breaks on the first word and the sentence becomes a whisper. “Ah — it’s getting late, I ought to take you home.”

“Wait —”

Renjun freezes when your hand grabs his in an attempt to make him stop walking, and his brain short-circuits as he tries to think about anything except holding it.

“We haven’t even had dessert yet.”

“What?” he chokes out as he concentrates on your hands, hoping you don’t realize his voice is suddenly an octave higher. God, were you trying to make him flustered? “Churros aren’t dessert?”

“I mean they’re sugary, but not quite dessert material…”

He tries to relax — at least as much as he can while you’re holding his hand — and manages to somewhat compose himself. “Okay…”

“Do you want to get something cold or something hot…?”

He doesn’t know, and instead chooses to run his other hand through his hair, the chill of the wind blowing gently across his face. You can’t tell that his cheeks are tinted pink, but you feel his palm starting to get sweaty.

“I have an idea,” you say, squeezing his hand and you could swear you just heard him gasp with a sharp intake of breath.

“Oh?”

“It’s a terrible one, though.”

“Go for it, I love terrible ideas.” He watches as you gaze up at him and step nearer, and he begins to realize where this is heading. “After all —” His arms find your waist, his eyes reflecting the pale glow of streetlamps. “— I wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t spill water on you.”

“True.” You pull him closer and notice that he tilts his head yet doesn’t move. Were you making a mistake, was this too fast? If he wasn’t staring at your lips, you certainly would have thought so.

Then what was he waiting for?

Amidst the thoughts running through your mind, an answer comes to the surface.

You. He was waiting for you.

Renjun realizes that this may not be your first kiss ever, but it’s your first kiss with him, and it shouldn’t be his decision to make — it should be yours.

And your answer is yes.

You meet him halfway, a silent thank-you passing between. It was out of respect that he hadn’t kissed you first, out of respect, he had waited for you. You hadn’t expected a person to do that on a date… or ever.

The night air picks up and sends chills down your arms and legs, the only heat coming from Renjun’s hand on your cheek. With every gust of wind your grip on his shirt tightens, ensuring that the warmth won’t leave you, grasping for it like a child trying to catch embers flying from a fireplace.

An indescribable gratitude bubbles up within you as your arms loop around his neck. And the moments tick by as slowly as if you suddenly stared at a clock for each second.

One.

Thank you for saving me.

Two.

Thank you for keeping me company.

Three.

Thank you for waiting for me.

And you pull away. The kiss was short, yet it leaves you too shocked to speak.

Thank you for making me stand up for myself when I was nervous, thank you for encouraging me when I wasn’t sure.

Your thoughts never get further than the tip of your tongue, but they make it to your eyes, a sign of your gratefulness present in your expression.

The first actual words out of your mouth are: “You taste like cinnamon sugar.” His cheeks flare up in embarrassment, and although you can’t see them in the current lighting, you can feel them burning as you brush your fingers against his face.

 “I — thanks?”

“Mmhm. Well, you didn’t specify hot or cold for dessert, so I decided a little bit of both.”

“What was the cold?”

“The wind.”

“Ah, the wi—” He lets go of you to check what you’re wearing, noticing the raised bumps on your arms and the way that your hand is a lot colder than his. “Wait, you must be freezing, I’m so sorry —”

“Oh, it’s fine —”

“I mean, I would offer you my jacket, but I don’t have one, so unless you want to wear my shirt…”

You smack his shoulder lightly. “We should start walking, then.”

As you move to continue down the sidewalk, it’s now Renjun’s turn to take your hand. He ignores the fact that he can’t hear himself over his internal screaming while holding your hand again, asking, “Wait, you never told me the other half. What was the hot?”

Glancing sideways at him, you send him a knowing look and laugh. “I think you know. Let’s keep going —”

“Actually, seeing as I apparently taste like sugar,” he says matter-of-factly, “you don’t need dessert.”

“What are you talking about?” Whirling around to face him, you point to yourself. “Dinner goes to the stomach.” You gesture to your chest. “But dessert goes to the heart. That’s why there’s always room.”

Renjun pretends to consider your philosophy before agreeing. “Hmm. I like the way you think.”

“Yeah, me too.” You grin cheekily at him after dismissing his remark and earn an eyeroll, something that you were sure you’d be seeing a lot more often if you decided to start seeing him (which was a very likely possibility, if you were being honest).

“Are you sure you don’t need to go back soon? I don’t want to keep you here if you do…”

“What? No, I don’t need to go back,” you say, ignoring the rather inconvenient vibration of your phone, probably your roommate asking where you are. “The date’s not over until we’ve both had our fill of ice cream.”

“Hold on, ice cream? You want ice cream in this weather?” He gestures to the sky to indicate his point.

“Every time is ice cream time, Jun.”

Your phone keeps buzzing and you check it reluctantly. It is indeed your roommate, spamming your texts in hopes of getting your attention and an answer. Rather ineffective, you decide as you switch your phone to Do Not Disturb mode. Of course, it might result in some complaining at the end of the night, but you suppose that you could be spared that conversation for now.

She would ask you, “Where were you?” and you would reply, “On a date.” She would ask, “I should have known — no Sherlock, what were you doing for so long?” and you would say, “We went out for dessert, too.” She would inquire further, “So what happens with you and Youngjin now?” and your puzzling response would be a shake of your head and a “Never again… but I did meet someone else…”

You could picture the scene as you step into the ice cream place with Renjun’s pinky interlocked with yours, a small and rather inaccurate display of the growing affection he has for you.

Your orders are placed, as are your spoons, smooth plastic meeting smoother dessert. Neither of you are brave enough to try the adorable fish-shaped cones that the shop is famous for, since they look like a mess about to be made. Your dress and Renjun’s white collared shirt aren’t exactly ready for that, so you get your ice cream in cups like the cowards you are.

On the side of the counter, there’s a glass dispenser of water with cucumbers and mint sprigs floating over the surface, and Renjun leaves you to take the ice cream and find somewhere for you both to sit, which you do.

When he returns, he places two water cups on the table and bows respectfully, clasping his hands in front of him and surprising you slightly. Yet as he straightens up, you notice the smirk tracing his face, the playful gleam in his eyes.

“May I get you started on drinks?”

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 3,736 Sam x Reader Summary: Dean stays behind while Sam and Y/N head to the local bar. Suprisingly, sparks fly and what starts seemingly as a drunken hook up could be more. Warnings: sexual content A/N: A little flirtatious banter, a little bit (maybe a lot) steamy, a little humor, a lot of cute and fluff... Trust me. You want to read this fic. Also, that second gif... *fans self*

Your name: submit What is this?

You looked over at Sam across the pool table, leaning a little on his cue, and you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip. “Are you gonna go or just stare at the table all night?” you prompted, drawing what was clearly only a half-serious annoyed look.

“Will you just give me a minute?” he laughed. “I’m figuring out the angles! It’s a little hard to do mental geometry with you over there scoffing every 5 seconds!”

“Scoffing, huh?” You shook your head at him. “You know what?” You lined up a shot and knocked in two of your balls.

Sam’s jaw dropped open. “What?! Are you kidding me? It wasn’t your turn!” But he was laughing through his amazement at your gall.

You raised your eyebrows at him and leaned heavily on your cue, shrugging carelessly. “You were taking too long. And if I’m not mistaken, I just sunk two, so it’s my turn again!”

Sam shook his head and bit his bottom lip. “You’re a cheat,” he said. You grinned back at him.

“Alright, cheater. I’m gonna go get us some more drinks while you finish out your ill-gotten turn,” he said, giving you a last scolding look. You only returned a satisfied smile and began lining up your next shot. You didn’t see Sam pause on his way over to the bar to take another look at you over his shoulder. There was warmth on his face as he laughed to himself and signaled to the bartender. He returned in a couple minutes with two drinks and immediately let out a laugh when he saw the table was cleared except for his balls and the cue ball.

“Looks like you lost, Sam,” you said accepting a glass from him and wiggling your eyebrows.

“It looks that way, but did I actually lose if my opponent cheated me out of the game?”

“It’s not my fault you can’t shoot based on pure instinct like me,” you retorted, grinning at him and taking a deep drink of the whiskey in your glass. “If I had waited for you to take that shot, you’d probably still be standing there ‘doing geometry’,” you teased him.

Sam laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not playing with you anymore!”

“Good,” you said, putting your pool cue away in the rack on the wall. “Because I usually like to finish a game faster than if I were playing my dead grandmother.”

Sam gave you another look and shook his head, but he too stashed his cue away on the wall rack. You grabbed a nearby stool at a high-top table and he came over to join you, sipping his drink. “This is good,” you said with a content sigh and a small smile still on your face. “I needed to blow off some steam after today.”

Sam nodded in agreement, his eyes wandering over your face freely while you glanced around the bar. “Yeah. Same here. But I hope Dean isn’t too upset we went out without him…”

You laughed. “Who cares? We invited him. He’s the one who decided to stay at the hotel and pout.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “It’s true,” he said, sipping his drink. “I just hope he doesn’t purposely try to be unpleasant when we get back…”

You snorted with laughter into your drink. “He can be unpleasant enough without trying,” you laughed also drawing laughter from Sam.

“Yeah… imagine growing up with him. Add some father issues and teenage hormones into the mix… Yikes.”

You smirked at Sam. “You mean to say that you don’t have father issues?” you teased him, your skepticism lifting one eyebrow.

Sam let out a loud laugh that lit up his whole face. “No, I don’t mean to imply that at all. I have father issues. I have hella father issues,” he laughed and you joined him, giving him a somewhat sympathetic look. “No point in trying to lie to you, Y/N, we all know it.”

You nodded and stared down into your drink. “Well, hey, um—same,” you laughed. You downed the rest of your drink and continued your evening with Sam full of laughter and also quite full of drinks. The time passed easily, swapping hunting stories and goofing around. And by the time the two of you left the bar to walk back to the motel only a few blocks away you were a little unsteady on your feet. In fact, you missed the small step coming outside and Sam put an arm out to catch you as you stumbled.

You pressed a hand to your face, which was red, and laughed at yourself. “Woops. I seem to be a little bit drunker than I expected,” you laughed.

“Shocking with the way you’re always bragging about how you can hold your liquor,” Sam teased you. His arm was still around you and there was a beat where you looked up into his hazel eyes and your lips parted slightly to speak, but you suddenly couldn’t get the words out. Sam’s eyes were just… wow. Both of you seemed to perceive the sudden tension in the air between you and Sam felt a tightness in his throat and slipped his arm from around you. You cleared your throat a little nervously and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

What the hell was that? you wondered, your heart still racing in your chest. You’d never felt that before with Sam… Had you? You walked the short distance back to the hotel, managing to fall back into conversation easily but the mood seemed to changed again as you neared your room, which was only a few doors down from the one Sam and Dean were sharing. Sam hovered nearby to make sure you got in okay. You slipped the key into the lock and turned it, the clank of the deadbolt unlatching sounding loud in the quiet of the parking lot. You turned around to look at Sam and gave him a small smile. “Tonight was fun,” you said. His hands were crammed into his pockets, and you didn’t know it, but it was because he was suddenly inexplicably nervous. And he couldn’t stop looking at the color of your eyes, richer and deeper in the shadows of the inky night around you.

“Yeah, it really was. I should let you cheat at pool more often,” he joked, his heart leaping a little when you laughed.

“Or maybe we should piss Dean off more often?”

“I don’t think he needs any help with that,” Sam laughed again. “Well…”

“Well.” You didn’t know you were doing it, but you subconsciously were biting your bottom lip, and there was a wave of warmth slowly expanding in your chest, rising up like the tide.

Goddammit, Sam thought, and he just went for it. The tension between the two of you was unbearable and he couldn’t just let it fade again. Maybe it was just the booze… Probably it was just the booze, right? But he wrapped an arm around your lower back and his other hand slid into your hair, and he was suddenly pulling you in against him and kissing you with a heat and insistence that was overwhelming, and you were stunned but instantly kissing him back with the same fervor.

Suddenly he pulled back, out of breath, his eyes wide, searching your face, which was locked in an expression of stunned surprise, but with a disbelieving smile thrown in. “Wh—what was that?” you asked, your voice breathy.

Sam shook his head, his eyes still wide. “I don’t—I don’t know,” he said, still holding you. “Oh God—” he said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re drunk,” he said guiltily. “I don’t want—I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I’m so sorry!” He started to release his hold on you and back away but you interrupted him.

“Shut up,” you said forcefully. “And kiss me again. And I swear to God, Sam, I am giving you permission to take advantage of me.” Sam gulped at your words. “I want you to take full advantage of me and if you don’t I will 100% take advantage of you,” you said, a smile growing on your face with each word.

Sam stared down at you still in his arms for another moment with wide eyes, disbelieving. “…Are you sure?”

You nodded. “God, yes.”

And that was it. Sam was kissing you feverishly again and you were sinking into him. He pressed against you and you backed up into your hotel room, Sam carelessly kicking the door hard to shut behind you. You suddenly felt his hands on your ass and laughed into the kiss as he picked you up so you were straddling him, your arms around his neck. You sighed as his lips moved from yours to your neck, one of his hands now splayed out on your back and wandering up to tangle his fingers in your hair. His lips found yours again and you gently bit his bottom one. Sam immediately deepened the kiss and the next moment you let out a gasp as you tumbled down onto the bed with Sam over you. You broke apart for a moment, both wearing matching grins, out of breath, hearts racing, searching the others eyes and seeing the same fiery desire. Sam bit his bottom lip and shook his head vaguely, like he couldn’t believe this was happening, which only widened your smile.

You pulled him in again to crash his lips into yours again, feeling his hands wandering over your curves and edges hungrily, and yours doing the same. You slipped one hand underneath his shirt and scratched your nails lightly down his back. The feeling of the powerful, tense muscles under his skin making your head feel suddenly fuzzy. Sam let out a sigh and his hand squeezed your hip. What happened next was a sizzling whirlwind. Suddenly you were both just skin on skin, gasps and moans of pleasure, your nails digging into his back, his shoulder. Sam planting kisses along your collarbone, his breath hot on your neck, hair rising with goose bumps and electricity. His fingers fitting between yours, palms squeezed together, hips moving in unison. Sam’s fingers tangling in your hair, tugging it just enough to turn your head so he could kiss your neck, drag his teeth lightly over your earlobe, the feeling of the rough stubble on his face exhilarating. You laughed and squealed as Sam pulled you on top of him, his fingers digging into your hips, his face overwhelmed with the feel of you, the sight of you. Another few minutes and he had you pinned below him again, his eyes locked with yours for a long moment before your lips met again in a passionate kiss. The waves of pleasure were building toward the top of the crescendo and you were overcome with sensations. Sam’s fingers interlaced with yours and he broke the kiss to look down at your expression as you reached the height of pleasure, gasping out his name and squeezing his hand tight in yours, completely overcome. Sam did the same, capturing you in another kiss as the waves white-capped and started to recede, his kiss growing softer, and soon you were both just heaving gasping breaths through unsure smiles.

He fell into bed beside you and let out a disbelieving laugh, looking over at you, his eyes flitting between yours. You could feel that your face and chest were flushed and you shyly smiled at him, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek. Sam’s fingers lightly brushed the strands of hair away from your eyes, studying your expression. You giggled and bit your bottom lip again, rolling over on your back to stare up at the ceiling. Sam watched your eyelashes flicker as your blinked.

“That was, umm… a little unexpected,” you said, turning to catch his eyes again.

His mouth fell slightly open and he mouthed wordlessly for a moment, which only brought another wide smile to your lips and a hot blush in your cheeks. “I didn’t—did that really just happen?” he laughed.

You nodded. “I’m pretty sure…”

Sam propped himself up on one elbow so he could study your face again and then clasped it gently and kissed you. It was soft but somehow still intense and you felt starry-eyed when he drew away. You could see every fleck of multifaceted color in his eyes and you were grateful to be laying down because it felt like everything suddenly shifted at that moment. You were dizzy from Sam.

“Can I just say… it’s weird how natural that felt?” he said. “I mean—nothing was awkward or… I don’t know.” A surprised smile was on his face and your heart skipped a beat.

“I was kind of thinking the same thing,” you said. Sam reached over and slipped his arm underneath you before pulling you close against him. You rested your head on his shoulder and your hand on his strong chest. You could feel his heart still pounding like yours.

“I mean, honestly,” he said, “I’ve been dating people where our first time was waaaay more awkward.”

You laughed and pressed a hand over your face as you blushed again. “Same,” you agreed.

“Hey, come on. Don’t be hiding those blushes! I earned those!” Sam said, gently taking your hand and pulling it away from your face. He laced his fingers with yours again and his expression softened. “What are you thinking right now?” he asked you.

You chewed your bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. “Mmm… I’m thinking ‘Thank God Dean didn’t come out tonight.’” You grinned up at him and he returned it.

“Me too.”

Not long after, both of you sunk in to one another, and after Sam captured you again in another soft kiss, you drifted off to sleep.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Dean woke up fairly early, having gone to bed much before his usual time in frustration with the research he was attempting. He was surprised he didn’t wake up when Sam came back in but a glance over at Sam’s bed explained why. It was undisturbed. And the next moment Dean was on his feet in alarm, his mind immediately rushing to worst case scenarios. He checked his phone to see if Sam had left a message or sent a text with an explanation. Nothing. Dean quickly threw on some clothes and stepped out into the early morning light, pistol at his hip, making a beeline straight for your room to see if you knew where Sam was.

He faltered as he approached. Your room key was still in the lock, dangling down. Dean gulped. Something was seriously not right here… Adrenaline started to flow into Dean’s veins and he gulped at the tightness in his throat. He withdrew his pistol and carefully grasped the doorknob, testing it ever so slightly to see if it was unlocked. It was loose. He heaved a steadying breath, gritted his teeth, and burst in through the door.

The crash startled you and Sam awake and you let out a scream and instinctively reached for your knife on the bedside table. Sam had his gun up and aimed at the figure in the doorway, who was silhouetted by the morning light and thus difficult to make out clearly until his eyes adjusted. Sam was protectively shielding you behind him. When you saw who had just burst in you let out a string of expletives and in your attempts to duck beneath the sheet accidentally fell out of the bed.

Dean’s face contorted into shocked perplexity and he lowered his gun. “…Sam?”

“Uhh…” Sam’s eyes went round as he stared at his brother, now also lowering his gun. He turned his attention to you where you were on the floor by the far side of the bed, thankfully still wrapped in the sheet. “Are you alright?” Sam asked you.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, looking up at him, feeling your face burn. You stayed put on the floor, hiding just below the edge of the bed.

Dean was watching the scene before him with his mouth hanging open in confusion and disbelief. “This is—this is Y/N’s room,” he said. He turned to look at the number on the door as if to confirm he hadn’t gotten the room wrong and burst into a random one that simply happened to have Sam in it.

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked back at his brother. “Uhh… yep…”

Dean’s brow lowered heavily over his eyes. “Did you—“ he cleared his throat and asked in a near-whisper, “—did you bring a girl back to Y/N’s room???”

Sam’s lips tightened into a thin line. Dean was really not putting this together. Apparently in his mind you and Sam hooking up was not even the shadow of a possibility. Sam avoided his eyes and pulled the blanket up. “Dean—would you mind getting the hell out of here?”

“Oh—right. Yeah, but… umm… where’s Y/N? Did she hook up too?” he asked in surprise. Down on the floor your pressed an exasperated hand to your face.”

Sam nodded, his eyebrows lifting. “Mhm. You know, I think she did. So. If you don’t mind…”

Dean seemed to come back to his senses. “Heh—right. Sorry. I don’t normally burst into hotel rooms but your bed wasn’t slept in and I thought something bad had happened and—” he pulled the key out of the door and tossed it on the spare bed, “—then I saw the key in the door—Y’know, sorry. I’m sorry. I’m going,” he said, his face finally cracking into a boyish smirk. “Way to go, Sammy,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped out and shut the door.

Sam let out an exasperated noise and fell back onto the pillow, one hand in his hair. He glanced over in your direction, but you were still apparently hiding on the floor. “Hey—Y/N?”

Your voice drifted up over the edge. “Yeah…”

Sam laughed a little to himself. “Are you okay?”

“…yeah.”

“Well, Dean’s gone. You can come back up here,” Sam said, a question in his voice.

“Umm… I know…”

Sam heard some uncertainty in your voice and he rolled over across your side of the bed to peer down at you. “What’s the matter?”

You chewed your bottom lip and shrugged. “I mean, that wake up call wasn’t great…”

Sam laughed and nodded in agreement. “Yeah… Listen, I had something much better in mind, so can we start over?”

Your eyes flitted up to his but still looked a little unsure.

“Please? I need you back up here though…”

You took in the pleading expression on his face and the soft, warm light in his eyes and you couldn’t resist. You slid back into bed beside him and Sam’s face immediately broke into a warm smile.

“Alright, now come here,” he said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close just the way you had been before Dean burst in. Your heart was beating fast with nerves. “Now, close your eyes,” Sam said. You did as he asked and for a long moment he just studied your face and waited for you to sink in against him. Sam gently turned toward you and you felt his hand caress your cheek so lightly it was like a breeze, and then his lips met yours with a soft, sweet kiss. “Good morning,” he said. You could feel his voice reverberate in his chest and your eyes shot open to look right into Sam’s. You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face to match his. “Better?” he asked.

“So much better.” You had hardly finished answering when Sam captured you in another kiss, and this one you returned with fervor.

Sam’s eyes were flitting between yours when you broke apart and he relished the sight of the blush on your face. “Listen, if you don’t feel this way that’s okay but I want to put this out there. On my end,” Sam started, licking his lips because he was feeling suddenly nervous, “this did not feel at all like a ‘hook up’ regardless of how it may have started.”

You laughed through a wide smile. “You mean, you taking ‘full advantage of me’?”

Sam laughed. “You remember that, huh? Not gonna lie… that was super hot.” This only drew more laughter from you and increased the heat in your face and chest. “But really, I think I always wanted this, but I didn’t admit it to myself until it was already happening.” He rubbed a hand anxiously across the back of his neck. “If that makes any sense.”

You felt wildly happy in that moment and you grabbed him and pulled him into a passionate kiss, his arms wrapping around you immediately, his fingers lightly tracing over the bare skin on your back. “It makes perfect sense,” you said. “Because I feel the exact same way.”

Sam’s face lit up with a huge smile.

“One thing,” you asked. “How exactly are we going to explain this to Dean?”

Sam sighed and shook his head. “You know, it’s funny. I really don’t care.” He leaned back down onto his pillow. “The only thing I can think about right now is carrying you into a hot shower and taking advantage of you again.” Sam’s eyes darted over to your face.

You were wearing a stunned expression, your eyes a little wide at his boldness. It made Sam laugh. But the next moment you were giving him a warm look that suggested you were entirely on board with that plan, and a moment later he was showering you with kisses.

[writefightandflightclub]

Violent Delights: Chapter 6

Pairing: First Order!Poe x reader

Author’s note: This is different to the other chapters, but I hope you like it! I’ll probably fix typos tomorrow. I’m impatient.

Summary: This definitely answers that KEY QUESTION I left hanging at the end of Chapter 5! If you’re new to this story, there are MAJOR SPOILERS under the cut, so please do read the other chapters first (series masterlist here). Even if you’ve been following, you may want to recap Chapter 5 first! 

Song inspo: Oh, in my ears / My blood is just roaring / When he's the only one I've ever wanted / I suppose that's just the way it is / Just to think this could be / The last time I hold you, hold you / Ever again / Oh, I don't think I'll ever sleep till / Morning. (Nicole Aitken, The Way It Is)

Warnings: 18+ only, dark fic. This is nowhere near as dark as the preceding chapters but still some warnings: OOC!Poe, FO!Poe, Violence inc: injuries! shooting! Explicit language. Mentions of: torture / sex / death / poison! Let me know if I missed any others.

Taglist: @aussiefangirlwolfy, @localashe, @fictionalcharactersownme, @a-somehow-functioning-dumbass, @itsamedeemoney, @woakiees​​ @tintinwrites​@jyn-z-solo​ @spaghetti-666​ @kittyofalltrades​ @planetpoes (TAGLIST OPEN- let me know if you wish to be added / removed)

Word Count: 6K. Yikes.

GIF by @solorenskywalker​

It hurts you. Somehow, it hurts you.

And yet, you are solidified in place, no wound observable.

The moment slows almost to a halt as you register the shot.

Dameron is hit.

The blast hits first. Then, shock, pain, and anger strike all at once, eddying between you and the Commander like the swell of a vicious storm, the air charged and practically humming. At first, his rage at this insulting wound sunk into his flesh is so vital that an immediate hope blooms in your chest; how can he be fatally hurt if he seems so alive? Then; something alien surfaces in his eyes. Something which looks a lot like fear. He delivers an agonised moan, already sounding hollowed out, and your fleeting hope wanes with him.

He unfists his hands from your clothing as he moves to clutch his shoulder in agony. He is cleaved from you and you are split in two, in every figurative way possible. You are ruptured by the blast like a fault line snaking beneath an ocean. This boiling rage is subdued only by the heavy, cooling sea of grief with threatens to depress you down on to your knees. You are torn, the desire to erupt in retaliation on behalf of your “enemy” in stark opposition to your need to sink with your lover. You want to fall to the floor with him. To your knees. To hold him. No question. But if you try and help him, Barret might shoot you too.

The indecision burns you.

It hurts you, this shot.

But it hurts Dameron more.

The commander groans, creaks beneath the weight of this pain. It presses down on him and his body curls in on itself as he creeps further towards a colourless exit, the knives in his eyes blunted. There is no vivid, crimson tide of blood to warn you of death incoming. Not this time. This is death pouncing from the long grass like a whip crack. The predator no-one saw coming.

The commander’s face contorts in a rendition of agony, his face almost beautiful with it. But this is not the kind of pain he has made his friend. This is pain without pleasure. And, since you can’t reach out to him, pain without comfort.

The cruellest pain of all.

“No. No. No.” you repeat -almost inaudibly- as Dameron sinks to his knees. You feel like he’s sinking into the depths of a cold, dark sea. Sinking out of reach.

His dark, tempestuous eyes are directed up at you, teeth gritted, lips sucked thin as agony grips him. On his knees like this, he could easily appear like a beast defeated; defanged and declawed. But there is some fight left in his eyes yet. Enough for him to try and spur you into action. “Time to go, Rebel. You fly, he guns, understand?”

You don’t understand. How can you comprehend leaving him like this?

His voice is shot with gravel, full of holes, but it still speaks its way into the depths of you. “Now. Go!, he insists, his voice winding its way around your bones and pulling you into motion, as if he holds the reins in the palm of his hand. As if he can bend you to his will, even now.

He has been dragging you to him all this time and now he urges you to leave, as if he’s unaware of the strength it will take to release yourself from his orbit; from his gravity. But staying isn’t helping him. In fact, it’s worse than that, you’re a danger to him every second you’re still on this ship. You know too much. He needs you gone from his sky.

You obey reluctantly, giving him the smallest of nods, letting your trembling fingertips drag ever so gently, subtly along his jaw as you turn towards the TIE. You move with strings still on you, dragging you back to him and making each step feel like you are wading through mud.

Progressing towards the craft, you are vaguely aware of Barret barking at you, calling you in to the interior of the fighter. You clamber up the ladder and into the tight cockpit just as Troopers swarm into the hangar, the blaster shots bouncing off the ship’s exterior. Your shaking hands hover above the ignition controls, ready to punch it. Instead, you wait. You wait until you are assured that the Troopers have made their way over to the vicinity of the Commander. You wait until the last possible second.

With a final glance through the transparisteel windshield, you look down at his now stilled form on the ground below you. His crown of pitch-dark curls and his uniform-clad body splayed out -helpless- over the cold floor. You don’t know if it was a killing shot. Without a crimson tide of blood, you can’t tell if Dameron’s still alive. But you do know that you have to go, regardless. With a sharp growl of regret, of anguish, you boost the ship out of the swiftly closing gap in the hangar doors. Just in the nick of time.

And so, you fly.

You fly with a pounding heart, blood raging in your ears. You fly, so enraged with your passenger that you are tempted to crash the ship just to make him pay. But there is nothing around you. No ground, no sky. Nothing to cling on to. Just a loss. An emptiness. Just space. You fly away from him, like a satellite released from its orbit. Equally lost and purposeless in the endless dark. 

From out of the darkness, the thought of the Resistance base should be calling out to you right now like a beacon. A beacon inviting you home, now that you are finally free. But you’ve never before had to escape somewhere you wanted to be and return to somewhere you were no longer sure you belonged. The thought of retuning to base with Barret suddenly seems incomprehensible. And so, when you’re clear of the fleet, you don’t know what else to do except keep flying. No destination in mind, except away.

Flying. Simply flying away, is all you try to focus on. But all you can think about is turning the blasted ship back around. Flying toward him. Following those strings the commander has tied on to you which extend across space, drawing you back to him.

But you know that’s untenable. You fly, and it’s likely a good thing that the Order is in chaos, that the chain of command is interrupted. Otherwise, you’re not sure how -or if- you’d manage to lose the pursuing fleet. Not in your current state of fury. Not with Barret’s meagre attempt at gunning, through intermittent groans of pain.

Somehow, you shake them regardless. As the remaining TIEs abandon pursuit, you hear Barret breathe a sigh of relief from the gunner position behind you. The reminder of Barret’s presence is enough to make your hands tighten so hard on the controls that your fingernails dig crescents into your palms. To make your chest tighten.

Then: “They track these things. Did you disable the tracker?” he asks you.

You are loathe to acknowledge him. Even so, you fiddle with the dash until you’re satisfied that the Order can no longer trace you. You cut the strings leading back to him and you feel that you’ve just cut a lifeline. That suddenly you’re lost to liminal space, in-between anywhere and anyone you’ve ever considered home. Still ruptured in two. The feeling sets a hollowness in the pit of you, like you are a ripe fruit which has been scooped out by a cool spoon.

“Affirmative. Plotting a course to base.” You confirm in monotone, all emotion scrubbed from your voice.

“I can’t believe I got such a lucky shot at that bastard.” Barret continues, his voice sickeningly jovial and full of relief.

You feel like you might throw-up.

“Don’t speak. Save your strength.” You say curtly, inordinately thankful that you are back-to-back in the TIE. At least you don’t have to look at him. At least he can’t look at you – can’t get a read on the emotions you would be incapable of obscuring right now.

Still, as you programme your course you feel like his eyes are roving over you, all the same. You feel like he’s poking around inside you, wondering what’s wrong with you. You can imagine the gears in his brain working in an attempt to figure out why your reactions seem off, to unearth whatever happened to you on that ship. Whatever tortures you may have been subjected to. You can imagine him retrospectively register the bite marks on your neck, the cuts to your hands. The blood on your face and clothing. You practically feel his thought process creep over you in the cockpit like a cold chill.

“What happened to you?” Barret asks then, ever so softly, his voice heavy with the implication of imagined atrocities.

“It’s not my blood. It’s Hux’s. I killed him.” You say, hoping to deflect from exactly what happened to you on that ship.  

Barret hoots with laughter, and the sound jarrs you. You hear his hand slapping against his thigh in celebration. “Wow, we really fucked the Order over today, partner. Hux and Dameron dead!” Barret reaches behind him to squeeze your shoulder and you flinch away as if you are afraid of his touch; as if you don’t deserve it; as if he disgusts you. Perhaps all of those things.

“You don’t know that Dameron’s dead.” You bite off without thinking, molten tears of rage threatening at the corner of your eyes. The break in your voice is giving too much away. Emotion floods the cracks in your words like tributaries joining the churn of an unstoppable river. You can’t choke back the sob which follows.

Barret’s voice softens so much that you want to wring his neck to choke the pity out of it. “Did Dameron... hurt you?”. That’s why he thinks you’re crying, then? Because you can’t be certain that the commander’s dead, and surely you must want him dead for the terrible, unspeakable things he enacted upon you?

The truth might be even more unspeakable. The truth that you’re a traitor. The truth that you’d sell your soul to have the commander do those things to you all over again. To have him fuck you and hurt you and hold you. The truth that, yes, he did hurt you, buy you liked it. Barret doesn’t understand that you’re wretched with a crushing and unexpected grief at the thought that it may never happen again. Not since Barret did what you should have had the sense to do all that time ago. Not since Barret shot the commander.

You hope Barret doesn’t notice the course of the ship waver as your hands slip on the controls. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The close air of the TIE is suddenly thick with a loaded silence as the ship shudders back along its trajectory. As you regain control of yourself and the craft.

Barret, however, does not relent for long. “Do you think when we get back to base we’ll be welcomed as heroes?” The question simply makes your stomach turn. You refuse to pluck at the question while it hangs there, ripe, and so it becomes a rotten thing in the air between you. You feel that chill creep over you again, as if Barret is reaching inside of you, panning for your secrets. No escape within the confines of this ship.

You think back to the last time you were confined with Barret. It seems so long ago that you hunkered in that stakeout room, tracking that shipment and thirsting hard for the commander. The commander who had consumed you with just one bite. Now, mere days later, your partner seems like a stranger and your enemy seems like your lover. You indulged your appetite for that tempting, delicious darkness; you were willingly suckered into Dameron’s honeyed trap. And now that you have been given a taste, you should feel sated. But the truth is you would gladly open your mouth and drink more of that darkness down. You’d drink it until you were spoiled and loathsome with it.

The most disconcerting aspect of these tumultuous events is how little you know yourself. What you are capable of. What you crave and how far you will wade in to the darkness to get it. You know these are your mistakes, your weaknesses to atone for. You know that despite what you’re feeling now, Barret doesn’t deserve your hate. A part of you still knows that. Knows that, objectively, he’s simply a good guy who shot a bad man. That objectively, you should still be on his side. You know you owe it to him to take him home. At the very least.

An older, softer part of you resurfaces as you hear Barret grunting behind you with a fresh wave of pain. It’s likely that the initial burst of adrenaline is wearing off and he is beginning to suffer.  

“You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be ok. My stomach is hurting like a bitch, though.”

In all the chaos, you’d given little thought to the extent of his injuries, until now. So, next, you ask a question you’re not sure you truly want an answer to. “What happened to you, Barret?”

There is a beat. He replies in a small voice. “The kinda stuff our training tried to prepare us to resist.” His answer is vague but loaded. That’s enough. That’s enough to understand what they’d subjected him to. Guilt flares in the pit of you, knowing that while he was being tortured, you were indulging your darker whims. Knowing how much you were enjoying yourself while he suffered. Enjoying yourself at his expense, when you could have been trying to get him out of there.

So, you still can feel guilt, then? You still know that, on some level, it was wrong. Maybe there is something of the Rebel left in you, somewhere. Buried under the landslide of darkness. But you know there is little chance of that part of you clawing itself out when your next thought is of the commander. When your whole body clenches around the memory of him, clings on to it. You think of how he can torture you in an entirely different way, until you’re begging for mercy. A part of you feels you’d raze everything you ever loved to the ground for a chance to beg him again.

Still, you’re curious. You’re curious whether your commander was involved in Barret’s torture. Perhaps so that you can weigh precisely how much you should loathe yourself. “Troopers, or one of the higher-ups?” you ask, trying to keep your voice level, void of feeling.

“Troopers mainly. Some droids, doctors…” Barret trails off, remembering. “Though, it’s funny, really. Dameron came to my room this morning. Told me -don’t worry- it would all be over for me today. Guess the joke’s on him. The bastard.” Barret’s voice sounds darker, more malicious than you’ve ever heard it.

“He came to your room? This morning?” Something about that doesn’t sit quite right with you, leaves you uneasy. Dameron doesn’t do anything much unless there’s something in it for him, you’re learning. Maybe the games he has been playing aren’t quite over yet. Is it wrong to relish that thought?

“He visited a couple of times. To mindfuck me, from what I can gather. Yesterday he tried to make me swallow some horrible lies about you. To make me think I was alone, I guess- to get some intel out of me. Today… well, he brought me my daily rations and told me it was all over. Well, fuck him, he’s dead.”

Panic flutters in your stomach. You try to remain steady on the flight controls, to calm your breathing. You know Barret doesn’t fully appreciate the implications of his words. Of the commander’s actions. But you might.

You have two burning questions you need answers to.

The first: How much did Dameron tell Barret?

The second: What did he feed him?

Your mind pores over any detail of Barret you can remember from the escape to establish which question is most pressing. You hark back to the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the glassiness of his infuriatingly concerned eyes. The way he was clutching at his stomach. More than being injured; Barret looked ill.

Realisation strikes you, and if you didn’t feel guilty before, you sure as hell do now. You can’t be sure, of course. But somehow you know. You’d bet that the commander had fed Barret some juicy, ripe, red fruit.

Bile rises in your throat, but you force yourself to gloss over your voice with a kind tone. To paint your face with a soft, reassuring smile. “Why don’t you try and get some rest, huh? You’ve been through it.” Your passenger hums, considering your proposition. “If I divert the power from the interior electrics into the thrusters, I can get us back to base a little faster than expected. If you don’t mind flying in the dark?”

Flying in the dark is all you’ve been doing ever since the commander hit your life and turned it upside down, like a hurricane. Ans it turns out you’re still caught in his wake. You can’t tell if you’re soaring or if you’re about to crash and burn.

“Yeah.” Barret reaches a hand around to squeeze your arm again and it is like a hand rising out of a grave. His hand is cold. You resist the urge to flinch away, despite the chill it sends down your spine. “Oh, and, partner? Thank you for rescuing me.”

You bite your lips between your teeth. You’re not sure if that statement could possibly be further from the truth of what happened. Hadn’t you doomed him, right from the start? From that first bite the commander took of you? A throwaway “You don’t need to thank me.” is all you can muster.

Barret curls himself in his chair and you are grateful to fly on in silence. Now that the affront of him is over, you suddenly realise how tense you are, how the emotions wracking you are beginning to take their toll. You can’t explain how it was more comforting to be in the arms of your enemy than trapped in the confines of this ship with someone you’d let down so badly. You owe it to Barret to try and make part of this right.

Don’t you?

An alternative option niggles at you, hiding somewhere beyond protocol, beyond the rules and conventions and obligations. Then you think that, perhaps, it’s a good thing for Barret that you can’t be sure if Dameron’s dead, after all. Because if you knew that he was, you don’t think you could find the compassion or strength to try to bring your partner home. You think you might seek retribution, in the end.

Regardless, you fly. You try and allow the darkness of the cockpit to swallow you. As if Barret is not sitting there, as if Dameron never marked you. You try and push it all down, but the commander did mark you. He’s branded you as his. He’d told you “don’t forget you’re mine”, and now his words are wrapped around your bones. His words will be buried with you. And every time you try and escape, your thoughts orbit back to him. His mouth swallowing your hot core, his hands delivering delicious tortures, his cock pumping into you. Most of all: those dark eyes, like shadowed planets you would kill to be marooned on again.

Left to the dark and the dark alone, your thoughts are consumed by him. That is, until you reach your destination, and swing your craft around in the air to bring her in for touch down. Until you approach base and spot that something isn’t right. Until you see the thick pillars of smoke billowing into the air.

“No. No. No.” You plead to no-one in particular, your protestations and erratic flying drawing Barret abruptly from his sleep.

You land harshly on the runway, avoiding blast holes and charred ground, and scramble hurriedly from the ship. Your feet relentlessly pound the tarmac until you’re in the centre of it all, scanning the scene around you with eyes wide.

No-one comes running to greet you or shoot at you. No-one is left. You look around you, surveying for damages. Surveying for bodies, you realise. That the X-wings and larger crafts are gone from the hangar provides some immediate comfort. Signs of a likely evacuation. Then, your eyes pick out the remains of familiar munitions, the tell-tale shell of a downed and lightly smoking TIE fighter.

The strike was committed by the Order. While you were taken. You shake your head in disbelief. It can’t possibly be a coincidence -not after everything that has happened. That means the Order somehow found out the location of the base while you were captive… but you hadn’t…

Oh. Oh.

You put the pieces together and turn back to Barret in disbelief. He has now come to stand several paces from you on the runway. Laughably, you know you must look betrayed when your eyes meet his. In one hand he grips a blaster and the other hand waves around defensively. No, he doesn’t look well. Now that you’re truly seeing him, he doesn’t look well at all. A sheen of sweat covers Barret’s face, his eyes red-rimmed, tears seeding at the corners. He instantly recognises the accusation in your eyes, in your stance.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” he professes, voice trembling. “I wasn’t strong enough. I hoped we���d make it back before the Order could put the intel to use. Or that we’d disrupted their plans. That maybe no-one would need to know.”.

“You sold the base out?” you spit with utter disgust, looking Barret over like he’s scum.  

Apparently, neither of you were returning to base as heroes after all.

He meets your question with silence, which says it all.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” You are yelling now. “You let the Resistance down! You betrayed them!”

You’re so angry that it feels like your blood is boiling beneath your skin. Your breath is ragged, your thoughts swirling. You feel darkness crowding at the edges of you. You feel like you are sucking it up through your fingertips, draining your surroundings of it. Feeling it course through you, like the hum of static before a storm. Barret betrayed the Resistance. He did this. And you’re so angry that you can’t see straight.

You are devoid of any sympathy or empathy for him. You’re so angry at him, of course, because you’re angry at yourself. If you can berate him for being a traitor you will take it, if it makes what you did seem to pale into insignificance.

Instinctually, although you are stood some distance away, you lift your arm as if you could simply reach out and choke Barret. Make him pay for his weakness. Your arm extended towards him, you have the desperate urge to just close your grip and crush. “I wish I could just…”

You are as shocked as Barret when he physically clasps his throat and starts wheezing, his eyes wide and afraid. It shocks you enough for you to drop your arm and physically step back from him. You shrink back from the look he’s giving you as he processes what just happened, raising his blaster arm unsteadily toward you. He looks at you questioningly. He looks at you as if he’s looking at a stranger.

All you can do is look back at him. You look Barret dead in the eyes, and you must reveal just too much. Because, if it’s possible, Barret pales even further, his eyes swimming with disbelief.

“It’s true, isn’t it? I’m not the only one who let down the Resistance, am I?” His voice is so thick with disgust that you can’t bring yourself to keep looking at him. To keep facing what you did.

“The things Dameron told me yesterday. They’re true.”

“What?” you say weakly, a pitiful attempt to backtrack, but you already know it’s futile. You’ve been found out. And you might be a traitor but you’re not a liar.

“You fucked the enemy.” Barret spits. “While I was being tortured in that cell. You could have stopped this.” He yells, gesturing around to the scene of devastation which envelops you. And, in his anger he overdoes it - ends up clutching his stomach in evident pain.

There is nothing you can say. No protestation you can muster. You had been angry and ashamed at yourself, but when confronted with it, you find a small, absurd part of you which is proud of it. Which has no desire to deny it. To apologise for it. Barret may have caved in to weakness, but you found power on that ship. Whilst he may dish out judgement, with the commander you had found understanding. Affinity.

Barret’s blaster wavered with the fresh burst of pain but now he has it pointed back at you, trained intently on you. “I didn’t want to believe Dameron. I didn’t at first.”, he bites off, chewing on his words. “But I promised him that if it was true, I’d kill you both myself. I picked your bastard boyfriend off earlier- so I guess I just need to make good on the other half of my promise, eh, traitor?”

You’re getting sick of this righteous bastard already. Hadn’t he been weak? Hadn’t he caved too? Maybe all rebels were simply hypocrites.Maybe the Order were on to something.

Then, of all the things you should say or ask right now, the next question out of your mouth is entirely self-indulgent. “What did he say?” you ask slowly, stringing out your words. In no rush. You have all the time in the world. Unlike your partner.

“What?!” Barret replies in utter confusion.

“What did he say when you promised to kill me? Because given that he poisoned you I don’t think he was too happy with you about something.” You know it’s wrong, that it’s too cruel, but you can’t help that your eyes flash with a perverse kind of satisfaction as you watch the realisation play over Barret’s face.

Is that why? Is that why the commander has poisoned your fellow rebel? To protect you? Because he threatened you? Oh, how a part of you hopes that’s true.

His blaster arm wavers again, and Barret is so weak of body and wrapped up in turmoil that you are able to walk towards him and take the blaster easily, gently from his hand. You look into his eyes, your voice steely, suddenly not feeling worthless or ashamed at all. Not anymore. Maybe you were cut out for these games, after all. “You don’t look so hot, Barret. So maybe we agree that we both made some mistakes on that ship, yes?” Barret considers your words carefully and then nods, and it acts as a meanwhile truce of sorts. You keep your tone impartial. “I’d suggest that if you want me to help you, you should take a seat. Before you drop. I’ll see if there’s anything left of the med bay.”

“You’re going to help me?” Barret looks at you in confusion.

“Yes, I’m going to help you. I’m not a monster.”

The way he looks at you in response signals that he thinks otherwise. You huff out a breath, perturbed by the condemnation. And so, for the second time that day, you aren’t able to offer comfort to someone in need. Instead, you sling Barret’s blaster on to your belt and jog towards the med bay. Barret’s only hope is that there are some shots left which haven’t been blown-up or cleared-out.

You move as fast as you’re able, gathering whatever supplies you can, but by the time you return, Barret is lying still on the runway.

You are too late.

Barret is the third body you’ve had lying at your feet that day. Three enemies, in the end. One of whom was a lover, and one of whom was a friend.

Despite what Barret had done, you feel no satisfaction in his fate. You sigh deeply and turn your head into your shoulder. You don’t look. You try not to look. All you can do is drag him into the hangar and cover him over, paying final respects to the fallen Resistance member.

Now, you are truly alone.

Feeling somewhat numb, you wander around base, confirming there are no signs of life left at all. Passing collapsed buildings, smoking craters, and remnants of devastation. You act on autopilot, and before you know where you’re walking to, you’ve reached the canteen, picking up some remaining rations and stuffing your face. Then, before you realise it, you’ve meandered across base and stand at the spot where your quarters should be.

All that’s left is a shell.

Suddenly, it’s as if you dropped the bombs yourself. As if you’ve intentionally obliterated everything you used to know and used to be beyond all recognition. You pick through the rubble, try to leaf through the ashes, but nothing at all remains. Still nothing to cling on to.

In your wandering, your quest for solace of some kind, the next place you find yourself is General Leia’s room. Hers remains intact. You find it empty, but her presence is there in all the tiny details. The uniform hanging up by the small closet, the table covered in datapads and holo equipment. Her comb and tumbler of water on the nightstand.

You dearly hope that she’s safe.

Being as quiet as possible, as if she’s sleeping there and you might disturb her, you perch yourself on the edge of her bed, grabbing her blanket and tugging it around your shoulders. You let yourself dwell on all the ways you’ve let her down, the ways you may yet break her heart, and you will the grief to hit you. But it doesn’t. You feel like you should be primed to lie down and cry, letting sobs wrack you. But there’s nothing. Only numbness. Perhaps, deep down, you feel you don’t deserve Leia’s comfort. Perhaps, deep down, you’re not truly sorry. Perhaps you are still too ruptured to start healing. Perhaps all of these things.

At least, sitting still allows the exhaustion to hit you. Still, you don’t feel like you could sleep. You feel restless. A lost celestial object with no course and no orbit. A dark, unlit moon. So, you continue your wandering, digging out some fresh clothes and taking a shower, the cool water sluicing Hux’s blood away. It circles down the drain in a crimson vortex. You redress and rewrap Leia’s blanket around your shoulders.

Without knowing where exactly you’re headed next, you find your feet gravitating towards the TIE fighter, which you half-landed and half-crashed into the tarmac.

Of course.

It’s the closest you can be to him right now.

You clamber inside, the snug cockpit encasing you. And then, finally, the rush of feelings hits you. You remember the Troopers swarming around his still form and it’s as if a vice clamps down on your chest. You imagine the chaos on the ship, the discovery of General Hux, washed up on that crimson tide of blood. You remember how it felt to kill him, and then to have the commander exalt you and kiss you and rail into you. You picture how it should have gone; General Dameron sitting coolly, smugly on the bridge. Taking Hux’s place, knowing exactly what he’d done. What you’d done. Sitting there as calm and devastating as the eye of a storm.

You screw your eyes shut tight against the thought you know will follow.

Is he alive?

And, as you close your eyes, various thoughts and faces eddy through the blackness, coming and receding like waves. As you focus in on each of them, in turn, it is as if you are slipping into a current, or a hyper stream; as if you can follow the tide which might lead you to them. One thought begins to jump out at you, tugging at you like a riptide, causing your mind to drift towards it.

Leia?

You reach out with your mind, searching for her energy. You can’t explain it, but you feel that maybe you can establish where they’ve evacuated to.

At least you think that’s where your heart is reaching out to. But wait; it’s not Leia. It’s something connected, but something darker.

Kylo.

Your eyes shoot open in fright and you startle in your seat. For a moment, it’s as if you have linked to him, as if his face is blinking in front of you. He looks just as surprised as you feel. You recoil in terror. For a good while, you sit motionless in the cold shell of the TIE, as if Kylo is a creature hunting you and any small movement might allow him to pounce. You don’t know how long you sit there, heart racing, and your fingernails digging into your knees threatening to draw blood.

You just touched something so deeply dark. Something frightening. Something you are not quite ready to face.

You don’t know how much time passes, but you sit there, practically frozen, until a blue light begins to blink on the dashboard of the TIE. Your curiosity overriding your fear, you press the button. It’s a holo, patching through.

A cool, rich voice resounds through the cockpit of the TIE.

“It’s General Dameron here.”

Your relief is palpable – a fluttering in your chest. A smile which begins in the pit of you and blooms through your whole body. You hold your breath until you’re sure you can believe what you’re seeing. Your eyes pore over the holo, trying to establish where he is, how he is. He looks as though he may be patched up and lying in a med bay.

“Maybe you thought you could run or hide from me, Rebel, but Kylo -the space bloodhound- tells me he found you.” He looks off to the side of him. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you, Supreme Leader?”

His voice is still full of holes, shot through with gravel. But he’s alive. You’re sure you can see the hint of a shark smile spread over his features. He dips his head slightly towards the camera droid at that moment, lowering his voice just a touch, his eyes narrowing. Unconsciously you lean in toward the transmission. “So, Killer. As you know, Hux is dead, and you’re responsible.” He leans in even further and even through the holo his intense eyes bore into you. “But I’m very much alive. So, I just needed you to know...” he exhales a breath and bites his bottom lip as if his next thought amuses him. “...that I’m gonna be coming for you.”

Whether his statement is a threat or a promise, you can’t be sure. However, you know that the games are far from over. Whilst tomorrow you may need to figure out your next move, for now, you finally feel like you could cry and you could sleep.

You lean back in the pilot’s chair and allow yourself a deep, relieving breath. And yet again, you can’t hold back your own resplendent shark smile.

You press the button to reverse the transmission before sending a message back to General Dameron.

“Bring it on, General Dameron. I’m ready for you.”

He’s alive.

It’s not over yet.

As much as you would like to run back to him, you know now, more than ever, that you have to return home to the Resistance - to see if it’s still where your heart is. Or whether you have any heart left at all. Then, if you happen to discover that your heart does belong to the darkness after all, at least you know the darkness is coming for you. And at least then, you will truly know that you are ready for it.

You lean back in the seat and close your eyes, allowing your relief to wrap around you -like a blanket- as the darkness holds you and rocks you to sleep.

To be continued (Chapter SEVEN coming soon!)

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[emachinescat]

Way Back Wednesday #1

Welcome to Way Back Wednesday! Every Wednesday, I am delving into my past as a fanfic writer and reflecting on and sharing one of my stories… starting from the very beginning, 16 years ago, when I was a 14-year-old kid discovering her love for fandom. ❤️

Today’s story is…

An Unlikely Team

American Dragon: Jake Long & Kim Possible

Summary: Monkey Fist and Huntsman have teamed up in order to defeat their respective foes. With Monkey Ninjas, goblins, dragons, nacos, spy gear, magic potion, secrets, regrets, and tears, no one is going to escape from this situation without changing somehow.

Rating: G

Chapters: 18 | Words: 12,353

Year Published: 2005 | My age: 14

Relationships: Jake Long/Rose | Huntsgirl | Characters: Jake Long, Ron Stoppable, Kim Possible, Monkey Fist, Huntsman, Rose | Huntsgirl, Lao Shi, Fu Dog

AO3 Tags: Crossover, Suspense, Humor

My reflections on and "review" of the story are after the break! :)

Oh, wow. It was an adventure coming back to this story! It marked a lot of firsts for me - my first crossover, my first story above 10k words, my first chapter fic. I don't remember a whole lot about my writing process back then, or about the circumstances of writing this story. I was 14, and a lot has happened since then. I do remember that I was still coming off the review-high from my first story, and that I had no idea what I was doing, not really. And it kind of shows.

I guess I should go ahead and say that this story, like the last one, isn't bad. I mean, the plot, if a bit simple and contrived, makes sense and moves along fairly well, and the characters (except for Rose, but we'll get to her in a minute) are pretty well portrayed, and grammatically, there were no glaring errors that I could see. It was interesting enough; it has been probably a decade or more since I last opened this story, but it still managed to hold my attention well enough, I suppose. It has some very positive reviews (and some critical ones), so I must have done something right.

But I've got to go over the issues with this story. Most of them I think are just hilarious. I'd been writing since I was five, but I was new to this kind of storytelling and still trying to find my voice as a writer. Once again, it shows.

Okay, so first, there's the plot itself - super simple, very contrived, and kind of weird. Huntsman and Monkey Fist team up so that M can help H capture and unmask the American Dragon, and in return, H will give M a talisman that will "undoubtedly" make him the Ultimate Monkey Master? Sure, seems legit, I guess.

Then there's the fact that I had to end every chapter - or nearly every chapter - with a cliffhanger, even if it didn't warrant one. I was dying laughing because most chapters would end with a character saying something hopeful to another character, but then muttering under their breath something grim and suspenseful. For example: "'Let us go. Jake's life is depending on us. He is alive for now...' and then he added almost inaudibly, 'but not for long...'" It's hilarious, and I wish I could remember if I was trying to be edgy or just ensure readers would come back, or if I thought being ominous was a hallmark of good writing. Also, the chapters were overall very short. I think I just wrote however much I felt like writing and then posted. Of course, I was having to post between school and the Boys & Girls Club where my mom worked (and being grounded, like a lot), so I guess I just wrote what and when I could.

Some of the dialogue's a bit clunky, and I had a weird thing with time limits. They capture Jake, and then they have to send Huntsgirl out to get a potion that will make him human because they forgot (???) this very important part of the plan for some reason. She says something along the lines of, "My Huntstick will transport me to the magical black market almost instantly. I'll be back within an hour." That doesn't add up, unless she's going to spend an hour haggling with the seller. Then she gets back, amps up the whole evil villain plot, and then adds, "Oh, yeah, it'll take 30 minutes for this potion to take effect." So she and the baddies just stand there for half an hour watching Jake slowly turn from dragon to human. Then when he's been poisoned (another weird plot contrivance), Lao Shi says, "If we don't give him the antidote in 30 seconds, he'll die!" I suppose I did set the scene, whether intentionally or not, by having a clock ticking in the background, but the way that all of the characters seem to have such an acute knowledge and understanding of time is just weird to me.

The only aspect of this story to actually bother me is the disservice I did to Rose's character. In the show, she's portrayed as a pretty strong protagonist-by-day/antagonist-by-night, but in my story, she's pitiful. I don't know if I just consumed a lot of media with weak female characters or what, but it's super cringey how emotional and weak she's portrayed as once she finds out the truth about Jake. She cries, which is fine, but then girlfriend just up and faints! She cries some more, begs Jake to forgive her, acting like she'll never be able to live with herself or forgive herself if he doesn't, then gets mad at him when he needs a little time to process that the girl he has a crush on is also the girl who's been trying to kill him. Then as soon as he apologizes for... being traumatized, I guess? she turns around and starts spouting off stuff about never being able to forgive herself if he'd died or something. I apologize most deeply to her character.

Oh, I just realized I haven't really discussed the Kim Possible side of things, mostly because it's pretty cut and dry. Those characters all seemed to be, well, in character. I especially feel I had Ron down to a T. It was also really funny the way I had Huntsman and Monkey Fist constantly arguing even through their alliance. The fight scenes, with Kim and with Jake, are very minimal. They're usually one step above just saying, "They fought." On that note, there's not a whole lot of detail or description, but a lot of dialogue. I definitely could have expanded more on the world to make the crossover feel more complete.

All that (mostly light-hearted) criticism aside, it was fun to get to go back and read this, and if you think you'd be interested, be my guest. It's a cute little read, and important to me because it marked the second step in my fan-fiction journey.

Next week, we'll be taking a look at one of the cringiest things I've ever written - yikes!

[legobiwan]

TCW Rewatch: “Bombad Jedi” (S1, E8)

This opening is great because it is such a mirror of the conversations Obi-wan and Anakin have been having via their own holotransmissions. “You’re doing something dangerous.” “For the right reasons.” “But you’re doing something dangerous.” While it’s true Padmé rose to power at an extraordinarily young age (what were you doing when you were 14, because I was on the fledgling internet, tying up my parents’ phone line and reading fanfic on geocities sites and yahoo circles and you know what, I’m just not going explain myself any further more than 20 years later.)

Anyway, the point being Padmé is essentially taking on Anakin’s role here as the feisty one while Palpatine is playing at Obi-wan’s caution (although he doesn’t mean it, of course, but it is an interesting parallel). 

Padmé: “He’s a very old family friend...” ATTACHMENT, AMIDALA. Same issues as Anakin, no wonder they got embroiled so quickly. 

That planetary shield, though, what a Work of Arc...er, I mean Art

Does Padmé speak Rodian or the Pimsleur “best of?”

Wow, the planning by Dooku and Sidious here. Relief has been cut off due to the war, the Republic is acting too slow (due to the Senate), here the CIS will come to your rescue and save your people from starving, I mean, it’s diabolical and manipulative to the hilt, but also genius.

Uncle Omo raises a good point, too. Where is the Republic when his planet’s people are starving? (They, and the Jedi, can’t be everywhere, of course. Between the corruption in the Senate and the Jedi having their hands tied the overwhelming circumstances were going to play out badly in so many systems.)

UNDERRATED INSULT OF THE CENTURY HERE:

Okay, so I am fully on-board the Jar Jar defense squad. (There are dozens (maybe) of us! Dozens!) Jar Jar is not stupid, nor does he lack for courage. What he does lack is physical awareness of his surroundings, which leads to his often cataclysmic clumsiness. Now, in a universe where Padmé couldn’t get decent obstetric care when she was pregnant (at least, that’s how it looked to us), it is not totally surprising that Jar Jar’s seemingly neurological/perceptive issues go unaddressed (I’m not here to diagnose him, I am not a doctor, only a partial one and that degree wouldn’t help anyone except classical music critics in need, which is...not a thing.) Not to mention the Gungan society seems pretty severe to outliers so we shouldn’t be shocked Jar Jar didn’t get the support he needed and was exiled. A theory, but one I’m willing to ride with.  

"The Separatist Way?” Uhhhh, Padmé, I’m not even going to go there:

YIKES

Holy crap, Threepio is such a bro in this sequence but seriously. Amidala. Skywalker. You are the worst at this clandestine affair garbage. Almost as bad as the kids I had to boot out at a summer camp I was managing who were smuggling in alcohol as minors and left their name badges with the empty bottles stuffed away in a drawer, I mean, did you really not think I would catch you. Come. On.

Honestly. I wouldn't even be shocked if Anakin’s name was embroidered in the collar somewhere. 

SITH LORD JAR JAR hahahahhaa

Let’s not discount the fact Jar Jar figured out immediately where Padmé was being kept and went to her aid - he s not a coward. Not to mention when he was attacked, he played to his strengths and went underwater, as he is a Gungan and can do that.

Padmé has a thing about keeping lock-picking equipment on her person and I wonder if this is a Senate thing, a Naboo thing, or an Amidala thing, and why.

PACK IT IN, FRIENDS, PADMÉ HAS THE HIGH GROUND

Man, Palpy is so FULL OF IT at the end. Oh yes, we would be happy to send aid, you orchestrated this entire scenario oh my word, I love the Prequel Era. 

Takeaways: Jar Jar is not as dumb as we assume, Padmé is both a badass and as impulsive as Anakin, and Sidious and Dooku are MASTERS at manipulating politics.

[marvel-lously]

Bittersweet Revenge

Words:4.8K

Genre:fluff with a tiny bit of angst and some good old family drama

A/N: Heyo, I’m finally back! I am so sorry I’ve barely posted any fics lately and I am so grateful for all of you who still stick with me. I got the idea for this story quite a while ago, but I’ve only just had the time to finish it now because being a senior in high school really be like that sometimes. Anyways I’ve got quite a few things in mind for the next part, so let me know if you want me to continue it. Now I know this has been said many times before, but, if you like my story please reblog and comment. It means so much and it really encourages and motivates me to write more.

I love you all and I really hope you enjoy reading this!

»C'mon Y/n, you have to go to this party with me!«  Your best friend begged you.

It was Friday night and you lay sprawled on a two-seat, mindlessly staring at the ceiling while trying to ignore the events of the past week.

»No, no I really don’t actually, in fact, I don’t have to go anywhere, so please, just let me wallow in self pity, while I watch some stupid rom-com and eat a pint of ice cream, AT HOME.« You protested, annoyed with how persistent she was.

»No, Y/n, stop it right now. I won’t let you do that, you know I won’t. They don’t deserve your heartbreak and they certainly don’t deserve your tears, so please, just go with me. I promise you’ll have fun, plus, you never know, you might even meet somebody.« She smirked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively while you simply rolled your eyes at her statement.

»Seriously? You think I’ll go to a place full of sweaty, drunk people to get hit on by a bunch of guys who’ll barely be able to remember their own names, nevermind mine and who will only be flirting with me because it’s convenient, not for actually taking an interest in me?« You snorted in disbelief.

»Wow, you really have taken  it upon yourself to be miserable today, haven’t you?« She sighed, crossing her arms in dissatisfaction.

»Well, I try.« You feigned a smile.

»Okay, how about I promise to make you coffee every morning for the rest of your stay here?« She tried, knowing that you would go as far as to sell your own soul to satan just to get a cup of coffee when you wake up.

Coffee was basically your life fuel and her idea was tempting, but you had a really bad day and an even worse week and a cup of coffee just wasn’t going to cut it this time. You scrunched your nose in contemplation, letting out a doubtful hum.

»Ugh, you’re impossible! Fine, I will let you wear my favourite dress for your cousin’s wedding, if you just please come to this party with me.« She sounded exasperated.

You finally perked up at her suggestion.

»So… I get a cup of coffee every morning for the next three weeks aaand I get to wear your favourite dress?« You asked, now smirking.

»Yes, will you please go now?« She asked, frustration evident in her voice.

»Hmm, let me think…« you pretended to still be considering her offer, although you have already made up your mind »fine, I’ll go to your stupid party.« 

»Yes!« She started jumping joyfully. »Oh and it’s not some stupid party, it’s the best party in London and darling, you’re going back home in three weeks and I’m just worried that you’re not gonna get  the full experience while you’re here.« She smiled cheekily.

»Ha ha Y/b/f/n, really, hilarious. I’m here on praxis remember? If that doesn’t do for the full experience of London life, then I don’t know what does.« You chuckled, some of your bad mood already dissolving, seeing how enthusiastic she seemed about you going.

»Eh, whatever, get dressed, I’ll do your makeup and then we can go.«

You were glad she offered to do your makeup, because other than putting your mascara on, you were completely useless with it.

When you two finally arrived, the entire place was already drowning in the amount of people and you two had to elbow your way to the counter.

»First drink’s on me!« Y/b/f/n shouted to you.

You merely gave her an anxious smile, downing your shot of tequila. After the second shot, you started to feel the effect and you could feel yourself caring less and less about the crowd, and by the fourth one, you actually started enjoying the music.

Y/b/f/n practically dragged you to the dance floor and you two started to jump around like maniacs when the 80’s music begun to play.

»Oh my god, I can’t believe they’re playing the 80’s!« You yelled, excited. You much prefered rock to techno and pop and it seemed that this club was perfect for you.

»I’m getting myself another drink, want anything?« You asked Y/b/f/n, heading back to the counter when she shook her head no.

Sipping on your pina colada, you suddenly felt someone standing behind you and immediately recognized her perfume. »Oh god no!« You thought to yourself.

»Y/n, hi, so good to see you!« Her high pitched voice somehow managed to outdo any other sound in the room.

»Hi Charon, I can’t believe I’m seeing you here.« You offered her one of your famous fake smiles, reserved especially for her, your cousin.

»Oh, yeah, you see Tim and I came here ‘cause he’s looking for a place for his bachelor’s party and he heard a few good words about this place, so here we are.« She giggled as if she’s just been told the most hilarious joke of all time. God you hated her guts.

»I think Tim should be here any moment now, he just went to the man’s room. You know, you guys should totally catch up.« She smiled innocently, as if she didn’t know she was putting daggers in your heart by merely being present.

»Abort, abort, abort!« Your mind was telling you.

»You know, I’m actually here with a friend and, uh, I should probably head back so she doesn’t get too worried.« You already started backing away, hoping to get to Y/B/f/n as soon as possible.

»Oh okay, some other time then.« She shrugged nonchalantly.

You pushed your way through to Y/b/f/n, only to see her dancing with a handsome guy. You decided to at least let her have some fun and opted to get some air instead, sending her a quick text not to worry before leaving the club through the back door.

You sat on the stairs just outside the door, playing with a straw. Why couldn’t you enjoy one single night out without her showing up and ruining your life over and over again. You wanted to cry, to scream and possibly throw something at her, but of course, you didn’t. You’d never let her see how much she really hurt you, you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

»Bad day?« A husky voice interrupted your thinking.

»I’ve had better.« You mumbled incoherently, but the man somehow managed to understand, seeing as he chuckled and sat down next to you.

»I’m Tom, by the way.« He introduced himself, offering his hand.

»Y/n.« You replied, wiping your sweaty palm on your thigh and shaking his hand.

»Nice to meet you Y/n.« He smiled kindly. »So what got you in such a bad mood?«

»What, I can’t be in a bad mood just because?« You retorted, raising your brows in question.

»Sure you can, but then you wouldn’t be here. You would probably be at home, eating chips while criticizing some cliche movie that you found on a random chanel and complaining about it to your friends.« He smirked.

»True.« You said after a while, shrugging your shoulders.

»So?« He prompted.

»So… what?« You took a sip of your drink.

»So, what got you into this mood?« Tom rolled his eyes playfully.

»Why should I tell you anything? I don’t even know you.« You asked, sassiness clear in your voice.

»Well you don’t have to tell me anything, however, I think you would definitely feel better if you did.« He smiled.

»What are you, my therapist?« You snorted, almost choking on your drink in the process.

»No, doesn’t mean I’m not still trying to help  and make you feel better.«

You gave him an unsure look before giving in.

»It’s my cousin.« You sighed.

»What about them?« He questioned, a wrinkle forming between his brows, confusion clear on his face.

»She’s marrying my ex.« You explained, your shoulders sinking.

»Oh, oh wow.« He said, taking a swig of his beer, trying to come up with a right response. »How long after you two broke up did they start dating?«

»Oh no, they didn’t bother waiting, my ex cheated, so basically they started going out before Tim and I even broke up, and they’re now getting married, less than five months after he officially broke up with me.« You chuckled bitterly. »And now she just had to be here to ruin my night out with a friend.« You added, taking another sip of your pina colada.

You didn’t even know why you were telling him this. I mean, he did seem like a nice guy, and a bit familiar too, was it possible you’d seen him back in the club already? Maybe it’s all just alcohol.

»Damn! Wow! Just, I don’t even know what to say except that your cousin and your ex are like the shittiest people alive.« He commented, a shocked expression on his face.

»Yeah, tell me about it.« You sighed. »What’s your story?«

»Hmm?«

»Well, you’re not inside partying either so… what’s your story?«

»What are you, my therapist?« He repeated your line from earlier, earning a chuckle from you.

»I don’t know, just, my job I guess.« He shrugged his shoulders, fidgeting.

»What about your job?« You inquired, a curious expression on your face. He seemed to be deeply troubled by this, so it couldn’t have been just a nosy colleague or a  fallout with his superior.

»I have this major opportunity that would really change my career…« He trailed off.

»But?« You prompted.

»But my friend’s been trying really hard for the past year to get this same opportunity and I don’t know how he would react if I took it.«

»Yikes, that sucks mate. Maybe you could talk to him about it?« You suggested.

»And say what? Hey mate, listen I know you’ve been trying to get this job for the past year or so, but you see, they just offered it to me and I’m actually thinking about taking it, no hard feeling tho k?« He pulled on his hair in frustration.

»Yah okay, I see what you mean.« You looked to the ground, not really knowing what to say.

»Damn our lives suck.« He chuckled bitterly.

Before you could reply someone busted the door open, nearly tripping over you two.

»Move!« The man grumbled.

»Dude, you have like at least five feet of the stairs free to walk on on your left, just leave us be.« You hissed back.

»Wow, feisty are we? Don’t talk back too much babe, you don’t want to get hurt now do ya?!« The man slurred, trying to sound threatening, but nearly tripping on his own feet in the process.

»Oh really? And who’s gonna hurt me? You? Oh I’d love to see that.« You pushed his buttons.

»Okay I think that’s enough alcohol for you.« Tom said dragging you away from the man.

»What? No! Tom, let me go! Let me go, right now!« You yelled when he literally had to carry you away from the scene.

Once he thought you were far enough from the ‘charming’ man, he let you back down.

»Why did you do that? He was piss drunk, I could have taken him!« You pouted, crossing your arms.

»Yeah, you’re not in a much better condition love. You would get hurt.« Tom replied, trying to reason with you.

»Would not.« You didn’t back from your statement.

»Sure you wouldn’t.« He rolled his eyes, not really feeling like fighting with you. »Do you need a ride or do you want to go back inside?« He asked, pointing at his car, parked across the street.

You weighed your options for a moment. You really didn’t want to go back inside, not as long as there was a possibility of meeting Tim and Charon again, but you also couldn’t help yourself but think whether Tom was perhaps one of those strangers who act nice at first, but turn out to be murderers in the end. You decided that being murdered was, in fact, still better than meeting the devil’s couple, also, Tom didn’t really give off the 'murderer vibe’.

You took the passenger seat, now smelling Tom’s cologne for the first time. It was a really good cologne and you suddenly felt the need to lean closer, to get more of the intoxicating smell.

»Okay so where do you need me to take you?« Tom asked in a kind voice.

»Narrow Street.« You answered curtly.

Tom started driving and soon the combination of the passing city lights and the slow pace of the ride made you feel drowsy. Without even realizing, you fell asleep.

»Where to exactly?« Tom asked, not yet taking notice of your unconscious state.

»Y/n?« He turned to face you, only to see your head leaned on the car window, your arms falling numbly against your body.

»Y/n?« He gently shook you by the shoulder.

»Five more minutes.« You mumbled incoherently and Tom had to suppress his laughter.

»Y/n, I need to know where exactly to take you.« He tried again.

You slowly started coming to your senses.

»Just around the corner.« You told him. You really didn’t plan on taking him to your exact address, at first, but currently being too tired to care, you decided to just fuck it, if you got killed tonight, at least you didn’t have to go to your cousin’s wedding right?

»Here.« He said, stopping right in front of your entrance.

»Ah shit.« You hissed, rummaging through your handbag. »No, no, no!« You started to feel like crying.

»What is it?« Tom wondered, witnessing your sudden outburst of emotion.

»I forgot to take my key.« You sighed in frustration. »I thought I was going home with Y/B/f/n and I didn’t take my own key.« You explained.

»Well, you can try and call her?« Tom suggested.

You took your phone out, dialing your friend’s number.

»Great. Straight to voicemail.« You sighed, burying your face in your hands.

Tom was silent for a while, then, after a minute or two, he spoke up: »Okay please don’t think I’m a creep because of this, but you could come and sleep over at my place?« He fumbled nervously with the sleeves of his shirt, waiting for your response.

You weren’t going to lie, you were a bit shocked at his offer, but considering your options, there really wasn’t much point in contemplating it.

»Okay.«

»Okay?« Surprise coloured his face.

»If you’re really okay with it too, then yes, I’d like to sleep over at yours.« You offered him a nervous smile.

———————————————————————————————————–

When Tom pulled over at his place, you first thought he was joking. His house was huge, as in, almost villa huge. You only started believing it really was his house, after he unlocked the door.

»Holy shoot!« You exclaimed, seeing the beautifully furnitured inside.

»Are your parents like crazy rich or something, or how exactly are you able to afford this luxury.« You asked bluntly.

»Oh no, I’m actually a bounty hunter.« He said in the most serious tone possible.

You looked at him incredulously.

»I’m joking, obviously, jesus Y/n.« You laughed nervously.

»Hah, good joke.« You said, hoping to relieve the somewhat awkward atmosphere you’ve just created.

»No, it was a horrible joke really. I don’t know why I said that.« He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks turning a bright pink.

»Yeah it was.« You smiled, this time sincerely. »Listen, I know you’re already offering me more than I could ever ask for, but if you don’t mind, could I borrow one of your tees? This dress is killing me and I don’t think I’d ever be able to sleep in it.«

»Yeah, no of course, let me just go to my room and get it for you.« He said, hurrying upstairs.

You took a look around. The house was beautiful, so warm and cozy, yet modern and sophisticated. There were photos hung on centre wall of the room and you were just about to go take a look at them when Tom came back, holding a grey T-shirt in his hands.

»There, I picked the most comfortable one I could find, I hope it suits you well.« He handed you the soft material.

He showed you to the bathroom so you could change,offering to get some blankets for you to sleep on the sofa in the meantime.

You took your dress off and unhooked your bra, the lush cotton of Tom’s shirt felt so much better on your skin than the tight fitting artificial leather. You washed your face with cold water, wondering what the hell were you doing in a stranger’s apartment. You seriously wanted to cry. Why didn’t you just insist on staying in, you could be at home right now, drinking hot chocolate in the company of your good old telly. Instead, you were here,standing in the bathroom of a man you did not know, gathering the courage to deal with the shit that’s happened to you. You decided to head back to the living room, you really didn’t want to get any suspicious looks from Tom.

»Wow you look miserable.« Tom outed before he could stop himself, quickly covering his mouth after he realized what he had said. »Sorry.« He added, grimacing.

»No, I happen to agree with you, although I do wonder how you would look after such an event.« You scoffed.

»I’m sorry, you’re right. I didn’t mean it like that. Want me to make you some hot cocoa? And we can watch some lousy TV while drinking it? I can’t sleep after drinking so much alcohol anyways.« He suggested.

»I’d actually like that.« You smiled, following Tom into the kitchen.

———————————————————————————————————–

»No, no, no don’t go in there. Gosh! Do you think people really are that stupid?« You asked Tom, watching how the girl in the horror movie you and Tom decided to watch entered a dark room.

»I would normally say no, but then again I’m sitting next to a girl who decided to blindly trust a stranger, willingly go to his house and drink something he made her-you know I could’ve put poison in there right?« He chuckled.

»Alright, alright.« You hit his shoulder playfully. »Although I don’t think poison is necessary in this case. I should’ve known better than to drink milk on top of alcohol.« You scrunched your nose at the unpleasant feeling in your stomach.

»Hey can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to tho.« He said, looking very nervous and a bit uncomfortable.

»Sure, go ahead.« You replied.

»Are you still in love with your ex?« He uttered, playing with a zipper on his hoodie to avoid your gaze.

You were a bit shocked by his question. Everyone who knew about the situation so far just gave you a pitiful look, changing the subject as quickly as possible. You cleared your throat before answering. »I wouldn’t say I’m still in love with him… I actually think I stopped being really in love with him even before we broke up, I uh, probably sensed something was wrong somewhere deep inside, I was just too afraid to consciously acknowledge it. I am still very hurt by what he did though and by the fact that they both have the guts to invite me to their wedding.« You laughed bitterly.

»They invited you to their wedding?!« He literally almost dropped his jaw in shock.

»Yep, and my mum won’t allow me to ditch it, lecturing me how I’d come off as weak if I don’t go and how I have to show them I’ve moved on.« You sighed.

»Well you could go and ruin her wedding if you really, truly must go, you know?«

»How? By destroying her cake? Don’t you think that’d be a bit pathetic?« You rolled your eyes.

»No, but what you could do is, you could get engaged at her wedding and ruin her big moment.« He suggested.

»And how do you propose I do that, I’m very much single at the moment.« You laughed at his incredibly ridiculous idea.

»You ask a friend of course, you make up a story about how you two met and immediately clicked and fell in love and whatnot, you know how it is in the movies, and at the wedding, instead of making a toast to the newly weds, he asks you to marry him and voila, her big moment is now yours. And what’s great about it is that you don’t have to go through with it, you can keep it up for another few months and then say you decided you worked better as friends instead of lovers and the situation is solved.« He seemed very proud of his master plan.

You couldn’t help but just stare at him incredulously. »Are you serious right now? You’re not serious are you?«

»Why not? It’s a great revenge plan.«

»No, it’s a horrible revenge plan! If my family ever found out about it, they would have me disowned!« You nearly yelled now.

»So, you don’t let them find out! It’s not that difficult!« He contradicted.

»Yes, it is. Especially if your parents already know all your friends! Who would I even ask? You?« You scoffed, laying back on the sofa, defeated.

“Maybe?” He now sounded much less confident. Look Y/n, I was just trying to help, but clearly all I’ve done is make you even more upset, so just forget I said anything okay?« He said, genuinely sorry for making you feel bad.

»It’s fine. I’m sorry, it’s been a rough week and I just don’t feel like dealing with it all yet.« You apologized, covering your face with your hands and sighing in frustration.

»Hey, it’s all good, honestly. Do you wanna watch this movie and bet who gets killed next?« He challenged, wiggling his eyebrows.

»Sure, what’s the prize for the winner?« You asked, intrigued by the idea.

Tom seemed to be deep in thought for a moment before answering. »Okay so I have this huge chocolate bar in the kitchen, so how about whoever makes the best guesses, gets the entire bar-sharing is completely up to the winner.« He suggested, offering his hand for you to shake.

»It’s a deal.« You shook his hand firmly.

You two spend about another hour watching the film, shouting at the TV and yelling frustratingly at the characters’ choices. You won somehow, but for some unknown reason you ended up doing shots instead of eating the promised chocolate bar, each having to do as many shots as wrong guesses, and although your number was considerably smaller than Tom’s, things you remembered happening after that were a bit blurry…

———————————————————————————————————–

You woke up, feeling like you were about to ignite from how hot you were. You wanted to move, but you found yourself unable to do so, seeing as someone’s hand was wrapped around your upper body.

»Holy shit!« Your heartbeat fastened. »Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!«  You thought to yourself. How could you let this happen? Tom lay naked behind your back, wearing nothing but his boxers, and somehow you ended up not wearing any underwear under his T-shirt. Carefully, you lifted Tom’s arms, slowly wiggling your way away from him. Standing up, you finally took a note of the mess you two made last night. Yours and Tom’s clothes were all strewn carelessly on the floor, along with crisps’ wraps, empty, plastic shot glasses and was that a lemon peel? You miraculously managed to find your underpants in this mess quickly putting them on. You made your way to the bathroom, grateful to have correctly remembered where you left your dress. With much wiggling and jumping, you were finally able to put it back on, but your sweaty skin made it fairly difficult to move in it. You folded Tom’s shirt neatly, putting it on the washing machine. You made your way back to the living room, picking up your phone, ready for your walk of shame out of Tom’s house.

You have just closed the door, when you noticed a taxi driving down the street. You ran, still barefoot, down the driveway, hoping that the cab-driver would notice you waving at him. You got lucky, the cab stopped just in front of you and you jumped in, hoping you would never have to deal with the consequences of what happened last night. You opened your phone, ready to call Y/b/f/n to ask her if she’s already in you apartment. You nearly had a heart attack when noticing you had 40 messages and 10 missed calls from her. Shite, you must’ ve left your phone on vibrato, you usually do that because you don’t hear the phone ringing in the club anyways, but you do feel it vibrating in your pocket. Apparently though, you slept through it all. You took a deep breath before calling your friend, preparing yourself to be lectured.

»Where the fuck are you?« Came Y/B/F/N angry voice from the phone.

»Good morning to you too love.« You replied.

»Oh don’t you dare be offended Y/n, you nearly gave me a nervous breakdown, I was just about to call the police, hadn’t you called me right now. Do you have any, ANY idea how worried I was? The last message I got from you was that you went outside and then nothing, for 12 hours nothing!« She continued yelling.

Twelve hours? Shit was it really 11 am already?

»Y/b/f/n I am sorry, I really am. I ran into Charon last night and you know I can’t stomach her, so I went outside and then I met this guy, and he was about to take me back to our place, but I forgot my key because I thought I was going back home with you, and I nearly lost it at that point, but fortunately, he offered me to stay at his place, so I did and…« You were about to continue when she interrupted you.

»I’m sorry you went home with a stranger?« She asked, surprise colouring her voice. »Is this really Y/n on the phone?«

»Ha ha. Yes, I went home with him, what was I supposed to do? Sleep on the street?«

»No, it’s just… very uncharacteristic of you.« Her voice sounded calmer now. »Okay you have to tell me everything! The devil’s in the details love.«

»Oh so now that I’ve got a story you suddenly aren’t angry with me anymore?« You joked.

»No, no, I’m still mad at you, you’re just lucky I’m one of the most curious people you will ever meet in your life and my thirst for a good story overpowers my anger.« She chuckled.

»Fine, I’ll tell you everything once I get home. You are at home right?« You asked, desperate to get back to your apartment, to shower and put on something comfortable.

»Yes I am home, wait, why can’t you just tell me now?« She asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

»Because I’m in a cab and it’s an embarrassing story to tell.« You tried to explain.

»Embarrassing how?« She snickered, then after a while the realizaton seemed to hit her. »Oh my gosh, Y/n?! Did you sleep with the guy?« She asked, gasping.

»I’ll tell you, at. home.« You were a bit agitated now.

»You did! You nasty!« She laughed loudly into the phone.

»Okay, goodbye now.« You hung up, letting out a groan. She wasn’t ever going to let this go.

———————————————————————————————————–

»You bitch!« She greeted you at the door, punching your shoulder.

»Ow!« You cried out before being pulled into a bone crushing hug.

»Don’t ever scare me like that again!« She said, her voice carrying a slight tremble.

»I won’t, I promise! I am so sorry.« You said, tightening your embrace.

»Y/n? Can I tell you something?«

»Hmm?«

»Please don’t be mad, but you smell like you just spent three hours at the gym and it is not a pleasant smell.« She laughed, slowly letting go of you.

»Ugh, I know, and this dress isn’t really helping the situation either.« You laughed, relieved to be back at your place.

»Okay so how about you go take a shower, while I make us some coffee?« She proposed, already pushing you towards the bathroom.

»Yes please!«

———————————————————————————————————–

»Fuck!« She outed, mouth hanging open.

»Yep.« You took a sip of your coffee, shifting uncomfortably in your chair.

»What the fuck?« She repeated, still in shock. »Okay so let me rewind that. You left with a guy you knew absolutely nothing about, except his name, and you willingly went to his house and spent a night there, got wasted with him and even slept with him?«

»No, I said I might have slept with him, I can’t really remember, all the tequila hasn’t really been good on my memory, on that note-remind me never to drink a single sip of it again…«

»I’m sorry, I thought you were joking earlier, but no, you really did the dirty with that guy.«

»Okay it’s not like I’m the first to do it with a stranger from a club,since when did you get so judgemental?!« You were a bit offended by her reaction.

»No, no I am not at all judging you, I am just really shocked because I’ve known you for years and it’s so not like you to do something like that.« She tried to reassure you.

»You promise you’re not judging me?« You asked, unsure.

»Of course not!« She leaned across the table to hug you. »How about we just spend a day in today, just the two of us? We can do face masks and catch up on Friends?«

»I’d love that.« You said, already getting up from your chair.

You had just turned the TV on, when there was a commercial for a new film called Chaos Walking.

»Holy… Y/b/f/n!« You yelled. She was still washing the cups.

»Hmm?« Her head peaked from the kitchen.

»That, that is the guy I was with last night.« You stuttered.

»She looked at the screen then at you, a laugh escaping her lips. »Yeah right, Y/n you can stop pulling my leg now.« She snorted.

»Y/b/f/n, I am not! Seriously, this is the guy I spent last night with.« You swallowed anxiously.

She stared at you, gawking.

»You slept with Tom Holland?!«

You looked at her, still in disbelief yourself. »I slept with Tom Holland?«

Tags (because I need validation): @starksparker @zophora @screamholland @peachyhollands @stardust-revengers @buckybcrnes @mandatheredpanda @parkeret @spokenforunicornism @purespidey @spidergirlwanab @ryleighisapanda @beautifullydisconnected @slut-for-fandoms @anxieteandbiscuits

[plainvanillapotato]

the 100 diaries S3 E3

quarantine diaries: june 25 2020

season 3 episode 3: “Ye Who Enter Here”

based on this title imma just assume that this episode is gonna be hell aka Dante’s inferno

this dynamic between lexa and clarke is very beauty and the beast vibez with how clarke is give lexa ‘i wont see you’

“I can do both (hate lexa and herself) ” clarke said. We love a multi-tasker

“I want your people to become my people” ..”join me” Is lexa proposing a political marriage with clarke????

wow clarke used bellamy’s “kill me” line

clarke also said “Go float yourself”....let these kids say FUCK

Ice queen!! love matriarchy!

Yesssss Lexa you kick that guy off the ledge. this is what i like to see but also that could have really killed one of your people down below 

chill kane its just a med kit. but also watch they need a med kit but kane is like noooo 

i still dont like this relationship between bellamy and this girl bc who is she??  the writers really didnt put any effort into making me like her. Did you tell her how you injured your leg bellamy? Did you tell her that you got it trying to save clarke??

“There was no room at the inn” did pike just quote the Bible??

but also this reminded me of this office scene

look at the prince his fancy new clothes. lol when hes said “what you really want” my mind immediately when to spice girls

Humpy dumpy sat on a wall. side note How did bellamy sense that Octavia was sitting up there like people dont naturally turn back toward the door they just went threw but i guess bellamy can just sense octavia’s vibez

aww look at bellamy being a supportive brother to octavia

Echo???? damn is my bellamy and echo ship still on??

Who is this assassin?? Highkey dramatic with that unwrapping of his weapons.

waht? Raven can crack the code now? since when? since fucking when?

Ugh again with this girl. its not like i dont ship her and bellamy cuz it looks like she makes bellamy happy but wtf the writers didnt build up the relationship at all so it just feels false to me

While on the topic of boos what ever happened to millers boyfriend?? Like they talked about it and now...what where is he?

i find it kinda funny how this grounder assassin has like primal weapons but has this kinda modern, cheap ass watch that you can buy at target or one that you would get at mcdonald’s. it could have been such a meme if the assassin pulled out this relic instead

lowkey this grounder marketplace looks like star wars land in disneyland

Free food?! and kane gives her a patch but what good is that patch?? 

“Its up to the people.” we love a democracy except when majority of the population are idiots aka everyone on the ark

"aden is ready” so like do these people just base the next leader’s  readiness to rule on if they’re good enough fighters?? I guess that makes sense considering how majority of the population seem to be warriors. Lexa also mentioned something about a conclave..wtf is a conclave? 

look at lexa defending clarke against this baldy. damn she’s simping hard for clarke and its so obvious and yet baldy just suggested that she kill clarke.

also i cant help but laugh at the fact that when people finally meet wannheda they just see clarke. and ok sure she may do some badass stuff but come on dont tell me she doesnt look like a cinnamon roll

wait so what does bellamy’s girlfriend actually do? like is she an engineer or what??

yikes more neck deaths

“I’m not leaving my blade” neither would i octavia. also im curious on whether the grounders added the drawing of the gun when the space people came down with their guns because it seems like the space people are the only ones with guns that they would interact with (bc of the grounder lore surrounding guns and that they didnt seem buddy buddy with the mountain men)

ok clarke you pull that knife on lexa. but look at the intense eye contact damn. also that was such a dramatic knife drop. i gotta say that the background music during this was definitely a choice

also clarke can you please remove these ugly ass red hair extensions?

13th clan. huh? i dont like this. mostly because i dont like the world building and i just prefer bellamy and the rest of the spacers doing ‘whatever the hell they want’

ngl i thought that singer was clarke for a second. And i was like woah clarke can really sing?! but atlas it wasnt her. you know this made me think of all the other shows where they have that one musical episode...oh god i hope they do a musical scene later in the show. i would die happy. also did lexa really just hire a singer for this event?? 

How long is this assassin prepping like he’s been doing this seen the beginning of the episode?? who is his father, mother, brother, kin?? 

“how many floors”..”All of them” bitch if this mission were up to me everyone would be dead. but luckily its up to bellamy who always come thru

“Bear our mark.” when abby told kane that he should be chancellor it was more like i dont want to be marked so you should do it. jk also that’s not an honor that is a branding. and dont hate me but MARK-us because marcus kane. lol i dont care if you hate me that joke was for me. 

Yes bellamy you crash whatever this event is but also how the hell did climb up so fast! 

Are you kidding me echo? that two timing bitch ugh just when i rooting for her and bellamy she pulls this shit. 

the assassin is at Mount weather?! ugh. 

aww look at sinclair giving raven a pep talk

Oooo i called it Gina is dead. but the assassin really when for the abomin and not the neck..interesting choice. Why is this this assassin so much smarter than gina like he knew about that secret compartment and he had the codes also he got a tattoo with the codes. That’s some commitment!

you go sinclair. aww poor raven wabbling as fast as she can with that leg brace.this assassin must not be that good of an assassin if Sinclair can fight him off

Ofc they destroy mount weather. raven and sinclair were yeeted in that explosion

That stare that bellamy gave to Lexa and then that look between bellamy and clarke. ooo the tension is real

Also does bellamy know that this girlfriend just died or??? but i guess thats something that shouldnt be found out via radio

Who did Clarke’s makeup and hair or did she do it herself?? cuz it was definitely a bold choice. also the following image is not to mock clarke its just the most curse makeup image that ive seen and i love to share it with others

lexa bowing down to clarke...ship???

Is that Emerson??! bitch

[shaechans]

ask game!!

the answers are under the cut in case it goes too long hehe

Last Song You Listened To?

from home by nct

Relationship Status.

single!!

Did You Wake Up Cranky?

no in fact i woke in a really good mood cause i didn’t have school lmao

How Many Followers?

426 holy shit thank you

Take A Vitamin Daily?

nope

Do You Sing In The Shower?

of course. but sometimes i just think of shower thoughts

What Books Are You Reading?

started the hunger games series recently

Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.

“information technology (IT) is the study of design, development, implementation, support or management of computer based information” that’s my sisters’ 8th grade social textbook lols

Favourite Anime?

death note (thats the only ive watched so far, gonna start haikyuu soon)

Last Person You Cried In Front Of?

my mom sigh i cried cause of this terrible headache i had and couldn’t handle anymore

Do You Collect Anything?

...albums?

What Did You Have For Lunch?

fish curry and fish fry yum

Do You Dance In The Car?

more like sing than dance but then again, it depends on the song and the mood im in

Do You Watch The Olympics?

as of now, no but i might have to soon

What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed?

11pm on school days and 1-2am on weekends

Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now?

nope

Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean?

none. i don’t like swimming. but if i chad to choose, pool. i’m thalassophobic

Bottled Water Or Tap Water?

bottled!!!

What Makes You Happy?

making people laugh, the noise of laughter, kpop, and spending time with people i like annoying

Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

Do You Study Better With Or Without Music?

with music. but like music i haven’t heard before otherwise i get distracted and sing along

Dogs Or Cats?

dogs!!!!!!!111!!!! but cats have been coming at me recently

If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be?

ngl red or orange

PlayStation Or Xbox

hmm playstation

Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean?

lake better than ocean

Do You Believe In Magic?

yesss except black magic that’s bullshit

What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing?

juniper green

Can You Curl Your Tongue?

yup!

Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You?

yes my shorts

Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now?

yes treasure (and superm’s super one album)

Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly?

noooo they’re scary

Are You Easily Influenced By Other People?

yes VERY easily. i’m a trend follower

Do You Have Strange Dreams?

all the time, it’s fun to think about in the morning

Do You Like Going On Airplanes?

oh yesss i love plane rides

Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds?

peanuts

If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be?

nct / the 1975

Are You A Picky Eater?

yes, VERY. and i have a small appetite so i can never really eat too much

Do You Like To Read / Write?

hmm write more than read

Do You Like Your Music Loud?

in between. sometimes it depends on my mood. but i’ll often lower the volume than increase

Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents?

hmmm present wrapping would be fun

What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather)

it’s the autumn > winter transition

What Are You Craving Right Now?

cookies and french fries:(( even though i ate those an hour ago

Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed.

lmao my ask and yes i use my laptop so

What Is Your Gender?

female!

Coffee Or Tea?

i don’t mind really but i would prefer coffee over tea

Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About?

nope but i do have a marketing test on the 29th yikes

Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning?

yes im tidy like that

Favourite Pokemon?

squirtle and snorlax cuties

Favourite Social Media?

ngl right now really proud of my tumblr. but it’s usually my instagram

What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories?

i love them

Do You Get Homesick?

YES ALOT, like i feel like that as soon as im out my house for like 5 minutes

Are You A Virgin?

yes and im 15

If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free?

fuck that motel i’d sleep in the car wtf

Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life?

yes<3

Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters?

hmm i don’t really yet

Do You Miss Your Ex?

don’t have one woohoo

What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now?

if beyonce can forgive jayz, i can forgive you ~ kevin moon

Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set?

the swings were are my favourite on the playground. i LOVE going on them and will fight 5 year olds to sit on one >.<

What Was The Last Thing You Ate?

banana

Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not?

OF COURSE. i would help anyone in need of help, homeless or not, outcast or not. if you wouldn’t please unfollow me thank you

Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?

...yes

Stalked Someone On A Social Network?

..........yes

Do You Like Meeting New People?

sometimes yes sometimes no. it depends on the group of people, i’m attracted to lively and playful groups pf people

Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them.

nopeee

Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?

opennnn

What Are Three Things You Did Today?

made myself a sandwich, replayed enhypen’s teaser a billion times and watched nct world’s latest episode

What Do You Wear To Bed?

comfy clothes

List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now.

none

Are You A Day Or Night Person?

day hmmm what

Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.

i.... cannot remember.. i briefly remember this one dream where i, along with a group of people were locked up in this tower thing and it was a test???? and the judge was rain. he trained us for a week or something to rock climbing. and then i remember sunwoo helping me win when he was in the opposite team and he was about to kiss me woop but i fell.. and suddenly i was running away in a getaway car there were sirens in the beat of your heart kjakjahsj and then i woke up whew

Favourite Soda Drink?

ginger ale

Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More?

jeans

How Do You Look Right Now?

face oily, neck sore and eyes falling woooo

Name Something That Relaxes You

this playlist

What Tattoo Do You Want?

lowkey want a mmdiii (2503) or Yea, Simon says Hurry up 거리에 널린 flat hoop들 멈춘 순간 널 향해 조준 다 쏜다Hands up 뒤돌아 Hands up 흔들어 숨이 가득 차도 여기 법 계속 달려왜 또 눈치만 보고 서있나 우두커니 왜 또 겁먹은 표정을 짓나 이걸 원해?주문을 외워 I'm God 너희를 홀려 like wow NCT we all so sexy NCT noise you can't break me 누가 날 욕해 who Bless me achoo Simon says be cool Don't be such a fool Simon says 우린 real vibe killer (killer killer killer) Simon says 우린 real vibe killer (killer killer killer) 너네들은 다 mine mine mine mine mine 너네들은 다 mine mine mine mine mine 필요 없어 그딴 말말말말말 We don't pay no mind mind mind mind mind Yo 꽉 막힌 차 사이로 길을 여는 siren 니 맘에 그 체증을 밤새 뚫고 달려누구보다 빨라 전부 뒤에 가있어 거침없어 모든 건 내게 달려Eh 점점 분위기는 high high high high 우릴 막는 소린 bye bye bye bye 신경 다 끄고 놀아 밤새 누가 뭐라 하든 상관 안 해주문을 외워 I'm God 너희를 홀려 like wow NCT we all so sexy NCT noise you can't break me 누가 날 욕해 who Bless me achoo Simon says be cool Don't be such a fool Simon says 우린 real vibe killer (killer killer killer) Simon says 우린 real vibe killer (killer killer killer) 너네들은 다 mine mine mine mine mine 너네들은 다 mine mine mine mine mine 필요 없어 그딴 말말말말말 We don't pay no mind mind mind mind mind두려워하지마 널 막는 건 너 일 뿐 yeah 착각하지마 우린 오늘 break the rules 눈을 뜨고 깨어나 이 순간 깊숙이 빠져들어가 현실과 꿈의 사이 진짜 널 찾는 그 순간Simon says 우린 real vibe killer (aye, real vibe killer) Simon says 우린 real vibe killer (aye, real vibe killer) 너네들은 다 mine mine mine mine mine 너네들은 다 mine mine mine mine mine 필요 없어 그딴 말말말말말 We don't pay no mind mind mind mind mind We don't pay no attention but i don’t maybe the mmdiii.

whew that was a long one...kudos to whoever read all this bullshit

[ariaadagio]

Things I loved about S4

1.  Lucifer was completely de-flanderized.  He was allowed to be smart, ask relevant questions during investigations, and was never once handed an idiot ball.  This was my number one wish for this season, and the writers granted it with bells on.  

2.  Tonally speaking, the show was perfect!  It kept its great sense of humor and horrible puns where appropriate, but scaled way way waaaaaaaaaay back on the camp for camp’s sake (looking at you, S3), and also allowed itself to go full dark when necessary.  Also, the writers were absolutely correct in how they chose to utilize their newfound ability to curse — sparingly and for great effect.  

3.  Pacing was perfect.  No one major event was allowed to go on too long.  I was really worried in the beginning that Chloe was going to spend the whole season working with Father Kinley, but she didn’t.  Can you imagine if S4 had been on Fox?  Chloe telling Kinley to fuck off would have been the mid-season finale or something, we all already would have been ready to rage quit, and then Eve would come along for the back half to take us into S5.  Just yikes.     

4.  Speaking of Eve.  Eve was likable and 3D.  She was not just there to be a wrench in the works, nor was she stereotypically catty or jealous with Chloe or any of Lucifer’s other friends.  She was selfish, but she was also kind — a lot like Lucifer, really — and her backstory was both tragic and interesting.  

5.  The Eve / Lucifer / Chloe triangle didn’t feel forced.  In fact, I’d go so far as to not even call it a triangle so much as a brief “reshuffle.”  It was relevant and developed organically — all three characters had some major realizations they needed to make, and the reshuffle very importantly helped them do that.    

6.  Chloe took her time with her reaction to Lucifer’s revelation, and even better, her reaction was both relatable and in character.  I mean, really, as much as I’m sure we all wanted her to immediately be YAAAAAY DEVIL! don’t forget she was a self-professed agnostic and, literally, her entire worldview just got flipped upside down.  Of course, she would need time for her head to stop spinning, and while still spinning, she would be extra-vulnerable to gaslight-y characters like Kinley.  But she’s also very oriented in empathy and personal experience, and all it really took, after she calmed down a bit, was some more time with Lucifer for things to start coming back together for her.  Her journey was complex but, in my mind, to be expected, and, most importantly, interesting.  (P.S. How lovely was that moment when Amenadiel told her about her dad, and his meaning sank in for her?)

7.  The “the beginnings of a beautiful friendship” vibes Chloe & Lucifer were giving off by the end of the season were fabulous.  This was my second major wish for S4 — that Chloe & Lucifer remember why they’re friends and then develop that friendship organically now that there are no secrets between them — and the writers, once again, were there with bells on.  

8.  The found-family plot of Linda, Maze, and Amenadiel was fantastic.  I normally don’t go in for baby and pregnancy plots but this one was done in a really lovely way.

9.  Maze/Eve.  I ship it.  What are we calling this one?  Mave?  Eaze?  Whatever we decide: please, sir, can I have some more?

10.  All the pairing cross-pollination was lovely.  I loved seeing Amenadiel & Dan again.  I loved Dan & Ella.  I loved Maze & Dan.  Dan’s journey in particular was suuuper hard to watch, but his final scene with Linda was perfect.  Also, for a while there I really thought Ella’s crisis of faith was going to be resolved with a reveal — is she our next one if the show gets an S5?  

11.  I loved that Lucifer really started using his words toward the end.  He was able to admit aloud that he didn’t like who he was with Eve.  And, while I think this will be an unpopular opinion with Deckerstar shippers, I also really liked that he was also able to admit he wasn’t sure he liked who he was with Chloe, either.  I mean, this was certainly through no fault of Chloe — who again I felt reacted realistically — but rather from the tough situation Lucifer found himself in this season, where he was being inadvertently pulled between his two extremes (angel / devil).  I could understand where he was coming from with that — he just wants to be Lucifer, not ANGEL!Lucifer or DEVIL!Lucifer.  Part of the whole point of this season was Lucifer figuring out what “being Lucifer” means for him.  Who is he?  Along those lines, I also loved that we started getting more context for his Fall and who he was many years ago.  My head canons are definitely revising themselves as I type this.  

12.  All the oodles of supernatural goodness!  This was number three on my S4 wishlist.  Let Lucifer be the freaking Devil.  He is not human.  He has skills and perspectives that are different from ours.  And holy crap did the writers deliver here.  Except they upped the ante and gave me DEVIL!Lucifer, ANGEL!Amenadiel, DEMON!Maze, NEPHILIM!Baby, POSSESSED!Army, and a partridge in a pear tree.  

13.  How sweet was that ending exchange of ILYs between Chloe & Lucifer?  It felt really earned and really true, now that Chloe knows exactly who she’s saying she loves, and Lucifer has gone on his much-needed “who am I?” journey.

14.  HOW SWEET WAS THAT ENDING WITH LUCIFER ON THE THRONE OF HELL?  OH MY GOD WHAT A POWERFUL MOMENT.  At the very end of the final episode when we saw this, I turned to @tarysande and said, “Holy shit I LOVE that, but I HATE it.”  I’m still not really sure how to articulate my bucket o’ feelings about this.  It was hopelessly sad on a Deckerstar front, but for Lucifer personally ... wow.  Just wow.  And I really, really want to see where things could go from here.  

Overall, when @tarysande and I started watching this, I had some reservations.  I kept saying, “Oh, man, I don’t know how I’m gonna feel about this if they do X.”  But the writers kept walking right up to the line of whatever X was in that moment, they kept toeing it exactly before my "NOPE!” point, yet never once did they cross it, and in the end, they produced a brilliant season.  Probably my favorite yet.  

I am so very glad this show got renewed, and the writers had a chance to tell this story.

[jmespottuh]

❛  if there’s one thing the gods love, it’s tragedy. with wings that burn and boys who fall. ❜

* ╰   brandon arreaga  ;  17 ;  he/him  —— wow, james potter sure has changed. i guess he is feeling isolated from the other gryffindor members. guess you can’t really blame them. i still remember them being so charming & incisive now they just seem dependent & inexorable.  guess being a  pureblood isn’t helping matters much either.  i’m hopeful though. they’ll be just fine.

links: pinterest, stats character parallels: bellamy blake ( the 100 ), shane madej ( buzzfeed unsolved ), jake peralta ( brooklyn nine-nine ), stefan salvatore ( the vampire diaries ), scott mccall ( teen wolf ), steve harrington ( stranger things )

james henry potter ( named for two his two grandfathers, maternal and paternal respectively ) was born on april 4th, 1960 to two of the most loving parents a child could have.

fleamont and euphemia had been trying for a child for years. they’d been together for basically all of time, having been that typical good-looking, well liked couple in hogwarts that everyone always just assumes will get married ( spoiler alert: they did ), however had had to postpone kids due to fleamont’s brief stint as a professional quidditch player for eight years following their graduation. after that, they would try every month for a child, and after many years of disappointment, eventually gave up. it was during this time that fleamont developed the sleekeazy hair potion which only added to their immense wealth. 

finally at age forty-one, they were surprised with the arrival of james. obviously, they saw him as their miracle child, and as such he was pampered and completely spoiled from the moment he was born.

i cannot stress enough how much this spoiled upbringing shaped james into the person he is today. if you’re wondering why he was ever an arrogant prick, it’s because he was always used to getting absolutely everything he ever wanted. he grew up with money, he grew up with fame and with every bit of attention he could garner, and so it was really no wonder he was a bit of an asshole by the time he started at hogwarts.

obviously, james had a pretty cushy childhood, and as such, shit didn’t start getting real until he started at hogwarts. 

it took all of three seconds for the hat to sort him into gryffindor, and i guess you could say he pretty much considered himself to be the gem of the house. he was the absolute epitome of a gryffindor, basically considered him the poster boy and all but expected everyone to love him.

really did not help his ego to know that everyone did.

in typical sterotype-gryffindor fashion, james hated slytherin. he had always been taught growing up that purists were basically the root of all evil, and his father had had no qualms in lumping all these people in with the house of the snakes. james and his friends took a particular disliking to severus snape almost immediately for the poncy way in which he seemed to believe he was superior to all for his intelligence and his house status, and this dislike only grew when lily evans was tossed into the mix, too.

for basically the first four or five years of hogwarts, james really was that stereotypical arrogant asshole that he’s often made out to be. he always got everything he asked for, he was incredibly popular and incredibly intelligent, he had the most amazing friends and his eyes on the most amazing girl. he was set!! shit was good!!

shit was not good, though. definitely was not.

despite having known of remus’ furry little problem since second year, things didn’t really start to settle in james how awful it was until third or fourth year. he hated seeing his friend in pain, he hated that he couldn’t help, and so he rallied the boys to put into action their worst plan yet!!!!

becoming animagi!!!!!!

it took fucking forever, obviously, but by the end of fourth year they did it!! we stan icons

except then in fifth year shit hit the fan again in just, like… so many ways

first, it was the whole severus ‘mudblood’ situation. honestly, james was absolutely furious. he’d always hated snape but this just made everything 1000 times worse. even if it had happened to anyone else, he would have been fuming. but for it to have happened to lily like… yikes. 

this was also a horrible time for james though because lily rejected him for the thousandth time. like, look, what a yikes thing to think when she was just called a mudblood, but frankly he was sick of being rejected and he was sick of being the asshole who kept pressuring her so that was the breaking point — he gave up on her. 

and tbh, he changed a lot from here on out. grew up!! became a better person bc he saw how horrible snap was and decided he was sick of horrible people!! saw, recognised and acknowledged that just bc he was hot and intelligent and rich he wasn’t always going to get everything he wanted ( see: miss evans ) and just generally learned that oh shit the world doesn’t revolve around him!!!

oh and then there was that whole thing with sirius and snape and remus the werewolf and ohhhh boyyyy…. that infuriated him. 

he loves his bros so much and y’all know he would die for them, but to see his friend abuse remus’ pain and suffering for his own gain was heart wrenching. it just pushed him further to pull him in line, to realise that not everything was about games, or petty rivalry, or ‘ getting the girl ’ — life was heartache and mistakes and it was never going to go the way he wanted it to.

now look, this isn’t all to say that james is now a super strict, super intense, brooding weirdo. he’s still a bit of a child, and he’s still a bit of an arrogant prick, but ultimately what wins out is his morals — every time. he wants to lead the world to a better place, without war and without hate, he wants everyone to have the same opportunities he had as a kid and he wants nothing more than for blood purity to be eradicated.

get that shit outta my house!!! gross!!!!!!

now in his final year, james is always flipping between taking his role as head boy deadly serious and turning it into one big game of mischief. he’s still a marauder at heart, after all, and has definitely abused his power sometimes for the benefit of fun and games, but when it comes down to it, he can be very strict and lowkey paternal. the leader really just…. popped right outta him, it came to play and it came hard, and really you’d think he’s minister for magic with how serious he treats it sometimes.

i hate him.

the disappearance of one of his best friends, one peter pettigrew, landed james to flop pretty fucking hard on the side of seriousness. once you spend months without knowing where your best friend is, thinking he’s dead, you’re bound to start to lose a bit of that which once made you smile. it was this piled on top of what james had already been feeling which led the head boy to start finding ways he could join the revolution within the walls of hogwarts --- it’s been bloody hard but james is determined to make a difference, to make sure no one else he loves suffers in a war that they never asked to fight in the first place.

anyway here’s some fun facts that didn’t fit up top

james is a lot less intense with his hatred for slytherin’s. he has come to recognise that not everyone from that lifestyle is going to be the same, not everyone who grew up a certain way or was sorted into a certain house is going to think with a deadly mind, and while he’s still a bit wary, he’s a lot more relaxed about it, especially as head boy ( gotta at least pretend shit’s fair !!! )

he’s very dependent as in like… boi cannot go a week without his friends. he is used to having people to bounce off, that’s always the type of leader he has been, and as much as he would probably be amazing at anything on his own, he’s never really tried. too scared!! i hate him!!!!!

super unforgiving. like, if you have gotten on his bad side…. i’m sorry. it is going to be very difficult to return from there. his moral compass is pretty black and white, you’re either good or your bad, and if you’ve done something he considers bad well sucks to be you, i guess. sorry not sorry.

takes his quidditch very seriously tbh. so many people have told him he needs to be a pro like his dad, but he’s like haha fuck you i know what i wanna do ( hint hint: he wants to rule that goddamn auror office, make that shit far more efficient then he thinks it is now ). but srsly, he’s so intense abt the game and it really like… idk gets him in the zone, keeps him level-headed in amongst all this chaos. 

he’s smart. i guess. straight a’s and shit idk. just very naturally intelligent, finds everything he does easy, like.. really is that asshole who is just good at everything he does.

[ryouverua]

Trial 5 - Clash of Sidekicks (2)

“This is the worst movie I’ve watched since ‘The Wizard of Monomi’!”

"The fact that you can admit to watching that says a lot about you.”

Investigation 1 / 2 - second half is where I put my own theories that I penned before playing the trial. 

Trial: 1

That is a PERFECTLY REASONABLE REACTION to a snuff film. All the new sprites we’re getting this chapter are so brutal, jeez... D:

... with the sole exception of hangover!Shuichi which must be protected at all costs.

Kokichi is just going over all of the important parts of this evidence and Monokuma is not about it. Well you know, Monokuma, maybe if you had given us something to work with in the Monokuma file we wouldn’t be relying on good ol’ K over here!

Anyway, it just has play, record and pause... I was wondering if it had some sort of ‘speed up’ function to explain why the press suddenly went faster at that one point but apparently not, huh. I guess if pause/play was activated by accident or purpose it would make it seem artificially fast, like the way they cut frames in animation? that would be a lot of cut frames though, hm...

Anyway, hard to know if I should be questioning this or not but wow way to come in partway through the trial and throw up like an updated autopsy report. Who do you think you are, Miles Edgeworth? >3>

Confirmation is a bitch.

Then... if I’m going to take this as is which, for now, I guess I should... then the suspect part is the act that Kaito just lay there, not moving, right? And the fact that the press went down with no problems (unless that’s why the press seemed to halt for a second)... doesn’t that mean he was already dead?

ryukishi07 is that you

Actually for that matter it could be Uchikoshi - his description of a certain 999 scene got pretty detailed. >>

RIGHT?! There was nothing for him! He ended everything! The game was over, and I’m still sure he wasn’t the mastermind! The only thing I can think of is that it was an accident as a result of Kaito getting that crossbow and attacking him right under his nose! He knows if Kaito wound up dead he’d be the obvious culprit, and he’s made it incredibly clear that not only does he wanted to win the whole game, he has the intelligence to do it! Also the fact that he brought it here in the first place seems more like he’s making a point than confessing his guilt -

So... was it someone else? Or was it illness after all, and Kokichi taking advantage of the opportunity presented to him?

... hoo boy.

“You wrote ‘Kokichi Ouma killed Kaito Momota’ on the back of the exisal, you took a selfie with the press and uploaded it onto all of your social media counts with #oops #madeamess #galaxyprinthydraulicpress -”

“Don’t you do it -”

“KOKICHI ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO PULL ANOTHER TRIAL 4 ON ME?!”

well actually I guess he’s ‘confessed’ like, 10 times to various things over many trials so who even knows anymore

Not that I think he killed Kaito, but I do wonder if he conspired with Monokuma at all to set up an ‘unknown victim’ trial and if he did, what the extent of that collaboration was. If he did, he just went out of his way to deliberately undermine Monokuma... again. There is definitely no love lost between those two, huh. 8′D

I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!!! also nice use of the word space there sob sob

I CANNOT BELIEVE -

“You don’t understand guys, I’ve played so many courtroom games and murder mystery visual novels. So many. I’m an authority on this sort of game-based killing stuff, believe you me!”

finally, a place where Shuichi and Tsumugi can coexist in peace

.... BAH BUT THE ONLY PROBLEM WITH IT BEING KOKICHI (in the exisal, not the killer obis) IS THAT IT MESSES WITH THE WHOLE ‘MAKI WAS AN ACCOMPLICE THEORY’ and I just can’t get around the fact that she had to have been involved somehow! But other than mercy-killing Kaito, I can’t think of a reason why she would do anything to hurt him - and she certainly wouldn’t leave his body to be messed with so terribly by Kokichi!

Also, I’ve been treating her this whole time like she’s hiding Kaito actually being alive and that she’s pressing hard as Kokichi as an act but, unless my genuine-meter is off, she seems far too genuine about everything she’s said up to this point? Does she really think Kokichi is the one in the exisal, then?

damn it Junko can’t you leave v3 alone even when you’ve been dead for hundreds of years

LMAO

Oh shit he doesn’t know about Junko does he? Amazing. Wonderful. Fantastic.

Disclaimer here that I actually liked Junko as the villain of DR1 and I thought she had fantastic presence as well as a rocking’ cosplayable outfit but I really feel like she has no place here... though ugh, the fact that Monokuma exists is just something I can’t ignore, so I guess she was something that would need to be addressed down the line at some point. But not here, damn it!

SWEETCHEEKS IS SO UPSET BY THIS IT’S AMAZING!!

Shuichi is finally stepping in to the protagonist!shoes long enough to curse out Kokichi or K or whoever it is in there for breaking classic mystery protocol. 

WHY DID YOU SHOEHORN JUNKO IN AT THE LAST MINUTE DAMN IT

YES!!! GOOD!!! MY BOY IS TAKING CHARGE!!!

.... Kokichi has some sort of plan, huh. Trying to ‘trap’ us. Shuichi isn’t wrong for sure - and this is a very ‘Kokichi’ thing to do...

Man, it’s really looking more and more unlikely that Kaito is in there, huh? disregarding the fact that we literally just watched a video of him being crushed to death Shuichi is right - there definitely is method behind the madness, and that’s exactly the problem - we got a brief glimpse of Kaito (SERIOUSLY WHY DID HIS VOICE COME OUT) but everything after has been all Kokichi, not just by voice but by personality, cadence, speech... even the way he’s presenting information to us. I’m not saying Kaito isn’t smart - I know the game keeps trying to present him as dumb at some points, via Kokichi himself sometimes, but I’ve never agreed with that at all - but is he capable of mimicking Kokichi to this degree? That would require an incredible insight  on who Kokichi is as a person, and while Kaito has been incredibly perceptive on an emotional level, this is pretty next-level, right?

And other than survival, what could Kaito gain from doing this? 

yes

Shuichi it’s true and you should say it

Is it bad that I wanted a new sprite of Shuichi grabbing the platform and just, leaning forward to yell, “SERIOUSLY?!” at the top of his lungs.

togami on steroids

I’m feeling confused and lost and it’s fantastic.

If Kaito really is out of the running as the culprit, the game really seems to be pointing at Maki as an option? I don’t know how I feel about that - while it does seem to fit in a lot of ways it just... doesn’t feel right to me either? But then the only other options are Tsumugi, Himiko and K1-b0 and I really can’t imagine them being the right answer....

Kokichi is definitely not the culprit. I mean, there’s always that 1% chance I guess, but... 

And Shuichi - well, we haven’t had any indications of them pulling a second Kaede, right? I swear I’ve been paying attention this time... ;A;

Beatrice would be proud

Oh good, finally something I actually know how to deal with! The footage shows him being crushed, but that doesn’t mean it’s the time of death...

Once again, I’m so glad Shuichi is on the same wavelength as me. 8′D

Damn, it just switched to Maki standing quietly and staring daggers at us. Yikes.

Also it’s quite nice that K1-b0 can put his feelings about the press aside and stay on-point for this trial. 8′D I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say later, though - it can’t be nice to think you’re on the same level as a corpse.

oh thanks for showing us the video again, I really wanted to see that.

that acceleration is weird though! It’s really weird!!!

Wait, really?! It’s not built-in? I thought if the sensor was disabled then the press would be too!

I know Shuichi’s thinking about this from an immediate defensive tactical POV (aka Kokichi being able to protect himself), but I imagine losing control over the exisals guarding Monokuma would be a huge blow to Kokichi, too.

I do love the fact that he just casually throws in little comments to try and confuse the matter further. ‘D

Mm, Maki, you really shouldn’t be bringing something like this up. weeeeh I thought the answer was ‘Kaito’s coat’ aka the hole in it but I was wrong boo it was the bloodstain on the floor

Man it really seemed like it was lining up to match with Kokichi’s clothes...

Wait why are you bringing that up??? You’re the one fighting for Kokichi being in the exisal!

THERE’S THE HOLE IN THE COAT!!! Finally!!! I’ve been anxious to get to the crossbow and poison - oh suddenly Himiko’s getting upset. Yeah... yeah, considering the fact that she brought the crossbow, I can see why.

Wait...

Sorry, stepping back for a sec. Komaeda’s death was ruled Nanami’s fault because she technically killed him via throwing the poisoned canister, right? So if Maki applied the poison to one of the crossbow bolts Himiko delivered but never fired it herself - in fact, if Kokichi fired back in self-defense after wrestling it from Kaito in a fight - would that make Kokichi the accidental culprit? Could... that be where this is going? Or is this going to be a ‘different game, different ruling’ type situation where Maki becomes the blackened for setting things up so that someone would die? I was wondering why it would just be one, but maybe the ‘small amount of poison was used’ is the key to that - she tried to use just enough that the difference wouldn’t be obvious in order to fool Shuichi (but, well, failed in that regard).

That... could be interesting, right? Maki sends Himiko with one of the bolts being poisoned, Kaito and Kokichi struggle over the crossbow, Kokichi accidentally uses one of the poisoned ones and Kaito dies despite Kokichi’s best efforts... (antidote search? maybe? but he doesn’t find it - and Kaito is weakened from disease already, so...) So in order to attempt to survive an unwinnable trial that he tried to prevent by cancelling the game, he throws one loop after another - obscuring the body’s identity but then showing up because he had no choice anyway, but still in an exisal, taping himself crushing Kaito’s body with the clue of him being absolutely still hidden in there but then giving the video to them anyway, and then leading them to the answer that he was ‘set up’ as the killer against his best efforts?

This could be a narratively satisfying way of ending his journey with Shuichi - “Please solve this last riddle here at the very end, dearest detective. It’s been a pleasure.” nothing wrong with throwing a bit of saiouma in here at the very end, right?

Anyway while I was going off on a weird tangent Himiko created what may very well be the most terrifying non-lethal curse I’ve ever heard of in my entire life.

Gosh Himiko may actually be a worse liar than K1-b0 and that’s really saying something???

“That’s right, Himiko, I’ve got your number right down to that really, really weird quirk of yours.” no seriously why is ‘Himiko has to go to the bathroom a lot’ a thing

Also Himiko I’m pretty sure you only delivered it, so why are you freaking out so badly???

Maybe... I’m onto something with the revised theory...??? I don’t know why he would cover for anyone else???

“Guys, I spent a whole trial hammering the importance of lies and truth as the theme of the game into your skulls and you’re just chucking that out the window because I was gone for a few days? Seriously?”

It’s interesting that they’re bringing up being able to shoot Kaito from the outside because, I mean, the crossbow was found inside the hangar and I really don’t think it could have been tossed in through the window fully assembled, but I guess it’s a way to confuse the matter even further?

Oh hey, you included yourself for once!

“I  DON’T KNOW TSUMUGI, WEREN’T YOU THE ONE WHO COMMENTED ON ME BEING A TSUNDERE FOR KAITO EARLIER?! WHY WOULD I POSSIBLY BE ON EDGE?!”

Honestly though, she’s being incredibly vicious and, once again, I highly doubt it’s just because Shuichi accusing everyone, herself included. Even if Kaito is the victim...

I     S T A N D     O N     T H E     S I D E     O F     H O P E 

Kokichi chooses funny times to be helpful, huh. 8′D

YOU’RE ACTUALLY TERRIBLE AT THIS, HIMIKO

DAMN GET WRECKED HIMIKO

also LMAO Kokichi just declared Himiko the culprit

never change, kiddo

ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO TRY AND THROW MAKI ‘I MURDER PEOPLE WITH A LOOK’ HARUKAWA UNDER THE BUS RIGHT NOW

I feel like being scared should be the least of your worries right now.

You just want an Ace Attorney-style breakdown, don’t you???

AGAIN KOKICHI, PLEASE NEVER CHANGE

~one of these things is not like the other~

Also the fact that Kokichi yelling about how he’s the most suspicious being the dialogue blocking the actual right answer is kind of amazing.

“And please don’t ask him to prove it, I’m not really over the last time he printed something from his memory.”

“AND ANOTHER THING! I wouldn’t even cosplay as you if you were a fictional character!”

“NOW YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR - !”

this trial is tearing our family apart

So, uh, did Shuichi just whip out the actual crossbow case or just a spare one he grabbed from Maki’s lab -

Thank you for summing it up so succinctly, Tsumugi!

That might be the longest one yet!

I actually believe that!

LMAO

THIS WHOLE DISCUSSION IS AMAZING AND SHOULD BE WITNESSED, FULLY VOICED, IN ITS ENTIRETY

It was worth messing up for this -

k1-b0, honey, you were doing so well and I believe you I swear -

We’re starting to circle around the next big answer, methinks...

Oooh man, you shouldn’t have talked about her like that earlier, Himiko!

AAAAAAAAAAW damn it okay that is actually really cute

She sounds so sad, aaaaaah D:

Implying that you aren’t lying about anything this trial? I don’t think so -

- but with that said, how sweet of you to come to her aid like this when you could have also thrown her under the bus! You really are starting to come along, Maki!

whispers why does Tsumugi voice my thoughts so often

But of course, we can’t avoid it. Someone asked Himiko to bring the crossbow there - I never was under the illusion that it was her idea. As for who it was that asked...

Yeah, I thought so. I wonder if it was Shuichi’s talk with him that spurred him to make that request. As soon as he thought the others were going to stick their necks out for him he decided to make his own plan of action, huh...

I’m taking this random opportunity to address the fact that I adore this particular sprite of K1-b0′s which practically screams, “I am so sick of your human nonsense” or perhaps more specifically, “Kokichi, why are you the way you are -”

what is happening right now

Het-ship potential? For Kokichi Ouma? The world must be endin - ohwait

TENKO IS ROLLING IN HER GRAVE RIGHT NOW

I hate to put it in these terms, and I hope dearly that Shuichi doesn’t make the same connection as me, but does this not imply that Shuichi was catalyst leading to his close friend’s death for the second time?!

Man, I can hardly imagine the panic she was in when she saw Kaito’s sleeve amongst all that blood. She probably feels incredibly responsible, and from the point of view of someone who thinks Kokichi is the mastermind, the obvious conclusion to draw would have been, “Kaito tried to rebel against Kokichi and this is the result!” And it wouldn’t have been too hard to go to, “I’m going to punish everyone who helped him” for that matter...

Yeah, so it was definitely after Shuichi talked to Kaito. K1-b0 only caught her going into the hangar the second time though?

Why in the world would you go there by yourself with the exisals wandering around? Kaito’s voice wouldn’t be able to reach you unless you were far into the hangar, so exactly what were you thinking???

Just... why. Why.

I’m so glad I have you here, Tsumugi.

Good. 8′\

I guess we’re not addressing why Himiko decided to take a nighttime stroll into the hangar before the request made then??? O... Okay???

Man, if it turns out that Kokichi was actually able to disarm Kaito of the crossbow despite being shot twice, one time in the back, that would be pretty damn impressive.

YOU ARE A LIAR, ‘K’-WHO-IS-MOST-LIKELY-KOKICHI-BUT-COULD-STILL-MAYBE-BE-KAITO!

Wouldn’t it be funny if after all of this, Maki’s straightforward determination to hang this all up on Kokichi actually turned out to be correct? And by the time we all come around to point the finger at him, Kokichi is revealed to not be the mastermind or morally responsible despite accidentally killing Kaito and Maki ends up getting him killed like she always wanted, but at that point actually regrets it - and Kaito’s life is lost in the crossfire as well?

Oh did I say funny? I meant extremely fucked up and tragic, whoops.

I think the one thing that I can stand by until the end is the fact that Maki was responsible for the introduction of poison to this whole wild affair. The electrohammer is obvious, sure - but the poison? They’ve been dancing around that the way I thought they would have been dancing around other things this whole time. 

?!?!

Yeah, what??? You’re supposed to be acting as the moderator, aren’t you?

ET TU MONOKUMA

FORGET THE WHOLE KOKICHI AND HIMIKO THING, CAN YOU PLEASE STOP PLAYING WITH MY HEART?!

“INTERFERENCE!!!”

It’s not like he called it off or anything when he visibly took the reins of the game OH WAIT....

how dare you point out the issues I’ve been having without my consent, bear

WHAT

NO HOW DARE YOU

AGAIN?!

I’M LOSING MY DAMN MIND

FUCK YOU K I’M GOING TO START CRYING ACTUAL TEARS

That’s it I hope Rantaro steps out of the exisal at the end of the trial and just ascends to the heavens without a word -

actually if it has a voice changer could you do anyone because that could be hella interesting

“There’s a bit of a situation going on” you are the most casual guy every -

Okay so if there’s a voice changer and DR isn’t going to pull out a whopper on us with both of them hiding in the exisal somehow, Kokichi is either having a hell of a time doing some low-key satire by portraying Kaito as the most relaxed, casual dude ever who thinks he can just handwave his mistakes via pure charisma, or Kaito is doing the most goddamn amazing Kokichi impression known to mankind and is also actually the Ultimate Improv Actor. The inflection difference alone between the two of them and the completely different way they address people - ‘Kaito’ has shown up briefly so it wouldn’t be too hard for Kokichi, but ‘Kokichi’ has been here for most of the trial and responded pretty effortlessly without slipping up once!

Maki is Not Having this shit anymore.

I-I THINK YOU JUST HIT HER BERSERK BUTTON

Also if it is Kokichi in there then, uh, yeah, point proven about needing to stay in the exisal.

Damn it, both of them have a plausible reason as to why they can’t come out of the exisal!!! And yikes, I wonder if I underestimated the severity of his injury from his run in with the exisal at the end of the escape tunnel? He didn’t break his ankle or something, did he? That would explain why he would rely on a long-ranged weapon like a crossbow to fight Kokichi!

WILL DO! .....

....

oh

I... I had a brief, faint glimmer of hope but -

apparently choosing Kokichi as the answer to ‘who is the victim’ is the wrong choice

How terrifying would it be to have that gatling gun-style arm waving around behind your back while you’re forced to think on your feet... >> Shuichi, I don’t envy you for even a second.

Really???? After all that, I thought... I really thought... we were leading into a flip of the script. Is - is it official then??? Man, was I just completely wrong the whole time then?

Look Kai - uh, Kokichi, K, whoever, look. Look. I was confident. I had a whole damn chart and notes written out, and even managed to work out a decent motive to go along with it, one with enough heart to make Will H Wright proud. BUT IT WAS ALL FOR NAUGHT, APPARENTLY, BECAUSE I GUESS I FUCKED UP THIS TRIAL PRETTY BADLY FROM THE GET-GO.

It.... It’s really saying that it’s Kaito, then....??? Damn....

My heart is actually aching for Shuichi right now. I understand he’s not literally in the audience POV, staring at the exisal behind his portrait with his voice encouraging him the way it always did in the last few trials - but maybe that’s what makes it worse for him?

Rather than standing at his side, ‘Kaito’ is behind him, where he can’t see him. Shuichi can imagine him though - imagine Kaito’s voice is actually coming from him, just outside of his peripheral vision, and Kaito is just about to clap him on the back and congratulate him on another well-made deduction. After the last trial, it’s so nice to have Kaito on his side again. They had finally just made up - !

..... but.

[krixwell-liveblogs]

Check out this post. Wildbow talks about his life on reddit. This explains so much about Taylor’s school experience. No Worm spoilers

This sounds interesting. I’ve frequently wondered about how Wildbow’s life shaped this story.

Let’s take a look.

Redditors who have opted out of a standard approach to life (study then full time work, mortgage etc), please share your stories. What are the best and worst things about your lifestyle, and do you have any regrets?

Well, the title is already intriguing.

Hermit writer here.

Born hard of hearing, went to a regular school. Struggled in middle school. Struggled in high school. Kids who were in my class in kindergarten were in my classes all the way through to grade ten, with the elementary/middle school and high school being a stone's throw from one another.

I kind of knew about the hard of hearing bit already. I can’t find the ask that told me about it, though (it was probably before I stopped using screenshots for asks).

So far this sounds relatively normal, except for that part. But I’m guessing he’s going to elaborate a bit on the struggles surrounding his school life and hearing problems?

In grade 10, after years of bullying and a peer group that had established who was 'in' and who was 'out' when I was knee-high, tired of struggling, I was walking down the halls and I found myself wondering when the last time I'd even opened my mouth in school was.

Oh wow.

I stopped dead in my tracks, just paralyzed by loneliness. I asked myself what the point was, couldn't come up with an answer, resumed walking, went out the side door of the school and went home.

This clearly parallels a few of the last times we saw Taylor at Winslow High.

The start of me just not going to school for that entire year. Nobody noticed.

Damn. He really did write all that from experience. It took a while for Taylor’s absence to get noted, too.

Taylor’s absence getting noted at all actually seems like a fantasy compared to this.

I got caught at the end of the year, did the same thing the next year, got caught only at the end.

What the hell sort of attendance routines did this school have? Clearly not good ones.

Ended up going to an Alternative school (Self study), proved to myself that I had it in me when I got 3 years of studying done in 8 months, won two awards... and then had to go back to my old school for what was essentially grade 13, where I struggled.

Huh. Well done.

People learn in very different ways. Some people can do this much more effectively than learning in a group. Some people are like me and can’t make themselves keep up the effort required to self study, or learn better from lectures than reading.

Some people learn by observing their surroundings while flying.

I worked retail and found it fine. But family wanted me to go to University and figure myself out.

I’m currently working retail, taking a break from the educational system and buying time to figure out what to study.

I went to University and I struggled.

Guys, I’m sensing a theme here.

I spent a long, long time trying to figure out why I struggled, why I was tired all the time, and it took a kind of confluence of events before I realized what should've been obvious. I found the social stuff hard and I was exhausted after a day of listening because I'm severely to profoundly deaf.

Oh yeah, that makes a ton of sense. It’s like how focusing is exhausting when you have trouble doing that, how reading without glasses you need tires out your eyes and brain, etc.

Honestly, it’s a little surprising that I haven’t (explicitly) met a hard of hearing character in Worm yet. Maybe later? Oh wait, there was that deaf waitress at the villain pub in Hive.

Beyond that, the 'path' just isn't for me. The systems and institutions just grind me down. The idea of a 9 to 5 is death to me. These things are built and streamlined for the average person, and between disability and a fairly extreme degree of introversion, I'm far from that average.

That is very fair. There’s definitely a brand of ableism in that system.

In the end, I stepped off the path. I'd been writing a thing online as a side project and the reception was good, so I decided to leave school earlier than planned, use the savings I had, stretch things as far as I could, and work when I could (with a family friend when he needed the help and had the cash to spare, doing some landscaping, drywall installation, house painting, all prepping houses for sale in a boom market) to stretch things further.

This would be too early for that thing online to be Worm, right?

It just occurred to me that I have no idea how old Wildbow is.

And I wrote as seriously as I could while people close to me told me that I didn't deserve to 'get lucky' and have the writing work out because I hadn't seen University all the way through, or openly expressed doubts and disappointments.

Yikes.

Fuck that noise. Writing is tons of effort!

But you know, it worked out in the end. I wrote the equivalent of 20 books in 2.4 years, wrote another 10 for my next series in the ensuing 1.2 years, and I've kept up a similar pace over the last 7 years and two months.

Especially when you’re this coddamn productive!

That’s 8.33 books a year!

I started writing mid- 2011, left school at the start of 2012, went full-time-paying-the-bills in 2014 with an income around minimum wage. I moved to a small town (no car, nothing fancy) that same year. I'm now closer to the average Canadian wage. It's been two chapters a week (2.5 if crowdfunding money is enough) since the beginning.

Oh, I suppose that means it would be Worm after all.

When was this written... huh, yesterday? Well, that explains why this hasn’t been sent to me before.

Writing being Wildbow’s only/main income makes me feel even more right about my decision to set things up so that some of the money from my Patreon goes to Wildbow. It’s not that big a portion of his income (apparently average Canadian wage is 986 CAD or 755 USD per week, and I chip in with about 3.26 CAD or 2.50 USD per week), but it’s something.

My reality: I can go a week or two without really talking to anyone that isn't a cashier.

Sounds a bit lonely in the long run, but as a fellow introvert (or maybe I’m an ambivert, in the systems where that’s actually a thing), I get it - it also does sound pretty good. Especially if you’ve got internet people to casually interact with at your own leisure.

Every two months or so I go to a relative's to dogsit while they're on vacation or to see someone for their birthday, and that gives me most of my fill of socialization and companionship.

Nice!

I don't have a car, so it's usually walking or taking the train to another city, and using public transpo there. I subsisted on a rice and beans diet for a good stretch, one $15 video game bought in a year, and my level of expenses hasn't really risen that much from that point. I eat better and buy a couple more things, but nothing major.

So I guess this would be somewhere between average and reserved?

I don’t know. Being Norwegian spoils me on these things.

60%+ of what I earn goes to savings, which gives me security when my income could fluctuate or disappear at any time.

Oh, that’s smart. I suppose writing would be a bit of a risky business, what with writer’s block, audience fluctuations, sudden drops in popularity because something you wrote didn’t go over as well as you thought it would, etc.

My schedule is entirely my own, which usually amounts to 2.5 15+ hour workdays a week and another 5-10 hours a week spent managing community, finances, and exchanging emails with tv/movie studios, publishers or startups.

I was going to talk about the long but few workdays, but tv/movie studios excuse me what

Is a TV series version of something Wildbow wrote (Worm or otherwise) a serious possibility right now?? :o

Best things - I love what I do. I love creating, I love my reader's tears, I love my readers being horrified.

This is really important. You gotta enjoy what you do.

I get to make monsters and be surprised by what my characters do. Many of my fans are just the absolute coolest people - people I'm now insanely glad to have met and include in my life. There's amazing fanart of my work out there, music, people have gotten tattoos. Tattoos. That's insane.

People have permanently, painfully painted their appreciation of your work into their bodies, Wildbow!

The bad- I'm an online content creator, and it's impossible to convey just how toxic the toxic elements of a fandom can get and how negative the negative aspects can get, and how much it can affect you.

That is true. There will always be a toxic side, and I can imagine works like Worm would attract a lot of the edgy sort.

I've seen 20 online content creators either break down or remark on the effect it has, and it's wholly accurate- and my audience isn't even ~that~ large.

Yeah, it doesn’t take that many people to start brewing fandom sides like this.

This is multiplied by the fact that writing is lonely as a profession (I know too many writers who can't even talk to their life partners about their work) and it can be hard to find perspective or balance as you take it all in, when you don't have people to communicate with.

Robert Jordan used his wife as a beta reader or editor of sorts. She was there to tell him when something he wrote didn’t quite come across, to make up for the fact that he couldn’t tell. After all, he knew what he meant by that one line.

On a similar note, some casual dating would be nice, and living in a small town for economical reasons doesn't leave me with a large dating pool, and at this point I'm not even sure if I could or should inflict myself on someone.

Oof.

There are way too many people who think like that. I hope you find happiness with someone who sees you for the good bean you are, Wildbow.

I'm healthy, groomed, I can hold a conversation, I'm just pretty set in my introverted ways.

...relatable, though.

But still, I’m pretty sure there are people out there for us, who not only tolerate but appreciate the introvert lifestyle.

Hell, both of my crushes have been very introverted, even compared to myself, so I know those people exist because I’m among them.

On another, less social note, there is the fact that as an online content creator, you can't really take breaks. Or you can, but it costs. Consistency and frequency of updates are god, and a hiatus is a death knell.

No wonder he criticized me on this that one time. In his situation, it matters a lot.

I don't even know what an effective vacation would entail, because I feel like finding my stride again would cost more than I gained from having the break. So it's been seven years and two months without a vacation, writing a short book every month.

Damn.

You deserve so many props, Wildbow.

...at some point here I started talking to Wildbow, just like I do to Taylor and other Worm characters. Well, at least this time there’s actually a chance he’s going to read this sometime, if he hasn’t dropped my blog.

I just hope he doesn’t think it’s weird that I’m liveblogging his life story.

It makes for a very strange sort of burnout, when I love it so much, I can still regularly put out some great work to acclaim and praise, but am nonetheless worn down around the edges.

That does not sound healthy.

No regrets. This is me. This is what I'm built for.

As long as you feel it’s right for you, this is good. :)

I could do with less negativity from some fans and getting regular good nights of sleep (the deafness comes with insomnia by way of terminal tinnitus), but both of those just come with the territory.

Ouch.

I feel you on the sleep front (ADD has its ways of messing with your ability to fall asleep too), but tinnitus sounds like a particularly annoying way to be inflicted with it.

I've been telling family for the last year that I'll move to a city with more going on than (as my elderly neighbor phrased it) drinking and meth, where there's classes to take, a possible dating pool, and/or activities that could break me out of my hermit shell... but my current apartment is amazing and cheap, with the nicest landlords ever. It's just in a do-nothing town. I haven't found anything remotely competitive, even taking 'cheap' off the table.

I’ve lived in small-ish towns all my life. It’s pretty nice, especially as an introvert.

So that's where I'm at.

Thank you, Wildbow. This was an interesting read. I feel like I know you a bit better now. :)

(Again, if you’re reading this, I hope it wasn’t too weird to see me liveblogging this.)

[writings-andstuff]

Coincidences Part II (Bucky x Reader)

You guys have waited way too long for this and for that I’m sorry. But here it is, so I won’t start it with my usual long-winded preamble. 

Happy Reading!

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Modern AU thingy)

Words: 5046 (yikes, that’s the longest fic I’ve ever written)

Warnings: The usual tiny bit of swearing

Excerpt:  For a moment, you wonder how this became your life. Yesterday, you were just another girl worrying about everything except her lack of a love life. Now that’s all you can think about because you’re flirting with a complete stranger. How insanely insane is that? For all you know, he could be a forty-something year old dude with three ex-wives and a beer-belly that could carry triplets. Somehow, though, you don’t think that’s likely.

Series Tags: @melanie451 @sebstanwassup @colagirl5 @winenighthoe @lovemarvelousfics @gotnotfeature @sebastianst-n @alwayshave-faith @hollycornish @iggytheboywonder 

Tags: @langinator @fairchild21

Your name: submit What is this?

New Message from Mr. Catarcs

3:42 a.m u up?

You blink your eyes blearily and shift in bed. The sheet is wrapped around your legs like sweaty vines, constricting your movement. You growl angrily and throw them off, sitting up and relishing in the cool air of your apartment. Despite the frigid cold outside, you somehow still manage to wake up sweating. Maybe you’re a mutant. 

Glancing over at your phone, it dings again to impatiently let you know that you still haven’t opened the text that woke you up. Usually your phone is switched to silent because of your job at the diner. There are always so many phones going off that it’s almost impossible to tell which is which. It’s just easier having your phone on silent because then you’re never worried about whether your phone is ringing or if it’s someone else’s. It saves you a lot of unnecessary anxiety. 

But ever since last night’s conversation with James, you decided that you wanted to hear your phone ring with a text. It’s the first time in your life that you don’t want to miss a text. 

You pick up the offending piece technology and swipe it open. Sure enough, the text is from James and you grin despite the fact that this message is the same one that woke you at—you squint at your alarm clock—3:49 a.m. 

Deciding you are both thirsty and in need of some time in the open air of your apartment and not under the suffocating sheets, you get up and stretch. The floors are cold as you pad to the kitchen and fill a glass with water, shooting a text back to James. 

3:51 a.m I am now

You wait for an answer while downing your glass of water and putting the empty glass in the sink again. Maybe he fell back asleep when you didn’t answer right away. 

For a moment, you wonder how this became your life. Yesterday, you were just another girl worrying about everything except her lack of a love life. Now that’s all you can think about because you’re flirting with a complete stranger. How insanely insane is that? For all you know, he could be a forty-something year old dude with three ex-wives and a beer-belly that could carry triplets. Somehow, though, you don’t think that’s likely. 

You have no proof of this, and absolutely no reason to believe he isn’t a creep except for a gut feeling. You resolve to ask his age whenever he decides to answer you. 

You think about that. He could lie to you and tell you that he’s 20 when he’s really a lot older than that. The only way you’d truly know is if you meet him in person. 

Suddenly you’re a little dizzy. This is just way too much to worry about at four a.m. You decide to just talk to him. You genuinely like his personality, and you don’t have to worry about all that other stuff until you actually meet him. If you actually meet him. That’s a big, neon-colored, flashing sign in the middle of absolute nowhere if.  

Your phone dings and you look over from where you’re clutching the counter. You don’t notice how hard you were gripping the counter until you pull your palms away and it stings, lines etching themselves across your palm. 

4:03 a.m srry didnt mean to wake u

Before you can even formulate a response, he’s texting you again. A double text. Gasp.

4:04 a.m just couldnt sleep. i was wondring if u wanted to talk

You tilt your head at your screen. He’s up in the middle of the night, and the first thing he does is text you? Why? Does he not have other people he can talk to? A stupid part of you, the same part that wants to meet him in person, thinks that maybe it’s because he wants to talk to you. 

Maybe he does. Probably not. It’s too much to hope for. All his other friends are probably asleep. Regardless, not answering is not an option. Well, it is, but it’s not one you’re likely to explore, not when your chest has those freaky bubbles in it and your stomach is doing that stupid flippy-thingy. Nope. This, you decide, feels like High School when a cute boy texted you first and the instinct to giggle shot up to level 12. 

4:06 a.m alright. what about?

Capitals, Y/N. What the hell happened to capitals?

You take your phone and pad back into your room, perching yourself up against the headboard with your knees drawn up to your chest and your phone in your hands as you wait for a response. Worrying your bottom lip, your mind drifts to work. You’ll have to get up in about three hours to be at work on time. Man, you’re going to be tired. 

It’s then that your phone dings. You decide then that talking to him makes it worth the fatigue. 

4:11 a.m twenty questions?

4:11 a.m Fine, but since you woke me up you have to go first.

The three dots that mean he’s typing pop up three different times before the response finally comes through. 

4:15 a.m whatd u go to school 4?

You laugh. 

4:15 a.m getting down to the nitty gritty personal stuff I see

You think for a moment. Telling him what you do isn’t divulging too much about yourself, so you decide it’s okay.

4:16 a.m lol yup thats me. i want the deep personal stuff. might just ask what ur fav color is nxt

4:16 a.m 1. editing; 2. sorry, that’s sacred info

4:17 a.m 1 ah i understand y ur a grammar nazi now…2 obviously

Thinking for a moment, you decide that favorites are just too cliche. Any conversation anyone has with some new friend ends in questions that start with “What’s your favorite…” You really want to know how old he is, but you figure you need an ice breaker before you get to the actual nitty gritty. 

First, though, you must take the bait to piss him off:

4:19 a.m What would you have done if I hadn’t gone to college?

With a yawn, you lie back down and curl on your side, sitting your phone on the nightstand in front of you with your eyes glued to it. Once you realize that staring at it isn’t going to make him type faster, you turn over. 

You’re totally not too eager. There’s no—

Ding!

You flip over so fast that you rip the sheet from the other side of the bed and end up with half of it between your stomach and the bed. It pulls from the bottom corner of the bed and is slightly uncomfortable, but you don’t care. 

4:22 a.m high school?

4:23 a.m I didn’t go to high school FOR anything 

You’re not sure if the use of caps-lock is weird, but you send it off anyways, deciding that emphasis on that one word is crucial to your meaning. He replies within seconds. 

4:23 a.m i mean dunno bout u but i went to learn

You laugh, probably louder than is necessary. 

4:24 a.m Touche. What’d you go to school for?

4:26 a.m repeating questions isnt alowed

Frowning, you wonder if he actually didn’t go to college. Should you push it? Maybe you should just change the question. There’s a part of you, the curious part that wanted to be a reporter when you were young, that really wants to know. 

There isn’t too much time for you to think all of that before he’s texting you again. Usually, you’re the one to mercilessly double-text. James, it would seem, has you beat in this department. Also, you didn’t want to double-text a complete stranger. 

Before you even look at the text, it hits you again: this is a complete stranger. The thought of not answering enters your mind again, but you push it down. No harm in just talking if neither of you meet, right? Right?

Right. 

4:27 a.m i joined the military right out of HS

It’s a real Oh moment, and you find yourself staring at your screen as if it’s a real person. The military? What are you supposed to say to that? What’s the protocol for a text that you’re not sure how to answer? Should you just leave it alone? No; if you leave it alone then he’ll think he freaked you out. He hasn’t. Your brain is just short-circuiting on an answer. 

Should you think him for his service? No. Not yet. You don’t want to call too much attention to it in case he doesn’t want to talk about it or he’s had bad experiences, but you’re still not sure how to respond. Have you taken too long already? 

You summon up some courage and type out a message. 

4:31 a.m Oh wow. Well, what would you have studied if you had gone?

You cringe, totally not meaning for that to sound like you were completely skipping over the issue altogether. James doesn’t seem to mind though, if his response is any indication. 

4:32 a.m hmm history i think. ive always liked ww2 4 some reason

4:33 a.m well you’ve got AP european history girl right here. 1 of only 11 in the whole senior class to take it. 

4:34 a.m well, smartypants i get 2 q’s bc u asked 2 

You feel that you handled that effectively, and you were already beginning to formulate a plan in your head while he thought about his questions. 

See, you know next to nothing about the military or what it’s all about except that it is for valiant people who want to serve their country. You can respect that, but you want—nay, need—to learn more. Convincing yourself that it’s purely for research purposes and not for anything else.

Regardless, you need to know more. It’s probably better to get it from someone who has been through it rather than from some cold, impersonal online source. And besides, you just so happen to know someone who was in the military. Someone who, in fact, lost a limb in the line of duty: Bucky Barnes. 

As far as you know, Bucky lost his left arm in the military. You’d asked him before how he lost it and he hadn’t answered you, opting instead to change the subject to Steve and his new (at the time) art studio. It had been suspicious, but you understand that it must not be easy to speak about something like that. 

You’ll have to go talk to Steve tomorrow morning to get Bucky’s number, but you think that maybe you’ll treat him to lunch in exchange for him giving you some details about the whole military thing. At the company, you get an hour off for lunch, which is just enough time to go out, interrogate a friend (respectfully, of course), and head back before the hour is up. 

The plan was formed and you had your head already set on it. By the time James’ reply comes in, you’ve tuckered yourself out thinking that whole plan out. It is really late—er, early—after all. 

4:41 a.m 1 how was ur day 2 how r u likely to spend a friday night

4:43 a.m I feel like I’m taking a Buzzfeed quiz

You yawn again and type out your answers.

4:44 a.m my day’s just begun. it’s four a.m. And probably reading or something

You put your phone down, thinking that you’ll just leave it there and wait for his reply, but you end up turning over and falling asleep. 

In the morning, you turn your phone on silent again while you get ready for work, playing some music while you apply some light make-up. 

It turned out that James hadn’t answered you anyway, so you would have been up waiting for a text that wasn’t going to come. Good thing you passed out. 

Glancing at the clock, you notice that it’s 7:02 a.m and that Steve should be up. You don’t have to be at work until 8 and it’s not a long bus ride to get to work so you figure you can spare half an hour to haggle your best friend into giving up Bucky’s phone number. You wonder why you haven’t thought to get it sooner, figuring that you just never needed it. 

You and Bucky only ever hung out with Steve or the rest of the gang. He was a friend of yours, but the two of you had never been too close in the two years of knowing each other. That said, you had heard a lot about each other even before meeting from Steve, and Bucky had expressed in the past how annoying he found it when Steve was constantly mentioning you in casual conversation. 

It was the same with Bucky for you. Steve had been talking about his best friend Bucky ever since you had met him. It was in that way that you and Bucky had gotten to know each other sort of inadvertently. 

Heading out the door and across the hall, you knock on Steve’s door lightly a few times. He’s a light sleeper anyways, and you don’t want to wake the whole hall with loud knocking. You only opt for knocking this time in case he’s not decent or something. Otherwise, you would have used your key.

Sure enough, Steve answers the door within a few minutes, clad in flannel pajama pants, a white V-neck, and holding a steaming cup of coffee. It smells amazing, and you realize then that in your rush you’d forgotten to make yourself some. 

“Got another one of those and half an hour?”

Steve raises an eyebrow but steps aside to let you in. He’s a morning person, so you were sure on your way over here that you wouldn’t receive any resistance. 

“What do you need?” he asks you, pouring you a cup of coffee not unlike how he’d done it the night before. He pours in a generous amount of milk and some sugar before stirring it and handing it to you, just the way you like it. 

Blow, sip—“Mm,” you hum. “I need Bucky’s phone number.” You say it as nonchalantly as you can manage so as not to raise any flags to Steve, but by his surprised expression you can tell that you’ve raised them all. 

“Bucky? Why?”

You shrug like it’s no big deal. “He has some info that I need.” It sounds so covert and cheesy that you almost giggle, but you manage to keep your composure while sipping your coffee again. 

Steve tilts his head to the side almost imperceptibly, leaning his back against the counter across from you as you sit at a stool by his island. Said island juts out from a wall to half-enclose the kitchen area like a wrap-around ‘J’ with the island as the tail. 

After a few moments of silence, it becomes clear that Steve is waiting for you to elaborate, and when you don’t indulge, he sighs, setting his cup down and crossing his arms. 

“Okay, but don’t call him now,” Steve says, already ruffling in a drawer for a pen and paper. “He—he has trouble sleeping, and he needs as much of it as he can get before he has to work. And he’s taking Friday off so he has to log in more hours to make up the difference.” Steve hands you a piece of paper with numbers scribbled on it. 

“Got it,” you said, taking the paper and sticking it in your bag. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Yeah,” he smiles at you. “No problem.”

You stand and head to the door, plan in motion and feeling good about it. Then you remember something and turn as you’re walking toward the door. 

“Steve?”

He lifts his head from where he’s still standing in the kitchen sipping his coffee. You realize you’ve left yours there, but decide that it’s okay. You’ll survive. Somehow. 

“Yeah?”

“Mom is bringing over pasta around two, but I won’t be home,” you can already see his eyes lighting up. “I told her to make extra and that you should be back by then. Can you—”

“—keep it here until you get home?” He knows you so well, it’s scary. “Yeah, but don’t expect me not to try some of it first.”

You fix him with a warning finger. “I’ll be over at seven and I will expect there to be enough for dinner and lunch tomorrow.”

He holds his hands up. “Hey, we all know my metabolism requires a lot of calories per day, and two is just in time for a late lunch.”

“Steve,” you warn. 

“Alright,” he laughs. “I’ll leave some of your mother’s pasta for you for dinner.”

“That’s all I ask.” 

You walk back over, kiss his cheek, take one more sip of your coffee, and then leave. 

You tap your foot on the ground impatiently as you wait at your desk for the clock to turn from 11:29 to 11:30 so you can head for a bathroom break to call Bucky and find out if he’s busy for lunch. 

James hadn’t texted you all day, but you figure that’s okay. He doesn’t always have to text you. He has a life. You push him mostly out of your head, or you try to. You fail miserably. 

He’s the reason you’re meeting with Bucky anyways. As much as you don’t want to admit it, that’s the truth. Of course, you can’t tell Bucky that. You’ll just sound stupid. And then Bucky will tell Steve and Steve will have some sort of “talking to strangers is bad” intervention with you. You definitely don’t want to endure that. 

11:30 hits and it’s officially been half an hour since your actual bathroom break. You don’t want to call attention to yourself in the office that you share with a whole bunch of other people in too-tightly-packed cubicles. You grab the slip of paper Steve had given you and head to the elevator. 

By the time you make it to the downstairs bathroom, you realize that you forgot your phone upstairs on your desk. Great. Now what are you going to do? If you go back up to get it, you’ll look suspicious. Of course, you shouldn’t really care what your coworkers think of you, but you do. Everybody says they don’t care about peer acceptance but most actually do. 

It’s human nature.

You sigh angrily and look around. The lobby is all marble floors and a little shop where they sell overpriced snacks and drinks. There’s a desk to the left of the elevator bank with one woman sitting in a black wheelie chair making and taking phone calls.

Can you just ask her to borrow one of her phones? There’s an empty seat next to her. Maybe you can explain your situation and just ask this woman if you can borrow the phone. 

The only thing is that you don’t know this woman. Your supers rented the office space with the endless rows of cubicles  from the people who owned the building. This woman obviously works for the building management, and not for anyone you know. 

You decide it’s better that she doesn’t know you. It’s less personal. You can call Bucky, discuss details, and be done with it. 

You sidle over and lean on the high desk. Its polished marble top is so high that you have to lean over it a little to see the woman. She’s plump, with dark hair, blue eyes, and a squished face. She looks the opposite of friendly. She’s wearing a black headset that you realize is some sort of Bluetooth. 

You wait until she is done speaking to talk to her. 

“Um, hello?”

She doesn’t look at you for a moment, reaching up instinctively as if she thinks you’re in her headset before she realizes she’s speaking to a real person. She eyes you. 

“What?”

You were right to guess she wasn’t very friendly. 

“I was wondering if I could borrow your phone,” you say kindly. “I have to call someone and I accidentally left my phone upstairs.”

She looks bored and eyes you for another second before looking back at her computer screen. “Just go up and get it.”

“It’s urgent,” you lie. Man, this is going to be awkward after you make the call right in front of her and she finds out its personal.

She eyes you again. “You have five minutes.”

You smile at her. “I’ll only need three.”

You wait as she plops one of the black phones on top of the counter, and it’s so high that you have to go up on your tiptoes to see the number pad. 

“Type extension 382 first, then the number.”

With that, she gets back to her work and you pull the phone from the receiver. You flatten the paper on the desk and do as she instructed. 

You wonder if he’ll even pick up. This will be an unknown number to him, and you know that if it were you, you wouldn’t answer. 

It rings three times before a familiar, gruff voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Bucky? It’s Y/N.”

He sounds surprised. “Y/N?” There’s a pause, a honking noise, and then he sounds as if he’s realized something. “Steve gave you my number.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I had to call you from a work phone, though.”

You catch the woman looking up at you briefly and can tell she’s annoyed that this is a personal call. You’re sure this call needs to be as short as you can possibly make it or else you’re afraid she’ll just cut it herself. 

“Oh.”

“Listen, are you busy for lunch in, like, half an hour?”

Bucky thinks for a moment on the other line and the lady looks at you again, her gaze becoming more venomous. You’re pretty sure that once she looks at you a third time she’s going to end your call for you. 

Just as you’re about to scold him for an answer, Bucky speaks up. 

“Yeah, I’m—”

You feel bad, but you have to cut him off. 

“Okay, great. Meet me at the Deli down the street from Steve’s studio at 12 sharp. My treat.”

Bucky chuckled on the other end. “Your treat? What do you need from me?”

You smile despite the situation. “Just your brain.”

“Sure you don’t want Banner or Stark for that one?”

“I’m sure,” the woman was giving you her last angry glare. You had to go. “See you then, Buck.”

“Looking forward to having my brain probed. Bye, Y/N.”

You hang up, thank the lady, and make your way back upstairs as fast as you can. 12:00 can’t come quick enough. 

Bucky wonders what you want to talk to him about as he drives a company truck to the deli and parallel parks a couple blocks down. The flatbed of the truck is filled with mismatched pieces of junk, from broken computers to the plastic from the top of a printer. It’s all stuff that can be broken down and reprocessed at a plant. 

The city is taking down an old building and putting a new office building up in its place. It’s Bucky’s job as the assistant to take all the not-so-useless junk and dispose of it somewhere where it can be reused. 

He doesn’t have to be at the plant until two, and he finished loading everything up early, so he has about two hours or so to spare. 

Walking into the Deli, he’s hit with a wave of merciful heat and he immediately pulls his coat off. The deli is small with few patrons a small line for take-out. One woman is sipping an iced coffee through a straw while she types madly on a computer. Two men are sitting at a table wearing yellow vests and eating huge subs. Bucky wonders if he would have ended up as one of them, working for the DPW if he hadn’t begun working with the demolition company. 

It takes him barely a moment of looking around to find Y/N sitting in a corner flanked by two windows with an empty seat across from her. There’s a wrapped sandwich and a water sitting on the table in front of the other seat. 

She’s smoothing out the wrapper of her own sandwich as if the creases in the paper wrapping are offending and should not be allowed to exist. 

“Hey,” he says, walking over and taking a seat in front of her. 

She looks up at him and smiles. “Hey,” she shoots back, and then nods to the sandwich. “Got you a BLT.”

Bucky’s suspicions are steadily growing. He pulls the paper from around the sandwich and lays it on the table as Y/N had done, though he couldn’t care less about the creases. He looks between the sandwich and the girl, eyeing both with the suspicion of someone who thinks he’s being played. 

“What’s this about?” he asks. 

She swallows and puts her sandwich down, looking like she’s about to ask him a ground-breaking, life-changing question. Her eyes quickly flick over to his arm and he’s suddenly very sure he knows what this is about. 

But that’s strange. Yesterday—or really early this morning—he was talking to Y/M/N about him having been in the military. Now Y/N is eyeing his arm like she really wants to ask what happened but she doesn’t want to sound impolite. 

Then there’s the fact that they’re both editors. That’s weird. And how Y/N reminds him of Y/M/N. 

He’s an apopheniac, he has to be. He’s seeing coincidences where there really aren’t any. It’s his brain playing tricks on him. In truth, maybe he just wants this strange girl to be Y/N. Though, probably not. Then again, maybe this whole time he thought he was jealous of Y/N for being so close to Steve, he was really jealous of Steve for being so close to Y/N. 

That thought derails him so fast that he doesn’t hear it when Y/N actually asks her question. 

She lets out a breath as if it’s a load-off to finally ask him, and he’s struck with the realization that if he says he didn’t hear her, she probably won’t take it well. He waits for her to say something else, but when she doesn’t he takes a leap of faith based on her glance at his arm. 

“You want to know how I lost my arm,” he says, rather than asks. If her expression of shock and discomfort is any indication, he’s screwed up. 

Big time.

Shit.

“I mean,” she straightens in her chair. “I guess—it’s sorta part of it? Yeah.”

She sounds so lost and he feels so bad. 

He still has no idea what her original question was though. ‘Part of it.’ His thoughts drift back to his earlier conversation with the girl he’s been talking to over text. The military. Could that be what Y/N wants to know about?

No, it’s just too weird. There’s no way. But he has to know. 

��The military? You want to know about the military?”

She nods, looking slightly guilty. “Yeah,” he tries not to let his breath of relief show, “I—uh, fact-checking. I’m fact-checking an article.”

Bucky nods slowly, sandwich forgotten. She’s a terribly liar. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Sitting back as if she’s been punched in the gut, she blinks once, twice, three times—“I’m not lying.”

“Your body language gives you away.”

“Is that something you learned in the military?”

Bucky chuckles. “That’s something I learned from a whole lot of spy movies. Seriously, why do you want to know?”

She takes a bite of her sandwich and speaks around it. Altogether, not the most sexy, but that’s okay. 

“Research,” she says slowly.

Bucky creases his eyebrows. “For?”

“For a project?”

“If you’re going to lie, at least lie with conviction,” Bucky says. “One of these days, I’m going to teach you how to lie the right way.”

Laughing, she pulls her chair in a little more and sits forward. The picture of seriousness, she says, “Alright, if I tell you, you need to promise me you won’t tell Steve.” She sounds reluctant to tell him at all. This must not have been her plan. 

Bucky draws a cross over his heart with his index finger. “Cross my heart or hope to die.”

She shakes her head. “Gotta be stronger than that. You have to pinkie promise.”

He gasps dramatically. “Not a pinkie promise. This must really be serious.”

Reaching over, she swats his arm. “Buck, I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, holding up his pinkie. She links hers with his and he’s momentarily struck by how soft her skin is. Then it’s over. “Tell me.”

She steels herself, he can see it. Jeez, it must really be something serious or she wouldn’t be swearing him to secrecy using childish, yet efficient tactics. It strikes him that she tells Steve everything, same as him, so for her to say she doesn’t want him to know must mean it’s not necessarily something good.

He lets himself think for a moment that she might be about to confess that she’s the mystery girl he’s been texting. It’s much more likely, though, that she’s about to tell him she’s got feelings for Steve or something. 

Steeling himself as well, he waits as she takes a deep breath. 

“I may or may not—”

“You may,” he corrects. She glares at him. 

“—have answered a text from a guy who was trying to text someone else—” 

This is where Bucky stops listening and his internal monologue becomes one word: 

Fuck.

[tanbrian]

The Last Jedi: BTan Review (Spoilers)

Here it is: I decided to write everything out because I obviously have too many feelings to process lol #allthefeels. A movie that has already proven to be a fairly polarizing 2nd (or 9th, if we're really counting) entry into the Star Wars metaverse deserves some cathartic play-by-play analysis. After all, that's more than half the fun (and point) of being a SW fan, is it not? Obvious disclaimer for SPOILERS, and I only saw the movie once - Thursday premiere night. Without further ado... here I go. *deep Lamaze breaths.

Comparison: Empire.

Let's be honest: with an ominous title and precedent-breaking RED Star Wars logo, it was inevitable that this second entry in this trilogy would illicit endless comparison to it's predecessor - namely, Empire, the 2nd SW movie ever in the OG trilogy, which has a darker tone and is widely regarded as the "Best" SW movie ever by fans - arguably, I might add. (IMO, A New Hope is the best SW movie of all time. BUT I DIGRESS) Considering how much TFA was designed after A New Hope, for better or for worse, it would be no surprise that The Last Jedi would mirror, borrow, or dare I say steal from Empire: major elements, settings, plot lines, et al. Fans and I alike were simultaneously loathed and relieved to find that this was both true and... not true, in this case.

Let's break it down via Empire lines:

Hoth: Empire/Rebel stand-off with low-rising ships and AT-AT fighters in a cold-climate planet with snow and winter-y creatures? Check. (this time at the end, not the beginning! what a twist.)

Yoda/Luke on Dabogah: Mentor/mentee jedi "training" period that transports a main character away from central Rebel action for the majority of the movie? Check.

"I am your father": Said main character is only to return for a climatic confrontation on an Empire ship with the main villain and discover parentage? Check.

Rebel characters engage in a cat-&-mouse run from a Empire ship that tracks them (A la Boba Fett & the Worm monster in the Asteroid fields)? Check.

Reunion-Hopeful end scene: With some medical care, hand holding, smiling, and small sliver of hope left just by still being together despite all the odds? Check.

Puppet-Yoda. period.

Thankfully, nobody's hand was severed or body was carbon-frozen. (Let's not get all Starkiller Base on us again.) Elements were certainly borrowed, but I don't think it was a hammer over the head in the same way that TFA was to A New Hope. A lot of the reviews are citing how "different" and "surprising" the plot twists and storyline went, and I will give Rian Johnson credit there. This was certainly not a carbon copy of Empire because, while borrowing fairly obvious major elements - Yoda/Luke and Luke/Rey being the most - it does its own thing with them....that doesn't always work out for the best, however.

1. Dagobah vs the Island (Ach-To, or whatever.)I think a lot of us expected (and were ready for) some head-on Yoda training of Rey. Give us a training montage. Knock her to her feet, do handstands, and make her lift that X-fighter from under the ocean (Did anyone catch that down there!?). OK - we don't need the whole she-bang, but give us something. I get that Luke is in no way the same master or teacher as Yoda, and he was going through this whole crotchety old-man complex and didn't actually want to train her. But when he and the movie actually got around to it... what even happened, really? We were treated to, frankly, weird and beautiful but unexplained cinematographic sequences (life! death! balance? and a dark seaweed-y dark tunnel?... ultimately leading to fun with mirrors? so many Reys, so few parents). My issue with them is this whole "training" period - which is a significant if not major crux of the whole movie - is that she's not really trained at all. Luke is basically like, "You're scary, Rey. ...OK, I'll watch you swing around my light saber." Like, what? I feel like the trailer gave the same level of impact of Rey's whole training on that damned island. She goes there, she gets trained eventually, and then she's a stronger Jedi - excuse me, er, "Force User." The movie really dragged its feet with this, and not in a satisfying way to me.

In Empire, you were on Dagobah forever but were enraptured by Luke's fear, frustration, and mystery over the force and his training (not to mention the charm of puppet-Yoda, bless him). Here, I couldn't wait to get off the island. I feel like I was stuck on LOST. Nothing was happening, the main mystery was "What Did Luke REALLY DO to Ben?", Rey talked to Kylo Ren a lot, Rey and Luke stalked each other... and - perhaps most insulting of all - our entertainment/comedic relief was pulled out of admittedly cute but pretty ridiculous creatures. More on all the creatures below, but for now: I'm anti-porg (hated all the random noise placements), and pro-caretakers - cute and funny. BUT - do you see what I mean? How was this adding to anything? We were charmed and entertained by Yoda and Luke all on their own as characters - their dynamic, struggles, values taught, etc. Here, it was like... welcome to the Island! We're, here... on the island. There are cute things and some mysteries. Train yourself Rey and leave as you like. See what I mean? Similar to Empire, but... not really, or at all, a better or improved version just by being different from it.

The saving graces are Daisy and Mark Hamill, who deliver strong and captivating performances as expected. Sadly, it's the writing and script here that fail them. Point is: this is a major/the plot point of this movie, Rey's training and answers as a Force User. Sure- what's happening with the Resistance is important, but the mythology and magic of this SW story is getting built with Rey. While necessary to bring her to the island with Luke, I just think our time there was a bit wasted. Too much "lemme follow Luke" ... "lemme follow Rey"... "oh look, another Porg!" *holds head in hands.

2. Rebels vs The ResistanceMeanwhile - because this movie, as SW movies are apt to do, requires a lot of Meanwhiles - the Resistance is stuck. They're out of fuel, tracked by the Empire after a mission, and getting clipped down. ...totally sounds familiar, right? In Empire, they run and hide - but get caught. They had the benefit of a budding romance with Han & Leia, and chemistry between them all - Chewie included. Here: they try to run, but are stuck. My issue is what they do to make it different this time, instead of Astroid Fields and a Cloud City: I guess they went with "A Codebreaker" and "Political Mutiny."

I have to admit: it must be really challenging to figure out to do with the Rebel/Resistance story arc. I'm sure when they sat down to write this script, they thought "OK: while Rey is off being important, what can we give the Resistance to do and make it fun, compelling, and just as consequential?" -Sadly, I think they really struggled here. It becomes the major middle of the movie, which just drags. Here was their solution: Introduce 3 new characters; go on adventures; solve the problem, and combine the plotlines. go.

First, as I'll discuss below with the Crowded Cast, the new characters (with the exception of Kelly Marie Tran) don't really amount to any new, exciting chemistry. It's less of a family, and more of a clusterf*ck to figure out what to do next... and then some.

Second: The Go on Adventures part was, simply put, random. Finn and Rose's romp to the casino land was a great plug/opportunity for a Mos Eisley Cantina - feel, not to mention pretty incredible wardrobe and set design. I felt mesmerized watching that first long shot of the casino: over the top, significant attention to detail, and fabulous. I do like the backstory we get on the planet's riches from sales to the Empire. Still, those are the highlights, but its all... random. and very quick. I don't want something to just "be a highlight" - it should have some purpose and add to the story. Otherwise, we're in prequel territory (Naboo is beautiful! ...so what?) The rest: "Find the Codebreaker" mission, randomly given by Maz - just seemed silly, and they didn't even manage to make contact with mustached Justin Thoreaux - settling for Benicio Del Toro in jail. Again, all random, and all just kinda like... ok, *shrug*, I'll just go with this? I know that's the spirit of SW - being a ragtag crew that just "figures it out" as you go. Here, however, they give a lot of twists and turns that your head is in a tailspin. They're in the casino, then in jail, but now they're riding creatures, but they got caught, but DJ saved them, but then he sold them out...? You're left feeling like, Wow. what was the point of that at all.

Meanwhile... Mutiny is afoot! Admiral Holdo vs Poe for control. Like I'm saying, it's all just like... so what? They're stuck in space and they need a solution, so Poe waits on one while Holdo pursues another one. It really feels like a placeholder, one that I think they just didn't need to develop all that much- yet, develop they did. They threw in so many twists into this plotline that felt unnecessary: we're abandoning ship?! oh - there's a planet down there? wait - leia's awake? no, wait - they're shooting us all down?... it felt like a waste of time. Sure, show them in struggle against the Empire, but let's move on. (Here, I'd like to note this movie is 2 hours and 30 minutes. that's LOTR territory, yall - not in the good way. Like, yikes.)

To summarize the Empire talk, I think they borrowed many checkpoint facts but didn't change them in truly effective ways. Let's be honest: the Empire framework is one we were all thinking about going into this. Below are more reasons why I think this movie's approach was successful... or not.

Crowded Cast.

Any true fan will tell you why the OG trilogy is the best: chemistry. Carrie, Mark, and Harrison had on-screen spark that continues to last 40 years later. All they had was droids and a walking carpet in Chewbacca as successful, impactful sidekicks (...forgetting the Ewoks, mind you.) We didn't need more. Even when Lando shows up, it's not a big deal - because it feels natural.

Characters aren't just being thrown in and added just for the sake of more characters. (If they are, it's for some plot point or twist that really pushes things along. Lando case in point: Empire needed a double-agent to get Han carbon-frozen & bring Luke out of Dagobah to encounter Vader, get hand cut off, hang from a Cloud City antenna, etc.)

I really thought in TFA, we were building to just that kind of "family" power. In our trio this time around, I think it was a solid effort at re-emulating what once was - The jokes and "banter" in TFA was believable, and you liked them as a crew. A family.

Unfortunately, this is less like a family of a cast than ever before; It's more meta, like: Here's this conflict in space that obviously involves hundreds of characters. Let's give each of them a little spotlight. There really is just too, too much going on character-wise. I'm just going to go at this bullet style with all the ancillary characters, because I have all of the complaints.

General Hux: admirable attempt to emulate Tarkin, but given way too much screen-time as if he actually matters. I think he's funny in the "evil" role - but that encapsulates my problem with it entirely. you should not be funny, or "evil" with g-d quotes around it. (Also, he's Bill Weasley. Like, just train your dragons.)

Snoke: NO. Why? Where's his story? Who is he? WHAT is he? He's just an <insert here> CGI bad guy from nowhere? What - were those scars that looked just like Anakin's head scars just to F*** with SW fan theories?!  There are plenty of bad guys in the SW universe that have Force powers and came out of nowhere. Like, who is Count Dooku, even. But I'm even fine with Dooku. This is like decades after the Emperor has fallen, and now "Snoke" rules the world... we def need a little more than just a gold f***ing kimono.

Captain Phasma: Fail. What an absolute waste. She could've been a cool, deep, fun character. Give her way more screentime over Hux. Instead, we get two lousy fights and a shot of Brienne's eye... like, *applause for your death?

Emo Kylo Ren. Sorry, reviewers: this is NOT a spectacular show of acting. This is bratty, brooding boy turned young man all wrong. I get it, I know -- this shows how darkness is complex and conflicting and not one side of the coin, I get that. Despite that, he still comes off as an impish child. Like, King Joffrey status. (Does that change anyone's mind?!) I don't care that he has great hair and "broods" well. Snoke's dialogue with him is the only thing I like about the two of them: "Take that stupid mask off your face." "You're nothing but a child." Very, true. That's the character. I shouldn't be able to make fun of the darkest evil and now supreme leader in that way. (...then again... Trump.)

Overall, I have been incredibly disappointed with the dark side in this new trilogy. Not menacing, threatening, or even "dark" at all. Throwaway characters. The fact that it can basically be made a joke - Emo Kylo Ren on SNL; Hux's ridiculous flailing and fails - is telling. Now, the light side:

Admiral Holdo: more like Who, doe? Laura Dern is an incredible actor, and she was very underutilized here. Very few lines of dialogue to sink her teeth into, and the whole Mutiny situation all passed by in what felt like an inconsequential flash. I feel like her inclusion was not necessary at all. It felt very Battlestar Galactica-y: commander of a rival ship comes, creates political conflict. She's also completely out of place with that hair and wardrobe... I get you commanded another ship, but aint nobody else on the Resistance looking like that. She looked more suited to the casino.

DJ. again, who? Benicio Del Toro, another fantastic actor, underutilized in a way that demonstrates he prob shouldn't have been used at all. His stuttering was pretty insulting and not charming like I guess they thought it would be. I'm guessing he has some double-agent turn to play in episode 9 (I guess as the Lando addition), but he certainly didn't add any value to this cast or story whatsoever.

Maz Katana: Well, that was funny, but random. Another wasted resource in Lupita Nyongo.

Rose. saving grace of the movie! Anyone knows I'm the first to shout about inclusive representation in entertainment; giving an Asian-American nerd such a highlighted role was fantastic. and not just b/c shes an Asian-American Nerd; just because she was fantastic in it. She's also 28, so she's just like me. That's empowering and awesome to see. Totally emulated the Rey, Finn, Poe trio dynamic-chemistry we got in TFA. Sadly, she's the only one we really got it from, other than:

Finn and Poe. sorry, they go in together because they really didn't give me much this time around. A lot of snappy dialogue and jokes that mostly landed. I'm disappointed, because I was ready to see that TFA chemistry continue and build. It mostly just remained stagnant, which isn't development to me. Also, I guess they're supposed to be main characters, but why didn't it feel that way? In TFA, they had an excuse - this was all just starting, and they had star power in Harrison, Daisy and Adam Driver to share screen time with. Now, I really feel like I needed them to step up as movers in this story - the same way Han was. Sadly, script and writing spread their power potential across far too many others.

Basically: it's crowded. It's like double the cast with half the punch. It's part of why I criticized Rogue One: ensemble cast that seems thrown together, just for the sake of being together. I think Laura Dern and Benicio Del Toro, hands down, just should not have been added. I'm hoping they can revitalize the familial feel we got in TFA in episode IX; I think we will, now that we got that reunion scene and JJ will be back.

Separately, the OGs:

Leia. the movie did an incredible job bidding her adieu. Luke's reunion with her sends chills down my spine. "No one's ever really gone." She's reportedly not in IX at all, so I'm sure they'll have her pass peacefully.

Luke. By contrast, I think his death was anti-climatic.

Puppet-Yoda: was skeptical on his re-appearance, but leave it to Frank Oz to put you back at total Yoda-zen ease. His lines on failure particularly hit home for me, and it def maintains the heart of SW here: the empathy and hope, in the face of loss and despair, really is what matters.

Is this still Star Wars?

One of the more shocking allegations by angry twitterverse is that this movie "RUINED" SW, and that this "isn't a SW movie at all." Especially saying this is worse than Phantom Menace or Attack of the Clones! Can it be? I ultimately have to disagree. There are light sabers, the Force, Luke and Leia, spaceship battles, and droids. Also, it splits characters/storylines up in stupid ways on "adventures" that all eventually pull together and make sense (we guess). it's DEF still SW.

I do see their point, however. SW is a space battle/family drama, but you can't help but feel it's pull into different territories on this one. For one, I mentioned the Crowded Cast issue. My most immediate comparison on this one is Battlestar Galactica: stellar ensemble cast & chemistry, with very similar cat-&-mouse chases from the bad guys in space. Sadly, I just don't think SW is built for this kind of meta-character building. That's my main critique for this feeling less "SW".

Second: The chemistry. The humor, comedic relief, and jokes. I mean, where are we going with these? I'm mostly okay with a lot of the "easier" funny moments, because there are a lot of those in the OG trilogy; all it took was one Chewie growl to get us going. I'm glad they didn't do away with them completely - this is still mass entertainment after all. However, I do think they simply went overboard on this one. Ex: The milked BB-8's abilities way too far; is he really capable of taking out multiple humans? It felt a little like Guardians of the Galaxy but with a lot less natural comedic punch. Again, I credit that to chemistry and the crowded cast: there wasn't a lot of opportunity to build much on what was created in TFA. We got it out of Rose, Poe and Finn in limited doses; not much else. Otherwise, we were given a lot of Porgs. Please, let Jar Jar and Ewoks be a lesson of late.

The Last Jedi is totally a SW movie; however, it does admittedly feel different. I would say it feels stretched. Strained. A little frenetic & confused. It does all find itself by the end, but rather than all that being "Ah, The Plan All Along," it feels more like... "Oh, thank god they got there."

Action Sequences

One way it is totally SW, however, and I'm glad they did this justice: epic light saber battles. This struck a golden, perfect balance between the aerobatic, choreographed prequel fights to the more raw, emboldened OG trilogy fights that focus on face and grit. The climax fight is one to behold and is going down in the pantheon as one of the best, likely a top 5. Snoke's chamber and that red backlight is fantastic - ominous, bloody. A little shocked by how good those guards were; where the hell did they get trained? I'm sure we'll get more Kylo vs Rey in episode IX. Rey, thank god, has stepped up her game - treating it like an actual sword instead of a heavy hammer to drag. (But do you see what I mean about there being too much going on this entire movie? I totally forgot that Kylo Ren even had a crossguard lightsaber. like, completely.)

The space sequences are, as predicted, breathtaking and exciting. Wouldn't expect less. In the middle "we're out of fuel!" part of the movie, it does just feel like being stuck on a chess set piece; that's claustrophobic, but not really in the captivating way here. Not like Gravity. More like... I got tired of playing chess and left the board overnight & forgot it was there for a week. and i dont care.

Cringe-worthy.

There were truly a lot, like a lot, of cringes here. These are undeniable, in fact, and simply cannot be done away with. The movie lives with them forever. *sucks teeth*

Floating Leia. NOOOOO. (please send me every meme ever). This is obviously a very polarizing decision. Personally, I think they should've cut that entire segment and left it on the cutting room floor. Kylo Ren doesn't need to get close to shooting her; she doesn't need to be asleep; hell, there didn't need to be a Laura Dern or any Mutiny, imo. She could've hit her head in an explosion and been in a brief coma, if ANYTHING. Idk. It was a lot. Esp considering Carrie has passed, it felt... super, really, uncomfortably weird. Therefore, I will rewind that scene x100 times. (It's up there with "Anakin, you're breaking my heart! You're going down a path in which I cannot follow!" also, I cannot believe they killed Admiral Ackbar with such little grace as that. Offended.)

Blue Milk. What might be a charming easter egg to some was really just a funny-disturbing, horrifically-cringey moment. Luke Skywalker on his knees, sucking down milk from the Tittie-Testicles of a bantha creature in its crotch, spilling it onto his scraggly beard. humiliating. this is not the master jedi I'm looking for. I want to unsee that immediately.

Mirror, mirror. maybe some people thought it was cool. maybe its deep, insightful, or artistic in some way idc to know about. I just dont care. It was giving me Mirror of Erised vibes from Harry Potter, which felt stupid and went totally unexplained. *snap, snap!

Emo-Bitch Moaning: on behalf of Hux and Emo Kylo himself. So many lines, I can't even dredge up from memory just yet, they're that painful. Greatest hit: Kylo bitching "YOU SHOULD BE!" or something equally bitch-worthy to ghost-Luke during their fight. groan.

Benicio Del Toro's stuttering: painful and offensive. of no value.

Rose's "kiss" of Finn. Ouch.

-Creatures

There were, simply, a lot of creatures this time around. Here's some reactions to the greatest hits:

Porgs: I'm decidedly anti-Porg. I wish Chewie ate that roasted one in front of their crying faces. I also can't believe they started burrowing into the Falcon; the disrespect! Please swat them off the drawing board for episode IX, JJ. Unlike Ewoks and even Jar Jar, they added absolutely nothing to the story. Keep it purposeful, not random, please.

Caretakers: cute and hilarious. random.

Canto Bight riding creatures: They look like Voldemort. Actually a cross-breed of Dobby/house elves and Voldemort. Disturbing. (also, why all this Harry Potter crossover!?) random.

Ice Foxes: Cute, pretty, again very random and barely added anything of value.

One can't help but see the commercial angle in throwing the kitchen sink in with these creatures: they're automatic money machines to cash in on Christmas plush toys, not to mention drawings, books/resources to develop in on their stories/backgrounds, etc. Creatures are also a hallmark of SW. Again, though, you can't help but feel like it was a bit overdone here. I hardly remember any creatures from TFA, other than the octopus. (See? That was a fun adventure - and we met Han that way.)

Cliffhangers/Theories

It just seems hard to believe, however, that Rey and Kylo aren't TWINS to Han and Leia. How could they be otherwise connected so strongly and randomly? Just one fight in the snowy woods, and they've got psycho-powers to each other? I guess it could just be a coincidence of their Force powers. High midichlorian count, holla.

I'm still banking on the Kenobi theory myself: why else bring Ewan and Alec Guiness's voices from the grave for her TFA dream? Help us Rey Kenobi - you really are our only hope.

Conclusion

If you read this far, you need to get a life - much like myself. Ultimately, my word on The Last Jedi is: B. OK. Idk! I think there was a lot riding on this movie: It was going to determine how a huge leg of this new trilogy was going to continue and be as an identity, really. TFA did a beautiful job building the legwork, and Last Jedi was both a surprise and let down in many ways. You can't snuff the highlights that made it shine: Canto Bight's casino, the light saber duels, Daisy and Mark, and Kelly Marie Tran. It just needed a lot of editing, which it clearly didn't get enough of at it's running time. The Cringes shoot down at this film significantly.

Most importantly to me: Part of what makes SW fantastic isn't exploding ships and sword fights; plenty of movies have just that. What makes us fans is the draw of their mythology, continuing/evolving story, and feeling like we're on-board with the "Family" of characters we love the whole way through. It's why I love many installments of Final Fantasy, LOST, Battlestar Galactica, and GOT: it's character-based, character development that gets breathtaking. I think Last Jedi may have lost the heart of that, by nature of feeling random, sloppy, and going too long without going much of anywhere. I'm certainly glad to be off the island and out of that awful Chess-like impasse between their spaceships. Moments with Yoda and Luke separately were strong and kept the heart of SW. Still, there were just a lot of choices... too many polarizing choices. the kind you can't come back from, and that really get the movie off the swing of things.

I will obviously be re-watching and contemplating for weeks to come. Ah, to be a SW fan! Feels good. (and a little sad, but good all the same).

[ponticle]

Week Eight [11 Weeks - Anderstair Challenge]

[masterpost]

[read it on ao3]

Chapter Summary: Alistair and Anders bury the hatchet on their last fight before brunch with Cullen and Dorian.

“I’m ready to try again, if you are.” I clear my throat and swallow hard.

Alistair looks at me consideringly. “You came all the way here to tell me that?”

I nod.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because I don’t want to break up again,” I explain. I step into the doorway and wrap my arms around him in what turns out to be a squeezing hug. “I love you and I don’t want to fall into old habits.”

He kisses the side of my head and whispers, “You didn’t have to drive all the way here to tell me that… I had no intention of letting you get away.”

We pull back enough to look into each other’s eyes.

“Are we okay?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah… we’re okay… I might punch Hawke when I see him, though.”

“Please don’t… it wasn’t really his fault.” As soon as I’ve said that, I realize that doesn’t paint me in a flattering light. “I mean… it wasn’t really anyone’s fault.”

He glares at me, but he’s still smiling underneath it.

“Listen… can I stay with you tonight?” I ask.

He nods.

“Okay, well, I need to go find a parking space—I’m double parked and it’s likely that the city of Brooklyn has already towed my car away…” I laugh. “Driving into the city was probably a mistake, but I couldn’t wait for the train.”

“Yikes…” he says. “I’ll come down and help you find one. Sometimes there are spots two blocks over.”

The next morning, we wake up together when Dorian calls Alistair’s phone. Alistair picks it up on speaker.

“Yeah?” he growls.

“Hello, Sunshine…” says Dorian. “Where are you?”

“Oh shit…” Alistair breathes. “I totally forgot.”

“Sorry, Dorian,” I say. “I kept him up really late last night.”

“Is that Anders?” asks Dorian.

“Yeah…” I say.

“What are you doing in our neighborhood?” he asks. “Did you wash out of school?”

I know he’s teasing, but he wouldn’t be if he knew I washed out once before. It’s not a funny joke. Alistair kisses my cheek in a clandestine act of solidarity.

“Well, Alistair is supposed to be meeting us for brunch—about ten minutes ago,” says Dorian.

“Sorry, Dor,” says Alistair. “Are you still at your place?”

“Yes… but at this point, we should meet wherever we want to go or we’re going to have to wait in line for an hour,” he says.

“Okay—what about that place on Gold Star that I like?” asks Alistair.

“Yes—half an hour. Don’t be late.” Dorian hangs up.

As we walk toward the restaurant, hand in hand, it occurs to me that we haven’t spent any significant time with Dorian and Cullen as a couple. In all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve mostly just hated Cullen from afar. Dorian is funny, but I am kind of scared of him. He’s exactly the type of person who terrifies me into silence—afraid that I’m not witty or bright enough to keep up. The fact that Alistair routinely tells me how brilliant he is doesn’t help.

“Are you ready for this?” asks Alistair.

“What do you mean?”

“Cullen and Dorian are going to judge the shit out of you,” he says. “They’re the worst.”

“Why are you friends with them again?” I laugh.

He jabs with me an elbow, but then shrugs. “I don’t know, actually.”

We both laugh.

“I think I’m going to be fine… after all, you like me,” I say.

“I do, actually…” he pushes me with his shoulder. “So here’s my advice—destabilize them quickly. Ask them about Mia right off the bat and they’ll melt into goo about her before they have a chance to scrutinize why you’re here.”

“Does it matter if they know why I’m here?”

He looks embarrassed. “Well… they know we’ve had kind of a rocky past…”

“Oh.”

“It’s not like they think we shouldn’t be together… they just don’t know if we’re going to last,” he admits.

I’m flushed. It isn’t that I’m specifically angry—I just want to prove them wrong—so badly it hurts. After all, my friends have voiced similar concerns along the way.

“They don’t want us to break up… they’re just worrying about me…” he adds.

I laugh, “That’s rich—coming from the guy who almost broke us up…”

“That was a lifetime ago,” argues Alistair.

I huff.

Alistair steps in front of me so I’ll stop walking. “This is exactly opposite of what we should be doing right now… we need to be a united front. Please, Andy… I want them to see us at our best.”

I feel my shoulders slump. “Fine.”

“Besides… I’ll owe you.” He winks.

That finally nets him a small smile. I’m extremely susceptible to flirting.

“Okay… let’s do this.”

“Finally,” says Dorian around the corner.

Cullen, who is hovering over his shoulder, smiles when he sees us.

“Hi,” I say, nodding to both of them. “Where’s your daughter?”

Cullen smiles at me. “With my parents. They are in town for the week and offered to take her this morning so we can be adults.” He looks at Dorian like he’s the best person he’s ever seen in his life.

I don’t want to, but I feel insanely jealous at that look. As if Alistair doesn’t look at me like that almost every time I see him. Of course… he didn’t in the last week… not until I chased him across state lines. I swallow around a lump in my throat. I feel like this is tenuous—I’m playing a part instead of just living.

A host comes to get us before I can fall further into my internal spiral of self-doubt—thankfully. We’re shown to a booth in the back, right next to a huge window. It’s freezing outside, but the sun is reflecting off the snow everywhere. It’s bright and warm in the booth.

“So… what are you two up to this weekend?” asks Cullen.

Alistair and I look at each other. It feels like we’re already about to crumble, but I remember what he said—that I should destabilize them quickly—so I default to a joke.

“I don’t think you really want to know.” I smirk.

Dorian laughs. Cullen’s eyes widen fractionally.

Then I pull it back, “How’s Mia doing these days?” I ask.

Cullen’s expression softens considerably. “She’s great…” He pulls his phone out to show me some recent pictures. Even though Dorian was the first one to show me pictures of her, I gather that Cullen is the more frequent photographer. He has dozens of shots of her playing in the snow, eating messy food, and rolling around on the floor in the midst of mountains of stuffed animals. When he’s shown me forty or fifty slides of her in rapid succession, the server interrupts us.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asks.

We order one by one. I settle on a highly savory bloody mary—it has a clamato base.

“Anyway… enough about Mia,” says Dorian. “Let’s be adults for an hour.”

Cullen shrugs and puts his phone away.

We all stare at each other. Because our drinks haven’t come yet, we don’t have much to do with our hands or mouths. I find myself counting ceiling tiles.

“So… how’s school going?” asks Cullen.

It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to me.

“Oh… it’s good—I’m tired… but I’m getting through it. I’m about to pick my residency for next year,” I answer.

“Wow… I feel like that went by really fast…” he says.

It did—he doesn’t know that I already had a whole year under my belt. To him, it probably seems like I’ve skipped a year somehow.

Alistair interrupts to save me. “I feel like life is going by way too fast these days… don’t you feel like Mia is growing every time you see her?”

Cullen smiles and looks at something in the distance—a memory maybe? As much as I want to keep hating him, I can’t—he’s adorable about his little girl. If I ever have kids, I hope I feel one tenth of the love he feels for little Mia. I wonder if I will—have kids. As that thought occurs to me, I find myself looking at Alistair lopsidedly. If I squint, I can picture him swinging a little boy in our back yard.

“I know what you mean,” says Dorian, who isn’t so easily distracted, “but hasn’t it only been three years since you started, Anders?”

Oh no. I’m caught.

“It has… Anders is in an accelerated program,” lies Alistair. “It’s a new addition at BU… just in the last five years.”

I wonder how that’s going to go over, but Dorian accepts it as fact almost instantly. He nods at me. “You must be even more tired than we were, then.” He smiles and looks up, just as our drinks arrive.

I have never been so happy to have something to do with my mouth… well… something that I can do in public.

“I am pretty tired… but I’m almost there…” I say. “If I can just get through the rest of this term, I’ll be golden.”

“So what are you going to specialize in?” asks Cullen.

“I’ve actually decided on sports medicine,” I say.

Alistair’s eyes snap up to me like this is news to him.

“I was going back and forth between ortho and sports… and I finally landed on sports med because it really works with my training background,” I explain. Then I turn to Alistair and cup his cheek in my hand. “Besides… I know the best orthopedist in the world if someone needs a referral.”

Everyone laughs except Alistair, who turns beet red and can’t seem to think of anything to say at all.

“That sounds perfect for you, Anders,” says Cullen. “I actually bet we’ll be seeing some of the same patients…”

“Really?” I don’t know what he means.

“Yeah… I see a lot of elite athletes—the pressure is a lot for them,” he explains.

“Oh. I can absolutely imagine that.”

“Do you have a particular sport in mind?” Cullen asks.

“Not yet… but I’ve applied to a residency that has a contract with Boston Ballet,” I say. “If I get that one… maybe I’ll work mostly with dancers.”

“Well, they will definitely need psychiatric help,” cackles Dorian. “I dated the premier danseur of Ballet West in college… what a diva.”

Cullen rolls his eyes.

Alistair laughs. “Didn’t he come to visit us in our first apartment, Dor?”

Dorian’s expression goes flat. “You must be thinking of someone else.”

Alistair scowls. I have a feeling that ballet dancer did visit them, but Dorian isn’t willing to admit it with his husband sitting on his left. I wonder why. Their relationship is so confusing to me. It isn’t as if my own relationship is crystal clear—not by a long shot—but I don’t really understand Cullen or Dorian as individuals, let alone as a pair.

“I hope you get it, Anders,” says Cullen.

“He will,” interrupts Alistair. He looks at me encouragingly. “He’s one of the best in his class.”

“How do you know that?” I ask.

“You told me,” he deadpans.

Everyone laughs.

“No… I still have a bunch of friends in the department—I did some digging.”

“You did not.” I punch his shoulder playfully.

He shrugs. I’m not sure what that means.

“Seriously, Anders,” says Cullen. He looks right at me. “Good luck.”

When we make eye contact it occurs to me that he’s very hard to look at up close. He’s too attractive and too put-together-looking for this kind of scrutiny. As bitter as I (still) am, I totally get why it took Alistair a while to kick him out of the apartment all those years ago. He’s compelling.

“Thank you.”

Dorian clears his throat. “So what’s next for you two?”

Alistair and I look at each other. It occurs to me all at once that he hasn’t told them he’s leaving Brooklyn.

“Well,” Alistair clears his throat and puts a hand on my knee. “I’m moving back to Boston.”

Dorian’s mouth falls open. “You’re doing what?!”

“I’m moving back to Boston…” repeats Alistair.

Dorian rolls his eyes, but Cullen looks like he expected this.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner… but we’re…” he looks at me. “We’re not going to live apart anymore… it’s been too many years like this…”

I feel my face crack into a ridiculous smile. I can’t believe how much I love him.

“I knew that,” says Dorian. He rolls his eyes again. “I just thought you’d have the sense to stay here—in the best city in the world.”

“I can’t…” says Alistair. “Anders needs to stay in Boston until he’s licensed…”

I’m not super thrilled that he’s blaming me for this, but it’s true…

“Besides… you know I love Boston…” he adds.

“Yeah, yeah…” says Dorian. “I guess we’ll visit whenever we can…”

Cullen puts an arm around Dorian’s shoulder. The gesture confuses me at first, but then Dorian does something that instantly changes my opinion of him forever. He runs the cuff of his sleeve across his cheeks. Is he crying? Oh my god—he is. He’s making such a fuss about this because he’s going to miss Alistair. If I weren’t on the inside of the booth, I would stand up and hug him. Alistair really does have a best friend.

“We’ll get together every month,” says Alistair. He looks sort of teary too.

“We had better…” says Dorian. “And you better take care of him, Anders… he’s terrible at handling himself…”

We smile at each other and I know—we’re all friends now.