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1kook · 4 years

Text

netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ‘m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock.

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #jjk smut #bts smut #mine

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qqueenofhades · 2 years

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Thanks so much for your posts re: the Russia-Ukraine war, they are very eye-opening!

I'm Hungarian and its just so bizarre and frustrating to see that for the outside world Orban pretends to work with the EU, condemning the Russian invasion...meanwhile M1, the state's largest tv channel (controlled 100% by the government) is straight up shouting Kremlin propaganda 24/7. God forbid we confuse the loyal voters by presenting Putin in a bad light all of a sudden...cos "this whole mess was provoked by NATO and the US and the weak Ukrainian president...Ukraine deserves its fate for the genocide they commited in the Donetsk & Luhansk regions...and for treating the Hungarian ethnic minority the way they do" (which is/was...shitty. Do they deserve this war tho? Hell no.)

Anyway its scary how more and more ppl start parroting these lines in my country too, some even approving of the invasion (spitting at the memory of the '56 revolution altogether)...your posts are like a breath of fresh air after checking some fb comments.

Aha, thanks. And thanks in turn for the Hungarian perspective, as it really doesn't surprise me to hear that Orban is trying to have his cake and eat it too. He is obviously the head of the EU state that is closest to Putin and might have been able to block sanctions, but since he has (as far as I recall) an election in the spring and a strong coalition opposing him from across the political spectrum, he needs to get those international-statesman brownie points and present himself as a moderate and trusted leader who's working with the rest of the EU team. Likewise, he's evil but not stupid, and can see that the political and international wind is almost unanimously blowing against Russia/Putin, so he doesn't want to make himself a pariah. Hence the announcements that he will support all the EU sanctions and oppose the war, while apparently (as you say) continuing to let the media broadcast Kremlin propaganda, so as not to stir the pot too much.

It'll be interesting, if nothing else, to see how this affects the strongman/isolationist aspirations of states like Poland and Hungary, which have been trying to separate themselves from the legal and cultural framework of the EU and turning ever more authoritarian in their governance. But Poland (for obvious reasons) fucking hates Russia and is pulling its weight during this crisis, and even if Orban is self-serving to the extreme and can't go too far off the ledge right now, I suppose we can thank him (if nothing else) for not blocking the full imposition of EU sanctions. Putin was counting on support from China, India, and Brazil at least (all of whom either abstained, in the case of China/India, or voted yes, in the case of Brazil) on the UN Security Council resolution condemning the attack; all of those countries obviously have hard-right authoritarian leaders who might be expected to cheer on this shameless power grab, but they can see that there is no advantage to be had from allying with him on this. Aside from Orban, the Czech president (Zeman) has been a big Putin booster who is publically recanting; whether he actually believes it or not doesn't matter, because it demonstrates that self-serving people can see it's better not to look too cozy right now. And Germany and Italy, who were previously against cutting Russia out of SWIFT, are markedly softening their stances. Germany is even lifting its long-standing ban on exporting German-made weapons to conflict zones, in order to send more equipment to Ukraine. Meanwhile Sweden and Finland, long-standing neutral countries, are openly pondering NATO membership despite Russian threats. Welp.

All of that is to say that this is continuing to backfire on Putin systematically, entirely, and on every level, whether politically, militarily, or diplomatically, and we need to continue to hammer that fact as much as possible. Those reports about secret-fortress rants are claiming that he thought this would be over in four days, max, and it's already entering its fourth day. The longer Ukraine can hold out, the more it boosts morale. So yeah, the bad actors of the world (i.e. Orban) didn't stop being bad, but if even they can see there's nothing to be gained from backing Putin and that it's more strategic to at least present the appearance of international cooperation, that says a lot.

#anonymous #ask #russia ukraine war

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epicspheal · 2 years

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Thoughts on the phrase: Absolute power corrupts absolutely?

Bonus question: Is this is a theme in your fics?

Hi there @namelessbaron! Ah yes, the famous "Absolute power corrupts absolutely". I definitely find it to be a cautionary tale about how much control you give any one person over any situation. Even the best of people are still flawed, and anyone under the right circumstances can do unspeakable things As far as how this phrase affects cactusverse, it does have some bearing on the overall world. To be clear, no one in cactusverse ever achieves absolute power. However, some, like the Galarian nobles, wanted that in the form of an absolute monarchy. This is where Jack comes in, as the key to restoring the absolute monarchial powers through winning over the populace. With champions in Galar being held in such high regard, many Galarian aristocrats felt that by having one of their own as a champion, they could win over the populace, which would help sway legislation in Galarian Parliament. Jack was the right blend of legitimate talent and actually reasonably well-liked among both commoner and royal circles that he made for the best pick to try to take the title. Of course, after a few years of being champion and Jack realizing that if they got an absolute monarchy back, he'd be the favored one to be king, it did go to his head. And seeing the potential threats in a few star kids (namely Leon) to his champion title (and thus the throne) got to him hence how we see him descend into the villainy he's known for. But the phrase "absolute power corrupts absolutely" has a lot of implications for the cactusverse worldbuilding at large. Namely, you don't typically see anyone with gym leader strength or stronger holding a political position. Going back to my post about how many trainers are disadvantaged due to income and starting location, a lot of people just don't obtain a full team of Pokemon, let alone a full set of badges or contest ribbons. Add to that a good portion of people who just weren't interested in training Pokemon (they like Pokemon but never envisioned themselves as coordinators or gym challengers), and you have a large portion of the populace just not able to defend themselves if, say a mayor with a strong team of Pokemon decides they want to become a feudal lord We know canonically, gym leaders have multiple teams depending on trainer strength, so a normal gym leader theoretically could take over a town if they decided to (this isn't true in every case, but it's true in enough cases in each region where the idea of the gym leader being a mayor is very heavily discouraged). Remember Giovanni managed to become a gym leader and had a whole evil team. He could've really messed up Viridian City had he been given a chance. And this says nothing of elite four, champions and frontier brains who have plenty of time to just dedicate to training while also having multiple sets of Pokemon. Think about the plot of BW where N mentions he wants to defeat the champion and then make a decree for trainers to release their Pokemon. While the champion doesn't have any de facto political power, who is going to argue against the strongest trainer in the region, who in N's case also has a very powerful legendary. Now think about all of the protagonists and some of their rivals who have legendaries or became champions. They already have power from their Pokemon. Their getting political power could spell disaster were they to be corrupted by it. The hard truth is that no government in their right mind should ever trust any of the more powerful trainers with a political position. They're all still human, and all it takes is for the right conditions to turn a good person into a power-hungry dictator. So, in general, strong trainers in cactusverse are heavily discouraged, if not outright banned in some cases, from going into political power, and in general, the regions keep a close eye on the ones who hold some type of power outside of leagues (think Drayden or Nanu). There's just too much risk that the regional governments don't want to take by having Cynthia be a mayor.

#pokemon oc #cactusverse #pokemon trainers #pokemon champions #ask epic spheal

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sunaswife · 4 years

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Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

A/N: Please send an ask to be in my taglist! If you comment I will not read it or I might unintentionally ignore it because I get spammed a lot on my blog and I forget! :) and when you do send an ask I don’t ignore it! I always check my inbox to see if I have any taglist requests and I add them on the day I update! Thank you! The same goes for dms! <3

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up next Masterlist

Chapter four

Five years ago

“Kita-san, do you think Suna is okay? He hasn’t been to practice in over a week.” Agaki asked during a water break. “Well I mean he is banned from club activities, it’s just Atsumu is practicing outside with Osamu. Maybe Suna preferred just staying at home?” Aran spoke up. “Maybe I should check on him. It probably has nothing to do with volleyball, maybe he’s upset about Y/N.” Kita said.

“I tried talking to Suna about that...and he said that he cut it off, the twins and even the cheerleader who was involved decided to call it quits. Should we still be punishing them for something they stopped?” Agaki asked, “He did?” Kita-Senpai was stunned. “Yeah, he truly loves Y/N, and even though it started off as a bet he’s now madly in love with her. I’m pretty sure he looks terrible. I don’t even think he went to school today.” Agaki said and Kita sighed.

Suna was horrible, honestly he was unrecognizable. When Kita came knocking on his door, it was opened by a skinny Suna, his eyes were swollen, his hair was a mess. You can tell he was crying, his phone was in his hand.

“Suna, are you okay?” Kita gasped at his appearance. Before he knew it Suna started crying, again. “She won’t answer my phone, she blocked me. I tried explaining to her what happened but she doesn’t want to listen to me. She deleted all her social media accounts and she’s practically a ghost. All I know is that she’s in Miyagi and I’m worried if she made it safe, who is she staying with? Is she eating? Is her Senpai making a move on her? I don’t know what to do, should I go to Miyagi and beg for her forgiveness?” His voice shook and he finally looked up to meet Kita’s eyes.

“If you truly love her, then let her go. I don’t mean to sound rude but she’s gone. She wants nothing to do with you hence you’re blocked on everything. You look like you’re taking this too hard, you lost a lot of weight in just a week. I’m worried and I think you should come back to practice.” Kita told him and Suna wiped his boogers on his long sleeve. “But surely she still loves me right? She can’t get over me that easily right? I gave her everything, she gave me everything and just because of a stupid mistake, I ruined everything.” He started to cry again and Kita hugged his underclassman.

“I don’t know Suna. Please just come to practice. You need the distraction. You had a long enough punishment.” He said as Suna cried on his shoulder. “But I thought I was banned?” He sniffled. “Agaki said you quit the bet because you realized what you were doing was wrong. Sadly she just happened to find out before you told her. I’m still upset that you did it in the first place but you learned from it.” He said and pulled away. Suna nodded and wiped his eyes. “I want you there at practice tomorrow six am sharp. Got it?” He asked and Suna nodded.

“Yes captain.”

“You’re not gonna eat?” Osamu asked as Atsumu passed by the kitchen. “N-no, I’m fine. Probably later. There’s some things I need to go over for tomorrow.” Atsumu said as he lifted the notebook. Your manager notebook. “Ahh yeah, captain stuff huh.” Osamu said and turned to the kitchen. Atsumu sighed and made his way to his room. There he sat on his desk and went through the notebook you wrote so much in. Every little thing about him, Osamu, Suna, and everyone else.

Now as captain he needs to burden all this responsibility of not only doing captain duties but manager duties as well since you’re gone.

How long has it been?

A little over nine months?

He sighed and rubbed his face. Suna was still madly in love with you and Atsumu doesn’t know what to feel. Yeah he fell in love but he already knew you were all googly eyed for Suna. He wasn’t expecting you to leave the middle blocker anytime soon. But when you did he knew he didn’t even have a chance. You already know what he and Suna did. If you didn’t want to be with Suna there was no way in hell you’d ever want to be with Atsumu. At the end of the day, he started the bet. He’s sure you hate him even more than your now ex.

Atsumu glanced at his phone, there was no way to contact you. You had blocked the three boys on everything. Even though Atsumu made a fake account and he tried going to your social media, it wasn’t there. You deleted it. He tried searching up your first name, last name, anything. He just wanted to see you one last time. He wanted to know if you were happy now without dealing with him and Suna, but he couldn’t find you anywhere. He even looked up Tobio-kun and he also got nothing. While he scrolled through your cousins account he clicked on the tagged section and soon enough found a selfie of Tobio, you and Hinata.

His eyes widened and he immediately clicked on the shrimps account. Sure enough he saw you not once not twice but three times. One was a selfie of you two and a grumpy Tobio in a gym, and the other two times were videos of you instructing Hinata how to do a jump serve. He realized you were tagged in one of those posts so he clicked on the @ and it was nowhere near your name but it was definitely your account. You didn’t really post a lot of things but he noticed Kita Senpai and the other third years as well as Hitoshi followed you. He scrolled through your account and eventually found a photo of you sitting on a hospital bed. He swiped to see the photo after and it was a baby with a blue beanie. His head tilted in confusion and he scrolled to the next photo and it was another little potato looking babie but with a pink beanie this time. The last was both of those babies laying down wrapped in blankets like burritos and he finally decided to read the caption.

Meet Rini and Akira 🖤🤍

At that moment he knew your parents didn’t kick you out because of a stupid fight.

It was because someone knocked you up.

And he knows who.

But who knew Atsumu was so good at keeping secrets and playing dumb?

A/N: Yes yes and yes. Atsumu did know she was 🤰🏽 this whole time k bye.

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar @sredamancy

#suna rintarou fluff #suna scenarios #suna rintaro imagine #suna rintaro scenarios #suna rintaro x reader #suna imagines #suna rintarō #suna x reader #haikyuu suna #suna rintarou #miya atsumu #haikyuu x you #miya osamu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! x reader

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honey-hippie-harper · 3 years

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Infrangible

AFGHSAGHJS THIS IS SO LATE IS NOT EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE LMAO

In my defense, I stopped being a person long ago and now, in all the ways except physical, I happen to be a potato. BUT ANYWAY :’) This is for the Renegades Ship Week hosted by @greasicookies <3 (Thanks again!), for day 5, which is Maxpie. The prompt is “secrets”! <3

I had a tough time writing this because I’m going through a lot of stuff rn :’) still, I hope you can enjoy it x’ddd.

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @the-wee-woo-rita and afsghagshja @all-weather-is-bad (because this is a very...me fic lol and I think you’re already used to my sad attempt at humor haahahaah i’M SORRY AGSHJAKL) AND @lackadae because agshjs I made a reference to one of your drawings, hon :’) (I promise once again, to catch up with your content once I feel better afsghjak).

And that’s it. I hope you like it <3

When Max turned nine, he reached the conclusion that everybody forgot their early years at some point. Before, Adrian had already explained to him that wasn’t quite true, because he misunderstood Max’s statement and thought he was feeling bad about himself for not being able to recall certain things. He told him that, unlike what he thought –which was false because that’s not what Max meant- people usually couldn’t store those memories from when they were younger than three.

“Some people do.” He said. “But it’s normal if you don’t remember anything from when you were…I don’t know. Two.”

“Do you remember anything from when you were two?” Max asked him.

From the other side of the glass, Adrian scrunched up his nose. And then, obviously, he saw himself in the need to adjust his glasses.

“I’m not quite sure whether I was two or not. But I do know I was younger than five.” He started. “There was a small canal on the way to the apartment. When it rained, it would grow a lot. It didn’t have big torrents or anything, but it did grow a lot. The water usually went higher than my ankles. But the thing was…that every time it grew, it became infested with turtles.”

He paused for a second.

“I really liked turtles.” He continued, shrugging. “My mother used to let me walk down to the water, as long as she was right behind me, obviously; one day, when we were coming back from the city, she stopped to attend a call. I got too impatient and went down alone when she wasn’t looking. The next thing I remember is that, just when I was getting up after catching a turtle, I felt her tugging me by the back of my shirt. The turtle fell on its shell.”

At that point, Max realized he had been staring at how he kept on fidgeting with his pen instead of looking him in the eye, but he continued doing so, because he didn’t like it when Adrian’s voice turned that serious.

“…She had never screamed at me like that.” He said, as if he were talking to himself and then, to erase the tension, he tried to scoff. “I don’t remember what she said, but I remember that she said it so loud I told her she was scaring the turtle. Then I started crying. Like, a lot. I think she was terrified too.”

In the end, everything turned too quiet for his liking, and Max did something his dad had advised him to do for times like these, when he just didn’t know what came next: Improvise.

“I didn’t know you liked turtles.”

“…Well, I did. I really liked turtles when I was younger.”

Max had seen a couple of turtles in his life, but not as many as Adrian had seen, he supposed, because Max had never stepped outside, except when he was a baby.

Which was exactly the point.

He didn’t have memories from when he was a baby, or a toddler. Most of the people who had come to talk to him had said they remembered events that were either too sad (like Adrian) or meaningful in their lives. Max didn’t have anything like that. In fact, his first –very blurry- memory was standing on the edge of the quarantine, with his hands pressed against the crystal, and then licking it.

According to his dads, he was between three and four (“He was three, Simon. What are you talking about?” “He was born in November.” “It wasn’t November yet.” “We had just celebrated his birthday. He was four.” “HE WASN’T FOUR, SIMON! HE WAS THREE! THREE! We were celebrating that his quarantine had just been built!” “IT WAS THE SAME EVENT, HUGH!”) and Aunt Tamaya, plus the both of them, were in the hallway. For some reason, the fact that his eyes were so huge (they were still big. But they were bigger when he was a baby) came off as odd to Tamaya. And the moment they made eye contact, he licked the glass.

Nobody knew why. Not even himself. The adults remembered it better than he did, of course, but none of them had ever been able to guess the reasoning behind it. They often expressed Max had been a very strange baby, mostly because of his lack of social skills. It’s not like he had chosen that, and it’s not like his fathers would’ve allowed it to happen if they had had any other option. But Max wasn’t willing to stand there and pretend that he knew what he was doing, either.

Most of the time, he didn’t.

He barely held any memories of the nurses that had ever been in charge of his care, but, for obvious reasons, he remembered Dad. It was always easier to remember the person who had taken care of you the most, he supposed. And Max knew, among a lot of things, that it wasn’t his other dad’s fault. Though, sometimes, he couldn’t help but blame him.

Again, he didn’t know why, but there were those days, when he needed he the most, where a voice inside of his head told him that, if Simon loved him enough, he would just sacrifice his powers to be with him. His powers weren’t that useful for combat anyway.

“Okay, but that’s kinda mean.” Adrian told him the first time he opened up about it, the night before he attended the Trials to choose the members of his patrolling team. “Pops might not have combat powers, but they’re as important as the rest of the members’. That’s why they work so well as a team, you know? Every power can be extremely helpful during a battle, as long as you know how to use it.”

Max wasn’t doing anything in particular that day. Nothing besides listening to Adrian and sitting on the floor , at least.

“But if every power is useful…” He said, tilting his head to the side. “…Why are you allowed to reject certain aspirants?”

Adrian frowned a little, not in the sense that he looked angry at Max. Rather, he was confused by the question and was trying to word the answer in a way that sounded rational.

“Because…” He gulped and clicked his tongue. “…Like I said…uhm…the Council is an extremely good team. They’ve been doing this for a while. Us, the patrolling leaders are…allowed to reject certain prodigies because we don’t have as much experience as them. And…we might not know how to use somebody’s powers, and that’s very dangerous. We don’t want people dying, do we?”

When he said that, something clicked inside Max’s brain, and he nodded in automatic. Obviously, a few years ago, a non-prodigy teacher had taught him how to read, and the moment Adrian notified him it was his year to be in the Trials, he managed to read the manual and the rules for the event, from a booklet and a pamphlet (respectively) he had asked his dad to bring for him. He didn’t get much new information, different from the one he heard on TV or the one presented in the posters. However, amongst the rules, there was a section that talked about banned powers, which contained only two categories:

-Complete telekinesis.

-Stardust modelling.

“Yeah.” Dad told him. He was bathing him in the quarantine’s bathroom (Of course. Where else?). “Stardust catchers…which….are able to model stardust, are extremely dangerous and there’s not much research about them. Nobody really knows how they work, and it would be pretty difficult for us to… handle a prodigy like that.”

“Like me.”

Dad had always had a pretty specific routine he had to follow when bathing him. If he missed or misplaced a step, he acted like would explode or something. Also, Max didn’t understand why, but ever since he started growing thicker hair, Dad became pretty strict on the fact they should take care of it so it would grow healthy. Hence why they had a full hair routine that they did in the bathtub. That day, the statement caught him so off-guard he grabbed the wrong bottle, and then, when he realized it, he was already pouring the dense liquid (that looked more like a paste to him) on Max’s head. Cursing under his breath, he placed his other hand in the middle so it would fall over his palm, washed Max’s head and started the routine all over again, before changing the subject:

“About complete telekinesis…there’s obviously a lot of research about that power. We know how to manage with that. But telekinetic prodigies are not …very accepted in our society. They’re pointed at…Frowned upon. In the worst of cases, other prodigies hunt them down and then kill them.”

In that moment, Max came to the conclusion that all that changing the subject thing had been in vain.

Because, from his part, the answer was exactly the same:

“Like me.”

And Dad didn’t like that, for he started scratching his scalp harder, accidentally.

“No. It’s nothing like you.” He said. “You’re not like that, Max. Society hates telekinesis because some evil dude decided to use his powers, his telekinesis, for awful reasons and stained prodigy’s names. You’re not like that. You’re not abusive, or selfish or evil. And I don’t want to hear you comparing yourself to him ever again. Understood?”

To this day, that was the most aggressive form of validation someone had ever given him, but Max took it anyway, because he trusted Dad, and if he had said something like that, then there had to be a clear reason behind it.

“Understood.” He whispered.

And he tried, he really tried, to believe it. But, like many other things, no matter how hard Max tried, he was still severely confused. Not that he didn’t know about the Age of Anarchy, or the parties involved in the Age of Anarchy.

The quarantine, needless to say, could get pretty boring most of the time. Max had to do a lot of things to kill time, and some of those activities involved reading books that children shouldn’t be reading. He did read some children’s books, but then he would find himself looking through history articles and books, and reading the chapters that interested him the most. For instance, he was confident he knew about the Age of Anarchy, but one thing was knowing about it, and another, different thing, was having an opinion about in regards to it.

Max didn’t know if he had something to say about the topic. If he did, it was a very incomplete idea, and it was very likely he wouldn’t be able to phrase it correctly.

The group of people Max talked the most to were adults, and those adults, especially the ones who had experienced the Age of Anarchy and somehow managed to make it out alive, refused to talk about it. As for the few children he had talked to…

Well, about them…

Long story short, they had lives.

They all had lives outside of a glass, unlike Max. Maybe they weren’t the most interesting of lives, but at least they for sure had to be more interesting than his’. They didn’t have a pre-established schedule, where a designated person would come in to feed him or extract blood samples from his body, to then take them to the laboratory. They didn’t have to hear a total of seven alarms to remind him what he had to do: Wake up and get dressed, have breakfast and brush his teeth, enter the virtual sessions with his teachers, take a shower, have his blood samples taken, start doing his homework –if he had any- and do whatever he wanted once he was finished, have dinner, brush his teeth and go to bed, and then start all over again.

That moment, when he had spare time, would be the same one normal kids used to go out with their friends, like Adrian did. To go to the park and get themselves a scarily huge wound at the center of their knee. To live. To breathe air. To do…literally anything that wasn’t this.

Because Max was different from the many children he hadn’t yet gotten the opportunity to meet or talk to, because, obviously, they wouldn’t want to spend the whole day hanging out with a person…like him.

The only way Max could see two out of the three people in his family was through a crystal wall. And he couldn’t kiss them, he couldn’t touch them… sometimes he even wondered if he knew how their voices sounded, because, after all, Dad’s voice sounded the tiniest bit different once he crossed that infamous glass door.

He couldn’t walk through the streets of Gatlon, because, for starters, he didn’t know them. And if he dared to go out there, he would get killed on spot for having accidentally neutralized a prodigy who didn’t want to be neutralized.

Other kids had nannies whom they complained about when their parents couldn’t look after them (at least that’s the kind of things he saw on the TV shows he watched) but Max had patrol units that would move from one corner of the room to another, ready to attack anyone who came closer than necessary to him, because the only one who could take care of him in person, was Hugh.

Other kids could go out freely, without being scared of anything at all. They could get hurt while having fun with their friends and family. They could laugh until they cried with them. They could hug them, sleep in the same bed as them. They could walk their pets, go on road trips, go to amusement stores, water parks…

They could experience the current world; watch all the new events that were happening every day, in first hand.

They didn’t have to read about the past, or the people from the past to keep themselves entertained. They didn’t have the need to do that. At all.

They were living the lives Max couldn’t have, because he was too dangerous for that.

And obviously, that’s why he couldn’t just…go around asking other kids about what was their favorite bug, their favorite planet…or their opinions about Ace Anarchy, and if Pops (Simon) saying “Alec, with an A as in Abusive Swine” made them laugh.

Besides, he hadn’t even met that many kids his age. Or kids, for that matter.

He was aware Adrian wasn’t exactly a grown up, but he wasn’t a kid either, so, he usually didn’t make it into that list.

In fact, just like the banned powers in that manual, there were only two kids in Max’s list of acquaintances.

Aunt Tamaya’s first baby was born without powers, when Max was like four years old, and his dads were way too excited about it (Weird thing to brag about out loud, honestly, because all the recruits in the Headquarters were betting ridiculous amounts of money on which powers the Thunderbaby would have –Max could hear them- and one day they just heard The Dread Warden storming into the hallway, euphorically screaming “GUESS WHAT, MY LITTLE CHERUB BABY? YOUR COUSIN IS ABSOLUTELY FREAKING POWERLESS!”), for they thought Max would finally be able to have a friend who was more or less his age. Dad was the one who brought him in, two weeks after he was born. He was still tiny, red and chubby, and wrapped in his three different blankets that way, he looked like a bloated marshmallow.

Aunt Tamaya, her husband, Pops, Adrian, Aunt Kasumi and Uncle Evander were outside (as always) waiting to see what happened…and, it was extremely odd for Max to admit it, but he couldn’t remember much about that moment, even though he was already older than three. There was, however, a video taken by Uncle Evander where, if you narrowed your eyes hard enough, you could see the moment Max burst into tears right after kissing the baby’s cheek.

Neil was his friend.

At least, Max considered him to be his friend. Still, they had an age gap of four whole years, and a part of him was waiting until he was a little older so they could be on the same page. Because sometimes, when Neil couldn’t comprehend something semi-important that Max had just said, things could get pretty awkward, because there were occasions when, if Neil got too frustrated over anything, he would start crying, and his sobs often summoned his mother all the way from across the building. She never particularly tried to put the blame on Max. In fact, she hadn’t even glared at him not once, ever.

But she did choose to take him with her, into her office, or ask Adrian to babysit him while he calmed down. Afterwards, he usually didn’t come back to the quarantine.

“It’s not your fault, Max.” Pops would tell him, always. “It’s just that…Neil...he’s younger than you. There are things that might be…easy to you, but that are super complicated to him. And you might be able to do things that he can’t, and he can’t understand why he can’t, so he gets super confused and angry and that’s why he cries and Tamaya has to come and comfort him.”

“That, and because she’s like a...very freaky bird mom who hears her children cry and comes around with her super sonic enhanced sense of hea—“

“Hugh, don’t be rude.”

Every time they had that discussion in front of him, Max could never understand why Pops said Dad was being rude. He was right, to a certain extent. Aunt Tamaya was just…being a mom.

And that’s what moms did.

At least, that’s what Max had read and seen on TV because families like his’ were…super rare to find in his cartoons or favorite books. In fact, the times when he had seen himself represented in any of the things were so few that, for the longest time, Max had this weird, messed up idea that biological men could give birth. He thought that Adrian, apart from the fact that he was the closest to him, looked more similar to Simon, and that had to mean he had given birth to him, while Hugh had been the one to give birth to Max.

One year, when Max was six, they finished Lady Indomitable’s gigantic golden statue, placed downtown. It was late June, and though the city had previously looked covered in colors, that day it just looked…white and golden. That’s the best way Max could find to put it into words.

According to Max’s weather application, the heat was unbearable that day (good thing he couldn’t feel anything because the temperature in the quarantine was always regulated) yet, according to what he was seeing in one of his screens, a great percentage of the citizens of Gatlon were marching in the streets carrying floating lanterns, headed towards downtown where the event was being held.

The Council was standing in front of the covered statue. All of them except Blacklight, who had stayed to take care of the Headquarters, and Max could see him from where he was. They gave a speech about Lady Indomitable together, and as they started revealing the statue, Tsunami sang a song that was supposed to be one of Lady Indomitable’s favorite ones, and that Max was too young to recognize (he supposed). In his opinion, it was a cute event, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t utterly confused the moment he saw Adrian taking one step ahead to be the first one to let go of his floating lantern, which was different from the other ones, because his’ was bigger, and it had a big “I”. Besides, people waited a couple of seconds until it was stable above their heads to let go of their own floating lanterns.

It still looked cute to him, but now it looked weird as well. So he got up from his chair, and walked towards the edge, pressing his hands against the glass. He hoped that would be enough to magically catch Evander’s attention, who was, at the moment, using his chair as a swing, as he typed a number in his computer, copying it from his calculator and eating from his salad every now and then. Obviously, Max’s telepathic call wasn’t enough, and he had to knock on the glass a couple of times, loudly. Even then, Uncle Evander didn’t look up in his direction.

But he did hear him, because he did respond.

“It’s not gonna work, Maximus. I’m not getting you out.”

As a side note, Max considered telling him his full name was Maximilian and not Maximus, because that was way before he realized it was a nickname. Nevertheless, he just let it pass, for the simple reason he had better things to ask. That’s why he proceeded to knock again, instead of speaking.

“What is it?”

“I wanna ask you something.”

Evander tried to steady himself in the chair without falling on his back, and once he succeeded, he came closer to the quarantine, with his arms over his hips.

“Why is Adrian doing that?” He asked, just because he wasn’t able to find another way to phrase it, while pointing at the screen behind him; Evander narrowed his eyes following his finger, as if he hadn’t been watching the event himself from a livestream on his phone. A few seconds later, he seemed to realize what he was talking about, and bit his upper lip, before pouting barely a little.

Then, he clicked his tongue.

“Because that’s his mom. And today’s her birthday.”

And it’s not that Max was insensitive enough not to recognize that it was very sad, but at the same time those single words were enough to make the idea he had of his life fall apart. All the things he thought he had already managed to understand felt fake and incorrect, and it was so fast it almost made him feel dizzy.

“She’s not his mom.” He declared.

Evander opened his eyes very widely and, next thing he knew, was that, for some reason, he looked nervous. Which, to say the least, was very…unlike Evander. He was usually super…confident, and, in Dad’s words: “He walks with his back too straight for a person who says some dumb shit every time he opens his mouth”.

At that moment, his back wasn’t straight at all, and he kept on wiping the sweat off his palms in the suit.

“…I mean…she’s not…alive anymore. But… that doesn’t mean that…”

“Noooo. I didn’t mean that.” Max cut him off. “She’s not her mom, because Adrian already has a mom.”

He stopped suddenly. Max could almost see his brain working at full speed, trying to process the data he had just received. Then, he blinked, arching his eyebrow.

“Who’s…who’s his mom?” He asked, getting closer to the crystal, and crouching down to be at Max’s height (Evander was almost too tall for his own sake). “Do Simon or Hugh…?”

“No. I mean she’s not his mom because Simon’s his mom.” Max stated, confident enough to move a mountain with his raw determination and his bare hands, which, needless to say, did nothing but make Evander even more confused.

Not that Max couldn’t understand why.

He was a brand new, redeemed person now.

But back then he wasn’t.

“…Simon is what, you said?”

“Adrian’s mom.” Max reaffirmed.

Still bewildered, Evander gawked. Perhaps he understood where that confusion was coming from but, at the same time, maybe he was too disturbed to ask for additional information. Max didn’t know which one of the two would make him feel more embarrassed, especially taking into account the next thing Evander said:

“That is the weirdest shit somebody has ever said to me, and I’ve talked to the Puppeteer an unhealthy amount of times.”

He wasn’t the one who explained to him the way his own family worked. On the contrary, he immediately told his dads about it, and next time the both of them came to talk to him, they tried to make him understand the concept of homosexual couples.

And they failed.

Miserably.

And he was using that term, because after that talk, Max went through life for a while saying that his ethnicity was Gay, because both of his dads were gay. Over and over again, they tried to correct him, but nothing seemed to work, and Max kept on spreading the information that he was gay (something he didn’t know yet) until Aunt Kasumi decided to intervene and, for his birthday, she got him a children’s book called All in Rainbow, which, according to the information in the first page, was actually a translation from a Latin American book written by two lesbians (one of them non-binary) and illustrated by the same woman who had made the Anarchists’ and the Renegades’ graphic novels and was also a Latina.

That book was something similar to a gay encyclopedia. It was narrated by this girl named Phoenix, because it followed her throughout her school and her daily life, where she came across different people and families. After every short story, there was an informative section explaining everything in regards to the new person’s identity, including their flag, the meaning of said flag, and the explanation of certain terms. Max really enjoyed it, and, in fact, he ended up going through it more than once. When he tried to persuade Adrian into reading it too, he admitted he already had, when he was younger, and proceeded to make a comment about how pretty the name “Phoenix” was.

It was only then that Max was able to understand how his own family worked, and how freaking inept he had sounded when he decided it was a great idea to use it as an ethnicity.

That book was, in fact, the cue for all the grown ups in his life to start buying books for him, which he was grateful for, except for the one that he, ironically enough, had gotten from Uncle Evander. Sure, he appreciated that he had spent money on that, but Max didn’t appreciate the fact that the plot was about a dog that was sent away to a school for dogs but made everyone believe he was in jail so he could escape. The drawings were cute, but he just couldn’t find the moral of the story and he didn’t like that.

His dads, from their part, got him a book about two frogs that, at least to Max, acted as if they were a couple; Aunt Tamaya was the one of the short books without drawings.

As for Aunt Kasumi…she usually brought a lot of educational books; every time she overheard him expressing something that was making him confused, she brought him a book about it, including that time she heard him asking Ruby Tucker “So, are you always bleeding?” completely out of context.

Max supposed that it had a lot to do with the fact that Aunt Kasumi was in charge of Child Services, and she spent a lot of time with children, especially because she liked to volunteer in orphanages, having been in one herself when she was a little girl. She usually moved in prodigy orphanages, for she was one to know the poor conditions they sometimes presented.

And…to say the least, she wasn’t a woman of many words. She was very reserved with everything she did. And, besides, it was none of Max’s business. After all, he was just a kid.

But, in this case, it kind of involved him.

Kind of.

For the simple reason that there were two names in the list of people his age Max had talked to. The first one was Neil (who wasn’t even his age. He was just close to that) and the second one…

The second one involved Aunt Kasumi.

Just like people were able to overhear his conversations through the quarantine, Max was able to overhear the conversations they were having on the outside, especially when he was trying to do it on purpose.

Every time he was too bored, in other words.

Some of the things older people said were confusing, but, over time, Max had learned to store that information, so he could comprehend it better in the future. He didn’t know at what level that was healthy, yet he still did it because, literally, he didn’t have anything better to do.

During extremely busy days, the Council chose to spend the night in the Headquarters, just in case, and while they could sleep in the common room, if Pops was too insistent on wanting to be close to the quarantine, they slept in the hallway.

In Max’s hallway.

Of course, Dad would sleep with him inside the quarantine but, in order to make it feel more like a pajama party, they slept close to the edge of the “room” (if it could be called that way), so close to the Councils’ inflatable beds, they could’ve touched them if there hadn’t been a wall in between.

When they were sleeping in that hallway, there wasn’t a patrol looking over Max, because they were the patrol and, every two hours, they changed turns to stay awake. All of them except Dad, who stayed the entire night with Max. The others often got up and started walking around the quarantine according to their ages. That is, Aunt Tamaya went first, followed by Pops, then Aunt Kasumi, and Uncle Evander at the end. However, since it wasn’t like they were too used to having many hours of sleep, Kasumi and Evander usually got up at the same time and patrolled together.

That night, Max was having trouble sleeping. Dad was hugging him, which made him feel very comfortable, but, at the same time, before he wrapped his arms around him, he had been moving way too much, and that had made Max feel uneasy, because a part of him, though he knew it was highly possible it wasn’t true, was feeding the annoying worm at the back of his brain that told him he was the one making Dad uneasy. That Dad was moving and couldn’t sleep because he didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Pops. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Adrian, even. Anyone but Max.

Which, again, he knew things…weren’t like that. But that little, nameless, uninvited worm was always telling him that, over and over again, determined to repeat those awful words until they made so much noise they made him cry.

And even then, when he was already crying, the worm ate deeper into his brain and told him to stop because, in the end, who was he crying for anyway?

Who was he crying for, if nobody was here to see or hear him?

That night, of course, he didn’t cry, for the simple reason that…well, he did have somebody who would hear him cry, and maybe comfort him like Aunt Tamaya comforted Neil when he was crying…

But he didn’t want Dad to do that.

Not today.

Not because he were mad at him, but because he feared that, if he did, then Dad would be the one who would get mad.

Besides, that night he got extremely busy trying to overhear the conversation between Kasumi and Evander who, the moment they got up, started talking as they walked, first at a volume so low their voices could’ve been considered murmurs, but then, with every second, the issue started escalating.

And it wasn’t that they were arguing, it was that they weren’t exactly happy with each other, nor did they seem to manage to get to a mutual agreement.

Max felt like that time he was watching a movie with his earphones on, and instead of paying attention to the plot, he kept trying to identify which sounds were dominant in his left ear, and which ones were dominant in his right ear, because Uncle Evander and Aunt Kasumi were walking around the quarantine, and the echoes of their voices were floating right behind them, making it almost impossible for Max to decipher their messages word by word.

At least, until they stopped in front of him. That is, very close to the inflatable mattresses, too. And with just one eye open, he was able to tell Aunt Kasumi wasn’t amused, with her arms so tight across her chest that way, and with Uncle Evander standing more straight than necessary (because, yes, Dad was right about that...sometimes... because Max had read somewhere that tall people had to be really careful with their posture to avoid spine deformities or have less complications when they were older) waving his –as Aunt Tamaya would’ve called them- Hot Cheeto fingers right in front of her face, in a way so aggressive she sometimes had to lean backwards not to get one of her eyes poked out.

“…and it won’t look good for the organization. It won’t look good, Kasumi. You know why?”

“Yes, Vandy. I know why. I already knew before, yet you took the time to explain it to me another seven times. I mean, thank you, I guess, but—“

“If I kept on explaining it to you, it’s because I didn’t…and I don’t know what’s not clicking.”

“What do you mean with what’s not clicking?” And she tilted her head to the side. “…Are you still talking to me?”

“Don’t play dumb, Kasumi. Especially not in front of me, because I know you.”

“Right. But I still don’t get what you’re referring to. What’s not clicking about what, exactly?”

Evander laughed in a way Max would’ve just…understood if she had decided to punch him in the face so he would stop.

“We’re a big organization, Kasumi. People talk.”

“Of course that people talk. I mean, our citizens support our cause and our government system. In fact, statistically, more than half of the population do, but sometimes there are things that… are for their own good but they will refuse to understand and accept them anyway. And that’s normal. We might be the law, but we can’t control how the masses think, you know?”

“For their own good, you say. Beneficial.”

“Exactly.”

“Beneficial for who, if you’d be so kind?” Evander laughed again. “As far as I understand, we’re talking about one single problem, from a single person. It won’t bring anything beneficial, as you call it, for our organization, or for our system…if anything, it will damage it and make us lose credibility.”

“…Why?”

As a response, he started flapping his arms around, as if he were trying to point at something invisible. Or at something that wasn’t really there.

And this time, Aunt Kasumi didn’t try to pretend she was seeing it, and remained silent until Evander realized he would have to make himself understood.

“Because…” He clenched his fists, sighing loudly, almost like he was certain he was right and Aunt Kasumi wasn’t. “Our policy. Remember that? You know, a thing that actually exists and you helped write?”

She didn’t respond.

“Our policy as Renegades, it’s that we shall keep our people safe, and that includes prodigy and non-prodigy citizens. We shall preserve their lives no matter the cost, and create a safe environment where all can coexist and protect each other. That means that no prodigy individual with questionable reasons is to be allowed to cross that gate and disturb the peace or, worse, put somebody’s life at risk.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Yes, you should be, because we wrote it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Evander, please. There’s no need to curse or—“

“…But you know what that means? It means that we can’t just…go against that policy and expect our citizens, our recruits, even, to still take us seriously.”

“Oh, but I’m following that policy because, as you might remember, we also pledged to assist anyone whose life was at risk, and people who, day by day, have to live under very vulnerable circumstances. It is our job to intervene and take them to a safer place, where their quality of life can improve, isn’t it?”

“It is, but that applies for people who aren’t dangerous to society.”

At that point, Max had both his eyes open, and he was seeing the scene more clearly.

In fact, everything was so clear, that he was able to read the confusion in Aunt Kasumi’s expression, even before she said:

“…This is a kid we’re talking about.”

“She is dangerous.”

“She’s not dangerous, Evander. She's a kid. Sure, her behavior has caused her to go bouncing from orphanage to orphanage like a rubber ball but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be helped, that doesn’t mean we should just turn our backs at her, and that doesn’t mean she’s dangerous.”

“You know damn well her behavior’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well, I am, because that’s the only thing that should concern us at the moment.”

“No, it’s not?”

“It is. Because she’s a kid…and, honestly, Vandy…” Aunt Kasumi sighed. “… I know we were raised thinking life is war, but… the truth is, people are not born evil. Or dangerous, for that matter. Take your time and think about it, and you can talk to me again once you’ve calmed down, because you must be pretty much aware I don't appreciate this tone. Besides, it’s not like this little argument is going to stop me anyway.” She shrugged.

“…after all, I already talked to Hugh.”

“…And what did he say?”

“It’s not my place to tell you that. Ask him.”

Max never knew whether he had taken that suggestion or not but, knowing Evander, he just assumed he hadn’t. And, to be honest, he never asked Dad about it either. He just stood and watched how everything proceeded to go down and chaos unleashed.

Though, he had to admit, unlike what had happened with other “big” events, this one specific chaos was rather discrete. A kind of well-kept secret.

In fact, the only explicit hint that something would happen in the next few days, was the little disturbance caused by Team Frostbite (it was always Team Frostbite. Max had no idea why everyone was so…willing to put up with their…issues so much, and without hesitation) when it was their turn to patrol around the quarantine and Evander came around, holding his notepad, and muttered something to them.

“Whom?!” Genissa Clark, Frostbite, snapped immediately.

Evander frowned and, judging by the way his moustache moved, he also pouted, before turning at Mack Baxter, Aftershock, to start talking to him instead.

“Do you have any idea of what she’s talking about?” He clicked his tongue. “Like…okay, nevermind…”

When Max looked up, he saw the exact moment when Evander realized he was listening to the conversation, so he lowered his tone once again. Yet, Max was still able to see the million ways in which Genissa Clark's face contorted and, in the end, the first second Evander shut his mouth, she declared:

“We’re not available for that. Perhaps that task should be assigned to Team Sketch or Team Peregrine. They’re always lollygagging around, it’s about time they get some real responsibi—“

“That’s a no, then. Alright. Thanks for your cooperation, Team Frostbite. Or, lack of, more likely. Do better next time, okay?”

If Max wanted to be honest with himself, it hadn’t taken him much time to realize he wasn’t fond of any of the members in Team Frostbite. Or Frostbite herself. In fact, he considered her to be almost insufferable, and, again, he couldn’t quite understand why they were allowed to boss everybody around. To a certain extent, they reminded him of the popular kids (who were also bullies) in every movie he had ever watched. They weren’t nice. Not even likeable.

Maybe Max was just very specific on the type of people he liked.

Or maybe he liked everyone and their mom, except Team Frostbite, because he didn’t know any better than that, while at the same time he knew better than liking Team Frostbite.

But he didn’t know better than liking Margaret White, because…well…

She hadn’t done anything particularly awful for him to have an opinion as strong as Uncle Evander’s about her.

She came on a Friday.

Not that she exclusively came to talk to him.

She, in fact, arrived alongside Aunt Kasumi, who was wearing her civilian clothes –High-waisted jeans and a baby blue shirt, damp with sweat because it was hot outside- and kept leaving her car key on every table that came across her, before coming back to it to grab them.

At first, Max wasn’t able to see Margaret very well, mostly because he was distracted with his online classes, and she was taken straight to Dad’s office, along with Adrian’s entire team. And though Max didn’t see much, he was able to catch a glimpse on how Adrian kept on trying to grab her hand, and she insisted on pulling away.

At some point, he had read about that too.

The Renegades accepted recruits from ages 14 and up, talking about patrolling. However, they had a child protection program, where, basically, they assisted orphan prodigy children with behavioral issues or, though only few people liked to admit it, potential to be a part of the organization when they were older. Adrian didn’t like it and, strangely enough, out of everyone, Evander didn’t like it either. Nevertheless, Evander was one to get more aggressive when it came to child recruitment, which, thankfully, wasn’t common at all.

In fact, those cases were so rare, that they referred to them as “exceptions”. After all, children were not allowed into the Trials. As far as Max knew, they weren’t placed in patrol units. On the contrary, they were given small positions in the organization, and their paychecks were directed to their respective savings account, something that Pops was in charge of. However, they could use that money for their personal needs or something they wanted to buy, as the few children recruits resided in orphanages around Gatlon and went back there after their shift was over. Max supposed that sometimes their caretakers refused to buy them something because it wasn’t good for their health and it must be very satisfying to tell them it was their money (That’s what Adrian always did when Dad refused to buy something for him).

(That, or he went and asked Pops for that same thing).

Usually, they could have cash withdrawals just by presenting their Renegade Recruit ID because, obviously, they didn’t have an official ID yet.

And not only that. The children recruits were assigned a patrol unit with older members to look after them, or help them with anything they needed. Taking into account the conversation he had overheard, he supposed that duty had fallen on Adrian’s team (A theory that was later confirmed to be true by Adrian himself).

They were never left unsupervised, just like Max.

The day Margaret arrived, for a couple of minutes, maybe hours, Max was submerged in his own little world, and in the assignment his last teacher had told him to do. It was just him, his colored pencils, his paper sheets, his notes, his head, his hands, and the miniature planet Earth that his quarantine supposed, against the real world that he had never stepped on.

But every now and then, a little piece of the unknown, mysterious real world came running to his encounter and talked to him, sometimes in the most sudden, unsolicited way.

Sometimes it was Dad opening the door without calling. Sometimes it was Adrian pressing a new drawing against the crystal. Sometimes it was Pops, making a little “Psst” sound to get his attention.

Sometimes it was three little knocks, and the girl that was producing them with her knuckles.

Back then, Margaret’s hair was longer, to the point where she could tie it in a high ponytail, decorated with a blue bow, which combined with his orphanage uniform: A white polo, with the institution’s symbol by the right side of her chest, beneath a cobalt blue skirt with suspenders, long white socks and black scholar shoes.

He saw her and recognized she was real the first time, but Max still gave himself a couple of seconds to grasp the fact that she was really there.

Well, not there-there.

That she was there, as in, through the glass.

And she was calling him, even if she wasn’t saying anything. In fact, she was just there, eating from a chocolate bar with puffed rice. Her free hand was still over the glass.

And she was waiting.

So, he figured he didn’t want to keep her waiting anymore, and leaving his task and his tools behind, Max walked in her direction. And like it always happened, he stopped right before bumping his forehead against the hard, translucent surface.

Margaret took another bite from her chocolate, with an arched eyebrow, but she said nothing. From afar, Max hadn’t been able to really appreciate her features, but now that he was closer, he realized she was taller than him; her small, brown eyes were making her lashes look bigger; her black hair looked thicker and he was able to conclude that her skin tone was more or less like Pops’, maybe a little darker. She had a mark over her cheek, and at first Max thought it was a mole or a birthmark…until, of course, he realized that moles weren’t (or, at least, shouldn’t be) purple, and realized it was a bruise.

He didn’t ask her about it. Adrian had once told him that there were people who might not want to talk about their bruises or open wounds, not because the stories behind them were painful to tell, but because they were too embarrassing and telling embarrassing stories was an inconvenience.

“…well… now that I think about it…” He said right after. “…That’s not it. No. Not really. Sometimes your wounds’ backstories are painful. Or sometimes…you just want to keep them a secret, you know? And secrets are…sort of important.”

He believed every word.

Hence why, instead of saying something too nosy about that bruise, a little slowly at first, Max started lifting his hand up, until he reached the spot where Margaret’s was, and pressed his palm there. When she stared at his palm in confusion, Max clarified:

“Hugh five. You know?" Max giggled a little." As in… the Captain? Hugh? ...No?"

She didn’t laugh. And that was odd because Adrian would’ve.

Margaret wasn’t Adrian, sadly. And, it seemed to be, she hadn’t had an older sibling to tell her that some things just…weren’t adequate as icebreakers to start a conversation. Because, like Adrian had said, there were certain things other people might not want to talk about.

“Are you sick?” She directly asked.

Max was still “pressing” his hand against hers.

Gulping hard, he felt his throat boiling hot, almost as if it were growing blisters.

“No.” He said in a hoarse voice. “Why?”

Not pulling away either, Margaret said:

“The other day, Sister Malinda brought a very tiny baby into the orphanage. They were so small they had to take them to the medical wing.” She took another bite from her chocolate, and kept on speaking with her mouth full. “I sneaked out of my room to see them, and they were inside this little glass box that helped keeping them alive. Sister Tam told me so.”

Max kept quiet for a while. He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t have a little curiosity about the name, but Margaret solved everything that had to be solved even if he didn’t ask her to.

“Sister Tam was named after Thunderbird. She’s younger than the other nuns.”

He guessed so.

Aunt Tamaya’s real name had been revealed to the general public on the 13th year into the Age of Anarchy, when she reappeared after being away for months thanks to an accident that involved Queen Bee and a cliff or something like that (Max couldn’t quite understand it, and Aunt Tamaya couldn’t remember much about it either. If she did, then she just didn’t desire to talk about it). It wasn’t a fun anecdote or anything like that but, according to his dads, the name Tamaya topped the lists for the most female-assigned names for at least a year, and the same thing happened in the 20th year into the Age of Anarchy...however, by the time she was buried, the world didn’t know Lady Indomitable’s real name, and for an entire month, people used Regina instead of Georgia. When Max asked why, Dad answered that, when attending public events, Lady Indomitable used to wear a pair of shiny golden R-shaped earrings that caused everybody in Gatlon to develop mass hysteria and made themselves believe that those Rs meant Regina, when in reality, according to Lady Indomitable herself, one of them meant “Rawles”, and the other “Renegade”. In fact, Oscar Silva (Smokescreen, one of the members of Adrian’s team) had once said that one of his cousins, who lived in Mexico, had been named Renata Regina (Though nobody knew what the heck that first name was, and Oscar had a really peculiar way to pronounce Regina) because she was born a few days after Lady Indomitable’s decease.

“I knew that.” Max lied.

“Sure, buddy. I bet you did.” Margaret chuckled. And there, Max realized she thought she was too clever.

Which, he didn’t doubt she was. He wasn’t in the position to state that. At least, not yet.

But what he was in the position to state, was that, if she thought herself to be clever, then it was his opportunity to think of himself as clever too. After all, he had been reading his whole life because he didn’t have anything else to do.

If Margaret was clever, then so was he.

“You’re talking about an incubator.” He said.

Margaret looked up out of a sudden (Max hoped she hadn’t gotten dizzy). He could still see the chocolate, that at this point should’ve been mush, stored in the inside of her right cheek.

“Uh?” She asked, struggling to keep her mouth closed.

Max gulped, and tapped the surface with his fingers.

“The thing where they put the little baby. It’s called an incubator. That’s where they put pre-term babies, because they’re not ready to survive outside of their mother’s womb. Sometimes their lungs don’t work on their own, sometimes their hearts are too fast or too slow…”

“You look too old to be a baby.” She observed. “Are your powers something related to that? Like, are you a baby who doesn’t look like a baby?”

For a second, Max thought about quoting Evander that time he had boldly stated that Simon was Adrian’s mom, but he didn’t because he wasn’t in the mood to curse.

“…No. First, this is not an incubator. And second, I’m a kid.” He answered. “I’m not a baby.”

“Then why are you here?”

The short answer was that, honestly, that was none of her business. And the even shorter answer, was:

“I can’t tell you. It’s a secret. And secrets are sort of important.”

“A secret.” She repeated, as if tasting the word. “…You don’t look like you want to be here. Are you allowed to come out?”

The short answer was still that it was none of her business. But, if he wanted to be honest, for some reason, he didn’t want to give that answer. Because, to be fair, she would find out on her own sooner or later. Because, yes, people talked, and while his dads were kind of secretive about him, everyone in the headquarters knew him. Her being clueless was just a temporary event that would vanish into thin air in a blink.

And, for some reason, he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Maybe tell her something that wasn’t real. Maybe… tell her something that wasn’t necessarily true but that he wanted it to be. Maybe something that was more interesting than what he was, in reality; maybe something that would make the worm in his brain go away for two weeks.

"I can't get out." He finally decided. "Because this glass is infrangible."

Then, he knocked on it three times.

"See?"

Margaret tilted her hair to the side, looking like a cat.

"What does that word mean?"

And dumb as it sounded, Max felt a twinge in his stomach along with a violent wave of pride. Because, even if it was hard for him to admit it, he was hoping she would ask that.

He wanted her to ask that.

"It means you can't break it."

Margaret's eyes seemed bigger. But just as she was separating her lips to speak, somebody behind her cleared their throat.

That's when Max spotted Aunt Kasumi leaned against a wall with her arms crossed. When Margaret looked over her shoulder, she found her there too. But while Max waved at her, Margaret remained inexpressive.

"You're very far from the restroom, Maggie." Kasumi said, in a serious tone. Afterwards, she massaged her temples.

"Please, darling. Just… help me here, okay? We have to go back to the office."

And she didn't seem mad, but rather disappointed.

When it came to Aunt Kasumi, that was enough. Max knew that, and Margaret knew that too. That's why they both removed their hands from the glass, and Margaret started going away.

However, before she was too far, Max asked:

"Why are you here?"

And Margaret turned around, smiling.

"If you're not telling me, I'm not telling you." She sentenced. Then, she proceeded to imitate his voice as she said:

"It's a secret."

And for a while, obviously, it remained that way. A secret. But it wasn't long before they both knew everything they needed to know.

Margaret was integrated into the janitorial team, but, for a while, people talked about her and her powers, and Max couldn’t help but remember what Dad had told him in the bathtub, and the conversation between Evander and Kasumi.

Yet, more than scared, Max felt… something he didn't know what it was. In fact, he wasn't scared of her. More likely, a part of him felt that he knew what it was like to be her, because maybe they weren't that different after all.

People were scared of them both.

But he wasn't scared of her. No, not really.

He hoped she wasn’t scared of him either.

Maybe they could've been very good friends, even through the infrangible glass that kept him from getting pointed at, frowned upon or killed.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #Dawnie writes #renegades ship week #margaret white #magpie #max everthart-westwood #the bandit

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nicklloydnow · 3 years

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“The higher you ascend the ladder of the Educated Gentry class, the more you become Michael Scott. (…) So, twelve years ago, Venkatesh Rao wrote a lengthy and fascinating series of essays called “The Gervais Principle”, which walked through the NBC show The Office, an American adaptation to Ricky Gervais’ original British series. The essays go after a particular aspect of organizational behaviour, around how organizations that survive tend to self-stratify into three predictable layers. (To a large extent, his analysis derives from another magnificent book, The Organization Man by Holly Whyte.)

In the bottom layer, you have around 80% of the office, who occupy the rank-and-file roles. They are the losers. Rao carefully notes that “losers” does not mean uncool, or unworthy; he specifically means “economic losers.” Losers are the people who are set in roles or stations in life where the output of their effort is wholly realized by someone else. As they learn throughout their careers, their skill or engagement might lead to incremental career progress, but no real leverage of any kind. Hence, they are “economic losers”, and they know it. They see the world through clear eyes, and cope. (…) Meanwhile, at the top you have Corporate. These are the sociopaths; the economic winners. They are smart, they care about getting power, and little else. The sociopath characters in The Office include: David Wallace, the CFO; Jan (before her series of breakdowns); Ryan the temp, who brilliantly grabs real power only to immediately squander it. And finally, the one character who never quite goes over to the dark side but certainly thinks about it (the real will-he-or-won’t-he drama of the show) – Jim.

The losers and the sociopaths are actually pretty alike. They are alike in that they both see the world through clear eyes, as it actually is. The losers basically understand how the world works, and how their role fits within it. So do the sociopaths.

But in the middle, in between the losers and the sociopaths, is a very different group. That group is the middle managers: the clueless. In The Office this group is an iconic trio: in ascending order of cluelessness, Andy, Dwight, and of course – Michael. (…) Michael’s job both shapes, and selects for, a particular kind of detachment from reality. Middle management is a fascinating construct: your employees have literal jobs and responsibilities, and your bosses have literal jobs and responsibilities, but Michael spends his entire day in a construct of his own creation. Everything about his world is subjective and arbitrary. These are people who, in effect, have slipped into a job, worldview, and self-image that is friendly but deeply alienating. (…) The first major speech pattern between the characters is Posturetalk. Posturetalk is everything said by Michael, Dwight and Andy, to anyone: the staff, the execs, or each other. Everything they say is some form or another of meaningless, performative babbling. This is the language of living inside a construct; where your entire world lives within arbitrarily drawn boxes, and you have nothing concrete to attach to. It’s the only language that Michael knows how to speak.

When people speak back to Michael, Dwight and Andy, they use a different language: Babytalk. Babytalk is the language spoken from the literal, to the clueless. It’s placating, soothing, or often misdirection: “There, there. You have no idea what you’re saying. Why don’t I distract you with something over here.” The three other languages spoken, which don’t involve the Clueless, are Powertalk (the Sociopaths’ internal language, which is entirely about competitive information-gathering and retroactive deniability), Gametalk (The Losers’ internal language: recurring games or coded rituals to get through the day), and the rare instance where Corporate actually speaks directly with the losers: Straight Talk. It’s the one and only time where people actually speak directly, with zero encoding. (…) Several years ago, Michael Church wrote a neat summary of the American social class system, and how the traditional metaphor of “climbing the ladder of social class” is wrong in an important way. There isn’t one single ladder; there are three – each with different values, norms and goals. You have the first, and largest ladder, Labour. Next, you have the “Educated Gentry” ladder that corresponds to what we typically call the Upper Middle Class. And finally, you have the elite ladder. And the remarkable thing about these ladders is how perfectly they correspond to the three-tiered pyramid in The Office, of the losers, clueless, and sociopaths.

Climbing the labour ladder means making more money. At the bottom are really tough jobs, typically paid hourly, informally, or with tips. Above that there are stable, but modest blue collar jobs; then high-skilled or good Union-protected careers. Finally at the top you find “Labour leadership”, which doesn’t mean being a union boss, but means, “You’ve made it. You own stuff. You drive a new F-150, you have income properties, you enjoy nice things.”

If you’ve made it to Labour leadership, you are by no means hurting for money. But you have not actually escaped the category of “economic losers”, because the Labour ladder does not create paths to leverage. That is the fundamental difference between how the labour ladder works versus how the elite ladder works. The people on the labour ladder fully understand this. They see the world as it is, with clear eyes, like Stanley, Pam or Darryl – or the one person who actually makes the jump, Ryan – in The Office.

Skipping the middle ladder for a second, we move to the Elite ladder. The Elite ladder has a lot in common with the Labour ladder: it’s straightforward. You move up by getting more money and more power. The only fundamental difference is that you climb the Labour ladder by working hard, whereas you climb the Elite ladder by acquiring leverage.

The bottom of this ladder is an entry point – junior Investment Banker roles you can jump into, or founding a startup now also qualifies. The next rung up are the executives who run successful businesses. They are powerful, but nervous. Above them is Old Money: the multigenerational dynasties with power that extends beyond business and into media and politics, like the Bushes and extended Vanderbilts. And finally, at the top of this ladder, are the Barbarians. These are the scariest people in the world.

The middle ladder works completely differently from the other two. This ladder isn’t about money or power; it’s about being interesting. You climb this ladder by being more educated, and towards the top, by having costly habits and virtues. At the bottom is also a transitional layer: it’s how you get onto this ladder if you weren’t born there, often via Community or 1st generation College. Above that is the upper-middle class Petite Bourgeoisie. Higher up the ladder are “elite creatives”, people with obscure or virtuous-sounding PhDs, notably interesting lives, or Blue Check Marks on Twitter. (They may well earn less money than those below them on the ladder – this ladder isn’t about income.) At the very top of this ladder is an exclusive group: “Cultural leadership”. The litmus test for attaining this group is, “could you write an opinion piece in the New York Times.” Generally speaking, the farther you go up this ladder, the more detached from reality you get. Importantly, this isn’t seen as a problem: it’s actually a virtue, so long as you portray it correctly. Sixty years ago, this group sought refuge and status in the suburbs, explicitly detaching themselves from the reality of dirty, dangerous cities. Now, it’s fashionable to move back downtown, detaching ourselves from the reality of gas-guzzling, chain restaurant normie suburbs. The farther you go into expensive, performative habits (Doing triathlons, eating farm-to-table) and coastal echo chambers (“I don’t know a single person who voted for Trump”; “We should ban cars”), the farther you progress up this ladder.

On the way up the ladder, you earn social status by doing things that detach you from normie reality. David Brooks wrote a fabulous book on this phenomenon called Bobos In Paradise, about the peaceful merger between the Bourgeois and Bohemian classes that created this strange but durable social tier. These are people that would be mortified to show off a $10,000 watch, but excitedly tell you about their $100,000 kitchen remodel filled with 100-mile diet cookbooks and single-origin Japanese knives, or their 6-month work sabbatical they spent powerlifting. This is a group of people where a Subaru is a higher-status car than a Cadillac, but the highest status car is none. (Or, now, a Tesla.) (…) What’s interesting here isn’t the language of Labour or of the Elites – both of these groups see the world more or less as it is. It’s the language spoken by and to the Educated Gentry. Both reveal the extent to which this group has become detached from normal reality, and also the care taken by others (mostly labour) to manage this detachment carefully. (…) Language is the fundamental reinforcement mechanism of why arbitrarily constructed environments eventually turn you into Michael Scott. The more you have committed to being seen as interesting within your particular area, the more you detach from reality and move into a construct of your own creation. As this evolution takes place, more of your and your peers’ language will become Posturetalk, and more of the language that gets spoken to you by outsiders will become Babytalk.

As more of the language surrounding you becomes Posturetalk and Babytalk, the more conclusively you will double down on being “serious” about whatever you’re pursuing, as both a defence mechanism and in pursuit of real praise. This drives the cycle forward again, as your values and environment become increasingly defined by doing Triathlons or whatever. Eventually, you become Michael Scott.”

#the office #michael scott #class #lumpenproletariat #bourgeois #petite bourgeois #Aristocracy #marx #marxism #konkin #conger #agorism #agorist class theory

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ghostofstudentspast · 4 years

Text

Obligatory (part 2)

Series Masterlist

“Oi Y/L/N, is it true you’re marrying the ferret?” a ginger head of hair popped up next to you as you kept your head held high walking to class.

As it turned out, the Hogwarts rumour mill was rather dry, so the news of you being engaged to Malfoy had spread like wildfire. You had tried your hardest to ignore the stares and the whispers that followed you through the halls, especially from the Gryffindors. Slytherins and purebloods were ever so slightly more understanding, earning you looks of pity rather than ones of disgust. You weren’t sure which was worse.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business Weasley.” You didn’t even look at the boy before answering.

You weren’t on bad terms with Weasley and Potter. Not in the way Malfoy was anyway. Regardless of how much you tolerated them, you weren’t in the mood to be interrogated. Besides, Ron always came off as a bit of a self centred boy in your opinion.

“People are judging you anyway, you might as well tell the truth,” he scoffed and stopped walking. You kept walking, keeping your eyes ahead.

Mother had always said you were good at handling people. You’d figured out later you were just good at presenting the version of you people wanted to see. Your parents wanted a soft spoken little princess. Your teachers preferred an attentive listener who asked in depth questions. Pansy and Theo liked it better when you were loud and confident. All of these people saw different sides of you and the only person who really ever listened was your best friend Daphne.

She was the one holding your hand walking down the hall now. Quick to shoot a venomous glare at anyone who dared to look your way with a haughty attitude. She had been there to wipe away your tears when you had tried again and again to figure out a way out of this contract.

The contract you currently had clutched in your hand as you made your way to the library. As promised your father had drawn up a copy of the contract for you to hold onto. To read over and over again until the lines all blurred together. As you flattened the contract against the library table you wondered if you were fooling yourself, hoping for a way out.

“So, I got permission from professor Snape to use the restricted section. I’m definitely on his watch list now though,” Daphne murmured from the cushy seat beside you, “he probably thinks Theo wants to do something illegal again,” she snorted.

It wasn’t unusual to find a Slytherin in the restricted section. While Ravenclaws might be the more studious ones, Slytherins were set on knowing as much as they could about the important things in life. Hence why every pureblood you knew had been learning dark magic, and it’s counter curses since their first year at Hogwarts. Some things would never be taught in classes but if you were clever, you’d find a way.

Theo however, had been banned from the restricted section for life by every teacher around. In fifth year they caught him trying to curse one of the school toilets to bite people and accidentally flooded an entire bathroom on the third floor. Needless to say, he was kept under a watchful eye.

“Have you talked to Draco yet? About all of this I mean?” Daphne whispered as she added a few books to the growing pile on your table.

“No, he’s been avoiding me,” you hadn’t exactly been hunting him down but it was the truth. Anytime you’d be in the vicinity, he’d suddenly find himself extremely busy or he’d disappear into the crowd. “I don’t blame him. He’s not exactly pleased about this either.”

“Y/N...” Daphne hesitated before asking what was on her mind, and everyone else’s for that matter, “did he really take the mark? Blaise wouldn’t tell me.”

You fiddled with the edge of your sleeve. It wasn’t your place to tell her these things but she was your best friend. Your parents had of course let you know that your darling husband to be was now in fact, a death eater. You nodded ever so slightly and met Daphne’s eyes. They were round with concern and a hint of fear was etched onto her delicate features. She chewed on her lip for a moment and pulled the contract over to her.

“Well, lets figure this out then shall we.” it was an unspoken rule between the two of you. Never admit how afraid you were of your families. Never let them hear your hesitation when they asked about your allegiances. Only the two of you knew, you were too kind hearted, too soft, too disgusted to ever really be on their side. It was what bonded you together.

It was the first Hogsmeade weekend by the time you got to speak to Draco. Well, that’s when you gathered your confidence anyway. You approached him outside the three broomsticks, the two boys flanking him spotted you before he did.

“Hi Blaise, Theo!” You smiled widely at the two boys who grinned in return, “Malfoy, a word please.” your smile was tight as he turned to face you.

“Keep the missus happy Draco,” Theo hollered after you. To your relief, Blaise smacked him in the forehead and dragged him into the pub.

“What do you want? I have things to do.” He crossed his arms and looked over your shoulder, cold air escaping from his parted lips. It looked like smoke billowing out of a dragons mouth. He was aptly named.

“Daphne and I still haven’t been able to find a single crack in this contract,” you huffed as he still refused to meet your gaze and instead fiddled with his gloves, “I need your help.” you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Look who’s suddenly involving me in this,” his cocky smirk popped back onto his lips easily, “we don’t have a copy of the contract and I’m not stealing from my father.” he deadpanned.

“I have a copy.” you didn’t meet his eyes and shuffled your feet.

“Of course you do.” his tone was clipped, pissed off, you could tell. “So much for sharing that with me. Whatever, fine, give me the contract and I’ll take a crack at it.”

“I can’t just give you the contract Malfoy I need it too,” you mentally cursed him, talking to him always felt like trying to eat soup with a fork. Very difficult and you don’t get much out of it.

“Yeah alright, then meet me in the common room tomorrow at noon and we’ll look at it together.” his icy eyes met yours and seemed to stare right into your mind, maybe they could, you were sure he knew legilimency. “Anything else or am I free?”

“Yeah, you’re free,” you blinked at him, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat before turning on your heel and stalking back towards the castle. Bloody Malfoy.

“No I’m telling you, clause 19 counteracts that. I have to take your name.” You paced in front of the black couch Draco currently occupied.

In his hands he held your copy of the contract. After every few lines of reading he’d throw out a spell, potion or non-magical suggestion to a clause. You would then be forced to point out why these things wouldn’t work, as if you hadn’t already considered every option.

When he’d suggested polyjuice potion you’d laughed. Living separately? You’d immediately pointed a few lines down where it stated you’d take over the left wing of Malfoy Mansion. Simply having an open marriage? The scandal would be horrible, so of course your father had added a clause for that.

“I’m telling you Malfoy you need to get more creative.” You shot a tight lipped smile his way as he pushed his glasses farther up his nose. You hadn’t actually been aware that he needed glasses. They made him look less uptight, or maybe it was the fact that his hair wasn’t slicked back with gel.

“Yeah, I’m trying here Y/L/N,” he ran a hand through his hair again. “You running a hole in the floor isn’t exactly helping.” he added without looking up.

For the past half and hour you’d been alternating between pacing back and forth and perching on the sofa opposite of Malfoy. Something about the intensity in his gaze while he scanned his way down the parchment made everything feel all the more real.

In fact the next few Sunday’s, leading you all the way into the holiday season, you and Malfoy could be found spitballing ideas back and forth in the common room. It was the most you’d spoken to each other in years and it was strangely tolerable. He still made you want to throw a book at him every twenty minutes but at least that was an upgrade from every five minutes.

“I don’t know if there’s a way out of this,” Draco finally spoke after a prolonged silence. It was the week before Christmas break and while you refused to give up hope, he’d seen through the contract weeks ago and knew you were just holding on for your sanity.

“No, there has to be,” You chewed your lip anxiously, “I mean, maybe he left something out?”

“Our fathers are death eaters what do you expect Y/N,” his voice was cool and smooth, almost like a piece of glass, “they’re not stupid.”

“My father isn’t a death eater.” You stopped pacing and faced the blond.

“When’s the last time you’ve seen him wear short sleeves? The last time you checked his forearm?” His eyes were calculating as they gauged your reaction.

“I-“ you paused and thought hard, “last summer.” Your jaw tightened and you felt tears well up in your eyes. It shouldn’t have surprised you this much. You’d thought maybe it was just a feeble following, something your parents could come back from.

“Hey, I didn’t mean-“ He started awkwardly before you cut him off.

“Keep it.” Your voice wobbled, “keep the contract, I don’t care. I’ll see you over Christmas.”

Series taglist: @xkonpinkx @detroitobsessed @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @pointlesscoconut @irlkell @thehumanistsdiary @mo-onstarrs @summer-writes

#draco malfoy #harry potter #hogwarts #draco x reader #hp fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fic #pureblood #draco x pureblood!reader #golden era #war fic #angst #harry potter blurb #harry potter blog #writing #hp blurb #hp blog

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wxlfstxrx · 4 years

Note

O’knutzy when one of them got hurt (I was thinking of Finn but I don’t really care) and just being in pain for a few days like walking slowly and having to rest and the boys just fussing and worrying about their baby all the time. I mean one person that loves you when you get hurt but IMAGINE two boys completely worried and caring

oof i’m sorry. some hurt/comfort right there, but all’s well at the end :) ‘s kinda short and not the best but well... hope you like it. characters by @lumosinlove.

leo and logan aren’t leaving finn alone for even a second, and to be honest, he’s feeling kind of tired of being followed around everywhere.

i’m fine, guys, he mutters frustratedly as they hold the bathroom door open for him. ‘s nothing i haven’t been through before. logan attempts to enter the bathroom, but finn pushes the door shut and leans against it heavily, his forehead resting against the wood.

really, it doesn’t even hurt that much. he’s had worse. it’s not the first time he’s twisted his ankle, and anyway, it’s been a couple of days already and he’s more or less off his crutches. he’s still leaning most of his weight on his good leg, but overall he thinks he’s healing pretty nicely.

he sighs as he lowers himself carefully onto the toilet seat. he loves his boys, he really does, but since he tripped over timmy’s skates during training the other day, causing his injury, leo and logan have not left his side, fussing over him and hovering around him, as though he’s going to collapse again any second.

personally, the worst thing about this injury is that remus specifically banned him from physical activities, with a significant eyebrow raise. he strongly believes that they can find a way to work around it, but unfortunately, leo and logan are taking remus’ orders very seriously, and hence they’ve all been very pent up over the past few days.

it’s honestly ridiculous. it’s as if his wrists are the ones broken, the way the boys are avoiding anything physical. he’s told them that there are other things to do that won’t aggravate his healing ankle, but they outrightly refused, insisting that they’ll wait for him to recover fully first.

finn flushes and walks to the sink slowly, scrubbing his hands with soap. his eyes are fixed on the steady stream of water washing the suds away, and sighing, he splashes water on his face too. he knows he should be grateful for them, he does.

he’s never really had anyone fuss over him like this before. his parents and brother usually focus more on making sure that he heals so he can return to the ice, rather than making sure that he heals for his own wellbeing. the rest of the lions are more or less the same, though he knows that they do genuinely care about whether he’s okay mentally and emotionally as well.

remus, leo and logan, however, are really going out of the way to check up on him. remus pulls him into his office every day to take a look at his ankle and asks him how he’s been, and if he’s been coping well with everything that’s going on now. leo and logan, besides the times that they’re on the ice, are practically joined at the hip with him. they carry his duffel bag, help him into dumo’s car as he drives them back, carry him whenever they have to climb up stairs, and basically, finn has been more than well taken care of the past few days.

he knows he’s being horrible and ungrateful by getting upset at them, but he can’t help the swirl of emotions in his chest that threaten to burst out of him. he knows he would’ve done the same thing if either logan or leo had been the one to get injured, but at this point, he just needs some space to rest, maybe get a nap in without constantly feeling as though they’re watching over him in his sleep. he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep for days now, and it’s taking a toll on him.

finn steps out of the bathroom, and immediately leo and logan are by his side, offering their arms as support. he tries to refuse, but they’re all over him, insisting that they can help him, asking if he needs anything else, and something in finn just snaps.

what i need, he bursts out, stopping leo and logan in their tracks, is for the two of you to leave me alone, okay? i’m fine, and both of you have been breathing down my neck for the past few days, and i’m so exhausted because i keep feeling the two of you watching over me while i sleep and that means that i can’t sleep, and i feel so fucking horrible because i know you two are only looking out for me, and i’m a fucking jerk for saying all of this, but for the love of god, i need some fucking space and some fucking sleep.

finn’s in tears, his throat closing up as he chokes out a please to the two stunned boys standing in front of him. god, he hates himself so much for this. he’s a fucking asshole. who tells the two people who love him more than anything in the world to leave them alone?

he leans against the wall behind him and slides down to the floor, burying his face in his hands. guilt consumes him and he wants to say sorry, he really does, but he’s crying so hard that he cannot do anything but shake his head and sob.

suddenly, he feels a warm hand on his arm, and a soft shhhh, it’s okay, mon amour is whispered into his hair before he’s pulled into a gentle hug. for all the space he claims he needs, he still finds himself leaning into the touch, and he grips logan’s shirt tightly, the soft cotton fabric bunching up in his hands, and he cries into logan’s shoulder.

they stay like this for a while, and finn’s so exhausted now he can barely open his eyes. he’s completely drained, and as his shuddering gasps subside, he feels logan press a soft kiss to his temple. carefully, he’s hauled up onto his feet, and everything’s a blur from then on.

finn wakes up to a snoring logan, who’s holding him in his muscular arms, his mouth wide open and messy curls splayed out on the pillow under his head. turning his head slowly, he sees that the sun’s just set, the sky a beautiful mix of dark blue and vivid orange. he shifts a little, and immediately logan jerks awake, his eyes flying open.

when he realises that finn’s awake and staring at him, he relaxes and smiles sleepily. mornin’, sleeping beauty, he murmurs. how’re you feeling? his arms loosen around finn’s, but he doesn’t let go, his hand coming up to brush finn’s flattened fringe away from his face. it’s so tender and domestic that finn’s heart clenches, and he looks up at logan with sad brown eyes.

i’m sorry, he whispers, i shouldn’t have said what i said. i feel like such a dick. he averts his gaze, staring at the small fleur-de-lis pendant resting atop logan’s chest. logan brings his hand down to his chin, tilting it up so they’re staring into each other’s eyes, and finn wants to cry all over again at the love in logan’s glimmering emerald eyes.

don’t be, logan smiles reassuringly, you’re tired, and we should’ve realised. we’re sorry too, mon amour. we just— we were worried, and i guess we were too busy fussing over you that we didn’t realise how you felt. i’m— we’re glad you’re healing well though, really. that’s all we need to know. that you’re okay. he gives finn a small smile and brushes his thumb over his freckled cheekbone.

finn’s heart flips in his chest, and he melts into logan’s embrace as he leans up and kisses him slowly. logan responds immediately, pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around him tightly. finn pulls away when there’s a soft knock on the door, and leo peeks through a small crack in the door.

great, you guys are awake, dinner’s ready, leo smiles, and for the first time, finn notices the dark circles under his and logan’s eyes. they must’ve worn themselves out from taking care of him. god, these boys. his eyes are brimming with tears again, and leo crosses over to the bed worriedly. are you okay? he asks softly as he sits on the mattress beside logan, his hand reaching over to rest on top of finn’s.

finn nods, biting down on his lip. i’m sorry, he says again, his voice hoarse. i— you two have been taking care of me, and i’ve just been an ungrateful wanker. i’m so sorry. how— i don’t deserve you two.

the two boys immediately start talking over each other, and finn frowns in confusion. what we mean to say, leo tries again, chuckling lightly as he clambers over to finn’s other side and wraps his arms around the smaller boy’s waist, is that we love you, and we’d do anything for you, and we know that you’d do the same for us too, so don’t feel that you don’t deserve us, because that’s not true. you’re incredible, love. grumpy when you lack sleep, but still incredible. we— you’re everything both tremzy and i ever wanted and needed, okay?

finn sniffles, and nods, cracking a smile. he turns over to face leo and whispers a thank you, burrowing further into his chest. logan presses closer to the two of them, and he’s about to say something when his stomach grumbles. loudly.

fuck, sorry, he laughs, and leo grins, his eyes lighting up. time for dinner, the tall blonde boy announces, pulling away and helping finn to sit up. made carbonara for our favourite carb o’hara, how’s that sound?

finn finds himself laughing for the first time in days, and leo winks at logan, his eyes twinkling as bright as the stars hanging in the night sky outside their window.

#Finn O'Hara #Logan Tremblay #Leo Knut #O'Knutzy #Sweater Weather #Coast to Coast #Lumosinlove

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sunmoonchanlix · 2 years

Note

hi! first just wanna say i enjoy your videos ive been watching everyday since i came across chanlix a few days ago (not a STAY). i dont know much about tyem overall i suppose but from my examinations of chanlix it really seems like felix is extremely nervous around chan, hence why their interactions on camera arent as touchy as more popular pairings but idk that just makes chanlix seem more real. like its the nervousness you would have around a crush. i dont know timelines since im not STAY but i notice a difference in them especially around the time chan had orange hair, they mustve had a talk and figured out they like each other more than the regular bandmate thing. felix seems similar to me (especially when i was younger) in the sense that he avoids looking at/talking/touching chan bc in his mind if he does its a dead giveaway of his true feelings when in actuality (sometimes) the object of affection has no clue you like them and will think you dont want to be around them. i think they’ve gotten over that but its still hard for felix to interact sometimes (not all the time bc we see him just let go and be in the moment with chan like he forgets wheres he at or is being filmed), but the love is there. but i dont think they realize they come off wayyy more sus than any of the other pairings who are very touchy because they act so shy around each other. idk im making sense hahaa dont listen to me. i may come back so just call me newbie anon

Hello! Thanks for tuning in and supporting!

BOOM! HEADSHOT. 🎯 You're right on mark with my thought process! All of it actually including the nervousness. I don't have any diametric oppositions!

And for someone newly introduced to Stray Kids, yes, orange hair Chan era was probably the :heart eyes: era they ever had before management stuffed them into a closet and reinforced the bolts. Their company-wide 3-year dating ban lifted in March 2021 but Stray Kids were still in the middle of doing a competition show called MNet's Kingdom (spoiler alert: they won). They were romantically together throughout but it's harder to fully show since clips are scarce and they were pretty good at just hiding in the background.

But with the weight off their shoulders after winning, they had a brief period where they got into a relaxed couple-y mode before their NOEASY album dropped. Scroll down further to see a link embedded regarding KCONtact Hi5 where everyone wears denim and Chan has orange hair.

I thought my analysis would be too niche outside of the established Stray Kids fandom, but I'm glad Chanlix's bond reached to you! Stick around though for Stray Kids themselves! They're worth it! 😀

#ask #chanlix #bang chan #felix #chris #stray kids #skz #lgbtq #lgbt couple

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years

Note

Peggy bumps into Ms. Fry while she and steve are grocery shopping (maybe Peggy's noticeably pregnant, and she's wearing her wedding ring on a chain around her neck because of swollen fingers, or something like that) and miss fry starts scolding her for her 'poor life choices,' seeing a baby bump and no ring, until steve comes back from grabbing something across the store and they set the record straight

Nonny, I love this so much. I’m gonna be honest, I forgot who Ms. Fry was and had to look her up and have never written her before so bear with me? This is so not gonna be what you want. I just...couldn’t stop writing.

Insert Steve works at the SSR

The day that her wedding ring became too small for her swollen fingers was a day Peggy didn’t like to remember. It was a simple gold wedding band with sapphire blue stones right dab in the middle. It was elegant, yet simple, and everything Peggy could’ve wanted. She didn’t care much for jewelry and didn’t care if Steve asked her to marry her with just a piece of twine or even nothing in his hand.

She would’ve said yes either way.

It was Steve who suggested they put it on a chain, so she could still have it near her while at work. It felt odd not having it on her hand, missing the weight of it, but she felt grateful for her fingers to be free while she poured over the stacks of files the SSR boys kept dropping off thanks to officially being taken off of field missions by no more than Phillips himself.

The man had come down from DC to discuss things with her, taking over as Chief of their simple office, and causing much ruckus and rifling through the workplace. Rumors of the SSR being disbanded started to take place, rumors Peggy ignored.

Agents like Thompson and Sousa got to see first hand how just Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter got along. Meaning there were many shouting matches between them, at one point Peggy had threatened to throw Phillips out of the office himself. The entire office had sat and watched their fight go down, making bets on when Carter was going to be sacked or not until Phillips broke out into a rare smile and laughed at her.

It was odd, to see such a chiseled and grave man from all he’s witnessed to laugh at her like that. And for Carter not to get angry and laugh right back.

There were many rumors on favoritism and Peggy didn’t bother to shoot them down. Phillips did favor her but not for what laid between her legs, for the fact she did her damn job, and two times as better as any seasoned agent.

Of course, none of them would believe that.

“Go home,” Phillips sighed at her for an unkempt time that day. He stood in front of her desk, wafting a freshly brewed cup of coffee in her face.

Peggy scowled at him, her eyes narrowed. She knew she looked like crap. Morning sickness meant she’d spent a good portion of the daily debriefing in the toilet and had to be caught up by Rose. Her face was pale and sheen with sweat, her normally poised hair was done in a hasty bun on the nape of her neck to keep it out of the way.

And her clothes, something so simple and precious to her, that made the point of the matter that she was a woman and she wasn’t going to let any others treat her different. Due to being heavily pregnant with what the doctor assumed were multiples, she’d been forced to adjust many of her outfits. Ana had struggled to adapt so quickly too, but even then she couldn’t keep up.

Steve, her, and even Howard had suspicions on if this was multiples or because of the serum.

Point is, Peggy was still cursing Steve’s name with the infant hit the right spot on her bladder.

She’d been forced to wear a hastily put-together outfit that did nothing for her figure and the lack of either time or ability to keep up her appearance showed.

And what really showed as her face turned a shade of green from the coffee wafting in her face, was her annoyance at Phillips. He knew one of her triggering scents was coffee. It had been mostly banned from the bullpen.

He’d been trying to get her to go home all morning, each time she ignored him.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” she mused, leaning far back as her seat allowed. “No one else is here to do the paperwork with the 084 in Manhattan. Get that out of my face.”

She brushed his hand out of the way and Phillips smirked around the mug. “This?” He waved it under her nose and Peggy’s lips pursed to prevent herself from upchucking what little breakfast she could keep down. “It’s just coffee, Carter. Besides, Thompson’s on the way back, he can handle the paperwork. You’re too sick to be here.”

“With all due respect, sir, I feel perfectly fine.” The humph from him said otherwise. “I do. I can handle doing my job. Especially if Thompson is going to take over, I assume you don’t want these properly filled out, do you? Or legible.”

“Fine isn’t upchucking in the communal toilet loud enough that we can all hear it. You’re pregnant, Peggy. There’s more than just you to worry about.” He set the coffee on her desk and leaned over, not threatening her space. He knew how quick she could move, pregnant or not, and didn’t desire his own beverage in his face. “I already called Rogers - he’s on the way to come pick you up. As of today, you’re on maternity leave. We can converse over the phone the finer details of what that entails, plus your ideas later.”

Peggy’s heart sunk straight to her stomach. Maternity leave. She’d avoided it long as she could, despite how she needed the rest, wanted the rest. She didn’t need this used against her what so ever by the SSR boys when she came back.

“My ideas can be discussed as normal after office hours.”

“For Christ Sake, Carter!” Phillips groaned and rolled his eyes. “I can see why you and Rogers make a good pair - you’re both too stubborn for your own good. We will discuss the installments later.”

The hard look in his eyes told Peggy she wasn’t winning this and part of her, a large part of her actually didn’t want to fight this either. Phillips had taken over for a reason - a big reason, long before Peggy had revealed she was pregnant. This had been planned for so long, between them, and taking the first few steps carefully would be crucial to them.

“Traitor,” she grumbled, seeing the entrance door opened and a familiar broad figure standing there, no doubt with a cup of ginger tea.

Steve knew her so well.

“Never been so glad to be called a traitor in my life. Rogers, get your wife, and take her home. Make sure she stays there. If you’re so back in this office without my permission before that little squirt is born, Carter, there will be hell to pay.”

With that being said, Peggy found herself being lead down the exit elevator, sipping on the tea. She avoided Steve’s smugged look.

“Told you so,” he mused, wrapping her in one of his larger coats as they braced the cold wind outside. The tea did nothing to warm her up, but plenty of her belly as he sat her in the passenger seat. She’d long have to give up the ability to drive with her belly.

“Say that again and you’ll be sleeping on the couch. I don’t need to hear it,” Peggy snapped, instantly regretting it at Steve’s pouting look. “I’m sorry, darling, I am just irritated.”

“I know you are.” His hand slid over hers and squeezed before he started the car. “Phillips is just worried, hence I was taken off of duty with the Commandos a while back. He wants me near you in case something happened. Least this way you can relax and slowly plan the aspects of SHIELD.”

Peggy made a noise in the back of the throat, agreeing with Steve. Her eyes falling to the snow and ice outside the window.

“We need to stop at the store and get groceries if we’re to be inside for so long.”

If Steve disagreed, he said nothing as he made a turn to head to the nearest store.

Insisting she could walk, Peggy brushed off Steve’s concerned hand and held her own to her belly when there were kicking and movement.

She could feel Steve’s eyes on them as they walked the aisles, commenting on the price of peanut butter or bread. The smell of the fish Steve was looking at made her naughtius and this time, unavoidable urge to get sick, having her running to the bathroom.

“I’m getting some more ginger,” Steve commented when Peggy emerged, using the end of his sleeve to clean some of the sweat from her face. “And licorice. Don’t make that face, it’s good for you.”

“It’s disgusting, is what it is, but I’ll take anything at this point,” she sighed, rubbing over her belly again. “You go do that and I’ll get the tea and sugar.”

At least watching Steve walk away left Peggy with a view that reminded her as to how she got pregnant in the first place.

The last she expected to find when she waddled down the aisle, Steve having taken the cart, was a familiar face. The last familiar face she wanted to see. Ms. Fry.

She hadn’t seen her since she’d told the old coon that she was leaving the Griffith and the woman had gone on some bizarre tantrum about Peggy ruining her life, hanging around men who would do nothing but bring her down, needed to settle down, and find a husband, to train herself to do this and that. And how she was going nowhere, the same with Angie…

It made Peggy want to roll her eyes and avoid the woman but she wanted the tea and to go home and put her damn feet up.

The second she was in the aisle, the woman spotted her. Eyes lit up and trained on her.

“What do we have here?” Her voice was downright sneering and Peggy didn’t miss it as she turned to look at her.

“Hello to you too, Ms. Fry. I’m surprised you remember me,” Peggy replied cooly.

“I don’t forget the rift raft rulebreaking ones, darling. I always remember their faces.” The term darling was anything but endearing. “I see I was right.”

“About what?” When the woman just looked down at her hand on her belly and back up at Peggy with that grin, the brunette scoffed.

“Still unladylike as ever, I see. Well, which one was it?” When Peggy didn’t respond and just raised a brow, the woman scoffed. “Which one? Whose the unknown father of your child? Or do you just not know and slept around with far too many of those agents you work with?”

Before Peggy could respond, Ms. Fry seemed to be on that tantrum again, “You always did make the poor life choices. Always going out, past hours, or before hours. Always stealing food for the other residents who never bothered to even show up for mealtime. You were always running around, flirting and flaunting with men. A woman doesn’t do that! Now look at you, not even having the decency to marry one of the fellas that knocked you up. You’ve made some poor life choices here, dolly and they’re going to bite you in the can. And I suppose that while you’re here, buying the cheaper version of that tea, that you’ve lost your job too. No one is going to hire a pregnant lass and certainly not hire a single mother. Your best bet is to drop that kid off at the orphanage and to marry the first fella who makes eye contact with you. That poor kid…”

Peggy was seeing red, her chest aching. She didn’t even know when to start, where to start, with what to counter. To yell at this old hag to prove how wrong she was.

Now Peggy never considered herself a damsel in distress. She never needed to be saved, she could handle herself perfectly fine but just this once, she was glad to see Steve strutting down the aisle behind them. She knew that look, had seen it a hundred times during the war, and a hundred times after during his exports with the Commandos or running strategics for the SSR.

The set jawline, the determined look in his eyes, the fierce look that followed after. The way his shoulders were set back and his knuckles turning white around the cart, despite he’d never dare to hurt someone. Even if the thought just barely crossed his mind in a fit of blind anger that came when to defending his wife.

He said nothing to Ms. Fry, even nothing to Peggy. Dropping the cart so it hit the floor, the contents jostling inside. He cupped the small of Peggy’s back before dipping her down for a long and hearty kiss that reminded the brunette why she loved the man in the first place.

Her hand laid on his chest and felt his strong heartbeat underneath, feeling his lips smile against hers as she was settled on her feet. Her necklace with her wedding band on it had come out of the contents of her shirt and laid right in the open.

“Good afternoon to you too, Ms. Fry,” Steve mused as if they hadn’t just made out in front of her. “I see you’re still doing just as lovely. I’m afraid I never got to introduce myself, by the time I was found, and set for duty, Miss Carter and I had eloped and moved in together.”

He didn’t offer his hand to her, just a shit-eating grin as he grabbed at their basket. The woman was still staring at them, blinking slowly as if to put this all together.

“You see, you’re wrong on many accounts. Peggy does what in the hell she wants, when she wants because she wants to. No one can control her. Not her mother, not me, and certainly not you. Those ideas she puts in the other girl’s head at your home? Those were there, to begin with. You’d be surprised what goes on under your nose,” Steve snorts. “Top it off. The only bad choice in life Peggy has ever made was perhaps to marry me.”

Peggy gently smacked his chest, drawing herself out of her thoughts. “It was not. I love you, darling.”

Steve caught her hand and kissed it. “I love you too.” He looked back at Ms Fry and shrugged. “You were lucky to have Peggy under your roof for the short time you did and I’m lucky I was able to get her back. So, no you’re wrong. She hasn’t been knocked by any of those Agents, just me. We’re expecting our first in an already paid off home, one I’ve been remodeling while Peggy still worked. She’s only just starting maternity leave today, actually. We just came by to pick up a few essentials.”

He waved the basket in her face with a small laugh. “So Peggy’s ‘bad choices’ in life had actually turned around great for her. She has a promising career, a loving husband, and a household full of kids, and love. In fact, not that it’s your business, but Peggy will actually be working while I stay at home to take care of the children. Perhaps not to your ideals of traditionalism but…”

Steve shrugged before taking Peggy’s arm. Before either could say goodbye, they left. He plopped the tea box from Peggy’s fingers and tossed it into the cart.

“And the only reason you did get the cheap box was that the others give you a headache,” Steve scoffed, once they’d unloaded the groceries at the house. He watched Peggy from across the way, her feet settled into a bucket of warm water, with a towel around the back of her neck, her hand cradling her belly.

Peggy looked up from across the way and into their kitchen, seeing Steve staring at her from across the breakfast nook. “How long do you think it’ll be until she figures out you’re Captain America?”

Steve snorted as he brought his wife her cup of ginger tea and sat down with a book in his lap beside her. He’d been reading it to her for the past week. “With luck, she’s still standing in the aisle, looking confused.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Ms. Fry #Phillips & Steve #Colonel Phillips #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter smut #Pregnant Peggy #Steve works at the SSR

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korra-the-red-lion · 3 years

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Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 3: Rookie Hazing?

(Lyn)

My breathing fell into my familiar breathing pattern as I jogged through the town. The early morning sun was peeking through the clouds, trying to be seen. My music was blasting through my earbuds as I turned to go through the walking trail this morning.

Today was the first day of actual classes and practices. Me and a few of the others already have been to the pool a bunch this week, but this is when shit got real. After the disappointing loss to Turner University at last year’s AUS, Coach Jacob and team really wanted to get the title this year. It was one thing to lose, it was another thing all together to lose by 1 fucking point. Ugh, even just thinking about it pissed me off. Turner is a good school, don’t get me wrong. But man, we worked our assess off last year.

I passed by an older couple going out for their usual morning walk. I waved to them as I always do, earning a smile in return. I liked the coziness of this small town. Being able to see the same people every morning doing their routine as I did was relaxing and brought a sense of calm to my otherwise chaotic life.

I sprinted the final couple of kilometers home, slowing down as I approached the track around the football field. Loryn, Maddie, and Andrew where already there, chatting as they stretched for their early morning workout.

Loryn smiled when she saw me coming and tossed me my water bottle. I pulled out my music and took a huge swig from it. “Thanks, I really needed that,” I said. I lifted the end of my shirt and wiped the sweat and water off my face.

“No problem-o,” she responded. “How was your run?”

“Same as usual,” I said as I take another drink.

Andrew walked over and gave me a huge hug. “Ready for the season, Lyn?”

I nodded into his shoulder, holding onto his shirt. Andrew was the captain of the Men’s team, and he was like an older brother to me. This was his last year on the team, and I really wanted to win the championship for him and the other 4th years. They put so much into this program, and just one win would be an awesome reward for them.

“Please don’t cry, or I might start too,” he mumbled.

“Not crying,” I pulled away, grinning at him. “I’m just thinking of how lame the team’s gonna be once you finally retire from it. Are they gonna make Will the captain next year, because like, yeesh.”

This earned a laugh from Andrew. “Well, I frigging hope not. Y’all better vote for Oliver, or Thom. If Will gets the captain position next year, you’re all doomed.”

“Fuck me with a rusty screw if Will gets it,” said Maddie bitterly. “The only thing bigger than his ego is his Hummer. I swear, I will never get over his parents airlifting that thing across the fucking country.”

It’s not like we hated Will or anything, he just was a huge pain in the ass. Both his parents are doctors, and he makes a point of letting you know how much money he has. During his first year here, apparently, his parents had his Hummer helicoptered across the country so he could have it here. Not sure why he didn’t drive the damned thing instead, but the rich do very extreme and extravagant things to prove their wealth. Maddie is a 3rd year like Will, so she’s been putting up with his Will-ness longer than Loryn or I.

We did our usual morning workout routine, just to get used to the rhythm again. Medicine ball tosses to each other with an added squat. After that, 2 sets of 20 jackknifes, 2 sets of 25 crunches, and 2 sets of 1 minute plank. We did our wheelbarrow run across the football field, giggling like fools as we did. Andrew and Maddie beat me and Loryn by a fingertip. Loryn jokingly apologized for being too short, a running joke on the team.

After that, we headed to food hall. Loryn liked to make fun of me for calling it that, since it was technically called meal hall, but that’s where I get all my food, not just meals. Hence, food hall. Still, she immediately started teasing me as we got near it.

The hall was abuzz with all the new frosh and returning students talking about their classes. It was nice to see this place so lively after being essentially dead for the week. I could already hear people talking about going to First Class Bash, the big first party of the year. I never really went to those often, parties that is, since the team had a drinking ban in place as soon as the season started. Maybe if some of the guys on the team wanted to go I would, but I was just as happy to stay in with the goofballs and have our own get together.

Oh shit, speaking of. The rookie party was this weekend, actually. It almost slipped my mind. Today was their official first day. It may sound weird, but Coach Jacob liked having them come for their own practice to get used to each other and the facilities first. That way, if they don’t feel like sticking around, there’s none of that awkward shame of seeing your ex-teammates on campus. Not that anyone actually gave a shit.

I sat down next to Matt and Kerry, two members of the team. They were nearly identical twins, but with different body builds since they swam different strokes. Matt was bulkier in his shoulders and trunk cuz he swam butterfly like I did, while Kerry was leaner but a bit bowlegged from swimming breaststroke for so many years. Kerry was letting her hair grow out after shaving it last year, and it was tied up in this stupidly adorable tiny ponytail, while Matt had shaved his hair into practical buzzcut. Kerry leaned over once I was settled and pointed.

“Did you see?”

“Did I see what?” I asked as I shoved the whole fried egg into my mouth.

“Derek is sitting with Poppy.”

I rolled my eyes. Derek Freeman was one of my exes from last year. Lyn from first year got a little crazy when it came to dating, and I ended up going through 6 different people before finally calling it quits. Derek was one of them, but he was by far the worse. He got super possessive and couldn’t understand why I dumped his creepy ass. He always knew my schedule and followed me everywhere. He would wait for me outside the pool and walk back to my res with me, which would have been super sweet if he didn’t ask to come inside every single time. Even after we broke up, he still followed me places. Eventually he got the message once I started dating Willa Hoffman, but man was he annoying.

Then there was Poppy. There was nothing wrong with her, per se. We just were partners on a project last year and she nearly cost me getting an A+ in Intro to Sociology, much to my annoyance. I cared a lot, maybe a little bit too much, about my grades. So, yeah, there’s nothing that really pisses me off more when you get stuck with a shit partner for a project.

“Honestly, Ker, I don’t care,” I said. “Hell, they deserve each other IMO.”

Kerry shrugged as she got back into her seat properly, finally letting Matt get back to eating. We ate in comfortable silence before Matt spoke up.

“Gunner is on probation.”

I dropped my fork in confusion. Even Kerry looked confused. “What do you mean, Matt?” I asked, leaning against the table as I did, locking eyes with him.

He sighed and ran a hand over his head. “Okay, don’t tell anyone because I’m not supposed to know, but Gunner was caught doing drugs this summer. Like, coke. Anyway, Jacob heard about it and helped him through rehab and stuff, but the dean put him on probation until his grades and attitude prove that he actually got clean.”

“Shiiiiiiit,” I pushed my tray away. Leo Gunner was the best sprinter on the team, leading the Men’s team to having great scores in the relay last year. If he wasn’t allowed to swim this season, we might be in serious trouble. There was no one as fast as him. The next best would be Parker, and even then, he wasn’t near Gunner’s level.

“Oh, that’s awful,” said Kerry, putting her hand over her mouth.

Matt nodded. “Yeah, it’s shit for sure. I talked to him this morning and apparently, he’s allowed to practice, but he might not be allowed to sign up for the meets. I think Jacob might bring it up to Andrew and Emma today, but he might not let the rest of the team know just yet.”

The information sat heavy in my stomach. I walked all the way to my class with my mind racing, wondering if there was any way we could fight this decision. All conclusions came to a resounding no. The university was pretty strict about athletes using illegal substances. They only thing that probably saved his ass was that it happened this summer.

I took my usual spot near the front, waiting for the rest of the students to fill in. This was a second-year history course, and I really wanted to be psyched for it, considering history was my favourite subject, but it was hard when I was worrying about things out of my control.

“Mind if I sit?”

I looked over and nearly groaned when I saw it was Will. I nodded, but he was already taking the seat anyway. I hated sitting next to Will, he just sat on Instagram the whole time, or TikTok. Fuck my life right now.

He reached over and tugged on my ear. “Why the long face, Lyn?”

I batted his hand away. He knew I was self-conscious of how big my ears were, and he liked to pick at that at any opportunity. “No long face here, Will.” I forced a grin onto my face before turning my attention back to my desk.

“Whatever you say.”

Ugh, def getting a new seat on Thursday. I can’t deal sitting next to him and dealing with his antics at practice too. There was only so much abuse one gal could take for the day.

XXX

Thank God it was Friday!

I managed my schedule perfectly, so I had no classes on Friday. It made the other days more miserable for sure, but having a three-day weekend every week? Exactly what I needed to stay on top of things this year. Just practice in the afternoon, and I was free to enjoy myself. The rookie party was tomorrow, and they were a good batch. Loryn’s younger sister Robin joined the team this year, which was super exciting for her.

I got to enjoy breakfast without having to rush it, plus no homework was assigned this week. Today was a nice one, and I was looking forward to just being able to chill and enjoy it. As I left, I happened to notice that Ally was leaving the food hall. Grinning, I raced over to where she was.

“Hey, Ally!” I fell into step beside her.

“Lyn!” Ally looked up at me, a smile breaking out. She had her hair in this half up pinned style, it looked really good on her. Also, she was wearing different glasses today. She usually wore some rectangle ones, but these ones were like a half moon shape.

“How’s your first week, frosh?” I asked.

“Well, after the disaster that was the bookstore incident…” she looked down, thinking about something before shaking her head. “It’s been lovely. I think once I get into a nice routine, I won’t feel as anxious.”

I was curious about the whole bookstore thing, but I respected that she clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it openly with me. Fair enough, we only just met last week, and I barely have seen her since.

“Hey, well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself so far! Is it cool if I walk with you until your next class? I’m free.”

“Oh,” she smiled shyly at me, “that would be really nice, actually.”

I smiled back. We chatted about her classes all the way to Bennet, where her class was. I leaned against the wall as she finished explaining something about her drama class. That was a class I took in first year, but it sounds like she has Professor Kinkly, whereas I had Professor Statton. Kinkly was more by the book, Statton was know as the campus kook. I had a feeling Ally was gonna like Kinkly more.

“I guess I should head in, huh?”

“I guess you should. But hey,” I said, “we should totally hang this weekend, you know? Whatcha doing tomorrow?”

Ally looked contemplative before shaking her head. “Nothing, I think.”

“Perfect! Let’s grab a bite to eat, and you can finish telling me all about your week.”

“O-okay, sounds great!”

Ally wished me a goodbye and dashed inside, as to not be late for class. I watched her go before snorting under my breath. I liked her, she was smart and funny. It would be nice to have someone as a friend outside the team. Guess it was just my lucky day when she approached that table I forced Loryn to help me set up.

Feeling great, I practically skipped all the way back to my res.

XXX

The smell of chlorine was something that was never going to get old. It calmed me when nothing else could. I know that sounds a little dramatic, but the pool is my second home. Didn’t matter how I felt at home or school or whatever, I could come to a pool and swim those thoughts and troubles away.

We finished with our pre-practice routines, and I jumped into the pool, shivering a little as the cold water enveloped my body. Right away everything felt amazing. Reach, pull, reach, pull. The easy lazy rhythm of the warmup let my thoughts drift away. It was nearing the end of the warmup when I caught Andrew’s eye underwater during my turn, and we ended up racing our last 25 meters. He beat me and we high fived as I hung onto the lane rope.

Coach Jacob laughed as the others finished their warmups. He was a retired swimmer himself and did things to keep himself in shape. He had one of those kind faces that really made you feel welcomed. Sure, he could be a hard ass, but he just really wanted win, like we all did.

He read practice off the board for us, and we did as was instructed. In in a blink of an eye, practice was over, and we were all hauling our asses out of the pool. Practice wasn’t too hard today, but since it’s been a while since any of us had structure like that, we all felt the ache of the week catching up with us finally.

“Okay, gather ‘round!” Coach Jacob called out. We all headed towards the bench and took seats. Loryn sat next to me and we cuddled, trying to not freeze as we listened to what he had to say.

“So, this is the last year for some of us,” he indicated the 4th years with a nod, “and a new beginning for others,” a nod to the 1st years. “However, the goal is the same. We wanna be number one at AUS’s this year. We wanna send people to CIS’s this year. We wanna kick Turner’s stupid butt all over the pool deck. We start morning practice next week, 5:30 sharp, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Gym time is 6:00 on Tuesday and Thursday. We have our usual afternoon practice at 4:30 every day. If you can’t make practice, the reason better be fucking good. Rookies, never be afraid to ask questions. These guys are your family while you’re here, and like family, sometimes we don’t always get along. But try your best to stay pleasant with the others. Lastly, welcome to the Mount Seamus Wolves!” he finished with a huge grin. We clapped and headed into the locker rooms, where a hot shower was calling my name.

“Man, I am looking forward to the weekend!” Loryn said with a huge stretch as we grabbed our shampoo and conditioner.

“Me too,” I said with a grin. “I already made plans.”

“Oh my God, shut up! Who with?”

“That cute frosh from last week.”

Loryn scrunched up her face in thought. “Gabriel or the brunette you showed around?”

I laughed, hitting her playfully with my towel. “Dude, you’re the only one who thinks Gabe is cute, you know?”

“Not true! I know Jackie does too!”

“Damn right I do!” Jackie said, walking by us with a laugh.

We all laughed as we turned the water on. It felt great to take a hot shower after practice. We were gossiping about people on campus when I noticed something strange.

“Emma, are you okay?”

Emma, the captain for the Women’s team, looked over. “Huh, why you ask?”

I blinked. “Because you’re covered in…blood?”

She looked up and shrieked. Sure enough, something red and gooey was coming from the shower head. Actually, it was coming from all the showers! We all screamed and ran out, not even bothering to turn them off.

“What the actual fuck?” Emma was shaking with either anger or fear, wasn’t sure which it was. “Did someone think it would be funny to prank the rookies or something?” She whipped around to glare at all of us.

When no one fessed up, she growled in annoyance. “Okay, maybe one of the guys thought it would funny? Whoever did this, it’s seriously fucked up. Getting sprayed with fake blood is not how I wanted to end my Friday night!”

“Uh, not to be that person, Emma,” I said hesitantly, “but if it was fake blood…wouldn’t it have stopped by now?” I pointed over to the running showers, where a steady stream of red was still coming out.

Emma’s face paled. She looked at her hands, where the blood was and sniffed it. “Oh my God…it smells like copper.”

That’s when Jackie threw up all over the floor and Kerry burst into tears.

XXX

I was in my room, curled up under all the blankets I could possibly be curled under. We texted the boys after, to see if something similar happened to them. When Andrew and Matt both responded no, we got even more freaked out. We ended up calling campus security for them to see if there was something they could do about it. They said they would look into and escorted us back to our residences. I took such a scalding hot shower that I was still pink from it, but I still didn’t feel clean.

The group chat was blowing up with questions. The poor rookies were understandably upset. They thought someone was trying to haze them, but that wasn’t the case at all. Hazing wasn’t something we did anymore. They didn’t do it in my first year, and Emma said that her class was the last one that got hazed.

I didn’t have the energy to be dealing with this, so I muted the chat for the time being. Nura was sitting on her bed, her eyes on her computer screen but I could see her looking at me from time to time. I mean, I would be too. If Nura came back and told me that she just ended up taking a blood shower, I would be fucking concerned too.

I rolled over and tugged at my ear. It was habit of mine when I was anxious about something, and I was definitely anxious about this. If it turned out to be a stupid prank from one of the other teams, that would be one thing. But if it wasn’t…then what did it mean?

I had this crazy thought, pulling my phone up to my face. I wanted to see if it happened any time else. I did a quick Google search, and found out that this wasn’t the first time that something like this happened at this school. It was in 1968, and in 1995, and again in 2007. Okay, that was interesting.

Okay, so unless someone was dumping bodies into a water reservoir that only affected the women’s locker room, something freaky was going on. I’m not that big into that spiritual mumbo jumbo, but I’m not going to deny that this was more than a coincidence. However, it was history, something I specialized in. If I could trace back and see if there were any more connections, maybe I can establish a pattern.

That was a problem for Lyn of tomorrow, however. I was thoroughly exhausted after tonight’s events. I bookmarked the page on my phone, just so I wouldn’t forget. I was going to need my laptop for this.

I just hoped I could find something that can explain what the hell happened.

#unnatural affairs #ua #paranormal #lyn hart #ally holland #mystery #gore mention #unreliable narrator #murder mysteries #ghosts #haunting #original story #original fiction #romance #sports #writing

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nicknellie · 3 years

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I hope that this didn’t take too much time to do so that you were able to get your schoolwork!! This is definitely after the fact but I wish you the best of luck with your work.

(Accidentally forgot to answer about Reggie having a box similar to Rose’s so I’m going to do that briefly)

1. Unlike Rose’s box which was going to be used by someone else Reggie’s was just going to be used by himself also probably only looked at by the rest of Sunset Curve so he probably didn’t think/care about what it was going to look like.

2. The fact that Reggie would go to Luke’s parents and ask for baby pictures is perfection. Also the fact that he just casually stole a box of baby photos and or has pictures of a random baby (if it’s not Bobby) is hilarious and I was laughing so hard at that.

3. Yes, and that would explain that why Reggie didn’t recognize the box at first just because it was a mindless one he made, maybe not even one of his boxes that he put thought into it (what photos/items should I use ect) but just random stuff

Now onto this post (just starting at 2 so the numbers line up)

2. Yes, maybe the guys don’t even get a chance to ask him what’s wrong but Reggie randomly blurts this out and then about five minutes later they’re all crying. Bobby forces all of them to talk, even Alex.

3. Yes that’s exactly what I mean! Just because although he does have his moments of indecisiveness he’s mostly not really an indecisive person so once he believes in some thing he stands with it 100%. For sure, if someone (usually Alex) points out why/how he was wrong Luke will admit that he was wrong (depending on the reasoning it’s mostly begrudgingly)

4. You took the words right out of my mouth and I also love the fact that you said that it’s usually when he’s writing and not in general, because I feel like outside of writing Luke tries to be as conscious as he can about his bandmates well-being and stuff. (‘Luke, once again you are not a solo artist if that was the case then Reggie would already have a country album out and me and Bobby would make our own little band of ourselves just to spite you’ Alex at some point)

5. Alex definitely has quick wit, however a lot of time he just doesn’t say it (unless it’s the boys)

6. Oh, that’s just hurtful thinking about that. After they passed Bobby was never the same, especially since everything that he loved and did had so many memories of the boys that for the longest time he couldn’t do some of them without thinking of them. Also when he went to the garage he was so overwhelmed with memories and the fact that they would never be anymore Sunset Curve memories.

8. Yes, I love that so much. Also I think part of the reason why the police alerted Emily and Mitch was because Luke was supposed to be a missing person so once Bobby confirmed that the body was Luke’s that’s when they were reached out too (long shot but just thinking)

The Rubik’s cube aw, maybe that’s the one thing that Bobby took just to remember them (a drawing of Reggie’s and a small jigsaw of Alex’s)

10. The theme park idea is genius, and I love the detail of Reggie feeling like a proud parent although the boys would gladly go onto a ride that Reggie is comfortable with (for some reason he loves roller coasters as long as they up closer to the ground, with being afraid of heights definitely not not something that goes up high). However Reggie doesn’t want to be a problem and has no issue watching them for a ride or two, hence the feeling of being like a parent.

Yes, and although Alex can tell that it’s a lie, Reggie gets rather emotional about it. (Reggie might have been the one who gave him the drink with the 6 shots of toffee nut and burst out into tears upon realizing)

11. That’s exactly what they are like, I feel like people may be able to tell that Reggie is lying however that’s a normal thing that he does so he easily could not be. (He is)

Luke “where is your kitchen by the way?” Patterson is the great thing I’ve seen. (yes Bobby is so causal to a point that it’s very obvious that it’s not causal hence for it being easy to tell that he’s lying)

13. Phew, wasn’t sure if I would be able to get the link to work or not so I’m glad that it was! (They are so talented, and that is such a great drawing of Reggie in my opinion)

Line dancing, yes also they random break out into square dancing. (Also the boys in cowboy hats and cowboy boots, all the fashion, is an image that I never thought I would need in my life)

14. I’m glad that you liked it! Also yess, also I just want to see one of the boys kind of make fun of Caleb with the devil point of view (bonus points if ‘nick’ is there and has to see everything)

Also I completely forgot to comment this last time, but Reggie is a huge Johnny Cash fan and those three songs are his favorite from the artist. (They are the most played songs and whenever the other boys hear them they are so done but eventually start singing along)

15. Also just randomly has Star Wars characters in the drawing, for the longest time a small Han-solo is what he used instead of a signature.

16. Wait yes I love that. I wasn’t thinking along those lines but that’s exact what happens. Reggie would also be the one who always tried to eat the batter (as does Luke and technically they are both banned from the kitchen)

17. Oh my goodness young Alex. I completely agree with what you said, also picturing a baby Alex with frosting all over his face from baking gone wrong

19. Yes, also Reggie randomly has the boys join him for dancing in the rain (thought of that due to the fact that you said rain is relaxing so Reggie would just always want to be out in the rain but not when it’s storming)

20. This is literally it’s the mindset of anyone who meets Alex

Even Willie gets on board, especially when he fell off his board (worst line I’ve ever said but Willie would be the pun making type of person)

Also if it was for anyone else then Emily and Mitch wouldn’t let them however since it’s Alex exactly as you said ‘boys let’s get in the car’

21. Yes, Alex always randomly shows up. Even has his own key for whenever he needs to stay there but no one is around, honestly Mitch doesn’t have a lot of characteristics (I mean the song is mostly focused on Luke’s mom and stuff) so him being a supportive father figure is everything

23. Agreed, I want all of this. Honestly anything and everything Rose is needed

24. I just want more performances from both actors because they are fantastic. Also the fact that Flying Solo didn’t have Flynn singing at all was a lost opportunity to be honest. Not sure if you’ve seen lemonade mouth however with Flynn as their rapper they would be that band

Willie and Alex singing together is everything I need, just a duet needs to be in season 2. Also we were robbed of them dancing and I blame Caleb, so them dancing is also needed in season two.

Exactly, Flynn is so loyal and we need more of her (also her and Carrie moments)

25. I agree I think it took him sometime to go to therapy. (Possibly when he had Carrie just because he didn’t want to fail as a father and thought it would help him stress less about being a father, also raising a kid with no support from his friends that would’ve definitely helped out)

26. Wait yes, I want to see all of this as well. Especially him explaining his actions and apologizing, and that idea of him being their manger is brilliant. Going on with that, just like with Sunset Curve he books the gigs and stuff and Flynn is their social media manger (just because she can not be apart of the band somehow)

27. I didn’t think about that fully but yes, the fact that Julie is getting older and he’s not would definitely hurt him

28. I love those songs titles, we also have ‘if you wake me up at 4AM again it will not be nice’ ‘Bobby I don’t care how much I love your pieces if you keep leaving your yarn in random places I will scream’

30. Yes, yes, that is precisely what happens and the only way Ray should find out that the boys are ghosts. Tia Victoria does react that and her and Alex bonding is everything (also her and Willie bonding because)

31. There are so many ruined photos and Reggie being so upset about it which is exactly what causes Bobby to master the skill.

32. Alex always has about five stickers, some that are for Reggie and a handful that fans also give to Alex because they can. Legitimately Sunset curves fan base is so supportive and one of the best boy band fan base ever. Luke was once given a portrait of the bandmembers as animals and it is probably framed somewhere, also Bobby has one that someone painted of the band. Honestly the reason why Alex was probably given a jigsaw is because Reggie randomly said that he liked them to a fan and they just had to give one to Alex.

34. Yes, Luke also got stuck in a fridge once much to everyone’s confusion. Him randomly being in a suit of armour is the greatest thing I have ever heard

35. Willie is extremely photogenic, yes. Legitimately Reggie has so many pictures of Willie and Alex and Willie being photogenic has just cause Reggie to take even more. And once this discovery is made, on the photography account there’s a lot more photos of someone skateboarding (also just in general photos of Willie). Just photo shoots with Reggie, like everyone has had one at some point (even Carlos)

37. Alex just gives Julie a massive hug, all of the time and especially when she is sad. Also she definitely takes that hoodie, all of them take his hoodies. Legitimately by this point it’s not just Alex‘s clothes it is the bands (also Flynn has a hoodie) (Willie has takes hoodies)

39. Wait yes, (possibly could’ve been Trevor who gave Carrie that idea for costumes because he remembers when Sunset Curve did). All of those colours fit so well, also I can kind of see Bobby is yellow. They definitely have matching onesies, like two or three pairs to be honest.

Best photo ever, that is exactly what they look like

40. Alex teaching Willie how to dance is adorable and I’m just thinking about how cute that would be. Due to seeing Willie dance during ‘the other side of Hollywood’ Alex thinks that he would be able to waltz pretty well (at least be a better beginner than the rest of the band who can’t dance) and then is mistaken very quickly

This is just me saying the boys about 100 times because I can’t say three names together apparently 😂😂

You know the drill, under the keep reading 😂

I did manage to do my school work thankfully! We won’t mention the fact that I handed in every single piece late, but I don’t really think that’s my fault, it’s theirs for not explaining how all this was going to work. Anyway! Not the point! I keep getting so excited to respond to these lmao let’s gooo!

1. Yeah exactly, he was probably more concerned with just finding something to hold all his random bits and pieces. Or I just thought right now it could be like not just a “normal box” but maybe like an old case for his bass? Like he got a nice newer one and needed something to do with the older one, and it had locks so that was handy, so he just uses it for that. Or another type of less boring box maybe idk

2. Lmao yeah I laughed so hard when I came up with it and I like I totally think he would! Like if he couldn’t find real Bobby photos (I reckon there weren’t many anyway) then he just got those and Bobby was like “Reggie that baby looks nothing like me” and Reggie just shrugs like “close enough”

3. Yeah exactly! As if he’s only just starting to make the box and is putting whatever in it, not just the things that mean something

Ok now non-box-related stuff lol

2. Yesss omg I love that. They’re just in the middle of playing through a song and Alex notices that Reggie is slowly dropping out and turning distant and he stops drumming (which makes the other two stop playing as well) but before any of them can ask Reggie what’s up he just kind of explodes. Tears all round, mostly Luke because he’s so guiltily relieved it’s not just him feeling like this

3. Totally! Alex points out all the logical stuff and Luke is just frowning the whole time like a furious puppy, and when Alex is finished he just says “right Luke?” and Luke just keeps scowling but nods at him. Doesn’t work if Reggie or Bobby try it, it does work when Julie does it, and surprisingly also works when Willie does it (because Willie is really good at reading people, as seen with Alex, so he knows how to approach any situation like that)

4. Yes exactly Luke is so caring (like in ep 7 when Alex is practically attacking his drums and he just gives a quick “hey Alex you alright?”) it’s just sometimes he lets his passion get in the way, that’s usually where music comes in! And omg that’s so perfect lmaooo I live for Alex kindly telling Luke off to get him back on track I love it

5. Yeah he knows the boys won’t take him seriously but he’s more careful around other people - the first time he says something sarcastic to Julie that he meant as a joke he worries for like a split second but then she immediately comes back with something terrible (because we all know Julie is terrible at comebacks and does not have Alex’s quick wit) and from then on they have this friendly-mean banter going back and forth between them

6. Yes exactlyyy 🥺😭 I feel like he went back to the garage once and then either he couldn’t make himself go back there ever again OR he couldn’t make himself leave for a long time and stayed there alone for days on end - either way he suffered a lot, being alone with his thoughts and his guilt. He started trying to talk to the boys - like Julie talking to her mum when she runs out of the Orpheum in ep 9. “I don’t know if you can hear me guys, but I am so sorry. I’m sorry I let you down, that I wasn’t there, that I can’t make this right. I miss you so much and... I don’t know what I’m ever going to do without you.”

8. Ohhh yes that makes way more sense actually, I like that a lot! They probably just passed Bobby as he was leaving the morgue and they were coming in to see Luke and that hurts to think about actually oh god. And yesss he so took the Rubik’s Cube and for a long time he would fiddle with it when nervous; he never managed to solve it though, not even once

10. Yes definitely!! He loves rides like the Spinning Teacups (or whatever variation they have at the theme park of that ride) and it’s Luke who will sit out on that one because the spinning makes him feel ill. He’s less happy to sit out than Reggie is because he worries he’ll miss out on the fun, but he’d rather not vomit everywhere. Now it looks like I’m going off on a theme park tangent so I’m just gonna let it happen - Alex adores rides, there’s nothing he won’t go on. Like he’s unafraid even though people would expect them to hate it but he knows they’ve been tested and they’re safe so he’s more than happy to spend all day on the biggest rides. Bobby likes water-based rides and logflumes and stuff like that - they always make sure they go on those at the end of the day because they have to do it for Bobby but they don’t want to walk around soaking wet all day. Reggie likes getting/taking photos with all the dressed up mascots wandering around, Luke is thrilled by any interactive rides (except ghost trains because we’ve already established he hates horror movies and he thinks it’s like being in a horror movie), Alex also really enjoys just wandering around the big park and seeing people have a good time, and Bobby actually likes co-ordinating their day and making sure everyone gets to do what they want to

Yes I can totally see that! Like Reggie somehow didn’t know what one of his best friends was allergic to and felt so guilty afterwards. It’s a sore spot, they can’t bring it up or he’ll just start crying and hugging Alex for hours on end. Reggie will say “I’m so sorry Alex I could have killed you that day!” and Alex just goes “dude we all died anyway”

11. With Reggie it always turns into a game of “is he lying or is this actually some totally messed up thing he really did?” The most difficult time anyone’s ever had to figure it out was when he said he’d met Queen Elizabeth - like yeah it’s unlikely but it’s definitely the sort of thing Reggie would somehow accidentally do so??? (It was a lie, but not on purpose - he thought he had met her but it was just some random old lady at a store)

13. Omg yes!!! I feel like they just get bored during the day and Luke would just go “hey Reggie, come and Dosey Doe with me” and it would turn into all four of them dancing around the studio. And yes I think out of all the unlikely things I want in season 2 full cowboy outfits is very high up on my list

14. Ahskfldo YES Nick witnessing the entire thing!! Assuming lifers still can’t see the boys next season it’ll be so funny if Nick can see them because obviously he’s actually Caleb so he has to mentally restrain himself from reacting at all to them mocking him because he can’t reveal himself. So it’s just Nick shaking with anger and Julie saying “Nick? You okay?” and how biting back something mean about the boys and growling “fine” instead. And yes 100% Reggie plays those songs on repeat and the guys pretend to hate them but they can’t deny good music when they hear it so they do join in

15. THAT IS THE CUTEST THING EVER OMG THANK YOU FOR SAYING THAT! A tiny Han Solo in the corner of every piece, no matter if it’s Star Wars or not omg I love it I will never get over this

16. Yes lmao both of them are trying to sneak around Alex and duck under his arms to get at the batter and he’s just like “GUYS I am literally using an electric whisk, are you trying to get your fingers chopped off? Don’t even answer that, you’re banished from the kitchen, goodbye. Go annoy Bobby instead”

17. That is so cute omfg and like all over his clothes and in his hair. He just looks an utter mess but he’s smiling so wide and is the cutest baby ever (he was easily the cutest baby out of Sunset Curve, Reggie as a close second)

19. Wait yes I love that! Reggie’s just like “y’know it’s a lovely day outside d’you want to go dance with me” and Alex just goes “Reg it’s tipping it down. Of course” and it takes a while but Luke and Bobby eventually join them. Lots of splashing in puddles because the four of them are literal children and think it’s funny

20. That is the greatest thing ever andkdllf and I love how that was literally my reaction after episode 1 of the show too like wow Alex really is just that lovable. That pun as well I literally laughed out loud - I’ve reblogged/added to a post a while ago where I said Reggie and Willie communicate with each other only in ghost puns so I wholeheartedly support that. And exactly! If Luke suggested throwing eggs at anyone else’s house he would be sent to his room but he mentions it’s the Mercers’ and Emily just goes “I think we’re out of eggs, I’ll need to go shopping first, come on”

21. Yes omg idk why but the image of Alex having his own key is the sweetest thing ever - maybe because it symbolises him finally having a place to call home?? And yes I totally agree, Mitch doesn’t have a lot of characteristics (I wrote a massive list before where I made a load of headcanons about him because he didn’t have enough screen time lol) and he would develop so much if he took Alex under his wing

24. Omg yes you read my mind! She so should have had a verse in Flying Solo! Like thinking about it it’s totally plausible that Julie read her the poem before and Flynn, being Flynn, wanted to add her own verse about how much she loves Julie and how she’ll always be there for her! Or she could have at least like added harmonies or something?? Idk it’s just that Flynn is in the music program too and frankly I’d like to see her do a little more music. And I haven’t seen Lemonade Mouth but I did see a commentary video about it on YouTube (I think it was I’M LEMONADE MOUTH by Danny Gonzalez if you’re interested (but that might not be the title idk)) and if I’m remembering it right then YES absolutely! And yes exactly Willie would have danced with him if Caleb hadn’t made him leave! I’m still really angry about that because just think about how much fun they would have had together!!!!

25. Omg yes! I love that, I agree that it was because of Carrie being born that made him finally go. He wanted to be strong for her now that he finally had a second (third I guess?) chance at getting family life right and he knew he wasn’t in the right state of mind for it. And omg that mental image 🥺 if the boys had lived they would have been Uncle Luke, Uncle Alex, and Uncle Reggie to Carrie (and possibly even to Julie if they stayed friends with Rose too) and they would have raised her and maybe she would have grown up to be a little nicer and she and Julie and Flynn would have all stayed friends 🥺😭

26. Yes yes yes!! He gets back into his role of managing the band and even though the boys haven’t totally forgiven him he still finds himself able to write good music again and make jewellery again and he steps foot in the garage for the first time in decades because he has his band back and he feels so much happier and freer and he’s just ecstatic to have another chance!

28. Lmfao yes those are perfect! “Bobby I don’t care how much I love your pieces if you keep leaving your yarn in random places I will scream” was written after Reggie tripped over a bit of yarn that was somehow stretched all the way across the garage like a trap and when he fell he somehow managed to get totally tangled up in in

30. Omg yeah I can totally see her and Willie bonding!! I feel like Willie is kind of like an old soul and can just get along with everyone but he takes a special liking to Victoria for whatever reason and loves finding ways to talk to her

32. Yes! Sunset Curve just have the nicest, friendliest fan base and everyone is kind and respectful and all they want to do is give them stickers and fanart! Luke absolutely adores that portrait omg so Reggie and Luke would be puppies, I feel like Bobby could be a cat, and Alex would be something like an owl or something idk but they just are all captured as whatever the perfect animal for them and it’s adorable. Yeah you’re right I think Reggie just likes talking to fans and casually mentions it one day and the fans show up to the next gig with a 1000-piece puzzle for Alex

34. In a fridge omg I love it that’s brilliant. The boys laughed at him for a solid hour before helping him get out

35. Yes to all of that I love it!!! I also thought about Ray helping out - like he can’t see Reggie, but he goes along to all these photoshoots (and mostly can’t see who they’re taking pictures of either) and helps with angles and lighting and says well done to Reggie whenever he does a good job - Ray can’t see but Reggie smiles so wide at that

37. Ahsklfskdlfl yeah Alex has no hoodies left because they’ve all gone to a different band member or Flynn or Willie

39. YES OH MY GOD. When Carrie was just starting Dirty Candi she was saying about how she needed something to make them stand out and Trevor just immediately said “matching outfits, colour co-ordinated” without even thinking about it

40. Oh absolutely - but at some point Alex has to wonder if Willie is tripping so often because he can’t dance or so that Alex is forced to catch him. Willie is very eager to learn how to do lifts and stuff like that (even though it’s been years since even Alex did them) and he thinks it’ll be romantic. It is, but not because the lift is like this perfect moment, because it’s them messing up and being silly and just enjoying each other’s company 🥺

Not gonna lie this whole post might be my favourite we’ve made so far 😂

#williexmercer #sunset curve #julie and the phantoms #asks #emily answers

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