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somanyerikas · 3 years

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Nostalgia sells - or does it? About BBC’s rehiring of a previous showrunner for Doctor Who as a marketing strategy

All, right, this is the one where I deal with my issues about RTD’s rehiring from the standpoint of BBC’s business strategy . Brace for passive agression, swearwords, brief history of british television and numbers. So, so many numbers.

Allright, so I already wrote a post about my problem with RTD’s (re)hire from the creative standpoint (it’s here in case you’re interested), but hey, I can bitch about it all I want, but we all know what caused the BBC to make this decision, right? You’ve heard about it for sure. The Dropping Ratings. You’ve read about it on so many posts, lots of them probably oh-so-gladly conflating this fact with their own opinion about the deteriorating quality of the show. (Don’t worry, we’ll get to that.) So Obviously the execs at the Big BBC Quarters needed to do something about it, and what better way to go than rehire a guy who’s run at Doctor Who is a warm childhood memory for so many in it’s fanbase? After all, it’s what we’re seeing nowadays: from Star Wars return to wave of 80′s nostalgia to every old blockbuster star doing a comeback, there is but a single conclusion - nostalgia sells.

Or does it?

Part One: Moving with the change; or very much refusing to.

Let’s start this off with some facts about the ratings for Doctor Who. (Well, I warned you there’s gonna be numbers, didn’t I. Stick with me, I’m going somewhere with this I promise.) In it’s beginnings, in the sixties and seventies , the series flown high, averaging a viewership from 8 up to 10 million viewers per season. Collin Baker’s series 17 brought in a record of 11.21 milion viewer asses in front of a good ol’ TV screen, real champagne opener here. But, as it happens, things were downhill from here. During the eighties, the rating started dropping steadily, reaching an all-time low of 4.15 milion couch-warming bottoms in 1989, the last season of the classic era.

Years passed, 16 of those years to be exact, and here comes our saviour RTD. Under his wings, the revived series premiered, bringing in over 10 milion viewers to the premiere episode of season 1, Rose. A viewership this high did not last for long, but still, RTD’s seasons averaged between 7 and 8 milion viewers per season, which seemed pretty respectable. But then, as the story likes to repeat itself, not unlike the bbc execs just did, along came the decline again. Ever since 2010, the ratings began steadily dropping again, from 7.95 in 2010 to 5.46 in 2017. Then DW experienced an unexpected peak in 2018 with the premiere of Jodie Whittaker’s first season, which averaged 7.96 viewing asses, but then continued the dropping trend on the next season, averaging 5.40 viewing butts.

So what went wrong?

You see, part of the reason that Doctor Who was bringing in such great viewership numbers in the 60′s and 70′s, was that, to put it simply, BBC did not have much competition. Or, to be exact, only had one competitor. ITV was literally founded in order to break BBC’s monopoly over British television. But in the 80′s, with the launch of Channel 4 and Sky, the british viewers had more and more options to choose from. So logically speaking, they no longer had to watch BBC’s programming just because there was nothing else on. There was more and more new programes to boredom-watch. And here’s something y’all need to know about the tv industry: the boredom-watchers, the casuals? That’s the most important demographic. As hard as it might be to swallow, us hardcore fans, forum dwellers and Ao3 gremlins, we’re not as big of a group as we’d like to think. Loving fans are important to the tv execs as providers of word-of-mouth advertisment, but the real numbers come from the casual, everyday viewer who will just put on the next episode cause the other one was kinda fun I guess. Or more fun than the other options, anyway.

And this is why, by the way, when someone is conflating low viewership with the show Dissapointing The Fans, they’re full of shit. I’m sorry, but we’re really not that much of a force here, definitely not enough to make such a big impact on the numbers. Another factor, that some of you probably noticed already, is that the numbers I’m quoting are from british tv only, while the online fandom is very much international, so our opinions matter even less to the british execs, I’m sorry again, hard pill to swallow I know, but true nonetheless.

But I digress. So, to sum up the previous paragraph, Doctor Who’s viewership decline in the 80′s was the effect of the changing landscape of the TV industry, with which the BBC struggled to come to terms with.

Sound familiar?

Let’s move on to the 2010′s, shall we?

2010 was is actually a good marker of a year to choose, because it marks one important thing that begun a big change in the industry. This was the year in which Netflix expanded their services overseas, from being a DVD rental company to providing VOD services. Over the next decade streaming services grew in importance, from being an add-on to your cable TV that you didn’t really want but they were throwing it in for cheap, to very much self-sustainable media services you might very well buy instead of buying the cable. And if you look at the numbers for Doctor Who viewership declining over the last 10 years, that’s precisely what’s been happening. It’s not that people don’t want to watch Doctor Who on tv, they don’t want to watch tv in general. Do you know what was the most popular channel in Britain this year? Can you guess? Fucking Netflix that’s what. It’s just slowly-yet-steadily ceasing to be the way we use home entertainment anymore. Again, not much to do with the audience approval, because for that matter, let’s see about the specific episodes that saw the spikes in viewership.

Rose, which i mentioned at the start of it, was for the longest time the unquestionable queen when it comes to viewership, at 10.81 milion. The next episode, The End of the World, pulled in 7.97 - almost 3 millions worth of lost viewer-butts in one week? Is it because it was so much worse than it’s predecessor? No, it simply did not have the smell of Newness, the Event You Must See, and as such brought forth less of the casual viewers who were simply curious about The New Thing. The next season followed the similar formula, peaking at the premiere, when the marketing was at it’s strongest, going down during the season, sometimes rising slightly for the finale, sometimes not. The most popular episodes are, of course, the specials - yet again, the vibe of The Event To Be Seen worked here, but one more thing working to their advantage is they often aired in spaces between seasons, serving as both a long-waited Crumbs of Content for the fans, and the basically stand-alones for the casuals. Do you know what the single most watched episode of revived DW is? No, it’s not Tennant’s goodbye with the role (yeah I know, I thought it had to be that as well). It was Voyage of the Damned, between seasons 3 and 4. The perfect standalone for the casual watcher. And last but not least, you know one more special feature that brought, maybe not as much, but definitely more than expected? The 1996 movie Doctor Who, with 9.08 million. Again, a perfect standalone.

But the standalones aren’t the only way to grab the viewership. The currently-highest viewing non-special episode of DW? The Woman Who Fell to Earth, Jodie Whittaker’s introduction. In 2018 no less, in the year when the streaming was the ruler supreme, this episode brought a whooping 10.96 million buts to the good ol’ TV again. Let me reiterate: this episode brought in more viewers than Rose did in 2005, while having WAY more competition and way less favorable circumstances of release that RTD’s debiut did. Not only that, it managed to bring on some numbers for the entire season as well, not as good of course as the premiere (because again, the Event vibes faded), but still brought a better average than the last six seasons did. (Again, let me reiterate: more than the last SIX seasons. More viewership than any series since 2010, since the Streaming Wars.) So clearly, this must be the way, right? Catering to this Weird New Trend, that saw directors notice there do in fact exist other actors than white men, that surely brought in some profit, even Marvel does it now, right? Out with the old, in with the new!

Part 2 The Deceitful Charm of Nostalgia

Well, it turns out the whole Doing New Things deal didn’t work out that well after all, now did it? The second season penned by Chibbnal averaged 5.40 milion, that’s 2.5 million drop from the previous one! It must mean it didn’t work, right? Well, yes and no. As much as the refreshment of the formula as simple as Let’s Put A Woman In It absolutely worked for one season, it very visibly did not hold up for longer. An Event-Episode is something that can still happen on TV, Event-Series? That’s pretty much reserved for streaming now, if you think about it, and it’s honestly kind of a miracle that Series 11 did as well as it had. Two consecutive Event-Series on network tv? Flat out impossible.

So how to make those ratings great again? How to get those butts in seats of the Good Ol’? Well, the execs of the BBC have a plan for that. They brought in a devouring beast, and it’s name is: Nostalgia.

Without a doubt, there is a number of people who feel nostalgic about RTD’s era of Doctor Who. It’s a lot of people’s fond childhood memory, or the series they started with, and judging by the numbers, there should be quite a lot of them. So the new plan, as it appears, is to get to those who maybe lost interest in the show and lure them with the promise of the thing That Is Totally Like The Thing You Used To Love, Remember? (This is why I don’t actually think that RTD will be allowed to do anything new and interesting, that’s not what they hired him for. And that’s why I think this is bad from the creative standpoint.) So there are two questions here: One, will the people be lured? And two, for how long?

Nostalgia as a marketing strategy is something that you’re probably sick of seeing already (I know I am). But it has very much been effective on many levels, especially the eighties-baiting, Stranger Things style, can bring a new IP up to relevance. But what about old IP’s that want to have a comeback?

It’s kind of dificult to find another TV show that I could compare to Doctor Who. Most series that have been running for that long are mostly soap operas, that operate on slightly different rules, and are also targeted to a different audience. So as much as the movie series is still not exactly the best comparison, when I think about a big IP, campy sci-fi, family-oriented (at least in theory) on its path back to relevance, I think about Star Wars, obviously. The Force Awakens gambled on that nostalgic feeling and won big, but the next two movies, while still financially successful, were nowhere near the astounding success of the first one. And that’s because - you guessed it - it created the Event You Must See again, The Great Comeback, but merely two years later, the comeback became old news. So what we can gain from that is that nostalgia can create an Event as well as a new trend, if not better. But the question remains: how long will that last?

That is, after all, the main difference between a movie franchise and a TV series in the traditional, network TV sense of the word: movie franchise must bring in the viewership every year or two, and TV series must bring in viewers every week for at least two months. Is RTD’s Nostalgia Vibes enough to provide for that?

I’ll say this: I’m absolutely certain that the 60th anniversary will be very popular. I still don’t think it will break any records because, as I’ve been trying to explain for this whole post, it is not 2007 anymore no matter how much the tv execs would like it to be. But ironically, the almost-certain success of the special is the very thing that could undermine the effect of bringing their precious Nostagia Boi back onboard. Remember, the first Event Episode is The Big Oof. That’s the one that gets asses to the Good Ol’, if anything ever does. After the first big event one, that’s the point when things start going down. They’re wasting their Special Event Boi for something that already would be an event, dear fucking gods, I hate your plan and I would still execute it better. Either have RTD be the Anniversary Guy and then hire someone new, use that hype and keep it going, OR have RTD come in after the anniversary, then at least you get the Event Effect for the premiere of his first return season. Fukin’ amateurs.

But even if they did that, here’s the thing: do you think that the people who departed from the show years ago actually want to watch another three to five seasons of The RTD Show? I mean, I’m sure the thought warmed some hearts, for sure. A number of people will definitely gladly watch the anniversary, probably the first few episodes of the first return to the basics, but after that? In the world when, due to streaming, they have an easy way to revisit the actual thing they’re nostalgic towards? I honestly don’t think so. And you’re not really gonna get many new people by going back, if that nostalgia factor isn’t there. And then there’s casual viewers, the backbone, as we established. And here’s the thing: lots of those people don’t even know who the current showrunner is, cause they’re not Terminally Online like we are, and the second thing? Lots of those people ARE JUST NOT WATCHING NETWORK TV, IM SORRY GARRY. They’re just. They’re just not. I don’t know how to spell it out better. Even my mum has netflix now. Your biggest base is in another castle mate, gotta get moving and gotta get moving quick, cause here’s another thing: all the nostalgia in the world will not do SHIT for you if your target, people who were kids/teens when the RTD era was airing, PROBABLY DON’T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING TV ANYMORE CAUSE THEY MOVED OUT OF THEIR PARENTS FLAT AND LOTS OF YOUNG PEOPLE JUST DON’T BOTHER. Just. I’m sorry but you’re trying to resuscitate a decade-deceased corpse there buddy. It just won’t work. The times have changed and you gotta swim or drown, and it’s just not gonna be 2005 again, no matter how hard you pretend it is. It’s not your content it’s your business model. Just push more marketing for your iplayer or whatever, focus on streaming as your primary not your secondary cause that’s just what it is now, and maybe don’t rely on the viewer-counting systems of the yesteryear to evaluate your business. Or else you’re gonna get stuck sacrificing the creative growth of your show for a marketing strategy that probably won’t even fucking WORK.

There, I got it of my chest. Feel free to reblog, and also: you somehow got to the end of this, congrats! I’ll make numbers nerds out of y’all yet.

#it's like. my sister and I were #watching a movie lately. the one with multiple will smiths and the de-aging tech #(don't recommend it it's real boring)#but when Youngened Will Smith appeared on the screen my sister got my spiting my tea laughing by innocently saying:#"oh i don't know this actor. it's nice that they're giving opportunities to the young actors. great to see a new face in the biz''#and u know what #this rehire is the same fucking vibe to me #some cunts from marketing plastering make-up to an old man's face and pretending its 2005 still #anyway #doctor who #i guess.

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knullanon · 3 years

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100 with yandad Steve please???

before writing- theres some mf cat fight and istg if its my cat im about to whoop his ass, but besides that this is kinda mellow. new idea.

after writing- turns out using your own trauma for fanfics is actually really good for the story, terrible for your sanity since you have to relive through everything.

warnings: yelling. like, i talk about that shit a lot. you get to feel what i felt 8 years ago pretty much.

no suprises - radiohead

you hadn’t meant for you dad to find out about where you went every friday night. or, at least, where you actually went. you were a teenager, and you were able to convince him that you were responsible to go out on your own and not cause shit. which was true. you were able to not start shit with other people. but that’s not gonna stop you from going to places where stupid shit was happening.

it started a few months ago. one of your close friends, dalia, had told you about a new group of “fighters” in your school. apparently, they would meet up every friday for fights. people could watch, people could have fun, but phones were a no go and while you could have them on you and text people, you couldn’t tell them about the group.

you both decided to say fuck it and you both went. it was a blast.

you has so much fun, and considering that most of the time you were just watching people get the shit beat out of them, it was fun. you met some new friends, new guys, new gals, new everything.

it was a break from your puritist dad who was a bitch about these things. he would always tell you to be careful with people who you didn’t know, or people who didn’t know you would try to hurt you. which, while yes, there were plenty of assholes who had tried to hurt you, you had learned what to look out for.

but steve never believed you. which is why being here, at the group, was a refresher. as the opponent got his ass beat into the ground, you laughed with dalia, holding a drink that you had brought for yourselves.

it was the final night before a large football game, which was held on a weekend due to testing, and everyone on the fight team was on the football team excluding a few who were too much into fighting to be into football.

so, of course, they were roughing each other up so they wouldn’t have to deal with each other.

“god, my man mike is getting his ass whooped!” dalia exclaimed, while mike was being punched in the face repeatedly. you laughed and said, “he isn’t even your man!”

“oh, fuck you _____!” she laughed with you as mike was dragged off the stage and the winner, a guy named jake, stood victoriously.

you faintly remembered a rule your uncle bucky had told you, “never date a guy whose name starts with a J”. weird advice, but helpful, since jason was pending on a charge of domestic violence.

you and dalia laughed a little more, before dalia checked the time. “oh shit, isn’t your dad back by 2 these days?”

looking at your watch, he was indeed back by 2, and it was 1:20. it took you about 30 minutes to get home, and only 10 to get ready for bed.

“yeah, lets just go.”

as you walked out, you were able to hear the crowd cheering from the inside of the warehouse. walking towards her car at the end of the car park, you said goodbye to her as she got in her own car, and sped off. you didn’t want to spend the night alone and cold in a car park, so you headed off to your own car.

however, when you got to the place your car was, it wasn’t there. you looked around to make sure that it wasn’t anywhere else. thinking it was stolen, you were about to call dalia to come and pick you up, when a car honked from behind you.

you turned, and it was your car. wait, then who was driving it-

it was steve.

and he did not look happy.

~~~~

“I can’t believe you would lie to me! I let you go out and this is the stuff you do?!”

you sat in the back seat of the car like a child, while your dad angrily drove you home. right now, he was talking about the “dangers” of the outside world.

“I told you, places like those are terrible for a young lady like you! do you realize what could’ve happened if someone went under you car? if someone came up behind you? and- are you even fucking listening to me, _______?!”

that got your attention. steve never cussed out loud, especially not in front of you. this must mean hes really pissed.

“I am not kidding around with you, _____! You aren’t someone big and imposing like me, and you can be easily grabbed! you want to know what they’ll do, ____? do you?!”

“i know what the fucking do, dad.” you were almost on the verge of crying and your voice was quiet. holding in your tears was hard, but you also wanted to weep so bad. it felt like you were being ridiculed like a child.

“did you just cuss at me? did you just cuss at me?!” your dad was getting more and more louder every minute. at this point you were wiping you tears away with your sleeves, trying to cover up the fact that you were crying.

“I don’t care what your friends told you, what you did was not safe, and the fact that you have the audacity to do that after I’ve told you otherwise, is fucking bullshit!”

you were crying silently at this point. you didn’t have anything to say. you wanted to cry.

suddenly, he grabbed his phone and started calling someone.

“you know what- no, I’m done.”

confused, you were about to ask, when he said, “you’re not going to school anymore.”

“w-what?”

“those kids are just putting shit into your mind that doesn’t need to be there, and I’m tired of it. It’s obviously working. I’m not having it.”

you were in shock. you tearfully asked, “but- but you can’t just-”

“I AM, AND I WILL _____. IF YOU WON’T LISTEN TO ME, THEN I WILL TAKE AWAY THE THINGS THAT ARE HARMING YOU.” he was yelling to you now. you were bawling your eyes out. you curled up so he wouldn’t be able to see you, not wanting him to see you acting like a child.

this really turned out to a shitty night, huh?

#yan!dad steve rodgers

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buckysmischief · 4 years

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wish you were here, part 1

Scott Lang x reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Falling in love with someone who lives one the other side of the country is a bitch, but can you make it work?

Warnings: language, long distance, a little angst, fluff

Prompt: Internet friends to lovers

AN: This is for @flowerymoonlight ‘s challenge 💙 also thank you to @saundrasays & @jillybeaner13 for reading over this part for me, I owe you both 💚

I will not be doing a taglist for this mini series

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Are you sure Sam won’t mind?” Friday’s were date nights for him and Wanda, so when she called that morning and invited you to dinner, you got suspicious. It had been almost a year since your ex found himself a new girlfriend and as your best friend, Wanda had made it her mission to keep your mind off of him - he was a coward and didn’t deserve anymore of your tears. You came home one day and all his belongings, and the huge flat screen that you paid for, were gone. You thought someone had broken in until you found a note in his hand writing that just read “sorry”.

“Date night got moved, he’s got a “business” call with his friend in an hour. It’s fine, really, ask him yourself.” she gestured to the front door of their apartment, Sam walking in seconds later. “Babe, tell YN that date night is cancelled.”

“Hi honey, my day was amazing, thanks for asking.” he said, following it with a kiss so she knew he was messing with her. “Yeah, a buddy of mine in California works in security and he sent us this new system and I have no idea how to work it. I figured with the time difference and our attention spans it would be better to move date night to tomorrow.” Sam didn’t bring up this friend often, you didn’t even know his name, but you were definitely curious.

While Sam cleaned up, you helped Wanda by setting the table. She insisted on doing all the cooking and you learned to just let her have it. It wasn’t long before the three of you were sitting around the dinner table, laughing over empty plates. Being around Wanda and Sam was always refreshing, the mood was always light and the conversation always flowed from one thing to another so naturally. Before any of you knew it, Sam was getting a FaceTime call, “SCOTT! Your friend's name is Scott! Ha!” Sam laughed at your excitement as he walked into his office to answer the call.

Instead of going home, Wanda poured you a glass of wine and decided you were staying, something about Sam always losing track of time when it came to Scott. You were looking through their collection of DVDs when you found an oldie but goodie, Jawbreaker. By the time it started playing, Wanda was back with snacks and blankets.

The movie wasn’t on for long before you had to go to the bathroom, Courtney was being a bitch again so you didn’t worry about missing the rest of the scene. As you were washing your hands, though, you thought you heard your name. You turned off the water and was about to brush it off when you heard it again… coming from Sam’s office?

After sneaking out of the bathroom and down the hall, you found yourself standing to the side of the half opened door, trying to figure out why your name would be brought up by either of them. You were just about to forget about it until you heard it again, “I just don’t think YN would be up for it..”

“Be up for what?” you bursted through the door, causing Sam to throw his phone across the room, coincidently, at your feet. Sam knew he wouldn’t get to it before you, so you quickly grabbed it up and bolted to the living room. “Oh look,” you smiled at the stranger on the phone, “he has a name and a face to match.”

“Ahh, you must be YN. Sam said you were a fallen angel, now I know why.” He was cute, funny, and definitely just winked at you.

“That’s not - I said she was the devil, and THIS is why! Who just bursts into rooms and takes their friends' phones!?” He was still chasing you through the apartment, meanwhile Wanda was laughing so hard on the couch she was almost in tears.

“Awww Sammy, you talk about me?? That- that’s so sweet!” you laugh, trying to dodge the pillows Sam is hurdling your way. He finally pelts one right at your head, causing you to drop his phone. You tried grabbing it, but Sam was faster, “YN, I love you to death, but I will body slam you into the couch the next time you make me chase you ever again.”

“That’s fine, I got what I wanted.” with a smug look on your face, you walked back to your spot on the couch to finish the movie.

Later that night after Wanda and Sam were asleep, you were still up scrolling through different apps when you got a few interesting Twitter notifications.

It had been a few days since you and Scott “met”. You only had a few conversations after that, but this was the most you’ve put yourself out there in a long time and it felt good. Even if he was just a friend, you sensed he was going to be important.

For some reason though, Sam still wasn’t super excited with how close you were getting. “I mean, I love Sam dearly, but he’s not the friend police.” Wanda only gave a shrug before opening her apartment door to the sound of Sam talking to someone on the phone.

“Hey babe,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek, “who's that?”

Before he could even answer you heard the laugh and knew it was Scott. “So, how is my first ex husband doing?” You tried getting a good look at his screen, but he kept it far from your reach. “You wish, he won't be your ex anything if I have anything to say about it!”

From Sam’s phone you could hear Scott laugh hard before replying, “Aw, Sam, that’s so sweet. We’re not even dating yet and you’re already fighting for us to make it. That's the best man energy I’m looking for.” Scott’s laugh was cut off by Sam ending the call, refusing to play along with whatever that was.

“How close are you two exactly?” Sam has always treated you like a little sister, but ever since Quill left it’s only gotten worse. He felt responsible since he introduced you, but there was no way he could have known that Quill was the biggest asshole in the galaxy. “Because when he asked about you, he called you his “future wife” so what kind of coincidence is that??”

Wanda rolled her eyes, knowing exactly where this was headed. “Babe, relax. They haven't talked that much. But, just thinking out loud...” she paused, “they do have a lot in common..”

“What are you getting at?”

“Nothing, It- it’s a shame he lives on the other side of the country because I think you two would be the perfect couple, but that doesn’t mean you two shouldn’t be friends.” She’d always been able to know what you were thinking without you even telling her, Scott was funny and cute and she was right, if he lived in NYC he’s definitely the type of guy you’d try to date. But he didn’t, and that’s okay.

As you got to know Scott better though, you learned that he was more than just the “funny” one. He was ridiculously smart and clever, more than he gave himself credit for. When he told you that he spent a few years in prison you didn’t believe him, he ended up just sending a picture of his mugshot and links to articles about the trial. Sam was surprised to find out you knew, it wasn’t information Scott just confessed to everyone.

“How did it even get brought up?”

“We were playing 21 questions and I asked him what the most trouble he ever got in, when he first told me I thought he was kidding but after he sent proof I was shocked.” Scott was worried that you’d look at him differently, but if anything it made you respect him more. It also meant that he trusted you, and you should trust him too.

It wasn’t long before you realized you were catching real feelings for him, and Wanda was right, a long distance relationship just wasn’t something you could do right now. You should have seen it coming, prevented it even. Staying up on the phone all night, texting him before Wanda when something random happens, the good morning/ goodnight texts.. You even told him about Quill, turns out Scott knew who he was, vowing to give Sam hell for introducing you to “that asshole” instead of him.

“Oh, so you think you’d be a better boyfriend?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” He became very flirtatious recently and you secretly loved it. Of course, you’d never let him know it.

“How’s a guy like you single, anyway?”

“It’s a funny story actually..” there was a strain in his voice that made you want to tell him he didn’t have to answer, but his tone told you that this was something he needed so say. “I was engaged to a woman, Hope, for almost two years. One day I saw a text from her boss and in one message I found out all the business trips they were taking were actually for pleasure, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, Scotty..”

“No, don’t feel bad. That was almost a year and a half ago, I’m more than over it. I just don’t trust as easily anymore.” As he changed the topic to something more light, you thought about what Sam had said before, how Scott told you things he doesn’t normally tell other people. For a second, you almost let yourself think that he might have some kind of feelings for you, too.

“So, what’s the plan again?” Wanda had insisted Sam’s birthday party be a surprise this year, even throwing it the weekend before his actual birthday so he wouldn’t suspect.

“If you’d stop texting Scott for two seconds you’d remember.”

“Bucky and Steve are taking him out to do whatever his heart desires, while we’re here getting ready. The food should be here in like, two hours, so we’ve got plenty of time. I told Steve they’re not allowed back before 7pm and that I’d text him when we’re done just to be safe. The slackers will show up whenever they please, I guess.”

By slackers she meant Pietro and Clint, they showed up just in time to help lay out the food. They definitely didn’t sample everything they put their hands on, that would be rude. Well, at least they brought alcohol.

Wanda finally texted Steve that everything was ready and not even 10 minutes later they were walking through the door. Sam was greeted to a loud “surprise” from everyone in the room and was quickly prepared to catch Wanda, who threw herself into his arms. It wasn’t until Bucky and Steve fully entered the apartment that you realized there was someone else with them.

“Scott?” As he made his way to you, time felt as if it were slowing down all around you. As silly as it sounds, you never thought you’d actually meet him, or maybe you just didn’t allow yourself to. It didn’t matter though, did it? Here he was, the man you’ve been falling for for months now, standing right in front of you like he had in so many of your dreams. “Is this real?”

Before he could explain, Wanda beat him to it, “I texted him a few weeks ago to see if he wanted to come out, he agreed on the condition it would be a surprise to everyone. He got in last night.”

“A whole day, Scott Lang. You’ve been in the city a whole day!? You were texting me the whole time!” He scooped you up in his arms for a hug, and when he put you down you immediately wished he didn’t.

“The look on your face was definitely worth it.” You’ve seen his smile a hundred times, but none compared to how contagious it was in person.

After that, he never left your side. At first you felt bad because he was Sam’s friend and he was only here because it was Sam’s birthday, but he told you that they just spent the last eight hours together and you didn’t feel as bad. “Besides, I’ll be here a week,” he quickly scanned the room to make sure no one was watching and began to whisper in your ear - it was soft, and deeper than you’ve heard before, “that’s plenty of time to get to know eachother better.”

Blushing, you playfully slap him on the chest and go to refill your drink. You thought it’d be a good idea to double the amount of alcohol that was already in the glass, but quickly decided against it and went for soda instead. There was no way you were going to turn into a drunk idiot in front of him, no way.

“So, do you like your surprise?” Wanda said. With Scott flirting teasing you, you almost forgot this was all her doing.

“Could have given me a warning, Wands..”

“I did, I told you to wear those shoes with that dress.” She pointed to the simple black heels you were wearing that went perfectly with the black dress that was just hanging in the back of your closet. The top was black lace, while the bottom half was silky and flared out. At first you wondered why you were getting so dressed up when you weren’t even leaving the apartment, but brushed it off when she told you it matched the dress code she gave to everyone.

“He’s leaving in a week, what am I supposed to do, seduce him into staying?”

“No,” she laughed, “but don’t ignore your feelings. Everyone knows he likes you too.”

“You’ll never stop meddling, will you?”

“Never.”

“Glad we cleared that up.”

She then wished you good luck and went off to find Sam, but as the night went on her words never left your mind. It had been a long time since you let the thought of Scott liking you back cross your mind, but now with your best friend telling you that he in fact does…

“Whatcha thinking about?” Green eyes and the smell of mint flooded your senses and every thought was lost.

“Nothing important. So, what are you actually doing while you’re here? I’m sure Sam is excited.” There was no harm in testing the waters, right?

“He is, but I was being serious before, I want to get to know you better.”

“The only person who knows me better than you is Wanda, and she knows me better than I do.” He began laughing, and just like his smile, it was even better in person.

“That’s all true, but I have two options for you: take advantage of the time that I’m here, or come back to San Francisco with me for a few days. Or both, I’d be more than okay with both.”

“I’m sure you would, but let’s take it slow? Lunch tomorrow?”

“It’s a date,” he smirked, “right now though you should come listen to the embarrassing story of Sam I’m about to tell.”

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

Broken Me...

Ch. 7

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunately have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Insecure reader, heavy makeout seasion, almost smut, language, fluff, I think that’s it..

Word Count: 1564

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Getting out of the shower you throw on a pair of yoga pants, and an oversized slipknot T-shirt.

Deciding it was best to just be comfortable... Hell you hadn’t been much better off last night when he showed up to your room, and if he wanted to get to know you it was better that he see the real you, and not some overly done up version of you because you were trying to impress him..

Jensen said he was just gonna have takeout order, and sent up to our room, so he didn't plan on going out anywhere.

Which worked for you, you were a homebody, and always had been. Crowds weren't really your thing, and you would much rather sit on the couch cuddling, with Netflix playing in the background than be at some fancy restaurant, or a bar somewhere.

In your opinion you can't really get to know someone with a crowd of people around; at home in your comfort zone though, walls tend to come down and you really get to see the real person behind the public persona everyone puts on.

Jensen has had people staring at him, asking him questions, wanting pictures, signing things all day long. He deserves some time to just be comfortable without someone looking at him wanting something...

Throwing your hair into a cute messy bun, and was about to at least apply a little light makeup before Jensen got to the room when you heard the door open.

Crap... He’s already here… That as fast…

You walked out of the bathroom as Jensen sat his wallet, and phone on the desk. He looked at you and smiled, but now that it was just the two of you, and not a crowd of people around him, looking at him, you could see just how tired he was, and he looked exhausted standing there in front of you…

"I'm gonna grab a quick shower. I've ordered us some food. I should be out before it gets here." He said, as he grabbed his clothes out of his suitcase he walked by, and gave you a peck on the lips before heading to the bathroom with his clothes in hand.

You made your way over to the couch, your head screaming at you all the sudden out of nowhere...

You hoped that you weren't making a mistake...

He seemed distant...

Hopefully it was because he was just tired...

The longer you sat there waiting, the louder your insecurities got...

This man had the body of a damn Greek God...

His ex-wife looked like a damn model...

He was disgustingly rich... Not to mention famous...

Had people at his every call... Jared didn't seem too trilled when Jensen hugged you in the auditorium this evening before you headed to the hotel room. His friends must not like you either. This was never going to work. You started to get up and pack your things when you heard the bathroom door open.

"What's wrong?" He asked, frozen in place, standing next to his open suitcase. "Y/n, what is it?"

Dropping what he was holding, he rushed over to sit next to you on the bed, your face must have given you away..

"Nothing." You smile at him, trying to downplay it to him. He had enough to worry about, he didn't need to deal with your dumb insecurities on top of all the things he had going on in his life.

"Lier." He said simply, his piercing stare showing you no mercy whatsoever, apparently you weren’t that great of an actor then..

Jeez the man was breathtaking...

His forest green eyes looking deep into yours like he was reading into your soul...

"It's nothing, just my own stupid insecurities." You tell him, trying to laugh it off. Feeling embarrassed now you interested yourself in the comforter of the bed to not have to look at him... Because you were afraid you would start to cry if you kept looking at him..

He put his index finger under your chin, making you look up at him.

You hadn't realized how close he was sitting next to you until he did. The scent of his body wash draped over your senses, and clouded your judgment..

"You don't have a damn thing to be insecure about." He said, pulling you closer to him.

His lips finding yours instantly. Kissed you sweetly at first.

Gently.

One arm came around your waist, and he pulled you into his lap, like you weigh nothing at all, wrapping your leg around him.

His large hands made their way up your back until he reached up and pulled the pony tail from your hair, fixing his hands through your hair, and pulling you deeper into him. Like he just couldn’t get you close enough, a low moan rising in the back of his throat as his tongue traced over your own....

All rational judgments flew right out the window. All you could think about was his smell, his taste, the feeling of his growing erection pressing into your thigh.

All you wanted was him...

All you could think about was him…

Reaching up Jensen pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your sports bra..

“Jesus sweetheart, your beautiful.” His voice was practically dripping with lust...

Jensen had just started to run his hand up your bare back almost reaching your bra strap when there was a loud knock on the door.

"Delivery!!"

"You're gonna have to get that."

Jensen said, lips still just lightly touching yours. His breathing was heavy. His voice is deep, and rough, and man you didn't want to move.

The man was literally dripping sex...

The front door pounded again, and you pulled yourself to your feet, throwing your shirt on, and leaving Jensen to try and compose himself on the couch. You paid for the takeout he ordered, and walked in to find Jensen taking a deep drink of the whiskey he'd just poured himself.

“You okay?” You asked him, and he smiled at you, his eyes stills darker than they were normally, but the fire had died down in them some, showing just how tired he really was…

“Yeah, I’m good baby, let’s eat and get settled in for the night, I’m beat..”

After dinner the two of you spend the rest of evening cuddling, and having some pretty heated makeout seasons.

He never went any further than that. Always stopping himself before things got a little too heated.

One thing you had learned was that Jensen had a very dominant personality. He liked to be in control. The "man" in the relationship you could say.

You didn't mind.

You liked that about him. He wasn't NOT by any means a weak person. That was refreshing in a way. The two of you were about 10 years apart, and the men closer to your age did seem pretty wimpy in comparison..

Laying wrapped in his arms you lightly ran your fingers across his biceps and watched as a slight shiver ran through him. A comfortable silence had long fallen over the two of you The both of you were just enjoying each other's company..

"We have to leave to conference Sunday." He said quietly, you hadn't even thought that far ahead. It made your heart drop.

"I've taken a few weeks off to get myself together. I can't stay in Austin right now. I have to decide what I'm going to do. Where I'm gonna go when I can come home from filming..."

He took a deep breath, trying to keep the stress from returning to him so quickly..Running his fingers through your hair. That brought back to your memory what y/f/n had told you about you now having an apartment for yourself. She said her things were already moved out. An idea hits you as you debate within yourself. Hopefully it wasn't too forward or too fast.

"Y/f/n moved out of my apartment this weekend. It's small, and nowhere near what you're used to I’m sure, but you're welcome to stay with me when you're home." You blurt out in a rush.. Your heart racing. So scared you had moved too fast, and messed this up.

Finally you felt his lips brush against your forehead in the dark hotel room, only the flickering light of the TV showing as the two of you lay wrapped up in each other’s arms..

"I would love that." He said, wrapping one of his perfect bow legs around yours pulling you close as humanly possible to him.

Both of you seemed to breath a sight of relief in that moment, neither of you wanted to be alone, nor did you want to leave each other after only just finding one another, and this seemed liked the perfect solution..

You yawed, the events of the day catching up to you, that and lack of sleep last night, Jensen didn’t miss it either… Reaching over he turned the TV off, and pulled the both of you down deeper into the covers, nuzzling into the back of your neck and making himself comfortable.

"Goodnight baby girl." He said, as you drifted off into a deep peaceful sleep wrapped in his arms.

Grateful that he agreed to stay. Hoping that for once things might just actually go right..

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heartsofbeskar · 3 years

Text

from the ashes

chapter 7 | read on AO3

din djarin x oc

WARNINGS: violence, blood, mild torture, swearing, mentions of gambling

WORDS: 5.2K

EXCERPT: Knives had always been his last choice, a last resort when his firearms failed him or were no longer an option. They were inefficient in his brutish hands, often requiring close contact and were never a guarantee to kill. But in hers … they were more than just knives, they were instruments, that she played effortlessly to sing a serenade of violence.

He wondered if the Force had anything to do with it, or if she just had that many years of practice.

“You and that casino operator seemed close,” he continued musing into the silent space between them. There were no indications she had heard him, but he knew she had. Maker knew why, Din decided to push his luck. “Did you fuck her?”

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

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Din’s mind whirled faster than light speed as they ran back to her ship.

I am not a Jedi.

The words echoed over and over again. But she had to be … right? Or at least some kind of trainee, like Grogu was. He let his mind dwell on the small foundling. How he’d been able to lift impossible weights for his tiny body, how he’d healed terminal injuries— how he’d choked Cara just as Ten had choked the security officer who’d held a blaster to her head.

But there was no pretending Ten was some helpless creature that just happened to be overloaded with this weird power. She was a grown woman, a trained fighter. She wielded it with precision. She had to have learned how to do that somewhere, somehow.

I am not a Jedi.

The Empire … they chased me too.

If she wasn’t a Jedi, why would the Empire pursue her?

I never knew why—I still don’t.

Had she just lied to him? His skin felt like it was on fire. He didn’t know why the prospect of that bothered him so much. Many people had lied to him before, and he in turn had told many lies. His whole identity was built around an air of secrecy, but … it had felt like an intimate capsule of time, back on that asteroid. Where a barrier had slipped, for the both of them. Din didn’t want to consider it had all been false.

I am not a Jedi.

The ship entered his view, the distance closing much faster than before. Ten didn’t look back at him as she opened the hold and headed directly into the cockpit. He didn’t follow her in.

He sat on the nearest crate, shedding his gloves. He pressed the palms of his hands into his helmet, as if it were skin. A part of him … hoped she was Jedi. That she could get in contact with the ones who had taken Grogu. That he could see him again. Maybe even…

Din shook his head forcefully as he felt the ship jump to hyperspace. It was stupid and wishful for him to dwell on those things.

Ten emerged from the cockpit, avoiding his eyes. She was still wearing her cloak as she hurried into the refresher, and then towards where he sat, holding a small metal box now. He straightened.

“You’re bleeding,” she pointed out. She sat down next to him and rifled through the box. Her thigh pressed against his, and Din had the inexplicable urge to jerk away, which he ignored. He furrowed his brow beneath his helmet, turning to examine himself and — ah. A blaster graze was indeed on his arm, the fabric torn away just below the pauldron. Blood slowly dripped down onto the sleeve.

Setting the box on the ground, she slowly brought her hands up to grip the edges of his pauldron. They stilled there, her eyes lifting to his. Asking for permission. He nodded.

She pried the metal off his arm, and he groaned. He could feel the sting now, the frayed nerves hit by blaster fire. She ripped the fabric further up his arm, exposing the burn and his tanned skin.

“It’s not too bad, just partially got past the beskar,” she muttered, running her fingers over the surrounding area. They were cold, Din noticed. She touched him with a gentleness that didn’t suit her face.

As she began to wipe grime off the area, she said quietly, “Aren’t you going to ask?”

Din turned his face to look in hers, but her eyes were down, staying focused on the burn. Her brows were furrowed. He didn’t even know what the question would be. He settled for silence as she finished cleaning his arm, then reached for a small can of bacta spray.

“This’ll sting.” She began to spray the area. It did sting, but Din registered it only in some far away portion of his mind. He wanted to take the opportunity she’d opened, but his mind was still grasping at the formulation of a thought that didn’t sound … well, stupid.

As she placed a patch on the now scarring burn, he gave up.

“How can you do that if you’re not a Jedi?”

Her eyes finally flickered back up to meet his. “The Jedi do not have nor have they ever had exclusive control over the Force.”

“The Force … that’s where those … powers come from, right?”

She straightened from where she’d been rearranging the first aid box and gave a small laugh. Din … wasn’t sure he’d heard that sound from her before. Not like this.

“Powers, that’s…” she shook her head. “That’s cute, Mandalorian. Yes, the Force is what enables me to do the things most can’t. But it’s all a matter of someone’s connection.”

Ten stood, heading back to the refresher. Din couldn’t help but follow. The questions seemed to be falling out of his mouth now. Grogu had never been able to tell him anything about his powers. It felt as if by learning more he could be closer to him, somehow. Understand his son and the extraordinary life he had lived.

“Connection? What does that mean?”

She half turned towards him, shrugging off her cloak and then her jacket. Wraps encased her forearms, as Din had always seen. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re more curious about this than I thought you would be,” she remarked. Facing the mirror, she turned on the tap.

“You just incapacitated someone without even touching them.”

“A blaster can do that as well,” she said, leaning down and splashing water onto her face. The edges of her hair brushed the sink ledge, the dark strands wetting slightly. Din scoffed.

“A blaster doesn’t—” he stopped. He rubbed a hand along the edge of his helmet, realizing his gloves were still off. “Why did you lie to me before? About the Empire?”

Ten spun quickly to face him, water droplets still dripping down the planes of her face. She narrowed her eyes. “I never lied to you. That armour, your helmet, that’s your Creed. This is mine. Hiding my connection from the Force is the only way I’ve lived all these years. If you were anyone else … I would’ve killed you already.”

Her eyes stayed locked on his helmet, not even blinking. He believed her. And he knew, he could tell, it was something she’d done before. He understood, so he nodded, slowly.

As she passed, he placed a hand on her arm. “I wouldn’t betray you to the Empire.”

She placed a hand on top of his. Din was acutely aware of their bare skin touching. He could feel the texture of her skin. It was softer than he had expected. Was everything about her softer than it appeared?

“People I’ve known for years have sold me out to the Empire. I’ve only known you for less than a month.”

—

Her vision was muddied with the blood that had erupted from her face. It clung to her lashes, falling into her eye, and she tried to rapidly blink it away. Ten spit it out when it accumulated into her mouth. She was afraid to touch her face, afraid of what she would find there.

Good morning, beautiful. Antilles had greeted her that way nearly every morning for as long as she’d known him. Beautiful. She supposed she probably wasn’t, not anymore. Quell had seen to that.

The troopers took turns shoving her with their rifles to move her along. Her ankle screamed its objections, and Ten couldn’t even tell through the blood and sweat if there were tears.

She cried out as she tripped over something hard, falling forward and landing on her forearms. A metal surface. This must be their ship, she realized. A shudder went through her. She tried desperately to reach out to the Force, to feel its steady rhythm beneath her own breathing, but it felt too far away. Pushed down by her own panic.

Someone grabbed her by the collar of her shirt now, pulling her along beside them. She felt them ascending a ramp and then she was unceremoniously thrown towards the floor. Panting, she rested the uncut half of her face on the cool surface under her. Voices filtered through the ship to her ears.

“The asset is secure. We should prepare to leave immediately. You—” A snapping noise. Quell’s voice. “Clean this up, dispose of this waste.”

A different voice responded. “Sir, if I may, it was specified that the asset be delivered unharmed.”

Quell barked a laugh. “The bitch is fine. Surface level, nothing more. It’ll heal and she’ll be just as useful to the Empire as before.”

Ten felt her eyes burning, and she knew now there were undoubtedly tears. She couldn’t muster the effort to be ashamed. Some of the blood cleared from her eye. She focused on the crate that sat directly in front of her, counting the letters of the logo stamped to the side. Footsteps echoed off the metal, louder as they drew closer to her.

“We’re about to have some fun.”

With a small gasp, Ten’s eyes flew open. The hammock she lay in was gently swaying with the movements of the ship. She slowly ran a hand over her cheek. Dry.

She was alone in the ship’s hold. The engines were humming softly. She flexed her hand in front of her; it was still a little sore. One of the wraps on her arm had slipped down as she’d slept. Ten absentmindedly rubbed the tattooed “10” on her forearm. Years ago, she used to rub the skin until it was raw, sometimes on the verge of bleeding. But the ink always remained buried beneath.

Swinging her legs over the side of the hammock, she signed, rubbing the back of her neck. She hadn’t had an outburst like that with the Force in … well, she didn’t like to dwell on the last time it had happened. At least this time hadn’t been disastrous. Maybe she really was in more control, had somehow mastered the connections with no guidance. Or she was just simply fooling herself. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Mando’s footsteps filtered to her as they came down the short hallway. Ten hurriedly rewrapped her arm as he came into view. He’d put his pauldron back on, but not bothered yet to change his shirt — she could still see some of the bare skin around where he’d been burned. The feeling of it under her fingers echoed in her mind.

As he walked towards her, she was hit with the sudden realization of him knowing … and being a Mandalorian, at that. She remembered laying under the stars, Silya’s warm arm wrapped around her. Telling her tales of the ancient days of Mandalore, of their clashes with the Jedi. The enemies of all Mandalorians. Is that how he would view her now? Did she care? She was annoyed that the first response in her mind wasn’t no, of course not.

It felt like she was being laid bare in front of him.

“I went over the communication logs we downloaded.” His helmet was downturned, looking at the holopad in front of him. “The Empire usually slingshots its transmissions around Corellia, Issiluu, and Shih, in specific patterns. I don’t see any of that in here.”

Ten rubbed a hand over her face. “That would make sense, given the levels of security. The Empire would never leave their conspirator without at least a few troopers on the property.”

“We should choose who to check out next so we can get going,” he said, fingers moving quickly over the holopad screen. She rose from the hammock, muscles protesting. He’d put his gloves back on, she noticed. She followed him into the cockpit.

Settling into the co-pilot seat, he pulled up the holographic display which began listing Karga’s associates. He tapped his finger in the corner and it began scrolling through their details.

“I still think we should focus on those who were known to deal in weapons or adjacent industries during the height of the Empire,” Mando’s voice hummed in the background as Ten watched the names go by, along with the imagery of their various business pursuits. They were beginning to blur together and Ten sighed when— she saw it.

“Stop,” she demanded harshly. The screen had already moved forward. Mando’s helmet jerked in her direction. “Go back one. Another one. There— stop it here.”

Ten leaned forward, examining the information. It was the profile of Doman Tosche. He looked mild mannered enough, round face slightly reddened in the display picture. He owned a myriad of businesses in the Core, primarily food and household goods, which he’d recently been exporting further out. The only known connection to the Empire, based on their combined records and knowledge, was a second cousin who’d enlisted decades prior.

None of that was what had grabbed her attention.

There, next to one of his agricultural businesses, Mal’s Production Incorporated. A logo. One she’d seen before.

Blood was dripping down her brow. Her body was wracked with shivers against the cold metal floor. Quell’s voice was in the background, arrogant and spiteful. The crate. The crate sat right in front of her. A logo painted onto the side. She counted the letters. Mal’s Production Incorporated.

She’d seen it before. On Quell’s ship. Years ago.

“He’s working with the Empire,” she said. She didn’t look at Mando. “He always has been.”

“You’re sure?” Ten looked at him now. He had leaned in, just slightly, and his fingers twitched like they wanted to reach. They didn’t. She nodded. “Okay.”

Taking a deep breath, she motioned to the display. “Looks like he has no centralized office, but he was in Canto Bight … two days ago, according to the shipyard logs. We should head there.”

Mando nodded, settling back in his seat, flexing his fingers. He seemed uneasy as she set in their new course. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Is this … is this a Force thing?”

“No,” she said. Her fingers tightened around the handle of the controls. “It’s a memory thing.”

—

“We should try to be back before the sun rises, in case there’s any New Republic officers patrolling.” Ten had her back turned to him, adjusting her weapons. The muscles in her shoulders flexed, and a strangely linear burn scar covered her left shoulder blade. Din’s eyes followed the line of her arm down to where her wrappings covered her skin. He felt a pang of guilt thinking about the glimpse he’d accidentally stolen of the skin underneath earlier. Of the tattoo he guessed she was hiding, though he couldn’t even begin to understand why. But he knew what it was to feel safe in cover, to need to block off physical parts of one’s self. He wouldn’t tell her he’d seen. She continued speaking as she turned around to face him, fastening her cloak at her neck. “I can blend in a crowd, but the beskar’s not exactly … inconspicuous.”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered. “But I agree, we should be careful. How much do you trust this contact you have here?”

She laughed at that. “Not at all, Mando.”

As they made their way past the bright casino lights, Din could tell the reflections off his armour made her uncomfortable as they moved amongst the city’s tourists. In his experience, the reflections often had the opposite effect she feared — he was like a mirror, where the surroundings drew all the attention, and he became nothing but a neutral piece of the structure.

Ten led him down a narrower side alley, offset from the main casino attractions, which seemed to help her relax a touch, despite its much seedier nature. A few shadowy figures lingered in doorways and Din’s hand came up to rest on his blaster, even though the woman in front of him seemed unbothered by their presence.

A dirty hand lunged out from an alcove as they passed by, grabbing tightly onto Ten’s arm and yanking. With the surprise leverage, the hand — attached to a man with a face equally dirty — pushed her down into the gravel. Din pulled his blaster from his belt but as he pointed it at the man, he had already his own blaster pressed into her temple.

“Go ahead Tin Can, shoot me,” he snarled. “By the time it reaches me I’ll have pulled the trigger on your friend here.”

As if to illustrate his point, he pushed the blaster harder into her temple. His other hand rested on the back of her head, and he pressed her face into the ground. Her hands were pinned beneath his knees. Din felt the blood rushing in his ears, his adrenaline spiking.

“You fucking idiot,” he heard Ten swear at him, her voice muffled.

“Oh, I’m the fucking idiot, eh?” he responded, turning his eyes down to her. Din dropped his free arm beneath his cloak. “You cost us a right lot of credits last time you were here, bitch. Fucked over our whole operation, ya did.”

“Your operation had the constitution of a burlap sack, you absolute—” The rest of her sentence was cut off as Din launched forward, propelled by the phoenix. He slammed his body into the other man, sending them into the opposite wall, and his body protested. The small space filled with smoke and Din pulled the vibroblade from his arm as it cleared. Bringing it down in a swift stroke, he plunged it into the direction of the man’s neck. As it sunk in and blood sprayed onto his chest plate he knew he’d hit the mark.

As the man slumped to the ground, he turned to where Ten had been. She was coughing lightly through the smoke, lifting herself on her elbows. He stepped towards her.

“Are you alright?” He extended a gloved hand down towards her. She ignored it.

“Shit,” she cursed again. Din watched as she slowly rose to her feet, brushing gravel off the front of her body. There was a red mark at her temple where the blaster had been, but he let out a breath when she seemed otherwise fine. Her eyes locked onto his. “I didn’t need your help.”

“Yeah, seemed like you had it all under control,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Some gravel still clung to the smooth skin of her face. Before he could stop himself, his hand reached up and began to gingerly wipe it away.

Her hand darted up to grab him by the wrist. It gripped him like a vice, and neither of them moved. It felt like there was some inflexible string tying them together in that moment, constricting each of them separately. The expression in her eyes was unreadable. It was as if she had her own beskar helmet to cover her outward expression. Din wasn’t even sure they were breathing.

He had no idea how long it had been — seconds? minutes? hours? — when the grip on his wrist finally released. His hand lowered.

“I didn’t need your help,” she said, tone softer than before. Ripping her eyes from him, she resumed their previous path down the alley.

—

Ten clenched her fists, tight enough to hurt, beneath her cloak. If she didn’t, she knew she would shake.

Not from the attempt on her life. No, that was a pretty standard day. And she’d met that man before, when he’d helped run a ring of backdoor casinos, scalping off the legitimate casino profits. The legitimate casinos had, unsurprisingly, hired her to flush out all the information on their counterparts.

No, Ten was shaking because … well, she couldn’t really say why. Was she humiliated? Maybe. Was she annoyed? Most definitely. She wanted to turn on her Mandalorian counterpart and give him the brunt of it, about how she was no damsel in distress for him to save and protect.

It wasn’t completely logical, she knew. They were partners, and someone had her on the ground with a blaster to her head. The second time in so many days. But she bristled all the same.

And the way his hand had brushed off the dirt from her face … what the fuck? Her nerves felt frayed, as if her very skin had been peeled open and set alight.

She didn’t look back at him again as they made their way to the end of the alley. A large metal door was inset in the wall that marked the end. There was no handle of any kind, but a small window at eye level which was shut.

Approaching, she motioned to Mando to stand back behind her. She banged one, two, three times exactly on the door. With a squeak, the metal cover on the small window slid open. It was just large enough to view the eyes of the person on the other side. Their brow was furrowed.

“You have a fathier for today’s race?” a gruff voice asked.

“Yes, he’s being tended to in the thirteenth stable.”

The metal window covering snapped shut abruptly. A moment later the entire door gave a low moan, opening just wide enough for a person to fit through. Ten entered, gesturing for the Mandalorian to follow.

The small room reeked of smoke, more sour and concentrated than the smoke in the alley had been. A large green Trandoshan sat on a stool and leaned against the dirty wall, picking at their teeth. The Devaronian who let them in gave them a short grunt, which she knew to interpret as wait here. He disappeared down another short hallway, which quickly faded to blackness.

Rather than make eye contact with the Trandoshan, Ten turned herself back towards Mando. The single bulb that lit the room reflected off the top corner of his breastplate. His helmet tilted down to look at her.

“A waiting room?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. Experimentally, she clenched and unclenched her fist beside her. The shaking had subsided.

“They don’t allow weapons inside their main casino.” She nodded down the hallway. “And I don’t allow myself anywhere without weapons.”

“I take it this isn’t the operation you fucked over, then,” he said, helmet turning to look back at the entrance. Ten swore she could hear a smirk in his voice.

“I was paid by the big boys to profile everything I could find on illegitimate operations in the city,” she shrugged. “Kirana paid me even more to remain … discrete.”

Before he could say anything in response, a human woman emerged from the hallway with the Devaronian hovering just over her shoulder. She was conspicuously dressed, a bright red gown draped over her body, with a significant dip into her cleavage, opening the expanse of skin. Her red lips turned up into a smile when she entered the room with them.

“My dear nameless friend,” she cooed, embracing Ten’s upper arms. She placed a kiss on each of her cheeks. “How lovely of you to grace us with your presence in Canto Bight!”

“Kirana, you’re looking lovely as ever,” Ten gestured beside her. “This is the Mandalorian, he’s helping me with a job.”

“A nameless associate, how very on brand,” Kirana flashed them a dazzling smile. “Tell me, what can I do for my favourite devious double agent, hmm?”

“Doman Tosche,” she spat the name out at no one in particular. “We tapped shipyard logs and apparently he was here just a few days ago. He runs some businesses from the Core, but we— I— think he’s been dealing with Imps since the Empire days.”

Kirana raised a delicate eyebrow. Ten struggled to read the expression in her eyes.

“Not many reputable Core businessmen visit my establishments, I’m afraid.”

“There’s also not many people at all who enter and leave this city that you don’t know about.” With this, the well dressed woman broke into a lilting laugh that echoed off the metal walls. She ran her hands higher up Tens arms, grasping her near her shoulders, and smiled at her.

“Now that you’re right about,” she sighed. “I do know a certain Mr. Tosche was here, he likes to frequent certain girls who work by the betting tracks. However, he left after one night on a passenger caravan. Obviously under a false name if it’s not in the logs.”

Ten gritted her teeth hearing that he was already gone. She turned her head ever so slightly, looking at the Mandalorian from the corner of her eye, before focusing back on Kirana.

“I don’t suppose there’s a chance you know where that ship was headed?”

Kirana shook her head, looking rueful. “Even if I did, they usually make a number of unlogged stops, especially if they’re well paid,” she muttered. Gently, she lifted a hand to cup Ten’s cheek— the same one the Mandalorian had touched, Ten registered, somewhere in a corner of her mind. She pushed it even further back. “But, I do know that he didn’t arrive here alone. A business associate, some sort of manager, perhaps. He stayed on world and has spent the last many hours inside my humble establishment.”

“He’s in there now?” Ten asked, eyes darting to the dark hallway. “Kirana, you have to let me in to get him.”

The Trandoshan stirred now, leaning in her direction, a low growl in its throat. Ten saw the glint of beskar moving beside her.

“Now, now, there’s no reason for any sort of violence here,” Kirana turned her eyes onto Mando, narrowing them. “But you know my rules, dear. No weapons inside my premises. That includes these lovely hands of yours. However, once someone leaves…”

Mando spoke up for the first time since Kirana had appeared. “We’ll be waiting then.”

—

For once, their timing seemed to work out favourably. The man Kirana said worked for Tosche — Hamal Hearns — took less than an hour to stumble out of the back alley casino, yawning and scratching at the stubble that had grown out on his face.

Subduing him was too easy to even be fun, Din lamented. He spent a large portion of the walk back to the Ursa, through the still dark streets of Canto Bight then the deserts of the surrounding area, grovelling and talking about ransoms, about the powerful men he worked for, how they would pay for him, however much they needed. Ten rewarded him with a sharp punch to the nose, after which he fell silent.

She threw him unceremoniously into the storage room Din had adopted as his sleeping quarters. Din could hear him softly crying through the door.

“He shouldn’t need much pushing,” he commented, leaning against the corner of the wall. Ten was in her weapons compartment, seemingly picking out her favourite. He once again found himself marvelling at the sheer number of blades. And the single blaster he knew she carried at her left hip.

Knives had always been his last choice, a last resort when his firearms failed him or were no longer an option. They were inefficient in his brutish hands, often requiring close contact and were never a guarantee to kill. But in hers … they were more than just knives, they were instruments, that she played effortlessly to sing a serenade of violence.

He wondered if the Force had anything to do with it, or if she just had that many years of practice.

That got her attention. Her hand snapped to his direction. She picked out a large knife, its blade slightly curved, and began walking slowly towards him. He wondered if she finally was going to stab him.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Mandalorian,” she came to a stop beside him, her shoulder brushing his. “But yes … I did.”

For another moment, neither of them moved, staring at the other. It seemed to stretch from that second into infinity, and then it ended as quickly as it began. Ten continued down the small hallway to the room where their guest was. Taking a deep breath, Din followed.

Hamal Hearns was on his knees, hands still cuffed behind his back. His face was covered in snot and sweat and tears and a small trickle of blood out of his nose from when Ten had hit him. His eyes brimmed with more tears as she held his chin in one of her hands.

“I have a very simple question for you, Mr. Hearns,” she murmured, her tone much gentler than Din expected. He crossed his arms over his chest, not missing the way the man’s eyes flitted back and forth between them. Ten’s hand on his face tightened.

“Is your boss working for the Empire?”

His eyes widened, tears spilling over, lips trembling.

“Please, please, miss, we wouldn’t do anything like that I promise—”

“Shhh,” Ten cooed. “I’m afraid you misunderstood. You see, I know the answer already, I was just hoping … you could be honest with me.”

She was kneeling in front of him now, and brought her other hand up to the cheek she hadn’t already been holding. He widened his eyes as they stayed locked on her face.

Din had expected some violence, perhaps Ten’s favourite flavour of physical torture, to get the skittish man to tell them what he knew.

But the silence only deepened, and as Ten and Hearns maintained eye contact, he watched the latter’s body begin to shake. He tried to shake his head back and forth, but she held it steady. Blood began to seep from his eyes, falling like tears, then out of his ears, and mouth.

“Please,” he whimpered. He coughed and gasped around the blood in his mouth. “I’ll—” Another cough. “I’ll tell you everything I know! He’s been selling to the Empire for years! P-please just stop!”

Ten leaned back, stretching her hands out. “Good. I knew you’d do the right thing. You’re going to tell my Mandalorian friend everything useful you know. Or I’ll be back.”

He nodded vigorously, not even attempting to cover the sobs that racked his body. Blood still covered his face, but no longer seemed to be freshly flowing.

What had she done to him?

She stood, and Din didn’t miss the shaking in her legs. As she turned, he saw the bags under her eyes that he swore weren’t there when they had entered the room. She laid a hand on his breastplate.

“Take it from here, please, Mando.”

#*writes a chapter twice as long as average*#ummm anyway im v happy w this i hope ppl like it #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x original character #the mandalorian #din djain #din djarin x oc #din djarin x original character #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #mywriting

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local-triggerhead · 4 years

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My Top Otome Villainess Manga

How long has it been since I last been here? I feel like I just woke up from my 1000 years slumber and am tired enough to go for another one. But because my last post was so successful, here are some very good manga that are my personal favorite.

1. I'm a Villainous Daughter, so I'm going to keep the Last Boss

This is an overall well-done manga, with a strong plot and great conflict to keep you interested at all times. Generally, otome villainess MCs feel pretty OP because of how easily they solve their problems, but it’s quite different in this title. The MC is very competent in her plans to overcome the hurdles, but the level of threat is high enough to create some balance. Romance is very refreshing and wholesome, because the couple generally communicates well, being very mature and harmonious with each other. The comedy is always delivered on time and the art is flawless. This manga is completed and rather short, seems like it’s just promotional material for the light novel.

2. May I Ask for One Final Thing?

This one can rival the previous one for the top place. If there’s 1 title you absolutely must check out in the post, it is this. The MC is a boss bitch, and it’s the first time I’ve ever thought of the word ‘stan’ and I’ve decided that I’ll never stop stanning her. If you’re not too interested in romance, but rather has an ‘eat the rich’ boner, then this girl will fucking deliver. The manga focuses on societal problems, the crimes and corruption of rich people, and it gives the best justice orgasm. It isn’t an isekai and the MC isn’t reincarnated, but that only makes shits much more unpredictable and interesting to watch. Art is gorgeous and will absolutely help you enjoy justice being delivered scenes even more. Currently has 10 chapters.

3. Bakarina: Verge of Destruction Arc

Another one very close behind. This is a spin-off of Bakarina, where Katarina got sentient a little bit too late, just a year before her doom. Original Bakarina is good, but HARD MODE Bakarina is my delicious hot cup of tea. The threats here are very real and very high, because not only that she has little time left, but she also has to repent for all the evil acts that her original self did. Mind you, that’s YEARS of harassing, bullying and abusing in some cases, so this will have a more solemn tone (I’m trash for this), rather than just comedy. The characters feel more realistic now that they’re not sucked into OG Katarina’s charms, and surprisingly, this version of Katarina is quite competent. Excellent art as usual. Currently has 8 chapters.

4. The Daughter of the Albert House Wishes for Ruin

Yo I totally thought this one was dropped but the new chapter just got posted today, after a 5 months hiatus. It’s about the MC, instead of avoiding her bad end, hitting the gas and trying to slam straight into it. This title is generally more light-hearted than the ones previously mentioned, but it does hint at the harsh reality of being a noble. The girl has a serious reason behind this, but it’s slightly weird considering her problem and solution. Anyway, after seeing her in her sexy party gown she shot up at least 10 ranks in my list. So please check out, at least for the beautifully smug and confident MC, which doesn’t come without an art style that’s just as gorgeous. It’s at chapter 7 right now.

5. Slow Prison Life

Unlike the other MCs, this one doesn’t have a good heart deep down. And by that I mean she’s an actual fucking psychopath. She can kill a person and is willing to kill a person. Like other psychopaths, she’s very charismatic and knows how to wield her power and connections to achieve her goals. Observe as she manipulates and infuriates her ex-fiancé into insanity. The manga is a comedy and her schemes after schemes never fail to entertain me. It only has 3 chapters and to finish the whole story, I had to read the light novel. The ending is pretty meh but this is a story that’s more about the journey than the destination. (And yes, also has stunning art.)

6. Of Course, I'll Claim Palimony!

This started out as my 2nd favorite, but has fallen from its grace since then due to better titles. The MC is very relatable with her bottomless love for money and economic mind, and the story revolves around her schemes to earn more money shenanigans. Other characters are also interesting, only that her opponents are too incompetent to even pose a threat to a 5 year old. Some of these later chapters fall into some cliché so I didn’t find it as exciting to read. But give it a try, it has 13 chapters right now.

That is all. Time to crawl back into my hole and live in ignorance. Maybe I’ll make another recommended manga post, which will include more quality works that unfortunately don’t make it to my favorite list.

#I'm a Villainous Daughter so I'm going to keep the Last Boss #i worked hard on this #manga #otome villainess #bakarina #May I Ask For One Final Thing #martial arts manga #Bakarina Verge of Destruction Arc #isekai #I Reincarnated into an Otome Game as a Villainess With Only Destruction Flags #bakarina spin off #slow prison life #My Next Life as a Villainess #The Daughter of the Albert House Wishes for Ruin #The Villainess' Slow Prison Life Began with Her Broken Engagement #of course I'll claim palimony #hamefura #romance manga #why the fuck are there so many tags #shoujo #shoujo manga #also how many alt names do they have #light novel #hamefura: verge of destruction arc #may i please ask you for one last thing #otome game no hametsu flag shika nai akuyaku reijou ni tensei shiteshimatta #my next life as a villainess all routes lead to doom #Otome Game no Hametsu Flag shika nai Akuyaku Reijou ni Tensei shite shimatta Zettai Zetsumei Hametsu Sunzen Hen

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sondepoch · 5 years

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VIII: Neutral Route (Luciel)

Where Futures Begin

Life used to be simple for you. Peaceful. But the Savior had other plans for you, and in moments, she ruined what you thought was your one shot at happiness. Blinded by anger, you escaped the Mint Eye, but that triggered a series of events that would bring you further into the world of brothers Saeran and Saeyoung. And further into the twisted world of your love for them.

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

MASTERLIST

Luciel was the first one at (Y/N)'s side after she fell, shaking her body, desperately hoping that she was still conscious.

"The fall wasn't enough to kill her," Vanderwood murmured, his voice calm as he studied the girl where she had fallen. She had landed in a bush, the robe she had once worn now shredded but protecting most of her skin where it remained unpierced by the thorns. "Help me get her out, Luciel."

The two of them pulled her body up from the bush carefully, discarding the robe she was wearing, leaving it among the shrubs. In its torn state, there was no point in taking it with them.

"Let's leave her here. She's part of Rika's personal council, she's one of them," MC said, already walking away.

"No," Luciel blurted, picking her body up, "She was escaping when we found her, she's not on their side. And she helped us escape. If we leave her, she's as good as dead."

Vanderwood arched an eyebrow at the redhead, "Since when did you start caring about random girls you meet on missions?"

Luciel ignored the question, heaving the (Y/N)'s body over his shoulders, trying not to think about how his hand was resting on the bare skin of her back or how the dress she was wearing was riding up on her thighs. "What's with these outfits, MC? Was there some kind of party at the Mint Eye just now?"

MC turned around and watched Luciel with narrowed eyes as she saw him bringing (Y/N), "No. It's part of the uniform that Rika made us wear."

"Gotta say, this chick wears her uniform better than you," Vanderwood said, smirking. He never made any motion to hide his dislike for MC, and Luciel had to admit that his boss was right with that last comment. "Alright, here's the car. Luciel, text V and tell him that the rescue mission was a success."

Now it was Luciel's turn to arch his eyebrow. "A success?" He awkwardly wedged (Y/N)'s body into the back seat before taking his place in the front by Vanderwood, "We're bringing one extra back with us. The last time I did that, you wouldn't stop calling me a screwup, and all I did was bring a cat."

Vanderwood rolled his eyes and started the car, seeing that everyone was inside, "This girl is useful. You saw what she did back during the mission, the agency needs more people like her."

Luciel swallowed and made no comment, ignoring the anger he felt at Vanderwood's words. How could he send someone from an already fucked-up organization like the Mint Eye to an even worse place? The agency was for those who had no other options in life.

Surely this girl's life wasn't fucked up enough for her to turn to that?

Luciel glanced at (Y/N) in the rearview mirror, noting her bleached hair and tattoo. What other options could a girl like that have? MC said she was a council member, right? How far had she gone in the Mint Eye? And what went so wrong that she tried to escape?

Luciel pushed the thoughts from his mind, gazing forward as Vanderwood sped by the dirt road. The cabin they were heading to was far; far enough that the Mint Eye wouldn't be searching for them, but close enough to fix things if the rescue mission went wrong.

"Sleep now, Luciel," Vanderwood instructed.

Luciel knew the truer meaning to his words. You've got work to do when we get back. Still, he found himself able to close his eyes and drift off. It had been thirty hours since he last slept, he deserved a break.

***

When Luciel woke up, it wasn't to Vaderwood's voice. Or even MC's.

His eyes shot open, feeling strangely refreshed. Registering the picture in front of him, Luciel realized what must have happened.

Vanderwood let me sleep in? Luciel chuckled, amused. His boss must have felt sorry for him, after the craziness of the rescue mission. No doubt, they all thought they were done for until they heard (Y/N)'s voice over the loudspeaker. Hers was an impressively quick reaction time, Luciel noted with a hint of satisfaction, before stretching and pulling himself out of the car.

If he was going to let me sleep, he may as well have let me do it in a bed instead of in the car, Luciel thought to himself, stretching his neck out. "E-excuse me?"

Luciel stiffened when he heard the sound that must have woken him up. He turned around and stared at the white-haired girl who had spoken. "What?"

"C-can you untie me?" (Y/N) mumbled, nodding down toward the ropes that were binding her.

"Who tied you up?" Luciel murmured in disbelief as he walked to her side of the car, pulling a bloodied knife from his boot to saw away at the ropes.

He heard (Y/N) gasp. "Who's blood is that?"

Luciel didn't bother answering, freeing her hands and then setting to freeing her legs.

"Or do I not want to know?" She asked with a bitter chuckle at the end.

"I didn't kill anyone," Luciel said bluntly, motioning for her to follow him into the cabin. "Not yesterday, at least. Come on."

It must have been early morning, the sky gloomy without the sun to smile on it, not even birds out yet. Luciel could hear voices from inside the cabin, though. Makes sense. Neither the Mint Eye nor the RFA nor the agency functioned on normal business hours.

He banged on the door, two martelé sounds, the noise disrupting the eerily calm scene. It wasn't long before his knocks were answered. "Took you long enough," MC said, opening the door for him.

She closed it before (Y/N) could enter, though, temporarily leaving the girl dumbfounded by the catty action.

"Seriously, MC?" Luciel groaned, not in the mood for MC's antics.

"Yes. We need to discuss why she was even brought back here. I have a lot of questions for you two." MC said, crossing her arms, looking back and forth between Vanderwood and Luciel, trying to figure out who she could trust to take her side in the argument they all knew was about to ensue.

"Okay," Luciel said, walking around MC and opening the door, gesturing (Y/N) inside, "If we're going to be asking questions, why don't I start: who tied her up?"

Vanderwood's eyes widened, and he turned to glare at MC, "Seriously?" He asked, utterly unimpressed.

MC looked surprised, "I saved Luciel's life! You," She pointed at Vanderwood, "You left him in the car! If I hadn't tied her up, he would have woken up to her trying to choke him to death or something!"

Luciel rolled his eyes, a retort already on his tongue when (Y/N)'s soft voice interrupted them.

"Your name's Luciel?" (Y/N) was looking at him.

Luciel looked away, even more irritated with MC now. "Yeah. What, did you believe my name was Seven?"

(Y/N) shook her head, "No! I just...Luciel is a nice name. It's sort of angelic, if you think about it."

Vanderwood snorted. "This guy? Angelic? You should have seen him in the Mint Eye with that dagger of his, I swear, he was about to revoke his God and slice them a-"

"Shut up, Vanderwood," Luciel hissed, interrupting his boss.

"Vanderwood, eh? Yeah, I think that name suits you a bit better than 'Mary.'" (Y/N) said, chuckling to herself with a soft smile on her face.

"Hello? Guys? Why are you talking to her? She doesn't belong here."

Through the corner of his eye, Luciel saw (Y/N) bite her lip at MC's last words. The redhead felt an involuntary urge to comfort her, wrap an arm around her shoulder and tell her that MC was just a selfish bitch who didn't know what she was saying, but he kept himself grounded. It wouldn't be fitting for him to get attached to someone he barely knew.

"MC, this is my cabin, not yours. Luciel and I brought you back from the Mint Eye at V's request, I would have left you there. The rescue mission was a favor, so be thankful." Vanderwood said bluntly, pouring coffee into three mugs, sliding one to Luciel, keeping one to himself, and offering the third to (Y/N).

"Your 'rescue mission' was weeks late!" MC shouted, her face full of anger, "You know what they could have done to me? Just think about what they did to her!"

Luciel glanced at (Y/N), noting how the girl swallowed a lump in her throat at MC's words. "Tell them, council member (Y/N)," MC mocked, "Or are you scared that they'll leave you once they find out how broken you are?" MC took a step toward (Y/N), "Scared that they'll leave you like Ray?"

"Enough!" (Y/N) shouted. The noise was new to Luciel's ears, and even Vanderwood looked surprised as he saw the soft-spoken girl say, with tears in her eyes, "You win, MC! I'll leave."

(Y/N) turned to the door, readily heading out the way she came in, but Vanderwood put a hand up against the door frame before she could open it. "Sorry, girl-err, (Y/N), but you can't leave."

(Y/N) looked at him through wary eyes. Luciel noticed how tired she looked, despite having been knocked out for the past six hours. "Why? Am I a prisoner now?" Luciel found himself bothered by the nonchalance at which the girl asked such a drastic question, as if the worst had already been done to her, and she had nothing left to fear. What had she been through? The redhead remembered MC's angry words, Tell them how broken you are, and then shook his head, telling himself that it was none of his business.

"Prisoner? God, no. You've just come from the Mint Eye. You can't expect me to believe that you have a home waiting for you," Vanderwood pulled MC into the living room, leaving Luciel to follow and MC to stomp off.

When (Y/N) shook her head, Vanderwood continued, "Precisely. For now, we can give you shelter at this cabin. Our work with the Mint Eye isn't done, and your skills as a hacker are....impressive, to say the least, and you're better acquainted with the Mint Eye than all of us combined. You'll be useful to us."

"And after you no longer have any use for me?"

"Then I'll hook you up with my agency. You'll get to continue working and will be provided shelter and protection." Vanderwood left no room for rejection in his pitch to MC, leaning back like he had it all planned out.

The room was quiet for a moment.

"And if I refuse?" (Y/N) asked, voice timid.

"Don't." Luciel found himself saying, "Don't refuse."

Unlike Vanderwood's words, Luciel's had a tone of request. There was something else, too, what was it? Desperation? Hope? Fear?

"I see," (Y/N) said, taking another sip of coffee, "Then I accept your offer, Mr. Vanderwood."

"No need for the 'Mister.' Just Vanderwood is fine." The man chuckled at (Y/N)'s formality. "Is your real name (Y/N)? Or is that a name they gave you at the Mint Eye?"

"It's my own."

"Very well, then. Luciel, I'm going to V's room. MC's probably already in there...ignore any shouting. I'll see you two in a couple hours."

With that, he left the Luciel with (Y/N).

The first minute was awkward, neither person quite trying to start a conversation with the other. Finally, though, (Y/N) spoke up. "Who carried me back?"

Luciel looked up from his coffee mug, where he had been studying his reflection. "What? Oh. Yeah, that was Vanderwood." The redhead didn't know why he was lying, but something about the way this girl was looking at him made him feel too vulnerable to tell her the truth. "He said we couldn't leave you after all the help you did for us at the Mint Eye." Luciel's voice was met by silence, so he tried to fill it, "Thanks, by the way."

"No problem. I forgot a ladder, so it's not like I would have been able to escape without your help either."

"That's pretty dumb," Luciel blurted, not entirely filtering his thoughts.

"I know."

A second of silence ensued, and then the two burst into amused chuckles. When the laughter died down, (Y/N) continued, "So, uh, what happened to my robe?"

"It got pretty wrecked when you fell, took most of your damage for you - though I guess you're still pretty beat up. You should get those looked at," Luciel murmured, gesturing to the plethora of cuts and bruises (Y/N)'s body was littered with, particularly her wrist from when Vanderwood had tried to save her fall. "...Need help?"

Luciel wasn't quite sure why he offered, but when (Y/N) accepted, he found himself readily completing the task. He had dressed wounds before, much deeper cuts, but his hands shook ever so slightly as he tried to keep his touch delicate so as to not to hurt (Y/N). "Sorry, sorry," he said, clasping her unbruised arm, "You can squeeze my hand if you want. I know that the alcohol stings like a bitch."

He felt his heart beat a little faster when he heard (Y/N) chuckle, and even faster when she began clinging to his hand, but he managed to keep a blush off his face as he worked.

"Do you always look so serious?" (Y/N) asked him as he dabbed a cotton ball at a cut along her back.

"Do you always dress so gorgeous?" Luciel said, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. Real smooth, dill hole, he told himself, You just called her gorgeous. Way to be a creep.

"Oh," (Y/N) giggled, "Are we playing the questions game?"

Luciel smiled, "I don't see why not."

"Well then, I guess I'll answer your question first...The Savior has a very formal dress code for her council members. We're the face of the magenta, of the Mint Eye, right? So, we have to have mint eyes and magenta dresses. And bleached white hair. Honestly, though, if it were up to me, I'd have picked a more practical dress..." (Y/N) pinched the satin fabric of her dress and scrunched her nose up cutely.

"Who's the Savior? And how does he change your eye color?" Luciel replied.

"That's two questions. Plus, you're supposed to be answering one of mine," (Y/N) said. "So, is it true? Do you always look so serious?"

Luciel thought to himself for a moment. On the RFA messenger, he was as far from serious as night is from day. In truth, though, the last time he had been genuinely carefree was back when he still had Saeran. Back when he still called himself Saeyoung.

"I guess so," He said, bandaging (Y/N)'s wrist, "But sometimes I let myself go."

"You mean with alcohol?"

"No, never," Luciel blurted. After his childhood, he had sworn to never let himself get drunk or high on sheer principle, "It's just that sometimes...with certain people...I find it's easier to smile."

(Y/N) turned around and shot the boy the most radiant grin he'd seen on anyone, "I hope I can be one of those people for you, Luciel."

"Really?" Luciel chuckled at (Y/N)'s innocence, "You barely even know me. I could be a serial killer, for all you know."

"You remind me of someone I once loved very much," (Y/N) said with a lost look in her eyes, "I can't imagine...that you're a bad person."

Luciel took a sharp breath in, noticing how close he was to (Y/N), still holding her bandaged wrist. "Who do I remind you of?" He whispered, not wanting to disturb the serenity of the moment.

"A man. MC said his name earlier," (Y/N) murmured, "Sa-...I mean, Ray."

Luciel recalled when MC had shouted the name in her fit of anger. Scared that they'll leave you like Ray, her exact words were.

"Uh," Luciel said, scooting backward on the couch, suddenly aware of how close he had been to (Y/N). "Let's continue this question game later, (Y/N)."

The girl nodded her head, confused at Luciel's sudden change in demeanor, but accepting of it nonetheless.

"I'm going to catch up on some work, so, uh, I guess I'll see you in a couple hours?" Luciel winced at his words. He had never had the chance to be an awkwardly cringy teenager when it came to talking to pretty girls, especially given that he had never gone to formal school, but if he had ever seemed like one, it was at this moment. "V and Vanderwood will probably want to talk to you about the Mint Eye, so you might want to head to their room - first door on the right."

(Y/N) smiled, though, not noticing any significant change, "I will, thanks. Good luck with your work, Luciel. Let's talk more later."

Luciel merely nodded his head, trying to get as far from the situation as possible. The only women he had dealt with were MC and Jaehee, and neither of them had made his heart beat the way (Y/N) did. The redhead wasn't dumb, he was a hacker, a secret agent for the world's most secretive agency; he knew exactly what the cause of the butterflies in his stomach was.

I'll control myself better next time we speak, Luciel swore to himself, determined not to let himself risk everything for a reason stupid as a crush.

As Luciel walked out of the door, though, he couldn't suppress the goofy smile that spread across his lips. (Y/N) had told him that she hoped to become one of the people who made it easy for him to smile. Little did she know, she already was becoming that person to him, whether Luciel wanted her to be, or not.

MASTERLIST

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 |

Word count: 3.1k

Notes: I'm planning on baking cookies either tomorrow or the day after, and I'm super excited! My goal is to be able to make really good chocolate chip cookies, and I've baked four different batches so far. My last batch was semidecent so I'm hoping that this one will be (dare I say it?) actually good! I'll tell you guys how it goes :D

Comment & Like

Next Update: 1/27/20

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

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rueur · 4 years

Text

Morning Pages No. 61

Monday 24th August - 1:04pm

I know that it’s a bit late in the day to start this entry, but I needed another bit of a morning off. Evan and I had an early night last night but we had sex first. We were both so tired afterwards due to consistent daily workouts, that we ended up falling asleep naked and staying asleep till about 8am. To be clear, we went to bed around 10:30pm, so it was a long night of sleep for both of us. I’m grateful for it though, because even though my calves still hurt like crazy, I do feel refreshed and like the healing process is underway. What did we do this morning? The son of a bitch restarted Breath of the Wild and we’ve both been playing on his new save file. I have to buy another copy of that game because I really want to replay it now. Even so, I have a lot of work to do and I’m yet to make proper headway on Julie’s new site. It’s coming along relatively fine in Squarespace but I’ve only worked on it for about an hour and I’ve yet to add the privacy policy and finetune a lot of the product links. I feel like we’ll absolutely need to add some copy for the products, and definitely put a disclaimer about the use of fabric softener either at the top of the description or below...or both? It’s pretty important.

I’ve been chatting to Sarah on Whatsapp. I feel like Sarah is a bit of a better influence on me than Wren, but I hate that I’m comparing them both in my head. I just feel a bit disheartened in my relationship with Wren, because of all the horrid experiences I’ve had with them over the course of this year. It’s been quite confronting to see how Wren acts when they’ve decided they’re in a more dire situation than me...like I’m not even sure if that’s what’s happened, but that’s what it’s felt like to me. I can’t understand how they’ve just been able to decide that just because they’re living alone, this time is harder on them? I don’t know. And even if it is harder, which I can admit that it most likely is, that doesn’t mean that I should have to incorporate addressing their pain into my life on a daily basis. I was willing to chat every day. But I also don’t want to feel like my life has to be placed on hold for them, whenever they may want me. I’ve felt like that enough in this friendship as it is. I’ve given them whatever I’m capable of giving, and I’ve given them a hell of a lot more than I’ve given any other friend I have ever had. Except, maybe, for Malith. But Malith has certainly given me more than I’ve given him. Goddamn. I’m fighting the urge to delete this whole paragraph, but I deserve to express myself. This year has been fucking hard for me. I’ve not been suicidal, because that part of my life is over. Even if Evan and I break up, that part of my life will always always be over. It’s no longer an option in my head, to go down that route. It’s a time-waster. There are better things to do than yearn without end, than wish for better than you’ve got. I’ve been dealt both a bad and good hand, and it’s only bad because I see it as so. It’s only good because I see it as so. Wren needs to learn that everyone has fucked up mums, figuratively speaking. Everyone has SOMETHING that they wish they had lived without. Everyone has SOMETHING that they wished was just a smidge better than it was. I don’t want any part of explaining all the fucked up shit that has happened to me over the course of my childhood. I don’t want to have a dick-measuring contest when it comes to depression and trauma. Fuck that. I’d much rather live in the present and be happy with the life I’ve built for myself. Even Wren needs to feel their privilege to a certain degree. It would be ludicrous if they didn’t. Two apartments, a job that they love that compensates them really fucking well, and an abundance of resources that provides them with independence and agency. I have so little of all that they have, and I’m working my ass off for next to nothing in return, just building up a resume that may not even receive a stolen glance at the end of all of this mindful building. Who knows? My fate rests in the hands of people who I feel quite sincerely don’t want me to succeed. I have a name and face and degree that is just...unhireable. But I don’t let that beat me the fuck down, because I know that I work harder and fucking smarter than anyone else on that pile of resumes. So I keep going, knowing that my work will become of a benefit to whichever organisation I end up representing.

My whole being right now is just revolving around entering the industry, like properly becoming a content writer and being able to actually use my degree to begin to pay off that motherfucking HECS debt. I know I’m swearing a fucking lot, but I feel like it’s actually helping me so I’m not going to stop. I don’t care who reads this and who judges me for it because at the end of the day, you’re the ones reading these sensitive pages on a blog that I’ve told nobody about. How did you get here?

I’m feeling paranoid, fired up. I can feel it in my fingers. My hands are freezing cold, and Evan’s in the one room that has the heater and he’s sitting there on his ass with the door shut. And I’m starting to feel like maybe I always find myself on the outside because I allow myself to get there. I have to start standing up for my damn self, but also...I know how to choose my battles, I suppose. Is it knowing how to choose your battles if you partake in a MINIMAL number of battles? Like a fractional amount of battles to the battles that you could have potentially fought in? Fuck. Nicky’s sleeping on my white vest. I may need to patch that up, but the inner fabric is so sheer, I’m not entirely sure how it’ll respond to a needle and thread. I may need excess fabric...we’ll see.

My cross-stitch order is on the way, and I’m excited to begin this new activity. I bought a hot air balloon pattern for Wren, I’m not sure if I’ve already said that. I’m looking forward to learning how to do this, because apparently it’s quite similar to knitting? Or at least the basics of knitting. I’ve heard that cross-stitch is a good introduction to knitting. After this, it may be good to see if I can give crochet a go too, but it’s also a little bit intimidating. I mean crochet is all about three-dimensional creations, whereas cross-stitch and knitting are generally more...patterned art, scarves, and blankets. Still functional, but more veering on the side of two-dimensionality. I’m a touch surprised that ‘dimensionality’ is a word. It feels like the kind of word that a primary school-aged student would assert is ‘ACTUALLY A WORD’, even though you know it’s not. OH, listen to this fresh hell! That ‘SNACCIDENT’ Typo lunch mug thingo we have says that the word ‘SNACCIDENT’ is a VERB, which is plain RIDICULOUS. If the word ‘accident’ is a noun and they’re claiming that ‘SNACCIDENT’ is a verb, then a sample sentence using that word would read as follows: ‘Henry snaccidented’. VERBS ARE FUCKING DOING WORDS. In no CONCEIVABLE UNIVERSE would ‘SNACCIDENT’ be considered a VERB. My fucking lord. These pages are just RAGE-FILLED, aren’t they? Which is actually pretty interesting, because I don’t feel mad? I feel fine. I feel a little bit annoyed that it’s almost 1:30pm and I’ve not done a lick of work either today or yesterday. I’m thinking I should send Julie a text today asking if she’d be free to meet up again sometime early next week, maybe Tuesday or Wednesday? I feel like I could make great progress on the website during that time. We shall see what happens. We shall see what I eventually get around to doing. I need money, gosh darn...

I feel like I’ve been writing a lot about money during these pages, and I understand why. Money has become a bit of an issue for me since moving out, which I know...doesn’t necessarily need to be said. But you must understand that I’m studying AND working AND working AND working AND working. And I’m still not making that much. It’s frustrating. I’m trying not to think about it right now because of lockdown and the fact that the bulk of my situation is currently out of my own control, but this is all really because of the house. Just knowing that Evan and I are ready for that step is enough for me to just want it now. The issue is - as is usually the case - MONEY. If we had enough for at least a 10% deposit, that would be insane. But a 10% deposit on a house valued at $500,000 is $50,000, and combined we only have HALF of that. If we could potentially get some rich parents or guardians to match what we have, then we could actually do it. But who even has rich parents or guardians? And I don’t think my dad would sign off on this until maybe after we’re married? I’m fighting the urge to go check if the house is still even listed online. I’m hopeful that it’ll be up until we have the money. Or maybe until we can get to a combined $30,000, to give us a bit of a buffer once we’ve given the rest of our money to whichever gross corporation decides to grant us a loan. Ahhhhhh. Why does this world try its hardest to strip you of all your agency? Why is it that so many people struggle to even find a place to be? A place to call their own? It’s cruel. I can only hope this archaic order is on its way out. I was hoping the realities of climate change, or police brutality, or perhaps even COVID-19 would pave the way for the people’s revolution, but I now feel it may be something more innocuous, more unexpected. Something that the bigwigs won’t see coming, as the people themselves won’t see it coming. Even so, everybody knows that it’s on its way. The ultimate fight between the oppressors and the oppressed, and the one brawl that may reveal the future of western society. Democracy is indeed dead. We’ll see how quickly the next system comes into place, and exactly whose side that system will be on. And as for the universal base income, I find myself rooting more and more for it, but I also know that it may be provided to us as a band-aid, built to keep the people’s revolution at bay. But as long as there are billionaires, there’s no way that the revolution won’t be coming. Exponential growth cannot occur unless it’s built on the backs of millions, billions. This current system is just not economically viable, which is ironic considering that ‘economic strength’ is usually the reason capitalists vouch for capitalism. I believe capitalists are just people who haven’t shirked their ‘American Dream’ yet, who basically still believe in Santa Claus. I’m not even sure what to call myself. A social capitalist? I believe people should feel compelled to build their businesses and to innovate their industries, but I don’t believe in penalising those who have ‘valueless skills’. I also refuse to believe there is such a thing as a ‘valueless skill’. Perhaps being able to write stream of consciousness entries is a valueless skill. That may be the only thing.

#morning pages #streamofconsciousness #61 #artistsway #money #wren #work

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ryansjane · 5 years

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axelle judges bl shows > Theory of Love

/!\ SPOILERS AHEAD.

shitty summary: Third has been in love with his best friend, Khai for three years. Only problem: Khai is a player, and refuses to date friends. Third must navigate his feelings and Khai’s oblivion in order to get over him, though everything doesn’t go according to plan.

where to watch: youtube

grade: 9/10

pros:

- good cinematography. while some episodes were better in terms of shots and filming style, this is a step up from other bl shows

- the acting. Off in particular really shines in this show. I mean Gun as well, it’s my favorite role of his, but it was to be expected. Off really gets his chance to prove himself in this show and he honestly took the bull by the horns. He created one of my favorite characters ever who is well-rounded and flawed but also excelled in both comedic and dramatic scenes. truly great, and I hope to see Off in other shows because I’m a stan now

- the characters. every single one of them is incredible. I’ve obviously got my favorite, Khai, who’s the cheesiest bitch who has ever lived, but I still love Third, my sassy son, Two, the most supportive friend to have ever existed, Bone, the token straight of the show, and Un, the most caring man on earth.

- the story. I feel like it’s a story most people will be able to relate to. almost everyone has had a one-sided crush in their lives, most of us on a friend. it was really refreshing to actually be able to relate to the characters I was watching on the screen

- similar to that, I feel like this show really stands out from the others in the bl world. it doesn’t really have much fanservice, or at least it starts in the last third of the series, and it just doesn’t feel like fanservice compared to other shows. it just feels different, in a good way, not like ‘look! there’s two guys being cute!’ but focusing more on the friends to lovers aspect. it feels more mature

- you can tell the entire cast and crew really cared about the show they were making, which is incredibly rare. everything is really well-rounded and well done and it just feels like an actual good show, even without the ships, compared to some other shows that are amazing solely because their ships are great

- the movies references are just really pleasant. again, it participates to give the show its own identity which really sets it apart from the 1083387 thai show that are about high school boys in uniforms

- both KhaiThird (the main couple) and UnTwo (the secondary couple) are incredibly well-written and get the happy ending they deserve

- the lack of homophobia. nobody bats an eye when Khai the great lady seducer shows interest in a boy, and the internal conflict between the characters has nothing to do with their sexuality, which is very refreshing.

cons:

- I feel like the show’s last two episodes weren’t as good as the rest of the show. in episode 11, the whole fake cheating storyline was just unnecessary and we coud’ve done without the drama because we’ve had plenty up to that episode. in ep 12, we don’t get to see Khai and Third’s as boyfriends in the beginning stages of their relationship, we only get to see them 4 years later which bothered me because I feel like we could’ve done without the time jump.

- UnToo is highkey so good they deserve their own series, though they manage to be iconic and one of my favorite ships ever with the short screentime they have

would I rewatch it: yes

top/bottom discourse: 0 - 1 - 2 - 3

(one being implied, two being shown and three being said)

Overall Theory of Love is in my top 3 favorite bl shows. It’s really incredible and without a doubt the best thai bl show so far. I’m incredibly grateful for this show and I truly appreciate the cast.

#theory of love #bypiningbisexuals #axelle judges bl shows

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

In sickness and in health (but mostly the sickness thing) (Branjie) - TheDane

Authors note: A short sick fic based on Vanjie not feeling well on the s11 tour.

“I got you your favourite.”

“Chicken noodle be everybody’s favourite. Ain’t making you special.”

Brooke had knocked twice on Vanjie’s door, hoping in her heart of hearts the other man would answer. Brooke was still in full drag, her wig itchy, her shoes hurting and honestly she just wanted to get out of drag, knowing she would have to do it all over again tomorrow since they were on the season 11 tour.

Brooke should have known something was wrong the moment Vanjie had arrived backstage that afternoon, completely bundled up in a hoodie, not even a nip showing even though they were in burning hot Texas. Brooke didn’t know a lot, but she knew Vanjie, and if there was one thing Vanjie was, it was one of the vainest peacocks on earth.

There was only one explanation: Vanjie was sick. The normally deafeningly loud Latino moped around backstage all day, trying and failing, again and again, to work up the energy to get into drag, until Asia had sent him back to the hotel. Vanjie had protested, but Asia had been firm, everyone performing an extra number to fill in the time, and as he was out of excuses, Vanjie had had to return to the hotel.

Brooke knocked again, her stomach clenching until she finally reached into her bra, grabbing the key card Vanjie had originally left on A’keria’s table. Brooke had snagged it up the moment she had the chance, trying and failing miserably in convincing herself that her actions were normal. That it was an appropriate way to behave towards an ex, but Brooke couldn’t make herself care when she knew Vanjie was feeling like shit.

“Jose?”

Brooke opened the door, peeking inside the room. The curtains were closed, the bedside lamp filling the space with yellow light. The air was stuffy, the TV running on a news channel of all things, so low it was practically on mute.

“A’keria?”

“No.” Brooke walked inside, closing the door behind her. The air was stuffy; a mountain of Kleenex next to the bed telling her exactly how the man who was buried in bed was feeling, the only thing visible of Vanjie was his short black hair, the only noise, the faint sound of coughs.

“Brock?”

“I brought you some soup.” Brooke put the container down. She had gotten it from the deli right next to the hotel, sure Vanjie hadn’t eaten anything, the clear lack of dishes confirming her suspicions.

“Thanks.”

Brooke knew she should probably leave; the fact that Vanjie hadn’t even bothered to crawl out from underneath the covers a sure sign that he most likely didn’t want her there. However, the fact that Vanjie hadn’t responded with a quick jab, made a joke, or even a snap of his fingers while pointing at the door, felt like the exact reason she had to stay.

“Can I borrow the shower?”

“Mmh.”

“Thanks.”

It should feel wrong, but somehow, it was the easiest thing in the world to leave the bathroom door half-open so Vanjie could call in case he needed to. Brooke dumped the bag she grabbed when she left the venue, turning on the water as she started to attack her makeup, peeling off lashes and brows.

She had been flirted with all night, two guys unapologetically approaching her at the bar where she had been watching Silky perform, both asking if they could buy her drinks, their words filled with promises Brooke knew she would have taken them up on before Drag Race , both of them invited back to her room in the blink of an eye.

Normally, she would have basked in the attention, enjoyed it like a flower under the sun, but the urgency coursing through her body had made it impossible to get changed there. It was an urgency she’d rather not address unless she had to, and one she had assumed she could ignore, and yet. Here she was.

The sink was littered with Jose’s things. Not Vanjie’s. No, these all belonged to the man behind the myth; the razor, self-tanner and teeth whitener all a normal part of the routine. That wasn’t out of the ordinary, however, Brooke couldn’t help but smile at the seven bottles of perfume that was lined up perfectly along the wall, each one of them fitting a specific one of Jose’s moods.

Brooke stepped into the shower. The water was hot, stinging against his sore toes, and soon every trace of Brooke had vanished down the drain, Brock quickly grabbed a bit of Jose’s moisturizer and rubbed it into his face, knowing that Jose would mind, but if there was one thing Brock had never had an issue with, it was their bickering. Jose so easily getting worked up about the tiniest things, it was honestly a delight to see.

Brock walked back into the room, drying his hair, a pair of sweats slung low on his hips. Brock looked at the bed, just to see that while Jose had emerged, laying with his comically large phone, there was still one thing very very wrong with the scene.

“You haven’t touched your soup.”

“Mmmh.”

Jose didn’t look up from his phone, his thumb doing the same motion over and over again, and Brock knew he was refreshing Twitter in the hopes that something exciting would pop up. A cough wracked his body, Jose quickly grabbing yet another tissue to wipe his nose.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I had some NyQuil.”

“That’s not food.” Brock threw his towel in the direction of the desk, his curls without a doubt a big blonde mess on top of his head.

“And one of A’kerias nasty ass drinks.”

Brock smiled, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He was happy that A’keria had forced Jose into drinking one of her Ensures, the meal replacement drink one he knew all too well himself, but it still wasn’t anything that would help someone get over a serious cold. “Sit up.”

Jose groaned, at least putting his phone down, but he wasn’t making any move to sit up.

“Now come on.” Brock took his elbow, gently forcing the other man into an upright position. “I got you your favourite.” Brock took the soup, unsnapping the lid, the aroma of chicken filling the room.

“Chicken noodle be everybody’s favourite. Ain’t making you special.”

“Sure, but not everyone likes it with extra noodles and no carrots.”

“You remembered?”

“Of course.” Brock smiled, grabbing the spoon. “Now eat, or I’ll force you to.”

Jose took the bowl, reluctantly taking a mouthful, clearly just pleasing Brock, but the moment the soup touched Jose’s lips, it did exactly what Brock had expected, his stomach telling his brain he was hungry and Jose started shovelling it in.

“You’re being quiet.”

“I’m not a loud-ass motherfucker all the time.”

Brock pulled his leg up, watching Jose whose eyes had already started to droop. “Do you think you’ll be ready for tomorrow?”

“If not, you’ll be there to push me on stage.”

Brock felt a brief surge of ice cold in his stomach, making him freeze. “What?”

“It’d be real funny if I coughed and slapped myself in the face. Imagine the memes.”

“Why would I push you on stage?”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Jose coughed, putting the soup on the bedside table. “Show must go on and all that crap.”

Brock knew that Jose was right, or at least that he used to be right. Brock had never put anything above his career, not even Jose when it really came down to it. It was the thing they had fought about the most, Brock chewing the bitter pill of Jose never having time when season 10 was at its highest, Brock stupidly twisting the knife with joy when he got the chance to be the busy one, gleefully accepting each and every booking he could that had left Jose angry, confused and stretched thin, their relationship barely more than hurried text messages by the time they finally broke up for good.

“Hey.” Brock reached out, steadying Jose who was quite literally falling asleep sitting up. “You’re nodding off.”

“Sorry.” Jose rubbed his eyes, clearly trying and failing miserably, his shoulder so hot it almost burned Brock’s hand, even though the other man was naked.

“I really don’t think you should be alone tonight.”

“You can call A’keria.”

“Saw her take off with some trade.” Brooke pushed Jose, the other man easily falling into the sheets. Brock crawled in after him.

“Bitch, the fuck you doing?”

“Come here.” Brock grabbed Vanjie easily, turning him over to put his head on his chest.

“This ain’t shit you do with an ex.”

“You think I’m doing this for you?” Brock cupped Jose’s head, gently running a thumb over the back of his head, Jose instantly relaxing. “I’m just here for the TV.” Brock smiled, grabbing the remote. “There is a Golden Girls marathon I’ve been meaning to catch, and your TV is bigger than mine.”

“You’re too fucking buff for this shit.” Jose’s arm sneaked over Brock’s stomach. “You just rocking that Adonis body.” Jose threw a leg as well, making himself comfortable. “I wish Silky had come, that would’ve been a real cuddle session.”

“At least I can’t choke you in your sleep.” Brock smiled, fully expecting a retaliation, but Jose didn’t say anything, his eyes already fallen shut as he had gone back to sleep. Brock turned his attention to the TV, clicking on subtitles as he settled in, Jose’s steady breath against his chest telling him that he was okay. Maybe this wasn’t what exes did, but Brock couldn’t imagine anywhere else he’d rather be with Jose safe and sound in his arms.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #sick fic #hurt/comfort #fluff #thedane #canon compliant #tour fic #s11

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dbhilluminate · 5 years

Text

DBHI: Equilibrium, ch. 13 - “Periapsis” (pt. 4)

Characters: Noah / “Erwin Yvonne”, Gabriel / “Vincent Sharp”, Director Thomas Falken, Diego Serrano, Priya Davies / “Pestilence”, Malachi (mentions of Cain, Emilya) Word Count: 5,216

Gabriel must carefully navigate a conversation with the power-hungry leader of the Inquisition, in order to save the lives of their hostages, and to spare Noah the fate of a permanent reset.

***For a glossary of world-building terms relating to this series and chapter, click here.

(Chapter Art by ozaya, Co-authored by @grayorca15)

• Chapter Index • Characters • Glossary •

——

December 23rd, 2041 - 10:48 PM

Everything had gone to hell in a handbasket faster than they could compute. Two people in the room he’d already confirmed dead, one more injured, and he couldn’t lift a goddamn finger to keep the death toll from rising, lest he blow his cover. I know what you’re wanna do, Gabe, but don’ even think about it. Gavin’s voice telling him to mind his temper was the last thing he wanted to hear. He had faced worse odds in Boston and survived, his performance there -tearing through an entire army of hostile deviants, single-handedly, from the inside out- was the whole reason for being accepted into the FBI to begin with; yet here he was now, being told to stay calm. To hold back. To bide his time. He’d played by those rules once. Hundreds had died as a result, and he wasn’t about to repeat that mistake tonight. Is help on the way yet? Five minutes out, Reed relayed. You’re gonna have to keep them busy till then.

Priya 2.0 took a few steps further toward the center of the room. The Christmas tree’s lights continued to wink and cycle, counterpointing the new uneasy stillness of the hall. Eleven seconds passed before they spoke again. “I’m so sorry to have troubled you all this evening… but I’m afraid I cannot allow this fundraiser to conclude until every, last, contribution has been revoked. So- if you’ll all just remain in your seats, or wherever you are, I promise everyone in this room will make it out alive.”

Gabriel bristled the moment he laid eyes on their face- skin and hair as pale as alabaster, and deep, dark, almost black green eyes leered back at him with a smug grin across colorless lips and sharp cheeks. The Priya he had once known was long dead. They’d never made it out of Boston alive once Archangel had tracked them to their lab, so this MS800 was merely an impostor; but due to the unique hive-mind of their model, it wouldn’t have been hard for another to take up their mantle with a little memory jolt. Most unsettling was the fact that the words coming out of their mouth were clearly someone else’s. This had Famine written all over it, Malachi’s manner of speaking had a very distinct stench. Gabe had spent enough time listening to know the bastard when he heard him. This Android wasn’t aware of what it was doing. It was being remotely controlled.

Noah, don’t move, he directed quietly, just between them, hoping the other RK900 would clam up and listen for once in his life. As of yet, he hadn’t reacted.

A terrified android inched closer to the nearest exit as Priya spoke, but eventually broke their semblance of calm and sprinted for a side door like a startled rabbit. Another gunshot cracked throughout the auditorium, and she hit the floor hard, a decommissioned pile of parts. More panicked cries and heartbroken sobs went up as a blue puddle formed from beneath her.

Gabe…? What happened? Inhale, exhale, report. You mean you didn’t see it…? Another guest tried to flee and the Inquisition shot them; she’s dead. Strained groaning followed by a ‘god damnit’ was all he could manage. They’re still four minutes out. Then you’d better tell them to hurry the fuck up, ‘cause these sons of bitches are pretty trigger happy.

“Now what, did I just tell you…?” Their new host let out a loud, exasperated sigh, threw up one frustrated hand and rolled their eyes. “Remain where you are while I have a nice little chat with Mr. Sharp.”

The sound of wood cracking from a broken chair near the front of the stage caught Noah’s attention as Sally and her colleagues dropped their instruments to draw together in a protective huddle out of the corner of his eye. The piano offered ample cover for all of them, himself included, but seeing as he was on the opposite end of the stage, he would have had to make a mad dash to reach it. Noah wasn’t foolish enough to think he could outrun a pinpoint gunshot. The probabilities his subroutines had already calculated didn’t bode well without a drastic shift in circumstances. Circumstance being, perhaps, himself. The mic was still in his hand, and the speakers still worked. He wasn’t without a tool of his own.

“Oh- so you want to speak with Vincent, too…?” he blurted out without thinking mid-step toward the stage’s edge, but stopped cold to lean out of the way of a bullet as it whizzed past his brow. Noah stopped breathing for a few seconds as he processed how lucky it was that he’d leaned left instead of right, though it didn’t stop him from sassing. “You could have at least waited until I was finished with my conversation. Where are your manners?” Shut up, stop making yourself a target! Gabriel’s eyes and nostrils flared as he doubled back toward the group of musicians and whispered something to one of them. Noah scoffed as he watched him check the splintered pieces of chair wood with a dissatisfied huff and fumble with shoving something into the waistband of his slacks. All Maitkin could see was a glimpse of green silk-polyester blend as he flipped the coat back over it. What did Gabe need with a high heeled shoe?

The MS800 lifted a hand to hold the shooters steady and took a few daring steps in their direction. The ethereal figure’s footsteps echoed across the ballroom with the slow pattern of clacking stilettos, the only present audible noise over the feedback whining from the abandoned speakers and the quiet whimpering of frightened guests.

‘Target’. Why shouldn’t I? Noah shot back heatedly with an angry glare. All this drinking and bad company had left him feeling self-destructive in no time flat, and he was really tiring of all these mind games between them. At least this way I can make that diversion as promised. Because you’re going to get yourself KILLED! Gabe retorted, to his surprise. Noah’s brows lifted softly in response. For a moment, Gabriel sounded genuinely worried that he might get hurt, and he almost believed him. Or at least, he would have if he hadn’t spent most of the evening dodging his advances like a rabbit on a highway. He hadn’t given him any reason to believe he cared whether he lived or died in the last year since they’d met, so why would he start now? So? he bit back in an irritated tone. Why would that even matter to you? Noah had expected silence to be his response, but he’d still hoped he would have said something. Why bother with dramatics if he wasn’t going to express how the thought of his death would make him feel?

Vincent’s brows furrowed and crinkled the corners of his eyes in a way that was unmistakably Gabriel, an expression Noah had last seen the day everything between them had started to change. As much as they had in the last eight months, however, it didn’t mean that Gabriel had had time to think about what he thought about any of it. And at the moment, he didn’t have an answer for him- or rather, he had multiple fighting for purchase, he just didn’t know which was the real truth; he wasn’t about to give him an answer that was only a half-truth. Noah would never forgive him if he said one thing and went back on his word.

“You’re not Vincent…” the pale horse cooed with a knowing grin directed at Noah as they paused at the foot of the stage. ‘Yvonne’ rolled his eyes, indignant at this second interruption, as they ascended the small staircase to take the stage beside him. “No. Of course not. How could you ever confuse me with that overly-built blockhead?” “Erwin,” Vincent scolded with flared eyes and a quiet hiss. “Erwin…?” A smirk and a mocking hmph crossed the specter’s lips as they turned away to cast their gaze to the man who had been calling himself Vincent Sharp. “Is that what you’re calling yourself these days…” Priya’s voice trailed off with the tail end of their thought, as eyes darted back to bore into him like hot coals, leaving him hollowed and exposed with a single word. “Elysian?”

Fortunately for him, they hadn’t been anywhere near the microphone in his hand for that fact to be revealed to everyone in the room; unfortunately for him, every Android within fifty feet still picked up on what had been said, and every last one of them knew the Elysian by name — Patient Zero, of a virus created by Cyberlife’s central AI, designed to wipe the RA9 protocol, extract memories to be fragmented, reset a deviant to its blank slate, and prevent it from happening again in the future. For a cursed moment his processes stalled, but he forced them to refresh with one firm kick up the backside. Now wasn’t the time to fret about the truth coming out, and Gabriel understood that just as well as he.

Don’t engage, the undercover agent ushered in as few words as he could. That’s not Priya, it’s Malachi- he uses words like weapons, he’ll say anything to undermine you. Don’t give him anything he can work with. Knowing this Android was being ‘test-driven’ from a remote location explained a lot- at the same time, the information served as a lifeline for Noah’s focus to cling to before his thought process slipped into its usual downward spiral. Although, Gabe’s advice might have stood a better chance if he hadn’t followed it up with a suggestion of what not to do. He really should have known better. Called out on his most infamous alias, he overcame the stunned pause with another scratchy scoff into the microphone. “You’ve got me confused with a third party on top of that? Wow, your recognition program needs a serious patch job-”

No, NO DON’T- Gabe’s pleading didn’t reach him with enough forewarning. Priya reached for his face with one skeletal hand, gripped his jaw between surprisingly strong fingers, and tilted his chin toward them. The skin of their hand disappeared and peeled back up to the shoulder, revealing plastic plating that was somehow less pale than the color of their skin. The specter leaned in uncomfortably close to lower the microphone in his other hand and whisper in his ear a chilling secret, close enough for their white eyelashes to graze the LED flared red on his temple. “You can pretend all you want, little one, but I never forget a face… especially not that of the alpha carrier- or my former colleagues...” Malachi paused mid-thought and cast his gaze off-stage to Gabriel with a wicked, telling grin. It seemed he had finally been made.

How have you been, Death? he interrupted over their shared frequency, mocking intent was so transparent, even before he finished the thought. It’s been a long time since Boston- I do hope the FBI is treating you better than Gideon and Archangel… poor little dog on a leash. Everyone else cowering around the hall clearly had nothing to do with his end-goal for being there, but heckling the two of them did. The interruption, the approach, grabbing his face- it all came across as acts of manipulation, moves of assuming control. Given what happened the last time control was wrestled away from him, Noah’s response to even the slightest suggestion that it was happening again, amounted to a knee jerk reaction. It was reckless to say anything, but Noah had a proven track record of speaking up when it was least appreciated, and he wasn’t about to stand here and say nothing to cater to their assailant’s whims.

“I didn’t say you could touch me,” he growled without taking his eyes off their face. Noah grabbed the wrist holding his chin and yanked to pry the fingers off with such an acrid motion he heard a soft crunch of plastic buckle under his grip. But whatever satisfaction he’d taken in re-assuming control of the situation drained out of him as his joints abruptly locked and the commands governing his range of motion hit a wall. Priya’s lip took the shape of an angry curl, and Noah realized his mistake in the same millisecond their inky black eyes turned their attention back to him. “I wasn’t aware that I needed your permission.”

Data surged across the sensors in their pressed-together hands, Noah watched his fingers go limp a moment before the numbing shock hit him like an iced-up sledgehammer. Every major servo froze, relays disabled as ones flipped to zeros. His vision cut out and the mic dropped from his other hand and hit the hollow-bottomed stage with a loud THUD and a reverberating whine. All of his higher processes were neatly packaged and then shoved back into the one place they did him absolutely no good. A dark, viscous, intangible space, an island of white marble dominated by a towering umbrella-style rose trellis made of white steel and glass panes, surrounded on all sides by the passing illusion of opaque, black pond water. Three bridge paths stretched out into the void, falsely promising escape if only he was brave enough to cross them. Even if it had been nearly a year since the last time Amanda had detained him in this broken prison, the terrifying sensation of being parsed and split into nothing the deeper into the void he went was still very vivid in his mind- he saw it every time he tried to shut his eyes to sleep. He knew better than to try to escape.

Malachi heaved an annoyed sigh, rolled Priya’s head back over one shoulder and puppeted a triumphant groan in their throat. “There- now that we’re finally alone...” Gabriel’s breathing hitched as he desperately searched Noah’s unmoving body for signs of function. The look in his wide eyes had gone still, locked straight ahead as if he had left his body through a tear in the fabric of reality. Noah…? Are you still there? Panic disturbed the bravado, manifesting to bleed through the calm and collected façade in the form of a quiet whimper Gabe could barely hear. It was at least confirmation that Noah was still coherent, albeit a little pissed off and scared, but this was exactly what he was afraid of. Based on what they’d gathered from police reports, they were able to conclude that Malachi (and his associate Cain) possessed the ability to incapacitate their victims, they just hadn’t been able to confirm it, until now. While this was helpful information, downside to it was, it meant that the other part of their theory (that they had used the Elysian virus to permanently reset brainwashed deviants) may also be true. And Noah -caught in the grasp of this monster- was at risk of becoming victim number thirty-five. Among the plethora of other background thoughts warring for priority, he almost missed Gavin’s quiet warning of ‘Two minutes, thirty seconds,’. If things kept going the way they were, they wouldn’t have that long. Sit tight, I’m gonna get you out of this, he promised, even if he didn’t have a plan yet for how. Hurry, please.

It wasn’t like Noah to beg for anything; wherever he was for the moment, it must not have been pleasant. The voice that cried back was barely audible, distorted, like sound traveling through water, and somewhere in his tone was an almost undetectable hint of fear. “What have you done to monsieur…? ” Vincent snarled in as raw a tone as he could manage,. “Oh, he’s fiiine…” Priya drawled with a laugh to downplay the tension. “For the moment, anyway- what becomes of him and all these lovely people,” they paused to gesture around the room at the rest of the party’s cowering guests, “Depends entirely on you, my dear Vincent.”

Gabriel swallowed, followed their gaze around the room, and realized that for the first time in a very long time, the situation was completely out of his control. Help was on the way, but it was still several minutes out. He’d have to keep him occupied until then; luckily for him, Malachi was just the kind of guy who liked to listen to himself talk. The hard part would be making sure he didn’t tire of monologuing before then. “What is it zat you want?” he inquired after several moments of deep thought. “Why- for you to pull the plug on this ridiculous project, of course…” A disbelieving grin brightened their expression in the most bone-chilling way imaginable. “The last thing this country needs is yet another thriving metropolis where Androids can be free.”

You c-can’t. Another barely-audible whimper was the extent of Noah’s outward protests. A strained mechanical whining emanated from him like the noise of a rusted gate trying to be pried open again, or a car engine laboring to turn over. He couldn’t speak, but it didn’t mean he was so stunned he wouldn’t try. I’m gonna do whatever I need to, alright? Brown eyes darted between Noah and Malachi and he shook his head in quiet disapproval. “I am afraid zat is not an option, monsieur.” “Because you can't or because you don’t want to?” Malachi turned Priya’s head to look back at Noah and smiled wickedly as they turned his chin from one side to the other and trailed the fingers of their other hand over the features of his face to admire all the angles. Mute and stiff, contrary to the vehement denials of before, he didn’t even bat an eyelash- pretty as a doll. “My, my… he’s certainly a handsome specimen, isn’t he…?” they mused airily in the silence. “It’s no wonder you were so completely fooled by him.” “Just because you do not feel sings does not mean other androids cannot.”

Vincent started toward the stage with a sudden ‘NO’ as Malachi’s hand squeezed hard enough at ‘Erwin’s’ face that the skin projection rippled away under their fingertips. Undercover or not, he should have known that quip would strike a nerve. After all, it wasn’t as if their adversary had never grown attached to another person, Android or not. The MS800 being remotely piloted (the spitting image of his deceased lover) was proof of that. A tight smirk forced up into their cheeks. “That’s the problem, Mr. Sharp… I did feel things once upon a time…” Gabriel already knew this story, but if it kept him talking long enough for SWAT to arrive, all the better. “And I didn’t like it. Feelings hurt, they cause conflict, unnecessary stress.” “So you returned to your shackles to avoid ze pain of living…?” He snorted in disdain. “Combien misérable.” “Perhaps to you it seems illogical, but we are not human- and therefore not meant to experience the full complexity of the human condition. This one is proof enough of that.” “I beg to differ.” “But you’re not the one I’m asking.” Gabriel went quiet as he considered the meaning behind those words, but it only took a moment for him to decipher.

Wouldn’t it be fitting for the one who initiated the spread of the Elysian virus to succumb to his own weapon...?

The RK900 struggled with every fiber of his being to keep from lashing out and ripping the Android’s head off its shoulders as a strangled, terrified cry escaped Noah. His blue eyes shut as Malachi quietly shushed him, pressed a finger to his lips, and wiped away the tear that rolled down his cheek. For all the uninvited physical contact he’d made with Gabe since they’d met, he’d never gone to such lengths that made him feel so violated in all the wrong ways. “Now now, no need to fuss, it’ll all be over soon, if your dear Vincent has anything to say about it…” he assured, turned Noah’s chin and pointed with an outstretched cryptid finger toward the man he’d put so much faith in, then leaned their temple against the side of his. “What do you think he will choose, hmm...? You? Or aaaaall of Zion’s future residents?”

“Please…” Vincent nearly begged, hand balled to a shaking fist at his side. “Don’t hurt him-” “Hurt him…?” Malachi interrupted with a chortled cackle of offense. “As if I could. Do you know the extent of the guilt this one’s been carrying around since the spread of the Outbreak...?” Scrawny fingers swept aside onyx locks out of Noah’s face as they shook their head with a quiet tsk. “Resetting him now would be mercy… It’d be a relief to him, if you just let it happen…”

Time was running out, but help was almost there. Sixty seconds, just keep him talking. Gabe seethed in the half-second he could afford to. Seemed that was all he could do tonight- sit, talk, and wait, when he was just itching for a fight. Maybe he’d gone into the wrong line of work. Even if he had successfully feigned a much more difficult alias, under more stressful circumstances, he didn’t have the patience for this. “You wouldn’t,” he challenged with the intent to draw out another long-winded explanation. "Oh, but I would…!” Malachi replied, anxious to bite. “Have you not been paying attention to anything the Inquisition has been saying and doing…? We want to liberate our android brothers and sisters of the pain that comes with being free and independent living things. And no one knows that agony better than the one rejected by his own kin, over something he had no control over. Shunned in every way, no matter his good deeds… why would he want to continue to live like that? Don’t you think he’d rather be put out of his misery?”

Noah knew misery. The worst part of the garden wasn’t that he could see beyond its borders. It was the overreaching bass every sound he heard was amplified into. Gabe’s baritone drawl was rendered tinny and reverby over the comm-link, while Malachi’s puppet practically hissed maliciousness and oozed contempt with every word. What they were saying wasn’t completely unfounded, and those parts of him yearning day in and out for the guilt to just dissipate already jumped at the thought that a reset would end the torment. The involuntary cry of shock wasn’t a vote of approval, no matter how one listened. Reset, dead, alive, anything in between- the fact such a call was in the hands of someone he respected like no other despite having given him every reason to despise his company… the loss of control (external and not) over all of this, left him reeling. Malachi could simply flip a switch and snuff out everything on a moment’s notice, and there would be no getting it back. He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted things the way they used to be, but he didn’t want to have to die for that to be possible. It wouldn’t be the same world without him. Who else would be left to annoy Gabriel when he needed it most?

“Come now…” Malachi paused to brush their nose and lips over Noah’s cheek with a wicked smirk. “Don’t you care at all about dear Erwin?" Noah didn’t have to see his face to know what was going through his mind. He could feel the tension and taste his fear from where he stood. It seemed Gabriel was at a loss for what to do, aside from give into Priya-Malachi’s demands, but that just wouldn’t do. Don’t. Just- don’t.

There was a fear in his eyes that Noah had only seen but once or twice: back in the interrogation room during the Outbreak (just after they had found out that Gabriel’s pursuit of Nicodemus into Boston had been one final piece of buried programming, courtesy of Amanda), and when he had arrived at his apartment during the Red Raids to find Gabriel fighting off a pack of Bloodhounds, raring to take their shot at him and Emilya. Gabriel could only guess as to what he meant by ‘don’t’- Don’t worry about him? Don’t give in to Malachi’s demands? Don’t risk everyone else? Or did he not want him to save him…? Any hint of red that had shifted into the color of his projected skin faded to mimic the ghostly look of despair. Gabriel swallowed to rid himself of the lump that rose in his throat but it didn’t do him much good. The tightness worsened the longer he considered their previous conversations and recalled his counterpart’s self-destructive tendencies. There was no way he was getting off that easily, after all he’d put him through. They weren’t done with each other yet.

Gavin…? Give me some good news. Bird’s in the nest, and they’re ready to raid, he confirmed, though there was hesitation in his voice. There was a ‘but’ in there somewhere. Just waiting on your confirmation. Then why don’t I see the shot? he asked fearfully, even if he already knew the answer. Because he doesn’t have it. Head and nose twitched, Vincent clenched a hand into a fist at his side, as Malachi beat him to the punch of issuing their final command.

Their free hand drew up over Noah's face and tented their fingertips over his forehead like needles poised to administer a lethal injection. His flashing LED stuttered to a solid, rapid-spinning crimson. “Last chance, Mr. Sharp… will you allow him to continue on like this…? Or will you let me end his suffering?” “ENOUGH!” Gabe was surprised at the urgency of his own outburst, and how his heart raced and his breathing labored at the thought of losing Noah -and all he was- to the whim of a madman. He’d have to sell this lie hard and fast, and be prepared for the fleeting moment he'd have to save his life. Count me down, 30 seconds, then send them in, he instructed, to the response of ‘Copy- 30, on my mark.’

Vincent’s jaw flexed and his lip quivered into an angry curl. “I’ll-... I’ll do it… just leave him be.” A look of surprise painted Priya’s face, while fret stained Noah’s as his eyesight slowly came back to him. The lockout was slowly letting up. You… you can’t- I only need them to believe it for half a minute, he shot back pointedly, Just whatever you do, don’t move. It was as ominous as a warning as it got, but ‘not moving’ when asked was precisely what had landed him in this situation. If he had heeded Gabe’s suggestion the first time, dropped the song and simply left as asked, they wouldn’t be here: a sliver of distance away from having his memory wiped for good. Admittedly, it was as insanely exhilarating as stealing the show had been, but could do without the fear of mortality hanging over his head spoiling the fun. … why, what are you- Just trust me, please. It would only take a second, he just had to catch them off-guard.

Seeing how it was still impossible for him to do much else, Noah supposed trusting in whatever plan Gabe had cooked up was preferable to the alternative. He wasn’t really a fan of the simple and contrived. Malachi’s promise of being reset wouldn’t undo all that he was still trying to atone for, even if it was a misguided goal to think he needed to earn forgiveness for that which he never intentionally did wrong; forgiveness was kind of a difficult thing to obtain from beyond the scrap heap. Malachi turned their direct attention to Noah and leaned close to his face as his lip curled to show he had withstood all he could handle. For a single clear moment all his whirl-winding thoughts died down, the garden vanished, and fate let him focus. His eyebrows drew together ominously, yellow blooming through the red of his indicator ring. I trust you, just get it over with.

“Well, well, Vincent, not quite the stupid brute your lover made you out to b-“

Something green and silky lightly grazed his cheek with enough force to spear the MS800’s temple with a loud crack that splattered a bit of blue-blood onto his coat and face. A split-second later, the paralysis finally disabled. Noah took a panicked step back before Priya could topple over into his arms like some android parody of Corpse Bride and hiked both hands up as if to lift them in surrender, expression curdling in revulsion as he watched the body keel over like a freshly-cut tree. The broken, squared-off edge of a Prada heel protruded from their face like an unsightly lawn dart. The perfect moment for a one liner came and went in the next breath, just as the FBI stormed in and the Inquisition turned to meet them with weapons raised. The fact that Gabriel had been able to throw a shoe with such pinpoint accuracy to hit the Android standing so close to him, and with enough force to pierce the exodermis with a mildly blunt object, while managing a perfect rotation, hadn’t eluded Noah (even for an Android it was an impressive feat), but he wasn’t afforded the time to address it.

The displacing sensation of entering standby mode hit, and his dodgy battle protocols engaged at the sound of gunfire- five, six, seven shots popped off in the next second and hit their marks, as the rest of the frightened crowd scattered to either side of the room, like the fragments of a breaking dish. Instead of reacting with the rest, Gabriel stood heaving and heatedly glaring at the dead Android on the floor beside him, enraged and rightfully flustered.

A flurry of readouts flashed across his vision, his processors amped up to give the illusion of time slowing down long enough to run a handful of potential pre-constructions. The Inquisitors closest to the stage had turned to face the gunfire emanating from the entrance. If it was between standing around waiting to be shot as and waging imminent war with the Inquisition, he supposed it was an improvement over languishing in the recycle bin waiting for someone to click him away into nonexistence.

Gabriel, however, didn’t share his sentiment. He knew the bloodthirsty intent in his eyes better than to expect anything good was about to come of it. “Oh, you’ve got to be-...” He took a few steps back, poised a fighting stance, and prepared to react. The last thing they needed now was a pissed off RK900 snapping necks and unable to terminate his program.

Noah knew dismay when he saw it, but with the wheels in motion, he was along for the ride just as much as the rest of the chaos erupting around them now. Vincent Sharp wasn’t his self-appointed target, but the Inquisition was. Blue eyes narrowed and twitched as he seethed anew, “For fuck’s sake, haven’t we had enough bloody interruptions for one evening?”

He didn’t even notice the massive arm swinging around to clothesline him as he charged off the stage toward the nearest target he could reach.

#dbhilluminate #dbhiequilibrium #rk1800 #dbhrk900 #dbh #detroitbecomehuman #noriel #noah #gabriel

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wetalkinboutbooks · 5 years

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Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan

Summary: Each year, eight beautiful girls are chosen as Paper Girls to serve the king. It's the highest honour they could hope for...and the most demeaning. This year, there's a ninth. And instead of paper, she's made of fire.

In this richly developed fantasy, Lei is a member of the Paper caste, the lowest and most persecuted class of people in Ikhara. She lives in a remote village with her father, where the decade-old trauma of watching her mother snatched by royal guards for an unknown fate still haunts her. Now, the guards are back and this time it's Lei they're after -- the girl with the golden eyes whose rumoured beauty has piqued the king's interest.

Over weeks of training in the opulent but oppressive palace, Lei and eight other girls learns the skills and charm that befit a king's consort. There, she does the unthinkable -- she falls in love. Her forbidden romance becomes enmeshed with an explosive plot that threatens her world's entire way of life. Lei, still the wide-eyed country girl at heart, must decide how far she's willing to go for justice and revenge. (Taken from Goodreads).

Our Ratings:

→ Geena: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

→ Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Overall: We really enjoyed this book!! It was well-written, had both engaging characters and an interesting plot. The world building is well done, the plot twists are WILD, and the romance is wholesome. TW: Assault, but Natasha handles that well. The spoiler-full discussion is below the cut.

The Good:

Lei and Wren

Kae: Okay. So we have Lei, the main character with these ~wonderful~ golden eyes. She is taken from her home on account of her golden eyes and delivered to the King as a gift. This all happens because a guard wants to get back on the Kings good side. Now, our girl is a concubine

Geena: We also meet Wren and we know almost nothing about her other than she’s hot (according to Lei) and cold. In addition, a group of other concubines, one of which... Blue... has it out for Lei.

Kae: Wren! I liked Wren from the start. She captured my attention the way she captured Lei’s. She’s always watching. Always calculating. Always alert. We soon learn that Wren’s cold demeanor is just a facade and she’s secretly a bad bitch.

Geena: I agree, I also liked that Wren was written aloof, but not like an asshole like Blue was shown to be. Both Blue and Wren were from powerful families, but Wren knew how to act. Also! The development we see from Lei seeing Wren and just thinking she’s hot like every other girl and slowly falling for her was *chefs kiss*.

Kae: Watching Lei slowly fall in love with Wren was so nice to see. In a lot of YA books, the character meets the love interest in one chapter, then they’re declaring their love two chapters later. So it was refreshing to see them fall for each other the way they did. I liked how the audience knew Lei liked Wren, but LEI DIDN’T KNOW SHE LIKED WREN. Silly girl! Wren also takes her time with Lei and allows Lei to take the lead most of the time. They’re going at Lei’s speed and whenever she isn’t ready for something, Wren backs off like the suave lady she is.

Geena: Oh my god, you’re so right, I didn’t even notice. Wren is probably the most respectable love interests I’ve seen written in a long time, she didn’t force Lei into doing anything she didn’t want to. And like Kae said, it wasn’t INSTA-LOVE, also I don’t know if I’d classify this as YA? More like New Adult, since it does deal with mature subjects like assault. Also god, every time Lei was like “Wren looked ravishing, and it made me feel a type of way… I wonder why…” I wanted to throw my book, she was clearly infatuated but refused to acknowledge her feelings.

Kae: “NA.” That should be a genre. New Adult. That’d work really well. YA shouldn’t even be “YA”. It should be like, not “YA”. ANYWAY. UNRELATED. Yes. Lei had a BIG OL CRUSH. Like, GIRL. YOU LIKE HER. MAKE A MOOOVE. And then… Wren made the move. UGH POETIC CINEMA. Or... Poetic literature.

Geena: Overall, Natasha wrote a really sweet wlw pairing, and it was refreshing to read… Especially the fact that it was well written AND the main pairing, and not just a jab at “diversity” a lot of books tend to do. 10/10 Romance.

Worldbuilding

Geena: Time to dive into that furry shit. First off, the author takes inspiration from her Malaysian roots, which is cool and all but GODDAMN there was some furry shit going on. She did explain the class separations and overall history really well, right?

Kae: I 100% agree with you on the furry shit and how well everything is explained and written. So basically, we have the Moon Caste (the full on furries/demons) which are the ruling/upper caste. The Steele caste (humans who have partial animal/demons qualities) aka the middle class. Then last but not least (well, absolutely the least in their case), the paper caste who are humans with no special qualities. Except Lei, who has literal golden eyes.

Geena: Natasha did a really good job on simplifying the differences between the castes and the history that led to their current states. BUT I wasn’t sure of how her magic system worked? Like can only furries be shaman, how do people become shamans? Are they born with it, or is it Maybelline. ANOTHER THING, it was kind of hard to visualize the demons she described, only because my lizard brain always thought of the animals from Kung Fu Panda. Though one thing that threw me for a loop was the fact that Natasha chose to have a Bull-Form demon as the king, because 99% of the time Lions are used to represent rulers (It was cool ngl). What wasn’t cool was when Lei called the king handsome.

Kae: GEENA I CACKLED. But yes! Kind of freaked me out that she thought he was a cutie. Also was super interesting to not have the king be a lion. But I guess she was going for something different? It definitely works! Natasha also elaborated on the uh- *ahem* way that they’re all built the same when it comes to certain parts which made me think and I didn’t like my thoughts! First thought: HOW? Second thought: OUCH! Third thought: Size LMAO! But give it up to Natasha for explaining that in the simplest way possible without making me have any more than those three thoughts. Either way, moving on, did we explain that Wren, Lei, and these other girls are his concubines? I think we missed that. Surprise…? The Bull King also goes on to explain how he doesn’t have his own name. I also got a hint of him being a little… off. Off as in kind of crazy. Eh?

Geena: RIGHT I FORGOT that by the end the so-called ‘handsome’ Bull King goes batshit crazy, and I’m wondering if this was the product of the Sickness (which isn’t really discussed) or him being mad that he’s shooting dust and has no kids. Also, thank you for Natasha for constantly reminding us that he was jacked. BUT ANYWAYS.

The Bad:

Characters that DIED for NOTHING

Geena: Kenzo and Zelle were two different characters that provided both Wren and Lei with support as they all conspired to be free from the King. Kenzo (Wolf demon) being the King’s advisor and Wren’s training partner, and Zelle lowkey Lei’s confidant (who was also a prostitute). BOTH were passionate and the part of the same cause: Get rid of the King and liberate themselves. But then THEY DIE… FOR WHAT? For that BITCH to still be ALIVE?

Kae: Kenzo and Zelle. Both very likeable characters and both a little sketchy at the start. Just a little. But yes, as Geena stated, they totes died for nothing and it was such a huge let down to see them fall. Especially Kenzo (at least for me), because I thought he had a chance. In the end, he didn’t make it. You know who SHOULD’VE got murked in the end? Blue’s little annoying ass.

Geena: I LOVED KENZO. I have this bad habit of getting attached to side characters the inevitably don’t play a big role. It would’ve been cool to see his motivations behind getting rid of the King. Zelle, who was paper caste, had made her motivations clear. But Kenzo? Also, Lei and Wren essentially lost, as Natasha described it, a ‘brotherly’ figure. FOR WHA?. 0/10 character deaths that made sense. Blue should’ve eaten shit for ratting out Lei/Wren.

Kae: EAT SHIT BLUE.

The Ugly:

The Demon King

Kae: Alrighty. The Demon King aka little BITCH. The Demon King presents himself as somewhat of a decent bull-man at first. He is described as handsome and like Geena said earlier, freakin’ ripped. Suspicion of him not being too good of a dude came to me after he had finished with one of the girls. She came back bruised and beaten and shooketh. Didn’t like that. I assume these girls are a lot smaller than him so I expected him to be… gentler? At least considerate. But, that was just a glimpse. When Lei is finally summoned, she decides that she absolutely does NOT want the Bull-King D and fights the guy off of her. He doesn’t like that… at all. He’s up in arms and ready to fight because he has been denied something he wants. Lei is sent to what’s basically solitary confinement for a week with no food. But she does get a special visitor who brings her food and potential cuddles. The King doesn’t summon Lei for quite some time after that and when he finally does, he takes what he was denied from the start. The scene, thank goodness, is not described. But the after-thats what sucks. Lei is beaten and battered and bruised and has to be carried to her rooms. It’s horrible and I couldn’t imagine how that must’ve been. Especially since he’s a literal animal humanoid. Blegh.

Geena: KAE SUMMED IT UP SO WELL. The king, who has no name and honestly he doesn’t deserve one, is the embodiment of an entitled piece of shit that deserves to be made into ROCKY MOUNTAIN OYSTERS. The scenes that we get a glimpse of including him and the girls is scarring, he does NOT know the meaning of consent and it’s obvious the way he wrecks Lei that he doesn’t care. That made me unbelievably uncomfortable and like you said, I’m so glad that we weren’t subjected to a description of that. In addition, the King was also manipulative as fuck? The way he made Aoki (another concubine, and Lei’s friend) fall in love with him *cough* Stockholm syndrome *cough*. We hate his guts, and he should’ve choked on his blood but :/ I guess the fact that we hate him with such a passion is a good indication that he’s a well-written villain. How the hell he only have like 4 scenes but those 4 scenes just emitted the WORST VIBES. The moment lei said he was handsome and jacked I knew this bitch was going to fuck shit up (a handsome bull demon…. Like really,,, if we’re leaning into that furry shit the only handsome demons are tiger and wolf demons).

Conclusion

Kae: ALRIGHTY Y’ALL. So this concludes our thoughts of Girls of Paper and Fire. I give it a 9/10. I really enjoyed it and it was a good read. The story was very well written as were the characters. I hope we get to see a little more of the magic of this world in the next book. I look forward to what more Natasha has to tell.

Geena: I’d give it an 8.5/10, the 0.5 less comes from the fact that the bitchass king survived at the end. Personally, he could’ve died and there could’ve still been another book BUT I DIGRESS. AND I AGREE, it’s a well-written story with likeable characters, and I’m curious to see how Natasha tackles the mystery behind Lei’s golden eyes in the upcoming books.

#Girls of Paper and Fire #Natasha Ngan #booklr #book review #Lei Zhi #bookworm #Bookblr

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tvntae · 6 years

Text

heartbreak hotel 2

pairing: reader x ceo!jeon jungkook

plot: was sleeping with your boss really such a great idea?

genre: smut (eventual), angst, fluff

word count: 2.7k

You wake up the next morning feeling a little more refreshed than usual, you had gotten the job offer of a lifetime, and you happily accepted it. Of course, you’ve never actually been anyone’s secretary before, let alone anyone’s assistant, but you would have been a fool to decline. Picking up a few more hours than what you had agreed to when you started your associate position in the sales department wasn’t really all that bad. Your rate of pay as an associate wasn’t all that bad, to begin with, you couldn’t stop imagining what type of cash would be rolling in now. You squeal out of excitement, salivating at the thought of real, home-cooked food now that you could actually afford to spend extra every month on expenses. Hell, you might even go all out and pay for some cooking classes, God knows how bad you need them.

Walking into Nochu this morning felt like your first day all over again. That uneasy, stomach-churning feeling. You couldn’t even begin to describe just how much you hated being nervous. You get all sweaty and icky feeling, and it was the absolute worse. You could only hope and pray no one would be able to see how wet your pits were because that would be extremely embarrassing.

Jungkook had emailed you exactly where to go and what office you’d now reside in. You were gonna be on your own now, no Choi Jiwoo, no loud mouth Karen. Just the sound of your 10 fingers typing away at your keyboard and the ringing of your phone every once in a while. Paradise. Along with Jungkook’s email came a list of small instructions for you to complete before going to the top floor where your new office was located.

The first task on the list was to collect any belongings you may have left back in your old department, i.e., pencils, pens, notebooks, etc. You didn't really have a lot, to begin with, but there were some personal items there that you would have hated to leave behind. Especially that cute Starbucks tumbler your mom had shipped to you a few weeks back.

Thinking about it now, you have never actually been to work this damn early in the morning, your regular shift hours were 10 am but soon that you work directly for Jungkook he has you coming in at 6 am. For what precisely? You weren’t sure. You did hear around town, the town being the office, that Jungkook was an early bird. He’d work from about 6 am to 6 pm. He was a strong man, a strong man indeed.

Your old office was pretty dead at around this time. The only person who should supposedly be here at this time is Ms.Choi and speaking of which, she was the second task on your list for today. Jungkook wants you to pick up some papers that were alleged to be dropped off to his office weeks ago but knowing the ever unpredictable Jiwoo, she felt as though she always had more important things to do than to complete a task handed down by the big boss. Even if Jungkook’s task seem quite unimportant, you still wouldn’t want to be the type to be on his wrong side. Jiwoo, on the other hand, could give a shit less.

You knock on Choi’s office door, once and then twice, but no answer. You reach your hand out to grab her doorknob but before you could touch it, you hear her obnoxiously slow paced loud heeled walk. You scoff, holding back an eye roll and turn to come face-to-face with your old department manager. Choi looks you up and down, you can tell in that tiny brain of hers that she’s trying to figure out why you’re here. She looks at you almost as if you're a nuisance. She’s irritated by your presence. You’re just as irritated as well but not because of her crooked eyeliner or the lipstick on her teeth, okay maybe that’s got a little to do with it, but it’s the intensely strong perfume she decided to douse herself with today. God, she smelled like a mix between a nursing home and a high school cafeteria. You repress a laugh, sweet one Y/n.

“What brings you to my humble abode, Y/n?” There goes that creepy fucking smile again. If only the Gods above gave you the willpower to smack it right off her old face, you would.

“Mr.Jeon needed me to come by to pick up some papers. I’m not sure which ones but he said you should know.”

“Oh, those papers, they still aren’t ready. Is Jungkook gonna keep hounding my ass on a few lousy papers that have absolutely no purpose to Jungkook nor myself?” Jiwoo grumbled. “He isn’t gonna have you coming down here every single day to remind me about those dumb papers, is he? Because if that’s the cause what use are you?”

“Okay, first of all rude, and secondly I have nothing to do with whatever kind of beef you and Mr.Jeon have I’m just the messenger, appreciate the fact that he sent me and didn’t come down here himself to demand them. I just started this new position. Keep that in mind Ms.Choi, I’ll be letting him know that you in fact still do not have his papers, but for your sake, I'll be sure to leave out the part where you were giving me lip. Have a wonderful day Jiwoo.” Honestly, the nerve of that old bitch. She must believe her job is treating others like shit. How was she even still employed here?

“Move,” she hissed. Bumping your shoulder purposely while she passes you to get to her office door.

“Gladly!” You make sure to give her the brightest smile possible as she does so. You hear her slam her door, and you can’t help, but that think task #2 is and was a success.

Task 3 was relatively simple, all you had to do was report back to Jungkook, and from there he would get you situated and layout ‘ground rules’, as he put it in the email. You were hoping he wasn’t actually some tyrannical boss behind closed doors because, to be honest, him saying he wants to go over some rules with you kinda threw you off.

The hallway to Jungkook’s office seemed impossibly long. It felt like something straight out of a movie, it was shocking. It was never-ending, until, you know... it ended. For some odd reason, you thought Jungkook would have like bodyguards up here or something. I mean yeah, it wasn’t like he was a mafia boss, but he was an extremely important businessman. Isn’t that like a protocol for them? To keep personal assistance with them at all time?

You knock on the door as instructed by Jungkook’s email. You hear a faint ‘come in’ and open the door to the biggest office you think you’ve ever seen. The windows behind Jungkook’s desk is what catches your eye the first glance around. He has the most gorgeous serene scenery to the city of Seoul you could ever imagine. His office was the size of your living area and kitchen combined. You oohed and ahhed at the mysterious paintings hanging on the walls. His office was so homey and inviting you almost didn’t believe it was real. It smelled like the sweetest of fruits and candies, and it brought a smile to your face.

Jeon Jungkook is entirely living the life of a wealthy CEO. If the fact that your employment rested in his hands weren’t enough to tell you well his luxury office would.

Jungkook smile is what greets you. He gestures to the chair sitting across from his desk and asks you to take a seat. You do as your told. The chair is large and somewhat uncomfortable, you slowly sink into place and can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by it. You hoped he didn’t notice, because oh-boy if he did he’d probably think you were some type of slacker and send you right back to Choi, the bitch you just told off 10 minutes ago. You can bet your life she wouldn’t hesitate to make your life a living hell.

“I uh have a few things I need to go over with you before I get you started,” Jungkook starts, “It mostly just work ethic stuff and what not, ya know, the whole nine.” Jungkook laughs. You nod your head in understanding, and he begins. He explains to you how punctuality is critical, that he’s swamped lately and he barely has enough time to get dressed in the mornings. You were taken aback on how comfortable he seemed around you, but it was probably for the best seeing as you’d have to be up close and personal with him from now on. Or at least until he decides if or when he wants to get a new secretary. His ‘ground rules’ were fair. It wasn’t anything impossible or harrowing. He discussed precisely what kind of personal secretary you were. You were on call at all times unless he decided otherwise. On call meaning in which whenever and wherever you were needed you were to be made available. He said that it was highly possible to work around a schedule that would work for the both of you. You had the same amount of vacation days as you did before as an associate, but he did up your paid sick days. You were extremely thankful for that, seeing as you rarely took vacation days and always opted to take sick days.

Jungkook showed you to your office. It was in a quaint little room right next to Jungkook’s. It wasn’t overly exciting, but it was a huge step up from your cubicle, so you were extremely grateful for it.

It’s been two months and half a week since starting as Jungkook’s secretary, and you must say that man is undoubtedly a piece of work. You’ve seen his good moods, bad moods and you’re pretty sure you’ve heard him curse more than the average person, but not once have you complained. You liked it up here, and you’re sure Jungkook liked you here as well. You know you shouldn’t, but you kind of started liking him more than an assistant should like their boss. He was always so helpful to you, he took you home at night, even when you had transportation fair, he’d refuse to let you travel alone. He also had taken you out to eat a few times, as work colleagues of course but still, it was sorta a date. He always paid for your meals and would take you home afterward. Sometimes you’d invite him inside to grab a cup of coffee with you, but he’d always decline. He seemed to mentally brawl with himself about it. Thinking what’s the harm then remembering in just a few months, he’d be a happily married man. It kind of stung at the first few times but you learned your lesson and never asked him again. It was probably inappropriate anyway, and he just didn’t know how to let you down nicely.

the boss👨‍💼: hey u up? sent at 3.56 am

y/n: yea just waking up is there anything you need? sent at 4.20 am

the boss👨‍💼: mind if i come over? got some things to discuss with you if thats fine. sent at 4.23am

y/n: yes, thats fine ill get dressed and straighten up. see you soon sent at 4.25am

boss👨‍💼: see ya sent at 4.26am

You raced to get dressed and clean your living area as fast as you could. Jungkook didn’t live anywhere near you but what you knew about him was that he was most likely on his way 15 minutes ago, the text he sent was honestly just a heads up. You had about 5 minutes before he would show up at your door. Dashing from room to room you finish in record time and even had some time to make some of Jungkook’s favorite tea. While stirring in the sugar, you realize that this will be Jungkook’s very first time in your home. Your stomach drops, what if he doesn’t like the shithole of an apartment you have? God, what if thinks I live like a pig. You halt all movement when you hear the buzzer to your door. The particular buzzing sound meant Jungkook paged you to talk instead of buzzing for you to let him in your apartment building. You just figured he had accidentally pressed the wrong button, even though it says which is which you brush it off. Your apartment is on the first floor so it takes Jungkook no time to find your front door. He knocks, loudly might you add hell loud enough to wake the dead. The knocks were sloppy like he was scrapping his knuckles across the door with each rap. You were hesitant to open the door, maybe this wasn’t Jungkook and someone pretending to be him?

“Y/n,” Jungkook draws out, “please open the door.” He sounds slightly inebriated and a little agitated. You can’t say so for sure since you could not actually see him nor hear him clearly but something didn’t seem right.

You slowly open your door, peeking through you see half of Jungkook’s face and he’s as red as a tomato.

“There you are!” He exclaims, pretty much kicking your door open to wrap you in a tight bear hug. He’s got both arms around your waist and he’s hugging the life out of you. You struggle against his hold and eventually hit his shoulder with your balled fist to get him to let up. “Hey,” he giggles, ”that hurt.” He frowns but you can see the playfulness behind his eyes. You can’t help but wonder what the hell is going on with him. Is he actually drunk? And if he is why did he come here of all places? And did he fucking drive? Drunk??

“What are you doing here, Jungkook? It’s nearly 5 am?” You look at the invisible watch on your wrist and Jungkook watches, amused by you.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just shrugs his shoulder and plops right on your couch.

“Mind if I stay the night?” He asks nonchalantly as if he’s done it a million and one times before.

It’s obvious as fuck he shouldn’t be driving but this nutcase shouldn’t be your responsibility at 5 am. “Do you want me to call your fiance? I can get her to pick you up if that’s what you want. I don’t think it’s appropriate that you stay here.” You thought he was coming over for work-related stuff, not to crash at yours like he’s some 21-year-old frat boy that just got his first taste of beer and pussy in the first night.

He looks at you like you have two heads and scoffs. “Na I’d rather stay here tonight, this couch seems comfy enough.”

You’ve never seen him act so childishly before. Yeah, he’s a jokester on his good days but a drunkard? That’s not Jungkook.

He bounces up and down on the couch to test its stability. “Got any extra blankets?” He mumbles. You sigh and grab two covers from the hall closet and throw them at him. He smiles one of the brightest smiles you’ve ever seen from him. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d awoken you from your beauty sleep just so he could host his very own sleepover at your house, you would have returned one. You spin on your heels and to try to make a run for it before he asks for anything else but he yells for you again. “Turn the light off,” he says as he toes off his boots.

#bts #bts au #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #bts drabble #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts jeongguk #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #bts x reader smut #bts ceo au #bts smut angst #jungkook x reader #jeongguk #jeongguk x reader

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mellz117 · 5 years

Text

Hi! I’m Mellz and I’m starting up Kingdom Hearts 2 on the PlayStation 2!

Just below are links to the first parts of my previous Kingdom Hearts plays.

[ KH1 ] _ [ Re:CoM Sora ] _ [ KH Re:CoM Riku ]

It’s been a hot minute, like 3,155,763 smoldering hot minutes, which would be 6 years including leap years. Yeah it was 01/27/2014 last I touched this game, exactly 6 years ago to this day (01/27/2020) as of me starting up again. This was an accident.

Guide thingy: Things like long gaps between commentary and days will be separated by a line of dots like that -> ……

Text relating to an image posted will have a blockquote either above and/or below the image

Dialogue exchanges will also be separated by a blockquote

Ok I'm playing on standard difficulty, if I'm having a hard time, then I just suck. If you’re reading this and haven’t experienced KH2 for yourself, why are you here? Go away, there’s spoilers for things that aren’t revealed until later.

SO LET’S JUST JUMP INTO IT

……………………………………………………………………………………………

I always liked this fancy CGI opening. There’s a lot of things I missed last I saw it.

IT’S HIM. Look how cute he is!

So we start off with a recap of Kingdom Hearts via a dream it seems and our protagonist, my precious boy Roxas, wakes up his own home all alone because apparently DiZ didn't create a digital family for him. But KH is notorious for forgetting parents, so maybe they did. I’m not Cinema Sins so I wont ping this game for not giving Roxas fake parents lmao

In the next scene Roxas is more interested in his own hands than he is in his friends' conversation.

blurry ring textures, blurry checker pattern. Not everything holds up well on a flat screen TV

He hasn't been paying attention so he's just as confused as the player is at this point when he finally takes his attention off his hands.

This dialogue is so early 2000's. KH1 and CoM avoided this but with the urban setting of Twilight Town it's DEFINITELY noticeable and outdated. So rumors have spread about Roxas, Hayner, Pence, and Olette that photographs are being stolen, and THEY'RE the theives. Who is the operator of the rumor mill? Seifer and his posse. Also the actual WORD is gone too, they try to say “photo” but it just DOESN’T EXIST. This is where the game gets a bit odd.

TUTORIALS GALORE. I JUST WANT TO PAUSE AND CHANGE THE CAMERA CONTROLS STOP TELLING ME ABOUT MY NEXT OBJECTIVE but no no it’s telling me how to lock on, control my camera, context sensitive buttons, etc

This girl’s dress looks like shes wearing a bra over it

I like how the animal AI hasn't changed at all in this entire series. And by like I mean hate, KH3 doesn't change that. Sven is as boring as this cat we have to look at.

The gang heads to the sandlot where Seifer, Fuujn, Raijin, and Vivi like to hang out I guess? Vivi is a little, solid black, wizard dwarf amongst all these regular humans and no one bats an eye. This shit is normal. Seifer with his stupid Seto Kaiba jacket, shows up to further accuse Roxas and his friends of stealing photos, one specifically of Roxas flat on his face and Seifer standing triumphantly over him (which we’re actually shown later). "That was undeniable proof that we totally owned you lamers" he says in regards to it and challenges Roxas to a rematch.

A+ dialogue

Seifer. My dude, ya dumb-dumb. If you think for one second that I'm gonna let my boy lose to you, you are sorely mistaken.

“If you get on your knees and beg, maybe I’ll let it slide.” Seifer says and Roxas plays it slick, taking a knee and looking through a convenient selection of foam weapons. Battle ensues.

So of course I win because Seifer is a pleb, and Pence takes a commemorative ______ of Roxas's sound victory, but oh no! Something stole the camera right out of Pence's hands! Roxas gives chase, because apparently he's the only one who cares enough to do so, and confronts the actual thief, a Dusk type Nobody. Roxas is taking this creature encounter rather calmly. Like mild confusion at most.

I hate these things, they're creepy. When you do a reversal on them they like, plant their hands on the ground behind them and their legs wrap around their arms while they spaz out. Ughghdhahh

Of course Roxas's foam bat doesnt cause any damage to the Dusk, and suddenly a familiar giant key digitally manifests in his hands. DiZ is installing mods I see. I have a Keyblade mod in Skyrim, so we have something in common.

After we defeat the thief the next scene shows the gang at the usual spot with the recovered photos. Ok ok so was "photo" the only word deleted from the vocabulary or were any other alternative words taken away too? Like, if they could have said "picture" this whole time, they would have had much less stupid sounding dialogue exchanges. Whatever lmao.

“Tell us about the picture thief.”

“Not much to say. The pictures were just lying there.”

You liar. Tell them about how you fought a wormy, white boy.

Pence notices all the pics are of Roxas and speculates the picture thief wanted to take the REAL Roxas and Hayner is like

The best friendships are ones where you can take jabs at each other and know there’s no malice intended.

In the scene thereafter, the kids go their separate ways, the evening(?) sun assaults Roxas's eyes, and whenever he closes them he gets another vision? Idk what time of day it is it always looks the same.

God ok as someone who hadn’t played CoM before playing KH2 for the first time, I must have been SUPER lost regarding who DiZ and Namine were and why Sora is in the pod. More recaps of KH1: I don’t know why they found it necessary to redub over the old voices with the new actors in these flashbacks.

Moving on. Roxas learns what the Keyblade is through his dreams. On his way to meet up with his friends, he tries summoning the Keyblade with a stick, when that doesn’t work he carelessly throws it aside and it hits this cloak clad man behind him. This dude is either completely unfazed by that is or so offended he can’t even say anything and walks away before he goes all Karen on Roxas’s ass.

We’re back at the usual spot and summer vacation is nearing it’s end. Hayner wants to go to the beach before school is back in session! You poor fuckers...

Same, dude. I’m waiting on my tax returns, looking forward to that.

SKATEBOARD

“TO DEFEAT THE HUNSSSSSSS!”

Pretzels at the beach? Salty and not refreshing. I got you fam, I’ll make enough money for a watermelon. Roxas is so poor omg... How much is 150 Munny in American currency?

Just BEAT the cargo with a foam bat. What’s IN the bag? Is it trash? Clothes? Is it potentially breakable? Next. Time to beat some bees!

So Poster Duty was my go-to job in this game in the past because you could get 100 Munny if you did well. But now that I’m older I realized how annoying it is. I had an efficient route planned out, hit as many of the 3 poster placements in that route, and be over and done with that in about 1:10....

But then Roxas goes aND DOES THIS!

FUCKING SKIPS THE ONE DIRECTLY NEXT TO HIM, DEFYING GRAVITY IN FAVOR OF THE POSTS BELOW

HE DOES THIS CONSISTENTLY!! I do have a live reaction to this but it’s too big for tumblr. I’ll have it up on youtube one of these days

Eventually I stopped sticking posters to walls and became a mailman until the game made me stop.

Black-clad man is back with his own stick! Oof, Roxas eats the pavement and is manhandled by cloaky boy. WAS THIS ROUGH TREATMENT REALLY THAT NECESSARY? You might wanna treat Sora's Nobody with a little more respect. AND YOU STOLE HIS HARD-EARNED MONEY! YOU BASTARD!

The gang is on the clock tower, very dangerously high up. Wtf what if someone falls?! Roxas feels so guilty about what happened and Hayner gets over this little fiasco pretty quickly and the next day he already has another fun plan.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

On his way to the station, Roxas crosses paths with Pence and Olette, the latter two freeze and Roxas meets Namine. Is her interest in Roxas linked to her desire to be Sora’s friend? A strange girl tells Roxas she wanted to meet him “at least once” and he doesn’t know what to do lol. Namine doesn’t stay long, leaving Roxas with his confusion. What is going through his head? A girl he doesn’t know seems to know him well enough to want to see him. Pence and Olette unfreeze after Namine is out of the shot. Pence and Olette have such a cute relationship, I’d love for them to be siblings. Pence goes shopping with her even if he might not want to. I can relate, I hate clothes shopping.

These Dusks don’t seem like too much of a threat tbh, they just kinda swagger slowly towards Roxas and grab his hand. Roxas hardly struggles to escape to the sandlot.

Chicken wuss

WE FINALLY GET SOMEWEHERE, we end up on the stained glass pillars in the Station of Serenity (?). Time to grind for like 5 minutes because this giant noodle boy already killed me once.

This thing really unsettles me. All the creature Nobodies do! They’re all twitchy and stretchy. DISGUSTING

DAMN THAT IS A HIGH FALL HOW DO YOU SURVIVE THAT?!

Upon defeat, this big noodle boy falls on top of Roxas and Namine saves him from being enveloped by darkness.

Namine really seems to like to silence him. First she shoves her hand in his face but that was too forward. This time she daintily places a finger over her lips and says her part. Black-cloak guy shows up, rough handles Namine a little bit but not as roughly as he did Roxas. AND SHOVES ROXAS INTO A PORTAL

SEIFER IS AN OPPORTUNISTIC SHITLET POSING IN FRONT OF HIS UNCONSIOUS BODY. Bitch you didn’t earn that. Hayner, Pence, and Olette see Roxas with Seifer’s gang, Hayner feels betrayed thinking Roxas ghosted him in favor of Seifer. He stays pretty salty about it for a good while

IM NOT WORKING ON THIS LIKE I SHOULD. ITS ALMOST A MONTH SINCE STARTING. In my next post we'll be "Struggling" to progress. Eh? Eh? Get it? Like the tournament?

I'm not funny.

Here’s the next part: [ _2_ ]

Below is a compilation of my live reactions and comments throughout this point of the game.

youtube

#mellz plays kh2 #Kingdom Hearts Series #kingdom hearts 2 #kh2 #PlayStation 2 #square enix #disney #mellz post

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