#it says a whole lot that i would rather have virtually anyone else next to Charles on the grid

[slythereen]

average charles leclerc girlie experience

rejoice over excellent quali

realize his teammate is starting somewhere near him on the grid

feel immediate stress and dismay

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (18)

   jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: suggestive themes, lots of teasing & domestic fluff 🥺

words: 7.1k

   chapter eighteen

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing that you felt wasn’t the disruptive rays of sun on your face – you’d forgotten to draw the curtains last night – but soft, almost feather-light touches of fingertips on your collarbones. And, even though you had never woken up next to anyone like this before, you didn’t flinch or pull away.

Instead, you opened your eyes and immediately regretted not doing it sooner. Jungkook was laying on the bed next to you, his eyes still hazy with sleep and his lips parted in concentration as he drew patterns on the edges of your skin.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice quiet. You weren’t sure if you were truly awake yet, or if this was one of the overly realistic dreams that you’d had before.

Jungkook looked at you, surprised to hear you speak – he hoped not to wake you – but relieved when he saw the soft smile on your face.

“Trying to make sure you’re really here,” he answered, his morning voice breathy and raspy, and enough to make your stomach clench and your smile spread in admiration, despite the corny words.

You closed your eyes again. “Did you practice that line?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, shameless. “How’d I do?”

You hummed in content. “The delivery was nice. But it’s all very cliché. I’d say a six out of ten.”

He chuckled lazily, pulling his hands away and prompting you to look up at him again, in a way a dog would look at the person who’d stopped scratching its’ head – disappointed and outraged by the audacity.

“I’ll do better next time,” Jungkook promised, almost naturally reaching for you again – this time, to brush an unruly strand of your hair away from your face.

“Next time?” you asked, not trying to insinuate anything other than your intention to find out his plans for the immediate future.

He read too much into it, however. He cocked an eyebrow as he lifted himself up on his elbows.

“I don’t like that voice,” he said. “You’re about to tell me I was just a one-night-stand for you, aren’t you?”

You laughed, turning on your back but still watching him. “I’ve known you for twenty-three years.”

“Not like that, you didn’t.”

You looked away, your face warm. The smile on your lips was relentless, however – it gave no opportunity for you to pretend like the stressful night last night, and the way it ended, wasn’t a pleasant visitor in your memory.

“What do you want to do today?” Jungkook asked, feeling his arms go numb from supporting all of his weight, but not caring about it too much because, this way, he could see you better.

“Not a thing,” you told him, completely serious. “I want to stay in bed.”

“Alright,” he said, laying back down next to you as he decided firmly, “that’s what we’re doing then.”

You turned your head to face him. “Your bandmates will kill you.”

“That’s only if I go home,” he said, not seeming the slightest bit fazed about his impending doom. “If I don’t, then I’m safe.”

His indifference got you to smile; the relationship dynamics between Jungkook and his bandmates resembled a sibling connection far more than just a friendship. Still, he needed to do right by them.

���You can’t avoid them for the rest of your life,” you said.

“You underestimate me,” he shot back, very proud of himself.

“Jungkook,” you countered seriously.

“Well, I won’t really avoid them for the rest of my life,” he defended, “but maybe for the rest of the weekend.”

“Jungkook—”

“I liked the sound of my name on your lips a lot more last night,” he pointed out, deliberately distracting you.

He ran his tongue over his lower lip as if he could physically see the bolt of electricity that his words sent right into your stomach. He couldn’t get used to witnessing how the effect he had on you manifested on your face.

“Hmm,” you resisted the pull of his eyes. “Did you rehearse that, too?”

“No,” he replied, leaning in closer, “believe it or not, a lot of this charm comes naturally to me.”

“Must’ve had a lot of practice, then,” you spoke, your voice so quiet, it was barely above a whisper, as his face lingered a few millimetres away from yours.

“Or a lot of daydreams,” he said, “and night dreams. And evening dreams. And morning—”

You ended up having to be the one who kissed him – to shut him up before you admitted that his cheesy pick-up lines made your traitor heart flutter; but it wasn’t so much the lines, as it was the undisguised fondness in his eyes, really. Smiling into the kiss, Jungkook was quick to take over by touching your cheek with his hand lightly, and shifting your face into his so he could deepen the kiss.

You pulled away with a half-hearted whine, your lips smacking as you broke the kiss. “It’s too early. I haven’t showered or even brushed my teeth yet.”

Jungkook looked absurdly offended. “You kissed me!”

“To get you to shut up,” you clarified.

“Oh, so the sound of my voice annoys you?” he jabbed, “very well. Let’s go.”

He rolled away from you and sat up in bed.

You watched him, confused and somewhat disappointed that his plans, clearly, did not include staying in bed the whole day, after all. “Go where? Where are you—”

Jungkook stood up and pulled you by your hands until you were sitting up. You refused to stand until he answered you and he clicked his tongue at your resistance.

“We,” he said, emphasizing the plural word as he gave you one more pull, forcing you to climb off the bed, “are going to take a shower.”

It already felt unusual – and uncomfortable now that it was daytime – to stand around in your room next to Jungkook, dressed in virtually nothing because you hadn’t bothered to find your respective clothes last night: he gave up after he untangled his boxers from his jeans, and you settled for his shirt. Now that he’d mentioned a shared shower, you started to feel even more self-conscious.

“We are—no, what are you saying?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest defensively as Jungkook realized he regretted tossing you his shirt last night – he didn’t want it back now, not unless you were in it.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand and heading for the door of your dorm.

You stayed put. “Together?”

“You’re not very sharp in the mornings, are you?” he teased and then smirked before you could punch him. “I like that. Yes. Together.”

He kept going – or, rather, tried to keep going because you still weren’t moving – and when he turned to look at you, exasperation was clear in his eyes.

“Jungkook, the showers here are communal,” you told him.

“Even better!” he replied. Not even an earthquake would have changed his mind.

“How is that better?” you frowned.

“I don’t mind an audience.”

You punched his shoulder. “I mind!”

Laughing, Jungkook let go of one of your hands and rubbed his shoulder.

“Well, it’s seven in the morning right now,” he said, not checking the time on his phone again – he’d done that as soon as he woke up, and he decided to abandon the device for the rest of the day. “I’m sure everyone’s still asleep.”

“Seven,” you repeated, all oxygen leaving your lungs until you felt like a deflated balloon. “Oh, God. No wonder I feel so tired. Why were you awake this early?”

“Why would I waste my time sleeping when I’m with you?” Jungkook asked with a face so straight, you’d have really believed all of this came to him naturally. “Now come on, let’s go.”

And you went with him – mostly because he refused to let you refuse, but also because your refusal wasn’t entirely genuine – almost forgetting to grab the towels and the soap on your way out of the door.

You were beyond surprised to learn that the sight of a boy, taking a confident stroll down the hallway, dressed in his boxers and nothing else, didn’t make you cringe and look away at all. If anything, the dorm doors and the people living behind them was what seemed out of place here, because Jungkook – guiding you towards the communal showers – looked like he was right in his element.

“You ever worry your cockiness is going to get you in trouble?” you asked when Jungkook pulled the door open. You exhaled in relief at the sight of the empty shower stalls all around you.

“No,” he answered, smiling. “You do the worrying for me.”

You rolled your eyes. “You give me too much credit. I’m clearly letting you do whatever you want at this point.”

“Oh, so, does that permission include doing whatever I want to you?” he was grinning as he pulled you into the closest stall and pressed you against the tiled wall, forgetting the curtains or anyone who may have walked in at any moment.

“Maybe not while we’re in public,” you replied, managing to push him off of you – and ignoring his disappointed pout, “it’s highly unhygienic.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” he countered while you busied yourself with the shower curtain which had one of its’ plastic hoops stuck on the rod and wasn’t moving.

“Well, then, don’t look so sad,” you said, giving him a look over your shoulder – immediately, he smirked at your tone – and tugging the shower curtain harder until it finally slid down the rod and separated the two of you from the rest of the room. “You should have been prepared for this.”

“You’re the one who has to be prepared for everything,” he pointed out. “I just go with the flow.”

“That’s not always a good thing,” you countered, crossing your arms. “As I’m sure you know by now—”

Not waiting until you finished lecturing him, Jungkook settled for the most childish way to change the topic and turned the shower on. You gasped in surprise when the cold water splashed you, soaking the front of your – his – shirt completely.

“Jungkook!” you scolded, jumping away from the direct stream of water while he, predictably, laughed.

“What?” he asked, all sugar and spice and everything nice. “We’re in the shower.”  

Then, to further prove his point that he hadn’t done anything wrong by getting you wet, even if you were still in your clothes, he turned the shower head towards himself and brought his hands through his hair until he was completely soaked.

You were frozen for a minute – which was exactly what he’d intended – watching Jungkook act out a shampoo commercial right in front of you.

“It’s not showering if you’re wearing all of your clothes,” you muttered under your breath finally, once you painfully tore your eyes away from the droplets of water that traced every crevice of his skin; a cascading waterfall that framed his half-naked body.

“Ah, so you want me to undress!” he translated excitedly and awarded you with a wink that could have made the devil himself flustered. “Should have said so from the beginning.”

“I wasn’t—”

Leaning down under the running water to take his boxers off, Jungkook promised, “your wish is my command.”

After a whole lot of giggling and slipping, and very little actual, legitimate scrubbing and cleaning, you and Jungkook walked out of the shower hand-in-hand, with smiles on your faces. 

The sight of the pure joy in both of your eyes as you crossed the hallway back towards your dorm room, left little to the imagination, but you did not run into anyone, so, for all you knew, no one, aside from the two of you, was aware of what had happened in the shower this morning.

In fact, you loved the idea that you and Jungkook were the only people here – there wasn’t a single passerby, a single (un)bothered observer, or anyone else who could have otherwise interrupted you two. It was just you and him. Finally, you-and-him.

“I’ve never lived in a dorm,” Jungkook said once you were back in your room as he used a separate towel to tousle his hair, splashing water around like a shaggy dog. “But I really enjoy the showers here.”

“You got to experience them at a good time,” you replied. “It’s a lot less fun when there are people in every stall.”

“Hmm, I bet. And less fun without me, too, yeah?”

You gave him a look as you unwrapped your hair from the towel on top of your head. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“Me?” Jungkook feigned innocence. His angelic smile was a clear indication that some inane entity had possessed him today and he was absolutely not going to quit teasing you anytime soon. “I’m the most underrated—”

You interrupted, “self-absorbed, arrogant, inconsiderate—”

“—person there is. Hold on now,” he took a threatening step towards you, raising his eyebrows, “did you just call me inconsiderate?”

“Well, you rarely think about other people’s feelings when you do something,” you retaliated and Jungkook – who enjoyed the proud smirk on your lips, but only because he couldn’t wait to wipe it off with a kiss – pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“You mistake my intentions,” he said. “I always think about—”

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, cutting him off mid-excuse. You turned around in the direction of the sound, breaking eye contact, and Jungkook groaned in disappointment.

“Now who,” he demanded, “is bold enough to ruin my monologue about how caring and selfless I am?”

You scoffed, side-eyeing him before you reached for your phone and, much to your surprise, saw a text from Namjoon – who was wondering if you’d found Jungkook last night and if he was alright.

“If it’s Yoongi, tell him that yes, I’m avoiding him, and no, I’m not coming home today,” Jungkook said after noticing the way you bit your lip once you read the text.

“It’s not Yoongi. But you should probably call him,” you said absentmindedly as you tried to compose a text message that involved the right amount of gratitude for Namjoon’s help last night, but also just enough cold politeness, so that Jungkook wouldn’t have any reason to cause a scene. He already had a wary expression on his face after you said it wasn’t his bandmate who’d texted you.

Then, you stopped typing and raised your head to look at the boy, sitting on the bed across from you. “Wait. What do you mean you’re not coming home?”

He shrugged, lying down on your bed. “I’m staying here.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Did we agree on that?”

“Yes,” he replied, “with our bodies.”

You grimaced. “I’m not sure—”

“Oh, you can’t kick me out,” he said – ordered, really – as he patted the bed next to him waiting for you to sit. You did. He continued, “we’ve got so many things we still need to do. All of those movies we haven’t gotten to watch because we keep doing something else when we’re together,” pausing for a moment, Jungkook snickered, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing something else again—did you just laugh at me?”

You bit your tongue, trying to conceal your smile, but the playful mood Jungkook was in amused you too much.

“I just exhaled,” you replied, returning your attention to your phone as you pressed send. “Now, what were you saying about—”

“Who was that?” he asked with a nod at your phone now that you’d finished typing.

“Hmm?” you mumbled, not because you hadn’t heard him, but because something about the way your heart skipped a beat at his question told you that he wasn’t going to like your answer, and you needed to win some time to find a way to soften the blow. “Just Namjoon. He was worried about you.”

Jungkook scoffed but, thankfully, didn’t immediately throw a tantrum.

“Doubt that,” he said instead, with dripping skepticism. “We don’t know each other, why would he care—”

“You went off-the-grid last night,” you said, aware that the patient voice you tried to demonstrate may have come off as accusing. That wasn’t your intention but, now that the conversation came up, you thought it was fair he knew that his actions affected more people than just you and him. “It doesn’t matter if he knows you or not. You could have been dead in a ditch.”

“Is that what Yoongi suggested?” Jungkook inquired in a disgruntled tone.

“No,” you said even though it sort of was. “But we were all concerned for you. Namjoon included.”

He rolled his eyes – partially because he didn’t like to be reminded of the hassle he’d caused last night, but also because he had a hard time believing that people who didn’t know him were genuinely worried about his safety, when his own friends, aside from his bandmates, couldn’t have cared less.

“I know you want to see the best in people, but—”

“I’m not seeing the best in him,” you disagreed, “in fact, we got into an argument at the barbecue yesterday and I realized that there’s more to him than I’d previously thought. But when I told him about you, he was really concerned. He’s the one who drove me back to campus to look for you.”

Digesting this new information for a moment, Jungkook swallowed.

Then, when you thought you were going to have to explain your decision to accept Namjoon’s offer to drive you home, Jungkook dismissed the whole thing.

“So,” he said, “Namjoon isn’t who you thought he was, then?”

“He—that’s not what I meant,” you replied, surprised by the direction the conversation had taken, but suspicious when you saw Jungkook smile victoriously.

“No, I’m curious,” he encouraged, sitting up and scooting closer to you – so close, in fact, that you could see the glistening drops of water that he hadn’t wiped off from his chest, “has he let you down? Are you thinking you shouldn’t be friends anymore?”

Before you could be any more distracted – if not by his words, then by his glimmering skin or by his sneaky, yet lovable, smile – you cleared your throat and looked away.

“You need to call Yoongi,” you said, standing your ground, “or else you’ll be the one who won’t have any friends.”

“Eh, knowing me, that’s inevitable,” he waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “I just want to have you.”

Little needle stabs poked at your stomach after he said this. You blinked, preparing to answer, only to realize that his quick wit had momentarily rendered you completely speechless. Jungkook used that to his advantage.

“I’m thinking breakfast,” he said, changing the topic so quickly, it was like he had the attention span of a squirrel. “Do you have any food here?”

Deeply impressed with his determination to slither out of this situation unharmed – because Yoongi sure was going to rip him a new one – you stuttered, “n-no, wait. I mean, we have milk and—”

“That’s what I thought,” he replied, nodding to himself. Then, he stood up from the bed and ordered, “get dressed. We’re going grocery shopping.”

“Grocery—is that necessary?” you crossed your arms, watching Jungkook pace the room and, most likely, regret his decision to spray his own T-shirt with water because he did not have anything else to wear. “I always have cereal for breakfast.”

“It’s not just cereal we need to think of,” he pointed out, choosing to just settle for that T-shirt. It was supposed to be warm outside anyway. “We have to stock up on food so we wouldn’t have to leave this room for the rest of the day.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You were serious about that?”

“I’m serious about everything,” he retorted and then, untying the towel on his waist in order to put his jeans on, he nodded at you and urged, “come on.”

Not moving one bit, you declared, “call Yoongi first.”

“I’ll call him later.”

“Call him now,” you insisted. “He’s been worried sick since last night.”

“He’s probably still hungover, I’ll call him later—”

“Jungkook,” you said, your voice firm. You didn’t want to enter another conflict with him but, now that you two were obviously going to be spending a lot of time together, it was important for you both that Jungkook actually took responsibility for the things that he did. “He didn’t sound drunk at all when he called me last night. Call him.”

As stubborn as he’d ever been, Jungkook shrugged – and then nearly toppled over as he lost his balance while pulling his jeans up his legs – and said very casually, “then maybe he was high and you couldn’t tell over the phone.”

You could have laughed at this.

“Oh, no, trust me. I’ve talked to a high Yoongi once before,” you said. “I can tell.”

He had several other arguments up his sleeve – excuses were his specialty – but you looked determined to shoot down every single one of them and, at the end of the day, Jungkook didn’t want to spend the rest of the day arguing with you about this.

“Fine,” he gave in. “Give me five minutes and a soundproof room.”

You knew this wasn’t a compromise – Jungkook didn’t look like he’d changed his mind and suddenly understood that he had to do this; he looked like he was only doing this as a favor to you – but it was still something, so you crawled down the bed towards where he’d left his phone last night, and handed it to him.

“He’s not going to yell—okay, he probably is,” you admitted, “but you deserve it. Go talk to him in the hall, though. I’ll get dressed.”

This intrigued Jungkook and he took one last chance to stall, “ooh, can I watch?”

“No,” you answered and got off the bed, watching him buckle his belt. “You focus on your redemption.”

“My redemption,” he repeated, mocking the pretentious word and still refusing to move.

Ignoring that, you pushed him out of your dorm and into the hallway and, waiting for a second to make sure he really was dialing Yoongi’s phone number – “I’m doing it, alright? But if you’d rather I helped you get dressed—” – you shut the door and returned to your room to find some clothes.

When Jungkook returned several minutes later, he looked more solemn than when he’d left, but the glint in his eyes wasn’t too far gone.

“Did he give it to you good?” you asked, as you rolled up the sleeves of your cardigan.

“Actually, I think he was holding himself back a little,” Jungkook replied, scratching his right ear to indicate just how much yelling he’d had to endure out in the hall. Then, inhaling and seemingly dropping everything he’d just heard, he asked, “so, you ready to go? I was thinking it’d be nice to have some eggs.”

You spent the rest of Saturday in your dorm room, being about as unproductive as it was possible for two people to be. You got through two movies (you’d tried to watch five; Jungkook had no patience to sit through the rest) and finished a full bag of popcorn (you’d opened three; the rest of it ended up on the floor of your room as you played a very unsuccessful game of throw-and-catch and then, consequently, throw-and-try-to-hit).

You lost count of how many tears of laughter you’d shed. Or how many times you’d punched his shoulder. Or how many times he cut you off with a kiss when you gave more attention to the movie than to him.

“You’re like a retriever,” you told Jungkook that night, when the two of you were laying on your backs, side-to-side, your hands and hearts intertwined. “You’re hyper-active, unpredictable, and you need constant attention.”

“Also self-absorbed, arrogant, and inconsiderate,” he added, mentioning all the colorful adjectives you’d called him over the course of this one day.

You exhaled in a half-snort, trying to pull your hand out of his, but failing when he refused to let go, pulling on your hand until you turned to your side to face him instead.

“Is there anything good about me?” he asked you.

You squinted. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

Jungkook smiled, shaking his head. “No. I’m just asking. Because if there’s not, then why do you put up with me?”

“Because you’re trying,” you offered, “because you never give up. You work hard, you’re dedicated and determined. You’ve always got your eyes on the prize—”

He cut you off, “that sounds like the opposite of all the negative things you’d said about me.”

You didn’t see the problem there and you shrugged your shoulders.

“There are two sides to every coin,” you said, unsure if he expected you to shower him in compliments at all times, regardless if he deserved them or not. Actually, knowing Jungkook, that was probably precisely what he expected.

“You didn’t call me funny,” he pointed out then.

“Because you’re not,” you dead-panned.

Jungkook scoffed and looked away from you, declaring with great dignity, “I happen to think I have a great sense of humor.”

“You happen to think a lot,” you mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You snickered. “Here’s another one – you can always turn a negative situation into something better.”

Jungkook lowered his eyes to your intertwined hands, the smile on his face growing fainter, even if the atmosphere in the room remained as laid-back as before.

“Not always,” he said in a hushed tone, not daring to pose the risk of ruining the good-natured banter.

Even though he was careful, it was still obvious that you’ve hit a sensitive spot. Not having any intention to do so, you’ve brought back the fact that, in all twenty-three years of his life, Jungkook hadn’t managed to turn the negative opinion of his father into something better.

“But you always try,” you said, less confident now that you saw how easy it was to trigger something that was too big to fix with just a compliment.

“That’s not enough sometimes,” he said, purposefully avoiding sad undertones and, this way, making himself sound even sadder.

“And other times,” you argued, just as persistent as he was, “it’s more than enough. Stop painting everything in black and white, you always do that.”

Noticing that this was turning into a fight that neither of you would win, Jungkook looked at you with a half-smile on his face. “I thought I always turned the negative situations into positive.”

“You don’t do that when it comes to you,” you replied. “Your biggest flaw is being too hard on yourself.”

In the time that he’s been a member of Parental Advisory – and even before, when he was just an heir of a multi-millionaire – Jungkook had had nearly every single one of his flaws pointed out: none of them were new, he was already aware of them all.

He worked on some of them – the ones that he thought would genuinely help him improve: practicing new singing techniques, making sure his band was his first priority, learning how to communicate with his audiences and how to write lyrics that held more impact.

He’d never had anyone tell him that he tried too hard. And he’d never realized that that was true this quickly, either.

Jungkook didn’t consider himself to be someone who wanted to accommodate others. He never followed the societal standards if they contrasted with his wishes. He didn’t care about what other people thought of him; as it turned out, he worried about his own perception of himself instead.

“Maybe it helps me improve,” he said, not feeling like he deserved the credit for this particular flaw when he hadn’t succeeded in changing himself for the better yet.

“Maybe,” you agreed, giving his hand a supportive squeeze. “But give yourself a break sometimes. You’re really not all bad.”

“I needed you.”

You were teasing him and expected him to bite back in an equal way, but the serious tone of his voice took you by surprise. “What?”

“I needed you,” he repeated, “to be able to turn the negative into positive. You’re my better half.”

Despite the beating of your heart and the warmth that spread to your face and forced you to smile, you still shook your head.

“I’m not,” you said, meaning it, “you’re a full person. Not just a half.”

You thought he’d let go of you so he could protest and insist that he was right, but he did no such thing. Instead, he held you tighter and, for a moment or two, being pressed so tightly against each other really did make you feel as though you were two individual parts of the same set – good on your own, but great when paired together.

Jungkook didn’t let go of you the whole Saturday night or the next morning, or the afternoon. That made your normal, everyday functions very complicated – like brushing your teeth, when he was hugging you from behind and purposefully snoozing with his head on your shoulder – but you’d have been out of your mind to complain.

When you arrived to his parents’ house for your Sunday night dinner, Jungkook still had one arm around your waist, as if touching you came naturally to him and he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

As soon as his mother opened the door for you two, she could tell that there was something different about you – maybe it was the fresh glow of having spent the whole weekend locked up together, or maybe she could read your minds – but the wide smiles on your faces were too beautiful of a sight for her to question it.

“Come in,” she encouraged, “it’s lovely to see you, like always.”

“Ah, you’re here already!” Jungkook’s father climbed down the stairs just as you two passed the threshold into the house. Feeling the way Jungkook tensed – his usual reaction – you tried to make up for it by smiling widely.

“Hello,” you said, suddenly feeling ridiculous to be grinning like this for no reason.

“Son,” his father said, acknowledging Jungkook’s presence with a nod and earning one from him in return. “Are you feeling better, dear?”

You didn’t realize his question was directed at you so, for a moment, the four of you lingered awkwardly in the hallway while you waited for Jungkook to answer before you realized that, for one, Jungkook’s father had never called his son “dear”, and, furthermore, it was you who had supposedly gotten sick in the middle of the company barbecue this Friday.

“Oh!” you blinked, trying to remember if Namjoon mentioned what sort of illness he was going to give as your excuse. “Yes, thank you. I’ve gotten some rest and I-I’m much better now.”

“That’s good!” Jungkook’s mother said. Nor her, nor her husband seemed suspicious even though Jungkook inhaled sharply, attracting their attention. “We were very worried when you left early – if you’d stayed just a second longer, we could have driven you home ourselves, we were going to go back anyway.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” you replied, aware that Jungkook didn’t know about this part of your Friday night – he hadn’t asked if you’d left the barbecue early – and, evidently, learning of this right here, right now, didn’t exactly please him. “My friend from university was there and he was kind enough to offer me a ride back to campus.”

Jungkook’s father cleared his throat – an involuntary reaction, similar to that of his son’s before – and gave you a kind, almost apologetic look, “if Jungkook had gone with you, he could have been the one who drove you home.”

That offended you as much as it offended Jungkook – but for different reasons. Jungkook’s dignity was obviously hurt because he had, once again, let his father down. But you were displeased because his father made it sound as though you needed a chaperone. As though you were some damsel in distress.

“No, really, I’m glad he didn’t go. I wouldn’t have wanted him to leave early,” you ended up saying, your polite nature persevering. You could understand Namjoon a lot more now – it was easy to let your real feelings slip if you weren’t paying attention to what you were saying, but hiding them under a mask of good manners and respect, was far more beneficial in the long run. “And, actually, it was even better that he was back on campus, because he helped me out a lot this weekend. Really, I probably wouldn’t have recovered as quickly as I did if it weren’t for him.”

You weren’t just saying that to make Jungkook look better – but there was still gratitude in his eyes when you met his gaze – because he had truly turned your weekend into a time of healing just by spending it with you.

“That’s wonderful,” Jungkook’s mother was the one who responded – Jungkook’s father just smiled mysteriously – as she brought a hand through her son’s hair in adoration, “let’s head to the dining room now, alright? The food is getting cold. You can tell me how your semester’s going. I assume you’ve got finals coming up soon, isn’t that right?”

That was right – well, sort of; you still had about a month of classes left – and it prompted you to start a conversation about school, which allowed Jungkook to casually bring up the fact that he’d knocked his professors off their feet by passing all the tests that they had predicted he would fail. His father, of course, did not express his surprise or say anything encouraging, but he gave a very impressed nod and that was more than enough.

The dinner only seemed to last a few minutes – it flew by like it always did – and you found yourself in your already usual position: offering Jungkook’s mother to clean up, while she forbade you from doing anything and insisted you stayed back and relaxed.

Relaxing was what you and Jungkook had done here last Sunday – before his mother knocked on the door of his bedroom and interrupted you two – so, not very excited to have history repeat itself, you didn’t mind when Jungkook made an excuse to leave early today.

His mother seemed sad to hear that – dessert was just as important part of dinner as the actual main course – but she didn’t push you to stay. Maybe because she could see the look in Jungkook’s eyes and she knew him well enough to understand that, although he had a sweet tooth, her son would have gladly rejected dessert just to get to spend more time alone with you.

However, alone time wasn’t the reason why Jungkook wanted to leave early – you learned that as soon as you sat down in his car and saw his hand lingering by the ignition, not ready to put the key in just yet.

“You okay?” you asked tentatively, already trying to analyze the dinner in your mind, hoping to come across a moment that could have stuck with him.

“I didn’t know,” Jungkook said finally, “that you had to leave early. I’d assumed the barbecue ended and that was why you got back to the dorm.”

You lowered your eyes, realizing that your failed attempt to get to the bottom of things on Friday night – it was generous to even call it an attempt, considering that you were ripping each other’s clothes off within twenty minutes of seeing each other – had now caught up to you.

“Yeah,” you said. “I got Yoongi’s call in the middle of dinner, and told him I’d go back to campus to look for you. He told me you went missing, I wasn’t going to sit around eating grilled sausages and wait for you to turn up.”

That wasn’t exactly what Jungkook was trying to talk to you about – he’d already put the pieces together – and, taking a moment to admit to himself that he did feel guilty about this, he exhaled before speaking again.

“You could have told my dad the truth,” he said. “Or you could have left without bothering with an excuse, he would have probably assumed it was my fault, anyway.”

“I’m not stupid,” you replied, “you’re trying to make progress with your father. You may not be doing very well, but why would I halt your process? I’m on your side, remember?”

He nodded. “I remember. I’m just saying, y-you didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to stand up for me tonight, either.”

“Technically, I did,” you replied, smiling now. “We started to go to these Sunday night dinners for a reason.”

For a good minute, Jungkook really struggled to follow your train of thought. Even though it couldn’t have been more than a month, these dinners with you had already become a part of his routine, so the fact that you were, theoretically, only here to prove Jungkook’s maturity to his father, seemed very obsolete now.

“Well,” Jungkook said, considering your new situation. Chuckling lightly, he added, “that’s stupid now, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Pretending to be dating when we actually are.”

Catching the perfect opening, you teased, “we are?”

He gave you a look that dared you to test him.

“We haven’t been on one date,” you defended – sensibly so, really.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes as he looked at you, wanting to point out the flaws in your words, but having a hard time finding any, because, in the normal sense of the word, you hadn’t actually gone on any dates with him.

“We went to my party last weekend,” he still tried, figuring that the term ‘date’, when used loosely, could really mean just two people hanging out together.

You scrunched your nose, enjoying this game. “Was that a date?”

“We spent the whole weekend together,” he tried again.

“Was that a—?”

“You are my girlfriend,” Jungkook cut you off finally, his voice forceful and determined. “And you have no say in that matter.”

He looked you right in the eyes as he said this – boldly challenging your undeniable authority over this moment in the car – and you tried not to, but still ended up laughing.

“You’re taking away my freedom of choice,” you said.

“Are you saying,” he asked in a teary tone because his go-to maneuver in cases like this, was extracting pity, “you don’t want to be with me?”

“I’m not,” you replied, resisting him with surprising ease. You’d taken a page from his book and you were almost gloating as you watched how flustered he became with every word that you said, “I’m just wondering why you can’t ask me out like a normal person. Like someone who hadn’t known me for years.”

He observed your face for a second, making sure that you were serious – you were – and then sighed so deeply, it was like he was hoping to cleanse his dignity of whatever damage your words had done to it.

“You like me like this, don’t you?” he asked, aware that you had turned the tables on him.

“Like what?” you were still grinning. You absolutely liked him like this. “Do you think you’re too good to ask someone to be your girlfriend? Is that beneath you somehow or—”

“I love you,” he said sternly, cutting you off so quickly and successfully that your throat dried up as soon as he said this. “Please be my girlfriend.”

Biting the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling at the juxtaposition of his pink cheeks and his determined eyes – while also, cringing at the cliché words that you’d forced him to say – you nodded and did not say anything else.

“What, that’s all I get?” Jungkook widened his eyes, scoffing in disbelief. “I ask you to—and you nod your head?”

You couldn’t help yourself as you replied, “I’ll think about it.”

Completely flummoxed, Jungkook examined your features without blinking or breathing. You really did have him right where you wanted him. If someone had told him that the reason why you stopped being friends once upon a time, was because he had too much influence over you, he wouldn’t have believed them.

“Enjoy this while you can,” he said a minute later, shaking his head and putting the key in ignition before finally starting the car. “You have endless weekends like this ahead of you, try to keep me on my toes.”

This didn’t put out your fire as you continued, “is that a challenge?”

“That,” he said, his voice more promising than threatening, “is a warning.”

You laughed before relenting just because you didn’t think it was fair to have his confession linger in the air like that, “I love you, too, Jungkook.”

He rolled his eyes, backing out of the street where he’d parked his car. “Oh, now you say that.”

“Better late than never,” you pointed out in a laid-back tone.

“Better all the time than late,” he retorted.

“You’re needy,” you said.

Jungkook didn’t skip a beat as he drove down the street back towards your campus, and still found enough time to glance at you, “you’re uncooperative.”

“You’re prideful,” you shot back.

“You’re controlling.”

“You’re reckless.”

“I love you,” he challenged.

“I love you more,” you fought back.

Jungkook cocked an eyebrow at this. “Don’t go there. I like to win and I am not above proving to you how much I love you the whole night tonight.”

A simmering fire in your stomach suddenly erupted into a bright flame.

“I have an early class tomorrow morning,” you said, more of a reminder to yourself than to him. “We both do, actually.”

He merely scoffed. “You think that would stop me?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Just drive. Like you said, we have endless weekends like this ahead of us.”

And, even though you’d spent the bigger part of the weekend bickering and bantering, teasing and playing, both of you felt yourselves smile at the prospect of getting to do this again at the end of the next week. And then, at the end of the week that came after that. And then, the week after that. And after that.

At the end of every week, really. For as long as you wanted – be it the rest of your lives, or until the world ended.

keep reading | masterlist

[softertoday]

haven't been here in a long time.

no one is going to read this and that's okay i guess. i think i just need somewhere to vent.

i used to spend a lot of time on this website and then it fell off but i deleted all my other social media apps because i feel like shit when i'm scrolling through instagram or twitter or facebook. i have nothing else to do and no one to talk to.

i've been in and out of treatment for a year now. currently i'm coming up on 8 weeks in this residential treatment center for eating disorders. i haven't been home for more than a few hours in 3 months. i want to go home so badly. i miss my dog, riley, so much.

i have a meeting tomorrow afternoon, hopefully, where i'll be able to talk to my treatment team about how i feel like i'm ready to go home and they'll probably tell me that they want me to stay a little bit longer. i feel like each week i tell them i want to go and they say "just a little while longer."

honesty i'm not sure if i'm actually 100% ready to leave yet but i have to go home. i have to. i'm going to be 30 years old next month and i'd like to actually be home for that. i need to be with my dog. he deserves so much better than someone who continues to dip out every few weeks. thank god for my parents who have been taking care of him, but it's not fair to them either. idk if i'm really ready to go home and do PHP virtually but that's what i need to do. i am feeling better than how i was before i came here, for sure, but i'm obviously not cured. i won't be cured in another 2 or 3 weeks either so i would rather go home now. whether that means being discharged or i leave ACA... i'm ready to fucking go.

i've been here 8 fucking weeks. i feel so guilty. my parents are suffering, my friends don't talk to me anymore, i have no one else. i need to go back to my life and i really don't want anyone to try to talk me out of it.

my outpatient therapist is currently on maternity leave tho so i'm not sure if i'd need to see the therapist covering for her or if PHP will be good enough. i'm scared about that and i'm scared about doing PHP virtually. i know virtual programming is hard for anyone, but i've tried it in the past with the IOP program at the hospital and it didn't really work for me. this is totally different tho because it's for ed PHP and i've never done this before, i'm not sure what it'll be like or how i'll handle it all.

i was majorly restricting before coming here. fasting for at least 72 hours at a time and eating under 500 calories a day when i would eat. i was compulsively exercising and abusing laxatives, as well as the continued self harm. my sh was becoming very severe again and my parents were scared. i was really sick. in and out of the hospital literally every couple of weeks. i don't even remember most of the past 6 months due to being malnourished and unable to think or hold a conversation or remember literally anything. i didn't realize how ill i really was until i started eating again here at res.

it's scary to think how bad it was and for how long. i don't want to go back to that. when i tell my mom i'm ready to leave treatment, she always says i have to be able to keep myself safe at home and i feel like i can but what if i can't?

i think that's something i'll deal with when it comes up. i'm doing a bit better with asking for help.... kinda. i'm definitely eating (6x a day) and i haven't cut myself in like a month at least.

i need to leave res and go home. i can't stay here anymore. i wasn't planning on being here for 2 months. i spent my whole summer in treatment and i just really really want to leave now.

[vidavalor]

Bucky flirting with Sam as part of the changing times theme in Ep 5...

This is on the long side. Contains brief mention of the show basically canonizing Bucky as a sexual assault survivor. It’s meta on Bucky and Sam’s identity themes and how the show is shifting into a theme of changing times with the latest episodes-- mostly about how Bucky’s journey is paralleling Sam’s, even while being a different kind of journey.

One of the more interesting subtle themes of Ep 5 is that while we have had a lot of emphasis in the earlier episodes on how much horror still exists in America-- and a very right, necessary emphasis-- as the show begins to pivot towards the part of Sam’s journey that involves him deciding to become Captain America, they are pivoting a bit to illustrate that as much as many things have, unfortunately, not changed the way they should have over time, a lot really has. (Also, the Sam-as-Captain-America thing isn’t meant to be a spoiler as I don’t really totally know if that’s the ending, it just seems um... really the only place this story is going...) They have been using Isaiah to illustrate this point for Sam quite a bit in Ep 5, especially. The core conflict comes from Isaiah believing that a self-respecting Black man wouldn’t want to fight for America after the horrors that have been done to Black people in its history, which is not something that Sam ultimately feels is true. He definitely feels the pain of Black history in America but he still believes *in* America and views it as his country and is accepting that everyone in it really has a role to play in making it live up to the ideals it espouses but has still yet to achieve. In deciding to appreciate Isaiah choosing to open up to him and share his story but respectfully disagree with him on what to do next-- and to have his ability to make this choice reinforced by Sarah supporting him by saying she knows he will choose to fight in the fights he believes in and she has his back-- Sam is choosing to become a symbol of something, even if he’s just a man, and he’s affirming to himself that it is okay for him to believe in this thing he believes in. It’s okay for him to believe in America and love America and what it stands for, even in all its extremely imperfect glory, because he can be the change he wants to see in the world. He knows there are many people who will support him in that and that it only happens if we make it happen and that America, in all its imperfection, has made a lot of positive change happen throughout its short history. 

You know who else is enjoying similar truths in the same episode? Bucky. 

Bucky arrives in Delacroix all “Hello, 21st Century! I’ve always wanted to flirt with a man in public! I will be over here, lifting heavy stuff and getting in the personal space of your next Captain America, Good People of Delacroix, Louisiana!” What’s so endearing about this is not even just that this is clearly the first time that Bucky has felt like he has some control over his own mind, after proving he can manage The Winter Soldier in him a bit in the last few episodes, but that he’s working towards this kind of peace in a time where he really no longer has to hide any part of himself. Long before The Winter Soldier, Bucky was so the guy with a girl on each arm and a guy in the dark of the back alley. He has never, in his entire century-plus of living, been able to really be who he is without fear. It’s not as if there is not any fear left for LGBTQIA people in the world because, sadly, of course there is but loving Sam would have gotten Bucky arrested twice over in the 1940s. Interracial marriage was illegal until the Loving Act of 1967-- and that was still just for heterosexual couples. Obviously, same-sex marriage wasn’t legalized in the U.S. until 2015. If Bucky had been caught with a man in his youth, let alone a Black man, they both would have been arrested. Even if they were let go (and Bucky would have been more likely to suffer less, on account of being white), their reputations and ability to work and serve in the military could have been impacted. 

The show toys with this with Bucky’s interest in exploring it, even through the haze of a lot of severe trauma, back in Episode 1. While he’s mainly eating at the sushi bar because he’s befriended Yori on account of his amends project, he is living in a very modern existence by regularly conversing with these two. Consider that the show chose to make both of them Japanese, basically to illustrate that Bucky, in a sense, was always progressive for his time period. Bucky *could* have been the kind of WW2 soldier who forever saw people of the countries the Allies fought against as an enemy-- your grandfathers and great-grandfathers who never stopped hating the Japanese. But he’s not. He actually comes off as someone whose inability to fit the mode of the heterosexual white American guy in his own time period lent him a lot of empathy towards others and I might be wrong about this because I can’t quite recall at the moment but wasn’t he drafted, as opposed to enlisted? It’s doubtful he even really wanted to fight, although he’s always up for a fight against a bully and clearly hated the Nazis (but wanting to fight fascism makes you far from intolerant.) My point is that Bucky, back in Ep 1, is already experimenting with how living in the 21st century could be a positive thing for him in a life he might want to make for himself, if he can get through his trauma enough to do so.

He eats lunch on the regular with a man who is, in all likelihood, descended somewhere from at least one person who fought on the enemy side to Bucky in WW2. He regularly chats with Leah, who is completely unlike anyone he would have been able to talk to in the 1940s and seems almost designed to be *exactly* that intentionally-- she is a woman with a job that wasn’t like a nurse or a teacher or Peggy Carter lol. She tends bar, a job that was virtually exclusively male in the ‘40s. She has open visible tattoos and is probably putting herself through college-- something that women were just being able to attend, usually in female-only settings. She makes her own money and lives as a single woman, likely without the express intention on getting married and having a family relatively soon. (There’s nothing wrong with any of that. It’s more just that it would have been the exception, rather than the norm, in Bucky’s youth.) Atop that, she is Asian and works in a Japanese restaurant-- the ultimate business that would have suffered during the ‘40s as America didn’t exactly do right by its Japanese-Americans during the war and if Bucky, a white soldier, had been seen with a Japanese girl, it would have been bad for him but worse for her. 

So the reason why Yori has noticed that Bucky always looks at Leah when they eat lunch is probably less about the attraction Yori assumed Bucky had for her and more that Leah is this personal fascination for Bucky-- a human being who is basically the total embodiment of everything that has changed in the world since Bucky was last freely a part of it. Yori assumes Bucky wants a date but Bucky really wants what he ultimately got out of it, which is more just to talk to her a bit. 

They also play Battleship, which is kind of darkly funny. The game originated after WW1 and used to be played on paper. It soared into popularity in the 1930s and has never stopped being popular ever since-- so, in essence, the game they play is the one part of this that, like Bucky, has been in existence the whole time. It has taken on different forms, though. It became a plastic board game in the ‘60s and has been modernized a few times but it’s still here. (It’s also funny that Bucky is kind of losing the game with her, symbolizing that he’s not entirely figured out this whole modern world yet, even if he’s very interested by it.)

But the big thing is that Bucky is beginning to edge away from just observing this new world and trying to decide how he wants to participate in it. He’s basically decided that he might like to and while his heart is completely with Sam, he’s also afraid of himself and his ability to potentially destroy that one really strong wish he has to be with him, so he’s pushing him away by not answering his texts. He’s likely also, atop insecurity in himself, literally terrified at the idea of hurting Sam not just physically-- through some nightmare or some untapped Winter Soldier potential or failing to protect him-- but through the fact that he’s a guy from the 1940s who has literally never openly dated a man, had Black friends during the war but that was decades ago and is not really sure how to do this. 

Forced into a date with Leah, he experiments with the modern world in a way because he’s here because sure, he likes her and all but he was more just interested in her world than her personally and he just didn’t want to disappoint either her or Yori, so he showed up. She seems fairly trustworthy (and he trusts no one but Sam and Yori, so that’s a start) but what he wants really is to say aloud to someone for the first time that he likes men. To see how that goes in this modern era. (Depending on how you take Bucky and Steve, he could have put this into words to Steve at one point, likely way back when, but it’s also possible that they both just knew and didn’t talk about it. Either way, you didn’t go around telling people you didn’t trust in the ‘40s and it’s doubtful that he’s ever just said it to anyone and for sure not on a regular basis.) 

He even knows that this wouldn’t be a deal breaker for a woman, necessarily, in the modern era, which is probably blowing his mind a bit because you would have been hard-pressed to find a woman who would admit to someone she didn’t implicitly trust that back in the ‘40s and it wouldn’t have been so open and accepted. What he really wants in Leah is a new friend and she seems to sense that-- she likes this weird guy with the circulation problem that is nice enough to lunch with the old man at her restaurant, he seems okay enough, if broody and sad, so why not talk to him for a bit? She totally thinks he’s just a closet case (she’s not wrong lol) and won’t really be crushed by him rushing out of the date beyond like “too bad, he was pretty hot” but for Bucky, this is the likely the first time he’s ever casually chatted with another human being about his attempt at finding a guy he likes. 

It’s actually really sweet in that he’s still sort of coding it a bit, if not that much. He’s still a bit nervous about this so he’s saying tiger pictures to reference men so he can say it without saying it. Leah gets it and just kind of rolls with it and probably has zero idea how big a deal it was for the century-old guy sitting at the bar. 

He might have been intentionally dramatic a bit about how it was all “a lot” but he was also telling her the truth-- he did a little exploring online. Found some men. It looked like a lot of work to stroke all these egos. Bucky’s for the modern world but he’s kind of into more old-fashioned guys. He’s got a warm-hearted soldier kink. Family man kind of guys with generous spirits. He’s considering online stuff because he’s also a guy who has been through an absurd amount of trauma-- some of which the show will just come out and say involves sexual assault, off that Selby scene-- and he’s probably considering trying to get beyond some of it by just having sex with somebody. It’s not at all an uncommon response for people who have been raped to try to get beyond it by just having sex again and you know this is yet another level of anxiety for him when it comes to the idea of having another chance at life. He’s nervous around himself at this point and doesn’t fully trust himself, so he’s not sure how he can trust other people and the one guy he *does* trust and *does* want? Bucky has that whole ‘don’t want to burden him with my own issues’ thing happening. (That’s not a bad thing when it’s a situation of expecting your partner to be your therapist, which shouldn’t happen but Bucky would and should have expectations that someone he’d have as a romantic partner can be someone he can trust to care about him and be sensitive to how his past plays into his present needs, in and out of bed.) He’d trust Sam with this but he also wants to be like... he basically feels like he met the potential love of his life while trying to kill him and just got his mind back and the timing is all wrong. It’s a lot of ‘too broken for Sam’ self-narrative. 

Whether or not Bucky actually went beyond scrolling and being astounded at the unattractive insecurity of tiger pictures or whether he hooked up a time or two, it’s clear he didn’t get what he needed out of it and he gave up on it, admitting to himself that he’s really basically a tired old romantic who wants love and trust and the whole dance of things and that kind of intimacy more than the back alley casualness of online dating. This is about as far as Bucky has gotten while trying to deal with his trauma while having a truly terrible therapist: he likes sushi now and would like to have his life’s first real chance at an open, mutual, loving, romantic relationship. He just didn’t know how to get himself there. 

John Walker and the shield issues actually, ironically, gave him scenarios where he could, through actions that suited him better than those his therapist had assigned. He needed to learn not to not hurt anyone but how to manage it when he did. He needed to learn how to be a soldier that protects people again, not the Winter Soldier, and that he can control that part of himself. He needed the opportunity to show Sam that he really does care, he’s just a grieving mess of a man working through being so out of time and secretly scared that he might like this time better, might have a chance at being who he is for the first time, and he doesn’t know quite what to do with that. He lets Sam in enough that they can show one another that they understand each other’s traumas. He tosses himself out of a plane for Sam in the first episode to prove he’ll follow him anywhere, that he’s strong and will survive and come back, knowing about Riley not being alive when he hit that ground. Sam responds by seeing Bucky essentially frozen in a PTSD moment of the train car on the side of that truck and grabs him out of danger. They snark and bicker but the actions speak louder than the words-- there’s caring there and want and a sense that they’re a bit gone on the other. 

Sam’s trust in Bucky-- even as Bucky is still learning how to trust himself with himself-- gives Bucky a confidence boost that he was missing when he pulled away from Sam out of fear of hurting him. The whole White Panther/White Wolf scene? Sam expected Bucky to grumble or blush, he was for sure flirting with him but didn’t expect quite that amount of flirt back. Without realizing it, he had hit on the exact part of Bucky’s identity that was giving him the biggest boost, that he understood the best at that time-- the White Wolf. The White Wolf is the freed Winter Soldier, a peaceful tender of goats, a wounded warrior beloved by a community who rescued him. He represents Bucky’s recent past into his present-- being able to work for the chance to shake loose the Winter Soldier and evolve into a different version of himself. He wanted to impress Sam with that-- he saw Sam’s flirting and parried back, which he didn’t always do, because he knew it would be impressive that the Wakandans had given him a (pretty sexy actually) nickname. He’s boosted by Sam still flirting, Sam still caring, still seeing something in him he’s working on seeing himself. He has some hope, even as they fight, because his attempts at getting closer to Sam are not being rejected wholesale and Sam keeps reaching out to him, often literally. After Madripoor and after Bucky going after and finding Zemo, he feels more ready. He’s more in control of himself. He thinks he has a path to getting beyond the worst of this stuff and he might not have worked out all the details yet or figured out what it looks like but he finally feels ready to try and since Sam hasn’t rejected him, he’s going to take Yori’s advice, just with the right person and stop waiting around, stop just looking and make a move. 

In a way, Sam is introduced to 1940s Bucky for the first time in Delacroix-- this is the guy he saw glimpses of but was pretty deeply buried. He’s not reverted back to the Bucky of old as how could he, after all he’s been through? But this is the flirt, the natural charmer and he’s been set free for real for the first time, without worry or fear that he can’t live a life he wants and be the person he truly is without fear of rejection of who he loves, his family and the community at large. He likes this place that is the exact opposite of everything he’s suffered-- it’s so warm, he’ll never feel frozen again, physically or emotionally. The people here don’t care about his arm or who he loves, Sam’s family has Sam’s big, warm heart and Sam? Well, Bucky’s enjoying making him a little flustered. You like that stealthy White Wolf, Sam? Well, he’s got his eyes on you. ;)

Maybe the best part of this being the parallel to Sam’s decisions about how he wants to identify when it comes to him deciding to take up the shield is that it relates to a sense of freedom that is at the core of both of Sam and Bucky’s stories and is the whole point of Captain America and how it is supposed to symbolize a fight against fascism. Bucky has been told twice in the series that he’s “free” and each were, in a sense, a bit true. Ayo tells him this when he’s free from mind control and that is a major move forward for him-- life-altering-- but he’s not free from the trauma of it. Dr. Raynor tells Bucky that he’s free now and can build whatever life he wants but we see on Bucky’s face how those statements for him, in those early episodes in New York, really are conflicting ones-- he is free from mind control but still imprisoned in his trauma and that is what is keeping him from making the life he wants. Over the course of TFATWS, alongside Sam’s journey to decide how he wants to feel about America as a Black man and what he feels he owes to the country and the country owes to him, is the story of Bucky having to build his own identity as well. The Falcon and The Winter Soldier is ultimately what these guys were-- the identities they still have at the beginning of the show. They’re going to end it Sam and Bucky, Captain America and the White Wolf. Bucky’s real sense of freedom only came when he realized he could trust himself to decide how he wanted to live, when he proved that to himself and took control over it. He’s still not completely fine-- no one really is, ever-- but he has a path now. Sam and Bucky have different identity conflicts but ultimately, at the core, their struggles with them and with what their country has asked of them and with how they want to live and what they want for themselves, is very similar and the core of a lot of why they understand one another well. 

It wouldn’t surprise me if we find out that Bucky stopped answering Sam’s texts when Sam suggested he come to Delacroix. Bucky knew about the boat when he got there, the same way that Sam knew about Bucky’s nightmares, so these two were talking a lot, they were friends on a verge of more but both knowing they each had too many struggles to overcome first and I think that Sam had to have been trying to reach out and accidentally went too far. It’s kind of like in the therapy session-- most of the time, Sam is amazing at dealing with people who have been through trauma but he sometimes falls off his game with Bucky. The whole “this is what you wanted, right?” in the therapy session is frustration, it’s pushing a little too hard, it’s snarking over feeling like Bucky rejected him romantically, even if Sam understands why and probably wasn’t convinced they were ready for it anyway. It’s possible that Sam thought inviting Bucky home with him would be good for him-- and the sun and the Wilsons would have been-- but, at the time, it just made Bucky panic, which is then also why Sam just rolls over the fact that Bucky hadn’t been returning his texts when they see one another again. Sam kept reaching out to check on him but accepted the non-response because he felt like he might have kind of pushed Bucky too fast. They both know they both have feelings for one another but are scared by how much the other has to get through to get to that point and feel ill-equipped to really help one another, often blunder in their attempts to (and other times, get it just right.) 

So, yeah. There’s still no shortage of conflicts to be dealt with but alongside Sam finding his path to living his truth in this modern world has been Bucky’s arc from daring to whisper about tiger photos to showing up to show off his prowess with heavy stuff and tools to win over his boyfriend in front of his family and hometown. It’s not subtext. It’s literally Bucky’s identity-themed character arc, existing in parallel to Sam’s. Just because they aren’t giving it a ton of labels does not mean that it isn’t the intent of the story. 

[noona-clock]

What’s Your Sign?: Sagittarius

Genre: Celebrity!AU

Pairing: Choi Minho x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Words: 5,534

Author’s Note: Since I’m so fascinated by astrology, I decided to do a Zodiac series! I will be writing a one-shot fic for each sign featuring different members from different groups (and even an actor!). Each story will be posted on the 5th of the month during that sign’s season. Please reblog, comment, or send in an ask with your feedback! Thank you for your support 💜

Ever since you’d seen him in his first ever role on a television series about five years ago, you’d fallen in love with Minho.

Choi Minho, probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen. Through a screen, at least. You hadn’t yet been lucky enough to see him in person.

And since you’d fallen in love with him after watching his very first episode of that television series, you’d done nothing but support him for the last several years.

You saw every one of his movies the day it released in theatres. You watched every single episode of every single television show he appeared in -- even if he was just a guest star.

His popularity from his first role had soared pretty quickly, which was really a win/win scenario. Minho, who presumably had been a struggling actor previously, was now flush with offers from directors. And you, an immediate superfan, got to spend a lot of virtual time with your new favorite actor -- because, not only did he act in a very large handful of projects every year, he was also interviewed on talk shows, featured in magazines, walking the red carpet of premieres and award shows. He didn’t have a social media presence for some extremely odd reason, but you still felt like you knew him.

From everything you’d seen and read about him, Minho was outgoing, friendly, and charismatic. He was confident, straight-forward, and optimistic. He basically always had some version of a smile on his lips, and based on many posts in the Choi Minho subreddit, he never turned down an opportunity to meet a fan out in public.

He... was basically perfect.

And you couldn’t stop yourself from daydreaming about one day meeting him, falling in love, getting married, and having about ten children together in the most beautiful house in the universe.

But, to be fair, your daydream wasn’t entirely impossible!

You were a bit of a celebrity, yourself!

Kind of.

On the Internet.

You had started a YouTube Channel six years ago, and at first, you hadn’t really had a clear vision for your videos. An absolutely rookie mistake, of course, but there’s nothing you could do about it now.

You’d started off with makeup tutorials because that had been the hottest YouTube trend at the time. But... you quickly discovered you weren’t as good at makeup as one should be to post a tutorial online in good conscience. You also weren’t quite good enough at doing your nails, cooking, or sewing to do videos about those.

For at least a few months, you’d been stumped. You knew you wanted your own YouTube channel -- you had a pretty fitting personality for it -- you just didn’t have any one marketable skill.

Until, one day, you stumbled upon a video of a guy watching a K-Pop music video for the first time and reacting to it. That was literally it. The whole video had been just him watching and talking about it.

And you were very good at that. You loved watching things on a screen -- YouTube videos, television shows, movies, you name it! And you always had thoughts running through your head while you watched something. In fact, you frequently wished one of your friends had exactly the same taste in music, shows, and movies as you so you could voice those thoughts aloud to someone who actually wanted to listen.

So, how had you never thought of doing that on your YouTube channel?! There was obviously a market for it -- the guy you’d watched had a few hundred thousand subscribers, and since it was something you genuinely enjoyed doing, you weren’t afraid of running out of content inspiration or motivation any time soon.

It was literally the perfect idea.

The next day, you had set up your camera, pulled up the first episode of your favorite television show of all time, and got to work. When you posted the video a few hours later (Re-watching my FAVORITE show of all time), something about it just felt right. Like the stars had aligned. No matter if you got five views or five thousand, you knew you were on the right path -- when it came to YouTube, at least.

Every day after that, you chose something else to watch -- a nostalgic movie, a viral YouTube video, the really cheesy musical episode of a television show. You tried to pick things from all along the spectrum, and you also tried to wait a few days in-between continuing on with your re-watch of your favorite show, simply for variety’s sake.

Little by little, your channel began to grow. After work, you would film, edit, and post -- every single day. On the weekends, you would film two different videos in case you ever needed to take a day off. Or in case you just felt like posting two videos!

Your first sponsorship offer email had come about six months after you’d posted your first video, and your eyes had nearly fell out of your head when you’d seen how much they’d offered you. (Looking back, your first paying YouTube gig really hadn’t been that much money -- compared to what you could make now, at least -- but it had still been incredibly thrilling.) And, really, that had been the catalyst of your YouTube career and popularity. It seemed just the one sponsorship had been all you’d needed to catch the attention of other brands who wanted to work with you, and when you got to the point where you could actually afford to quit your job and turn down sponsorship offers you weren’t wild about? That’s when you knew you’d made it.

Okay, but really, you knew you’d made it when one of your videos hit one million views for the first time (a video of you watching a particularly cringe-worthy teen movie from about ten years ago).

And now, six years later, you had almost four million subscribers, and your most viewed video had almost twenty million views. Sometimes, you still couldn’t believe it!

The highlight of your time on YouTube so far -- at least, in your eyes -- had been when you’d seen Choi Minho for the first time about a year after starting your channel. You’d still had less then one-hundred thousand subscribers back then, so if anyone ever left on a comment on a video mentioning how long you’d been a Minho fangirl or remembering when you first discovered him, you knew they were an OG subscriber. But ever since that video, you did absolutely nothing to hide your affinity for him, both as an actor and as a person. You watched and reacted to every single one of his movies and every single television show episode -- you even sometimes reacted to interviews or videos other fans had made about him.

Even when your channel hit some pretty big milestones -- five-hundred thousand subscribers, one million, two million, three million subscribers -- you never played it cool when it came to Choi Minho. You switched up your content and your editing style here and there, but one constant on your YouTube channel was the fact you let your inner fangirl shine for all the world to see.

In fact, just last month, the trailer for his new movie dropped, and you were able to upload your reaction to it within two hours. Since then, you’d read and watched every interview you could find, favorited every tweet about the upcoming film, and liked every post on the #ChoiMinho hashtag on Instagram. Since he had no social media, you had to be satisfied with other people’s content rather than his own.

You were scrolling through his hashtag on Instagram right now, actually, as you procrastinated getting out of bed to go set up for another day of filming.

Now that you had almost four million subscribers and were approached by more than several companies for sponsorships every single day, you were able to focus on your channel full-time. You definitely got cabin fever from time to time, but it was worlds better than filming after work and on weekends. Now, you could actually take a day off whenever you wanted! It was glorious!

But you still procrastinated working. You were still human, after all.

After you caught up on his hashtag and liked just about every picture you could, you navigated to your inbox to look through your DMs. Over the years, it had gotten pretty easy to skip past the spam and sugar daddy requests (which were plentiful, unfortunately), so you no longer dreaded checking the unread messages. You could usually tell which ones to delete straight away from the profile picture and first few words alone.

To be quite honest, you really only opened ones where you either could tell someone was genuinely reaching out to say hi or thank you for posting your videos or... messages with Minho’s name visible in the preview. Shameless, but oh well!

After deleting a few messages at the top which were clearly spam, the next one you came to was actually one of those messages -- you saw ‘Minho’ in the preview. It was the very first word, even! And in all caps.

You pressed on it as quickly as you could.

And when your eyes took in the rest of the message... your heart stopped.

MINHO WATCHED ONE OF YOUR VIDEOS!

...This had to be a prank, right?

But right after the message in all capital letters was a link to a YouTube video, and the preview for the video was right below the message.

It was one of those videos put out by a big fashion magazine where celebrities watch videos about them and react to it. Usually, musicians and singers would react to covers of their songs by fans, but every once in a while, actors would read tweets or watch fanmade videos about them.

And when you clicked on the link this person had sent, the video opened in your YouTube app to show the title “Choi Minho Watches Fan Videos on YouTube,” and your eyes widened.

If what the Instagram message said was true... Minho had watched not only a fan video... but your fan video. And since his movie was premiering in just a couple of days, he had most likely watched your reaction to the trailer.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

Since the video had started automatically after clicking the link, you took a deep breath and concentrated all of your focus on your phone screen. You were not going to miss the part where he watched your video.

But, of course, after not even thirty seconds, you found you had already gotten distracted by how handsome he looked.

You quickly shook your head a bit, widening your eyes briefly before narrowing them to focus on your screen again. “Come on, Y/N,” you muttered to yourself. “You can watch it again right after this to admire him.”

It was only a fifteen-minute video, so it’s not like you had to wait forever to get to the part where he watched you!

Still, though, as the minutes ticked by, you felt your heart begin to race in anticipation.

What would he say about you? Would he find your obsession with him creepy? I mean, it had to be a little creepy watching someone squeal and profess their love for you -- someone you’d never met!

But, then... when you got really mushy comments... most of the time, it didn’t feel creepy. It just felt sweet, and you were incredibly grateful that a lot of your subscribers and viewers were so supportive.

Ugh! You were getting off track again!

You shook your head once more and set your gaze back onto your phone screen.

Finally, when the clip of Minho watching a fanmade music video transitioned into the clip of him watching your video, your breath caught in your throat.

Were you going to survive this?

Outcome is unclear.

“Oh, yeah, I know her,” Minho said as your trailer reaction video began to play in the corner. “She’s the reaction girl, right?”

Your jaw dropped.

................Excuse me?!

Minho knew you?!

As you watched Minho watching you with the most adorable soft grin on his lips, your hand slowly crept up to cover your mouth in shock.

And, then, when you in the video paused the trailer to bring up another one of his movies that this trailer had reminded you of, his grin widened and he looked very pleased. “She knows her stuff, huh?”

You heard someone behind the camera murmuring something, and subtitles appeared on the screen. “She’s a known superfan, actually.”

Minho’s brow furrowed and he leaned toward the camera. “She’s what?”

“A superfan,” the person repeated, a little bit louder. “She’s known to her viewers for watching all of your movies and shows. There are always comments about you on all of her videos.”

Minho’s eyes widened a little in surprise. “Really? All of them? Comments about me?” He leaned back and nodded slowly after, apparently, receiving a positive answer. “I had no idea. I’ve just seen her videos about, like, the cheesy teen movies we watched as kids.”

You truly almost dropped your phone.

So... he knew who you were, but he hadn’t known that you fangirled over him on a regular basis?

First of all, how was that possible?

Second of all, did it really matter?! He knew who you were!

He knew who you were!

You didn’t expect that he regularly watched your videos, but still.

HE KNEW WHO YOU WERE!

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you watched him finish up watching your reaction video. The look on his face was one of delight, and even though you knew he was a good actor, it sure didn’t seem like he was simply pretending not to be creeped out.

“She’s so fun,” he smiled as your video ended, his gaze shifting back to the person he had spoken with earlier. “She has more? Like, for my movies?”

The person mumbled something back, and this time, there were no subtitles on the bottom of the video. But Minho’s eyebrows shot up immediately.

“All of my movies?” he asked. And then he let out a joyous chuckle and added, “No way.”

He quickly turned to the computer and clicked on your channel name.

But the video transitioned into another clip of someone else’s video, so you didn’t get to see if he actually watched any other ones.

Even if he hadn’t, you were still overjoyed -- to say the least -- that he had watched just one!

He knew who you were! He had actually known who you were before this which was probably the most surprising thing you’d ever heard in your entire life. (Besides the fact that Minho was currently single. That was definitely more surprising than anything.)

After sitting in your bed for a few minutes, staring blankly at your screen as the video finished up, your gaze unfocused and blurry, you finally came to when you realized the video had ended.

And then you proceeded to freak out.

You squealed and shrieked and kicked your legs and rolled around and scrambled to your feet to jump up and down on your bed with glee.

Was this the best day of your life?

Quite possibly!

Once you’d calmed down just a tad, you plopped back into a sitting position, crossing your legs into a pretzel as you navigated back to Instagram.

You sent a reply to the person who’d sent you the video (”OH MY GOD THANK YOU HE KNOWS ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”) and then refreshed your inbox.

As expected, a whole new slew of messages came through and literally every single one seemed to be about the video.

Your lips split into a huge grin, and just before you clicked on a random one to read and reply to it... you noticed that one message had a blue check by the sender.

Pausing, you shifted your gaze to that message.

And your heart jumped up into your throat when you recognized the name of the account.

Obviously, it wasn’t Minho himself because he didn’t have one.

But it was the next best thing.

His management company.

You followed them, of course, and liked every single picture about him or with him. Of course!

But you had never gathered up the courage to message them. You’d had no reason to! What would you have said?

And now they were messaging you.

The several days following the video of Minho watching your video had been... a blur. To say the least.

You still weren’t even really sure how you’d gotten here.

I mean, you knew you were here because Minho’s management company had direct messaged you on Instagram inviting you to the premiere of his movie and you had accepted without one millisecond of hesitation and then you’d gotten on a plane a couple of days later and then checked into a super nice hotel and had a stylist and makeup artist sent to your room and after many hours you now looked better than you ever had in your entire life.

That’s how you got here.

But you still weren’t even really sure how you’d gotten here.

A rather large stroke of luck?

Good karma?

Hard work to grow your YouTube channel into something that would make you more easily recognizable by actual celebrities and their management companies?

Or a combination of the three?

Either way, you were overwhelmed with gratitude, and you knew you would never be able to forget this experience -- even if you, for some odd reason, wanted to.

I mean, you were currently in a really nice car, and the driver (yes, you had a driver!) was taking you to the red carpet.

The red carpet!

An actual movie premiere! With an actual red carpet!

And the movie was Minho’s movie.

You were at the premiere of Minho’s movie.

Oh my god, what if you saw him?!

As the car rolled to a stop in front of a crowded theatre, your heart and stomach dropped down to your very expensive and gorgeous shoes.

You’d gone to somewhat fancy events before -- it came with the job of being a YouTuber -- but never anything like this. Never an actual movie premiere. Never the chance of seeing your favorite actor in the history of time. And, obviously, never walking a red carpet.

Your door magically opened just as the car stopped moving, and a hand popped out of nowhere to assist you in exiting the vehicle. As gracefully as you could, you slipped your fingers into the mysterious palm, allowing it to gently pull you up and out of your seat and onto the sidewalk.

Almost immediately, camera clicks, light bulb flashes, and inquiring voices filled the air.

Cameras and lights in your face, you were used to. It was your everyday life, in fact!

But... all these people? Looking at you? Watching you? Taking pictures of you?

I mean, yeah, a few million people watched your videos. But it was absolutely not the same as a hundred or so reporters and photographers standing right in front of you.

Thankfully, some short but very powerful woman guided you onto the red carpet, muttering to you that all you had to do was stand in front of the backdrop, pose and smile for the cameras, and then move on to the next mark. Some reporters from news and entertainment channels would be waiting along the way to interview you (which didn’t scare you quite so much as you’d been interviewed a few times before), and all in all, it would take about an hour.

But it took you way less than an hour to discover that walking a red carpet is not as glamorous as it looks on television.

Walking like your shoes were covered in almost-frozen molasses so every photo taken was a good one. Switching back and forth between facial expressions so every photo taken wasn’t the same one. And do you know how many good places there are to put your hands when posing for a picture? Exactly two. One was on your hip and the other at your side. That was it. Definitely not clasped in front of or behind you, and definitely not tucking your hair behind your ear.

And just when you were sort of getting used to the constant posing for pictures, another short but powerful woman gently grabbed your arms and led you to a reporter from the most-watched entertainment news channel in the country.

“Hello, hello!” the perky reporter chirped as you approached her. “Come on over here!”

“Hi,” you greeted awkwardly as you made your way to the small mark on the ground next to her, holding up your skirt with one hand so you wouldn’t trip.

“Y/N! Good evening, good evening, how are you doing?” she asked before sticking the microphone in your face.

You had to quickly get over the shock of her knowing your name since you didn’t want to look like a fool on live television, so you forced a grin on your lips and answered, “I’m pretty overwhelmed, actually!” you chuckled.

“Is this your first time at a red carpet?”

“It is, yes,” you confirmed with a slight nod. “And I’m so used to being alone in my house, talking to myself in front of a camera, so this is all new territory for me.”

The reporter laughed with delight before asking which designer you were wearing. You answered her with ease since your stylist had drilled it into your brain before you’d left the hotel.

Then, after she asked you to tell the folks at home what you’re known for, she said, “It’s a pretty fun story of how you got here, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it is,” you answered, your lips pulling into a shy but excited grin. “I woke up one morning to a message on Instagram, and someone had sent me --”

The reporter interrupted you then, and you noticed her gaze was directed over your shoulder. You turned to look, and --

Well, the next few moments happened so quickly, you really had no idea how you reacted.

“Y/N!” Minho called out, smiling widely and waving before reaching out and sliding his hands over your shoulders. He stood next to you, squeezing you once before letting his arms drop down to his side. “I’m so sorry for interrupting --”

“No, we were just talking about why she’s here at your premiere!”

Minho’s smile brightened even more, and he continued on with the story you’d been telling.

Meanwhile, you were standing there. Mute. Staring at him.

Because oh my god.

How was it actually possible that Minho was more handsome in real life?

But also, how was it actually possible that Minho was standing next to you in real life?

But also also, how was it actually possible that Minho was real?

That’s the real question, isn’t it?

You came to when you heard him say, “Yes, this is our first time meeting,” before turning to you and holding out his hand for a handshake. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You took his hand, shaking it weakly, and said the first thing that came to your mind: “Oh my god, hi.”

The reporter giggled, but Minho, instead of acting embarrassed for you, simply let go of your hand and moved to pull you into a hug.

Holy cannoli, Minho was hugging you.

Choi Minho. Was hugging. You.

Hugging!

You!

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” he repeated with a grin after pulling away, though he was still incredibly close to you and gazing at you with those sparkling, dreamy eyes of his.

“You, too,” you managed to reply shakily.

The reporter then went on to interview Minho, asking him who had designed his suit, what his character in this new movie was like, and if he was working on any new projects.

“I’m in the early stages of something, yes,” he answered. “I don’t think I can say too much more, but in the meantime, I think I’d really like to film some videos with Y/N, branch out onto social media.”

Your heart stopped, and you knew your facial expression was doing nothing to hide your surprise.

Minho then turned to you with an adorably guilty look on his face. “I mean, if it’s alright with you, of course.”

“Yes, absolutely!” you burst out immediately, and the reporter giggled once again.

“Well, there you have it, guys,” she said after turning to face the camera. “You heard it here first -- a brand new collaboration in the works, so keep an eye out.”

She turned to you then and asked you to remind the viewers of the name of your YouTube channel. You leaned into the microphone and silently praised the lord you were able to remember it.

“Thanks so much, you two,” the reporter said with a very peppy grin. “Have a wonderful evening!”

“You, as well,” Minho answered before putting a hand in-between your shoulder blades and guiding you back to the red carpet.

Wait, he was guiding you back to the red carpet? He wasn’t... leaving?

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured in your ear, his breath causing the most delicious tingle down your spine. “I swear I wasn’t trying to be rude, I just wanted to meet you --”

“No,” you shook your head slightly. “It’s -- it’s totally fine. It wasn’t rude at all. I’m -- I just -- I’m a little overwhelmed. In a good way!”

“Totally understand. I remember my first movie premiere like it was yesterday, I know exactly how you’re feeling.”

You simply let out a nervous chuckle, but then Minho did something to make you even more nervous (which you hadn’t even been sure was possible).

He bent his arm and held out the crook of his elbow toward you.

“Shall we?”

Okay, you were now convinced this was a dream. This was all a wonderful, perfect, heavenly dream.

There was just no way that any of this could happen in real life! Being invited to Minho’s movie premiere was one thing, but him interrupting your interview on the red carpet and mentioning he wanted to film a YouTube video with you? Him offering to actually walk the red carpet with you on his arm?!

Nope. Definitely not real.

So, since this was absolutely a dream, you figured you’d just go with it!

“We shall,” you replied as a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

You slid your hand into the crook of Minho’s elbow, and the two of you slowly made your way down the red carpet. Together.

It didn’t take long for you to be awed by his professionalism. When the cameras began to flash, he posed like a natural. It seemed so easy for him, but you figured it probably was easy after going through this so many times. 

He murmured helpful hints and reassuring words to you as you struggled through, and he even insisted on doing his interviews with you by his side.

(Of course, before the two of you approached each reporter, he asked you quietly if you would rather have the spotlight all to yourself. He didn’t want to usurp your first experience on the red carpet and would gladly step away so you could finish the process on your own. You declined every single time.)

When you finally reached the entrance to the theatre about an hour later, you figured Minho would say it had been nice to meet you and be on his way.

But you should’ve remembered that this was a dream!

“Do you want to come inside? We can sit together during the movie if you want. I mean, you’re pretty much my unofficial date already, but you can absolutely say ‘no’ if you don’t --”

“I would love to,” you interrupted, your voice more sure and firm than it had been all evening.

But hearing your favorite actor and biggest crush of all time declare that you were his date for the night would do that to you. Plus, Minho literally exuded confidence and warmth -- you’d always thought so while watching him on a screen, and it was both relieving and exciting to learn he was exactly the same in real life.

Minho smiled at you and then led you into the theatre, your heart now basically in a constant state of flips and somersaults.

Once the two of you took your seats in front of the screen, Minho turned slightly toward you.

“I have to admit, I’ve been watching your videos a lot since I filmed the reaction for the magazine,” he said with the most attractive half-smile you’d ever seen in your life. “Seriously, thank you so much for being so supportive.”

“Oh my god, no, thank you,” you replied breathlessly. “I can’t believe you watched my videos.”

“They’re kind of addicting,” he chuckled. “I don’t know what it is, but I definitely understand why you have so many subscribers. I actually created my own YouTube account just so I could subscribe to you.”

Your eyes widened, and your heart actually stopped somersaulting because it stopped beating altogether.

“Are you serious?” you asked.

“You’re so entertaining! It feels like watching those movies and shows with a friend. And I like how you’re really honest but still nice about it. You don’t seem to have a cruel bone in your body.”

“Uh, no, I think you’re getting me mixed up with yourself,” you replied with a somewhat awkward laugh.

Minho simply grinned at you, and the somersaults started back up inside your chest.

“I was serious about wanting to film with you, though,” he said, eyebrows raised earnestly. “I would love to collab --”

“Yes, absolutely,” you reassured him as fervently as you could. “Literally whenever. Please. Yes.”

“Okay, good,” Minho chuckled before reaching into his pocket and sliding out his phone. “Here, give me your number so I can let you know when I’m free next.”

You hesitated before accepting his phone because...

What?!

Minho was giving you his phone. His actual phone. So you could put in your number? Your number?

This night just kept getting more and more unbelievable.

But you were never in a million years going to pass up the opportunity to give Choi Minho your phone number, so you took his phone and quickly added yourself as a contact.

“Perfect,” Minho murmured, almost to himself, when you handed his phone back to him. He looked at the screen for a few moments, and you noticed a soft grin pulling at his lips. And then he shifted his gaze over to you and said, “I can’t wait.”

And... as your eyes locked on his...

You had a moment.

A moment.

One of those moments you will never, ever forget as long as you lived.

One of those moments where your future basically flashed before your eyes.

Minho arriving at your house to film a video with you, a friendship forming, late night texts and phone conversations, going out to restaurants whenever he was in town... a more than friendship forming.

And you truly could’ve sworn this was not just your heart wishing, but... you honestly felt like you were going to marry this man.

“I can’t either,” you replied softly just before the lights went down.

The first thing you did when you got home was set up your camera and film a video relaying everything about your experience at Minho’s movie premiere.

Of course, you didn’t mention The Moment -- y’know, the moment you had when you realized you were most probably going to marry him? And you could just feel that it wasn’t wishful thinking? You figured it was probably best to keep that to yourself for now.

But everything else you shared with your subscribers, and you did nothing to hide how wonderful and magical it had all been -- and it had really been Minho which had made it so perfect.

“And you guys, he is truly exactly the same in person as he seems in, like, interviews and stuff. He’s so nice and so friendly and so warm and so gracious and --”

But you were interrupted by a text message.

Most of the time, you left your phone on silent as you filmed, but you’d been too excited to get all of your thoughts out that you’d forgotten to switch the sound off before turning the camera on.

“Whoops,” you murmured as you reached for your phone on your desk in front of you.

Instead of simply turning your phone on silent, though, the actual text message you’d received caught your eye and was too intriguing to ignore.

It was from a number you didn’t have saved, but your instinct to read the first few words of a message from an unknown sender took over... and you were incredibly glad it did.

Because the message was:

Hey, it’s Minho 😁 Are you free next week?

OTHER SIGNS: ARIES, TAURUS, GEMINI, CANCER, LEO, VIRGO, LIBRA, SCORPIO, CAPRICORN, AQUARIUS, PISCES

[siennahrobek]

He hadn’t realized it, but Alpha-17 had been waiting for this moment. This time. Whatever.

His loyalty had always been to the Republic, rather strictly, thanks to his training and upbringing, even though it never seemed like the government had cared about him or anyone else. It was something he was used to. The trainers didn’t care about anything but what they were being paid. The Kaminoans didn’t care about anything aside from progress in their work and perfection from the clones. Before, it hadn’t mattered. He did his job; that was his purpose, his whole reason for being. There was nothing else.

And then the war started. The Jedi came.

And then, despite the death and fighting and everything else, the jedi cared.

General Shaak Ti and General Kenobi had been adamant to save the clones still in tubes during the first invasion of Kamino, despite the fact that it would have been more efficient and easier just to destroy them.

They had been steadfast in saving lives.

Time had gone on and the jedi fought alongside them. Died alongside them. They encouraged speech and individuality and names.

Alpha-17 didn’t exactly know when his outlook had shifted but it had and now, he had committed mutiny against his planet, against everyone, to save his brothers from being brainwashed completely, to have the one thing they had freedom of taken away. He had committed mutiny to help them, to help the jedi. The Jedi that the clones had been made for, the jedi that had accepted them so readily and the jedi whose fates were intertwined with their own.

It would be about three days until they would arrive and virtually every single clone was working nonstop. The city was near completely torn apart by the time the ships under Kenobi’s command came into their space and kept off to the side of the planet, far enough away that they could make an escape if a ship began to fire upon them.

Alpha-17 and Commander Colt messaged the ships, indicating their safe orbit around the planet. Several gunships come down to the planet side with an entire slew of jedi and clones. Commander Colt had found General Shaak Ti and sagged in relief but Alpha-17’s attention was behind her, where General Kenobi strode off the gunship with Commander Cody and Captain Rex by his side.

Storming up to them, Alpha-17 stopped in front of the trio, staring at General Kenobi up and down with such intensity, he nearly thought the Jedi would combust into flames.

“Uh…sir?” Captain Rex questioned.

“At least you’re wearing some armor again,” Alpha-17 told the general instead, rather gruffly. General Kenobi’s smile was a bit weak but no less genuine. “Where is that scamp of an apprentice of yours, he’s usually right behind you.”

“It is good to see you, as well, captain,” General Kenobi greeted. “Your blunt honesty has been sorely missed. I am sorry to say that…that Anakin’s allegiance lies with the Empire now.”

“The Empire that tried brainwashed my brothers and tried to kill all the jedi,” Alpha-17 replied, flatly. Wordlessly, General Kenobi nodded. Alpha decided not to say any more on the matter. “We have a war room set up. Your bridge said you need to try and contact any of the jedi out in the field.”

“Yes, we have warned many, but now we have to plan on what we are going to do as well as thoughts on where to rendezvous,” General Kenobi explained. “It is also a bit of a roll call, as we don’t…know who survived.

“Master Kenobi,” a new voice called out as a human man walked towards them. Alpha-17 looked over and watched him warily.

“Alpha-17, this is Battle Master Cin Drallig,” General Kenobi introduced to a long-haired Jedi. “I think you two will get along fairly well. Master Drallig, Captain Alpha-17.”

“Well met, Captain,” the battle master greeted. Alpha-17 imagined with a title like battle master, General Kenobi was probably, irritatingly, correct. He did sound like someone he would perhaps get along with. “I have a feeling we may be working together often.”

Alpha-17 took his hand with the shake. “Why would you say that sir?”

Battle master Drallig just smirked. “Just a feeling.”

The captain led them towards the inner workings of what was left of the city and towards the large room with a nearly just as big holo table. There were already several jedi and nearly just as many clone officers standing around the edges.

He watched as General Kenobi, flanked by General Ti and battle master Drallig, straightened himself, taking a deep breath before the giant holo table flickered to life, the visage of several jedi and sometimes their respective commanders with them popping up in blue form.

There was many of them.

He imagined it was a relief to the other jedi. Alpha-17 tried to take stock of all those who were standing around. There were a few that Alpha-17 recognized, including Wolffe’s general, General Koon and Bly’s as well, General Secura but for the most part, he knew very few of them. The former looked as calm and put together as always, even though his arm was bandaged up to his side. General Secura was leaning forward, her own holo call trembling as her eyes nearly blazed which looked still intimidating even with the slew of wrappings around one of her lekku.

“As many of you are aware,” General Kenobi started, coolly. “The Republic has fallen, an Empire has rose in its place with the dark lord of the Sith at its head. We have been deceived and in it, the Temple has been lost. Former chancellor – now emperor – Palpatine is the Sith Lord we have been searching for.”

There were gasps all around, horrified stares and even a bit of pained denials.

“Right under our nose,” General Secura snarled.

“It is…very good to know that many have you survived,” General Kenobi interrupted. “We have a lot more pressing matters to attend, however. One of my communications officers, Menace, will take down everyone’s names of here and I will want you to tell him your situation so we can keep track. If you are not with your soldiers and/or do not have access to a holo table and are listening via long distance commlink, Menace will be your voice and ears if necessary. Whatever you need,” he continued, gesturing to the clone that was sitting in the corner, surrounded by equipment. He looked up and waved, indicating his presence.

There were nods around the table.

“We are currently on the planet Kamino, picking up any supplies and the clones that wish to come with us,” General Kenobi started up again in explanation, keeping his back straight and his posture perfect that even Alpha could appreciate it. “We do not know how much time we have so we are quickly working to evacuate all the young ones, the clones and then any resources they want to take.”

“I know…. I know they were chipped and that is not their fault,” a general Alpha-17 didn’t recognize said warily, swallowing heavily. “And they have the right to choose… but can we trust them?”

There were very few bristles but mostly shifts in posture with glances away from the Jedi.

“I have worked much with Alpha-17 during the beginnings of the war,” General Kenobi replied, firmly. He could see General Shaak Ti and a few others straightening with a near looming presence. “I trust him. Although first loyalties were to the Republic and the Jedi second, since the Republic has been replaced with an Empire…”

General Secura snickered with a gleaming grin. “Loophole.”

“And with him is my Commander, Colt, who I do trust,” General Shaak Ti cut in, seriously. Although her expression was as collected as he had ever seen it, her tone was underlaid with something that would not be argued. Commander Colt smiled faintly, just slightly shy at the praise.

“It appears that you are doing well in facilitating our survival, General Kenobi,” General Tapal commended with a nod. The Lasat General shifted while his padawan, a young human child, glanced up at him and grinned, keeping himself so close to his master that he was nearly hanging onto him. General Kenobi acknowledge him and then glanced towards Healer Che to take over.

The twi’lek healer had been one that Alpha-17 knew, he had spent some time in the healers, ward and he had come to respect the master healer. She was no argument and never took any crap from anyone.

“The chips within the clones are not difficult to remove,” Healer Che started to explain, pulling up diagrams and scans, clicking and swiping through some of the holo table as she sent the visuals to the others across the galaxy. “If one has the right droid or scanner, it is a very simple surgery. The only problem is you need a level five minimum atomic scan to find it which I don’t think many ships have. If you have the requisite medical droid, I would just allow them to do it. It does not take long, and the recovery time is short,” she added, calmly. “If you have a scanner capable of the level of scan and excellent medics with steady hands, they can remove it fairly easily if you would like.”

“However,” Commander Colt cut in. “If you find yourself in a pinch and being surrounded by activated brothers, we do have a pulse that will nullify the effects of the chips for several hours,” he added, pulling up his own research to replace that of the healer. It showed schematics on a small generator. “Only use it once and only if necessary because we don’t know the effect of several pulses. It should give you enough time to escape. I will have General Kenobi’s officer send you the specs of its creation. All ships should be able to scramble up the parts fairly easy.”

“That is a start,” General Koon rumbled through his mask and vocoder, shifting his wounded arm. Alpha-17 could see Commander Wolffe barely concealing a snarl right next to him. “Is there any other way to avoid the chips being activated? Do we know how they are activated?”

“Currently, at least the Empire’s voice does that with specific orders,” Alpha-17 found himself stepping up to speak. “It started with Commander Cody after he got a call from the emperor. We suspect he probably contacted, or tried to contact, the Marshal Commanders and from there, the Commander’s orders would relay the activation.”

“Proximity also appears to be a large way of the activation being spread,” Commander Colt added.

“So, we limit communications as much as possible, especially with the clones until they can be de-chipped,” General Secura shrugged. “That seems mostly doable.”

“But where do we go from here?” an older jedi rumbled.

“Right now, we move away from the Empire. Start moving towards the outer rim, towards wild space,” Battle master Drallig started, his voice rather booming in the room they were in. “The Empire will start to scramble what forces and resources they have to come after us and our men. They know current locations so move, group together if you can. If you are near another jedi or fleet that has not been activated, join together.”

“I am working on which planet would be the best to retreat to,” an older woman with tightly bound white hair, stepped forward. Her voice was no nonsense and serious with no room for argument. “I have a team as well helping to figure out the best place to go. Because we need a planet that is inhabitable to accommodate as many as we can, outside of the Empire’s view and not within their memory.”

“You have not gotten there yet,” one of the field generals noted.

She shook her head. “Not quite. I am working as quickly as I can. We cannot be running around trying to find a planet. It will be some time for all of us to come together, but we will keep in touch.”

“Ration your food, take care of each other,” General Shaak Ti added. “And fuel, get it where and when you can. I imagine very soon the Empire will make getting resources very difficult, if not impossible, to gather. Gather what you can.”

“I imagine we will have quite the fleet,” General Billaba hummed. The padawan next to her barely suppressed a snicker.

“That leads me to my next point,” General Kenobi added, glancing between Commander Cody and Alpha-17.

Alpha narrowed his eyes, suspiciously as he waited for the general to continue.

“Like I told the jedi here, I have offered the clones a place with us,” he started slowly. “And like I said, I know I didn’t particularly have the authority to do so but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Master Koon assured with a bit of a chuckle. “I do believe it would have been unanimous.”

“And well, Alpha-17 and Commander Colt had already committed mutiny with the intent of following us,” he added, glancing at Alpha-17 with a dry, vaguely amused look. There was something else there in his look that Alpha-17 wasn’t entirely sure on. “However, I have noted that if any freed clones do not wish to make this journey with us, we will let them go to wherever they would want, with our blessings.”

Alpha-17 was a little surprised by the nods around the room, although even he could tell there was some vague disappointed even through the calls.

“I will relay it to the others,” Commander Cody said, although Alpha-17 knew him. His tone had a tint of dryness. “Don’t expect any other answers, however.”

“Same here on Kamino,” Alpha-17 grunted.

He doubted anyone else could see it but something in General Kenobi’s shoulders shifted.

“Besides,” Commander Colt interjected. “We don’t really have any experience with cadets, we could use some help with the tubies,” he admitted.

“Tubies?” a general echoed.

“Babies,” General Shaak Ti amended with a smile.

“We are not abandoning the galaxy,” General Kenobi announced with a breath. “But we need a plan. We must rebuild, regain strength before we can do anything about the Empire. We will not abandon people, nor the rest of the clones.”

“But we do need a plan,” General Koon agreed, nodding.

“Which we will do,” battle master Drallig assured.

“We will find somewhere very ancient, old and obscure. Far from minds and memory,” the white-haired woman added. “A place of refuge where we can plan our next moves.”

“Does anyone have any questions?”

“I’m sure I can speak for everyone when I say numerous,” General Billaba noted with a curiously raised brow. “But I do imagine you will not have much time to gather from Kamino and get away before the Empire catches up.”

“Menace will gather a list of everyone,” General Kenobi started again. “Please keep in touch with him and his team with updates on your positions as you move so we can keep together. Everything we add will be coded. He has a few things to send to you as well.”

“We have survived thus far,” General Koon rumbled, the vocoder easy and low, nearly crackling through the call. “And if we work together, we will continue to survive this.”

***

“That seemed rather successful, Master Kenobi,” battle master Drallig noted with a sly smile as they walked out of the war room. The large holo call had lasted a little longer, with more questions, answers and suggestions. Commander Cody, Captain Rex and Alpha-17 walked behind, following the jedi easily. The others had filed out, the six of them were some of the last few, leaving only Menace and his team to gather a list and give out necessary information. “Many are alive,” he added, glancing over at the other generals.

“There is hope,” General Shaak Ti agreed, calmly. “And we must also keep in mind, there are very possibly still others who have lived but were unable to make contact. We should have Menace’s team to search for other commcodes to send messages, just in case.”

General Kenobi nodded. “That is a good idea, Master.”

“I will return to the ship and set it up,” she hummed.

“I have something you need to see,” Alpha-17 announced, shooting a glance at General Kenobi. His mouth had been moving before his brain caught up but at this point, he figured it would be a good moment to do it. He was met with a rather fond but confused look. “It won’t take long.”

“Alright,” General Kenobi replied with a small shrug. “Commander Cody, Captain Rex, would you mind going with Master Drallig and Master Shaak Ti back up to our ship for a final count on what field Jedi have responded and survived?”

Commander Cody gave the both of them a rather suspicious look but the few of them walked off towards the landing platform where their gunship would be waiting. Alpha-17 barely waited before he gestured for the general to follow, unwilling to impart answers as he walked through what was left of the city. They got towards his destination and opened the door.

Good, they were still waiting for their transportation to one of the cruisers.

“Hey guys,” Alpha-17 greeted a group of younglings, gruffly, his voice mumbling through, trying not to sound too fond of the inhabitants of the room. “I brought you someone you’ll want to see.”

The room was full of a small group of cadets, nearly a dozen of them. They were all the same, as the clones were, and the expressions on their faces were nearly exactly the same as well but their voices shifted into different types of gasps and light screeches.

One of them stepped forward towards General Kenobi, eyes shining as he stared up at him. General Kenobi just glanced down and then looked back up at Alpha-17, quite thoroughly confused. It was almost comical.

“Is that…” one of the children asked.

“Yes,” Alpha-17 affirmed.

“General Kenobi!” they cried in shock, nearly tripping over one another to get a closer look. General Kenobi just smiled warmly down at him, taking it in stride as he walked forth into the gaggle of children although he was completely bewildered and puzzled, and it showed.

“Hello there,” he greeted softly as he let the kids climb over him.

“Seven!” one of them shrieked, making the captain crinkle his nose in some irritation. General Kenobi just shot him a small laugh, shaking his head. He had no idea what was going on but if there was one thing the alpha clone knew, he loved children. The young clone glared at the captain with a firm pout, shaking his head vehemently. “You did not tell us we were going to meet our finder.”

“My apologies,” General Kenobi said, already holding a child in his arms and several others clinging to his legs as he turned towards the captain. “I’m your what now?”

Alpha-17 groaned lightly and shook his head, nearly bringing his hands up to cover his face, the cadet staring at him, intently. He let out a sigh of resignation and then a breath as he began to clarify. “General Shaak Ti, when she visits the cadets, she tells them about the Jedi. She tells them a lot of things,” he explained. “I don’t know how it happened or where it came from, but she told a class once about Jedi finders, their role in bringing children to the Temple and into the Order. She explained their importance and how many children had relationships with their finders growing up. When she was asked…she rather insinuated that our… the clone “finder” was, well, you,” he explained, a bit uncertainly. “It kind of snowballed from there and now nearly every young cadet class knows and well, thinks that way.”

General Kenobi stopped and stared at him for a long moment. Even Alpha-17 could determine his reaction.

And he kept staring.

Would this man just have a reaction already?

And then, abruptly, he burst out into such laughter to the point that Alpha-17 nearly thought he was crying. The general hugged the child in his arm closer and laughed some more, his shoulder and whole body shaking from the movement. Apparently, he found this hilarious, Alpha-17 mused.

“I would love to be considered your finder, dear ones.”

He was glad he had brought General Kenobi here, for this small moment.

***

He had originally intended on going to General Kenobi’s flagship, but he was redirected towards a modified cruiser that had appeared not long ago by the battle master Drallig. The trip was quiet and although Alpha-17 was fairly certain he wasn’t anywhere near force sensitive, even he thought he could feel the gratitude and happiness echoing off of the General.

He had made the right choice, starting his mutiny without approval.

As they walked off the gunship and onto the docking bay of the venator, General Kenobi let a small, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome, general.”

General Kenobi opened his mouth to say something else, but his eyes caught sight of another, and his gaze dragged over the area. He stepped back, nearly tripping over a box as his eyes widened.

“Sir?”

The general practically flew across the docking bay. Alpha-17 caught sight of the battle master, Drallig, at the other end, alongside another jedi. Dark skin, even darker hair, weird yellow stripe over his face and nose. Alpha-17 felt like he had seen him before. Nonetheless, Alpha-17 jogged after him, quickly on his heels.

The general nearly threw himself at the other jedi, tightening his grip around him in a fierce hug. Such public display Alpha-17 hadn’t seen from his general was rather rare so this must have been an importance person to him. Kenobi tucked himself into space, squeezing the man tightly. The other jedi looked utterly surprised but before he could even think of hugging – or not – back, General Kenobi hastily pulled away a few steps and didn’t even meet the other Jedi’s gaze.

“My apologies, Quinlan,” he murmured, shaking his head. “That was uncalled for, I do sincerely apologize for touching without permission. I will take my leave.”

The other Jedi – Quinlan – looked just confused and befuddled in a way that almost, just almost, would have made Alpha-17 laugh. He didn’t even think a jedi couldhave that expression. General Kenobi hurriedly shuffled away down the hall, presumably towards the bridge.

“What was that about?” Quinlan asked, glancing at the battle master for answers but his eyes ended up trailing general Kenobi as he walked away. Alpha-17 was ready to follow him but for the moment, somehow his feet wouldn’t move.

The battle master sighed and frowned. “Anakin Skywalker has fallen to the dark side, and he is now the new Sith apprentice. He is the one who led the attack on the Temple.”

Some kind of understanding fell upon the Jedi’s face as it twisted into something horrified of some type.

Alpha-17 didn’t know what that meant.

“Force,” he whispered under his breath.

And then he took off after the general. Alpha-17 rolled his eyes and sighed, barely catching a glimpse of the battle master before jogging off after him. “Again,” he muttered, keeping just behind the unfamiliar jedi.

“Obi-Wan!” the jedi shouted out.

General Kenobi stiffened and hesitated before finally stopping. He let out a soft sigh and turned around, forcing himself to look up at the man. “Quinlan,” he greeted, fairly evenly despite the shaking in his voice.

“Hey, hey buddy,” Quinlan murmured, carefully putting his hand on General Kenobi’s pauldron. “Master Drallig told me about Anakin. I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan.”

General Kenobi took a shaky breath. “I don’t…I don’t think I can really talk about it right now,” he admitted quietly, just barely leaning into the other jedi’s touch.

“Alright,” he agreed, and he didn’t seem to bothered by the notion. He quite quickly changed the subject which ended up being a good call. “Dex says you have a friend for life, ya know.”

Glancing at him, General Kenobi ended up with a small smile. “You were one of the jedi that Dex said he had.”

“Yeah. I found Master Windu. He’s in pretty rough shape but I think he might make it through, probably because I got him into a bacta tank quicker. Wanna hear how I took over the entire medical venator star cruiser,” Quinlan said with a grin.

An eyebrow raised on General Kenobi’s face but there was a relief in that, probably due to the fact that a jedi he knew was alive. “You…took over a ship? Full of clones around Coruscant.”

The long-haired jedi laughed. “Oh, let me tell you. It was kind of awesome. Not as hard as I thought, considering. But since I am a shadow, so you know, it is part of my skill set,” he winked and it made the general smile back at him, although lightly.

Alpha-17 just walked and listened as the jedi went to a full, long tirade about how he had taken over the ship and escaped with the clones. He couldn’t help be grateful, the jedi had rescued hundreds of his brothers, some of which may have been killed outright due to the fact they were sick or wounded. Still, he already had the feeling that this Quinlan character was kind of annoying.

“Dex is amazing, let me tell you,” Quinlan had said with the biggest grin. Something must have been going on with General Kenobi in the force or whatever because practically every time the man twitched, the other jedi would get happier and speak brighter. “I made a plan and needed some guys to help me out. Within the hour, the hour, Obi-Wan, he had gotten me a lineup of dozens of beings to pick from for my heist. He has got some serious connections!”

General Kenobi smiled and it was warm. Alpha-17 could almost feel it. “Dex is good like that,” he agreed. “I found Kamino because of him.”

Quinlan continued to explain the rest of the couple of days. His plan had been mildly impressive and well thought out, even Alpha-17 could begrudgingly admit. The jedi did not go in halfcocked and impulsively. And the fact that he checked to make sure there wasn’t a jedi on board, so the chips probably hadn’t been activated was probably smart. At least he didn’t jump aboard the first ship he came across and took over the bridge, just hoping nothing would go wrong.

There were a couple medical stations across the galaxy and several more pelta-class medical frigates that traveled with wounded soldiers aboard. There wasn’t a medical station orbiting Coruscant, as they were around the rest of the galaxy. Clones weren’t allowed to be treated on planet mingled with the regular citizens, although the Jedi often treated clones in their own Healing Halls frequently. They didn’t just go around turning people away who needed care.

One of the large venator cruisers had been converted into somewhat of a medical station, or at least, used as one. It was the main place where clones were treated for illness or injuries, when they could make it there. It was a good one to take over, he imagined, if one had a good plan. Which apparently the master jedi had.

There must not have been any jedi stationed at the medical facility during the time because Quinlan explained how he made sure that none of the chips had been activated. He had shut down communications with jammers around the ship and eventually took it over, locking up most of the natborns that weren’t cooperative and confiscating long range commlinks. Men were locked in certain portions of the ship to where they were stationed, at least those just handling the ship. Medics themselves were dechipped so they could continue to help those who needed it. Everything was neat and tidy and even Alpha-17 had to be impressed.

It was not only a well-thought-out mission and operation but a successful one as well. Quinlan had brought back an entire venator crew of clones with as well as many other, although wounded, brothers as well.

By the time he was done, General Kenobi’s smile was rather wide, and he offered his congratulations to the other jedi. He was thankful, Alpha-17 quickly realized. Not only had he saved people that General Kenobi valued, but he had kept his mind off of Skywalker. He hadn’t even pushed; he didn’t even ask. Nothing circled back to it.

The jedi explained about the Commander he came across, Hound, and how he had helped him. The guy was a mad man and apparently, Quinlan appreciated that sort of thing. They had rather hit it off, along with his mastiff, Grizzler, who went everywhere Hound did.

Alpha-17 wasn’t sure whether he should be worried.

“Do we know who all survived?” Quinlan asked, nudging General Kenobi gently.

“One of the officers, Menace, is compiling a list of those who have responded or were present at the meeting,” General Kenobi replied with a nod. “As far as I could tell during the meeting, it seemed quite a fair few had blocked communications or escaped in time. Aalya was one of them,” he assured. “She looked just a little banged up but okay. Her troops weren’t activated.”

Tension fell from Quinlan’s shoulders. “Thank, Obes.”

“Of course,” he added. And then, his commlink beeped urgently. General Kenobi opened it up and a gruff voice burst though. “This is Kenobi.”

“Master Kenobi,” battle master Drallig replied. “You should get back down to the loading bay. Something has happened.”

Several medical officers rushed down the halls around them. Alpha-17 caught one of them by the arm, stopping him abruptly. “Officer, what is going on?”

“A ship came out of hyperspace a few minutes ago!” the soldier reported, worriedly. “It open fired on one of our ships and then stopped. We think it is full of activated clones and there are injured jedi,” he said before pulling away and running off again.

General Kenobi swallowed heavily and the three of them chased after the group back down the hall. The loading back was a mad house of yelling officers and wounded soldiers. Out in space, it could be seen one of the ships was partially on fire with several fighters surrounding it, ready to destroy if necessary.

“Whose ship is that?”

A rolling cot ran down from a ship towards the hall. Alpha-17 watched as General Kenobi stared wide eyed. The man on the gurney was a male, a jedi from the robes, he imagined with short blonde hair that was practically soaked in blood. There was a lot of blood.

A lot.

General Kenobi’s breath got caught in this throat, his eyes wide and his hand gripping Quinlan’s vambrace so tight he thought it would crack. “Master Feemor,” he whispered.

“Feemor?” Quinlan muttered under his breath. “Where…”

Alpha-17’s old general backed up a few steps as a realization came across him. “Oh God, Ahsoka,” his head whipped around, frantically. “Where is Ahsoka? Has anyone seen Ahsoka Tano?!” he shouted out, turning and turning and turning.

“I…I’m here, Master,” a new, feminine voice announced, although rather quiet. The three of them turned around. There was a clone next to her although he had quite a few mechanical parts, more so than Alpha-17 had seen on any others. A Togruta jedi was standing there, her arms hugging herself and her eyes downcast.

General Kenobi sighed in relief. “Ahsoka, what in the galaxy happened?”

[thatgamefromthatad]

Mobile Life Simulators, Ranked (Part 1)

I downloaded a whole ton of mobile life simulator games over the past couple weeks and I realized it wouldn’t be plausible to rank all of them in one go so I’m breaking it up into parts with more similar games grouped together (can’t say when the next part will be made but I’m definitely planning on doing more at some point). Thank you to @creativeghost51 for recommending I cover the Sims games and other life sims!

It’s hard to define what ties these Part 1 games together (as opposed to some other groups like idle life sims and text-based life sims) but I guess the biggest similarity would be that all of these games involve your sim characters living in a home where they can freely walk around, and can interact with objects and each other. With the exception of Virtual Families Lite you can also decorate, customize and expand your home.

Something I noticed about all of these games is that you don’t really have as much freedom to experiment and build your own storylines and such as you do with, for example, the Sims computer games. While the games aren’t completely linear and there is a variety of things you can do in each of these games, they don’t really have the same sandbox quality that I think about when I think about the Sims. Which is understandable - these games are free to play and they’re made to be played mostly on people’s phones so they are expectedly more on the casual side. But I just wanted to point that out in case anyone was looking for something like the Sims to play on their phones or tablets. I haven’t really seen a mobile game in existence yet that is going to give you that same life sim sandbox experience.

Anyway, here’s the ranking rubric for these games (I’ll go into more detail about all of these scores under the read more):

***

***

***

1. Home Street

Developer: Supersolid Ltd

Release Date: Oct. 10, 2017

I was actually really surprised by this game - while it is more marketed as a home design game than a life sim it has a lot of similarities to games like The Sims Mobile; you have a character you can customize and dress up in a wide variety of outfits, you can interact with and build relationships with other characters/players (although only friendships, not romantic relationships, and you can’t have kids) and you do hobby-like activities such as painting and cooking.

While there aren’t personality traits or careers in this game, you save up “ideas”corresponding to different emotions or attributes, which function as crafting materials to go toward your hobbies. Through your hobbies/crafting abilities you can complete jobs for other characters, like selling them vegetables from your garden or giving them something you’ve cooked.

🏡 Character Design: 3/4 (while the ability to customize your character’s facial features and such isn’t as advanced here as it is in The Sims Mobile, it still has a wider range of options than The Sims FreePlay and I prefer the art style of Home Street compared to FreePlay; there’s also a wide range of outfits and accessories and you can set different outfits for different activities)

🏡 Home Design: 4/4 (although you’ll probably notice from my screenshots that I’m not exactly a home design aficionado, I found placing decorations, walls and floors etc in this game to be a smoother and easier process than in any of the other games and I like the art style of the objects as well. There’s a good range of items, including ones your character can interact with in different ways, and I like having the various hobby workstations embedded into the home where you can place them wherever works best for you, which is also how it is in the Sims games. There’s a lot of potential for someone who’s more adept at home design than me to create really fun themed rooms and whatnot)

🏡 Gameplay: 9/10 (I really loved the gameplay concept in this game more than in any of the other games, I love leveling up to get new workstations and crafting items to fulfill tasks for other characters. The task concept kind of reminds me of Animal Crossing in a way. While the main screen can be a little busy at times, overall the game is really easy to navigate and does a good job of guiding you with goals and tasks without making it feel like you’re restricted to only following those exact tasks. The characters and dialog are also charming and make you feel like you’re progressing through a story as you level up)

🏡 Playtime vs. Wait Time (without paying to speed up tasks): 4/4 (while you do need to wait for your hobbies/crafting tasks to complete, they don’t really take that long and you can save time if you craft things ahead of time; also there are a lot of things you can do while you’re waiting. The wait times might get longer as you get further in the game but I played for about two weeks and so far I haven’t felt really stalled at any point)

🏡 Total: 20/22

2. The Sims Mobile

Developer: Electronic Arts

Release Date: March 6, 2018

I was also pleasantly surprised by this game, since I had played The Sims FreePlay years ago and didn’t really like it, but this one I liked a lot more and had quite a bit of fun with. As I mentioned before, it doesn’t have the same sandbox quality as the computer Sims games, but the character customization is the best out of all the life sims I played and there’s such an enormous catalog of different clothing and home design items to choose from, there are definitely a lot of fun possibilities.

There’s a fairly wide range of things to do although I did feel a little more confined to the tasks the game set out for me - for example I went with the careers that I had objectives for rather than picking careers I’d really want my character to have, plus you need to wait until you level up to unlock careers so you have less freedom in that aspect.

🦙 Character Design: 4/4 (This game actually uses sliding scales to customize different facial features and body types and such, and although it isn’t as advanced as in the computer games it is much more advanced than I’d expect for a casual mobile game and makes it a lot easier to make the characters look how you actually want them to. The catalog of things to dress your sims up in is also enormous and there’s a fun special fashion feature that creates unique clothes that boosts your stats for certain activities, which is why there are hearts floating around my sim in the screenshot. Oh and there’s a social feature to give other people’s sims stickers based on their outfits, which makes dressing up your sim more fun and exciting)

🦙 Home Design: 3/4 (The home design here is pretty fun and there is a wide range of items, and I also like how there’s a score that goes up as you add more items and complete furniture collections. However I personally found the controls for placing a moving things a little wonkier than in Home Street and FreePlay, i.e. I kept moving things on accident or couldn’t get things to easily snap where I wanted them to, and the collections and goals did make me feel a little confined to selecting certain objects or adding things I didn’t need to fulfill the goals rather than going with my own style, although I suppose you could just ignore the goals if you wanted to)

🦙 Gameplay: 7/10 (This game is fun although it can get quite repetitive since one of the main things you’ll be doing is “events,” which mostly involves just tapping things or waiting a certain amount of time for the tasks to complete themselves. The “events” in this game kind of reminded me of the tasks in the Kim Kardashian game which I also played years ago lol. However there are things to do besides events and the events do have a little more to them than just tapping; when I say tapping I mean tapping task options that sometimes have quirky, funny names and there are also “risky” tasks that have bigger rewards but a certain chance of succeeding or failing etc. There are little bits of dialogue as you progress through your career, relationship and hobby chapters and there are also seasonal/limited time activities you can do that add more fun and variety and chances for rewards. However I still wish there was a little more variety and flare to the “events” aspect, which made up the bulk of my playtime)

🦙 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 4/4 (Like in Home Street, there is waiting involved if you’re waiting for events to complete and you run out of energy to do the tasks that speed them up, but you can choose whether to have a longer event or a shorter event and you can also have one sim be running an event while doing something else with the other sim. I was able to choose shorter event times if I wanted to stick around for a bit and then run a longer event when I was logging off for a while so I could reap the rewards when I came back. The amount of time you can spend playing continuously here is much better than a lot of other mobile games that involve an energy system)

🦙 Total: 18/22

3. Virtual Families 3

Developer: LDW Software, LLC

Release Date: Sept. 17, 2020

(Note: Please disregard how barren my home looks here, this was the last game I started playing so I didn’t progress very far but I feel I can still base my scores on what I’ve played so far and what I can see available that I just haven’t unlocked/can’t afford yet)

The Virtual Families games are all pretty similar to each other to be honest, but the most recent version is definitely the most fleshed out and the least ugly. There are more things to do, more variety in the sim designs (here they’re called “adoptees”) and there are actually nonwhite characters which I’m pretty sure there weren’t any or were barely any in the last two games. You still can’t customize your adoptees though, just flip through the options to pick the ones you like the most.

I kind of struggled with the Virtual Families games because they run on real time and my adoptees would end up severely neglected when I just didn’t have time to play, but there is an option to pause when you’re away, I just didn’t want to and wanted the game to progress naturally.

What I do really like about Virtual Families is that the adoptees have minds of their own and you can kind of watch them lives their lives and imagine little personalities for them. It’s a lot more casual than the other games and you probably have the most freedom here to do whatever you want although there are not as many things to do.

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Character Design: 2/4 (You can’t customize your own characters but there’s more variety here in the randomized designs and the art isn’t as ugly and janky as in the previous two Virtual Families games)

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Home Design: 2/4 (Home design isn’t as big of a thing in the Virtual Families games but there is a decent variety in furniture and objects to put in your house and you could probably have some fun with it if you’re creative. The art style isn’t that great though)

👨‍👩‍👧‍👧 Gameplay: 7/10 (Like I said, what I like is watching the little adoptees go about their lives or dropping them around to pick up the debris on the floor to look for collectibles. In this game there are also a lot of little funny random events like getting random phone calls or being given random choices to make that can have positive or negative outcomes. Occasionally you’ll be given problems to solve like needing to repair or hire someone to repair something, or once I lost the TV remote and had to look around my house for it then send someone to retrieve it. It makes the experience more varied and engaging and makes you feel more involved in progressing)

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 3/4 (You can pretty much play indefinitely watching your adoptees except that can get boring especially if they’re just eating or sleeping. My adoptees kept getting really tired and I would just send them to sleep and exit out, then when I came back they would be out of bed and still extremely tired lol. But once they did get enough sleep I got to spend more time with them until they had to do something else boring like work or eat)

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 Total: 14/22

4. The Sims Freeplay

Developer: Electronic Arts

Release Date: Dec. 15, 2011

This game was pretty disappointing when I played it years and years ago hoping to be able to play the Sims while on the go, and it’s still pretty disappointing now even though I have more understanding of why they can’t put the actual full Sims game on my phone, especially not for free.

The most disappointing thing about this game is not just the long wait times, which are annoying on their own, but the constant ads that pop up any time you do a task that’s more than like 3 minutes. Some of these ads aren’t even skippable. This made it pretty much unplayable for me up to a point, until I figured out how to strategize to do the shortest tasks possible, and until a limited time special event thing came up that gave me something else to do without having to constantly wait or dodge ads.

That being said, this game does have the unique charm of being a lot more similar to the classic Sims computer games, with a similar art style and even the same or similar music and sound effects. If you have patience (or if you pay to play) I can see this being a lot more satisfying and I’ve seen people do really cool things on this game as far as building storylines around their sims and building really impressive houses. But I don’t think this game really works as a casual free-to-play game, it’s much too frustrating and monotonous for the average player.

💚 Character Design: 2/4 (limited options for facial features and not as many options for clothing as The Sims Mobile, plus the low-poly look is not very appealing; I know it’s an older game but since it’s still being maintained I’d think they would have upgraded it a little and added more variety over the last 10 years)

💚 Home Design: 4/4 (editing your home in this game feels a lot like in the Sims 3 and like I said I’ve seen people build awesome mansions in this game so I think this is definitely one of the best aspects of the game)

💚 Gameplay: 5/10 (I was going to give it a worse score given the insufferable, unskippable pop-up ads but I did give it credit for the limited time/seasonal events which are easier to play uninterrupted and add some variety to the game, at least the one I played did. I was able to find this game somewhat tolerable also by only doing the shortest tasks possible to avoid ads and then exiting out whenever an ad popped so I could just come back a little later, although the need to do that was also annoying in itself)

(Note/Edit: A very nice anon pointed out that you can avoid ads in games that don’t need a constant internet connection by turning off your wifi/internet while playing, and this seemed to work with FreePlay as long as you are connected to the main game before you turn off internet! You won’t be able to do everything in the game but you can still play in the main world with your Sims in their houses and do longer tasks without getting an ad pop-up if you temporarily disable internet on your device. I’m not going to fully change the score and ranking since I don’t think that’s how the game was intended to be played and needing to turn off wifi to play is kind of inconvenience in itself but the game definitely is definitely more like a 6/10 or 7/10 if you do this.)

💚 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 2/4 (Absolutely would have given it a 1/4 but the event saved it from that, you can play for longer stretches of time when there’s an event, but of course that only applies to playing the event and not the main game)

💚 Total: 13/22

5. Virtual Families 2

Developer: LDW Software, LLC

Release Date: Dec. 6, 2012

All of the Virtual Families games are pretty similar overall so I won’t go into a lot of detail for these last two but basically Virtual Families 2 has more variety in things to do than the first Virtual Families, especially in terms of home design and things to unlock throughout the game. It also has a slight visuals upgrade, although the character designs are still pretty janky for something that came out in the 2010s imo.

Also this game has a bug where if you do something the tutorial was supposed to teach you before the tutorial is over, you’re forever stuck in tutorial mode unless you completely start over, just a heads up.

👨‍👩‍👧 Character Design: 1/4 (While the janky character designs do kind of give it a retro charm for me this game really didn’t come out all THAT long ago and the designs and animations are pretty wonky. I know Last Day of Work/LDW isn’t an enormous company like EA or anything but from what I understand they had relatively good amount of success in the early casual mobile games sphere, and since this is a sequel I’d expect a little more of a visuals upgrade than this but that’s just me)

👨‍👩‍👧 Home Design: 2/4 (Same deal as Virtual Families 3, more furniture options and opportunity to expand your home but art style is lacking and doesn’t feel like a central aspect of the game)

👨‍👩‍👧 Gameplay: 6/10 (Just a little less varied than VF3 and a little more than VF1)

👨‍👩‍👧 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 3/4 (Same exact deal as VF3)

👨‍👩‍👧 Total: 12/22

6. Virtual Families Lite

Developer: LDW Software, LLC

Release Date: June 3, 2009

Phew, you know a game is old when it has “Lite” in the title. This is one of the first smartphone games I EVER played (though when I first played it I didn’t have a smartphone, just a 1st gen iPod Touch); in fact, I’m not 100% sure, but this might actually be the first smartphone game I ever played, and I do remember it fondly. I want to make it clear that I’m rating it now on the experience of playing it today in 2021 relative to the other mobile games I’ve played and reviewed, being that the purpose of this blog is to hopefully give people an idea of what games they’d like to play, and hyping up a 12-year-old game as though it holds up more than it does for nostalgia’s sake doesn’t fulfill that purpose imo.

That said, this game does hold up fairly well, but definitely pales in comparison to its sequels and other options now available. This game is still worth playing if all you want is to have a little virtual family to check in on from time to time and don’t really want to do much else. Otherwise it doesn’t offer anything that its sequels doesn’t save for its nostalgic charm and uniquely terrifying art style.

👩‍👦Character Design: 1/4 (Same as VF2 but uglier)

👩‍👦Home Design: 1/4 (The house already has everything in it and you can’t rearrange anything, which is convenient but boring. You can upgrade your work stations though)

👩‍👦Gameplay: 5/10 (Same as VF2 but a little less variety)

👩‍👦 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 3/4 (Same deal as the other two, although watching your family is arguably more boring when there are less things to do, but it’s also more convenient when you already have all the furniture and appliances you need right off the bat so it balances)

👩‍👦Total: 10/22

If you got here to the end, even if you just skimmed through, thank you so much for reading 😍 Follow me for more mobile game reviews, articles and commentary 🥳

[spencers-renaissance]

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.1

this arid world has turned my deep heart dry

This is the first chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Chapter Summary: follows S5E1 and Spencer's depression and disordered thinking is introduced.

TW: depression, disordered thinking, loneliness, the events of s5e1 (guns and knives)

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

SPENCER

"She simply said this arid world has turned her deep heart dry, there was just one way she knew of to finally feel like she was free, and it was 1400 feet beneath the cold and stormy sea." — Erin Hanson

Spencer’s entire body feels heavy as he drags himself into work, and it’s not exactly a good sign when he can’t even find the energy to press the button for the right floor; he just stares pitifully at the array of numbers as if the elevator will read his mind and resolve the issue for him. Eventually, he brings himself to move his finger the short distance, cold metal colliding with cold flesh, and the doors shudder close, catapulting him up several storeys towards his fate.

Some might call the emotions Spencer’s experience typical burnout, far too common in the FBI and even more so in units that deal directly with horrific crime on the regular, but he knows it’s more than that. His entire life is operating in a minor key, he’s functioning entirely on auto-pilot, and chunks of his day are a blur, almost impossible to recall. He knows he’s depressed. Knowing such a fact, however, does little to cure the actual problem. He has no idea what to do with information like this except bottle it up and shove it as far down as possible while pretending as much as possible that absolutely everything is fine.

Emily and Derek are laughing about something as he approaches their group of desks. Only weeks ago he would’ve been crushed when they don’t so much as look over to say hello, but now he’s glad to not have to fake a smile, invent a story to tell about his weekend, pretend he’s not currently being held together with slowly peeling sellotape.

Instead, he focuses on feeling grateful that no one’s commented on him arriving a whole hour later than he used to as he unpacks his messenger bag. It’s not like it’s his fault he can’t pull his exhausted body out of bed in the morning, but since he’d rather not disclose such sorry information and finding an excuse is way too much effort, spending the morning in solitude seems the only option.

He doesn’t really understand how he’s gone from being a genuinely happy person, thick as thieves with everybody on the team, to this. It’s almost as though somebody’s cut the rope tying him to the others and now he’s drifting away, sinking without everyone else’s buoyancy to keep him afloat. He can see them all still tied together, barely seeming to notice their drowning team member, clearly not missing his presence.

This misery over his inevitable isolation, though, is his own fault: he can’t believe he let himself forget his place. He’s useful, good to keep around for his intelligence, his reading speed, his problem-solving skills, but it doesn’t go beyond that. Spencer is not friendship material. And he certainly isn’t relationship material.

The day starts off slow, everyone burying themselves in their paperwork, but Spencer finishes it far too quickly for it to really serve as much of a distraction. Depressingly, it’s still miles slower than he’s used to. Since his pile of consults seems too exhausting to even look at, he decides another coffee is very much in order.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ says happily as soon as he pushes his way into the breakroom. She’s leaning casually against the counter as she drinks her coffee, reading through what looks like case notes at the same time.

“Hi,” he says, trying for a smile but he knows there’s no way he could possibly match her relaxed grin. Instead of trying to converse, he just heads straight for the coffee machine, fixing his eyes on the steady stream of coffee pouring into his mug already piled high with sugar.

“You alright?” JJ asks, sounding a little suspicious. Not concerned, Spencer notes, just suspicious.

“Hmm?” He looks up and catches her eye before deciding he should probably answer verbally. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting a bit off the past few weeks.”

Spencer sighs. Maybe this is an opportunity to actually communicate his feelings. He doubts JJ will be able to help but really he’d just like a bit of comfort: he’s in so much pain that a hug would feel really nice right now. And besides Penelope, she’s probably the team member he’s most comfortable with. If he’s going to share with anybody, it should be JJ.

“I’ve been having a bit of a hard time, I guess,” he admits, looking up as his left-hand fidgets on the hot ceramic side of his coffee mug. He resents how vulnerable his voice sounds, he’s giving far too much of himself over to hands he’s not sure he can trust, but there’s nothing he can do about that now.

“Really?” JJ sounds surprised. Spencer recognises the tone as that of anyone who has a certain perspective on him realising that he also has feelings alongside his intelligence, and it hurts. “I’m sorry, Spence.”

Spencer just presses his lips into a thin line and nods awkwardly in thanks.

“I mean… at least you’re not going through what Hotch is,” she offers, completely unhelpfully. “He’s still trying to cope with his divorce and isn’t seeing Jack as much as he used to. Derek was almost killed by the Reaper just a few months ago, Emily only recently lost a childhood friend — I mean, the whole team has been through a lot. Keep your chin up.”

She smiles at him, patting him on the shoulder, before leaving the break room and heading back to her office, leaving Spencer standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. He wants to shout that he was literally poisoned with anthrax only a month ago, if they’re tallying bad things happening as a method of tracking who has the right to be miserable. The others might be going through a lot, that’s true, but it doesn’t lessen any of the pain thudding in his chest and stirring in his stomach.

As he walks back to his desk, he realises he’s learned one thing: opening up = not a good idea.

As completely fucking miserable as he might be, there’s exactly one person in this world who doesn’t deserve to be burdened with any of it, so he carefully tucks it away in his pockets and plasters on the mask he’d perfected so many years ago. It might be a little rusty, after all, it’s been little used in recent years, but it works just as well as it used to do when he pushes the door open to Penelope’s office.

“I bring blueberry muffins,” he says as cheerfully as he can muster, and something inside him does warm as Penelope’s face lights up, squealing a little as she reaches her arms out eagerly, making grabby hands at the paper bag he’s holding.

“Oh, you have no idea how much I love you,” she moans, keen to rip the bag open as he pulls up a chair next to hers.

“I think I do,” Spencer chuckles, and it’s one of the only genuine reactions he’s given in months, “mostly because you tell me every day.”

“Mm, that’s right,” she concedes through a mouthful of warm muffin, pointing a finger at his chest. “I love you even more than I love coding.”

“That’s a lot,” Spencer says, trying for serious but he can’t stop a fond smile slipping across his face.

Penelope swallows her rather large bite of blueberry muffin and passes him his one. “It is,” she says. “How are you, anyway? You look tired, poor baby.”

Spencer looks down for a moment, schooling his expression for a second before he forces himself to look back up at her. “Yeah, I didn’t… didn’t sleep well last night, I guess.” He tries for a reassuring smile but he knows it’s more of a grimace.

Penelope’s face immediately morphs into one of grave concern. Spencer knows that that’s just the way she is, melodrama and fierce protectiveness is virtually her brand at this point, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t any less agonising to see, or the anxiety of being found out any less paralysing. He decides not to give her any room to actually address it.

“I’ll be fine, Penelope, don’t worry,” he says, turning away to brush some muffin crumbs off the desk and into his hand, purely so he doesn’t have to attempt another pathetic smile. “A good night’s sleep tonight will fix me right up.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, still looking far too worried for Spencer’s liking.

“Of course, Pen.” He feels sick at lying to her, but he has no idea how to broach any of the tumultuous emotions raging inside of him, especially after JJ shut him down so brutally. “It’s only a bad nights’ sleep.”

He’s saved from her inevitable continued line of questioning by Emily poking her head round the door and asking for Spencer’s opinion on a consult.

While getting out of bed in the morning might be an almost impossible task at the moment, the idea of getting into it at night seems rather depressing, really. That’s probably the reason he’s still at the office, despite the time nearing 8 o’clock and exhaustion settling into every muscle fibre of his being. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s just a little more time in close proximity to one Aaron Hotchner.

Of course, he’d had to accept the fact that he was maybe, just a little bit in love with his boss a long time ago. He just refuses to admit that he’s this embarrassing about it. Perhaps staying late to spend more time with someone you like this much wouldn’t be so weird if there was a reasonable chance of conversation — if he ever even saw him — but there isn’t even that: Spencer sits and works quietly at his desk, Aaron sits and works quietly in his office.

Today, though, today his lingering finally pays off.

Aaron is on his way back from the photocopier when he stops by Spencer’s desk. He doesn’t see him coming, though, is the thing: he has no time to try and make himself look even a smidge less miserable or to school his surprised yet utterly lovesick expression.

“Won’t you want to be heading off soon, Reid?” he asks, clearly curious as to why Spencer remains at his desk when there’s no real work to be doing, but he cleverly paints it in a light-hearted tone. Even though Spencer is completely aware of what Aaron’s doing, he doesn’t feel attacked or under pressure.

“Oh,” Spencer says unintelligently, stammering a little as he scrambles desperately at a somewhat coherent reply, “yes, yeah, I’ll get going soon.” He doesn’t want to lie when he doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t try and offer an explanation for his staying late, and he knows Aaron won’t push. He manages an almost entirely genuine smile, though, which must count for something, even if it’s only because he’s hopelessly in love with the man leaning casually against his desk.

“Right then,” Aaron says, offering a small smile in response, letting his hard exterior drop in the nearly empty office, and even though it’s nothing special, not really, Spencer carefully files it away as his heart pitter-patters against his ribcage and his stomach pools with warmth. “See you tomorrow, Reid.”

Spencer just nods in response and gathers his things, placing them carefully in his messenger bag and shrugging his jacket on before walking out of the building. When he glances back, just as he pulls the glass door open, Aaron is watching him carefully. He doesn’t turn away but instead offers a small wave, which Spencer returns bashfully, blushing scarlet in the elevator and on the walk out of the HQ and during the whole trek down the street and sat on the metro train and on the final stretch home. He fumbles with his keys and curses himself for being so goddamn pathetic.

He doesn’t consider it for long, though, because he’s utterly exhausted and his tired bones collapse on the sofa, and who is he to try and get them to move again? Sleep is a mercy.

🌧

The case is gruelling and stressful enough without the endless and constant worry about where on earth Aaron is. He never turns his phone off and Spencer can’t think of a time he’s worked a case without him, not properly; he’s always the first one at the office, the first one on the plane, the first to jump out of bed towards the chance to make a real difference in the world. It’s so out of character for him and it’s utterly distressing.

Nevertheless, he focuses all his attention on the job; on protecting Jeffrey and Tom Barton, on bringing justice to the perpetrator when they inevitably find them. He offers lame and desperate excuses for Aaron not being there, all the while knowing full well that none of them are likely. Something is wrong and he’s powerless to help.

Emily tells him why. He sort of forgets how to breathe.

Getting shot in the leg while simultaneously petrified for the livelihood of the person you’re in love with is inconvenient at best when trying to talk down an unsub and protect a victim and eventually fatal at worst, but somehow he half-manages and Tom escapes unscathed, though he isn’t quite as lucky with the unsub.

That’s what matters, really, isn’t it? That others are safe, even if it means he’s in danger? After all, Tom Barton has lives to save and a son to raise, a wide social circle, and a loving family. What does Spencer have? No, it’s much better that he’s the one hurt than anyone else.

Of course, once the adrenaline of the situation starts to wear off and medics arrive on scene, he realises quite how badly he’s hurt. Already feeling woozy, energy seems to seep out of him as roaring, raging agony takes its place. It’s the first time he’s ever been shot and it’s worse than he could have imagined: no amount of studying literature and anecdotal evidence could prepare him for the feeling of a small metal ball tearing through the flesh and muscle and tendons — though, hopefully, and judging by the amount of blood he’s lost, no arteries or large blood vessels — of his thigh.

His team arrives, minus Emily and minus Hotch, and they’re concerned, of course they are. That is, until he presents them with someone they see as much more important, someone whose life is worth something, someone they care about deeply being hurt. And they leave.

He doesn’t get a chance to tell the medics that he doesn’t want narcotics, so the ride to the hospital is a blur of morphine and voices talking to him, though he can’t quite piece together what they’re saying. He wonders vaguely where everybody is, whether Hotch is alright, whether he’s about to die, but no real emotion is attached to any of these thoughts, they just… are.

He’s rushed into surgery almost immediately after he arrives at the hospital, and the next thing he’s aware of is a dull, ever-present, agonising ache in his upper thigh and exhaustion settled into his bones like his body is pain’s home, fatigue’s resting place. The last time he’d blinked himself awake in a hospital bed, blinding pain burning in one part of his body or another, Derek had been sat by his bed, eating jello.

There’s nobody by his bed this time.

A PCA pump is resting by his right hand but he doesn’t touch it. Clearly, nobody from his team has informed the hospital staff of his previous addiction; he doesn’t even know if they’re at the hospital; if they know what’s going on. The morphine he’s already had is going to be hard enough to deal with, he can feel the future cravings itching beneath his skin already, scarred-over track marks simmering away.

It’s over twenty-five minutes of lying helplessly on a hospital bed in a cool, impersonal room, feeling a certain kind of emptiness sitting in his stomach, before a nurse comes by. She looks pleased enough to see him awake, but he doesn’t care about her satisfaction, he cares about his team, about Penelope, about Aaron, and he’s too exhausted to do anything about it.

“Good, you’re awake,” she says cheerily and for once, he doesn’t try and conceal his despondency. It’s oddly freeing. “I’ll get the doctor to come and explain the situation.”

She bumbles out of the room, clearly not fazed by Spencer’s expression, so he resumes staring at the wall, allowing his thoughts to wander, still not managing to attach much emotion to them other than a miserable sort of emptiness.

The doctor is nice enough, making sure he understands his injury and the procedures he’s had done, as well as the recovery ahead of him, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s as though this is the last straw; this is the proof, the evidence to win the case he’s been fighting in the court of his mind. His team doesn't care. His life is worthless. He will always, always be alone.

JJ stops by briefly. This feels like it should be a consolation, but it isn’t. He learns of what’s happened to Aaron, what his family is going through, and suddenly he feels selfish: how dare he demand and crave attention when Aaron is far more hurt and injured than he is? When he’s far more important and far more deserving of the team’s attention? Self-loathing creeps up his throat and settles into grey cotton wool that won’t melt in his mouth.

Spencer doesn’t know how to react to the incredibly overwhelming events of the day, and JJ doesn’t seem to have time for this. “Right, Spencer,” she says, visibly impatient with his emotional floundering, his lack of verbal response, “I need to go. We need to sort this out for Hotch. We owe it to him.”

She leaves, and all Spencer can think is how much more worthless not being able to work on his case makes him. If he can’t even work to save the man he loves; if he can’t strive effortlessly to protect him and make him happy, then what is he doing here? Aaron will be furious when he finds out Spencer laid in bed lazily instead of diving headfirst into the case.

No. That’s not true. He’ll be sickeningly nice about it, while on the inside suppressing his disappointment, and Spencer will feel even more guilty, he’ll be even more irate with himself, and life will seem just a little bit bleaker.

He’s discharged a few days later, and nobody has visited, barring JJ’s fleeting, impatient stop by. He goes home in a taxi and struggles up the stairs on his crutches, almost glad he didn’t have many personal items at the hospital. Then again, that was because he was completely isolated. And if he did have people to bring him things in the hospital, then he’d probably have someone to help him up the stairs too.

It’s a moot point, really. He dives straight for the non-narcotic painkillers he’d been prescribed as soon as he sits down on his dusty couch in his messy apartment, desperate to relieve at least some of the agony throbbing in his leg still. Clearly, the universe decided he wasn’t in enough pain already; that the unrequited love and the growing depression and the recurring stomach cramps and clenches in his chest weren’t quite sufficient.

He knows the team is working flat out on the Foyet case. But even Penelope, who probably works the hardest of all of them, has had time to send him an encouraging text message promising to pop round as soon as she can. Other than that, his phone is dry and his heart slowly freezing over.

Truthfully, he’s not sure how much more of this he can stand. He’s feeling the same way he did as a child: isolated, othered, hurt, and utterly, utterly alone. When he’d joined the BAU and was welcomed immediately into the arms of a family, he promised himself he’d never feel like that again. He would never, ever allow himself to sink so low; not when he was surrounded by so many people who proved day in day out how much they loved him. Surely, feeling like this would simply be impossible.

For once, Doctor Spencer Reid is proved wrong. And it burns, festers, and screams like nothing else.

Chapter Two

taglist:@criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

(I'm tagging my usual hotchreid taglist but let me know if you would not like to be tagged in this fic OR if you'd only like to be tagged once it's complete! Either fill in the taglist form again or DM me.)

[robininthelabyrinth]

I need to know what u think of an AU where JC is the one who dies (sacrificing his life to save WWX) instead of JYL, he’s not as angry with WWX bc JYL is still alive so when he sees his brother about to get murdered he just steps in front of him while JYL and WWX see :) I don’t even know what I want u to do with this? Give me some headcanons? Is it a prompt? Idk I just want u to to see what u make of this (I promise JC is my fav but my mind likes to make me suffer :p)

1

It wasn’t a matter of conscious thought when Jiang Cheng threw himself between that cultivator’s sword and Wei Wuxian’s unguarded back, all his defenses down in the face of Jiang Yanli’s pleading, same as always; it was just instinct. Wei Wuxian was always the troublemaker, the crazy one, and Jiang Cheng always the one being dragged along; he’d long ago learned to spend all his time watching his shixiong’s back, keeping him away from dogs, away from angry shopkeepers, away from any harm. It was instinct, just as it had been the day he’d thrown himself out into the street to distract the Wens, and he’d always justified that instinct because he knew that Wei Wuxian would do the same for him.

Though – he didn’t know that anymore, not after everything that happened recently. Wei Wuxian had made him all the promises in the world, to stand by his side through wind and lightning, and he’d seemed to have no issue abandoning those promises, picking the remnants of the Wen sect over the remnants of the Jiang sect without a moment’s hesitation and not even the courtesy of an explanation.

The Yiling Patriarch was all but a stranger to him, and Jiang Cheng still didn’t understand why.

So it was probably stupid of him to react as if the person being stabbed at was Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch – stupid of him to give up his life for someone who didn’t care about him nearly as much as Jiang Cheng cared for him.

But that’s why it wasn’t a thought. It was instinct.

He heard someone scream “Jiang Cheng!” as if their heart were breaking, and he thought for a moment that it was Wei Wuxian again, the one who loved him best. Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch, who threw him to the dogs over and over again, put his sect at risk of utter destruction a second time over, just to indulge himself and his bizarre fixation on saving the Wens at the expense of everyone else. Who didn’t care about their duty to their sect, to their parents - who didn’t care about him at all.

Jiang Cheng’s heart hurt. It was probably just the sword that’d just been driven through it, though.

Hands grasped at his clothing, pulling him back; his sister’s face had lost all blood, and Wei Wuxian looked as if his world had ended – he wasn’t sure why. Jiang Yanli had her son to care for, a new life in Lanling that she refused to abandon even if Jin Zixuan was now gone; Wei Wuxian had his Wens, his new cultivation – perhaps it was some little regret, far too late, for the Jiang sect that would now come to grief, leaderless, the end of their family line and the disappointment of their ancestors. Jiang Cheng’s final and most absolute failure.

Jiang Cheng looked at them both, the ones he loved the most and who had left him without a single glance backwards, and found with his last breath that he had nothing to say to them.

He closed his eyes so they wouldn’t have to.

2

The battlefield was full of corpses, and Jiang Yanli didn’t care about a single one of them.

“Do you think he can be brought back, the way Wen Ning was?” she asked, holding the corpse in her arms as if it were still the baby brother she sang songs to as a child, the little crybaby who was so fierce on the outside and so soft on the inside. She had been able to lie to herself with Jin Zixuan’s body – he almost looked as though he were sleeping, head on the pillow beside her own – but Jiang Cheng had never slept well in his life, his brow always furrowed as if he was worrying about something even in his dreams, and the blank peace on his face was so wrong that she couldn’t bear to look at him.

She wasn’t asking Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian had only stopped the massacre when Lan Wangji, of all unlikely people, had bodily tackled him; everyone had always said that the Second Jade was like oil and water with her A-Xian, but he’d unexpectedly taken their side in this battle and was even now letting a barely-conscious Wei Wuxian sob Jiang Cheng’s name into his collar. He looked silently at her, his gaze a quiet reminder that her question was inappropriate – one Ghost General had already been enough to cause all of this tragedy, and certainly no one would ever accept another as a sect leader.

She looked steadily back at him, indicating in return that she didn’t give a damn about the standing of the Jiang sect if it meant she wouldn’t have to bury her baby brother.

Lan Wangji hesitated, looking down at Wei Wuxian. “You cannot stay at Yiling,” he finally said. “After this…”

They’d killed people from virtually every sect; no matter who had sympathized with Wei Wuxian before this or how much they felt he was wronged, they would have no choice but to raise up arms against him.

Jiang Yanli understood. They would be fugitives, condemned by all. She didn’t care. “Will you help us?”

He nodded and stood, Wei Wuxian cradled as gently in his arms as she held Jiang Cheng in hers.

“Will you come with us?” she asked. Anyone who loved her brother enough to defy his sect, to stain his untainted blade with the blood of his own kin, deserved a chance to court him properly, if she hadn’t misunderstood his intentions; she didn’t think she had, not with the expression so clear on his silent face.

“I will help you,” he said, and that wasn’t an answer, wasn’t the one she wanted, but it would have to do for now. “Let us go.”

3

It was Jin Zixuan who figured it out, oddly enough. Perhaps it was because he was an outsider, looking at the situation without affection to blur his eyes.

“You gave him your golden core,” he said, less than a week into his resurrection – Lan Wangji had been very efficient in his help, not only finding a new place to hide Jiang Yanli and the remaining Wens but also returning to Lanling to steal Jin Zixuan’s corpse and little Jin Ling before returning to his own sect at the first sign that Wei Wuxian would awaken from his coma. He hadn’t sent word since that time, whether from regret or other reasons; their only consolation was that there was no news of his death. “That’s why you couldn’t do anything other than demonic cultivation – is that right?”

Wei Wuxian looked at him through blood-red eyes. “Get lost,” he said; the phrase made up the majority of his vocabulary, these days, and because he refused to curse his shijie he mostly ended up not talking to her at all.

“Wen Qing was a famous doctor – she could have figured out a way to do it, and that would explain why you felt so indebted to them,” Jin Zixuan continued. “You never told him because you didn’t want to burden him. But instead you left him without any reason, any explanation: he must have felt that you abandoned him because you didn’t want him.”

“Get lost!”

“You broke his heart,” he said, and looked down at Jiang Cheng’s body – still perfectly preserved, but unmoving. The resurrection spell had already failed three times. “No wonder he doesn’t want to return.”

“I did it for him!” Wei Wuxian screamed, tears of blood dripping down his cheeks. “He didn’t – he wouldn’t – he has to come back!”

Jin Zixuan said nothing.

4

They ended up back in Yunmeng, rather unexpectedly; the new leadership of the Lotus Pier, a distant branch cousin who’d survived the massacre because he’d been night-hunting elsewhere, had all but begged Jiang Yanli to return. Against all odds her reputation had survived the massacre at the Nightless City; the loving wife, sister, and shijie that nearly sacrificed herself to save what lives she could and to banish the dreadful Yiling Patriarch who was never seen again from that day forth –  she was very nearly regarded as an incarnation of the goddess of mercy.

She had no idea where that ridiculous notion came from, but it did mean that she could live in Lotus Pier again, with Jin Ling by her side – she’d told Jin Guangshan to name someone else as his heir, or at minimum as regent; the Jiang sect needed her and her son more. It wouldn’t have worked if Jin Zixuan hadn’t snuck into his mother’s room to convince Madam Jin to throw her support behind it; officially he was still in his tomb, since Lan Wangji had been very subtle, but in fact he lived within shouting distance of the Lotus Pier, spending his days playing with his son.

They all did, actually, the whole lot of them resettled into a tiny adjacent water town populated largely by civilians that relied on the Jiang sect for their prosperity. As long as Wei Wuxian never did anything, which he didn’t, the illusion that he was gone for good in a cloud of self-destruction after his terrible massacre could be maintained; no one expected they could possibly be so daring as to simply go home after all of it.

Lan Wangji was in seclusion, they were eventually told; Wei Wuxian hadn’t believed it for one second, smuggling himself into Gusu to check – he’d come back unconscious, slung over Jin Zixuan’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Struck by the discipline whip,” her husband, the fierce corpse that wasn’t fierce at all, said, and didn’t comment when she instinctively reached out to touch Jiang Cheng’s body, to trace the scar he had; she often spent her days next to the bed that preserved his corpse. “Many times; his body is ruined. It will take years for him to heal – the Lan sect saying he was in seclusion was their way of saving face. Wei Wuxian wants to bring him back to the Lotus Pier to hide him.”

Jiang Yanli rubbed her face, thinking not for the first time that the world would be an easier place if only her two brothers weren’t so stubborn. One who wouldn’t wake up, his spiritual consciousness all in pieces; the other who wouldn’t give up – “The Lan sect wouldn’t accept that.”

“He wasn’t planning on asking. That’s why I knocked him out. Anyway, they’re distracted with the Xue Yang matter now – my father’s still insisting on protecting him, and the Nie sect gets angrier about it by the day; without the Jiang sect, there’s only the Lan to play peacemaker, stop there from being another war.”

Jiang Yanli, who was very nice but also very much not the goddess of mercy, tilted her head to the side; something of her mother was in her eyes. “A war would be a good cover, though, or at least the rumblings of one. If we were going to steal Lan Wangji away from his sect, that is.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll sneak into Lanling to talk to my mother, maybe see if I can follow Xue Yang and see what he’s up to. You go talk to the Nie.”

5

Jiang Yanli’s visit to the Unclean Realm turned out to be more fruitful than anyone had expected. The moment she walked into Nie Mingjue’s receiving room, her Jiang sect bell rang so hard that it shattered, which it definitely hadn’t done during the war – they both stared at it wordlessly for a while.

Eventually, he cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “You know my family history,” he offered as an explanation, embarrassment at the public revelation of his problem already turning to anger but suppressed by his strict adherence to etiquette.

“That’s no family history,” she said, bemused, as she crouched down to poke at the pieces. “The silver bell of the Jiang sect can steady focus and calm the mind, and the ones made for the family are the strongest by far; it would only shatter like this in the effort to resist a spiritual poison…how are you feeling now, Sect Leader Nie?”

He considered for a long moment, and his face grew black with rage. “Better. I feel – like my mind has been filled with fog, and a clear breeze has blown it clear.”

She smiled up at him. “Perhaps you should visit Yunmeng.”

He scowled, and she realized he must know about Wei Wuxian’s presence, though she wasn’t sure how; despite that, in the end, after a roaring argument with Nie Huaisang in another room, he agreed to go, even if the idea of staying willfully blind clearly pained him to the core.

Jiang Yanli quietly approved of his decision to put family over principle.

When they put their mind to it, the Nie sect  had an underrated talent for saying ‘I don’t know’ to just about everything. Neither brother blinked an eye at the Wen sect remnants that still teetered every time they went on a boat, very clearly not Yunmeng locals; they politely greeted Jin Zixuan as if he’d only been gone a while and not murdered; much to his older brother’s very evident irritation, Nie Huaisang even leapt over to give Wei Wuxian an enthusiastic hug while Nie Mingjue was still talking with Jin Zixuan about what it meant that Jin Guangshan had hidden away the still intact Wen Ning, who Jin Zixuan had found in a hidden part of Koi Tower during his most recent visit and immediately liberated.

“Definitely a case of spiritual poisoning,” Wei Wuxian said after a short examination, and the most reliable doctor they had left in the Jiang sect concurred. “The silver bell can help a little –” 

They’d already shattered seven of them, but Nie Mingjue had actually cracked a smile for the first time in months, to hear a sobbingly relieved Nie Huaisang tell it. 

“–but it can only help so much; that technique is really only meant for acute cases. And you really need to figure out what was doing the poisoning; there’s no point in curing you if you’re only going to get poisoned again.”

“A matter for a later time,” Nie Mingjue, who clearly had some suspicions that made him look as though he’d been stabbed in the back, said. “Now that we know it’s a poisoning, and my mind is clearer, I can take some action myself – the Nie have plenty of techniques to stabilize the spirit.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile was full of self-hatred, as it always was these days. “I don’t suppose any of those are designed to work on the dead.”

“Actually,” Nie Huaisang said. “Several are. Why do you ask?”

6

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes.

[judediangelo75]

The Scent of Love to The Heart of a Loner Poet

I want to try to develop the whole Judith x Talbott (Talith) lore. I realized I’m a bit all over the place and mostly write one-shots. Some happened due to prompts, others (like how they first met, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day.

Eventually I do my own versions of their dates, maybe Talbott’s side of Judith’s incident with the “Without You/The Man Behind The Necklace series” and stuff of that nature. Give more depth to their relationship.

Inspired by @rosachaotic version which is here: https://rosachaotic.tumblr.com/post/647921746687688704

--------------

Talbott wasn’t too sure how he felt about spending Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts. The teachers have taken it upon themselves to make today’s lessons related to the holiday. 

In the beginning, he was indifferent to the holiday. He wasn’t one to express his feelings to anyone. Until recently.

It’s been some time since he went on his first date ever.

The girl who asked him out was one of the last people he expected. Especially since he was so sure that she would be interested in his mate, Andre Egwu.

But Judith Harris proved him wrong as she shyly asked him if he would like to go out on a date with her.

He could never forget the picture she painted. Shoulders slightly hunched as she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. Her shuffling feet being the only noise in the pregnant pause that fell between them. Pale gold eyes that looked up at him through short curly lashes, uncertainty and hope glimmering his irises. An innocent blush that stained her soft cheeks, a rare sight to see from the silent Beater.

Gone was the tough, silent exterior she’s known for.

Gone was her trademark sarcasm and her slight smirk.

What stood before him in that library was a shy witch asking him to accompany her on a date.

When reality finally caught up with him, he quietly agreed to her offer. The smile she gifted him was something that never failed to set his heart aflutter.

She did tell him to dress nice but nothing too formally. Slightly unsure, he went to the self-proclaimed resident Style Wizard. When he gave the details of his date, he did notice the disappointment that flashed in those cheery brown eyes but Andre didn’t comment on him going out with his Celestial Ball date. Instead Andre devoted his energy into creating an outfit for him.

When Andre handed him his outfit, he held a sad happiness in his eyes and wished him luck on his date.

Seeing Judith waiting for him outside the castle made Talbott’s stomach twist in knots. He was used to seeing her in her class robes, dressed down uniforms, or one of her causal outfits.

Seeing her in a soft yellow off the shoulder sundress that reached her knees and white sandals that hugged her calves made his breath catch in his throat. Her hair, which was normally in twists after she took down her locs, was free. Curls and coils tumbled over one of her shoulders, a bang brushing over one of her eyes.

Talbott found himself gripping his feather necklace for reassurance as he approached the Hufflepuff.

The date itself was rather nice. 

Judith had led him to the forest line by Black Lake. What awaited them was a candle lit picnic. 

He was surprised at the location and the simplicity of it, but he found it lovely. Judith had even made the food that they ate, some of which was cuisine from her old homeland. Talbott was skeptical about eating foreign food, but found it surprisingly good.

The entire time Judith was buzzing from nervous energy, rambling majority of the time. Talbott thought that her excessive chatter would’ve annoy the hell out of him but he did come to find it rather endearing.

She was nervous because of him.

One of the famed Curse Breakers, the fierce Hufflepuff Beater known as “Tigress”... 

Was nervous because of him, a Ravenclaw loner. Virtually a nobody.

Plus, he believed he could hear a faint accent in her voice. He figured it had to be from her homeland she briefly talked about. 

Talbott found himself smiling more than he ever had a long time. When it was time to go, he offered to walk her back to her Common Room. While he didn’t need to, he wanted to.

When they reached their destination, the pair stood outside of the Hufflepuff Common Room for some time. Judith’s face was flushed as she stuttered softly how she had a great time with him. 

Before she could turn her back, Talbott reached out to grab her by her elbow and pull the girl into a hug. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to hug Judith, but it felt right to him.

The girl went stiff in his arms for a few moments before returning the hug.

The pair didn’t say a word during this embrace, only saying good night when they pulled away.

Talbott couldn’t rid himself of the small smile on his lips when he noticed the faint blush on Judith’s cheeks.

Something about the girl was bewitching, but he wasn’t sure how.

Talbott was finally pulled back into the present when Professor Snape’s familiar drawl, explaining today’s lesson.

The class broke out into faint whispers and quiet laughter when the Potion Master revealed what potion they were studying today.

Amortentia. The love potion.

Snape interrupted the giddy class to study the potion and to not inhale too deeply. Talbott shrugged before standing around the massive cauldron. 

Not like he was looking to-

‘What’s that smell?’

There was something sweet in the air. His red eyes landed on the cauldron, which its heart-shaped fumes wafted towards his direction. Instead of covering his nose, the Ravenclaw found himself taking a discreet inhale, trying to figure out where he encountered this scent before.

He can make out a sea breeze, as if he was standing near the ocean and he could smell the salt from the sea. As well as...

His brow furrowed as he took another breath.

Chocolate almost... and something else he couldn’t name. 

There was underlying of fainter sweet scents that seem to alternate. But the consistent one was... honey.

“Talbott?” The wizard blinked as he looked towards the voice speaking to him. Andre was looking at him, concern reflecting in his eyes.

“You good there, mate? You seem to have spaced out.” Damn.

“I’m fine,” he said, writing and studying the potion. Though, his mind was reeling because he knew he smelled that scent from before but how and from where?

“Keep in mind: Amortentia would smell different to each of you, based on who or what appeals to you...” Professor Snape’s words caused Talbott to freeze.

‘Who or what appeals to you... but who would-’

“Class dismissed. It appeared all of you failed to heed my warning. Leave my classroom before you continue to experience... feelings,” Snape said abruptly.

‘Maybe it’s nothing... I have Transfiguration next. I need to focus,’ Talbott thought to himself... not before sparing one last glance to the giant cauldron in the middle of the room.

---------------

Talbott was standing a bit in the back of the group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. 

“Hey Talbott. Happy Valentine’s Day...” Talbott turned to find Judith giving him a shy smile. He returned it with one of his own.

“Hello, little bird...” A nickname he bestowed onto the Hufflepuff after she turned into an Animagus. Her Black Sparrowhawk was smaller than his Golden Eagle, hence the nickname. Judith blushed at the sound of it, ducking her head before the boy could see it.

Thankfully, the class turned their attention to Professor McGonagall as she explained today’s Valentine’s lesson. 

‘Lovely. First the love potion and now a love note... at least Professor McGonagall said they’ll be innocent. How much could a love note from my heart possibly say?’

A lot apparently.

“How my heart longs for you, mystical gold eyes. Please never leave, for I see forever in your pretty irises...” 

Talbott spluttered out of shock and embarrassment, almost casting Incendio on the Valentine Howler to get it to shut up.

Just how long has his feelings been buried for it to come out like this?!

“Hey Talbott, what did your Howler say?” Talbott sharply inhaled, that same sweet scent from Potions was stronger now. He whipped around to find pale gold eyes looking up at him.

“N-Nothing,” he stuttered as realization began to sink in. Judith cocked her head to the side, confused to the loner Ravenclaw’s behavior.

“Are you-”

“Class dismissed! And have a happy Valentine’s Day, students!” Talbott silently thanked McGonagall for her timing as he quickly grabbed his bag and left the Transfiguration classroom.

He needed to put space between him and the Hufflepuff witch.

The Hufflepuff witch he apparently had feelings for.

Bloody hell...

[itsclydebitches]

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first: 

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense. 

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go. 

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3 

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. 

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it. 

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit. 

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world. 

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

****************************************************************************

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.  

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

[amymel86]

Crown

Modern au... a tad saucy at the end...

Jon should’ve guessed it really.

It was his department’s turn to name the theme for the university staff’s end-of-year party, and, being that he works in the history department, this year’s theme was ‘Historical Figures’. His own costume was rather slap-dash. He’s not so into this whole ‘dressing up’ thing so he’d just hired a black, fur-trimmed cloak along with a sword and belt from the hire store, wore all black beneath it and called himself a man of the ancient brotherhood, The Night’s Watch.

Boom – done.

Now all he has to do is get through the next few hours while trying not to look like he’d rather be literally anywhere else in the Gods-damned world. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to slip away early – that’s the plan anyway.

Except , the thing that he should have guessed happening... happened -

Sansa Stark.

Jon would never admit aloud to anyone that he has a bit of a crush-from-afar on the beautiful redhead. She works in the Fashion & Textiles Department, on a completely different campus from his so their paths very rarely cross – but fuck – did he wish that they’d do some crossing tonight.

Of course she’d come as her historical namesake. There are plenty of branches of the Stark family tree these days and Jon has no idea if she’s directly related to the infamous Queen in the North, but she’s a bit of a heroine of his if he’s honest and he’s particularly interested in the mystery surrounding the paternity of her twelve children.

No time to ponder over centuries old unknown. The Sansa Stark of today is here, in the hotel that the university has hired for their work party, and she’s wearing a replica of the queen’s most famous dress – her coronation gown.

There’s a well-known portrait of the monarch, seated on her modest wooden throne, and Sansa seems to have studied the piece for her inspiration. Her copper red hair is simple, flowing down her back in waves, her dress is lined with feathers and fur and has exquisite embroidery all over – there’s even a glittering cascade of tumbling wierwood leaves. And atop her head, two fierce direwolves meet in her silver crown.

Jon is utterly blown over by it, to be honest. A lot of work has gone into that.

He swills the last of his beer around in the bottle as Sam – dressed in ancient master garb – witters on about next term’s assignment proposals. And maybe it’s because he doesn’t know when he’ll next get the chance to be in the same building as her, let alone the same room, but Jon finds himself downing the dregs of his beer and approaching Sansa Stark, looking stunning, dressed as a literal Queen.

He stops almost in front of her. Her other fashion and textiles colleagues pause their conversation to peer at him expectantly. Shit. Should’ve thought this through. Sansa is looking at him. They’re making direct eye contact for the very first time. This fur cloak is so fucking hot all of a sudden.

“I, er...” Jon clears his throat and rocks back on his heels a little. “I just wanted to say that your costume looks amazing.” She’s all smiles then. Nice save.

“Thank you,” she says, taking a sweeping glance down at her gown, “I made it myself.”

“That’s very impressive. I’m Jon Snow,” he says, offering his hand for her to shake. Her skin is soft, her hand delicate. She smiles a smile that resets the rhythm of his heartbeat. Jon is loathed to take his eyes from her but he must, shaking hands and greeting her colleagues.

“Oh I know who you are, Jon Snow,” she says, some kind of double meaning to her tone and the devil in her smile.

He’s about to ask – you can’t say something like that without expecting further query, surely. But Jon’s cut off by one of Sansa’s colleagues – a short, slim woman with big dark eyes and hair to match – she seemed to be dressed in a noble lady’s outfit from around 300 AC.

“So this is the hot history guy you were talking about?”

Everyone’s eyes are on him again and the room just got even hotter – and more perplexing. Queen Sansa Stark bites her lip at him. Her cheeks turn cherry blossom pink.

She smiles to herself, blinking rapidly for a second or two as she seems to be collecting her thoughts. “I, um...” her lips press together before her tongue rolls out to wet them. “I sat in on your open lecture about the War of the Five Kings last month.”

She did?

“You did?”

“Her head nods, crown glinting under the lights of the bar behind her. “Mm-hm. I enjoyed it very much. You included the theory of Queen Sansa’s involvement in King Joffrey’s poisoning.” Sansa grinned. “A lot of teachings gloss over her history before she comes into her reign and she’s somewhat of a favourite of mine, for obvious reasons.”

OK, yes. He might be a teeny tiny bit in love already. “Yeah. Yeah, me too. Can I...” he glances to her work colleagues who all seem to be smirking at what is surely an utterly besotted look he wears on his face now. Jon licks at his lips. “Can I get you a drink?”

***

Jon grabs a wad of cash and literally throws it in through the passenger side window towards the cab driver. He’s sure that more than covers their trip but there is no time to spare because Sansa is behind him, unlocking the door to her place so that they might fall in and he might continue to put his mouth on her.

Jon can’t remember the last time he’d clicked so well with a virtual stranger. He hadn’t wanted the night to end but the drinks had flowed for the remainder of the party and they were both feeling lightly buzzed by the time Sansa had taken his hand and led him into a deserted hotel hallway. She had giggled and called him her ‘Lord Commander Snow’ before asking how he should like to serve the Queen in the North?

“With my hands,” he rasped, hardly recognising his own voice, his palms coming up to curl around her hips. His Queen Sansa bit her lip, the mischievous twinkle in her eye growing the closer he got. “With my body,” he growled, pressing her against the wall. “And with my tongue,” he said, wetting his lips.

Sansa’s eyes were drawn to his mouth. They’d hardly done anything and yet they both seemed to be panting. “You promise?”

“How should you like to be served, my lady?” Jon rumbles between kisses. They’re on the other side of her door now, but barely. This place smells like jasmine and vanilla. He cups her face in his hands and if she tells him that actually she’d rather they only kiss and watch a movie he’d consider it a good night well spent.

Sansa playfully nips at his bottom lip, once, twice. There’s a glint in her eye that he likes very much when she says, “I do believe my Lord Commander promised me the use of his tongue.”

“Where would you like it, my queen?” he whispers, grazing her ear lobe with his teeth. The little gasp he elicits makes the downy hairs on the back of his neck prickle. She whines and rubs her thighs together before pushing away, out of his grasp. He’s worried for a second but the look in her eye tells him that this isn’t over – she’s not sending him away.

“Let me just go and get out of this dress,” Sansa says, walking backwards, further into her home. She’s already reaching back, pulling at ties.

“I can help you.”

That earns him a smirk. “I can manage on my own, Jon Snow.”

It’s his turn to whine now and he has to admit, the noise sounds rather pathetic coming from him as he stands there, all alone in Sansa Stark’s hallway, sorely missing her already. Also – not that he won’t want to feast his eyes on however it is that Sansa presents herself – he was kind of hoping to be peering up at her as the Queen in the North from his intended destination of between her thighs.

“Hey, Sansa?”

“Yes?” comes the answer from the room she’d disappeared into.

“Could you... uh...”

Her head pops around the door-frame, brows raised expectantly.

“Could you leave the crown on?”

[scarfdyedshadow]

On the Decline of Mage Characterization in Ancillary Type-Moon Works (or On Magi Getting Flanderized Into One-Dimensional Evil Arrogant Sods) Part 1: The Matter of Magi Themselves

Yes, I am dumb enough and obsessed enough to basically write an entire essay on this. Yes, the title is pretentious as all hell.

A disclaimer before we start though, this is not directed at or meant to condemn or call out or mock or invalidate the many a Tumblr shitpost on evil arrogant magi getting owned by Guda or various other characters. It may not be humor personally up my alley, but I understand the appeal, and it’s not like there isn’t some grain of truth to them. Likewise this isn’t meant to in any way condone anything Nasuverse magi. A fair amount of them are evil regardless of mitigating circumstances, a lot of the ones that aren’t outright evil have capacity to be evil because of ethos and mindset, and the acts they commit are certainly evil. I am not condoning them, or dismissing them as not evil. I simply urge a more nuanced rather than simplistic analysis of that evil. This also unfortunately omits Mahoyo, which probably has quite a bit of insight, because I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet, thus rendering me a fake fan you should not listen to. Thank you for your consideration. Also, spoilers.

This first part is primarily concerned with the inhumanity of magi and misconceptions about magi and their ethos as a whole, while the next part will actually go into the history of magus villains in Type-Moon works and what I feel is their decline, and build upon and further points of this part. There may be a potential third part on the Crypters, Gordolf, and Olga, the modern faces of Nasuverse magi and the greatest illustration that magi are far more nuanced, complex, pitiful and yet admirable, than they aren’t, and Nasu’s thesis statement on the power of love and life.

(Note: Okay my theme is actually pretty eyesearing to the point I recommend you read this on dash, I’ll go get it fixed)

"Do you know what it is that magi are aiming for?"

After a moment of blankness, Gray replied with a difficult expression.

"Umm...I heard about it in class. What was it...the Spiral of Origin?"

"Right. The Spiral of Origin, or more simply the Root. Sometimes it's referred to as「 」, the thing for which there can be no reference. It is the source of everything, the 'zero' from which all matter and phenomena flow. Ah, but now that I'm trying to put it into words, I'm realizing that's not a good idea. After all, even the idea of 'zero' has baggage that makes it unsuitable as a comparison."

"Regardless, the goal of magi is to eventually reach that place. Of course, there are also those who simply derive pleasure from touching the supernatural, or from being superhuman. Because we are weak, we fall to that diversion. But in the end, that's not our ultimate goal."

For modern magi, most understood that reaching the root was something that just wasn't possible for them. After all, even though magecraft itself had been in a state of continuing decline since the Age of Gods, there were no reports of anyone facing that past and trying to return to it. Likely, the appearance in the Far East of the fifth - and often called the last - Magician was the same as the gate to the Root being all but closed to everyone else.

Even so, we didn't give up.

Anyone who would give up in a situation like this would never have become a magus to begin with.

Ironically enough, despite opening up with a quote from Lord El-Melloi II Case Files, which I’ll have some critique for, the crux of my thesis is this. As originally presented in Kara no Kyoukai, and generally only kept up to a meaningful degree in other Nasu written works like Stay Night, Clock Tower 2015, and Grand Order, magi were the piteous, tragic, inhuman not as in inhumane but as in a broken machine product of an impossible ideal and a broken system. They were the villains, yes, unambiguously so, but at the same time they were sympathetic and nuanced to an extent that would decline down the road.

You see, Araya. A mage always lives hurriedly. What for? If it was for themselves alone they wouldn't bother with the outside world. So why do they intrude upon the rest of the world? Why do they rely upon it? What will they achieve with that power? What will they save with the Ars Magna (Ars Magna: Meaning 'great secret technique', it stands not for a technique that is not learnt through study but for a mystery that is secretly passed down)? If that was the case it would have been better for them to become a king instead of a mage.

You think people live foully, but you yourself would not be able to live like that. You would not be able to live while accepting the fact that you know that everything is worthless and base. You would not be able to live without the pride of knowing that you alone are special, and that you alone can save this crumbling world. Of course, I was like that too. But that sort of thing has no meaning. --- Accept it, Araya. We chose the path of transcendence called magecraft because we are weaker than everybody else.

Magi were presented as absurd, as farcical, as maddeningly helpless and hopeless compared to those living normal lives. This will come up in Part 2, especially as pertains to Touko and Gordolf and the like, but normal everyday life, not superior thematic superpowers or an army of Servants, is what is truly far more powerful than any magi.

"... I'll just ask one thing. What do you mean when you say that secrets are kept even within that Association?"

Unexpectedly, I hear something from the sofa.

Over there is Shiki, who has been sitting there since before without a word. She's the type of person who doesn't get involved in a conversation that she's not interested in, so until now she had been staring at the scenery outside the window.

"--- There is that. A mage won't reveal the results of his experiments even within the Association. What the person next to them is researching, what their goals are, and what they have obtained are all a mystery. The only time a mage will reveal the results of their work is when they are passing it on to their descendants just before they die."

"Studying for their benefit alone, yet not using that power for their own sake? What purpose is there in a life like that, Touko? Is it that the goal is to learn, and the process is to learn too? If the only things you have are the beginning and the end, that's the same as having a zero."

Their pursuit for the truth is maddening. It is greedy yet at once devoid of greed. It is selfish yet at once devoid of selfishness. Their ethos and methodology are not fundamentally inhumane, but inhuman. Magi are an odd sort of creature indeed, and it isn’t the case that they’re all evil in their absurd quest. Indeed, virtually all early Nasuverse ancillary material, and this is still said today despite the opposite being true in practice, is that the vast majority of magi are shut ins who stay inside researching as opposed to eating babies.

The everyday life of a magus is mostly spent conducting research. Magi who use magic outside of a research capacity, such as those who use magi to work and profit for themselves, are few in number. People who treat magic as a tool, such as assassins, are called “spellcasters”, and are looked down upon with disdain by the magical establishment.

Furthermore, it is precisely because they are magi that few magi use magic in their daily lives.

Practically speaking, for every mage you see committing mass murder or fighting the mass murdering mage with superpowers, there are ten who we certainly can’t call conventionally moral, who we certainly can’t call normal humans, obsessively striving towards a seemingly impossible goal inhumanly but not inhumanely. Because Type-Moon does action series this has never been tenable to properly depict besides the minority, but it is the truth regardless. This is from a later work I actually have some measure of criticism for, but Strange Fake actually illustrates that point perfectly.

"A mage's mage," he muttered disgustedly to himself, eyes narrowed, "is no different from a hard-working corrupt politician." What about me? He wondered as soon as the words were out of his mouth. As long as corruption stayed hidden, it was difficult for the public to tell the difference between a corrupt politician and an honest one. In which case, mages, who never entered the public eye to begin with, probably ought to be lumped in with them. There were exceptions, but from the standpoint of the general public, mages were generally evil.

Other Nasu written works like Stay Night and Clock Tower 2015 also touch upon it.

Magic is just what it sounds like… magic. I don't care if you get ideas like abracadabra or whatever. You can just think of us as people who do strange things by casting spells. Oh, though it's not like we fly around on brooms or make stars appear with a wave of a wand. …Well, we could do that, but we don't bother as it's kind of meaningless. We're basically heretics who hide ourselves from the world. We're prohibited from standing out and even if we weren't, we would rather be at home studying magic.

Clock Tower 2015 especially hits it up by depicting what might be called the ideal magus, the point of being a magus that is often distorted by human concerns but that all of them are to some extent, not an inhumane monster but an inhuman man who has dedicated his life to magecraft.

"Ahhh, the life of a magus is so brief. It would have been great if I were born with just the brain and nothing else." Like what you just saw, Leiv was a pure academic magus. All his efforts were poured solely into his theory and magecraft. He cared naught of any other responsibilities, the application of his magecraft, his lineage, or building his faction. From Leiv's perspective, those magi were the same as the plebians that were "normal people". If one were to decipher the mystical, then he must sacrifice his humanity. A magus was a creature with nothing but magecraft on his mind. There was no room for burdens such as "life".

So to begin with, what we call magi are far from all arrogant murderous sods, and if anything arrogant murderous sods are the minority. They come in all manner of varieties, united simply by the pursuit of the impossible, by the desire to reach the truth, by the desire to transcend. Even more so than just that, they do have their values and ethics. They are often cruelly distorted, to the extent “magi parents” is a phrase that might as well be an oxymoron, but I would opine that as a product more of recent years than anything.

"Keep those for me. They are some awful cigarettes from Taiwan but I only have those now. Of course there isn't any company that made them, it's a famous item that some eccentric master made only one box of. Yeah, out of all my possessions that is the second most valuable thing I have." Leaving behind some strange words, she turned around and walked out. ... Perhaps her most valuable possession is herself, that kind of thought popped into my mind so I asked her, but she only turned back her head and answered. "That's rather rude. I know it's me but even I don't treat people like possessions." Like herself when she has her glasses on, she pouts as if she's sulking. And then, returning to her usual cool expression Touko-san continued talking. "Kokuto. Those people called mages, with an apprentice or other people they are close to they feel like parents. Since they are something like their offspring, they often fight desperately to protect them as well. ... Well, it's like that so relax and wait here. I'll bring Shiki back tonight." Thock thock, the sound of her walking away. Unable to say anything to her back, I let the brown-coated magician go.

That magi value their children, their apprentices, their legacies, even if only as a next step on the path to the Root, is also a truth echoed at the same time that it’s often contradicted. But then, magi are in of themselves contradictory creatures. After all, despite pursuing an inhuman ideal, despite throwing away their humanity, they themselves are still human. That contradiction between reality and ideals, best exemplified by Fate/Stay Night, is one of the themes at the heart of Nasu’s work.

So, to repeat it once more, magi as a whole, magi society as a whole, is not fundamentally inhumane but inhuman. That inhumanity often lends itself to the inhumane, but not necessarily, and indeed I opine that should be considered on a deeper level. That inhuman society is by no means a good thing, but to simply call it evil and magi evil and call it a day is to do a disservice to its nuance. There are arrogant murderous magi as well, sure, but they too are products of a tenacious ideal, they are the long shadow cast by lineages stretching for thousands of years.

In reality, what really forged the magus of the modern day was not a supernatural power or transcendent conscience, but a tenacity built and reinforced over generations. Clinging to a shadowed, intense ideology for hundreds, or in some cases even thousands of years, developed its own sort of extreme power. Even if science were to exceed magecraft in all other respects, as long as that ideal survived, magecraft itself would be ineradicable.

But what then of Souren Araya? What of that bastard Zouken and worst dad of the year Tokiomi and that arrogant asshole Kayneth? Rest well assured that I will cover them in exacting detail in the next part of whatever the hell this is, and everything I say about them will build upon this. That may seem contradictory, since this part is mostly devoted to showing that magi are far more than just evil sods, but believe it or not Kayneth is going to be mightily relevant to how pitifully weak magi in truth are, and Tokiomi is going to be relevant to how magi value their children in ways that don’t have to be inhumane, but can be inhuman. Until next time, all I can ask is to consider that while magi are indeed monsters, monsters really can be quite interesting creatures.

Things in this world were all like that.

It wasn’t limited to magecraft. It wasn’t limited to those beyond humans (monsters). In a world of common sense (the obvious), it was something everyone understood.

If you said that misunderstandings, miscommunications, disagreements, and false understandings are what connected them, then...

“We are misrecognition. Our world itself is misunderstanding. We can experience a multitude of truths, not just one single reality. No matter how wise you are, or how much time you are given, you will never reach something like a single truth. Magi may just be those who continually reject that fact.”

Speaking as if in self-deprecation, my master had pursed his lips at that.

He had finally realized that his words and the objective that all Magi pursued, known as the “Spiral of Origin,” were in contradiction.

Sources: Lord El-Melloi Case Files (TL by TwilightsCall), Kara no Kyoukai (TL on baka-tsuki), Fate/Stay Night (TL Mirror Moon), Clock Tower 2015 (TL by food), Fate/Strange Fake (TL by OtherSideOfSky)

[takerfoxx]

Here's the next part of the Walpurgis Nights girls watch The Rebellion Story, this time stretching from that upside-down reflection conversation to Homura and Kyoko's wacky bus trip.

Reminder:

G=Gretchen

H=Homulilly

Op=Ophelia

Ok=Oktavia

Ca=Candeloro/Mami

Ch=Charlotte

...

Ca: Okay, so, is everyone ready?

Ch: Yeah. Yeah. Sorry about losing my shit. I’ll try to keep it together.

Op: No, by all means. I’d say you’re entitled.

G: I mean, if I found out that I was a tiny, living doll that turned into a giant worm, I’d be upset too!

=Charlotte sighs deeply=

G: Oh. Sorry.

H: It’s a fake.

G: Eh?

H: All of it. The whole scenario. We’re caught in a super-witch’s labyrinth, or some kind of virtual reality simulation, or a shared dream.

Ok: Like the Matrix?

H: The what?

Ok: Oh, I’ve got to show that one to you. It’s this old movie from the world of the living about how all of humanity are trapped in this virtual world because machines have taken over the planet, and they use people’s bodies as living batteries or something. And-

Op: Tavi, starting to ramble.

Ok: Sorry. Anyway, there’s like three different recreations out there. Personally I like the one from Madd Dogg Studios the best.

Op: Because of all the sex.

Ok: Yeah, the other two don’t have those. Shame, really.

Ch: Okay, hold on though! If all that is some kind of weird simulation, then why am I there? By rights if you guys never turned into witches, I should be dead! You should’ve killed me, and then I would be comfortably here in Freehaven while you guys sit around singing songs to severed heads inside of demented teddy-bears!

G: Well, if there’s no witches in this world, then maybe we never fought you in the first place.

Ch: But I’m clearly a witch!

G: Yeah, that is weird.

Ca: Let’s find out.

…

Ok: You think that all of this being in an upside-down reflection means anything?

H: Yes. That it’s a fake.

Op: You are not going to let that go, are you?

H: Just watch.

Op: Have you seen this before?

H: Obviously not.

Ok: Well, this version of Candeloro is just as on it with her tea game, I see.

Ca: Some things never change.

Ok: Like Ophelia’s dislike for sour stuff, apparently.

Ca: It’s her tradeoff for her ungodly tolerance for spicy.

Ch: Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s not as high as she makes it out to be.

Op: Hey, who exactly ate those dockengaut viper peppers without flinching? Me, that’s who!

Ch: You literally had to the hospital and grow your tongue back.

Op: But I didn’t flinch.

…

Ok: They really like showing us around the town.

G: Do any of these locations mean anything?

Ca: Well, that’s the school, so I suppose-Huh?

G: UM!

Ok: Why is everyone’s faces suddenly horribly disfigured?

Ch: Are they melting? It looks like they’re melting.

Op: Yeah. And…ours are fine?

G: See! You two are sleeping in class! I told you that having a party right after fighting that Nightmare was a bad idea! Growing girls need sleep!

Op: Honestly, I’m more concerned about the horrific burns on everyone’s face than I am about our counterparts’ unhealthy sleeping habits.

H: HA! Called it! It’s a simulation! None of those people are real! We’re the only actual people here!

Op: Hey, credit where it’s due, you did call it.

G: Looks like Hitomi’s real too.

H: Oh, goody.

G: So’s that guy with the silver hair? Who is he?

Ok: Oh, so that must be Kyousuke!

Op: That was who I was up against? Huh. Well, he’s…pretty.

Ok: I always wondered what he looked like.

Op: …so?

Ok: I’m sure past me thought he was good-looking, but I still think I traded up.

Op: Darn right, you did.

…

Ch: So who took the time to make food in the shape of your heads?

Ok: You know, between this and Hitomi, there’s a lot of severed heads going around.

=Candeloro frowns and feels her neck=

Ch: You okay?

Ca: I’m fine. I just got the weirdest feeling of déjà vu all of a sudden.

Ok: Who wants to bet that the one with all the bags of junk food for lunch is Ophelia?

Op: What? Why me in specific?

Ca: That one must be mine.

Ch: Well, at least I get my own severed-head snack now.

G: Right next to Kyubey.

H: If there was any justice in the world that would be his actual head.

G: Still. Those soul-gem treats are pretty creative.

Ca: Oh, wait! Never mind! That’s Homura’s lunch.

Ch: Homulilly? Why are you eating my face?

H: Don’t ask.

Op: And of course I snatch Blue Raspberry’s soul-gem!

Ok: Even then, you couldn’t keep me out of your mouth.

Op: AAANNNDDD the rat just ate it. Huh.

Ok: Oh, that makes me so uncomfortable.

Ch: And we get a close-up of me looking like a lunatic. Thanks, movie.

Op: I mean, that is a pretty accurate depiction of your face whenever you get anywhere near a piece of mozzarella.

H: All of this making me incredibly uneasy.

G: What is?

H: The slow pace. The lack of audible dialogue. The somber music. Something is up.

Ch: That’s all kinds of deliberate.

H: Well, at least this other me can tell that something’s wrong.

Op: I for one am incredibly disappointed in the rest of us. Everyone in the city has their faces burned off. That ought to at least raise a few red flags.

…

Ok: AAANNNDDD it’s gone all weird again!

Ca: Okay, this is obviously a witch’s labyrinth. They’re not even hiding it anymore.

Ok: Except from us. Like, are we blind?

Op: Oh, hey. It’s me. A lunch date?

H: I doubt it.

G: Is any of this normal? I mean, I know Freehaven is strange to newcomers but normal to us, so in this world, is it normal to just hang out on a floating island filled with chairs and tables with really long legs while blimps fly by in formation?

Ok: To say nothing of that freakshow going on down there. What are those? Those creepy little girls and the guy with the wind-up box?

Ca: Witch’s familiars.

=everyone looks to Charlotte, who is nonplussed=

Ch: You know, I’m actually okay with being the villain. At least that would make sense!

Op: You better get some kind of redemption arc and a weirdly sexually charged gunfight with Candeloro.

Ch: That would honestly make up for everything else that’s happened so far.

Ca: I don’t know. All of this looks very witchy, but it wasn’t what I remember from your labyrinth.

…

Op: Hey. Teenaged me. Wake up and smell the bad drug trip.

Ch: Why do you guys have so many cups on that table? Do you have a drinking problem or something?

Op: Look, shit is weird. Don’t judge our coping mechanisms.

G: Is it just me, or is there a bunch of random objects just falling out of the sky all around you?

Ok: Is it just me, or did that blimp have to come literally out of the river to fly at that angle?

H: This is getting progressively more dream-like.

Op: Nice crotch-shot, movie. How come I don’t get the boob or butt camera like Candy and Tavi?

Ch: Do you really want us to answer that question?

Op: I’d prefer if you didn’t.

H: Anyone else notice that the number of cups keep changing?

Op: Like I said. We all have our own ways of coping. Don’t judge.

…

H: Well, at least I’m noticing that something’s off. Even if I’m completely blind to the obviously bizarre stuff going on all around me?

G: Oh, so it’s going to be like a mystery story! And you’re the detective!

Op: And I get to be the sidekick. There are worst roles, I guess.

Ch: I guess that means you’re the main character after all, Lilly.

H: Thank you, but I’d really rather be the lead of a completely different movie.

…

Op: And off we go, on our wild adventure!

H: Beneath endless stone bridges. I mean, seriously. If either of us wanted proof that something was wrong, all we have to do is look up.

G: If this is a fake world you’re trapped in, you’re probably programmed to not notice that anything’s wrong. You know, like how we never really how strange dreams are until we wake up.

Op: Oh, what the hell. The bus is dropping us off in this fever dream? WAKE UP, IDIOTS! WAKE UP AND SMELL THE FREAKY!

Ch: They’re not even hiding it anymore.

G: You know, I can’t help but wonder if this world was always this strange, but that since the first few minutes were from our point of view all the weird stuff not having to do with the Nightmare wasn’t shown. But now that Lilly’s noticed, the weirdness just keeps coming out more and more.

Ch: I would not be surprised.

Ca: I think we can all collectively agree that despite whatever the witch turns out to be, this is all Kyubey’s fault, right?

Op: Fine by mean.

Ok: Agreed.

H: I wonder where all those fake people are going.

Op: I’m just going to assume that there’s a big meat grinder at the bottom of those stairs.

G: Ew.

…

Op: Oh, that’s not right? THAT’S NOT RIGHT? YAH THINK?

Ok: Of course you would be tipped off by the wrong destination but not by the field of hazy red filled with windmills.

Op: Turn left? We were supposed to turn left? HOW CAN YOU TELL? THERE’S NOTHING THERE!

Ch: That does bring up an interesting point. I’m assuming that you’re just blind to the weirdness because it’s got you trapped. So, what is it that you’re seeing?

G: Probably just a normal road, I guess.

Ok: Well, what did you expect taking the loop line?

…

Ch: Okay, so there’s a clear divide between the big, empty, red field with the windmills and the mostly normal looking city.

H: A very loose definition of the word “normal.”

Ch: Well, yeah, but you know what I mean.

H: Like I said. It’s not real.

Ch: We know, I’m just trying to pick out details.

Ok: Hey, girls. Don’t get on the creepy bus.

…

G: If at first you don’t succeed…

Op: Come on, other me! Get a clue!

H: I notice the field is blue now.

Ch: Probably to signify the change from day to night.

Ok: That bus driver is weirdly okay with a couple teenaged girls jumping onto the front of his bus and yelling at him.

H: He’s a fakedy-fake-fake.

Ok: We know! It’s called commentary!

H: Sorry.

Op: “Crossroads”? “Left fork”? How can you tell the difference! It’s a bunch of shiny tiles and windmills!

G: Plus that giant tower made of pipes!

Op: That was probably where we were heading. Giant tower made of pipes.

Ok: Wonder where the ramen shop was.

Op: Third pipe cluster from the bottom.

Ch: Hey, girls. Word of advice. Don’t walk into the scary, blank void.

Op: I know they can’t see the weirdness, but I still feeling like yelling at them.

G: Oh, hey! It’s normal again!

H: They were brought back to the city.

G: Well, relatively normal, at least. With a really tall bridge and giant moon.

…

Op: So…are we about to kiss or something?

H: Obviously not.

Op: I don’t know. You’re holding me awfully close.

H: I’m just trying to keep you from doing something stupid.

Op: If you say so.

…

Op: Oh, hey. If we didn’t have enough problems, it’s a zombie apocalypse.

H: All with our faces, I see.

Op: Somehow, that’s freakier than if they were just the classic rotting kind.

Ca: Obviously a defense system put in place by the witch. Once one of its prisoners start to notice that something’s wrong, the familiars come in to stop them.

Ch: You know, as much as the early parts weirded me out, I am really starting to dig this! I mean, sure, the cake song was…a thing that happened, but now there’s a reason for the weirdness! There’s a mystery! There’s set-up and atmosphere! It’s not just weird for the sake of being weird!

Ok: I’m pretty sure there’s some of that.

Ch: Well, sure.

H: You do remember that with the way things are going, you’re probably going to be revealed as the villain, right?

Ch: I am okay with this.

…

Op: And the zombies leave after I change my stance?

Ok: Those hips don’t lie.

H: More of they sensed that you weren’t resisting anymore.

Op: Might want to rephrase that.

H: You made it dirty. Not me.

Op: At least this me is starting to wake up. So you have at least one bad bitch supporting you.

H: I feel so much better.

G: Oh, hey! Even then you did that thing where you give people candy as a sign of affection!

Op: I’m honestly surprised that more people don’t do that. Honestly, most problems would be solved if people just gave each other candy all the time.

[obscureoperations]

i’ve had this random concept in my head of martin talking about his s/o on the radio and s/o hearing it and figuring out he’s the count possibly confronting him etc

Oh my god I love this idea! Some of my favorite scenes were when he was on the phone. The way the radio station was his outlet. I know he would talk to them if he met someone. Not completed, there will definitely be a part two. I’m in the middle of trying to go through my asks.

~ For the most part things had been going quite well, you had been seeing Martin for a little over a month. You first noticed him when you went into Cuda’s shop, he seemed to notice you as well, he was extremely flustered when you stepped to the check out. You made small talk as he bagged your items, he seemed to go out of his way not to look at you. When he finally did, you were taken aback, he was even more breathtaking up close. You made it a point to stop in almost every other day, eventually the two of you built up a sort of friendship. He told you when he was off, when he would usually go on break...after a few weeks you finally asked him out. You were a nervous wreck for some reason, even though he knew the worst he could do was say no. He agreed instantly, and things pretty much bloomed from there. At this point the two of you were practically inseparable.

You made it a point to get him away from the hose, you started to look at the old man in a different light. If Cuda was as bad as Martin said, you didn’t even feel comfortable spending money at the shop. Your relationship turned physical faster than you liked to admit, but being with Martin felt so natural. There was a certain type of innocence about him--but at times you felt as though he was hiding something. 

He canceled plans with you a couple nights ago, which was odd--he usually went out of his way just to see you. You tried not to give it much thought,after all he had his own life. He claimed it had something to do with the family. He made up for it ten fold the very next day, he didn’t leave your side until right before dinner. 

You were supposed to see him later tonight. He told you that he would crawl out of his window and meet you around ten. You already knew what that meant. He wanted to stay the night, and that was completely fine. You had the day off from work and kept yourself mostly preoccupied. Running errands, tidying up. You wouldn’t have to do laundry for weeks. A strange sort of anticipation bubbled at the pit of your stomach for mostly the entire day. You were excited to see him sure--but there was something else. He had been acting pretty strange lately. He was more tired than usual, shaky almost jittery. He seemed to be more prone to headaches. The light really bothered his eyes, he was thirstier than normal, when the two of you were together he was more dominant than you were used to. You knew he couldn’t possibly be on drugs. You planned to ask him if anything was wrong tonight--if there was you could surely help.

It was about eight thirty when you flounced onto the bed, already eagerly glancing over to the clock. Questions had been forming in your head for most of the day and at this point you just wanted to know if something was wrong. With a sigh, you decided to turn on the radio, maybe some music would calm your thoughts. You ended up settling on your favorite talk radio station-- you were so preoccupied lately you hadn’t listened to it in weeks.

“Alright guys looks like we have a special treat, Guess who’s decided to grace us with his presence tonight?!”

This weird cheesy spooky tone starts to play in the background “You guessed right...it’s the Count!”

Your eyebrow immediately shot up towards your forehead, you remember listening to that guy. You followed his story intently, it was in fact a little before you met Martin. The guy was odd...to say the least--but if anything a brilliant storyteller. He claimed to be some sort of vampire, he needed blood to survive--he’d been around for eighty four years. He would stalk his victims before sedating them with some type of drug-- after that he would drink their blood. It was… interesting to say the least. Not your typical idea of a vampire, but he always stressed that it’s not like in the movies. He didn’t have a whole lot of women fawning over him desperate for him to take them in the middle of the night. If anything, he just seemed like this lonely kid, you almost felt bad--he seemed to really believe what he was saying. You always tried to picture what he would look like. He had this odd...cryptic way of speaking. He almost reminded you of Martin in the way that he would phrase things. You knew it was virtually impossible. Imagine you dating an actual ‘’vampire’’

“It’s been a good while Count, how the hell are ya?”

“Good. Really good.”

“Alright Man! We were starting to get a bit worried, you pretty much vanished for a month. Our listeners were getting antsy!”

“They were?” You had to bite down on the insides of your cheeks. He sounded genuinely confused, it was actually pretty adorable.

“Yeah man! Every other day.. “Hey you guys hear from the Count… whatever happened to the count? Do you think he got caught?!”

“I’m fine… I’m always fine.”

“Good! Thats  really good. Ya gotta tell us, what the hell has been goin on with you? You scope out any new victims… are ya feeling shakey? What’s happenin’??”

“Well.. yes and no. I haven’t really felt shaky until recently. But thats all over now. I’m okay.”

“Ohhh did you find a new one? A pretty lady perhaps?”

“No! I-I mean… It was just a bum. I can’t really stalk them like I used to. I just really needed blood.”

“You can’t stalk them...what does that mean? The cops onto you?” Obnoxious fake sirens begin to play.

He’s silent for a moment. “Shit… too much I think we lost him. Count...Count are you there?”

“I’m  here.” He says after a moment. You were on your stomach, clutching a pillow beneath your chin. The more and more he spoke, his voice began to sound so familiar. 

“I sort of met someone…’

More obnoxious sound effects, you can hear bursts of confetti  and party horns.You rolled your eyes, you wanted him to ‘speak’ Why did he suddenly sound so much like Martin?

“You met someone Count?! See I told ya man...just give it some time. When did you meet em?”

“About two months ago..” Your heart instantly sunk. It wasn’t possible, nope. No way in hell.

“How did you meet them?”

“I-  It was through work. They came in, and they were so pretty. I just---”

He’s silent for a long while.  Your heart was practically beating out of your chest. You remember hearing him talk about someone who was new in town shortly before you and Martin first  met. He told the hosts that he saw them at the train station, he instantly just knew that they were for him. Jay and Rick continued to ask probing questions. Asking if he meant that he found his next victim. The Count vehemently denied, simply stating that they were simply beautiful. He just wanted to learn more. You had arrived in Braddock about three months ago, you tried your damndest to recall the train ride. Did you see anyone who looked remotely like Martin? The answer was no. Surely you would have spotted him.

“ So you’re seeing someone Count… what are they like?!”

“They’re amazing.” He answers immediately this time. 

“They like to talk a lot, but it’s okay. I can tell they really listen to me…”

“Count, you sound smitten. “

“I am. I get to see them later tonight.”

If you weren't already sitting down, you were sure that you would have fainted. There were hardly any questions now. This had to be Martin. You wanted to puke, yet you were almost relieved. Shortly before you met you were listening to the Count in a certain way. You were repulsed by his actions, but his story intrigued you. If you really thought about it, you had developed a bit of a crush.

“So tell us more.. Do they know how you feel?”

“I think so. I haven’t really thought about blood since we started doing the sexy stuff..”

More fake confetti and sirens, you roll your eyes. At this point, you were convinced that you were dreaming. This couldn’t be real, absolutely not. Martin?

“Oh ho hooo… so it’s like that? Do you see things progressing?”

“I do, I really do. But- I’m scared.”

“Scared of what man?”

Radio static, he’s silent for an inordinate amount of time. At this point you were practically trembling. A whirlwind of emotions. Shock, betrayal, disgust, and relief. You really needed to talk to him right now.

“I’m scared because I think I’ve fallen in love.. A- and when I tell them… I’m gonna tell them. About me. I just know they’re going to leave.”

You continued to lay in the same position for a little over an hour. So that was it. You were right. You had no idea when tears began to spill from your eyes, but they did,they practically soaked through the pillow. You couldn't find it in you to move, or even fetch the glass of water that you  so desperately craved. Your throat was dry, you had no idea why you were so upset-- Rather you did. 

Why couldn’t he just tell you?

Your heart practically leaps out of your chest when you hear a faint tap at the window.  You bolt up almost instantly, desperately wiping at your eyes. You looked a mess, there was no way to hide the fact  that you had been crying. With a deep breath, you unlock the window,

[plush-rabbit]

Can I Ask You Something?

Part 1 | Part 2 | 

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I wanted to write something soft because I’ve been having lots of feels lately and well here’s the result. Hope you enjoy＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／ Also I know nothing about how video games work other than Animal Crossing and Kirby so, yeah.

This will be a series. I’m not sure how many parts since it’s a slow burn and right now it sits at 20K words and they still haven’t met so... Yeah. This is mainly self-indulgent and I am open to feedback. 

You ended up meeting Tomura, or as his online name was called, Tomaraki, on an online game where you were introduced into the raid group by another member. During your time there, you held your own well enough and had even had an above average skill chart.

After taking out a particular challenging mission, a good number of the kills being on your part, your teammates congratulated you, telling you words of praise and thanking you for having their backs, all while in the headset you giggled, saying that you had just gotten lucky with some of your shots and that they’re probably better than you would ever be.

Shigaraki had found that annoying. He found you annoying. If you were good at something, just take credit for it. Don’t try to act modest just because you want attention. And he told you that, his voice cutting into you like glass, all while you remained speechless, teeth digging into your bottom lip as everyone else in the team just listened how he tore into you. Two of the other members had come to your defense, trying to back you up but falling flat because while he was harsh, his words did hold merit. You were good, and it wasn’t luck because you had been playing for at least two months now so you had time to hone your skills. And you did want attention. You craved attention, you wanted to be told that you were good at something and you found that if you downplayed your skills, people would come to you and praise your work. And sure, you knew that that’s pretty shitty but you didn’t hear praise often and who cares, it felt good to be given praise. But you didn’t say any of that, you held your tongue, with the tips of your ears burning and hot tears pricking your eyes, you turned your avatar to face his and for a second you considered killing his avatar but scoffed. If you killed him, he’d only respawn and he was the best player of the group, having a high stats and being the highest level of the group, and no doubt, he could probably kick you out from the group and there wouldn’t be much resistance coming from the others, so in a calm voice you said told the group, “Let’s just return to the game. We have another mission to complete.” And with that, everything went back to normal, albeit a bit more tense, but you continued to start the mission a scowl on your lips, and when someone told you good job, you gave a brisk thanks in response, leaving no room for continued conversation.

Shigaraki, on the other hand, sneered at you through the screen, his hands coming up to pick at his scarred neck. You had taken the coward’s way out in his eyes. You didn’t talk back to him, the most you did was turn your avatar towards him and he knew that you finger was itching to shoot at his but when you told the team to continue, you had backed down, and now every praise that was given to you, you took it silently which was somehow worse than what you would do before. You couldn’t win in his eyes. He hated playing with others, but this was a rather addicting game and it worked best if played with others, the missions were cut to more than half of the time, sure sharing the loot was a pain but he always got a slightly bigger share than the others since he was at a higher rank than them. Plus- and he would never say this out loud- the team he found wasn’t half as bad as the other groups he had been in previously. They didn’t talk about their outside life, they didn’t try to be friends- they stuck with the goals set in the game, kept every conversation in theme to what they were playing, and they all were all skilled enough that he didn’t feel as if they were dragging him down. The only negative part was you.

You came in a month after he did, invited by the second highest player in the group. And you were annoying but he couldn’t deny that you were good and had hoarded so many healing items that the team rarely had to waste currency to buy the potions and elixirs from in-game vendors, so you stayed and like the others, you didn’t ask about the outside lives of the players, you kept the conversation related to the game.

But you weren’t that good. Your skill chart wasn’t special- you could be easily replaced by anyone else- if trained properly. The healing items weren’t expensive enough to deter from payment, it was just better to save up for the next big thing. But when you didn’t even offer a rebuttal, an attempt at trash talk to defend yourself, he knew that you were a coward. You didn’t have a bite or a bark, you were harmless- you were probably holding back tears as they played, only to bitch and moan about him to your friends or the other members when he was gone.

Finishing the mission, everyone said their goodbyes. However, right as everyone was logging off; you asked if the current schedule was still valid. The schedule was made each and every month, and it stated the best possible times for gaming with each other to complete missions or when the next major event was, it stayed updated and everyone made sure to be available during their promised times, very rarely did someone break it but when they did they had a valid excuse. Everyone had a copy, one being made and shared as a PDF file and posted to the private forum that the second in command had made. Shigaraki, clicked his tongue, “Of course it’s still valid. If it wasn’t there would have been an updated version of it by now dumbass.”

And with that, almost instantly, everyone began to log off, not wanting to be part of whatever was going on or having to face his virtual blow-up while you probably just sat there accepting all the insults without so much as a counterattack.

All you did was narrow your eyes at the screen and give out a curt ‘fine’ and log off. Shigaraki stared at the screen for a few second before proceeding to log off the sneer only getting deeper, his eyes narrowed into slits. His eyes burned from looking at a screen for a few hours with no break and his head was starting to hurt from having to deal with you and your idiocy. He laid down on his mattress where the metal springs dug a bit too deep into his back and he drifted off to sleep, while you on the other hand, burrowed yourself deep into your blankets, your face flush with embarrassment, recounting every wrong thing you said, your insecurities of needing to be liked rearing its ugly head and keeping you awake.

-

Shigaraki logs back in a week later. He’s ten minutes early, as always, and he’s in the beginning of a relatively quick quest in order to gain more experience points and in-game currency. As he proceeds to skip past the dialogue option of the villager thanking him, a ‘ding’ sound is made and on the right hand corner of his screen, your username and icon pops up. He only gives it a spare glance, before retuning his attention to the game collecting the rewards, becoming more irritated as another ‘ding’ fills the room. He shakes his head, he knows how this will go, you’ll only proceed to annoy him until he answers you. So he takes in a deep breath and opens the messaging system, typing out a ‘what’ in response without looking at what you’ve said before.

<User_Name>

>Look. I just wanted to apologize for my actions last week. You were right, I did want attention but like whatever. Anyways, I just wanted to make sure that we’re cool since we’ll be gaming together for the unforeseeable future.

<Tomaraki>

>Is that all?

<User_Name>

>Yeah, I guess so?

>So like are we cool?

He rolled his eyes at your question. Your words were fake and forced, you just wanted to be liked but he didn’t want to deal with you. He didn’t want to waste his time going back and forth with you until you were satisfied.

<Tomaraki>

>Whatever. We’re “cool”. Happy?

On the other side of the screen you rolled your eyes already feeling emotionally exhausted with this very short chat. You simply leaned back in your chair and let out a long breath. Not wanting to irritate him more than he already was, you sighed and replied with a “yeah, thanks:)” and exited the messaging system. You waited for the rest of the group to join, already feeling dejected from the brief interaction with the leader of the group.

-

The mission starts and everything goes flawless. Everything, except for you. You were off your game, not paying enough attention to your surroundings and losing a high number of health points and barely killing any of the opponents. The second in command, orders for the members to get in line so when the weapons appear, those with the highest kill count get to go first and choose what they want. Coincidently, this mission provided enough weapons so that that the whole team could get one each with one left over, but you all had agreed that the one with the highest count not only got to go first but also got to choose the extra weapon. So of course, Shigaraki goes first and he chooses two weapons and as his avatar begins to move away, he turns it around and grabs another. You take in a sharp breath, getting ready to argue but your words never come out, instead they die down in your throat and you get the sinking feeling that whatever game he’s playing, his endgame, is to make you feel like you can’t speak against him because you know that he’s more valuable than you’ll ever be. And he’s right. You feel comfortable with this group; you don’t want to be forced to leave simply because your leader is acting like a brat and you want tattle on him.

Once everyone has collected their weapons, everyone but you that is, they just stand their awkwardly knowing that he’s intentionally trying to get under your skin. Not wanting to drown in the awkwardness that has been created, you exclaim, “That was a good mission guys! Should we do another one or go our separate ways for now?”

A collective sound of discomfort fills the headsets, everyone muttering that maybe they should probably focus on solo missions for now to raise their levels and get some cool loot if possible. Everyone glowed and they were respawned elsewhere, no doubt opening up a separate chat and gossiping about the scene that just took place and if they should start looking for a new member sometime soon. And with them gone, your avatar and Shigaraki’s stood there, the silence only being broken by the crackling fire on the torches in-game.

“Can we please talk?” You asked, your voice cracking towards the end causing you grimace at the sound.

“About?” His voice was drenched in boredom; he doesn’t see why he should talk to you.

“Look, I get that we aren’t exactly friends- and-and that’s fine, but can we at least be civil towards each other?” You chose your words carefully, not wanting to insinuate that it was entirely his fault. “Like if I didn’t do good during the mission you could have just said it rather than leaving me without weapons and making me look dumb just standing there.” You voice trailed off towards the end, not knowing how to end it and a part of you realizing that you were probably making everything worse.

“You really don’t care that we aren’t friends?” He said the words in a mock attempt at your voice- condescendingly and ditzy; his upper lip curling in disgust. “Is that why you’re trying so hard to befriend me? How the hell am I supposed to be civil in a fucking game? What? You want me to start giving you some of my fucking winnings? Is that it?”

You bit your bottom lip, rolling it between your teeth, trying to figure out how to reply to him.

“Well?” You took too long to answer, whatever patience he had when starting the game was already running thin.

“No. I don’t want you to give me your winnings. I-I just-” you groaned and put your head in your hands- “I just want to be civil with each other. Look we don’t have to be friends but-but,” you voice was faltering, lowering into a whisper, “I just don’t want to leave this group. Come on. You have to admit that this is one of the better ones out there. The others are capable of holding their own and they aren’t like trying to pry into your personal life.” Not waiting for a reply you continued, your voice light, trying to get him to agree with you on that to find some common footing. “You have to at least admit that.”

He stares at the screen with unblinking eyes, his avatar doing some light stretches that synchronized with yours.

“Fine.”

Eyes widening, you lift your head back up, and you wanted to rush into the conversation but you held yourself back. “Do you want me to leave the group?” You scratch nervously at the corner of the ALT key, trying to focus on the sensation of your thumb rather than the lump in your throat.

“Are you really going to cry if I make you leave?” Guess even he could hear how choked up you were getting.

Your eyes widen slightly, unshed tear glistening your eyes, you glance down briefly. “I know it’s silly but I like the group,” you chuckle nervously. “So what’s the answer?”

“Do what you want.”

You pulled your lips into a thin line, you don’t know what you expected, but this was probably the best answer you were going to get from the gamer.

“Well, I’m going to stay.”

“Tch. Whatever.”

There’s silence after that. You stared at the screen and took a deep breath.

“You wanna go on a mission together? There’s one that requires two people and I hear the payoff is pretty good.” You wait anxiously for his answer, your arms are crossed in front of you and you’re dragging your nails across your forearms, finding comfort in the way the dull pain distracts you from your nerves. You have no idea where that offer came from. He just sort of accepted you and now you might ruin that because you wanted to become buddies with some stranger online.

“Being lonely really does make you do dumb things, doesn’t it?” You think to yourself.

Shigaraki stares at his screen, eyes narrowed, his chapped lips pulled into a thin line and a hand comes up to scratch as his neck. He hisses as his nails hit at a particularly fresh cut.

“Um, Tomaraki? You there?” Your voice is hesitant and wavers slightly.

He’ll regret this later, he’s sure of it. “What’s the mission about?”

He can hear you exhale the breath you were holding in and he can imagine a stupid grin plastered to your face.

“Okay, so get this-” Your voice grows distant as he rolls his eyes at your messy explanation of the mission, only offering grunts to show that he is listening and giving out a satisfactory hum when you mention that it’ll be against different team ups in real time, kind of like a waiting line for a new batch to go in, so you probably will have to kill people when the mission starts; a fight to the death type of deal, you summed up.

You both spawn to where the mission is held. Held in a queue for a few minutes, he goes over a quick plan, to just shoot at whatever moves and that he of course, gets more than half of the loot. You rolled your eyes and agreed, knowing that this was probably the most compromise that you’ll get from him.

The brawl to the death goes surprisingly well, you two actually win and he takes a little over half of the winnings, leaving you with two weapons and the healing items. You thank him and he only scoffs, saying that you two had a deal and he delivered, he doesn’t need thanks from you. You cringe at the reply, feeling his words bite into you but you brush it off. You tell him that you’ll see him later and that you had fun. You log off and feeling a bit lighter, glad that this ended on a fairly positive note.

///

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