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kjhmyg · 4 years

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rough edges pt. 6 (m)

pairing: jungkook | (f) reader genre: college!au, badboy!jk, fluffy too :( warnings: mentions of drugs, unprotected sex, cursing, violence, alcohol, drinking, death, manhandling, college parties, boys lol word count: 10.7K

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / part 6 / 6.5

author’s note: hello i love u. first of all welcome to ♡ libra season ♡ sorry this took so long; it feels kinda short so maybe i’ll post a short 1k chapter next week (part 6.5). i wrote the last half of the last part like an hour ago i hope i didnt make any big grammatical errors or typos lol. also dedicating this to my friend haru who i miss loads.

RE asks tag

What was a red mark on Jungkook’s cheek, has now turned purple-ish. He promises it doesn’t hurt anymore but you notice him mindlessly touching it at times. So you kiss it very gently each time you say goodbye and he doesn’t stop you.

With one arm around over the back of your chair, he’s feeding himself fries with the other. You lean against his shoulder, watching as he nibbles away. “Can’t keep your eyes off me huh?” He mutters.

“You know I can’t.” You admit, giggling into quick, continuous pecks. He lingers on a little longer on the last one like he always does.

“Will you guys save it for the bedroom?” Jimin asks, face twisted in disgust. He doesn’t really care, but it’s fun to tease Jungkook. “Gross.”

“Gross is you dipping fries in your coke.” Hana shakes her head at the soaked fry between his thumb and index finger.

"Don't be mad you don't have refined taste in food like me." He shoots back. “A soaked fry has equal parts sweet and salty.”

“You’re just gross.”

Hana’s realised it doesn’t take much to get under his skin and is enjoying every bit of it. The irony is that it always starts with Jimin trying to get under Jungkook’s skin. Next to Jimin, Taehyung’s phone has his undivided attention. In fact, he’s been rather quiet today, spending the last five minutes or so frowning at his screen.

“Tae, you alright?”

“No.” He sighs, finally looking up. “I have to get a job.”

“...And?”

“Well I don’t want to.” He says simply. “Can’t believe my parents are cutting off my allowance because I spend too much.” He uses air quotes.

Except for Jimin, the rest of you only manage blank stares, unable to sympathise with his first world problem. "Yeah, I’m sure those thousand dollar Balenciaga sneakers you got last week have nothing to do with it.” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook. They were limited edition.”

“A thousand dollars?” You say. “What the hell dude.”

“Okay can we stop talking about the past and focus on the present?” Leaning back against his chair and looking into the distance, Jimin places a comforting hand on his shoulder

“Don’t worry, we’ll find you a nice job.” Jimin says and he lets out a tiny whine, throwing his head back.

That’s when it hits you. You have no idea how, but it does. And you have no idea if it’ll work but you’re doing it anyway.

A clueless Hana raises a brow in question at the sudden look of mischief you give her. She braces herself for whatever you’re about to do, equally curious and worried. “Actually, you should apply at our café.” You say to Taehyung.

“They’re hiring?”

“Well not yet.” Turning back to her, you widen your eyes slightly, prompting Hana to play along. She quickly does, noticing Jungkook watching her over your shoulder. “I’m leaving soon so they’ll definitely need a replacement.”

“You’re quitting?” Jungkook asks, sitting up straight. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” The little head shake you give isn’t enough to convince him. “I just wanna work somewhere else. Anyway, you’d like working there Tae. It’s nice.” The other boy perks up, seemingly interested.

Hana agrees, explaining the details of your work and what it’s like there. While they talk, Jungkook squeezes your shoulder to get your attention, “Are you sure nothing happened? Creeps harassing you again?”

“No, really.” You say, hand over his cheek. “I just want a change of environment. The job’s getting boring.”

The worry in his eyes gradually disappears as he seems to accept it. He gives a soft okay for now. Looking away, you let out a silent sigh of relief. On the inside, the rational side of you is yelling her head off. What possessed you to decide to quit your job for no good reason? This plan is banking on the chance that Jungkook will let you join him at the club. Which when you think about it, is very unlikely to happen.

Yet, another part of you is excited. Your mind is in a frenzy. Convincing yourself you’ll figure the details out later, you silently thank Taehyung and his Balenciagas for handing you this opportunity.

"Oh hey, we better get going." Jimin says, looking at the time on his phone. "We'll see you guys tonight?"

The girls of Eta Iota are hosting a party tonight. Naturally, the boys get invited and by association, you too. Sunhee’s cashing in on your promise of taking her to one, so you have to go even if it’s just to hang around for a while then leave. You part ways with Jimin and Tae as Jungkook gives Hana and you a ride back. He walks with you to the lobby of your place, where you tell Hana to head up first.

Right by the stairwell, he leans against the wall and holds you in his arms, between his legs. “Are you sure you wanna quit your job?”

"Yessss, I’m sure. I wanna work somewhere else." Resting your chin on his chest, you look up at him. "It's cute that you're worried about me."

“Of course I am.” He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll help you keep a lookout for places that are hiring.”

You smile gleefully up at him. Oh, he’s going to help you get a new job alright. Just not in the way he’s thinking. Already, you feel bad for lying to him. But you keep telling yourself you’re doing this for him.

He doesn’t let you go so easily when you try and remove yourself, not giving up his hold on you. When you pry his hands off, he tugs you right back in, locking you in his arms as kisses land all over your face. “Stop,” you laugh, “someone might see us.” But you don’t look around to check for anyone. He doesn’t care either.

He lifts you up easily, wrapping your legs around him. Switching positions, you now feel the cool wall against your back. “Should we skip the party tonight?” He asks, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“You have to go. It’s part of your fraternity sorority socialising thingy thing.” He rolls his eyes at that. “Plus, I promised Sunhee I’d go with her.”

"Fine. But I’m only going ‘cause you’re going."

“So I’ll see you there, okay?” He nods in response as his hold on you loosens. A peck on the cheek and you’re going up the stairs, one step at a time, hand still holding on to his. As it slips away, he squeezes his chest with his other hand and groans in mock pain.

“Silly,” you mutter between giggles. He breaks character and skips up the steps to get another kiss from you. At this rate he would never leave.

“Jungkook seriously,” you say against his lips, leaning back to separate yourself from him, “you should go now. I’ll see you later anyway.”

He complies and lets you go, but not without releasing a very dramatic sigh. You hurry up the steps before he changes his mind, looking down over the railing as you go, waving your goodbye.

𝄖𝄖

Purple, purple everywhere. The Etas had decided to do their rush party while celebrating their anniversary. Which explains why the decorations are of their ‘official’ colour. Purple balloons, cups, banners, napkins.

“This is so fun!” Sunhee squeals, coming up to hug you from behind. “I’ve made a bunch of new friends!” She squeals again and hurries off elsewhere, leaving you and Hana once again.

“I’m glad she’s enjoying herself.” Hana comments, taking a sip of her drink.

“Aren’t you?” You nudge her side. “You’ve had like four guys come up and give you their number. Don’t act like you’re not having fun.”

“I guess I’m havin’ a lil’ fun…” she mumbles towards the end, sipping on her drink with a tiny smile. She’s holding up much better than you thought she would. Much better than you at least, she doesn’t seem too bothered by the constant yelling.

There’s no reason to worry about Sunhee. She’d clung on to you earlier when you arrived together as promised, like you’re her ticket in. As soon as you passed through the doors, a couple of girls from the host house came up to greet you. While it was a little awkward for you, Sunhee saw her chance and took it. She’s been hanging out with them since.

“Where’s Jungkook?” Hana asks. She’s still unsure about your plan. You had gotten an earful from her earlier on, back at the apartment. Only after you promised, pinky promised and swore you’d be safe, did she finally calm down.

“Somewhere.” It’s crowded enough to not be able to see the other end of the room. You crane your neck to see better. “Don’t know if I can find him with all these people around.”

“Go.” Her pretty, long eyelashes flutter over her eyes as she looks at you. “Don’t worry about me.”

You’re hesitant to leave, but she reiterates that she’d be fine and you finally nod, much to her relief. She has Jimin and Taehyung with her anyway, she says, nodding over to the pair a few feet away.

Before disappearing into the crowd, you turn back to let her know you might not see her for the rest of the night. But she’s read your mind, waving her hands at you. “You’ll be with Jungkook, I know.”

“Text me when you get home. I love you.” You blow her a kiss and watch her roll her eyes, then push through bodies of people to get to a different part of the house. There’s way too many people here. Most of them tower at least a head over you, disrupting your view. Your phone vibrates just as you enter the biggest room of the house which gives you a little more maneuvering space than the previous one.

Jungkook: u look great

Slowly, you turn in the spot you’re in, paying close attention to each section of the room.

Jungkook: i like pink

Jungkook: ur ass looks great in those jeans btw

You: reveal yourself

He doesn’t respond and you continue to wander around, until you reach a short hallway separating the kitchen area from the previous room. With more room to breathe, you decide to stay put knowing Jungkook won’t keep this up for long anyway. And you’re right.

"Looking for me?" His hot breath tickles your ear.

Spinning around, you're greeted by his wide grin and immediately hate how good he looks in a simple white tee with his house name, Kappa Sigma embedded on the left chest, and tucked into black jeans, "Hey you." He tastes like fruit punch when you kiss him.

Your bodies sway slightly to the music with his hands on your hips and your arms around his neck. He reaches behind, pulling something out of his back pocket and holds it up in front of you. “Lollipop?”

“It’s...purple.” You take it from him, observing its odd colour, wondering if this was even necessary.

“I know.” He chuckles. “They really go all out.”

You shrug, unwrapping the sweet and pop it in your mouth. “So, you wanna get out of here?” He asks.

“But I thought you liked parties,” you blink, “socialising, hooking up.”

“I know you’re making fun of me but it’s kinda hot when you talk like that.” He eyes the way your lips wrap around the lollipop, unconsciously mirroring the movement of your tongue licking the layer of sugar off your lips, suddenly going thirsty.

You shove him in the chest and he laughs, stepping back. “I’ve been here less than an hour.” You say. Although, it’s not like you were planning to stay long anyway. You know that, he knows that.

“You won’t miss a thing, trust me.” He hooks an arm over your shoulder. “Besides, we can get started on the hooking up part.” He winks.

You leave through the back, avoiding the large crowd up front. You quickly send a text to Hana to let her know you’re leaving. Out on the lawn, you walk past a group of guys drunkenly singing to their heart's content and you flash them a thumbs up despite how horrible they sound.

The Eta Iota house is just a few houses down from the boys’ and you walk back hand in hand, swinging your arms as you go. Jungkook watches your smile, and the way you laugh when your arms swing so far back that it throws you off balance and you almost fall. “You look good.” He says, softly.

“I know, you told me.” You say without sparing him a glance. “I look good in pink. And these jeans are good for my ass.”

“No.” His voice is as soft as his smile. Looking at him then, you notice the tender look in his eyes. “I mean you look good when you’re happy. It’s nice. Does that make sense? I don’t know.”

Your heart leaps at the way he looks away almost shyly, focusing entirely on the ground as he walks, his other hand in his pocket. You close the gap between you and kiss him on the cheek. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

“I’m happy when I’m with you too.”

The rest of the short walk back goes in comfortable silence, you still lightly swinging your arms. But as you reach the front of the house, Jungkook pauses. It surprises you when he decides to take a walk in the park instead. You give him curious glances along the way, wondering what’s gotten into him. It’s a ten minute walk from his place to a park that’s your go-to for impromptu date nights.

You walk past groups of people hanging around, laughing with food on large picnic mats. Finally you opt for an empty space on the grass, not too far away from others there but secluded enough to have some privacy.

“Oh my god, look at the clouds.” They’re big and fluffy, floating through the dark sky. “I wish we could see the stars. That’d be perfect.”

Jungkook follows your gaze. “There are places where you can do that you know.”

“Yeah, I’d love to go one day.” You say with a heavy sigh.

“We could go together.” Jungkook says, making you look at him. “Like a vacation.”

“Aw. I’d love that.”

He smiles sweetly, then turns in place to face you. “I went to look for places which were hiring earlier.”

“You did? Why?”

“Aren’t you...quitting your job?” He looks at you confused. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“Yeah but, there’s no rush.”

“Just wanna make sure you have something to fall back on.” He says, checking his phone. “So, the bakery right next to the cafe is hiring.”

“Jungkook,” you laugh, “I can’t quit and then take up a job next door!”

“I know but, just in case.” He goes on, looking upwards as he recalls. “The school’s also looking for a part-time librarian⎼”

“Baby no, that’s so boring.” You groan. “I thought I’d look for something more...exciting. Like a routesetter maybe?”

“I didn’t know you rock climb?”

“Oh I don’t.” He looks at you with a blank expression on his face. “What? I can learn to!”

"You're weird." He shakes his head and taps your nose. "Why would you wanna go out of your way for a part time job?"

"Cause...it's fun?"

"Even you don't believe that."

"You're right." The wheels in your head turn at full speed, trying to make this as natural as possible. You have to be careful, Jungkook's way too attentive when it comes to you. "Okay, I'll be honest."

He perks up. Face filled with curiosity, as if ready to say I knew it, that something was up, and that you wouldn't leave your job over nothing.

"I'm quitting because…" You gulp. "I want to spend more time with you."

"What?"

"Don't be mad." You add in quickly. "I just thought that I'd get to have more time to spare for you if I wasn't always working."

Eyes closed, he lets out a sigh and drops his head with a little shake. The small smile and amused look in his eyes makes you smile too. “Are you serious? Are you running a fever?” He places the back of his palm against your forehead and then checks the pulse on your wrist.

“I’m fine.” You snatch your hand back.

“The Y/N I know wouldn’t make impulsive decisions like this.” He quirks a brow, “You know you need that job. How else will you pay rent? Get groceries? You don’t ever let me pay for anything.”

“I’ll find a job with less hours.”

“Less hours, less pay.” He lifts your chin up, pouty lips calling him in. “Don’t be silly baby, you’re not leaving your job.”

“Too late.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I...may have...emailed my resignation...earlier on.”

He groans and you cringe when he shoots you a look of disapproval. You give your best kicked puppy look which doesn’t work. “This doesn’t happen often but I’m really mad at you right now.”

“Don’t be.” You scoot closer and when he turns his head away, you move onto his lap, forcing him in an embrace. “I’ll find something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Go back to work tomorrow and speak to your manager. Tell him you’ve changed your mind.” He asks seriously. “I’ll go and have coffee during every one of your shifts so we’re technically spending time together.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m the silly one?”

“Okay fine, I’m sorry.” You sigh. “I didn’t think things through…”

“You’re damn right you didn’t.” He rests his head in his palm. “So, what are you gonna do now?”

“Spend more time with you?” You inch even closer, if it’s even possible with how you’re already sticking to him like glue. He doesn’t reply right away but squeezes you in his hold, resting his cheek on your head. “Are you still angry?”

“Yes.”

You lift your head off him for a kiss. When he sighs this time, he feels the anger dissipating. At the same time he curses the way his body betrays him when it comes to you. You can barely tell he’s upset with the way he responds so eagerly. The pleased look you give him after has him rolling his eyes. “You can’t be mad at me. I’m cute.”

“True.” He leans back, hands on the grass behind him. “But, we are going to look for job postings online tonight.”

“But mom!” You whine, folding your arms in front of you.

“No buts.”

“Not even my butt?” Blinking innocently at him, you add in a little head tilt until he breaks and starts grinning. “Thought you liked my butt.”

He falls onto the grass, laughing in disbelief and you steady yourself on his chest. “What has gotten into you?” He says, watching as you hover over him. “You’re acting so weird.”

“No I’m not. I’m just happy, like you said.” You kiss him on the nose. “You’re the weird one. Nagging at me about getting a job. Being a responsible adult and stuff.”

He flips over, switching your positions so that he’s hovering over you now. Almost immediately, you’re distracted by how dreamy he looks with the view of the night sky behind him. You run your thumb over one side of his cheek. “You did this to me. Plus I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry. I can pull some strings and get you a job somewhere fun.”

He rolls over to your side and lets you rest your head under his arm, both of you watching the sky. You shift even closer, slinging one leg over his and draw circles on his chest. “Hey I mean, worse comes to worst, I could always come and work for you.”

Surprisingly, he laughs. Really hard. You lift yourself up and rest on your elbow to watch him. “Nice one.” He sighs. Then he notices the way you’re looking at him, face void of expression and brows up in question. “What? You were serious?”

“Slightly offended that you thought it was that funny but yes, I was.”

He raises a brow at you. “You? Want to work at a club? Doing what?”

“Bartender? Cleaner?”

“Don’t even joke about that, our cleaners are our most valuable staff. They clean, sanitise, then double sanitise, wipe up vomit, make sure the booths aren’t lined with nasty fluids.”

Your face twists in horror and he nods, proving his point. “Okay...fine so I’m not qualified enough for that. But bartending? I can do that.”

“No.”

“Why?”

He gets up and you follow. He ruffles the back of his head and dusts of the grains on his hands. “Baby, you’re not working there. I won’t allow it.”

“But𝄖”

“Y/N, I said no.” There was no room to argue, not even cheekily. He didn't raise his voice, but the tone he took was enough. Easing the firm stare he gave you as he said it, he turns his attention to his phone as it beeps.

𝄖𝄖

"Lucky for you, I told the manager you just needed a break to focus on school," Hana yawns, pulling up the blanket to her face, "you can come back anytime."

"You want me to give up?"

"Only because your plan is dangerous."

"Hana, I'm not giving up."

She sighs, turning over to the other side. “Let’s talk tomorrow. I’m tired.”

You push yourself off her bed and sit on the edge, thinking. Quietly, you pull open the drawer by her bed, fumbling around until you feel what you’re looking for. The little paper you tore out of Jungkook’s notebook. When he started sleeping over, you had asked Hana to keep it safe for you. You stare at the address. You hadn’t gotten round to visiting the place, especially since you don’t even know what you’re looking for.

“Turn off the light when you leave, will you?” Hana mumbles half-asleep.

You leave the piece of paper and close the drawer.

𝄖𝄖

Two days later, you’re back at his place. The guys are all over, making sure the house is ready for a party tonight. Each of them were assigned different tasks to settle to save time. When you arrived, Hoseok made sure to separate Jungkook from you, for the sake of efficiency, so you’re stuck in the kitchen with Jimin. Helping him with the cleaning, you listen mindlessly as he rambles on about something. He yells at every guy that enters and tries to steal some snacks but sneaks some into his mouth when no one’s looking.

Just as you’re done wiping down the chip bowls, Jungkook walks in with dark stains all over his shirt and face. He chugs down half a bottle of orange juice from the fridge before opening a bag of gummies placed on the table for the party which has Jimin groaning.

“What happened to you?”

“Car oil needed changing. Cleaned up under the hood too.”

“What?” Jimin shrieks. “You were working on your car this entire time?”

“Yeah?”

“While the rest of us were preparing for the party? Unbelievable!” He huffs, “You were supposed to fix the first floor bathroom⎼”

Jungkook signals for him to stop, holding up a palm. “Fine, I’ll go do it now.” He reaches out for your hand and continues to nod at everything Jimin says as he tags you along, the nagging fading away as you run upstairs.

“You should really go and help out.” You say, plopping down on his bed with a bounce.

Jungkook hums, “I will. Later.”

Sniffing the shirt he has on, he lets out a disapproving grunt. He removes it in one swoop and tosses it into a basket. You watch quietly as he steps closer, eyes fixed on yours. He leans forward and your hands grip the sheets as you lean back, looking at him expectantly. Then his arm moves past your head and reaches for another shirt on the bed, behind you. He snickers and you slap his shoulder.

“I’m leaving.”

“Aw, come on, don’t go.” He jumps into bed and grabs you. He leans on his side, propped up on his elbow, hand on your middle.

“I have to get some groceries.” You play with his hair. “Then I’m gonna freshen up and come back here in time for the party.”

“Great, I’ll drive you.”

“No, you stay. Fix the bathroom.”

“But I don’t want to.” He groans, and rolls over onto you. Almost naturally, your legs wrap around him and he starts kissing your neck, moving down to your chest, pulling down your shirt. You stop him, giggling. “Why do you always wanna leave when we kiss?” He frowns.

“Why do you always kiss me when I’m leaving?”

“‘Cause I don’t want you to leave."

The smell of your skin makes him smile. It smells like...home.

You feel his weight slowly get heavier on you as his body relaxes and melts into yours, nestling his face into your neck. He almost drifts to sleep with the way you’re rubbing his back. When you ruffle his hair, he lifts his head and claims a kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Kookie.”

You giggle as he drops his face in the space between your neck and shoulder. Groaning, he recalls the night Suga found out about the nickname. He has since, constantly used it on Jungkook whenever he can. “He’s never letting that go. Thanks a lot.”

“I’m sorry.” You laugh, chest moving under him. “I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was saying.”

Supporting his weight on one arm, he hovers above you while his free hand brushes past the side of your face. “You don’t remember anything you said that night?”

“No.” That can’t be good. You scan his face. “Why? Did I say something weird?”

“No. Just wondering.” He says gently, expression slowly changing into a smile that makes you forget you were even worried a second ago. “Don’t get drunk anymore. Suga likes you way too much when you’re drunk.”

“Does he?” You laugh, cupping his face. If Suga likes you, you can use this to your advantage. You can’t wait to tell Hana your plan worked.

When Jungkook hears the sound of his name being called from somewhere around the house, he groans and sinks into you again. You push him off you with much difficulty, laughing as he keeps plopping back down into you.

“Okay, they need you. I’m leaving so you can focus. I’ll come back later.” You say, when you finally manage to escape. Reluctantly, he follows behind as you walk down the stairs.

Just as you reach the bottom of the steps, you’re being pulled to the side, against the wall where he corners you into, hands on either side. “I’ll be waiting, so you better show up.” Down your back, up your front, his hands run over your body till they rest just under your jaw, making you lift your chin towards him. Breath hitching in your throat, he carefully brings his lips to yours, teasing a soft touch. Then he lets go.

He smiles like nothing happened and you catch your breath before racing to the front door. You hear a soft chuckle and turn to see him winking at you as he goes in the other direction. Hearing voices from the kitchen where the meeting has started, you quickly close the door behind you, ignoring the pulsing between your thighs.

𝄖𝄖

With a basketful of groceries, you stroll through the store, looking for anything you might have missed out. As you walk, you notice from afar, standing right in front of the refrigerated section your new friend Namjoon. You head straight for him, a little bounce in your step. When you stop right next to him, he turns slowly and carefully.

“Oh. It’s you.” He says as he realises.

“Getting some groceries?” You ask, looking at the shelf then back at him.

“Oh just,” he lifts up a bottle of juice, “getting my orange juice. I see you’re getting your monthly supply. You alone?”

“Yeah I am.” You nod, “My roommate’s busy with school stuff.”

“Right.” He smiles, then it seems like a thought comes to him. “Hey, you’re going for the party tonight right?”

“What? How’d you know about that?” You look at him confused.

“I have friends too you know.”

“But, you can’t come. You’re technically faculty.” You say, putting down your basket to fold your arms in front of you and stare him down. “Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

He chuckles, then points and holds up a finger in front of you. “Actually, I’m an external instructor. So technically, I’m not faculty.”

“How convenient.” You eye him down.

“Fine, fine.” He sighs. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to a party, okay? I just wanna mingle.”

“Hm.” You chew on your bottom lip. Seems genuine enough. You can’t help but wonder if he’s there for something else. How will that go down with Jungkook? “An instructor looking to mingle with his students...definitely no red flags there.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Come on, I’m not that much older than you. And I’m not that kinda person.”

“That’s what they all say.” You shrug. “Well, I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“Cool.” He winks. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He walks off way too quickly, like he’s avoiding something and heads straight for the checkout counter. Of course you know why he’d go to a college party; the perfect place to sell his drugs. You can’t figure out if you should let Jungkook know about Namjoon. But then again, he almost always knows what’s going on. And he’d be uneasy knowing you know so much.

You pick up your basket off the floor and head for checkout yourself. Barely making ten steps, you notice someone leaning against the side of a shelf, watching you with his arms crossed, mischievous smile on his face. Your other new friend. How coincidental.

“Suga.” You say, a tone way too excited for his liking but he nods anyway. You walk over to him and stand awkwardly before him, holding your basket with both hands in front of you. “Hi.”

“Hey cutie.” He searches for someone behind you. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“Oh he’s back at home.” You smile. “They’re getting ready for rush week. And the party tonight.”

“Am I invited?”

“Oh, um…” You can tell he’s joking, but you can’t be too sure. How interesting would it be to have Jungkook, Namjoon and Suga in one place. You wonder what would happen if they met.

You chuckle nervously without giving an answer and he shrugs it off. “I was kidding.”

“I guess you can come if you want to.” You say with a tiny shrug. “I’m sure Jungkook won’t mind.”

He changes the subject almost immediately, offering to help you carry your basket, which you politely decline. He walks with you to the counter. “So who was that guy you were talking to?”

Oh, he’s an instructor from school and also the new drug dealer in town. “Oh him? He’s the new self-defense instructor on campus.”

“Really?” He looks amused, and bites his bottom lip in a half-smile. “Cool. And you guys are friends?”

“Yeah. Kinda.” You place your basket on the counter and help the cashier to unload the items to scan. You don’t notice the way Suga laughs silently to himself, shaking his head.

“You know what, I gotta go.” Suga says, walking backwards towards the exit. You don’t even manage to reply to him before he takes off. “Let’s drink again sometime soon!”

𝄖𝄖

Hana is less than pleased to know about your run-ins. She looks at you with daggers in her eyes. “You have to stop this. He obviously knows your plan."

"Stop overreacting. How could he possibly know that?"

She shrugs. The loud music drowns out your voices from being overheard by those around you. "It's hard to believe it was a coincidence running into him.” She says and you sigh, choosing to ignore her.

The last you saw Jungkook, he was laughing away with a group of people. You didn’t want to bother him, he’d be busy anyway trying to get freshies on his side. But it’s been a while and now you don’t see him anywhere.

While Hana mingles, you go off to look for him. In the kitchen, you find Jimin doing shots of something that doesn’t look edible with a bunch of guys cheering him on. But no Jungkook. You peek out on the deck out back but he’s not there either. A hand on the sliding doors, you sigh and step out into the courtyard, breathing in air that doesn’t smell like sweat.

You pause when you step down the stairs and spot something, squinting at the sight of two guys in the far end of the backyard, right by the bush-lined fence. Recognising that jacket, you realise one of them is Jungkook. He then pulls something out of his pocket and shakes hands with the other guy. You turn back before he spots you. Probably just a polite handshake. Maybe with an old friend. Yup.

Step back inside, you’re being stopped by a hand on your arm. “You look flustered.” He says.

“Hi Hoseok.” You force a smile. “It’s warm in here.”

His eyes flicker over to the backyard and back at you. “This is what he does at parties. It’s how he distributes them.”

“So?” You look around uncomfortably.

“I know you don’t like it either.” He stops you before you can reply. “Can you meet me outside in ten minutes? It’s important.”

“You’re already here, what is it? No one’s paying any attention to us anyway.”

“I can’t.”

The sceptical look you give him has him feeling restless. “Trust me, it’s very important.”

From the tone of his voice, he sounds sincere. You don’t want to, but do you want to risk not knowing something that could help you help Jungkook? You hate this. After a long pause, you nod reluctantly. “Fine.”

Neither of you realised the two figures approaching until they’re walking up the steps. Hoseok and you share a look, as if pleading to the other to act normal. As they reach the door, you see now that Jae is the other guy. He greets you as he walks past, then blends into the crowd. Behind him, Jungkook spares you a curious look at the little exchange. He then notices Hoseok’s presence.

“What’s going on?” He looks back and forth at the two of you. “You look upset.”

“Hm? Oh no, I’m fine.” You muster up your best smile. “We were just talking about the guy who puked in the sink earlier.”

“Speaking of which, I should go make sure he’s not puking elsewhere.” Hoseok says, taking his leave.

You can’t tell if Jungkook bought that but he doesn’t question it. His demeanour changes as soon as Hoseok leaves, directing his attention on you. “He wasn’t bothering you, was he?”

“No.” You smile. “I ran into him while looking for some food.”

“Oh⎼”

He doesn’t get a chance to continue when someone he knows slaps him on the back. They chat for a while as he keeps you close next to him, even when you try to pry his fingers off. The other guy drags him somewhere but before he goes, he turns to you. “Grab some food and meet me upstairs, I’ll just be a second.” He winks, stealing a kiss.

“You don’t have to. I’ll just come find you later on it’s fine𝄖”

“You’re not getting rid of me babe.” He jokes and you let out an awkward laugh as he goes.

You haven’t mastered being in two places at once, you’re not a ninja. And in a few minutes, Hoseok will be waiting for you outside. And Jungkook upstairs. You groan, searching the cabinets for some snacks before heading up to Jungkook’s room.

That’s when you notice a familiar blond head among the crowd you. It distracts you. You could’ve sworn that was Suga. But too many people are blocking your line of sight. As you reach the spot you had possibly seen him, he’s gone. You don’t have time to think about this. Swiftly, you run up the steps and head right for Jungkook’s door. And of course, a familiar face exits the washroom on the same floor.

“Namjoon.”

“Why do you look so surprised to see me?” He raises a brow with a playful smile on his face. “I told you I was coming.

You shake your head and look behind you. “Nothing I was just⎼”

“Hogging all the snacks?” He gestures towards the food you’re cradling in your arms and you laugh.

“There’s more downstairs.” You reassure him.

As if on cue, footsteps move swiftly up the stairs and you glance behind to find Jungkook halfway up, a cautious look on his face as he approaches you. Namjoon nods politely. For a moment it’s like you can no longer hear the music blasting, enveloped by the awkward silence.

“Uh, Jungkook this is Namjoon.” You notice the way his jaw clenches as he takes Namjoon’s outstretched hand in his. “And this is Jungkook.”

“The boyfriend. Nice to meet you.” He flashes a blinding smile Jungkook’s way.

“Likewise.”

Namjoon reads the room well and you’re thankful for it. He excuses himself, saving you from having to grease the conversation any further. “See you guys around.” He says, leaving.

Jungkook opens the door for you and you drop the snacks on his table. His fingers immediately wrap around you, lifting you up and throwing you onto the bed. “Finally." He mutters pulling you in.

You giggle nervously as he kisses you all over, pulling away from him. He shoots you a confused look. "Wait I...need the toilet."

He throws his head back but moves aside to let you go. "Okay. I'll wait."

Hurrying out, you close the door and run downstairs, rushing past the sea of bodies to the front door. Once outside, you look around scanning the few faces there for him. Hoseok stands around the corner at the side of the house and calls out your name.

The front and back of the house is well lit, but not the sides. Both of you stand in the shadows by the wall, waiting for him to speak. But he doesn't, instead, he looks around anxiously.

"Hoseok, what is it? You said this is important!" You hiss. "I can't be too long, Jungkook's waiting for me."

"Just give him a second, he'll be here."

"Who?"

"He's here." His eyes focus on a man wearing a navy sweatshirt, hoodie pulled up so you can't really see who it is. He only pulls it down when he joins you in the shadows.

"Hi."

"Y/N, this is Seokjin. He works with my friend."

"Oh. Hello." You watch him curiously. If you could describe a smile as being trustworthy, it would be his.

"Thanks for meeting me," he starts, "I’ll make it quick. It's about a case I'm sure the two of you are familiar with. Actually, I'm here to speak to you, Y/N."

"Me?" You ask, worrying.

"As you know we have an agent working undercover. He's seen you around and since you know about this operation, he’s worried you might get too close, given your relationship with one of the suspects involved. We want to make sure you stay out of it as much as possible."

"But I'm not doing anything to jeopardise the operation."

"We know." He nods, "But still, we have to emphasise that these people are dangerous. You do not want to get involved. You shouldn’t know about this operation in the first place, but nothing we can do about that now.”

Hoseok’s eyes downcast and hands hide in his pockets, knowing he wasn’t supposed to reveal anything to you. “He’s okay right?” He asks softly.

“He’s fine. He personally contacted me to speak with you. And he’s sorry he hasn’t answered his phone, it’s too risky.”

“Who’s this guy again? Do I know him?” You ask.

“You already know too much as it is. I can’t reveal the name of our agent. We can’t risk him getting exposed, it could cost him his life.”

Silence ensues. It’s uncomfortable to think about how someone could literally die from an unfortunate slip of the tongue. You wait for someone to diffuse the tension. Hoseok looks like he’s in thought, opening his mouth to speak then stopping. Seokjin beats him to it. “In case it’s not clear enough, your plan ends here Y/N.”

How does he⎼ oh. So that’s why Hoseok looks troubled. You stare him down and mutter through clenched teeth. “You told him.”

“I didn’t mean to!” He spits out. “When Seokjin called me earlier, I got reminded of you. I had to tell him. And I know you wouldn’t listen to me anyway, so I got him to come here.”

“Listen. I just want to help Jungkook, that’s all.” You sigh. “I promise I won’t get in the way.”

“I get it. Hoseok’s explained it to me.” It’s Seokjin’s turn to sigh. “Doesn’t matter what your intentions are, it’s best if you stay away.”

You look helplessly over at Hoseok, then reluctantly agree with a nod. “I’ll try.”

“No, you see, this isn’t a request. It’s an order. There is a chance you’ll get convicted as part of the group if you don’t keep your distance. Is that what you want?”

“No. But𝄖”

“Good, so we’re on the same page.”

“No, we’re not.” Huffing, you step closer to him. “I’m not doing this for fun. I’m trying to get my boyfriend out of there.”

“I understand. But there’s no telling what could happen. Let us handle it. If he’s innocent, then you don’t have anything to worry about. The most important thing here is that you don’t end up getting caught up in the mess. Do you really want to be associated with criminals?”

“Jungkook’s not a criminal.”

Seokjin holds up his hands in a surrender. “That’s not what I meant.”

Hoseok gulps, gently touching your arm. “Y/N please. Let them handle it.”

“I am letting them handle it.” You say stubbornly before turning back to Seokjin. “Look, I’m just here for Jungkook. Tell that to your guy. I won’t stand in the way of the operation.”

“You do know that this is all off the record?” Seokjin starts, “That means even though our undercover, as well as I, am aware that you’re not involved, if by any chance you’re caught with drugs or anything illegal at the time of the raid, you might get convicted. There will be no records to show that you’re innocent.”

“I understand.”

“Alright.” Seokjin pulls his hoodie back up. Now you can only faintly see the bottom half of his face. “Take care. Remember, no one else can know about this.”

He takes off in quick steps, round the corner and down the street. Hoseok fidgets in his spot, trying to find the right words. “I didn’t make him do this to scare you or anything. Promise.”

“I know, Hoseok.” You smile softly. “But you get it right? Why I’m doing this?”

“Yeah...” he trails off for a moment, then continues. “You saw him earlier didn’t you?”

“I did.” You shake your head with a sigh, “Trust me okay? I’m doing everything I can to help Jungkook, like you wanted me to.”

“I never wanted this. I don’t want you to get hurt if things don’t go as planned.”

“Whatever happens after, I’ll deal with it then.”

𝄖𝄖

Feeling numb, the walk back upstairs feels like you’re on autopilot, barely hearing the buzzing of the crowd. You take a deep breath before turning the knob of Jungkook’s door, willing yourself to forget the last ten minutes ever happened. He’d read you like a book in this state.

But your bright smile is wasted on an empty room.

“Jungkook?”

𝄖𝄖

The next day, you're sitting on the running track, soaked in sweat after a long session of track and field. The coach bids his goodbye as the team continues their cooling down stretches. Hana plops down next to you. “So?”

“What?”

“You wanna talk about it?” She asks, picking dirt off of your cheek with her thumb. “You seemed really out of it last night. Barely spoke the whole day today…”

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head. “Just thinking.”

You decided not to tell her about Seokjin and everything that was said last night. For now at least. She already has reservations about your plan as it is, telling her about Seokjin would just freak her out even more.

“Jungkook called you yet?”

“Mhm.” Technically it was a text, wishing you good morning with a kissy face emoji. Not wanting to make a big deal out of the night before, you reply as you normally would. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just tired actually.”

She hangs an arm over your shoulder and gives you a side hug. “No more parties for you.”

“Yeah they’re kinda lame aren’t they?” You laugh.

After grabbing your stuff, you’re headed for the locker room. You're too deep in thought to realise the girls on your team giggling around you. It isn't until Hana nudges you then nods to bleachers that you realise your boyfriend is waiting for you. He salutes the other ladies with a winning smile as they walk off, before getting off his butt.

The girls mutter quietly, and you hear the words lucky and they're so cute as they leave you. Hana waves to Jungkook before walking ahead. Jungkook trots down the steps and lifts you in a hug.

“Sorry, I’m sweaty.”

“That’s okay,” he smiles, swaying you side to side, “not the first time I have you all sweaty in my arms.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs, then starts swinging your hands as you walk back. “Hey sorry about last night."

"Oh it’s fine. Don't worry about it." You say, with a shake of your head, looking at the ground. "You're a busy man, I know."

"Can I make it up to you? Tonight?"

"Alright." You nod. "I gotta shower first though. And you have to give me a ride back to get some fresh clothes."

"No need to dress up."

"But I want to." You pout and he chuckles.

The sound of whistling and yelling coming from the field gets your attention. It's the soccer team, practice still ongoing. It only just occurred to you that you haven't seen Jungkook there in a while.

"Why aren't you practicing with them anymore? Did you quit?"

Jungkook looks at you with an amused look on his face. "Y/N, I was never part of the team."

"Huh?" You stop in your tracks. "I'm pretty sure I've seen you on that field running after the ball."

"Yeah but I was never really on the team." He reiterates. Now you're confused. "I only practiced with them so I could watch you during track and field."

"What?"

"Have you forgotten? I'm on the basketball team."

Honestly, you hadn’t made the connection that it’s impossible for him to be on both the soccer and basketball teams until now. "No wait, you joined them just to watch me?"

"Yes and no?" He shrugs proudly. "At first it was because I got kicked off the basketball team. Then we started dating. I got to see you every practice. Then I got reinstated on the basketball team. And I didn't wanna stop seeing you during practice so I kept going. Until now."

"Jungkook that is𝄖"

"Sweet?"

"Lowkey creepy."

He lets out a tiny gasp with a look of betrayal on his face. "But...I wanted to see you."

You laugh at the utter disappointment he shows and pat his face, though it feels like a light slap, before running off making him chase after you.

𝄖𝄖

Laying on the hood of his car, with his arm under your neck, Jungkook listens to you talk about anything and everything. In your favourite spot, parked by the beach so you get the cool breeze and the gentle sound of waves crashing onto the shore.

He enjoys listening to you talk about your life; what your childhood was like, what kind of trouble you used to get into, your family. It’s like peeling off a new layer every time. Who knew you used to bully the bully as a kid? And let’s not forget that time you got detention for smoking in school but you only did it to get your dad’s attention so that he would stop dating the evil girlfriend who threatened to send you off to boarding school.

“Baby are you...a troublemaker?” He muses and you laugh.

“Well I was. I grew out of it.” You shrug and look up at him. “Kinda.”

“Would’ve never guessed. You’re so shy. And good.”

“Yeah. Once I realised how my behaviour was affecting people’s liking towards me, I changed.”

He smiles tenderly at you, always so full of surprises. You play with the hem of his sweater, then look up at him. “What about you? You haven’t told me anything about your past.”

Not once has he shared his own stories. You never asked because you didn’t want to pressure him. But you’re almost out of stories yourself.

Jungkook looks up at the sky for a while. You sense the hesitance. “There’s nothing much to say.”

“What about...your family? Do you have any siblings?”

There’s no reply, only the sound of the waves crashing and a distant laughter from a group of friends on the beach. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Propping yourself up on your elbow, you see now the faint sparkle in his eyes. Could be the cool breeze making his eyes water. He blinks it away when you stare. “We can talk about other things.”

He smiles as his eyes scan your face before you’re snuggling into his side again. “I like hearing your stories.”

“But I’ve told you everything.”

“What about your first kiss?”

You groan. “I’ve told you that one. It was during camp. He pushed me into the lake after that because it was all a dare.”

“Oh right and then you threw all his clothes into the lake as revenge.”

“Yeah.” You laugh. “It was pretty funny.”

He laughs thinking about tiny Y/N lugging a big bag full of clothes and dumping it into a lake as the owner yells in horror. Who knew you had it in you. You’re always so calm and by the book, it’s almost like a whole other person.

“Can you tell me about your tattoo?” You look up at him.

He smirks, turning his head to the side towards the arm it’s on. It’s a tiger head on the upper bicep of his right arm. Made up of shapes, lines, squiggles, it has sharp piercing eyes. It’s beautiful, really. “It’s just something to represent my loyalty towards my brothers.”

You’ve never seen this mark on the other frat boys, so you assume he’s talking about his other group of brothers. “It’s nice. I like it.”

“Mhm.” It’s tough to crack him. He never reveals more than what he thinks you need to know.

After a while, you pluck up the courage to ask him about the job. “Have you thought about what we discussed?” You ask softly, playing with his fingers.

“What did we discuss?”

“About the job,” you remove yourself from him again and this time get on your knees, “about me working at the club?”

He sighs, looking at you like the stubborn teenager in your stories. “I already told you no.”

“You won’t even consider it.” You pout.

He smiles, surprisingly. “After careful consideration, I regret to inform you that you’ve been rejected. You don't have what it takes.”

“Rude!” You huff, “I have all that it takes.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do! I’m tough.” You spit out. You strike an awkward pose, doing something weird with your arms. “I have swag.”

It makes him laugh so hard he starts tearing and almost choke on his saliva. Embarrassed, you laugh along, hitting him on his chest. Cheeks hurting from all that, he opens his arms. “Come here you.”

You drop into him, mostly to hide your face in his shoulder. He holds you tight, a content sigh escapes him as he does. “I love you so much.” He says into your ear.

Lifting your head up to face him, he smiles tenderly at you, softly tracing a finger over your face, the lulling movement making your eyes flutter shut.

𝄖𝄖

“You got a problem with me?” Namjoon says to the smaller guy.

Suga smirks bitterly, unimpressed by how the new guy has no respect whatsoever towards him. “I do actually. What’s your deal?”

“What d’you mean?”

“You appear out nowhere, get dispatched to our district. Same area as Jungkook no less...are you trying to replace us?”

“Hey, I didn’t choose the location.” Namjoon shrugs. “Maybe if you guys didn’t suck so bad they wouldn’t have asked me to secure the bags.”

He braces himself as Suga lunges forward, shoving him against the wall, his collar bunched up in clenched fists. Surprisingly strong for a small dude. “You don’t come work for us and talk shit about us to my face.”

Namjoon tugs on his clothes, pulling them out of Suga’s grip. He clears his throat and tries to calm himself. “My bad. Next time I’ll do it behind your back.”

“What are you up to? You took a job on campus, why? Jungkook’s already got that covered.”

“Like I said, I didn’t choose to. I was sent there.” He steps forward, making Suga take a few steps back.

“Liar.”

“Look if you have a problem with it, take it up with the lieutenant.” Namjoon walks off, angering the other guy even more. The nerve of this new kid makes his blood boil. There’s something off about him, there’s no way the bosses would send a new guy in for no reason.

He stomps his way into Kyun’s office, slamming the door behind him. Kyun looks up, sees him, and goes back to his laptop. “What?”

“Don’t you think there’s something wrong with that RM guy?” Suga says, pulling up a chair.

“No. Why?”

“He’s so full of himself.”

“Name one person working here that isn’t,” Kyun says, “besides, you should be thankful I assigned him to you. Jungkook’s been slacking.”

“I told you, the school’s keeping an eye on him. He’s taking it slow.”

Suga can’t remember how many times he’s used that excuse. He can’t come right out and admit that Jungkook has in fact been slacking. Or rather, distracted. Not to mention the time Jungkook considered leaving all of this behind. It’s no surprise the lieutenant’s picked up on it.

“Whatever.” Kyun mutters, obviously tired of having this conversation.

“Wait,” the wheels in Suga’s head turn and he looks curiously at his lieutenant, “you’re not doubting Jungkook are you? Did you send RM in to replace him?”

“If Jungkook’s doing a good job like you seem to think he is, why would you be worried about this?”

Suga purses his lips, “He’s fine. He hasn’t missed any of his shifts. I couldn’t have gotten shit done at the club without him.”

“Numbers are still low though.”

“That’s because you’ve got the new kid stealing all his buyers.”

“RM’s good and the staff there seem to trust him. He stays.”

“Fine. Then get off Jungkook’s back about his numbers. He can’t sell drugs the same as before if you have another dealer there competing with him.”

Kyun thinks about it for a minute, then nods. “Alright fine. Anyway, it’s good that you’re here now. I can run through what boss wants you to get up and running at the club.”

It hits Suga that Kyun having doubts about Jungkook is bad news, at least, if word travels up the hierarchy. While Jungkook had promised to keep up, Suga intends to make sure he actually does. He can’t afford anymore slip-ups. Or distractions, in the form of you. He can’t let anything happen to Jungkook.

𝄖𝄖

Sneaking back into the house at such an ungodly hour, you guide Jungkook in the dark, careful not to make a sound.

Back in your room, his jacket and shirt are the first to go. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, lips not parting from each other.

Slipping under your shirt, he unhooks your bra and pulls your shirt with it over your head. Lips smiling on yours, his hands knead your breasts and you feel your nerves reacting. He trails wet kisses down your front, fingers undoing your jeans and pulling them off in a single swoop.

He removes his own pair of jeans, leaving him in his boxers. Then, kneeling by your legs, he gently peels your panties off, taking in the view of your naked body, lighted up by the warm yellow of your nightlight. If he could, he’d engrave this image of you in his head.

His eyes wide and lustful, they trail over you. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers.

Hovering above you, he strokes the side of your face, before pressing his body to yours in a soft gentle kiss. He moves so gently, like you could break at any moment. When your hands wrap around his neck, he grabs hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head. You let out a soft whimper.

Jungkook takes his time, showering your skin with kisses. Starting from your neck down to your navel. He licks one side of your breast, teasingly drawing circles with his tongue along the nipple, then gives the same attention to the other. Your breathing gets hitched in your throat, feeling the blood rush down south.

He brings his mouth lower, hands now occupying your breasts where his mouth was. It sends you butterflies the way his hot breath brushes against your skin. There’s something different about the way he’s touching you tonight.

He spares some kisses down your inner thighs and watches the way goosebumps appear as they try to clam up reflexively.

Hands on your thighs, he pushes them apart and runs a teasing lick over your folds. Then his tongue finds its way to your clit, flicking it gently before his lips wrap around it and he starts gently sucking. You jolt and take in a sharp breath grabbing a fishful of the sheets.

His fingers delicately touch your folds, running a teasing finger over your entrance. Looking up from between your thighs, he watches the way you steady your breaths, eyes closed, brows furrowed.

It doesn’t last long and when you open your eyes, he’s hovering over you, licking his lips. Very eagerly you pull down the hem of his boxers, exposing his hard cock. His own fingers wrap around it, stroking himself gently as he reaches for a bottle of lube. He stares at you with a look you can’t read.

“Something on your mind?” You voice out.

He shakes his head with a gentle smile and takes his position between your legs, your thighs over his. Aligning himself with your entrance, he grips your ankles on either side. Slowly, he enters and you will yourself not to make a sound at the initial stretch.

Jungkook keeps a steady pace, watching intently the way he moves in and out of you. You can’t help but to stare at him and the way his abs clench every time he moves his hips into you. The flexing of his arms every now and then, keeping your legs steady. And the way the warm light casts shadows dancing over his body as he moves.

“Jungkook.” You call out for him, so softly.

He releases your ankles and leans forward, resting his body on yours. Pressing his forehead to you, he admires the look of lust in your eyes and the way you’re biting your bottom lip. “Yes, my love?”

Your fingers run over his face. You’re too occupied with the pleasure of him inside you that your brain refuses to put your thoughts into words. He chuckles when you only manage a breathy smile instead.

Your wrists get pinned over your head once again, and he watches you from above. Every thrust is deep and filling, his hips moving expertly to give you just the right amount of pleasure, leaving you a hot mess beneath him.

You look absolutely breathtaking to him; the parting of your lips, eyes shut and shaky breaths. Your breasts bounce with every thrust and your chest rises and falls with every breath you take. He lets out a low guttural sound and presses his body to yours, devouring your lips in a passionate kiss.

His hips pick up speed, grinding into you with calculated moves. You get lost in each other, a mixture of your quick breaths filling the room. The look in his eyes is mirrored in yours, waves of emotions flowing between both your bodies and soul.

Jungkook can’t describe his feelings for you. It’s something he hasn’t felt in a long time; warmth, love, trust, acceptance. All he knows is to tell you he loves you and hopes you get it.

Your eyes get misty as you let your own emotions get to you, feeling the twinge in your chest when you look at him.

Arms wrapping around his waist, your tongues dance between your lips. He knows all the right spots to leave you breathless. You feel it building in the pit of your stomach, and pull away from the kiss, no longer in control of your actions.

Jungkook feels it too, sensing the pressure between your hips as they wrap tightly around him. He steadies himself and gives you long, deep strokes, as he watches your breaths get quicker. The euphoric look on your face earns a grunt of approval from him.

Not wanting to hold back any longer, his hips grind into yours at a quicker pace, feeling himself reaching his release. His mouth latches on to your nipple, sucking it for a second before he hears small whines leaving you, signalling you’re close.

Willing yourself to keep your eyes open, you place a hand on the side of his face, making sure his eyes stay on yours. It gets blurrier with the way tears start to fill your eyes. “I love you.” You blurt out in a whisper and he rests his forehead on yours as he thrusts hard, one which makes your insides squirm.

Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches you. A single tear rolls down the side of your face as you start to reach your high. “I love you Y/N.” He breathes out against your lips before capturing you in a kiss. With one hard thrust, you find yourself succumbing to the pressure in your middle, unravelling a wave of pleasure that courses through your entire body, chest rising towards him and hands keeping him close.

Watching you, he reaches his own climax, hips bucking wildly into yours, and you feel his warm release spilling inside you, his moans lost in the kiss. It takes a while before his hips slow down into a gentle rhythm. Your body goes limp as you ride it out, drained of energy.

He catches his breath with his head on yours and when you finally catch each other’s eyes, you share a giggle. He shines in his afterglow, a look of pure bliss on his face. But he could say the same for you, thumb running over your cheek to wipe off the tear stains.

In that moment, it feels as if you’re staring right into his soul. He stares back at you, as if trying to say something more than what’s been said, worrying once again about conveying what’s in his heart. But you just smile back.

“I know, Jungkook. I know. I love you too.”

#jungkook fics #networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #rainworks #my #hope you like it :(

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Text

you’re the one that i want (part 24)

word count: 5k

fluff

(part 23) (series masterlist)

it was crazy how long days used to feel during this time just last year, after winer break started and the draining third and forth marking periods of school started.

usually, you’d be crumbling.

working your hardest to maintain your grades while also dealing with a toxic home environment. you loved school because it served as a safe haven away from that but it also drained and exhausted every bit of you.

but four months of your life now passed by unbelievably fast and you were handling everything well, good people around you that made schoolwork just a little more tolerable.

when you were struggling with math, mingi would help you during lunch. if you needed someone to test you with flashcards, yeosang would reward every correct answer with a piece of food. when a particular teacher gave you shit for anything, wooyoung was quick to cause some sort of chaos even if it meant getting detention.

and when everything just got too overwhelming and you never wanted to look at another book again, seonghwa was quick to clear your desk and drag you to bed. lay you down and hold himself above you until you were smiling and giggling as he pecked kisses down your neck.

you think it was solely because of him and the others and your aunt that june came so fast, only two weeks left of school and everyone buzzing with excitement; even with the whines and arguing coming from your lunch table.

“you’re really gonna make us stay in a hotel for the whole summer?” wooyoung asked, looking at seonghwa with distrust and hurt in his eye. “i thought we had fun at your house that time.”

because with only two weeks left of school meant only two weeks left of you and seonghwa commuting back and forth.

of seeing wooyoung, san, mingi and yeosang every day who have really grown to love this dynamic; so much so, they’ve been all but begging to spend the whole summer there with you two.

but to no one’s surprise, seonghwa wasn’t for the idea.

“no, you guys had fun. i was one second away from flinging myself off a fucking cliff.”

“that’s not fair,” san whines.

but the dirty blonde only quirks an eyebrow and asks if it was fair that he had to sleep on the floor on his own bedroom every night. or be rudely woken up and forced to make breakfast. or share his girlfriend and-

“no hotel, you guys could always stay with me,” you interrupt sweetly, a small smile on your face that only widens when you feel seonghwa glaring at you. your head cranes over to look him up and down, a smirk crossing your face as you shrug your shoulders carelessly.

“what?”

“yeah, what?” wooyoung asks, mimicking your higher voice causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“really? what?” seonghwa asks, annoyance and exasperation in his tone. “i don’t want you burning my girlfriend’s house down, that’s what.”

“girlfriend, this. girlfriend, that. we all know you have a girlfriend, okay.”

“what? girlfriend? i don’t have a girlfriend.”

everyone’s heads snap to the side when a new voice stammers those words out, yeosang finally arriving and standing there looking incredibly panicked and guilty.

it makes you in particular cock an eyebrow, the other boy’s “where the hell did you come from” and “we know you loser,” quickly turning back into whines and protests to seonghwa.

but for the the rest of lunch, you could only focus on how...odd yeosang is acting.

peeking at you every now and then before smiling awkwardly, checking his phone and trying to hide his smile, needing mingi or san to repeat themselves several times because he just seems so dazed and out of it.

when lunch ends, seonghwa is quick to stand up and grab your hand as per your usual walk to class together. but you take your hand from his hold and place it on his arm, standing up on your tippy toe to peck his cheek.

“can you go without me?” you ask softly, using a voice you know will always get him. “i wanna talk to yeosang for a second.”

“oh?” he mumbles, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear casually. “what about?”

“i don’t know, he was acting strange,” you say quietly, turning to see him gathering his stuff and checking his phone once more. “i wanna make sure he’s okay.”

the dirty blonde looks to yeosang and hums quietly, looking over his friend who meets his gaze.

“what?”

“why are you being a weird fuck?”

“seonghwa!” you squeal, smacking his chest before quickly ushering him away.

he lets out a loud chuckle before squeezing your hand once more, telling you he’ll meet you at the end of the period and meeting yeosang’s middle finger with one of his own.

“your boyfriend’s such a dick.”

a small smirk crosses your face as you shrug, looking the boy over with a suspicious look in your eye. a look that he catches and turns an endearing but humorous shade of red because of.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i think you got yourself a girlfriend,” you say, poking his arm as you two walk through the crowded, bustling hallways. he lets out a scoff before bumping into you, remembering to be gentle;

because the last time he did that, you smacked into a wall and he paid for it dearly - curtsey of seonghwa’s fist in his stomach.

“what makes you say that?”

“just a vibe,” you say, the sweet smile on your face morphing into a teasing one when he raises an eyebrow. “and you’re little ‘who me? i don’t have a girlfriend!’ was the icing on the cake, really.”

he stares blankly at you causing you to giggle, shrugging your shoulders as you promise you won’t tell anyone if that’s the case.

and it takes a little bit of persuading, just a pout on your lips before you remind him how mean he was to you when you first met for good measure.

“that’s not fair,” he sighs out, a smirk on your face as you shrug your shoulders.

and just as you knew you would, you find out he’s been seeing a girl for a few months. that they’re not official or serious, only having been on a few dates but enough time for him to really like her.

“she kind of scared the shit out of me at first,” he laughs out and you have to suppress the squeal threatening to leave your lips at the sappy look on his face. “she still kinda does but she’s also really fucking cool. i don’t know, i just like her.”

and once he sees the bright smile on your face, he knows he made a grave mistake.

“but don’t tell those shitheads yet, i wanna ask her out first.”

“oh? when you are going to? today? oh, my gosh and how?” you squeal excitedly, the initial budding of a romance something that always makes your heart soar. but it proves to only make yeosang roll his eyes, the sound of the bell blaring through the hall saving him.

“perfect timing,” he quips, your arm shooting out to push at him before he rushes down the hallway to his class.

“perfect timing.”

san narrows his eyes at you a few hours later at the cafe, a smirk crossing your face when you see wooyoung wave to you from the window; it’s almost the 6th shift in a row the boy has made him late for but he looks all too pleased with himself.

“he has no shame,” you hum lowly, giggling softly when you see a blush cross san’s face. “and neither do you, apparently.”

“stop,” he whines, hitting you lightly in the arm. “you have to be nice, we only have a few weeks left together here.”

because as much as you love san and this cafe, commuting during the summer would’ve been an absolute nightmare. and his parents had been the ones to suggest it, telling you they would never in a million years fire you but wanted you to enjoy your summer.

“and you can’t do that if you’re trapped in a car ten hours a week,” they said, before taking notes from their son and promptly pushing free cookies and cakes down your throat.

but you’re really gonna miss this place. even if you’re only away from it for a few months, it acted as a safe haven when you really needed one. was one of the only places where you’d have a smile on your face and not feel like your life was falling apart at the seams.

“what do you mean? you guys are staying with me,” you say, looking at him like a confused puppy in a way that makes him smile.

“seonghwa’s not gonna allow that.”

“well luckily, it’s not up to seonghwa. it’s up to me and my aunt.”

san bites the inside of his cheek to hold back his smirk, looking at you with a quirked up eyebrow causing you to mirror his expression.

“what?”

“just keep that energy when he’s around too,” the boy teases before his eyes dramatically bat and his face becomes one of a lovesick teen. “but seonghwa, pleaseee,” he whines, doing a lousy impression of your voice that makes you smack his shoulder.

but your fight and quarreling is quickly interrupted by the uncharacteristically abrupt entrance of bo-ra, the once shy girl coming out of her shell a little bit more everyday.

you were happy you were able to keep your friendship with them despite the fact they were at different school, always having at least two customers a day who you could guarantee would make you and san smile.

“you guys will never believe this.”

and right when bo-ra tells you jojo has been seeing a boy for a few months now, you almost don’t believe it. not only because of the crazy coincidence that yeosang, too, has been seeing a girl for the past few months but because it might be jojo.

it almost seemed as if the girl had sworn off any and all high school boys because they are “mean, idiotic assholes who think with the wrong, less impressive head.”

and yeosang being the one to change that perspective? you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.

how yeosang, at one point, was the exact description of that. how, really, all of them were like that except the sweet blonde throwing his head back in laughter at this information.

“no way, who is he? and what’s wrong with him?”

you both let out a snort and hit the boy playfully, bo-ra putting a finger to her lips as she looks at san chastisingly.

“stop it, they’re coming any second now! i ran ahead because i could not stand to watch them awkwardly bump arms and blush any longer. but act natural. pretend i didn’t tell you. in fact, maybe you guys should act like you don’t even-”

but the second the door rings open, san is up and over to them in a second. he’s so hot in pursuit he doesn’t even realize it’s the familiar brown-haired boy, teasing eyes on jojo as he greets them with a tray of cookies.

“i gotta give it to jojo, i never thought anyone would be able to-”

and it’s at hearing the lowly mumbled “shit,” under his breath that makes san stop talking, snapping his head over to see no other than yeosang looking at him with a half annoyed, half guilty expression.

“yeosang?”

the last two weeks of school for you, and mostly everyone else, were great. the work was light, the teachers were lenient and every single person was in good spirits and anticipating the fun and relaxation that came with summer.

the last two weeks of school for yeosang, however, were...disastrous. because not only was everyone giving him shit for having a girlfriend, they were chastising him for keeping it a secret.

“it wasn’t a fucking secret! i just hadn’t asked her officially yet and i wanted to wait until-”

“we went through this shit before and we’re not about to do it again,” mingi says, whacking the top of the brunet’s head before looking at you and seonghwa. “no offense guys.”

“none taken,” you giggle out as you shake your head, seonghwa rolling his eyes before pulling you into him further. you smile softly against him and meet his gaze, smirking at the look on his face and leaning up to peck his cheek.

it’s a look that only gets more annoyed and tense as the conversation goes into summer, his arm still tightly around you serving as the only thing to keep him grounded and sane.

the same way you’re the only thing keeping him sane now, you in the front seat of his car while wooyoung, mingi, san and yeosang all flail around and hit each other in the back. the trunk is full of suitcases and bags filled enough for two months because, of course, he had lost that battle.

“i’ll definitely be a better surfer, are you fuckin’ nuts?”

“no fucking way, you’re too lanky.”

“well you’re too short! did you stop growing at age eight?”

seonghwa looks over at you, a pained expression on his face at the juvenile conversation in the back and you can only tighten your hold on your intertwined hands.

look down and smile at not only the banter of the boys and your boyfriend’s utter annoyance but the way his hand holds yours so securely.

how they fit together perfectly as you trace your other fingers over the black rings and veins of his hand.

“it’s gonna be fine,” you tell seonghwa softly, surprised he can even hear you despite the chaos in the back. “they could always stay with me if you need a break.”

but he only looks over at you and shakes his head, bringing your hand to his lips before he tightens his hold on you.

“absolutely not, i could never put you through that.”

you let out a snort before wooyoung’s head is directly between you both, his arms on the console and neck snapping back and forth as he begs seonghwa for surfing lessons to prove mingi wrong.

and much to the taller boy’s dismay, wooyoung actually did prove to be the better surfer.

because after only two days of you guys going down to the ocean, seonghwa’s reluctant help in teaching him, though nowhere near as thorough as the lessons he provided last year, proved that the brunet was just somehow naturally gifted at it.

“how does it feel to fucking suck?” wooyoung laughs at mingi, watching the boy roll in clumsily after being knocked by waves. his wet hair’s a mess of tangles and seaweed and yunho can only watch from the beach with a frown on his face.

“he’s trying though,” the tall boy whines to you, a giggle leaving your mouth as you shake your head.

“i know, he really is,” you say, the two of you laughing again as mingi jumps up and tries to dunk wooyoung under water. you two watch as the shorter boy gets away, much to mingi’s annoyance, and he looks at you two with a dejected look.

“come here,” yunho yells down to mingi, his large hand flagging the boy over. but he only lets shake his head and tells him to go there, that he needs his help now and is gonna cry if he doesn’t.

and what mingi wants from the boy, he gets almost immediately. because you don’t know if you’ve ever seen yunho move so fast, rolling your eyes at how easy he gives in before you lay back down and enjoy the warm sun on your skin - but only for a few moments.

because then you feel a familiar pair of arms around you, your eyes shooting open just in time to see you’re being thrown over seonghwa’s shoulder as he’s heads to the ocean. you squeal and hit his back and tell him he better not throw you in but you don’t even have to see him to know there’s a smirk on his face.

he goes in until it’s waist deep before promptly throwing you down, the freezing june water making you squeal out before popping up with a gasp.

“seonghwa!”

“i’m sorry, baby, but i had to,” he whines, circling his arms around your waist. you narrow your eyes but welcome his touch anyway, even jump up and wrap your legs around his hips in a move you’re all too familiar with in this ocean.

“you really didn’t,” you whine softly but he can only kiss your salty lips and you smile against them, meeting the chaste, sweet kiss back immediately. your arms wrap around his neck when his tongue slips in just a little teasingly, pushing yourself further into him and smiling when he pulls back.

“it’s broad daylight,” his deep voice chokes out warningly, your one hand snaking down to trace the lines of his stomach teasingly.

“you started it,” you quip back playfully, trying so desperately to remember there are far too many people around to repeat what happened several times right in this ocean.

but how could you forget? especially with the scoffs and splashing coming from just a few feet away from you.

“hey sickos, i’m pretty sure you can get arrested for that,” yeosang yelps, seonghwa pulling away to sneer at him while you hide your face in embarrassment because he’s probably right.

you can feel the dirty blonde smile against your head as you hide in his neck, seonghwa’s fingers threading through your hair before pulling your face back to look at him.

he can’t help but snort when he sees the pink flush on your cheeks, knowing it’s not from the sun because he made sure to put sunscreen on you before coming down to the beach today.

“did you put on sunscreen?”

your face drops and the guilty look in your eyes causes him to groan. he drops his board and takes the black bag from his back, zipping it open and pulling out a bottle of sunscreen.

“here.”

and you already know better than to refuse, taking it with a wince and quiet “thank you.”

he watches you rub it over your arms and shoulders, feeling your cheeks warm as his eyes stay on you. “did you put some on?” you ask, in an effort to distract yourself from his piercing gaze.

but he only nods his head, picking his board up and dusting off some sand and dirt as his eyes remain on you. you squirt some more on your hand before giving it to him with a grateful smile, rubbing it in and then wiping the excess on your face.

“thank you,” you tell him. “i always forget to put it on which would explain why i’m a little-”

“missed some,” he hums lowly, his hand slowly reaching out so his thumb can rub in the lotion on your cheek.

he does everything so smoothly and nonchalantly while you inhale sharply, your lips parting and watching him with wide eyes. it was the first indication that his touch was gonna be gentle this week, his hands softer than you expected. his eyes meet yours when he pulls his hand back, raising his eyebrow when he sees your face.

“you good?”

yeah, i’m good, you think, i just have a handsome boy touching my face about to put me in cardiac arrest.

he plays the memory over in his head and can’t help but smile, your eyes catching his dazed look along with the softer look in his eye.

“what?” you squeak, cocking your head to the side in confusion.

“nothing,” he says, shrugging his shoulders before tightening his hold on you. “i just love you.”

because he can’t help but think about those times last year, when he was bitter and jaded and so closed off to feeling anything positive. it’d all been a mask, of course, but he’d worn it for so long he didn’t know if he’d ever learn how to be without it.

but that was until he saw you, started everything with you right here in the form of soft, guiding touches that lingered just a little too long and shy looks back and forth that should’ve made him realize this was gonna be the result.

him so easily telling you he loves you, with any and everyone around to hear him say it so surely. biting back a smile and feeling his heart lurch in his chest when your face softens and mouth drops open.

because even though you know he loves you, know that he says it several times a day and means it every time, it’s these random little moments that make your heart flutter the most.

when he’s saying it for no other reason than that he wants you to hear it, that he becomes fully consumed by the feeling just from watching you smile or feeling you against him.

but you still can’t help but blush as you softly tell him you love him too, his skin littered with water droplets and the sun shining behind him so devastatingly familiar and handsome.

your arms tightly wound around his neck before he twirls you around and nearly sends you flying under water, your giggle and seonghwa’s deep chuckle echoing through the salty air.

but it’s quickly cut off by another voice, one much harsher and not so giddy.

“jesus christ,” yeosang grumbles, you and seonghwa snapping your heads over to see him looking at you both. “please don’t tell me i’m gonna look this pathetic.”

“fuck off,” seonghwa snaps. but you can only smack him lightly and look at yeosang with a raised eyebrow, because you’ve actually seen him and jojo together and can confirm they’re just as pathetic as you two.

“of course you do,” you say, your eyes moving back to shore as a small, teasing smile crosses your face. “because look, jojo just got here.”

and the way yeosang’s face brightens and his head snaps to the side is the first indication you’re absolutely correct. his eyes roaming the beach and softly spoken “where is she?” making you feel just a little bit bad for lying.

the girls did, however, make it just a few days later for a weekend trip. yeosang greeted jojo just as pathetically as he feared to look, his arms wrapping around her body and pressing a kiss to her head like they hadn’t seen each other in months.

mumbled that he missed her and how pretty she looked and you had to turn your face into seonghwa’s chest so you didn’t squeal.

it was nice to see them both so vulnerable. when you first met them, they were harsher and colder, with walls not so easy to break down that always made them sneer in the face of love. made them question couples that made it seem like the end of the world when they were apart.

but now, they’re going through that dilemma firsthand with all the other couples, when talk of a girl sleepover and boy sleepover happen, san being looped into the former purely due to bo-ra’s request.

“what, no,” wooyoung whined, arm reaching out to pull the blonde back by the shirt. “he has to be with us. he’s technically a boy.”

“technically?” san asks, snapping his head to the side to look the pouting boy.

"but there’s already too many of you, yunho’s parents will go crazy,” you say, walking over and smacking wooyoung’s hand off the blonde. “and you get to see him all the time. bo-ra and jojo are only here for the weekend.”

“b-but,”

“i’ll be back to you in the morning, drama queen, since i’m only technically a boy,” san says, secretly far too excited with a night away from them; he loves his friends and woo but sometimes they get even a little too crazy for him, having grown used to spending all his time with you.

and of course, you don’t miss your own boyfriend’s reluctance to let you go but can only assure him with a sweet smile and teasing shake of the head before you all run inside and lock the doors.

it takes your aunt all of two seconds to fall in love with your new friends, a spread of dessert and soda in wine glasses (except for her own) keeping you occupied well into the night.

you all laugh until tears are in your eyes and your sides hurt, the boys just a house away hearing the ruckus through the open windows.

“do you think...they’re talking about us?” wooyoung asks seonghwa and yeosang, the dirty blonde rolling his eyes as yeosang’s mouth drops open.

“oh, my god do they do that?” the brunet asks, shock and horror in his voice as both boys turn to look at seonghwa.

the dirty blonde is tapping on his phone before he feels eyes on him, looking over to see his two friends staring at him wildly.

“what is wrong with you guys?”

“let’s sneak over. i can’t take not knowing what they’re laughing about.”

“what if they’re talking about our...”

another loud chorus of giggles and cackles rings through the window and it causes yeosang and wooyoung to shoot away from the window, paranoia quickly creeping up on them.

“shit! they’re they go again. what the hell could be so damn funny?”

“they must be getting details from jojo now,” seonghwa says casually, wooyoung snorting as yeosang’s head snaps to him in outrage.

and while you guys might’ve been talking about them a little, you’d never let them know that. you’d never let them know you actually shared about how sweet and thoughtful they could all be, even given their flaws.

but somewhere between talking and laughing and then going out in the pool, stormy clouds rolled in and before you knew it, rain and thunder was pelting against your window.

blankets and pillows were sprawled out across your aunt’s couch as you all laid there cuddled into one another, san’s head on your foot while your head rested on jojo’s shoulder.

it took one movie to knock them out and then another for last girl, now just you with the darkness and roaring weather outside quickly making you miss the boy next door.

you’d gotten used to having him every night; more often than not, you slept together and woke to one another and now you’re feeling just a little hypocritical for tearing wooyoung and san away from each other so easily.

because you’re quick to sneak away from your three sleeping friends, cover them with blankets and turn of the tv, before sneaking into your room.

one particularly loud crack of thunder causes you to jump, cursing yourself when you check the pockets of your pajamas and realize you forgot your phone downstairs.

“shit,” you mutter under your breath, about to turn around and make your way back down when you hear a knocking on your balcony door.

and then suddenly, your life feels very much so like a horror movie - no means to communicate with anyone, the howling wind and darkness outside, a mysterious knocking at a door that the character is stupidly going to investigate.

but maybe it’s because, somehow, you knew your soaking wet boyfriend was gonna be standing on the other side.

“i texted you,” he says simply, like he’s not standing out in the pouring rain or giving you a mini heart attack.

“you could’ve rang the doorbell!” you whisper-yell, pulling him inside before telling him to stay there. you run frantically around your room for a towel and an extra set of his clothes you ‘borrowed’ before throwing them at him.

“why did you do that, you’re gonna get sick!”

and despite your rush of adrenaline to save him, another crack of thunder causes you to jump and he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face.

“you’re really asking me that?”

“i told you i’m not scared of thunder,” you say surely, taking his wet clothes and hanging them in the bathroom before seeing he made himself quite comfortable in your bed.

it’s upon hearing another boom outside, shaking the house and causing a squeal to leave your mouth, that you quickly scurry in next to him. cuddling yourself into him and resting your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you tightly.

he smiles against your head and doesn’t comment on the pounding of your heart against him, how any time a loud crack of thunder comes, you cling onto him just a little tighter the way you always do during a storm.

“i’m not scared,” you insist, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“i know, baby, i just missed you,” he mumbles against your head, bringing your face to his so he can place a kiss on your lips. he tightens his hold on your hair when you deepen it, reach up and part of your mouths before moving up to straddle his hips.

and despite the growing hardness you feel underneath you the more you kiss, he never tries to take it further. you just kiss and giggle and smile against the others mouth until you rest your head back on his chest, the feeling of his hand rubbing your back and softly spoken “i’m here, baby,” lulling to the sleep despite the storm outside.

even though you’ll both be awakening to a different type of storm tomorrow, when wooyoung and yeosang discover seonghwa had snuck out and made his way to the house next door.

(part 25)

tag list: @chogiout ; @psshwa ; @yeocult ; @seongghwaa ; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @joongiebug ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ; @joeycheungg ; @lostscenarios ; @atinyxtopia ; @sanisms ; @kpopnightingale ; @simpforhyunjin ; @89staytinyzen21 ; @lokicaramel ; @hwaxbum ; @sakura-uji ; @songsoomin ; @toffee-hwa ; @deobitiful ; @hyunjeansuniverse ; @chrryhwa ; @i-know-you-know-lee-know ; @tiny-whatsername ; @fairieofeternity ; @yixing-jaehyun ; @sleepyseonghwa ; @revehosh ; @atletino ; @yeol-wish ;

#these last 2 are just fluffy nonsense tbh <3 #i have a migraine so this was bare minimum #srry :/#seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #ateez #ateez fluff #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios

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ri-ahhh · 4 years

Note

what about drunk y/n bluntly saying all the things he wants to do to gray and he’s shocked bc she’s usually really shy. ( inspired by the first lines of pu$$y fairy by jhene) “ i like to suck when i’m drunk” “i like to fuck when i’m drunk”

Loud music thuds in every corner of the West Hollywood house you and Grayson walk into for a random party he had been invited to earlier that day. Ethan had chosen to stay at home, but you and Gray both needed to get out of the house, and while parties weren’t really his scene, socializing felt like a better alternative to Netflix tonight.

Grayson daps up his friend that’s throwing the party and introduces you to him. He seems nice enough, but you barely catch his name before he’s excusing himself to greet some other people that have just walked in.

You catch Grayson’s eye and lean close to shout in his ear so he can hear you over the YG song blasting through the speakers nearby. He smells even better this up close than he had in the car, clean and masculine with that woody undertone that’s just a permanent part of him now. “Do you see anyone else you know?”

He shakes his head, switching places with you so his mouth brushes your ear now. You’re sure he can feel the shiver his warm breath and too-close proximity elicits, but you’re glad it’s potentially dark enough for him not to see the goosebumps flaring across the skin left exposed by your simple bandeau top.

“Not yet!” he says, and his huge hand places itself on the small of your back as he lifts his head to inspect your surroundings. His long fingers radiate warmth and calm your nerves a bit as you also take in the features of the house you’re in. It’s big, but not a ridiculous mansion or anything, which makes you feel a little more comfortable about being somewhere that you know literally nobody else.

Until Grayson speaks again, that is. “Are you good by yourself long enough for me to go piss? I’ve been holding it since I got in the car.”

‘No!’ screams the petrified introvert inside you.

“Of course,” smiles the rational grown woman you pretend to be most of the time.

He grins back at you gratefully. “I’ll be like, five minutes tops,” he assures, moving his hand from your back to your hand and giving it a squeeze.

You cling to his fingers until they’re forced to drop away with the distance between you, and watch his broad body thread through a crowd of fellow partygoers as he follows the handwritten sign with an arrow labelled ‘bathroom -- you puke, you clean.’ It’s pathetic how much you miss his presence already, but it’s not like this is the first party you’ve ever been to; if there’s any safe place at a house party for the single person to go, it’s the kitchen.

You’ve only made it a handful of yards away from where Grayson left you when suddenly a large someone stumbles into you, his drink sloshing precariously in his solo cup.

“Woah!” he says, holding his drink up and away as he glances down at you, clearly tipsy. To your dismay, some of whatever is in his cup has spilled onto your jeans, but you try to just chalk it up as a party foul without getting too annoyed. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re good,” you offer with a polite smile, brushing off some of the droplets that cling to the denim stubbornly. At least now you have another excuse to get to the kitchen and preoccupy yourself with something until Grayson returns.

The guy blinks and looks you up and down unashamedly, and you fight not to roll your eyes. He can only be described as a Chad, looking every bit the frat daddy with his Supreme t-shirt, snapback backwards over his too-long hair, and alcohol-induced predatory gaze.

He offers you his hand, and out of instinct you take it, but instantly cringe at how clammy it is. Being too nice to douchebags is definitely one of your character flaws. “I’m Brad.”

You can’t help but laugh at the irony, because of course he is, but he must take it as a flirtatious giggle or something, because he smiles back at you. “What’s your name? I’ve never seen you at these things before.”

You tell him against your better judgement, and Brad does that thing where he pretends not to hear. He pulls you by the hand still clasped in his and brings you closer to him, as if to hear you better. This time, you can’t stop your annoyed eye-roll, telling him again with finality and pulling away quickly. If Grayson’s closeness that way made you shudder with desire, this guy makes you do it with disgust.

Really, you just want Grayson again. You need him.

You finally rip your hand out of his grasp and give him a tight smile. He starts to speak again, but you cut him off. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’m gonna go find something to clean myself up with.”

Whether he’s just an idiot asshole or because of the alcohol flowing through him, Brad doesn’t take the hint. “Aw, beautiful, I said I’m sorry! Let me come with, and I’ll make you a drink to make up for it.”

“Dude, I literally just told you my name,” you say, unable to help yourself as this guy’s douche-meter hits record highs with that. “Thank you, but I’m good. Please leave me alone.”

You turn on the spot, but you can feel him following close behind. Luckily, the kitchen is only one room over, and even more in your favor, Grayson is already there, shining like the beautiful angel he is under the recessed lights.

He meets your eyes when you walk in, and you give him the bug-eyed ‘save me’ look that you hope translates to boy as well as it does to girl. He cocks an amused brow, but then his eyes fall behind you and see Brad trailing you like a lost, horny dog, and he frowns immediately.

“Hey,” he greets, opening his arms to you at once as soon as you wiggle through the other minglers between you. You fall into them and sigh in relief, so happy to see him that you stand on your tiptoes and plant a warm kiss to his stubbled cheek.

“Hey,” you return, pulling back and looking up at him with a smile. His eyes are still locked on Brad, who has stopped in his tracks but not walked away. “Brad here spilled some of his drink on me by accident but doesn’t seem to think I’m capable of cleaning up myself.”

“Nah, I was just gonna make you a drink, babe, remember?” he slurs, narrowing his beady blue eyes at Grayson, like there’s even an ounce of intimidation behind them.

Grayson scoffs, and shifts so he’s squared up with Brad. He keeps his arm slung over your shoulder to hold you against him protectively, and you hold onto the hand of that arm with one of yours while you wrap your other arm around his back. Both of you glare at him. “Okay Brad, first of all, don't fucking call her that. Second, what decade are you living in? What girl nowadays is gonna take a drink from a random, sketchy guy she doesn’t know? Walk away and leave us alone, please.”

“What, is she your girlfriend, bro?”

“Yeah, she is,” he retorts without hesitation. Your heart drops, and you look up at him with surprise. His jaw is set tight and it makes his profile even sexier than usual. “Go be creepy with your own friends now. And leave the other poor girls at this party alone.”

Grayson looks down at you and cups your cheek. This whole lie has caught you completely off-gaurd, but you’re catching on to what he’s doing. You nod nearly imperceptibly in consent, and Grayson dips down to capture your lips in his for the first time ever. They're warm, soft, pliant, and perfectly insistent against yours. If Grayson is capable of anything chaste, this is it, but there’s still a heat behind it you’re all-too familiar with. This isn’t a ploy kiss; there’s something there, and neither of you are able to stop now that you’ve started.

You trace the seam of his lips with your tongue to beg entry, and he opens willingly. His hand slips from your cheek to the back of your head, clutching a handful of your hair and tipping your head back to allow himself better access to your mouth as his tongue takes dominance, just how you imagined it would so many times late at night.

“Uh, Grayson?”

Both of you are startled apart, and jerk your heads to the female voice just a couple feet away that had interrupted you. Brad is gone, but a beautiful dark-skin girl with piercing eyes the color of cinnamon stands there with her arms crossed and a perfectly done brow arched high on her forehead. Clearly, you had interrupted them first.

“Nadia!” he exclaims in surprise, clearly having forgotten she was even there before he kissed you. His chest heaves as he fights to catch his breath and you blush when he swipes his thumb across a patch of your saliva clinging to his lower lip. “Sorry. I, uh --”

“You didn’t tell me you have a girlfriend.”

It hurts your heart to do it, but you look at Grayson and step away. Who knows how long he’s been talking to this girl before tonight; who are you to come between that right now?

“I’m sorry, I’m not his girlfriend. He was just helping me get rid of that gorilla that followed me in here. You know how some guys are. They respect a man’s ‘territory’ more than the girl just telling them no.”

Nadia’s pretty features soften some, and she sighs. “Yeah, tell me about it.” She looks at Grayson, standing there still somewhat sheepishly. “I have to go. Call me when you get...this sorted out.”

“I --”

“It’s okay, Gray. Trust me.” Her eyes linger back and forth over the two of you. “Figure it out, and call me.”

She leaves the two of you with a small but friendly smile that confuses you some. You heave out a sigh. The night has definitely taken a turn for the dramatic, that’s for sure.

You long for a stiff vodka soda to settle your mind, but there are too many external factors that make that a bad idea right now. You’re suddenly aware that there’s still many people in the kitchen, but they're all impervious to two random people making out next to them.

You snatch a couple cans of ginger ale off the huge collection of mixers on one of the countertops, and hand one to Grayson. He pops it open gratefully and chugs a huge swallow of it, burping into his hand. You can’t help but giggle, and take a more dainty sip of your own can. You still wish it had alcohol in it, but it’ll do.

It’s like he can read your mind, stuffing his free hand in his pocket. “You know, you can have a drink. I really don’t mind.”

You lean back against the counter and look up at him. He’s blushing, from embarrassment or arousal, you’re not sure. You know your heartbeat is still thumping in your panties at the lingering feel of his lips on yours and his hands trailing over your body. Something has inevitably shifted between the two of you, and Nadia was right: you need to figure it out.

You’re not the most outspoken person all the time, but if there’s one thing you hate more than putting yourself out there, it’s leaving heavy things up in the air. You take a deep breath and scoot a little closer to him.

“I know. I just...don’t trust myself to be even remotely tipsy around you right now.”

He looks at you, confused. “You don’t trust me?”

You suddenly remember his complete lack of experience with how alcohol can affect more than your motor movements and decision making. It’s endearing.

“I said I don’t trust myself,” you correct with a smile, reaching up to brush his flop of hair out of his eyes. “I liked that kiss. It made me want more.”

Grayson swallows. “Yeah?” he finally says, a little dumbly.

You giggle. “Yeah. Like, a lot more.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and he shuffles even closer so you’re pretty much trapped against the counter and his thick, muscular body. Despite the fact that you’d have a harder time escaping this than you did back in the living room with Brad, you feel more free and confident than ever.

“Like what?” he asks, setting his can down behind you, planting his hand on the edge of the counter next to your hip.

You smile and allow your hand to rest on one defined pec through his thin shirt. You can feel his heart beating strong and fast, matching your own. It gives you the courage to put it all out there.

“Like... take you to the car and suck your dick; like, have you fuck me once we get home.” You look up at him through your lashes, pleased to see him sufficiently flushed and flustered by your words. “Like, go on a date?”

Your fingers have trailed over the hard ridges of his abs and settled on the edge of his belt, tugging on it playfully. Grayson gasps and looks at you with wide eyes and a disbelieving smile as he snatches it away in his own, bringing your fingers to his lips. “Easy. Wow, I can’t decide which of those I want to do most.” He looks back a little and narrows his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not drunk.”

You laugh and shake your head, taking your hand out of his and wrapping it around the back of his neck. “Nope, that’s all you baby. But who says we can’t do all of those, tonight?”

Grayson smiles brightly, and interlaces your fingers. Your ginger ales get abandoned on the counter as he starts to drag you through the throngs of people. “Let’s fucking go.”

#not exactly the ask but this is what came out of it lol #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fic #ethan dolan #dolan twins #blurb #g blurb

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cavalierious-whim · 3 years

Text

Two’s a Crowd (FE3H)

Felannie | Canon-Compliant | War Phase | Teen | Complete There’s only one horse. Felix will take on one hundred crest beasts alone if it means avoiding this.

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A/N: This was a Secret Santa give and I was asked to write ‘There was only one Horse’. Read here on AO3 for better quality! Also, I’m on Twitter!

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While Felix has never been one to follow the rules, he now understands why Byleth is so reluctant to let them roam outside the gates of Garreg Mach freely.

Sure, they’re adults and they can make their own dumb decisions. Still, it’s wartime; there are crest beasts and ample opportunity to be stupid enough to get yourself into a pickle.

Felix frowns. Annette’s colorful words, not his.

Byleth often turns a blind eye to the odd training session outside the Monastery, especially when it comes to Felix. Byleth knows that Felix can handle himself when it comes down to it, and while the Professor’s expression is prone to permanent frowning, he’s never said no. Not outright.

It’s more like carefully placed and unasked advice that he knows Felix won’t ever listen to but can claim to have given all the same.

“Just in case you find yourself gored,” said Byleth one dreary afternoon. “I’ll have the chance to say ‘I told you so’.”

So far, Byleth has been denied the pleasure because Felix is a slippery bastard; far too stubborn to die. And, as it turns out, he’s not the only stubborn person in the world, which brings him to his current problem:

Annette crashes through the underbrush alongside him, sagging with weariness and covered head to toe in mud and Goddess knows what else. It’s exactly Felix’s luck that she’s the one to sneak out after him because her curious little nose got the best of her.

At least it’s a cute nose.

“It just had to be a crest beast,” says Annette, mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. That’s cute on her too.

“It had to be two,” amends Felix. He’s never had any luck with anything, least of all women, so he doesn’t know why he insists on longing for Annette. Then, he suddenly remembers something else, smacking his hand against his forehead. “Ingrid is going to kill us.”

A long moment stretches between the two of them as they stand there in the woods looking at each other.

“We’ve lost horses before,” says Annette. Sure, they’ve lost horses, but never a Fraldairan Marsh Tucky. And its accompanying mare because, naturally, that was the horse Annette picked. Ingrid’s captious about her thoroughbreds and she’d brought those from Galatea personally. Felix pauses in his step, leveling Annette with a tired stare, to which she sighs in response. “Okay, yeah, she’s going to kill us.”

Annette is lucky that Felix likes her. More than likes her. Kind-of maybe loves her, not that he’s the confessing kind. But, all her goofy songs and eternal optimism in the world won’t save him from Ingrid’s wrath, Mercedes’s clipped threats for endangering Annie, or Byleth’s contempt for attracting her attention by merely existing.

Byleth’s a bit of a stick in the mud when it comes to intra-army romance.

Annette’s mouth then tips into a tiny little smile and Felix wonders if it’s a bad thing that he likes the idea she’d followed him. She’d said that it was dumb of him to go it alone and that she’d been worried. The only person that worries about him nowadays is Sylvain, and it’s entirely unwarranted, unwanted, and suffocating in every way possible. The change is, admittedly, nice.

“There’s a village this direction,” says Felix, pointing to the west. “They’ve got a decent inn with tolerable food, and a stable with likely a few horses for sale.”

“Do we have the coin?” asks Annette.

“We’ll manage,” says Felix, thankful that he’d brought his purse with him that day. He doesn’t always, so maybe he’s luckier than he’d thought. His gaze slides back to Annette who watches him with interest, her eyebrows drawn up. “What?” he snaps, testily.

“Nothing,” says Annette, but judging by the sly little smirk on her face, it’s anything but. Felix doesn’t have the time to think about it anything further.

“We’re losing daylight,” says Felix. “We should get walking, otherwise Byleth will close the gates for the night.”

“He’d let us in,” says Annette.

“He won’t,” says Felix. He’d know, he’s camped outside the entrance before, punishment for making it back late. There’s a pause and then Annette laughs, causing Felix to scowl. Even if he likes the sound of it.

“He’d let me in, then,” says Annette.

Felix grumbles at that. “He probably would.” Annette smirks at him again and Felix rolls his eyes, but he’s only mildly irritated. Truly, Annette is lucky that she doesn’t incite his ire much. Felix wonders how this entire thing would go if it was literally anyone else stuck out here with him.

They’d probably have a sword through their neck already, or at least, be slightly maimed. Felix is in a maiming sort of mood. He and Annette head westward, slogging through the slick mud leftover from earlier rain.

“Hopefully, there won’t be any more beasts out here,” says Annette, and Felix whirls on her, pressing a finger against her lips. She blinks, surprised. But she doesn’t move away, if anything, she leans into the touch.

“Don’t!” hisses Felix.

“Don’t what?” she says against his finger, her breath warm against his skin.

“Say something like that. Don’t you know that’s exactly how it works?”

“What works?” asks Annette.

Felix groans, almost certain that she’s being obtuse on purpose because Annette’s the teasing sort. “It’s bad luck,” he says. “The moment you say something like that, it--”

There’s a deafening roar behind them that echoes through the trees. And then the woods fall deathly quiet. Annette swallows thickly, but to her credit, doesn’t pale or look scared. She’s a plucky little thing and that’s in part what Felix loves about her most. Annette isn’t one to back down, she seeks danger out. Case in point, trailing after him on her own.

Felix pulls his hand away from her.

“We’ve no choice,” says Annette. It’s not a question.

Felix draws his sword and readies a bolt of Thoron. “Might as well make it quick,” is all he says in return.

Annette answers with a resigned sigh.

Turns out, their luck is worse than anticipated, not that Felix is surprised. This entire trip has been working against him since before he left the Monastery.

“I have a bad feeling,” Byleth told him as he saddled up.

“Nonsense,” Felix said, annoyed at the Professor’s incessant mothering.

Felix is eating that word now, laying on his belly in the underbrush, slick with muck and worms. Annette shifts beside him, leaning closer.

“How long do we wait?” she asks.

“Until the damn beast is gone, obviously,” says Felix.

Annette’s eyes narrow at his tone. “This isn’t my fault.”

“You said the words,” says Felix. “You should never say the words.”

She huffs at that. “You’re the one that forgot a spare blade. Since when do you strap only one sword to your hip?” Then she pauses. “Also, what are the chances that it would just crack right down the middle--”

“The entire point of laying in this filth is to be quiet, Annette, and let the beast leave.”

Annette’s mouth snaps shut, but it’s not without an annoyed scowl shot in his direction. “You’re evil,” murmurs Annette, just loud enough for him to hear. Felix knows it’s absolutely on purpose. She’s got a mean streak in her at times, he’s just never been on the end of it.

The mud and foliage hide their smell, and eventually, the crest beast determines them to be a lost cause and saunters away. Felix reaches out to grab Annette’s wrist before she can get up. “Wait, just a little bit longer. It might come back.”

They lay there for longer than she wants, Felix can tell by her squirming, but Byleth’s words have been prophetic: it’s just one of those days. Finally, they rise. Annette looks down at her dress and cringes at the sight.

“I’ll have to burn this and get Mercie to make me a new one.”

“Mercedes has more important things to do than sew garments,” says Felix with an annoyed huff.

Annette narrows her eyes at him. “I’ll remind you that this is your fault.”

“I didn’t ask for you to sneak out after me.”

“You brought that upon yourself when you decided to go out on your own.”

Felix glowers. “Which I do, often.”

Annette shoots him a rival glare. “Because you have no sense of self-preservation. Honestly, Felix, I should have come with you sooner. How often are you so ill-prepared? How unlike you.”

Felix can’t deny that one; how unlike him indeed. “I’ve been distracted lately,” he finally says, and Annette’s face softens slightly. She thinks that he’s talking about the war, but that isn’t it actually, it’s more so the tight feeling in his chest that he gets when he looks at her. He’s taken to marking up trees in frustration, away from prying eyes in the training ground.

The dramatic irony of her blaming Felix isn’t lost on him.

“It’s going to get dark,” says Annette. Felix frowns. How astute and glaringly obvious. “And, according to you, Byleth will abandon you outside the gates.”

“Wouldn’t be a first,” gripes Felix.

“So,” starts Annette, rolling back on her heels slightly. Her hands are tucked neatly behind her, all manners despite looking like she crawled out of a sewer. “To the village then. We’ll get a room.”

Felix, who’d already turned around to head west, stops dead in his tracks. Then he closes his eyes. Then he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Two rooms, he thinks. He can afford two rooms, he’s got enough gold for at least that.

When he looks back to Annette, she’s already beaming at him like she always does. Felix wants to roll his eyes, but he can’t. Instead, he wants to do something a little more drastic, like pull her in for a hug.

Which is ridiculous, because Felix doesn’t hug people.

“Felix?” asks Annette. “You’re staring.”

It takes everything in him not to wince. “Mud,” he says, dumbly. “And sticks. In your hair.”

Eloquent, Felix is not. Despite this, Annette takes the explanation in stride and their walk to the village isn’t so terrible considering.

“Say that again, but the answer better be different.”

The innkeeper swallows, his thick neck turning a little bit red. Felix threatens people often enough that he’s got it down to a science. Arms crossed over the chest, his foot tapping in annoyance. The worst scowl he can manage followed by a flash of steel.

He’s having to make do without that last one.

“We’ve only one room left,” says the Innkeeper.

It takes everything for Felix not to jump the desk and choke the man out.

“Felix,” says Annette, resting her hand against his arm. He doesn’t pull away and neither does she, her fingers curling into his quilted sleeve. “It isn’t his fault. The men out in the bar must be the reinforcements we’re waiting on.”

Felix massages his temple. Right, reinforcements; Byleth had told them all they were expecting another Magic Corps to show up. Just their luck. Or lack thereof. He looks to Annette, who looks back at him, large eyes framed attractively by delicate eyelashes.

Goddess above, he can’t do this.

“You’ll take the room,” says Felix, finally tugging his arm away from her grasp. “I’ll stay in the stable.”

“Absolutely not,” says Annette.

“There’s no room there, either,” says the innkeeper unwisely. Upon Felix’s dangerous glare, the man immediately adds: “I’ve got two stable boys who bunk there.” They would find the one inn that employs by way of food and shelter, and not coin.

The innkeeper takes a deep breath and then bravely says, “There are two beds. If that makes a difference.”

It does, but only barely. Felix eyes the man warily, but slaps down a handful of gold.

That’s when Annette does the unthinkable and says, “And a bath, please. And fresh clothes.”

Felix is going to sleep in a stall with a horse if that’s what it takes, because he cannot, cannot share a room with Annette if she’s intent on bathing. Annette doesn’t think about these kinds of things. She’s not a healer like Mercedes, but she does her share in the medical tents. She sees a body like she sees everything else; just as it is and nothing more.

When he finally meets her gaze, she’s looking at him expectantly. Her eyes flash to his coin purse and then back to the pile he’s left on the counter. Felix lets out a long-suffering sigh and slaps down a few more coins.

“For the bath. And the clothes,” he says tersely. All Annette does is smile widely, happiness practically beaming off of her and she looks utterly ridiculous, covered in the mess that she is.

The room isn’t large, but there are two beds as promised. The stableboys haul a bath inside and Annette has the forethought to direct them to place it behind the changing screen. Felix lets loose a breath. Small blessings and some actual luck, finally.

Annette sings as she bathes. Felix washes his face in the basin by the door and changes into the clothes they’ve been provided, before settling into one of the beds. The moment he hits the mattress, he realizes how weary he is. It’s been a long day of dodging crest beasts and avoiding pesky feelings.

“Felix,” calls Annette from behind the screen, “has Byleth actually left you outside the gate after coming back late.”

Felix snorts a laugh. “Once. The lesson was learned.”

Annette chuckles and then goes back to her made-up tune. “Oh, how I love to bathe. Wash away the icky bits, ‘cause being dirty is just the pits.”

It isn’t so much that her voice is good, it’s just nice. Calming. Sweet. Felix closes his eyes and listens, drifting off to the soft tune on her lips. Comforting when you think about it because Annette sings about the things that she loves.

He falls asleep before her song shifts, singing about a dark, handsome swordsman instead.

There’s only one horse.

It’s a curse, straight from one of those ridiculous romance novels that Sylvain pretends he doesn’t like to read. Felix will take on one hundred crest beasts alone if it means avoiding this.

Annette has the gall to look amused. “It’ll be fine, Felix,” is what she says.

It will be the exact opposite of fine because while Felix has been very good at keeping her an arm’s length away, that isn’t an option here.

Felix glares at the stablemaster who regards him with an apologetic look. The only reason Felix doesn’t gut him right then and there is because it isn’t his fault. The man isn’t responsible for the delay in new livestock, the rain had done that. Regrettably, because Felix very much wants to stab something. Anything.

His head falls back, cheeks to the sky, eyes slipping closed as he lets out a long, drawn-out groan. This is divine punishment, Felix thinks, because he’s too much of a coward to just tell the damn girl that he likes her.

Or loves her. But really, at this point, what difference does it matter?

Annette pulls herself up first, settling into the saddle with ease. Felix turns to drop gold into the stablemaster’s hand, who offers a small smile in return.

“If it’s any consolation--”

“It’s not,” Felix cuts in.

“-- I think that she likes you back.”

At that moment, Felix wishes that murder for entirely inane reasons is legal. But alas, it isn’t, and Byleth would be quite irate if Felix were to remove the head of this man. The Professor loathes cleaning up messes and Felix makes a lot of them. So, the stablemaster keeps his life.

Only because Felix is too lazy to think of a valid excuse, or cook up a proper plan.

He pulls himself up behind Annette and settles in easier than he thought possible. Annette’s tiny enough that it’s not as awkward as it could be. Felix slips his arms around her waist and she hands him the reins, and then they’re off at a small trot.

The horse is calm and moves along the road well. Annette leans back against Felix’s chest, humming a tune. Felix is relatively relaxed. The Goddess hasn’t set the world on fire just yet. Small blessings.

“This is nice,” says Annette.

Not how Felix would phrase it. He’s caught somewhere between ‘this is divine’ and ‘this is absolute hell’. He allows himself the former though, arms settling around her closer than he’d normally allow. His nose close enough to the crown of her head that he can smell the fresh soap she’d bathed with. He enjoys the way she fits against him.

Felix would say that Sylvain’s a saint for putting up with this on the regular, but it’d be a lie. Worse, Felix gets why it’s a lie because Annette in his arms feels nice, even if it’s on the back of a horse, and only because there isn’t another choice.

“Nice,” agrees Felix halfheartedly, when he remembers to reply.

“You know, one could even say romantic.”

“There’s nothing romantic about being forced to share a horse because the Magic Corps didn’t think to bring their own.”

Annette turns her head slightly to look back at him, lips quirked into an amused smile. “Not one bit?” she asks.

Felix looks down at her, frowning slightly. What on earth does that mean? And why is she so amused? “I said that it was nice.”

“Felix, you look like you ate some of Flayn’s cooking.”

“This is definitely preferable to that,” says Felix, meaning it.

Annette sits there, twisted awkwardly in front of him for a moment longer, watching him. Felix squirms slightly, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Finally, she says, “I must admit, I’m at a loss.”

“For what?” asks Felix.

“Nothing,” says Annette. Felix frowns again because now she just isn't making sense. But then again, Annette often doesn’t make sense, it’s part of her charm.

The Monastery isn’t far from the village, barely an hour by horse. The rest of their ride passes without any issue. No crest beasts, no bandits, and miraculously, Felix doesn’t entirely combust after enduring close contact with Annette.

He’s decided to treasure the moment because it’s never happening again.

It’s no surprise that Byleth is waiting for them at the gate, their arrival having been spotted by a lookout and announced. The Professor looks calmly collected and not at all worried. Felix’s eyes narrow, instantly suspicious.

Felix drops from the horse first before reaching up and helping Annette down. She lands gracefully, her hands grasping Felix’s forearms. She doesn’t let go. Felix tries to pull away, but she holds tight, and damn, she has an impressively strong grip. She just looks at him, a soft little smile on her face.

“Annette,” says Felix, unsure how to continue.

“Felix,” replies Annette. “Thank you for taking care of me. You’re such a gentleman.”

Felix is anything but, and he’s about to tell her that when she finally let's go. Only to reach up and grab him by the face, fingers curling around his jaw. She yanks him down, none too gently.

And then, Annette’s kissing him, pressing her lips against his with careful precision. Felix is surprised but he doesn’t go entirely rigid. His hands slide up to grasp her cheeks and he kisses her back. It’s not sweet in its touch, but it’s not scorching either, somewhere middling of the two. Her hand snakes around the back of his neck to grip him possessively, pulling him closer.

Felix responds eagerly, his fingers slipping into her hair, tugging her face into a different angle to slot their mouths against each other better. Then, he parts his lips, intent on licking into her mouth--

There’s a cough from next to them and they break apart. Felix doesn’t look away from Annette whose cheeks are tinged pink. Annette looks to the side. “Byleth,” she greets coolly.

“Um,” starts Felix, but can’t think of words past that.

“I’m pleased to see that the two of you are okay,” Byleth deadpans.

Annette is looking at Felix again, and his gaze is still glued to hers, unsure what’s just happened, still trying to process the kiss. That she’d started. That she’d enthusiastically responded too. That she seemed annoyed to have been interrupted in the midst of. The stuff of dreams, really, specifically his dreams, and more often than he’d like to admit.

Felix’s brain is having a hard time comprehending.

“As I said, Felix took fantastic care of me,” says Annette kindly. Then, she reaches up and brushes Felix’s bangs away from his forehead.

“I’d prefer it if the two of you would continue taking care of yourselves within the gate.” Byleth pauses. “And after the meeting. We have things to discuss.”

The mention of a war council breaks the spell that’d fallen over Felix. He can feel his skin burning bright red in embarrassment, and worst of all, Annette looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

And she’s holding his hand. He hadn’t noticed her grabbing it.

“When I was singing about the dark, handsome swordsman, who’d you think I was imagining?” asks Annette, words quiet enough for only Felix to hear.

“When you were singing about what?”

Annette pouts. “Oh darn, so you were asleep then. I’d hoped you weren’t.”

“Annette, what on earth--”

“Later,” says Annette. “Mostly because Byleth is giving you the stink eye, and I think it’s because we’ve delayed his carefully planned schedule.”

One look at the Professor proves her right. Felix clears his throat and takes several steps away, before grabbing the reins of the horse. “Right, then. I’ll just handle this. The horse, I mean.”

“I’ll see you in the war room,” says Annette, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.

Felix decides that he doesn’t hate the light-hearted, flabbergasted feeling that’s floating through him. He also knows that the moment he regains his wits abashment will hit him full force because he’d practically eaten Annette’s face off in front of half the Monastery guard.

And Byleth.

So, Felix properly excuses himself in favor of stabling their new horse and perhaps locking himself away forever out of embarrassment.

If he’d stayed just a moment longer, he’d have seen Annette flash Byleth a conspiratorial wink as she passes him by. And how Byleth smiles slyly in return, tapping at his nose like he’s keeping a secret.

#felannie #felix x annette #felix hugo fraldarius #annette fantine dominic #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fanfiction

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sunshineandchemistry · 5 years

Text

the wonder that keeps the stars apart

Part 1 (Part 2)

Summary: 1967. 14 hours, 37 minutes, and 38 seconds since Aziraphale had given Crowley a thermos full of holy water. Not that anyone is counting.

Words: 3572

Crowley isn’t sure what brings him to the church. His feet, probably, but certainly not on purpose.

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

Ah, yes that. There’s a thermos full of holy water sitting on the table in his unbearably empty flat, and a knot in his chest that had simply demanded he walk as far away as his feet could carry him. Crowley scoffs as he looks at the group of people gathered on the green in front of the old building. Is this Her idea of irony perhaps? You can run, he imagines her saying, but no matter where you run, you’re running to me. He can vaguely imagine Her smiling up there are he wallows around in his own misery, laughing at his misfortune.

The doors of the church open, and a bride and groom stride out into the sun, the priest walking with folded hands behind them. Crowley tries to dampen the now familiar jealously that flames in his chest. The bride in all white, clasping the hand of the darkly dressed man beside her. He remembers the brush of the angel’s fingers as he handed over the thermos and he received it, like a sinner taking communion, two hands grasping the edge of something too bright to look at. He bites back a hiss as he watches the newlyweds float blissfully down the stairs to the cheers of their gathered loved ones.

He notices too late the priest has lifted an aspergillum into the air and shakes it over the crowd, exclaiming blessings of the Lord our God over the congregation.

The holy water catches him in the shoulder.

On Ao3

By the time he’s miracled himself home, the drops have eaten through his clothing, through the skin, and down to the bone. Crowley collapses inside the foyer, clutching his arm to his chest as the holiness bites into him. It feels like he’s being obliterated piece by piece, as each atom of the divine comes into contact with the profane of him, and they extinguish each other in a fit of fire.

“Fuck!” He hisses through his teeth as the agony spreads from his shoulder down his arm. He’s keenly aware of every beat of his heart as it pumps blood past the contaminated wounds, each pulse pushing the searing pain from the couple of centimeters that took the direct hit. So he stops it beating.

He can’t bring himself to stop breathing, though. Breathing was a thing he rather liked. The woosh of air in and out of his lungs, sliding past his teeth and into the world and then taking air from the world again over his tongue and down his throat, tasting what’s around him; he’s a serpent at heart, after all. Last night, in the Bentley, the air had tasted, for just a moment, like everything. Like a crisp morning, like the first sip of tea from a warm mug, the petrichor after a summer rain, the burn of a vintage whiskey—Crowley chokes as he catches himself. No. That’s not the line of though he needs right now. Instead he closes his eyes and imagines standing over a seaside cliff in the night, the endless sky above, the churning sea blow and just breathes. A rush in, a rush out, a calming tempo.

It soothes his mind but does nothing for the pain that’s creeping in spider webs from his shoulder to his chest, to his right arm. He lays his head back on the stone floor, his back arching in spasms of pain as he claws his arm closer to him. He’s pretty sure this isn’t enough to kill him. At least, he hopes. The initial onslaught of annihilation seems to have slowed, no more holy pain is digging further into him. But where his flesh has all but evaporated, his nerves sing in anguish. He can’t miracle the wounds away. There would be no healing this, not without a trip downstairs, and, not to be dramatic, but Crowley would rather go back to the fourteen century than try to head down there now.

So he just lays on the floor, cradling his misshapen arm and shoulder, and considers seeing if he could sleep it off.

Not a minute passes before there’s the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching the door.

Fuck.

“Crowley?” Of course. Of-fucking-course the angel would show up.

“Ngk,” Crowley manages, and tilts his head in the general direction of the door. “Not a good time, angel,” he rasps. “Very busy. Demony stuff. You wouldn’t like it.” His shoulder screams at the angle he’s holding his head, and he collapses back with a curse.

“Crowley, what on earth has happened? I know you were hurt. I’ve been- well, I’ve been paying closer attention—”

“No, really angel, go away. You think I want you here, mucking up my space with your cheery good deeds? Go on.” He winces at the words.

There’s a brief silence at the door, and for a moment, Crowley thinks maybe Aziraphale has left. But then his voice comes again, slower, soft and hesitant. “… are you angry with me?”

Crowley bites back a hiss of pain. “No. Yes. For Go— ssshit. For fuck’s sssake angel, you just told me I’m too fast, and you’re here at my flat barely fifteen hours later? Can you make up your mind?” He squeezes his eyes shut and forces the next words out past his teeth. “Maybe you were right. You should go.”

And bless him, he can see the look on the Aziraphale’s face in his mind. His brow furrowed, his bright smiling lips drawn into a thin line. His soft eyes darkening in shock, and then hurt. I’m sorry, Crowley thinks as loudly as he can. You can’t see me like this. You can’t. It would kill you. And that would kill me.

Aziraphale huffs a breath outside the door. “I’m coming in,” he says in that blessed persistent voice, and oh, Crowley thinks with an ache that has nothing to do with his holy water scarred chest. Oh. That’s right. He’s a stubborn bastard. The lock on the door clicks softly. Crowley tries very quickly and nonchalantly to fold his jacket over his bad side as best he can before the angel’s soft footsteps pad over to him and he’s staring up at Aziraphale’s pained face.

“You weren’t exactly subtle, you know.” He says quietly. “Something happened. Even I could tell something happened. I’ve never been as good as you are at picking up when there’s trouble, but…” He trails off. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Crowley blinks at him. “M’fine,” he says, craning his neck.

Aziraphale’s mouth quirks deeper into a frown. “Then why are you on the floor, my dear?”

“Napping,” He responds easily, grateful that his large round glasses still covered his eyes. His chest and arm are flaring up in pain, the agony like thousands of fiery needles shooting through his nerves.

Despite the glasses, Aziraphale must have seen him wince, because his eyes narrow suspiciously. He toes one single oxford clad foot forward, pressing directly into the demon’s shoulder above his collar bone. The effect is instantaneous. Crowley stifles a curse, but his body flails away from the contact and his arm wrenches free of his grip. The jacket falls aside, and he’s laid bare before the angel, chest heaving, and tears stinging his eyes as he can’t help but let out a violent hiss.

Aziraphale’s eyes hover over the burns across his chest, and then flicker over to the table where the thermos sits carelessly in the open, and Crowley’s mind clatters to a halt. No, no, no wait. He heaves in a shuddering breath and manages to rasp out “Angel, no—it’s not what you think, I—" But a look of horror has started to settle into the angel’s eyes, and as they widen, the rest of his face contorts through disbelief and shock and settle into despair. Crowley’s traitorous heart thuds in his chest before he can stop it again, and oh, this pain makes the holy water feel like absolutely nothing. He would rather bathe in the stuff than see the grief on Aziraphale’s face or hear the broken wail he makes as he drops to his knees beside him.

“Crowley,” He starts in a wavering voice. “Crowley, my dear, what have you done to yourself?” There’s aching and pain in his words and just the uncertainty in his voice push the tears Crowley had stifled back to his eyes.

“It was an accident,” He coughs. “I didn’t—angel, I would never—”

“I trusted you,” Aziraphale interrupts. “I trusted—" His hands are tangling in his lap where he sits and his cheeks are wet with tears. He takes several gasping breaths. “—my fault,” he hiccups, before breaking into sobs again.

“No.” Crowley says firmly, reaching, grasping for Aziraphale with his good hand. His fingertips brush the angel, but Aziraphale recoils as if burnt. “Aziraphale,” he says softly, withdrawing his arm and clutching his shoulder, covering the burns. But what can he say? The angel is crying- crying! —because of him. Aziraphale is slumped on the floor of his flat and blaming himself because he thinks Crowley took the gift he’d given him and tried to off himself. What does he say instead? Oops, sorry, I was a bit careless and wandered over to a church of all places while I was trying to piece my heart back together from last night. So sorry. Won’t happen again. Now please stop crying, and also don’t take back the holy water, because I may need it in the future. And then the angel had come here and the first thing he’d done was give him the idea that he was miserable because of what Aziraphale had said. Crowley blesses himself under his breath. He did hurt. It had hurt—but that hurt was nothing compare to the thought of losing—of not even existing in the same world—

Between the pain from the holy water and the torture at seeing Aziraphale come so completely unraveled and distraught, Crowley is amazed he hasn’t just dropped dead on the spot.

Aziraphale is trembling, heaving breaths between sobs, covering his face with his hands and repeating again, and again, my fault. Each syllable strikes Crowley like a dagger in the ribs. He knew—he had always known that he would never turn the holy water on himself. It never even occurred to him that the angel may think that’s what he wanted for when he first asked. Of course this world was hard. Of course this world chewed you up and spat you out and just when you thought you couldn’t get any lower, humanity came up with new and inventive ways to destroy itself. He thinks back with a cringe to Spain, when he’d been drunk and unresponsive in a local cantina for a week before Aziraphale had found him. But even then—even then—he’d never even considered actually ending it, or even discorporating for temporary relief. For Go—fuck’s sake, even at its worst, he could always find something in this world to cling to. For everything horrific that came from the hearts of humanity, there was something delightful to counter. Fast cars, spiced wine, brilliant telescopes and satellites, fashionable sunglasses—

From the moment he’d stood on the wall of Eden, watched the very beginnings of humanity walk hand-in-hand into the world; the moment he’d heard an angel confess to giving away his literal God-given flaming sword; from the moment the first drops of rain had fallen from the sky and padded softly against his hair, his face, his skin, and he’d taken shelter beneath Aziraphale’s wing; from that moment, there was something for Crowley to keep existing for.

Aziraphale stands suddenly in a fit of motion. “I should have known,” he murmurs to himself, cheeks still stained with tears. His voice is rough with swallowed emotion. “I thought—” he hiccups and makes a pathetic sound between a sigh and a whimper, “I thought this would protect you.”

“Angel—”

“No, no I thought—I thought it was safer this way but—” He swallows and rounds on Crowley, with fury building beneath the tears. “Did I really upset you so?” he demands, voice breaking.

Oh. Fuck.

Aziraphale storms over to the table and swipes the thermos from it. “All I asked for,” and here his voice breaks and he’s crying again. “All I asked for was time, my dear, and….” He hastily stuffs the thermos into one of the pockets of his ridiculously old-fashioned jacket. His eyes focus on Crowley again, and they look him over with such grief Crowley’s mouth goes dry. He can’t move under that gaze.

“Please, Aziraphale, please—listen to me,” he gasps in a hoarse whisper.

He doesn’t answer Crowley, but he does take soft tentative steps back to his side and sinks to the floor once more, wrapping his arms around himself and settling into silent tears.

Crowley closes his eyes and heaves a deep breath in through his nose. “Angel,” he begins again shakily. “Love, please,” and here he reaches again, trembling fingers coming to rest on Aziraphale’s knee. Aziraphale makes no indication that he’s even registered the touch. “You promised me a picnic. D’you really think I wouldn’t stick around for that?”

His angel takes in a quick breath and chokes back a sob.

“You really think I would betray you like that?”

“Well, obviously,” He manages weakly. “You’re a demon, that’s what you do.”

And that cuts into him, into the heart of him, in a way not even holy water or a divine blade could. Every shred of torment from the holy water redoubles, knifes at him, and it’s all he can do to stifle a strangled cry. The tears stinging his eyes spill over now, unchecked. And why? He is a demon. Any demon worth his salt would jump at the chance to hurt an angel the way he’s managed to.

“Not you,” Crowley murmurs through tears, closing his eyes against the pain flaring in his chest. “Never you.”

It’s so soft, he’s half sure he’s imagining it, but he feels the press of Aziraphale’s fingers against his own. Next comes the angels voice, softer even still.

“That was unfair of me,” he says. Crowley turns his eyes to him. “I know you wouldn’t,” He continues. “Not… not like this.” He shuffles on his knees just a bit closer, until he’s close enough Crowley no longer needs to twist his head to the side to see him. Aziraphale heaves a deep breath, and lifts his hand from where it had brushed Crowley’s fingers and reaches tentatively towards Crowley’s face. “…May I?” He asks, fingers hovering just above the demon’s cheek.

“S’alright,” Crowley breathes, and Aziraphale slides the glasses from his face. Crowley squints instinctively as his face is laid bare. The angel is always so bright, and now in the dim light of his flat he’s burning like a sun.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale mutters, and moves to wipe his own eyes with the back of his hand. “They’ve gotten quite dirty, you know, my dear. This won’t do.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief and begins cleaning the lenses meticulously. “I…” He begins, focusing intently on his task. “I may have fallen apart a bit there,” he says unevenly, and the effort he is making to keep his voice steady weighs on Crowley’s chest like a brick. It’s already hard enough for him to breathe through his injury, and now his breaths come even shorter.

Aziraphale folds the glasses neatly and sets them aside. His forehead is still creased in a frown as he turns his attention to Crowley. Carefully, and agonizingly tenderly he presses a palm to Crowley’s cheek and wipes away tears with his thumb. Crowley’s breath hitches and he lets his eyes fall closed against the touch. Aziraphale’s hand is so warm, nearly scorching, but he presses his face into the touch anyway. And for a moment it’s the only thing he can feel. He welcomes the moment of relief. This is the burn of a swallow of whiskey, of warmth of the morning sun after a cold night, the heat rolling off of a fire in winter.

“Are you in pain?” Aziraphale inquires gently.

“S’not bad,” Crowley lies, opening his eyes and gazing steadily at his angel’s face. His brows are knitted together in weary concern. Crowley brings his good hand up to cup Aziraphale’s hand against his cheek. “I’ll be okay, I think.”

“My dear boy, for a demon you’re a terrible liar.”

Crowley doesn’t respond.

“Now, then,” Aziraphale continues softly. “Perhaps—” He takes a shuddering breath. “Perhaps I should let you tell me what happened.”

“Accident, angel.” Crowley supplies quickly. “I mean it. Wrong place, wrong time, a priest doing a blessing—it just happened. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” The angel smiles sadly. “You could have been—you might have been—”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “It won’t happen again, angel, I promise, I just wasn’t paying attention.”

After a moment of looking over him with appraising eyes, Aziraphale seems to accept what he’s saying. His brows relax just slightly, and he retracts his hand. It takes every ounce of self-control Crowley has to keep himself from clinging to his fingers and chasing the warmth of the retreating palm. But Aziraphale doesn’t move far. Instead, he trails delicate fingers over Crowley’s collar bone, letting his hand come to rest softly against the center of his wounds.

The pain should increase, it should redouble at the proximity of something so divine, so holy, but it doesn’t. He can’t turn his eyes away from the angel’s face and the concerned and concentrated look that’s crept there. Somehow, the pain is fading even as Aziraphale blinks once, twice. There’s a wrenching pull in his chest and shoulder, like a fishing line has hooked into his ribs and is lifting him from the floor. He turns to look as his back arches off the floor, following Aziraphales hand as it lifts from him. There’s a feeling like something sliding, coming loose, and the pull releases, and Crowley falls back to the floor. And the relief the overwhelming refuge from the pain crashes into him like an ocean wave. And his heart is beating again, strong, steady and pulsing. He heaves mouthfuls of air into his lungs and both his hands come to rest over the wound on his chest and shoulder. Its damp, but when he looks it’s only blood, as if it were a regular cut or burn.

Aziraphale is standing swiftly, cupping something in the palm of his hand, and moving away from him in a hurried motion.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley calls, tipping upwards to sit.

“One moment, my dear,” Comes the call from across the flat. There’s the sound of running water, and then the angel is striding back into the room, drying his hands on a white towel that certainly isn’t one of Crowley’s. Aziraphale stops in front of him, and then kneels and settles back on his heels to look at him face to face. There’s a thin smile on his lips.

“What did you do?” Crowley asks, breathless, pressing against his chest to staunch the meager bleeding.

“Well, I took it back.”

“It?”

“The holy water. It was only a frightfully small amount, and not even a particularly potent bit at that.”

“Oh,” he breathes, and it seems woefully insufficient. His eyes meet the angel’s bright blue gaze and he holds it there. Thank you, he thinks loudly. Thank you. I love you. I love you I love you I would never leave you. Aziraphale’s mouth parts as a tiny noise escapes him and he flushes, as if he could hear Crowley’s thoughts.

Clapping his hands on his knees, Aziraphale smiles too quickly and breaks eye contact, and moves to stand up. “You shouldn’t have a problem taking care of the rest of that.” He says hastily. “Just, um. Just a normal human accident. Couldn’t be helped.” He laughs nervously, and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll leave you to it then?”

“Course. Of course.” Crowley answers, masking his sudden disappointment. “Just, um. Angel?”

Aziraphale pauses, his hand on the doorknob. He looks at Crowley then, and if you could drown in a look Crowley would be gasping for air. “Yes, my dear?”

“Um, would it be too much to ask for you to, um.” He takes the opportunity to snag his glasses from where they sit on the floor, and slips them on. “Leave the thermos?” He finishes.

“Ah,” he answers, holding his hands at his side and fists and rocking once up onto his toes. “I suppose I couldn’t persuade you it was for the best if I didn’t?”

Crowley smiles weakly. “I won’t stop you if you walk out of here,” He says. “But I swear, on everything I am, you will never have to go through this again.”

The angel closes his eyes and sighs in consideration. But he does open his jacket, and takes the thermos from his pocket and sets it carefully, reverently, on the table beside the door. “Mind yourself, my dear,” he says, and it sounds almost like—

But then he’s gone, the door swinging shut behind him.

(Part 2)

#good omens #fan fiction #ahhh fuck I can't believe I done this #this is what I get for being friends with such an AMAZING WRITER i get inspired to write myself #help i love them #anthony janthony crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #emily does a write #i guess that's the tag for that now

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templeofshame · 4 years

Text

Moral Interactivity & Blame in The Silver Button

youtube

The Silver Button starts with a recurring element in Phil's weird vids: the discovery of something that Phil interacts with in the obvious way to destructive effect (cf. Sebastian: Universe Defender and Tape 6, cases in which he has forewarning he doesn’t have here). In this case, we don't know why Phil is holding a leafy sphere (or how often he does, since he's surprised not to have noticed the button before), but it leads him to push the titular silver button. It seems like an act of pure curiosity that sets in motion the rest of the vid.

Apart from brief pain and Special Effects, the change post-button is a voice (American-accent Phil) that seems to come from within Phil and that warns him to run. A warning he questions, but doesn't even begin to act on. But then (after a shot of a snakelike creature) American-Phil-voice switches his advice to "close your eyes," which Phil does, and that, more than the button push, is when things get weird. Everything's black and white, Phil's wearing a headband thing, and he immediately recognizes this as "a change in dimension." [Side note, before this point, this Phil seems not to know what's going on, but from here, "it's all becoming clear" and he knows both about the monster and what needs to be done.] But what's far more unusual in terms of the weird!phil canon is the way things get meta: Phil can see thousands of people watching him.

Phil's videos, weird or not, often address the viewer directly, but here, Phil blends a typical YouTuber awareness of viewers with his weird worldbuilding: Technology in Phil's new dimension makes at least the visual exchange between him and his viewers two-way, and immediate. (Later, when he refers to what we're watching as both "this video" and "this communication," he seems to be walking the line of how literally he's acknowledging our world.) He positions the action of the story in the present, happening while you (the viewers) are watching it rather than at the time of filming. Functionally, he puts the story into an extra level of the present tense; he's not just recording a story with present-tense spoken text in its (past-relative-to-viewer) time of filming, but one that is actively set in the time of its viewing. In doing so, he challenges us to suspend our disbelief over not only dimension changes and snake-monsters, but also the relationships between the video and the viewer. Before his better-known forays into interactivity, he creates a sort of moral interactivity.

The Silver Button doesn't have annotations. It is one continuous video with one ending. And yet, the viewer has a choice: when to stop watching. Personally, I never considered stopping before the end, even when Phil guilted me with Janet-death in The Good Place vibes (or Milgram experiment vibes, but I wasn't following orders). Apart from the knowledge (despite all suspended disbelief) that we can't actually affect the end of the video, I think that's largely because we know what ending we get if we stop. There's a sort of Schrodinger's ending going on in the logic of the story; if we click away, we never know the ending and Phil might be okay. If we watch through, we have certainty, and Phil dies.

Oh man, I've had a lot to say and I haven't really gotten to the whole issue of Responsibility and Blame. Phil can see us both as a crowd of thousands and as individuals whose eyes and soul he can look into, and this combination of the collective and individual understanding of the viewer has interesting implications for responsibility and blame. What Phil needs is for everyone to stop watching, not just you. But at the same time, there's an immediacy to the way he pleads, his "what are you doing," that implicates you, the individual viewer. It's one of the keys to YouTubers as a cultural thing, the feeling of a one-on-one connection that we can get from watching people talk to their cameras. As many times as I've watched The Silver Button (always to the end), it's never felt like I escape blame for what happens to Phil because other people watched to the end too; it might make sense logically that the collective responsibility would take some pressure off, but Phil seems to blame each of us "selfish, selfish people." (There is, of course, some dramatic irony to the fact that outside of the story, in our real world, of course Phil wants people to watch all the way through. But the blame is assigned by character-Phil, not creator-Phil.)

And so, headband-Phil goes to a meditative place as color-Phil is killed by Balthazar (yes, I assume that's his name and he's like a Pokemon, saying his name for no apparent reason) and the surviving Phil hits the blame even harder: "You'll never be able to understand what you've just done." The line parallels The Basket's "I'm sorry for what I've done," prominently placed at the end, the theme of responsibility that weighs heavy in "what [pronoun]'ve done." While The Basket's line is the ultimate acceptance of responsibility, Phil doesn't take any responsibility here (even though he's the one who pressed the button and started this whole thing). And here it's clear that "what you've done" is really about the consequences of actions, not the actions themselves. The idea of "You'll never be able to understand" could, in theory, serve to soften the blame and excuse us in a sort of Biblical "they know not what they do" kind of way, but that's not how Phil delivers the line. It's ominous in how resigned Phil sounds and the implication that those consequences stretch beyond the death we've seen to something far worse. It highlights the final moment of the story, with Balthazar attacking the camera; he's still at large, and knowing the creator of this story, he might just destroy the world (and blame us for it—Balthazar's definitely not given any agency over his role as the murderer here).

#weird!phil analysis #amazingphil #phan meta

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onepiecefeatstuff · 4 years

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Festival | Sanami week 2020

The log-pose clearly had Nami’s ideal in mind when it decided to guide them to that island. Or at least, it looked like it had. Maybe it wasn’t the island of her dreams, but it checked many of the boxes. It was like the perfect man, found in reality. It doesn’t have all the characteristics one expects, yet it doesn’t really matter. It isn’t about crossing things out of a list, but the feeling of certainty that came along with him.

At least, that’s what Nami thought. Not that she knew much about it, anyway.

However, that island had the perfect climate (sun, but with a light breeze), the perfect altitude (there was a beach, and also a mountain), the perfect shape (mapping it would be an easy job)… It even had a castle, which was not a priority but it was very welcome. In her fantasy island, there would always be a castle –because deep down, she was still fond of fairytales, maybe.

So when she saw a poster than announced a renaissance fair, she gasped. She actually, really gasped. Chopper did, too, which made her feel less lonely; but no less childish. Luffy took the poster from her hands, and decided they had a plan. She took it back with a frown, but she was smiling inside. The tension from the last few weeks (maybe months, maybe years) seemed to lift from her shoulders momentarily. The wind was blowing softly, messing up her hair, and she took a deep breath before starting her path to the village.

The village was just what she had pictured in her mind: tiny, made up of wooden and stone houses, and sprinkled on all sides by flowers. There was a fresh aroma in the air that seemed to welcome them, as the real habitants did so. Nami was taken aback by their generosity and their invitation to join the festival, especially after Luffy mentioned that they were pirates. The hesitation from the mayor only lasted a few seconds, and Nami felt a sudden burst of excitement inside as they mentioned the competitions.

She arranged everyone in a few seconds: Zoro, Usopp and Franky could take the carpentry contest; Brook, Chopper and Luffy could do their best job as bards and Sanji would master whatever dish they were making in the cooking competition. She trusted Robin enough to let her go as she pleased, and as for herself, gambling was always a safe bet. There was no way they were going back to the Sunny empty-handed.

They all got dressed up for the occasion, with the many costumes they were renting. Nami chose a white and blue dress with bateau neckline that she later accompanied with a fresh-made flower crown that Robin had arranged in a second –Chopper asked for one, too. She felt like a princess, and she would have been repulsed by her own lame thoughts if she hadn’t been so happy about it. She kept twirling the dress and spinning around, with no apparent reason.

Sanji, however, was sure it had to be on purpose; it had to be destiny to be alive in that same moment as to see an unearthly creature move so gracefully in the sunlight. It was both a blessing and a torture. Slow, painful torture; not being able to hold her in his arms. He would have been her knight, he would be his knight anytime. His first instinct had been to offer his services, swearing all kinds of loyalty to his mistress to anyone who could listen, but it only took a second more of admiring her to throw his usual behavior pattern away. There, as she danced and twirled and kept winning money by the second (she was great at multitasking, as well as with everything else), he realized that he never wanted to be the one to interrupt her happiness.

But her mere presence was costing him the competition, and she was going to kill him for that. The dramatic irony was really shining that day, he thought. She was also glowing, like he had never seen her before. He wouldn’t know what it felt like for Robin to discover a new phonegliph, but he figured it had to be something of that kind.

The turkey legs were burning, and he had put out the fire. He hoped no one would notice, especially after all the condiments and side dishes, but he knew Zeff would have made him re-do the dish. His cook pride was a bit shattered by that realization, but one glance from her made it all worth it. He would do it all again if all his life choices led to that moment.

As he served the judges a taste of his dish, he couldn’t help but smile when he imagined her response to a comment like that. She would roll her eyes, or smack him down for saying nonsense. Except he felt like it made perfect sense. He was probably the most sane person in the crew, if anything. There was nothing irrational in giving it all for her, because she was the most extraordinary event that happened to him. He wouldn’t be there, in that festival, if it weren’t for her. He wouldn’t be the man he is, if his path hadn’t crossed hers.

Before they announced the prize, he already considered himself a winner. Although when Nami ran to his side and hugged him tight, that’s when he really won. Part of him knew that part of her was driven by her fierce ambition, but another part of him knew the other part of her. When their eyes met, he felt she was proud of him; and it was enough.

“What a beautiful couple!” the oldest judge said, applauding. “Are you running for queen and king of the festival?”

Sanji was about to tell him no when Nami hushed him with her index finger, and asked the old lady to explain further. At the end of the day, people voted for the king and queen of the fair, and they’d get crowns and share a dance in the main hall of the castle. The idea of wearing a crown (a real, golden one, not the one made from flowers she was wearing) sounded very appealing to her; and the idea of sharing a dance with Nami sounded very appealing to him. They didn’t even have to speak to reach a conclusion, their silent agreement.

Arm in arm (Nami said to keep appearances, and Sanji was not going to complain about it), they signed their names in the voting booth; and went on with the festivities. Once in a while, their paths would meet, coincidentally when there was a crowd nearby, and they would share public affection that only hurt a little to Sanji when he remembered they were doing it for the show. It was a small price to pay.

He couldn’t complain.

At noon, the mayor gathered all the contestants in two lines, separating them both. Nami held his hand until the very moment they had to pull apart, and Sanji felt the ghost of her hand still on his throughout the whole ceremony. He could see the man talking, but he wasn’t really paying attention. The other girls looked beautiful, but Nami glowed like no one else. She was looking at him, and although her smile was confident, he could feel her pulling strength out of him. He straightened his spine, and let out a deep breath that she imitated. She smirked when he did, and Sanji kept the impression game by winking at her. He couldn’t believe it when she winked back over her shoulder. He was so struck that he couldn’t think of anything else, not even his name.

“Sanji.”

The crowd cheered and it wasn’t until that moment that he really processed that it wasn’t his own mind but an outside voice who pronounced his name. Precisely, the man who was walking with a crown. He stood tall as they put the crown in his head, and proceeded to gesture wildly at Nami. She let out an inaudible laugh, that somehow got to his ears right before they announced her name.

For a moment, Nami thought about throwing away the flower crown just like a bouquet and seeing who would catch it. But she couldn’t do that to Robin, who put all her effort in it, and gave it to the gorgeous girl that she had next to her. The golden crown that was placed in her head was made out of plastic, which came out as a disappointment; but the winning was the finishing touch of the day. The crown jewel of the festival.

The music started playing almost immediately, and both parties pushed Nami and Sanji close together. Nami, who until that moment found pleasure in being the protagonist of the tale, began to feel nervous and agitated. Shy, even. The touch with Sanji’s hand made her more comfortable, and she remembered why she wanted him to share the spotlight with her.

“Thank you.” She told him, only loud enough for him to hear.

Sanji kept swaying, knowing that the moment would soon be over, and he would have to return to reality; knowing that all good things come to an end.

“You needed a partner.” He said, stating the obvious. “I’m always at your service, milady.”

“Actually I didn’t need one. Queen and king are two separate categories.” She told him, which confused him even more. “I kind of… wanted you here.”

Sanji froze, and Nami had to guide the dance as well as the conversation.

“I feel safer when you’re around. I guess that whole knight thing has gotten into me in the end.” She laughed, quietly. “Plus, I like fooling people. But I didn’t want to fool you.”

Sanji opened his mouth to talk, but the firework show started and everyone lifted their heads up, including her. He stood there, watching her pointing at the sky with the biggest smile; and a greatest sense of tenderness overflowed his heart. Because she liked fooling people, but not him. Because she wanted him there. Because they could be, even if it was only for one night, the king and queen of the fair.

Author’s note: I’m so sorry this came in so late, but I guess it’s better late than ever. I hadn’t really had much time lately, but I couldn’t miss Sanami week! It’s been a blast, as always. I’m going to miss waking up to a new prompt.

#sanami week 2020 #sannami week #sannami #sanami #sanji x nami #nami #sanji #op fanfic

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lunawings · 5 years

Text

King of Prism SSS Episode 12 commentary (FINAL!)

Crunchyroll was awesome this time!

No significant complaints on the subs!

You guys were awesome this time!

So many people stuck around for the late viewing in the stream and even after just to chat!

Now on to the actual episode.

Once again sorry this is so long. But with this being the last one, can you really blame me.....?

.....As much I love this episode, this scene was just so painful. Worse than Shine’s show. Worse than that whole last episode combined.

A lot of my predictions about Part 4 were wrong (will discuss later) but I was absolutely sure of one thing. I knew no matter what happened in Part 4 just one thing was FOR CERTAIN. And that was... I was going to have to see Shin cry. This precious boy who deserves nothing but love is going to suffer. And I tried to prepare myself. I tried.

But somehow. Even though I knew. EVEN THOUGH I KNEW... It was way worse than I could have ever imagined.

I always assumed he would cry because he found out about something terrible about the past. But instead HE NEVER KNOWS THE TRUTH and we get him sobbing over something entirely NOT HIS FAULT... in front of everyone.... HOW.... HOW COULD THEY.... DO THIS... TO.... HI...M................

This scene upsets me so much I don’t know if I have ever even seen the whole thing. I always end up turning away at some point, or just curling up into a ball.....

Did anyone else feel like they were watching a totally different anime for a few seconds here? I’m having trouble telling if the style actually changed or if I.... just am not used to seeing Shin make expressions like this............. ba.....by..............

Leo always cries when anyone else is crying.

Even though everyone claps for him at the theater at cheering shows, it doesn’t make me feel better. AT ALL. Because Shin never knows the truth. NONE OF THEM DO. Okay we’ll talk about this more later but just..... gah it hurts........................................ So much that it actually hindered my enjoyment of what amazing thing comes next......

Back in the first movie era, the idea of a full CGI show of the Edel Rose boys with Shin as center was something that I could not imagine coming true even in my wildest dreams. And I love this show. I just wish it wasn’t proceeded by so much suffering.

Shin being their center was something they decided at the Christmas live (before performing Dramatic Love for the first time) BTW. While it seems obvious to us that Shin would be center, it wouldn’t necessarily be as such in-universe. They had to decide at some point! And I’m glad it was a part of that story.

I LOVE THESE OUTFITS.

THEYRE PERFECT. The rainbows, the stars, the colors. Everyone looks AMAZING. And I know the rainbows are probably an homage to Over the Rainbow... BUT..

its just so gay

Prism stone beam???

This is orange I guess? It looks more yellow to me. A lot of the hand colors are kinda vague and I’m just like... WHO DID YOU TOUCH

For anyone who read my I THINK I MARRIED ALL THE EDEL ROSE BOYS. OR THEY MARRIED EACH OTHER. ANYWAY EVERYONE IS MARRIED NOW shitty out of context spoiler I wrote in a comment obviously it was this ahahaha

I really do love this show, and like with the new Shuffle’s show last week I’m so glad I can finally watch it without the.... suffering.

The first time I saw this in theaters, this exact frame right here was when I first started feeling any semblance of better after all that had happened. He looks so confident and gallant and his eyes are shining and he just.... Shin............... I love you so much....................................................................

Also this is a good spot to talk about their feathers I guess. So these are different from the other (male?) wings Shine had. Why? What does that mean?

*throws hands in the air*

So, some folks may not be aware of this but the feathers from Rainbow Live were a feature of the arcade game.

You could unlock them by raising the PairTomos, and even the night dream feathers look like they were available at one time during an event it seems?? I am not entirely sure how it all worked since I never played the game back in the heyday. (You can no longer obtain all the feathers now even if you bring a memory card to a currently running Pretty Rhythm machine since some just aren’t available anymore.)

But anyway, the actual point I was trying to make is that the feathers had a set structure within Rainbow Live since it was grounded by the arcade game. But in King of Prism...... that just kinda do what they want.... s....o.............

The first time I went to cheering for this it was the premiere date, and it was also the first time I ever did cheering the same day. In between the morning/midnight showing a whole bunch of people had the idea to go to the 100 yen shop and get glowstick rings just for this scene. I was like daaaamn.

But then...

Our first official non-Crunchyroll translation of prism no kirameki?

Even the Juuouin group worships “the prism”.

And I can’t help laugh at the irony that Crunchyroll abandoned using “the prism” but also just ignored the translation ALREADY ON SCREEN

I can’t take his scream here. It’s just like.... HE WAS ALREADY DYING, WHY DID THEY HAVE TO SPEED UP THE PROCESS.

LOUIS.

LOUIS NOOOOOOOOO.

Even as late as it is, I am really, really grateful how they took a few seconds to establish for the new audience exactly how much of their shows are powered by prism sparkle.

Note that they did not change out of their costumes though. But my headcanon on this is that Leo just prefers to make the real thing because he can.

Singing at cheering shows is also everything I have ever wanted.

I feel bad though since I pretty much always get tongue tied here every time. It’s hard to just sing acapella to a song you’re not that familiar with. Especially with the sparkely lyrics appearing and disappearing like this. I actually don’t hear that many other people singing in the theater, perhaps for that reason? But I always try my best.

And now that this is finally out, I can finally practice at home and nail this down with confidence just in time for...... SSS to leave theaters..... um............ ye....ah........

I also mess this up like every single time ahaha. It’s just slightly too fast for me to read.

Someday I will succeed in properly marrying all of the Edel Rose boys. Someday.

(Also I don’t think this was rainbow-colored in the theatrical version.)

So Edel Rose and all their fans just up and created a prism goddess so we don’t need the prism gods anymore. Can they do that? Can we do that? I guess we can!

WE DID IT GUYS

It’s oddly fitting that Hijiri is kind of an ugly crier. I mean, he’s just so beautiful the rest of the time. It’s only right.

So let’s unpack this for a sec. Unbeknownst to them, because the Edel Rose boys all married each other they put a new seal on Shine. But this seal is entirely dependent on their marriage their bond with each other.

How literal is that I wonder?

Because like.... Edel Rose won’t last forever. Kakeru, Minato, and Yukinojo are gonna be going to college in a year and a half.... ahah ha.....

I just imagine like. A couple of them meeting on the street in the distant future being like “Oh man I haven’t seen you in forever!” “Yeah! We really lost touch! Hey, have you heard from Shin lately?” “No, you?” And behind them is like a TV report of Shin become Shine destroying a city or something.

.....................Reminder again that this commentary is coming from the place where I am after having a couple months to let this all sink in and get to the point where I am comfortable joking about it.... ahah ha........

This is one of my coping mechanisms for dealing with the idea that my favorite character basically has the devil living inside of him trying to take over at any moment.....

Another one is thinking back to older King of Prism media and wondering what Shine was doing at that time. Like, I imagine him floating there inside Shin all bored and pissed off making sarcastic comments at whatever the Edel Rose boys are doing. And I find this hilarious for some reason. I’d make a webcomic about it if I could draw.

ANYWAY

So my understanding of this scene (which may or may not be totally correct) is: The Edel Rose boys’ rings put a seal on Shine which drags him down back into the depths of where Rinne first plunged him. But before he goes, he installs(?) his powers into Shin so that Shin is free to use Shine’s powers on his own now. (Up until now he was just like borrowing them?)

If you also briefly wondered how they could have gotten a perfect score after failing a jump, my guess is the Prism System just wasn’t recording at that time due to the lack of prism sparkle ahah ha.

They absolutely mopped the floor with the new Shuffle, and it did not matter.

What makes this so nuts to me is that even before I saw Part 4, like way back after I first saw episode 5 I was already comparing Joji to a twisted Hiro. (Elaborated on this in my episode 5 post.) And then this aha.

So in the theatrical version I swear the crowd here has light blue lights. And I wondered if it was on purpose to be like inverted Hiro (who goes from light blue -> yellow in the Prism King Cup, so Joji went yellow -> light blue?) but nope, I guess somebody just forgot Joji’s theme color is yellow ahaha. In the TV version they just made it multi-colored.

So to add more context to some things, you may remember I mentioned before that Part 4 premiered in Japanese theaters in the gap between when Taiga and Kakeru’s episodes aired on TV. So by the time Joji’s episode aired on TV... I already knew this was gonna happen. I already knew we were watching the number one prism show. THE CHAMP. The only 2D prism show.... SO MUCH IRONY.

But you know what. Despite his show being what it was..... After all the time to let it sink in.. After all the dust has settled.... the one solo song which is my clear favorite..... The only one which has gotten stuck in my head WAY MORE than ANY other.... is Joji’s.

(Well, Ace’s. But still.)

So.

Congrats Prism Champ.

Never thought I’d say this but poor Jin. Even when he ACTUALLY TRIES to do something fair for once...... still......

(Goddammit Shine.)

Poor Joji? Or not. It’s hard to feel bad for him when he’s THE PRISM CHAMP ahaha. Like. He made it. He has everything he ever strived to obtain. On the surface anyway.

How Nori-kun feels about this though, who knows. Will we ever?

DOES IT REALLY NOT? Haha I really don’t understand this at all. Like. Was it really political pressure? Did Jin fold since he didn’t win in the way that he wanted to? Did Kakeru pull some strings behind the scenes again?

*throws hands in the air*

AND THIS

It’s framed to be this super significant scene but

WHAT DOES IT MEANNNNNNNN

I have already touched on this in separate posts, and this post is so long already that I’m going to kind of leave it hanging here but I consider Kakeru’s plot in SSS to be a loose end. He was the only boy who did not have a plot with some kind of resolution about himself. Instead Kakeru’s plot was only about other people.....

FINALLY, the ultimate conclusion to the infamous curry plot of Pride the Hero.

AND FINALLY

YOU

GUYS

I WAS SO MAD

The official King of Prism Twitter and such were actually pretty good at hiding Dorachi before Alexander’s episode aired. But Torachi was just EVERYWHERE and I was like COME... ON. REALLY.

So you may have noticed this but he was added to the opening too. For us seeing SSS in the theaters, we only get one OP per showing. So this means Japan actually got this spoiled before episode 10.

But I didn’t. I didn’t even notice because I just wasn’t thinking to look for it. (Also I guess sitting in a terrible seat to the far right twisting my neck at an angle may have had something to do with it but.) When I first saw the reveal of Torachi in episode 12 it was TOTAL SURPRISE for me......

But as much as I love Taiga though, Dorachi is my clear favorite. My Dorachi merch collection will start as soon as I can get my hands on ANYTHING

Also I wonder at what point Alexander figured out that DJ COO was Rei, because he sure knows now ahah.

But anyway, speaking of spoilers....

I know I said at one point Nikkanen and the twins didn’t have any significant appearances in SSS, but that was before Part 4 and I just decided not to correct that and let you guys be surprised AHAHAH you’ll just have to hate me *BLASTS OFF INTO THE SUNSET*

(I’m so glad they seem to have cleaned up Nikkanen’s face a little. He looked so weird in the theater. Or like.... weirder at least.)

(If you don’t know these boys they are already established characters introduced on the Prism Rush mobile game.)

And what do THESE feathers mean.....

LOUIS ISN’T DYING ANYMORE DONT CARE *NYOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM*

By the way I can’t believe the prism sparkle disappearing and Louis becoming the protector of the world WAS FORESHADOWED IN ROAD TO SSS 9. That’s why I reblogged this post the other day.

It’s so funny how much of Road to SSS didn’t matter. Then you get to event 9 and LITERALLY EVERYTHING MATTERS.

And again.... speaking of spoilers............

The week before Yu’s episode aired I AGONIZED about whether to put in some kind of vague hint that the Edel Rose boys new unit name was revealed in that episode (as part of Yu’s prism jump). Ultimately I decided not to. Because even though I didn’t figure it out at the time, I think with even a vague hint I probably would have. Because even when I saw it back then I was like.... “...... huh........”

So you’re just gonna hafta haaaaaaaaate ahahaahah ha sorry

But anyway! Now I can finally stop referring to our seven stars as the “Edel Rose boys” and from now on call them SeptEntrion! Since calling them just the “Edel Rose boys” isn’t really accurate anymore since it would also include the twins and Nikkanen, etc. I’m happy that the main seven finally have a good name to distinguish them.

(Now I need to learn to remember how to spell SeptEntrion....)

Also

You guys in the livestream ruined this for me so I’m ruining it for everyone too.

Look at the red letters.

Then flip over your desk and storm out of the room like I almost did when I noticed.

WHY

THERE IS NO WAY THAT IS NOT ON PURPOSE

WHY

So, a few weeks ago I was in Tokyo and I decided to stop by the Yotsuya station area.

I found the site of the supposed Yotsuya Credit union (which is actually a lottery ticket stand) and the KPO KFC almost immediately.

I also found out there is a Catholic university in the area, and although it doesn’t look anything like Edel Rose that seems like not a coincidence.

So I started to walk around that area, but try as I might I could not find any little shopping streets like the one in the anime. The area didn’t look like it would have that sort of place at all. Also it was POURING RAIN, I was just at Aqours 5th live the previous day, I had at least 6 hours to get home, and I was anxious to make it there with plenty of time for the stream of Alexander’s episode which we were doing that night. I decided to give up and head to the KFC to console myself over chicken, coleslaw, and biscuits before beginning the journey home when LOW AND BEHOLD

RIGHT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE KFC

WAS THIS

IT DOES EXIST

And there is not nearly enough room for SeptEntrion to perform here ahaha.

I can’t help but notice that while they used Prism One performance snapshots for all the other boys, Shin is in his old Over the Sunshine outfit. Well I mean. OF COURSE HE IS. But.....

But I really can’t help but wonder what the boys are thinking nowadays in retrospect about what happened.

I mean, not that they shouldn’t love and trust Shin. Of course they should.

But if my friend turned to pure evil for a solid 15 minutes I would be.... CONCERNED for him? ?? To say the least.

The fact that THEY DONT KNOW AND MAY NEVER KNOW really just eats at me

I suppose Louis or June could tell them. But I don’t think Louis ever will since he just wants to protect Shin, and June..... where would she even start.

Not to mention what does Yamada-san think about how Shin just BECAME Wataru Hibiki like I.... I just have several questions but......

The cheering audience for the half second we can see Torachi here: “..............................................................AHHHHH!..................................................”

I wondered for weeks what the TV ED would be for this episode, and as soon as Boy Meets Girl started playing I was like...... OF. COURSE.

Hahah I’m glad though. So far the only SeptEntrion version Boy Meets Girl we’ve had was live (at MRS) and I often thought of ripping the audio from the DVD just to have it, but now I won’t have to. The TV audience never got to hear the theatrical ending 366 Love Diary though, which is kind of a shame. That song is such a big part of SSS to me.

So when we do the livestreams, I often have the live episode playing on my actual TV with the sound off. The stream is delayed by a few minutes so it’s been great for cues to help prepare stuff to type into the chat about things coming up.

While you guys were still in the meat of this episode, I casually glanced over my shoulder and saw THIS on my TV

Shin in the outfit Leo originally made him for the Prism One.

And just started having a seizure that lasted until the credits ended BECAUSE THEN THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE.

Playing to the left is the theatrical weekly video we got in the third week of Part 4.

(It has actual dialogue in the theaters, but here they just muted it and laid it over the credits. I went to the theater yesterday JUST to take notes on this for you guys ahaha. Glad I didn’t need to though.)

But like. When I first saw this in the theaters...

I was so SO sure this was a joke. I mean Prism 2!?! Seriously!?

But now I don’t know WHAT to think.

ESPECIALLY ABOUT THIS

But um. Someone tell me the anime references I’m missing here:

And which of these are newly revealed YMT29 boys ahah:

And..... that’s it....

This is Louis’ coded way of telling Shin he’ll love him forever I guess.

Aw man

you guys

we made it

ROUND OF APPLAUSE

Ahhhhhhhhhh

ITS BEEN A JOURNEY

So Part 4 turned out way differently than I predicted. When the episodes were first announced and episode 12 was “Unknown”, my immediate thought was “it’s gonna be Shine.” Especially since the quote for Shin’s episode was something like “what have I done,” I assumed he would gain some memories of the past in episode 11 and was talking about something he/Shine did in the past. Then I thought Shine would perform in episode 12 and cause a bad end. Even though we knew Edel Rose was scheduled for a unit performance, I was skeptical if it would actually happen or not as I doubted Shin would be in any condition to perform in episode 12. (I also wondered if maybe we already HAD already seen their unit show in the OP and thus wouldn’t be getting a new song.)

But when the CDs were announced and I saw the last one said “unit song” I was like.... ohhh.... I guess they will perform as a unit after all? That’s good?

Turns out I was right at least in predicting that Shine would get a show, but not that he would STEAL SHIN’S SHOW, and that Shin’s “what have I done” quote was about THE PRESENT DAY and something that Shin DID NOT DO. AHHH THE PAIN.

Although it really cuts me deep that Shin never learns the truth, I am grateful we got that unit show and a happy ending.

But....

OR IS IT?

says a voice in my head.

Shine’s coming back someday. And we can’t kill him without blanking Shin. Hghkhgkdhlkdh.

If I didn’t know any better I’d say the grand endgame climax of King of Prism would be SeptEntrion teaching Shine to love. But we already know from director spoilers that supposedly the grand climax is about saving Jin. I have a sinking suspicion Shine and Jin may be connected in some way though.

Who fucking knows where we’re going from now.

Other than WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON with Jin, another one of my big questions is does the Prism King Cup even matter anymore? Since the Prism One was supposed to replace it, but that didn’t go so well. HAHAH are we REALLY doing the Prism Two come on now..........

But anyway. I suppose there is no point in drawing this out it any further

for now

this is THE END

Thank you all SO MUCH for coming on this journey with me

It’s been such a joy sharing all this with you

And I hope to see you around

SHINY SEVEN STARS FOREVER

EDEL ROSE SPARKING

#king of prism #king of prism sss #shiny seven stars #king of prism shiny seven stars #kinpri

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fanfeline · 5 years

Text

The Danton Case - Complete Notes

More like disjointed amusing moments, but whatever.

Here is a complete post of my notes through all 5 acts of Pryzybyszewska’s Danton Case! I really enjoyed doing this, and I hope you all did as well. Let me know if I should do Thermidor as well....

Act I

Robespierre: Well, this is too much. I look like a gigantic withered cauliflower.

Note: this is his first line in the play.

We’re not going to talk about Eléonore trying to give Maxime a blowjob we’re just not

please don’t make me

please

Eléonore and Robespierre have a really weird relationship in this; he barely tolerates her existence, but keeps being very physical with her and it’s very uncomfortable to read.

“Child, I do not love you anymore - I am literally indifferent to you!”

I don’t even know what to say about Saint-Just in this he’s barely human

Saint-Just [glumly]: Are you delirious? Robespierre: [bursts out laughing, which does not necessarily reassure his friend]

Robespierre has strange names for people

Eléonore is “lioness,” “viper” etc.

Camille is “calf” “wonder child” “talented baby” and a bunch of just…random stuff

Danton and Co. have really weird code names that are never explained

Danton himself is C Three. No idea why.

Louise absolutely despises Danton with her whole heart

[Camille Desmoulins rushes in, very excited]

Again, this is how he enters the play

Danton: Stay. Well, Camille? Have a drink. Well, what have you done now?

Everyone wants to be a dictator and tyrant!! cause that’s how it went.

Act II

Collot: let’s kill Camille!! Robespierre: ...no.

Paraphrased, but barely

Camille: Danton, I will not allow even you to make such jokes. Danton [grips and squeezes him]: What, you won’t allow it?! [squeezes him stronger] You still won’t? Camille [swooning]: Mm-n-mm…oh!

Camille [more softly, clasping his hands nervously] Georges: send me to die. I want to die for you. Danton [gives a friendly laugh] Better write, instead of dying...what use is your corpse to me?

yeah no one actually has any respect for Camille in this play

Vadier [a veritable mimosa as far as his self-love is concerned]

[sparks fly from Danton’s eyes]

he has laser eyes, who knew?

Danton: And you still won’t take your mask off, thought I see through it to every line on your face?! English blood, no doubt….[Robespierre reacts with an Irish look, knowing that it is not worth correcting such remarks]

Robespierre: Oh, yes: I’ve made a fatal mistake. Danton is a source of the plague.

[Camille rushes in, ill-tempered, throws off his cloak and hat, falls on the sofa and assumes a depressed pose.] Lucile: Well…? [when her husband makes a demonstrative gesture] Oh, my spouse! We’ve done something foolish again?!

Robespierre: He [Camille] simply must have his melodrama!

Camille’s sitting in front of him. They’re the only ones in the room.

Robespierre and Camille fight brutally, and to be honest it really hurts to read.

Act III

Actually, both Robespierre and Danton want to be king. Who knew?

Collot [starts to his feet]: Who asked you to interfere, you...underling?! Lindet: Thank you for that honorable title, hangdog. [Collot throws himself at Lindet, restrained by those near him.]

Lindet seems to spend the rest of the CPS meeting ringing a bell and begging people to shut up.

Robespierre: Which of us will go drown out that miracle-making thunderous bass (Danton)? My drawing-room contralto, perhaps? Or Saint-Just’s low-pitched tenor?

Robespierre is very musical in this play, whistling “the entire chromatic scale” in Act I for no reason and then doing this in Act III

[Lindet vehemently rings the bell]

Saint-Just (looking for paper): Nothing doing without the secretary…. [attacks the cabinet, breaks fingernails]

smooth, dumbass. lmao

[Delacroix has the familiar Satanic expression of a fellow conspirator]

Camille [shakes]: Don’t dare mention him (Robespierre)! [leans towards him (Danton) across the table] I’ve spent my life on my knees before the two of you. I’ve worn myself out in your service. And you both knew slyly how to exploit my blindness. From now on I am a free man. I don’t care what happens to me… but I’ve broken with both of you, rotten idols, forever. [turns away]

His newly-declared independence lasts approximately 1 page before he collapses sobbing and pledges his allegiance to Danton again

Again, Danton is uncomfortably physical and abusive with Louise.

She hates him so much… there is no healthy relationship in this play.

ahhhh shit it’s time for the “trial”

Robespierre: I request - the right - to speak!

Most characteristic line yet, if you ask me

Why is Courtois defending Danton? Or does he just hate Robespierre that much?

Act IV

[Camille is standing by the window, crying]

This is roughly the third time this has happened in this play

Philippeaux is just yelling at a very depressed Camille it’s not fun to read Camille: Have pity...and help me, or I shall perish!!! [throws himself on the bed] Philippeaux: You will die in five days, Desmoulins. [Camille goes numb. His crying stops like a switched-off radio]

ngl this made me...very upset

Figure II [stretches out his hand]: Camille, no irony is intended: we thank you in the name of France. [Camille, consoled, returns the embrace and smiles] Philippeaux: Camille - that’s the Comte and Vicomte d’Estaing (royalists). [Camille withdraws, horrified.]

Everyone’s sitting on each other’s beds and it just reads like a massive sleepover for these few lines (ignoring the fact that they’re imprisoned and will be dead in 5 days)

Lucile tries bribing the judges, and is rather disappointed when they don’t take her bribes.

And then Legendre walks in and Lucile is like “you know what? New plan. Hey Legendre you’re a butcher right? Go murder Robespierre!”

Lucile?!?!?!?

[But the essentially gay tone does not change]

That’s a decent summary of Pryzybyszewska

[It is likely that Desmoulins will provoke deadly French laughter deriding both him and his party]

Fouquier-Tinville is already so done with everyone

Robespierre (to Eléonore) [extends one hand to her; he leaves the other on his forehead]: I am sorry. I’m going insane.

Robespierre forgot to eat for like 36 hours and honestly? same

also he’s an authoritarian dictator now i guess

[Robespierre breaks into sonorous, pleasant laughter and disappears]

Act V

[Desmoulins is standing on the table, at which Philippeaux is reading]

This is the stage setup at the beginning of the act. Camille is still Camille.

Danton: Ah, that is exactly the point! Ha, ha! Maxime has done me a very good turn by having systematically concentrated power in his own hands for years: all I need to do now is to take from him… a ready-made dictatorship!

...What?

Camille’s trying desperately to convince Danton to spare Robespierre’s life after all of this he’s still trying to save his friend whyyyyyyyyyyy

[Danton stretches his hand towards the candle] Camille [nervously]: No!!! Georges, please don’t put it out!... Danton [with outstretched hand]: But why? Camille: It’s so horrible here… please leave it, I implore you!

Look, I hate Camille’s infantilization in media as much as the next person, but ahhhh my heart

Camille [after a while, shyly]: Georges….

Danton starts to like...feel himself up and monologue dramatically while everyone else is asleep it’s a real weird page and a half

also he calls Robespierre a “red Irish monkey”

Camille starts screaming and talking in his sleep, begging someone (Robespierre, I wonder?) for forgiveness

Philippeaux: But what did you have against saving that boy - whom, without any reason, you have driven to suicide?... Danton [gives Camille a contemptuous look]: Should I have gratified Robespierre, do you think? For that matter, it will be better for Desmoulins himself to die than to prostitute himself again.

[Depressed silence again. Robespierre slowly places his elbows on the table, and his forehead on his joined hands.]

same

This is roughly the part where Robespierre begins to collapse mentally - continuing well into the next play, “Thermidor”

Fouquier: [bangs the table with a file because Danton is opening his mouth again]

Danton actually manages to turn the whole crowd against the Committee - the mob starts calling for immediate acquittal and protesting the mockery of a trial

Fabre: Thank God it’s the end. I’m barely alive anyway.

Pryzybyszewska makes very clear that the whole trial is corrupted and rigged against the Indulgents

aaaaaand cut their hair, exit stage, we never see them again

Saint-Just and Robespierre have a long conversation about oppression and dictatorship that takes several rapid and interesting turns

Robespierre: Maybe it is madness.

Saint-Just [over his shoulder]: It is not madness, it’s despair. [He turns round. Speaks nonchalantly, but clearly] Shoot yourself. [He stops by the window, aimlessly looking at the yard. Robespierre slowly falls onto the bed, lies down.]

I….what?!?

Antoine, what?????

Robespierre: *lies down for the first time in god knows how long* [He (Barère) rushes into the room. Robespierre, brutally wakened, lifts himself on his shoulder with a slight hiss of fright. In a second he gives the intruder a deadly look which totally puts Barère out of countenance.] Barère: Oh… I’m sorry. May I?… Robespierre [motionless, sits on the bed]: You’re asking that question somewhat late….

[Saint-Just comes in with a helpless shrug of his shoulders]

[Saint-Just watches him with glowing eyes]

[Both gens de la haute main (Robespierre and Saint-Just) look at each other as if mutually hypnotized by their appearance. A long pause of perfect immobility.]

Robespierre [tense all of a sudden. Dead silence in the room.] Do you hear?... Saint-Just [sulking]: What? Robespierre: The crowd is coming back. Saint-Just: Requiescant in pace.

#ari babbles #ari reviews the danton case #the danton case #stanislawa pryzybyszewska #pryzybyszewska #thp #hope you enjoyed!

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impressivepress · 3 years

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We Should Be Grateful Charlie Chaplin Made 'The Great Dictator' When He Did

Charlie Chaplin is understood to have confided to his friends that, had he known about the full horrors of the Nazi regime, he would probably not have got around to making The Great Dictator.

“There are things in our century that wipe away even the most poisonous smile from the face of the most passionate satirist,” wrote one of the 20th century’s foremost historians. He was referring to Karl Kraus, the great Austrian journalist-polemicist-satirist, whose book The Last Days of Mankind, written in the inter-war years, is a 20th-century classic. When it came to lampooning National Socialism and Adolf Hitler, Kraus says, “nothing occurs to me”. A little later, he adds: “The word fell asleep when that world awoke.”

When the Holocaust became common knowledge, Chaplin must have also felt that his craft was inadequate to render Hitler’s world in any known cinematic genre – political satire or vaudeville, burlesque or tragedy. The Great Dictator was conceptualised and filmed when it was still possible to make fun of the Fuehrer.

Chaplin started shooting for the film in September 1939, just days after Germany invaded Poland. But he had been planning a movie on Hitler for years before that, and worked on his script through 1938-39. From Nazi newsreels, he had carefully studied Hitler’s mannerisms and the way he harangued large crowds. Chaplin also watched Leni Riefenstahl’s propaganda documentary Triumph of the Will (1935) several times over to make sure that he knew Nazi rituals well enough; his incredible talent for mimicry did the rest.

The film shoot took a little over six months. By the time Chaplin sat down to edit and add the music tracks, Hitler was overrunning Belgium and Holland while France was gently nudging itself into surrender. When The Great Dictator released in the US in October 1940, London was being carpet-bombed by the Luftwaffe, Neville Chamberlain had already made way for Churchill as the British prime minister and Warsaw’s Jews were being herded into the first ghettos run by the Nazis. However, the tone of the film had already been set before the active hostilities began. A tragedy loomed clearly enough then, but few thought yet that it was the Armageddon.

This perspective is important for understanding the satirical and political scope of Chaplin’s film. The ‘final solution of the Jewish problem’ was not only in the future, it had perhaps not begun to take shape as yet in even the most malevolent Nazi sensibility. Chaplin had set out to spoof the pompous bully who was absurd and arrogant, but not yet quite the hideous hangman history was to know him as. Hitler still regarded Mussolini with something of the awe that the disciple reserves for his mentor – this gave Chaplin the opportunity to flesh out a memorable love-hate-love relationship – and Mussolini’s precipitous invasion of Greece, which annoyed Hitler no end, was not to happen before end-October 1940.

The Great Dictator can very well look a tad too light-hearted today; the fact that an uproariously funny story is being told around what can only be described as unmitigated evil can surprise its modern-day viewers. But it is undoubtedly a film true to its time.

And The Great Dictator is much more than a parody. It is a stirring denunciation of fascism’s core principles – xenophobia, intolerance, bigoted nationalism and anti-Semitism. It is funny, but its world is intrinsically violent. Hynkel is often nervous, even shy, but in the presence of his pretty secretary, his predatory instincts are aroused in a trice. Holding her in a tight embrace, he digs his teeth into her neck with sudden vehemence, the whole act looking more like the tearing of flesh than love-making. The utter casualness with which he gives up his prey when the telephone buzzes suddenly makes the scene even more chilling.

Writing in Criterion, Michael Wood notes the effortlessness with which Chaplin shows us “how lethal the ludicrous can be”:

Nothing in the film is quite as frightening as the sight and sound of the ludicrous Hynkel casually ordering the execution of three thousand striking workers.

Chaplin plays around marvellously with this crossover between rollicking humour and unmixed horror. Wood has pointed out how the harmless barber waving a razor over the bare throat of a customer looks more murderous than Hynkel ever does in the film. But the masterly mixing of the strains of Johannes Brahms’ ‘Hungarian Dance no 5’ into this edge-of-the-seat scene adds that piquancy which is signature Chaplin.

Again, as the barber sets out on his first date with Hannah, the storm-troopers arrive to get him. A long shot shows the SS men approaching the couple from one end of the street. The barber stops dead, turns around and heads in the other direction nonchalantly, as though nothing was the matter. Another long shot captures another SS column closing in on him from the other direction. Now in panic, the barber scrambles for safety, running first this way and then that, and the camera pans back a long distance before an aerial shot shows him being swept up by an avalanche of burly SS men.

As masterful as the casual mixing of horror and humour is the blending of the ridiculous and the sublime in The Great Dictator. Gracefully, even tenderly, Hynkel performs the unforgettable balloon-ballet with Wagner’s ‘Lohengrin’ playing softly on the soundtrack. But then he slips on to a tabletop, and goes on bouncing the globe-balloon off his behind, with loving care, a dreamy, enchanted look frozen on his face. When finally he tries to get both his arms around the balloon, it bursts with a scream in his face.

Again, as the fugitive Schultz plots Hynkel’s assassination while sheltering in the ghetto, a serio-comic drama plays out around a noble enterprise. Each of the ‘volunteers’ (Schultz smartly rules himself out right at the beginning) pledges himself to the great project, but is aghast when he finds the fateful coin in his pie. The scene soon turns into a boisterous farce.

The Nazis hated Chaplin, because they found his humour irreverent, subversive – hardly the kind that promoted the ‘wholesome family values’ so beloved of Hitler. In his 1931 trip to Berlin, Chaplin proved hugely popular in Germany and, though the Nazis did not like his spectacular success in all his public engagements, there was not much they could do at that point.

After Hitler rose to power, however, things changed dramatically for Chaplin, as they did for many other popular artists, German and non-German. In 1935, Goebbels banned The Gold Rush in Germany, presumably because the film ran counter to wholesome family entertainment. Even before that, in 1934, Goebbels had authorised the publication of a slanderous little book titled The Jews are Looking at You which, among other choice epithets, described Chaplin as “a disgusting Jewish acrobat” (Chaplin was not Jewish, though). Chaplin had seen the book, and it is safe to assume that his resolve to make a film around Nazism hardened because of it.

Given this background, he could hardly have chosen to play a part in the film that was non-Jewish. And Chaplin being Chaplin, he decided to deliver the coup de grace by playing Hitler as well. It must have been with grim satisfaction that he wrote into one of the opening credits of The Great Dictator words that dripped with irony: “Any resemblance between Hynkel the dictator and the Jewish barber is purely coincidental”. Of course, Chaplin wanted his audience to not look at the dictator and the barber through the same eyes. He expected the audience to laugh right through the film, but he hoped that while the viewers would laugh with the barber for the most part, they would laugh at Hynkel with derision, loathing and worse.

The Great Dictator represented another momentous event: it was Chaplin’s first ‘talkie’. (Modern Times in 1936 had a character screaming at people from a giant TV screen for a few moments, besides the inspired nonsense of the tramp’s song at the cabaret. But it remained a silent movie otherwise.) Chaplin seems to be exploring the enormous potential of his new ‘device’ with great relish here. Hynkel’s public speeches are pure genius. He speaks a mock German that bristles with coughs, sibilants, gutturals and splutters, with occasional identifiable words like sauerkraut (pickled cabbage) and schnitzel (fried meat slice) thrown in with gusto. It is pure gibberish delivered at an extremely, feverishly high pitch – so much so that the microphone itself cringes on its stem.

In another scene, Hynkel dictates an official note to a typist in a matter-of-fact manner. He is speaking aloud while she is taking it down on her typewriter. When Hynkel spouts a long, solemn sentence, she knocks out just a couple of letters. But when he offers only a monosyllable, she types furiously for several lines, clanging the machine as she works it intently. Hynkel looks on, amazed, but she remains completely unruffled, business-like. This playing-off of sound against meaning is an idea that could only have occurred to someone who was transitioning from silent to talking films, but it is hard to imagine anyone else picturising it as brilliantly as Chaplin.

The film’s last sequence, of the barber speaking as Hynkel to his victorious troops, is an audacious piece of cinematic thinking. The speech’s content is perched on the edge of mawkishness, and as it begins to crescendo, it sounds very nearly shrill. And yet, in the end, Chaplin pulls it off magnificently. The barber hesitates, approaches the microphone apprehensively, and begins speaking haltingly. As he does that, the frame slowly sheds its sharp focus, becomes somewhat bleary, over-exposed, fuzzy. As his speech gains in passion and force, the speaker himself is no longer very real himself, and as Hannah looks up to the sky, the screen is bathed in a soft, other-worldly light. This is neither Hynkel nor even the barber speaking here, but Chaplin himself stepping in to deliver his own message as the creator of the movie. Come to think of it, this could have been the only way The Great Dictator could have concluded.

For years before the film was made, cartoonists had exploited the quite remarkable resemblance of Chaplin’s moustache with Hitler’s. Chaplin was, of course, all too aware of it himself (which is why he thought of casting himself as the dictator). He knew that, with the minimum of effort, his face could be touched up to look like Hitler’s. And he also knew that the similarities stretched beyond their physiognomy: they were born within four days of each other – Chaplin on April 16, Hitler on 20, both in 1889; and both rose from poverty and neglect to power and prominence.

Did these similarities trouble Chaplin? Many believe they did, Chaplin’s own son telling us they actually haunted his father:

Dad could never think of Hitler except with a shudder, half of horror, half of fascination. “Just think,”’ he would say uneasily, “he’s the madman, I’m the comic. But it could have been the other way around.”

Of course Hitler was not only a madman. Nor was Chaplin merely a comic. But in The Great Dictator, the intersection of insanity and laughter produced a memorable movie. Chaplin says he couldn’t have made the film except in 1938-39. We are grateful that he made it when he did.

Anjan Basu · 16. Apr 2019.

#film #Charlie Chaplin #adolf hitler #the great dictator #Film Review #the wire

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 years

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13x07 Watching Notes

Should probably not have multiple scenarios where I snark out loud and then the very next line of dialogue is that snark but innocently delivered.

Heyooo it’s not our Christmas cliffhanger though!

Expectations: It has literally just occurred to me right now sitting down to type out my expectations that this season's *entire* main plot so far has been "the spawn of satan is cuter than we expected".

I'm still trying to wrangle the idea of how you get hours of Buckleming plot twists and slow exposition out of this, although introducing 18 different angles for them to tackle the problem and returning us to the AU world is a good start to have at least 4 plot threads going and hey I feel like this episode is supposed to be a breather for having too many Jack episodes in a row which makes it even funnier that they're gonna have to deal with the absence of something but who knows maybe he will show up before episode 9. If not they may genuinely be tricked into considering narrative negative space in some form or another, at least by the actual omission of Jack from the episode, despite the fact it has to be about him.

There's like at least 3 individual ways each arc might go terribly, and I'm typing this as pre-yoga thoughts while trying to do my NaNoWriMo and I watched Brooklyn 99 already this morning, and essentially I'm pretty much just bracing against "Oh god this new sleep pattern is the worst and it has ruined nearly every episode this season for me" migraines. So I'm just gonna be super chill because the stress of this ridiculous bed at 8pm awake at 5am thing is killing me without bad writing on my favourite show.

So, instead of modelling a worst case scenario, here's a best case one: it's crowded, the pacing is bad, there's some bizarre lines of dialogue and no room for any character interaction and the sneak peek already showed us the sum total of Destiel interaction but in hindsight with the rest of the episode that's actually a plus, and aside from that there's no rape or catastrophic bad decisions or characterisation that just makes our guys look like idiots because the villains aren't that smart and they're still outwitting them or something. Cas wasn't even mentioned in the episode description if I recall and I would like to think that is because he gets Buckleminged in the way where they forget he exists so he's in 2 scenes and just kinda stops at some point and that's the last we hear of him for a few episodes but at least nothing happened to him :P

(It HELPS that the bad decision of the year seems like it should be Jack and Kaia ganging up in 13x09 and this is just a plot filler episode where they can't blow everything up from sheer incompetence, since the main plot is still Jack, and all Buckleming can do is escalate stuff but not so much we find Jack, so they're mostly running free with Lucifer, Michael and Asmodeus on the playground they've been permitted to keep them distracted. On the other hand, that does not lend itself towards 'storytelling structure' whatsoever. So I may derive some fun from mentally re-writing this episode as it goes as well.)

Hi I'm back and I have tea and preemptive paracetamol and look I not do crap like this lightly but the only thing wrong with me is sleep and yoga but glug glug glug down the hatch, I'm not fucking around, migraine. I swear to god if I even see a HINT of you...

I should also mention that my only prep for this episode was watching Tall Tales last night with my mum because we're lightly re-watching season 2 and I thought you know what look how far that fucker has come that he's just one of the show's regular directors now or something. I forgot that completely this morning so I'm amending my expectations (it WAS annoyingly early in the day) to add that Speight hasn't directed a Buckleming yet but I'm interested to see how he handles it.

The episode starts with Mary cheerfully punching Lucifer at least 3 times in the face. I am still extremely proud of her for doing that but overall disappointed that it's led to her banishment to be a Buckleming character this season, which has been a fast way to ruin characters.

We get the entire first minute of the recap in Buckleming POV, aka they write the corny villains - and specifically a lot of Asmodeus point of view, his summary of the situation and what needs doing, having graciously inherited this throne, and comments on where Lucifer is as a sort of trailing off, well that's not my concern if he's gone. Only at the minute mark does the recap flip around to something genuinely ABOUT Jack as we've been seeing him, rather than trying to sell Jack as woooo Lucifer's scaaary son. Suddenly Jack's own identity crisis and him leaving.

Maybe it's just because they were trimming for time, but they cut the "all of you" from "I know I'm going to hurt you" but they also left the focus on Sam. I am mostly amused that by removing the clarification - which has been a theme of the season - it reduces that moment to a bare minimum surface layer, as if to say bye bye writing depth hello random action.

I had a burgeoning theory last year from one episode or another that pretty much everyone is lampooning Buckleming while letting them get on with writing their stuff, and trying to run loops around them in basically any other way.

There was something going on on screen involving a lot of stock footage while I was digging around in my bag looking for my 3DS assuming this was gonna be a Lucifer scene. I still think they're softening him up to kill him, but that's something I have to hope. One of the other non-redemption options is that they need to make him at least halfway manageable if he is gonna end up working with Cas or something. There is something vaguely appropriate matching Buckleming dialogue to Lucifer melodramatics, but unfortunately I really can't give these writers or that character much of a chance so while I'm happy to let them take him to play with over on their bit of the story like a chew toy to keep them off the stuff I like, it is annoying this is all the canon of the show I like >.>

One or the other of Buckleming really really dislikes God and organised religion though, and that does often lend the interesting thing to an episode where for some reason as soon as religion is involved the writing actually gets halfway decent.

One thing Lucifer says that catches my interest is his idea the universe is written without irony, when tbh that has literally been his downfall in season 5, and in general the universe is ironic to the WINCHESTERS to whom the universe is actually happening to, and there's the whole Dean is the centre of the universe thing, and THEN there's Billie's line about how sometimes the universe is poetic, coupled with how Dean got Cas back entirely through dramatic irony. I can't remember if Chuck commented on dramatic irony. Anyway Lucifer sucks, the story doesn't happen to him and he doesn't have the resources to read it. Metatron *thrived* on that sort of thing.

I like the visual of Michael standing with the sun behind him - it gives him absolutely the divine look he'd love to have, and I just wish he didn't have randomly shirtless Lucifer taking up some of that visual. If someone doesn't make a gifset chopping Lucifer out to just enjoy that image, I will make one, perhaps.

Something else to enjoy about this: they locked Mark P in some sort of medieval torture device and no matter how comfy you try and make it, there's obvious limits to that, so I will enjoy that he had to do that.

Michael sees that Lucifer is scared of being locked up and caged, which actually is... accidentally or not... a pretty clever callback, although it wouldn't have killed them to have Michael deduce this on screen, because in 9x18 Dean - Michael's vessel - deduces that Gadreel - a blatant Lucifer parallel in many respects while obviously not in many many others - is terrified of being caged again.

Of course that exchange is one of the single most fascinatingly well-acted exchanges of the entire show which on my umpteenth viewing still knocks me completely flat so it's not a FAIR comparison, but it is an interesting one.

I like that Michael think that the main universe is already paradise - in comparison to his shithole, definitely, because it still has pretty stock footage. Thematically interesting since obviously paradise is a bit of an issue with what people want...

LOL Wanek's ridiculous "concrete bunker" set... The camera pulls back and there's a massive Jesus on the wall and Lucifer's hanging behind him screeching and it's like... That is an inanimate lump of wood and I can see it rolling its eyes at you.

In the earlier moments out here in the AU we saw the church from 8x23 poking up out of the rubble, and whether this is the same one or not NOW, because I think it was a bit too buried to be this one, it conjures the memory of 8x23, and that one was interesting specifically because Jesus wasn't there - the cross had only his hands and feet remaining and the rest had been torn down. Sam was inserted into that empty space because he was doing the big heroic world-saving sacrifice that from one direction of pure irony the episode was named after (since he decided not to do it/the real motives for his sacrifice were way more interesting than him going through with it heroically anyway etc) but it was another Sam and Jesus moment, like in 5x22 where he more straight-forwardly sacrificed himself.

(And jeeze you watch one episode with the guy and now I can't get him out of my head - remembering in 9x18 Gabriel snarking about how he died for their sins and then making one of the few Jesus references on the show. Jesus is usually extremely absent from this show, so actually having him on screen is very interesting)

Anyway I am pretty sure this is almost entirely to remind Lucifer what a great big fucking drama queen he is being about this all and of course he's sacrificing for nothing.

Blah blah promo scene.

They have the photo of Jack from Mia's security camera which means no one has snapped a cute picture of him on their phone yet, Cas included. Disappointing.

Now, I'm pretty hesitant to get into characterisation in BL episodes, and Dean just generically wryly comments on how powerful Jack is which could mean anything but Sam then says he might be covering his tracks and then Cas, who has to be written sympathetic to Jack, comes through the door saying that it could mean Jack is in trouble with the various forces that want to control him. Sam's comment coupled with Cas's interruption seems to make it much more likely that Sam's comment is to be taken as vaguely unnerved/suspicious of what Jack can do, and that he's doing things like that Dean implies. That Jack learned so fast he might be able to cause a fair amount of destruction but conceal it from them and if they're trying to track him, Sam is expecting destruction.

Dean also came from the kitchen with coffees so why is Cas coming from the back of the Bunker... I'm gonna have to assume he was until just now lounging around in Dean's bed and Dean was like I better go get coffee and help Sam and Cas was like yeah but thanks for the 'sorry your son ran away' sex i feel a lot better and Dean was like no problem babe, and probably gave Cas one of those ridiculous shoulder nudges in the most no homo way ever before he got up to find where they threw his underwear an hour earlier, and Cas just kinda chilled while Dean was getting the coffee so as not to be suspicious by piling in on Sam after taking the exact same length break from the search but then they fucked it up and still managed to enter the scene within 30 seconds of each other.

Yeah, that's probably it.

I just saw the list of guest stars wander by and took 3 emergency gulps of my tea at that combo of Osric and for some reason DHJ because file that under genuinely unexpected :P

PS: I know we knew Kevin would be back this year but the fact I managed to find Kevin thematic stuff in the last 2 episodes in a row still feels important to me as storytelling rather than foreshadowing.

Anyway Cas tries to tell Dean the angels don't like him, and Dean volunteering to go with him because "i could go with you" is a thing and they keep doing it to each other and ow

Blah blah we could work a case. Are you serious? I really seriously hope this is not literally Buckleming's thought process about wtf do we do with Sam and Dean this episode after establishing maybe 4-5 other plotlines we need to handle away from them. I hope it turns out to be directly main plot related, whatever they stumble on, but we already now have them in a position where any involvement with the main stuff will be them stumbling on it or it coming to them. See above: ways in which the main characters are automatically made to be stupid. Subtle things, like not being able to imagine a way in which Sam and Dean are resourceful enough to even start to find Jack which doesn't involve googling things.

I mean we have no clue what you're doing with this random witch seeming case, why can't you bring a detail foreward if it's from the main plot to give us a clue. And if it's not, tell us something connected to it which will at least make Sam and Dean interested in it as a lead? Even if they're not right about why, put them on the trail because they're good at their jobs!

Anyway hi Asmodeus? As soon as we clear the promo scene etc I start assuming everyone is Asmodeus

I mean, in this case it literally is. but you can't trust anyone these days.

He needs to have his equivalent scene to sitting around in the Bunker googling, which, which is to say, the same type of minions who brought Crowley or Lucifer news are now coming toadying in to tell Asmodeus news, and the only difference is his name is harder to spell.

He's trying to do the same thing reaching out to Jack that we saw Lucifer trying to do last season, to Dagon. There is always the possibility that Asmodeus just isn't powerful enough to get into Jack's head from this extreme range when he has no idea where he is. Loser.

This minion seems to be mistakenly labelling Jack as "the Jack", maybe not as a mark of respect but more misunderstanding what he is, that he's not a thing, that that's his name...

Asmodeus asks who's protecting Jack, and cut to the image of Jesus again. I don't know about him, but tbh it could just be that Jack is protecting HIMSELF and they've massive underestimated him to do that. Jesus on this show represents a lot more of the personal autonomy saving yourself thing.

Also hey as long as we're not seeing Jack, we're getting that gosh darned hole in the narrative that he represents while he's missing. Is this actually a lesson in subtlety?

Michael meanwhile is enjoying tormenting Lucifer some more because blah blah sole purpose in life and what do you even do when you win.

Lucifer appears to have claimed to be a god in the SPN verse and Michael's like, here you're pathetic, and I'm like, mate, he was pretty pathetic in the main SPN universe too

There's some cool crosses on the walls which are trying to help, bringing light into this church.

Yeah where is Mary anyway - I wasn't gonna ask, but then Lucifer seemed to imply that Michael was keeping her around.

I mean sheesh the easiest way to get Mary around is to just have her in the scene still lurking but then film it as if it's almost entirely from her eyeballs POV if she doesn't have anything else to be doing right now - having her witnessing this theatre as the person from the main SPN world who's come over here.

KEV

Awwww he's gone a wee bit off the rails in this world, seeing as he'd have had to be helping Michael and reading tablets the entire time and also the entire world appears to be destroyed.

I don't know why Lucifer's having a personal reaction to Kevin unless I totally forgot something but they were literally never in the same seasons as each other although weirdly both in 11x21 so obviously must just be angels would know all the prophetsand which one was currently active... Maybe he's just surprised that in the AU Kevin survived even longer than he did in the supposedly better world.

Well there aren't any Winchesters in this one and Lucifer always underestimates them, in this case positively re: likelihood of getting Kevin killed :P

Oh great they're powering down Lucifer a bit. Well that should make him much more irritating.

I mean mostly because everything makes him irritating.

But it means the show wants him around some more but they can't have him at full power because it's just inconvenient so now they're finding a reason to water him down so they can have him around dragging his heels and complaining. I suppose it might make some comparisons to Cas, who's on a smidgen of left-over grace, but again, see also: eye rolling wooden Jesus, there's no way you can redeem Lucifer and not by comparing him to Cas.

Metatron got some sort of treatment but he was nowhere near like Cas even when he was done being redeemed and he still had to be killed off doing a heroic thing rather than let him stick around.

I'm just grinding my teeth and I already got part of the way through the next scene but UGH

So hey thinking of random versions of other characters why is DHJ's magnificent facial hair making a cameo return role on this side of the interdimensional nosense? You can't just grow a beard and start hunting witches on the down low on the winchesters' turf.

I'm assuming including DHJ's names in the credits was specifically some sort of nonsense now

specifically monsters going around looking like other things.

Maybe it was a shapeshifter Ketch punched a few weeks ago. It's only been a few weeks since he died, you know.

Maybe it's Asmodeus.

Maybe it's maybelline

The plot reason for the beard had better be hilarious.

I like Daniella the Beret Witch. For some reason I thought she looked tons like the witch Sam and Dean were looking at on the CCTV but when I went back to look I actually spotted her in the background watching them and waiting to make her move, and she doesn't look like the one on the CCTV at all so I guess my brain clocked her and filed her away because she was sitting around in a huge scarf, sunglasses and a beret and my brain didn't want me to not pay attention to her in case she was useful.

Kevin's weirdly pristine but still grey hoodie is making me giggle. He looks like the AU has barely touched him and Michael's even dirty and ragged.

I'm not sure I even want to touch random morality discussions from Buckleming. Lucifer says Michael is pure evil, Kevin says "aren't you Satan?" and Lucifer really hasn't done anything ever to make us actually want to root for him. Like sure Michael is the much worse bigger bad in the show's rankings but that doesn't make Lucifer less quanitifiably evil. Michael's way more complex because Lucifer is the big cartoon evil that Sam had to originally fear, the "what if I am actually evil" character mirror that obviously Sam isn't but it meant Lucifer needed no character complexity other than whiny manipulative interpretations of how he'd been mistreated where he could protest he had a side. Michael is waaaay more complex just in the like 2 episodes he actually talks in season 5 because he's "what if Dean was the big bad" and he's not evil, he's just 100% black and white morality rigid "good" in the sense of punishing evil, to the point of not questioning an order to kill his brother, and not even having a particularly "cool motive still murder" approach like Cain, but literally just like well okay then I guess I will kill my brother. How to make DEAN evil, or to personify the darkness that lives in him.

I mean I am massively simplifying but dear lord Buckleming if you read my notes this is the baseline direction you need to be writing these characters from and I am trying to HELP.

I am genuinely feeling like you're mistaking "apparent fan favourite because they make a lot of memes about him, Lucifer" as "this must mean people genuinely like him because he's Lucifer" and any possible reason I would find him interesting as a villain who was held up to just kinda exist and be himself doing his awful things contrasted to Michael who was just around existing and doing his awful things, is all just draining away down the toilet. Like you've got Lucifer lodged in there and you're flushing and flushing around him >.>

Anyway I'm going to take this entire scene as 100x more ironic than it was probably originally intended to be, that Kevin is not exactly right about Michael (and lol, Michael being the Dean parallel just kinda using Kevin all the time for random spells and always having him on the hook for doing things for them) but he's sure not wrong about Lucifer, Lucifer protesting Michael is evil because he's mistreating him and has destroyed this planet sure isn't WRONG but it's not a "so therefore I must be right"

And I kind of think the level of subtlety this writing is at is that "Michael is a dick and therefore Lucifer looks better in comparison"

But that's not how any of this works

*insert Jesus eyeroll*

*pats poor overworked manic AU!Kevin's hair*

I wonder if he's actually going to be able to do it

it would be HILARIOUS if they waste Lucifer's grace on this

Hey he did it, I'm proud of you AU!Kev. He always manages to do the thing :P

Okay not good that Lucifer has just been thrown back because A: Mary is still trapped over there, I assume for the much more important emotional arc stuff to do with rescuing her especially in the parallel to getting Cas back and all this stuff for Sam's arc and all

But UGH the writing of Lucifer is just really annoying me on so many levels and punting him back into the main SPN universe depowered and humbled by his brother, just annoys me so much.

Like I don't know how much more less enthused I have to be about Lucifer having struggles.

Boo hoo

Last season Dean got mistaken for homeless after he got hit with the memory spell, and was offered cash to make him go away.

he handled it considerably better than Lucifer.

I am just gonna assume this random woman is Asmodeus.

Lucifer probably ought to go grab that cash he was offered...

Oh wait here's Asmodeus, torturing some poor bloke called Karl who apparently works at the motel from last week.

I'm impressed they managed to track Jack that far, tbh

The question is, is there an actual memo that the Winchesters are camped in an old, heavily warded, impossible to map or locate MoL bunker, or is that something you only find out after you tail them for a bit? I mean Jack might not be there any more either but it would be a start :P

I feel extra skeevy about this scene because Asmodeus is being a total moron for starters by not checking Karl's level of clued in to this, and so he's this white plantation owner coded guy in his shiny white suit, torturing a black guy who isn't even on the same level as him for info he doesn't have, and could in no way be resonably expected to know. So it's doubly cruel. Although in some respects Asmodeus's coding makes this gratuitous violence a commentary, just like Buddy and Dave being collosal douches to women in the last few episodes was called out in many ways simply by their existence and coding as collosal douches.

Still not nice to watch on screen, especially without even more specific reference to Asmodeus's doucheyness because the stupidity of this dialogue is not helping.

Like did the minions just bring Karl to him and say hey we tracked the Winchesters and Jack this far, he might know more?

Like...

This is the sort of basic intelligence test fail here, that they're not over-thinking this scene in the specific details that you need to not have your main villain parade around displaying total idiocy over.

Like why the Winchesters would book into a motel under "Sam and Dean Winchester and Jack the Nephilim" and then Karl would know that and know what that means.

You can't just drag a normy into the Hell Main Office and torture them for info about Jack when they have no clue who that is.

He literally

can shapeshift

into anything

Go to the Stampede Motel, turn into a pretty girl in a low cut top, and lean on the motel check in desk until you know what you were after.

I'm no longer impressed they found Karl, I'm AMAZED.

Why did they kiiiiill him

Lol Asmodeus is so hammy

what's he sensing

Has he figured out Lucifer is back?

Meanwhile: Sam and Dean voluntarily go to a creepy cabin in the woods with a witch. This is not quite as stupid as Asmodeus was just being.

I am loving the plot development that David Hayden Jones has returned to the show as himself to find Rowena. Like dammit, you were a really cool character I had no interaction with but we coulda had some screen magic for all you know. You may or may not be in this episode as a surprise appearance which as Lizzy said putting MY name in the credits is the "hey it's that guy" fuckery to distract from the fact there's some bigger fuckery at foot (like... aside from the fact I was back to back with OSRIC FUCKING CHAU) because you don't *just* randomly put my very recognisable name in the credits at the start of the episode with Osric unless it's because something's up. So heeey here I am, I'm looking for Rowena, because dangit Ruthie deserves another chance to be in this show.

Daniella is also really slow to realise that Sam just said she was going to be bait. It took until Dean repeated it for her to realise.

She's really pretty though.

She starts choking like several moments before the gas hits her

... is that DHJ?

I mean we're getting a close up on his face but I literally. Do. Not. Recognise. Him.

I remember rambling at some point in my watching notes in season 12 when his face was being particularly hilarious after I'd seen con photos of DHJ that Ketch is one of the most effective character disguises I've ever seen for an actor's face. TBH it's the same weird different face thing I get from Alex Calvert - that he's all clean shaven and filmed as a wee nougat child in the show but he has an instagram of unrecognisable smouldering glamour shots, often with scruff. DHJ has a beard and that's his face, and part of the Ketch look was being clean shaven and crammed in a tight collar which is an incredibly British upper class twit look, and even in other clothes later the illusion lasted... But add a beard and stop grooming his hair and he just turns into some other person entirely.

Ah well, Dean gets to punch DHJ with Ketch's accent again which must be satisfying for him.

Did they take DHJ back to the Bunker? Really?

Oh he doesn't have the tattoo

LOL he's his "twin" "brother"... Obviously.

Yeah okay whatever you say, DHJ.

elizabethrobertajones Hey what if DHJ was actually Rowena

mittensmorgul oh god, don't give them ideas

ALSO if you have an "evil twin brother" you would generally assume that this sort of thing would happen a lot and you'd try and clarify sooner? I bring up my twin like every other time I talk about myself.

Also this is a ridiculous concept I refuse to engage with

I mean, thematically, wowsers. Fits right in with Buddy and Dave and things that look like other things

ALSO DHJ has been going around torturing witches so it's not like he's been the good twin

ALSO WHY IS HE HERE?

Apparently he's a hitman hunter

I suppose it's kind of like Bela but I do find it really strange.

Like how does anyone even know to hire him if no one knows monsters exist? Who is pointing him at these things?

Insinuating himself into situations like Bela to get work maaay be a way to do it, like if the Winchesters showed up in town and immediately told the sheriff what was up and then offered their fee as contractors or something. Pfft.

Pfft.

And then he's like "we hunters" because he's trying to bond with them or something

To google!

It's convenient he kept a beard his whole life

Oh okay Sam stole hard drives from the BMoL and is using their actual data.

I like the side by sides of their report cards where the prop people literally did them backwards from each other. "*More effort required!" they say about Alexander, and "Excellent work!" for Arthur.

Dean isn't buying it

LOL they dumped Ketch's corpse into the waste canal.

Do you want a haunted Bunker? That's how you get a haunted Bunker.

Anyway Dean is like NOPE don't believe it and Sam's like... there's so much proof... and then he goes in to question DHJ again and DHJ is like... you literally saw me get shot in the head last season, you don't trust that? And Sam's like no I had to concede that Dean had a point that we really can't trust anything and I guess Cas did just randomly come back or something and we have horrific problems with the white men on this show coming back again for completely random reasons that make no sense so you had better bloody well actually be re-introducing Rowena into the narrative even more dramatically than the warning Billie gave about the red-headed witch that Dean probably didn't tell me about now come to think of it, but I'd still like to see her again because we had a sort of weird thing we never really talked about going on...

Also are they keeping DHJ in the store room that showed up for the pencil scene but isn't the other store room? It looks like a different part of the Bunker repurposed.

Sam mis-reads Ketch, maybe because he never knew him as well as Mary or even Dean saw him. DHJ is like dude I played him for a year and psychoanalysed him and his crush on Dean in multiple interviews, so trust me when I tell you all his character exposition.

The stuff about being loyal to Heaven - I mean the BMoL - and being a company man echo what Ishim said about old Cas in 12x10

DHJ like, I did so much character work in those interviews, and I never got a chance for Ketch to be sympathetic so let me offer some more insight on him now you have me in the worst interview chair ever.

Also, don't go into pop culture journalism, Sam

"If he were here, he'd admit regret to some of the things he did to your family"

Yeah unless you have a magic twin link (well... not unlikey tbh with random ass canon pulls) you're either Arthur Ketch or just DHJ enjoying doing interviews about Ketch to a twisted and weird level and I'm sort of gonna have to do an intervention on this for him.

CAS

NEW PLAYGROUND

New angel!

mittensmorgul dumas? that's the name the superwiki has linked, but her page is blank

elizabethrobertajones Heh 3 musketeers again first in the off-brand nougat now that

"If we had him he wouldn't be imprisoned he'd be put to work"

SHE WANTS NEW ANGELS

I don't freakin blame her

But Jack shouldn't be "put to work" either - he would have to want to do it.

Awww Cas getting protective over Jack before I'm done typing that of course this means Jack would be forced to do it and the angel says "No other choice" because of course she does.

As usual heaven isn't comic book evil but its purposes in the name of "good" are super shady. Even if Jack was pure evil himself, Heaven enslaving a powerful nephilim for its own purposes would be dodgy.

Btw I am still torn about Cas's compulsion to care about Jack but on the other hand I am really enjoying Cas generally existing and being alive - and wait a minute she didn't even ask about how he was doing that - so I'm pretty much enjoying the surface level about Cas and Jack right now. Because of course I see the good in Jack that he DOES need protecting, so however Cas ended up on this, at least he is doing the right thing and taking the right stance.

"Castiel, he's not your pet. He belongs to all of us."

Uhoh, Cas is probably going to get grabbed.

*surprise*

Hey he did pretty well considering he's fighting 3 angels and is much weaker than them.

Oh boy, here's Lucifer. This is gonna go great.

Does Cas or Lucifer need to start this with the "you're supposed to be dead/in the AU" first?

Lol, Cas is the first person in this entire damn episode to actually ask a relevant question, and it's one we already know the answer to

*waves a little flag for Cas though*

Hey and then Lucifer asks about Cas being alive, what do you know.

He then calls Cas "cowboy" and pretends like Cas wouldn't kick his ass.

I am pretty happy about the "cowboy" thing :P

Lucifer has found a tan jacket somewhere, specifically one that looks like the one Jack was wearing but maybe a bit thicker, more like Cas's new coat. He's trying to edge in on this family and I can only assume this is not even a veiled metaphor for the douchey biological father wanting to be all interested in his son's business.

Lucifer in a tan jacket makes me think wolf in sheep's clothing.

He does, however, shelve the issue of child custody for now, and he appears to be genuinely freaked out enough about Michael to make that a priority and tell Cas about it, because if you want help against Michael, we've had 2 references to Team Free Will in short succession and that was a phrase coined specifically to spite Michael...

I don't think Lucifer should be allowed in, remotely, because it's become a family term, but the imagery is interesting anyway that he is trying to leech off the success of TFW to accomplish the goals he could never do himself. Especially because it was blatant in season 5 to everyone but him that Michael would kick his butt since he already did it once before and nothing has changed, 12x12 confirmed Michael would kill him slowly, and now meeting an AU Michael, he discovers that yep Michael sure is stronger than him, even when he was the last strong archangel left, and then Michael took that from him...

None of this, however, makes Lucifer sympathetic or good, just self-interested in not dying, and who is better at not dying than Cas?

I mean he wasn't even expecting to see Cas here, I guess he was going to a heaven portal to try and get them to listen?

LOL Kingdom Beer sign over Cas and Lucifer having a chat in a bar.

Cas looks Weary.

"I came back from the dead to deal with THIS? Please take me back to yesterday when it was fun kinky cowboy times with Dean."

I'm glad Cas isn't remotely friendly to Lucifer and is quick to remind him about how killed he got last time they hung out. Lucifer continues to be whiny and annoying about it all, unrepentant for killing Cas over petty nonsense.

LOL Lucifer is like "this Michael is much more powerful"

buddy. dude. go watch 12x12 then get back to me about how whooped your butt would have been. I mean go look at that lovely painting of him whooping your butt that was in 12x12 and unrelated to the fact he had that fucking lance in the first place.

Anyway he's trying to convince Cas to use his influence on Jack to get them to be the ultimate team up but they're fundamentally incapable of doing that because they're the 2 rival dads for Jack and blatantly symbolically being shown as that in these costumes, and that's one of the huge thematic things.

Cas like "You are the Weakest Link, goodbye."

I love Cas being so snarky, so maybe Lucifer being around is good in some respects, that it makes Cas this snarky because he has something to bounce off as awful and despised as Lucifer. Not even Crowley got THIS dismissive treatment, because they had emotional baggage that was of a whole different sort, whereas Cas and Lucifer have been opposite mirrors the whole time since season 4

Lucifer is emphasising how he and Cas are the big cosmic powers around here, with Jack. Hm...

Lol Cas is like "I'm calling my guys who deal with these things" and Lucifer bangs his head on the table in despair. I guess this is like the boy who called wolf except that instead of calling wolf he was literally going around eating all the sheep and was banned from being a shepherd for life and locked away and got out and ate more sheep and was locked away and got out and ate more sheep and got locked away and THEN came back like oh hi something's gonna eat all our sheep.

Lucifer then says Cas needs him and that he needs Cas and they all need Jack.

So Um I guess "Need" is The Worst Word right now :P

"Jack. Your son's name is *Jack*" *pats Cas's hair*

Pfft themes "is he a chip off the old block?" "thankfully, no. he seems to favour the mother"

Theeeeeeeeemes

Cas squinting when he lies - I don't think that's his lying tell because he does it too much, but perhaps uncertainty. The fact he squinted so much in the reintroduction huggy scene last episode feels to me less like lying and more like no clue what was going on and how mad he had to be about his humans sacrificing for him to come back.

Laughing at all their labelled phones lying around permanently charging. I think this is the first proof we've ever seen that they have a Bobby phone bank, but I can't imagine who would rely on the Winchesters to answer the phone when they need proof of ID :P They're like ALWAYS being abducted or disappearing on cases.

Or dying.

Okay so the phones are more just for their personal IDs for the cards THEY give out and they're just getting a call back from the motel for some reason, I suppose because Jack was with them (seriously. Dean gave the motel the name Jack? I have to assume Jack said his name before they could re-name him on the fly and so he was registered as a guest there as Jack the Nephilim because why the fuck not... Berens has a magic skill of un-fucking Buckleming canon but it seems Buckleming's skill is fucking up poor Davy's, in 12x13 and 12x17 and now here...)

ANYWAY jesus christ Asmodeus is stupid. "Evil Colonel Sanders" literally walked in and abducted Karl in person which means that his stupid ass questions weren't even because his minions brought him the guy and presented him in an idiotic way, but our shapeshifting villain wandered in and took Karl, himself in person with his own freaking face that the Winchesters KNEW and is extremely memorable, and took his prize.

...

DHJ better turn out to be Asmodeus even though I think their screentime overlapped and this makes no freaking sense since he has some established history wandering around attacking witches before they caught up with him.

I'd rather have a time plothole than a stupid plothole :P

Anyway DHJ is hanging out with them in the library eating a sandwich because... um

reasons?

At least he's in chains.

Oh my god I said that sarcastically moments before Sam said it sincerely and then pointed out there's no bathroom in the armoury

what the fuck

Like I said up top: as stupid as the villain is, your main characters have to be about as dumb as they are, either only just enough to outwit them, or more stupid if they get outwitted...

Poor Sammy, he was having such a fantastic season

Dean just straight up pretends Mary is phone when DHJ asks because why the heck would you monologue your sad life story to the bad guy, and give him emotional leverage over you? Especially when he ASKS because "Alexander" should have no knowledge of Mary or care about her, but then he also shouldn't know the DHJ interview details of Ketch's inner life.

YAY Dean and Cas are talking and Dean phoned Cas probably just to hear a sane voice because Cas is managing to weave around being Buckleminged, so far, possibly just because he was not in the opening half of the episode, and then this was a really important conversation they couldn't fuck up so probably got supervised.

elizabethrobertajones tee hee Cas standing by the gents to take a call from Dean wait hang on ... I'm not even being jokey I literally just had that moment in the chat with you :P *rewinds* Longing retcon Confirmed Oh dear that is hilarious I don't know if that's the moment you wanted me to see or not but I'm delighted :P

elizabethrobertajones Cas was standing away from Lucifer ready to take Dean's phone call and had to have walked off up to a minute before he called, but most likely in that time when Dean was like UGH I need to talk to Cas and hear the one sane voice in this episode and Cas was like... Brb I... have to use... the 'Gents' and got up and wandered off to take the call eat it, 12x10 and that "where's my phone" moment I mean Buckleming introduced it to fill a plothole so why should they not use it to cover more plotholes at their leisure

... did Speight know? I mean he coulda been like what the heckeroo, and added Cas getting the call and legging it from the table.

The only other option I can think of is Cas decided he may as well just get up to "go pee" because Lucifer is so annoying that pretending he needs to go to the loo buys him 5 minutes to let his migraine subside.

Also what the fuck DHJ was wandering around the bunker so he could use the bathroom. I am confused. Is this actually like... being hinted at. Like, "hey children, please remember who does and doesn't need to use the bathroom in this episode"

Omg

Cas like "I would *like* to see you too" is he literally pretending he and Dean were canoodling on the phone as a cover?

I hate everything

Anyway need/want blah blah I have been over that a lot lately :P Cas is using his DESIRE to see Dean to get help, by Lucifer saying he NEEDS Cas.

"Smooth was never your strong suit" oh my god Lucifer also thought Cas was pretending to be flirty too what is going on

why has this episode confirmed all the headcanons about Cas being the most shittiest phone sex guy ever

of all the things.

why.

DHJ wants to go because he misses being in on the action with the guys

Like. No, go take your sandwich and sit down.

Dean is sad about Cas always getting killed by Lucifer and stuff when he does stupid things.

Cas's "ugh stop talking Lucifer" face is a whole layer more existential misery than dealing with Crowley... I think he was secretly fond of Crowley or at least enjoyed hating him, whereas Lucifer is just EXHAUSTING.

He's needling Cas for attention.

LOL randomly Asmodeus as if Cas's headache wasn't bad enough, now we got thunder and lightning and very very frightening...

Pfft.

bahahaha Lucifer called Asmodeus the dim bulb

I mean he's not wrong, Asmodeus has been completely idiotic all episode. And of course, narratively, his "evil plans" are just self-interest which will endanger the entire world because even if Lucifer is a twat, he has a point about the coming danger of Michael, and Asmodeus just refuses to see the danger, which is all kinds of various political commentary, and using his era aesthetic to say this kind of thinking is such a throwback...

I think this might be the most confused Cas has ever been about if he should stab someone or not - if he actually WANTS to defend Lucifer. Not really, but Asmodeus seems like a bigger problem because at least Lucifer isn't trying to kill him.

I hope this just randomly gets Asmodeus killed.

Or Lucifer

Asmodeus just called Lucifer "screwable"... do they even know what they said? :P

EEEP there was a Margiekugel sign and it just flickered off

"Nick's bar" pfft because Lucifer?

It seems like Sam and Dean are too late and Asmodeus already made off with everyone?

I hope Cas is okay

being held captive by that idiot seems like a fate worse than death. You're going to get villain monologues all day.

Anyway fight fight fight

Good fight.

Where did DHJ even come from?

that was a ridiculous nonsense about how he escaped. I also will die if he took Dorothy's bike and not his own left stashed there. Also he nodded at Dean like hey you didn't cavity search me like you should have, which... Is he actually Ketch?

He's actually Ketch

Of course that means Dean knows him very well and trusted his gut instinct on knowing Ketch to prove that he was not, in fact, the actor David Hayden Jones, chillaxing on set and being weirdly cheerful about being beaten up by the Winchesters.

Pfft he used Rowena's charm to get alive again

Well she better be fine if they're gonna use her like this.

"Is she?"

LOL Ketch ninja'd out of there

Oh good it wasn't Dorothy's bike

Considering how they use Rowena, DON'T use Mary, etc I'd have taken Dorothy's bike as a personal insult. I guess Ketch rode his over to the Bunker before 12x22.

I mean at least this means Ketch remembers he got shot and then also he revived in a sewer where he belonged because he is garbage.

Wait. He set up this whole thing in like a month or so TOPS since he got shot? If he’s been chasing witches has he even had TIME for a side business?

Oh boy, Asmodeus using Cas's voice to talk to Dean.

BAD HELLO DEAN.

That "see you soon" is also way too cheerful. It should be as much of a tip off as Cas begging Dean to come help him in the previous call.

I hope Dean sees through it.

Though it's so Buckleming-y I don't think people should be mad if he doesn't because this was them doing a smart!Dean episode.

PFFT of course they team up - colonialism from all sorts of fun angles!! The ultimate trashy white guys in suits team up.

Thanks Buckleming!

Man, I need a whole pot of detox tea now. I don't even have closing thoughts.

#13x07 #my stuff #season 13 spoilers #buckleming appropriate wank for ts #*quietly lies face down on the floor*

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meditatemoremedicateless · 6 years

Text

Dear Kate, (There are Pieces of you everywhere there used to be Me)

Fandom: Life is Strange

Pairings: Chasemarsh, Ambermarsh

Major Tags: Angst, possession

Words: ~ 3,200

Summary: Kate Marsh wins the Everyday Heroes Contest. She never entered.

Kate hadn't realized Mr. Jefferson was at the party until she heard the wave of sharp feedback cut through the Blackwell pool, followed by everyone suddenly cheering. But there he was, recoiling from the microphone he had just turned on until it settled down, at which point his laugh could be heard over it.

Max nudged Kate's side as if she wasn't already looking, while Luke just sat forward in his seat to get a better look.

"Okay, everybody calm down."

Of course, they did the opposite as everyone started yelling and whistling, making it almost impossible to hear him, nevermind command their attention.

"Thank you, thank you. I appreciate it. I don't want to get in the way of the party," he made a quick, pointed glance backstage - Kate could only imagine what he might be looking at -, "but it's time to announce the winner of the 'Everyday Heroes' contest."

Everyone started to quiet down a little, and Max started to twitch excitedly. Kate knew entering a photograph had been a big deal for her - she'd ripped up her original entry and only gotten a new one in recently, and she'd loved it.

"Before I do, I want to thank everybody who entered their photograph this year."

As if on cue, girls from around the pool started to whoop and cat call Mr. Jefferson, but he just laughed it off and continued. "Now this is the most important step in being an artist - sharing your work with the world." Max nodded along - she reminded Kate of someone hearing a sermon that went straight to the heart. It was just normal teacher stuff, but, well, Max was cute in that way.

Meanwhile, Luke just rolled his eyes.

"All of you represent Blackwell Academy and everything our school stands for. As far as I'm concerned, you're all Everyday Heroes."

"More like Everyday Monsters," Luke joked quietly.

Max snickered. Kate silently agreed.

Jefferson pivoted, looking back at the DJ. "The envelope - please."

He's so dramatic all the time. Doesn't he get tired of-

"And the winner is . . ." he peeked down at the envelope. Max snorted, but also scooched to the edge of the bench. She was on edge, literally.

"Oh my, what a shocker." He looked up over the crowd and announced, "Kate Marsh!"

"OH MY GOD!!" Max yelled the loudest she'd ever yelled in front of Kate. There was a slight delay, but some cheering and clapping followed suit.

Meanwhile, Kate just sat there with her mouth open. "Wait . . . what . . .?"

Luke shot her a look to let her know he wasn't impressed with her humble performance. "You won, you goon."

That doesn't make any sense.

"But I didn't even enter a ph- fuck."

It's true, she hadn't. But she had gotten a message that read, 'Dear Kate,' that said otherwise.

Now that the cheering was dying down a little, Jefferson spoke again: "Congratulations, Kate! Want to get up here and say something about your photo?"

The noise died down almost immediately to let her speak, and she desperately wished it hadn't. Max was looking at her. Luke was looking at her. Warren and Brooke and Courtney over next to the drinks were all looking at her. She got the sinking suspicion she might pass out - which, given how her life was going, might be the best solution for what was happening.

Kate stood up, and, as loud as she could, replied, "Uh, no thanks!"

Jefferson laughed, but Kate's peers were less amused - with the exception of Luke, who had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing, too.

"Typical Kate humility, everybody. But don't worry, I'm sure she'll have something more to say tomorrow. We'll be showing Kate's photo before she heads off tomorrow at 9:00am in my class, so if you want to stop by and give Kate congratulations - and you should - or look at the prints gallery we'll have set up tomorrow, you'll have to wake up a little early. Now, you kids have fun."

He tapped the button on the mic, handed it off, and left.

I'm going to kill her.

Dear Katie,

Congratulations! You won the Everyday Heroes contest. I looked through your photography folder to try and figure out which one you entered, but I couldn't really tell which one - they're all so good! You're a really talented photographer, I wish you'd told me sooner.

I hope you'll be the one to wake up tomorrow morning so you can accept the award and fly down to SF with Mr. Jefferson. If you are, I think he wants you to say something at the awarding - which is at 9:00am tomorrow in the Photography room.

I don't know if it's you or Max who is friends with Luke, but we hung out a little today at the party. He seems nice but also kind of mean. I think he means well.

In regards to your offer to set up a Her profile for me, please don't. I'm not sure how I feel about dating in high school to be honest, and doing that I think suggests I have clearer ideas about myself than I really do. Plus, what if someone from school is on there and tells someone? I don't think apps like that have chastity vows in mind. I don't need more people thinking I'm weird, so just, please don't. If you make an account for yourself, please try not associate it with me.

I think Stella has been avoiding me. Do you know what's going on? I've barely seen her this year. Alyssa hasn't seen much of her either.

Also, I know you think Max and I should get closer, but I don't think that's a good idea. Max likes to be close to me and I think it's too much for me. Please don't lead her on about me, I don't want to stop being friends with her.

Please be advised: I'm lactose intolerant. I found your bags of Hot Cheetos in my drawer, but being vegan -> lactose intolerance -> please don't eat dairy products. I'm glad you haven't been eating meat, but I think that is probably what's been making us sick.

I've started a period calendar on my phone. My cycle's pretty inconsistent but JUST IN CASE it starts this weekend I'm packing you pads for the trip.

I found that you texted Mom about my doctor - what's wrong? My doctor's Dr. Zimmerman in Tillamook, you can look him up online and set up an appointment if you need to.

If you get to go to SF, tell me everything.

I hope you are well,

Kate

Unfortunately, Katie was not the one who woke up Friday morning at 6:25, she was not the one who had to give a stumbling acceptance speech when her photograph was unwrapped and shown to her, she was not the one who was told that she'd be leaving with Mr. Jefferson for the airport at 10:30. The picture was beautiful, of course - it was the interior of the Two Whales diner, at just an angle so that the entire bar was visible. Most of the people there were truckers and other regulars, but there was also a police officer clearly present, Preston, the former dockworker-turned environmental advocate, and, behind all of them, standing next to the jukebox, there was a tall, lanky girl with blue hair hugging a waitress who still had a tray in her hand. Her mother, Kate guessed. Of course, while that was all pretty clear, the shot was taken to include an out-of-focus poster that took up the middle-right. Kate hadn't noticed it when she'd just been looking at the jpeg, but once she had a chance to look at the print, she realized it was a poster about the use of prison labor to fight forest fires in California. She thought it might have been unintentional, until she realized that the fire referenced in the poster ended in 2011 - she managed to find a copy of the poster online later with minimal effort.

Katie, as it turned out, was a lover of irony.

It wasn't until they were after security at the airport that Kate got a text she hadn't been expecting.

Unknown: Congrats on the win

Before she could ask 'who is this?,' she got a second message.

Unknown: You're a better photographer than I realized. Don't get cocky though, I'll get you next time.

Kate did her best to text while walking, but she was terrible at it, and Jefferson just slowed down with a bemused smile and a glance at his watch.

Kate: Who is this? Sorry, I don't have your number.

Unknown: It's Victoria. We all switched numbers the first day of Photography, remember?

Kate: Oh right. My bad, I hadn't created a contact for you. Kate: But yeah, I was surprised! I'm sure you'll beat me next time too, haha :)

She added the contact info and put her phone away so she could speed up again. She felt her phone buzz again immediately, but ignored it until they were at the terminal.

Victoria: real cute Victoria: Learn to banter, Katie, it'll make this more fun in the future

Kate smiled. Teasing and outright bullying from Victoria had the same tone, the teasing just didn't sting on the level of personal shame and insecurity.

Kate: Oh are we bantering? Here I was thinking I was having a run-in with my first fan.

This time, the '...' stayed around a bit longer, but the wait was nevertheless rewarding.

Victoria: Touché Victoria: Have fun in SF. I hear it's pretty gay there this time of year.

That actually made Kate feel less comfortable, but at least she knew Victoria was, for once, trying to be nice. Maybe one-upping her really was the way to get her to stop being mean. She'd have to start writing witty comebacks with Max sometime soon.

Kate kept her laptop on her lap during the flight so she could check out Katie's photographs some more, studying them in detail. After looking over the big print, she had the feeling that if she could just figure out what gave her pictures their wit, their two-steps-ahead quality, then maybe Kate could approach her own work like that. After all, Katie was using her eyes, her hands, her brain, her camera to make these images, wasn't she? So Kate must be capable of the same.

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think I remember you saying your passion is painting, isn't that right?"

Kate's ears felt warm as she realized what this must look like. She slowly turned towards Mr. Jefferson with a warm, albeit fake smile. "Oh, yeah, of course! I just . . . uh . . . I can't help but second-guess myself. Bad habit."

She closed the laptop as Mr. Jefferson laughed quietly.

"Now, there's no need to be embarrassed," he said, scooting back to sit more upright in his seat. "I just didn't realize what a dedicated photographer you were when you first joined my class. You play an instrument too, don't you?"

Kate nodded. This was getting uncomfortable - not that her skills outside of photographer were less legitimate, really, as not liking the attention.

"Violin and piano," she replied.

"And what do you want to do after this, Blackwell Academy? Going to study art?"

Kate shook her head. "No, actually, I'm applying to be an English major. I'm also interested in journalism but I feel like switching from journalism to English will be harder than English to journalism, so . . ."

He looked amused, but quite pleased. "My, my, you're quite the all-star."

Kate hadn't realized she had shared so little about her academic interests during her time as Mr. Jefferson's assistant. Admittedly, sometimes it wasn't even her working with him, but most of their conversations started with some polite conversation and questions about her friends and life around school, followed by an hour of him prattling on about his work abroad. Not that she minded, really, but her keen interest in the life of a celebrity photographer had waned after about a week of it. There was nothing that made something quite so mundane as constant exposure to it.

"Thanks," she replied, and turned her attention out the window to California.

"You know," he started, shuffling around in his seat again, "You remind me of a former student."

Kate looked back at him now, curious. It's not like he'd been teaching very long - who could he possibly remind her of?

"Rachel was very multifaceted in her talents and interests as well. She was a gifted photographer, of course, but oh, she wouldn't have any of my suggestions to pursue it. She wanted to be a legal scholar, and started modeling in our very own little Arcadia Bay."

Kate nodded, looking back towards the window. "She was probably going to be valedictorian, too. I guess . . . that'll probably be Warren now."

There was a short pause while Kate let herself wonder where Rachel was and what could have happened to her. Then, Mr. Jefferson said, "I take it you knew her?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Up until the end of last year, it was the three of us still in the running - me and her and Warren. But . . . she hasn't come back, and I'm getting a C in physics, so."

No one had ever compared her to Rachel before, and she'd never had a reason to, either. They had been from different worlds that the other could not understand, and Kate, for all of Rachel's charisma, could not hold a conversation with her. Warren was easy to get along with, so long as you could take not understanding the pop culture references shooting out of his mouth every five seconds. Rachel was . . . well, whatever she was, Kate hadn't figured it out, and with her gone, it didn't look like she was about to.

All of a sudden, as Kate caught her reflection in the window, she felt a wave of sadness. Where are you, Rachel? I know someone here misses you.

"I wish . . . Rachel were back," Kate mumbled.

Mr. Jefferson seemed to hear, though. He let out a sigh and reclined his seat as well as he could. "As do we all," he said.

But, for some reason, Kate didn't believe him.

Dear Katie,

I'm sorry you missed the Everyday Heroes awards. This was your big day and I feel like I stole it from you. But, don't worry - I'm recording the information of everyone I met who was interested in your photography so you can give them a call if you want. I really liked your photograph - Evan had a lot of critique of it I didn't really understand but I'm pretty sure he liked it. I missed doing homework Friday, though, so if you wake up this weekend please take a look at the planner so we don't fall any more behind.

Also, I'm sure you've seen the posters, but there's a girl who used to go here named Rachel Amber. It's so weird to try and describe what the school was like with her here because I transferred here, but, to me, Blackwell feels like Blackwell minus Rachel. Back when Rachel was here, Victoria wasn't half so bad to anyone because she was so busy trying to get at Rachel. I didn't even share with any classes with Victoria then and I'd still hear about the stuff she'd pull. But let's just suffice it to say that Rachel was a golden child. You can tell how perfect she was by the number of people who try and talk mean about her with graffiti and stuff - even people who didn't like her seemed obsessed with her.

Anyway, Rachel disappeared at the end of last year. She still had another year to go, (another month, too), but one day she was just gone. Some people told me she used to deal drugs and she might have gotten hurt because of that. She's probably fine - basically everyone thinks she just packed up and left one day - but, I don't know, I just wish I knew what happened to her. I really have missed her the past couple of days, even though we were never friends. If you ever find something out, tell me about it, would you? I wish I knew she was OK.

I saw on Amazon that you were looking at clothes. Do you want to buy some new clothes? I hadn't even thought about the fact that you might not like what I wear. I know it's really hard for us to schedule things but maybe we can work out a way for you to go shopping? I know it's impossible, but I sort of wish we could go together. I think it would be fun to be friends. At least, I like to think that.

Oh, also on Amazon - I know you really want a vibrator but I don't think I can afford it. And if I could, I'm still not sure how comfortable I'd be shipping it here to school. I'm sorry.

I hope you have a good day today;

Kate

P.S. Alice says hello

That night, as many other nights, Kate cried in bed without really knowing why. In her dreams, she saw a lanky girl with blue hair playing around with the jukebox inside the Two Whales diner. When she finally saw Kate, she smiled.

Then, there was nothing, and Kate Marsh was gone.

#life is strange #fan fiction #kate marsh #rachel amber #mark jefferson #max caulfield #victoria chase #dear kate #ben writes stuff #angst #serial i guess #possession #chasemarsh #ambermarsh

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daresplaining · 7 years

Text

MCU Danny Rand Week: Day 5

A Favorite Episode

Iron Fist Season 1, Episode 10: “Black Tiger Steals Heart”

Another challenging category because we have so many favorites, but this is one of the most pivotal and powerfully-executed episodes of Iron Fist. It introduces some major characters, reinvents an antagonist that, up until this point, had not been handled all that well in this universe (”Handled”. Hah! Sorry...), and does a beautiful job of cranking up the pain of the show’s already brutal emotional rollercoaster. And as an added bonus... it contains not one, but two Iron Fists.

Danny is in a downward spiral moving into the end of Episode 9. His already chaotic life is shattering around him, he is getting closer and closer to the root of his repressed trauma, and Colleen has nearly been killed by the Hand. Thus, the beginning of Episode 10 comes as an emotional respite-- both for Danny and Colleen, and also for the viewer. The bright, gentle color palette of the first chunk of the episode reinforces the calm that comes with the idea that for the moment, our heroes are getting a well-earned break.

We are also given a little more of Colleen’s backstory, in that she is bringing Danny “home”. While her past remained largely undeveloped in this first season, we learn enough to know that she owes a lot to this safe haven, which both tells us about her and gives us an extra reason to trust in the safety of the place. The astute viewer might wonder about why everyone-- including Colleen-- is wearing various combinations of black and red (the same colors as the Hand ninjas’ uniforms in Daredevil!), but the overall good vibe of these early scenes serves to keep any suspicion in the background.

It’s a small detail, but Danny learning to recharge his chi is one of our favorite scenes in the whole show. It’s great to see him this content, and it’s a beautiful bit of acting and cinematography-- as well as a vital bonding moment between Danny and our new pal Bakuto.

Bakuto was one of the major triumphs of Iron Fist and The Defenders, and we will miss him. He existed briefly in the comics, as a young, volatile Hand leader who clashed with Matt in the Daredevil arc leading up to “Shadowland”. He was around for a few issues before being killed. The Bakuto developed in Iron Fist is a far more interesting (and, personality-wise, completely different) version of the character. His soft-spoken, friendly, insanely charismatic nature makes him instantly trustworthy. We are also compelled to take Colleen at her word. This is someone she loves-- clearly, he’s a good person. We also love the fact that Bakuto’s physical appearance, mannerisms, and even speech patterns are very similar to Danny’s-- another subconscious suggestion that we should trust this guy.

This comment stuck out to us as important the first time we watched the show, and now, with what we learned about Bakuto’s K’un-Lun connections in The Defenders, it makes perfect sense. It’s a great detail for Danny to pick up on... a little thread tying the Hand to K’un-Lun.

This also explains how Bakuto is able to offer Danny exactly what he longs for-- further Iron Fist training. Having left K’un-Lun prematurely (and been lied to a bit while he was there, as we learn in The Defenders) he is still a weak Iron Fist. Bakuto offers to fix this. He offers Danny information, and fulfillment, and purpose, and... this:

While his identity is left a mystery, and the Iron Fist legacy is not explored this season beyond being mentioned, the costume makes clear that this is the MCU version of Orson Randall, the Iron Fist who directly preceded Danny in the comics. How awesome is that? We don’t know if this Orson suffered/is suffering the same chaotic life as his comics counterpart, but we would kill to see more of him. As it stands, not only is this a glorious scene for all the comics fans in the audience, it’s also a powerful moment for Danny, who has never seen another Iron Fist before and is nearly brought to tears.

While Bakuto’s suspicious knowledge of Iron Fist techniques and general obsession with Immortal Weapons makes a bit more sense in light of what we learned in The Defenders, we still can’t resist speculating about the missing Book of the Iron Fist plot point from the comics, and the other stuff in Bakuto’s safe...

What are you hiding in there, buddy?

After offering Danny everything he has been searching for, the cracks at the edges of paradise begin to come through. Bakuto spies on Danny’s phone call with Harold, and is then confronted by Colleen. This interaction proves that Danny is being kept in the dark, and Colleen’s discomfort suggests that maybe, in fact, Bakuto doesn’t have Danny’s best interests at heart.

Danny, meanwhile, runs into Darryl in another of our favorite scenes in the show. Darryl (who was originally in Luke Cage, for anyone who missed that connection) is a great character-- similar to Hope Schlottman and Cole Miller in his status as an innocent kid dragged into a horrible situation. He is instantly sympathetic, and his little sparring match with Danny in this scene is delightful.

Danny gives him the benefit of the doubt, too, because he’s Danny. And he executes some perfect defensive fighting. It’s a really fun interaction, included to add maximum pain to their less-than-fun interaction at the end of the episode.

Danny sneaks into the containment building and spends a few significant seconds staring at a mystery person in a bed. Who is this? Is it Orson? This is one of the biggest mysteries of Season 1 for us and we hope to see it resolved in Season 2.

Danny and Gao have a fascinating relationship. While she is as irreverent as she come-- that’s part of her charm, in fact-- she exhibits a compelling degree of respect for Danny, and helps him on a number of occasions. But of course, she is also extremely manipulative and may be behaving in this way in order to serve her own needs. It is impossible to read Gao’s motivations, but in this episode, with the Bakuto situation becoming uncertain, she is particularly suspect-- and neither Danny nor the viewer can be sure what side she’s actually on. Bakuto insists she is lying, but we now have a reason to not trust what he has to say.

And most importantly, she is the one to reveal to Danny that the compound is Hand-run, a revelation which both saves Danny and screws with Bakuto’s plans. Until this point, we had very little sense of the Hand’s recruitment process. In Daredevil we saw them kidnapping children to harvest their blood, and were shown crowds of identity-less ninjas, but had no indication of what appeal the organization might have for its members. This is what makes this reveal so effective-- the fact that Bakuto’s faction is so different from anything we’ve seen before. For the first time, it becomes clear why people-- good people, even-- might be drawn into the Hand. This adds depth and realism to a group that previously in the Netflix-verse had been two-dimensional, and makes them extra sinister and creepy.

This is followed by Danny’s fight with Colleen, which confirms the worst. He’d thought he was safe. Now he is learning that the one person he really trusts isn’t even who she said she was. The pain of this fight is made extra powerful when placed alongside the perfect lightness and tranquility of their relationship early in the episode.

This fight does several things (in addition to hurting the viewer). First, it benefits from dramatic irony. To the viewer, Colleen seems to be the voice of reason because we have seen what Danny has not: that she felt bad about lying, wanted to tell him the truth, but was prevented from doing so. We have also just been shown how dangerous it is to believe appearances, and we trust Colleen’s testimony of her time with the Hand, and her long-held devotion to Bakuto’s faction, enough to assume that maybe she is right. But at the same time, we understand Danny’s horror on an emotional level. This is not the first time he has been stabbed in the back by someone he thought he could trust, and it is hitting at the core of his pain: his parents, who-- he believes at this point-- were murdered by the Hand. The worst kind of fight is the one where both sides have a point, and neither is able to budge.

It also explores a theme set up earlier in the episode, in which Danny tells Bakuto that most people are only interested in using him, as the Iron Fist, for their own purposes. As we later learn, one of those people is... Bakuto. During the fight, Colleen directly addresses this theme, solidifying the fact that she isn’t trying to manipulate him in this way and that she cares about him as a person. Danny is too upset to acknowledge the significance of this statement, but the viewer is informed enough to recognize its importance.

With this, night falls and the tone of the episode shifts. Instead of the bright, colorful, inviting color palette of the daytime scenes, we are plunged into sinister low lighting, mirroring the shattering of the Hand compound’s happy illusion and the bleakness of Danny’s situation.

He is isolated, unable to trust anyone around him, and his discovery of Bakuto’s surveillance room-- bringing with it a hint of just how much the Hand have been meddling in his life-- is just one more psychological punch in the face.

This is the point at which Davos shows up. We wrote a post about him the other day, but it’s always worth reiterating how great his introduction is in this episode. Danny has lost one friend and gained another, and their side-by-side tag-team is one of the greatest fights in a great fight-filled show.

But even this can’t save Danny from having a bit more of his world ripped away. The horror and confusion resulting from the emotional switch-backs inflicted upon him this episode disrupt his chi and prevent him from using the Iron Fist. He has now lost one of his closest friends and his future as the Iron Fist all in one go. Any hope he might have possessed when first arriving at the compound has been destroyed, and he is left with nothing.

To add even more pain, Colleen has not stopped trusting Danny, and is caught between two sides, both of whom she cares about. She risks her life to help Danny, turning on her family. The least she can do is help him and Davos escape to prevent both parties from killing each other, but this is a decision that impacts her arc for the rest of the show. At the very least, Danny sees that she has helped her before being dragged out the door.

We are then left with another little plot thread that we’d hoped would return in The Defenders, but didn’t. Having been forced to fight Danny for real, and getting seriously injured by Davos in the process, Darryl is now perfectly set up to enter a new stage of his own story. While it has not yet been carried out on-screen, the idea of Darryl further devoting himself to the Hand and becoming an enemy to Colleen and Danny is painful enough for the moment.

Having started the episode on an emotional high, Danny ends it at his lowest possible point. He has lost everything he had on Earth, and is faced with the shame of returning to K’un-Lun as a failed Iron Fist. Everything he’d hoped to achieve has been destroyed.

And on top of that, just to make everything that much worse, he’s bleeding out.

A great end to a great episode. We didn’t even touch on the excellent Meachum plot-points explored in “Black Tiger Steals Heart”, but Danny’s trauma is compelling enough on its own.

#dannyweek #Netflix Iron Fist #Iron Fist #Danny Rand #Colleen Wing #Bakuto #The Hand #Orson Randall #Commentary

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mrandmrsvex · 7 years

Link

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Vax'ildan & Vex'ahlia (Critical Role) Characters: Vex'ahlia (Critical Role), Vax'ildan (Critical Role), Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Grog Strongjaw, Shaun Gilmore, Mentioned: Pike and Kima and Scanlan Additional Tags: Rated Teen and Up because of Alcohol, alcohol mention, alcoholic mention? I suppose, also lotsa swearing for some reason my Vex swears a lot Series: Part 3 of thursday nights and friday mornings

Summary:

Vex has had quite enough of this week full of extra studying and homework. Now she's gotta deal with everyone at the pub teasing her about her supposed new 'sweetheart'. And then suddenly she's gotta deal with 'sweetheart' and his very obvious problems. (All while Vax laughs)

Notes:

It's the first thursday night! Off to such a great start! Or not. You gotta add some dramatic undertones to a slow-burn dorklove fic, I think.

[Part 1]

[Part 2]

It had only been a week since her last engineering class, but Vex felt like it had stretched on for months. What was usually just a quick half hour of homework – granted, she'd never bothered to spend more time than necessary on this class, and oh what bitter irony it felt like now - had turned into a whole week of research, library visits and late evenings staring at equations that would not, could not be solved.

And that was just the first two assignments Percy had given her. She'd not dared to look into the folder he'd handed her with even more papers inside. Two assignments instead of one after a week, that should count for something, right? Surely it'd make him agree that she was taking her grades seriously now. Surely he'd decide to drop the rest of it and give her a damn C or D on the entire class and be done with it. (Surely he'd be a bit impressed by her efforts, she thought for a second, before beating down that silly idea coming from out of nowhere.)

But none of that plan would work if she didn't manage to finish this set of equations tonight.

Before she could pick up her pencil to scribble some more useless numbers on the paper, Vax interrupted her with a theatrical slam of the front door.

„Get your shoes on, dearest sister! I've found us yet another great and well-paying job!“ That could mean no good – Vax's idea of a 'great job' usually meant either something so boring he could just sleep through it, or something so dangerous and barely-legal that Vex didn't even want to hear about it.

„Vax, I told you hundreds of times, I can't. I have to finish this goddamn homework so I can hand it in tomorrow.“

„That's for tomorrow?“ Vax's question seemed innocuous enough, but she could see the edges of his mouth twitch upwards suspiciously.

„Yes. My engineering class. Every friday. We've been over this.“

„Could it be, Vex, sister, dearest.“ He stood behind her chair now, hands heavy on her shoulders, and she could hear the glee in his voice. „Could it be that you've forgotten tomorrow is a holiday?“

She tensed up. Her mind raced. What was the date again?

„Oh, fucking hell.“ was all she could stammer.

Vax couldn't hold back anymore, and her continued swearing was drowned under a wave of laughter as he leaned down, still holding onto her shoulders, which she quickly shrugged off.

„You didn't think to tell me that the whole week you watched me work my ass off?!“

„I didn't know you were doing it for this friday.“ He was still giggling and only barely lying. „I thought you just wanted to get as much done as possible!“

„I fucking hate you.“ She slammed her book shut. „Now tell me about this goddamn job I'm apparently working tonight, considering how much free time I've just gained.“

„Oh, it's a great gig! Scanlan's playing at-“

„I'm not working for Scanlan again. We agreed on that.“ The bastard had stiffed them last time, despite the copious amounts of cheap-drink-buying - which Vex realised now was mostly done to get them drunk enough not to notice when he paid them barely half of what he promised.

„It's not for Scanlan, and if you'd let me finish a sentence you would know that.“ Vax poked her side. „As I said – Scanlan's playing at Gilmore's tonight. I helped him set up, and Gilmore mentioned he was short-staffed. He needs a bartender and a waitress.“ Another poke. „I sang some praises about how quick on your feet you are and how friendly and customer-oriented and how good all my drinks taste, and he's agreed to let us help out.“

That was, surprisingly, an actually great job Vax had scored them. Gilmore's Glorious Gastro-Pub was a nice enough place – albeit somewhat chaotic and filled with the most random and weird customers she'd met so far – and Gilmore was as good a boss as they could ever get. If they worked the latest shift as well, he would probably let them take home any and all leftovers from the kitchen. He'd already done that whenever Vax stayed as a guest far longer than opening hours allowed. A well-paid job, food for the fridge and a shitload of tips if she just practised her winks and smiles some more sounded wonderful to her after the stressful week.

„You have yourself a deal. When do we start?“

„Pretty much right now. Get your shoes on and we can help Gilmore set up the kitchen for the evening crowd as well.“

„Doesn't he have that new kitchen-guy that replaced Pike for help? Greg?“ Vex hadn't been to Gilmore's for quite a while, but Vax was a frequent customer – along with Keyleth – and kept her pretty up to date on their friends' shenanigans.

„Grog. Once you meet him, you'll realise why he won't be much help at all when it comes to delicate things like dishes.“

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

8 hours later, Vex was still surprised how well her brother did in getting this short time job. She would have to actually be nice to him tomorrow, to say thanks.

But right now, she was allowed to shoot dagger-sharp looks in his direction every time he matched her stare.

It only took about 5 minutes after she put on the waitress apron at the beginning of this shift that Scanlan had made an off-hand joke about 'putting in extra work everywhere' that she planned to ignore. It took another 30 minutes until she was introduced to Grog, and his first words to her were „Ain't you got an important class tomorrow?“. It was so busy in the middle of the evening that she barely noticed Kima getting a beer at the bar and shouting „Didn't know you liked blondes, too, Darky!“ when she shuffled past her with a tray full of drinks. But the breaking point had been when Pike came in after an obviously exhausting day at the hospital, sitting down to an already perfectly prepared drink and patting the seat beside her, putting on her usual happy-mumfriend face and asking Vex to tell her „everything about your new sweetheart at college“. Vax had almost dropped his cocktail shaker from giggling before fleeing his sister's rage by dashing to the kitchen.

He didn't get far. He was halfway to the walk-in cooler before she slammed him into the wall.

„What the everloving fuck have you been telling people about me?“

„Nothing but the truth.“ Vax was still giggling slightly, trying to push her away, but she didn't budge. „Just that you've got a class with a much bigger workload now and a new teacher.“ „That is an awfully short way of describing the gossip you're spreading about me.“

„I'm not spreading gossip. It hurts that you think I would do that, to my own sister.“

She pushed a bit harder and heard him cough – her elbow was digging into his chest. „Pike thinks I've got a 'sweetheart'. Kima knew his fucking haircolour.“

„Now, to be fair.“ He finally managed to push her away just a bit, enough to let him breathe again. „You've given me such a good description of your horrible-not-horrible teach by now that I could pick him out of a crowd, and I've never even seen the guy. I know you're very perceptive but I get the feeling that you've spend more time than usual memorizing little Percival's... attributes.“

All he earned for his smug wink was a punch in the stomach. Vex had left before he could get up from the floor and stop coughing.

Hours later and with the pub now empty, she was still fuming about it. It hadn't taken a lot of insisting to convince Pike that there was no one new in her life – not that Pike would ever push further even if she didn't believe it – and she'd managed to mostly ignore or stare down any other jokes from their more rambunctious friends, but Vax had still avoided her pretty well. So all she could do was stare at him in anger. And now she couldn't even do that, because he had dissappeared somewhere while she was cleaning the bar top – which was, supposedly, his job as barkeeper.

Another figure appeared next to her to help instead. A tan hand, covered in gold rings and bracelets, grabbed a towel and began scrubbing with a slight jingle from all the jewelry. Vex looked up and looked into the dark, heavily painted, absolutely lovely face of Gilmore smiling at her.

„Let me help, Gorgeous.“

Vex couldn't help but laugh at his greeting. „I thought that was one of your many titles.“

„Ah, but that is one of the rules.“ Gilmore pointed at the sign behind the bar. The usual jokey 'no shirt, no shoes, extra friendly service' had been expanded with sharpie during many drunk nights. „Everyone in this pub is gorgeous. Some more than others, I might admit, but I'd certainly count you in the top class as well.“

„Well, thanks. I appreciate it, even if it's mostly because I look just like my brother.“

Now it was Gilmore's turn to laugh quickly. „Oh dear, enough about me and my gorgeous friends. What about your new friend? Is he as gorgeous as Vax makes him out to be from your descriptions?“

She groaned and put her head on the freshly cleaned countertop. „Not you too, Gilmore. Why does everyone believe I'm interested in someone just because I dared to talk about him more than once? Am I not allowed to be annoyed by a substitute teacher without everyone immediately dreaming up wedding lists?“

„Hyperbole, dear.“ He softly lifted her head back up. „The lady doth protest too much, methinks. I'm pretty sure people wouldn't be bothering you with it quite so much if it didn't... bother you as much.“

He had a point. Not that Vex was going to admit it out loud in any way. She was getting far too riled up about some light-hearted ribbing – why couldn't she take it with a smile and a sharp joke in return, like she usually would?

„Besides...“ Gilmore pulled her out of her thoughts again. „I wouldn't be quite so adamant about how much you dislike this new fellow. Just in case it turns out to be a bit more than nothing.“ He lifted his hand, jingling again, to stop her from answering. „Because if it is indeed more than nothing, I'm sure he'd be a tad unhappy to hear how much you talked him down before we ever met him.“

„Gilmore, you're not ever going to meet him.“ The lady doth protest again, she realised. „But maybe you're right, overall, and I should cut my brother some slack. He's just making fun of me as he always does.“

„He tries, dear. He cares for you a bit too much, maybe.“ A soft pat on the back. „And now get your gorgeous butt out of here, and take your brother's gorgeous butt with you. You've been here far too long and helped with much more than you needed. I'll get you your official payment tomorrow, okay? And for the unofficial...“ Gilmore turned around, towards the kitchen. „Grog! Is that takeout bag ready yet for the twins?“

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

The icy air outside Gilmore's hit them both like an arrow in the chest. The absolute darkness beyond the streetlights at this time of night did not make the scene any more cosy. Despite still being angry with him, Vex couldn't resist huddling against her brother for warmth – and maybe a bit of feeling of safety, to be honest.

„At least we might not need a freezer for all this food, then.“ Vax looked down at the two large bags they'd been handed moments prior by a wide-smiling Grog.

„Let's just get home, and sleep.“

He steered her left down the street, past a smaller side alley that looked as inviting in the dark as it did by day – filled with trashcans, even more spilled waste, and leftover bottles from people who'd been thrown out of the various pubs around or were too drunk to ever be allowed in. And amongst all this dark rubble, she spotted a patch of white.

Instinct was all that made her pull her brother back sharply, against the wall and away from the alley. He was just as alert as her in an instant, probably thinking she'd seen a mugger or something equally dangerous.

„What?“ He barely whispered. „What is it?“

„Percival.“

„...What?“ Vax's expression changed from concerned to confused, but Vex only shushed him and inched forward a bit, peeking into the alleyway.

There he was, just as she'd seen it, all white hair and golden glasses and big blue coat. What she wasn't used to was the slumped position down on the ground, head hanging low. Nor was she used to the bottle in his hand.

„Holy shit.“ Vax had apparently peeked in as well. „Is that – that's your boy? De Rolo?“

„Ssh!“ She pulled him back.

„What do we do now?“ Vax didn't know why they were still whispering. It seemed like Percy was in no state to hear them anyway.

„What do you mean, what do we do? We go home!“

„Are you serious? You find someone you know crouched down in an alley and your first reaction is to run off?“

Vex stared at her feet, thinking of Percy's embarassed face once he sobered up enough to realise that she'd found him in this state. It would be easier to just pretend nothing like that had ever happened.

„I mean, I don't know. He's just...“ Another lean past the corner and a quick look at Percy. „He seems pretty out of it. Drunk. I mean.“

„No shit.“ Vax shook off her hands, still around his collar, and pushed his takeaway bag into her hands before she could react. „Let's check if he's just drunk or if it's something worse, though.“

„VAX!“

She couldn't stop him as he stepped into the alley and straight in front of Percy, who barely reacted by shortly shaking his head.

„Hey, bud. You ok? Somebody jump you, or something?“ He tried to sound calm, but Vex could hear the slight nervosity in her brother's voice. They knew all to well how much could hide in the rest of this alley.

„M'fine.“ She could barely make out from Percy's mumbling.

„Yeah, no, you're not. Where do you live? Is there anyone we can call to pick you up?“

No response. Vax sighed and turned back to her.

„Sis, come and help me at least. This is your drunk bag of problems here, after all.“

She hated him for this, sure, but she was at his side just as quickly.

„And now?“

„And now we take Mister de Rolo out of the gutter and, preferably, into a warmer home. He'll thank you for it later, I'm sure.“

Vax lifted Percy off the ground and slung his arm over his shoulder. Vex took a step closer, pretending to try and help, instead getting a good look at the bottle Percy had left lying on the ground. She recognised the label, barely, from behind Gilmore's bar. It wasn't the cheapest.

„Your boy is pretty light.“ Vax could feel Percy's ribs as he put his arm around his waist, even through shirt and coat. „I think he's not eating right.“ „He's not my boy.“ She grumbled quietly, hoping Percy wasn't awake enough to listen to them.

„Whatever. Let's get him home. Where does he live?“

„How should I know? I only see him at school.“

They stared at each other, blank, while Percy gave out a quiet groan from being dragged.

„Well, then. Should we just... should we take him home with us?“ Vax asked. Vex shrugged.

„Maybe by then he's sobered up enough to tell us where he lives.“

„Sis, I'm not gonna carry your pretty boy through town only to find out he lives at the other end. If we take him home, he's gonna stay until he's sober enough to walk back on his own.“ He looked down at the still groaning guy hanging off his shoulder. „And I highly doubt that's gonna happen anytime before tomorrow morning. He can have the couch.“

With that, Vax began dragging Percy down the street, only to be stopped by his slurring voice.

„Jus... jus leave me.“

„No can do, boy. The pub's closed, there's obviously no one else to take you home, and the police's gonna start doing their rounds soon.“ Vax patted Percy on the back and instantly hoped it wouldn't cause him to throw up. „Trust me, the worst place to wake up hungover is in the drunkard cell.“

„I know.“

Vex and Vax shared a look. What a catch, Vax seemed to say silently, you really know how to pick them. She flipped him the bird.

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

It didn't take them long to get back to the twins' flat just a few roads down. It proved a bit more difficult to get Percy up the stairs, but they managed to get him through the door and on the sofa without any really major scratches or bruises. Percy had already blacked out halfway down the street, so at least he wouldn't remember where the few scrapes on his cheek came from.

Vax pulled off his jacket while Vex undid his shoes, and together they draped him over the old couch. Vex carefully lifted his glasses off his face and put them on the table, at the same time shooing away Trinket, who was very interested in this stranger suddenly taking up all the space on his couch. She wasn't fast enough to stop him from licking right across Percy's face.

Luckily it only elicited another groan before he turned his head away and quietly snored again. He looked so calm, it was hard to believe she'd only just found him in a beer puddle next to a pub. It was hard to believe she'd met him there at all.

„Well, let's see here.“ She was still lost in thought when she heard her brother at the other end of the room and looked up. There he was, Percy's coat in front of him on the hanger, his hands already deep in its pockets.

„Vax, what the fuck?!“ She hissed. „Don't go through his stuff! Don't steal anything!“

„Oh please, sis. Like I'd be that stupid.“ His hands didn't stop, though. „I just wanna see if he has a cellphone or something. We gotta let somebody know where he is, don't we?“ One hand emerged – with a very crumbled pack of smokes. „An alcoholic smoker. What a lovely set of addictions.“ The other hand emerged empty. „No cellphone, though. Maybe in his jeans pocket?“

„We are not picking his pockets while he's asleep.“

Vax was by now going through what she could only assume was Percy's wallet. He pulled out an ID and snorted almost immediately.

„Oh, poor boy.“

„What?“ Vex was up and halfway towards him, but he quickly pushed the ID back in.

„Nothing, dear sister. Nothing that you should know, if he's not willingly told you yet.“

„He hasn't told you anything willingly either! You just went through his stuff!“

Vex made a move for the wallet, but Vax pushed it back into the coat quicker.

„Okay, so no phone to call someone, I've no idea where the adress from his ID is, nothing else in the pockets that could tell us anything, except that he is as unhealthy as he could get. Your boy is a mystery man in his own right.“

„If you don't stop calling him my boy, I'm going to punch you where it hurts.“

„Let's just let him sleep off everything on the couch and worry about it in the morning.“ Vax was obviously getting tired and ignoring his sister's threats.

„I'm gonna worry the whole night.“ She'd murmured to herself, but he heard.

„Vex, he's fine. Sure, drunk out of his ass and probably frozen halfway through, but he'll be alright.“

„That's not- ...not exactly what I meant.“ She sighed. Why did she have to find him like this? What would he think once he remembered? How much more embarassing could their whole situation get, anyway?

And why the hell was he getting blackout drunk?, a true worry crept into the back of her head.

(other fanfics: -non-AU-)

Percy being a wreck about having babies

Percy being a wreck about protecting his new baby

Proof that his kids are doing just fine with him as a dad

Percy is a wreck after Vex kills him in his dreams

#Perc'ahlia #Percy #Vex'ahlia #Critical Role #Crit Role #Vox Machina #Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III #Modern AU #Alternate Setting: Modern #my writing #my fanfics

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