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kaiowut99 · 10 months

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Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters GX Episodes 99-101 Subbed (Finalized) - Fixes/Edits Breakdown (Part 1)

Since it’s 2023 and Tumblr still has a dumb link limit in posts, I’ve made this separate post supplementing my 99-101 Release Post with my usual animation fix/edit breakdown for the interested, since I did still want to give folks a more visual idea as I’d been doing--except I had to split it into two parts to cover everything thanks to said link limit. 🙃 Details below the cut! (Part 2 with 101 here.)

*Note: for 100, there were multiple instances of errors where the video footage suddenly jumps up in the frame, causing a black bar to appear on the bottom right half of the screen. These do seem to mostly happen where ghosting was involved, but all were generally fixed the same way, as I slightly cropped the entire scene and then moved the part of the shot where the jump happens back down into place. I had figured it might've just been an issue with the Astral_Union DVDRips I've been using, but this also happens in the Crunchyroll upload and the YES-uploaded rip on Nyaa.si. To their credit, 4Kids applied similar fixes for the dub, as these issues don't pop up; I imagine they were probably given the same masters that were used eventually for CR and had their video team touch up accordingly. In the list below, I'll still note where they happen/etc, but mentioning this up top to keep things a bit more concise.

Fixes/Edits! (99)

After the commercial break, having survived Ojin's triple Satellite Cannon onslaught, Judai starts his next turn; he draws Fusion and activates it, but as he swings his hand out to do so, we get a look at his hand, which... is looking a little too stacked with extra copies of Fusion for some reason. As I mentioned here, we did see his hand earlier in the duel, so I was able to fix this by first making proxies for OCG-art Featherman and Burstlady (which I'm pretty sure I had before--thanks, SSD drive failure last year) and both Change of Hero -- Reflector Ray and Contact in Photoshop, then throwing them into AfterEffects to apply into the footage, masking Judai's thumb over the cards. (As I noted in the post, funny that the dub kept this when they were in the area to dubify the Polymerization card and somehow missed it, lol.)

Later, after Ojin summons Satellite Laser Balsam, Shou and Kenzan from the stands think that Judai can't lose to it with Shining Flare Wingman's 3100 ATK, but Asuka notes Ojin's calmness and suggests he might have something for him--Kenzan and Shou then turn to her in surprise, but Kenzan actually starts moving a frame before Shou does, meaning Shou ends his turning a frame after Kenzan. Fixed this in Sony Vegas by masking Shou's position as he starts to turn out and timing it with Kenzan's, masking in the chair and a bit of Asuka's collar behind him to blend him in.

During the 100 preview, we see Saiou summoning The World, with Ed and his field being blown by the wind and impacts from the summoning, but the Defendguy and Dunkguy on his field have their Defense-Mode cards under them facing incorrectly, with the effect boxes facing Ed's right; should be their name boxes to his right to match their Disk positioning. I fixed this first for 100 and then applied the fix here, but because of the ghosting going on in the video here, I had to work with that by slowing the footage down a bit and carefully masking in the fix; think it came out nicely considering. (The CR upload and the one in the YES torrent also had ghosting going on.)

Fixes/Edits! (100)

During the recap back to episode 98, I reprised a fix I did to Ed's dad, during his plea to Ed to defeat Bloo-D and go to Saiou, moving a frame before the screen starts to move as Ed slides in on a split-screen; fixed as done there by holding the frame just before over this early-moving frame.

During the 99% OP for this ep, we get a bunch of the footage jumps I mentioned up top, first with the clip during Judai's showcase of Kagurazaka's Black Magician attacking him, with the footage jumping slightly as the Black Magic attack gets let out. As this happens repeatedly throughout the OP, my solution was to grab the OP from episode 99 and use that for the majority, with the leftover issue being the episode preview clip--which was also bugged because a footage jump also happens there (and in-episode) as we see Ed moving to activate his face-down card in response to The World's attack. To deal with that, as I'd recreated this preview clip for use with the textless video I'd sub my English credits onto and fixed the jump, I first used Photoshop to cut the Japanese lyrics out of the shot and into a transparent .png which I then slapped on top of this recreated clip in Sony Vegas; I did try to see if I could just find the font used for the lyrics, but that proved to be fruitless, so thought that would be the next best thing so it blends in. And it does nicely, considering.

Into the episode proper, the first shot we have is of Ed and Samejima's helicopter charging towards Duel Academia, where a footage jump happens going into the heli close-up showing everyone inside that I fixed.

After Ed's flashbacks to meeting Saiou and their conversation about his fate, we see their helicopter getting closer to the Academia, but another footage jump happens a few frames into the shot, which I fixed.

Once the helicopter's close enough to the White dorm, Ed makes his dramatic jump out, but as we see him diving down, another footage jump happens which I fixed.

After Ed lands inside Saiou's room and runs off to try and find him, Samejima looks on from the helicopter, but another footage jump happens as we see lightning about to strike the helicopter, though this time it's complicated a bit as, while the lightning shoots down to the helicopter, we see that the helicopter isn't fully drawn, with its right side leading to its engine being incomplete (though it's fully drawn once the lightning hits it). I fixed this by first applying the footage fix I'd been doing--cropping the shot slightly as it the video ghosts between Samejima and the clouds rumbling--then cropping/zooming the shot a bit more right as the lightning starts to shoot out until the lightning hits the helicopter, zooming back out to how it originally was as the lightning connects, to crop out the heli's undrawn part.

As Ed confronts Saiou about Bloo-D and the Light of Destruction being in him now, Saiou confirms it, and a surprised Ed asks what he means, but as he does so, he drops his outstretched right arm with his hand holding Bloo-D, and we see it's reversed in his hand, as it was upright in his hand when showing it to Saiou a few shots earlier. Fixed this by making a proxy in Photoshop that I then applied in AfterEffects, masking in Ed's thumb over it.

[continued below, just split thanks to stupid text-block character limits]

(8) After the duel starts, after Saiou summons The Empress, its card starts to rotate to decide its effect--but as Saiou slides into an expanding split-screen, saying that Ed can no longer stop fate and that it'll stop while upright, there's a quick frame as the split-screen expands where the sliding compressed split-screen line in the frame just before is still there. Fixed this in Vegas by using the following frame, masking in just enough from what's in the split-screen there to cover up said line.

(9) After Saiou summons The Chariot, knowing it'll land upright, Shou and Kenzan click into a split-screen to note that it's upright (Kenzan finding it low how he's making them work for him), but they split out of their split-screen a bit unevenly which makes Shou's split take a frame longer than Kenzan's to slide offscreen, along with a coloring error with Shou's mouth/face. Fixed this in Vegas by masking out Shou's full split and redoing his slide-out so that it's timed more closely with Kenzan's, fixing the coloring error in the process.

(10) A bit later, after The Chariot destroys Diamondguy, Ed bounces back and activates Destiny Signal, but the shot zooms out a bit too much; we end up seeing that Ed's legs aren't fully drawn in. Fixed this in Vegas by slightly cropping the shot to hide the undrawn section.

(11) As Ed summons Defendguy in Defense Mode through Destiny Signal, another footage jump happens a few frames into its materializing that I fixed; the footage gets restored to normal as the shot zooms out and he takes his pose.

(12) After Saiou uses The Chariot to summon Diamondguy to his field, Kenzan and Shou are shocked that Saiou has as many Monsters as he does after three turns--but as Shou speaks after Kenzan's line, Kenzan's mouth suddenly opens back up for three frames near the end of Shou's "that many Monsters" line. Fixed this in Vegas by masking out Kenzan's closed mouth and masking it over his open one.

(13) On his next turn, Ed summons Dunkguy in Defense Mode, triggering The Empress's upright effect; he tributes The Empress and Diamondguy for his Tribute Summon, but as the two are tributed, another footage jump happens a few frames in that I fixed.

(14) In the very next shot, Saiou declares his Tribute Summon for The Moon, which materializes behind him as he says so--but as it does and the screen pans up to show it, another footage jump happens that I fixed, then used the last three frames of the upward pan to zoom it back out to where it was originally before the ATK counter shows up.

(15) After The Moon lands upright and Ed sees that Saiou's trying to get more Monsters out for a Tribute Summon, he uses Dunkguy's effect to hit Saiou with Effect Damage, but as Dunkguy gets a [really good] close-up while preparing to fire at Saiou, another footage jump happens as he jumps to kick up some damage at him, lasting from that shot to it connecting with Saiou, that I fixed.

(16) On his next turn, after getting a Moon Token, Saiou prepares to Tribute Summon ZA WARUDO The World, holding out its card, but as the shot transitions into the next one showing his Monsters being tributed for it, another footage jump happens that I fixed.

[another split thanks to stupid text-block character limits]

(17) After said shot of Saiou's Monsters being tributed, we see Ed bracing himself as the summon kicks up wind at his field, but the Defense-Mode Defendguy and Dunkguy on his field have their cards reversed under them, with their name boxes facing his left when they should be facing right to match their Disk placements. Since I needed this for 99's 100 preview, this was the first fix I worked on for 100, which I fixed in AfterEffects by applying their correctly-facing proxies over the cards and tracking them throughout the panning shot, masking Defendguy and Dunkguy over them and also tracking their movement over the cards throughout; I also used a layer of solid grey/white coloring, which I masked according to the shape of the wind over the cards as the shot panned, to recreate the wind blowing on top of them. (I then applied this fix to the preview in 99, though I kept trying to figure out a good way to do so given the ghosting there, and tried downloading a different encode of the episode hoping for no ghosting, to no avail; after working on the other fixes, I went back and worked on it as noted above.)

(18) After The World lands upright, Saiou declares The Emperor and The Moon's attacks, but as the shot ghosts into the two attacking, another footage jump happens that I fixed.

(19) A few seconds later, The Emperor's attack connects with Dunkguy and destroys him, but as the shot ghosts into The Moon firing its attack on Defendguy, another footage jump happens that I fixed.

(20) A few more seconds later, Saiou uses The World for a direct attack on a now-wide-open Ed, and as The World's attack closes in on Ed, another footage jump happens as the shot ghosts into Ed activating his D-Fortune Trap that I fixed; the jump lasts until Ed's done swinging his arm out and the shot starts to pan down to his Trap, at which point I cut back to the original footage.

(21) After Saiou uses The World's upright effect to skip Ed's next turn, Saiou has it attack him directly again, and the attack closing in ghosts into Ed's being hit, another footage jump happens--but luckily, 101 recaps this exact scene, not only without the black bar/footage jump but without the ghosting, so to fix this, I just used that footage instead for this scene.

(22) The preview for 102 starts with Ed and Saiou in a split-screen that splits apart to show The Devil behind them, but Saiou's split takes an extra frame to slide off. Fixed this in Vegas by just masking part of the next frame in which both are gone over it. (I wish the same shot in 101 was free of ghosting like this one.)

(23) A few frames later, The Devil fires its attack at The Emperor, summoned to Ed's field by Saiou as we'll see in 101, but as it does, another footage jump happens with all the ghosting that I fixed, this time moving the frame down slightly and using the equivalent shot in 101 to cover up the missing pixels up top as a result of the move-down. The jump lasts from The Devil firing its attack to some frames into The Emperor exploding from it, at which point I cut back to the original footage.

Fixes/Edits! (101) phew

[continued here, due to aforementioned link limit...]

#fix/edit breakdowns #subbing rambling #proper release post now pinned on my blog~

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softersinned-arc · 2 years

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@cllairmont said: I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.

“So you won’t even ask her?”

It’s just like the old days, except a thousand times worse. Philippe’s study remains closed, so instead of the familiar battleground, they stand at opposite ends of the kitchen; Baldwin is taking a walk, clearing his head, getting some space from the house and nearly everyone in it. Ysabeau and Marthe are together somewhere, whispering, considering their options. Diana is asleep, half-delirious with pain and shock, and there is some part of Astoria that envies her.

Astoria and Matthew are at odds again. It won’t surprise anyone. And Astoria knows better than to pick a fight with him, particularly when he’s already so high strung, particularly when Baldwin isn’t here, but—well, no one’s ever accused her of pure logic. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against a counter while Matthew sits at the table, a glass of wine in front of him, his eyes fixed on the wood and the remnants of flour there, where his brother had drawn a map. Astoria digs her fingernails into the skin of her bare arm, but the skin doesn’t break the way it would have when she was still a warmblood.

Matthew lifts his eyes to meet hers and he looks tired, but still furious. “No. I won’t.”

“Fine. Then let me ask her. I don’t care about her feelings.”

The snarl that rips itself from Matthew’s throat should frighten her.

“Then Ysabeau. Marthe. Someone. Anyone. We need to know what she knows, and now that she’s seen that the witches will kill her before they’ll allow this to continue, she’ll be more inclined to speak to us.”

“I said no.”

“She’s a grown woman, Matthew, no matter how much you insist on treating her like a particularly stupid child. She can speak if she’d like.”

He stands, knocking the glass away from him with the back of his hand; the wine spills and the glass crashes to the floor, but she doesn’t move. “I will not let her speak,” he says slowly, enunciating every word, making sure to bleed as much anger into his voice as he can, “because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.”

“Christ’s sake, Matthew, if you think that’s what war looks like, you’re a fucking idiot.” Twelve hours missing, spent in pain, being tortured. “You were never tortured as a warmblood. Let me tell you what it’s like.”

“Spare me the tragedy, Astoria. My word is final.”

“See, a good torturer, an effective torturer, learns your limits early on. Learns exactly how far you can be pushed before you’re nothing, and then takes you right to that line, over and over again, until death would be a sweet release.” You know about that part, she thinks, but she doesn’t say it. Astoria unfolds her arms and instead slips her hands into the pockets of her jeans, as though they’re discussing anything else. “But you’re not just hoping you die, or that they kill you; a good torturer will have you trying to kill yourself. Ready to bite through your own tongue to drown in your blood, for instance, and they’ll stop you before you can. Now, it doesn’t seem that poor little Diana got that far, because Diana wasn’t taken in war, Matthew. Diana had a bad day. But this will become war, and she’ll see exactly what real torture feels like, if we aren’t ready for this.”

“Do you think I don’t know what’s at stake?” he asks, becoming louder with each word.

“No,” she answers at once. “I know that you don’t. I understand better than you do what mating turns you into. You think she’s a chess piece you can move away from the fight. The fight will come to her. For example—just for example, mind you—I could say that if you ever bite my husband again, even in defense of your mate,” and the word again drips with venom and disdain, enough so that Matthew takes a step closer to her, and there’s something animalistic in his expression that does send a chill up her spine.

“I would caution you not to finish that sentence, sister,” he spits, and Astoria ignores the warning in his voice to step closer as well.

“Ah. I forgot; only Matthew is allowed to react to pain. I can watch you shed my mate’s blood but if I retaliate, I’m in the wrong. You can endanger this entire family—including my husband, our daughters, our sons, our sisters—to protect your own, but should we protect ourselves from you, it’s a declaration of all-out war. What should I expect from the man who grieved his father but denied his brother the same?”

“This is hardly the time for you to air your decades-old grievances—”

“Certainly not, but it was the time to use the Knights and Sept-Tours to make threats, wasn’t it? Of course it was. It was Matthew bringing it up.”

“You’re a child.” He towers over her. She doesn’t move. Five hundred years of life has granted her a steadiness she hadn’t known as a mortal. “A petulant child throwing tantrums.”

“She’d be dead without Baldwin’s intervention. You understand this, yes? You would have ranted and raved like a madman and you would have let her die because of it. You have been spared the consequences of most of your idiocy, but the rest of us have not. And if you can’t get your shit together, Diana will suffer for it, too. You cannot do this alone. You don’t know how. Philippe always cleaned up your messes, and now Baldwin does. Without knowing just how much Knox and Gerbert know, your brother’s limited in what he can do.”

“I don’t need to be lectured by a woman a third my age.”

“Watch your tone when you speak to me,” she warns quietly. “I may be younger than you but I still outrank you. Talk to her. Find out what they know. Find out what was done to her. And if she’s so weak that she can’t handle telling you, then set her free, because she’ll be too weak to survive what’s to come.”

She hears familiar footsteps on the stones outside and she steps around Matthew, leaves him alone to seethe as she goes to meet Baldwin.

The look of pure loathing he casts her way the next morning, as they prepare to head back to New York, might have bothered her centuries ago, but she has long since grown numb to him.

#cllairmont #i. here's the truth from my red lips. ( answers )#(i know she'd lose in a fight even tho she fights dirty and she pulls hair)#(but she wants to fight him sooooo bad)

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fahrni · 2 years

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Saturday Morning Coffee

NPR: “That decades-long reign of service ended Thursday, when Queen Elizabeth II died at her Balmoral estate in Scotland, at age 96.”

RIP.

Six Colors: “Then there’s the Dynamic Island, a stark reminder about the limits of rumors emerging from Apple’s hardware supply chain. Everyone who reported on the size and shape of the new cutouts on the iPhone 14 Pro models was absolutely right—and yet couldn’t see the forest for the trees. The cutouts were only the start of the story.”

I was only able to see a small portion of the event but it happened to be the new iPhone introduction.

They’re not too different, with one extremely cool exception. The notch has become a smaller cutout at the top of the phone and that allowed Apple to blend it into user experience. It’s called Dynamic Island and I’m trying to find an excuse to use it in my apps. 😁

Robert Reich: “I have a serious question for people who have power in America and who continue to deny the outcome of the 2020 election and enable Trump’s Big Lie: What are you saying to yourself in private? How are you justifying yourself in your own mind?”

I ask this question all the time and I think it’s because some of them actually believe it. Others are just so hungry for power and destroying our democracy they’ll do anything to make it happen.

They’re part of a cult.

LAist: “Despite calls to conserve power, California’s energy demands were at an all-time high Tuesday.”

California is a beautiful state, arguably the best state in the nation. It has a powerhouse economy, it’s the home of tech, it has beautiful cities, mountains, beaches, you name it, California’s got it.

But it also has big problems to go along with the rest. Fires rage out of control every summer, water is hard to come by, and with our new climate reality extreme heat puts huge strain on the power grid.

I miss California but I don’t miss these problems. 🧡

I love how Spotify calls their locked-up "podcast" platform "https://t.co/G4bfRixW8a" – it's the way Machiavelli would do it. If you're closed, say you're open – and let everyone debate whether you're scum or just an opportunist.

— Dave Winer (@davewiner) September 3, 2022

A lot of us believe folks like Spotify, with proprietary systems, should give their podcast like audio a different name. They’re clearly not open, don’t have an RSS feed, so they’re not podcasts.

Fast Company: “The overarching issue here is that Mastodon is trying to be too much like Twitter when it really ought to be more like Reddit.”

This is an interesting take but I don’t see it. Mastodon is a great Twitter like experience and I love having my own instance.

I’d love to see Twitter’s Blue Sky effort bring federation to the system so systems like Mastodon could join it. 🤞🏼

The Washington Post: _“The insurrectionists of Jan. 6 busted into the Capitol, hit police with fire extinguishers, flagpoles, bats, stun guns and pepper spray; they threatened to kill the vice president and tried to overthrow the 2020 election. And now, they want an apology.”_

Each and every one of the insurrectionists needs to pay a price. They tried to overthrow the will of the people. That includes Donald J. Trump. At a minimum he should be banned from holding any state or federal office. He also deserves some jail time. Regardless, he’s a horrible person.

Rukshan: “RSS is a great piece of technology that people who use the internet today are unaware of or not using. There has not been any significant development in RSS for the last 10 years, and that’s fine.”

This is a nice little piece on RSS, one persons journey back to it, and how it makes consuming articles better.

If you need an iOS Feed Reader, give my app Stream a try. It’s completely free to use and offers a tip system if you find it useful. Yes, shameless self promotion. 😃

Teen Vogue: “By that summer, Starbucks, a multibillion-dollar company, was reporting record-breaking sales, while many of us couldn’t afford to pay rent and buy groceries in the same week. It was at this point we realized we needed to take things into our own hands if we wanted anything to change.”

When I can’t find a good local coffee shop I’ll seek out a Starbucks. I wouldn’t classify it as the best coffee I’ve ever had but it’s good and satisfies. I think of them as the McDonalds of coffee, you know you’ll get a consistent cup.

Anywho, they’ve been real jerks to their workers over the course of the pandemic, as have many other places.

As a place known for great benefits prior to the pandemic it would be really nice if they could reevaluate everything they do and make Starbucks the best place in the country to work. If you want to stop unions, take excellent care of your partners.

Barn Finds: “Dodge released its B-Series range of commercial vehicles in 1948, and our feature Pickup is from the first year of production.”

It never fails to amaze me how many beautiful old cars and trucks are sitting in barns or fields rotting away. It also makes me wish I had tons of money to spend. I would become a collector. A collector and restorer of old, beautiful, cars and trucks.

I love Barn Finds.

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in-tua-deep · 4 years

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how about: dance, little, blue, and candle?

dance:

“Might be a better method,” Jaskier allows the avoidance since he doesn’t exactly love thinking too hard on his sister’s death anyway, “They’d never see it coming.

Jaskier’s fingers dance across his lute, a quick bust of complex melody as his face contorts into a frown.

His fingers dance across his lute, but he plucks no sound from the instrument for the moment. There are a thousand songs on his lips, of jealousy and longing and heartache, and if he lets any of them out into the world he might crumble into a million pieces.

little:

“I’ll have you know that I am making it my business. We’re supposed to be bonding, Five. Family bonding.” He fluttered his eyelashes at his littlest sibling, making the kid scowl.

“I have far more worldly experience than you, so maybe if you could find it in your black little heart to describe it, then I could help out.”

“A tackle hat and nothing else.” Klaus grinned as Five’s face twisted even further into disgust. Five was such an innocent little flower at times and was remarkably easy to wind up.

Their little fight seemed to have attracted the attention of the rest of the family as they came to see what all the fuss was about. Or perhaps they were just coming over to witness Klaus’s untimely demise since no one had any illusions on who would win a fight between them, thirteen-year-old or not.

Five nodded, widening his eyes just a little and blinking innocently in a way that would have totally helped them during the Meritech incident but that Five would probably never deign use outside of the family because he was a little shit like that.

The bed is soft and foreign and Five kind of a little bit hates it.

The itching sensation fades a little bit, but doesn’t go away entirely. “What did you even say to that kid?”

“I told her to go away.” Five says, flexing numb fingers to try and get sensation back into them. He’s starting to feel a little bit floaty again, more distant.

He’s just - he’s curious and a little bit spiteful and he wants to get the lay of the land before he goes any further with the plan that is only half formed in the back of his mind.

But the woman just raises her eyebrows imperiously, and looks at him in a way that makes him feel like the abashed little boy he isn’t.

She smiles at him again, but it’s a little sharper this time. “And you are?”

“I’m Number Five,” He announces, smile sharp enough to cut, “The Deadly Little Thing.”

It’s interesting for Five, hearing his own thoughts reflected back at him. The way he sees people, their little lives so inconsequential in the long run. So short and limited. He shifts on the bed, a sort of discomfort crawling down his spine. He never realized until hearing it out loud how… callous it sounded.

Five, folded in his hiding place with arms wrapped around his bony knees, can’t help but feel a little spiteful. She didn’t worry about you the seventeen years you vanished, the insidious little voice inside his head whispers.

Sometimes Five thought his sister was more than a little blind to manipulation that wasn’t as straightforward as her power was. Too blunt, too honest, too sincere in her efforts to repair their broken family.

Five winces, pressing his face into his knees. He doesn’t need his eyes to hear the conversation, after all. But it’s - interesting to see just how… little? His siblings think of him?

He doesn’t want his family to ruin this for him. He’s surprised and a little guilty at the thought, but - if they knew he had a friend they’d want to meet her.

The simple joy he’d felt what must be only mere minutes ago had evaporated, leaving everything feeling cold and a little bit hazy around the edges.

And oh, the accusations he’d overheard make his chest hurt, and if he thought he had a heart he’d say it might be breaking a little bit.

An insidious little voice in the back of his mind hisses at him to save it, to spread it out over the course of a few days. That he needs to conserve the calories for when he needs them instead of stuffing himself all at once and risking starvation later.

blue:

It was a gorgeous day, with blue skies and a gentle breeze that ruffled the long grasses artfully

Five breathes in the cool evening air and listens to his brother ramble and watches his other brother glow blue like a realistic star wars extra and he thinks.

He doesn’t even notice her, actually. Which is a big oversight on his part. So when a voice calls out, amusement plain in its tone - “Are you lost?” - he jumps about a foot in the air and vanishes six feet to the right in a flash of blue light.

Maybe having them agree over this is worth the ball of dread sitting low in his stomach, making him shiver with adrenaline and sending blue sparks racing down his arms and tingling against his skin.

A spark of blue ripples down his arm, something that happened whenever he was anxious but had always claimed was out of eagerness. That’s probably why Luther’s eyes widen and he lunges forward to grab onto Five’s arm to prevent him from jumping away.

“Five?” A voice comes from the side and Five turns his head. Ben, glowing blue and looking puzzled, but with no Klaus in sight.

---

and none for candle!! ;v;

#ask game #wip game #there were way more instances of little but i have a limit rip #didn't realize how much i use little in my writing smh #Anonymous

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callmeshakespurr · 3 years

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Hey, if you're requests are open could you do a Rick Flag × Male Villian Reader (fluff) idk something cute where Rick Flag ends up falling in love with Male Reader, and the feeling is mutual. Idk you can fo what you want with it. ❤

Rick Flag x Male Reader

Requested: yes

Category: fluff, just a little bit of angst

Warnings: slight torture (?), i mention a knife like,, once

Note: I haven’t watched Suicide Squad in some time, so this could’ve turned out just the tiniest bit yandere, I hope you don’t mind! Also- I kinda struggled with this cause its my first time writing an actual one shot, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways (:

Tysm for requesting, hope you enjoy it <3

“Where is he?”, Amanda Waller called out as she walked down the hallway, towards the high security room you were currently kept in — Colonal Richard ‘Rick’ Flag not far behind her.

Her call grabbed the attention of the two guards, who stood in front of your cell.

“Is he in there?”, Amanda asked again, approaching the door with fast steps. One of the guards nodded and opened the thick metal door to let the director and the colonel in.

Amanda Waller had tried to get her hands on you for almost five years now, after you first made an apperiance in a club, killing two people. After that, several assassinations followed. Nobody knew who you exactly were, what you looked like, who you worked for; you were like a shadow — what people then came to call you, Shadow.

The major reason of why nobody could get a hold of you even in the slightest bit, was because you always vanished before anybody could even spot you.

After two years of not being able to catch you, the police gave up on further investigation in your cases. Amanda didn’t break so easily though. She wanted you in one of those cells she kept so many freaks in already, and she wasn’t going to give up until she had you sitting behind one of those metal doors, unable to escape her.

After all these years of going after you, she did manage to find out two major things about you. Why you always managed to escape without anyone catching a glimpse of you, and what your weakness was.

All these things led to the present situation.

You sat in a dark room, the only light source being a small lamp, dangling from the ceiling. Your ankles were tightly cuffed to the chair you were sitting on, on your wrists and neck you felt something cold and heavy, which seemed to send small electric shocks through your body every few seconds.

You weren’t sure where you exactly were, since you passed out before they got you. Hell, you didn’t even know who ‘they’ were.

You closed your eyes, trying to concentrate on your thoughts, which was not as easy as you hoped it would be. To say that you were in pain was an understatement. The electricity flowing through your body kept you from thinking straight, and send a wave of pure pain through your limbs with every shock you got.

A female voice ripped you from your trance, and you slowly opened your eyes again, head still hanging low. You knew that voice and you knew that you didn’t stand a chance anymore.

“Your powers won’t work anymore, unless i allow you to use them, so don’t even try.”, that voice belonged to none other than Amanda Waller, probably the only person on this planet you actually feared. You were never scared of what her minions could do to you, no. You were scared of what she could do to you if she ever managed to get you — which almost happened on several occasions.

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the pain that came over you again, as you frantically tried to somehow sort your thoughts and find a way out of this, but nothing seemed to work. There was no way out of this. There was no escaping this. The feeling of helplessness washed over you, a feeling you didn’t like at all.

“You’re Y/N L/N, you’re a teleporter, thats how you managed to always vanish before the police got to the crime scene”, Amanda spoke, watching you as you sat there on the chair, staring at the ground, unable to move a single muscle. “It took me some time, but i managed to figure out how to block your powers”, she continued, taking slow steps towards you “Teleporters are extremely sensitive to electricity, some mightve even already died due to the constant pain if they were in your place.” She stopped right in front of you, looking down at your slumped figure, the only thing restraining you from falling over being the thick metallic handcuffs that kept your hands tied behind the chair.

Amanda grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at her. Your sight was blurry and it cost you a lot of strength to even keep your eyes open, but you did manage to make out the silhouette of a rather tall person standing at the entrance of the cell, watching the whole scene, before your focus was back on the woman in front of you. “You’re actually a very pretty boy, Y/N, and very smart too, it’s a shame that you decided to end up like this.”, she said, before letting your face go. “Rick, take him to get the injection, then get his things and introduce him to the team. After that, you can take him to his provided cell.”

The man standing at the door — Rick, you assumed — made his way towards you, as Waller left the room, leaving you to the colonel.

Rick helped you out of the cuffs, that kept you strapped to the chair. Looking at you, he almost felt bad, you looked so drained and helpless. He had never exactly agreed with anything Amanda Waller did, but seeing what just a few hours under her control did with you was another level of not agreeing with something she did.

“Can you stand?”, the colonel asked and you nodded, slowly rising from the chair. Your legs wobbled beneath your weight and you instinctively grabbed onto whats next to you, which just so happened to be Ricks Arm.

After making sure you had gathered enough strength, he began to walk with you towards the door.

time skip

It’s been a little over a week now since they’ve brought you here — you think. Every day was the same. Sitting on the cold floor of your cell, staring at the camera in the corner of your ceiling, some guard bringing you food, you not eating it, some guard taking it away again and reporting everything to someone, more staring at the camera, someone bringing you food again, you not eating it again, the guard taking it away again and reporting everything, all over again, everyday.

The only slightest bit good and entertaining thing was the colonel — Rick Flag, as you learned was his name — checking up on you every now and then when he didn’t have anything better to do. You didn’t quite understand why Rick was making efforts to look after you, just for you to not answer his questions anyways, but you appreciated it. It made everything a little more bearable.

Of course, you were one of the bad guys, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t have a life outside of assassinations.

When you weren’t working for other bad guys, you loved to just sit in your apartment and read, you loved to go onto high buildings and watch over the city. You dreamed of leaving everything behind and exploring the world someday. You worked at your favourite coffee shop, hell you even had a cat. The thought of your only friend being probably already dead or suffering made you sad, but what could you do about it?

Sometimes, you wish you hadn’t picked the path you were on, but looking back at the time you chose to work for the bad guys, you didn’t really have a choice.

Your train of thoughts was interrupted, when you heard the door to your cell open. Hoping it would be Rick, you looked up, your eyes only half open from the lack of strength you had. What you did not expect was to see Amanda Waller standing in front of you, Rick Flag behind her.

“Stand up”, the woman demanded. You listened, as it was of no use to resist her orders. You slowly got up on your feet, which didn’t last long, since you almost immediately fell over, landing painfully hard on your knees. To your suprise, Rick immediately rushed to your side, helping you stand up again.

“I don’t need him on missions like this”, Waller spoke as she watched you lean onto Rick for support. “Take him to the base, the council and I will be waiting there in the meeting room for him.” With that, Waller left again.

The way to the car wasn’t long, but with you almost not being able to stand on you own, let alone walk on your own, it took a little longer, which only fueled your anxiety. The ride to the base was even worse though, since nobody talked and you had five guards sitting around you.

Finally arriving at the door of the meeting room, which was located in the base, the two guards standing in front of it immediately opened the door as soon as they saw the colonel.

The room was quiet at an instance, when you stepped a food inside, Rick following very close behind you — just in case something should happen.

Amanda Waller stood in front of a group of suit wearing men who all sat at one big round table, most likely discussing something. She gestured you to come next to her, to which you complied.

“And who is this now, Director Waller? A new addition to your group of- freaks?”, asked one of the men as he looked you up and down, probably doubting that someone like you could be much of an good asset.

“This, Gentlemen,”, she grabbed your arm and moved you a little forward, making you almost tumble “is Y/N L/N or ‘Shadow’, he was an assassin for almost five years now, working for several other bad guys. Nobody got a hold of him till now due to his teleporting ability. He has over a hundred confirmed kills and not once did anyone ever get near him. I’m using these electric cuffs”, she grabbed your arm again and lifted it up to present the metal cuff, which was secured around your arm “to block his powers, which means he cannot teleport, as long as the electric shocks are on full power. As soon as I turn down the power a little, he can use his power, it is more draining and limited to a certain radius, but it works. I have him under full control and I want him on the team.” Murmurs broke out between the people in the room, as soon as she finished.

“I’m sorry, director, but do you really think it’s a good idea to put another- another misfit on that team? They’re bad guys and will always stay bad guys, and their freaky abilities make them even more dangerous.”, one of the men in suits spoke.

“As I said, I have him under full control, gentlemen. Let me demonstrate.”, Amanda spoke, turning to you, as the people sitting at the table sat back.

Waller took out some kind of remote and tapped on something. First your body tensed due to all the stress and pain you were under at the moment, but as soon as Amanda tapped on the remote, the electric shocks suddenly weren’t as intense as they were before, and your whole body relaxed, your eyes almost watering due to the wave of relief washing over you.

Rick was more than tense while watched the whole situation, only realizing in how much pain you actually were when Waller turned down the intensity of the electric shocks emmitting from the metallic cuffs you were wearing.

Waller looked you in the eyes with a serious expression on her face. “You disobey, you die, got that?” And suddenly you remembered the injection they gave you, when they first brought you here.

Seeing you had no other choice than obeying her, you simply gave her a small nod and looked around the room, taking in every detail. You looked at the small table in front of you, spotting a sharp knife, which you figured was put there by Amanda specifically for you in this exact situation.

With fast movements, you grabbed the knife and teleported to the other side of the room, holding the knife to one of the mens throat. Everyone in the room stiffened even more, and you heard at least three guns clicking.

Looking up, your eyes met Rick’s, before you looked over to Waller, who was already fixated on you. You slowly pressed the knife more against the man’s throat, wanting to see what Waller was going to do. The next electric shock came and you almost yelled out in pain, letting the knife fall, teleporting back to Waller and falling to your knees, clutching the metal around your neck.

Rick wanted to rush to help you, but was quickly held back by Amanda, gesturing him to wait.

“As you can see, I can control his powers however i want to, and should he disobey in any way, or should his powers bolt”, she tilted your head with her finger, than pressed onto the spot on your neck where they injected you, “he dies.”

Still staring at the ground, you swallowed harshly. You’ve never wanted to go back in time and undo all the bad things that happened so badly like in this specific moment. Maybe if you’re parents hadn’t ever found about your ability, you would still be at home, with your family, not here, being tortured by some government lady who wanted to use you as a weapon.

“There’s one more thing. I don’t need him on any mission in this shape. He needs to recover, quickly, and while doing so, I want him under Rick Flags complete supervision. It might cost a little more effort, but think about of how much use he will be for us”, Amanda said, a mischievous expression crossing her face for a few seconds, that going unnoticed by you and pretty much everyone else in the room.

time skip

Three whole months had passed. You’ve been staying with Rick ever since Amanda Waller announced that he had to fully supervise you.

The time you spent with Rick made you feel as if everything wasn’t so bad after all. Occasional talking here and there, Rick cooking something for the both of you every now and then, you almost felt normal again — weren’t there the electric cuffs reminding you of what was real every few minutes.

Over the past three months, your sleep only got worse. You got used to the constant pain by now, but the electricity didn’t only affect you physically, it also messed up your thoughts like hell. Sometimes you didn’t know where up and down was anymore, everything was all over the place inside your mind.

That was also the reason, you were up right now, in the middle of the night, sitting at the big window in your bedroom, looking over the city. You hugged your knees tightly to your chest, and rested you chin on them, letting a few tears slip. You hadn’t cried in a long time, but you were just so exhausted. You were never this close to giving up than right now. Nothing seemed to ever be okay again, you couldn’t do anything but accept your fate.

Being to entangled in your own thoughts, you didn’t hear your bedroom door open.

It didn’t take Rick a long time to spot you in your place at the window. He just came home from a mission that Amanda Waller had wanted you on, but Rick insisted on giving you a little more time to deal with everything.

The tall man closed the door as quietly as he could behind him, which seemed to not be quiet enough, since you jumped slightly at the noise, quickly standing up and turning around. Rick gave you an apologetic look, before slowly walking towards you, “I’m sorry, I should’ve knocked, I just wanted to check up on you and see if you’re alright-“ “It’s fine, I’m fine”, you interrupted him, wiping your tears quickly, taking a deep breath.

Rick frowned, he had never seen you cry before. He cared too much for you and he knew it, he just couldn’t help himself. Stopping in front of you, he looked down at you, only for his eyes to meet yours. For a moment, you both got lost in each others eyes, before you ripped your gaze away, looking to the side.

“Do you want anything else from me?”, you asked shakily, getting a little nervous with his burning stare on you.

“I actually do, yes-“, he hesitated for a moment. You looked up at him with a questioning expression. “Close your eyes”, you complied, closing your eyes slightly, one hand moving to hold onto Rick’s shirt so you didn’t lose your balance. You felt him lean down slightly, till you could fell his warm breath on your cheek. You surpressed a shiver, as he carefully tilted your head.

Now, you didn’t really know what to expect; you and Rick had gotten closer but you weren’t sure, if there were actual romantic feelings, or if he just pitied you, so a kiss wasn’t exactly what you expected. But you definitely would’ve expected it more than what happened next.

A small ‘click’ echoed through the dark room, the next thing you knew was, that all the pain suddenly disappeared. Your eyes watered when you felt Rick’s fingers carefully removing the heavy metallic cuffs around your wrists and neco, pure relief washing over you. Your leaned your body onto Rick’s, unable to support your own weight for a few moments.

When you had finally gained control over your own body again, you moved back a few centimetres and looked up to Rick, who met your confused eyes. “I couldn’t bear to see you in so much pain any longer, so I triedmy best to convince her and I’d say I’m lucky that she trusts me with you.”, the colonel smiled a little, raising a hand to softly carress your cheek. Your eyes widened. He quickly removed his hand again and apologized, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Rick took a step back, still being careful so you didn’t lose balance again, “I should go, and you should sleep, you need to be well rested and-“

You were fast to interrupt him by taking a quick step towards him, getting a little on your tiptoes, before pressing a small kiss to Rick’s lips. You carefully looked him in the eyes again, “I don’t know either, but it just felt like the right thing to do.”

It took the man a few seconds to process what just happened, but when he did, he was quick to kiss you again, his soft lips over yours, moving slowly, as you kissed back. He put his hands on your waist, while you locked yours behind his neck. You kissed for a few moments, before the both of you had to breathe again. “Thank you”, you whispered against Rick’s lips, before receiving another small peck. “Sleep with me tonight?”, he asked quietly, getting lost in your eyes again. You gave him a small nod, allowing him to pick you up and carry you to his room, both of you smiling as you fell onto the mattress.

#suicide squad #rick flag #y/n #rick flag x male reader #male reader

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qillmhi · 3 years

Text

He likes that

2003! Raph x Reader

YAY I got another one! Slight NSFW action. The pic below is my all time favourite Raph moment😂

Raphael is one tough cookie. Always had and always will be.

He's brash. He's bold. Heck, his fists do most of the talking for him in basically every scenario that he finds himself in. He isn't afraid to show the bad guys just how bad he can be. For instance...

The Purple Punks has been quiet these past few days. Too quiet to be exact. Only to find out there's someone else taking them out. Although that would be good for the most part, his brothers would definitely agree. But Raph isn't very happy when someone else steals his prey. So just like any hot-headed mutant turtle would, he began his own investigation and tracked down the bozos that keeps on taking his fun.

Yeah yeah, say what you want but a turtle needs to bust some heads to unwind every once in a while too okay? Anyways, he started his own little hunting game. It took a while without Don's techno-geek machines but he found his way into an abandoned warehouse. Cliché. Now would he consider his options and call his brothers and prepare a plan?

Fuck no.

Obviously he came straight right in with his weapons ready to attack. He kicked the door and jumped right in, adrenaline pumping through his body. After that? To be honest, he didn't know what happened next. It was a blur to him.

And just like that, the predator became the prey.

Tied down to a chair, inside what looks like an interrogation room, making out, tongue and all, with a gorgeous girl on his lap.

Raphael felt his shell become tighter every time he heard those delicious moans of yours. (Damn that escalated quickly)

The kiss was hot and messy. He had no freaking idea who you are, how you manage to catch him off guard so fast or what type of interrogation you were doing, but damn did he like it. He liked the taste of your lips. He liked the way your hands sensually traced his arms and he is certainly enjoying the way your hips would occasionally grind against his.

It was addicting.

With whatever limited movement he was able to do, Raph pulled away from your lips and started attacking your neck with rough bites and kisses. You sighed dreamily when his lips came in contact with your skin. Everytime his tongue brushed against your sweet spot, you'd grip his shoulders tighter. The turtle in red smirked. He'd tease you by ghosting a kiss or lick your sweet spot on your neck but never gave you the satisfaction of actually touching you the way you wanted. You looked at his eyes and pouted despite drowning in pleasure. Raph loves that look on your face. Eyes pleading, cheeks as red as his bandana and neck littered with marks. His marks. You were just begging him to eat you alive, and who is he to say no to that?

"Ahh~!" You moaned loudly when Raph finally gave in and bit you there harshly. You couldn't help but grind against him even harder with the way he was abusing your neck. It was driving you crazy!

Raph cursed under using breath. He sunk his teeth into your neck again, sucking and tasting the sensitive flesh to leave more marks. Your nails were scratching his plastron, mewling in pleasure. Damn you were loud. And he liked that. He liked that he was the reason why you were making those noises.

"Ya' like that, sweetheart?" He chuckled lowly. His breath was sending shivers down your spine. God he was so hot. His brooklyn accent alone was enough to send your body to overdrive without even trying.

You bit your lip and looked down at him out of breath but begging for more. "Yes. I love it~!" You moaned out licking your lips hungrily as you looked at him in the eyes.

Raphael growled animalistically when he saw you bit your lip. He was the only one allowed to do that little missy! But the moment those words left your lips, Raphael felt his brain go blank. And as if that wasn't enough, you had the audacity to lick your lips with that look? Goddamn. You really know how to press a turtle's buttons. Oh how he wanted to rip out his restrains and take you right then and there.

Just as when things are getting even more heated, you felt the slight vibrations of footsteps on the sole of your feet through your shoes. They were light and quiet yet quick and swift, you almost missed it. They obviously belong to individuals who are masters in the art of blending in the shadows.

They're here.

Damn it. You knew you should have taken his shellcell before going in. But seriously, how can you resist when he's right there and all tied up exactly the way you planned it? Oh well it was worth it though.

You pulled away, making Raph confused why you stopped and was even more upset when you got off his lap.

"Hey! Where'd ya' think you're goin'?" He grumbled, slightly breathless as he tugged against his bindings.

You looked back at your angry turtle friend and giggled. Aw he looked so adorable when he's desperate! You walked back to him, placing your hands behind the chair.

"We have company... But it was nice getting to see you again Raphie!" You placed a small kiss on his snout "Don't worry cutie. I'll find you again soon~"

Raph had no idea what you were talking about. You guys have met before? He had no memories of ever meeting you.

"Who are you?" He asked. You didn't answer. Instead you gave him a quick one last kiss then parted with your now sexually frustrated hothead.

Before Raph could let a word out, you had already jumped out of the window. Raph struggled against his binds and almost as soon as he did so, his brothers came in kicking the door off its frame.

"Raph! There you are!" Donatello exclaimed in relief as he went to untie his brother. Leo looked around suspiciously, expecting some sort of trap or hidden enemies to come out. Mikey on the other hand was blabbing on how they should celebrate rescuing Raph by making him buy the special five layered pizza. But Raph couldn't care less about any of that.

He bolted up as soon as his restrains where loose enough and ran towards the window. He squinted his eyes at the dark alleys and streets but there was no sign of you anywhere.

"You okay, Raph?" Leo placed a hand on his shoulder.

Raph grunted "Yeah... peachy." He then reunited with his brothers, ignoring their questions about what happened. He was too busy thinking about his little minx to even care.

He was sure he'd ran into you again. And this time he will be the one to kiss you.

And there is no way he's letting you get away.

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt raphael #tmnt imagine #tmnt x reader #tmnt #tmnt raph x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtle imagine #teenage mutant ninja turtles

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years

Note

im not very sure if you're doing abcs for the trio but if u do could u pls maybe do C N O and S for vlad? <3

No worries! I don't see why not, my knowledge is just a little more limited for them is all~

Hope you enjoy these, lovely! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Aight y’all it’s time for me to put on my clown shoes as god intended

Though man, what a delightfully rainy day today to write =v=

Fluff ABCs Template here

Cuddling -- How does he like to cuddle?

He is a simple man, with simple needs.

That being said, I think he’s one for a lot of gentle affection. Despite appearances–I mean hell, he literally wears a necklace of thorns–he’s actually a very tender lover. Loves hand-holding, scooting close under umbrellas, making shapes out of the little beauty marks that dot her skin. He will take any excuse to hold her and run with it.

Ideally, I think he prefers privacy above all else, most typically in his room in the castle. This side of him, so soft with his love for her, belongs to her and her alone. He refuses to let anyone else kill his immersion the moment (cue Charles dragging Faust away from doing something disruptive and stupid), or indulge in the sight of her so rosy-cheeked and loving. Loves dropping little kisses to the crown of her head, her shoulders, the backs of her hands. He’s waited so many long years to be able to hold her close like this, to feel the heat of her blush and the tinkle of sweet giggles when he nips and pecks at her pretty skin. All of this, every single second, is beyond value to him…he cherishes each memory close to his heart, crystallized fragments of joy in a life so bereft of it.

His favorite position for cuddling tends to be a kind of side lean. Usually she’ll be lying down (or turned towards him, sometimes) while he’s on his side beside her (usually against a wall or the back of a sofa). He loves that he can gaze at her as much as he likes this way, he really can’t get enough. The person he was searching for all this time, right here, no sign of leaving…

Nightmare -- What is his worst fear?

Oh boyo boy. Oh boy...

Honestly, I really don’t see anything horrifying him as much as losing MC. I don’t think he’s a man above fear. He hates being abandoned, he’s afraid of the world being torn apart by humanity’s indifference.

But nothing compares to the shattering fear of losing MC.

I think he has a very particular intense fear about losing loved ones because of the nature of his life history. He is still deeply affected by his entire clan being wiped out by hunters, leaving him alone to carry the weight of that legacy and loss. While he couldn’t help but give his heart to the woman who saved him, the reality of his terror is undeniable. After so many centuries of searching, after so many years of feeling hollow and alone…Even now, he has never come to terms with the way his family was ripped away from him. To know the gentleness of love again, to finally have a hand to hold only to lose it…

Well, I really can’t imagine the terrifying result of that. I imagine he would be far beyond reason.

Whenever he has bad dreams of the very same fear, he is nigh inconsolable. He holds her very tightly without saying a word (which is unlike him) and she'll know not to let him go for a while. She murmurs calming things, promises of things they'll do together in the future, strokes his hair and rubs his back. They only leave the bed when he's feeling somewhat stabilized again, but even so he'll hold her hand for longer than usual days after. Embraces her more, finds any excuse to hide away.

Oddity -- What is one quirk he has?

I think one part of him that is overlooked is that he is a man very interested in the nature of contradiction, the duality that resides in all things–himself included. Some parts of his preoccupation are more obvious than others. For instance, he loves flowers due to the nature of their ephemeral beauty, but also enjoys trying to preserve them to let their appeal survive. There’s also the fact that flowers can look or smell lovely, but can harbor poisons strong enough to kill grown human beings. (Not unlike him.)

He is a vampire in which the front-end of his operations is a cathedral, and I imagine that was a purposeful move as well. There are so many angles to consider here, namely two obvious ones that come to mind. There is the non-threatening concept of the cathedral: in which people assume it is a safe haven, a place to seek care/assistance/prayer (not entirely so in this case, even if Faust plays priest.) There’s the possibility that vampire hunters are typically supplied by/supported by the church (not sure if this is the case here, but it is a common trope). That would mean Vlad would be using the face of the very human institution that ruined his life to enact revenge, to say nothing of the potential risk of hunters seeking sanctuary only to run into a den of vampires.

There is also wondering whether or not he purposely wears that necklace of thorns ;;;;; (For anyone unaware, there was the whole Jesus wearing a crown of thorns specifically as an extension of humiliation, branding him the “fake king" of the Jewish people.) My contention here would be that he is basically saying “lmao, I’m your suffering saint now.” Or maybe he’s just really into masochistic jewelry, I have no idea.

He appears to have a kind of obsession with subverting norms/conventional expectations, and I have to wonder if it runs with his general underdog theme…

Secrets -- How open is he with her?

Despite his generally guarded nature, with MC he is entirely transparent when they’re in a relationship. Unless he doesn’t want to scare her or simply feels something would be best shared at a later time, he makes no real attempt to hide anything from her. If she asks and he knows the answer, he’ll spill.

(Okay but sometimes it gets hilarious, because say Faust has been trying for years to get info out of him about some stupidly specific thing. And Vlad is always very evasive, dances out of reach, plain ignores him. MC asks and he’s just like “oh yeah, in 1582 I remember–” It’s a wonder Faust never throws hands about it, pisses him off so much LMFAO)

Before their relationship was established he hesitated more, largely because the nature of his existence and his ties to her were a lot to take in at the time. I think he prefers not to overwhelm her whenever possible. It’s very much a kind of “I won’t info drop on you thoughtlessly, but if you ask me a question I’ll do my best to answer with the truth.”

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp fluff #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp fluff headcanons #sometimes your honor he is babie #please enjoy giant scary babie man #no matter how old i get these type of characters never cease to be funny to me #he just barks at p much everyone but MC LMFAO #anywho i hope you enjoyed these!!! and that i answered to satisfaction úwù <3333 #requests are still open #asks #rambles #not incorrect quotes

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Nefarious Shit

Charlie Hunnam: Lockdown Lovin’

A/N: Here’s a fluffy smutty little fic with Charlie being all cuddly and domestic! 🥰 Based on the below request, in which you are Mrs. Hunnam, spending quarantine with him. He’s recording this video for his fans, but your presence in the room is a distraction—and gets him in the mood for some action...

Pairing: Charlie Hunnam x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, stupidly fluffy fluff, you & him behaving like silly little idiots in love Request: Request 1 (@rochyu) + Request 2 (anon)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Note: I definitely recommend watching the actual video for context! (It’s less than 3 minutes.) This fic quotes some of Charlie’s lines from it, plus some gifs! ✨

“Hey.”

It’s a very simple word for anyone to say. One of the simplest. But somehow the way Charlie Hunnam says ‘hey’ turns you on like nobody’s business. As he starts to record, he says it with a playful smirk like it’s some kind of dirty word, and makes it sound so hot it hurts, ‘cause he’s a cheeky little bastard.

The word wasn’t even addressed to your ass in this instance. Your loving husband—yes, your husband, be that as it may, you still pinch yourself damn every day—is recording a short video for his fans. Felt the need to condemn some nefarious hooligans, using his good name in vain, for their personal gain. Ordering them to never do shit like that ever again. And warning his fans not to interact with frauds on social media who falsely represent themselves as him.

Watching him from the other end of the room, you’ve never been happier to be Mrs. Hunnam.

Charlie acknowledges to his audience that he doesn’t do stuff like this very often. “So, I don’t usually, um—make videos like this, but...”

While he records you keep distant and quiet; your marriage is thankfully private. No one else in the world needs to know that a humble civilian girl is the love of his life, and his wife, and his full-time cock-worshiping slut.

Speaking of being such a slut... you’re currently wearing nothing but Jax Teller’s legendary kutte. It’s one of your husband’s most prized possessions, hung in pride of place in his closet—he never lets anyone touch it. It’s sacred, and strictly off-limits. But on certain occasions, he tells you to strip your ass naked... and then put his kutte on so that he can fuck you in it.

So right before this little video, no more than five minutes ago, that’s what he just did. You reminisce about it, while Charlie carries on scolding the scum of the internet. “You know—far be it from me to dictate what anyone is doing, other than: if you’re using my name to do some nefarious shit...”

Meanwhile you figure you should change into a somewhat respectable outfit, smiling to yourself as you think about all the ‘nefarious shit’ you and your husband do. The whole world has no clue...

And you have no clue—though you probably should—that as soon as you take off this kutte, to put some proper shirt and pants on... your bare skin captures Charlie’s attention. And just as any dirty bastard would, now he’s already thinking of the next nefarious thing he’s gonna do to you.

***************

Charlie mentions on the video that he hasn’t left the house in a long while. As he says it he looks over at you with a chuckle and a thirsty little smile. He tries to keep it subtle, but it’s hard for him to focus when you’re half-naked and all he can think about is just how lucky he is you’re his girl. In the meantime he’s saying on record how it’s a weird time for the world, what with social distancing and isolation, and how angry he is that people would be using his good name to manipulate others in the middle of such an insane global situation.

2020 has certainly been a strange year. But you’ve been so blessed to spend every damn minute of lockdown with your loving husband, in this house that you’ve made your home, as Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Hunnam. Home is where the heart is and yours is right here.

Your man signs off, sending his fans all of his love. Well, not quite all of it of course—to be sure, the best and biggest part of his heart is all yours.

So is 100% of his dick. The two of you have been fucking roughly five times a day in the midst of this global pandemic. ‘Roughly’ as in ‘approximately’—though fortunately for you, the other meaning applies too, more often than not. After all your husband is a literal sex god.

By now you’ve put on a pink lacy bra and panties with one of Jax’s SAMCRO T-shirts thrown over your torso. So you’re hardly respectably dressed but much more so, compared to when you were in only his kutte a few moments ago.

You had been considering pants but decided against it given that this men’s tee is plenty to cover up most of your skin. It’s all soft and comfy and smells of him. Wearing his clothes as often as you want is one of the thousands of benefits of being Mrs. Hunnam.

But the biggest benefit is the enormous piece of meat between his legs. Which always treats you to the world’s most epic sex.

“Well, that was distracting as fuck,” your man playfully scolds as he slams his laptop shut. Through his grey sweatpants you can see that he’s already hard as a rock. “Good thing the camera didn’t catch sight of my cock. You cheeky little slut.”

“What? Love, it’s not as if you’ve never seen me with my clothes off...” you scoff, with a provocative bat of your lashes as he slowly crosses the room toward you.

“You think that makes the sight of you any less stunning?” he asks as he takes in the view. Although your top is mostly covered by this tee, your legs are bare to see, and Charlie loves seeing his clothes on his woman. “You know nothing, Mrs. Hunnam.”

He then approaches till he’s close enough to place his hands upon your hips, to hear your heated breathing, taste the next words from your lips: “Enlighten me, then.”

Your husband clicks his tongue at you as if he seriously disapproves. You often jump at any chance for 50 Shades roleplay given the role that he turned down some time ago and Charlie is all too familiar with your moves. “Now, Y/N, I think you just mixed up two very separate pop culture references.”

“Then maybe you should educate me on the differences...” you suggest. Of course you’re well aware that Christian Grey and Jon Snow are two very different men, and Charlie knows that but it’s fun for you to both pretend. “You’re the movie star, after all. What does this so-called ‘enlightenment’ involve?”

He smiles and shakes his head, referring back to the first time that he played Mr. Grey in the bedroom as if you could ever forget. “I’ve already given you a lesson in proper submission.”

“Well, I guess I didn’t listen.”

“I doubt that,” he purrs, suddenly reaching to rip the shirt off of your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “You look prettier without that.”

You hadn’t resisted at all but it’s fun to pretend that you had. Scowling at him as if you’re mad, you then reach up and tap your palm against the top of his head with a patronizing pat. “Well, you looked better with the hat.”

Charlie gasps as if appalled, insulted to the core of his soul. “Hey, that’s not fair...!”

“I told you to do something with your hair,” you remind him of the brief conversation you’d had before he recorded. Acting as if you’re seriously scolding him though you both know you’re not at all. “Or at least to keep that fucking hat on over it. Instead you showed up looking like a chicken with that ridiculous tuft sticking out at the back of your head, and then admitted to the world you need to get your hair sorted.”

There’s a mirror on the wall nearby, and you gesture toward it, so that Charlie can see with his own two eyes. He realizes he really does look like the world’s sexiest chicken. “So what, now looking like a chicken is a sin?”

“Of course it is.”

He flashes you a precious pout, knowing you’ll be desperate to kiss it off his mouth. “But you once told me I could strut around in a potato sack and still look gorgeous.”

It’s all too true yet you refuse to take the bait. Instead decide to make him wait. “I just said that to butter you up so you’d marry me, sucker.”

“Motherfucker—!” Charlie gasps again, as you start running away from him flapping your arms like a chicken.

You laugh back at him. “More like motherclucker!”

The two of you are very adult—perhaps to a fault—when it comes to the hot filthy sex that you have with him. Honestly filthy as hell. But when it comes to foreplay and teasing and everything else... you are literally just a couple of overgrown idiot children.

Charlie chases you all through the halls and downstairs to the kitchen. “Don’t tempt me into punishing you!”

Needless to say you want him to. “Oooh, you mean with that big cock-a-doodle-doo?”

He finally catches you as you run to the living room, your laughter picking up in volume, pinning you down to the sofa as he ruins you with his icy blue stare. “Shut up about the fucking hair.”

His hands are so close to your neck and you just wish that he would put them there and squeeze. “Mmm, but you’re so much fun to tease...”

Instead of choking you, he drops his hands down toward your chest, tracing the lacy fabric of your bra to grab your breasts, tenderly stroking you. “I bet you think this is when I say to get on your fucking knees.”

You moan at the touch of his talented fingers, begging in a breathless whisper. “Fuck, yes please...?”

“No,” he responds, so brutally denying what his woman wants. “For once, that’s not how this is gonna go. Sit up.”

He props you comfortably in position, amidst all the cushions. Ignoring your urge to get down on the floor, in submission, serve him as his cocksucking whore. Play your usual role as the good little slut. “But—”

“Stay up,” he interrupts. “I don’t wanna play rough. Today I’m feeling soft.”

“Well, that’s a lie...” you reply, lowering your eyes, one hand reaching to graze the prize bulging between his thighs.

“Hands off the merchandise. Let me indulge in playing nice.”

“But whyyy?” you protest with a sigh. “I’ve been such a bitch, hoping that I would get punished for it...”

Your man just shakes his gorgeous chicken-haired head. “You mean rewarded. There’s no point in getting punished when you’re gunning for it.”

Well, fuck him for being so fucking correct. “Charlie...”

“Shhh,” he hushes you softly, as you realize that this is how you’re getting punished: he hears your inner cockslut loud and clear but is determined to ignore it. “Just lie back and let me love this body that belongs to me. Admire and adore it.”

And at those words off of his lips, which he seals with a loving kiss... you lose all power and desire to resist. You’re so completely fucking his. As eager as you always are for rough and filthy sex—as much as part of you will always want to beg—you’re equally obsessed with this. Getting lost in his touch, sweet kisses and caresses from the man you love so much, drowning in the pure magic of romantic bliss.

You love each other so much it’s ridiculous. Hilarious. Downright nefarious.

Within seconds both of your clothes are gone, like they were never even on. His every move is slow yet sudden all at once. The warmth of his soft lips and tongue lavishing love across your chest, his mouth latching around your breast, two fingers slipping in the hot flood of your cunt. Thumb playing with your swollen clit, as he keeps passionately sucking on your tits.

Time fucking bends, seconds to minutes, hours even, as your man descends, until his mouth is where his hand had been—when did that even happen?—every inch of his tongue sending you to heaven. Soon enough he seamlessly replaces his mouth with his cock, and by then... fuck, you’re honestly done. So far gone. He never has to ask to know exactly what you want, because he’s everything you want. And need and love.

As mind-blowing as Charlie is at playing rough, he’s just as good at being soft. He’s all about the fluff and stuff. One tender hand sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, the other reaching down to pull you near.

There are so many words he doesn’t have to say for you to hear.

Just how grateful he is, that you are his. To have you here. It’s been a weird and crazy year—so fucking weird—and heavy with the weight of blood and tears, the whole world literally plagued with pain and fear. But the love that you share with your husband, is the one thing that’s always constant, true and clear.

And the love he makes... cradles your heart till it’s so full it aches, fucking breaks, as your whole body quakes and the earth fucking shakes. Knowing that he will spend all his life putting every last piece into its perfect place, and holding it together whatever it takes.

It’s not fair that a man like this even exists. Let alone that you’re so fucking blessed to be his. It’s some serious, downright nefarious shit. Gazing up into his eyes of endless blue, you realize for the thousandth time no girl in all the world is luckier than you.

And of course once this session of soft tender loving is through—then, to make all your deepest and dirtiest dreams cum true... there are at least fifty thousand shades of filthy shit your nefarious husband can do.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did! 🤗💖

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ripperdaddy · 3 years

Text

the viktor vector romance path + ending we deserve

Disclaimer: This is definitely something I came up with in my head. There will be a few instances that are solely made up so it can tie in with the “story.” This is purely fictional; something I wished happened if there was a possible Vik romance 🥰 This is based on my general knowledge of the game & Vik’s life. All gifs + images are from my own personal play through, but wouldn’t be possible without the help of the Appearance Menu Mod, found on Nexus Mods by the creators, MaximiliumM and CtrlAltDaz. And the shirtless Vik mod by the lovely samsnak ♡

It would start after completing the Paid In Full quest where you pay Vik back the eddies you owe him.

I feel like realistically, the general player would have to be at least halfway through the story to have collected enough eddies. I would say that a good point in the story where we can begin the romance is that you’ve already established a connection to Alt and have dealt with the VDB’s.

I think it would be a short side quest like River’s. Vik already plays a big part in the story overall on his own, so I don’t think it’s necessary to make his “side quest” too long. His romance would just be an addition to the ending.

And as much as I would love for him to be a bisexual option for both male/female V, if we’re sticking with the game’s standard with limiting partners to only one kind of partner, he would only be romance-able by a female V with a feminine voice.

V: Finally scrounged up enough eddies to pay you back in full.

Vik: Hold on to ‘em just in case - you need ‘em more than me.

V: I’m not taking them all the way to my grave, Vik. Here. And.. thanks again for doing so much work on me ‘thout ever seein’ an enny.

Vik: That’s what friends are for.

Then, there is an additional option for dialogue to trigger the romance path.

V: Friends? I think you’ve been in and out of my body more than anyone else I’ve hooked up with in Night City.

He laughs, with a coy smile. “Well, can’t argue with you there. Why don’t we take some of these eddies and grab a drink. You know, to celebrate. Catch up on old times. Haven’t seen you round here much lately, kid.”

You agree to meet at the El Coyote Cojo tomorrow evening.

You meet around 9 PM and you are welcomed by the sight of Pepe and Vik at the bar.

V: Nice choice of venue.

Vik: Thought you’d like it. Haven't been here since.. well, you know.

V: I miss him, Vik.

Vik: I know, V. Me too.

You immediately take a seat and tinker with a few dialogue options, where you can either have a sweet moment talking about Jackie or some surface questions to ask, like how he’s doing, what kind of drink he likes, etc. But it all winds down to Jackie anyway, where Vik confides in you about his past. Judging by how Vik was so affected by Jackie’s death, and V’s (if you chose the suicide ending), you can tell that he has lost a lot in his life, and keeps his circle very small.

You then achieve an even closer, more personal relationship with him. But, ultimately nothing happens other than the usual, wait 24 hours in game for a text/phone call from Vik to head into the next stage. At least now, you have established the foundation for a future romance.

Halfway through the 24 hour period, you get a text from Vik thanking you for the lovely evening. No reply needed, as he calls you once the 24 hour mark hits and invites you out for another date.

You meet at Tom’s Diner for coffee in the afternoon. It starts off with him apologizing for being emotional the previous night and asks if you’re open to hanging out again and going down to Pacifica to watch a fight with him.

Vik: Hey, V. I just wanted to apologize about last night. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.

V: It’s okay, Vik. We share the same grief.

Vik: I was going to head down to Pacifica and catch a real good match later on today. I was wondering if you’d like to come along, think it’d be great for the both of us, you know, as a distraction.

pssst even Johnny’s rooting for y’all ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Johnny: Hmm, interesting.

V: What?

Johnny: Never thought you'd be going out with this guy.

V: Vik's amazing. And I mean--we basically owe it to him since he practically saved our life.

Johnny: Don't tell me you're going out with him out of pity.

V: I'm not.

Johnny: I know, I can feel you get all mushy-gushy. It's almost repulsive. Just wanted to hear you admit it.

V: Eat a dick, Johnny.

You arrive before the GIM and blend into the crowd.

V: Nothin’ like watching guys beat the shit out of each other to get your blood pumpin’, huh?

Vik: This is a real good matchup, V. This kid’s fresh, young talent.

V: You miss it, don’t you?

Before the fight begins, Vik shares a story about his time in the ring and coming in second in the Watson Boxing Grand Prix.

There’s some extra fun options in the dialogue, you can bet some eddies on who’s gonna win, or side with him. The fight ends, and you two head outside.

Since you’re already out in Pacifica, you head over to the boardwalk (where you would ride the roller coaster with Johnny) and he starts telling you about the last days of his boxing career and how he transitioned from the sport to being a ripperdoc.

You both share a sweet moment with each other, reminiscing about old times and talking about V’s future with the relic. This is where I would see Vik confessing how he feels about you, mentioning how grateful he is for Jackie introducing you to him.

The evening ends and Vik asks you to give him some time to try and dig up some footage from his storage and have you come over to watch. You can kiss him then wait another 24 in game hours before the last quest. Halfway through, he texts you and asks you what you’d like for dinner. You can opt for pizza or chinese.

I haven’t seen or read anything about how or where Vik lives. If I overlooked something, please let me know! But for the sake of the story, let’s say he does actually have his own place that’s now introduced in the game. Personally, I think he has a typical bachelor pad, like a really nice apartment. Not too far from his clinic either. He looks like he would just walk to work. Vik definitely has a lot of money, but he’s so humble I doubt he would choose to live lavishly. As mentioned in the beginning, he typically just “sleeps nights” ever since he was over “being a legend” so I’m guessing his lifestyle is very routine. He goes to work, goes home, sleep. Seems unlikely he has a place like the Peralez’s. It would probably be just the same as V’s but decorated to his taste.

The evening comes and you are over at his place. He’s dressed in just a white undershirt, no exo-glove. You get to know more about his family, how he grew up — scanning things around his place. Then he plays some footage of one of his fights for you, while you two have a conversation and share a beer. As you two sit on the couch, you get close, then have an opportunity to kiss him.

then this is where da sex happen hihihi (ノ・ω・)ノ

The next morning you wake up and you two have a heartfelt conversation about where this is going. He already knows your situation, so I would assume he is very accepting and supportive. And with Vik, he seems like the kind of guy who would still want to be in your life and keep the friendship the same way despite no longer being together romantically. So it’s official. He’s your man 🥵 !!11!1!

Like how River gives you the “fuck the police” tank top after sleeping with him, I think Vik would give you his Night City Devils t-shirt that provides you with a significant amount of armor or some kind of cyberware upgrade that makes you invulnerable for a brief moment while using your hands to fight enemies.

Note: I was thinking of Vik giving V his boxing glove necklace, but because it's part of his character's appearance in the game, I don't think we would be able to essentially "take it" from him - unless he gives you a replica as a keepsake. Which I think would also work.

If you successfully romance, during the rooftop scene near the end of Nocturne OP55N1 (despite Vik’s disposition of him telling you to take matters in your own hands and being a little closed off), you still have an option to reach out to him when Johnny advises you to call a loved one.

V: Hey, Vik. I just wanted to say, thanks for hanging with me, until the end.

Vik: Quit talking like it is, V. Just do what you need to do.

V: I mean, think of it. It’s like I’m heading into the last round of this whole thing.

Vik: Well, in that case.. remember—keep your hands up, guarded at all times. It ain’t over just yet.

V: Heh.. I can feel it, just a few more punches.

Vik: Now look at you - the new welterweight champ of Night City.

V: Thanks, coach.

Vik: Last piece of advice from the coach's corner. Just.. be careful, kid. Remember, I’m with you.

Okayyyy, soooo I’m not the biggest fan of how CDPR gave us two of the same endings (Path of Glory). The only difference is that Rogue’s life is spared. I would have assumed that not only would we get to keep Rogue around, things should have played a bit more differently for V if we took the route of going solo against the corpos. So let’s tweak it.

This specific ending; it should be after getting through Don’t Fear The Reaper where you single-handedly manage to rip through Arasaka by yourself. Johnny goes back to Alt & Rogue is still alive. Yes nobody dies!!!

(honestly this ending can apply to any love interest you choose)

Vik and V are now living together in a lavish penthouse, entertaining an upcoming merc to do their work for them (which is now the current POV of the player.) You were recruited by Rogue at the Afterlife, who told you to visit this couple for a real, preem job.

They give you some vague details about the gig and go on for a brief moment about what you will be doing and what you should expect. Vik emphasizes to you that it’s important you get what they need because it’s for his wife, V, as her life depends on it.

As Never Gonna Fade Away is playing in the background, they tell you to break into Arasaka HQ.

Then the game officially ends.

#cyberpunk 2077 #viktor vector #v/vik #let us romance the ripperdoc you cowards

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hinaaspanda · 3 years

Text

scrawny | pjs

Pairing: Bad Boy! Jisung x Chilhood Besfriend! Reader

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, a lot of beating people up, **TW: minor instance of sexual battery, stops really early on**

Genre: Angst, some hints of fluff?

Word Count: 10,805 whoops

It was expected that guilt etched itself into your heart. You were the reason Park Jisung was so beaten up, after all. You always were.

inspired by the song Scrawny by the Wallows!

a/n; I apologize if the contents of this fic personally harm you in anyway; I really never meant to hurt anyone, I just wanted to write a more mature-themed fic.

08 . 07 . 12

“You can’t beat me! I’m older and stronger than you, Sungie!” The high pitched voice of your prideful older brother irked your ears as you timidly picked on the weeds below your crouched knees. His hollers, coupled with laughs from his twin always ruined the calmness the breeze brought you. Your eyes glance towards the poor boy on the receiving end of the torture, none other than the boy next door, Park Jisung. You huffed out a sympathetic sigh. No matter how annoying your brothers get, that poor kid just a few feet away from you always had it worse.

Donghyuck, your first older brother, started at the neighbourhood weakling first. His fist hurled towards Jisung’s lower waist before the second member of this cursed partnership, Jeno, trapped the poor kid’s skull in a headlock. Jisungs figure plummeted into the grass, his small fists punching the air as he failed to fight back. Donghyuck belts out another one of his ear shattering howls before turning to your once peaceful frame.

“Y/N! LOOK! WE BEAT JISUNG AGAIN!”

Your hands find themselves tugging at the grass a little harder than you wanted to, the green residue staining your palms once you finally let go. You were almost at your limit with Donghyuck and Jeno, the two buttheads you had to call family. You had enough of it all. You stomp towards your brothers as rays of irritation emitted from you.

“You two are so annoying sometimes! Can’t you just stay put and be quiet for ONCE?” you pleaded, your demanding voice throwing everyone at the park off, especially your two brothers. After all, you were always quiet, always patient with them. They watched fearfully as you gestured towards the poor Jisung lying limp on the grass, bloody bruises and scars covering up his once innocent skin. The air froze still as everyone on the playground waited for your next words. “And please stop hurting Jisung already! He’s younger than you, it’s not fair!”

Jisung winced at your words. He knew you'd say that he wasn’t strong enough. He rubs the fresh scab on his knee, his eyes concentrating on the drops of blood dripping down from it, in the hopes of distracting himself from his own confusing feelings. He knew he was weak, more than anyone else on this playground. But hearing it from you hurt just a little bit more.

The air between the four of you grew silent, the only thing making any noise was the wrestling leaves caught in the spring breeze. In any other occasion, you would have taken your time to relish this moment, but now you had your dumb, older brothers to take care of. You scan their seemingly scared figures before Donghyuck once again lets out an aggravating chuckle.

“You can’t talk to us like that!!” Donghyuck suddenly gave you a stern look, slightly shaking his head in disappointment, as Jeno stepped beside him. “You better watch your mouth, y/n. We’re older than you, remember?”

Fear shot down your spine. What were you thinking? You’d practically be dead meat once your mom finds out you yelled at them! You sealed your eyes as you braced for impact, impact of your brothers lecturing fists breaking your frame. Impact that, also, never seemed to actually occur. Slowly your eyes opened, revealing something jaw dropping.

Jisung’s back faced you, his stance showing an essence of power his 10 year old figure never showed before. His hands, already bruised and crumpled into fists, lowered themselves to his side as your older brothers both took their turn laying defeated on the beat up grass. Groaning in pain, Donghyuck cuddled his newly injured torso, while Jeno soothed his side with the back of his palm.

“Don’t talk to y/n like that, Donghyuck.” Jisung boomed, his eyes never leaving the sight of the two conquered 12 year olds still drowning in pain.

Later that night, you watched as all three boys sunk into an endless night of lectures about not getting into fights, a night you were luckily allowed to skip. Your mind runs back to that earth shattering scene, your brothers lying below the neighborhood weakling, his stance more powerful than those of superheros. You watched Jisung trot home from your bedroom window

Maybe Park Jisung isn’t so weak after all.

...

05 . 16 . 15

“Zhong Chenle, If you make us late to class ONE MORE TIME I swear I will hurt you.” You threaten your new neighbour on the phone. You rubbed your temples with the nimble pads of your fingers, knowing full well Chenle hasn’t even brushed his teeth yet.

“Hold on! I’m almost ready, just give me like five more minutes!”

“You said that ten minutes ago!”

“I mean it this time! I swear!”

“Just hurry up, ok?” You pleaded before cutting the call. As you hastily shoved your phone into your jacket pocket, a disheveled Chenle emerged from his front door, the piece of toast hanging from his lips reminiscent of those anime girls Donghyuck always drooled over.

You could still remember the day Chenle came into your life, taking over the vacant house beside yours. His bubbly, cheerful demeanour taking over your entire summer with all these trips to the basketball court and raids at the neighbourhood convenience store. In your eyes, he was the perfect addition to your neighbourhood friend group, which at that point in your life, only consisted of you and the neighborhood scrawny boy, Park Jisung. Well, that’s what you thought at least.

As the days diverted from bright and sunny, to cold and frigid, and as the three of you grew more overwhelmed with middle school, Jisung grew more and more distant. As for the reason? Well, you wanted to know more than anyone, but that puzzle was harder to crack than any of your grade 7 homework. These days, it was so rare to see his face, you almost forgot he shared a class with you, or still resided six steps beside your house.

“When do you think Jisung’s gonna hang out with us again?” Chenle’s abrupt voice awoke you from your sorrowful slumber. Your head sinks down, your eyes watching your feet on the subway floor. “I don’t know, Chenle.”

Your ears couldn’t help but drown out your teacher’s voice as they taught today’s lesson. You had other things to worry about, anyways. Like what you were going to eat today, or how your hair looked tied up like how it is now. But more importantly, what was going through his mind from across the classroom. It wasn’t long before the bell finally rang, signaling the student’s freedom. Your exhausted eyes watched as the herd of teenagers crowded the exit, leaving three figures inside and all alone; you, Chenle, and Jisung.

From the corner of your eye, you watch Chenle slumps his bag over his shoulders as he, with overflowing panic, shuffled towards the brooding teenager, who looked like he was just staring at you a minute ago. Off to the side, you prayed for Chenle’s success. Or more accurately, his safety.

“H-hey Jisung, do you wanna, uh, walk home with us?”

Jisung pondered for a little bit, then continued.

“...us?”

“Yeah, me and y/n.” Chenle raised a palm in your direction while Jisung’s eyes followed almost instantly. All while you tried your best to hide the fact you were watching all of this go down.

You sensed a shift in Jisungs mood just then, going from simply tired and wanting to head home already, to… anger? Why would he be angry?

“No thanks, you guys can go ahead”

Jisung shot up from his desks, various chairs and classroom furniture shivering in fear. Jisung winced at those words. The same sting he felt all those years ago at the playground with Donghyuck and Jeno, ripped through his chest. But it wasn’t like he was being called weak, or that he needed to prove his worth. No, it was simply that you were with someone else. Not with him. “But we all live on the same street.”

“I’m fine, Chenle”

“Come on, man-”

Suddenly, Jisung whipped around, facing the innocent transfer student. He shot him one last glare before sending his figure to the ground with his fist, faster than the bullet train that provided you a ride to school this morning. Chenle let out a howl of pain as you bounced out of your seat, coming to his aid. Jisung watches as you hold Chenle’s body close, closer than he would’ve liked, before sending you a glare as well.

“Stay away from y/n” He huffed before trekking away from the scene of his own crime. You follow closely behind, the zipper of your bag opening wider as you drag it along.

“Jisung!” You cry, your eyes scanning the halls for your neighbor, your neighbor that was always full of surprises. You finally find him slowly making his way towards the school doors before he stops, turning around to face you.

You never really noticed how much he grew over these few years. Now, his figure was taller, much taller than yours ever could be, easily towering over your small frame. His shoulders were broader, he looked meaner. This wasn’t your scrawny neighbourhood friend any more.

“What?” He muttered, his face noticeably softer now that Chenle was out of his sight. His fingers gripped the strap of his bag as he stared you down, watching you fumble with your own words. He would rather die than admit it, but you looked cute, all nervous like that.

“Why’d you hit Chenle?”

“I-” Now he was the stuttering mess. “I don’t know”

He paused, his suddenly guilty eyes meeting yours. “I didn’t like him being with you.”

You could almost laugh in disbelief. Was he being serious? Your head cocks to the side while your arms cross into themselves. “Jisung, please”

Jisung held his head down, knowing full well of how lame he was right now. Your eyes however, tried finding his again. Reassurance etched in each of your pupils as you lightly nudged his shoulder.

“Don’t worry Jisung, I’m not gonna leave you.”

His frame brightened up instantaneously as you watched him practically jump for joy at your words. So after all those years, Jisung was still a big softie, huh?

“Now, go apologize to Chenle and let’s all go home together, ok?” You spun around, back to the classroom. Jisung swiftly trailed behind you. Of course he didn’t think twice about his apology. Sure, his pride was at stake, but for you? Park Jisung would do anything.

...

04 . 10 . 17

“Get off me, you freak!” The pinned down middle schooler scowled under the grasp of Jisung’s bloodied knuckles. He gasped for air as Jisung clamped his hands down in a chokehold. Jisung tired his best to shoot him a mean glare through his bruised and blackened eye.

“Don’t you dare touch y/n like that, got it?” He growled, his eyes never leaving the sight of the suffering student. Jisung watched as he desperately pried himself away from Jisung’s grasp. He deserved this, though. That moron had zero right grazing his against your thigh. Especially not on his watch.

“It was an accident!” The student dizzily coughed out, his neck still trapped between Jisungs strong palms. “I won’t do it again, alright? Just let me go already!!”

Like the parting of the red sea, Jisung’s palms subsided from the student’s neck, finally setting him free. The student collapsed to the ground, hissing in pain before sending Jisung a dirty look. The various students that once crowded around the scene rushed away to the sounds of an irritated teacher, leaving an awestruck Chenle, a damaged Jisung, and your guilt ridden self behind in the third year hallway. It was expected that guilt etched itself into your heart. You were the reason Park Jisung was always so beaten up, after all. You always were.

Your sorrowful frame couldn’t muster up the courage to spit out a cohesive sentence before the P.A. system blasted through your ears. The next words that deadpan, robotic voice would utter were terribly easy to predict.

“Park Jisung to the principal’s office, please. Park Jisung to the principal’s office. Thank you.”

“Ow! That stings!” Jisung seethed, his hands, newly patched the moment you retired home for the night, digging into your teddy bear’s flesh as you applied the medicine to his wounded cheekbone. You scoffed beside him, picking up more medicine with the q-tip in your hand. “Well, it wouldn’t have to sting if you didn’t beat up that kid in the first place!”

“He touched you weirdly!” He groaned in pain as you plopped another layer of that ice cold medicine he hated.

“It was an accident! And he apologized before you choked him to near-death!” You shot back, your grip on the q-tip growing tighter. A sensation you noticed only happened whenever emotions overflowed in your heart. The pads of your fingertips gently spread a bandaid over his callous skin as the air in your bedroom grew tense. Your chest pushed out a heaving sigh. “I’m sorry, y/n.”

“I can take care of myself, Jisung.” You glanced down, cleaning up the mess from your first-aid kit. “So please, stop hurting yourself for me. I hate seeing you all beat up like this, Sungie.”

Sungie. Sungie. It sent butterflies to his stomach. That simple childish nickname, pulling him back to that playground. The start of his fighting career. He didn’t care if that was some random nickname from Donghyuck. It sounded better when you said it. Much, much better.

Jisung awoke from his daze as he felt a pair of lips softly graze his newly mended cheek. His head whipped fast to face you, but barely catching up to the record breaking speed of his ears turning pink. With his cheeks soon following after. His eyes, wider than any body of ocean found on this planet, flusteredly stared you down with only one question in mind. What. Was. That.

You held your clumsy eye contact as you leaned away from your rushed, but sweet, kiss. “Please?” You barely let out in a whisper. Jisung let out a soft grin, his hand hesitantly brushing yours.

“Alright.”

You once again watched Jisung trek the four steps to his front door before freefalling onto your bed, a full on, red-cheeked, flustered mess. Lee y/n, what the hell is wrong with you.

...

07 . 23 . 17

The ice cream melting at such a rapid pace underneath the scolding summer heat was the least of your and Chenle’s concerns. Not with the moving truck parked outside the house of your childhood neighbor and friend?, Park Jisung. After sending flabbergasted looks to each other, the two of you bolted to the front door, disregarding any need of cleaning up after yourselves.

You couldn’t keep still as Chenle banged his fist on the door. Was he moving out? You thought back to this summer. The countless nights the three of you would relish in each other’s company, whether it would be just resting on one of your beds, scrolling through your phones, or at the playground, taking turns on the ancient swings. You smiled to yourself, remembering how Jisung would never swing himself, opting to just push you instead. Would you ever see him again? Your heart cracked open just a little bit at that last thought. The possibility of him leaving you? It hurt more than any punch or chokehold could.

Suddenly, the tired figure of Jaemin, Jisung’s level-headed older brother, emerged. His irritated expression contrasting his welcoming gestures as he allowed the two of you inside without saying a word. And while you had nothing against Jaemin, you really wanted to see Jisung. That boy had some explaining to do.

“Boarding school!? Overseas!?” You and Chenle collectively yelp in surprise, the lemonade Jaemin generously provided you quivering in response.

“Yeah, our parents thought it was a good way to calm him down, get rid of that fighting habit he got over the years.” Jaemin informed. “He left yesterday, didn’t he tell you?”

Your lip bled as you bit into its flesh. No, he didn’t tell you. But you had a strong gut feeling you were the very reason for that hiatus he was taking from your life. You couldn’t help but lock yourself in your bedroom for the rest of the night, against poor Chenle’s wishes. All of it, everything was your fault. Park Jisung wasn’t the weakling, now. You were.

...

03 . 18 . 19

The azure sky looked almost haunted at night. Chills raged through your spine as you, and an exhausted Chenle, shuffled your way home. Your plastic bag of trophies, commemorating another shop raid, hung loosely from your fingertips. Your figure gravitated towards the worn out playground bench as Chenle let out another ear piercing yawn. You were glad he didn’t retire to his own home just yet, though. You enjoyed his company.

“God! My brother’s stuff was such a pain to lug around!” Chenle screeched, soothing his lower back with his palm as you opened one of the few soft drinks you earned from the convenience shop. “Why’d he have’ta move out for college now?”

“It’s not like he had a choice, you know.” you fought. “School does start back up tomorrow.”

“Don’t start with that now, y/n.” Chenle enveloped his forehead in his hands in a petrified manner, as you tried your best to stifle your laughter away. “uGH! SCHOOL’S SUCH A PAIN!!”

You took another sip of your ice cold drink, the can so frozen, it felt hot against your skin. You, however, didn’t really hate the idea of highschool starting up again. You weren’t some measly, small first year anymore. You actually had friends now. But of course, it was a good distraction from the 2 year childhood-neighbour-sized hole in your heart.

“You’re still thinking about him, huh?” Chenle leaned on the opposing side of the wooden park bench, taking a monstrous bite of the chocolate bar he threw aside his 2 dollars for. You sent him a stare, one conveying an emotion even you couldn’t pinpoint. “You already know what I’m gonna say, Chenle.”

Chenle let out a light scoff before softly tapping the exposed skin of your forehead with his knuckles. You squirm, interrupting the calmness that was sipping your drink. You hated that out of all the habits Chenle could have developed, flicking your forehead was one of them. “Don’t worry! All you need to do is distract yourself, and I bet you’ll find one once school starts!”

You tilted your head up to the stars, your eyes shifting to the left as they gazed upon a familiar set of navy window curtains. While Chenle’s harmless habit did nudge you a bit, your own habit of missing Park Jisung, was more detrimental to you than any weak forehead flick could be.

...

“We have a new student today…” The monotonous voice of your newly appointed teacher for the year already blew your ears dry with boredom as your eyes dug through every corner and crevice of this bland classroom for a way to keep you awake. But you deserved some slack to be cut in your favour. It was 9 am in the morning, you would rather be anywhere else but here at the moment. Your eyes were about to roll back in pure exhaustion as your teacher gestured towards the classroom door.

As if on cue, a towering figure sauntered in, woahs and gasps bouncing on the beige walls. You could feel Chenle’s stupefied look burning through the nape of your neck, but you were too trapped in your shock to give him a reciprocating stare. Not with him right in the center of your view.

His uniform wasn’t remotely set on his frame correctly. The paper-like school blouse, which was supposed to be fully buttoned, was opened up, exposing a black graphic t-shirt splattered with text you never considered to be school-appropriate. In place of the faded-plaid, beige trousers that coupled with your uniform, tight black jeans hugged his legs, the gaping rips showcasing old and newer bruises and scars. A small chain hugged his left hip as your teacher once again gestured to the center

“Everyone, please welcome, Park Jisung!”

You knew you were just scanning and processing his appearance like two seconds ago. But finally having that name rip through your ears, you could almost explode from the overwhelmness.

God, can I just pass away now?

...

“Y/n, I won’t ever leave you again.” Jisung’s husky voice brushed through your ears softly, as he cradled your frame, your faces just centimeters apart. His eyes, with all the stars in the sky trapped inside, gave you a look of sincerity you haven’t properly felt in such a long time. He scooped your hair behind your ear before letting out another heart fluttering whisper.

“Be with me, y/n. Let’s run away together, hm?”

“Y/n? Y/N!” The dolphin-esque hollers of Zhong Chenle, combined with the faded ruckus of your school’s cafeteria, jolted you awake from your fantasy as cheap bronze tinted soft drink catapulted itself into the innocence of your white school uniform. Snorts and giggles filled the chests of your friends, especially Chenle’s, as he skipped away to get you a paper towel.

“You seem so out of it.” The voice of a concerned Sungchan your一classmate and resident caretaker一notices, handing you the towel Chenle oh so urgently retrieved.

“When am I ever in it?” you scowled as you began destroying the fabric with the white cloth. It earned a sweet chuckle as Sungchan discreetly slid the bottle of pop away from your grasp, avoiding another image-wrecking incident. He shined a refreshing grin in your direction as Chenle bounced back onto the lunch table.

“She was probably just bein’ emo about Jisung again, leave her be, Sungchan.” Chenle leaned in to inspect your once again dazed figure, the clicks of his judging tongue just pissing you off a little more than it usually did. “Weren’t you, y/n?”

Of course you were, you always were.

“Park Jisung? The new kid? He was an asshole to her, she's allowed to be mad, right?” The other new addition to this weird clique (and your saving grace), Shotaro, chimed in.

Chenle let out another snort, his knowing eyes now glaring at yours. “You would think so, Sho, you would think so.”

“Okay. But he still outright ignored her, right? That’s still a pretty bad move” Shotaro rebutted. Chenle’s eyes went from devious to anxious in a heartbeat as the air around you grew silent.

Yes, Park Jisung一your friend and neighbour for almost all of your life, did indeed ignore you after two whole years of little to no contact. And yes, you were bitter about it. Hell, it broke your heart, smashed it into pieces better than any one of his anger filled punches could. The way his eyes never fully reached yours, his cold, irritated expression. His back turned away from you, this time in an effort to hurt you.

Although, he shouldn’t have this effect on you. For two years, you were deprived of his dangerous yet heartwarming company. You were left alone, ignored via text, forgotten. You could handle this. You watched as he shuffled past your table silently, earning gasps from the audience of students as the delinquent character he recently shifted into. You could handle leaving Jisung. Right?

“I know what could get your mind off that asshole!” Sungchan suddenly chirped beside you, earning the eyes of a curious Shotaro and a confused Chenle. You however, tuned in as fast as humanly possible, praying for any decent distraction you could get.

“Let’s go on a date.”

Jisung couldn’t pry his eyes off your figure, glistening under the afternoon sun that peeked through the cafeteria windows. Your attention, laid on anything else but him as you chatted away with your new friends. He stabbed the stale food with the flimsy plastic fork as he watched you, from the other side of the room, let out your signature laugh; a window-wiper sounding chuckle that you always shielded with your hand. He hated that hand part, though, your smile was too pretty to hide.

Despite your upbeat demeanour, he knew you. Confused at his lack of connection, the barren text threads on your phone. He knew you were probably furious at him right now, for not even sparing her a glance throughout class. And despite how much he just wishes to just stomp on over to you, pick up your precious frame, and kiss you right then, he couldn’t.

He scans his morning old text threads, finding any way to distract himself from the fanservice playing in his thoughts. He clicks the most recent thread, a thread that only made him regret his decision to pick up his phone ever.

Jaem Bro [8:46am]: have fun at school :)

Jaem Bro [8:46am]: remember what mom said, too. don’t talk to y/n

Jaem Bro [8:47am]: she’ll only bring back your bad habits

Jisung scowls as he shoves his phone away.

Piss off, Jaemin.

...

“I had fun today.” Sungchan hummed as he practically skipped beside you that Saturday night. His towering figure shielded you from the glaring light of the street lamp as you softly hummed a response. “Yeah, I had fun too.”

Of course you weren’t lying. All in all, you truly did have a good time on your date. Sungchan kept his promise, all while enjoying kittens at a cat cafe, demolishing your self esteem at the arcade, and even feeding you food you never thought a 17 year old could afford. For the whole day, it felt like that Jisung-shaped hole in your heart was filled, simply retiring into an afterthought. And that would be true, if you hadn’t passed by an all too familiar bedroom as you walked home that night.

It was an all too familiar feeling, the clenching of your heart as you gazed upon those curtains. His bed, which was also in view, sending you memories of patching that clumsy boy up almost every day. It all washed back to you. Sungchan suddenly nudged your side, waking you up from your cursed thought train. But after seeing what he saw, all you could do was yearn to return back to your dreamland.

To say that Jisung’s eyes simply widened at the sight of you, grinning sweetly at another guy, would be a definite understatement. He came so close to dropping his newly opened soda can as a series of texts shifted into his mind

Don’t talk to y/n, she’ll only bring back your bad habits.

Jisung clenches his jaw watching you giggle at that asshole’s (presumably bad) joke. Maybe Jaemin was right. Maybe he shouldn’t talk to you anymore. You clearly didn’t need him now.

“Jisung?” You yelped, stunned. Jisung watched you slowly inch back closer to that beanpole. He felt his limbs being pulled back into his fighting habits, jealousy burning through his lips. His hands, still off to his sides, balling up into fists. Someone was gonna get hurt tonight.

“Were you guys on a date?”

“We-”

“Yeah, we were'' Sungchan cut in, his arm shielding you from Park Jisung’s wrath. “Got a problem with that, buddy?”

Steam puffed from Jisung’s ears as he stalked towards Sungchan. “You got some nerve talking to me like that, buddy” Jisung hissed. He was at his limit. He gave Sungchan one last nasty look. Target: Acquired. Except, with the last two years of zero practice under his belt, his aim wasn’t exactly good. It was horrible, actually.

It all happened too fast for you, one second you were safely guarded by Sungchan’s shoulder. The next? Lying limp at the mercy of Jisung’s hatred-filled fist. His knuckles jabbing deep into the crevice of your cheekbone. Deep down, you knew it was probably just an accident. But your heart didn’t listen to you. It never did.

“Ji-” You could barely muster through your own tears. You wanted to scream from the pain. But not just the physical pain.

Jisung stood frozen before your defeated figure. Shit. What the hell was wrong with him. All he wanted was to knock out that asshole for a little bit.

“I-” Jisung stammered

“Forget it, Jisung. Quit being an asshole and leave me alone!” You spat out those last few words a little louder than you intended to as you wobbled up, storming away. Away from him, away from Sungchan and your own home. You didn’t care how far you’d go. You didn't care about the sudden rainfall pouring on you. Your mind just told you one thing and one thing only. Run

I hate you so much, Park Jisung.

Jisung waited for the sky to dress into its daily midnight attire before finally ducking into the comfort of his own home. He was overwhelmed, to say the least. Pissed, definitely, with that Sungchan asshole just existing around you. Tired, for staying out till 1 in the morning again. But mostly guilt, for being the very reason your eyes weren’t completely dry that night. He knew he was gonna regress into his fighting habits soon enough, but never like this. His eyes glazed over his screen clicking on a familiar contact.

“You WHAT?” Chenle shocked what was left of Jisung’s poor eardrum as he gawked in full astonishment. Jisung couldn’t see Chenle’s face, but he knew for a fact it was scrunching up in confusion. Jisung watched the still streetlight from his bedroom window, guilt still welling up in him. “Man, what am I gonna do?”

“Oh, I don’t know? Apologize?”

“How am I gonna do it? She’s not gonna wanna talk to me after this! I’m screwed!” Chenle grew silent on the other line, his brain striking an idea harder than the sudden rain pour. “That’s it! Sung, what’s y/n’s favorite thing to buy at the shop? The one down our street?”

Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed. “...She likes their ramen a lot, but what’s that got to do with any of this?”

“Meet me at the shop tomorrow morning. I know how to fix this.”

...

“SUNGIEEE!” Donghyuck shrieked, throwing Jisung off of his caution-filled thought process as the front door blew wide open. Although, it wasn’t much of a thought process, but rather just the repeated question of What the hell am I doing here, and you, of course. But no matter, you were always running through his mind anyways. Donghyuck pulled Jisung into a tight, brotherly hug. “Where have ya been?? I missed you!”

Jisung shined a bogus smile at his childhood bully. This better fucking work, Zhong Chenle.

Jisungs legs drowned in a pool of hesitance as he shuffled into your home, his ears shielding the irritable rambles of Lee Donghyuck, one half of the annoying Lee Twins duo. He didn’t care if he hadn't seen Donghyuck’s face in over two years, the only thing he searched for was you.

“You’re here for y/n right? She got a cold from the rain last night, but I could probably let you in.” Donghyuck informed, as if he could read Jisung’s mind.

“You should hurry up and be our in-law soon, Sungie!” He nudged Jisung’s arm a few times, a mischievous grin suggesting that he either read into his mind a little too much, or that Jisung was just blatantly obvious about his feelings. He prayed that it wasn’t the latter. Another figure suddenly emerged from the kitchen, giving Donghyuck a nice, crisp slap on the nape of his neck.

“Oi, quit bein’ such a creep, will you?” Lee Jeno, the other, more down-to-earth half of the Lee twins, defied. “He’s 17, dumbass.”

Donghyuck jokingly wailed in pain, a habit he's kept since childhood, apparently. Jeno turned his attention to Jisung, a sympathetic stare shining in his eyes. At least he turned out half-way decent.

“Y/n’s upstairs if you need her, but uh-” Jeno scratches his head. “I don’t think she wants to see you, or anyone, really.”

“That’s fine,” Jisung’s eyes ducked to the bag of snacks hanging from his hand. “I’ll just drop these off and head out.”

“Don’t have too much fun, Sung-OW!” Donghyuck chirped, irking Jisung as he earned a slap on the shoulder from his twin. Thank god for Jeno.

Your aching head actually didn’t hurt that much, at least compared to the pain of your brooding heart. You watched a leaf fall to the ground from your bedroom window. The pain still piercing through your side, the guilt for leaving Sungchan behind at the playground, or the confusing monstrosity of Park Jisung, it all overtook you. Your measly little brain couldn’t handle it.

The creaking of the door wasn’t enough to spin you back to reality, but apparently, his cautious footsteps were. Your head snapped forward, your eyes meeting the view of his ripped jeans, and a plastic bag littered with snacks. Of course.

“Jisung?”

“H-hey”

You watched as Jisung stammered under his breath. He looked so nervous facing you, worlds more nervous than moment’s before one of his brawling sessions.

Jisung’s eyes kept rejecting yours as he fumbled with the plastic bag amidst his grasp. To be completely honest, Jisung was sure you wouldn’t even let him in, much less talk to him. Even if it was in such a cold manner. He shuffled towards her laying figure, his eyes still glued to the wall as he hands her the plastic bag.

“I, uh一no, my mom wanted me to give you this.” Jisung stuttered.

You dig through the bag, the only thing trapped within it bound to give you diabetes. You scoff. “Your mom wants me to eat instant noodles?”

Shit, right. That doesn’t make any sense.

“Ahaha, yea” Jisung trailed off, backing away from you before proceeding to brutally stab his elbow onto your door handle. Who’s dumb idea was it to name it the funny bone, anyways? Nothing about it was funny. He lets out a soft hiss after finally turning away from you. Well, maybe Jisung himself was, he was a clown, afterall.

“Wait.” You suddenly squeaked, making Jisungs' shoulders jerk up. Was she gonna-

“Come help me.” You handed him the cup noodles, wanting nothing but to laugh at his stupid, stupifyied face. You sniffled. “I can’t make noodles by myself like this, you idiot.”

“Oh, right.” Park Jisung, you absolute clown.

...

Out of all the situations you could get stuck in, the last one you expected was in your bedroom, trapped in an annoying cold whilst being fed instant noodles by your childhood neighbor, Park Jisung, three whole days after that incident. You watched as his plastic fork, etched in a tremble that had you thinking he was going to die that instant, hastily scooped the processed food before making its way to your mouth.

However, and you would rather die than admit it, but you missed this warm sensation. You missed the company Jisung provided, the way he would grow soft just for you, moments after beating up some stupid kid. The countless bandages you used in his favour as you patched him up almost every night. You missed it all. And despite having him back in your street, he never really came back to your life. It was all different now.

You watched him chuck the fork into the now empty noodle bowl, his next few actions sending you on the verge of cardiac arrest.

With a tissue in hand, Jisung suddenly leaned in, his eyes still veering away from yours as he wiped off some stain on your cheeks. There could have also been no stain at all, and this was just a ruse to get you flustered. Park Jisung has gotten good at playing with your heart lately. His chest was just centimeters apart from yours, any closer and your thumping heart would be completely exposed, not that your vermillion cheeks weren’t a dead give away already.

“A-am I too close?” Jisung barely whispered. Half of you wanted to say yes, while the other half wanted to pull him even closer. You couldn’t handle this anymore.

“Why are you here, Jisung?” You suddenly blurted out as you grabbed a hold of his gentle wrist. “And I know it wasn’t for some stupid noodles.”

Jisung’s chest caved in as he let out a sigh. “I, uh wanted to say sorry.”

Your mind flashes back to that night, the image of his fierce, cold eyes still sending shivers down your spine. Jisung continues, his eyes finally holding yours hostage. Here goes nothing.

“I'm sorry for punching you, for making you run away like that.” His guilt ridden eyes scan your bed-ridden frame. “All of this, it’s all my fault.” His eyes collected the stars that hid beneath the afternoon sky. “If you wanna stop talking to me after this, I understand. I’m not good enough for you.”

There goes your heart again, clenching at anything related to Park Jisung. You hated how he had that effect on you. Yet you also loved it. You let out a soft chuckle sending waves of hope to him. You could never really reject him, could you?

“You really are annoying, sometimes.” You gaze at him, a small grin lining your lips. “But, I don’t think I wanna stop talking to you just yet.” The way Jisung’s frame brightens up the same way it did all those years ago, didn’t fail to warm your heart. “I’ll forgive you, Park Jisung.”

Without thinking, Jisung pulls you into a gentle hug. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, Jisung softly smiled. No matter how many times Jaemin could nag him, Jisung could never stay away from you. His life was finally back to normal.

“Oh! one more thing!” You murmured. He smiled at you sweetly, giving you the signal to continue.

“Sungchan’s one of my good friend’s, so please, don’t try and beat him up? And maybe you could even hang out with Chenle and them at school! There’s some new guys there that I think you’d get along with great!” You suggested, your bright demeanour too strong for Jisung’s poor eyes. “Would you at least try? Promise?”

Jisung shrugged. I mean it wouldn’t hurt. He sends you another soft smile. “Yeah, I promise.”

...

“That’s why you ask for help, dumbass!” Shotaro barked at Chenle, who was currently slumped on the lunch table, brooding about his not so stellar math grade.

“You, good sir, have NO right to talk.” Chenle proudly clapped back. “Mr. ‘35% in english’.” Chenle heaves out an over-exaggerated sigh. “If only y/n was here today, she is the smart one.”

“Yeah, but it isn’t that hard being the smart one around you, Lele.” Jisung shielded Chenle’s incoming offended slap to the shoulder as he nibbled on the plastic straw drowning in his vending machine soft drink. It alarmed him how fast he mended with your friend group, even if it did just consist of that dolphin brat he’s known for years, and probably the sweetest guy he's ever come across, Shotaro. Then again, maybe he shouldn’t beat up every guy he comes across.

Jisung glances around the table, where only three chairs were actually occupied. Doesn’t that Sungchan guy hang out here?

“Where’s Sungchan?” Jisung drew in the attention of his new friend. Shotaro’s fingers tapped the plastic table. “It’s weird, he only hangs out with us sometimes, whenever he feels like it, I guess.” Whenever y/n’s around, you mean, Jisung corrected in his head.

“Or...” Chenle pitched in. “He didn’t wanna hang out with someone who was about to punch him.” Crap. He should probably apologize for that.

“Wait what?”

“Nothing! Don’t worry about it! Ahaha!” Jisung quickly cut off Shotaro, the fear of getting incredibly embarrassed riling through him. He hoisted the empty soda can in between his fingertips before standing up on his two feet. “I’ll, uh, get another one.”

Jisung couldn’t have felt more creepy than he did at that very moment, peeking through the heads of various students as he eyes Sungchan. His mind flashes a very cute image of you, smiling just as softly as you do both three days and two years ago. His breaths grew heavy. This was gonna be easy, just apologize to Sungchan and maybe become his friend, then y/n can really be happy. Jisung let out a deep sigh. For y/n.

He hesitantly sauntered towards the beanpole currently reaching for his newly paid drink at the vending machine. From the looks of it, this Sungchan guy couldn’t hear Jisung’s calls, making him yell louder. He could feel the stares of the confused highschool students burn through him. God, how annoying can this asshole get?

“Here to finish what you started, Park?” Sungchan suddenly sneered, his eyes narrowing nonchalantly at the Park in question. His laid back posture screaming 'you don't wanna mess with me.' Jisung raised an eyebrow, scanning Sungchan's current figure, which didn't match with his image from that night. Taken aback at the sudden mood shift, Jisung stuttered. “No, uh, I wanted to say sorry about that, actually.”

“Save it” Sungchan spat. His eyes fully locked in with Jisung’s before ripping them away at the last second. He encased a white box in his hand before pivoting on his heel. “I'm going for a smoke.”

Jisung eyes go wide. Who the hell is this guy? Sungchan didn’t spare the poor boy a glance before slipping through the school's only emergency exit. Various phrases, all containing the word ‘asshole’, ran through Jisung’s mind as he followed Sungchan, trying his best to remind himself that this was all for you.

The outdoor air brushed lightly against Jisung’s skin, coating him in a refreshing hug. With the pearly blue sky above him, and the lush green trees shading his face, he would’ve relished in the afternoon breeze. He would’ve, if it weren’t for the cigarette smoke overtaking him, all coming from that damn beanpole.

“What the hell do you want from me, Park” Sungchan hissed, a cloud escaping his lips before whipping around. “Are you here to make friends or some shit?” Jisung threw a hesitant nod at his direction.

“Look, Sungchan. Let’s just try to get along. For y/n’s sake. That's all she wants.” Jisung extended a hand to Sungchan, only to earn another annoying ass chuckle. “Why would I wanna do something like that for y/n?”

“Don’t you like her or whatever?”

“No, are you stupid?”

Jisung’s eyebrows stitched together in confusion. “Then why-”

“Isn’t it obvious, Park?” Sungchan, stenchy cigarette breath and all, leaned in. God, Jisung wanted to puke right in front of him. “She's hot. I want her.”

Jisung pondered for a few minutes, and honestly? He wished he never put two and two together. He couldn’t help but hiss under his breath as his hands balled up into their iconic fists. The random dates? The nice guy image? It was all for that? This bastard wanted to take your innocence away. And this bastard had the audacity to hurl another snicker at Jisung.

“You do know what I’m talking about, right?” Sungchan kissed his cigarette one last time before tossing it to the gravel, the poor paper feeling the wrath of his sneakers. “I wanna have sex-”

Jisung didn’t give him the chance to finish before crushing his gut between the school’s brick wall and his iron fist. Jisung leaned in, his eyes burning with a fury he hadn’t felt in nearly two years. “You’ll be dead before you get the chance to even touch her, got that?”

Sungchan let out a mighty growl of pain, bending away as Jisung reconnected his fist to Sungchan’s right cheek. The beanpole flew to the ground, red blood spewing from his nose. Jisung scoffed, standing tall with not a single scratch on his skin. For a little while, at least.

Suddenly, Sungchan flung himself back to his feet, his bruised fist upper-cutting Jisung’s jaw off its course before pinning him down to the stiff hard rock of the pavement. His hands pressed themselves onto each side of Jisung’s neck as the boy underneath gasped for air. Jisung’s fingers clamp onto Sunchan’s wrists, pulling for an escape as Sungchan spits out another irking laugh. “You’re not the only one who can put up a good fight, Park”

Jisung sounded off shallow breaths beneath Sungchan’s grasp. “Why would you...y/n…”

“I’m only human, Park. I got needs. And y/n? she was all depressed, just begging for the attention. It only made sense.”

Jisung sent a knee through Sungchans chest, rolling on top of him before staining Sungchan with punches all over his skin. Jisung’s fingers tense up around Sungchan's shirt collar as brings him closer, hissing at his leftover cigarette breath. “That doesn’t give you any damn right to fuck her.”

“Why do you care so much? Last time I checked, you left her without saying a word! Looks to me like you're the last person who she would care about.”

Those texts he left unopened abroad, the missed calls, the wanting stares you sent him on his first day back. It all washed back to Jisung like a typhoon. This bastard was right, he couldn’t protect you like this anymore, he didn’t have the right. He broke your heart over and over again. He was the last person you needed. But no. The bastard needed to be taught a lesson; don't ever mess with his girl.

“Cause I love her, and I won't let you have her.” Jisung suddenly blurted out, praying that the redness on his cheeks was simply blood. Sungchan let out a heaving chuckle. “Oh? Even more of a reason, then!”

Jisung hissed one final time before trapping Sungchan between his legs, throwing heavy punches left and right, staining his shirt, his fists, Sungchan’s face, and the ground with blood. Like a bomb moments before its explosion, there was no stopping him, he was trapped by his own haze of violence. The only thing pulling him back to reality were Shotaro’s arms as he and Chenle guided the two bruised bodies to the nurse’s office.

I’m sorry, y/n. I really am.

...

The image of a bloodied Sungchan, alongside an equally bloodied Jisung, was the last thing you wanted to wake up to from your hefty slumber. Your phone practically levitated from all the buzzing. People you faintly knew, and even some you didn’t, all came to you in utter fear. God, and to think you were on a break.

Y/N!! Sungchan and Jisung were fighting in the parking lot!

Y/N!! You need to come over here asap!!!

You need to control your boys y/n, someone could get seriously injured!!

You couldn’t help but laugh at that last hasty message. It’s too late to worry about someone getting injured. Especially if it’s Park Jisung in question. You glance at probably the only contact that hasn’t, well, contacted you. Your finger, laced with anger, clicks the screen. Park Jisung, you’ve got some explaining to do.

“You don’t understand!” Jisung’s mighty croak pounded through your phone speaker. However, your attention slowly began to drift away. It only made sense, that’s the fifth time he’s pulled that excuse in this call, alone. “That Sungchan guy is a complete asshole!!”

“You say that about every damn guy I talk to, Jisung!” You nagged, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head in disappointment. Some things just couldn’t change, could they?

“Y/n, I’m telling you!! He’s not as nice as you think he is!” You clenched your phone, agitation seeping through your teeth. Couldn’t he just listen to you for once? “He’s got bad motives, y/n, you don’t wanna hang around someone like him. There’s so many bad things he's hiding from you. The bastard smokes, fights regularly, too, and…”

You heaved out a deep sigh, your knuckles turning white from your angry grip on the bed sheet. First, he pulls the same damn excuses, and then he lies? You couldn’t take it anymore.

“And what? Jisung? What other lies are you gonna tell me?” Silence cuts through your speaker, finally giving your irritated heart a chance to breathe before Jisung continues.

“Wait...you think I’m lying about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re saying that a highschooler smokes! Jeez, if you didn’t like Sungchan you could’ve just said so!”

“You know I wouldn't lie to you, y/n!” Your buzzing figure leans back into your castle of stuffed animals as your bellows gradually get louder with each passing argument.

“I thought I knew, but you’re really making me second guess things. I’m tired of this, Jisung.” You finally hiss before ending the call, leaving Park Jisung suffocating in yet another guilt-filled haze. Just as you click away from the contact, a notification catches your eye, craving for any sort of distraction from your anger.

Sungchanniee :) [6:37pm]: hey :)

Sungchanniee :) [6:37pm]: you wanna call?

...

"I’m not so sure about this, Sungchan.” You fumbled with your fingers in the passenger's seat of Sungchan's car.

“C’mon! It's a party! It’ll be fun! Think of it as like a way to pay you back, for making you worry so much before.” You think back to your phone call, where you mostly vented about Park Jisung, while all he said was ‘calm down’ like ten times. Maybe he was right. You glanced out the car window, the greyish skyline growing darker and darker with each hour. God, your parents are going to kill you for staying out so late.

“Who is this YangYang guy, anyways?”

“Oh YangYang? That dude’s the best at parties, you’re gonna love him!” Sungchan beamed. You huffed. Anything to get your mind away from your childhood neighbor.

The bass-boosted, trap noise someone had the audacity to call music shook you to your core the moment you entered the party house. You met familiar faces, sure, but none you wanted to talk to. How did anyone have fun like this? Heck, where did Sungchan go? Your now curious eyes glance back to the bar, shiny bronze liquids all dazzled up in their own glass bottles. Nothing like your neighbourhood child self had ever seen. You found yourself drifting closer. What kind of house party was this?

The liquor slid down your throat with an extra sting. Too many flavours, all clashing with each other in the wrong ways. And yet, you found yourself coming for more. You’re already halfway done your first cup of the night when a figure comes up from behind you.

“Hey! I’m YangYang! Sungchan brought you, right?” He extended a hand out to you as you exchanged greetings. He carried your attention to the top of the stairs as you desperately tried to hear him over the music. “Uh-yeah, I’m y/n.”

“Just to let you know, we have a chill out room if you ever need a quiet place to stay.” YangYang informed, his smile radiating welcoming energy. “It’s up on the third floor, just to your left. Have fun!”

You bid him farewell before you resumed staring intently at your drink, hoping no one else would spare you a glance.

45 minutes and probably 2 drinks (though it really felt like 6) later, Your head starts banging with a sharp pain you never felt before, clenching at your brain. You hiss in pain, the bass pounding music only making you feel sick. You wobbly retreat up to that chill room YangYang mentioned. That would calm you down, right?

“Hey” The sudden yet comforting voice of Sungchan alarmed you as you creaked the door open. He was perched onto the bed, the light of the lamp setting his skin on fire. Your eyes couldn’t look at him for long, though, not with your heavy eyelids drooping. Sungchan scoots aside, patting a now vacant space on the guest bedroom, just for you. “You should rest, you look exhausted.”

...

Chenle slammed the car door shut, shoving his car keys in his pocket as Shotaro followed swiftly. The evening breeze swayed the flaps of Chenle’ jacket as he shivered. “We’re at the party now, Sung.” He muttered to his phone.

“Alright.” Jisung could barely breathe as he perched his head on his damp pillow, not with the guilt still rushing through his body. His eyes, still red and swollen, watched the bright stars contrast from the midnight sky. It was the first time he's stayed in at night. Yet he was in no condition to go out. Sure, the stars shined bright tonight, but his star was forever gone. He’d lost you.

“You just want us to check on her, right?” Chenle implored as Shotaro greeted the party, putting up his best ‘I actually want to be here!’ face. Jisung huffed softly through the other end. “Yeah.”

“Take care of y/n for me.”

...

Like a magnet, you flew onto the bed, positioning yourself for a good night’s rest. Sungchan swiftly laid beside you, a groan escaping his lips as he positioned himself too. You inhale, the air around you smelling faintly of…cigarettes? You brush it aside, this is a highschool house party, afterall.

Sungchan watched as your eyes struggled to stay open, his face merely inches away from your peaceful one. His heartbeat grew faster and faster, his heart racing as he pushed your hair behind your ear. A sly smirk lined his lips.

He started off slow, peppering kisses all over your sleeping figure as he made sure you weren't fully awake. Softly, he pinned you down, the blades of your shoulders digging into the mattress as he got on top of you, fully encasing your frame in his. YangYang's a genius, letting him use the guest bedroom like this. Sungchan felt you tremble under him, wriggling around as you send whimper-like sounds in his direction. He grew hot, practically salivating. Park Jisung can finally piss off.

"mmph, Jisung stop it" you uttered unconsciously, throwing Sungchan off his course. Anger ruling through him as he gripped the bedsheets, trying his best not to lash out on your peaceful figure. After all this time? You still thought about him? That asshole? His hand grabs a hold of the bare of your thigh. He was glad you only wore a skirt today.

The touch of a cold palm shook you away from your drunken slumber, only to find Sungchan, pinned on top of you with rosy, flustered cheeks. He stared you down with the hunger of a lion, moments before devouring its next meal. Your eyes widen, the sudden realization of Sungchan's current doings striking you like a flash of lightning.

Jisung was right, he was dangerous.

You pushed Sungchan's chest off of yours as you shot up from the bed, terror dripping from your eyes. His eyes still contained that hunger. A hunger that you were never going to solve. "Get off of me!"

You raced through the door, not sparing him a chance to answer. While sliding down the stairs and slithering through the crowds of drunken teenagers, you barely noticed the tears welling up in your eyes. All of your trust, all of your faith, brutally destroyed right before your eyes. Who could you turn to now??

"Y/n? Where are you going?" Chenle, who arrived late to this horrid party, tugged on your sweater lightly to get your attention. You, however, only responded with a stronger pull away.

"I'm going home, Chenle. I need to get out of here." You huffed breathlessly before escaping, not sparing him or Shotaro a glance. Chenle gave Shotaro a concerned stare before following your footsteps.

Sure, you had the willpower to get as far away from that monster as possible, but your legs didn't. They were weak, wobbly, and the mercy of gravity's pull. Your running form grew sloppy as your arms dragged themselves through the air. You were so beat, that it didn't come to your surprise when your sight switched to black and a thump of hard pavement striking your head before you laid limp underneath the streetlight.

“Y/N!”

...

You convinced yourself you were peacefully floating away on a cloud, so imagine your disappointment when your eye’s flutter open to see your bedroom curtains, followed by your comforter which you drowned in. The sunshine shot your weak eyes as you shifted around, wondering how you ended up back home in the first place. What happened?

Jeno sat right beside your sleeping figure, lazily perched on your desk chair as his eyes abruptly ripped away from his phone screen and onto you. He sent you a heartwarming smile, his once tense expression relaxed at the sight of you, alive and well. You never seen Jeno smile like that before. It was nice

“How are you feeling?” He soothed, patting the back of your hair softly after scooting closer to you. You murmured a half-assed response, the shockwaves of a major headache starting. God, you were never going to drink again. “I’m alright, I think.”

Jeno huffed out a relieved chuckle, pulling the blanket over so it would cover more of your cold looking frame. He gave you another bonk to the head with his knuckles, something that helped your headache. Helped it hurt, at least.

“That’s good. Well, you passed out last night, Chenle had to take you home. And don’t worry, I didn’t tell Mom and Dad about the party. You should watch out for Hyuck, though.” Your eyes widen at Jeno’s words, ‘party’ specifically shaking you to your core. The deafening music, the soul-irking booze, the unknown faces. You hated it. Jung Sungchan pinning you down on the guest bed, closing the distance between you without your approval. You hated it. Utterly disgusted by it. All your trust, your respect for him, thrown out the window. Your mind trails back to a certain phone call, your heart now drenched in guilt.

“That Sungchan guy is a complete asshole!”

“He’s got bad motives, y/n.”

“You don’t wanna hang out with someone like him!”

Park Jisung. Your childhood neighbor. The one who was right all along, and the one you foolishly disregarded. You clenched the fabric of your shirt, your heart pulling on your weakened frame. How could you be so blind, and still have the heart to blame him? Park Jisung. Your protector, your knight. The one who truly held your heart. That last thought sent butterflies straight to your stomach. Of course, He always had that effect on you. You’ve just never believed yourself. Always brushed it aside. If Jisung could tell you the truth, so could you. You love him. You’re in love with Park Jisung.

You scrambled out of your bed, your speedy figure scaring the living shit out of Jeno. “Woah, slow down! Where are you going?”

Your eyebrows wrinkle, etched in determination. “I need to find Jisung.”

“Can’t that wait? You need to rest!”

“I need to tell him the truth.” you murmured. “My heart can’t take it anymore, Jeno.” he sent you a knowing nod, stepping aside as you rushed out the door.

Your brother did have a point, though. You shouldn’t be scrambling away like this, not with your knees about to buckle up from exhaustion. Your eyes, however, shot straight ahead, your pulse going through the roof. No more lying to yourself anymore. You race through the kitchen, not paying notice to a distraught looking Donghyuck, protecting his full cereal bowl from a fatal accident.

The grass still felt damp from the week-old rainfall as it hugged your bare feet. You raced through the sidewalk, your chest heaving as the wind pushed against you. Where was he?

The creeks of the ancient swingset didn’t fail to irk the ears of Jisung and Chenle as they sat in a comfortable silence, with a few (but very opinionated) comments thrown in by Chenle to help lighten the mood. It was the only thing Chenle could think to do, with a guilt-ridden, messed up Park Jisung at his side.

“I couldn’t protect her, Chenle.” He barely whispered, breath shaking. “I was too late.”

“You did everything you could, man. You can’t protect her all the time.”

“I wasn’t even there when she needed me most!” Jisung shouted, his voice booming as he shot up from his swing. “If I can’t do something like that, how am I gonna…” He trailed off, his figure slumping back to his swing.

“How are you gonna...what?” Chenle’s curious eyes scanned the brooding figure. His hands, fully enveloping his head, ruffling his hair in the process. If Chenle hadn’t leaned in right beside Jisung, he would’ve never caught his little一yet electrifying一confession. “...How am I gonna be her boyfriend?”

“JISUNG!” The two teenagers jolted back into reality, the sounds shallow, exhausted breaths hurling their direction as their whip in unison. Your disheveled figure一complete in its oversized t-shirt, tousled hair, and lack of proper footwear一bolts towards them. Despite the energy surging away from you, you wouldn’t rest until you reached them. As you got closer, your eyes finally locked with Jisung’s, mirroring your guilt ridden expression as he towered over you.

“Jisung, I-” You began, not sure if your shaky breath was caused by the immense amount of cardio you just did, or your rapidly thumping heart about to explode in your chest. “I’m sorry for blaming everything on you, not listening to you about Sungchan, everything. I was being stupid and selfish and一” You cut yourself off, not daring to look up at the dumbfounded Park Jisung, ear’s more red than the red scrunchie on your wrist.

“I-I need you in my life. You’re the one that keeps my life together, the one who kept me safe, ever since we were kids.”

Your eyes finally had the courage to look at him, your fingers wrinkling the hem of your shirt as you bite your lip in pure anxiety. Your heart was racing, was this what a heart attack felt like?

“I’m in love with you, Jisung.”

Jisung froze, his lips parted in utter shock. It all hit him too fast. His brain lagged behind as his hands, etched with a sense of impatience, roughly cups your cheeks, bringing them inches before his face. Eyelids fluttering shut, he molds his lips onto yours, his arms clasping around your waist in an effort to hold you close, so you never leave his life again. You reciprocate, your arms wrapping around his neck, trying your best to hide the butterflies stuck in your stomach. A sensation only Park Jisung could achieve.

The two of you finally part lips from your breath-stealing kiss, your eyes never letting each other go as vermillion stains your cheeks. Jisung quietly stuttered out his reply. Don’t get Jisung wrong, he wasn’t hesitant to answer at all. In fact, you were pretty sure you already knew his. Jisung shined a heartwarming smile.

“I love you too, y/n.”

...

“Did you really need to punch that guy that hard? I think his nose started bleeding!” Shotaro yelped, still slightly out of breath the four of you running away from the shop security.

“That asshole deserved it! He shouldn’t be flirting with my girlfriend in FRONT of me!” Jisung laid back on the playground bench, an arm hugging your waist from behind as you lazily perched next to him.

“That asshole was the cashier, and your girlfriend was paying for our drinks, dumbass.” Chenle uttered with a deadpan look. He tossed another ice cold, convenience store drink. “Tell him, y/n!”

“Chenle’s right.” You responded automatically, softly smiling to the feeling of Jisung’s arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace, his head hiding in the crook of your neck. This boy really softened you like putty. You glance back at him, your eyes holding the stars above.

“Besides, I already have you, I don’t need anyone else.”

As you and Jisung both blissfully ignored the fake retching sounds emitting from a sarcastic Chenle, and the contrasting, supportive cheers coming from Shotaro, you sent Jisung a swift, sweet peck on the cheek. Turns out you could melt him like putty, too, judging by his embarrassed reaction. You didn’t need the questionable comments. You only needed him. Park Jisung. Your (scrawny) knight and shining armour.

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larrythefloridaman · 3 years

Text

Y'all like your deities with or without the shell?

Under the readmore is aaaaaaaaall color god observations and musings based on them, because I am studying to become the world's Premiere Chromatheologian and RGB Understander so under the cut is pretty much Oops! All Spoilers! up to the most recent episode of season 3.

Apparently Universal Color God Attributes:

Damage to their domain hurts them, but fixing the issue, or lashing out by using their powers destructively, can help them to repair the damage.

If they sustain enough damage, it can temporarily paralyze them and send them into a strengthened but 'exposed' state (chartreuse's spirit activation in the last fight of 19) and further damage after that will activate a failsafe, which is unique by domain but seemingly designed to give them the chance to balance things, but can get… very out of hand or backfire depending on circumstances. (see: cobalt’s failsafe sending mark's universe into a never-ending apocalyptic war because word of the cure for death became too widespread for the killing urge failsafe to affectively balance anything because every side could simply revive their fallen.)

Chartreuse's failsafe is something of a stopped time bubble quarantine where processes that require the passing of time cannot complete, allowing her the time to wear down the offending party to beat them to death or plan around finishing them.

Cobalt's is inciting war, the casualties serving to balance the scale. I'm not sure we know Crimson's yet- he's never taken enough direct damage without doing damage to compensate in order to trigger it, although i dont remember season one well enough to recall if any of the universe stuff in it tracks with the pattern bc season one is a bit fucky

Connected in a fashion that allows them to simply Sense the overall status of the others to some extent, although they don't know Why theyre in the state theyre in without asking (chartreuse [and by extension, folk, presumably on her information] confronting crimson via crimsonaut for pretending to be dead, Cobalt confronting both his siblings about how they are handling their duties improperly but not knowing about Folk. He knew about the constants deaths because hes a death god, duh, but he didnt use their names like crimson did, possibly implying they're erased upon death so thoroughly that only crimson and the constants can really recall a shattered constants' existence, not even the other guardians.)

Abilities of the guardians can be replicated by mortals through three apparent methods- through machines (dimensional bus, the time machine, presumably J0hn's part in Sephiroth's resurrection,) simply through advanced enough individual skill (Home MD curing death, potentially Dantoinette's universe portal travel, maybe Genwun's sped up time bubble that evolved them into Genfour? although that could very well have just been an illusion and theyre just like, a fuckin theater kid that was doing pretend character development for the Bit or something given GenFive turned out to be a zoroark) or through stealing some of the power of the relevant god (Dr. Order stealing Chartreuse's power, Dani maybe having stolen some of Crimson's when she beat his ass. Dani's one woman universal travel is like, wicked ambiguous)

Cobalt:

Can seemingly perceive or act through any living material. (The Tree. Cobalt instructed Larry to slap his hand on that tree, that shit glowed and he had a new deal tattoo without Cobalt ever having been physically present)

Can influence the resurrected by giving them a killing urge. Represented by an aberrant brainwave and a ringing in the undead's heads. This doesnt appear to be direct control- as the Grunk could clearly restrain himself from killing people that genuinely didn't deserve it (like nightly and cha cha, who WERE grunk event targets but not fatally so. Nagito was a crimson thing so it really doesn't count here. God poor grunk his life really is just a constant plaything in the hands of the gods huh) and Sephiroth very much had personal motivation to want to kill Folk. failsafe activates this ability on the scale of war.

Deals. The extent of what Cobalt can do with these is unclear but Iggy's god powers were taken from him as his part in the deal so what he can take isn't limited to physical things or things obviously related to his domain.

Weaknesses:

Deals. While this ability is impressive his preference for making deals for those that offend against his domain is potentially very exploitable- Larry's knowledge of the cure for death is, if word of it were to ever get out beyond Larry, wildly dangerous for this dimension, so technically the safest thing for the iron-fisted cobalt to do would be to nip the problem in the bud and get rid of him. But, fascinatingly, that wasn't even put on the table, the first thing Cobalt does is threaten J0hn, prompting Larry to make a deal. While Cobalt enforces death, he also doesn't like unnecessary death, and Larry demonstrably knows how to keep a secret for the good of the world even at great cost to himself and Cobalt is aware of this- easily clarifying to Larry the aberrant thing endangering the universe wasn't his timeloop business. So while he's clearly not letting his resurrection fuckery go unpunished, he's being pretty merciful when he doesn't have to be and from a strictly, brutally pragmatic perspective probably shouldn't be.

His control over the undead manifests as a ringing and an aberrant brainwave trackable by J0hn's equipment, and could probably therefore be accounted for and circumvented? J0hn has, wisely, largely sworn off fucking with people's brains after the sephiroth fiasco went So Wrong, So Very Wrong, Oh God Oh Fuck Someone Cool Almost Died, but if he hadn't, and if J0hn let his dislike for authority and keeping Larry safe outweigh reason like he let safety, spite and comedic value outweigh good ethical sense when reprogramming sephiroth, in theory Mr. 'hacked a time machine for breakfast?' could. y'know. probably do it. what is a god's authority to an anarchist, what better to challenge life and death than the cold and eternal machine, you get the point its a fun scenario

Olive Garden Breadsticks and Small Cute Dogs, apparently

Chartreuse's:

Time Clones: taps into parallel timelines to retrieve alternate versions of herself to utilize.

Time Travel: what it says on the tin. Travel to the past creates painful splits in the prime timeline, but through careful action and traveling back into the past, these can be weaved into a time loop. A split from the timeline is a wound, and a successful timeloop is the surgical scar it can become with attentive care, to use a medical metaphor. Carefully closed and healing. Keeping Folk here is essentially akin to chartreuse pulling out her stitches on the initial incision.

Time Stopping: creates a space wherein things that take time to complete cannot complete, where things can move, but everything within is in a perfect unchanging stasis until the bubble drops. This is the form her failsafe takes.

Timeline Creation: can create timelines from scratch.

Can fuse alternate timeline versions of the same individual to allow them to coexist. (Ryan's confirmed in the discord that Dantoinette experienced both failures in 20, because Chartreuse fused the two instances of her to save the post-raid instance from fading. Could... theoretically do this to Folk and save herself the pain, but while Folk and Therapuppy are the same person, there's seven years and untold amounts of difference deriving from the time and circumstance between them and the inherent cognitive dissonances that would result from attempting that would be wicked fucked up to inflict, and that's assuming there isn't some reason that it wouldn't be possible anyway. while the two Danis had like. A day or so's difference between them, so she could be safely fused with the only dissonant thing being that she remembers both being too slow to prevent order's time escape and beginning to dissipate post-raid, AND losing that fight to her pre-raid. RIP Dani, that perfectionism must be kicking her ass)

Weaknesses:

Unwilling to use her powers destructively in her pursuit of domain repair and thereby much easier to damage to the point of paralyzing her, making her particularly vulnerable to Power Theft

Morally Optimistic. At one point in 19, she briefly justifies Crimson's shitty evil actions to herself after experiencing for herself how Wack the kerfuffleverse is firsthand, ("and all he did was kill a couple people!" Chartreuse. Honey.) and when she fights Crimsonaut she seems to actually believe for a second that he's actually worried about her when Crimson asks if she's okay after he beats her. Additionally, as D+, she concerns herself with trying to understand doctor order's motive, and after Larry defeats Order, he makes a point of confirming she feels no remorse before making his request for what Chartreuse does with her, and appeals to the idea of letting Order fulfill her desire to be a god in a way which isn't a problem for anyone and Chartreuse is more than happy to oblige under these conditions after what Larry's done for everybody. Then immediately threatens to evaporate him for playfully teasing her about having a crush on folk. Fucked up a little bit

Crimson's:

Universe Shifting: Travel between universes.

Universe Correction: appears to replace an aberrant individual with the 'correct' version of themselves for that universe, presumably sending them back to their own. (Mario from super mario was universe corrected, but still seemingly exists in wario form as evidenced by smashup kerfuffle, and was simply temporarily replaced with his corrected universe counterpart. But like. The dimensional bus system is still active crimbo doing the Put That Thing Back Where It Came From Or So Help Me routine aint gonna work if they can come back with a shrug and bus fare. you're fighting the symptoms without treating the problem)

Universal Constants:

Three individuals per universe that serve as the pillars which stabilize said universe, created by absorbing red orbs Crimson creates. Becoming a constant grants power, but also makes the constant fragile, and death wipes them from the face of the multiverse, only crimson, those he's possessed and the other constants seemingly able to recall they ever existed, although some physical evidence is still left behind (Larry's record of Nagito's death, which is just as redacted as everything else relating to him but still is very much something Larry has. Kind of a Voidfish adventurezone type beat ironically enough? Taako really has seen all this shit before no wonder he peaced tf out)

To counterbalance the weaknesses the constants have, they have a sort of spidey-sense to alert them to danger, and an intrinsic bonded connection to their fellow constants, and additionally, Crimson apparently doesn't suffer any pain from the death of constants or the structural instability of a universe.

Possession: what it says on the tin! Seemingly can only be done with permission to living things- none of crimson's direct hosts seem to have entered that agreement unwillingly, Valentine lost a bet, Hamburger and Crimsonaut have been by all evidence intentional allies to Crimson- but electronics are fair game, as seen with The Guy's suit. Kinda curious how that rule applies to bitches that are half and half, like J0hn or the clonebot gang, as its unclear whether The Guy's suit was yoinkable without permission because it was mechanical or because its not sentient. could go either way but if it's the former that's potentially very frightening

Fusion: Two individuals from alternate universes can be fused into one shared body which can take on aspects of either depending on which is currently in control. (possibly allows someone who traveled into a given universe to become a fixed resident there without it being an issue for Crimson, whose job is to prevent interdimensional travel?) Monday Mark and possibly T.O.M. are our main examples.

Corruption:

Unpleasant As Hell and can even kill you instead of changing you if you cant handle it.

turns the corrupted individual into a twisted exaggeration of themself, allows them supernatural control over their shape, and makes them very difficult- if not impossible by traditional means- to kill, based on Garfield.

Subjects them to control by Crimson, but can be exorcised of this influence just like crimson's direct hosts can, although the supernatural changes to their physiology are seemingly permanent, judging from Shantae.

Notable Weaknesses:

Exorcism can be performed to free a possessed or corrupted individual of Crimson's influence. Its unclear how exorcism works/is learned in CPUK, but confirmed exorcists: dantoinette and yung papaya's snake dad, confirmed non-exorcists: folk

The universal constant orbs are physical objects so they are Very Stealable and they grant a power boost so theres literally an Incentive to beat his ass for anybody who wants to be strong and either doesnt know or doesn't care about the whole 'getting erased when you die' part

Crimson has lots of tools to create pawns, but all of them have drawbacks. Corruption could kill a potential pawn, possession generally seems to require permission, and he has no control over the constants' choices and actions

Manipulative bitch's highest stat is charisma and it shows. This motherfucker is selling snake oil. If he was mortal rather than a Whole Entire God he'd make an excellent ineffectual saturday morning cartoon supervillain and i think everyone, including him, would be happier for it, ngl

Something interesting ive realized that likely wasnt fully intentional, is that a lot of Dr. Order's creations, considering her motive, can kind of be sorted by a color god it appears to be a crude attempt at mimicking the abilities of. My Grunk is a poorly executed resurrection, the clonebot gang vs chartreuse's timeclones (this one deserves special mention because Chartreuse used this shitty attempted mimicry to her advantage with D+, very smart and ironic play, excellent job Treusy,) spirits are somewhat similar to universal constant orbs (orbs which can be absorbed to grant power, but which have physical repercussions- key differences being that spirits require activation and grow stronger while attuning to a user without being used, and having far less severe drawbacks, taking a heavy toll on the body, but only once they've worn off and without the risk of wiping yourself from the face of existence,) and she also augmented Perfect Spriteman and Larry, which kind of track as crude imitations of Crimson's corruption!

Garfield was an acerbic cat who loved food and hated mondays, now its an actively malicious ever-hungry amorphous entity whose only weakness is monday and whose only consistency in form is 'cat-like.'

Shantae was (to my extremely limited understanding of shantae,) a friendly heroic type who had to introduce herself often, and she became something akin to a biblically accurate angel that can *only* introduce herself.

The Grunks a tough but sweet and supportive single dad with stage presence and a tendency to fly off the handle when he or his family are slighted, and now he gets so hype in the audience when his son does well that he bursts into flames and ascends and we get random grunk events along with the associated murder charges when he gets mad and the target sucks enough that he doesn't hold himself back from killing them.

Perfect Spriteman and Larry fit the trend of exaggeration of already present traits- Spriteman fucking loves sprite and became something that only thinks about sprite, and Larry the Florida Man, characterized from minute one by unpredictability and who spent his first matches in the series pre-shapeshifter transformation staying alive keeping stocks for Shockingly Long even despite getting seventh, became literally physically random as well as developing the ability to regenerate, albeit with the ability to feel pain normally very much intact, unlike Garfield just... Soaking up damage like its nothing in his pursuit of Jon. The fact that Arbuckle legit defeated Garfield, even temporarily, is terrifyingly impressive honestly that dude is fucking built different for being so chronically bland

i dont think they're actually corrupted in any meaningful way we have to worry about, to be fully clear, Spriteman was cured with fucking antacids, i simply think they could be a fucked up attempt at making something that kind of seems like it from a functional standpoint, from the wannabe god doctor that brought us green clones whose only fundamental association with time was accelerated aging and who thought an actively rotting corpse thats just reanimated enough that it can throw hands was as good as curing death

#cpu kerfuffle #cpuk cobalt #cpuk chartreuse #cpuk crimson #im like. 80% all this info is correct but im not feeling up to rewatching matches to doublecheck rn ngl asdsfgfghgfhfgsdf #will probably edit with fixes if im misremembering smthn later

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

We’re Alright

Summary: For the angst prompt “I miss being in your arms.” John and Lucy Watson keep in touch by email while he’s away for the war, but when Lucy’s latest missive goes unanswered for several weeks, she begins to worry about her brother.

Characters: John Watson & Lucy Watson (Watson!sister)

Content Warning: Angst (and comfort), War, Alcoholism

It was so quick, email.

The short span of time that passed from inception to send to received made it so Lucy Watson could connect with her brother in mere minutes, or half a minute if she typed quickly enough, almost no time at all in the scheme of things. She should have been more grateful for it, for the connection, for the ability to reach her brother when he was so far across the globe, unable to reach him or hear him. And she was grateful, even if it always left her wanting for a bit more.

It was much faster than dealing with the standard post. In theory, John received the messages as soon as they were sent. He had hypothetical access to her words at the very moment she hit the send button. He could write back the very same day, even.

These days, Lucy rarely felt closer to her brother than when a response made it back to her within the hour, a coincidentally timed missive full of what always seemed to be a detailed, thoughtful response to almost every word she'd sent his way, John's words swallowing her up like a hug, like an arm snaked around her shoulder while he asked after her day at school, like his careful hands addressing the careless wounds as he did in her childhood or his soothing voice calming her juvenile worries, the man chiding and commending and soothing her as appropriate, the perfect blend of stern and fun and proud. It sometimes amazed her how John managed to be all of those things in a matter of seconds, achieving it all through the medium of a simple email.

It was the knowledge of that very fact that brought Lucy Watson a bit of concern.

Her latest message had been sent almost two weeks before, cast off in the middle of the night, sometime after her older sister finally passed out, after her wife had left and Harry was exhausted from the booze and the fighting, tired from yelling at her wife and younger sister when the person she really wished to yell at was herself.

Harry and Lucy Watson had reconciled in the time since, the shouting and painful words that had passed between them a willingly forgotten piece of the past, something in Lucy almost wishing she hadn't sent the email to John that night, not at that alarmingly late hour when he'd be questioning her for being awake. Part of her would have been happy now to let the moment remain in the past, to allow it to become buried, to eventually be overshadowed, forgotten by the inevitable next time arrived, the encounters cushioned by the calm they were living in now.

It was a cycle Lucy was familiar with, the times of peace and war that passed through their household, its bounds determined by Harry’s drinking and the apologies, the unfilled promises and the feelings both sisters often left buried and untouched. They were back to peace now, back to their usual indifference, but the cycle was steady, predictable.

Lucy knew they'd go around again soon enough.

She read through the email settled in her ‘sent’ box once again, the eleventh or so pass since she’d originally sent it, her eyes skipping over the introductory small talk about school assignments and the weather to the only thing that had brought her any comfort during her brother’s digital silence, the vague picture she’d painted for them, a small memory revisited, nothing more than a casual question to test his recollection.

‘Remember when I was little and Harry’d chase me around the garden and when I grew tired, I’d run to you to keep me safe?’

The inquiry had originally been followed by ‘I miss being in your arms like that,’ a sentence Lucy deleted before sending the message into the ether, feeling too sentimental and obvious by it, too exposed even though it was only John on the other end of the message, or maybe feeling that way because it was John on the other side and he’d know the question truly meant something more, was hiding something more.

Lucy hadn’t wanted to place that concern on her brother, had only hoped he’d take the same comfort in recalling the moment that she did. Or maybe she’d wanted him to know, to pry, to make her confess it all, comforted more by the prospect of that than the memory of simpler times ever could accomplish.

In John’s silence, the comfort any of it brought her was waning. The longer she waited for a response, Lucy thought more that this was one instance of ‘no news is good news’ that brought her little satisfaction, and even beyond the silence, beyond the need of confirmation that her brother was alright...and safe...and alive, Lucy simply needed her brother. She needed him to remember the moment, to bask in the inherent and nostalgic goodness of it, and though Lucy had made it difficult for John, made it more cryptic to decipher, she did want him to simply know that things weren’t quite right at home without her having to say it. She wanted him back.

Lucy knew she couldn’t really have that, though. She couldn’t have him or his hugs or his smiles or the dry wit or the knowing looks he’d often dole out, a gentle scold offered with just his eyes, a message of doting care given with just a twitch of his lips as he tried to temper an insistent smile. Lucy had accepted that, accepted that she had to subsist on a more meager version of her brother’s comfort. His words. Imagined expressions. Memories.

Lucy spent more nights than anyone would have believed tucked away in bed with her older sister’s laptop, re-reading the messages she and John had passed back and forth since he’d gone away, imagining her brother’s voice as her eyes scanned over the screen, imaging his laughter and scoffs, imagining him fixing her with a look which said he knew precisely what she was leaving out, that he somehow knew that there was more there, more she wasn’t telling him.

John always knew. He was well aware that Harry wasn’t the perfect caretaker for their Lucy, knew that the girls had their rubs, knew that Harry had her struggles with the drinking, but there hadn’t been another choice, and John had always been comforted by the fact that his sister’s wife was there, a source of stability and calm for Harry, and for Lucy, too, but there were still things that troubled him.

Lucy read over her original message another time before pulling up the message she’d started drafting to her brother days ago. It was short and overly formal for the two of them, a brief ‘I hope you’re well. Please write me when you can,’ sandwiched between a sterilized greeting and send off.

Lucy hovered over the send button, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as she prepared herself to click, hoping beyond hope that John’s lack of reply was nothing more than a mistake, praying that his silence was due to a message gone incorrectly to the spam box or an instance of an unread email mistakenly set to read, willing herself to believe that the follow up message wouldn’t go unanswered.

Lucy’s finger continued to hover as the weary sort of silence that usually followed the woosh of a newly sent message prematurely settled within her. It was a terrible sort of vacuum that sucked everything along after it and she imagined all of her hope and wishing and patience would be sent off with the message itself, leaving her with very little left inside. She resigned herself to passing what little remained of the night, or the morning rather, with just that feeling for company, curled in her bed watching as the rising sun reached through her curtains to ease her into another day, but the chime of a new message came before she could bring herself to hit send and she moved to her inbox, pulling up the message from John, only two lines in length.

The first chided for the time her previous email had been sent, but the second was a morsel that could feed her for a bit. It was just an overly casual ‘You can reach me here for now,’ the words accompanied by a phone number, one she recognized as originating from England, in London.

The computer fell to the side as Lucy scrambled for her phone, fumbling with the keys as she dialed the number, her breath held as the rings continued on, a sob caught in her throat as a gruff throat clearing sounded from the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Joh—” Lucy swallowed down the lump in her throat. “John?”

John sighed at hearing his sister’s voice, the heightened pitch nearly catching, nearly breaking before she’d reached the end of his name. His sigh was heavy despite being such a small gesture, filled with exhaustion and impatience, and still yet an ounce of understanding and compassion and pity at the very same moment.

“Lucy…”

She felt the lump in her throat thickening at hearing him say her name after so long, a few insistent tears spilling down her cheeks in the short moment of silence that engulfed them, her breath quietly hitching before John continued.

“It’s rather late, sweethear—”

A sob broke from Lucy’s end of the phone line. How long had it been since Lucy Watson had heard that particular endearment directed her way? John hadn't even finished with the word and she'd already been pulled apart by it, years of feigned strength and composure at John's absence ripped entirely from the girl.

John sighed again, setting aside his incriminations about the hour, hoping the curtain pulled closed between him and the roommate he’d been assigned to just the morning before was enough not to disturb the man. He seemed to be snoring still, so it was either that or the sturdy painkillers he’d been prescribed keeping him asleep.

“Alright, sweetheart,” John whispered into the phone, turning his body away from his neighbor best as he could with his limited range, shifting the borrowed laptop to safety. “It’s alright.”

Lucy continued crying on the other end of the line, coughing over her sobs and gasping for breath, seeking more air to fuel the painful howling, her attempts at verbal response to her brother nearly incomprehensible. And the pain of hearing that, the ache of listening to his sister in such a state and not being able to do a thing to help, he could swear that was far worse than the residual pain in his knee, far worse than the gunshot itself or the surgery or the intensive physical therapy regimen he’d been enduring since. The sensation filled his entire body. He felt it in the dropping of his stomach, in the drying of his throat, in the persistent ache in his heart, but John pushed it all aside and cleared his throat firmly enough to speak over the growing lump.

“It’s alright. Let it all out, sweetheart.”

John lost track of how long it went on like that, with him simply listening to the sounds of his sister’s anguish, a few years of pent up frustration and grief and hurt coming out of her in waves as he listened on helplessly from his bed in the London rehab, wishing he was there to soothe a bit of her pain, but settling for uttering of a string of comforting words that Lucy latched onto like they were an embrace, clinging to it as if John was right there in her room tending to the passing of a nightmare, dulling her pain and cries until it all shifted and the sounds that came from her were no longer filled with anguish he hadn’t known her capable of holding. They both shared a bit of relief as the line grew quiet, nothing more than their cadenced breathing falling between them.

Lucy sniffled and cleared her face. “You’re in London?”

“Yes,” he said.

“You’re home. You’re safe.”

John considered the allegations, considered the truth of her words even though there were parts of him that felt far from safe, parts of him that still felt kilometers and countries away, still in Afghanistan, still fighting, and a sound came from his mouth, the start of a shaky breath stifled almost as soon as he’d released it.

“You’re alright,” Lucy offered. “We’re alright.”

John cleared his throat, his grip tight on the phone receiver as he nodded to himself.

“Yeah, we are, sweetheart.”

Three or four deepened breaths passed between them then, the Watsons each staring out their respective windows at the dawning sky, the dark night slowly, but insistently turning to day.

“Lucy?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re alright?”

“Better,” she mumbled. She wouldn’t be quite alright until she actually saw him, but hearing John’s voice had made her feel better and it would be enough to carry her through until she could have the real thing. “You?”

“Better,” he confirmed, “but you should get to bed. You have school tomorrow.”

Lucy hummed as she smoothed her hand out across the quilt, reaching out to shut the laptop and set it away on the nightstand. “But I am already in bed, John.”

John snorted, his sister’s cheek loosening a part of him that had become too stiff while he had been away, some small part of him thawing as he smiled into the receiver.

“Better indeed,” John laughed. “Sleep well, sweetheart. Call me tomorrow.”

Sherlock BBC (Lucy Watson) Masterlist

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

#sherlock fanfic #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock bbc #john watson #watson!sister #sister fic #500 follower celebration #hb.writes angst

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