#this is just afterthought mess from writing so much and I think I should continue lol

[oddlyhale]

Honestly hale my problem with team rwby and others (especially in volume 7,8 and 9) is the lack of consequences.

I hate how anytime the “heroes” do anything wrong their actions are treated as an afterthought.

Yang and Blake telling a stranger government secrets should have been backlash from that action (no way anyone can convince me that was a good idea)

Yang literally blaming Ruby for messing up in atlas despite telling their plans to a stranger.

Everyone Ignoring ruby’s mental breakdown and when she does commit “suicide”…there is barely any reaction.

Penny’s death treated as a afterthought and never spoken again (I never thought penny would be reduced to this…)

I just want them to learn from their mistakes and get better from it…

Volume 9 feels like the writers saying, "here you go, the biggest punishment the characters could ever face." When, actually, no. It's a filler arc that amounted to nothing because it reset itself.

There's a lot that Ironwood did that the kids stole and "succeeded" with their plans to save Atlas and Mantle. Except, I'm sure he was never planning to drop his city on another city. People want to say his plan of flying away with the Staff is outrageous, but look at what we ended up with instead. Atlas and Mantle are gone. Penny is dead, Ironwood is dead, Cinder got both relics, and Vacuo is seemingly their last hope.

We have to remember that RWBY built their "success" from Ironwood's own plans that he laid out in V7. They took them and were praised like saviors in the V9 epilogue. I always assumed the writing needed to kill James just so that Team RWBY could look like they were the ones who came up with the plans as they went along the Atlas arc.

They really weren't. They were just going along for the ride until they didn't want to anymore.

But that's never going to be resolved because they're being hailed as heroes in the V9 epilogue. The writing has doubled down on their terrible behavior and is rewarding them for causing mayhem. They're not heroes, they're menaces to society. Pray for Theodore.

I think that's what's easy to expect if they do continue with RWBY. Do not expect them to face consequences, because that's not on their agenda. They hafta be heroes and be rewarded for doing the bare minimum. If Theodore has any plans, you can bet he's going down.

Penny's death felt awful the second time, but to now know that Ruby couldn't even be told about her best friend being killed by Jaune feels like the writers are fighting for their lives to protect old man Jaune. Jaune got to scream at Ruby, but Ruby had to stand there and take it while her team just let it happen. I guess WBY felt validated that Jaune was getting heated with Ruby.

The way Penny only showed up as glimpses throughout V9 now feels like the writers were inching towards the idea of revealing Jaune killing her, but they couldn't commit because that wouldn't feel right to make him face consequences, so they just let her face flash here and there without saying much else.

So basically, bringing back Penny only to kill her again was entirely pointless because, even with her death, she couldn't be thoroughly acknowledged.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Just sitting here, listening to “Nobody Needs to Know” from The Last Five Years and thinking about Joel Maisel.

All right, the panic recedes

All right, everyone bleeds

All right, I get what I need

And nobody needs to know

The song sketches out Jamie’s affair. The melody is tender and sweet but the lyrics are just him convincing himself that he’s not doing anything wrong. That he needs this.

Kathy and Jamie were a mess of unaddressed, untalked about issues. The jealousy she felt over his seemingly easy writing success versus her continued failures as an actress. Kathy feeling like an afterthought to Jamie’s career. Her inability to pull herself out of her depression, and his resorting to cheating. And Kathy suspected him, obviously, the song tells us so (”swearing to her that I never was with you”), as where Midge had no clue any of it was happening. It’s alluded to in the play that Kathy and Jamie go to couples counseling and it doesn’t work. They just don’t work. As where Joel makes this choice to cheat on Midge, on the surface, because it seems like he can. It’s exciting and different. It’s an escape, and then it turns into habit:

“I thought it was a phase, but now...”

He tells Midge he doesn’t want their life anymore. That he doesn’t want her anymore. That he’s tired of the “classic six, Upper West Side” existence. The unspoken reason is that she’s too much for him; she’s better than he is, and he hates it. We see that at the end of season one when he drunkenly beats up the heckler.

“She’s good! She’s fucking good!”

Still, the song really feels a lot like Joel. Like Joel, Jamie will likely eventually discard his version of Penny Pan. The sex is great, and she feels like a safe haven from the wife he can’t handle, but relationships built on those kinds of lies don’t tend to last.

In The Last Five Years, I think we’re supposed to side with both characters, but it is just as hard to empathize with Jamie as it is with Joel in Maisel. Both men resort to this thing that hurts their wives deeply. Jamie masks it as a last resort (though we see that he struggles with being attracted to other women earlier in the play), while Joel just shrugs it off as something that he thought was a one-and-done that wouldn’t matter in the long run.

It’s hard to blame Kathy for that opening number in the play, and it’s easy to see where Midge’s self-sabotage comes from. How do you trust being happy again, when the last time you remember being really, truly happy, the rug was pulled from under you?

To say nothing of the fact that it felt like cheating was an act of revenge on both Kathy and Midge for, essentially, not being what Jamie and Joel wanted or needed. Highlighting the deep selfishness of the act.

I really hope we don’t get more of Midge fucking up her life in season 5. That might be a foolish dream. I guess we’ll see. Michael Zegan commented that Joel’s cheating on Midge was “years ago,” and that we should all “get over over it,” during the Emmys red carpet. And look, there is healing from heartache, certainly. There is being able to move forward. But healing and forward momentum comes from closure, and since Joel never really took responsibility or apologized for his actions, that kind of healing takes a lot longer than it otherwise would.

Anyways. Just thinking about stuff.

[singing-robot]

re: Dead Cells/Undertale

And why it would be the worst crossover ever. 

First off, I have not finished Dead Cells, and I’m trying to play it as blindly as possible, so please do not add anything further than what I mention right here in this post!!! This includes tips, runes, locations, and unseen dialogue. I’ve recently acquired my first stem cell, and have only gotten to the Concierge once in the many games I’ve started in hard mode, sodo please be mindful of that. And now, the promised content. 

This started off as a fun mashup between the two games, but the realistic side of my brain kicked in and said, “How would this actually go?” And, quite honestly, that one seemed more interesting, both in terms of how this hypothetical game would be played (I wish I could show you guys instead of just talking about it), and in the potential angst that would be held. 

The first thing I feel we need to address is how the game starts. Dead Cellsman (as I so often see him called) has a beheaded prisoner to crawl into each time you start over. Who is supplying these? I have no idea. However, I’m going to say that these bodies are either thrown down there by the same being each time you start, or Mr. Prisoner Sir finds his ride off-screen, and we only see him fall down. 

“But Robot!” you cry. “That’s so unnecessary and specific!!! Why would you bring that up?” Good question!! Because the alternative is diggging his way underground and taking over the dead body of the first fallen human. Only works once, and that’s so horrifying and disgusting that I immediately hated it as soon as I considered it, and wished I never had. The concept of eventually unlocking the other previous humans would be pretty cool if they weren’t, you know, way past their expiration date. 

Disgusting and terrible, but I needed to address it. Next section: actual fighting. 

Mr. Cellsman does not have the time for extensive dialogue and conversations. He’s thrown into prison, given a couple of weapons, and his tutorial covers a total of maybe 20 seconds between three deaths. Everything after that is a line of destruction and occasional smart remarks about something poorly lit by a blue candle. A speedrunning, monster-hacking, hilt-happy creature does not bode well for the residents of the Underground. 

He does not have much sympathy for the dead, and he criticizes those in charge of the living. I don’t blame him, honestly, but it makes me wonder how he would react to something that begged when he’s already supposed to kill it. Or if he would even give them time to do so. For the purposes of this post, he doesn’t. He sees it, he hacks it, he gains whatever coin they had on their person. All things considered, I’d say he would start off with a fairly high Level of Violence, so it would be much easier to go through the game. 

The boss fights would be very interesting. Toriel wouldn’t have any sort of connection as to a child, and would not hold back during her fight. I almost want to see it. The dogs would be the equivalent of Elites, probably. Papyrus would be absolute hell to fight, with his constant ground attacks; not to mention that you’re supposed to hit him in the middle of all of it. He’ll make it a fair fight, of course, but according to even Dead Cells logic, he will be on par with you. I think Undyne would be very similar to the Time Keeper, except you couldn’t simply break out of her hold. 

I did this in my sketchbook and I’m so glad I can make it again with real context.

To be fair, I’ve only gotten as far as Undyne, so I won’t go much farther on that topic, except on the specifics of the next section dealing with Sans, since I won’t ever play that run, anyway. (So, basically, I lied.) 

Encountering Sans at the end would be... very frustrating, to say the least. Either his fight would be very similar to the Hand of the King, or he would simply disappear every time you tried to hit him, until you figure out that there’s actually a secret passage to bypass him entirely and you’ve wasted so much time, there goes your speedrunning record. The difference here might actually count on either the time it took you to get to the end, or how thoroughly you took out the monster population. (He would probably deal more damage than Frisk ever could; getting held up so often allowed for more people to escape.) 

Wow. So. Here we are. Are you still reading this? Have you done this all in one big chunk? Please take a moment to look away from your screen, stretch, and do five real good blinks. Take in a deep breath and hold it. Hold it. A little longer. And out. Yeah, man. Breathe some of the outside stuff, too, for bonus refreshment. Maybe get some water while we’re here. This post is a little long, might as well add in a break time paragraph. I’m certainly using it as a time to stop writing, before I get into the next segment and lose 30 more minutes. Also??? Thanks for sticking through this far, it really means a lot. Especially since I haven’t edited a single bit of this so far, and probably won’t from this point on. 

All right!!! Have you stretched? Have you had some water? Did you take a big whiff of your surroundings so as to not get too lost in the sauce of this crazy post? I hope so, pal, because here comes the fun part: The Aftermath. 

When you fight Sans, he makes his accusation: you’re the anomaly in his research, and you need to be stopped. But here’s the thing: he doesn’t say that on nothing. He says that in almost full confidence, and suspected it in other runs. What gives you away? Not entirely sure, but I bet defeating the Captain of the Royal Guard without dying, or openly having zero interest in things that should be interesting, hints at it. And unless something is lit by a blue candle or offers the promise of cells and upgraded weapons, Dead Cellsman has very little interest in anything at all. 

So you could imagine that someone speedrunning through the Underground, killing everyone in his path while hardly stopping to glance at the scenery, would be waving a big red “time anomaly” flag. And if Sans managed to evade him until the end, and even had the time to overcome any shock and actually do something, that would be one horrible, inescapable fight. 

Here’s where my idea splits in two: 

1. Sans dies. You receive a special item to take out Asgore in one hit, you win, you finish the game. There is... little point in restarting it, because I’m logical and boring and the remaining monsters of the Underground wouldn’t come out of hiding for... a very long time. Longer than it’d be worth Mr. Cellsman to consider coming back for. 

So when Frisk falls, there is nothing and nobody. The place is a little dusty, a little bloody, there’s a few spare coins on the ground, but everything is utterly abandoned. The towns, the stores, the homes you can’t explore, anyway; they’re empty. It’d make for a boring game, honestly. There’s Flowey, but he’s so distracted by recent events that he doesn’t even show up when you first fall. There’s not point in “kill or be killed” when there’s no one around to fight you. He’ll talk to you, sure, but because you’re another entertaining attraction. Your SOUL would be great, but what’s the point if the others are almost completely inaccessible, now? 

Perhaps he’ll tell you the tale of the genocidal killing spree he witnessed for fun. 

2. (This ending applies to ones with and without a Sans fight, with or without total monster destruction.) Not to add another angst story featuring the Sans man, bUT... Sans does not die. You get past him, you take out Asgore, you win the game, whatever. You get to move on.

And Sans was wrong. Nothing resets. He thought he was right, he was so positive, but here he is. And there are so many people who are dead. It must be hard to deal with, when he hardly has anyone to blame it on. He can’t even curse the murderer to his face. So imagine what it must be like to watch another monster kill so many of its own kind, only to have a human fall after that. The creature that banished them all underground is now here to either finish them off or send them to the Surface, but I doubt anyone thinks it’s the latter. The angel has returned to free them all.

I accidentally made a super metal and symbolic image to go with this, I will post it separately because, holy cow, did not expect it to turn out like this. 

Frisk has to face the most scared, enraged, and depressed monsters they could ever have encountered. Some of them will attack as viciously as they can. Others will beg for mercy, or run as quickly as possible. More will just wait, confused and perhaps upset if they are spared. There will be some who are simply NPCs, as per usual, but they will be very different. There will be fewer. Frisk’s mission to save monsters and encourage their character development will be vastly different and very difficult. 

I... made the mistake of waiting over 24 hours to type out the second half of this and lost some of the steam I started with, but I’m also bad at simply describing how bleak and depressing it would be without getting too much into it. So!!! To conclude, a semi-realistic Dead Cells/Undertale crossover would be extremely sad and depressing, since it’s basically coming in on the aftermath of almost-genocide. I will definitely accept further questions and, possibly, requests regarding this post, especially since you actually read through the entire thing and endured through everything in this post even after my enthusiasm died down in my writing. Sorry to disappoint after hyping up The Aftermath, but I was writing that at midnight and probably lost some of my good points. Definitely had a better version in my head. 

I also super ignored almost everything involving Flowey for Mr. Prisoner Sir because uhhh I didn’t want to write around that too much, so please don’t call me out on it because I definitely am aware of it and only have weak justifications for doing so. And, since we’re both here, 

UnderCells - a little catchy, I like it, but it sounds like the main story itself would be focusing on Dead Cellsman going through the Underground. While it would, to an extent, ignoring Frisk’s presence would simply make it a new level and brief one shot thing for the man. I really like the sound of it, though. 

DeadTale - far more appropriate for Frisk’s leg of the journey (as well as all of monsterkind), kinda funny in a sick sort of way, definitely used somewhere else. 

It doesn’t matter if you use either of these terms, I thought I’d address it since it’s already a super long post :’D

You made it to the end!!! Congratulations!!! 

[narumi-gens]

Do I Have Your Attention?

Narumi Gen x f!Reader

summary: Narumi Gen is not only Japan’s strongest, but also its pettiest.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, oral (m receiving), spit kink, some femdom, Narumi being a little shit

notes: I said I wasn’t going to write for a fandom with only a handful of fics for a character who’s barely appeared in three chapters, but here we are. this fic better spawn 100 other Narumi fics because it can't just be me and @/flintstrikes out here thirsting over this trash man.

words: 2.5k

part of the Agents of Chaos series

Narumi Gen and irritation go hand-in-hand.

For as long as you've known the First Division Captain, he's never ceased to find new ways to annoy you. It's something that you've long grown used to.

But this? This is a step too far.

You can handle the all-night gaming. You can handle the mess that he refuses to clean up. You can handle his pettiness and narcissism and lack of respect for others.

What you can't handle, refuse to handle, is his whining about how unfair it is that he isn't trending, his attention focused solely on his phone when it should have been focused on your lips that are wrapped around his cock.

You scowl up at him from your place between his legs, the wooden floor of his office hard against your knees. You're certain that they'll still be hurting tomorrow. And for what? So that he can come as an afterthought?

Aching knees and a sore jaw are worth much more than that.

“Who do these idiots think they are?!” he continues to rant as he scrolls through his feed. “Yeah, it’s easy to talk shit when you’re hiding behind a computer! I’d love to see them say this to my face. In fact, I’m gonna invite them to the base and see how brave they really are.”

The sound of his fingers furiously tapping on his screen as he angrily types out his response before hitting send is so loud that it threatens to drown out the obscene slurping sounds that you make each time you swallow him.

When you feel your eye beginning to twitch even as you swipe your tongue along the thick vein that runs on the underside of his cock, you know your patience is nearing its limit.

The twitch only grows more severe when Narumi turns his phone around and shoves the screen in your face. You're positive that he thinks he's being considerate by moving his phone back and forth with you as your head bobs up and down on his shaft so that you can read the comments without needing to stop what you're doing.

What a fucking gentleman.

Instead of looking at his phone, your glare remains focused on him. Despite how wet your eyes are from the way he's hitting the back of your throat again and again, they lose none of their fire as you still manage to convey every insult and threat that your mouth is too preoccupied to say aloud.

“Can you believe what they’re saying?” he asks as he turns his phone back around so that he can return to scrolling through his feed. The question is obviously rhetorical — not because you can't reply but because he clearly thinks that you agree with him.

He looks away from his phone, but not so that he can take in the sight of you before him, working your hardest to make him spill his cum down your throat. No, he instead looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully, his wrinkled brow hidden beneath messy bangs.

“I wonder if there’s a troll farm out there that’s targeting me,” he considers, a look of satisfaction slowly forming on his face.

Unfortunately for you, that satisfaction has nothing to do with the hand that you're twisting around the base of his cock just how he usually likes. He snaps his fingers and glances down at you with an eager nod.

“That’s it. There’s no other reason I’d be getting this much hate,” he crows. A smug smirk grows on his lips as his scrolling turns leisurely, pleased with himself for uncovering the conspiracy. “I mean, no one actually thinks Ashiro’s the strongest fighter. Not when I’m in charge of the First Division.”

Deciding to get rougher with him, you let your teeth graze his sensitive flesh the next time you swallow him — a warning of what he can expect if he doesn't stop. But the only reaction you receive is a sharp hiss as his attention briefly turns away from Twitter long enough to give you a petulant scowl.

“Hey, watch the teeth, would ya?” he complains before he looks back at his phone and you suddenly find yourself trying to list all of the reasons why it would be a bad idea to simply bite down and be done with the whole matter.

You sit up and let his cock fall from your mouth, sucking his length as you go. Thinking of yourself as the more considerate lover of the two of you, you continue to pump his spit-slicked shaft with your hand. You softly clear your throat.

“Gen,” you say, your voice dangerously cool.

“If it wasn’t for all of these bots, I’d be the one trending right now,” he rambles. “You know that, right?”

You wipe your drool from your chin with the back of your wrist, your hand never once ceasing its smooth movements.

“Gen.”

“Y’know, the Defense Force really needs to do something about this,” he thinks aloud, ignoring you once again. “It doesn’t look good for them if a bunch of spam accounts are harassing their strongest captain. I’m gonna bring this up the next time I get dragged to one of those meetings.”

You dip your head back down to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, deciding to be generous and give him one last opportunity to see the error of his ways. You suck on the tip, flicking your tongue on the spot just underneath the head that always makes him weak.

His hips jerk and his length twitches in your hand, but he otherwise gives no response.

Unwilling to let your own ego take any further hits, you sit back with a huff. You drop your hand and cross your arms over your chest in displeasure. Your anger only grows when he doesn't protest.

“Gen.”

He finally chooses to reply to you with a distracted, “Hmm?”

Everything turns red.

You're moving quicker than you can comprehend, your hand darting out to grab his phone and yank it from his grasp. The action is so unexpected that the device easily slips from his hold and into your vice-like grip.

He gapes at you as you stand up, now the one looking down at him where he sits in his office chair. It's your turn to be the one that's smugly satisfied as he remains frozen, enjoying how much of an idiot he looks with his features having gone slack in shock and his dick still standing hard in his lap.

You raise an unamused eyebrow at him and it seems to be enough to snap him out of his stupor because an affronted expression quickly appears on his face. He hurriedly begins to tuck himself back in his pants before springing to his feet.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” he cries and you easily dart away from him when he tries to grab his phone back.

Deciding to let your actions speak for themselves, you storm towards the large, double doors of his office, fuming every step of the way. He's right on your heels, sounding like a petulant teenager as he screeches in your ears, demanding that you give him his phone back right now.

You shove open one of the doors so hard that it hits the wall with a bang! and before he can stop you, you hurl the object down the hallway. Its trajectory barely misses Hasegawa and Narumi’s new attendant, who both freeze where they are.

You're too busy relishing the sound of Narumi’s phone shattering into pieces that then skittered across the floor, followed by his panicked shriek, to pay any attention to how the short, blonde-haired girl standing at Hasegawa’s side is looking at the scene playing out before her in shock. The First Division Vice-Captain clears his throat expectantly and when your gaze shifts to him, you're met with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

“What?!” you snap and the crazed look on your face has the girl next to him instinctively taking half a step back.

Your attention returns back to Narumi when he tries to push you out of his way so that he can run after his phone. Your hand latches onto the collar of his shirt and you use your hold on him to roughly shove him back into his office.

“Officer Shinomiya and I have business to discuss with the Captain,” Hasegawa states, sounding as unfazed as ever. This is far from the first time he's found himself in the middle of such a situation.

“Is it important?” you snarl, shoving Narumi back into his office when he tries yet again to get past you.

“Yes.”

“Life and death important?” you challenge, already reaching out to grab onto the large handle of the open door. Hasegawa’s resigned sigh is answer enough. “Then come back later!”

You yank the door shut behind you, slamming it so hard that it causes the doorframe to rattle.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Narumi shouts, his arms waving wildly. You grab a fistful of his shirt as you walk past him and drag him along with you as you make your way back to his desk, your pace much less bothered this time around. “Hey! Get off me! That phone was brand new!”

You stop in front of his desk and do just as he asked and release him. He makes a big show of straightening out his shirt — as if it hadn’t already been wrinkled. Meanwhile, you turn your attention to the surface of his desk, which is covered in papers, empty soda cans and water bottles, old manga magazines, and a pile of discarded sweatshirts.

You outstretch your arms and in one, giant sweep, you shove the entire mess off his desk and onto the floor. He gasps in horror, but you give little regard to his new rant about how you've just ruined his “organized mess.”

Instead, you sit down on the desk’s wooden surface with one leg crossed over the other. He starts to kneel down so that he can pick up the mess but you stop him by yanking on the back of his shirt and pulling him to stand up.

“That was a limited edition—”

He stops mid-complaint when you tightly grab his chin in your hand, the tips of your fingers indenting the hollows of his cheeks from how hard they're digging into his skin. His eyes, which usually only vacillate between bored and bloodshot, have turned wild and his pupils have blown wide.

You use your hold on his face to tug him closer, meeting no resistance. You can hear how his breathing has slightly picked up, the excitement surely beginning to thrum in his veins.

“That’s better,” you murmur with a smirk as you brush the tip of your nose against his. Your eyes flash with glee when he tries to take a step closer but is stopped when he meets your knees where they're crossed between the two of you.

“Now, are you going to be good?” you ask, your voice low and full of the promise of what will happen if he dares to do anything but agree — not that he would, not when you're holding onto him with such a firm hand.

There's a flash of pink when his tongue peeks out to unconsciously run over his bottom lip and your thumb chases after it, slipping into his mouth and he eagerly swirls his tongue around the digit. Without breaking your gaze and like he's in some sort of trance, he slowly nods.

You softly tsk and his expression wrinkles slightly in distress at having done something to warrant your displeasure.

“Baby, I think I need to hear you say it,” you coo with wide, imploring eyes. His tongue moves along your thumb even more urgently. “Are you going to be good for me, Gen?”

“Y-yeah,” he quickly rasps, the word muffled as he speaks around your thumb. “Yeah, I’ll be good.”

Your grin grows so wide that if he were in a proper state of mind, it would have Narumi on edge. But he's too focused on how hard his cock is in his pants to care, achingly aware of how he was buried in your mouth not even ten minutes earlier.

You gently release your grip on his chin and slowly slide your thumb from his mouth. He follows it with hawklike eyes, watching as it then disappeared between your own plush lips so that you can suck it clean of his spit.

When you drop it from your mouth, his slightly opens, unconsciously hoping that you'll return it back to his. The action doesn't escape you and you let out a quiet, mocking laugh at his expense.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his parted lips before giving his cheek a patronizing pat, using the hand that was just holding his chin so that your thumb leaves behind a shining, wet smear of your saliva on his pale skin.

“Good boy,” you softly purr and his eyes somehow manage to grow even wilder at those two, simple words. You slowly uncross your legs, spreading them and inviting him to step between them, pleased when he immediately does so.

You then slide your hand up from his cheek into his hair. Your fingers rake through his two-toned strands and push them back from his forehead, only for them to fall back into his face a moment later. Your hand comes to a stop on the crown of his head and you begin to apply pressure — a wordless demand for him to lower himself.

“I think I’ve spent enough time on my knees today, don’t you?” you ask with a hint of amusement and he nods his head in blind agreement, kneeling down in front of you without protest. “It’s your turn, Gen.”

Bonus:

Shinomiya has faced kaiju after kaiju and has never balked once. But for some reason, she finds herself breaking out in a cold sweat.

“S-sir…” she begins, struggling to put her thoughts into words. “W-what was that just now?”

Hasegawa lets out a tired sigh and turns to her, the look of exasperation that he's wearing at odds with the severe expression that she's already grown used to seeing on the man's scarred face.

“That was the Captain’s better half.”

Her jaw drops in disbelief. But it's quickly eclipsed by both horror and disgust when a muffled, high-pitched moan emerges from behind the set of closed doors. A large hand drops to her shoulder to give her a reassuring pat.

“You’ll get used to it,” Hasegawa grumbles before turning in the opposite direction and walking away. When another moan follows the first, she covers her ears and sprints after the Vice-Captain.

For the first time in her 17 years, Shinomiya Kikoru finds herself actively praying for a kaiju attack.

[fallout-lou-begas]

sorry for yet another question about fallout fanfic writing, but How much of fallout's lore can i change and throw away before it becomes me writing a original fiction story that is fallout in name only? I've always wanted to write fallout fanfic cuz i feel like Canon fallout is very lacking in chinese rep that isn't ex military related and it makes me feel like Fallout is saying that Chinese people will always be an other that needs to be integrated into the post apocaplyse american communites, as opposed to always being a part of america and surviving into the post apcaplyse. But it jsut seems to me like canon wise, the only option to fit chinese character in is either ghouls that are ex military, or like descendent of military deserters. I think aside from Little Yangtze, there's no other mention of any group of just Chinese americans in fallout. I know that if i want Chinese rep in fallout that isn't ex military, i need to make it myself, but i am also not too sure how much of fallout's lore i should mess with.

The honest answer is that you can change as much as you want, but it's going to be a personal decision whether it remains a Fallout fanfiction or not if you change it past the point of recognizability.

Everyone is allowed to enjoy something, and often fan media takes to the task of "fixing" things that are perceived as "broken" with the source media, from minor things like apparent plot holes to major things like improving its representation. To that end, you're allowed to change and throw away as much of Fallout's lore as you want. It's your story, you can do whatever (I've certainly done as much, with mostly minor but still fairly obvious changes to the lore and plot proceedings in @ikroah so far). People looking for "Fallout fanfiction" who come across your story will then personally decide for themselves whether your writing qualifies as such to them, but this can't be controlled any more than whether they like it or not can be controlled.

But to that end, it's your story. When I'm not on this website I'm making original art and fiction and I like to encourage people to do the same when possible. I'm not saying you need to drop everything and put out the next great hit novel, and ultimately your inclination to make original fiction is going to depend on how serious you'd like to take your writing and what appeals to you or not about fanfiction specifically (whether that's the pack-in nature of characters and settings that are ready to use to you, your interest in and desire to comment on the source material, or the communality of fanfic writing and reading communities). If it becomes so different that people looking for "Fallout fanfiction" are turned off, maybe it'll be so different that if you write it with that intention, it'll appeal instead to those looking for original post-apocalyptic sci-fi, especially from a Chinese perspective.

So if you're planning this out, and the need to correct every way that Fallout has failed Chinese(-American) people starts to feel like going through a not-so-bright child's essay with red pen, then just remember that it's a liability. You have the power to write your own post-apocalyptic story about whatever you want where Chinese characters are front and center, not grafted on in that way but there from the very core of the idea, not as bygone antagonists or afterthoughts but as main characters whose race, culture, language, and customs are integral parts of the narrative. If you find a solution to this problem within the confines of the Fallout setting and Fallout fandom, then that's wonderful for you. But if this is something that you continue to be worried about as you develop your idea, then just keep what I've said in mind.

[retrievablememories]

stuck with you | yoongi

title: stuck with you pairing: yoongi x reader, taehyung and jimin as side characters genre: fluff request: “Can you do a idol!Min Yoongi of BTS request of his crush being best friends with Jimin and Taehyung and him and his crush consistently fluster the other but they never realize until one day he does and finally make as move despite everyone telling them for weeks that they like each other?” word count: 3.3k warnings: some cursing, mentions of the pandemic a/n: i’ve been actively avoiding writing anything concerning the pandemic/lockdown cuz let’s be real, we’re all here to have fun, not think about real-life shit...but i decided to try it here

i wasn’t sure how to write their living arrangements tho since most of them seem to have their own places? so i just used the hannam the hill house for reference 🤪

“How have things been for you guys lately?”

Taehyung and Jimin exchange skeptical looks with each other, which you don’t catch because you’re too busy picking over your food.

“We’ve all been stuck in the same damn place for weeks now, so you tell me.” Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head. 

You visiting their house right before the stay-at-home mandate was issued ended up with the three of you—plus Yoongi, to your luck—being cooped up in the same house for almost two weeks now. It wasn’t wholly a bad thing, since you got to be with your two best friends, but living with three men was pretty much as messy as you’d expected it to be. “Wow. Never thought we’d run out of things to talk about.”

Jimin tries to humor you. “Things have been fine, you know...same as always. Except for Yoongi-hyung acting like a lovesick weirdo. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you…?” Jimin feigns an innocent look.

You look up from your plate. “A lovesick weirdo for who?”

“We’ve been through this like 20 times already, Y/N,” Jimin sighs.

“Yes, and every time I tell you you must have the wrong person because that makes no sense whatsoever.”

“He’s lovesick over you,” Taehyung reiterates, like you didn’t catch the gist the first time around.

“I don’t think Yoongi likes me.” You shake your head and make a face at the notion of it, trying to disguise your irritation at them constantly trying to provoke your emotions.

“Why not? There’s a lot to like about you, don’t downgrade yourself.” Jimin insists.

“He doesn’t even act like he does. If anything, he gets all odd around me.”

“That’s just how he is,” Taehyung says, leaning back in his chair. “You’d think you’d start to catch onto this after being here for so long, but…”

“No, she’s too busy being too embarrassed and intimidated to even get within 4 meters of him.” Jimin and Taehyung both giggle at that, and you shake your head.

“You guys are like little schoolkids. How many more big tales are you going to think up before our quarantine lifts? You could probably write a book by the end.”

Taehyung shrugs, putting his arms behind his head. “I might do that, as long as you let me make you and hyung the star-crossed lovers who are too dumb to tell each other how they feel.” He stretches his leg under the table to nudge your shin with his toes, knowing how you hate when he puts his bare feet on you, and he cackles when you protest loudly.

“Will you stop trying to get my hopes up for nothing—?” 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Yoongi steps out onto the terrace with the three of you a few minutes later. He shields his eyes against the sun’s sudden brightness after he slides open the glass door, holding his other arm up.

“Look who’s appeared!” Jimin says excitedly, his eyes glittering with enthusiasm.

“You’re loud,” Yoongi grumbles, though he’s mostly speaking to Taehyung and Jimin. “I can hear you laughing from downstairs.” Your body tenses up and melts all at the same time, and suddenly you feel like you don’t know how to do anything right—like hold your chopsticks correctly. They shoot out of your hand when you try to use them again and hit the patio floor. You look at them forlornly.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, a smile fluttering across his lips at your clumsy actions.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine.” You can only glance back at him, embarrassed that you’ve made yourself look like a clown. Jimin laughs like he’s just witnessed the funniest thing on Earth. You shake your head and push away from the table, wanting—no, needing—a quick exit. “I’ll just find some more of those…”

Jimin shakes himself free of his sudden bout of laughter and jumps at the opportunity. “Wait, I’ll get them for you.” He bolts up from the chair before you can even think about it and goes back into the house, already planning to take his sweet time on his mission to get you new chopsticks. Taehyung picks up the hint almost instantly.

Yoongi turns back to the doorway after Jimin disappears through it, his movements a few beats too late—as if he’s just now realizing the other man left. “What was that about—”

“Oh shit!” Taehyung’s exclamation cuts into Yoongi’s question. In a sweeping motion, Taehyung “accidentally” elbows your water off the table, sending the bottle splashing out onto the patio in sad little streams. You jerk away from the splash, but the water droplets have already gotten you.

“What the hell?!”

Taehyung shrugs like it was inevitable and gives a sheepish smile. There’s an undeniable scheme lingering in his eyes, though. “Looks like I’ll have to get you another one.” He stands up to get your aforementioned water, though you begin to form the idea that you’re not getting any water at all.

You sigh and rub your fingers across your forehead. The heat of the sun has turned from pleasant to uncomfortable, and you don’t even have your water to take the edge off. Great.

Yoongi turns back to you, his eyebrows creased. “That was weird.”

“They’re just trying to…” Force us together? You’re too embarrassed to say anything like that, and your words trail off in a stammer. Why did they ever think this would be a good idea? Yoongi raises his eyebrows in curiosity at your bitten-off answer. “An-anyway, that doesn’t matter. So...what are you doing out here?”

Yoongi shrugs, smirking slightly. “Well, I do live here.”

You snort to cover the way your stomach cuts a flip at his smirk, and you reach for your food in a nervous gesture before you remember your chopsticks are still gone. “You sorta seem like a vampire, though. I’m surprised you came out to get some sun.”

Yoongi mulls over that thought. “Hmm…a vampire, huh?” He runs a hand through his pitch-black hair, and even though the gesture is just an afterthought, it makes your heart skip a beat. You almost want to roll your eyes at your reaction to that simple movement. “Don’t tell me you were one of those obsessive Twilight fans over a decade ago.”

“And if I was?”

“Would you enjoy being bitten by a vampire?” Yoongi regrets it as soon as he says it, and you ducking your head into your hands doesn’t help the flaming embarrassment. “Fuck, that was stupid—sorry.” Your shoulders are shaking with laughter, and even though it’d be cute in another context, he feels like he’s about to combust. So he decides to make a run for it. Maybe a cowardly move on his part, but it seems like the best one right now.

“Hyung, you can’t be serious—” Jimin calls out to Yoongi as the older man brushes past once he gets back indoors, but the other man tries his best to ignore Jimin as a blush crawls up his neck. “Go back and tell her. It was the perfect moment!”

“There’s gonna be a lot more of that mess until we can leave,” Taehyung says, peering through the glass at your now confused expression and shaking his head. “God, one of them needs to say something before I lose my mind.”

--

Like Taehyung predicted, there’s a lot more of “that mess” over the next week. You and Yoongi continue to tip-toe around each other, unsure of how to appropriately handle each other and never unable to shake the awkwardness that colors every interaction.

The most notable incident of all, however, occurs when Yoongi does his laundry one day and somehow finds a pair of your underwear mixed in with his clothes after taking them out of the dryer. How the hell did they even get there, and how did he not notice them before?

Bound to his usual fierce overthinking, he stands there for a few long moments, wondering what he should do. Obviously, the only answer would be to return them to you. But then what if you think that’s weird, him somehow having your underwear? Or what if you assume he’s some pervert who’d taken your panties on purpose?

And to his great luck, that’s precisely when you walk into the laundry room. You give him a timid smile and greeting, which melts away into pure embarrassment when you see him standing there as if he’d just been framed for murder—and your deep red panties sitting in his laundry pile.

Yoongi’s gaze darts between the laundry and your eyes, his jaw working aimlessly as he tries to come up with something that makes sense.

He decides on “I didn’t know they were there,” though this feels just as inadequate as it sounds.

“M-maybe I threw them in the wrong bin,” you rush out, and in the same breath you cross the room to practically snatch them out of the pile of his clothes. You know you couldn’t have done it, though, which leads your mind back to those two sneaky men who’ve been trying to exercise their terrible matchmaking skills as of late.

“A-ah, yeah—maybe,” Yoongi agrees half-heartedly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You both pause for what feels like an eternity, for a reason you can’t decipher, and you think you might burst from the sheer discomfort of it all. “Well—th-thanks. One less thing to wash, I guess.” You try to laugh, but the sound comes out high and forced. Similarly, Yoongi’s answering smile is tight around the corners.

The next few days after that, you are both unable to maintain any kind of eye contact. Taehyung and Jimin are endlessly amused by the way you and the older man dance around each other like two ghosts struggling to inhabit the same space.

You make up for it slightly by turning all of Jimin’s white shirts into a splotchy pink once you find out that this was indeed his terrible and silly idea.

--

You’ve been sleeping in Jimin’s and Taehyung’s beds since you’ve been barricaded in their home with them, which none of you really think twice about. You’ve been friends with them for years and don’t see either of them other than platonically, so it’s not awkward for you or them. Although it was originally intended for you to mostly stay in Jimin’s bed, you end up alternating between the two, climbing into whoever’s bed you feel like that particular night. Neither of them mind the switch-up, and Taehyung likes using you as his personal pillow, so it all works out.

If there was anyone who minded at all, it was Yoongi. It wasn’t a burning jealousy, because he knew he had no right to feel like that about you—not when he couldn’t even admit to you that he liked you. But it didn’t make him want to jump for joy to know you were in either of the younger men’s beds, even just as friends.

He spent many nights imagining you were beside him instead, warming the empty spaces of his bed, whispering to him and telling him about your day. It didn’t matter if he already knew everything you did that day because you’d all been living in the same space for weeks. He still wanted to know. 

But until either of you made a move, he didn’t know when that would happen. If ever.

He didn’t even know if you’d be interested, or if you saw him the way he saw you. You were never as close to him as you’d been with the other two men, and although that could be explained by you being best friends with them for years, he honestly chalked it up to you not liking him as much. Taehyung and Jimin had tried to tell him the exact opposite several times before, but he wasn’t really convinced. Not with the way you seemed to lock up around him—like if you said or did the wrong thing, he’d hate you forever.

If only you knew he could never feel that way about you.

--

You decide to sneak your way to the kitchen for a late-night snack one night, your socked feet scuffing quietly on the floor as you make your way to the kitchen. However, your plan is derailed when you run into Yoongi in the hallway, who has apparently just taken a shower. He’s fully clothed—thank God, because you’re not sure how you would’ve survived it otherwise—but the towel on his wet hair speaks to his recent shower. Your immediate response is to jump in surprise, feeling like you’ve been caught red-handed; although there’s no law stopping you from getting something to eat in the middle of the night.

“Oh—Yoongi.”

“You’re still up?” he asks, pulling the towel away from his face so he can see you better.

“Uh, yeah...I was just getting something to eat, I guess.”

“No crime in that. You’re tip-toeing around like you’re nervous about it, though.”

“I didn’t want to wake anyone up.” You shrug your shoulders, trying to appear more nonchalant than you really feel. “But I see you’re already up…” Your words trail off behind you as you walk into the kitchen. Yoongi watches your retreating back before making the split-second decision to follow you. He’s not really sure why, previously intending to go back to his own room. 

“Were you getting something to eat too?” you ask, turning back to glance at him when you hear his footsteps behind you. You’re admittedly happy at the idea of spending a little more time alone with Yoongi, though you’re still nervous as hell.

It’s probably not the best idea to say I just came because I wanted to be next to you, so he nods to your question. "Uh, sure, I guess. What were you gonna get?”

“I don’t really know, just whatever’s in here…” You open the fridge and stare into it absentmindedly, your eyes raking over the food but not really seeing it—not with Yoongi’s presence hovering behind you.

Eventually you settle on some leftover rice and kimchi—which there’s always plenty of—not wanting to expend too much energy on cooking anything new.

You and Yoongi sit at the table together, using the light of your phone’s flashlight and the under-cabinet lights to illuminate the room instead of the overhead. Maybe it’s a little strange, but you like the ambiance of it more than having the harsh overhead light on.

The room is quiet for a while as you both eat, which you don’t initially mind. But you can’t ignore how Yoongi keeps stealing glances at you, like you aren’t going to notice, like he isn’t sitting right in front of you where you can see. It makes you antsy, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“Is something up?” you finally ask, keeping your eyes on your half-empty bowls, too nervous to look straight at him.

He hums like he’s thinking intently about it. Then he decides to rip the band-aid off and says, “You’re always tense around me.”

“Oh.”

He chuckles at your short response. “Why?”

You feel like you’ve been backed into a corner, and you hesitate. “Well, you’re always weird around me. Why is that?”

“Touché.” Another tense pause where he thinks of what to say, and then, “Jimin and Taehyung swear you like me.”

You try not to react so obviously, but your spoon clatters against the side of the bowl. If he’s acting weird because of the idea of you liking him, how can it be possible that he returns the feelings? Maybe he doesn’t know how to let you down easily. You suddenly feel ridiculous, like you’ve been wasting your emotions on nothing. “...I see.”

“I thought they were...trying to play some game. But, since you’re here now...is it true?”

Maybe if you close your eyes hard enough, you can poof yourself out of existence. If you felt trapped before, you really are now. You blurt out the first thing you can think of, trying to save yourself.

“Before you think I’m stupid for liking you, you should know they’ve been saying the same thing to me about you. So. Yeah.”

Yoongi looks at you full-on. “They told you I like you?” A nervous grin fixes itself on his lips, which makes you second-guess yourself. At this point, your head and heart are tangled in a knot. Why does your love life have to be this difficult? “So that’s it, then.”

“What is?”

“We like each other.” That makes your heart rate pick up. “...and didn’t even figure it out until just now, despite everyone else’s ‘help’.”

You take a shaky breath. “You like me.”

Yoongi nods, glancing between his hands on the table and your face. “I should’ve said it sooner.”

Despite yourself, you feel the corners of your mouth twitch into a slight smile—one that’s colored with relief and a tinge of lingering nervousness. “Later is better than never, I guess.” You find yourself laughing from the way all your stress slowly unwinds itself from your body, and Yoongi joins you, his eyes sparkling in the dark.

“So. This means we’re dating now, right?”

“I hope this isn’t considered our first date.” You snort, looking around the kitchen.

Yoongi shakes his head, placing his cheek in his hand with a sleepy smile. “I promise I’ll take you somewhere nice...after the pandemic is over.”

“We might be waiting a while, then.” Finished with your food, you go to quickly wash the dishes in the sink, and Yoongi slides in next to you to do the same. Another silence falls over the two of you, but for the first time, it’s not uncomfortable or pulled taut with words unsaid.

When you finish, Yoongi leans against the counter, his eyes openly tracing over you, wearing just a big T-shirt and shorts. It’s a simple outfit, but it warms his heart.

“Come sleep with me,” he says suddenly. You crack an awkward smile at that, and he’s blushing before the last syllable even leaves his lips, because he understands how that sounds. “I mean, actually sleep. It’s late.”

You pretend to hesitate on it. “I don’t know, Taehyung might miss me…”

“Taehyung and Jimin have had you all to themselves the past few weeks. It’s my turn now.”

And with that, you let him take your hand and guide you back to his room, maneuvering carefully through the dark house. His bed is new to you, but it’s instantly comfortable—like home. The smell of him surrounds you, as does his arms when he pulls you closer. You smile against the fabric of his shirt as you tuck your face into his chest, his chin on top of your head.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, his fingers curling around your shoulder. His voice is soft and low, already halfway to sleep.

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

[boatemhole]

crossfire | a hermitcraft x dreamsmp crossover

ohhh boy oh boy. remember that hc x dsmp crossover i was talking about a while back? the one with ranboo and zed? well, i finally finished writing it! i can be found here on wattpad, or if you don’t have it you can read it under the cut :D

this is actually more hermitcraft-centered than dsmp, so heads-up for that. i don’t watch too much dsmp so i tried to keep it as vague as possible for ranboo’s parts. i had a lot of help from my friends on that bit

word count: 2115 tws: swearing, mentions of wars

Ranboo wasn't sure where he was, but it definitely wasn't the Dream SMP.

The place he found himself in had buildings that seemed to stretch upwards forever. There was no consistency in the block palettes; each build had its own distinct style. Some were larger than the others--one build that looked like a town hall seemed to overlook the rest of the builds. Ranboo could even see more buildings that were in the background and seemed to have their own islands.

What was this place? Was this someone's base? It was huge. It seemed to go on forever.

For some reason, the grass hadn't spread around the island completely yet. He noticed some large patches of dirt that looked freshly dugout. Little sprouts of grass had started to grow, but it hadn't completely covered the dirt yet.

As Ranboo wandered the area, he heard a small moo. Turning around, he saw a lone mooshroom, its red and white hide looking out of place among the green grass. He vaguely remembered that mooshrooms are supposed to be in mycelium islands, not regular ones like this.

How did this one get here, then? Poor thing.

Had this place been a mushroom island before? It would explain the still-spreading grass. Whoever owned this place must have put in so much time and effort here between the builds and the replaced mycelium. It was incredible. The look of this place was chaotic--so many different styles crammed together--but, at the same time, there was a certain harmony it had.

Ranboo slowly walked up to the mooshroom as to not scare it. When the cow approached him, he held out a hand and petted it a bit, feeling surprising sympathy for the animal. It was taken out of its natural habit and was alone now.

Kind of how he had found himself here, in this place he had no idea how to navigate.

As he petted the mooshroom, he thought he heard a firework sound off in the background. When he looked around, though, there was nothing.

Oh, yeah. Where were all the people? Where was the person that built this place?

Then, he looked up and saw someone flying above him.

Flying...?

Ranboo didn't recognize the grayish-purple wings strapped onto the man's back. They looked light, but they managed to catch the wind so the person who had the wings strapped to them glided around easily. Instead of feathers, these wings had a more silky, transparent look to them. There were only two main parts of the set, and they functioned pretty simply. The two parts just expanded whenever the person was in flight.

The person noticed Ranboo, too, and he landed on the ground. It wasn't anyone Ranboo recognized. They had light blonde hair, violet eyes, and a brown tunic. He was wearing diamond armor--no netherite. And instead of a chestplate, he was wearing those wings.

From the look on his face, he didn't recognize Ranboo, either.

The guy gave Ranboo that confused once-over, like he wasn't sure who--or what--he was looking at. He must have looked very odd compared to the other person's attire.

"Um...how did you get here?" he said after a moment. "I, uh, haven't seen you around before."

Ranboo sighed inwardly. "Honestly, I don't even know myself."

He reached into his inventory for his memory book, but after a few moments of digging around for it...he didn't find it. He opened his backpack all the way to look for it, but it wasn't there.

He started to panic a bit. He didn't like going anywhere without his memory book--he tended to forget things a lot, and he wrote them down in his book so he didn't forget. Without it, he constantly forgot important things...like how he'd gotten here.

...Shit.

The other person noticed his panic and hurriedly gave him a "calm-down" gesture. "Hey, don't worry about it," he said quickly. "I'm sure there's a reason why you're here."

"I'm Zedaph, by the way," he added as an afterthought. "You can call me Zed. For now, why don't I take you to Xisuma? He might know something about all this."

Zedaph? Xisuma? Who the hell were these people?

"Listen, I don't think I'm supposed to be here--" Ranboo said, looking around as if he could somehow find an exit out of this place. "I'm part of a different SMP, not...whatever this one is. I don't even know what this place is--I belong to the Dream SMP."

Zed paused as something occurred to him. "Wait--hold on, you're a part of the Dream SMP?"

Ranboo was a bit confused at Zed's sudden curiosity. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

Zed leaned against a shop's storefront, petting the mooshroom Ranboo found earlier idly. "What is it like?"

Ranboo was really confused now. Zed had changed topics at the speed of light. "Uh, what is what like?"

"The Dream SMP."

When Ranboo raised an eyebrow, Zed continued.

"Well, we've heard some things about that SMP. It's kind of infamous. Big reputation. I don't really know how to explain this, but uh...we've heard that conflicts on that server are more...major?" His voice went up an octave. "More serious? Than other SMPs, at least."

"Oh, um. Yeah." Ranboo was careful choosing his words, knowing he was treading on a ground littered with landmines. "What about it?"

"Well, compared to a place like here--Hermitcraft--we have more, uh, lighthearted conflicts. Not entirely serious, you know?" Zed cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced to the side.

So this was Hermitcraft. Just like how Zed said the DSMP was well-known, people knew the Hermitcraft server well, too. Specifically their big, grindy builds. Ranboo should have known that's where he was. This place definitely did Hermitcraft justice.

Zed was still looking at him curiously. Ranboo knew he wasn't going to let this go until he said something about it--he seemed like that kind of person.

"Well, I'm probably not the best person to turn to for this kind of stuff," Ranboo started.

"Hey, you're the only DSMP member who's appeared in our server randomly," Zed joked with a little laugh. "You're my only source. You can probably say something ridiculous that would never happen here and I'd have to believe you."

"Okay. A place called L'Manburg was blown up three times by three different people at three different times." Ranboo put on his best deadpan face, though Zed probably couldn't see it behind his mask and sunglasses.

Zed stared at him for a count of five. "...You're not joking, are you?"

"Nope. Actually happened."

"Um...wow. Okay." Zed didn't seem to know what to do with that info. That kind of stuff was probably unheard of in a place like this. "H-how did that happen anyway? What prompts someone to blow up this place thrice? What did it do to deserve that?"

Ranboo went stiff. Zed had hit a sensitive spot. "Wars. Conflict in the server. So many sides taken, the SMP is split in half."

"And...what side are you on?" Zed asked softly.

"...None."

Zed leaned back, surprised by the answer. "Oh, um...can I ask why? If you're comfy saying it, of course."

"No, it's okay." Ranboo took a deep breath before continuing.

"I have this policy. 'Choose people, not sides.' Every conflict on this server has started out because of two conflicting beliefs. Then, people start taking the side of one belief. Then, it just...escalates from there. I don't choose a side because that's going to solve nothing. Instead, I choose people. Of course, I want all this conflict to be over.

"But it never stops."

He trailed off as he realized he'd started rambling. "Uh, crap, you probably didn't want to hear all that, though--I'm sorry--"

"No, no, it's okay," Zed said quickly. "It's just...y'see, on Hermitcraft, our wars are more...lighthearted. Not as serious. I've said this before. There's no real conflict, just servermates messing around with each other."

"I wish I could experience that kind of thing," Ranboo muttered. It made sense that a place like this didn't have a lot of real conflict. It was like a haven of some sort to Ranboo. A special place that was unachievable in his own server.

"...I can't imagine going to actual war when it's my friends who are on the opposing side," Zed continued. "I mean, sure, we've had wars before, but it's always lighthearted roleplay. We're not actually mad at each other, y'know?"

He was silent for a moment before adding on one last bit. "Though some...recent wars...have gotten a bit more out of hand."

"How about you?" Ranboo asked. "What side are you on for these wars?"

"Would you believe me if I said 'none', too?" Zed said with a smile.

"Wait...really?"

"Not for the reasons you are. It's just...not my thing. I don't usually get involved in big server events. I have my own projects I want to work on. Though I have these two friends—Tango and Impulse—who always get involved. And they always end up on opposite teams."

"What's that like after the war is over?"

"Weird. It didn't use to be like this, but there's this...lingering tension now. Like I said earlier, the wars are getting a bit more serious, and it takes me a while longer to break the ice again between 'em. It's not like immediately after the war things go back to normal. Not anymore."

Ranboo let out a small puff of laughter. "Seems like we each have our own problems, huh?"

"...Yeah. Seems like it."

Ranboo's smile faded, and he sighed. "I wish I could be a part of a really close server like this. It seems fun."

"What do you mean?"

"Well...let's just say I don't really have any close friends on the DSMP."

"...You don't?"

Ranboo instantly regretted oversharing with Zed. The reason why he never told people about this is that they tended to go "Oh, poor you"! and baby you afterward.

Why did he share this with Zed, anyway? Out of all the people he could have confessed to...why a Hermit? They had it easy over here. How could he understand? Why not talk to someone on the DSMP who could?

But...Zed continued to surprise him with what he said.

"If you want...I can be your first real friend."

Ranboo did a double-take. Out of all the things Zed had said—and some of them had seemed downright foreign to him—this is what surprised him the most. He didn't go "Poor thing! Do you want a hug?" or awkwardly change the subject...he listened. More importantly, he understood.

And that was something Ranboo wasn't used to.

He realized Zed was waiting for an answer, and he awkwardly cleared his throat. He couldn't say anything that could properly convey the...happiness he felt when Zed offered to be his friend. Yes, that was it. He didn't realize how lonely he'd felt before.

Even if he did have people he hung out with more on the DSMP, he never felt close to them. That wasn't something he felt with Zed. For whatever reason, in the short time he'd talked to him, Ranboo felt like he could relate to him. A lot. They had to deal with the same kind of problem, even if their conflicts were on opposite ends. They were two sides of the same coin.

"...Yeah," he said after a moment longer. "I'd like that."

Zed smiled a bit, and Ranboo did have to read too deep into it to know that he was thinking along the same lines as he was right now. He was that kind of person.

After a moment of silence, Zed cleared his throat. "Um. Though...you know you can't stay here forever. You have your own server, and the whitelist will kick you out sooner or later. You belong in the Dream SMP. Not here. As much as I'd like you to stay."

Ranboo laughed as a thought occurred to him. "It was never meant to be, huh?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"But--before the whitelist kicks you out, we should make the most of the time left. I don't know if I'll see you again, y'know? And I want to hear about everything in the DSMP."

Ranboo felt a smile grow on his face. Zed delivering bad news, then immediately following with a hopeful smile afterward was something he'd do. He was glad he met Zed today...even if it was under the weirdest circumstances he'd ever encountered. And he'd seen some pretty odd things.

"Yeah. C'mon, let's go find somewhere to sit." Zed got up from his sitting spot, brushed off the dirt, and gestured for Ranboo to follow him. "I'll tell you what's happening in my server, and you can tell me about yours!"

[thessalian]

Thess vs Education

Given the labour shortages happening in the UK right now, I’mma say a couple of things about the view on education that’s propagated ... more or less everywhere, probably, but let’s face it - particularly in certain white-dominated English-speaking Western countries I will not name.

Actually, yeah, I will. I’ve been to school in three different countries that fit that particular description - Canada, the United States, and England. And there’s a few commonalities there that I think we really need to think about in terms of essential work, the education system as a whole, and how we view employment in terms of its merit.

Look. In general, school doesn’t teach you how to do anything. Not anything substantial, anyway. It doesn’t teach you how to cook unless you take Home Ec or ancillary cookery classes (do they still even have Home Ec?). It doesn’t teach you how to do your taxes, manage your budget, repair basic things around the home, shop around for a contractor for the things you can’t fix on a basic level, write a CV or handle a job interview, or anything that we really need to know in the world. It teaches us to get up early, sit at a desk with a bunch of people (some of whom are out to get you), work until they say we can go home, take work home with us to do after hours without complaining, and some basic facts that, while sometimes interesting, aren’t going to help us out in the world at large. It teaches us how to pass standardised tests.

Honestly, none of that shit really helps us figure out what we want to do for a living. We get the sanitised version of what our parents and teachers tell us that we should expect out of life. And maybe we want to be doctors and lawyers and politicians and scientists - our parents sure as hell want us to be - but what if we can’t, or don’t want to? Those professions are as ‘many are called, few are chosen’ in their own way as the ‘unrealistic’ artistic pursuits we’re not-so-subtly nudged away from in our teens. Not everybody has the money, education or connections to get their foot in the door. And those people still need to make a living.

Thing is, the other ways to make a living are dismissed as irrelevant at best, demonised at worst. Secretaries? Vital to the functioning of any concern you care to name, from business to politics to science to hospitality to medicine and way, way beyond - but dismissed as an afterthought half the time. Following on from that, customer service - the ones who ring up your purchases, help you at the self-service checkouts, process your returns, all that? “You’re better than that” tends to be the response. Same with servers, cleaners, garbage collectors, hospital porters, postal workers, shelf stockers, plumbers (electricians kind of get a pass, but not much), vegetable pickers, chicken pluckers, truckers, bus drivers, train operators...

All of this stuff keeps a city moving. I am seeing it now, just the beginning of the results of a lack of these professions in any city. It starts slow, but the trend is worrisome and it’s going to end very badly. And people do obviously take these jobs, but so many people are encouraged away from them with a tut-tut and a comment about how “you’re better than that”. And why? Because those jobs aren’t paid well enough and tend to involve mess, overwork, low pay, and abuse.

So ... if we need these jobs so badly, why in the hell don’t we make the conditions for those jobs better instead of hiring the vulnerable-- Oh, right. Because people who run this shit don’t want to spend money on the human beings who make their business actually function. So the trend continues - we get people who fall into roles where they’ll be overworked, underpaid, abused and misused and treated as disposable cogs, and the world encourages everyone to see those jobs as something lesser when we need them to survive, just so they don’t have to pay them fairly and can work them like fucking mules. And when that font of exploitable labour dries up? Well, in our case, businesses beg to be able to lease convicts and whine about how they’ll have to raise prices to pay people even halfway properly instead of maybe cutting some of their exorbitant salaries. And it keeps happening because we’re all trained from school age to see the people who sit behind the big desk and hand out assignments to do without questioning what the long-term point of it is as ‘better’.

Summary: I want to see trade schools from a way younger age than we have them. I want mandatory “Life 101″ classes in high school. I want electives that mean a damn thing: Home Ec how it’s supposed to be, learning the literal economics of the home, with budgeting and taxes and a unit on how to deal with saving for retirement; a separate, dedicated cooking class; Household Maintenance with units on fuse replacement, clearing a backed-up drain, and how to shop around for a contractor if it’s too bad to fix on your own. I want an entire marking period in the first year of high school looking at all the opportunities for employment, not just the ones that assume STEM, political or corporate success, and steering kids towards what electives might be useful in any circumstance. I want kids to come out of high school knowing how to fend for themselves, and not feeling like failures if they don’t meet the killingly high career expectations unfairly set upon them in early life. I mean, come on - it’s not like most history classes even teach history in an accurate and fair-minded way, given the whitewashing and everything, and the dates of Civil War battles don’t help us at all beyond teaching us to memorise and regurgitate random facts and numbers only to forget them again three days after the final.

To summarise the summary: I know teaching us how to sit down, shut up and do as we’re told is useful to how society currently is. But society as it currently is doesn’t work. School needs to start teaching us better.

[captainrexisboo]

Comfort pt 4: Decisions

IT’S HERE. I’ve been working on this chapter for months. Hopefully it was worth the struggle ahaha. Partially took so long because I’ve been feeling better! I have a great support system in place, and so getting to this point was really just a matter of putting myself back into the exhaustive mindset. That said, I’m able to work myself back out of it (thank you therapy)! Working on part 5 as y’all are reading this, let’s see if it takes me another two months to pump it out lmaoooo. But seriously, thank you guys for your kind words and support, love y’all!!!

No warnings apply, aside from general sadness and self-doubt. Also pining. Rex x Reader, reader is a woman, questions and comments always welcome. Also I need to write Ahsoka more.

Tagging: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @000ayfh @pinkiemme @midnightredemption @simping-for-fives @danger-xylophones @iscream4clones @jyvorakal @leias-left-hair-bun @vesperstalksclones

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~

“So you’ll be seeing him today?” 

Rex walked straight to you after the briefing, squeezing his hands behind his back. You were going to be separating for the day, him with Cody to go greet some new troopers and introduce them to their assigned battalions, yourself accompanying Admiral Yularen as he was invited to surprise inspect some nat born recruits. Sergeant Aurin’s recruits. You sighed, rolling your eyes, “Not by choice, Captain.”

“I know,” he grumbled, modulator muffling his voice even more, “Be careful, alright? I don’t trust this guy.”

“We’ll be at a work function, I don’t think he’ll try anything. Especially since I’ll be with the Admiral this time instead of his ‘competition’,” you stood as tall as you could, chin high as you tried to gather your courage, masking your clear anxiousness with a sly grin. Besides, teasing the Captain always made you feel better. No one has corrected your ex about you and Rex yet, and frankly you wanted to keep it that way.

Rex chuckled low, the sound a little hollow, looking off to the side as he shifted on his feet, “I just want you to be alright.”

“If I’m not, I will be,” you gave him an all too wide smile, one you knew he saw right through as he cocked his head to the side, “Promise, Captain.”

You bid Rex goodbye with a salute, one he returned before turning on his heel to meet the Marshal Commander. You gathered your datapad before following the Admiral through the halls. He was a stoic and serious man, one that cared about the men assigned to him, and was able to use his wit calmly even in the most dire of situations. His level-headedness made him a good offset for the very action oriented General Skywalker, and typically you were thankful to be lucky enough getting assigned to him. But not today.

“Are you feeling alright, Miss Y/N?” he looked back to see you trailing behind him as opposed to being on his left as usual. He stood just as straight as Rex, not quite as tall, looking at you with eyes that reminded you vaguely of your father’s, and suddenly you couldn’t even begin to think about lying to him.

“Not especially, Admiral,” you chuckled sheepishly, “But I’m fine to continue with you, sir. I just have to gather myself is all.”

He stood in place, letting you catch up, only speaking when he fell into step with you again, “I don’t suppose you consider me close enough to tell me the issue? I can perhaps assist in finding a way to resolve it?”

“It’s not like that, sir,” you shook your head, picking up the pace as if to run away from the conversation, “I can handle it just fine. We should hurry, the Sergeant is waiting for us.”

He didn’t say anything after that, just raised a brow at your averted gaze before turning his head forward again. You knew he didn’t believe you, but gracious that he respected your request to drop the subject. You bit your tongue, an attempt to keep you focused on something other than the burrowing feeling of your stomach, or the quickly restricting muscle in your throat. The closer you got to the nat born barracks, the harder you bit down. Still, you moved forward, thinking about any way you could deflect an attempt to talk.

If he said hello, you’d just nod and say just the one word back.

If he asked how you were, you’d say fine.

If he pries, you’d ask him calmly to leave you alone.

You will not lose your cool. You will not break your wall. Your mask will not crack; you’ll be ice.

But then the strangest thing happened. He ignored you. He barely looked you in the eye when you walked up, talking only to the Admiral. You only stammered out a single hi when the Admiral introduced you to the other officers standing with Aurin. You were there, frozen and eyes wide as you clenched your jaw, steeling yourself for the offence to come- but it never did. The Admiral entered the barracks with one of Aurin’s officers, while the Sergeant stood outside next to you. The tension was thick, causing you to unconsciously shuffle on the balls of your feet. You continued to bite your tongue, trying to keep your thoughts occupied as he stood stock straight next to you.

You thought about that huge stack of reports to go through when you got back, courtesy of the General’s leadership tactics and the general 501st chaos.

You thought about how you promised Commander Tano that you’d pick up the special tea blend she liked before heading back to the flagship.

You thought about how you were going to run to Rex as soon as you both had a free moment, and you thought about how you had no idea that silence could be so blaringly loud.

You had switched from biting your tongue to chewing your lip, twisting a stray lock of hair between your fingertips as the silent moment dragged on, your anxiety digging deeper and deeper into your gut. You stole a glance at him out of the corner of your eye, seeing as he gulped down a breath. But that was all you saw- the inspection was over, the Admiral was shaking hands and saluting goodbye to the Sergeant and his men. You barely got a nodding glance.

This is what you wanted, right?

This is what you told him you needed, he was listening to you- that’s good, it’s a step in the right direction. Right?

You had asked for this.

So then why did it hurt so much.

You were silent the entire way back to the flagship, saying a minimal amount of words to be polite to anyone who came up to you. The interaction (or lack thereof) consumed your thoughts wholly afterwards while you ran a few routine errands before making your way back to the flagship, causing you to just barely remember to pick up and give the Commander her tea. The kind, knowledgeable Padawan immediately noticed something was the matter in your thousand yard stare, clasping her hands over yours in concern, the tea now just an afterthought, “Y/N, what’s the matter? Do you need something?”

You gave the young Jedi a dull, thoughtful look, corners of your mouth barely turning up, “I can’t seem to lie to anyone today. No, Commander, I don’t need anything right now, but thank you for your consideration. I’ll be at the desk in the Admiral’s office should anyone need me.”

You bid Ahsoka goodbye with a small nod, walking down the corridor without an ounce of your usual spirit. Ahsoka looked down at the tin in her hand, weighing the tea blend absentmindedly. She was young, but certainly not stupid, she knew exactly who you needed to see. Gripping the present tight, she ran through the flagship until she got to the office she was looking for, not even bothering to knock.

“Rex!” she burst through the door, the Captain she was looking for dropped his head as his fingers came up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“Vod’ika,” he grumbled, laying down his stylus, “I can’t entertain you every time you get bored-”

“I’m not here for that, it’s Y/N,” Ahsoka cut him off, taking three purposeful steps and slamming her hands on the desk, prompting Rex to look up into her sky blue eyes, shining with worry. His own widened as he stood up from his desk, not even bothering to grab his helmet as he followed Ahsoka out into the echoing hall.

“What’s wrong? Is she injured?”

“No, physically she seems fine,” Ahsoka explained, stepping quickly and talking quicker as she led Rex to Yularen’s office, “But she seems really sad, and she didn’t want to talk to me about it. I know you and her are pretty close, so I thought-”

“We need to stop by the kitchen.”

Ahsoka paused, looking back to see Rex already walking down the turn toward the mess. She jogged to catch up to him, breathing out a snort of laughter, “I mean, I didn’t think now was the time to think about food, Rexster.”

“It’s not,” Rex rolled his eyes at the nickname gesturing an arm out as if the explanation lay right in front of her, “It’s for Y/N. She likes to talk over caf, if I bring her some, chances are she’ll let me stay and whatever’s happening in her little head we can discuss. And if she doesn’t feel like talking still, the caf will act as a reminder she has people to talk to whenever she’s ready.”

Ahsoka blinked at him. She didn’t expect this amount of thoughtfulness from her ori’vod, and the gears in her mind started turning. An impish grin took over her face, canines flashing as she slunk up beside the soldier, “You know, Y/N is really nice…”

Rex raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious as he held the mess door open for the Padawan, “Yes...she is…”

“She’s awfully lucky to have someone like you looking out for her, getting her caf, talking over administrative work, visiting each other’s offices during hyperspace jumps…” Ahsoka took a bit of a pause, stopping just inside the eating area, waiting for Rex to walk right by her to whisper just to him, “...giving each other really long hugs when you think no one’s around.”

Rex paused in his step, unable to stop a ruddy blush from heating over his face. Kriff. He cleared his throat, straightening up, “How’d you find that out, Commander?”

Ahsoka shrugged, giving him a wiggle of her brows, “Security cams, Rex ol’boy. Did you really not think about those?”

Rex groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, “I didn’t think anyone looked at the recordings…”

“Not many clones do,” Ahsoka explained, “We’ve got a lot of nat born officers in the surveillance offices. And boy, sir- do they love their gossip.”

Rex continued his trek to the instant caf machine, exhaling heavily as he surrendered to the teasing he was being subjected to. He rolled his eyes, getting two insulated tumblers to fill, as he started the machine, “Where are you even going with this, Commander?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she giggled, latching onto Rex’s arm excitedly, bobbing on her toes as she jabbed a finger into his pauldron, “You like her!”

“And?” Rex deadpanned, switching a full cup for an empty one at the dispensing nozzle, “I’m not gonna deny what’s obvious, and I get plenty of osik from the rest of torrent about it anyways, who don’t know about the...the, uh, hugging-”

“So why don’t you do anything about it, dummy?”

Ahsoka was about to give him a headache.

“When she and I first started actually talking, she had gone through a really emotional break up,” Rex treaded carefully, this wasn’t his story to tell, but it was the bare-bones basic of how his friendship with you had grown, so it seemed like a good place to start, “I offered her my support, and I’ve kind of become her confidant since then. I’m not going to ‘make a move’ or anything, not until she says something. She’s still healing, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka had stopped bouncing, mulling over Rex’s words. Rex was pouring in your preferred cream and sugar ratio, having memorized just how you like it, almost meticulous in the act. He picked up the cafs, walking steady, careful not to spill, “Where is she, her desk?”

Ahsoka nodded, mind still turning as she followed Rex out of the mess, “So you’re just gonna be there and listen to her problems until she decides that she likes you too?”

“Yup.”

“Does she listen to your problems too?”

“If I feel the need to talk about them, yes.”

Ahsoka stops in front of him, hands on her hips and eyebrow raised, “And what if she decides that she likes someone else instead?”

Rex’s shoulders slump for a moment, looking a little crestfallen, lips downturned and eyes shifting off to the side as a sad shine comes over them, “I’m not naive, I understand how big of a possibility that is. If she makes that decision, then that’s her decision. I can’t force someone to like me-”

“But does she know you’re even an option?”

That made Rex stop mid-stride. Surely you knew he was, right? He thinks back on the past few months, the things you’ve both confided, the tears you’ve shed, the countless moments you’ve both spent in each other’s comforting embraces. Your laughter. Your quiet moments. Surely… you knew, right?

The silence stretched, and Ahsoka looked too smug for her own good as she crossed her arms, chin up with full confidence, “I think you should tell her.”

Rex shook his head, taking himself out of his trance before he began walking again, “I don’t know-”

“It doesn’t have to be today,” Ahsoka clarified, falling into step beside him, “But you should. It doesn’t have to be dramatic, or one of your attempts at flirting-”

“Hey, I can flirt-”

“-just a brief confession.” Ahsoka pitched her voice low, what she thought would be a mimic of his voice, “Y/N, I need you to know I have enjoyed getting to know you, and that I find you extremely attractive, so much so that just holding you distracts me from thinking about the simplest of things, like the surveillance crew that’s always watching-”

“Hush up,” Rex hissed out, now just a couple of feet away from Yularen’s office. He wasn’t nervous, he couldn’t be nervous about talking with you, the both of you talked all the time, about everything. But actually dwelling on his feelings for you out loud with Ahsoka, acknowledging his emotions outright to another sentient did make him more, um, aware of the situation. Suddenly he was transported back in time, on the landing pad, leaning on the ship’s hull and waiting for you to board with your tear glazed eyes and trembling lips. He froze for a beat, staring at the closed doors, swallowing a breath. When did his throat get so dry? He let out a slow exhale through his mouth, almost whispering to himself, “I’ve been in this position so many times already… why does this time feel like the first again?”

“Maybe you’re getting tired of waiting,” Ahsoka offered, looking up to him and giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, “Maybe you’ve made a decision.”

She walked away in that moment, leaving Rex to fend for himself from his own thoughts. Damn Jedi and their cryptic messages. He rolled his neck and shoulders, letting his eyes fall shut as he breathed through his nose, trying to calm himself back down. After he felt himself loosen up a little bit, he pressed the call button by the entrance door.

“Admiral Yularen is on the bridge. If you have something for him to sign, leave it in the-”

“Y/N, it’s me,” Rex interrupted your rehearsed response, already feeling his posture tense back up, “I brought you caf.”

It was just static for the moment, your finger still on the speaker button. After a couple of seconds it clicked off, and the doors hissed open. Rex took a last steadying breath, and took the final steps inside.

[talkfastromance4]

breaking it in-- l.h oneshot

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

A/N: welp, here this is. @sexgodashton I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it😉😘

Word count: 2043

Warnings: smut no plot and very lightly edited so oops to mistakes I didn’t catch

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

• • • •

It’s been a whole project that consumed Luke’s time of wallpaper options, paint swatches, and antique shopping for the perfect photo and throw pillows to tie the in-home studio together. When it was finally finished, Luke was beaming with pride and couldn’t wait to start writing and creating songs in his little dojo of musical creativity. 

You were hesitant at first upon seeing the wallpaper he chose, but then when he showed you what else he'd picked out it all oddly looked really good. Everyday for about a week he would lock himself up in his soon-to-be studio applying the wallpaper. He’d come out of the room sticky or with black paint on his arms and tank top. You’d begged for a peek but he wouldn’t budge.

“I want you to be surprised. This is my project lovie,” he’d smile kissing your cheek as he walked by. He snagged your hand as an afterthought, “you’re more than welcome to join me in the shower.”

How could you say no?

You were upstairs folding some laundry with Petunia sprawled on the bed when you hear Luke stomping heavily up the stairs. It still takes you by surprise at his new haircut and bearded face. You miss his curls but the way his lighter blond length frames his face gives you butterflies.

“It’s all finished,” he says wrapping his arms around your stomach. “Ready to see?”

You drop whatever you were folding and follow him downstairs. As you approach the door that has been off limits for several days, you’re about ready to squeal with excitement in anticipation. Then you feel Luke’s soft hands cover your eyes.

“Luke! Come on,” you whine with your hand on the door knob. 

“Shush, I want you to get the full effect. Open the door.”

You do as he says and he pushes you inside, you can feel his chest and hips press against your back as you shuffle in the room. 

“Ready?” Luke’s lips tickle against your ear, his breath sends shivers down your spine. You nod and he removes his hand.

You gasp at the room, from wall to ceiling is the pink floral wallpaper with an accented black painted wall that has his guitars hung up. The framed photo of Mick Jagger and Ronnie Wood is placed above a robin’s egg blue couch with pink pillows, accenting the wallpaper perfectly. Potted plants are placed in corners and a desk with a soundboard and his laptop are perched by the window.

The 70’s style is screaming at you in the best way possible and you’re stunned at how good it looks. 

“Well?”

“It’s amazing!” you gush taking a step closer but Luke’s hands are firm on your waist, keeping you pressed against him. “You did such a good job, babe, I love it.”

“You really think so?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

“I really think so,” you nod trying to move to the couch so you could feel the pillows. Luke’s hold is strong on your waist. “Can I not move closer?” you giggle slipping your fingers between his. 

“I’ve been cooped up in here for nine days, working so hard and you know what’s been on my mind?” his voice is low as he kisses up your jaw. You tilt your head to the side, enjoying his kisses. 

“What?”

“Fucking you on that couch,” he whispers, his teeth nibbling on your earlobe. You let out a whine from his words and feel the impact of his statement against your ass. He’s already hard thinking about the sexual act. “What do you say?”

“Sounds good to me,” you sigh. 

“I’ve been thinking about how many times we’ll do it,” his fingers unbutton your shorts and pulls down the zipper before slipping his hand into your panties. You curve at his touch, his fingers teasing between your folds. “When I’m frustrated with a song, you’ll come in here making me forget all about it...you’ll inspire me, lovie.”

You hum when he teases his middle finger at your hole then he removes his hand quickly. You let out a grunt of disappointment but he squeezes your ass.

“Take these off and have a seat,” he tells you.

You’re all too eager in removing your shorts and panties, sitting in the center of the couch. You sink onto the cushion, it already smells like Luke and you watch him tug off his dark grey t-shirt messing up his hair. You bite your lip at the thought of messing it up more when you pull on it with your fingers. 

“Just how I pictured you,” he smirks kneeling in front of you. He pushes apart your legs, his tongue darting over his lower lip as he eyes you up. “Already leaking on the couch, tut, tut,” he tsks. You settle into the cushion watching him kiss the inside of your knee up your thigh. “I should fix that, huh?”

All you can do is nod, his voice and his words are going straight to your aching core. Just the thought of feeling his beard on your thighs so soon has you nearly shaking. With a final sigh, he attaches his mouth to your pussy, his tongue spreading you open. He licks at you slowly, gazing up at you lazily with his beard scratching against your thighs. 

You moan at the sensation of his mouth and when his hair falls in front of his blue eyes (that also match the couch) you card your fingers through his hair tugging on the roots. Luke hums against you, vibrating your whole body as his hot tongue flicks over your clit in quick precision. Your stomach clenches at the toe curling movement and he pushes your left leg against the couch so he can use his pointer and middle finger to open your pussy lips more. He eats you out with vigor, his tongue and lips making obscene noises as he breathes heavily against you. 

His beard burns in the best way and soon you’re pulling tightly on his hair as you come all over his mouth. He groans with you, collecting your juices as your body fills with intense pleasure than an overwhelming amount of bliss. 

You sink into the couch as you come down, Luke giving you soft kisses before pulling away and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, his skin glistens. 

“Want you to ride me now,” he tells you, rubbing your knee. He notices the burn from his beard on your thigh and gives it a cool kiss. 

“Okay,” you nod breathlessly watching him stand up. He pulls his sweatpants off, he’s gone commando, and your mouth waters at the sight of him. “You want a taste?” 

You nod again leaning forward to give an open mouth kiss to his head, swirling your tongue around before taking him in your mouth as far as you can. When he nudges the back of your throat, you salivate more when you pull off him. Tears spring in your eyes from the quick second of discomfort but it doesn’t stop you from taking him in again, a slight gagging noise emits from your throat. 

Luke sighs above you, jutting his hips slightly with the bobbing of your head, loving the way your cheeks hollow out as he disappears inside your mouth then suck in as you pull off him with a pop. 

“Fuck, you’re so good at that,” he praises and you look up at him with innocent eyes. This time, when you pull off him you zig-zag your tongue up his shaft leaving a string of spit attached from your tongue and his tip. Luke groans then stops you from taking him in again by holding your cheeks. “Want you on top of me, now.”

He sits next to you on the couch, spreading his legs and you swing yours over his so you’re straddling his lap. He yanks your shirt off, squeezing your breasts in his hands giving each nipple a suckling kiss as you line yourself up with him. You sink onto him easily, both of you groaning at the snug fit.

You spread your legs wider on the couch, knees digging into the cushion as you start to rock against him, his large hands moving up the curve of your back. 

“So pretty like this,” he sighs staring up at you, “use me to make yourself feel good, baby.”

You bite your lip and move faster. You lift your hips then drop down a few times until you find a good rhythm. He fills you up perfectly, and each time you grind down his lower stomach clips your clit and you let out a moan.

“Feels so good,” you moan, rocking even harder and faster on him. You have an idea and plant your palms against the floral wall using it as leverage to fuck yourself on him faster. 

You’re huffing and panting as you use your whole body to fulfill the pleasure you’re craving, the pleasure only Luke can give you. He’s praising you as you continue, his head tilted back watching you fuck him with rapid speed. He knows you’re chasing your high, can feel your walls clenching around him and the couch bumps against the wall the faster you move. 

“Mm, keep going, baby,” he encourages. 

You drop your forehead against his, eyes closing in bliss as the knot in your stomach starts to unravel. Your movements become jerky and sloppy as you continue to chase your orgasm. Between his length moving so easily in and out of you to your clit rubbing against him it leaves you breathless and your ears hot.

Your nails scratch into the wallpaper as you cry out, your orgasm finally exploding inside you and Luke groans with you. Your body is already trembling as you fill with the best pleasure, ears ringing in the wake as your hips begin to slow. You grind against him in aftershock, toes uncurling. 

“So hot, lovie,” Luke sighs, stretching his lips to yours in a lazy kiss. You kiss him back, hands falling limp from the wall onto his shoulders and your other senses come back. His hands rub up and down your back, you try to gather your thoughts and your new surroundings. 

“That was incredible,” you whisper. 

“You got one more for me?” he murmurs on your neck and you nod. Words are escaping you a lot today. 

Luke lifts you off him slowly, you wince at the loss of him inside you and repositions you so you’re laying on the pink pillow. He hikes your knee to your chest, eyes locked on yours as he slides inside easily. Your mouth opens at being filled once more, Luke snaps his hips against yours.

His hair dangles in his face as he fucks into you, his chest keeps your knee to your chest while your other leg is on the floor. You’re sighing heavily, loving the quick pull and push as he disappears inside you, you meet your hips with his and then you’re coming again. 

Luke’s breathing heavily, jack-hammering into you as he chases his own climax. 

“Come for me,” you tell him, breath escaping your lungs at each thrust he gives you. “Just like that, mmm.”

He fucks you faster, harder, until you’re seeing stars and his hips still against yours. You’re filled with his hot ropes of his orgasm, his hot breath fanning over your neck and he groans into your skin. 

You both lay there in post-coital euphoria, sex hanging in the air in the 70’s styled room and it couldn’t be more perfect. Your bodies are sweaty, chests heaving, then Luke lifts his head looking at you dazedly. 

“Now I can start using this room,” he tells you, shifting his body so your knee can fall straight. You’re already starting to feel the soreness in your legs and you will definitely be walking funny for the next day or two, but it’s a welcomed pain. 

“Because we had sex on the couch?” you snicker brushing his bangs from his face. There’s still a slight curl at the ends.

“Had to break it in,” he grins then gives you a mind numbing kiss.

• • • •

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @thecurlsofgod @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass​ @gosh-im-short​ @banditocth @dezzym17 @koalacal @lukeisbaby​ @spicycal​ @mysticalhood​ @notinthesameguey​ @wastedheartcth​ @atlcalm​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @calumance​ @babylon-corgis​ @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @lanternlover2​ @istaywithmyjonas​ @calteahood​ @sarcastically-defensive17​ @another-lonely-heart​ @devilatmydoor​ @frontmanash​ @philthepegacorn​ @mantlereid​ @lukedorkyhemmings​ @addietagglikesbands​ @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke​ @mayve-hems​ @morguelth @haikucal​ @thatscooibaby​ @meghanrose05​ @idontneedanyone​ @dinosaursandsocks​ @cassie-sos​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @burstintocolor​ @zhangyixingxing1​ @dead-and-golden​ @mymindwide​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @stardust-galaxies​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @lovelybonesetc​ @karajaynetoday​

[fandom-necromancer]

404 attraction not found

Had an idea in the shower. Had to write it. Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

‘Oh man, I’m not into men usually, but I’d definitely be gay for that one’, Chris laughed, admiring the person on the screen of the superhero movie they were watching currently. It was Friday evening: movie night. ‘God, he’s so hot, imagine his ass out of uniform!’ Gavin lifted his brows, studying the character and still not really seeing what Chris meant. The man looked over to them and laughed. ‘Come on, can’t be the only one!’ ‘Sorry, I’ve got the hots for the villain once again. She’s just too powerful not to love.’ ‘And you?’, Chris asked and nudged Gavin with his elbow. ‘Hmm? Yeah, same. Dude’s hot’, he answered. ‘Now keep it in your pants, haven’t seen this one yet! Wanna know what happens next.’ ‘Alright’, Chris chuckled and leaned back. Gavin did see how Tina side-eyed him knowingly, but chose to ignore it, hoping she wouldn’t address the topic in a misguided attempt to help.

They continued watching the movie, eating snacks and talking about anything that came to their mind. Tina got increasingly clingy the more she had drunken and as it had long become dark outside, Gavin decided to leave, driving her home. He thanked Chris and waved him goodbye at the door of his car. Their drive was silent until they stopped at a red light. ‘I’m sorry Gavin’, Tina lulled touching his elbow gently. ‘Maybe if you told him-‘ ‘Tina, it doesn’t bother me, okay?’, Gavin told her, maybe a bit too harsh. ‘And I’m really not in the mood to explain it yet again and hear all the same phrases over and over again. I can’t even complain or get mad about them, they are well meant. Phck. I will just continue to say what I’m supposed to say and it’s done with. Path of least resistance, as always. The reward really doesn’t justify the effort, okay?’ ‘Alright!’, Tina nodded, giving him a shaky thumbs-up. ‘My lips are sealed.’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘And what’s with Nines?’

Gavin frowned and looked over at her. ‘What’s with Nines?’ ‘You two. Anything going on?’ ‘How many times do I have to tell you? We are friends, Tina.’ ‘Are you sure?’ She smiled at him. ‘I’d say the tin-can has the hots for you.’ Gavin groaned. ‘Come on. Who the hell would want me? And hell, even if it were like that, I’ll deal with it if it happens someday, okay?’ ‘You don’t want to do anything about it? Are you interested?’ ‘Tina. I barely know the guy. I mean, sure, we spend a lot of time together. But that’s it. It’s difficult. I’m can’t know it like you seeing the girl of your dreams and drooling over how hot her thighs or something. I like him, I enjoy spending time with him. I could imagine living with him. That’s all.’ ‘Booooring.’ ‘Tina, I’m not existing to entertain you.’ ‘Still you do most of the days.’ ‘Then maybe you have a shitty sense of humour.’

Tina laughed and sat up. ‘Alright, you win, okay? Just know that if you want a relationship you deserve it.’ ‘Yeah, the hell I deserve it!’, Gavin sighed exasperated, gripping the steering wheel tighter. But who’s the poor phcker that deserves this, he added as an afterthought.

-

‘Hey, Gavin?’ The Detective looked up from his terminal to Nines who was standing next to him placing a coffee on his table. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Are you free on Monday?’ Gavin frowned. ‘Yeah, I should be, why?’ ‘I’d like to invite you out. I discovered a really nice restaurant that serves android food. Thought we could try it out?’ Gavin shrugged, already back to his report. ‘Yeah, sure. Would love to.’ He missed the way Nines beamed at that answer. It might have given him the push to realise Monday was the 14th February. Valentine’s day.

He only realised that the Sunday before as he contemplated what to wear. He immediately called Tina: ‘T, red alert! Tomorrow is Valentine’s day.’ ‘Yeah, I know. What’s up?’ ‘Well, Nines invited me to a restaurant tomorrow.’ ‘Oh, that’s nice! I’m happy for you!’ ‘Yeah, well I’m not!’, Gavin returned. ‘Is that a date?’ ‘Maybe? Could be. What did he tell you?’ ‘He just said it was a fancy restaurant that sells android food he wanted to try out.’ Tina sighed. ‘I don’t know then. Could very well be a date. With the day and all.’ ‘God, what if he’s interested?’, Gavin asked. ‘Tina, I will ruin it. The guy will hate me.’ ‘Why should he?’ ‘Because I will have to tell him I’m basically not interested!’ ‘But you are right?’, Tina dug deeper. ‘Yeah, but until I’ve explained him in what way I’m interested, he will already be disappointed!’ ‘Gavin’, his friend spoke up, reminding him to keep calm. ‘You are overthinking. Nines is pretty direct. Maybe this isn’t a date at all. And if it is, you have no way of predicting his reaction. All I know is that Nines is a very patient being. You should go.’ ‘Of course I will go, Tina. Phck, just know that after this is over, I will need a new partner.’

-

The restaurant really looked nice from where Gavin was sitting in his car. It had a modern feeling but lots of dark wood had been used inside that made it comfy and bordering to a touch dowdy. He could see the android sitting at a table at the far corner by the windows and he was sure he had already recognised his car. Gavin shouldn’t stay inside for long, but he couldn’t really bring himself to exit either. ‘It’s just you two meeting at a restaurant Gavin. You had been to the movies already. You had met to watch the boats pass on the river, for phcks sake! This is just another one of those things you do together. Don’t think too much!’ He pushed himself up and exited the car, locking it and pulling his clothes in order. Then he walked over, entered and quickly made his way over to Nines’ table.

‘Hello Gavin!’, the android greeted him. ‘Nice to see you.’ ‘Hi’, Gavin answered, sitting down. ‘Yeah, you too.’ ‘You look nice.’ Gavin swallowed and looked at the android. He didn’t wear a suit, but a nice white shirt with a blue tie. He was thankful he had picked something more presentable than his usual attire: A blue short-sleeved shirt and light blue jeans. ‘Err… you too.’ Damn, he was repeating himself.

‘I’m really interested in how this android food works’, Nines changed topics then, handing Gavin a menu. ‘I know it’s all a combination of Thirium and compounds we can break down in our filtering systems. But Connor loves it, he told me it actually has taste, even if it’s mostly messing with our analysing programs to achieve that.’ Gavin nodded. ‘Yeah, sounds cool. I mean, eating is nice, I guess.’ ‘I don’t know if I will like it, to be honest’, Nines shrugged. ‘I mean, we don’t need to eat and to a large part it’s just complications to clean afterwards. But You can share a meal with someone and I guess that’s the whole appeal for human android couples.’

Gavin didn’t want to look at Nines as he said that and instead let his eyes wander over the other people in the restaurant. A large – if not all of them – were indeed human android couples spending Valentine’s day together. Laughing at each other’s jokes, eating and toasting to the other. It made Gavin even more uncomfortable though. A fact that Nines picked up on immediately, of course. But before he could speak up, a waiter came up to them and saved Gavin from the conversation. Both of them ordered and waited until the waiter had disappeared. Gavin had hoped the android had forgotten, but instead Nines spoke up: ‘You are nervous.’ ‘Yeah, no shit, tin-can. Well, not nervous, but…‘ ‘But?’

Gavin sighed and looked at the android, who was returning his stare completely neutral. ‘Nines, what is this? You invited me out to a fancy restaurant on Valentine’s day. It could be you just wanted to try the food, but I’m afraid there’s more to it.’ Nines pulled a grimace, blushing. ‘There’s no fooling you, is there?’ He added a smile afterwards, but Gavin’s face fell. ‘I wanted to wait until after dinner, but of course, we can discuss it now too.’ Gavin rubbed his face in frustration. ‘Phck.’ ‘Gavin? Everything alright?’ The man looked up, then blew his cheeks. ‘Yeah.’ He dropped his hands. ‘Yes, please, what did you wanted to tell me?’ ‘I really enjoy your company’, Nines begun. ‘I actually don’t want to miss any day we were together. You are a fascinating human being and I admire your way of thinking. Your humour is… cute in its own way. I just wanted to tell you that…’ The android huffed. ‘Well, I guess I’ve beaten around the bush for long enough. I love you, Gavin.’

There it was. Gavin’s dream and at the same time worst nightmare. He wanted to be happy about it, but if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t quite feel anything but despair. ‘Phck’, he sighed. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Nines, I… Thank you’, Gavin began. ‘I really appreciate it, but… I don’t feel like you do.’ The android swallowed. ‘Oh. Oh, err… that’s okay, it’s totally fine, I’m sorry I said anything. I-‘ ‘Nines, stop. I’m bad at this. I do love you. Romantically. I just can’t love you the same way you love me.’ Nines cocked his head inquisitively. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Does the word asexual say you something?’, Gavin whispered, feeling self-conscious about telling Nines something so personal in a space so public. ‘I’m- It’s basically not feeling sexual attraction towards someone.’ He looked up at Nines, afraid to see his disappointment. But the android was just sitting there, listening. ‘I can’t… I know someone’s beautiful, okay? Like this restaurant is nice, you look amazing, something like that. But there’s no sexy-sensor, basically. I’m not going around the city, seeing people and think I’d tap that, you understand?’

Nines nodded thoughtfully. ‘I think so. So there’s no particular feature of a person’s body you find attractive?’ ‘No’, Gavin nodded. ‘I mean, with time something could develop, but at first glance? Nah.’ ‘I’m sorry if this is intruding now’, the android began. ‘But you do have one-night stands every now and then, have you not?’ Gavin sighed. There it was. ‘Yeah, I have. Because sex is great. It feels nice and some days you simply feel the urge. But none of the persons I hooked up with I found particularly hot. They were just… people.’ ‘So you do like sex.’ ‘Yes, for phck’s sake!’

His call had startled the waiter coming over with their food, but Gavin just leaned back embarrassed, as the plates were put down and they mumbled their thanks to the waiter. ‘You had this conversation before, right?’, Nines spoke up gently as soon as the man had left them. Gavin just sighed and nodded. ‘Yeah. I’m not out to many, mostly because explaining something like that to others can be complicated. And it isn’t really worth the effort.’ ‘Then I thank you for telling me. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I’m just fascinated. I thought it was an universal experience.’ He took up his fork and looked at the blue food on his plate, testing consistency. ‘Does this… Does this change anything in regard to what I told you?’ Gavin looked up from his plate. ‘What? I mean I should rather ask if that changes something for you, to be honest.’ The android shook his head. ‘No. I still love you. I mean I… To be honest I would really like to… spend the night with you? But if you don’t want that that’s… okay.’

The human sighed. ‘Okay, just to make it clear: I consider sex to be a gesture towards my partner. Like watching a movie with them I don’t know but they enjoy. It feels good and knowing your partner feels it too is… it’s nice, okay. I’m not abstinent, I just don’t find anyone attractive. That’s it.’ Nines smiled then. ‘Well it doesn’t change anything for me then. I still love you and would like to… deepen our relationship if you feel the same.’ ‘I… I would very much like that too’, Gavin smiled, unable to keep eye-contact with the android. ‘If you accept me despite what I’m missing.’ ‘You’re not-‘ ‘I am’, Gavin interrupted. ‘But it’s not a disadvantage. But I am missing something others have and that’s okay and I want to know you accept that.’ Nines blinked surprised. ‘Yes. Yes, I accept that.’

Gavin’s shoulders untensed and he finally took his first bite from the plate. The food was indeed amazing. ‘Then I’m sorry I made your date so awkward’, he chuckled. ‘Please, could you repeat what you’ve said?’ ‘What part? ‘The “I love you” part.’ Nines straightened his back and nodded. ‘I enjoy your company. You are fascinating and funny and intelligent. I wanted to tell you for a long time now. I love you, Gavin.’ Gavin smiled and took Nines’ hand in his. ‘I love you too.’

[kdramachitchat]

The Devil Judge - The Finale

A dystopian law drama w/a good concept that ended up underwhelming due to terrible writing. The star studded cast made up that fault with the likes of Ji Sung and Park Jinyoung.

Min and Jung has a previous conversation about the live show court trial. They team up so that they could stop this madness with the Supreme Court and with the SRF Foundation. Jung request that Min should keep an eye on someone and that someone is Ga-On. He requested Ga-On during their early meetings to be the Judas for Yo-Han. Min hated Yo-Han for ruining the country so he wanted to attack him by revealing his family affairs. He wants to drag Yo-Han down. He affirmed it when he was at the hospital and Jung visited. But Min didnt know how crazy Jung was and killed Soohyun. He said that Soohyun is like a daughter to him. Min said didnt he want to stop Yohan at all cost, that includes Soohyun too. Jung said that there's no going back now and they're close to ending the chaos, and questions if he wants to be remembered.

Min needed to become a monster to stop Yohan. Gaon then calls him a dirty hypocript and Min calls the security. Gaon is in pain that he just let Soohyun die just like that. Gaon was taken away by the security. Gaon tells Jinjoo that the foundation has set this all up and she wants to help.

The SRF team congratulates Jung for having Min to their side and Heo is in silence waiting for her instructions. He's literally her dog. They then talk about Yohan's mental mind now that he's in prison, he's out of his game. If he disappears quietly, they assume that everyone would be happy. Jung thinks otherwise, if he continues to say things she threatens him to step down. The SRF team continues to praise Jung. Jung discussses with her righthand woman on how Heo changed his personality completely and finds it fishy. She probably underestimated him and there's something else. She then request to check the status of the moving of the residence to the Dream Village.

Chief Ward meets Yohan to have discussiona t the office. Yohan disrespects the Chief  but the Chief warns him that this is not a live court show and that he's in prison.

Lawyer Ko talks to Gaon and how much of an idiot he is. He doesnt know if he can continue to trust Gaon with what he's done. Gaon is asking for help. Gaon wants to go expose the Dream Village and plans to go alone. Lawyer Ko warns him that there's tone of security but he can go to the Medical Center, but no way he can exit out. Gaon says just let him in. Also warns him that the media is on their eggshells and it's not anymore a free media. Gaon though has come up for something and request to get him 1 thing.

Gaon explains to Elijah in a letter that she didnt do anything wrong and promises that Yohan will return and that it wouldnt take long. He tells her to eat well to not get sick so that Yohan wouldnt worry. She then cries and eats her food to recover.

At the prison, Yohan and Juk breaks out a fight at the courtyard.

Gaon then enters through the Dream village by using the food truck inside a box. He then observes the restricted area and records using a small video device. He sees alot of people lying down sick surrounded by nurses and guards. He goes through the wards and surprisingly sees Ms. Han, the woman who sided with Yohan during the live courtshow. All of a sudden the President arrives at the facility. Theyre testing a new vaccine and the number of people that survived is 182. President requests about the behind payments of all the countries. Clinical trials are in high demand. President tells them when a person dies through the trials they collect all the well organs and export them as byproducts. Nothing goes to waste. Gaon silently watches them laugh maniaclly in disgust. The SRF and Heo talks about Jung behind her back, they plan to outs her. Gaon plans to escape with Han but was got caught with a nurse but saves himself that he's checking her vitals. The nurse recognizes him and actually helps him. She has been waiting for some help and said that their phones have been taken away. Also said that there's some sane people in the center too. She promises to help.

Breaking news that Yohan has been arrested for instigating murder is dead. He was stabbed by a assailant. Both co-judges are left in shock. Same goes to Jung. She's in shock but calms herself that it was done because of her. Jung will be President and Min would now be Chief Justice. He did a press conference instead of a inauguration. Oh was able to catch up with Min and tells him that Jung wants to meet him at her office, this is a set up. Gaon tells her to leave the building and requests her to go. SRF team celebrates at the live court set with Jung at the top of the judges seats. Gaon then captures Min and ties him up at the office with a bomb around his body. Since when did Gaon become so violent. Its a plant and the media will receive news about exposing the Dream Village with his name on it. Yohan suddenly appears and saves Gaon on time. The death news was fake and that Yohan had to dig out to save him. He reminded me of Batman at some point here. Yohan was able to get out by threatening the Chief with his corruption and crimes for the last 30 years. Mentions the Chief that the money is not with him anymore. Yohan tells him to save himself is by doing his specialty for swapping prisoners. Just give him 24 hours. Lawyer Ko enters and tells him that he couldnt tell Gaon everything. Yohan tells him that he was able to return the Chief a favor but not in the form of cash but through charity.

While the SRF is celebrating the lights and the screen suddenly went on with Yohan on the screen. Jung realizes that he is alive and so does the rest of the team. Its revealed as a solemn trial. Yohan starts a live trial and its the final trial with the entire SRF team being exposed with the Dream Home Medical Center. Looks like Jung doesnt know anything about it and asks the team about it. Even the conversation Heo had with the team regarding the citizens. They also show that Jung has killed innocent people in the way to fulfill her ambitions and to attack him. Min is attacked too as a betrayer.  Min is let go by Gaon but tells him that his name is tarnished forever and he will live awfully for the rest of his life. That's a better punishment and more realistically given too. 

There was a proper punishment given and Yohan announced that there's a bomb then leaves to go to the trial set. Yohan reveals that Gaon was the one who helped exposed and will testify to tell the whole truth. The bomb is planned and Yohan will sacrifice himself along with the foundation. Yohan asks them if the moment reminds them of the fire incident. All of them trying to escape. Only the fastest person survives. Jung calmly comes up from her seat with a gun on her hand. Heo complains that he is the President and Jung shots him due to annoyance. She also tries and aims the gun at Yohan. Yohan tells her that its the both of them till the end. Tells her to come with him till death. That's the only way she'll be with him, which is quite tragic. Jung says her final goodbye to Yohan and shockingly shots herself to death, like how Ms. Cha did. Gaon then appears at the end, tells Yohan to stop and think of Elijah. Gaon in the end will be the hero and Yohan pushes him out. Will Yohan survive the bomb explosion? He needs to be alive or Gaon will end up with nothing. Well he still has Judge Oh and Elijah at least. Gaon wents back to the mansion and ses the blueprint of the bomb explosion, there has to be a escape route for Yohan. Yohan tells him that Gaon must do something for him. Housekeeper tells Gaon that Yohan stopped by and tells her she's fired and asks for Elijah. Yohan tells Elijah that they're going to move out to somewhere safe and its a rehabilitation center in Switzerland. Gaon then finds out that Yohan is actually alive.

Gaon was set in a trial with the comittee. Gaon inwardly thinks that nothing has changed at all and is confused on what to do now that the country doesn't need Yohan. Yohan secretly bids goodbye to Gaon and he then quickly realizes it. Captures him on time from afar. The 2 men bid each other goodbye which then ends the drama.

Thoughts: If you like stories like Batman or The Hunger Games this would be the drama for you. The writer seem to took inspiration from both works. I think Yohan is like Batman/Katniss while Gaon is like Peeta. Oddly reminds me of the finale alot with the similarities of the characters. Or sometimes Gaon acts like Katniss/Peeta both. Just remove the whole romance aspect of The Hunger Games. There's quite a few angst moments of Yohan and Gaon. Gaon all of a sudden cares for Yohan. The writer tries to include those similiarities with the 2 characters. Yohan wants nothing more than revenge. Then the rest of the SRF are like the trial players or could be the government too. They try to copy the brutality of the hunger games the games itself with the fire incident and the finale of the drama. All trying to save themselves from death.

Messed up the ending. What I wanted most from this drama was for people to rise up to protect their country, because its the job of people to protect their country not the job of one or two people like Yohan and Ga On. Also they didn't even show the aftermath of the last trial. What happened to that dream house project and what was the people's reaction about the live trial? Assuming the whole time it was filmed. What did they think of Yohan after that? Alot of afterthought was left out.

Rating: Story: 3 (Great until episode 12 onwards) Production: 2 (Locations and the offices were ok but not meant for the dystopian feel they were trying to sell. Could've been more modern looking set) OST: 1 (BGM is spot on and fills the scenes well, dont like the rock portion of the OST) Acting: 4 (Mainly because of Ji Sung) Character Development: .5 (Main cast are 1 sided and no room or little improvement) Overall Enjoyment: 1 (The drama's tone is consistent throughout despite the bad writing) Total Rating: 2.5/6

[goneseriesanalysis]

Drake Merwin

I am soo sorry, this is super late but I got incredibly distracted with reading and forgot that literally anything else existed. Drake was a really hard character for me to analyse because his characterisation was just so disappointing to me - but luckily my intrinsic desire to have everyone hear my opinions prevailed, and so here it is. I hope you enjoy!!

Spoiler Warning: Major spoilers for Gone, Minor spoilers for the rest of the series and the monster trilogy 

Old Opinion: I had a sort of morbid obsession with Drake and thought he was a top-tier villain

New Opinion: So far Drake is tied with Astrid for most-changed opinion. His character has almost no-depth and could be placed in almost any story without changing a single thing about him - and it would make sense. I found myself desperately trying to make him more interesting than he is in an attempt to justify younger me’s obsession - but alas I was unsuccessful. He had a lot of potential, but instead he ended up as a copy-paste villain with no realistic motivations and no real intrigue. 

1.) DRAKE’S APPEARANCE:

Drake is, I think, the character who is best (as in most thoroughly) described in the first book. Not only do we get an idea of his actual appearance beyond the vaguest possible descriptions (sorry to Sam, Caine, Diana and every minor character) but we also get some idea as to the effect his appearance has on other people.  

In Chapter 14, when we are first introduced to the Coates kids, Drake is described as, “a smiling, playful, mean-eyed kid with shaggy, sandy-coloured hair.” I actually really like this description. Contrasting “smiling” and “playful” with “mean” really brilliantly sets Drake up to be a complex villain – the kind of villain we all love to hate, who cracks a joke while slitting your throat. It has the implication of a layered personality but sadly, this is not the villain we get. In fact his character in the first chapter compared to the character we get as the book continues is so drastically different that it almost seems like mg did a complete 180 on his character. An original description is supposed to give us some indication as to what a character is like – their personality and role in the story, and we know that mg can do this really well. (Sam’s non-descript description setting him up to be the underdog, Quinn’s mismatched attire hinting at his inability to fit in, Astrid’s colour scheme reflecting her innocence and religiosity), and so it seems particularly odd, not to mention disappointing, that Drake’s description gives us…nothing. No real indication as to who he is or his purpose other than to hint to him being an antagonist (which we already guessed from his affiliation with Caine.) I could go on and on about what a waste Drake’s character was, but I’ll save it for a later paragraph.

We will then skip ahead to Chapter 37 where both Howard and Lana describe a similarity between Drake and Pack Leader:

“The one time she had seen Drake Merwin. He had made her think of Pack Leader: strong, hyper alert, dangerous. Now, the lean physique looked gaunt, the shark’s grin was a tight grimace, his eyes were red-rimmed. His stare, once languidly menacing, was now intense, burning hot. He looked like someone who had been tortured beyond endurance.”

“The two of them, two of a kind, it seemed to Howard, stared holes into each other.”

This is a much better example of mg using descriptions to establish the purpose of a character. By drawing a comparison between these two, mg sets up Drake’s later role in the books, where he replaces Pack Leader as the gaiphage’s right-hand man. This almost leads me to believe that mg had decided very early on that Drake was going to desert Caine and this is possibly why he seems so out of place and underdeveloped as Caine’s underling in the first two books. Mg had already moved on from this side of his character…and it shows. Lana’s description of Drake also works as a basis for showing the reader how he has changed since losing his arm (before gaining his whip) and acts as an insight into his current mental state – which is important as we don’t get much introspection during Drake’s POV’s. But, I still have a few issues with this. First of all, his “lean physique”. Now this isn’t really a problem all by itself, but unless I have forgotten what 14 year olds looks like (which is a possibility though I doubt it) I don’t think that they should be muscly with minimal body fat. And Drake is not the only character he does this with. Quinn gets extremely muscly later on in the books (I’ll admit that there is a plausible reason behind this so this example isn’t terrible but it’s mentioned like every 5 sentences) and in Fear Caine is described as having wash-board abs. Why are we sexualising children?? Children should be pudgy and awkward and still growing into their bodies, not lean and muscly!! The attractive, damaged man who hates women for no reason at all is also a really really really common trope and tbh I’m just so bored of it. It’s not relatable (at least it shouldn’t be) and it’s just really unimaginative – although it does help us to understand Drake’s character as we’ve seen him before so many times in all types of media. My second issue with this description is the way it really really highlights how much of a waste of character Drake was. The potential of a high-school bully with a skewed world-view due to the death of his father and the later abuse of his mother at the hands of his replacement father figure trying hard to impress the charming “leader” with unimaginable power (that he so desperately wants) only to be undermined at every turn by a girl who teases him by pointing out his flaws and insecurities taking his anger out on everyone around him (especially women) as a way to cope with his childhood traumas then turning into a heartless monster who not only enjoys others pain but lives for it after being “tortured beyond endurance”, was astronomical. But we don’t get that. Instead we get a cheesy, one-dimensional cartoon villain. The change that his body and mind go through after his maiming should have been pivotal to his character, but that just doesn’t come across in the writing. :/ But more on this later.

And last but not least, the whip-hand, which is very important to Drake’s character. It turns his actual body into a weapon and his excitement over this is indicative of his sadistic nature. Again, I think this is an example of a wasted opportunity. I would have liked mg to have gone in to depth about how Drake’s body undergoing this change affected his psyche (and I’m not counting his one-off line in the monster trilogy). I think it could be argued that Drake’s “change” is a metaphor for him going through puberty. Him gaining the whip that ultimately turned him into his very own weapon shows his transition from a child [a little messed up but still just a kid] into a monster, someone who is capable of committing atrocities without a second thought. It would have been particularly interesting for Drake and Orc’s final battle to put some focus on the fact that they both suffer through monstrous physical changes that can be used to represent their shift from children to young adults but whereas one relishes in this, one is completely disgusted. The whip-hand is described as being an “impossible blood-red snake” and then that “It was stretched. Like it had been turned into dark, blood-red taffy. It wrapped twice around his body.” – Both of these occurring in Chapter 39. I don’t have much to comment about this – other than that I think red is great colour choice for Drake, thematically at least.

I know this point was mostly about what Drake could have been as opposed to an actual analysis of his appearance, but I’m just so tired of the attractive misogynistic villain that seems to appear in every single piece of media. His characterisation really bummed me out and put me into a slump so instead of analysing his appearance I decided to roast him instead. But, onto actual analysis now (I am going to further expand on some of the points I made here I promise).

2.) DRAKE’S PERSONALITY AND CHARACTER

I mentioned in the previous point that a lot of Drake’s characterisation seems like an afterthought at best and one of the things that made me think this, is the inconsistencies with his character and the most obvious example of this is the discrepancies with his birthday. In chapter 20, Diana says that his birthday is “April twelfth, just one minute after midnight.” But, in Chapter 33 we get the line “Sooner would be better,’ Drake drawled, ‘what with me having a month.” This is a really small nit-pick, I know, but it just really bugs me that mg overlooked something as simple as a birthday – especially when birthdays are such an important plot point in this book. But anyway, moving on. I promise this whole review isn’t going to be negative.

Backtracking now to Chapter 14. Drake’s character here seems to differ quite drastically from his later characterisation. He seems here to be an example of the laughably evil trope, he has a kind of dry sarcastic humour that is quite fun and seems to lighten the tone of the story a little bit. Rather than showing us the boringly disgusting misogynistic villain that Drake turns out to be, we instead see a funny, charismatic character who seems to prefer picking on those who already have power – as is seen here:

“Drake paused halfway, turned back, and spoke for the first time. In an amused voice he said, ‘Oh, um, Captain Orc? Have your people – the ones who aren’t injured- line up outside. We’ll work out your… um, duties.’                                  With a grin that was almost a snarl, Drake added a cheerful, ‘Later’.” – Chapter 33

Now I understand that the reason we don’t see the real Drake here is because Sam is obviously not yet aware of his true personality – my issue lies in the fact that based on just this small excerpt here, I expected so much more from his character. We get hints of his sadistic nature here, with him joking about Cookie’s horrific injury and clearly taking joy in exerting power over Orc, but it is evenly balanced by the fact that he’s kind of amusing and we don’t really like Orc at this point anyway. Can we see that something isn’t quite right with him?? Yes. But do we kind of like him anyway?? Well I did. At this point. I would have really loved it if mg had carried on this idea of Drake abusing those who already have power – him enjoying to take down bully after bully so he can be King bully, instead of him picking on people who he perceives as weak and vulnerable. Mg relying on misogyny as a motivator is just really disappointing to me because there is no depth to it, and it’s pretty lazy. He hates Diana because she is a woman and he sees women as beneath him?? Weak. Over-used. Dull. He hates Diana because she has  power over Caine in a way that he never can, which makes him feel insecure in himself and the fragile sense of stability and power that he has struggled to cultivate within his damaged psyche?? Yes pls. Not only would this have made Drake a much more engaging character, but it would also have made his desertion of Caine in hunger much more impactful. And while I think there are aspects of this within his character, which I will go into later, I wish there had been more of it. Again, I’m sorry that this has become more of a “what could have been” rather than an analysis but there really is just so little to analyse without just pointing out obvious facts and statements. There’s no spice here :/

Moving on now to Chapter 16, where we as an audience, as well as the characters within the book, begin to realise what Drake truly is – an unhinged madman. We are told by Sam that Drake has been abusing his power as Sheriff – which particularly stands out as, so far at least, Drake is the only member of Coates who has shown this kind of behaviour (Caine is actually a pretty sound leader until he loses his shit and attacks Sam). And this is the first major distinction that we get between Caine and Drake and their capacity as villains in the story. Caine is a bad person who will do bad things to achieve his goals, he is power-hungry and ambitious but he is not needlessly violent. Everything he does he (in his own mind) is able to justify as it helps him to achieve his vision. Drake, on the other hand, doesn’t really seem to have an end goal. He is violent for the sake of being violent – he is a sadist who enjoys the suffering of other people as we see here, “Drake was more than a little scary. Kids who defied Drake or any of his so-called sheriff’s had been slapped, punched, pushed, knocked down or, in one case, dragged into a bathroom and given a swirlie. Fear of Drake was replacing fear of the unknown.” Now, we still don’t get to see the full extent of Drake’s madness here. Most of the crimes listed are pretty mundane bully things – they’re still wrong, but they aren’t life-threatening. He hasn’t bashed anyone’s head in with a baseball bat. While Caine is playing with politics, Drake seems unable to move past his role of high school bully. If he had played it right, the role of Sheriff would have been perfect for him. I mean, how many actual police officers get away with literal murder in the name of “upholding the law”?? But he is unable of seeing the bigger picture, unable to grow and fit the new world order as Caine does so naturally, and so, instead of properly taking on the role of Sheriff and building up his own authority in this way, he turns back to his tried and tested method – hurt them and they’ll fall in line.

I particularly enjoy this as I think it explains, a little bit more, why he hates Diana and Astrid so much. Now I know the bottom line is simply that he is a violent misogynist – but that doesn’t explain why he hates Diana and Astrid specifically. Is it because they’re both attractive women and he is unable to distinguish sex and violence in his head?? Partly yes, but then Taylor is also described as attractive (and most people find her annoying) and yet he doesn’t seem to hate her to this extent. I think the real reason he hates these two specifically, more than anyone else, is because he simply cannot understand them – and that scares him (although he is unwilling to admit it). Drake only knows how to gain power through violence – he sees this work at home, he used it on Holden, he used it to gain his reputation at Coates and, although he has the ability to gain authority in other ways, he continues to use this method even now in the FAYZ. Diana and Astrid cannot do this, they are not fit to fight, they are not able to use violence to assert their status – and yet they both have more power in the FAYZ than he does. They make him question his whole world view and, as he cannot or will not adapt to the new hierarchy of the FAYZ, he resorts to trying to destroy them, in order to return the world to what it was before. His hatred of others gaining power through (what he sees as) unconventional means is then further established with his dislike of actual powers and the people who have them:

“I’m sick of all this powers crap. You saw what we did to freaks at Coates?? Who do you think it was that took care of that?? All these kids with their stupid so-called powers. Starting fires and moving stuff around and reading your mind and all?? Who do you think it was grabbed them one by one in their sleep and beat them down and when they woke up their hands were setting in a block of cement??

[…]

That’s right. And I didn’t even have a gun then. It’s not about who’s got powers, morons. It’s about who’s not afraid. And who’s going to do what has to be done.”

We get told by Diana that it was Drake’s idea to cement the kids in the first place (and a bad one at that) and I really think that is all the evidence you need to see that Drake’s hatred and fear all stem from his complete inability to adapt. He is trapped in a cycle of abuse that started with his father, a police officer who teaches him how to shoot people (however unwillingly) and is then continued by his step-father (an actual abuser) rendering him incapable of recognising any kind of authority if it is not gained from violent means. And so of course he hates the powers – none of the kids gained their powers through suffering or through causing suffering. They didn’t earn their authority in any valid way, according to him. (This is also another reason why I think Drake was so ecstatic at gaining his whip-hand. He suffered for it and therefore, in his twisted mind, he earned it. It is physical proof of his supposed power over these kids.) It’s tragic really – but mg then goes on to make him so disgustingly unsympathetic that his story loses its meaning. I love mg’s writing but Drake’s character truly was butchered for shock value and plot convenience and it makes me so sad.

Ok back to Chapter 16. Here, not only do we hear about some of the things that Drake is capable of, but we see them as well. His beat-down of Orc is the first indicator we get that Drake is someone we should really be afraid of. Heads up, this is a long quote:

“Nobody move,’ Drake said.                                                                                    Orc pushed Edilio off and jumped to his feet. He started kicking Edilio, landing size-eleven Nike blows into Edilio’s defensive arms. Sam jumped in to help his friend, but Drake was quicker. He stepped behind Orc, grabbed him by the hair, yanked his head back, and smashed his elbow into Orc’s face. Blood poured from Orc’s nose, and he howled in rage. Drake hit him again and released Orc to fall to the concrete.                                                                                                ‘Which part of “nobody move” did you not understand, Orc?’ Drake demanded. Orc rose to his knees and went for Drake like a linebacker, Drake stepped aside, nimble as a matador. He stuck his hand out and said to Chaz, ‘Give me that.’    Chaz handed him the bat.                                                                                        Drake hit Orc in the ribs with a short, sharp forwards thrust of the bat. Then again in the kidneys and again in the side of the head. Each blow was measured, accurate, effective. Orc rolled over on to his back, helpless, exposed. Drake pushed the thick end of the bat against Orc’s throat.                                  ‘Dude. You really need to learn to listen when I talk.’                                              Then Drake laughed, stepped back, twirled the bat in the air, caught it and rested it on his shoulder. He grinned at Sam.”

“Sam had gone up against bullies before. But he’d never seen anything like Drake Merwin. Orc outweighed Drake by at least fifty pounds, but Drake had handled him like a little toy action figure.”

Orc has already been established as the top bully in Perdido beach – we’ve already seen that our main character is afraid of him – and for good reason. And so for Orc to be defeated so casually and so easily is shocking. It lets us know that the old world order has collapsed and old fears are fading away with it, with new, much more threatening adversaries taking their place. I actually think that this scene was exceptionally clever of mg. Drake is attacking someone who has already been set up as an antagonist, at the same time rescuing Edilio, who the reader has been conditioned to like. But, through context clues, we know that this is not a good thing. It sets up the villainous nature of the Coates kids, Orc’s redemption, Drake and Orc’s rivalry and Sam’s fear of Drake. And it feels natural, even after re-reading the book multiple times. It’s scenes like these that really remind me how great of a writer mg is.

Another thing I really wanted to talk about here IS Drake and Orc’s rivalry because, yet again, I think mg missed a huge opportunity with this. Drake and Orc are very similar before, and in the early days of the FAYZ. Both have abusive fathers (a step-father in Drake’s case but still), both enjoy asserting their power over people through violent means and both are put in positions of power that they are unable to fully take advantage of – Sheriff and Sheriff Deputy. And even as the books continue, similarities can still be found. They both suffer mutations that turn their bodies into grotesque weapons, dehumanising them and alienating them from their peers and That Scene in Plague tells us that Orc and Drake sometimes have similar “desires”. Their stories are constantly intertwined, with them being played off of each other from the start and Orc becoming Drake’s jailor later on (and in turn Drake sort of becoming his). Their differences come from their reactions to the horrific acts of violence they have committed – and of course why they do them. I’m going to make a whole separate post on this because it’s long enough to be a standalone, but my I just wish mg had played up both their similarities and differences more. It would have made Drake so much more interesting.

We also get more hints at his sadism in this scene. He is later unbothered that Betty has been hurt and it seems that the only reason he attacked Orc was because it gave him an opportunity to assert his dominance over him. All in all, this is one of my personal favourite scenes in the book as it establishes characters, themes and relationships very well. I just wish some of these had been developed further – but mg dropping certain aspects of the story does seem to be a common problem.

The final thing I wanted to talk about in regards to Drake’s personality and character is this line we get in Chapter 23, “It was small, just two bedrooms, very neat, very organised, the way Drake liked things.” This was another thing that irked me slightly. It’s such a small aspect of his characterisation but it reinforced the idea that drake is just another cookie-cutter villain with no real personality, nothing that makes him stand out in the sea of white male psychopaths with a hatred for women. His whole character could be replaced with any other misogynistic psychopath at no detriment to the story. My immediate though when reading this was that even the smallest aspects of his character can be seen in other, more developed villains – this line in particular is hugely reminiscent of Patrick Bateman. Nothing seems to be his own. No aspect of his character is even remotely unique. (I think this may also be why some young fans develop an obsession with him. His character is comfortable because we’ve seen it so many times before.) He is so entirely replaceable and replicable - only reason he isn’t completely forgettable is because you are constantly plagued by the horrific things he has done. Mg sacrificed depth and development for shock value and it’s so disappointing

3.) DRAKE’S PAST

Onto Drake’s life before the FAYZ. Not only does Drake receive some of the longest and most POV time in this book, he is also the character whose life before the FAYZ we learn the most about (with the possible exception of Sam). This is especially shocking to think about seen as Drake is arguably one of the most underdeveloped characters in the whole book, but anyway. There are two scenes I’m going to talk about here, both occurring in Chapter 23, with the first being his dad teaching him how to shoot. I apologise in advance for the long quote:

“His father had taught him how to shoot, using his service pistol. Drake still remembered the first time.

[…]

He remembered the way his father had taught him to grip the butt firmly but not too tight. To rest his right hand in the palm of his left and sight carefully, to turn his body sideways to present a smaller target if someone was shooting back. His father had had to yell because they were both wearing ear protection.                  ‘If you’re target shooting, you centre the front sight in the notch of the rear sights. Raise it till your sights are sitting right under your target. Let your breath out slowly and squeeze.’                                                                                          That first bang, the recoil, the way the gun jumped six inches, the smell of the powder – it was all as clear in Drake’s mind as any memory he had.                                                                                                                                                   […]

‘What if I’m not shooting if I’m not shooting at a target?’ He’d asked his father. ‘What if I’m shooting at a person?’                                                                          ‘Don’t shoot a person,’ his father had said. But then he relented, relieved no doubt to find something he could share with his disturbing son. ‘Different people will tell you different techniques. But if it’s me, say I’m doing a traffic stop and I think I see he citizen reaching for a weapon, and I’m thinking I may have to take a quick shot? I just point. Point like the barrel is a sixth finger. You point and if you have to fire, you shoot half the clip, bang, bang, bang, bang.’                    ‘Why do you shoot so many times?’                                                                    ‘Because if you have to shoot, you shoot to kill. Situation like that, you’re not aiming carefully for his head or his heart, you’re pointing at the centre of mass and you’re hoping you get a lucky shot., but if you don’t, if all you’re hitting is shoulder or belly, the sheer velocity of the rounds will knock him down.”

Ok so the first thing I want to analyse here, is how important this memory clearly is to Drake. He remembers it fondly, in immense detail and seems to call back on it when he needs to clear his head (notice how this memory is placed while Drake is trying to figure out what to do, not while he is doing it.) It seems that rather than just using this memory as a source of useful information, it is also a source of comfort to him. Now there are some things that I really wish mg had told us that would help to analyse this scene better, like: How old was Drake when this memory took place?? How old was Drake when his father died?? How did his father die?? But alas, we don’t know these things (at least not that I’m aware of, and not within this book) so I’m going to try and do the best I can with the information that we have. Now, in Light, Drake makes it seem like his step-fathers behaviour has been significant in forming his worldview – which makes sense, trauma does that. But he spends half of his time away at Coates, which says to me that for this behaviour to have had such a profound effect on him, his step-father must have been around for a while. Right?? I’m gonna take a guess at 3-4 years at the least. Give Drake’s mother about a year to meet and start dating this man after the passing of her husband – this means that Drake would have been around 9/10 at the latest when this scene took place. That’s pretty young. Like, this is a formative memory and from the way it’s written, it seems like this may be some of the only bonding that Drake and his father ever did together. No wonder Drake has such an unhealthy obsession with guns as is seen with these quotes:

“He started from Astrid’s house, which was already beginning to smoke. He worked his way methodically, a hunter, looking for any movement. Each time he spotted someone walking or running or biking, he would take a look at them through the rifle scope, line them up in the crosshairs.                                        He felt like God. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger.” – Chapter 23

“Drake kept all three guns loaded all the time. They were set out on the dining room table, a display, something to be gazed at lovingly.” – Chapter 23

“Drake could not leave the gun alone. He kept thumbing the safety on and off. He rolled down the window and aimed it at stop signs as they passed, but did not fire.” – Chapter 31

Drake shooting Sam and his gleeful reaction – Chapter 34

For him, guns are the ultimate symbol of power and authority. He was introduced to these weapons of incredible power at such a young age – of course he loves them. That being said, it seems that Drake has always been “disturbed” so I suppose we can’t fully blame his father and step-father for his mind-set – and I have to say I don’t really like this. Drake’s issue as a character is that he is completely de-humanised by all the horrific things he does. By having it seem like Drake was irredeemable from the off-set, it just adds to this idea and again removes any possible depth or character development. Imo it would have been much better to present Drake as becoming the way he is AFTER his father’s death. It would bring a sense of tragedy to his character – the way he uses his father’s advice to hunt down Astrid would seem less like a by-product of his sadism and more like a misguided attempt to feel connected to his deceased father.

However, flawed though it is, this scene does give us some insight as to why Drake is the way he is – through the characterisation of his father. Admittedly we don’t get much, but one line really stood out to me, “Because if you have to shoot, you shoot to kill.” Ummm..sir?? I don’t think that’s how police officers work. Isn’t your goal to incapacitate – not to just kill on sight?? The fact that he not only stands by this rule himself, but also gives this advice to his CHILD is disconcerting. Drake is not only receiving this harmful rhetoric from his father figure but also a police officer. Someone who is meant to uphold the law. I think this links back to my earlier point on how Drake only recognises authority if it is gained by violent means. While we get no indication that his real father was ever violent to Drake or his mother, he openly tells Drake that when he is upholding the law (in this hypothetical situation) he does it by using force. That is a dangerous thing to tell a child, especially a child who you already think is disturbed. This twisted-take on a father-son relationship nicely sets the precedent for Drake’s warped perceptions, I just wish it had been developed further. And this leads us nicely into the next scene – the shooting of Holden:

“He remembered with vivid, slow-motion detail the time he had shot Holden, the neighbour’s kid who liked to come over and annoy him. That had been a bullet to the thigh, with a low-level calibre gun, and still the kid had nearly died. That ‘accident’ had landed Drake at Coates.”

Again, first and foremost I just wish we had a little bit more information. It is not clear whether this situation occurred before or after his father’s death – which seems like a pretty important detail to me. Although, we don’t actually find out that Drake’s father is dead within this book, and this omission again makes me feel like mg adding that detail was little more than an after-thought. It feels like in Light he wanted to quickly try and make Drake more of a sympathetic character and so he added in an abusive step-dad to try and tone down or at least explain Drake’s violence and misogyny. It seems like Drake is a plot-point first and a character second and the lack of detail here really highlights that for me. What purpose did these scenes really have in the story?? They did very little to flesh out his character, they introduced no new themes or relationships. It seems like mg just wanted to let us know – “Hey! Drake knows how to use a gun. That’s gonna be important later.” That being said, there are a couple of other things I would like to quickly mention. Firstly, I think the fact that Drake did not aim to kill Holden, even though he could have, is meant to be indicative of his change between then and now. It’s done to tell us that Drake wasn’t always this bad – there was at one point some hope. For this to have the desired effect though, I really think mg should have waited until after Drake lost his arm to straight up try and murder Astrid and Little Pete. Like, you can’t tell us that Drake was a little messed up but still redeemable before his maiming and then go and have him try to kill a random girl and her five year old brother. Because that’s more than a little messed up (and that’s not even mentioning the cementing). And it also contrasts the idea that Drake has always been disturbed. An idea that was introduced to us not even a page ago!! The other thing I wanted to pick up on, which I actually quite liked, is the ambiguous “who liked to come over and annoy him.” Because this is Drake’s point of view – so “annoy” could mean anything. Was Holden actually just an annoying kid?? Was he just trying to be Drake’s friend?? Or was he actually a bully and Drake doesn’t want to admit it?? I guess we’ll never know.

4.) DRAK’ES MOTIVATIONS

For this point, I wanted to focus on three particular motivators: Caine, Diana and Astrid. These are the three people, I believe, who provide, either consciously or unconsciously, the motivation for his actions within the FAYZ. I’ll start first with Astrid and Diana, the two people who Drake hates the most. Throughout this book it is clear that Drake has no real goals – he has no desire to be in control like Caine, no desire to re-invent the world like Albert. All he wants is to cause pain, with his preferred targets being these two. And, as I’ve said before, I think this is partly because he hates the authority that they have within the FAYZ – which stems from manipulation and intelligence rather than violence.

In Chapter 20, Drake explains his hatred for Diana, “Drake had made the time to check out Diana’s psych file the day after the FAYZ came. But her file had been missing by then. In its place she had left Drake’s file lying open on the doc’s desk and drawn a little smiley face beside the word ‘sadist’.                                Drake had already hated her. But after that, hating Diana had become a full-time occupation.” What I take from this scene, is that Drake’s loathing stems from Diana’s ability to get under his skin, to make him feel inferior – to annoy him. (Perhaps Holden had a similar talent). I’m going to assume that his prior hatred of her can be boiled down to his misogyny and his disgust at Caine’s weakness for her, both of which have been explicitly stated in the text. His hatred after this though, comes from a pretty mundane incident. I mean all she did was get there quicker, and do exactly what he was going to do to her. And so I think this loathing is less about what she did and more about his own personal reaction to it. Diana was able to weaponise Drake’s own anger against him – to make him feel inferior and powerless. She challenges Drake’s fragile perception of authority and takes a diagnosis that he seems to not only be ok with, but is actually proud of, and makes him feel embarrassed. His whole perception of power is rooted in the idea that his ability to inflict pain on others with no guilt or remorse is what makes him better, it is what gives him his power. But she takes this idea and belittles him for it and so his initial reaction is to attack. This is an idea that is again seen with Astrid. Astrid intentionally tries to make Drake feel inferior by bringing up his biggest insecurity, Diana’s treatment of him “Doesn’t it bother you that Diana treats you like some wild animal she keeps on a leash?” And she does escape him – twice. Her and her autistic brother (and we already know how Drake feels about autistic people). She also proves herself to be more intelligent than him, in their little argument over the r-slur. Drake only gets violent after he realises that, in an intellectual sense, she has more power than him. It seems to be his defence mechanism just as much as his pleasure – and therefore Astrid and Diana’s power over him motivates him to use it.

Now onto Caine. Caine and Drake’s relationship is, for me, one of the most interesting aspects of Drake’s character and while I’ll only be mentioning it in its capacity as a motivator here, I have a whole post planed out for it. Drake seems to simultaneously hate Caine and admire him. He is constantly looking to impress him and the only time we ever see Drake think about betraying him in this book is when Caine gives his attention to Diana rather than Drake. And, because of this, I can kind of understand why people ship them (although I personally dislike the idea of Drake being gay). A lot of the time this motivation is completely unprompted by Caine himself, like in these quotes:

“Drake cursed and, again, for just a moment, felt the almost desperate fear of failing Caine. He wasn’t worried about what Caine would do to him – after all, Caine needed him – but he knew if he failed to carry out Caine’s orders, Diana would laugh.” – Chapter 23

“I got him’ Drake announced. ‘I got them all.’                                                    ‘Yes, you did,’ Caine said. ‘Good work, Drake.” – Chapter 34

In Chapter 23, it seems that both Drake’s need to impress Caine and his need to prove to himself that he is better than Diana are his main motivators for his extreme attack on Astrid. I think it’s important to note that he only planned on trying to catch her, until Caine told him to kill her. His sadistic nature is brought out in full because he needs to prove himself to Caine. But why does he?? If he is planning on taking over from Caine in the end, why does he have a “desperate fear of failing Caine”?? Sure, part of it is his desire to prove himself to be better than Diana. But even this has roots in his absolute need for Caine to take notice of him. Drake is drawn to Caine because of his power and authority over people. Caine seems to be the closest thing that Drake can get to an equal, someone who shares the same motivations, ambitions and worldview (of course Caine and Drake do not share these things, but Drake doesn’t realise this…yet.) He seeks validation from Caine because he wants to have these things in common with someone – yet another motivation for his hatred of Diana as she constantly gets in the way of this.

We also know that Caine is, at least, partly aware of his effect on Drake. He is paranoid that Drake will turn on him (because Caine sees being equal to someone as relinquishing power) and he is able to manipulate Drake’s misguided feelings when he wants to – most notably in Chapter 36:

“It’s not Diana or Chunk or even me,’ Caine said. ‘It’s none of us, Drake. It’s Sam. It’s Sam who did this to you, Drake. You want him to get away with it? Or do you want to live long enough to make him suffer?”

This is such a clever moments as it sets up Drake’s whole character in Hunger, and it’s false. Because yes, Sam is the one who burned Drake’s arm and Drake has every right and reason to hate him. But it was Caine who abandoned him to save himself. And it was Caine who refused to let Drake die, even though he was begging for it (and let’s face it, he didn’t refuse to kill him out of any affection – it was a selfish decision.) But Drake is so desperate for that equal, for that validation that his worldview is correct and is shared by another person, that he just idk forgets?? He never brings up this conversation again and just accepts Caine’s word as gospel. I have so much more to say about their relationship but, as I said, I’ll save it for a later post.

5.) DRAKE’S MENTAL STATE

And finally, we have Drake’s mental state. Now I’m not going to try and give him an official diagnosis or anything, but I wanted to make a small point specifically about his mental state after his maiming. I think we can all agree that what Drake went through was pretty horrific, and while I personally struggle to feel any amount of sympathy for him due his own list of horrific crimes, the change he goes through after this is extremely significant, or at least it’s supposed to be. I think mg wants us to believe that Drake’s descent into madness was directly cause by the loss of his arm, and that before that he did have the chance to be redeemed. I think whether you buy into this depends on how forgiving you are, but I want to focus more on the actual proof of change that we see.

I’ve already talked about the physical changes he goes through, and the implications of this so I’m going to focus solely on his mental state during and partly after the whole ordeal. I think the first and most important thing to talk about is the fact that Drake didn’t actually want to survive:

“Don’t cut off my arm,’ Drake cried. ‘Let me die. Just let me die. Shoot me.” – Chapter 36

He would rather die than lose his arm (his gun arm to be specific). Now, while I don’t doubt that the burning was indescribably painful, I’m still not sure that the majority of people would beg for death. Especially when an alternative (in this case losing his arm) is presented. Not to mention, he doesn’t actually talk about the pain when begging for his death – what he talks about is the loss of his arm. Of course it could be argued that the reason he didn’t want his arm to be cut off is because he knew it would mean more pain, but I don’t think that this is the case. Rather, I think that Drake is so scared of losing the power that he has, that he would genuinely rather die. This 14 year old boy is so messed up that his own death is preferable to the idea of no longer being able to hurt people. And so when he gets his power back, he doubles down. He has realised by this point what he truly wants, that he would rather die than be rendered powerless, so he begins committing more heinous acts (like attacking the prees). Pair this with the amount of pain that he went through, which most definitely will have had an effect on his already damaged brain, and you can see how a high-school bully became what he did. The groundwork for an interesting and though-provoking character was right here. I think yet again the problem with his character is the execution. Interesting aspects of his personality are dropped in favour of plot convenience and shock value and it cheapens his character as a whole until all the intended nuances are lost and over-shadowed.

I’m really sorry if this is a bit all over the place and not quite as polished as my other posts. I found Drake so difficult to write about and so my thoughts kept going haywire. Thank you so much for reading (and being patient with my brain). I hope you enjoy!!

[concussed-to-pieces]

To Tell You The Truth Part Ten

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thank you so much for reading and enjoying, my friends! Thank you for your kind support of my endeavors. I hope that this story has managed to bring you some peace, or at the very least function as an interesting distraction from the issues we currently slog through like so much Bakhroma Green dust. Stay safe out there, be well and be kind. Now here we are at the end of our tale! I've had a lot of fun writing this, and I'm so glad that you liked it enough to stick around. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch​ @wrestlingfae​ @renegademustelid​ @zombiexbody​ @sporadic-fics​ @rzrcrst​ @lackofhonor​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @arrowswithwifi​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @absurdthirst​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @88dragon06​ @roxypeanut​ @walkerchick007​ @peggers-n-beggers​ @robbinholland​ @chrisbostonevans​ @cinewhore @sarcasmisakindofmagic​ @phenomenaaa @evidenceofzoe​ @sinnamon-bunn​

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment discusses children/pregnancy/'family-planning'. Stay safe!]

You slipped from the bed, barely managing to untangle yourself from his embrace without waking him. Ezra seemed less man and more octopus when he slept. Wrapping your shirt around you as more of an afterthought than anything else, you crept out of his room and returned to your own. 

Through the tiny window in your bathroom you could see thick snowflakes falling, and you dimly heard the low rumble of the street plows. As you filled your tub, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror above the sink.

And you smiled.

Kevva, you were a mess! Your hair was mussed, your chest and collarbone littered with marks from Ezra's tender ministrations. You ran your fingers over your skin, laughing quietly. It had been so long, you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to enjoy sex. Almost forgotten how sticky it made you feel afterwards too, hence your bath.

Your body tingled and ached in the best ways, like you had just gotten done with a satisfying workout. In a way, you supposed you had. 

Once the tub had filled, you carefully sank into it with a sigh of contentment. The warmth of the water felt heavenly, soothing the admittedly-tender skin of your inner thighs. You knew you ought to get started washing up, but first you dipped a little lower in the water and blew a few bubbles. Perfect.

You were midway through scrubbing yourself down when you heard Ezra's voice, the man sounding slightly panicked as he called your name. "I'm in my bathroom!" You replied. 

Footsteps bolted up the hall and the former prospector all but lunged into your room, his hair even more of a mess than usual and his eyes wild. "Oh. Oh. Forgive me for invadin' your boudoir, gentle soul." He apologized after he spotted you through the open bathroom door, averting his eyes. "I may have had a bit of a terror, and when I awoke to find you missing, I...I'm out of sorts, is all." He rambled, his voice still gravelly with sleep. "Did you see that it has finally begun to snow?"

"I did! I'm surprised we can hear the plows all the way up here." You answered cautiously. He was working his jaw again. "I'm sorry I left, I just forgot how grungy I can get when...well uh, you know. During." 

Ezra waved off your apology, seeming to have calmed down. "No need for contrition, gentle soul. It was my mind playing cruel pranks on me. I'll leave you to your bath, and then rest." 

"Hey, wait." You implored as he turned to leave. "Go get showered and then come sleep in here with me instead? My sheets are clean. We probably did a number on yours." Ezra tilted his head, dark eyes studying you thoughtfully. "What?" You asked after a moment, a little disconcerted.

"You are so incredibly beautiful." He murmured simply, making you flush. "I merely wanted to drink it in. You have no equal even in my vast vocabulary, no match in my lexicon. And so I settle on the trite, the mundane, beautiful." He shook his head. "A tragedy, really, but should I resort to something so exotic as pulchritudinous every time I feel amorous, I fear you may want to strike me out of exasperation." 

"Oh no no, that one is for special occasions. Weddings and funerals only." You joked. He laughed, his pensive expression finally easing. "Now go, I'm going to get ready for bed. Meet me back here in ten."

Ezra saluted lazily, still chuckling.

…

"You recall what I mentioned earlier, gentle soul?" He asked softly once the two of you were safely ensconced in the warm cloud of your comforter. "About how this all seems like a dream?" You nodded against his chest, feeling the deep sigh he let out. "I am never the final stop on the proverbial slingback, you see. There is always a brighter horizon, a more affluent lover, another mountain to scale." He explained, sounding resigned.

"Not for me, there isn't." You said, raising your head so you could look at him. "I want to be here with you. As long as I can have you."

"You are hardly the first to offer up such a platitude." Ezra murmured, his nonchalance once again making your heart sink. "So I will be with you, and hold you, and love you until you are weary of me, and then…" he hesitated, "and then I will release you without debate, for you are not mine to cling to. You are your own woman, gentle soul, for all that it wounds me to say it."

"Excuse me?" You propped yourself up on your elbow. His eyes were firmly locked on the ceiling overhead, studiously avoiding your gaze. "Ezra, what the hell?"

His jaw worked and you saw him swallow hard. "I did not mean to cause you grief, gentle soul. I am not particularly skilled at pillow talk."

"Hey, no, look at me. Please?" You requested softly. Ezra blinked up at the ceiling. "Please, Ezra. Don't disappear on me just yet."

"I am not the master of my own emotions currently. I must insist we postpone this discus-"

"Ezra." You huffed, cupping his face with your hands. He struggled to dodge your eyes, his own filling with tears the longer he attempted. "Oh...no, no, don't cry Ezra. Talk to me." 

"Damn it, gentle soul, you have me all in a twist about this!" He cried in exasperation. "It is inevitable, invariable, inescapable, why does it abrade me so harshly this time?"

"How many other people have you written poetry for?" You inquired bluntly.

"Well...I mean, that is-"

"How many other people have you asked to share your living space?"

"Gentle soul, I don't-"

"How many people have you been patient with?"

"No one, damn it!" Ezra roared finally, "you're it! Are you satisfied now, now that you've dragged a dull, tepid answer out of me?! Are you thoroughly entertained by my piteous bawling, gentle soul?" His chest heaved with emotion and he rubbed roughly at his eyes. "I am not patient. Not by nature, not by habit or happenstance. I am not particularly generous, kind or honest, not without promise of recompense." He snapped, "I do not presume to be a good man, gentle soul. I've made this abundantly clear."

"So why would you be upset over me?" You pressed, not dissuaded in the slightest by his bluster, "why would you be good to me if it's so out of character for you?"

"Because you are all of those things, and I crave you more than any reward in this universe. Kevva above, your generous spirit has me reeling, your kind words leave me breathless, your honest love slaughters my deep-seated contempt for such juvenile emotions. Yet I cannot decipher whether I merely play at the better man, or if I have indeed metamorphosed due to you. Until I stumbled across you in the Green, I did not even believe someone like you existed." His eyes softened, going glassy once more. "Most of the time I still don't."

"But I do exist." You insisted. "I'm here, and I'm not leaving."

"Do not promise me such things." Ezra muttered, kissing your knuckles. "My morose poetry will be a poor replacement for the warmth of your touch when you do depart."

"I get the feeling that you like wallowing even more than you like me. You miserable-" You kissed him. "-broody-" Kiss. "-dour man." Bumping your forehead against his own, you continued, "I'm not leaving. The last thing I want to do is justify this mopery you're indulging in. What happened to the guy who dragged me halfway across the Pug for junk food?"

"I love you so much." Ezra whispered, his hands shakily carding through your hair. "I have warded off many a potential partner simply by the virtue of my verbose nature, but you have stayed throughout. While the thought of you leaving terrifies me, the thought of," he paused, grimacing, "the thought of becomin' something...becoming a man like him steals the very breath from my lungs. I shall not tear you from the sky, gentle soul. I will not clip your lovely wings."

You bit your lip. "I know you won't. That's why I'm still here." You assured him softly. "I'm yours for as long as you want me."

"Martyr's malfeasance, you cannot promise me eternity." Ezra protested. "I haven't even asked you yet, not officially, and we must think of the paperwork-"

"Asked me what?"

"Ah." Ezra cleared his throat, his face pinking up in a highly-endearing manner. "Well, that is to say...I had...I may have indulged in a bit of domestic daydreaming. Strictly speculative, you understand." He hemmed and hawed, wringing his hands nervously. "I am...I'm not a young man, gentle soul, I am approaching my mid-forties. My life has not been a particularly kind one, and I...my body is...worn." He stammered, "I-I bear the bold stamp of blue-collar occupation, as it were." 

You raised an eyebrow, confused at his discomfort. "Ezra, if you have something to say..."

"What do you want out of life, gentle soul?" Ezra asked suddenly. 

"Me? Uh..." You sat back on your haunches, propping your chin up with your hand as you thought. "I'd like to move somewhere a little quieter, eventually. More countryside. Somewhere that the flora won't kill me, of course, but you know." You shrugged, tapping at his ribs meditatively. "I liked working as an illustrator, though that may have more to do with the pleasant company than the actual work." You winked and he smiled weakly up at you, his own fingers drumming lightly on your knees. "I want a dog, and a nice house. Small one, with good lighting. Mostly though, I want to wake up next to you in the mornings. I want to draw you more."

You weren't sure if you would ever get used to how his gratitude struck you in your chest. It made his whole expression light up, blond patch bright like his own personal sunspot. For a man who was so brazenly cocksure, Ezra didn't seem to believe he was worth overmuch in anyone's eyes. 

"You have not yet been afforded the opportunity to grow weary of me, it appears," He remarked, "though we have endured each other's company for six stands and counting."

"Over half a year." You could barely believe it yourself. "So, I've told you what I'd like. And what would you ask of life, mister big shot author man?" You teased. 

Ezra's smile faded. "I would ask many things of life, though I have only one thing to ask of you." He rasped. "Accompany me in it." His hands folded over your own on his chest and you could feel him shaking. "I will not request you to stay any longer than you wish to, but I beg of you to...to be with me. For a moment, a stand...h-however long you can endure waking up beside me." He soldiered on admirably through his voice breaking, "I do not offer much, as you are aware. But I would like to believe that I could make you happy, at least for a time."

"Ezra, are you-" you swallowed hard. "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"I suppose that would depend on whether you are inclined to believe that I am asking you to...in less blatant terms, engage with myself in somethin' that may eventually, potentially, smack of the matrimonial persuasion." He was watching you closely, fragile hope shining through the serious, furrowed frown on his face. 

"You're serious." You stated weakly. He nodded once, a singular jerk of his head. "You...you're sure?"

"Abysmally certain." Ezra replied gruffly. "And I do not require an answer. Not now, not ever if you do not wish to reply, I merely-" 

Your mouth on his own put a stop to his amendments, and you felt his lips twitch into a smile when you breathed, "yes."

"Well!" He exclaimed gladly, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you. "I must say this--this particular outcome, while exceedingly welcome, was not anticipated!" 

"You've got to be kidding me." You groaned, shoving your hands into his hair to tug his face away from your own. "I'm gonna' do my level best to be patient with you, but fuck's sake Ezra." He grinned puckishly at you, his expression promising mischief. "I'll work on me if you work on you, okay? A little faith in yourself can go a long way, believe me." You lectured him sternly. 

"To think that you would be able to say such a thing to me." He commented dryly, making you snicker. "How the bastards have fallen, and now the gentle rule the earth as docile kings." Large hands combed carefully through your hair and he tilted your head for another kiss. "A dog, hmm?" You nodded wildly, making him chuckle into your mouth when your nose bumped his own. "I'll see what I can do, gentle soul."

…Three Years Later...

"Ezra!" You called, brow furrowing in confusion when there was no reply. "Ezra? Anglio? It's time for lunch!" You wiped your hands off on the flour sack towel that you had wound through your belt loop, trying to straighten your shirt out as an afterthought. "Ezra!" You called again, a little more concerned now as you moved from the kitchen to the screened-in porch, peering out through the jalousie window slats to survey the front yard. 

Turk, your massive Himalayan tomcat, wrapped himself around your ankles with a throaty, inquisitive burble. 

No sign of the dynamic duo. You sighed, petting Turk and resigning yourself to hunting them down after finishing your sixth well-meaning attempt at making bread. Maybe you were being too optimistic, expecting the dough to cooperate in this heat. 

The first loaf actually looked good, though! That had bolstered your confidence, which had in turn dug you into a glutinous hole. Any variation you tried on the original successful recipe resulted in nothing but failure. At least you had an overabundance of aggressively-crispy croutons and bread crumbs now? 

Oh well, sixth time's the charm. So much for my attempt at a subtle pun. 

After placing the tray in the oven, you headed outside to the front steps. Turk sauntered out alongside you, yawning and then sprawling on the steps. "Boys!" You shouted, smiling in relief when you heard a distant reply from the forest. "Lunch time!"

There was a crash and Anglio emerged from the trees, the small mutt baying excitedly to indicate that he was being pursued. You wondered (not for the first time) if Mr. Anglio knew about Dog Anglio. Ezra strode along behind the pup, laughing when the dog play-bowed and barked at him. "You wretched beast, leadin' me o’er hill and dale like a damn huntin' thoroughbred!" He growled good-naturedly, rubbing the dog's proffered belly. 

You smiled a little mistily at the scene, your heart skipping in your chest. 

Escaping the city had been the best choice that you and Ezra had made in your life together thus far. The house you had found, while small, sat on a sprawling, untamed estate that you had fallen in love with instantly. 

Anglio and Turk (formerly known as Foxy and Turducken) were acquired soon after from the shelter of the 'nearby' supply depot. You hadn't actually been looking for a cat, but the stately feline would not take no for an answer. Plus, Ezra had looked so torn as he buried his face in the stoic animal's side right before he had attempted to return him to his cage.

"You want a cat too? It's not like we can't take care of it." You had reasoned with a shrug, already fawning over the little orangey-brown mutt in your arms. Ezra had lit up, nodding firmly.

The cozy, domestic solitude stirred creativity in yourself and the man you shared your life with, culminating in a small collection of illustrated short stories that had, once again, done surprisingly well on the market. Ezra said he wanted to try writing children's books next, laughing when he announced it as if he was joking. His offhand remark had rekindled something in your belly: the warm, soft embers of a bonfire you had assumed long extinguished and buried. Children’s books...

The memories faded as Ezra traipsed up the steps, the last vestiges of spring mud coating his boots. "Ah, my beloved co-conspirator!" He announced dramatically, spreading his arms wide. "How I have missed you whilst engaging in a daring foray into the untamed wilderness!"

"Yes yes, Robinson Crusoe, we're so blessed by your survival skills and ability to create fire." You deadpanned, laughing when he caught you in his grasp and attempted to smother you with kisses. "Oh no, help me Anglio!" You cried in feigned distress, the dog prancing around your legs and yipping in reply. Turk meowed sleepily at all the commotion, putting his head back down after a moment.

"Such harsh barbs from my doting wife!" Ezra teased, rubbing his forehead against your own. "Have you been baking again, gentle soul?" He asked, sweeping a dusting of flour off of your cheek. 

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest as you grabbed his hand and hauled him inside the porch, into the kitchen. "I h-have buns in the oven!" You choked out in a rush when he paused to kick off his boots by the door, unable to wait another second. 

"Wonderful! I am ravenous and…" Ezra trailed off as he straightened up and obviously caught sight of the expression on your face. You could only assume you looked a mixture of terrified and hopeful. It was certainly how you felt, at any rate. His brow furrowed suspiciously. "Wait."

"Well, uh, that is, there's multiple buns in the actual oven, b-but according to the doctor-" You held your hands out, the stance a strange echo of when he had been across from you in the pod all those years ago. "The doctor says j-just one. Healthy! One healthy, um, bun. In my oven." You squeaked. 

Ezra stared at you like he had never seen you before. He finally rasped, "how long?"

"How long what? How long have I known?" He nodded mutely. "Late last night. I had them scan during my routine checkup. I...I wanted to be sure." Your voice petered out as you spoke until you were essentially whispering. Uncertainty gripped your body; was he upset about this? Had you misread the situation? Oh Kevva, what if he didn’t want you now?

Ezra reached for one of the kitchen chairs, clumsily sinking into it. He didn't speak, he just sat there with his head in his hands.

You fidgeted with your towel, tears threatening to spill over as the silence lengthened. "Ezra, is...is this not okay?" You queried softly. 

His shoulders jerked when the timer for the oven went off, but other than that he gave no sign that he had heard anything. You turned your back to him and slipped on your oven mitts, moving almost mechanically to rescue the buns before they too were suited for nothing but croutons. You then shut off the oven and opened the drawer beside the sink, digging blindly for the spatula--

Ezra caught you up around the waist, crushing you to his chest so tightly it felt like all the breath left your body. "A baby!" He boomed, half-laughing as he spoke. "I am exuberant, over the fucking moon! How long do we have, when will they arrive?! I cannot believe this, I just--gentle soul, the serendipity that you have blessed my life with!" He exclaimed warmly, cupping your face and kissing you breathless.

"I take it you’re open to the idea, then?" You gasped out, feeling his thumbs wiping away the tears that had managed to escape. 

"Gentle soul, I...you are a miracle incarnate." Ezra's voice had taken on a tone of heated awe. "Your generous body, accepting my love in such a wondrous new way. I am truly a lucky man. A...I love you so very much." He murmured, his next hungry kiss chasing away all your lingering trepidation. "So, so very much, so much...an insurmountable amount." His hands grasped at your belt loops, tugging your hips in to slot against his own. "To think that when I laid with you during our anniversary, it would bear such precious fruit." He muttered. You felt his cock stirring through his jeans.

"E-Ezra, lunch…" you protested weakly. You still had your oven mitts on, your hands curled into loose fists resting on his chest.

"I will eat it later." He promised, his dark eyes wholly sincere even as his fingers worked at the buttons of your light blouse. "Once I have properly displayed the depth of my...appreciation." 

...

"You alone coax me into such promiscuity, I hope you are aware." Ezra grunted, burying his face in your hair. 

You whimpered down into the bedspread, the thumb that insistently dragged over your clit making your eyes roll back in your head. The blankets were still crisp and fresh from being hung out on the line, the sweet scent of summer sunlight and Ezra dominating your senses.

"You alone, and the notion that you are heavy with our child does not dull the edge in the slightest." He continued breathlessly from his position overhead, grinding his cock into you as deep as it could go and refusing to withdraw. "You feel incredible around me, gentle soul, fucking exquisite." 

His hips crushed to your rear and you rutted your body up onto your hands and knees, meeting him with the soft slap of heated, sweat-drenched skin. "Ezra, please-" you begged, making him hum. "Please, I want to come, please…" 

"Gentle soul, gentle soul," He gasped, "if you keep rocking back against me in that manner, I'll have no recourse but to give you what you ask for." The former prospector seized your arms, dragging you fully upright on your knees. He quickly released you, his wandering hands returning after a moment to rest on your stomach. "Your sensuous form stirs such lascivious thoughts in me." He breathed in your ear, smiling against your neck when you keened out. 

"Love you-" you gasped, and Ezra's fingers gripped your hips tightly. 

"I know you do." He assured, his words gone soft enough to ache, burrow their way into your ribcage and wrap around your heart. "Now come for me." He held himself still and you pushed yourself back against his cock, the methodical sway of your hips finally beckoning you over your edge. You cried out and Ezra caged in your throat with large fingers, the man feeling the vibrations of your enthusiastic climax with a low moan of his own. "How deliciously improbable," his voice grated, "that your sweet little cunt could manage to grip me even tighter than before-!"

"Fill me up, Ezra, come in me, come in me-" you pleaded, sagging back against him. The brilliant Mallen streak flickered into your field of view as the man behind you dropped his forehead onto your shoulder, his hips rolling and bucking furiously. You could feel him panting, hot breath washing over your back as your shaking fingers twined greedily into his hair. 

"What my Eve demands, what--what my gentle soul entreats, I have no choice but to oblige." He rasped out. "I am shattered, rendered insensate by the radiant splendor of this copulation in our private Eden." He mouthed shakily over your shoulder, finally biting down with a grunt as he came hard. You crooned quietly to him while he spent himself inside you and he groaned in reply, making you laugh. "You truly are a delight to behold, gentle soul." He sighed hoarsely, wrapping his arms around your midsection and cradling you close to his trembling body.

You dragged your fingers through his hair, a dopey smile rising on your face when his stomach loudly reiterated the fact that he had ignored lunch in favor of other, far more distracting activities. Ezra grimaced awkwardly. "Work up an appetite?" You teased, kissing the end of his nose and then the exaggerated scrunch of his brows.

"I may have gotten...sidetracked." He admitted with a self-conscious chuckle. "You can hardly judge me for that particular shortcoming, gentle soul." His warm palm splayed possessively on your stomach and he hummed low in his throat, the sound obviously one of contentment. "Our child."

"Ours." You echoed in agreement. 

"I hope that I...no, I left such trepidation behind long ago. I am a better man. For you, for us. And now, for them." Ezra said firmly, placing a kiss on your cheek. "Now, show me the result of your baking. I admit freely to bias, of course; I welcome any and all culinary attempts with open arms, as though they were gifts from the illustrious and powerful Waldorf-Astoria itself."

You squinted. "The what? Listen, I'm used to you being vaguely comprehensible at best, but even I have no idea what the words that just came out of your mouth were."

His reply was simply unrestrained, delighted laughter, his nose pressing into your cheek while he showered your face with even more playful kisses.

In my dreams you come to me, as timid and inexorable as the dawn...in my sleepless hours you find me, tremulous and waning like the starlight. For I am a lost man who wanders bright and dark, all for the fleeting glimpse of you...all for the touch of your mouth on mine. 

Bonus baby headcanon!

[thewatermelloncat]

Excuses   (part 1)

Summary: Written playing on the idea of sick Little!Five (sort of) based on a prompt by Anonymous. Also paired with a prompt by another Anonymous wanting more of the doting Allison dynamic with Five.

Author’s Note: I’m sorry, I have no idea where Vanya and Ben went in this one. Couldn’t find a nice way to put them in.

☆ For writing this all in under two hours, I’m pretty proud of it  ☆ 

Warnings: Swearing

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

The whole ordeal started with a sentence.

“Can I stay home from school?”

For the life of him, Five doesn’t even know why he asks – he is much older than any of them. He knows even less why his question was directed at Luther.

“Why?” Luther’s tone wavers like a warning.

“I feel sick” Five states simply, not seeing the need to elaborate.

Keeping the same wavering tone Luther then pronounces, “how?”

Five draws out a sigh as he leans against the kitchen doorway. “Don’t know, just feel off.”

This time it’s Luther’s turn to sigh as he leans back in his chair. “That’s not a very convincing reason, Five.”

“Sounds like making excuses to me” Klaus says from further down the kitchen table, not looking up from the comic book in his hands.

If he had looked up then, he would have been met with Five’s glare as it attempts to melt him to the bone.

Turning his gaze back to Luther, Five sees him gesture towards their brother.

“He has a point you know... for once” he seems to add as an afterthought. “You never want to go to school anyway.”

“That’s because I already know everything!”

“Well, I don’t know. Learn some social skills. You’re lacking in those” Klaus looks up this time when he speaks to him.

“Hey!” Diego interrupts before a fight can breakout. It’s too early in the day to be bothered with that. He turns his head to Klaus with a warning look before moving on to Five. “Does your head hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Does your stomach hurt?”

“Not really” it doesn’t but Five still doesn’t feel like eating.

“Eat something, you’re probably just hungry” Diego tells him before returning to his own breakfast.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Your loss” Diego ignores the bite in his brother’s tone. “Car leaves in ten.”

“I’m not driving with you” Five rejects. There is no way that he wants to be around any of them if they don’t believe him.

“How else are you going to get there?” Diego scoffs.

“I’ll blink in” Five shrugs before pushing himself off of the wall.

“No” Luther warns pointedly before Klaus cuts him off.

“If you really feel sick, you won’t be able to do it.”

“Try me, Klaus” Five snarls at him.

“No!” Luther reasserts, drawing all eyes to him. “We agreed that you would go to school like someone your age” –

“I’m not fucking fourteen, Luther!”

“Fine, someone who looks like your age!” Luther corrects after Five interrupted him. “And no powers would be used because everything needs to appear like it’s normal.”

“Right, that’s it!” Diego stands out from his chair, hitting his hands on the table. “Car is leaving now if you want a lift.”

“Don’t bother, I’m walking” Five huffs before stalking away up to his room to grab his things.

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

It should have been a whole ‘fuck you’ moment when he climbs into the car outside of school, but at this point he can’t be bothered.

Half a day of sitting through classes with his teachers giving him disapproving stares because of him not paying attention could have ended badly – and it almost did. He knows the look his history teacher gives students before they are sent to the Principal’s Office. It was only, he thinks, when they saw his fever spotting on his checks that they decided to send him to the Nurse’s Office instead.

From there it was only a quick call home that had Diego hopping in the car and driving to pick him up. Neither of them said anything as Diego took his bag from him and they made their way to the car. Only after they climb inside and Diego starts the engine does he find the time to speak, “buddy, I’m sorry we didn’t believe you.”

Five rolls his eyes as he leans his head against the window. Closing his eyes at the coolness of the glass against his skin. “Don’t talk to me” he says weakly.

“Okay” Diego accepts and leaves it at that, pulling the car out onto the street.

Neither of them says another word on the way home.

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

As soon as Five steps through the doorway Allison is in front of him. In an instant she has him stopped in the foyer with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek. Her look of sympathy quickly changes into one of disapproval as she turns to Luther watching on from the lounge.

He seems to shrink under her gaze, and rightfully so: a conversation appearing to continue silently between them.

When Allison turns back to Five her glaring look is gone. “Go get changed and come back downstairs.”

Five wants to question why he has to come back downstairs when he could just stay in his room. But then he figures that he can’t be bothered listening to whatever reasoning she has waiting for him. So, instead he nods his head slightly and walks up the stairs.

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

“The one time I choose to sleep in, and you guys all mess up” – Allison halts her rant, spotting Five wander into the lounge. But it doesn’t matter since he understands the basis of her anger, and it would have brought a smug smile to his face if his lips had the energy to move.

Around him everyone in the room seems to freeze and then reanimate while he makes his way over to sit in a chair at the edge of them.

“Couch is yours, mate” Klaus nods his head to the empty seating which he now realises has been equipped with a pillow and a blanket.

Five shuts his eyes, hating the prospect of getting back up. Then he opens his eyes again to Klaus’ guilty look and knows he can’t ignore him. He also wonders whether Klaus had meant the things he’d said that morning or if he just wanted to gain attention by saying something controversial. Either way he gets up and moves slowly to the couch.

In the following three minutes it’s a fight for him to stay awake as he holds the thermometer Allison had given him between his teeth. Even when time is up and he goes to close his eyes, Allison holds a glass of water out to him with a tablet of Panadol. He wants to scream externally but he knows it will only take a few seconds to complete and takes what she gives him.

While he swallows back the tablet, he hears the verdict.

“39°C” Allison reads before moving to the sink to wash the thermometer off. Stalking away like the disapproving mother she appears to be.

“Five, I think I speak on behalf of all of us when I say that we’re sorry for” – Luther begins before Five cuts him off.

“Honestly, Luther. I don’t care” he means it more in a way that it doesn’t matter than as a means to ignore him.

“…feel bad and we’re sorry” Luther continues to try and make amends.

“Luther” Five sighs with a little more bite to his words this time, closing his eyes in the process. “I’m tired and I just want to sleep instead of listening to you talk on about something that doesn’t matter anymore.”

He opens his eyes again to find Luther looking back at him like he wants to protest and justify the things he said.

“I don’t care” Five repeats as he lowers himself down onto the couch, silencing any further argument.

Within seconds he drifts off, and between spells of unconsciousness he wonders whether they will fight over this later – probably. Despite Luther’s attempts at an apology, he knows he’ll be angry about the whole ordeal eventually. But right now, he’s too tired to care.

part 2

[presumenothing]

wherefore // 几生轮回

unfinished nirvana in fire fic for @goodintentionswipfest​

(aka the kimi no na wa au that i posted the first part of in 2018 before being once again reminded that i am physically incapable of plot. sections i-iii are complete, rough outline follows afterwards)

i.

When Jingyan wakes up in another body, his first reaction is to be altogether grateful that he’s spent much more time at the borders and generally out of the capital than your average nobility. The slightest breath of unusually chilly morning air is enough to confirm that this is all the way to the border – of Liang and Da Yu, Jingyan suspects, much further north than even he’s ever gone.

(…well actually his first reaction is a flat startled “what”, right before he’d pinched himself to check if he’s still dreaming, but Jingyan figures anyone would’ve done the same anyway.)

The first bell of morning rings outside, and out of long habit Jingyan swings his feet off the bed and makes to rise before he can entirely realise what a terribly bad idea that is.

At least he manages to catch himself with a hasty hand on the bedframe. He’s even less coordinated than he was right after his growth spurt, when Jingyu-gege had kept a very straight face and not laughed at him at all.

That’s when Jingyan sees it: the ring of a silver bracelet around his ar– well, not his arm, but currently-his arm. Whatever.

He runs a light finger over the cool metal surface, over the deep grooves of an emblem that curls like flames and the shallower etch of a name. Lin Shu, it says.

Jingyan stands, properly this time, and goes to peer out the window, wondering if this Lin Shu can afford to take a day off. Whoever he is.

.

As it turns out, the answer to that is a resounding no, because Lin-Shu-whoever-he-is turns out to be the young marshal of this border army, as Jingyan swiftly finds out as he makes his way to morning drills.

Something he probably should’ve noticed right off, really, given the room he’d woken up in. Not large, certainly not by Jinling’s standards, but the noticeable lack of sharing made it a rare luxury in the barracks.

By the time he arrives at the training grounds, navigating purely on long-honed familiarity with army facilities, Jingyan’s already learnt to answer almost automatically to the many cheerful hails of “Young Marshal!” coming from the general outflow of people from the mess hall – many many more people than he’d been expecting, to be honest.

He doesn’t remember the actual numbers like Prince Qi probably does, but from personal experience Jingyan does know Da Liang’s border armies to be fairly impressive on the whole. Yet he’s never even heard of one this large, save perhaps Duke Mu’s army to the south.

It’s unmistakeably Liang’s colours they’re flying, though, alongside the same fiery emblem engraved on his bracelet, so Jingyan decides not to worry about it too much.

Either way it puts paid to his vague ideas of begging illness and staying firmly on the sidelines, though Jingyan finds to his pleasant surprise that this young marshal has trained some fairly competent lieutenants clearly capable of running the drills themselves.

It’s almost reminiscent of mornings in Jing Manor, honestly.

(And it could be worse, Jingyan thinks. “Young Marshal” is just a title, like “Your Highness” is, and after a whole life of answering to one it’s hardly a suffering to be addressed by the other – almost freeing, actually, even if he has to err on the side of caution by being much more taciturn than usual and hoping that the edge of exhaustion from sheer shock shows just enough to excuse him for it.

All said and done, though, Jingyan rather believes he’s done quite the good job of things.

Certainly better than whoever’s now in Jinling has probably managed, but as long as he hasn’t accidentally offended the Emperor or anything.

…Jingyan can only hope.)

–

ii.

This, as Jingyu-gege often says, is why Jingyan should never, ever jump to conclusions about things.

Admittedly this doesn’t backfire so much as it goes completely off the rails of his expectations, trundling like a particularly enthusiastic horse in the opposite direction.

Nothing terrible awaits when he wakes up back in his room the next morning, and a quick inquiry to Zhanying confirms that he definitely hadn’t entered the palace yesterday.

Jingyan breathes a deep if silent sigh of relief.

(A quick check of the outer walls turns up a scuff mark matching his shoe on the roof, so faint as to suggest that it’d only been left because someone obviously hadn’t entirely adjusted to his new height yet.

Fair enough, Jingyan thinks. He’d have done the same last night if he hadn’t been too tired from the sudden cold to sneak out and explore anywhere.

Maybe next time, he catches himself thinking, and pulls a face, because no, none of that.

That jinxes it right away, of course, as he promptly realises the morning after.

Jingyan stifles a shiver in the wintry sun, even colder now after a day in Jinling’s warmth, and thinks – really, Jingyu-gege would have a field day with this.)

.

Possibly the oddest thing about this, thinks Jingyan on the eighth day he wakes up at the border instead of Jinling, is that neither of them have ever thought to question, even once, whether this is really happening.

Or at least Jingyan hasn’t, and if Lin Shu’s wondered about it he hasn’t mentioned it either, at least not in the increasingly copious notes they’re leaving for each other.

They end up making a routine of things without much discussion about it, even though the setup in each of their rooms almost mirrors the other. Jingyan begins to stock more scrolls of paper and sticks of ink at his desk, keeps their correspondence in a hidden drawer within easy reach of his chair.

But Lin Shu apparently fears the cold as little as his relatively thin wardrobe would suggest, because his stationery inevitably is set up at the low table with only a cushion to sit on – admittedly quite a comfortable one, yes, but still unseasonably chilly for the stone floor.

Either way, what had started out as a simple way to update each other on the day’s events devolves into something else altogether, and Jingyan can even pinpoint the moment it happened: when Lin Shu had added also stop wearing my hair down you’re making me look like an idiot as an afterthought on the third entry, followed by oh and don’t eat hazelnuts squashed into too few inches of space.

Jingyan’s learnt enough of medicine from his mother not to take the second part lightly, but the first almost tempts him into putting a flower in Lin Shu’s hair just because.

But only almost.

Then you stop tying my hair all up like that first, he adds to his next summary, it’s giving me a headache.

The palace would give anyone a headache, he finds written almost musingly in the reply margin.

Jingyan rubs at his temple, and finds that he can’t even argue with that, really. So instead he pulls up a fresh sheet of paper and quickly outlines the basics of court etiquette, because the Emperor’s probably going to end up summoning Jingyan while he literally isn’t himself one of these days, if this is going to continue.

He has a feeling it will.

.

It takes Jingyan a whole month of alternating days to admit, not quite grudgingly, that he is rather impressed by the fact that Lin Shu is already the young marshal of such a large army at this age.

In his defense, he’d rather naturally assumed the worst when he first found out that Lin Shu was the son of the commander himself, but that was before seeing the genuine respect rather than mere tolerance he got from every last man in the army, even those thrice either his or Lin Shu’s age.

(It’s the Chiyan Army, Lin Shu writes back, the very turn of each stroke arrow-sharp with irritation. Chiyan! Army! Will you get it right, it’s not just any army!

And I’m literally a prince, Jingyan snipes back in his most practiced handwriting. Also, if you’re insulting my men…

Hardly. Zhanying deserves a pay raise and a better boss, Lin Shu answers, then adds, pointedly, Your Highness.

Probably just so he could use up the last bit of paper.

Jingyan scowls at that last scrawl before pulling out yet another fresh sheet and dipping his brush in ink.

As if he’s going to let anyone have the last word over him quite so easily.)

–

iii.

“I didn’t know you liked archery, Prince Jing-gege,” says Nihuang one afternoon when they’re resting in his manor’s study after an impressive practice bout. The young duchess Mu had gotten quite formidable enough to attract the rapt attention of the entire training field – or she would have, if Zhanying hadn’t promptly barked at all of them to get back to their drills right then.

(It’d almost tempted Jingyan into asking, really, whether Zhanying had noticed anything different about his fighting style on the days when it’d been Lin Shu instead.

Not that Zhanying necessarily knew anything, per se – but from the subtly helpful way in which his general had volunteered information that Lin Shu’s writings occasionally failed to convey, between the carelessly precise updates and snarky comments in the margins… Jingyan rather thought he did suspect something, at least.

Wei Zheng was the same, up north at the border, which was just as well.

Lin Shu doesn’t know how good he has it, really, that the Jing army has closer to seven hundred men than seventy thousand – all of whom apparently assume that their young marshal will recognise them. Which says something fairly impressive about Lin Shu, of course, but still. How fortunate for him.)

Both their fathers have been closed up in Yangju Hall all day long – all the palace servants had been dismissed, and he’d heard that even Xia Jiang and Xie Yu had been summoned in.

Whatever it is they’re discussing must be important indeed, he knows. It’s hardly unusual, for both the Marquis of Ning and the Xuanjing Bureau’s head officer to meet the Emperor, but Jingyan doesn’t think he’s ever seen the Duke of Yunnan even half as stern as when he’d arrived this time, both his children firmly in tow.

Mu Qing had been unabashedly cheerful as always, and easy enough to handle – Aunt Liyang had been more than happy to help. It wasn’t like two more kids running around the house would trouble her much further, anyway, what with Yan Yujin already practically living there half the time.

But Nihuang had declined her offer politely before asking to see the Jing manor’s grounds, which is how she’d ended up here, hands clasped behind her back as she considers the red bow in pride of place on his weapons rack.

At least the sparring earlier had worn away most of the tension in her features, though Jingyan can still see the trace of it in the graceful stiffness of her posture, and wonders silently if she too feels the same thing he does, the slight wrongness in the air.

He shrugs anyway, trying for relaxed. “I got back into practicing it over the past couple months. It’s quite a bit more enjoyable now that I actually have enough strength to draw the string back fully.”

Which is completely true, even if he’d only had reason to discover it because Lin Shu’s weapon of choice is bow and arrow, as Jingyan had found to his utter surprise.

Nothing like muscle memory when the muscles weren’t even yours to begin with – though he supposes that it’s a fair trade, since Lin Shu’s also had to up his own proficiency with swords and spears to match Jingyan’s.

Neither does he mention that he’d only bought this bow on a whim because it reminded him of the one Lin Shu used. A resemblance that the young marshal had swiftly noticed, from the way he’d filled entire swathes of paper with gleeful gloating, only punctuated by a brief note on how he’d restrung it and adjusted the tension to match.

(Jingyan had kindly reminded Lin Shu about the fact that he’d gone and taken one whole day off to go diving for pearls that time the Jing army had been at Donghai, apparently having completely forgotten that he wouldn’t be able to bring the pearl back with him anyway.

The answering blankness had somehow conveyed a very mulish silence nevertheless.

Jingyan had rolled his eyes before writing if you really want it back I can always ask a courier to bring it over, it’ll just take time to reach the border.

And money, came the reply, or do you think I’ve no idea how much it costs to send something from Jinling? Nah, just keep it and go spend that money on food instead, you’re like a stick.

You’re just jealous because I’m taller, Jingyan does not answer, because he can be the better person here, so instead he writes Tried my mother’s hazelnut pastries yet?)

Nihuang gives him an inscrutably knowing look, even though Jingyan’s plenty sure he hasn’t shown any signs of his thoughts. “Maybe you should teach Qing-er then,” she muses as she comes back down to sit at the table. “The way he’d always playing around, I don’t know if he realised that he’s going to take over Father’s position someda– huh.”

Jingyan glances up from where he’s pouring out another glass of cold water, and finds her attention apparently caught by the documents he’d left out on the desk. “What is it?”

At his nod of permission Nihuang lifts a half-familiar paper from the stack, and there’s a brief moment of alarm when he spots Lin Shu’s handwriting, though it fades when he realises it’s not one of their written conversations.

Luckily Nihuang doesn’t notice either way, too intent on reading. “This naval strategy…” she finally says, “it’s just like the one we received some time ago, when Yunnan was under attack by river.”

Jingyan doesn’t need to feign his surprise. “Really?”

Nihuang nods, smiling faintly. “It saved all of our lives.”

“Oh,” Jingyan answers a little dumbly, his mind spinning. All of this is quite real, obviously, everything has convinced him of that, but for some reason it hadn’t struck him how Lin Shu too existed in this same world as him, more than just another body he sometimes woke up in. Rather slow of him, he thinks wryly, Lin Shu would have a laughing fit if he found out.

The specifics of this paper escape him now – it’d been part of some grand point Lin Shu had been trying to make, he thinks, as if they didn’t both know he was just cribbing the strategy from Nie Duo – but Jingyan doesn’t even need to look at the paper to see that familiar handwriting half his own. “Do you know who sent it?”

Nihuang shakes her head, her expression clouding over. “Father refused to tell me who’d sent it, forbade me from even mentioning it to Qing-er.”

And as if everything’s just been waiting for this last piece to fall into place, Jingyan feels the thing niggling at the edge of his consciousness, just out of realisation.

“Jingyan-gege…” Nihuang says, slow and terribly hesitant, “what do you know about the northern b–”

“Your Highness!” comes Qi Meng’s harried shout from outside, and Jingyan has never been more infuriated with any of his men in his life. “Duke Mu is here, he says the Duchess is to go with him immediately!”

Jingyan looks across the table to find his own frown reflected fiercely back at him.

Nihuang rises, looking suddenly older than she is, and says, quietly, “Be careful, Jingyan-gege. I don’t know what’s going on but I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I,” Jingyan says honestly, and doesn’t press her for whatever it was she had been about to ask earlier. He stands to see her out. “You be careful, too.”

Nihuang nods firmly, then she turns and is gone.

(Spoke with Nihuang today, Jingyan writes before going to bed that night. I don’t think you’ve met her yet, she’s the daughter of the Duke of Yunnan.

You know, he finds written beneath it the next time he wakes up in his own room, it’s been a whole year and that’s the first I’ve heard you talk about any lady. And don’t say Xia Dong, she’s just terror manifest.

The raised eyebrow is clearly audible, even via text.

Jingyan snorts, grabbing the brush that sits ready and waiting, as always. Nonsense, he starts, then pauses for a moment before adding I think you’d like her.

He’s looking oddly forward to the reply, whatever it is: which one, and don’t say Xia Dong or even well certainly she’ll like me, all the girls do – though the last of that is nonsense, seeing as there aren’t really any more ladies hanging around the border pass than in Jing Manor.

But he never hears from Lin Shu again.)

–

iv.

Jingyan still finds himself in his room when he wakes up the next day.

And the next, and the next after that.

(On the eighteenth morning in a row he remains stubbornly stuck in Jinling’s oppressive warmth Jingyan punches the wall so hard it almost cracks cleanly in half – or maybe that’s just him.

Zhanying hurries up, voice tinged with ill-concealed worry. “Your Highness?” he says tentatively, except the words themselves feel like a shackle now.

Jingyan leans just slightly against the cool smoothness of the wood, and tells himself to breathe.

“Zhanying,” he says, finally, “what do you know about the northern border army?”

It’s the Chiyan Army, not just any old military! echoes Lin Shu’s voice in his head.

“…not much,” hedges Zhanying, and it clearly isn’t a lie but his eyes are also very wide.

The wrongness from before congeals into an ugly mess, settles decidedly in his heart. It’s the only thing he can be sure of not imagining.

Jingyan suddenly feels very tired indeed. “It’s nothing.”)

–

v.

And then he finds out in the worst way possible: far too late, and all at once.

.

.

.

would have been: jingyan finding out the truth about what’s been happening, which is fairly true to kimi no na wa canon except that it’s everything at meiling instead of a meteor extinction event. in jingyan’s present time he finds the lin manor in absolute disrepair, asks questions of his mother that make both of them sad, and eventually forces a bodyswap to save lin shu and the chiyan army by… using the pearl somehow? and how would he stop this single-handedly anyway? never quite managed to figure either part out. though on his side lin xie is shown to also have realised Something was going on with lin shu (like zhanying realised about jingyan) and even if he doesn’t buy the “hey i’m from the future” shtick, he at least would be willing to hear out someone with a good idea of what’s currently happening in the capital, which helps.

anyway there would’ve been one section where we finally get lin shu’s pov which is when he realises what This Bloody Idiot xiao jingyan is trying to do and curses up a blue streak. from there this could’ve had one of two endings:

a HE where jingyan succeeds, lin shu and the chiyan army survives, and they forget but eventually find each other again (after remembering when jingyan sees lin shu doing archery or vice versa).

or a BE where jingyan doesn’t succeed and we end up right back in the canon timeline, dammit guys. optional extra being that changsu remembers for some reason even though jingyan doesn’t… but sometimes, jingyan can’t help thinking that changsu reminds him of someone. a person he’d forgotten? angst ensues. the end.