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minshookie · 3 years

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All Play, No Work. Pt two

Pairing | CEO!Yoongi x reader

Genre |angst, dark themed, yandere, gore.

Summary | “ Eunji just couldn’t play nice, firing her just wouldn’t be enough.”

!Warnings! 18+, yandere Yoongi, character death, descriptive scenes, murder scene, infidelity.

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|

(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

Requested [request closed] words 3k

A/N : link to part 1 I hope this is enjoyable!! Unedited but I will edit soon.

“Yoongi, don’t talk so drastically...it was just a joke.” He heaved deeply, gripping the door handle severely. “It can’t be a joke every time y/n she’s done worse before, her and her husband.” Sighing, unsure if it was safe to touch him you put your hand on the handle next to his. “Min, they hate me because you love me, if you want it resolved maybe we should lay low...take something like a break?” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the complications at work were becoming a bit detrimental.

His head turned at lighting speed, with a look of disgust almost. “Break? You can’t be serious don’t ever say something like that again, and I’ll do what I please, we should we hide ourselves she’ll start waking around with her head high like she won.” He let go of the handle leaning against the door looking deeply into you. “I’ll fire her.” You rolled your eyes “Yoongi please she needs to work.” “Stop being so damn sweet, this is the same person that soiled your clothes, cracks jokes about you...she bullies you she should’ve been out of here.” He put his hand in his pocket, checking his watch on his other wrist. “We’re almost done for the day anyway... you go to my place without me I’ll meet you there.” Taking his watch clad hand in yours, you could tell he was still furious.

“Alright if you insist, but what’ll you be doing yoongs?” You attempted to turn the atmosphere playful. “Baby, you insist on disobeying my requests.” Chuckles dryly. “I’ll be talking to Kim, and Lucy.” “Lucy, why?” “I’m giving her Kim’s position, a promotion.” He leans swiftly pecking your cheek before opening the door for you both to exit, not giving you a chance at questioning him further. He follows closely behind all eyes on you, a grimace on Eunji’s features. It’s like you had a fat red target right in the middle of your face. “Actually, why don’t you just head out now.” Yoongi mumbled before leaving your side, quickly heading to his office his fist curled in a rough grip.

You hung your head low like a shy school girl, going to collect your bag and belongings from your cubicle. Only to find Jimin completing the papers you’d left. “Heading home miss Raman booty?” He mumbled without turning, a pen between his teeth, his fingers typing with stealth. “I hate you Jimin.” Laughing he let the pen fall, leaning in the chair finally facing you. “You ok?” You nodded giving a warm smile. “Good, here’s your thousand dollar sack.” He handed you your purse, he’s full of jokes today, you responded with a low chuckle. “Wait before you go, whats the 411 on the bosses mood?” “Mm angry, go in quickly and quietly and leave the same way.” He nodded going back to the computer, “Ah, so not the day for pay increase forms? Gotcha.” You laughed before walking away, ready to be rid of the grimy feeling you were getting from work today.

Avoiding eye contact, you focus on the rythmatic clicking of your pumps until you entered the silver elevator. Leaning against the glass window you watched as you descended through the building. Finally meeting the last floor quickly freeing yourself sighing one more trek to take, that being into the parking garage. Silent and eerie, it oddly relaxed you you found your car quickly. It’s always there right next to Yoongi’s ever since the first day you started.

The thought warmed you, feelings of your boyfriends love floating around you. Hopping in your car you threw the gifted purse in the back seat, just before you could start up your phone rang, Yoongi of course. “Hey Yoongi” ”Ah, you sound happier already.” Reclining your seat you sighed. “I was thinking of you.” He hummed in approval. “Cute, hm I do the same to calm myself...thinking of you of course.” Giggling you responded “reason for calling?” “I wanted to say I love you, and I want you to go straight home.” He orders blandly. “Tsk I wanted to shop a bit.” You joke putting your seat back into position. “Y/n straight home, no questions.” “Yeah I heard you Daddy.” You joked starting your vehicle. “Good, I’ll see you soon, love you...say it back.” “I love you Yoongi, of course.” He sighed softly, checking your surroundings you pulled back waiting for him to hang up. “Alright bye...Jimin get out.” The phone call ended.

Relaxed you drove through your city, it’s a bit later in the day the faces of people passing linger in your mind. A soft tune plays from the radio, resting at a light your eyes wandered to the beagle place Yoongi always insists on getting breakfast from. His friends little hole in the wall. Letting your mind wander, he really is a romantic. Finishing the length of the trip you finally reach your destination, a discreet apartment on the edge of town with a not so discreet price. Reaching for your purse you got out of the car, frankly mentally and physically exhausted. “Mrs min! Welcome back!” You’re warmly greeted at the door, “no still y/l/n,good afternoon.” Warmly you smile thanking him for opening the door, yet another elevator to take you where you needed to be.

On the home stretch, trudging towards the door unlocking it you fumbled inside sighing taking in his scent that floated about. With your eyes closed you dropped your bag shuffling to the couch. Kicking off the shoes you let gravity take over thumping onto the firm furniture. The light jingling, made a smile spread on your lips. “Is that my best boy!?” You opened your eyes, greeted with Min Holly his coffee colored paws giving you pets on your head. “My Beautiful little one.” Kissing him on the temple, and gifting him to a few pets and scratches he was satisfied with your greeting he let you be at rest.

Pulling from the couch, you fulfilled the routine of grabbing a snack and skipping upstairs to shower. Stripping you ventured Yoongi’s bedroom in the nude, in search for the clothes you’d left there. Giving up you opted for a pair of briefs and a t-shirt.

Finishing the shower, you cuddled into bed wallowing on the plush mattress in search of a comforting position, engulfing your senses in Yoongi’s scent. Turing on the tv you rolled over, the bed felt cold without your cuddle baby. “Hmm Holly! C’mere little boy!” Joyously he ran in jumping next to you cuddling into your warm side. “We’ll nap and wait for Daddy huh?”

NOW READING FROM: Yoongi’s point of view.

“Are you sure Min, I mean I’m flattered but I just started about a month ago-” I held up my hand to stop her nervous speech. “I’m positive, I’ve observed your work ethic I’m sure you could keep up Lucy, the pay is great the work is easy....more time to speak to Jungkook hm?” Her cheeks blushed light rose at the mention of his name. “But what about uhm..Eunji?” She spoke of her coworker in hushed tones,like she was some sort of demon.

“Kim Eunji has been polluting our work area, making others feel uncomfortable...and uncomfortable means less work getting done, I’ll see about her don’t worry.” Toying with her manicured fingers, such a shy girl, “so what’s your answer?” She sighed brushing a stray hair behind her ear, “Mr Min, when do I start?” She held a coy smile, slowly looking up to make eye contact. “Ah! Smart girl!” I distributed my hand for her to shake in agreement. “You’ll start Monday, we’ll have it all sorted by then.” Nodding she let go of my hand, “thank you Mr Min.” “Of course Lucy I know I won’t regret it, enjoy your night sorry for keeping you late.” Now almost all of her face had a glow of blush, “oh it’s fine Mr Min I don’t mind I didn’t have anything to do tonight anyways, how a-” “ask Eunji to come in for me please, Good night Lucy thank you.”

Shutting up he gave a quick smile and nod before leaving quicker than she came. Eunji pranced in almost eagerly a subtle smirk playing on her cherry lips. “It’s late Yoongi I have to get home.” “Home to what...a cold shower and empty bed? Come sit.” I smirked as she complied, “what do you want Min...if you’re looking for apologies you wont-” “I just wanted to talk to you.” She shut her painted lips, nodding giving me room to speak.

“You’ve been acting out Kim, and I think I know why.” She folded her arms defensively humming a response. “Oh yeah?” Her cocky tone only deepened my concealed rage. “You’re missing someone, your husband maybe?” She rolled her eyes, poking her tongue along her cheek. “What about it?” She began to toy with the small figurines that decorated my desk. “Well, he misses you too...I’ve made the decision to let you go if you’d like.”

“It isn’t time for him to come back, he’s been on the trip for months.” She mumbles smiling down at a framed picture of Holly. Scoffing I took the image back, “Joon, he likes it there he’s been having issues contacting you so he’s said....but he’s made the choice to transfer and stay at the location.” She looked intensely Into my eyes, confused yet gullible.

“He’s gotten a good place, he wants to move you there...he misses you more than you know, and the way you’ve been acting out of line I think you feel the same.” She huffs, nodding slowly. “Alright, you’ll treat my flight the same you did his?” Greedy little bitch...“yes, paid and full, you’ll be able to contact him at the airport hm?” Finally a soft smile spreads her lips, she huffs a low chuckle. “Really?” “Would you like to see the messages and paperwork?”

In hopes she’d say no I still pulled open the side drawer, a single word held her fate as I gripped the heavy weapon. It would be messy and against the plan if she’d decided to take this route. “No..no, why would you lie about sending me on all expenses paid long term vacation.” I smirked nodding while closing the drawer. “So you’ve agreed to joining him?” Sighing she tamed wisps of her dark hair, raking the back into her loose ponytail.

I pushed the legal paper forward a ballpoint rests atop of it. “When do I leave, do I get a chance to say goodbye?” She mumbles leaving her signature along the dotted spaces. Goodbye? Who would want to farewell a she-demon like you. “I’m afraid not, your flight is scheduled for tomorrow 7AM...you should get home actually.” I checked my timepiece briefly.

She stood silently, “ah ah wait, Eunji...it’s late you’re tired allow me to drive you home.” She furrows her brows, giving a suspicious look. “I’ll miss you Kim, you were one of the first people here you and Namjoon.” She lowered herself in the seat her expression now compassionate.

I didn’t lie, Eunji was exhausted...the bags under her eyes almost frightening. She was once the best dressed, best looking, and best worker here. Jealousy had eaten her, and the absence of her Lover only made her worse. “Ah Min, you won’t miss me...you’re sending me away to protect your little hook up, she moan like I used to?” My cheeks began to redden, “no, her’s are better.” Guilt set in sourly. I lied right to y/n’s face to save my ass.

Kim Eunji had made me a liar, a cheater and a bad businessman...all the more reason for her fate. “Hm, if you say so.....how about we go to your place.” Her smirk detailed more than she’d let on. “One last time.” She’s always been scandalous, she could never learn a lesson, she’d never get enough. She saw an opportunity to finally sink her teeth into what she envied, and sinking her teeth is what she planned on doing.

“Tempting, can’t wait for mr kim huh?” I attempted to participate in her now lustful staring. “Hmm, you won’t make me will you?” I set free a chuckle, letting my fingertips glide my lip. “Your place, we can make it an all night thing...you can bring me to get my car in the morning.” She collected her expensive shoulder bag. “No, y/n is at my place, probably out cold by now....I’ll bring you somewhere with a romantic view, you’ll get back to your car tonight.” She frowned at the mention of her name, pulling her wisps of hair back.

“Fine, but don’t say her name anymore tonight.” Nodding I stood offering a hand to help her up and she refused with a bratty giggle, leaving the office. She removed her heels walking barefoot to the elevator, I paced hot on her trail, finally catching her as she stood idle in the spacious elevator.

The elevator couldn’t reach the final floor fast enough for me, she’d gotten comfortable the guilt of cheating on her husband nonexistent. Sighing in frustration eyeing my watch. She toyed with my fingers leaning against me, “why’d you replace me huh?” She pouted interlocking our fingers, her fridged rings kissed my skin harshly. “Excuse me?” She sighed, “we were messing around and you...found y/n.” I chuckled as the doors pulled open. “You were engaged...nothing more would’ve developed anyway.”

Eunji and I had held countless endeavors right under Namjoon’s nose, flirtatious, casual, sexual. But he was everything but oblivious, he was just lenient until he found out the depth of our friendship. So he decided to test the waters with y/n, it was extremely unacceptable. Eunji was engaged after all, I do have some self respect. I never replaced her, I just found someone I actually loved, someone who needed me and only me.

She only laughed at my reasoning, following me giddily to my car, I opened the passenger and let her inside. I already had her fate planned. She’d been the thorn in y/n’s side ever since she’d started, she’d come running to me in tears over the things Eunji would say...the things she’d do. They treated her like a rag doll the new girl fresh to adulthood, she knew nothing better than to follow and comply.

Eunji was given warning after warning, I hate firing people but for her I’d make an exception. But y/n she’s so sweet...it’ll kill her to know Eunji was walking around jobless because of her sensitivity. So what am I to do? I’ll just make her leave silently...on her own. I’ll make her disappear.

“Where are we going?” She pushed my knee aggressively, I’d zoned out completely roaming my thoughts a dangerous thing to do behind the wheel. Absentmindedly I’d driven past our false “date”, ultimately finding ourselves in the dark. “There is this bridge, it’s romantic y/n loves it.” I fibbed, how much of an idiot could I be...this mishaps could fuck everything I’d planned. I pulled onto said bridge, vacant, thankfully just how I needed it. I turned the car off, in pitch black I could feel her looking at me.

“Huh, what a view.” She quips, “well don’t be ungrateful.” The moment before the fall is always awkward, “hm...recline the seat.” She ordered, I personally didn’t enjoy her tone. I let my seat slowly fall back and she leaned over the center console. Blindly fiddling my pant buckle. Oh shit. Oh no. Waves of guilt washed over me at the simple thought of what she was attempting.

This had to be it, she’d made it to my briefs with ease, trailing her manicured fingers along my member. This had to happen now or the outcome I’d been planning would definitely go to shit. I put an end to her exploration, gripping the back of her neck with great force she mewled like a harmed animal. “F-fuck Min, feeling rough?”

No way would this be easy or clean in the car. “Shut up.” I gritted, now griping her hair making her whine and cry out. “P-please wait.” “What the fuck did I say?” Opening my door I pulled her from the car on my side. This needed to be quick and clean, this bridge was all too public and constantly frequented for me to be leaving a messy scene on.

What smart girl, she tried to escape only to be pained by my iron grip on her mane. “Why so scared...you wanted me right?” “M-m-Min! Please I’m sorry, tell her I’m sorry...sorry-so sorry.” I kicked the pit of her knee causing her to collapse on the cold gravel. “One sorry Bitch you are, I couldn’t even pay you to keep your mouth shut.”

“Think of all you did to that innocent woman...ruined her clothes, sent her on wild goose chases in a county she’s never been in, made her fall down the stairs, turned half the office against her...so evil you even made your sleazy husband her personal predator.” She sobbed pathetically, “w-what....he did-wait?” Of course she was unaware as any idiot would be.

I knelt mumbling in her ear. “He touched my fucking girlfriend for months on end...She was so ashamed do you know how much it took for her to come and tell me?” She gagged on her sobs, choking herself on her cries. “I’m sorry, I’ll quit I’ll leave-no need to do this I’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

She whispers letting her body go limp. She thinks it’s so easy. “You sure will.” I grumbled reaching to pull my tie from my back pocket. “You can’t do shit to me- Joon- Joon will be lo-” “Joon his fucking dead. This right here.” I kicked her down pressing my foot into her soft back, to keep her still. She struggled to breath with my weight on her back, I crouch looping the long tie around her neck she ceased from fighting back as I wrapped it around my hands as well. Pulling with my angered strength, “this is the fucking business trip...enjoy the flight whore.”

She stoped struggling all together, pulling the fabric as tight as I could, I made sure the deed was done. She quit breathing, the ceased the struggle. Violently making sure she was gone, before I stored her in the trunk. My hands shook, the rush made my figure quake, I did my best to climb into the drivers seat.

Starting the car, it’s best in mind to flee as fast as I arrived. He’ll be pissed to high heaven, but at this moment theirs only one person to call. I scanned the road feeling beyond the edge, unsure of my final destination. Finally he felt the need to answer “Min, Min Yoongi-ah it is too late to be calling me this way!” He croaked through the phone .

“Jimin, hm a bonus?” “Excuse me?” He shuffled, I couldn’t continue to circle around here “Jimin...I need your help.” I groaned, I’d have to find somewhere to go before someone saw me driving suspiciously. “I’ve made another mistake....a messy one.” He gasped before mumbling complaints. “Why,Who and how much?” He grumbled, “meet me and I’ll let you know that.” “You know where to find me.” When all else fails, Jimin is the one to call. Partner in crime, cheater of justice and death.

NOW READING FROM : readers point of view.

Fear rolled over you as you came to the realization that is was almost 5 AM and Yoongi wasn’t in bed. Holly still occupied his spot, sprawled out in pure comfort. Enjoying the luxury of sleeping in the big bed.

Rubbing sleep from your eyes you shuffled your feet along the chilly floor, slipping in Yoongi’s slippers to adventure to the bathroom. You’d have to be back at work in some hours, Yoongi as well. It’s never like him to be late. After reliving yourself, washing up you’d realized the dryness of your mouth.

Aiding the feeling you took the trip downstairs, Holly’s paws hot on ur heels. “You thirsty too?” Rhetorically you questioned setting his dish for him, and grabbing a water for yourself, drinking it almost instantly. “You’ll get sick that way kitten.”

You choked in response, spitting the water onto the marbled counter. “What the fuck Yoongi, where’ve you been?” You spoke into the darkness, you didn’t hear him come in, maybe he was already home. “After I cleared some things up at work, Jimin and I had to...do some heavy work.” His voice held a quiver, unsure if it was of sadness or fear, maybe even anger.

“Ah well....come out of the dark, come over here.” You closed the the water, Holly had already met him in the living room. He neared, his features being shown from the glow of the kitchen lights. “Here, c’mon.” You sat on the island, back to him.

Something was off...he was hiding something, he was moving strangely with his words and actions. He came, leaving Holly on the floor he centers between your legs. Leaning on his palms on either side of you, “my shirt, my slippers, dressing up as me today?” You gave a soft smirk, “when’d you change?”

“At Jimin’s the work was messy.” “Ah...what’s that on your lip?” Taking your nail, you scrapped the flake of red from his top lip. “Been kissing other ladies...ladies in cheap red lipstick?” You giggled. His face ran pale at your joke, “n-no probably from Parks food, we were hungry.” You gazed in his eyes, “what’d you eat?” “Why?” Sighing you blew it off, “no reason, just curious...how’d it go with Eunji.”

He sighed leaned forward on the counter to stretch his back. It’s then when you caught a glimpse of something odd. “There was a struggle, but it’s all over now.” You held his shoulders, stopping him from moving back up, “Yoongi, you have this stuff all in your hair, where were you?” You brushed the stubborn dried substance with your fingers. “All on your neck.” You groomed him awaiting his answer. “Painting at Jimin’s.” Overpowering you he stood to his height.

You didn’t believe him, how could you? What paint job takes that long? How could it get on his hair? Down his neck? On his lips...nose as well? “I’m going to bed, kiss.” He pecked my cheek moving from my legs, Holly followed his escape. “Oh, and Jimin’s buddy gonna look at my car for a while I had to clean it out...left your lipstick.” He threw the tube for you to catch, it fell in your clutches.

“Yoongi, stop...where’d you get this?” “In the car, it’s yours baby.” He stood stiff on the stairs not turning around. “No, it’s not I can’t wear this...it fucks up my lips, I’m allergic.”

“It was Kim’s huh? You were out doing what you said you didn’t.” He turned glaring sinisterly. “I was out doing what I should’ve a while ago.”

You scoffed, he’s unbelievable, how could he. You’d began to plan your breakdown, how you’d destroy his home in a fit of rage. He’d cheated, lied, and didn’t care. “Kim Eunji and Kim Namjoon are dead.” He shared coldly, “any more questions miss curiosity?”

“No? Good now come up and clean me.”

In utter shock, you shook on top of the kitchen island. He’d made his way to the shower quickly, you heard the faint sprinkling. Sliding from your seat, in fear you followed his orders “now my love...don’t be afraid of me I do all things for you out of love.”

Minshookie 2021 | Not my image

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interact-if · 3 years

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Day 9, 1/2 of the A/PI Heritage Month featured authors interview! Please welcome to the stage... Bubs!

Bubs, author of To The Whistling Winds

A/PI Heritage Month Featured Author

You’re a pretty normal young adult living in the 21st century: you have exceeding amounts of student loan debt, a housemate, and a job that pays just above minimum wage. You didn’t exactly dream of being a tour guide for the historical Chester Theme Park, but you’ve grown used to your every day life.

You thought you knew the park better than anyone, but as the friendly surface begins to crack and unexplainable events begin happening, you’ll need help dealing with the vengeful Fae, who seem to have a bone to pick with you in particular. Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately—there seem to be a Covey of fae seekers that might be inclined to help you…

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT)

Q1: First of all, introduce us to your project! What is it about?

Hi! My interactive fiction game is called “To the Whistling Winds,” and it’s a magical realism mystery set in modern day. The player plays as a tour guide at a Southern Californian theme park, where strange events have begun occurring.The plot and lore of the story draws from folktales about the Fae, as well as the general air of conspiracy and mystery revolving around liminal spaces such as theme parks.

Q2: If it’s not too spoilery, what are you most excited about your project?

I’m really proud of my cast of characters and the stories they each have. Each of the non-playable characters that the player can choose to bond with have their own dynamics and inner turmoil unrelated to the player, and I really am excited to explore them. Furthermore, there are some twists and more dramatic scenes I’m excited to write,especially considering that the earlier chapters thus far have been pretty slice-of-life.

Q3: What inspired the current project you’re working on?

Theme parks and spaces designed specifically for amusement, especially certain ones that have been around for a while and have established their own brands, really have their own modern folk stories told about them. There’s a common thread between the kinds of stories told about theme parks that were once told about space such as open fields or mysterious meadows, and I really wanted to explore it!The idea of nostalgia and a “perfect memory” is also really interesting to me. So much of the appeal of theme parks has to do with reliving the past or recapturing a certain feeling, and Fae folktales often feature listless protagonists who are aspiring after exactly that.

Q4: Do you pull from your own identity for inspiration? How has that been reflected in your work?

I think being Asian-American has definitely influenced my story, from the player character to the general setting. For example, character customization is really important to me, and I’m careful that the MC doesn’t have a set ethnicity. It’s not uncommon for IF games to have a racially-neutral MC, but then go back and say something about their parents having blue eyes, or them having specifically celebrated something like Easter, so I try to be mindful about that. I also have a lot of fun writing my cast, many of whom come from different backgrounds! There are two romanceable characters that are Asian: Clémence Choi (who’s Korean with French nationality), and Alejandro Flores, who’s Filipino. Additionally, the player character’s roommate, Julia Reddiar, is Indian-American.

Being Asian is a pivotal part of Clémence and Alejandro’s respective backstories - they more than their ethnicities of course, but that doesn't mean it doesn’t have an impact on their life. Alejandro’s an aspiring actor, and part of the reason he struggles to find work is because roles for white actors are just easier to come by. Clémence has spent a lot of her life wanting to fit into just one box - Korean or French. I was also mindful of a lot of stereotypes relating to Asian romantic interests while writing their romantic routes: such as how Asian women are often exoticized and hypersexualized, while Asian men are desexualized and brushed off as unattractive. That's not to say that either of the characters are me, or that I only relate to the Asian characters! I actually think the character I most relate to is Bridget Sweeney, who’s white Irish,but is very creative and restless in a way I can really identify with.

Q5: What’s been your experience so far? With writing,with the if community...

The community has been really great! I think I’ve been relatively lucky in my interactions with my fellow authors and players: most people I've met have been really nice and helpful. Talking to them always motivates and inspires me. Some real life events have gotten in the way of more steady writing, but I’m hoping to update the public demo again soon!

Q6: Do you have any future projects in the works?

Honestly, something I’m debating is just moving TTWW from ChoiceScript to Twine, but that’s mostly hypothetical right now. I’m not the kind of person who multi-tasks well, so I wouldn’t start another interactive fiction until TTWW is done, but I’d love to write a classic murder mystery on a train.

Q7: Finally, what piece of advice would you give to fellow authors?

Nothing’s helped me more than the website MyNoise (not sponsored, LOL). I love listening to different soundscapes to get me into the mind of my character, whether it be a mysterious forest or a busy tourist destination. It really helps!

#if: events #Happy Asian and Pacific Islander month!!#Asian/pacific islander month 2021 #a/pi month #a/pi month 2021 #aapiheritagemonth #aapi month #interactive fiction #authors of color

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min-youngis · 4 years

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We’ve Met

gif not mine

~ Pairing : Min Yoongi x Reader (Wedding Cake Baker x Maid of Honour)

~ Genre : Fluff, Humour, Pini n g

~ Summary : When Irene picked you to be her maid of honour, you didn't expect the very cute cake baker you'd be dealing with, and you sure as hell didn't expect all the bothersome feelings that tagged along.

Strangers to Lovers

~ Word Count : a fair few i'd say (10,685)

~ Warnings : swearing, some smexy descriptions of Yoongi's hands

~ A/N : if you say anything bad about this, i'll cry. but i'll also cry if you say anything good about it.

i'd love to hear feedback! spread the love!

masterlist in my description.

~~~

You pull into a parking space opposite the destination and take a good look at the building you need to be inside within the next ten minutes.

It’s a small, single storey shop, with glass windows and two tiny tables on either side of the door. If you squint just so through your glasses, you can make out the display counter and all the sweets lined up. The white sign board on top reads Kim Seokjin Bakery in large, bold script and underneath, in smaller cursive, Wedding Cakes Available For Order.

It looks comical almost, all light and welcoming, baby pink and white themed, no doubt playing some bubbly radio-friendly pop, perched as it is, in between a dark, imposing tattoo shop on the one side and a sports apparel store on the other.

Trust Irene to find the brightest, cutest, most delightful bakery in the city. You let out a quiet groan, collect your bag from the passenger seat and your coffee cup from the console and climb out of the car, putting on your best I am here because you are my best friend and I love you and this is a part of my maid of honour duties face. You cross the road and after checking the address one last time, push open the door.

The first thing you register is the Katy Perry playing so loud, you feel like she’s singing Teenage Dream right inside your ear canal. The next thing you notice is the tall, broad shouldered, brown-haired man standing behind the cash register with a bright, friendly, maybe even genuine smile on his face.

He gives you a quick bow and shouts to be heard over the music. “Hello! Welcome to Kim Seokjin Bakery! What can I get you today?”

You’re convinced that you’ve stepped into one of those weird, Care Bear style, candy cane themed ice cream castles that Irene writes about in the children’s books she authors and the dude in front of you is Cheer Bear in the flesh.

You clear your throat a bit, working through the sensory overload, and begin to shout back that you’re here for a wedding cake tasting appointment and that the happy couple should be at the bakery any minute.

You’re halfway through the sentence, hoping against hope that he can hear you, because it'd be super awkward if you had to repeat yourself, when the music is cut off abruptly and you’re screaming, “-they’re almost here!” in the sudden, dead silence of the shop.

You shut your mouth immediately after trailing off at the ending and squeak out a soft ‘Sorry,’ refusing to meet....Jin's eyes, according to the name badge pinned on his chest that you can suddenly read, now that your ears aren’t being assaulted.

Huh. The man himself.

The guy looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh at your bashfulness and he’s about to say something, when the door behind the counter suddenly slams open with a loud bang, and a man in an apron stomps out, rage evident on his face.

“Jin, what the fuck? If I have to cut the music one more time because it’s too loud, I swear to God, I’m going to murder you-Oh, hello.”

You register how cute he is, even with his half-angry half-surprised expression, with a dash of flour on his forehead and clad in a fluffy, white cardigan, though he can’t be older than 26. Distantly, you also notice how elegant his fingers look inside his messy, icing coated gloves, his slightly veined forearms exposed with his sleeves rolled up.

You half heartedly raise your hand in a sheepish wave and watch with slight regret as he bows at you rapidly and mumbles out a quick ‘Sorry,’ before scrambling back to where he came from, quick as a flash.

He was there and then he wasn’t, so to speak.

Jin looks unfazed at the prospect of being murdered, still retaining his sunny disposition, as he lets out a small laugh and says, “Let’s try that again, shall we? Welcome to Kim Seokjin Bakery! My name’s Kim Seokjin. That grouch who just disappeared back there is Min Yoongi. Don’t mind him, he forgot how to have fun when he turned twenty one. Now I heard something about a cake tasting?”

You really don’t know what you’re about to say as your mouth opens, thoughts still stubbornly fixed on Min Yoongi, and it’s really for the best for all parties involved that Irene and her fiancé walk into the bakery at that moment.

“Y/N! You’re on time today!” she says, letting go of Namjoon's hand and making her way towards you, wrapping you in a hug.

You’d be offended at her surprise but you had, in fact, been late for the flower-picking and the venue-choosing, so you let it slide, letting her pull you into her frame and inhaling her permanent, calming, lavender scent.

You pull away to watch quizzically as Namjoon goes behind the counter, smiling brightly, and begins conversing with Jin like they’re old friends.

“They’re old friends,” Irene whispers, seeing your expression. “Met at high school, stayed in touch somehow, were in a band together apparently. Them and a couple of others. The other owner of this place, too. Something with Y? Yooni, maybe. That’s why we chose this bakery.”

You swallow thickly and whisper back, “Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”

She throws you a confused look, obviously curious about how you’re so confident about that piece of information, and she’s about to enquire about the same when Namjoon calls her, saying, “Darling? Let me introduce you to Jin.”

She throws you a look, one that holds a promise of this conversation isn’t over, and the two of you make your way behind the counter. Namjoon does all the introductions and when he lands on you, ‘Y/N, Irene’s best friend and maid of honour', Jin says, “We’ve met,” his eyes filled with mirth.

“I reached a bit early,” you explain. “I was just telling Jin that we were here for a cake tasting.”

Irene gives a good-natured, at least to her, punch on your arm and gently mocks, “Early? Oh, look at you go!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come at all,” you faux bitterly mutter under your breath, rubbing at the sore spot on your shoulder.

You’re snapped out of your whine when you hear Namjoon ask, “And where is the other owner of this fine establishment?”

You barely have time to morph your features back into their characteristically neutral expression when the back door opens again, and as if on cue, Yoongi enters, gummy smile on his face, gloves and apron off. It’s like you’re watching everything in slow motion, like that scene in Madagascar where Marty and Alex run towards each other with Chariots of Fire playing in the background. Except, instead of a chasing-on-the-beach sequence, it ends with a hug.

Once again, introductions are made all around (“Jin, this is Yoongi. Yoongi, this is Jin.” They all crack up at that, bless Namjoon's soul) and this time, there’s no mirth-filled grin when it’s your turn.

Yoongi’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck shyly as he catches your eye.

“We’ve uh...met,” he drily says.

Once again, you’re rushing to explain, “There was an incident with the music just before you guys walked in.”

“Jesus, Y/N, how early were you?” Namjoon asks, slightly awed.

Again, you’d be offended if it weren’t for the fact that his shock is perfectly justified, given aforementioned past instances, so you just vaguely mumble, “A couple of minutes, that’s all,” and wave your hand in a dismissive get over it motion.

A couple more minutes pass, conversation floating around you with Namjoon, Jin and Yoongi reminiscing about their band. You find out that Yoongi used to be a rapper and you have to shake the mental image of him on stage, probably wearing dark, grunge clothes, fingers wrapped around a mic and gasping for breath.

It’s disconcertingly odd and not a little intriguing, as you try to match that Yoongi to the one currently laughing in front of you, still in that goddamn fluffy cardigan that makes you want to simultaneously wrap him in a blanket and wrap yourself in a blanket.

Different blankets.

Maybe.

Eventually, Jin moves to get the catalogue and the five of you walk to a little table at the corner, squeezing best as you can into a set up that should ideally host three people at most.

It’s an agonising hour and a half, as you discuss designs and shapes and flavours and tiers, with your left side pressed into Yoongi’s arm, his soft, low voice hitting your ear in such close proximity and his damned hands resting on the table, fingers interlocked, directly in your line of sight.

At the end of it, as you all wrap up and arrange a final meeting and you feel simultaneously hot and cold with the lack of his presence next to you, you’re convinced that the following three months are going to be...interesting.

________________________

The next week passes in a flurry of activity at work and you barely have time to think about the wedding. With quarterly reports due by the end of the month, your boss is being more of a hard ass than usual and your only saving grace is Jungkook, your roommate, who manages to pick up the groceries and keep dinner in the microwave for you every time you reach home late.

Friday night, 9 PM, sees you climbing up the stairs of your apartment, bag threatening to fall from your limp grip and exhaustion heavy on your shoulders. The rain outside has made your hair scraggly, and your glasses are flecked with obscuring water droplets, even after you had tried shielding yourself with your blazer, and the cold is seeping into your bones, clothes sticking uncomfortably to your body. Your head is filled with thoughts of a warm shower and bed, and you can only hope that Jungkook’s meeting with his new producer is over by now.

You open the door and toe off your flats, calling out, “Kook? I’m home!”

“In the dining room,” you hear him shout back.

You make your way to the room in question, only to halt to a dead stop at the entrance, comically sudden, like in those Tom and Jerry cartoons where somebody gets hit by a large frying pan mid-step.

There, leaning back against the counter, tea cup in hand, is standing one Min Yoongi.

He’s wearing a beanie, black hoodie and dark blue ripped jeans and your mouth goes dry at his ring clad fingers. Those mental images of him rapping? Yeah, they seem more believable now.

Almost unconsciously, you scan him, toe to head, past the grey socks, the peek of his knee through the hole in his jeans, the outline of one of his fisted hands inside the pocket of his hoodie, lips pursed against the rim of his mug and the few strands of black hair that have escaped his beanie. Your eyes pause at the rings on his fingers curled around the handle of the cup, and suddenly, you don’t feel very cold anymore.

Your eyes finally meet his, only to find him staring right back at you.

His expression matches your own startled one, his mouth still comically puckered around the cup, eyes wide and filled with surprise, gaze unwavering from your drenched form.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You’re brought out of your somehow hyper-aware daze by Jungkook’s voice and so is Yoongi, who softly clears his throat and darts his eyes away from you, busying himself with his tea cup.

Poor, sweet Jungkook whom you didn’t even notice was in the vicinity and, bless his soul, doesn’t seem to have noticed the very obvious tension in the room.

He’s bent over the table, takeout brochure spread out in front of him, phone in hand and trademark, bright smile on his face.

Before you can reply, and probably for the best because you’re not sure whether your voice still works, he excitedly continues, “This is Yoongi. I’m gonna be working with him on a track!”

Turning to the man in question, he says, “Yoongi, this is Y/N.”

Simultaneously, the two of you, in the same voice utter, “We’ve met,” doggedly refusing to look at each other.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, like a confused puppy, and asks, “When?”

“Irene’s wedding cake,” you explain shortly.

“Bakery,” he says at the same time.

You both awkwardly chuckle and Jungkook shrugs, satisfied with the answer(s).

“I’ve ordered pizza for dinner,” he tells you, holding the phone up. “You wanna go change into something warm?”

The realisation that your clothes are still wet hits you, and you suddenly feel a renewed wave of coldness.

You give him a ‘Hmm,’ and with a short, not-at-all awkward nod in Yoongi’s direction, you all but sprint away from the room, forcing yourself to not turn back and see if he was even looking at you.

You engage in what you think is a very necessary pep talk in front of the mirror while changing, and with a deep breath and one last, ‘He’s just a boy,’ you make your way back down.

Stepping into the living room, you find a box of pizza on the centre table, a sitcom playing on television and Jungkook in the middle of a slice.

Alone.

You feel your stomach sink.

Tamping down the disappointment, (all that work, and for what?) you return Jungkook’s full-mouthed, cheesy smile best as you can, nonchalantly grab a slice, and sit down next to him, passively asking, “Where’s Yoongi?”

“Oh, he left.”

Suavely, so suavely, like you couldn’t care less, you let out a noncommittal, vaguely inquisitive ‘Oh?’

“Yeah, he was only waiting for the rain to stop.”

You try not to let your chagrin show as you hum softly, hopefully sounding uncaring enough for Jungkook to not question your curiosity, and turn your attention to the Brooklyn Nine-Nine episode in front of you.

That night, you fall asleep to one part of your head repeatedly whispering, “He’s just a boy,” and another countering, “A very cute boy.”

You’re inclined to agree with the latter.

________________________

Sunday mid-morning sees you in a trial room at a wedding dress boutique, trying on the Maid of Honour dress that Irene’s chosen.

(Puppy dog eyes, the promise of a free community library membership through her connections and ‘I promise, if you don’t like it, we can get it changed. But please, please, please let me pick out a dress for you.’)

You strip out of your t-shirt and jeans and unzip the dress cover that’s hung from a hook on the door, carefully slipping out the dark turquoise, soft, flowy cloth from it.

After a brief altercation between your glasses and the sleeve, you manage to pull it on, and turn to your reflection in the mirror.

You have to admit, you look good. The chiffon material seems to flow down from the V-neck to the clinch at the waist, where the material spreads out and the colour begins to slowly fade into a calm, deep blue, ending at your feet.

You might just have to tell Irene that she did a good job.

Unbidden, a thought rushes into your head, I hope Yoongi will be at the wedding. It’s a little surprising because, after all, he is just a boy.

(And you haven’t exactly faced your thoughts about said boy, so far preferring to stick to your usual reaction when feelings crop up i.e. stringent avoidance.)

Giving yourself a quick once-over and a satisfied nod, you push the curtain aside and re-enter the waiting lounge, immediately greeted by Miya cooing, “You look amazing!”

She and Hyejin are sat on the couch, already in their dark blue bridesmaid dresses, similar to your own.

Hyejin looks up from her phone, grin on her face. “I almost forgive Irene for picking you as maid of honour now.”

You mumble a ‘Thank you,’ blush creeping up your neck, a tad bit conscious from the attention, even when the source is your closest friends. Moving to take a seat next to Miya, you ask, “Is Irene not done yet?”

As if on cue, the curtains of the centre cubicle part and out steps your best friend.

“My head's too big for the tiara,” she says, like she isn’t standing in front of all of you looking like a goddamn princess, in her sparkling, white, off shoulder wedding dress.

The next couple of minutes are filled with squeals and twirling and ‘When did you grow so old? I can’t believe you’re getting married,’ courtesy Hyejin.

Two hours later, you’re all in your normal clothes and leaning back in your chairs, satiated after lunch at a restaurant nearby, and in high spirits off of the company and a productive day.

Miya lets her fork clatter on her plate, an air of finality in the sound and utters, voice sleepy, “I could go for dessert.”

You hum in agreement, already thinking about a good chocolate chip ice-cream or a slice of red velvet cake.

“Oh, I’d die for some cheesecake right now,” Irene says.

Hyejin pulls out her phone and searches for dessert places nearby and really, you should have known that this day was going too well, when a moment later, you’re choking on water as she reads out from her screen, “There’s a Kim Seokjin Bakery, like five minutes away. Wait, isn’t that where you’re getting the cake from?”

Miya repeatedly thumps your back as Irene enthuses, “Yeah! Joon and I tasted some of their stuff the other day, they’re good.”

And that’s what finds you, ten minutes later, about to enter Kim Seokjin Bakery.

The entire time while walking, you had wracked your brain, trying to think of an excuse to get out of this situation without making it sound suspicious, only to come up empty-handed.

You watch, palms clammy, eyes glued onto Irene’s hand on the handle, praying to all the gods you believe in only when you need something, that Yoongi’s on holiday, or that he’s late, or even that he’s just in the back and doesn’t surface the entire time you’re here.

The door swings open, and because you didn’t go to the temple on that one birthday when you turned thirteen and the higher ups have hated you ever since, standing there, in all his white cardigan glory is Min Yoongi.

The gods can suck it, you’re actively atheist now.

Before you can make a run for it, consequences be damned, he looks up from the counter top he’s wiping with a cloth and starts in a drone, “Welcome to Kim Seokjin Bakery, how can I help-oh, hey!”

No escaping now.

You raise a hand in greeting, refusing to meet his eyes, forcing the butterflies in your stomach to cut out the bloody rager they’re throwing in there, as Irene replies, “Hi, Yoongi!”

He moves towards the register and asks, “What can I get you today?”

You focus on choosing between a red velvet cupcake and a chocolate mousse, eyes burning holes into the glass as you force yourself to not look up or in his general direction.

Did that sweater always fill out his shoulders like that?

The others tell Yoongi what they want and now it’s your turn and you want to kick yourself when you honest-to-god stutter out, “O-One red velvet cupcake, please,” like a fucking teenager with a crush, your voice pitching up as your eyes catch on the single ring he’s wearing on his left pinkie finger.

The same finger that brushes against yours when you reach over the counter to take your cupcake.

You nearly drop the pastry as you feel a blush beginning to form at the base of your neck, and you mumble out a ‘Thank you,’ scurrying away to the table in the corner where Miya's sat, already halfway through her brownie.

You have to push away the thought of Yoongi making the very same cake that you’re about to eat. It’s simply too erotic an image for a bakery.

Forcing yourself to seem placid, you bite into it, immediately understanding why the place has such a high rating.

However, you’re rudely brought out from your cupcake-induced coma when you notice Hyejin and Irene sitting down at the table with wide, Cheshire grins.

You suddenly feel very unsafe, sat as you now are in between the two of them.

Miya looks up from her brownie and says around the spoon she’s still got dangling from her mouth, “Uh, guys? What are you doing?”

Hyejin's grin grows wider. “Y/N here has a little something she’s been hiding from us.”

Irene looks like she’s trying hard not to burst into giggles, as she coos and pinches at your cheek. “You’re the colour of the cupcake,” she observes.

You swat her hand away, busying yourself with said cupcake, stubbornly refusing to meet their eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniff, before you take a huge bite, staring straight at the wall behind Miya, who looks mighty confused.

“What’s going on? What’s she hiding? Y/N, what are you hiding?”

Hyejin, truly the devil incarnate, leans back in her chair and damningly says, “She’s got what the kids call a crush.”

There’s only so much avoiding you can do around the three of them and now you’re blushing in full force, fruitlessly fighting off your own grin as Irene lets out a cackle and Miya excitedly whoops.

You immediately shush them, sure that there’s no way Yoongi won’t notice all the noise they’re making.

“Shut up,” you whisper harshly. “It isn’t a crush, don’t call it a crush.”

Blatantly disregarding what you just said, Miya softly exclaims, “Oh my god, I knew something was weird when you were being quieter than usual on the way here.”

“Miss I-have-no-emotions is in love,” Irene teases as she nudges your shoulder.

Flipping her off, you quietly whine, “Stop, it’s nothing, don’t make it a thing.”

Hyejin dabs at her mouth with a tissue and nonchalantly says, “So I’m guessing it wouldn’t interest you to know that he keeps looking at you every three minutes?”

The blush that was fading is now back in full force as you try hard not to giggle, fucking giggle, and you manage another bite of your cupcake and unconvincingly utter, “Nope.”

You’re fighting a losing battle at this point really, as the rest of the conversation revolves around Yoongi and your crush and you’re repeatedly forced to slam your palm over Irene’s mouth every time she goes to call him for ‘wedding related reasons.’

You all leave the bakery, the others throwing obnoxious ‘Bye, Yoongi’s behind them, as you manage a small, shy wave.

It is possible that, maybe, you have a teensy crush on one Min Yoongi.

________________________

The thing about liking somebody is that it makes you giddy. The thing about admitting that you like somebody is that it makes you feel like you’re permanently floating on a cloud.

You swear your glasses have been fitted with rose-tinted lenses and everything in the world has a lovely, warm glow to it. Logically, you know it’ll pass. A couple of weeks (okay, fine, maybe a couple of months) and you’ll hardly remember Min Yoongi. But for now, you’re going to enjoy getting lightheaded over something this inconsequential.

Jungkook figures out what’s happening about a week after the dress trial, when he walks in on a video call you’re having in the living room with Miya, in the middle of her squealing and you blushing. He stops at the door like he’s just seen a ghost when he hears you giggle and you don’t blame him.

Giggling and...emotion in general, are not things you do.

After getting over his shock at seeing you blush that vividly for the first time in your five year friendship and four year roommate-ship, he manages to wrench it out of you, howling in glee when he remembers how you had acted that night when Yoongi had come over.

He doesn’t let it go the entire day, always greeting you with a teasing smile when he sees you around the house and even going so far as to take the call about his collaboration with the man himself in the living room, you sitting right next to him on the couch.

You bear with him as well as you can, repressing the urge to bonk him with great difficulty. You won’t let him take away your good cheer.

That night, you’re chopping carrots as Jungkook leans over the stove, stirring at the bubbling gravy inside. He’s been relatively decent for the duration that the two of you have been cooking dinner, probably not wanting to test you when you’re holding a knife, and it’s the last thing you’re expecting when he asks, “So what're you gonna do about it?”

You nudge him to the side with your hip as you drop the vegetables into the pot.

“Do about what?”

“Your crush on Yoongi.”

You’re confused. He can’t possibly thing you’re going to do anything about it.

“Aren’t you going to ask him out?”

Apparently, he can.

As you wash the cutting board, refusing to meet his eyes, you ask, in an obvious tone, “No? Why would I?”

He turns away from the stove, letting the pot simmer and looks at you quizzically. “Because you like him?”

The poor, naïve boy.

Replacing the board behind the sink, you pick up two glasses from the cupboard overhead as you explain through a chuckle, “Jungkook, it’s just a crush. I’ll get over it, no biggie.”

His eyes grow wide with realisation as you walk past him to the fridge, and he switches off the stove, accusing stare following your motions.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Hmm? Do what?” you reply distractedly, as you pour out cranberry juice into the two glasses.

Suddenly, the carton is snatched from your hand and you look up to see Jungkook staring at you with a frown in his face.

“Not act on your feelings.”

You lean back against the counter and scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I act on my feelings plenty. I have friends, don’t I?”

He takes a gulp of juice straight from the carton, ignoring your pointed stare at the full glasses right next to you on the counter, and begins counting on his fingers as he lists out, “The barista at the coffee shop near your office, that RA during our third year of uni, Mrs. Smith's daughter who visits every weekend-"

“Are all people I’ve gotten over, just like how I’ll eventually get over this crush too,” you interrupt, now beginning to get a little annoyed. This is starting to veer dangerously on talking-about-feelings territory and you don’t do that shit sober and before three in the morning.

Twisting the cap back on the carton, Jungkook says into the fridge, “You didn’t have to get over them. And you can’t tell me that this one isn’t different. I’ve never seen you this...free before, even with your previous crushes.”

“Dude, stop. This isn't going anywhere. Don’t harp on it,” you say with an air of finality, turning around and busying yourself with piling rice onto two plates.

You feel Jungkook’s eyes on you as you walk out of the kitchen, hands full, but thankfully, he doesn’t attempt to continue the conversation.

Dinner is quieter than usual, with you deep in thought about things that don’t bear thinking about, and Jungkook biting his tongue every time he’s about to talk, so as to not send you into a bigger spiral.

As you rinse the dishes in silence, passing them to Jungkook to dry, he finally says gently, “I just want you to be happy. And Yoongi’s a great guy.”

You merely hum in response.

Taking that as an invitation, he continues, “You don’t have to be so worried. What’s the worst that could happen?”

What’s the worst that could happen?

Your head repeats it over and over as you toss and turn in bed that night, running through worst case scenarios. You fall asleep with only one conclusive thought that doesn’t answer anything.

Feelings are stupid.

________________________

You’ve practiced and perfected your signature act of stringent avoidance, and for the next two weeks, you drown yourself in work and Irene’s wedding that’s looming closer, absolutely refusing to let yourself even think about Jungkook’s words and Min Yoongi as a whole.

There were blips of course. A final cake tasting that Irene wanted you to go for, and when Jungkook asked for you to drop off some food at the studio when he was working with Yoongi. You managed to get through both events with minimal embarrassment, refusing to meet Yoongi’s eyes and sometimes pretending to not hear him when he spoke to you, coming out of both instances feeling like your heart had been put through a blender and eagerly looking forward to Irene’s wedding getting over and Jungkook finishing this damn song already, so you can just get over him in peace.

Two weeks left for the wedding and you, Miya, Hyejin and Irene are walking down a set of staircases on the pavement, all of you slightly tipsy from the tequila, including your usually teetotalling ass, about to enter a seedy looking pub with a sign on top of the door, at street level, that reads NYLON in bright, green neon tube lighting.

The thing about Irene, is that in addition to being a children’s book author who has weekly readings at the community library and volunteers in old age homes, she also lives and breathes hip hop music.

And being the incredible maid of honour that you are, for her bachelorette party, you’ve planned to end the night with a visit to a pub that often hosts some of the most famous underground rappers in the city. At least, that’s what Google said.

Somehow, from Irene’s frequent giggles as she stumbles her way down the staircases, and the slightly hazy look in her twinkling eyes as she clutches onto an equally giggly Miya, you don’t think she’ll mind, either way.

Hyejin pushes the door open with a flourish, and you all enter to the sounds of hooting. It’s fairly more packed than you had expected, crowd excited and bobbing to the bass thumping out of the speakers. There are too many people in front for you to be able to see who’s on stage, but even you have to admit that they’re really good, hardly pausing to take a breath as they rap out line after line.

And from Irene’s wide eyes and delighted grin, she seems to agree.

You can tell that you guys are a little late into the set, as they wrap up in the next ten-ish minutes or so, and for a split second, the crowd parts enough for you to see the performer on stage, sweating and panting and surveying the cheering crowd with a satisfied, cocky smirk.

The alcohol seems to drain out from your system as you make eye contact with Yoongi and your heart skips a step as he doesn’t look away, everything seemingly happening in slow motion.

The room suddenly seems too crowded to breathe, and without a word to the others, you turn around and push your way out of the pub, wanting nothing more than to get away from there.

You shove the door open and let it fall shut behind you, letting yourself take deep breaths as you slump against the wall next to the entrance. You shut your eyes and let your head fall behind, resting on the cool brick, abruptly feeling so tired as you faintly hear the thumping bass from behind you.

“Hey.”

Jumping off the wall as if a matchstick had been lit under your ass, your eyes shoot open and land on the man standing next to you, looking at you with his hand sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, small smile playing on his lips.

Min fucking Yoongi.

You force yourself to calm down again as he leans back on the wall next to you and continues, “First time here?”

Despite how supremely distracting he looks at the moment, dressed in tight black jeans and an oversized black t-shirt under a large brown coat, hair matted to his forehead with sweat and long fingers covered in large rings, you manage to say, “Yeah, we're here for Irene’s bachelorette.”

Distantly, you realise that this is the first time that you’ve been alone with him.

“Preparations going well then?”

You shrug, sinking back, what little alcohol that’s left in your system allowing you to loosen up, as you reply, “Well enough.”

He lets out a hum and now there’s quiet around the two of you, the neon sign overhead casting a muted glow and the faint sounds of traffic above mingling with the music behind.

It doesn’t feel awkward. Just...silent. It isn’t comfortable either. It just exists.

“And how's Jungkook?”

You turn your head, looking towards him out of the corner of your eye, confused as you slowly say, “He’s fine. You guys had a meeting today, didn’t you?”

He opens his mouth to reply when the door opens next to you and Hyejin jogs out, wide eyes immediately drawn to you on the side.

“Oh thank god. We’ve been so worried, you just disappeared and we couldn’t find you and the we called Jungkook to find out if you had gone ho-Oh, hello.”

Yoongi shuts his mouth abruptly and raises his arm in greeting.

“We were going to leave because Miya's head’s starting to hurt but we can stay for a while longer if you want?” Hyejin hesitantly asks, eyes locked on yours, as if she’s telepathically trying to understand what you’re doing out here in the dark, hanging out with Min Yoongi, whom you’ve declared as the-boy-who-won't-be-named in your little group over the last couple of weeks.

Hell if you know.

You turn to Yoongi as he gives you a weak ‘Don’t worry about it,’ with a soft, almost-rueful smile, before he waves at you and Hyejin and turns around, walking towards the back entrance from where he came.

Hyejin looks at you worriedly, probably only now noticing your tired face and drooping shoulders.

“Is everything fine?” she quietly asks, placing a comforting palm on your shoulder.

You let out a sigh before you say, “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Let’s just get the others and go home, yeah?”

She gives you a reassuring nod and a soft ‘Chin up, love,’ and with one last nod, the two of you re-enter the pub.

________________________

“You’re moping again.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’ve been eating that same bowl of cereal for the last ten minutes.”

“It’s good cereal.”

“It’s plain cornflakes. I don’t know why we have it at home in the first place.”

“It was on sale.”

Jungkook huffs in annoyance before snatching the bowl and spoon from your grip and placing it on your side table, ignoring your cries of protest as he whips open the curtains, letting in the sunlight that you so dearly wanted to keep outside.

Shutting the laptop that’s playing dumb cat videos, he moves it out of the way before sitting in its place, not letting you bury yourself under the covers.

After a brief scuffle between you, him and the blanket, that really, you were bound to lose, seeing as how Jungkook’s biceps are the size of your head, he manages to wrench the bedding from your hands, leaving you glaring at him sourly, arms crossed.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he scoffs, bundling up the blankets and dumping them on the floor, before he turns towards you. “Ever since you came back from that bachelorette party two days ago, you’ve been cooped up in here. It’s time for an intervention.”

You roll your eyes, kicking your legs out petulantly, not reaching anywhere near him. “I don't need any intervening. I’m fine.”

“Have you eaten anything other than cereal? No, scratch that, other than plain fucking cornflakes?”

“I’m trying out a diet,” you cautiously reply.

“Oh, please, we both know you don’t buy into that bullshit. You never shut up about unhealthy eating habits and the harmful effects of diet culture when I’m doing my monthly keto,” he says, fingers in air quotes and expression sceptical.

You let out a huff, annoyed that he saw through you that easily. You and your fat mouth.

At your refusal to engage in further conversation, lips stuck in a pout and stubbornly avoiding his gaze, he lets out an exasperated groan, before he whines, “Come on, Y/N. I’m starting to get worried here. Joon asked me how your cold was during our run today morning. I didn’t even know you had a cold.”

“...I don’t.”

His eyes soften as he leans forward and taps your knee, making you look at him.

“What’s going on?”

You let your gaze flick to the bedroom door.

Noticing, Jungkook cocks his eyebrows up. “Do you really think you’ll make it?”

Letting out a harsh sigh, you slump against the headboard of your bed as you feel the fight leaving your body. Your roommate is a muscly, stubborn little shit and you’re not getting out of this.

He gives you time to collect your thoughts, looking at you expectantly, but not rushing you, now that he knows you won’t try escaping again.

“Min Yoongi.”

He doesn’t look surprised that you open with that, probably expecting him to be the topic of conversation.

“Is that bothering you so much? Last I heard, we weren’t allowed to say his name in a non-work capacity in this house.”

“We aren’t,” you shoot back, with a dirty look.

He raises his hands, palms outward in a pacifying gesture. “Sorry, sorry, please continue.”

“Did you have a meeting with him two days ago?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Then why did he ask me how you were doing?”

Now, Jungkook looks confused.

“Wait, what? When did you talk to him?”

In as few words as possible, you relate your sad, sordid tale and watch as Jungkook’s face flies through five different emotions during your retelling.

He settles at perplexity. His hand comes up to his chin, stroking his non-existent beard.

“I had just met him. And at the studio, he had asked me about...holy shit.”

You’re brought out of your gloom by Jungkook’s slowly widening grin. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain.

“What?” you shortly ask, thoroughly sceptical.

“Okay, don’t freak out when I say this-"

“If you already think that’s a possibility, you probably shouldn’t say it-"

“Yoongi likes you.”

You lean back from him as if you’ve been burnt.

“I’m sorry, what now?”

He leaps off the bed, excitedly beginning to pace around the room, arms waving as he begins to explain, occasionally turning to your disbelieving face.

“Every time when I’m with him, he always asks how you are-"

“He's being polite, you should try it sometime-"

“And Irene was telling me how he asked her if he had done something wrong because you were ignoring him-"

“Stop talking about me behind my back!”

He waves you down as he begins to pace more feverishly and continues, “And he changed that one line to purple frame from pouring rain, I’m thinking because of your glasses-"

“He should probably change it back, that sounds like a horrible decision.”

“That’s it, I connected the dots.”

“Jungkook, you didn’t connect shit.”

Again, disregarding your protests, he continues, “And I’m pretty sure the reason he asked you about me is because he wants to know if we’re dating, but he doesn’t want to seem too obvious about it-"

“Jungkook!”

“Whoa, hey, that’s the thing you’re the most offended about? I’m hurt, Y/N-Oh, fuck.”

He rushes towards your side of the bed on seeing your stricken expression. Your head feels heavy, tears blurring your vision as you watch Jungkook bend down on the floor in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s fine, you don’t have to say anything to him. The wedding will be over in two weeks, I’m almost done with the song, you don’t even have to see him if you don’t want to,” he rapidly says, as he wipes off the single tear that manages to escape.

You force yourself to calm down and take a deep, shaky breath, harshly rubbing your eyes with your free hand.

Quietly, in the pregnant silence of the room, making eye contact with Jungkook for the first time in the entire conversation, you finally, hoarsely utter, “What if I want to see him? What if I want to talk to him? What if I like him so much, my heart almost hurts more when I’m around him than when I’m not?”

He gives you a small smile and a gentle squeeze of your palm.

“Then you’ve got the best wingman right here.”

You hiccup softly at that, feeling drained from all the emotions of the last three days. Jungkook stands up and pulls you along with him, tugging you into a hug that you welcome.

“Thanks,” you softly mutter as you pull away, slightly sniffling and refusing to make eye contact with him, suddenly embarrassed from the events that have transpired.

Noticing your discomfort, he lets you turn away from him and moves to leave the room.

He stops at the door and says, “Why don’t you come down after texting the others, and we can order lunch and watch something trashy? No boy talk,” he says, crossing his heart.

You give him a tiny grin, the most you’ve managed in the last two days, before you reply, “You’re a boy.”

“Not in the romantic way.”

“According to Yoongi, you are.”

“Oh, we’re laughing about that now?”

________________________

Twenty four hours left for the big day and you’d be happy if you never had to hear the word ‘wedding' in your life again. Despite organisation and coordination being your strong suits, nothing could’ve prepared you for the last minute rush.

Really, it’s a miracle that you and the best man, Jackson, haven’t just up-and-away'ed from it all.

You’re at the venue, securing the arch with Hoseok, one of the groomsmen, when Jackson comes jogging into the chapel, phone in hand.

Absurdly, the mental image of a labrador puppy with a tennis ball in their mouth comes to the forefront of your mind.

“The bakery called and Joon asked if you could take it because he and Irene are finalising the speech sequence,” he explains in a single, long breath, holding out Namjoon's phone to you.

Oh.

After your big, emotional reveal with Jungkook that day, you’ve pretty much just been biding your time in the romantic front and resigning yourself to passively letting any and all feelings just happen until you actually meet Yoongi face to face at the wedding. Jungkook’s more than happy to let you be, probably being able to tell how mortified you are after all that uncharacteristic word vomit, and he doesn’t bring anything up. Occasionally, when the two of you are watching television, he'll point at a couple on screen and with a wide grin, he’ll say, “Fighting, Y/N!” and once, he sent you a YouTube link that you assumed was one of his usual Vine compilations but ended up being a video titled ‘5 Ways To Ask Someone Out' but for the most part, he’s been pleasantly bearable.

He did casually let it slip to Yoongi that the two of you were just good friends and roommates and not, in fact, dating. Apparently, Yoongi gave a small smile when he heard, but you don’t know if that’s just Jungkook dramatising and his overactive imagination.

You can manage a phone call, no problem. It’s a toss up between which owner you’ll end up talking to anyway.

Taking the unlocked phone from Jackson, you redial the most recent contact (KSJ Bakery), and move away from the arch as Jackson rushes forward to take your place and Hoseok continues fastening the metal to the wall.

You bite your lip in anticipation as the ring tone hits your ear and very nearly drop the phone when it stops, hearing a decidedly deep, non-Jin voice casually rattle off, “Hey, Namjoon. Thanks for calling back, I just wanted to confirm the pick-up plan for tomorrow.”

Clearing your throat, you hesitantly reply, “Uh, this is Y/N speaking. Joon's a bit busy at the moment, but he’s given me all the details, so I can clear any doubts you might have.”

Silence.

You’re about to let out a tentative ‘Hello?’ when he says, “Oh yeah, no problem. I just wanted to make sure that the cake would be collected before five in the evening.”

Taking the pen out of your pocket, you scrawl ‘Jimin-cake before 5’ on your wrist while balancing the phone between your shoulder and ear, as you reply, “Yeah, somebody should be there before then, no problem.”

“Awesome, I’ll make sure it’s ready to go.”

“Great, thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Once again, silence.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to get rid of this awful awkwardness (“Bye,” perhaps) but he beats you to the punch by almost delicately asking, “So, uh, how have you been?”

After inaudibly swallowing in nervousness, despite there being no reason for it, he’s just making polite conversation for fuck's sake, you reply in a similar uncertain tone, “I’m good, yeah. And you?”

“Good, good, yeah. Me too,” he hums out, voice tapering out awkwardly at the end.

You see Jackson giving you a questioning look out of the corner of your eye, obviously confused about how weird you’ve suddenly become and you rush to end the call.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then?” you ask, stuffing your pen back into your pocket and turning away from the half erect arch, mentally punching yourself for making it sound so flirty.

You get an obviously quizzical ‘Huh?’ in response and rapidly say, “At the wedding I meant. I didn’t-I didn’t mean anything else. Of course, not that there’s anything else to mean. Joon’s and Irene’s wedding is obviously what I was referring to. Okay, bye!”

Not waiting for him to reply, you hit the red button as quickly as you can, turning back around as you softly sigh and your insides churn in embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to get away from the offending device as soon as possible.

You’re met by two pairs of wide, surprised eyes as Hoseok and Jackson have completely stopped working on the arch, looking at you instead. Hoseok's eyebrows have nearly disappeared into his messy brown hair and Jackson looks like Christmas has come early.

This won’t do. This won’t do at all.

With a half-assed excuse of returning the phone to Namjoon, refusing to meet their eyes, you scamper out of the room, quick as you can, without making it more painfully awkward than it already is.

________________________

Wedding robes are, in your humble opinion, the single most simultaneously gratuitous and comfortable things, you’ve come to realise. Granted, you had turned your nose up at the concept the first time Irene brought it up, but now that you’re sat on the plush couch next to Irene’s mother at the corner of the bridal suite wearing a beige robe, watching as Irene gets her hair done and Miya helps Hyejin with her makeup, you’re convinced that you’re floating on a cloud.

You’re fairly sure that the reason Irene and Namjoon were able to get these robes without going over budget is that they just hired Miya as the makeup artist and she gave them a discount

The silk rubs soothingly against your skin as you get up and pad towards the front of the room, standing next to Irene’s chair and meeting her nervous eyes in the mirror as the hairdresser sets another curl just so.

“Tense?” you gently enquire, giving her a soft smile.

“Just a bit,” she breathes out, staying very still as the stylist flits around her.

“If you’re in this state, I’d love to see how nervous Joon is,” Miya giggles, evening out Hyejin’s blush.

Irene chuckles and moves her hand off of her lap, letting it fall and grabbing yours loosely. She gives your fingers a squeeze and you squeeze back with a reassuring grin.

“Y/N, you’re next!” Miya calls out, prompting you to walk to her as Hyejin moves towards the rack that has your dresses hanging in the centre of the room, smacking her lips as she smoothens her lipstick.

You obediently stand in front of Miya, tucking your glasses by the frame into the opening of your robe and tilting your neck back so she can apply your eyeliner and lip gloss, hands crossed behind your back.

Her already made up face hovers over yours as she delicately holds your chin in one hand, steadying your head as she runs the gloss over your lips.

She softly mutters, “Are you nervous?”

“About what?” you hum, best as you can without moving your face.

You know about what, of course you know about what.

She fixes you with a knowing look, and your eyes dart away from hers, fixing on Irene’s mother helping Hyejin adjust her dress, but she doesn’t pursue the thread of conversation, doing your eyeliner in silence.

Stepping away from her when she gives you the go ahead and turns to Irene, you move to the rack and collect your dress, turning to enter the attached toilet when your phone rings.

The caller ID reads Jackson Wang, and your mind immediately whirs into worst case scenarios.

Not wanting to alarm Irene in case it really does end up being something serious, you drape your dress on the couch arm and move to the corner of the room, while giving her what you hope is an encouraging thumbs up as she worriedly looks at you.

The first thing Jackson says when you accept the call is, “The florist just called and their truck broke down so one of us has to go get the flowers ourselves."

“Send Hobi,” you immediately say, your mind moving to the last minute problems and solutions chart that you and Jackson had gone over the previous night.

“I did, but then the caterers also called and apparently the appetisers got squished on the way, and they can’t make another batch in time.”

Well. That wasn’t on the chart.

“Uh, okay, then we can go get something from the café down the street. Is Jimin free?”

You hear a harsh sigh from the other end of the line as Jackson replies, “Yeah, but he needs to go get the cake too. I’d go but I don’t think it’s best for me to leave Joon right now, he’s started thinking about why they need a religious ceremony in the first place when he has, and I quote, ‘nothing to prove to God anyway,’ and I’ve only just stopped him from calling the priest.”

“Well, fuck. Tae?” you ask, half-groaning, referring to the third and final groomsman, crossing your fingers in the hope that he might be able to help.

“Needs to be here when the cameraman reaches.”

You look at Miya doing Irene’s makeup and Hyejin in turn fixing Miya's hair, as Irene’s mother unzips the wedding gown from its protective packaging.

Glancing at your own done up face and hair in the mirror and shooting a quick look at the tiny alarm clock on the table, you take a decision.

“I’ll get the cake. Let Jimin do the appetisers.”

“Are you sure? You need to be here for the pre-wedding photoshoot.”

“There’s still an hour to go. If I rush, I’ll be back in time.”

“All right, then. God speed, Y/N, god speed.”

Rolling your eyes at his dramatic farewell, you end the call, morphing your face into as calm an expression as possible before moving towards the others.

“What was that about?” Irene asks warily as she gets up from her seat, hair and makeup fully done.

In as nonchalant a manner as you can, you reply, “Oh, nothing. Just some last minute stuff with the florist, it's all good.”

You grab your dress in what you hope doesn’t look too hurried a manner and step into the toilet, changing in record time. You allow yourself a second to look at your reflection, fixing the strap on your shoulder and giving the fabric a sharp tug at the back so it doesn’t bunch over your ass, before you step back out into the room.

Irene’s climbing into her wedding dress with the help of Hyejin and her mother, and it’s all you can do to not call Jackson and tell him that the cake is mostly unnecessary anyway, so you might as well just not bother.

With a clear of your throat, you say, “I just have to get the cake real quick, so I’ll be going,” and with an apologetic look in response to Irene’s penetrating one, you grab your purse from the table, pull on your flats as fast as you can, and shuffle towards the door, pulling your car keys out.

You throw an ‘I know!’ behind your shoulder in response to Miya's ‘Photoshoot's at 3:20!’ before the door shuts behind you, and you make your way to the car park.

You’ve almost reached the bakery, when you become aware of the possibility that you might meet Yoongi, and you pray that Jin is also there so you won’t have to go through any time-wasting awkwardness.

Maybe it’s because you prayed too hard or because you agree with Namjoon’s philosophy and did the prayer all wrong, but when you enter, you find the bakery empty and quiet. If not for the signboard outside that reads ‘OPEN’, you’d have thought they had closed for the afternoon.

You check the time on your phone.

2:30 PM

Mentally calculating the time you have left to collect the cake and be back at the chapel (45 minutes), you tentatively ask out loud as you move towards the counter, “Hello? Is anybody here?”

You get no answer.

2:32 PM

You really have no time for this. You move behind the counter, hand poised to push open the door behind it, hoping that you’ll find one of the owners, when abruptly, you faintly make out a voice that sounds like Jin.

Inwardly cheering, you’re about to enter the backroom when you hear something that makes you stop in your tracks.

In Yoongi’s deep voice, more frazzled than you’ve ever heard, “I can’t ask her out today! It’s her best friend’s wedding, I’m sure she’s super busy.”

Your breath catches and your palms become clammy. Mentally, you try rationalising that it could be anybody, for self-preservation. Loads of people must be getting married today, and you’re sure you aren’t the only maid of honour who’s been put in charge of the wedding cake.

Behind the door, Jin replies, “You gotta do it soon, I get second hand embarrassment whenever I see you pining. You come back from every session with Jungkook with hearts in your eyes and he’s just her roommate.”

...Jungkook is a fairly common name?

You barely have time to gather your swimming thoughts and rapidly move away from the door, before you hear a low huff and an annoyed grumble of ‘Yeah, yeah, I’ll do it,’ followed by the sound of two pairs of footsteps walking towards you.

You have no time to go back to the customer side of the counter, and trying to look as nonchalant as possible, you pretend to be absorbed in a catalogue that’s kept near the cash register. You hear the door open behind you and turn around, trying to seem as natural as possible.

Keyword being trying. Yoongi looks like a fish, mouth open, eyes widened in surprise. Jin behind him just looks vaguely pleased. You catch sight of your stricken expression in the glass cupboard behind them and mentally punch yourself for looking so obvious.

For a moment, the three of you just stare at each other, nobody moving or saying a word. And then Jin, recovering admirably well, amusedly says, “I didn’t know you could read upside down, Y/N.”

You look down at the pamphlet in your hand and see that ‘Weekend Special!’ is, in fact, upside down.

Face burning, you look back up and stammer, “Uh, yeah, nobody was there and I needed to pick up the cake so I thought I’d just-uh-come behind here and see...,” you trail off awkwardly at the end, refusing to make eye contact with either of them, desperately checking yourself from shuffling from foot to foot like a chastised student at the principal’s office.

Vaguely, you register that Yoongi still hasn’t said a word.

Hurriedly placing the catalogue back on the counter, you scurry to the other side, as a softly chuckling Jin gently shoves a still gaping Yoongi out of the way, and moves to the refrigerator, retrieving a large box from inside.

“The black hatchback parked right outside is yours?”

You shake your head out of your stupor, mind running a mile a minute. Replying to Jin, you say, “Uh, yeah. That one’s mine.”

He walks towards the door, and you know that logically, you should be following.

2:47 PM

Daring to look at Yoongi, you see that he’s shut his mouth, but his expression still resembles your own round-eyed one. Unable to handle the butterflies any longer, you violently throw an arm up, squeak out a swift ‘Bye!’ and spin around, rapidly walking towards the door behind Jin, your dress swirling around your ankles with a whoosh.

Your face is the colour of ripe tomatoes as you unlock the car and open the hatch, only half paying attention to Jin carefully placing the cake box inside.

He straightens up, clapping his hands together in a satisfied motion before turning and looking you dead in the eye.

You definitely aren’t prepared for the words that follow.

“You know, if neither of you do anything, nothing’s going to ever happen.”

And then, like he didn’t just drop that bombshell, he gives you a blinding smile, shakes your limp hand in his, and cheerily saying, “See you at the wedding. Don’t hit the brakes too hard!” he turns around and marches back into the bakery, hands tucked into his pockets, carefree as can be.

You’re in a haze as you move to the driver’s seat, buckling yourself in, head and heart all topsy-turvy.

The blinking digital clock on the dashboard warns 3 PM.

Fuck it.

In a rush, hardly registering what you’re doing, you let go of the seatbelt, not paying attention to the thwack it makes as it hits the side of the car. Throwing the door open and scrambling out, you jog back to the bakery, no doubt looking like a woman possessed.

You push the glass door and briskly walk to where Yoongi’s looking back at you in astonishment from behind the counter, tray full of colourful macaroons in his hands. Your system’s running on pure adrenaline at this point. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jin giving you a thumbs up and a delighted smile, and strolling to the back room, probably to give you guys a little privacy. A suspicious thump follows and you reckon he’s leaned against the other side of the door, ear probably pressed against it. You’d debate ethics, but really, you’re in no position to judge.

“Hey,” you start shortly, once you’ve reached Yoongi, who’s now placed the tray inside the display counter and is looking at you with a bemused expression.

“Hi! Did you leave something behind?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

You open your mouth and shut it again. In a rush, you realise what you’ve done. Like a fool, you try getting something coherent out, but all you manage is a weird cross between a tiny cheep and a squawk that sounds like a dying bird, before you clamp your mouth shut again.

From behind the back door, you hear a stifled chuckle.

Fucker.

Yoongi’s looking at you worriedly, as he kindly enquires, “Are you alright? Would you like some water or something?”

“No!” you shout, louder and more panicked than intended, as he turns around to get a bottle from one of the cupboards on the wall.

“No,” you repeat softer, with a nervous giggle that probably doesn’t do a lot to convince him as he turns around, now looking thoroughly bamboozled.

“Um, okay. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Another chuckle from behind the door.

Ridiculously, in the back of your brain, you can see Jungkook’s dumb grin as he screams, “Fighting, Y/N!”

Well, you’re definitely ready to fight someone.

You take a deep breath in. Shooting a quick prayer to the boss people up there (because that’s always seemed to work so well) and throwing all caution to the wind, you shakily ask, “Do you wanna-wanna maybe get coffee sometime? With me?”

You gauge his reaction, and your heart pretty much swoops as his face clears up and gives way to a wide, gummy smile, however much he tries to stop it from growing. Distantly, you think it makes him look like he’s having a seizure, but an attractive one.

He coughs and clears his throat, attempting to look nonchalant, as he nonetheless enthusiastically replies, “Yeah! Yeah, I’d like that!”

You can feel yourself matching his expression, as a stupid grin fills your face. You’re sure you both resemble right dorks, beaming and blushing like fools at each other, looking pleased as Punch.

Suddenly, a loud shout emerges from the back room as Jin insistently thumps the door. “Just set a time and go, Joon wants to know where Y/N is and what’s taking her so long!”

Flustered, Yoongi looks away, throwing a dirty look behind him as you look at your phone (3:07 PM) and see that you’ve got two missed calls from Irene, one from Hyejin and a grand total of six from Jackson.

With an agitated air, you revert your gaze to Yoongi, who gives you a small laugh as he waves his hand and says, “Go! We can figure it out later.”

You give him an apologetic grin and a cheerful ‘Bye!’ before jogging back out of the bakery, lightheaded.

________________________

[5:35 PM] Min Yoongi : Good luck. You look nice.

The entirety of the ceremony consists of you torn between paying attention to what’s going on right next to you on the dais and fighting your blush every time you catch Yoongi’s eye in the crowd.

Too busy thinking about his text you had received right before the doors opened, you nearly miss your cue to give Irene the ring.

________________________

Hours later, at the reception dinner, after the speeches are done, and the guests are dancing, and you can finally breathe, you feel yourself being tugged to the side by Jackson as you step down from the wedding party dais, and into a large, chaotic circle full of Namjoon’s friends. Incidentally, you end up standing right opposite a smiling Yoongi. Next to him, Jin throws you a wink.

Jackson begins introductions and there are ‘Nice to meet you's and ‘It was a beautiful ceremony’s thrown all around.

He finally reaches Yoongi.

“And this is Yoongi - part time bakery owner, part time music producer.”

A grin, a performative hand shake, and a blush from both parties involved, followed by a chuckle. Together, in the same amused voice, with twinkling eyes, the two of you say, “We’ve met.”

318 notes · View notes

jack-is-lost · 3 years

Note

If you made your own, perfect, self indulgent film, or series, what would it be about, look like and what details would be essential?

Hmm, hard to say, really. I feel I’ve pondered over something similar in the past, which resorted to more fanfiction ideas, but I never delved too deep. Besides, what I might reply with now could evolve into an entirely different indulgent weeks, months, or a year from now. I’ll do my best to answer, though! Fair warning topics of death, and all that comes with it, are mentioned.

First, due to my unhealthy obsession, it would be supernatural-themed. Most likely a world where they are coexisting with humans, the average beings, but not exactly out publicly. I enjoy that world-building structure that, for the most part, humanity goes about their life unbeknownst that these ‘stories’ they’ve grown up with hold actual physical truth to them — not just metaphorical.

Another weakness of mine is taking a normal person and having them fall down this rabbit hole into the unknown. Preferably due to a life-altering situation. The reason the supernatural world reveals itself to the protagonist needs to be dire, blood pumping, and basically thrilling. I don’t mind the whole ‘I fell in love with so-and-so and now I’m apart of their world’, but I would avoid it being the pivotal point in my film/series.

Instead, it is a friend and the life-altering situation would be a near-death moment. These would be essential, the turning points and anchor. Perhaps, the protagonist was out hanging with a friend they’ve known all their life, through school (currently in high-school), and that night things uncontrollably go downhill. Many thoughts come to mind of how it would go down; car accident, being held at gunpoint while at a convenience store, a freak accident at a theme park. Something out of their hands that causes the friend to act or else death would occur. It is heated, no thought just action, and suddenly there are so many questions needing to be answered. So the protagonist starts to fall down that metaphorical hole into wonderland, but — like in so many already established films/shows — having a mortal being apart of their world is dangerous. Dangerous for them and the beings hidden within plain sight. Yes, what their friend did was heroic but also frowned upon by their own kind. Discussion of what to do with the protagonist is heavy on everyone’s mind. Change them? Wipe their memory? Kill them? Within days of having their eyes open to so much, enough time to have the confusion and fear evolve into wonderment, it is decided to repress their memories. Like a fish caught on a hook, the protagonist is tossed back to sea to blindly follow the current. What I’ve mentioned would be the first portion of a film or the first few episodes of the series. It builds up, allowing the audience to know there is more — to gain a taste of wanting to only be denied alongside the main character. To also dig emotionally deeper, said friend has to distance themself in fear of triggering memories. Something could cause those repressed life-changing moments to unravel, so they back off. Calls start to go unanswered, text messages are few and in-between, and physically hanging out just stops altogether. This makes the protagonist at first resentful, upset not knowing what they did wrong — if they did anything wrong. They simply shrug it off at one point, deciding that — like so many friendships often due, theirs is simply fading. So life goes on and a time skip occurs. It is the beginning of the build-up that leads to the middle of the film/series. The protagonist is older, perhaps in their late twenties to early thirties, and they’ve followed this path to become a Crime Scene/Homicide Investigator. Known as a specialist in their field and very dedicated to their work. As the movie/series builds up to that middle act, their world once again starts to ripple like a reflection on water. Especially as they are called to an unusual scene. It is gruesome, animalistic, limbs were strewn across the dark street. And, as they kneel down to pull back the tarp to have a good look at the victim, another investigator crouches beside them. Something is off by how this person’s gaze takes in the scene, how their voice mutters visual statements, and this familiar pull inside their own head. Our protagonist has this inkling feeling they’ve met before. It isn’t until their eyes meet that it dawns on them. Despite it being more than a decade with no contact, it is their friend right beside them. They are older, face harder. Somehow, without any influence on each other, they’ve walked the same career path. And, without purposefully meaning to, found themselves teaming up as districts overlap. Except for one crucial key; their friend has specialized in supernatural criminology. The scene before them is a hot mess that pulls two parties together to solve the case. Creatures and humans equally killing and being murdered. This is where a love interest would slowly build-up — the faintest of possibilities, as they focus on solving what could be the biggest serial killer case ever. Foggy memories do start to surface, but they are old and blurry childhood moments. They could easily be deluded by watching too many horror movies, and that is how the protagonist reasons it. Yet, the further they work this job together, the more the main character has to know. The more they need to seek answers and start to avidly search between the cracks. A huge “I knew it!” moment would occur when they come face to face with the serial killer. Who is, indeed, a supernatural creature. However, being older and more trained, the protagonist doesn’t falter in the midst of a fight sequence. They might exclaim it, joke with their temporary partner on the case, but their finger is still hovering over the trigger — their gaze on the killer. Thus, this is the ‘climax’ of the story — the reveal and blood-pumping action. And, as the main character humanly try to go up against a real-life brutal monster, our protagonist is severely injured. Except now the friend/partner wasn’t there to deflect the final blow. The battle is still going as the protagonist lays upon the ground, bleeding out and fighting to breathe. That is where we see a flashback to the first incident, back to the beginning of the show/film. Their vision is a clouded memory as they blindly look up to the weathered ceiling. The pain is fading to the point they let out one of those dry chuckles while thinking fate is cruel. That they are apart of something like Final Destination to where they probably should have died back then, and now fate is rearing its ugly mug at them again. Their friend rushes to their side, the battle over, and the main character missing the ending. It isn’t though they could care much about that for their world is fading, their life leaking out of them with every slow pulse. The friend asks them then, disregarding rules and regulations, and ask if they don’t want to die. They need permission, consent, but the response is slurred and broken. Did they want whatever their friend was truly asking of them? To be a monster? They can feel the friend’s grasp within theirs, stronger than their own returning squeeze. The darkness is starting to crawl, starting to swallow their vision, and they stare up at the being who they were beginning to love all over again — more than a friend in this second chance gifted to them, and they smile. They don’t nod or shake their head. They don’t whisper an answer, but instead, allow the grim reaper to do its job. For if they were meant for the world hidden by plain sight, they would have been born for it. The ending of this show is remorseful, no doubt. We have this heroic symbol as the funeral plays out. The friend, the blossoming love interest, being the last one to lay a flower upon the grave. Now we see it from their perspective, the loss and grief. Loss of having to stop being friends, the enjoyment of meeting up again and playing a major role in their life, to the grief of losing them so soon. It would end on this sad note because it is how life works, and I’d want to solidify the hard realities within the wonderment. Yet, if a second season or a sequel were to happen, it would be through their gaze. How they deal with it and move forward, and how they find companionship again many, many years down the line. Especially when another supernatural creature has this light in their eyes when they smile a certain familiar way. They are new on the job and being saddled up with them to get field experience, nothing unusual. However, the way they laugh — how they freely speak their mind, reminds them of someone else and a part of them wonders deep down that maybe, just maybe, fate isn’t as heartless as it seemed. It really feels like their friend is right there beside them as they fall back into the fray of solving homicide cases.

#ask and you shall receive #my writing #supernatural topics #story idea #tw: death

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856764864568 · 3 years

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I was standing a dozen paces from her

I was standing a dozen paces from her. It’s awfully curious, Ivan Petrovitch; it really, impressed me. If you would like to reserve a place on a free pick up service then you should complete and return the booking form online. The passionate philanthropist is very active in supporting Carousel of Hope, which benefits the Children's Diabetes Foundation and Barbara Davis Center for Childhood Diabetes, and Larry Ruvo's "Keep Memory Alive," committed to improving the lives of patients and their families facing the challenges of brain disorders. No maester would ever write down an account for one of the Reader’s beloved books. The designer showed the wide leg cropped style in mauve tweed and classic denim, proving this trouser style is anything but over. Age: Girls in 1 6th grade and parents. Upon launching, web content will flow across both screens. 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britesparc · 3 years

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Weekend Top Ten #482

Top Ten Sega Games

So I read somewhere on the internet that in June it’s the thirtieth birthday of Sonic the Hedgehog (making him only a couple of months younger than my brother, which is weird). This is due to his debut game, the appropriately-titled Sonic the Hedgehog, being first released on June 23rd. As such – and because I do love a good Tenuous Link – I’ve decided to dedicate this week’s list to Sega (also there was that Sonic livestream and announcement of new games, so I remain shockingly relevant).

I’ve got a funny relationship with Sega, largely because I’ve got a funny relationship with last century’s consoles in general. As I’ve said before, I never had a console growing up, and never really felt the need for one; I came from a computing background, playing on other people’s Spectrums and Commodores before getting my own Amiga and, later, a PC. And I stuck with it, and that was fine. But it does mean that, generally speaking, I have next to zero nostalgia for any game that came out on a Nintendo or Sega console (or Sony, for that matter). I could chew your ear off about Dizzy, or point-and-click adventure games, or Team 17, or Sensible Software, or RTS games, or FPS games, or whatever; but all these weird-looking Japanese platform games, or strange, unfamiliar RPGs? No idea. In fact, I remember learning what “Metroidvania” meant about five years ago, and literally saying out loud, “oh, so it’s like Flashback, then,” because I’d never played a (2D) Metroid or Castlevania game. Turns out they meant games that were, using the old Amiga Action terminology, “Arcade Adventures”. Now it makes sense.

Despite all this, I did actually play a fair few Sega games, as my cousins had a Mega Drive. So I’d get to have a bash at a fair few of them after school or whatever. This meant that, for a while, I was actually more of a Sega fan than a Nintendo one, a situation that’s broadly flipped since Sega stopped making hardware and Nintendo continued its gaming dominance. What all of this means, when strung together, is that I have a good deal of affection for some of the classics of Sega’s 16-bit heyday, but I don’t have the breadth or depth of knowledge you’d see from someone who, well, actually owned a console before the original Xbox. Yeah, sure, there are lots of games I liked back then; and probably quite a few that I still have warm nostalgic feelings for, even if they’re maybe not actually very good (Altered Beast, for instance, which I’m reliably informed was – to coin a very early-nineties phrase – “pants”, despite my being fond of it at the time). Therefore this list is probably going to be quite eccentric when compared to other “Best of Sega” lists. Especially because in the last couple of decades Sega has become a publisher for a number of development studios all around the world, giving support and distribution to the makers of diverse (and historically non-console) franchises as Total War and Football Manager. These might not be the fast-moving blue sky games one associates with Sega, but as far as I’m concerned they’re a vital part of the company’s history as it moved away from its hardware failures (and the increasingly lacklustre Sonic franchise) and into new waters. And just as important, of course, are their arcade releases, back in the days when people actually went to arcades (you know, I have multi-format games magazines at my parents’ house that are so old they actually review arcade games. Yes, I know!).

So, happy birthday, Sonic, you big blue bugger, you. Sorry your company pooed itself on the home console front. Sorry a lot of your games over the past twenty years have been a bit disappointing. But in a funny way you helped define the nineties, something that I personally don’t feel Mario quite did. And your film is better than his, too.

Crazy Taxi (Arcade, 1999): a simple concept – drive customers to their destination in the time limit – combined with a beautiful, sunny, blue skied rendition of San Francisco, giving you a gorgeous cityscape (back when driving round an open city was a new thrill), filled with hills to bounce over and traffic to dodge. A real looker twenty years ago, but its stylised, simple graphics haven’t really dated, feeling fittingly retro rather than old-fashioned or clunky. One of those games that’s fiendishly difficult to master, but its central hook is so compelling you keep coming back for more.

Sonic the Hedgehog 2 (Mega Drive, 1992): games have rarely felt faster, and even if the original Sonic’s opening stages are more iconic, overall I prefer the sequel. Sonic himself was one of those very-nineties characters who focused on a gentle, child-friendly form of “attitude”, and it bursts off the screen, his frown and impatient foot-tapping really selling it. the gameplay is sublime, the graphics still really pop, and the more complex stages contrast nicely with the pastoral opening. Plus it gave us Tails, the game industry’s own Jar Jar Binks, who I’ll always love because my cousin made me play as him all the time.

Medieval II: Total War (PC, 2006): I’ll be honest with you, this game is really the number one, I just feel weird listing “Best Sega Games” and then putting a fifteen-year-old PC strategy game at the top of the pile. But what can I say? I like turn-based PC strategy games, especially ones that let you go deep on genealogy and inter-familial relationships in medieval Europe. everyone knows the real-time 3D battles are cool – they made a whole TV show about them – but for me it’s the slow conquering of Europe that’s the highlight. Marrying off princesses, assassinating rivals, even going on ethically-dubious religious crusades… I just love it. I’ve not played many of the subsequent games in the franchise, but to be honest I like this setting so much I really just want them to make a third Medieval game.

Sega Rally Championship (Arcade, 1994): what, four games in and we’re back to racing? Well, Sega make good racing games I guess. And Sega Rally is just a really good racing game. Another one of those that was a graphical marvel on its release, it has a loose and freewheeling sense of fun and accessibility. Plus it was one of those games that revelled in its open blue skies, from an era when racing games in the arcades loved to dazzle you with spectacle – like when a helicopter swoops low over the tracks. I had a demo of this on PC, too, and I used to race that one course over and over again.

After Burner (Arcade, 1987): there are a lot of arcade games in this list, but when they’re as cool as After Burner, what can you do? This was a technological masterpiece back in the day: a huge cockpit that enveloped you as you sat in the pilot’s seat, joystick in hand. The whole rig moved as you flew the plane, and the graphics (gorgeous for their time) wowed you with their speed and the way the horizon shifted. I was, of course, utterly crap at it, and I seem to remember it was more expensive than most games, so my dad hated me going on it. But it was the kind of thrilling experience that seems harder to replicate nowadays.

Virtua Cop (Arcade, 1994): I used to love lightgun games in the nineties. This despite being utterly, ridiculously crap at them. I can’t aim; ask anyone. But they felt really cool and futuristic, and also you could wave a big gun around like you were RoboCop or something. Virtua Cop added to the fun with its cool 3D graphics. Whilst I’d argue Time Crisis was better, with a little paddle that let you take cover, Cop again leveraged those bright Sega colours to give us a beautiful primary-coloured depiction of excessive ultra-violence and mass death.

Two Point Hospital (PC, 2018): back once again to the point-and-clickers, with another PC game only nominally Sega. But I can’t ignore it. Taking what was best about Theme Hospital and updating it for the 21st Century, TPH is a darkly funny but enjoyably deep management sim, with cute chunky graphics and an easy-to-use interface (Daughter #1 is very fond of it). The console adaptations are good, too. I’d love to see where Two Point go next. Maybe to a theme park…?

Jet Set Radio Future (Xbox, 2002): I never had a Dreamcast. But I remember seeing the original Jet Set Radio – maybe on TV, maybe running on a demo pod in Toys ‘R’ Us or something – and being blown away. It was the first time I’d ever seen cel shading, and it was a revelation; just a beautiful technique that I didn’t think was possible, that made the game look like a living cartoon. Finally being able to play the sequel on my new Xbox was terrific, because the gameplay was excellent too: a fast-paced game of chaining together jumps and glides, in a city that was popping with colour and bursting with energy. Felt like playing a game made entirely of Skittles and Red Bull.

The Typing of the Dead (PC, 2000): The House of the Dead games were descendants of Virtua Cop’s lightgun blasting, but with zombies. Yeah, cool; I liked playing them at the arcades down at Teesside Park, in the Hollywood Bowl or the Showcase cinema. But playing this PC adaptation of the quirky typing-based spin-off was something else. A game where you defeat zombies by correctly typing “cow” or “bottle” or whatever as quickly as possible? A game that was simultaneously an educational typing instructor and also a zombie murder simulator? The fact that the characters are wearing Ghostbusters-style backpacks made of Dreamcast consoles and keyboards is just a seriously crazy detail, and the way the typing was integrated into the gameplay – harder enemies had longer words, for instance – was very well done. A bonkers mini-masterpiece.

Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games Tokyo 2020 (Switch, 2019): the very fact that erstwhile cultural enemies Mario and Sonic would ever share a game at all is the stuff of addled mid-nineties fever dreams; like Downey’s Tony Stark sharing the screen with Bale’s Batman (or Affleck’s Batman, who the hell cares at this point). The main thing is, it’s still crazy to think about it, even if it’s just entirely ordinary for my kids, sitting their unaware of the Great Console Wars of the 1990s. Anyway, divorced of all that pan-universal gladhanding, the games are good fun, adapting the various Olympic sports with charm, making them easy-to-understand party games, often with motion control for the benefit of the youngs and the olds. I don’t remember playing earlier games extensively, but the soft-RPG trappings of the latest iteration are enjoyable, especially the retro-themed events and graphics. Earns a spot in my Top Ten for its historic nature, but it’s also thoroughly enjoyable in its own right.

Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if all those crazy internet rumours were actually true, and Microsoft did announce it was buying Sega this E3? This really would feel like a very timely and in some ways prescient list.

#top ten #games #sega #sonic #sonic 30th #sonic rangers #crazy taxi #total war #mario #virtua

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delta-roseblr · 4 years

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Felix and Kyle Visit an Adult Book Store: Part Two

Hello and Welcome back for part two!

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a ninety-minute car ride that felt like it had been about four hours they finally arrived at their destination and what a fucking sight it was.

Jimmy’s Adult Toy Chest wasn’t the highest-rated adult store in Nashville. It wasn’t even the closest to their town. It was, however, pretty well known amongst pretty much everyone under the age of 18 as being extremely lax about IDing its patrons. Kyle had turned 18 in September so he didn’t have to worry about that, but Felix wouldn’t be 18 for another eight months. He had a fake ID, a really fucking expensive one actually, but it was for the state of Vermont. That wasn’t necessarily a problem, but Felix was pretty sure it would draw unwanted scrutiny. Jimmy’s Adult Toy Chest’s apparent apathy for looking at effect such things pretty much solved that problem.

Apparently, this also meant that Jimmy’s Adult Toy Chest was in the seediest part of town in the shiftiest looking building Felix had ever seen. It was pretty much just a one-story rectangular building dropped in the middle of a gravel parking lot surrounded by what looked like abandoned buildings. The building might have once been painted red, but the color had long since faded and was presently a weirdly muted and dingy looking pinkish purple color. It had a few windows that Felix could see but they didn’t give away any of the store’s secrets because they appeared to be covered with black paint. Felix felt like he was going to catch an STI just looking at the place.

One look at Kyle and Felix could tell that the place didn’t exactly live up to his expectations either. “Still think this is going to be fun?” Felix questioned with a grin.

Kyle looked at the building for another long minute before turning to Felix and obviously forcing a grin. “If we don’t get murdered,” he answered with fake cheer.

“Or kidnapped and sold on some black market,” Felix offered flatly at what he saw as a real alternative. The place kind of looked like a serial killer’s preferred killing room for fuck’s sake. He grinned humorlessly at Kyle before adding, “You know how there are all those jokes about red-headed step-children? What do you think happens to red-headed sex slaves?”

Kyle chuckled and rolled his eyes. “You are a fucking asshole.”

Felix just continued to grin at him. “You are not the first person to tell me that.”

Unfortunately, even though the place looked like it was going to be the site of a future murder Kyle still wasn’t deterred about going in. Felix knew it had been his idea to come in the first place, but the more he thought about it the more he wanted to get out of it.

The whole situation was just so stupid. The thing he wanted or at least wanted to look into was easily found online on dozens of websites, Felix was sure. Thing was, Felix was one hundred percent sure that his dad checked his internet history now. Felix knew how to scrub that. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough to handle his dad’s prying eyes. He had done a little looking already and his dad didn’t seem to know about it. So he could have looked at home but buying anything was a complete no go. His dad would absolutely open any package that showed up at the house for him and Felix couldn’t guarantee he would be home in time to beat his dad home to get the mail every day with soccer practice. If Felix wanted to purchase anything he needed to go to a brick and mortar store except he didn’t have a fucking car. Felix was working on that, and he was so fucking close, but that didn’t actually help him at that moment. No car meant he needed a ride which is why he had ended up enlisting Kyle.

Great plan except that Kyle was just so fucking enthusiastic about it. It made Felix feel even more uncomfortable about the whole thing than he already did, and he was already about as uncomfortable as he could get about it. Not that Felix was ashamed of sex or liking sex, but this was a bit more than that.

His last opportunity to escape effectively squashed, Felix walked into the store with Kyle. The outside had prepared him for something dank and dirty and probably sleazy which wasn’t what they got at all. The place was well lit and looked clean and organized. That juxtaposition alone was enough to give Felix pause, but he was sure that the display of dick and boob shaped paraphernalia meant for things like bachelorette parties that were set up so they were the first thing you saw when you walked in didn’t help.

“Wow,” Felix exclaimed. He might have even taken a step back from the shock of all of it. “That’s a lot,” he admitted.

“It’s like sensory overload with sex toys!” Kyle agreed although he sounded more excited than surprised. When Felix looked over at him, Kyle was looking around like a fucking kid in a candy shop. “It’s Toys ’R Us for adults.”

I should have just risked it and bought what I wanted online, Felix thought to himself.

“You two are 18?” Someone asked. Felix looked in the direction of the voice to see a bored girl sitting behind the counter by the register. She looked like she was in her late twenties or early thirties. She had more piercings on her face and in her ears than Felix dare try to count, and her hair was fire-engine red. Her phone was still in her hands and she was looking at them with an annoyed disinterest. It was pretty fucking clear they had interrupted her internet scrolling and she wasn’t fucking happy about it.

“Yeah,” Felix replied easily even though it was very much a lie. Considering his relative history of bad luck, Felix wouldn’t have been surprised if she asked to see their IDs but if she did he was prepared to deal with that.

“Yup,” Kyle also answered. Felix knew it was in his head, but he would have sworn Kyle sounded more sincere than he had. Dean could do that too and Felix blamed the southern accent. Kyle reached into his back pocket as he asked, “Do you need to see our IDs?”

The girl behind the counter actually seemed to think about it although it became clear pretty quickly she wasn’t going to take Kyle up on the offer. She just had to go through the motions for appearance's sake which Felix got even if he didn’t appreciate the stress.

“Nah,” she eventually dismissed and returned to looking at her phone like they didn’t even fucking exist.

Well, that was one hurdle dealt with, Felix guessed.

Felix went to take a step and Kyle caught his arm before leaning into his space to whisper. “Is that porn on the TV behind her?” he asked, and it was hard to tell if he was bewildered or horrified by the thought.

Felix almost asked what TV because he really hadn’t noticed one, but on a second glance, he saw the flat screen TV sitting on the shelves behind her. It took all of two seconds of looking to determine that the TV was, in fact, playing some good, old-fashioned porn. It wasn’t exactly a surprise considering porn was the place’s business, but Felix did find it a little amusing which was probably why he chuckled before answering, “Looks like.”

“Oh,” Kyle exclaimed, and he did sound surprised. How he could be surprised at that point Felix didn’t know because he had eyes and it was clearly porn, but it was Kyle. The guy could be shockingly innocent when it came to some things. “I guess that is on theme,” he commented sounding a little awkward about it.

Maybe he would have been more comfortable if it was gay porn. Or that could have made it worse. Felix really couldn’t tell so it was anyone’s guess.

Unfortunately, Kyle got over his discomfort quickly and went right back to being an excited puppy about the whole thing. He released Felix’s arm but turned to look at him curiously, “So what are you looking for?”

“None of your business,” Felix answered immediately. The thought of actually saying it out loud made Felix’s face burn. He was going to buy it which in its own way was embarrassing enough but he wasn’t going to talk about it.

“Dude,” Kyle laughed, “You know I’m going to see it when you check out, right?”

“Fuck,” Felix hissed, “I hadn’t really thought about that.”

How he had managed to not think about that Felix didn’t fucking know because it really was beyond obvious. He guessed he had been so hung up on actually going to the place that he didn’t think out all of the details as much as he should.

I should have just taken the risk and ordered one off the internet, Felix thought as the situation finally truly hit him.

“Well, now that you are aware why don’t you tell me so I can help look,” Kyle suggested as he started to crane his neck to look around the store curiously.

He was going to find out anyway, Felix realized and let out a sigh. It was stupid but he found himself looking around the store to make sure there was no one nearby to overhear. The girl behind the counter was already engrossed in her phone and Felix was pretty sure that he and Kyle were the only actual customers. “Um….,” Felix hummed. He was just going to admit it because it was going to come out eventually. He totally was until he thought about the horror of actually having to say it out loud really struck him and he couldn’t make the words come out.

“Let’s just start looking around,” he grumbled instead.

“You are literally the definition of a bisexual disaster,” Kyle exclaimed with a dramatic eye roll. It wasn’t the first time Kyle had called him that and Felix was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last. Felix couldn’t even be that mad about it because he wasn’t completely wrong. “Where would you like to start?” Kyle asked as he looked around the store again, “Lube? Sex games and other paraphernalia whatever that means? Bondage?” Kyle gasped at his own question and looked at Felix wide-eyed. “Oh, god, is that why we are here? Like to get a pair of handcuffs or something?”

“No,” Felix dismissed quickly. He liked to think he was a pretty flexible person and he was willing to try a lot in the bedroom but there was no way in fucking hell he would ever let Dean tie him up. Thankfully, Dean had never expressed an interest in that, and Felix couldn’t imagine Dean would want to be tied up either. Dean could barely handle laying back and let Felix pleasure him. He would probably have a fucking heart attack being tied up and completely out of control. “Just… come on.”

#fanfic #OCs #Delix

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: Changes - part seven Word count: ±3000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part seven: Sam finds a perculiar place for him and his brother to spend the night, but can’t get the female hunter out of his mind. What caused her to act the way that she did? Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Music: The Passenger - Iggy Pop & The Stooges. Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish & @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

“No, it doesn’t matter… Any room… Alright… Thank you, sir.” Sam removes his phone from his ear and presses the disconnect button. That’s settled then; they have a place to spend the night. He’s not sure if Dean is gonna be happy about the type of room, it being expensive as well, but at least he will have a bed. The younger Winchester shuts the screen of his laptop and puts it away in his backpack beside his feet, then rests his head against his seat. The green neon of the pharmacy sign up the street flickers rhythmically. Dean killed the engine but left the key in the ignition, allowing The Passenger by Iggy Pop & The Stooges to play on the radio. Sam has the urge to change the station, rock is more Dean’s kind of thing than it is his. But as always, he doesn’t, knowing that if he did, he would receive a ‘Dude, don’t change the fucking station’ comment when his brother gets back.

He closes his eyes for a moment, but makes sure he doesn’t fall asleep. Man, he’s so tired. He feels like he could sleep for days, but a nightmare would probably spoil his moment of rest, just like they have for the last month. He sighs, listening to the cars driving by and footsteps on the sidewalk next to their parking spot. Then he looks outside, watching people hasten to their destination. Ordinary people, men, women, children. All with a certain goal, they seem to know where they’re heading. Business people in neat suits, mothers out shopping, kids hanging around after school. The lives of most of them are so simple. They don’t have a clue what’s really going on, what other world they’re living parallel to. He remembers brief moments of the time he didn’t know. If he had the smallest hunch of what he is aware of now, he would have never begged his brother to tell him. He closes his eyes again and breathes out; what a wonderful world.

Out of nowhere, a loud bang sounds through the car. Sam almost jumps out of his skin and looks outside, startled, expecting to witness a car crash, but instead, he sees his smirking brother with his fist still resting against the window. Sam rolls his eyes while Dean walks around the car and gets in. He laughs as he opens the bag. “You were out, man.” “No I wasn’t,” Sam denies. “Did you get something?” “Vicodin.” Dean shows off his meds, pops one capsule out of the package and knocks it back. “Don’t you need a prescription for that kind of stuff?” Sam contemplates. “Yeah, but the pharmacist was hot,” Dean grins, waving a card with a cell number written on it in the air.

Sam shakes his head and chuckles; typical. “Shall I drive? I’m quite sure you’re not allowed when you’re on Vicodin,” he suggests. “Dude, we face death on a daily basis, and you’re worried about my driving skills after one teensy weensy Vicodin pill?” He glances in his side mirror before he turns his car back on the road. “Touché,” Sam admits. “Found a place to stay?” Dean checks. “Yeah, I did.”

The black Chevrolet approaches traffic lights on the corner of S. Broadway and 2nd Street Southwest, as Dean looks aside at his brother, his hand resting on the wheel. “Where to?” “Take a right here, then the second right and a final fifth left. It’s not that far,” Sam explains. Dean does as told, but gazes at Sam for a moment after he accelerates and makes the turn. “What are you? A hunter equipped with a global positioning system?” he chuckles. “I’m surprised you managed to say those fancy words without stuttering,” Sam counters. “Hey, I’m surprised you still can’tgive out your fake ID without stuttering, you don’t hear me belly achin’ about it,” Dean counters with a grin, secretly enjoying their brotherly banter.

Five minutes later, they leave the car in a small parking lot next to a three-story red brick building that used to be a warehouse once. Now, purple neon light flickers above the entrance: Deep Purple Inn. “If the place is as good as the music, this is gonna be a hell of a stay,” Dean comments, glancing through the windshield. “I thought you just needed some sleep?” Sam refers while he gets out and looks over the top of the car. “I still do, but Stacy gets off at nine.” Dean closes the door with a smirk on his face. “Stacy?” Sam asks, puzzled. “Keep up, man! Vicodin-girl,“ his brother reminds him as he picks up the pharmacy bag from the back seat. “Right.” Sam looks down at his feet with a chuckle. “And your point?” He waits for a response while they enter the motel. The Inn is obscurely decorated, purple being the main theme, not surprisingly. The peculiar interior design choices have both the Winchesters frowning as they take in the lobby. “My point is that while you are out checking on Zoë, I’ll be checking out Stacy,” Dean clears up, after redirecting his attention to Sam. He leans his left arm on the counter, careful not to harm his shoulder. He beams and raises his brows as his eyes sparkle; seems like he’s gonna get lucky tonight.

“Can I help you guys?” A young bloke, probably in his mid-twenties, turns his office chair and faces the brothers. He’s dressed in casual clothing with a waistcoat, his black hair is spiked with shiny gel. “Yeah, we just called in for a room. Is it still open?” Sam checks. “You probably talked to my manager, but yeah.” He nods. “We have a room left.” “We’ll take it,” Sam decides as he slips a credit card. The guy behind the counter gets up and takes the card. Impatiently, Sam checks his phone for the time; it’s four PM. Zoë’s meeting Terry Cliffer in an hour and a half and he wants to be there before she does. His brother, on the other hand, already seems to have forgotten about the argument with their fellow hunter, as he steals his fifth caramel toffee from the counter, puts it in his mouth and looks around to make sure no one saw it.

“So, you just drove back in from Canada or somethin’?” the desk clerk asks, as he passes the card back to Sam. “Beg your pardon?” he asks, somewhat dazed. The young guy captures Dean’s attention as well, because he studies him with the same confused expression, having some difficulty chewing his toffee. They don’t receive an answer, though, at least not a direct one. “Here you go.” The young guy puts a gift basket wrapped up in glittery transparent paper on the counter. He places the key of room 301 next to it as Sam reads the card; Just married. Dean frowns when he detects a pair of handcuffs inside, upholstered with purple fluffy fur. “What is this?” Sam looks from the gift basket to the guy behind the counter. “You just got married, right?” the counter guy checks.

Dean chokes on his toffee and coughs as the younger of the Winchesters stares from one to the other, flabbergasted. What did he say? “Dude! We’re brothers!” Dean corrects with a raspy voice, not having cleared his windpipe entirely yet. “Is that legal these days?” the young guy returns, disgusted. “What? No - no - no. You got this all wrong. We’re not married, we just want a place to spend the night,” Sam clears up. “Nice going, Sam. That sounded even grosser,” the older of the two comments. “You do know you rented the bridal suite, Mr… Gillan?” he now carefully asks, reading the false name from the screen which he just got from Sam’s credit card. “You rented the bridal suite?!” Dean exclaims, dramatically. “It was the only room I could find,” Sam answers, guilty. Dean rolls his eyes and turns around, lifting his arms from his side in disbelief. “He rented the bridal suite.” “You brothersstill want it?” the guy behind the counter makes sure, clearly not impressed by all the fuss.

Sam waits for Dean to approve. It doesn’t take long before he sighs, a frustrated hand gesture combined with an eye roll telling him to settle for the room. Sam takes the key and is followed by Dean, who snatches the gift basket off the counter as he walks by. When he receives a questioning look from the clerk, he turns around to face him. “I’m expecting company later this evening. Might be needing those,” he points out the handcuffs in the goody bag. “Her name is Stacy somethin’. Make sure she gets in.” “Will do,” he promises with a slight nod.

While shaking his head, the older Winchester catches up with Sam, who’s waiting for him at the staircase. He glares at the gift basket and back at Dean, wondering what on earth he would want with that. “Don’t worry, it’s for Stacy, not you,” Dean assures, as he begins his climb to the third floor. Sam chuckles, he almost forgot about that. At this moment, however, Dean seems more bugged by being called queer, than happy to have a cute pharmacist over for the evening. “Can you believe that guy?” Dean turns around at the top of the stairs and looks down on Sam. “Come on, do I give off a gay vibe?!” Sam halts and looks up, pressing his lips into a thin line to suppress a laugh. Although Dean does his best to be all manly and tough, the thatched basket hanging from his arm gives a different idea. Dean notices Sam’s strained face, glares skyward and moves on. “Don’t answer that.”

They conquer three stories and arrive at room 301. Sam turns the key and opens the door, revealing the suite to Dean. He lifts his eyebrows as his brother switches on the lights and walks in. Purple. The walls, the sheets, the curtains, everything is either painted or fabricated a shade of purple. Several spotlights look down at them from the ceiling like tentacles of an octopus, and abstract paintings decorate the wall. The ceiling is the only surface that isn’t draped in the obnoxious color, but it reflects all that is via a giant mirror. The bedposts are made of steel and reach up to the ceiling, seeming to go on in the reflection. Small cushions are carefully made up on the bedspread.

Dean sets the basket down on the main table near the window as he checks out the ceiling, the huge bed and its poles, imagining watching Stacy hanging from one of those. Or even better, being cuffed to one of those. He sniggers gruffly. They’ve come across their fair share of strange rooms, but this one is off the charts. Either the interior designer was intoxicated with Purple drank or was high on LSD, because no one in their right mind would come up with this. “This is awesome,” he concludes, amused with the absurdity of the suite. “There’s only one bed,” Sam notices. “No shit, Captain Obvious. It’s a bridal suite. Not sure what you had in mind for your wedding night, but if you were thinking separate beds, you weren’t doing it right,” Dean chuckles, sauntering towards the large king size.

There’s no clever answer following up his comment and Dean looks aside. When he sees his brother’s face, he realizes he hit a sore spot and his smile disappears. Sam might have pictured his wedding already, since Jessica was his longtime girlfriend. He’s quite sure Sam hadn’t proposed yet, but he knows his younger brother; he planned his future. It might have crossed his mind once or twice. “Sorry, man,” Dean apologizes. “But now that we started on that subject; you don’t sleep, right?” Sam closes the door behind them and turns at his brother. He decides to let it go. “Right, not much anyway,” he answers with some hesitation, not sure where Dean is going with this. “Good, then I’ll take this baby,” Dean sighs and falls down on the bed. As he lands, a sloshing sound comes from inside the mattress as Dean bounces up and down like he’s riding small waves in a pool. His eyes light up and excitedly stares at his brother; it’s a waterbed. “This is beyondawesome!” he laughs, rocking it even harder.

Sam chuckles at the sight of his goofy brother, who has the resemblance of a six-year-old. Oh well, at least he’s able to enjoy the little things. For a brief moment, he thinks about Jess again, like he does countless times a day. Dean’s comment resurfaced some thoughts and feelings. Even though his life was turned upside down less than a month ago by her shattering death, it feels like all the good and normal happened so long ago. The gutting pain is still there and will remain for a long time, if not forever. Losing his girlfriend also created a massive rift between what is and what will never be. A canyon so wide, no bridge can span across. He can never be that college student with a bright future in law anymore.

His mind shifts to the huntress who they crossed paths with, and he wonders if that same unbreachable gap is the reason why she’s so bitter. “I still don’t get it,” Sam ponders. “Why would Zoë be dead set on working this case herself?” “You’re still worked up over that? Oh, Sammy,” Dean shakes his head as he lays back on the covers. “Just accept that she’s an insane bitch and let it go, will ya?” “But she wasn’t like this. You said so yourself,” the younger brother reminds him. “And what’s the deal with Dad? Did you see how angry she got when I mentioned him?” “As far as I’m concerned she’s in Dad’s debt. Exorcising that Diligo demon was close to impossible. She’s alive because of him,” Dean states, defensive. “Look, I don’t know what crawled up her ass. I mean, you gotta be a little mad to do the job, but she does it alone and has for four years. That does something to a person. Maybe she saw some shit, got some wires crossed–-” “Dad did the job alone for years when we were kids,” Sam reminds him. “He always had us to come back to, Sam,” Dean disagrees. “He has a family.” Sam narrows his eyes now, peering at his brother through his bangs. “She doesn’t?”

Dean hesitates now, biting at his lip for a second before he answers, staring at his reflection on the ceiling before averting his gaze to his brother. “I don’t think she speaks to them.” The younger Winchester frowns. “What makes you say that?” Dean shakes his head, half dismissing his own thought. “It’s probably nothing, just something she said, or didn’t say, really. My guess is that she’s on her own and has been for a while. Explains why she was crawling the walls with us around. We don’t know what her reasoning is, but we do know she’s crazy, pissed off, not to mention a fucking assassin. Best to leave a hunter like that be.”

Sam huffs, silently disagreeing. Dean might be glad to be rid of the female hunter, he himself can’t give it a rest, though. “Knowing you won’t…” Dean stretches his back, wincing when his wounded shoulder stings sharply. “What time are you heading out?” Sam checks his watch; it’s 4:15. Zoë will probably be at the bar in an hour or so. “Four-thirty. See how that conversation goes, check on Cliffer’s place, maybe,” he says, still contemplating. “As long as you don’t interrupt me and Vicodin girl, I’m good,” Dean mumbles carelessly.

While Dean closes his eyes, relieved that the pain is starting to fade, Sam takes out his laptop and plugs it in. He has fifteen minutes to crack the Olmsted county website he was working on earlier. If he can get his hands on some recent blueprints, he might find a pattern that isn’t visible on the older public maps. He opens a few programs on his laptop and after a bit of work, he manages to get into the back of the website. Just before 4:30, he double clicks the ‘ok’ button and his computer begins to download a zip file, which contains the information he’s been looking for.

That should do it, but for now, he will make sure Zoë is alright. Why? He’s not exactly sure, but he has a feeling he should. He once mistrusted that ‘feminine intuition shit’ – as Dean likes to call it – and Jessica ended up dead because of it. A hard lesson learned, and although Zoë isn’t nearly as important to him as Jess, there’s something about her that feels familiar, that he needs to protect. He gets up from his chair and walks to the door, glancing at the bed before he leaves. Dean is fast asleep and as Zoë said earlier, he would need to set off a bomb to wake him up. Returning here later tonight will not be an option with the visitor his brother is expecting, but he can worry about that later. For now, he has some business to take care of. He leaves the room, closes the door behind him, and heads off.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eight here

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portfolio-ni-rizza · 4 years

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Netflix’s Death Note: [Personal] Review

Director Adam Wingard's Death Note is basically a Final Destination bootleg with the manga's name. It's flat, unnecessarily gory, and incoherent. Its promising moments are completely swept under the rug of its overall disjointed narrative and out-of-character acting.

I love Death Note. It's one of my all-time favorite series. I even have merch from my weaaboo days (haha). But I've also never been a fan of manga adaptations–not even anime (to an extent; I'm looking at you, Full Metal Alchemist and Shugo Chara season 3), and especially not of Western movies. Hollywood has YET to produce a decent manga adaptation, and this one is right up there with M. Night's The Last Airbender.

I'm not sure how these directors do their research, but by and large their end products wind up looking like their "research" is pretty much just looking up the plot on Wikipedia and making what they will of that. Netflix's DN is the absolute barebones of the wonderful masterpiece that is Ohba and Obata's Death Note. It's even more disappointing if you think about the fact that Death Note's "absolute barebones" is still a good material to work with, and we STILL end up with this bastardization.

First of all, I, at least, have no problem with the setting. To begin with, Netflix did say this was an Americanized version of the original. It makes sense that they'd change the names, considering this is set in Seattle. I did appreciate that 'Mia Sutton' is not too far from 'Misa Amane' as far as the composite letter are concerned lol. My biggest problem was the characters themselves, but I'll focus on 2 to keep this from being indecently long.

Light Turner is not supposed to be Timmy Turner's older, emo brother and is an average kid whom no one understands and happens to be good at Math and doing other people's homework. The core of Light's character is his PERFECTION. He is so far above average that he's completely detached from the rest of the world. That god complex was the entire reason he even took and managed to assume a 'god' character. It's literally the core of Death Note. Light is supposed to be the perfect son, perfect student, perfect citizen. Everyone loves him and looks up to him. And HE knows that. People don't need to tell him; he knows for himself he is BETTER than others. That's how Kira came to be in the first place.

Netflix's Light Turner is a wimpy loser with absolutely no depth as a character. He is completely one dimensional. He responds to dark and violent situations with darkness and violence. He is bullied so he fights back. His mother is murdered so he kills the murderer. It's a completely overused narrative that puts the essence of Light Yagami, antihero extraordinaire, straight into the chopping block.

From the get-go, his character is completely wrong. He is introduced as a nerdy kid who earns lunch money by doing other kids' homework. He has zero charisma. He's at the bottom of the food chain. He has absolutely nothing of what it takes to become the god that is Kira. The way that Light Turner was written would never have let him become anything larger than life; it just made him a vindictive bully who happened to be able to kill.

(A very dangerous combination–but for all the wrong reasons.)

Which just obliterates the central theme of Death Note altogether, and throws out the window the very foundation of what made the original work.

Second, this film is unnecessarily gory. Sure, a certain degree of violence is expected when it comes to murder, but Wingard just made this entire movie a B-rated slasher film with his slow-motion death scenes–something he just PACKS the whole movie with and spotlights on like it's the most important aspect of the story when it's totally secondary (if not completely an afterthought) in the original.

It's not even realistic. Light sees a BULLY (not a criminal; just a run-of-the-mill playground bully) antagonizing a schoolmate, he's handed a murder weapon for a TEST RUN, and he immediately, without a shadow of a doubt, writes 'decapitation' as the method of death? He chooses something that is exceedingly difficult, unnatural, and very, very specific for the first time he's trying to kill someone? He doesn't even UNDERSTAND what's going on; he's just had a massive Poltergeist experience. How was it possible for him to suddenly have enough presence of mind to write down an oddly specific method of death for someone who isn't even evil, just mean? That doesn't bode very well for Light as a person, let alone someone who's about to play god.

Throughout the movie, Light visibly struggles with his actions. He has no certainty. He kills with the Death Note but he lacks the inherent motivation for it; he only does it because he has to. Nothing about the characterization of Light Turner remotely suggested that he has what it takes to rule the world, as what he is essentially doing when he dictates who lives or dies (or tells your story lol). But then–all of a sudden, 5 minutes to the end of the movie and he explains this elaborate scheme where he undoes Mia killing him and transfers the ownership of the notebook back to him and basically just manipulated space and time so suit his needs.

That is a completely Light YAGAMI thing to do (and something he HAS actually done numerous times in the original). Nothing about Light TURNER's character and actions suggested he was capable of that. How convenient that 2 minutes before the police gets to him, he suddenly taps into his inner high-functioning psychopath and concocts an über-complicated plan to not die but kill 3 people and destroy one theme park along the way.

Where did that inner 'HIGH FUNCTIONING' part come from? Nearly two hours to have shown that Light's brilliant mind goes beyond solving Calculus problems and thinking up oddly particular methods of dying, and you choose the last five minutes to cram that in.

How very high school.

But enough about Light. Now we go to another important character–L. Considering that these 2 are the only ones they retain from the original (excepting Ryuk, but that's another point). L is one of the most brilliant minds in the world, but instead the movie showed him as nothing more than a weirdo that throws tantrums and only needs the FLIMSIEST of proofs to say he "knows" and he's "right".

The original L does operate entirely on the gut feeling that Light is Kira, but he sets out to prove that. To him, nothing is ever damning enough and he won't settle for anything less than seeing Light actually murder someone right before L's very eyes. Movie L suddenly "just knows". Nothing about his actions suggests that he has the means to prove that Light is Kira; if anything, he's trying to make it so that things DO go with his conclusion, whether or not it's actually true. The real L is nothing like that. He backed down when his proofs didn't go with his conclusions. L believes in justice, first and foremost. He's almost childlike in his black-and-white convictions (I have a screenshot of this panel, so my receipts are in place). This L just doesn't capture that innocence.

By itself, the movie isn't THAT bad. It only becomes a terrible crapfest when you have the original to compare it with. Netflix's Death Note can stand alone as a slasher/horror/thriller film to Netflix and chill with if you are holding it to itself, but never make the mistake of reading/watching the original brilliance that is Ohba and Obata's Death Note first.

I do have a real concern with the keeping of the name "Kira". Kira is just the Japanese pronunciation of "killer". Japanese people literally were calling Light, "Killer". Why did Wingard keep the Jap pronunciation? What purpose did it serve other than that 5-second line where L says it was to mislead investigation to thinking Light was Japanese? Why is there even a need for that? Was that supposed to be a nod to the Japanese root of Death Note? It may have been a pure intention on the director's part, though, but it was unnecessary, if not even reeking of whitewashing–but I'd digress and hope for the best.

#Writing Samples #Unbeta'd #Series Review #Death Note #Netflix

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tokyotwosome · 5 years

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England: ”This Earth of Majesty”

7/26/19 - ENGLAND. The mother to the modern world’s business tongue. A country within the United Kingdom within Great Britain and none of us can make any sense of what the heck the difference is. This wondrous place is an island I’d always dreamed of visiting from the first time I picked up The Chronicles of Narnia. Or Pride and Prejudice. Or Harry Potter. The list goes on. From its rich history, its captivating architecture, and the many famous humans that have walked these streets, England is not a country to be missed.

We arrived in London on a Friday evening. The summer in the U.K. is much like Seattle; the sun is fickle and the rain needy. Seeing the countless parks throughout the city, not to mention the luscious greenery throughout the countryside, it’s no wonder it rains so much here. On Saturday morning, we met up with a friend to do a proper tour of the city. For the day, we purchased a “London Pass” which gets you into over 75 attractions as well as access to the Hop on Hop Off bus. We swiftly made our way to the top of the double decker, not caring that the open-roof was a bit damp and paying notice to the “mind your head” signs up the stairs. As we embarked through the city, a man with a microphone prompted us to grab headphones and listen to his countless facts about London.

Did you know that there are actually two Londons? Greater London refers to the American definition of “London”. This is where the Queen hails and is generally what we think of when referring to London. There is also “The City of London”, a square mile within Greater London that can be easily identified by its dragon statues which guard its borders. The City of London is separately governed, collects separate taxes, enforces separate laws, has their own separate flag, and even elects their own Lord Mayor. Queen Elizabeth isn’t even allowed to enter the City of London without permission from the Lord Mayor. It’s all very scratch-head worthy.

There’s a laundry list of sites to see in London. There’s Big Ben (currently under construction), Westminster Abbey (filled with famous and infamous corpses), Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, Tower Bridge (much cooler than London Bridge), the Churchill War Rooms, Shakespeare’s Globe, and loads more. One would need to devote an entire week to site seeing just to manage it all in. Needless to say, we didn’t get to see everything, but we managed to get some good ones under our belt.

Our first stop was at the Tower of London, just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Tower Bridge on the north bank of the River Thames (pronounced “Tems”). The Tower of London is less of a tower and more of a series of towers that feel more like medieval grounds from something out of a storybook. Within each tower holds its own treasures and stories. There was original armor, crown jewels, the bloody tower (where two princes were believed to have been killed by their uncle so that he could have the crown for himself), prison cells (where names and images have been carved into walls)...and so much more. You could spend all day at this site alone, but we hurried on off to lunch after building up an appetite..must have been all the murder stories that did it. Speaking of murder - walking across the Tower Bridge, we found the street where many Jack the Ripper scenes were filmed. They even offer evening tours of all his murder spots (a big no thank you from me).

The food in England is a journey in and of itself. If you ask for pie, don’t expect something sweet. A traditional English-style breakfast consists of toast (seemingly the most important food group), beans, mushrooms and/or tomatoes, an over-easy egg, a hash brown, bacon (which is actually more ham-like), and sausage (tastes more like fake meat to me). We can’t tell you how many times we ate the same English-style breakfast, but it really was quite hearty. Brunch will sometimes include all-you-can-drink. And let’s not forget Sunday roast! Tea was also a staple for most, if not all, of our breakfasts - I like mine with two sugars and milk. In terms of stereotype foods, we didn’t see a crumpet in sight.

While London is a must-see when in England, it’s certainly not the highlight of the country. We rented a car and made our way north, with our final destination being Scotland. We’d arranged to have overnight stays in aribnb’s along the way, taking recommendations from our very own Rick Steves. The street signs were comical, seeing ones like “mind the gap” and “queues likely”. Getting used to the different terminology is a journey of its own. First stop was Stow-on-the-Wold; a quaint little market town with sandy-colored buildings, friendly town folk, and shops around every corner. We still aren’t sure what a Stow or a Wold is, but while we passed through, it was clear why it was a place outsiders wanted to visit. After spending a few days in the city, it was refreshing to be in a small town. We managed to only go down the wrong side of the street towards oncoming traffic once, so that’s a bonus!

Shortly following our pit-stop to Stow-on-the-Wold, we found our airbnb in a place known as Derbyshire, arriving promptly at 3:00 PM. A woman answered the door and greeted us by saying, “you’re positively punctual”. She sounded like Mary Poppins and I could’ve swore she was about to break out in song next and a bird would likely land delicately on her finger. That was when I really realized we weren’t in Kansas anymore. She took us upstairs to our room in her large, historical cottage. The backyard view reminded me of something out of a Jane Austen novel. I could imagine Mr. Darcy coming to our door by horseback. We had dinner at a local gastropub, just up the street. The server told us about a place to visit the following day, which we promptly agreed we’d do.

The next morning on our way out of town, we stopped by the recommendation from our server; a nature walk toward an abandoned water mill. During our walk, Rob stopped and asked that I take a picture of him in the grass. At the time, I had no idea why. Turns out he was envisioning a scenic view out of Gladiator and just HAD to reenact it. Making our way down a long drive, we saw a flock of pheasants that we thought were chickens. When we finally did make it to the water mill, we took in the beautiful views and imagined what sorts of things must have taken place throughout history here; a common thought through such a historical place. When we thought there wasn’t a living soul in site, a couple of women on horseback road passed. Such a slow, easy going lifestyle here.

Our next destination was what is known as the lake district; more specifically, a town called Keswick (pronounced Ke-sick). Keswick was by far our favorite stopping point. It had a German feel with British flavor. Lots of nature, lots of shops, and lots of kind people. This is a popular spot to visit in the summertime for Brits throughout the country. While rain was to be expected, we lucked out for the day we spent there and enjoyed a pleasant nature hike.

The day following our trip to Keswick, the weather took a turn for the worse. We were so fortunate to have such a beautiful day for our one day spent there. After our time in the lake district, our next stop was Scotland. Truly, Scotland is deserving of its own blog, so stay tuned for that next! Instead, I’m going to fast forward to when we trained back to London.

We’ve gone full circle and made it back to the city. Our train arrived at Kings Cross Station - so naturally we visited platform 9 3/4. After taking our obligatory Harry Potter photo, we decided to try to squeeze in any last minute sightseeing we may have missed. That’s how we ended up at the Churchill War Rooms. The underground tour is the original housing spot for Churchill and his men during WWII. They have kept the rooms in mostly the same condition with a full audio tour to really envision what it must have been like during the war. Trying to imagine being trapped down there while bombs continued to go off upstairs was a very humbling experience. For me, having been to the war museums in both Pearl Harbor and Okinawa, seeing the war through the British lens was a new perspective. On one of the original maps in the discussion room, you could even see a drawing of Hitler someone had done. A really remarkable site and I would highly recommend to anyone who visits London. Speaking of sights in London, did you know that all museums are free in the UK? That led us to the Natural History Museum! Among other things.

On 8/3/19, our 5-year wedding anniversary, we decided to treat ourselves to high tea. We had reservations at a delightful little spot in the city. The theme was Peter Rabbit and ohhhh was it good! We had mini-sandwiches, biscuits, jams, and treats to the max. Everything you see was edible, including the flower pots. I don’t think I stopped smiling once. When we had finished, we were stuffed beyond belief. Then the server comes over with a HAPPY ANNIVERSARY dessert. We couldn’t NOT eat it...so we stuffed our little bunny bellies. Another successful wedding anniversary outside of the states - once an accident, now a tradition. <3

If you’re considering a trip to the UK, I’d say go Nike and just do it! Some of our expectations were met and others were shattered, but that’s the joy of travelling. A place is never how you think it’s going to be, but seeking the different is what is exciting. Stay tuned for the next blog where we’ll share our adventures in Scotland - my new crush. Thanks for sticking it out and reading along!

#united kingdom #uk #travel #tea #explore #england

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brahms--heelshire · 5 years

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My Murderous Angel 3/? (USUK)

(A/N): Hope you guys like Francis! He’s going to be important to the plot. :) Let’s all mutually agree to pretend that I stated that they slept for the entire night in chapter two. TWs in this one: vomit, killing, certain religious themes, and a character has hatred for holy stuff.

Once we arrived at what the GPS told me was our destination, I was parked in the driveway of a house. There were flowers in a contained box connected to the front of the house and dumb stickers in the front window.

Arthur got out of the car, so I did, too. He pointed to one of the stickers in the window. It featured two small wings with the caption ‘You’re not alone’.

“This is my friend’s place,” Arthur grumbled, “I didn’t want to drag him into any of this, because he’s not much of a fighter, but if we need someplace to stay, he’s our best bet.”

Arthur rapped on the door, looking at the man inside through the window.

A few moments later, the door was pulled open to reveal a man wearing an unbuttoned shirt.

“Ah, it’s Arthur!” The man said, giving my boyfriend a kiss on both cheeks.

“Yes, Francis. It’s me,” Arthur said, not looking very happy.

“Oh, you haven’t visited in so long! So what brings you to my humble abode?” He glanced over at me. “And who’s that hottie over there?”

“My boyfriend,” Arthur said with a smirk.

The man snorted, laughing loudly. He then took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself. “I’m not sure if you are fucking with me or if you finally found love.”

“I’m Arthur’s boyfriend, for realsies,” I said, snaking my arm around my boyfriend’s waist.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Francis.” The man kissed me on both cheeks. In that moment, I knew that he was either very extra or French, likely both.

He walked into the house, gesturing for us to follow him.

“As for why we’re here,” Arthur said, “It’s kind of an emergency.”

“Does he know?” Francis asked quietly.

Arthur just nodded, a solemn expression on his face.

“Good. I hate wearing shirts.” Francis shrugged the shirt off of himself to reveal wings.

That made two angels who took their shirts off in front of me.

“Why don’t you guys just cut wing holes in your shirts?” I asked as Francis sat on the couch.

“We’re not allowed to show our wings to anyone besides angels, dimwit. That’s how I almost got executed in the middle ages.” Arthur opened one of Francis’s cabinets, pulling canned food out of it.

“That’s how you almost got what?!” I asked. I had guessed that Arthur had a different lifespan than a human, but I assumed that he was just a young angel.

“Oh, it was because you showed your wings? I thought it was because of your strange obsession with witchcraft.” Francis took a bite of an apple that was sitting on his coffee table.

“You might be right,” Arthur mumbled, tapping his chin, “I don’t quite remember.”

“So how do you two know each other?” I asked, feeling strangely protective of Arthur.

“There’s not much good company in Heaven. Everyone has a stick up their arse. Francis wasn’t the most boring person, so we ended up friends.” Arthur shrugged.

“Arthur is pretending to be cool, as always,” Francis said with a smirk, “He practically begged to be my friend.”

“Oh shut up, frog. You pestered me until I let you be my friend.” Arthur slammed the cabinet door shut.

“So how long do you two need to stay. I’ll make you crepes for dinner if you stay long enough. And Arthur, did you say that it was an emergency?” Francis didn’t take breaths between his sentences. I silently wondered how he hadn’t passed out.

“Likely just for the night. Well, it’s not really that bad. Just that a few demons got ahold of me. Alfred and I already killed one, though.” Arthur brushed it off.

“Arthur, that is most definitely an emergency,” Francis said, his face falling, “You can stay here as long as you wish.”

“Thank you,” Arthur replied.

The rest of the day went pretty much the same way as that. Francis was helpful. The crepes he made for dinner were delicious. Staying at his place was nice. It was comfortable, at the very least. Arthur and I slept in the guest room.

When we woke up in the morning, Francis wasn’t home. He left us a note on the table saying that he went out to buy groceries, and he probably wouldn’t be home before we left. It also said that there were three crepes in the fridge for us to take with us.

So we took the crepes and headed off to the next hotel that we had reservations at.

Unluckily for me, on the way, Arthur spotted a bar that piqued his interest. Which meant that I ended up stuck sitting on a bar stool next to my drunk-off-his-ass boyfriend who could barely stand up straight. I ended up having to help him outside without too much complaint. He did vomit a little bit in the parking lot.

“Get it all out before you get into my car, Mister Alcoholic.”

“Shut up. I’m- I’m not even drunk,” Arthur slurred. He then heaved until nothing came out.

“I’m not letting you sit in the front,” I said, opening the back door and laying him across the seats.

“Meanie,” he muttered, sticking his tongue out at me.

I got in the driver’s seat, making sure not to drive too recklessly or jostle Arthur around. I knew that the hotel I had a reservation at was only about twenty minutes away from there. It was dark and the roads were empty.

But a few minutes into the drive, I found a problem. Or I guess a problem found me. Either way, there was a man sitting on the hood of the car. I wouldn’t normally have cared, but he was blocking my view. And then I noticed the horns.

“Holy shit!” I practically shouted.

Arthur did not stir.

That meant I would have to deal with the demon, myself. I took the baseball bat out of the top of my bag and got out of the car, locking the door behind me.

“Why hello, Alfred,” the heavily-accented voice of the demon said.

“Funny. You’re actually trying with greetings. The last demon just,” my voice cracked, “The last demon just tried to kill us.”

“I do not take very much pleasure in killing an old friend,” he said. And then we made eye contact and I tried not to puke.

That was Ivan. We were sorta-friends, sorta-enemies in middle school before he moved back to Russia. I glanced back into the car and mentally cursed Arthur. If we survived, I wouldn’t let him drink another drop of alcohol in his life.

“I’m not letting you into the car,” I said, voice more croaky than it was before.

“And why not? I have nothing against killing that thing, but you could survive. Just give me the keys.” Ivan’s grin only grew wider as he spoke.

“No,” I said.

“Oh!” Ivan let out a laugh that chilled my spine. “You think that it really cares about you.”

“Shut up! Arthur’s my boyfriend. He loves me.”

“Alfred, that thing does not know love. It came from Heaven. Holy things can not love in the Earth way. Holy things can not feel anything for humans. All they feel is a desire to control them. They tell that humans have free will, but tell them that they will be condemned if they make the wrong choice. It’s not your boyfriend. It’s like a house arrest anklet.” Ivan had such scorn in his voice.

“Shut up!” I shut my eyes, swinging the bat. I felt a solid hit and opened my eyes to the sight of my bat melting to Ivan’s face. It looked like those videos where children melt their dolls, but it was real and it was in front of me. And as he fell to the ground, screaming in agony, I felt sick all over again. That was me who did that. I killed him. He was a living being, even if he was a demon. There were tears in my eyes as I watched it happen. I, then, leaned over the side of the road and heaved until there was nothing left in my stomach and I was a crying mess who killed someone. Eventually I went back to the car, taking my lucky baseball bat with me. Despite the skin on it, I needed luck. I needed something to go right for me.

And I drove to the hotel in silence- other than slight snores from Arthur- thinking about what a monster I was.

#usuk #just so everyone knows #I added 'fics' to my links #so if you have trouble finding chapter 1 and 2 or anything #they're both there #tw death #this took longer to write than I had hoped it would

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theonceoverthinker · 6 years

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OUAT 2X22 - And Straight On ‘Til Morning

Despite all the mourning from the last episode, we’re gonna go straight on ‘til we finish off this season.

...Wanted to make my last pun of the season classy. Now you know what to do.

Press Release The inhabitants of Storybrooke brace themselves for the end when Greg and Tamara detonate the trigger Regina had placed within the curse, with the annihilation of the town and its residents imminent; and Mr. Gold mourns the loss of his son, Bae/Neal. Meanwhile, back in Neverland of the past, Hook discovers his connection to a young Bae after he rescues him from the sea and soon realizes that the Lost Boys are in hot pursuit of the boy. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Past I really struggled with how I felt about the past segment. Something about this flashback has always rubbed me the wrong way (Or at least, as much as the two times I’ve watched it can do) and I spent the lesser part of two days wondering why. And I think I finally figured it out.

The actions and broad strokes of this storyline are great, as is admittedly much of the dialogue. I like the bond that forms between Killian and Bae and I like how Killian’s framed. The dialogue is for the most part pretty good and I love all the time we get to spend on the Jolly Roger. However, the thematically heavy lines like “being alone” and “caring only about yourself” are honestly so distracting because Killian’s is blatantly committing revenge on Milah’s behalf and he has a whole crew with him.

Now on one hand, I get it. Especially given Killian’s decision at the end of the flashback, one can argue that Killian’s revenge and the decisions stemming from it are more for his sake than Milah’s. It’s similar to what Regina was doing with Snow and her subjects, where she claimed that after she killed Snow, she’d show them love. On the other hand, as I said before, it’s honestly so distracting and I feel like if the above were the case, there would’ve been more to paint it that way.

Okay, so now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, just remember: The segment is good, but dialogue choices like that separate good from great. The drama between Killian and Bae is one of the most important parts of Killian’s redemption and their bonding provides serious insight into who Killian is as a character. Present First off, I love the way Neal’s “death” was handled. First, let’s talk about the acting. Robert Carlyle continues to be flawless. He shows how Rumple’s overcome with sadness and regret immediately upon hearing the news. Second, I love how he’s paralleled against Henry. While Henry has his mother to lean on and hold (A great if not tragic Swan Believer moment in and of itself), despite being told the news by two people, Rumple’s in the shot where he first takes it in alone and only comforted from a distance. Third, it gets Rumple questioning his own philosophy and is one of the biggest cases of “all magic has a price” being turned on him. It’s nothing short of a spiral and the way he pulls everyone down with him fits the character so well.

I got so many Spongebob Musical feels as I was thinking about the main story here. XD I’m going to explain it when I get to arcs, but I think that the main story does a good job bringing together Emma, Regina, Henry, Snow, and David’s stories. Every emotion here hits and the main story, which seemed to rightly get the most focus, was handled well.

Keep that in mind when I go off here.

”I did it [Kill Cora] because it was easy. It was a mistake.” FUCK THAT NOISE! NO! IT WASN’T EASY! IT WAS ACTUALLY BOTH DIFFICULT IN EXECUTION AND IN ITS AFTER EFFECTS! It was cruel, sure. And I get the guilt, but honestly, it was Cora (An uncontrollable monster) or Rumple (Someone who had been persuaded to do good in the past and could in the future AND had two morality pets to keep him on the straight and narrow). Fuck the noise where this was a wrong decision and that GOD this is the last instance where Snow says something like that! “There were other paths -- harder paths.” AND THEY WOULD’VE RESULTED IN MASS MURDERS ALL AROUND. FUCK! The ONLY good thing about that shitty flashback in “The Cricket Game” was that you supposedly learned that this idea was bullshit and you just threw that idea out like a dirty diaper! FUCK THIS SET OF LINES! It’s especially infuriating because it comes in the middle of a GREAT Snow scene where her optimism and leadership are so well shown!

Finally, What’s interesting to me is how Killian immediately dismisses Emma’s speech about being alone and being part of something by asking “Why are you really doing this?” Bae, being dead and Henry no longer having a father, is the spark that becomes the flame of his redemption. I’m with @sab031794 with the idea that Bae is definitely his turning point, while Emma’s words further the point, something he appreciates. Insights - Stream of Consciousness -Was there ever a concrete answer as to who drew the Milah drawing? Was it Killian? Milah herself? Like one of the people at theme park who paints people? -SMEE!! So by this point, is Smee Killian’s first mate or is he still just a regular crew member? Also, got to hand it to Smee for his faith in Killian. Smee’s a scared dude, so to see him with so much resolve in his voice as he tells Killian that they’ll avenge Milah, it’s so much bigger of a moment! -I didn’t realize how closely this episode borders on child trafficking until now! Dark. -I’ll never quite be over the way Bae’s eyes pop when he tells someone what happened to his father. Powerful! -It’s great seeing Killian piece together the puzzle that’s this new boy and immediately making a plan upon realizing just who he is. -It’s so creepy seeing how having only Lacey to depend on as a morality chain can corrupt Rumple so much. Hurting Henry to save himself at the very least was a point he was torn on when he first found Neal and learned the truth about his and Henry’s relation. But as he sees Henry on the swing, he’s so close to giving in and killing Henry. (Okay, someone write a dark ass fic where this happens. Henry dies and Emma goes crazy trying to figure out if his death was an accident or not. Can you IMAGINE the final confrontation there?!) Also, I refuse to believe it’s a coincidence that it’s David that snaps him out of it. Sheep Bros to the rescue! -Colin acts that last scene in the mine so freakin’ well! Like, less than three minutes later, that’s gonna turn out to be horseshit, but he sells that so believably! -I will say, while I don’t like a lot of platitudes this season, I’m cool with Henry’s “work together” schtick. -David, that was an amazing punch! XD -WHAT AN EXCELLENT REGAL BELIEVER SCENE! Once again, Regina apologizes to Henry and it’s very sincere. She’s not blaming anyone and is saying that it’s she who failed to live up to his standards. And Henry’s reaction does not absolve her, but lets her know that he loves her. THAT is GOOD! -”The things we do for our children.” This is kind of a weird line. -I love how it’s so obvious that this Pan is “him” and they are doing every backflip to make this a killer twist. -Oh My God! Felix is trying to be so menacing and it is just the HAMMIEST thing ever! XD I love it! It’s not appropriate at all to the mood they’re setting, but fuck it! I love it! -Grumpy, that is the best cup I have ever seen! I can’t even blame you for taking it back for Sneezy (And then maybe channel your inner-Stealthy and take it for yourself)! -I’ve been trying to do a count of the number of men in KIllian’s crew. So far, I’ve seen at most six pirates (Killian and Smee included). Does anyone have a better count? -Left is port, right is starboard. I don’t know why, but I always forget it. Hopefully, Captain Hook will be able to help me remember! -It’s interesting to me how Killian, even when he was just using Bae, used a real and vulnerable part of his life to relate to him. It’s great insight into Killian’s life and a subtle nudge in the direction of Killian coming to care for Bae even before the truly touching moment on the scene hits. -I do have to wonder, why does Killian want to live so badly? During “The Outsider,” Killian was more than willing to die so that he could return to Milah, but he wouldn’t have even killed Rumple then (though one could argue that he’d at least leave a black mark on Rumple and Belle’s relationship). Here, he’d be killing Rumple and there’s no sign he care about saving anyone else. -”I’m not your mate.” Give it a season, Davey! -Emma and Regina work brilliantly together here. There’s such a softness to Regina sacrifice and the way Emma tries to fight against what looks to be the inevitable. It’s a great testament to their dynamic. -Wow! The CG for the destruction of Storybrooke is awful! XD -Farewell, Lacey. I hardly knew ye. -Snow, that is not all of Storybrooke. That’s not even a quarter of Storybrooke. There should be a giant ass crowd of people, not just your besties! -The moment when Bae is told the truth of his mother by Killian is so powerful! There’s so much rage, passion, and love, all of it left on on the floor in the scene. -”I’ll track them down in Hell if I have to.” Granted it’s not regarding the same character, but give it a few seasons, Emma! -”There’s no way. I spent a lifetime trying to cross worlds to find my son.” Hindsight makes that line utterly hysterical! -Rumple! Let Belle help! Get some other stooge to cast the protection spell! Belle’s such a good tracker! -Why is this goodbye making me flashforward to Belle’s death?! *bawls* -GOLDEN HOOK WORKING TOGETHER!!! That look they exchange as they understand the map’s destination! YES! I’M FILLED WITH THE POWER OF YESSSSSS! Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Regina’s Redemption - Regina’s redemption was handled masterfully in this episode. The focus of it was put on Henry. As the inevitability of the end hits her, all she can and does focus on is keeping Henry alive. But that’s not all. Her acceptance of ehr bad reputation being her own fault goes a long way towards washing away the exasperation from the last few episodes away. Her sacrifice works on every level, reinfusing sympathy into Regina without it feeling out of character because of the sharp focus on Henry. Rumple’s Redemption - So like usual, Rumple takes one step back and one step forward, and I felt that it mostly worked. I say mostly because I don’t really get how Lacey attempting to use Bae’s shawl is the turning point for Rumple using the memory potion on Lacey. It’s not like Lacey used the shawl maliciously and she even apologized for it. Was it so she could help him grieve? If so, I wish it came across better. That said, I like the effect that Lacey has been corrupting Rumple, but he realizes that he both needs Belle in her real state and that his thoughts of murdering Henry are awful and need to be shunted. At the same time, he’s not willing to lend a finger to help with the end of the world. Killian’s Redemption - What’s interesting to me is how early on in this episode, Killian is pointed at for not believing in something by Tamara, and when he does turn, Killian himself is one of the most belief-heavy people on the show! Additionally, in the flashback, Killian is so belief-heavy, believing that he can get his revenge on the Dark One and later that he and Bae can fill the empty holes in their hearts. But aside from that, Killian’s turn around is actually pretty simply set up for a sympathetic character. First, it comes through in the decision to go to the heroes to help stop the diamond, knowing they’re more effective. Second, it’s of course the decision to turn his ship around. It represents Killian’s decision to start caring again, allowing himself in a way to be reborn. Emma Accepting Her Parents - “Mom...Dad…” ...Do I even need to say any more? ...Well, apart from the fact that it’s a great closing out of the arc in the beginning of the season, it’s also a PHENOMENAL setup for the events of Season 3. Greg and Tamara - Greg and Tamara kind of get stupid in this finale upon revealing that they don’t know who runs the home office and all the deflectation that takes place when Killian questions them. Really? A group of people who supposedly value science over magic wouldn’t ask who their boss is? Favorite Dynamic Emma and Regina - Emma and Regina are amazing to watch. The episode doesn’t pretend that they’re friends or even that they like each other all that much, but that their bond over Henry is powerful enough that they can overcome those facts and at least start in that direction. For the first time, I feel these two come together as real mothers. They act in Henry’s best interests and that includes saving the other, being honest to Henry, and portraying the other in a good light. Darker Elements (TW: Mention of Child Trafficking) I’ve seen it be said that Killian’s decision to abandon Baelfire was the most evil moment of his life. While I’m not sure how much I believe that, I must point out how this is as close to child trafficking as OUAT can ever get without outright saying it, and that is fucking dark. While trying to examine my own feelings on the issue, I think in terms of the show, because of the fantastical distance of the child trafficking being conducted in an equally fantastical way by a pirate with a hook for a hand and a set of children in cloaks putting a boy in a dinghy to take him to Peter Pan, it’s different than other instances of Darker Elements that I’ve already touched on. If a woman is assaulted or someone is raped by deception, the resonance with the treatment of women and the realities of sexual assault, especially in our modern political climate, makes it difficult to cloud with fantastical elements. And I’m not saying trafficking isn’t, but it’s not something a large portion of OUAT’s audience sees on a constant basis.

Writer A&E are as usual in charge of the finale, and honestly, while well delivered, I expected better. So much of the dialogue works, and that makes the fact that some of the crucial dialogue doesn’t hurt so badly. I feel like they were trying to make square pegs fit in round holes when they talk about things like Killian choosing to be alone and how kiling Cora was easy and and how Rumple decides to turn back Belle because Lacey accidentally used Bae’s shawl as a napkin. it almost overshadows the genuinely good dialogue in other places and I feel like with another draft, those problems would either be minimized or non existent. It pains me how this episode reminds me in a lot of respects more of “The Heart is a Lonely Hunter” (My current least favorite episode of the series) than some of their better episodes like “Broken.” Rating 8/10. I’ve been torn on ratings before, but never quite like this. So much of the Season 2 finale does work, but it does have failings and they chip away. However, I’ve gone on about some of the dialogue choices enough. Let’s talk about the good stuff. This episode is a good culmination point for so many of the arcs started and presents a good jumping off point for them to be furthered in the next season. It’s entertaining to watch emotionally resonates where it counts. It’s dark, but optimistic and has that Once-y feel! Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Swan Fire - We get to see some pretty sad and yet hopeful Swan Fire stuff. Emma is barely able to mourn Neal’s loss, but when she tells Henry and Killian the truth, you really feel the grief she’s going through. And then Neal’s alive! Swan Queen - It was so great seeing Emma and Regina working together! You really feel for the emotional bond they’ve formed as they fight off the diamond and it’s gotta be said that there’s a serious weight to the fact that the two of them together managed to fight off something that neither thought possible. Captain Swan - I feel like Emma and Killian really get their deserved start here. Emma not only tries to get her bean back, but tries to invite him to the hero squad with as much effort as she can given all else on her plate. And while it initially doesn’t work, Emma’s speech does find its resonance with Killian through remembering of his love for Bae. Rumbelle - My thoughts on how Rumple decided to use the potion aside, the moment where Belle comes back and they kiss is beautiful and heartwarming, as is their goodbye at the docks. Grumpy Beauty - Grumpy went out of his way as they were all gonna die to get another memory potion to restore Belle! That is so cute!!! I love this ship!!! There’s also such a real feeling of sacrifice as Rumple sees Belle off before his trip to Neverland. ()()()()()()()()() Oh My God! Season 2 is completed!!! Well, sort of! Like last season, I’m going to do my overview where I talk about everything from the quality of the season itself to the best dynamics to who was the best writer! I hope you’ll join me for it because it’s gonna be a lot of fun!

Thank you all for reading and to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales! Couldn’t have done it without you!

See you next time!

Season 2 Tally (194/220) Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (58/60)* Jane Espenson (44/50)* Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (40/50)* David Goodman (24/30)* Robert Hull (24/30)* Christine Boylan (26/30)* Kalinda Vazquez (28/30)* Daniel Thomsen (18/20)* * Indicates that their work for the season is complete Operation Rewatch Archives

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 2x22 #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat #tw: mentions of child trafficking

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