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candied-peach · 4 years

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ao3: “rainbow ink” rating: T warnings: soulmate au, sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus, DRLAMP, creativitwins genre: angst with a happy ending description: Roman just wants his twin to be happy. That’s all he wants. (for anon prompt: "Romantic DRLAMP soulmates? (Platonic creativetwins ofc) and usually when I see that ships it's Virgil or Deciet who doesn't write to his soulmates but how about Roman? He pretends not to have them because Remus already has them as his soulmates and he doesn't want to steal that from him? Angst with a happy ending?")

The first time Roman sees familiar purple ink flowing across his arm, he thinks it's a mistake. It has to be. He's seen that particular shade of purple on Remus's skin too often for it to be a coincidence. It's only further confirmed when, as he hastily yanks his sleeve down, Remus bursts into his room to tell him that he's going to the coffee shop to people watch and be weird. Just like his soulmate- Virgil- said.

Roman swallows hard, the lump in his throat only intensifying at the unabashed happiness shining in his twin's eyes. He doesn't say a word about the damning purple words drizzled across his skin- doesn't even think about writing back- just wishes Remus a safe trip and tries to pretend that the pain in his lungs is from a developing asthma attack.

The second time he sees dark and light blue ink scrawling across his wrist, he thinks someone must be playing a sick joke on him. It's not fair. Logan and Patton are also Remus's soulmates. Is Roman so cursed that he can't have anything to himself?

But the jealousy, teeming just beneath the surface, makes his throat tighten. He holes himself up in his room, pretending to be asleep when Remus bursts in.

"I'm going to wreak havoc at the library," Remus announces, like Roman hasn't already seen their plans scribbled in round letters and blocky script.

"Cool," Roman mumbles into his pillow, trying to sound foggy with sleep, not heartbroken. "Have fun."

"I will," Remus assures him. "And Janus might come, too! Virgil said he's gotta study, though." As if on cue, Roman can almost feel the spiky gold script etch itself into his forearm.

"Just try not to be arrested," Roman says, turning his face so Remus can't see the tears that have started to prick the corners of his eyes.

"No promises!" Remus says cheerfully. As soon as the front door of their shared apartment closes, Roman buries his face in his pillow and cries, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. This goes beyond even the cruelties of fate he could have ever dreamed up. He shares all of Remus's soulmates.

And he refuses to say a word. He's never seen his twin so happy as when he's with them. Logan, Patton, Virgil, and Janus, the latest. Janus is shy, perpetually wearing a hat around them, tugging the brim down as if it can hide the psoriasis that plagues one side of his face. The way his face lights up when he debates philosophy with a ruffled Logan. Patton's sunniness and platters of heart-shaped pancakes. Virgil's purple hair and anxiety and constantly playing emo music. Remus fits like the final piece of the puzzle, discussing the finer points of arson with Janus, listening to cephalopod facts and true crime podcasts with Logan, splattering paint on a canvas with Virgil and splattering cupcake batter with Patton.

Roman would be an outcast puzzle piece, the occasional broken one that comes from another puzzle entirely and can never find a place to fit in, not even along the edges.

Weeks pass. He starts to wear long sleeves and high necks, trying to hide the rainbow-hued proof from his sharp-eyed twin. He withdraws into himself, no matter how much he tries to stop it. What else is he to do? He's an actor, but he's not that good. He doesn't know if anyone could be that good, to know they can never, ever have what they've longed for their entire life, to watch it happening right in front of their eyes to someone who deserves it so, so much, but-

That's it, isn't it? Roman reflects, huddled on his bed and watching Avatar the Last Airbender through for the third time. 'But.' He feels the tingle of more writing on his wrist, but ignores it. It's not for him, after all. It will never be for him. There will be no gentle affirmations written in Patton's light blue script, no blocky exhortations to do his classwork or go to bed earlier from Logan. Virgil won't offer a mix tape and Janus won't cheer him up with snake-themed puns. They think they're friends and they are, but they have no idea they're more than that, and Roman refuses to tell them anything else.

His door bangs back on its hinges, bouncing off the wall, and Roman looks up in irritated alarm, ready to chastise his twin-

When he realizes that not only has Remus come in, he's brought reinforcements. Virgil, Janus, Logan, and Patton stand there next to Remus, and any annoyed words Roman might have said dry up in his throat.

"Something's wrong with you," Remus says, without preamble. "And I wanna know what."

"Nothing," Roman tries to deny, but he knows that no one will believe it. He looks a dilapidated mess, a far cry from his usual put-together self. He doesn't know when he slid down so fast.

"You and I both know that's a lie," Janus murmurs. He's not wearing a hat for once, and his hair is an unruly mass of curls Roman wishes he could run his fingers through. "You've been avoiding Remus-"

"You've been avoiding all of us," Virgil speaks up next. His shoulders are hunched, his fingers occupied with a purple fidget cube. "Did- did we do something wrong?"

"No!" Roman blurts out, before he even knows what he's saying. "No," he repeats. "You- you haven't done anything at all, it's- it's just me." He swallows, painfully aware all of a sudden that his sleeve has slipped down and dark blue writing is now visible.

Dark blue could be anyone, don't draw attention to it-

"Is it your soulmate?" Logan, because of course it's Logan, asks.

"Um," Roman hedges, inelegant. Remus bounds over to the bed, yanking Roman's sleeve up before he can stop him.

"I will be right up," Remus reads, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "But that's-" He looks at his own arm, at Logan's neat handwriting.

"Roman?" Patton asks hesitantly. "Is- is Logan your soulmate, too? Is that why you've been avoiding us?" An easy out, and yet one that will fall apart at the slightest touch. Roman trembles, feeling like a leaf in a vigorous breeze.

"I-" He croaks. "Um- not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly?" Janus asks. Roman flinches, although he knows it's a perfectly reasonable question. If only there was a perfectly reasonable answer.

"Not just Logan," he whispers, staring down into his lap. "It- I'm so sorry, Remus, it's everyone-" The tears that have prickled the corners of his eyes since Remus touched his sleeve spill over, tracing down familiar tracks.

"But why is that a bad thing?" Remus asks, still looking utterly perplexed. "Ro, what's wrong?"

"They're your soulmates," Roman repeats. "And you've been so happy- I don't belong with that-"

"Who says?" Logan questions. "Shouldn't that be up to us to determine?"

"I- I don't know," Roman stammers. "Maybe?"

"I don't have a problem with another soulmate," Patton says, giving Roman an encouraging smile. "I want to get to know you better, Roman. As more than just your friend. Is that okay?"

Roman's eyes dart to Remus's face, suddenly brimming with unconcealed panic. Remus plops down on the bed next to him, wrapping him up in a tight, slightly odd-smelling hug.

"You dumbass," Remus hisses in his ear. "You deserve to be happy, too, you know. I want you to be happy. You being unhappy has made me really unhappy."

"It has?" Roman asks in a tiny voice.

"Of course it has," Remus says, giving him a shove. "You're my twin, asshole, I care about you. I don't care if we share soulmates."

Roman takes a deep breath, then shoves up both sleeves, up to the elbow, revealing a rainbow cacophony littering his lower arms.

"We talk a lot," Virgil observes. Roman lets out a shaky laugh.

"You do," he says. "But I- I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."

tag list: @k9cat @paravigilant-virgil @croftergamer @airiervessel @reverendliu @matthindavick @ambersky0319 @yalltookmyurlideas @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @bexxbeauty @killjoy-3000 @the-sunshine-dims @sneaky-slytherin @reesiereads @rabbitsartcorner @quackerz-creations @psodtqueer @awkward-child-of-satan @snek-boii @im-fine-24

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yelenasdog · 4 years

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bonnie and clyde (billy/4 x fem reader)

genre: angst

summary: there were five people at the funeral of billy jones. why did two, more specifically one, of them leave?

words: 1.3k

warnings: just vv sad my guy. literally no fluff i hate it here </3 mentions of death, billy’s funeral, and crying.

a/n: yo so idk if billy’s last name is jones but i saw someone on here refer to him as billy jones and i think it’s just bc of ben’s last name but anyway LMFAO. i for some reason couldn’t stop thinking abt this and so i wrote it (as one does fkefnkerjn). also y/n was not used so if u wanted to read this as an x another character or x an oc it would work as well. enjoy :)

🌃🌃🌃

There were five people at the funeral of Billy Jones.

This was common knowledge who would listen long enough to hear the vigilante talk about the experience he had only seen from afar, his own heart growing tender during, or at any mention of, the moment.

But Billy always failed to explain the situation with a full grip, to its entire truth. As to why, most anyone could figure out.

He was afraid.

Afraid of getting her hurt, afraid of thinking of her for just a moment too long, afraid of his impulse driving him to get his ass right back up and go say he still loved her.

Four was afraid of a plethora of horrible scenarios that could occur if he let the truth about his funeral slide to anyone except One (which was bad enough that he had to know by default as it was).

And the irony of it all, was how miniscule and ineffective something like who had left his funeral early and as to why, would be to anyone else on the team.

Sure they all had their secrets that would seep into the pool that was their little family, Three’s mother, One’s lover, Two and Three’s infatuation with each other (though, that one wasn’t really a secret).

Not to mention, Four despised painting her in a bad light, allowing others to think for a fraction of a second that she didn’t leave because her already frail heart couldn’t handle to see her beloved’s name etched onto a gray stone in a patchy field of a horrible green, couldn’t handle the idea that their Bonnie and Clyde reminiscent days (minus the killing of 13 people, that is) had come to an end.

There were two people at the funeral of Billy Jones who left early.

The first? An old friend from his hometown.

He was a wealthy businessman now, having abandoned the life of pretty crime and rush of his youth. He showed up to Four’s not-so-celebration of life in an ashen tux with an obsidian tie and shiny oxfords, and barely a minute into the service he had begun checking his shiny Rolex, probably counting down the seconds until he would be considered late to some important meeting for whatever corporate hoax he was a part of to be able to stay afloat. How ironic.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock

The sound was like nails on a chalkboard to her, while the action itself felt like somewhat of a betrayal, even though Billy and the businessman hadn’t talked in years. It was a kind enough gesture that he had even come to begin with.

But she didn’t care.

Because before the service had even started, salty droplets were rolling down her reddened cheeks, dampening her hoodie, his hoodie, that she had coiled so tightly around herself and her limbs, almost like a corset.

So when the businessman turned to go after what could maybe have been a measly few minutes, she could barely control her anger.

But she did, for Billy. She sucked it up and stayed put, keeping her eyes trained to his mother who was now speaking, her striking emerald eyes also obviously wet. But in reality, Billy had wanted his former lover to turn around and smack that prick square in the face.

But then 4 took some time and realized that if it were the other way around and she had been dead, he could conjure in his mind how distressed he would be to where he would prefer to focus on wallowing in his sadness for her and her only, not be consumed by anger for some random fellow.

Billy truly wanted to leave One where he stood, wanted to run to where her shaking was escalating from ever so slightly to violently as could be, wrapping her in his strong arms she already missed. The strong arms that she believed should have kept him safe when he was dangling from that damned building with that damned necklace in his mouth.

The image could have been some renaissance painting with how beautiful he looked, even then, on the brink of what the world would know as the death of Billy Jones.

In fact, most of Billy’s and the girl’s adventures could be different renaissance paintings. Alive and free, bursting with vibrant colors and emotions that weren’t able to be captured with words, so rather, they were thrown on a canvas in what was somehow a meticulously put together flurry.

On that rainy day, the weather so fitting to what she had been feeling, she wished for nothing more than to somehow place herself back into those non-existent paintings, to even for a fraction of a second bask in his never ending love like some sort of oasis.

She wanted to run her fingers through his golden curls one last time, kiss his forehead goodnight one last time, to tell him she loved him more than anything in this universe, one last time.

But she didn’t, and she wouldn’t ever get to.

And her one final chance to say what she wanted him to hear, she had missed out on, as that’s when she had left.

It was long after the uptight man in the fitted suit, long after his crying mother had gone from where she was speaking up front, back to the shadows of her baby’s grim event that she should never have had been alive to see.

She had managed to drag herself halfway up to where his casket was sitting just above the ground, trying to not look at the box a second too long.

Rather, she pretended there was a pair of rose colored glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose, helping her pretend that this was all some big misunderstanding, that Billy was just pulling one of his infamous pranks.

He would pop out from behind the tent covering the few who stood with their feet shifting on the damp soil, or perhaps from the headstone of his very own grave. She would gasp or shriek and then smack his arm, lecturing him as he grabbed his chest, doubling over in laughter, the sound like music to her ears.

God, what she would do to hear that sound one more time.

Nevertheless, in the end he would stand up, and wipe her tears from her sweet face, pressing gentle kisses on either of her cheeks to rid her of that pout he hated to admit he loved. She would crack a small smile and he would punch a celebratory fist in the air at the gesture, leaving her to only shake her head at his antics. He would sling an arm around her shoulders, nustling close to her as they would exit the graveyard, never coming back until the inevitable day they both had lived their happiest and fullest lives together.

He would say “You know you love me.” And without a doubt, every time, she would say “Yeah, I do.”

But not this time.

This time, she would let her eyes wander to a tall tree just over the hill, slimming her puffy eyes. She rubbed them and did a double take, and swore that for a moment she had seen what looked like his figure next to one of someone she had never seen before.

And that’s when she left.

She let out an ugly sob, running as fast as her feet could take her to wherever that wasn’t there, the sound of her shoes against the cold ground muted, but the sound of her uneven breathing was anything but.

As for all she knew, it was her mind playing a cruel, cruel, trick on her. Or even her mind trying to give her some sort of closure to move on.

Whatever it was, though, was simply too much for her to process, too much to handle. So she had left, given up on what she didn’t know was her only chance to give a proper goodbye.

“You think she saw you?”

“I hope so.”

🌃🌃🌃

we vibing w this?? i hope so hehe. WAIT PUN NOT INTENDED LMFAO I DID THAT PERIODT! anyway, have a wonderful day/night, and go drink water and eat protein, it’s all abt intention!! i love u! also if u have any questions abt this fic pls do lmk bc ik some of it was kinda weird!

p.s., pls pls pls reblog this! this is my first ben related fic and ik when it’s ur first fic for a fandom they can flop so it would be very cool if y’all could help me out a lil bit :) either way ily, thank u! kk bye

xx hj

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atlantic-riona · 4 years

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modern Helen and Penelope, Sherlock, and Tempest Mac? (If you don't feel like doing all of these, please just pick your favorite--I'm just intrigued by ALL of these.)

ooh you managed to pick all the older ones! I am quite fond of these still, so I’ll do all three!

putting it all under a cut because it got quite long:

modern Helen and Penelope was a modern AU (as the name suggests), but there were still gods and magic and heroes, plus a bunch of other mythologies were included as well. basically, the plot sort of revolved around Helen, who’s going to be in an arranged marriage, deciding to abscond with Paris, which kicks off a whole bunch of other things (I don’t quite remember the details anymore, but I do distinctly remember that the Irish heroes got involved somehow, and the...uhhh...well, some other heroes got involved too but I never wrote any of their names down, so 😅). but it also revolved around Odysseus and Penelope falling in love, which I’m a sucker for. in honor of that, here’s the part I wrote with Odysseus:

Her heart skips a beat as she realizes who she’s looking at, and she hastens to finish before Helen catches on. “With—what’s his name, Odysseus, I think.”

“The island king’s son?” Helen sounds disinterested, and Penelope silently thanks any gods listening. “I can’t remember—is he one of the good-looking ones? They’ve all become a blur.”

“He—” Penelope’s tongue, usually so nimble, stutters to a halt. All she has to do is say no, and her cousin will move on. But she can’t bring herself to lie. Not about him.

Helen watches with growing interest as Penelope makes a few inarticulate sounds before subsiding into a blushing silence. “You know what? Maybe I should refresh my memory. Come on, cuz.”

She strides away, moving with easy confidence as Penelope, her stomach filled with dread, follows.

Her cousin has the ability to be seen or to be Seen. In other words, there are times like now, where the two of them pass through crowds with barely a second glance from anyone, and then there are times when Helen is the center of any room she walks into. And she can switch back and forth with ease.

Odysseus and his friend are bent over a table covered with hastily drawn maps and pretzels acting as soldiers. Someone nearby laughs, loudly, and her heart pounds in her ears. Odysseus is shorter than the other boy, but has broader shoulders. Recklessly, Penelope decides that despite the other boy’s good looks and easy smile, Odysseus has a far better smirk. Neither of them look up as the girls approach.

“So you see, the king really ought to have placed his troops there.”

“Ah, but have you considered,” says Odysseus, picking up another pretzel and eating it, “that the river was too exposed for a stand against the invaders? At the time, the forest seemed the better option.”

Helen leans over to look at the maps. “Goodness,” she says airily, as if the very sight of the battle maps are too much for her, although Penelope has played enough strategy games with her cousin to know that Helen would wipe the floor with anyone at this table, not including Penelope herself. “All those pieces look so very lonely. Surely you cannot win a war with so few soldiers?”

“Well, they represent battalions, not individual soldiers,” says Odysseus absently, and then he looks up.

From the way that he and his friend become still, it’s clear that Helen wishes to be Seen. They’re transfixed, the way one stares at a comet or tornado. Penelope might as well be the air, for all they see her.

In a fair world, Penelope might have been considered beautiful.

In that world, Helen would have to not exist.

As it is, Penelope contents herself with being considered wise beyond her years, although wisdom seems a poor consolation prize in moments like these.

“Helen,” Odysseus says finally. He clears his throat. “Aren’t you supposed—”

She reaches out and covers his hand with her own. “Oh, that. Being cooped up all day is no fun, I tell you. So I convinced Penelope to take me here with her.” Odysseus’ gaze drifts to Penelope. He has very lovely brown eyes. Helen clearly doesn’t care for the shift in his attention, for she laughs prettily and Penelope does not exist again. “Let’s keep this our little secret, shall we? And by that I mean don’t tell my father.”

Odysseus nods slowly. He looks around, up, down, and finally settles on asking, “Won’t you sit down?”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtful,” Helen says, and promptly does. The other boy does as well, which leaves only the one seat—Odysseus’.

“You and Penelope will have to share,” Helen observes, sharp gaze trained on her cousin.

Penelope takes a deep breath. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

may actually pick this one up in the future, idk

Sherlock was a mini-play I wrote for my high school; they were doing a play (with Sherlock Holmes) that needed a “fake start,” one that was really ridiculous, so I wrote one for them that I thought might fit the bill. I have a lot of favorite ridiculous moments but here are a few:

SHERLOCK (abruptly): How’s Mary?

WATSON: //children...oh, Mary’s fine, she’s fine - so’s Henry’s two little sisters, Emma and Jane. Right terrors they are. Twin disasters, you might say. (He chuckles.)

SHERLOCK: Twins?

WATSON: How did you -

SHERLOCK: Your enjoyment in that atrocious and badly delivered pun gave up the game.

HENRY: The kids nowadays call that a dad joke.

---

HOLMES: You took your time slinking out from the woodwork again, my old enemy.

MORIARTY looks embarrassed.

MORIARTY: I had to make tenure. My apologies for delaying our little games, Holmes.

HOLMES: Quite understandable. You cad.

MORIARTY: I deserved that one, I’m afraid. But not anymore than that, Holmes!

HOLMES: I apologize. I had to get it out of my system.

MORIARTY: Of course.

---

HOLMES: To answer your question…

He realizes that he doesn’t know her name.

HOLMES: ...er, dear, Moriarty is in fact about to offer us tea.

MORIARTY: Quite right. I put the kettle on before you woke up. Two sugars as usual, Holmes?

HOLMES: Once again you try to trick me, old enemy. You know perfectly well that I drink it black.

MORIARTY snaps his fingers.

MORIARTY: Foiled again, Holmes!

it was meant to be really bad, because Holmes (the real one for the play) comes out and demands to know what Watson (the real one for the play) is writing, at which point the actual play would start 😂😂

Tempest Mac is, I think, the only sci-fi story I’ve ever written?? it’s about this little girl in the future, in space, who’s Catholic and who meets an alien, while also solving important mysteries (like where the cookie jar went 😂😂)

that...was pretty much all the plot I had planned out, I think

but here’s what I had:

Someone had moved the cookie jar again.

Tempest Mac made a thoughtful face as she considered the scene of the crime. Then she went and fetched a tall stool, a flashlight, and a thick book detailing the customs and mannerisms of the Hazien people (which she was only a quarter of the way through, having only started at breakfast this morning). One never knew what might come in handy.

Just as she had gotten the book settled in place on the countertop, with one foot balanced neatly on the stool and the other on the book, and was peering into the highest cupboard with the flashlight, a shrill, startled voice rang out behind her. “Tempest! What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”

“Finding the cookie jar, Aunti,” Tempest replied calmly, still shining the flashlight into the cupboard. In addition, they weren’t on Earth, they were on Haz—a few hundred lightyears away—so really, Aunti should have said, ‘What on Haz do you think you’re doing?’ but she knew when to let things go. “Somebody’s moved it again.”

“You don’t need a cookie right now, you’ve just had lunch,” her aunt scolded, lifting her off the stool and onto the ground without hardly any effort. “Wait until after dinner.”

“I don’t want a cookie, I want to know who keeps moving the cookie jar,” Tempest protested, but Aunti paid her no heed and sent her out of the kitchen to water the small garden out back.

Tempest Mac was six years old, small of stature, and what some people referred to as ‘precocious.’ Tempest gently argued with these people that no, she wasn’t precocious, she simply thought thoughts in a sensible way. Nevertheless, her grave eyes, quiet way of asking commonsense questions, and aptitude at reading far above her age level made the debate moot, as far as people were concerned.

Most people would rather chalk up things and people who don’t appear to make sense at first as anomalies, rather than investigate further. But then, this is because many people see the world like a black ink stamp pattern on a clean sheet of paper—easy, simple and pretty, in an orderly, bureaucratic sort of way. If the world is ordered and lovely in its organization, then so too can lives and people be the same way. If the world is a jumbled, chaotic, sloppy finger-painting done by an overenthusiastic four year old, then it is much harder for people to convince themselves that their lives may be ordered and simplistic. Such is life.

There’s a reason “Aunti” is spelled the way it is, but for the life of me I can’t remember why

#ask #my writing #I hadn't read the Sherlock one in years and I'd forgotten all about it 😂

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bostonstone · 4 years

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「 chicago’s very own boston ‘boss’ stone has been spotted on madison avenue driving a koenigsegg ccxr trevita, welcome ! your resemblance to kja apa is unreal. according to tmz , you just had your twenty third birthday bash. your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re jealous, but being flirtatious might help you. i think being a scorpio explains that. 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be endless workouts & post of them on the ‘gram, drinking top shelf liquor always and rolling the best blunts . ( cismale, he/him ) + ( a, 26, she/her, est ) 」

TRAITS:

Recognizable Traits: Red Hair, Abs, Tatted, Tall, in shape, Workout Fein

Personality Traits: Musician, Workout Model, Pothead & Heavy drinker, does other drugs as well, skate boards for fun, still plays football whenever he can, makes sex puns, dad jokes and lowkey loves crime documentaries?

Closet: dresses usually in a lazy casual look when not in workout clothes, only dresses up to the nines for girls he’s into once comfortable. Really into girls, sex and sandwiches.

STATS

Name: Boston Stone

Nick Names: Boss, BS, Stoned

Age & Birthday – 23 years old - November 3rd, 1996

Siblings – 6

Parents – Mike & Jess

Birthplace – Chicago, IL

Current Residence – New York

Occupation – Musician & Fitness Guru/Model

Sexual Orientation – Straight

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES

Body type – Athletic

Height – 6′1

Hair color – Red

Eye color – Honeycomb

Scars – Boston has one scar between his eyebrows and one on the back of his calf

Piercings – used to have both ears pierced like he thought he was cool, but hasn’t worn them since high school

Tattoos - both shoulders, chest, arm tattoos, wrist tattoo and back tattoo - 8 in total

ABOUT

Boston Michael Stone was named after the street in Chicago where his parents conceived him. Gross, yes we all know and Boston hates it - hence the nickname Boss. He’s the boss of his own life and that’s how he wants to keep it.

Boss’ dad left him and his mom when he found out she was pregnant. Since they both were only 18, he high tailed outta there. He was never fully in love with Boston’s mom but thought a child would possibly fix things? Then he realized a child cost money and with only his GED in life, he decided to book it for a while. Boston’s dad’s was known to run the streets on the south side of Chicago, selling drugs, stolen goods, etc.

But then things changed. Once he got his shit together, an actual job, and with a little force from Boston’s grandmother, Mike stepped up. Somewhat. He was in and out of their lives, pissed when Boston’s mother didn’t want to always be with him and had a life of her own outside of serving tables to make ends meet. He didn’t like to be the guy stuck watching his kid while she went out on dates.

He doesn’t know how or why his dad was so obsessed with being with his mom? Especially when he was constantly bringing other women around Boston and home when Boss was with him on weekends. But thankfully, whatever was going on behind the scenes, it helped his mom find love eventually, but with an older, richer man. It is awkward as hell, but he’d rather be with his mom than with his bitch of a dad. Like, he abandoned them countless times, never showed up to important events, had 4 kids that he knows of and Boss hates his guts for it.

When he was in high school, he was a mess. It was a hard ass time dealing with his anxiety, depression and abandonment/emotional issues all while being a teen, so he didn’t. He hasn’t dealt with it fully and really needs to. It wasn’t cool to cry as a guy or at least that’s how he felt. He went to therapy to make his mom happy, but did it mostly for the medications. That’s when he started turning to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain.

Boston was super into sports, always wanting to play football for the rest of his life and since he was so serious about it, he dedicated his entire high school career to making it into a D1 school. (outside of the drugs of course but shhh). Once he finally picked a school, he started and thought he didn’t have to worry about academics. He never worried about them in high school, everything was just handed to him. That’s what you get when you’re the quarterback, right? Starting QB at a top university on scholarship. Hell yeah, he could literally do no wrong, right?

Once he was arrested for underage drinking, caught with pills, then put on academic probation once they looked deeper into his file at school, his pride got the best of him and he dropped out. But he kept the money from the scholarship to fund the drugs and his future going forward.

Girls are something that Boss has always used to take his mind off of things. From the time he was a freshman in high school, he lost his virginity to an older woman and the thought that it was supposed to be something special, but it wasn’t So now he just sleeps and flirts around because what is commitment? Everyone always leaves anyways.

Bro-friendships and close girls that are friends really mean the most to him, he doesn’t get close to many people out of his fear of letting people in. ‘Too good at good byes’ would lowkey be his theme song but he would cut you if you called him out on listening to Sam Smith.

Boss thinks eating is a personality trait, he loves to tease people, be flirty and be chill. He loves to watch funny videos, tweet, think he’s punny and like, make the sexual innuendos and the worst dad jokes but he’s super sweet under his tall walls but if you get to see that side of him, consider yourself important in his books.

As for becoming famous, his abs were his ticket. Doing live’s on instagram was how he got started and noticed. He was immediately booked for magazines, with fitness companies, and even signed a record label? But he isn’t quite sure what to do. They have him constantly walking runways with his shirt off, doing underwear campaigns and pay him big bucks just to be himself, so he’s really digging this lifestyle. A little too much. He is shit at handling/managing his money.

Growing up living pay check to pay check, he was like a kid in a candy store that was told you could get whatever you want once the checks started to come and flow in. His biggest splurge was his batman-esque car which his mom almost killed him over, but she’s living the rich life now too and was just recently signed for Chicago Real Housewives so she can pipe tf down.

He’s loyal as hell to things and those he loves, he’s super hard headed when it comes to arguments but above all things, he doesn’t take himself too seriously and just wants to make you laugh/smile because he knows what it’s like to live a life where there’s not much to look forward to as a kid.

#tw: drugs #tw: alcohol #wealthyhq:intro #intro #hiiii everyone meet boss

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hellyeahomeland · 4 years

Photo

“The English Teacher” | Directed by Michael Cuesta, Cinematography by Giorgio Scali

Sara: Not really related to this image specifically, but this week’s episode was directed by Michael Cuesta, whom you may remember as the directing executive producer for the show’s first two seasons. He directed some of the best episodes of the show: the pilot, “The Weekend,” “Marine One,” “The Choice.” I was really, really happy to see that they brought him back for the penultimate episode. That feels fitting and so, so right.

Related to this image specifically, opening on an image of Carrie literally split in half in the frame feels symbolic. She’s being pulled in two competing directions, her loyalty to Saul fighting with her desire to prevent a nuclear war.

Gail: When the episode first started I wondered if she had escaped custody and was standing and waiting to have a passport photo taken like Brody in “The Choice” (again, a Michael Cuesta episode). (My tin foil hat has been all over the place lately!) But then it occurred to me that it’s actually the mirror of the opening shot of Carrie in the first episode this season. The close-ups of Carrie in both scenes have a lot in common, especially that we can only see half of her face. In episode one, the other half of the frame was black and here, the other half is white. I think Sara was right when she pointed out in last week’s Director’s Chair about the transition images at the end of “Designated Driver.” Carrie’s life has always been somewhere in between the black and white.

Ashley: The way this carefully pans down across her face, only to find that she is actually cuffed to the chair, is pretty well-done. We’ve seen her in cuffs too many times this season, and trapped in other ways more often than that.

Sara: This image of Carrie watching the suicide bomb footage on TV really calls to mind the visuals in the opening credits of a young Carrie watching war and terror play out on a television screen.

Ashley: How many times has Carrie seen something awful and life-altering on television? She was in this position in season five when she saw Quinn in the gas chamber. Shocking and devastating and just kinda the life of Carrie Mathison, tbh.

Gail: I agree with both of you, this is a great callback to Carrie in the credits and Carrie in “New Normal.” Carrie’s unconventional methods often come at a high price and this scene is another reminder of that. (And how amazing is Chris Bauer, who plays Carrie’s lawyer?! Sara, he’s even giving you some sweet ‘stache!)

Sara: Love the mustache.

Sara: Tag yourself I’m Wellington.

Ashley: We are all Wellington.

Gail: Pretty sure I’ve been Saul all week trying to get my kids to do their e-learning. I’m tagging my son as Zabel and my daughter as Hayes. My husband is full-on Wellington, knowing I’m right but refusing to get involved.

Ashley: The sharp difference between Zabel’s terrible beard and Saul’s luscious beard is one of the best things this show has offered us.

Gail: I love that Saul’s body language tells a story too. He can hardly bring himself to look at Zabel, let alone face him.

Sara: John Zabel is a real fuckin’ slime ball and Hugh Dancy has been so, so good in this role. You can tell he must relish getting to play this evil character, going up against these actors and actors that he’s known so intimately, though entirely offscreen, the last ten years.

Sara: I love this detail of Saul moving one of his books back just a millimeter or so. It really emphasizes how meticulous he is and also begs the question if he’s going to realize Carrie had them all splayed out on his living room floor. Does he keep them in a specific order?

Ashley: I WAS WONDERING THE SAME THING. And I’m surprised he has so many of them — he was looking at one volume specifically, so I initially was wondering if his commie shelf was just to hide that particular book.

Gail: No small detail seems to escape Saul’s attention. Such a small movement, but it says so much about who Saul is. And yes, Ashley, some of those books were just decoys! Carrie figured that out as she was sorting the books, which is also a great detail about who Saul is. Saul’s red book collection of asset communication is also his hobby. As Carrie says, the best lies have to have truth in them.

Sara: Ben Savage as young Mandy Patinkin is some of the most inspired casting ever. I know he’s already played a young Mandy Patinkin, but I am still in awe. The flat bill cap was an excellent detail. #hat

Gail: I love how he is wearing a trademark Saul plaid shirt, too!

Gail: Another shot of a character with only half of their face shown. This time it’s a young Saul who already has his fair share of secrets.

Ashley: Spoiler alert, she doesn’t shoot him.

Sara: IJLTP.

Gail: We don’t get this close-up shot in this scene until Saul drops his facade and asks her if she’s reading between the lines... He wants to pull a fast one on the useful idiots in the Oval Office and wants her help to do it (ugh, Tasneem agrees!). From a distance, we see Saul in his office somewhere in the West Wing, playing the part of National Security Advisor, but as the camera moves in for this close-up, we see Saul as who he really is: the smart and strategic spy.

Sara: There were quite a few extreme close-ups of Saul this week. What does it mean in an episode where we learn more about his heroic past than potentially at any other time this series? For me this really put into perspective how much we don’t know about Saul. Carrie alludes to snippets he’s revealed over the years, but even she--presumably his closest confidante--doesn’t know. Saul is the opposite of an open book, pun intended.

Ashley: Let’s crack his spine open and see if there’s a note.

Sara: This slow push on Carrie as the judge reads the list of charges against her is devastating, and not just for Carrie. It is for the audience too, because we know the truth. It goes without saying that Claire is magnificent here.

Ashley: Listening to all of the things Carrie Mathison is being charged with — specifically because we know the character, we have known her for a long time — is painful. For Claire, who has lived in Carrie’s skin for so long, it must have been torture.

Gail: Carrie’s lawyer is dressed in red, white and blue while Carrie is dressed for a funeral. I’m sure neither is a coincidence.

Sara: I do not like the context of this shot, but I love the shot itself. IDNLTCOTSBILTSI.

Sara: Linus being the only one in a room full of military brass and West Wing staff who understands that something’s fishy here is a very “of course” moment. I love how they’re framed in shadows here. In a way, he and Saul have both been running a “shadow” government all season, working in the background, out of sight.

Gail: Saul has his own circle of trust now and Wellington’s circle is only bumping up against it, no Venn diagrams here. Saul is playing his cards close to the vest, knowing he is on borrowed time. (See what I did there?)

Sara: I loved the payoff of the Carrie/Jenna relationship this week. Jenna coming to the realization that Quinn did before--nothing is worth the damage they cause--plays like a terrible déjà vu moment. Carrie just sits there, silent, as Jenna walks out. As staff writer Jonathan Redding said, “She was never going to become another Carrie. She can’t make Carrie’s trades.”

Gail: I think Carrie sits silently as Jenna walks out because she can’t argue with her. Carrie herself came to the same realization back in season four. Interestingly, as Jenna has her realization that nothing is worth the damage they do, Carrie is sitting at a dining room table, just like Quinn was when he had his realization in “Gerontion.” Except this time Carrie is the one who everyone thinks is guilty of a crime she didn’t commit. So. Many. Parallels.

Ashley: Putting Carrie at the dining room table is interesting — she’s surrounded by empty chairs. You can’t help but think of all the people she’s lost, and yet another person is walking away. She’s completely alone.

Sara: ICONIC MOMENT IN TELEVISION HISTORY.

Gail: Did Carrie swipe a pair of Saul’s glasses from his house? They look similar to asset Anna’s glasses as well. Not sure if that means anything, but it’s interesting.

Sara: Gail, you can read my tin foil hat theory on that in this week’s TCWTW.

Sara: I love love love this transition that reveals the teacher in the photo is the Russian translator. It’s inspired.

Gail: Me too! I also love that she is in focus while everyone else is not, which adds importance to her character as well. The first shot of her mirrors the photo of The English Teacher. We don’t see her full face until she talks to Saul directly in this scene, a small detail that reveals who her character is important to.

Ashley: Her shoulders are squared, head cocked, listening — the contrast from the girl she was in the photo is evident even from behind.

Gail: Usually when a character is having an important moment, you see their face and reaction on camera, not the back of their head. Breaking that rule with Anna over and over again throughout the course of this scene is extremely effective. She’s a faceless, non-threatening fly on the wall and surely not the high-ranking Kremlin (and presumably male) official they are worried about.

Sara: The framing of these characters in this shot is amazing. Anna stands in the camera’s focus, head tilted ever so slightly. The other men don’t even notice. You can see how she’s been such an effective asset. Hidden in plain sight.

Sara: Kusnetsov’s book is Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens. This is the last novel Dickens ever wrote, which is fitting here.

Gail: According to Wikipedia, the book explores the conflict between doing what society expects and the idea of being true to oneself. When you set that concept against Andrei’s role as a double agent, the theme takes on new meaning.

Ashley: Nerds.

Gail: Saul doesn’t yet know how important Anna is, but Michael Cuesta and Giorgio Scali are giving the audience a subtle clue here. By shooting Anna from a low angle it alludes that her character is powerful and has influence, something Saul will come to realize shortly.

Sara: We all agree that it was 100% intentional to cast an actress to play young Anna that looks just enough like Claire Danes to make you think, right? I don’t mean that Carrie is the lovechild of Saul and Anna (the timelines don’t match!). More that Saul has a type, no?

Sara: ...And in case we had any doubt that they’re drawing a parallel between Anna and Carrie, we have this transition. This episode is filled with loaded transitions.

Gail: Carrie in the center of the frame, caught in between the dark and light, is an ongoing theme this episode. We see it here again as she makes her way toward Saul’s library.

Sara: There are multiple pans over Saul’s giant collection of red books, most of the titles unreadable and blurred. But where do we land at the end? The camera holds on this book, A Woman’s Vengeance by James Payn. There is almost no info about this book on the internet, which leads me to believe it’s fake. Yet it’s in the public domain. Did they just like the title?

Gail: I read a little about it online. It was published originally in 1872, volume 2 of 3. I read an excerpt of it on Amazon, and the first chapter is titled “A Good Night’s Work.” Having this close-up shot of these books that follow our introduction to young Anna, Saul’s asset who is clearly a woman scorned, makes this book title (and the title to its first chapter) feel very fitting.

Sara: If the Wikipedia entry about The Secret Agent is any indication, this book is a doozy. Basically everyone suffers and dies at the end and an innocent person is accidentally killed.

Gail: That Wikipedia page is crazy! It also says that Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber, loved this book and closely identified himself with the character of the “Professor”... which ties into Saul’s alias, Professor Rabinow. I live for this stuff--always a mark of a good production when the depth of the details matches the intensity of the show.

Sara: The phantom horizontal line on the seven.

Ashley: That is like the ONE thing that I, Ashley, actually noticed and mentioned first. Give me a shout-out, man, I mean, DAMN.

Sara: Shout out to Ashley, who noticed and mentioned this first!

Gail: Homeland always gives us the best bokeh. I love its use here. We have a window into Saul’s biggest secret, the details surrounding it are hazy to us at first, and we can’t see the full picture yet--just like this shot.

Sara: IJLTP.

Ashley: I love how old-school Carrie is — she’s so visual, and in her own way, just like Saul. She lays it all out and uses her hands to put it together.

Gail: Her bulletin board, highlighters and thread have been replaced by notecards and old carpet that I’d like to think Mira picked out, but the result is the same as we watch Carrie put all of the pieces together. It’s HIGH RED y’all.

Sara: “High red,” omg. I’m obsessed with the sequence of Carrie assembling the book timeline and figuring out Saul’s method of communication. For me it’s one of the all-time best Homeland scenes.

Sara: The editing in this scene is exquisite. The use of jump cuts adds to the tension and uncertainty as Carrie herself attempts to splice together these disparate clues into something greater, some sort of truth.

The scene is almost completely free of dialogue. Claire has to convey Carrie’s journey to the truth here through only her actions. I love the shots at ground level of her literally on hands and knees flipping through the books. There is a sense of desperation and urgency to it that is thrilling.

Sara: The Smile.

Gail: I see what you did there and I approve. IJLTP.

Ashley: I’m a little surprised that Carrie isn’t a bit more conflicted here.

Sara: Cutting Carrie and Saul together at the moment where their minds finally sync is … quite literal, actually, but it works. In these twin shots of Carrie and Saul I’m struck especially by how Saul is against a light background while Carrie is cloaked in darkness.

Gail: These back-to-back shots give the impression that Carrie and Saul are on opposite ends of the same book which rings very true to me. The black and white imagery continues here as Sara points out. We see Carrie just barely ahead of the darkness, looking toward the light.

Ashley: Mandy just does things with his face sometimes and it’s amazing to watch.

Sara: Another extreme close-up of Saul as he realizes that Carrie lied to him.

Gail: Saul’s line from earlier in the season rings in my ears here. “You are vulnerable to him in ways neither of us can imagine.” But to build on my thoughts on his earlier close-up shot, I think it’s an effective tool for us to get a window into what Saul is genuinely thinking and feeling at that moment. The massive implications of Carrie’s involvement in a play being run by Yevgeny are devastating and Saul realizes it in one stunning and heartbreaking moment.

Gail: Anna saving Saul’s life gives so much more weight and importance to who she is to Saul. He owes her his life and, thirty years later, his career, too.

Sara: There is something fantastical about this part of the flashback. The backdrop and extreme lighting looks sort of … fake? It almost looks like they’re on a film set. I’m interpreting this as a reflection of Saul’s memory: we all want to see ourselves as the hero in our movie of our lives.

Sara: Shout out to Gail for realizing this Charlotte Benson character was featured last season with Ivan.

Gail: I love a good easter egg and a good callback. Details like this and recurring characters like Scott Ryan give their world realism. I stan.

Ashley: This is such a terribly effective moment in the show. We haven’t seen Yevgeny at all in this episode, and yet he’s ever-present; closing on “kill Saul” is so fucking… ugh. Stupid Homeland.

Gail: All of Yevgeny’s shots in this scene are done with a steady camera, which gives the impression (illusion?) of his control of the situation. Have we had a scene where Yevgeny isn’t leaning? My God, he’s even leaning when on Zoom for Spies.

Sara: As Yevgeny reveals the full extent of his play--“Kill Saul”--the camera zooms in on him. Eventually he takes up almost the entire frame. It gives the feeling of stakes being continually raised. And he’s still got that trademark smirk and nonchalance, despite what he’s telling Carrie to do.

Sara: Meanwhile, the camera stays mostly the same distance away from Carrie but pans in semi-circles around her, back and forth, back and forth. It’s an interesting choice as she comes to the realization of what Yevgeny is suggesting. The camera is almost like the wheels spinning in her head as she understands the full scope of the choice she must make.

Gail: As Carrie and Yevgeny go back and forth, each one trying to figure out what the other one knows, the shots start to go back and forth as well, mimicking their dance. In film and television production, there is a term called the 180 degree rule. What it means is that there is an imaginary line running through a scene, from side to side, with respect to the camera. The rule of thumb is that the camera should never cross the line because it causes the viewer to feel disoriented and confused. But when used effectively, we get the powerful effect that it had here in this scene. We (the audience) feel the same disorientation as Carrie, the same unsteadiness that is reflected in the handheld camera that shoots her. As I mentioned above, when we see Yevgeny on the computer screen, he is centered, steady and in control. Quite a contrast between the two.

Ashley: I repeat… stupid Homeland.

Ashley: We’ve seen so much darkness in this episode, mostly related to Saul — Carrie, for her part, has been pretty much in bright spaces. Despite everything that’s happened to her, I believe that this is the darkest point in her life.

Sara: Carrie hurriedly walks out of this vast, empty mansion as the lights dim behind her. The weight and horror of this decision is splayed across her face. The darkness follows her. The question now as we head into this final chapter: can she outrun it? Or will it finally catch up to her?

Gail: Staying just ahead of the darkness and trying to find the light. Here Carrie is again living somewhere in between.

#let's crack his spine open and see if there's a note #zoom for spies #we need alt titles for these now i guess?#homeland #homelandedit #in the director's chair #the english teacher #*#by: sara #by: gail #by: ashley #michael cuesta

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littlemeowmeowschimmy · 5 years

Text

Play With Me [Jungkook x Reader]

credit: littlemeowmeowschimmy

Requests opened // m.list - next

Genre: Thrilling // Mysterious // Smut [later]

Summary: After a fateful night, Jungkook realizes that he was put up against something more dangerous than he imagined. He never thought that through his undercover work that you were much more than just cunning, you were also seductive.

Word C: 3278

A/N: I’m in love with anything and everything Batman related. It’s another one of my passions outside of BTS. If I’m being honest, I really hope y’all enjoy this mini series I’m putting out. I also apologize for any of the references that are made and people don’t understand them. If you are a long time Batman fan, you will realize that I made a few small changes here and there. Mostly to fit the boys as I didn’t want to change their genders. With that being said, enjoy :)

»»————-　★　————-««

Nighttime was his favorite. He could reflect on the previous day, then place a mask over his eyes and go undercover. Since parting ways with old bats, Jungkook knew situations would be difficult. He had grown up under his wing, then, flew away (no pun intended). He learned everything from Seokjin, as it shaped him who he was today.

Now, all he did was detective work and then fighting crime on the side. Jungkook’s legs dangled off the side of a building, his hands gently turning the pages. He was helping Seokjin on a case, one about a mysterious woman. He had heard very little concerning her. Only snippets of what she had done, such as small bank robberies, putting a few people in hospitals, the usual.

“Maybe you should stop looking at the files,” Jimin’s condescending voice spoke. “And start scouting like the rest of us Kook.” he finishes sneering afterwards. Not only did he have to team up with Seokjin, but he had to team up with the man-child named Park Jimin. He had come into Seokjin’s life a few years after Jungkook left, only to be killed by Joker. He was resurrected by the Lazarus pit, only to become insane after.

His death hit Seokjin hard because Jimin was like a son to him. They all were. The family suffered greatly, their wounds healing only to be torn apart. Since his marbles were somewhat back in place, Jimin had become a real pain in the ass. He was seeking revenge, murder, and doing other villainous deeds. Old bats didn’t have it in him to take Jimin in, to Arkham that is.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, then slowly moving himself up. Another voice pops in, this one sending a small smile on his face. “Jimin, we get that you’re fast,” Yoongi mumbles the quick typing of his keys in the background. “However, Kook does what he does best.” pausing then continuing. “Research. Unlike your head ass who jumps into everything.”

“Because who cares about intel.” Jimin puffs clearly Yoongi’s blunt attitude hitting Jimin’s pride. “Little bitch has been fucking me over. I need to get her back.”

“You need to listen dumbass.” Yoongi snaps twirling around in his wheelchair, scooting himself over to his other computer. Yoongi was known as Oracle to the outsiders. He was quick with his fingers and had all of Gotham under his surveillance. He got into a freak accident with Joker, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down. His father, Gordon, was captured by Joker try and break him. Thankfully, Seokjin made it in time to save him, but it wasn’t enough for Yoongi.

“Woah guys,” Namjoon speaking softly, the wind making it harder for them to hear. Namjoon was like the brains of the family per-say. He knew everything about Seokjin and Jungkook, making it easier for him to find the Bat-Cave. Letting him join the family was amusing to say the least. Jungkook enjoyed him, more than he thought he would. Namjoon was very level headed and he often agreed with Jungkook on things. “We get that you two love birds had a fight but calm down.” he starts fixing his headgear.

“Shut up!” Yoongi and Jimin hiss, a low chuckle escaping the back of Jungkook’s throat.

“And this is why I wished father would let me go on my own.” Taehyung grumbles. Out of all of them, Taehyung was the only one related to Seokjin. Long story short, his mother got pregnant after seducing Seokjin. How Jungkook and Taehyung met was another story for another day.

“The last time you went on your own,” Jungkook starts setting the files down, scanning the area afterwards. “You almost killed a man.” pausing then shaking his head. “Why do you think Seokjin doesn’t trust you alone?”

“I was born and raised to kill.” Taehyung simply states landing besides Jungkook seconds later. He didn’t bat an eye, only reached his arm out to hand the files towards him. Much like Jungkook, Taehyung liked to get information on people. He remembers watching the little squirt in front of the huge computer reading up on everyone’s files. He was just as mysterious as the woman they were tracking down. “It’s in my genes.”

A collective sigh escaped everyone. This was something they heard on a daily, so it wasn’t a surprise to hear it again. Jungkook was pleasantly surprised when he was told to babysit. It seemed as if Seokjin was out looking for new gear. Hoseok, their butler, stayed back. Often watching and listening on the computer in the cave.

The only sound that buzzed in their ears was, Yoongi’s fingers dashing across his keys. Their mission was to capture her, make her talk, then send her to Arkham. It was proving to be a difficult task because she worked so quickly. Even Seokjin fought her, only to be stabbed in the side, then gone unconscious due to the poison that entered his system.

“Jimin, on your right.” Yoongi spoke his eyes scanning across his screen. It seemed he found a lead, sending Jimin in. He was the closet, making it a great decision. Jungkook was given the file back, pushing it away, then peering off the side. He listened to their conversation, seeing if he could pop in at any time.

“I’m coming up behind you Jimin,” Namjoon declares, the skidding of his bike causing Jungkook to wince. He turns towards Taehyung, nodding his head, silently telling him to jump. They found their target, each of them moving in one by one. Yoongi was giving them directions, each to split up and attack on all sides.

They would come to find, that wouldn’t be the best idea that evening...

»»————-　★　————-««

Right foot

Left foot

Right foot

Left foot

Jungkook kept telling himself that simple pattern. He was sneaking in after landing on top of the warehouse. His weapons on his back, itching to be used. His eyes searching constantly, trying to make sure he was alone. Yoongi notified him that he was clear, but there was something that wasn’t sitting well in his stomach.

A loud crash came from below, Jungkook’s heart racing. He heard fighting through his earpiece. It only made him assume that someone caught the boys. Jimin went in first, scouting the place and calling it clear. Then, Taehyung came from behind, whilst Namjoon to the side. It was from Taehyung’s end that the crash sounded. Leaving the rest to scan and be on their toes.

“Well done,” a hushed congratulations followed by light clapping came from behind Jungkook. He spun, only to be greeted by the moonlight. A shadow peaked from behind a small column, your figure leaning against it. This was the first time he saw you face to face.

The moon hitting your back, your lush hair flowing in the small breeze. Behind your mask, Jungkook noticed your sparked eyes. In them, he could tell that you were amused, enjoying yourself, and much more. Slowly, you moved inwards, the moon lighting you further. Showing the tight fabric, hugging your curves, illuminating every part of you. Around your waist a belt hung, holding every weapon you could ever need.

“You found me~” You sang bouncing on the balls of your feet. Your body bends forwards, waggling your finger in Jungkook’s direction. He was quick to bring his hand back, only to feel a sharp pain in his wrist. His cane clanking on the ground. From far away, you had managed to knock his wrist back with your throwing star.

The tool lodging itself in a nearby crate, the moon’s light radiating off. “Atata~” you mock waggling another finger in his direction. “That won’t be necessary. I just want to have a discussion with the big bad wolf~” a playful smile spreading, your body skipping towards Jungkook.

His eyes narrow, dodging back and forth between your figure and his weapon. He had to quickly decide, the noise in his earpiece still loud. He knew his brothers were in trouble, but he also knew that you were right in front of him. Seokjin always taught him that family came first, but he knew that they would be able to take care of themselves. He had to finish the mission.

“Talk.” Jungkook demands straightening himself, his guard up still. You purred, that low sound emanating from the back of your throat. You paused in front of him, a hip popped out and arms folded across your chest. Your index finger rested gently on your upper lip, that sick smile making Jungkook’s stomach clench.

“I want to make a deal.”

“Criminals only make one when they know they’re about to get caught.” Jungkook snaps, eyes narrowed and dark. You squeal with delight, your hands clenching. The small outburst of excitement startled Jungkook.

“Oh, baby don’t talk to me like that~” You purred bringing a hand down to your chest. “You’re going to make me cum~” you tease Jungkook’s eyes rolling. He noticed that you were a masochist and a sadist...it said so in your file. Seokjin briefly described his fight, often stating that you loved watching him go down in pain, only to moan when he hit you. He wrapped you up as insane, the thought alone sending a deep and growing pit in his stomach.

“Enough with the childish games’ L/n,” Jungkook hisses, arms tightening as he was getting impatient. You took another step forward, reaching in and curling your fingers under his chin. He smacks them away, not at all interested in your childish games. You tut again, leaning in now to make sure your face was close to his.

“I would have so much fun with you.” a darkness to your tone sending chills through Jungkook’s body. “Just thinking about making you beg for mercy is getting me hot.” tilting your head just a bit, your tongue poking out to swipe across your bottom lip. Straightening out, you brushed your hands down your chest. It was your attempts to get yourself back to normal, but you weren’t normal to begin with.

“If you let me go tonight,” you start taking a step backwards. “Your family won’t die.” a threat hanging in the air. This time, Jungkook takes a step forward. In doing so, he swiftly picks up his cane, placing it back in its holder. He leans downwards, making sure he was eye level with you.

“If you do,” he starts tilting his head to the side. “I will hunt you down to the ends of this earth,” your heart thudding in your chest as your body melts at his threats. “And rip you limb by limb.” a soft moan escaping your lips, your body quaking with lust. Jungkook noticed you didn’t take this to heart because he saw how you acted.

He noted your movements, watching you close your eyes in bliss. It seemed like you were trying to figure out the next words, but they weren’t coming. Instead, Jungkook was surprised. His back hit the concreate, a puff of air escaping once you landed on his waist. You held his arms up with one hand, your fingers tightening around his wrist.

You had him in a position where he couldn’t get out without force. This brought your face closer in, the moonlight making your next expression frightening. You widen a smile, eyes crinkling and drool forming on the right side. You brought a hand back, pulling out one of your colorful knives to place on his cheek. The tip dug in, some blood escaping.

Jungkook winces, trying not to tilt his head away. He knew you were trying to scare him, the tacit making his heart pounding against his ribs. What you did next sent another wave of chills down his spine. You licked his cheek, your breath hitting his skin. Jungkook twitches, clearly uncomfortable. “I think,” you pause giggling now. “I think you and I are going to have lots of fun later.” you whispered.

Those words ringing as Jungkook remembers Seokjin speaking of the same sentence. It was right before you fled, the before the poison kicked in. It left Jungkook pondering if you had done the same, but you never got into a fight with him. You were holding him down, acting upon you small threat in the beginning.

“Not when you’re behind bars.” he threats attempting to knock you over. Only to receive a tighter grip on his wrists. Your body applying more weight, making it difficult to move. Your head perks when you notice a spinning star flash before your eyes. This was a distraction; someone had found you on the roof. Your head instantly moves back, your grip loosening on Jungkook.

He took this opportunity to wrestle you, trying to get the upper hand. It proved that you were more skilled than you looked. Your legs coming under his torso and kicking him off. Sending Jungkook backwards whilst he hears Jimin growling in the distance. You turned to lock eye contact with the agitated one, another playful smile.

“Red Hood~ what a pleasant surprise.” You teased rolling back onto your feet.

“I’ve got you now bitch.” He lunges, Jungkook screaming at him not to. You did a few back flips, avoiding his punches. One of your kicks landed under his chin, sending Jimin backwards. Jungkook came behind, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his body to his chest. Both men watch as you waved at them, standing on the edge of the roof top.

“Au revior~” flipping off the ledge and disappearing into the night.

»»————-　★　————-««

“I could’ve had her you punk!” Jimin screeches standing with an ice pack to his head. They all reported back to base, your picture in the middle of the computer screen. Hoseok was attending to Taehyung’s wounds, the little one mumbling under his breath. Namjoon was looking at the file once again, trying to see if there was anything he missed.

Yoongi wheeled himself directly besides Seokjin, showing him the camera footage. Jungkook was during an argument with Jimin. Since they had to retreat, Jimin had been extremely grumpy. He didn’t like having to run away, nor did he like having to admit defeat. It was only a matter of seconds that he was going to explode in the cave.

“Oh, give it a rest Jimin.” Jungkook sighs hearing enough of his complaints. He pushes himself off the staircase, moving over towards the computer. There he sat down, typing his password in then selecting other files. He scans through them, much like Namjoon was, trying to figure out what they missed. Since getting back, Taehyung revealed that they found multiple C4′s in the basement. They seemed to be hooked up to a wire but were eventually disabled because of his quick thinking.

Namjoon was stuck in the lounge, getting as much evidence as he could. The warehouse was abandoned, but it seemed like it was set up for an event. What event, Namjoon never figured out. It was when Jimin came crashing in with Taehyung that they got into a fight. Somehow, Jimin escaped up to the roof where he threw his star in between you and Jungkook.

Then proceeded to blame himself, no blame Jungkook for letting you get away. He slams the ice pack down, crossing his arms afterwards. “We need to call Starfire and Roy.” he demands pointing at Seokjin who looked up from Yoongi’s computer screen. His eyebrow rose, interested in hearing what the man had to say.

“So, we can get more innocent lives involved?” Seokjin questions shaking his head. “We have enough men right here. We just need to find a weakness.”

“What weakness?!” Jimin growls throwing his hands up. “She’s just like Joker, but ruthless. Crazier even.” his hands raking through his messy hair. Jungkook fell silent, the previous fight still playing through his head. He had to agree with Jimin, you were just as bad as Joker. One could say that you were on Harley Quinn level, but that wouldn’t compare even.

Seokjin fell silent, his eyes narrowed as he was thinking of another point. Nothing came to anyone; they were all puzzled. “She’s hasn’t murdered anyone yet.” Taehyung points, grunting due to the needle poking in his flesh again. Hoseok questioned if he was alright, then quickly waving him off. Jungkook’s eyes move back to him, then right back to Jimin. Who evidently rolled his eyes and kicked the pack across the room

“More brute force, we need them.” Jimin insisted pushing off whatever he was leaning on. He moves forwards, making sure he was headed straight for Seokjin. Namjoon stopped him in the process, shaking his head and standing in between. He gently pushes on his chest, trying to get some space between the two. Since Jimin came back from the pit, he had a deep hatred for Seokjin. He had all his memories back, making the struggle to overcome such a horrible past more difficult than need be.

Making this set up difficult within itself. Seokjin knew not to test Jimin’s limits, but he knew that he needed him. This case seemed personal in small ways, mostly Jimin and Seokjin. Jungkook didn’t know what to make of it, instead he focused on the information they had now.

“If we go into this with anger,” Jungkook starts picking his eyes up from the screen. “We’re going to be completely useless.”

“Agreed.” Namjoon pipes taking a step to the side so Yoongi and Seokjin could lock contact with Jungkook.

“What do we do?” Jimin insisted.

“Go undercover.” Yoongi finishes turning his computer around to show the others what he found. When Jimin grumbled about not being able to see it, he glares at him. Slamming his computer shut, he gives it to Seokjin, turns around and wheels off to the big computer.

This causes Jungkook to quickly get himself out of his seat. Trying to avoid all possible confrontation. Yoongi quickly types his password, then opens the files he showed. Jungkook watches your figure move in and out of a building, your mask and gear off.

You looked normal, as if you were holding down an office job. “Her real name is Y/n,” Yoongi points out. “She works at the local police station.” his head turning to lock eye contact with Jungkook.

He narrows his eyes, placing his hands on his chest. “Wait a minute.” the pieces starting to fall into place. “You want me to go undercover?”

“No sherlock, we want Jimin.”

“Fuck off.” Jimin spat throwing the discarded pack at Yoongi’s head. He growls, spinning around in his wheelchair and sending a deadly look in his direction.

“Calm down children.” Namjoon spoke, both men glaring and growling in his direction. They weren’t pleased, Jungkook wouldn’t blame them.

Yoongi took another deep breath, then sighed. He spun back around, pulling up a few other frames of you.��“You’re the only one,” he starts pulling up Jungkook’s old file. “Who used to work undercover for so long.” moving it upwards as he continues to show footage and other pictures of you rooming around and outside of the police station.

“We need you to infiltrate the station again.” Seokjin proclaims, moving himself up and closer. “Grab any and all information on this woman. Find her weakness so we can take her down.” Jungkook scrunches his eyebrows together then shakes his head. It had been years since he had gone undercover, the fact that they wanted him to do it again, was beyond him.

But he couldn’t say no. Jungkook had to take it. Whether he liked it or not...

#littlemeowmeowschimmy #bangtanarmynet #bts #bangtan #bts reader insert #bangtan reader insert #bts series #bangtan series #bts crossover #bangtan crossover #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bangtan jeon jungkook #bangtan jeon jungkook x reader

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thedeadishscribe · 5 years

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Sidestep/Ortega

My Fallen Hero fic is, more or less, finally done! It features my Sidestep, Rysen Adri, and his thoughts on post game Fallen Hero: Rebirth. I seem to be doing a lot of post games.

I’m probably gonna post this to ao3 later because formatting is a bitch.

Please, enjoy!

Love, the dead dude

Julia had asked a fair question—what did that kiss mean?

I’m not sure myself, all I knew is that hearing the name Rysen was sweeter than I cared to admit. Was that even my name anymore? Again, not sure. What the hell, exactly, was going on in my life? Ortega, John, Mortum, The Rangers. Ouroboros. The new name I had chosen. The thought came to me at the party, the classic description of a serpent devouring its own tail, often used to signify the cycles of the universe and the process of rebirth—and it felt right at the time—but it felt positively wonderful in the afterglow of the gala. Fitting as can be really. Reborn, baptized in flame, smoke, and blood. Definitely several bruises and broken bones. Hopefully no corpses.

An odd sentiment for a demon of Los Diablos.

First I had considered ‘Mindflayer’, but it wasn’t exactly me, as menacing a choice as it would have been. ‘Demon’ would have been too cheesy, too on the nose. Can’t really remember what made me think of it, but it simply fit. Even now I savor it on my tongue. Ouroboros. That one news station somehow fucked it up into ‘aurabeesknees’, but they’re in the minority so I guess I can let them off the hook. May have to pay a visit at a later date, however.

Her and I text, call, all the things kids do nowadays. I hate that I can’t get enough. Of her laugh, her smile, the damn way she seductively wiggles her eyebrows to make me blush. Fuck, I hate admitting I blush too. I’m supposed to be a damn villain, not an anime protagonist. Speaking of which, I haven’t checked up on that lately. Like at all. Been too busy with villainy things. Anime can be villainous, right? We all know the ones. Not gonna name names though, that wouldn’t be fair.

Just skirting around my problems now though, as per usual. I keep meaning to bring up how I’ve changed (minus the specific details, of course), to say something, and yet every time I choke and bring out my classic comedic deflection bullshit instead. I’m almost entirely positive Ortega can see through that, she’s just gotten… more subtle and less brash. Well, ‘less brash’ isn’t a good way to put it. ‘More selective in her bullrushing’ is more apt. Selective dumbassery is still dumbassery. I should know, I started my own little dumbass enterprise, may as well make a sign to post around the city. I can see it now, ‘Dumbass Incorporated seeking henchs now, will provide free lunch, health, and dental’. That’ll really draw them in. You don’t see many villains offering dental anymore. Could be a real selling point for when I want to expand.

Truth be told, I’m a fan of the whole angels and demons trope we’re playing out. Sure, being a hero is nice and all, but being bad simply feels so good. Clichés? As many as you want. Monologues? Not recommended, but certainly entertaining. The utter sense of power? Fantastic. Maniacal cackling? My favorite part. No really, there’s nothing like a good laugh over the beaten forms of your enemies.

Beaten.

That’s right, I had beaten Julia… no, Charge, to a pulp. Herald first though, and then Lady Argent not quite as much. There’s a sense of guilt around the first two mentioned. Argent not so much. It felt good in the moment to finally feel an equal to that massive shadow that loomed over me, coddled me, treated me as glass. It felt so good to beat down that perfect picture of a hero with his own vanity in front of his adoring fans, the new guy that got everything I didn’t. Yet, I mangled the woman that I, well, I dare not use the word. Then after learning that Herald wasn’t just a fan of Sidestep, but that Sidestep was his idol? His hero (pardon the pun)? I didn’t think it would hit me this hard but Jesus-fucking-Christ. Just another person I let down. No. No, not me. Sidestep. Sidestep let him down. Ouroboros simply fought him. That’s all. No more, no less.

Of course, that feels like a lie, though at the same time, it doesn’t? It was difficult enough trying to distinguish Rysen from John sometimes—if Rysen even truly existed anymore—but now I have to differentiate three personas. Four if you included Sidestep, but they are firmly dead and gone. The exhibit, or rather lack thereof, is proof enough of that. I wonder how Ortega feels about it. Angry that someone defiled the memory of the former hero? Motivated for pay back? Does she not care? That would almost feel the worst, and I don’t know why, and I hate it.

God, I can hear her words now, ‘Don’t say you hate things so much, it’ll make you ugly on the inside’. Well guess-fucking-what, Julia. I’m ugly on the inside now. Or have I always been? Everything’s kind of a blur since Heartbreak, which is a long time. Seven years now, more like seven and a half. Yet it all felt like nothing. A bittersweet blob of memory, oddly enough. Incredibly bittersweet.

Should I ask her out on a date? She had promised one. Would that be going too far, however? Too close? Too prone to liability? I’m already in the position, what’s the threat of a little more tragedy in the already turbulent storm? Villains thrive on tragedy, right? Why am I asking so many questions? Too many already.

Fuck it, I’m gonna ask her. Not over the phone, that seems a tad disingenuous. When she asked me to the gala she asked me to meet in person, I should do the same. I’m sure as hell not going to the Rangers HQ. Don’t want to give myself away, let alone the fact that I’d feel like I was asking Steel if Ortega was home and if I could talk to her as if he were her dad. ‘Excuse me, Mr.Chen, is Julia home?’. As team leader was he the dad of the troop? Herald’s the baby and Argent the angsty teen, so definitely. Dear gods, Steel’s a father. Devils help us all. He certainly has the glare down.

I still miss him oddly enough. Not enough to give up my life of crime and don Sidestep’s mask once more. Hell no. I’m not even sure if it’s still in one piece. I’m not sure I want to know.

Would I do it for Ortega though? As much as I’d love to help, I can’t, I just can’t. Y’know, aside from being a villain now and all, I just… couldn’t. The thought of feeling that thin nanomesh over my form alone made me want to chuck my skin like a meatbag alias. I guess in my position it really is a meatbag alias that I can toss aside whenever I so wish. Rysen and John. I often wonder what would happen if I just decided to live in John full time. What would happen if Rysen were to die while I were inhabiting John’s body. Would I—my consciousness that is—die? Would I just be stuck in a head blind body for the rest of said body’s life? Become him in every sense of the word. I don’t see why not, not that I’m seriously considering it or anything. Though the thought of resigning to a life of underworld business alongside Doctor Mortum isn’t half bad. Not one bit.

Sometimes dating Mortum as John and trying to respark the old flame with Ortega as Rysen at the same time feels wrong, feels weird, but then I remember that Ortega was flirting with both John and Rysen at the same time, so I guess that totally excuses bad behavior. Definitely. I mean, she’s the master of flings, or at least was. It’s an interesting debate if nothing else. When I’m playing John, I’m still me and yet not. I’m john. John’s even developed his own mannerisms and behaviors, things Rysen would never do or wouldn’t even think of. I suppose this is like how superheroes have their hero and civilian identities. Both are just as real, right? And functionally they’re different people. This is way too much like way too many science-fiction pieces on the self and personal identity. I take ghost in the shell to an entirely other, meaty level

But boy oh boy, Los Dioblos, hold onto your pants; you’ve heard of the double identity, I now present the triple identity! Groundbreaking, truly. Worn down, tired and retired telepath. Villain representative who just wants to keep his boss happy, hoping to get his cake and eat it too. Then finally the villain himself, Ouroboros, mastermind behind the impossibly elaborate plans. Ok, no one knows Ouroboros is a he, but that’s a good thing. The longer they’re all guessing, the better. I thought balancing Rysen and John was difficult, but Rysen, John, and Ouroboros? Son of a bitch, I didn’t know one person could get this tired. Thank the universe for coffee. Lots of cream lots of sugar preferred, but I’m not too terribly picky in a pinch, I already buy the cheap shit as is. Cheap ol’ Rysen. Yep. That’s me.

I keep talking about all these different identities, and yet I keep coming back to Rysen. Rysen. Rysen. Fuckin’ Rysen. I’m beginning to grow tired of the name. After… everything, I fully expected to shove off that particular shell of a man when I made my debut. I was apparently wrong. He keeps coming after me like a damn ghost. Ortega coming back into the mix certainly didn’t help, any chance of falling off the map died with her recognizing me in the diner. Oh well, I suppose, no plan survives first contact. I should really be surprised it didn’t all snag sooner. A lot sooner. Oh, but what a snag. That jawline, those lips, and gods above, those biceps.

She gives excellent hugs. Yep. That’s definitely what I like about them. The only thing.

It was only recently that I realized a good memory I often draw upon—one of my few good memories—was that of Ortega kissing me after a particularly hard fight. She almost always initiated, and one time she even used her sparkles to shock my own lips ever so gently. I miss that sensation, funny enough, even if it was only the once. And, despite the fact that she always looked at me like I was fragile, she gave me this look like I was wanted. Like I belonged. Another thing I hate to admit, but I belong in her arms.

Fuck, what am I thinking? I shouldn’t allow myself to think like that, and yet such was the tendency of any good snag.

One other thing I hate to admit to myself—I love her. Son of a bitch, I always loved her, and I regret never telling her.

I don’t think I could work up the courage to tell her though. Not then, not now, not ever. Aside from not being able to afford it, I don’t have the guts. Attacking a gala with some of Los Diablos’ richest and finest? No problem, just give me some time to plan. Facing a woman significantly larger than me on a date, looking at me with a sweetness in her eye? Nah nah nah nah nah. No way. Can’t do it. I’m weak, absolutely weak. Positively weak.

I hate myself.

Julia doesn’t want me talking like that, she already made me promise to see a shrink, but she’s not here, inside my head walking down the street to get a cup of sweet, sweet addiction. She can’t dictate my self-talk. Except myself no one can. I doubt it will change any time soon, therapy or no. I hope the couch is comfy enough though. They always look comfy in the movies and on tv. Teary eyed tortured souls letting out their deepest secrets to some stranger taking notes on their entire life. Ew. Probably won’t tell them about the whole villain thing. I wouldn’t go at all and lie about it if I knew Julia would keep tabs on me and make sure I went. She’d probably drag me there herself. She always did care like that.

Oh well, she won’t leave me alone; but that’s a good thing, right? Because damn, what a kiss.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero #fallen hero oc #fallen hero mc #fallen hero sidestep #sidestep #rysen #rysen adri #ortega #julia ortega #fan fic #fallen hero fan fic

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deadpoet117 · 5 years

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Ohoho

It’s finally “done”! My Fallen Hero Sidestep fic! This take place between Rebirth and Retribution I haven’t played the alpha/beta pls don’t spoil or be angry. I might post it on my ao3 in the relative future because formatting is a bitch and I don’t feel like it.

Enjoy!

Julia had asked a fair question—what did that kiss mean?

An odd sentiment for a demon of Los Diablos.

Beaten.

I still miss him oddly enough. Not enough to give up my life of crime and don Sidestep’s mask once more. Hell no. I’m not even sure if it’s still in one piece. I’m not sure I want to know.

She gives excellent hugs. Yep. That’s definitely what I like about them. The only thing.

Fuck, what am I thinking? I shouldn’t allow myself to think like that, and yet such was the tendency of any good snag.

One other thing I hate to admit to myself—I love her. Son of a bitch, I always loved her, and I regret never telling her.

I hate myself.

Oh well, she won’t leave me alone; but that’s a good thing, right? Because damn, what a kiss.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero #fallen hero series #fallen hero mc #fallen hero sidestep #fallen hero fic #rysen #rysen adri #julia ortega #ortega #fuck do we love ortega #the villain ouroboros #aurabeesknees

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residentanchor · 6 years

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A Lesson In Practicality 1

Chapter 1 Summary: Four seemingly random strangers all answer an ad to move into an apartment in downtown. It didn't take more than a few months before they all realize they've been hiding a secret from one another... they each have a special ability. Now they're just trying to live their lives day by day as they figure their powers, and each other, out. Word Count: 2587

It was normal, considering they were all living in the city and short on cash. They all answered the ad in search of roommates. The apartment was conveniently located for all of them as if the universe had handpicked them the perfect place.

Maybe it had.

All in their mid-twenties, they had stumbled upon an apartment for rent. Central location, decently priced, but they needed extra roommates. That was how they all met. The day they moved in, Logan was the first there. Door unlocked and already moved into the smallest room tucked away in the back, Logan greeted Patton, the first to show up.

The third was Roman, entering introducing himself proudly. They went over designated areas and rooms, Roman needing extra space for some of the props he got to keep after plays he performed on the side and the others agreeing to share a little space in the decently sized living room as long as he kept his space.

Hours later, the sun had begun to set and pizza being ordered while the other two unpacked, Virgil showed up. He kept quiet and ducked into the last unclaimed room, second smallest only to Logan's. He hardly carried anything with him, all his materials fit in a backpack and duffle bag he had carried. They all sat quietly, introducing themselves while munching on pizza and garlic knots, getting to know their new roommates.

It had started with Patton a couple of weeks later.

Everyone was at work and Patton had been cleaning up the apartment. They all had day jobs that conflicted most of the time, but this particular afternoon left him alone in the slightly messy complex. Having nothing to do but wait for the others to get home for dinner, he spent part of his days to clean when he could and it was his turn. He never really minded, the others usually consolidated the messes to their rooms and he always had a knack for being able to clean rather quickly.

Which left Virgil confused as he watched two separate copies simultaneously cleaning the dishes in the kitchen and vacuuming the living room, looking back from one room to the other.

"Uhh... Pat?"

"Yeah, kiddo?" The Patton doing the dishes looked up at him and suddenly panicked, the one in the living room vacuuming not hearing over the noise. "Look, try not to freak out." He spoke, drying his hands on a towel and making his way over. "I can explain."

"Please... tell me you have a twin who has the same wardrobe as you."

"Not exactly."

"VIRGIL!" The other Patton shouted, turning off the vacuum. "You're... home early, how wonderful!" He made his way over and smiled, not hiding the panic from his face. "There's a perfectly understandable and not totally bizarre reason as to why there's two of me."

Virgil looked back and forth between the two, the one from doing the dishes shrugged as a response. "Uh... He's a burglar?" The second Patton shrugged, unsure.

The Patton from the kitchen put down the towel he dried his hands with. "That's not going to help, silly."

"Well I can't think of anything, can you?"

"I am you, so obviously not."

Virgil took a step back towards the front door, watching the man argue with his reflection.

"Maybe... could I?" The one who had come from the living room took a step towards the other and stretched out his hand to the one who had been doing dishes in the kitchen. The second one sighed and nodded, reaching out his hand.

In a flash of light, suddenly there was but one singular Patton in the room, and a very confused anxious Virgil. "What was that?!"

"Please don't tell the others but I... Can... duplicate myself?" Patton shrugged and smiled as if he hadn't just spouted nonsense.

Virgil rubbed his eyes with his hand, sighing and trying to convince his now growing headache to go away. "Patton... I had a rough day, can we talk about this later after I freak out?"

"Oh, s-sure! Let me know, okay?"

Virgil silently walked out of the room, leaving Patton truly alone this time. He looked panicked and looked down at his hands, before taking a deep breath.

The second time was Roman.

He worked at a themed restaurant playing a character, as he loved to tell people. Never actually saying what character and where, for most days led him into a mascot costume to attract customers, hiding away his beautiful face from the world, a true crime indeed.

On the side, he sang and performed at the local theater, but he needed money to pay the bills and he was too energetic and over the top for the normal desk job he used to have before he was laid off.

He wasn't home alone, but instead, he was in the living room trying to find a movie to put on in the background. Flipping through the channels was a fruitless endeavor and he was seriously considering steal-borrowing Virgil's DVD player and just putting something on himself.

"I thought the batteries were dead in that thing." Roman looked at Patton, who stood in the doorway with a single plastic bag in his hand. "I ran to the store to get batteries for it and everything!"

"Oh!" Roman looked down at the remote and smirked. "Uh. It started working suddenly?"

"That's strange." Patton walked into the living room and dug a hand into his pocket. "I thought I took the batteries with me to make sure I got the right ones." He pulled out two AAA batteries from his pocket and showed his roommate.

Roman sat up straight and popped open the back on the remote. It was empty. "AH! Uh, it seems... Our remote is haunted, Patton!" Roman dropped the remote on the couch and stood up backing away, feigning terror.

"That doesn't seem remotely possible!" Patton walked to the couch and picked up the remote. "Well, look at that!" He turned and smiled at Roman. "How'd that happen, you think?"

"What's going on?" Virgil walked into the room, wearily eyeing Patton.

"The apartment is haunted!"

Virgil huffed at Roman's statement. "They better start paying rent then." With that, he turned and walked out of the room.

"Come to think of it, Roman." Patton reached into the bag and removed the batteries. "Aren't you always shocking us with static? Maybe that's how it worked."

"Wha- me? No, must be my... positively charged personality! Nothing else!"

"Well unless you can generate electricity-" Patton looked at the slightly panicking man, a look of realization washing over his face. "Can... Roman, can you make electricity?"

Roman forced a laugh, thankful for his acting lessons. "Nonsense, Patton! That's not possible! You've been reading too many silly fiction novels at the library!"

"Your phone never loses a charge."

"It has a good battery!"

"You were drying your hair last week and I thought the hair dryer wasn't even plugged into the wall."

"Now that's not true! It was simply--!" Roman looked around panicked, thinking of an excuse. "It has a battery too, of course!"

"Roman, it's okay." Patton put down the remote, walking towards his roommate, holding his hands up carefully. "I'm not scared okay? Would it make you feel better if I told you a secret myself?"

"No offense, Patton." Roman stood up tall, dropping his act. "What secret could possibly be bigger than my static charm?"

"Aww, you admitted it!" Patton clapped, nearly jumping up and down. "And you made a pun out of it!"

"I admitted nothing!" Roman spun around and marched to his room, leaving a smirking Patton to replace the batteries, thinking about his dramatic roommate, and the two seemingly normal ones... Unless...

Then there was Virgil.

"Patton. Can we... talk?"

Virgil had heard Roman and Patton the day before, and Roman had shut himself in his room afterward. Virgil's mind started racing, he and Patton had never gotten around to their discussion a few days earlier, about how Patton wasn't super fast and good at cleaning, but could actually make physical duplicates of himself. Patton nodded and sat on the couch, motioning for Virgil to sit.

He shuffled his feet before sitting on the far side of the couch, curling in on himself.

"I scared you, huh?" Patton spoke softly and carefully. "The other day. I didn't mean to, that's why I keep it secret."

"You were afraid of scaring us because it's weird," Virgil spoke, looking down at his sleeves as he pulled on them over his hands. "You don't know why or how but you can do this... thing. And you're too scared to tell anyone."

"You've thought about this a lot, huh?"

"Patton, I..." Virgil turned and looked at the man staring at him worriedly. "I heard you talking to Roman." He looked down again. "I didn't mean to, but... It seems like he has this thing he can do too."

Silence fell over the room. The conversation with Roman wasn't solid proof, but Patton recognized the fear in Roman's face from one he felt just days ago. "Our family is a little weird, huh?"

"I wonder if Logan can do something," Virgil whispered just loud enough for someone to hear. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I mean, it would be weird that all of us somehow ended up in the same apartment and he was the only one who couldn't..." The words caught in his throat and he trailed off, but it was enough of a hint. He looked up and saw Patton's face bright with shock. Slowly, a smile spread across his face and Virgil couldn't help but smile back, just a little.

Suddenly Patton shot up with a gasp. "HOUSE MEETING! Quick, everyone! Living room now! We're having a house meeting!"

"We do not live in a house, Patton." Logan walked in from his room, a book in his hands that still held his attention. "Whatever it is, can it not wait for dinner?"

"Not this, no way. ROMAN!" Patton ran down the hallway, shouting. "You don't have a ghost of a chance of missing this, get out here!" Virgil smirked, understanding the comment Roman made the day before.

"I don't know how he made a dad joke, but I am still upset none the less." Logan walked forward and sat on the couch where Patton had just gotten up from, never lowering the book.

"I'm coming, no need to shove!" Ignoring Roman's protests, Patton had shoved him on the couch between the other two and stood on the other side of the coffee table with his hands on his hips proudly. "What's gotten you all excited, huh?" Roman fixed his hair as if being bossed around by Patton had ruined it.

"I have some shocking news to share!" Roman groaned and Virgil hid his smirk in his hand, resting his elbow on the couch.

"Is this about our so-called 'superpowers' we seem to possess?"

"I think we all have--" All eyes shot to Logan, who flipped a page in his book and continued reading. "Wha-when... How did you find out?" Patton was more confused and shocked than anything.

"Observation, recognizing aspects and mannerisms I have with ones I've seen in you." He turned his head to read the next page.

"Can you read minds?" Roman whispered.

"I believe I have what is called Psychokinesis but yes, I can also read minds."

"That's so cool, Logan!" Patton practically jumped up and down where he stood. "Wowie, we all have powers and we all share the same apartment! What are the odds? I mean, I guess--"

"Patton, I know where you're going with that sentence, please just--"

"--the odds are infinitesimal?"

"You are the bane of my sanity." Logan finally puts the book down and took off his glasses to rub his eyes.

"Wait, all of us have some power?" Roman suddenly stood up. "Here I thought I was the misunderstood outcast, but we've turned this apartment building into a secret hideout!" Roman's dismayed look quickly turned back to his bright and cheerful, yet overdramatic personality.

"Do you know what all of us can do, bookworm?" Virgil spoke from his end of the couch, muttering into his sleeve.

Logan had replaced his glasses back on his face, adjusting them unnecessarily. "Yes, I do. You and Patton have just discovered Roman's attunement to electricity, based on the shouts I heard yesterday."

"How do you know that?" Roman looked down with a slight sneer. "You read our minds about that, too?"

"No, I simply connected the dots. Patton told me he went to get batteries for the remote and I heard you flipping channels, then your incessant yelling leads me to believe you finally figured it out."

"What about me?" Virgil spoke, and uncurled himself, leaning forward to look at Logan. "You have me figured out yet?"

Logan sighed and closed his book. "Look, when I use my powers, there's this..." He waved his hand around as he decided on the word he was looking for. "A luminous shine if you will. From-"

"Your eyes glow! Like Rudolph's nose!" Patton giggled at the realization.

"That... is accurate, I suppose."

Roman turned and leaned closer to Logan, a grin growing on his face. "Care to demonstrate, Cyclops? Is that why you wear glasses?"

"I do not use my powers, you needn't worry." He picked up his book and resumed where he had left off. "No need to do something I can do myself, after all."

"Aww, why wouldn't you want to use your psy-super... I don't remember what you said." Patton admitted with a shrug.

"Psychokinesis. He can move things without touching them." Roman and Patton turned towards Virgil, who looked away blushing. "I read comic books, okay?"

"Well, what about you, storm drain? What power do you have? Mind sharing with the class?"

Patton perked up. "No, mind sharing is what Logan does!"

Virgil smirked, looking up at Roman, but made to attempt to move. "Want to take a guess?"

"Oh! Is it your super smile? Oh, no your shining personality!" Roman flashed a big smile towards the darker man on the couch. "I get it right?"

Virgil sighed and leaned back on the couch. "For someone whose powers are pretty bright, you are pretty lacking." Ignoring the protest from Roman, Virgil looked back down at his hands. "I can stop and start time, but I can move around when I do."

"Is that why you always beat me to the last slice of pizza?" Patton spoke, jokingly.

"Don't have to race you if I can come up behind you and take it without you knowing."

"That is unfair, you owe me so many slices of pizza!" Roman stood up staring down the darker side, sneering at the grin that shone back at him.

"Hey, sometimes I let Patton have them."

"Aww, Virge, that's so sweet!"

Logan looked down and flipped the page in his book, listening to his roommates argue on. This time, however, playful banter filled the living room and he couldn't help but smirk. Chapter 2>>

#sanders sides #sander sides au #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sander sides #superpower au #slice of life au #practicality fic

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takenpeace · 5 years

Text

u wanna know what jesus meant to carl? okay, here goes. beginning of relationship to present of the date this is sent in here we go.

i literally asked for an essay on character thoughts on what jesus meant to them and Leafy delivered.

~!!!~

When Carl met Jesus, he couldn’t trust anyone. He had no self confidence left at all and wouldn’t even go to Hilltop with the group for their first time there. When everyone came back, he became aware the man could be trusted and that he really was about to help them grow into more communities and get involved in trade. This one, single man was willing to trust strangers who had previously “looked like trouble” to him. They needed this. They had just lost a chunk of Alexandrians not long ago from the walkers that had gotten into the place, and if they ever dealt with that again, they’d need help. He was told what Jesus could do, and he admired that kind of strength of compassion together, because it was a pair of traits Carl always struggled to keep going at the same time.

The next time he really got involved with Jesus ended up very important for Carl. It was just a sneak mission into the Sanctuary, but Jesus saw him and just smiled at him, more amused that Carl showed up too than wanting him out of there because he wasn’t trustworthy. Jesus immediately seemed to have placed his trust in Carl and treated him like an equal. Jesus, treating a teenager like an equal! He was capable of a lot, and he was confident. Having someone like that work like partners in crime with Carl gave Carl confidence he’d been missing since he woke up without his eye. It was what helped him complete making his decision to go alone to the Sanctuary and not sneak out like Jesus. He fully decided to go alone when he had another option in front of him now. He didn’t go there planning to fail the way he did, but in the long run he eventually found it better that they had split up like that. If it had been Jesus in Carl’s place, he might have been killed immediately. Carl though? Carl was a good distraction for Negan’s eyes to be far away from Jesus. Carl already felt like they were working in tandem despite that he had botched his own mission. But he was happy, too. He hadn’t botched Jesus’ mission. In the end, that may have been the only thing that saved Daryl. Sherry may have been the one to get Daryl out, but Jesus brought him back safely and seeing them walk over to the group at Hilltop once again gave Carl strength he worried he’d lost at his visit to the Sanctuary.

By the time they were ready to fight, Carl realized just how much power Jesus had brought to their group. He wasn’t from Alexandria but he did all this for them. Carl admired him, wanted to get to know him, and was grateful he’d let the man into his life. He’d helped save one of the most important people in Carl’s life no less, and Carl would have been completely destroyed if he had lost Daryl.

During their trip on the road, Carl realized something that was a bit strange to him. He was just sitting there in the car next to Jesus, totally forgetting how they’d met and instinctively counting him among his own. He was comfortable. Felt safe. Few people, ever in Carl’s life, had gained trust so fast from him - forget after Carl had lost the will to trust people after what happened with Ron. It was like Jesus had been there since the prison with how naturally he could talk with him.

There’s some time between 7x08 and the actual war, so during that time I’ve incorporated the idea that Carl had gone to Hilltop a few times to help with the war preparations. In that time he got to know a few of the people there and also got to see Jesus more often. Carl would eventually be there helping plan the attack, knowing that even if Alexandria fell, they would have backup. Whenever Carl had questions, he would go to Jesus. Why? Because Jesus’ advice was actually the most important advice to Carl. He was an experienced fighter but also had such a soft heart, and Carl saw himself in that outlook. It was just something he never seemed to achieve, so he wanted to know whatever he could from someone who had gotten that far.

It was a lot of respect. Admiration. Carl could recognize the strength in feeding one’s enemies. Keeping them alive because murder just made them all the same as their enemies. Jesus was different. He held fast to what he believed. Rick had slipped so many times on that. It was a lesson for Carl. Jesus, through all that, could still smile and crack jokes. Could become enemies with friends like Morgan against his will and still try to help those friends. Never holding hateful, awful grudges Carl could never seem to let go.

After the war, Carl visited Hilltop pretty often as the communities started to grow closer. By then he’d already felt like Jesus was family. He eventually started to watch Jesus when he had to fight, amazed by his physical skills and wanting more to watch him than learn him. The moves stuck in his mind though, and Jesus by now was a friend, was family, and was an accidental mentor to Carl just for being the person he’d been. Everything Rick and Carl tried to be but couldn’t totally be.

He loved listening to Jesus joking around or just having a fun conversation. It made the world feel a little more normal. Things were a little more relaxing again. Even though there was animosity between Maggie and Rick and Michonne, Carl just wanted to let that be. He didn’t want to end up with a rift between him and Jesus. Eventually Carl started referring to him as the “cool ninja uncle” and it just stuck.

He didn’t always agree with Jesus in the time he knew him, but he always completely respected his opinions and thoughts. Always wanted him to be a part of things to give his two cents, because at the end of the day those words would stick with Carl more than anyone’s. He started to realize Jesus was the best kind of person there could be in such a shitty world with people who had no heart left in them. The only other person Carl knew like that was Aaron. Now he knew two, and he loved them both as family members. Sometimes Carl would just laugh about the day he found the man sitting on his steps and saying “Hi. I’m Jesus”.

Within the six year span of time that passed after they’d lost Rick, Carl had been such a mess for about two years until Daryl had finally gotten him back on his feet. Still, in those two years, Carl would visit Hilltop, and Jesus’ smile and laughter was like therapy for Carl. Even now he couldn’t believe such a wonderful person was still around. Jesus was just someone who he loved to pass the time with now. Within those six years, Carl had simply completely forgotten what life was like without him. Never wanted to remember. He was just so happy to have this man in his life. It felt like Carl, Daryl, Aaron and Jesus, and of course their dog companion, had become a little family that was simply totally uninvolved in all the mess surrounding the communities.

Plain and simple, he loved Jesus. He was one of his best friends. He was his uncle. He was his family. He was the kind of guy Carl would love to stay up late nights with playing goofy games with, and even more when Aaron and Daryl were there to join them. Carl would laugh so much when Jesus was around. He just needed him in his life. It was just so natural.

Jesus may not be exactly what Daryl is to Carl, and he may not be what Rick is to Carl, but he’s close - and losing Jesus would just break Carl. When Jesus is stabbed, in verses where he survives, all Carl can think about is starting a war. Preventing it from ever happening again. He wants these enemies dead. In verses where Jesus is no longer with them, Carl will close himself off to those who are not counted among his family already. He’ll hate. He’ll want revenge. He’ll want them all dead. Not because they were all responsible. Because he’s decided if the world can see it fit to take away one of the only remaining purest lights of the world left, then bloodshed is hardly off the table with these enemies and if they can kill this man, they would kill anyone. Taking away one of the sweetest people left in the world is too much for Carl. They’d lost people like that already, but none of them were on the level Jesus was. It’s just finally the breaking point for Carl, and a point he’ll need to be saved from, because it’s a loss Carl will only know how to cope with with blood. Even in verses where Jesus survives, the idea is the same: he wants them dead and gone, but he has slightly more control over himself.

TL;DR: carl loves cool ninja uncle jesus and he’s one of his best friends and nothing can mend taking away one of the last best people in the world or even attempting to, because carl truly sees jesus as a savior no pun intended of their current world. if you fuck with jesus and carl finds out, taking a helicopter to another continent couldn’t save you.

#I'm not okay #wow #[ save ]#shootfortherightreasons #cut cause its long af #submission

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lovehotelreservation · 7 years

Text

Roughin’ It

Summary: While camping out with Noctis and his friends was considerably more upscale than one would experience, you were still roughing it in different ways.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Reader/Chocobros (Noctis, Prompto, Gladiolus, Ignis)

AT LONG LAST

I FINALLY WAS ABLE TO WORK ON LEWDS WITH ALL OF THE CHOCOBROS

Over the course of playing and finishing FFXV, I’ve fallen for each of our Tetsuya Nomura-designed quartet, and have been looking forward to writing for them all!

^o^ And what better time to finally post this one-shot than on my birthday~?

That said, I do sincerely hope you all enjoy!

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

"Iggyyy, when are we gonna eat?"

However muffled it was, the sound of quick yet precise whisking followed, along with the cool, focused response of, "After I marinate the meat, Prompto--something that can't be done promptly."

There was a loud, childish whine--and a "Really, dude?"--that followed, and then the low rumble of Gladiolus's amused laughter. Though, the noise had nothing on the furious grumbling of your stomach--despite its volume however, you still weren't surprised that Noctis had yet to stir from his nap as he rested in the tent you were currently situated in.

You did not mind waiting for the night's meal to be prepared; never would you be so demanding of Ignis, especially since he did his best to make do with what was on hand. However, with how long of a day it had been--especially while chasing down hunting marks on the outskirts of Lestallum--you were much too hungry to sit around and wait for whatever culinary endeavor that Ignis was determined to see through.

It was a good thing that you stocked up on your personal stash of snacks before leaving town--particularly a chocolate bar that you had been craving for the past couple of weeks.

Though, by rule amongst the five of you, those who drove in the Regalia together, ate together--in that no one was supposed to eat ahead of dinner, else risk being scolded by Ignis.

An honorable code, certainly. But honor did not sate the hunger that was aggravating you to no end.

With every intention of eating a little snack to curb your hunger, you snuck off to the tent after helping with setting up camp. Noctis was curled up slightly beside you while he napped, Ignis was at work preparing dinner, and Prompto was snapping pictures of Gladiolus dragging over the beast that would serve as your protein for the night's meal. Though everyone seemed to be distracted with their own endeavors, you still made sure to be elusive while making your way over to the tent.

If you wandered off on your own--snack-stuffed backpack on your person--it would look too suspicious. Above all, while you wanted to nibble on something, you wanted to do so without catching the attention of the likes of Prompto and Gladiolus.

Because they would eat your treats.

While making direct eye contact with you and giving you thanks for feeding them.

As they always did.

You could still hear the rumblings of the three outside the tent. With how hot it was, you wondered how they could stand to have the energy to maintain their back and forth. While the tent was considerably cooler than outside, there was still heat that was encased, leaving you feeling much too warm. Still, it wasn’t unusual for you or the others to remove unnecessary layers on hot days—namely, Gladiolus and his affinity for carrying on shirtless, not that his usual shirt covered much anyway—so you saw no harm in stripping down to just a long, loose fitting tanktop, which bared your chest generously.

Having found slight relief in being freed from your attire, you reached into your bag to pull out your highly prized chocolate bar to take a bite. In your hungry haste, however, you had the bar near your mouth as you tore off the wrapper to take a bite, only for a dollop or two to drip right down onto your chest. While understandably confused at first, you quickly realized that this was something to be expected, weather and all. Though, this did make it clear that your chocolate bar was more like cream in a rectangular shape, one that became floppy and limp as you held it in your hand.

Even with the huff you released, you didn't complain. Chocolate was chocolate after all.

While you thought of wiping away the drips on your chest, you thought it would be better to attend to the melting mess that was your treat first--after all, attend to the source so you wouldn't make even more of a mess.

It really was a good thing that Noctis was fast asleep. The thought of him waking up to you hurriedly trying to lick your fingers clean while showing off an ample amount of skin covered in melted chocolate was a flustering one.

What wasn't a good thing however was the tent flap almost being torn open as the sing-song chirp of your name and "Check out this cool pic I took of you today!" quickly followed.

Usually it was you who walked in on Prompto in awkward, sometimes compromising situations.

But now, this was something you weren't going to be living down anytime soon.

His gorgeous blue eyes went almost comically wide, freckled cheeks becoming dusted with rouge as his pink lips parted in dramatic shock, his camera nearly dropping in surprise.

Prompto certainly wasn't expecting this sight, much like you weren't expecting to see him so soon.

His gawking went on a moment longer, and then he licked his lips.

Your vision was briefly obscured by the white of a camera flash. When the light dissipated, you were left with the sight of a grinning Prompto.

He proceeded to shut one eye, his tongue peeking out from his lips as he thoroughly inspected the picture he just took you.

"Actually I take that back. This picture's much cooler--or should I say..."

You sucked in a sharp breath, bracing yourself for what you knew he was about to say.

"...hotter?"

There was a moment when annoyance was clearly evident on your face, one that he didn't get to fathom completely as you, without another thought, proceeded to lunge right for him to atone for his crimes of being a playful, perverted, pun-making photographer.

4 Ps.

Trouble tended to show itself in fours for you.

Which on that note, was how you--amidst the struggle of trying to rip Prompto's camera from him—wound up straddling his squirming hips while he fended you off, that stupid grin still plastered on his lips.

No, honestly, how was Noctis napping through all this?

"Someone's being a little feisty this afternoon~" Prompto hummed amusedly, even as red heat flooded across his cheeks from the delightful sensation of your hips pressing down against his. "And just being so unable to keep your hands off me--are ya trying to tell me something, babe?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to tell you to delete the picture, Prompto," you huffed while struggling to keep him still while reaching forward just enough to where his outstretched arms were holding his camera away from your hands. Doing so resulted in your loose top dangling down from your body.

For a moment, Prompto was left in awe at catching a glimpse of your bared nipples, a sight made even more appetizing--literally speaking--when he saw the chocolate that was still on your skin, having melted and dripped down even further from your body heat. With Iggy still cooking and you above him in this perfect position, he was looking to have his hunger sated immediately.

There was an opening in this situation and he was ready to say "hi."

"In that case..." Prompto trailed off, waiting until you were looking down at him once more before he continued to speak, his grin feigning innocence. "Just let me have a little lick and I'll be good--"

You had a feeling it would come down to this.

"--because if Iggy were to find out you were snacking before dinner, that'd be bad~"

As you knew that would be dangled right over your head.

On one hand, you knew that he--as much of a playful goofball he was--would honor his word should you comply. In another regard, you were just annoyed that you were caught off-guard to have landed in a situation like this in the first place.

Even if this wasn't the first time that you wound up with Prompto and/or any of the other guys in this manner.

Prompto, for all his clumsiness, was still capable of adhering to his duties as Crownsguard. That was, if the mission called for it, there was nothing that could get in the way of his determination to see that whatever objective was successful.

Especially if that objective meant he could either keep a risque photo of you, or get to run his tongue all over your breasts.

And from what he mentioned, being scolded by Ignis--especially if you were to be receiving the reprimand--was the last thing you or your ass needed right now.

You sucked in your teeth briefly before you released a huff. Though your eyes were quick to then narrow, you mumbled in defeat, "...Just make it quick."

For someone who could lament for hours when someone picked up his camera with even the slightest lack of care, he sure was quick to toss the device to the furthest part of the tent, which admittedly, was where the pile of blankets were still neatly folded and stacked upon one another. But that did not match the speed of him sitting up, thereby positioning you on his lap before you heard the sing-song chime of "Thank you for the snack~!" as his mouth descended onto your chest, his arms wrapping around your torso.

This in no way was a 'little lick'. He was taking his sweet time kissing around your décolletage before actually bothering to lick away at the decadence. You shuddered as the warmth of his mouth descended on your skin, his lips closing together to suck for a few moments before his wet tongue lapped against the slowly reddening surface. Caught between ticklish and pleasurable sensations, you only found yourself wanting more, especially with his mouth just inches away from your breasts.

You were about to draw his head closer when he drew away once he deemed your skin clean, emphasizing this with a lick of his lips and a grin on his face. "All done~! And it was just as tasty as I thought!" He chirped sweetly before he closed the gap between you both once more to kiss your cheek. Right as he was about to pull back once more, he paused with curiosity when you suddenly reached for the front flap of his black jacket. "Hm? What's up?"

Your gaze was focused on his neck rather than his eyes. "Actually Prompto...if you want...you can..."

"I caaan...?"

The long, drawn out innocent inflection. At last, you lifted your eyes towards his face.

Damn it, that grin was back.

On that regard though, there was no return to peacefully snacking away at this point, your chocolate bar long forgotten.

"You can...keep going--"

Your hands moved to weave through his styled, blonde hair while his reached for and grabbed at your breasts, all after he drew his mouth away to quickly remove his fingerless gloves. Feeling the full warmth of his palms as the pressed against and kneaded your supple flesh left you shuddering in his confines, a jolt of pleasure sending a familiar slickness to gather between your thighs. You found yourself grinding down against his lap, presented with the enticing sensation of his cock becoming stiff and erect against his black jeans, of which he made evident even further by lifting his hips up to meet yours.

Prompto may have his mouth full now, but you were certain that you would be next once he was through--.

"...Way to screw with my sleep cycle..."

You nearly jumped off of Prompto's lap, were it not for his arms weighing you down--like he'd let his favorite treat slip away him. His mouth slipped away from your breasts, however, as you both turned to face the other side of the tent. Lips forming yet another pout, Prompto whined, "Man, way to kill the mood, Noct."

"...You two are noisy." Noctis grumbled lowly, seeming to still be drowsy as he sat up, running a hand through his hair—messier than usual due to sleep.

You froze, wondering if this was going to be the abrupt end to your little romp. However, Noctis seemed to clarify his intention as he crawled over to where you and Prompto were, his hand reaching over to grasp your chin. His apparent tiredness was gone, a glint instead in his eye as he murmured, "You especially" before leaning forward to capture your mouth in a kiss.

Another helping and you weren't even finished with the first course.

Not that you were complaining, especially when Noctis brushed away one of Prompto's hands in favor of grabbing your breasts.

Usually an action done by either Noctis or Prompto--or Gladiolus--when you were caught between them, it was means to incite competition over who was the most dominant, over who got to control the flow of things. You were surprised that the blonde had nothing to do or say in reaction, and you assumed that he was simply too worked up to really care, thereby okay with Noctis doing as he pleased.

Unexpectedly, however, you suddenly found yourself pressed and laid down on your back. Prompto hovered over you with a toothy grin on his lips as his hands slipped beneath the hem of your top to yank at your panties, which, once they were slipped past your ankles, were flung over to Noctis. Brushing his blonde hair back, he sent his friend a smug, triumphant smirk before humming out "Me first~!" all while keeping your thighs wide open and welcoming for him to plant his head in-between.

The "tch...!" that Noctis let out between gritted teeth was masked by your cry of Prompto’s name. His mouth, having been greeted by the glorious slickness of your center, wasted no time to slurp and savor your taste. Ecstatically, the flat of his tongue lapped against your core, switching between sucking on your clit with precision and technique that you thought to have been mastered by mostly Ignis. Though, with an undisclosed competition currently between him and Noctis, you weren't surprised--but mostly pleased--that he was going all out on you. This was affirmed by him peeking up at you, the lust in his blue eyes gauging your reactions, looking utterly satisfied as he watched you writhe beneath his tongue.

In return, you thanked him with squirming hips and quivering moans, his name uttered shakily from your lips.

Which were then muffled by Noctis as he--now situated by your side--bent down to claim your lips for himself. Firm, hungry kisses kept you from being too noisy. Driven by jealousy and having his nap interrupted, you expected for the prince to not handle you as delicately as per usual--though certainly would be happy to oblige otherwise if you begged nicely. He even went as far to--when he eventually left you breathless from his kiss and drew back--kiss over and nip where Prompto had marked you earlier, all while leaving more of his own impressions on your skin.

You were not against this, loving how one of his hands finally yanked off your top at long last before grabbing and kneading your breasts, fingers rolling and pinching your stiff nipples. Slightly calloused fingers pressed against your stomach, slipping down to circle around your clit all the while Prompto was busy prodding your center with the tip of his tongue.

You were enamored by the two, their cooperation versus their competition. Pleasure spread through you as much as heat did, left encased and confined between the prince and his friend. They left you overwhelmed yet needy for more, especially as you knew that Noctis and Prompto would want you to relieve the tents that had been protruding and--

--been pulled open?

"Heh, thought you kids were rough-housing in here."

A rush of cool air entered the tent, which made you realize that evening was settling in. Though, any sense of chilled relief was replaced by the body heat emanating from Gladiolus's thick, muscled frame as he entered the tent, purposefully leaving the entrance flap open.

Though Noctis and Prompto drew their mouths back away from you, immediately the two were hovering and crowding around you possessively--a new, formidable challenger just entered the ring.

Surveying the state of the three of you, Gladiolus's eyes eventually settled on you and you alone. While not the first time that you were under the intensity of his gentle yet sultry gaze, you still felt delightfully helpless beneath his stare. He was ogling you, eyeing the red imprints made on and around your breasts, and the glistening slickness of your core.

No need to dawdle any longer.

"Did these two boys make you cum even once, sweetheart?" Gladiolus questioned teasingly as he crouched down to the side opposite of Noctis.

Looking into his eyes, you knew that what he had in store for you wouldn't be in any sort of delay. Breathlessly, you remarked, "Almost..."

He licked his lips.

That was all he needed to hear.

Grinning from ear to ear, his gaze moved towards Noctis and Prompto as he calmly demanded, "...Step aside, kids."

"Nu-uh Gladio!" Prompto exclaimed childishly while hugging around your thighs. "I licked here first, therefore I claim ownership!"

Gladiolus was unfazed.

Prompto snapped his head towards Noctis, reaching over to nudge his side, which only earned his hand getting smacked away. "Pluuuuus, plus, plus Noct, didn't your dad say that everything that the light touches was yours?"

Incredulous didn't even begin to describe the look on Noctis's face. "...Prompto, are you fucking talking about The Lion-- Shit!"

It wasn't much issue for Gladiolus to push the two out of the picture--mere scenery to the shining landmark that was you.

Compared to everyone else, he was certainly the most underdressed. No layers of royal attire, no casual butler costume, no outfit ripped out from an Insomnia street fashion blog. Just that shirt that always revealed his magnificent chest and those leather pants.

And by now, you were accustomed to his preference for going commando.

Seeing him fully naked--all muscle while serving as a magnificent canvas for his gorgeous tattoos--was always a marvel, a sight that left your jaw slack while your mouth watered, especially when your eyes fell to between his legs.

There was a nickname that Gladiolus referred to himself with pride: Grandfather Clock.

In that, not only was he--in his words--"Daddy to that sweet ass of yours, sweetheart"--but when he, naked in all of his statuesque, bulking glory, approached the bed, your eyes tended to be hypnotized by the pendulum-like swing of his gloriously long, thick--

"You can treat yourself next time, sweetie. For now, just leave this to me as I remind you how a good fuck's really done."

The deep rumble of his chuckle made you snap out of your trance. Without you even realizing it, you had lifted yourself up from your place on the floor to kneel before him, your grabby hands and parted mouth eager to touch and please his cock.

"It's not the size of the wave, it's the motion of the ocean, you show-off!" You heard Prompto call from behind Gladiolus--even if the likes of he, Noctis, or Ignis were by no means small.

"Whatever makes you and aqua lad over there feel better, squirt," Gladiolus snickered, not paying them any mind, especially while you looked so hungry for his touch. Big hands cupped your cheeks, cradling them against rough palms before you were indulged with a long, heated kiss. Light bites to your bottom lip, tongue probing into your mouth to have simply everything of you.

Dazed, you were more than relaxed and at ease once he pulled away, registering only his hands gently laying you down on your back while spreading your legs apart. The warmth of his thick fingers running against your body heightened your anticipation, your need, your demand to be filled at this instant, especially with how much your arousal had been piqued by Noctis's and Prompto's doing.

You were ready to have Gladiolus prepare to push his cock inside you when you felt the tip of his index finger prod and run over your ass. As opposed to your slick core, it was abundantly clear that neither of the two went so far as much as to even tease it.

"Aww, did Prompt ignore that cute little spot of yours? For shame," Gladiolus hummed, his appalled feelings feigned, given by how he was eager to make the first claim for tonight. "Especially when I know how much you love being stuffed full of my cock there. Isn't that right, sweetie? You're so adorable when you beg for me to fuck your ass. How's that sound now, huh? I'll be sure to scold those two punks for not being thorough with you."

"Please Gladio, anything. Whatever you wanna give me, I'll take. I don't think I can wait any longer," you panted while left in a flustered, begging ramble, lifting up your hips as invitation for him to do as he pleased.

Smirking widely with satisfaction, he leaned down to offer you another smoldering kiss. "And who am I to say no to such a precious request?"

"...Tch, says the guy who's always giving me shit for taking on quests."

"Shut up, Noct."

It didn't take much for him to rifle through Ignis's--aka the responsible one’s--belongings to retrieve a bottle of lube. After spreading a generous amount onto his fingers, he was back to teasing and circling around your ass, his fingertips dipping in while goading you with "You sure you can handle me again, sweetie?" and "You know once I'm inside you, I ain't holding back." This all continued even as he was teasing you with three fingers easing in and out of you at a smooth, fluid pace, his lips either on yours or on your breasts longingly as prepared you for what was to come.

From around him, you could make out Prompto and Noctis, the former nearly undressed while the latter had just tugged down his boxers, the both of them stroking their cocks in anticipation for their turn. They watched you shudder and quiver against Gladiolus's hand, your lips open in sweet pleas for someone--anyone--to fuck you already.

"Ooo, is someone being impatient?" Gladiolus remarked with a click of his tongue, his arrogance having yet to leave his face. Still, he chuckled and kissed your forehead while easing his fingers out of you. "We'll have to address that another time, because for now..."

You savored the sight of his hand languidly coating his thick, erect cock with lube. By now you had been strung along far enough, lead closer and closer to your peak only to take a step back then hoisted forward.

Much like how Gladiolus--once he positioned himself flat on his back--hoisted you over his hips with one hand while the other grasped the base of his shaft. Looking ahead, you could see Noctis and Prompto continuing to touch themselves, their pace quickening as they watched you slowly sink down and impale yourself onto his cock. The noticeable shudder, the deep moan you released as he was sheathed fully in your ass: it was hard to not feel utterly jealous of Gladiolus at this time.

"That's it, sweetheart. Take it all in," Gladiolus hissed, his eyes clenching shut as he indulged in your tightness. Though undisclosed, he was just as eager to claim you in this way, given the last time you were at the mercy to the four, you were sandwiched between Prompto and Ignis, between relentless, eager teasing and all-knowing precision, with only your mouth and hands free to be used by him and Noctis. Not to say he'd ever resist the chance to fuck your mouth, simply that he loved feeling you tremble and squeeze around his cock while he had his way with you.

One hand snaked around to cup your breasts before he had you lay down upon his chest. You felt his lips kiss your bare shoulders and the back of your neck, your skin tickled by the bristles of his facial hair. The hand on your breast moved down to join where the other was grabbing the underside of your thighs, using both to spread your legs wide apart.

You expected hoped he would start fucking you without any restraint at last, but what he did next instead was far much better.

"Alright then, who's up next?" Gladiolus queried smugly while finding much pleasure in squeezing and groping your soft flesh.

Noctis made the first move while Prompto was distracted with retrieving his camera from where he had thrown it, quickly making his way over to you were, claiming the spot above you with satisfaction evident in his eyes. "Not Prompto, that's for goddamn sure."

"You guys are a bunch of cheaters!" Prompto whined, camera in hand. His precious pout formed, his eyes becoming like that of a sad puppy. "I was here first after all. None of this would've started if it wasn't for me!"

"You can say that agai-- again!" Whatever haughty quip you had to say was interrupted by Noctis wasting not a second more to finally push his cock deep into your dripping center. The low groan he let out as your wet heat wrapped around him so snug made you shiver, as did having both him and Gladiolus inside you at the same time.

The two locked eyes with one another over your shoulder, and from how Noctis's eyes narrowed, you already knew that the look he received was one of challenge. Especially since both steadily began to thrust their cocks in and out of you--Gladiolus seeking to pierce deeply and stretch as wide as he could, Noctis wanting to make you squeal from him utterly ravaging your core with the ferociousness of his rhythm.

Here you could say that you were as full as can be, however...

You felt a smooth wetness poke against your cheek. Seeing the thick crown of blonde hair, you responded by happily opening your mouth, at last indulging in the treat that you anticipated from Prompto earlier. Offering you a groan and a sigh of pure content, he brought his hand over to your other cheek, stroking it fondly, all the while grinning when he saw and felt the head of his cock push against it.

"Take your time, okay cutie? When either Gladio or Noct are done, I'm stuffing you full next~!"

"Ahem."

You knew Gladiolus left the entrance flap open for a reason, even if he was far too focused on fucking you senseless while determined to get you to cum before Noctis could. The prince was of the same mindset, especially while he gripped your hips as he continued to pummel his cock inside you.

"Ha~ah, took you long enough, Iggy," Prompto panted, at least sparing a glance his way before shifting his gaze back to your awaiting mouth.

Ignis cleared his throat, far too used to--and even indulging--in what was going on to truly be fazed. "Dinner should be ready in 45 minutes..." He bent down to make his way into the tent, seating himself across from where Prompto was positioned, all while making sure to not step on the chocolate bar that you had forgotten. "...in the meantime, however..."

Meticulously manicured and moisturized fingertips descended onto your skin, tracing over your breasts, the light touch leaving goosebumps in their wake, traveling all the way up to your lips, even as they remained open in welcome for Prompto's cock.

"Shall I assist you broadening your selection to help bide your hunger, darling?"

Your mouth full, you answered by reaching for his belt buckle.

Though, before he assisted in helping you remove his belt and the rest of his clothing, his gentle touch turned to a firm grasp on your wrist as he bent down to murmur in your ear, his tone stern and his breath hot, "But please keep in mind, dearest, that after dinner, we will discuss this issue of indulging in snacks before supper."

"Ooo, looks like someone's in for a spanking!" Prompto chirped with glee, even as his head tilted back with pleasure as you whimpered in response.

"Don't listen to Specs, babe. I would've kept your secret safe--especially if you shared with me," Noctis reassured while offering a kiss to the valley between your breasts.

"Shoulda shared with me, sweetie," Gladiolus chuckled while giving you a light--well, light for him--tap to your ass. "Need me to prep you for the worst?"

Whereas Ignis would've usually taken time to carefully set his belt aside, instead he just tossed it to a corner in the tent. With all the noises and from what he was able to witness while cooking outside, he too was looking to release all that he had pent-up. "There will be none of that, Gladio. Doing so will only spoil, not teach a lesson."

"Huh, well looks like you're fucked, sweetie."

As if you weren't already.

While not in the expected way however, you did end up snacking that evening as you did find satisfaction from being left completely and utterly full. The indulgence wasn't purely on your end though. With days of hunting and being too weary to really do anything else but eat--maybe a round of King's Knight--and sleep, it became very apparent that all four men had been pent-up with their desire, given by the amount of energy they were happy to expend for your sake, by how much cum they were eager to pour inside of and on you.

Rounds held no meaning at this point, as you were continuously passed along to whomever was next. As Prompto proclaimed, he was quick to replace Gladiolus once he came inside you with a low groan of satisfaction, fucking you from behind while you helplessly clung onto Ignis's shoulders as he guided you onto his cock. Despite his assurance to have your back from earlier, Noctis was rather adamant that you clean his cock--an apology for disrupting his nap from earlier. And it wasn’t long before the shield of the Crownsguard was ready to have another go with you again.

By the end of it all, you were lying in the center of the tent, breathless, dazed, but undoubtedly blissful.

The four crowded around you, admiring their work in their relentless devotion to you.

"It's amazing how photogenic you are like this," Prompto cooed with a wicked grin on his face as he snapped away.

"Send me a picture, would ya, Prompt?"

"You got it, Noct~!"

Once Prompto had his fill of photos, you then suddenly felt yourself lifted from the ground. From the encasing warmth and the sturdiness your body was against, you relaxed in Gladiolus's arms as he gingerly carried you out of the tent.

"C'mon gorgeous. Let me help you wash up."

It was a blessing that camp was set-up by a lake.

With some complimentary toiletries taken from the Leville Hotel back in Lestallum and Gladiolus insisting that he do all the work with washing you off--while easily fending off Prompto and Noctis when they joined to rinse off and also offer their assistance--you were as clean and relaxed as you were exhausted.

Ignis, having gone to first check on dinner before retreating to the lake for a wash as well, was already seated by the campfire. Though five chairs were already set out, he motioned for Gladiolus to pass you off to him.

His arms open in welcome, he eyed you with soft affection, a small smile tugging on his lips, "You've had quite the exhaustive afternoon, kitten--and we certainly didn't help on that regard. Come, sit on my lap and let me feed you."

In the sleepy tranquility that you had been lulled into, what could be better than sitting with Ignis? You could hear the complaints of Noctis and Prompto as they joined the rest of you, but his lap was much too inviting to resist. Even Gladiolus was insistent, especially with the grin that was plastered on his face.

"After all," Ignis purred against your ear after you were settled, "you'll need to get used to being on my lap for the rest of the night."

Prompto--in the middle of serving himself some of the steak that was prepared--nearly dropped his plate as his hand immediately shot up high in the air, "Ooo I want in after Iggy!"

"I'm taking turns with Prompto," Noctis declared, lifting his hand half-heartedly while taking the opportunity to nudge the vegetables on his plate onto the blonde's.

Right as he was about to take a huge bite out of his meal, Gladiolus lifted an eyebrow, pointing at the two with his meat-shanked fork, "And be the equivalent of a screen door tapping you on the way out? Sure, boys. But if a spanking's gonna be done, no one else is gonna leave an impact like me."

"This is discipline we were discussing, not a mere fetish game," Ignis sighed while pressing a hand to his temple while his other arm hugged around your waist.

You could only sigh.

Looks like you were really going to be roughing it at camp tonight.

#noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #final fantasy xv #reader insert #ffxv fanfiction #chocobros x reader #fic #super freaknasty writing #management will return in a queue minutes

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moriavis · 7 years

Text

Fic: You make me smile with my heart

Running out the clock here, but yay fic! AT THE VERY LAST MOMENT. Happy Valentine’s Day, guys! This is completely unbeta’ed because I suck and finish things at inconvenient times.

This belongs to my holiday series. Now on AO3

~*~

Barry fumbled with his keys as he locked the door to his lab, trying to stifle a yawn. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he smiled as he looked at his messages. Len had texted him a series of numbers--latitude and longitude, by the look of it, and Barry couldn't help but be grateful that Len wasn't going to be as frustrating this Valentine's Day as he was last year.

Crap.

He'd totally just jinxed himself.

Barry rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up a little, and then opened his maps app to find out where exactly he was supposed to go anyway.

His phone dinged, and another message from Len appeared. Clock's ticking, Red.

"I'm not that late," Barry grumbled to himself, and he cast one more quick look around to make sure no one could see him before he sped away. Charm City wasn't far away by Barry's standards--although, honestly, he could go practically anywhere in the US without any trouble, and wasn't that awesome?--but Len would've had to have flown there, and that made Barry even more curious than he was before.

The coordinates led Barry to a small, pleasant looking apartment building, and Barry pulled out his phone again. I'm here? What now?

Apt 3B. Barry arched his eyebrow, but he pocketed his phone and went inside. There was a group of people waiting for the elevator, so Barry took the stairs. He was strangely calm, no squirm of nerves in his stomach; so much of their relationship had involved tension and distrust, and here Barry was, going to a strange apartment with nothing more than a series of texts under Len's name, and the only thing he felt was excitement.

It was only a minute or two before he found the apartment, and he knocked, trying the doorknob and finding it unlocked. "Len?" Barry peered around the door and squinted at the unfamiliar layout. "Are you here?" He ventured in another step inside and closed the door behind him. He was in a small foyer that opened up into a larger living room, and fortunately he didn't have to go any further before he found Len, leaning against the back of the couch and looking down at his phone. Barry's throat went dry, and he forgot whatever he was going to say next; Len was wearing a tuxedo that was tailored perfectly to the line of his body, and he looked impossibly, outrageously attractive.

"This is the day you choose to take your time?" Len looked up from his phone and shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Asshole. He knew exactly how good he looked.

"Unlike some people, I actually had to work today." Barry folded his arms over his chest. "What's all the secrecy?"

Len slipped his phone into a pocket and made his way over to Barry, drawing him into a careful embrace, his hands resting lightly on Barry's hips. "Have to make up for last year, don't I?"

Barry frowned, guilt sinking in his stomach. "I don't want you to feel obligated--"

Len pressed a finger to Barry's lips and shook his head. "Bedroom's down the hall. Take a shower and wear what's in the closet. We're on the clock."

"Okay, okay." Barry rolled his eyes and zipped down the hall, stripping off his clothes and jumped into the shower to scrub himself clean. Almost everything was nice here--the bathroom was clean and newly renovated, Barry suspected, and the glimpse he'd gotten of the bedroom had looked really comfortable in a very Len sort of way. This place obviously wasn't a rental--it was a non-Central safe house, and Barry was touched at the trust in that gesture, giddy in a way that he always felt when Len allowed him access to each small part of his life.

One one side of the closet were a few items carefully hung, things that could be worn in layers that obviously belonged to Len. On the other side of the closet, there was a tuxedo, and Barry pulled it out with shaking hands. Everything fit perfectly, from his favorite brand of underwear to the tuxedo itself, and the new shoes that were obviously purchased to go with the outfit. He didn't know how much it cost, but he was pretty sure that he'd never worn anything as expensive as what he was wearing now. Barry cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, heading back toward the living room where Len was waiting. "Um, I can't really do anything with my hair…" He trailed off as Len turned to look at him, his blue eyes taking on an intensity that was normally saved for a heist, and Len tilted his head, running his fingers through Barry's hair again.

"You're fine, Barry." Len took Barry's hand and curled it into the bend of his elbow, and Barry flushed so hard and fast he grew dizzy.

"Are we going on a date?" Barry asked stupidly, and Len huffed a laugh as he guided him out of the apartment.

"Yes. We're going on a date."

Even the words made something tremble inside him. Sure, he'd had the occasional private fantasy of being swept off his feet, and maybe, just maybe it had involved Iris and sometimes Oliver, but this--this was different, this was real, with his very real and very attractive boyfriend.

"I'm already so excited and I have no idea what we're going to do," Barry blurted out. Len looked at Barry from the corner of his eye, a motion that Barry only caught because he was so intensely hyper aware. He squeezed Len's arm, thrilled all over again that Len was allowing him to do it. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Barry wasn't sure if Len was teasing him at this point or not, but he followed Len into the elevator and into the parking garage. There was a blue car there, an Audi, if Barry recognized the symbol, and Len opened the passenger side door with a flourish, presenting Barry with his seat.

"I have to admit, I like this attentive side of you." Barry looked his fill of Len's profile as Len pulled out of his parking space, leaving the garage behind for the city proper.

"You always have my attention, Barry." Len glanced at Barry from the corner of his eyes again. "We don't get the chance to do this often--"

Barry smiled. "It's a drawback of dating a famous criminal."

"I'm less famous here," Len promised.

Sure enough, they were allowed into the restaurant unmolested, and Barry looked around with wide, impressed eyes, almost intimidated by how nice the restaurant was. They were led to a table in a private corner, and Len even pulled out Barry's chair for him.

"You're being ridiculous on purpose," Barry said, even though he was loving every minute of it.

"Guilty." Len fell silent, and for a moment, they stared across the table at each other. Len's face was soft in the way that Barry was starting to realize was just for him, and Barry smiled back, enchanted by the soft music playing, the intimate flicker of candlelight casting their space in delicate shadows, the thick curtains in the windows helping maintain the illusion that they were in their own private world.

"Do we get menus?" Barry whispered.

Len shook his head. "Chef's choice. It'll be a mystery to both of us. A way to break the ice."

"Cool it with the ice puns, or I'm out," Barry teased, resting his chin on his palm as he leaned forward.

"Stop making threats." Len leaned back in his chair, and Barry shamelessly ogled him, appreciating just how well the tux fit. "It's no laughing matter."

The waiter stopped by their table to pour them water and the wine to go with their first course, promising to bring it out in a moment. Barry turned his attention back to Len, blinked, and then said, in the most conversational way that he could, "I was trying to think of something to say, but I froze."

Len lowered his head, his shoulders shaking, and he drew Barry's hand up, pressing a kiss to Barry's knuckles. Barry couldn't resist tightening his fingers around Len's when Len drew away, and another quiet thrill ran through him when Len just rested their hands at the edge of the table, fingers still entwined.

"You being out of Central isn't going to be trouble, is it?" Len asked, and Barry shook his head.

"I have my phone on me if there's any need for the Flash, and I've finished my lab stuff for the day." Barry frowned. "There's always more crimes of passion around this time of year." Len nodded, but Barry didn't want to linger on crime, especially when they were actually out of Central for once. He turned the conversation instead to the television shows currently stacking on the DVR, how it was always easier to read books now because he was so fast, but that made watching videos torture, just because he had to slow down to them. Len didn't say very much--he never did--but he watched Barry intently as they ate, gave him a nod here and there to indicate he was listening, and Barry couldn't remember the last time he'd actually had such a nice time just… talking. It had always been easy with Iris, was still easy, but the awkwardness Barry felt whenever he talked about himself for a long period of time melted away. Len always seemed to want to know the minutiae of Barry's day, no matter how boring Barry himself thought it was.

It felt like the six course meal was done in no time, but Barry lingered over dessert, even after Len paid, not quite wanting the evening to be over yet. "C'mon, kid," Len said, "we've got other plans."

Barry perked up at that. "You mean we're not going back to the apartment?"

Len smirked and huffed a soft laugh, resting his hand on the small of Barry's back and pressing him forward. "Such little faith. Come on."

Barry might have let out a little gasp of delight when Len pulled into the parking lot of the Charm City Science Museum, and he was out of the car almost before it stopped. "Oh my god, I've been wanting to come here for years!"

Len nodded, cautiously taking Barry's hand again, his eyes flitting left and right as if he expected to be stopped for even making that small of a gesture. "They have an Astrodon cast," Len murmured.

"Don't you dare talk dinosaur to me now," Barry complained. "We're in public!" Len actually laughed out loud at that, which Barry considered a win. They got a couple of weird looks for their tuxes as Len paid for admission but then Barry led the way, too excited to sit still. There was an exhibit on Newtonian physics, electricity, dinosaurs, even an observatory, and Barry had to consciously remind himself to slow down. Len helped once or twice, grabbing Barry's wrist and pressing his thumb to Barry's pulse every time Barry felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin in delight. It was magic.

After an hour or two, the museum announced that it was closing for the evening, and Barry unwillingly let Len lead him out. This time, Barry didn't complain about the idea of going back to the apartment, tugging at his bowtie just to loosen it a little.

"Please tell me you've got me something comfortable to wear in here," Barry pleaded as Len opened the door and let him inside.

"I'm sure I can find something," Len said dryly, and Barry bent down to remove his shoes, setting them next to the coffee table to keep them out of the way.

"This was really nice to wear, but I'm dying for some jeans--" Barry stumbled to a stop just outside the kitchen, his eyes widening again; it was like he was constantly caught off guard today, and he secretly delighted in it.

On the table in the kitchen was a vase holding a dozen red roses. Barry leaned closer and shivered as a chill rose from the blossoms, and he realized with a start that each flower was delicately covered in a layer of frost. "What? How even--" Barry whipped around to see Len, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I know people." Len smirked. "This particular thing was a gift from an acquaintance in Gotham. He's a terrible romantic."

Barry could only shake his head as he stared at the flowers, and then he took two shaky steps into Len's space, squeezing his arms around Len and burying his face in Len's shoulder. "This is perfect," he said, his voice muffled. "How is this all so perfect?"

Len rubbed a large, soothing circle over Barry's back, and Barry was so grateful that he could almost feel his heart lurch into his throat with the strength of his feelings. "I was trying for over the top, but I guess perfect will have to do."

Barry raised his head and kissed Len, because he could, because it had been a perfect day, because he couldn't handle how wild and desperate and full Len made him feel. "Sex," he said, "and then food, because I'm still starving."

Len's hands came up to Barry's face, cradling his cheeks as he affectionately swept back Barry's hair. "I'll order pizza."

"Sweet talker," Barry teased, and he laughed against Len's mouth as they both tried to steal another kiss and met in the middle instead.

~*~

#my fic #coldflash #holdiay series #Valentine's Day

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7fics · 7 years

Note

Jackbum: Jackson goes to the woods to bury a body but Jaebum is already there burying a body.

Warnings: Character Death, Murder, Other stuff that comes with burying dead bodies in woodsdisclaimer: I do not promote murder, I do not hate any of the characters that die in this fic, it was just for the sake of this fic

Word Count: Just under 2k

Author: Chewt, the writer formerly known as Chewy (I changed my name because author Jenni called me Chewt on accident)

an: this is, honestly, crack with a dash of murder. characters may come off as slightly ooc because i’m making them into murderers and they are not (i don’t think) murderers irl.

Reccomended music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HORkT4a2MhQ

“Duuuuuuude. You’re like a marshmallow. ROASTED!” Jackson pats himself on the back for a very good comeback.

“You didn’t roast me,” Mark reminds him.

“Oh, that’s awkward. I could have sworn we just had a conversation,” Jackson pouts.

“No, I haven’t talked since our first hit a while back, buddy. We’re high, not chatty,” Mark corrects, surprisingly sincere given the subject matter at hand.

“Well fuck you, I’m higher than you!”

“No, I am!”

“Prove it!”

“I can jump off this fucking cliff!”

“Why are we getting high on the side of a fucking cliff?”

“I don’t know but I’m gonna jump!”

“Yeahhhhhhhhhh! Do it! OH MY GOD YOU ACTUALLY— Wait… Mark?” Jackson calls out into the deep recesses of the void.

There’s no response but the echoes of a loud, resounding crunch. Jackson isn’t sure whether to cry in fear of what might have happened to Mark, or celebrate because he actually remembers the word “onomatopoeia” from 8th grade. He decides to do both as he scrambles down the cliff.

Really, it isn’t very high of a fall, and Jackson is sure Mark will be fine. What Jackson hadn’t bet on is Mark’s thin skull taking on the brunt of his thick-headedness. Yes. Mark didn’t jump off the cliff. He dived, like a swan, but without the grace and water to greet him at the bottom.

“What is the point of a brick head if it crumbles on impact?” Jackson laments.

Jackson really isn’t sure what the given procedure is in this scenario, but one thought does resonate. Is he an accomplice to Mark’s murder if Mark murdered himself and technically Jackson egged him on? And, if police come to investigate, surely they’ll arrest him for possession of marijuana. The situation is only looking worse.

Jackson digs around in his pocket for his phone and also inspiration. The fates must surely be looking out for him, because inspiration greets him in the form of tiny beige speckles.

“Mark always wanted to be buried as one of those tree things. I’ll do just that,” Jackson narrates, as now Mark isn’t around to tell him that his life isn’t a movie.

Jackson shakes the seeds back into his pocket, never mind that they’re tomato seeds and not acorns for oak trees. Mark looked best as a redhead anyway. Then, he gets to work tugging, dragging, and lugging. (He rhymes so well because he listens to Jay Z all the time.)

Jackson doesn’t get too far into the woods before he’s panting heavily. “I’m a fencer! We’re based on speed, not stamina!” he cries into the darkness of the forest. “X marks the spot— oh that was totally a pun, get it?” he mutters to himself, slowly spiraling into what must be shock, or maybe he’s still just high. Regardless, there is a task at hand, and Jackson is determined to finish before sunlight. It would be really awkward if somebody caught him digging a grave for a dead body in the middle of the woods.

—

And that’s why Jackson stumbles across another person not even a minute later. Ridiculous, really. Why must the fates play him in this way, always?

“This isn’t what it looks like! I promise!” He lets Mark thud back down on the ground so he can hold up his hands in the air for good measure.

“It looks like you killed someone, and now you’re trying to cover up the mess,” the other man deadpans. “Even if that isn’t it, you’re still lugging a dead body through the woods and I’d like to see you explain your way out of that one.” The man flicks his hair out of his eyes and at that moment streaks a splash of red across his forehead. Even with Jackson’s nearsightedness, he can make out the bright, foreboding color contrasting against the man’s pale skin in the moonlight.

Jackson contemplates the probability of vampires for a second before his eyes catch sight of the lump by the stranger’s feet. For a moment, Jackson thinks its a leopard, but then realizes that a) leopards don’t live here (he thinks) and b) it’s actually a faux cheetah fur coat that looks pretty shredded (in the literal sense; he can distinguish no muscle mass appearing from beneath the fur. The creepy stranger, on the other hand, is rocking the no-sleeves.)

“Wha-what about you?” Jackson stutters out. He tries to keep his cool in front of a fellow possible kind of murderer, but it’s hard being a newbie to the game of burying a body sketchily in the woods. “Is that a body?” (The question is obviously directed at the cheetah fur pile, because murderer or no, that is definitely a bod and a hot one at that. Now is not the time to think such things though, so Jackson gives himself a small slap on the face for good measure.)

“Yes.”

Taken aback by the blunt answer, Jackson coherently responds, “Oh. What? Illegal!”

“And you aren’t?”

“I’m not an illegal alien that’s what I’m not. No way.” (Nobody has to know that once Jackson went to America for a tournament with a visitation visa instead of a work visa.)

“Ok, but are you or are you not dragging a dead body through the woods and trying to bury secretly without the knowledge of the police?” the man presses.

“Well, if you put it that way… I didn’t kill him though! And still, so are you!”

“Fine, truce, we’re both dragging bodies through the woods and if the police find out, we’re going to get in trouble. What did you even do anyway?”

“Why would I tell you that? You’re a complete stranger! And you could be an ax murderer for all I know! In fact, all evidence points to the fact that you most definitely are at least a murderer, if not an ax murderer!” Jackson is in hysterics as this point. He’s still not really sure what even is going on anymore, just that he needs to move on from this place and bury Mark in some tomato seeds, or something. (But he really can’t help it if the stranger’s arms look positively ravishing.)

“You’re kind of annoying for a fellow murderer, you know? I don’t think I’ll invite you to the Murder In Trees Club after all. It’s MInT for short, you know. I’m Jaebum, by the way.”

This is the hook line sinker that reels Jackson in. “Oh. There’s a CLUB? Why didn’t you say so before, of course I’d love to join! I love making new friends! There is a contract though that says you won’t kill club members, right? Oh, do you have a secret code name? Jaebum? Jaebae? JayJay? JayBee? JB? JB! I’m Jackson, but call me JFlawless.”

Jaebum, or JB now, in Jackson’s mind, looks a little taken aback, but decides to roll with it for now. Because that’s what seasoned murderers are trained to do. “So. What happened to that body?”

Jackson’s face flickers into a thousand expressions before settling on fake smirking. (Jackson isn’t a seasoned murderer but he was a public figure for some time, so not he knows how to deal with these things.) He also realizes that now is not the time to tell the truth if he wants to join the club MInT. (The acronym is cute enough that he forgives the crime required to initiate.)

“Oh, you know,” Jackson begins, casually attempting to lean against a tree (although, being Jackson, of course he misjudged and fell over into the tree), “I was out with this kid, Mark, and we were smoking pot but he was totally hogging so I pushed him off the cliff.”

Jaebum smiles, showing all of his teeth. “Lovely.”

“Thank you, and you?”

“Ah well, really it was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill this one,” Jaebum does the tree lean, and it works perfectly for him and his long limbs. “I work in retail, you see. It’s a kind of hipster clothing brand so most of our customers are already really annoying kids. But this kid, man, his name is Bambam, always comes in with his boyfriend, this other tall ass kid, Yug-something or other.

“Well, they come in all the time. And they’re annoying as hell. Well, Bambam’s just plain annoying, Yugyeom is fine but he always asks for sizes that we don’t have. Usually, Bambam comes in five minutes right before closing time, which, ugh. Blazes through, fucks up all the nicely folded clothes, only buys one or two of the cheapest items and tries to stack as many fucking coupons on the counter as he can fit in his tiny, pre-pubescent hands.

“I can handle rude customers, up to some point. But then one night, he comes in and asks me to put on ‘the mannequin challenge song’ as if I’m some DJ, which I’m not. But he’s the customer, and there’s the boss’s motto, make the customer happy, so I do it. Takes some effort, but it works. I keep on my fake smile, keep my anger in check. Fine. But then he starts dragging the mannequins to and fro, stacking them up so he can ‘to the mannequin challenge but legit’ and then he tries to leave. And that’s when I snapped. I was not having it. Simply not at all.”

“And then what happened?” Jackson ventures. He’s a little fascinated and awed by the fury of JB’s rant. He’s pretty sure he heard a few actual real live growls, and JB’s chin seems to have elongated over the course of the rant as well.

“I’m not that good at controlling my anger. This happened,” and he kicks the dead body over, the shredded cheetah print pimp coat falling apart.

“Huh. Or maybe you’re just a gross necrophiliac. Why is the poor boy half naked?” Jackson questions.

“Because that is a horrendous coat. Would you ever wear something like that in public?”

“True.”

“Anyway,” Jaebum continues, “I only like to fuck warm bodies like yours.”

Jackson opens his mouth to respond, but suddenly he can’t get out a single word and they’re pressed up against each other, making out with a passion that Jackson has never experienced before. He’s almost sure they’ll end up doing the do in the woods, when there’s a loud crunch as Jackson stumbles across Mark’s hand.

“Oh.” He’d forgotten about the dead bodies part. “You know what. I’m way too high for this. We’ll just promise each other that we’ll keep this a secret between the two of us, and go our own ways. Thanks for the invitation to MInT, but I’ll pass.” Jackson turns to go, and then collapses where he stands.

—

“I’m sorry,” says Jaebum, standing over Jackson’s prone body. “The only way to keep a secret is if nobody knows it happened.”

Jaebum decides he’s not really that sorry. Jinyoung’s birthday is coming up, and he’ll need more than just Bambam’s thin body if he wants to harvest enough human skin to print a single edition book for Jinyoung. It really doesn’t help that Jinyoung tends not to go for the shorter books, either.

#got7 #jackbum #character:jackson #character:jb #author:chewy #genre: crack

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mastcomm · 4 years

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‘The Good Place’ Finale Finds the Meaning of Life: ‘Yep, Nailed It’

Michael Schur swears he didn’t name Michael, the avuncular architect played by Ted Danson on Schur’s metaphysical sitcom, “The Good Place,” after himself. The character was actually based on St. Michael the Archangel, who according to Christian tradition is involved in the final judgment of souls.

But the parallels are undeniable. Over four seasons on the NBC comedy, both Michaels spent their time devising elaborate, twisty fictions and trying to settle on a suitably just plan for the afterlife.

“That character is some sort of a showrunner — he’s writing scenarios and putting people in different positions,” Schur said recently. “I gave up trying to argue and have just accepted the fact that my subconscious will live on the show.”

“The Good Place” is ending this week, wrapping up Thursday night on NBC with the series finale followed by a live panel discussion, hosted by Seth Meyers, with Schur and the cast — Danson, Kristen Bell, William Jackson Harper, Jameela Jamil, Manny Jacinto and D’Arcy Carden.

The concept for the series began with Schur’s ideas about a standard for divine justice — a point system measuring earthly behavior — that led to a deeper dive into moral philosophy before ending up as a bright, heady mix of puns, cartoonish tortures (chain saw bears, a particularly invasive species of spider) and wide-ranging inquiries into the nature of human goodness.

The problems with the point system quickly became apparent, a pattern that repeated itself over and over, onscreen and off, as the writing staff wrestled with both the story and their own notions about ethics and metaphysical reward. Last week’s penultimate episode found the core group finally reaching the actual Good Place, only to find that it, too, had its flaws.

“We never felt like we had a better idea than anybody else,” Schur said.

But they did come to some conclusions. In a telephone interview, Schur discussed them, the show’s inadvertent political parallels and, yes, those pesky spiders. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

(Note: While Schur wouldn’t discuss the series finale, this interview includes spoilers for earlier episodes of “The Good Place” as well as, weirdly, “Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker.”)

Your original point system quickly fell apart. So did you figure it all out by the end?

Yep, nailed it. [Laughs.] The second you conceive of any system of what happens after you die, you then realize, oh, there’s a million flaws with this. The history of philosophy is people saying, “Hey, you know how we believe this? Well guess what, this sucks — we’ve got to revise it.” This show is no different. We were constantly proposing theories and then realizing how flawed they were.

Does the finale offer any kind of answer?

I don’t know that we have an answer, but the show ended up taking a position, and it’s something close to Aristotelian virtue ethics. What matters is that these things matter to you. You’re going to fail over and over again, and you’re going to encounter decisions that have no answer. Anything you do is problematic and causes someone somewhere some amount of pain or sadness or suffering.

And because you’re doomed to fail, what matters isn’t that you do everything right. What matters is that you try. When you make a mistake, you apologize and then you try something else. The show is suggesting that the real victory of being alive is just putting these things in the front of your brain and attempting all the time to be a better person than you were yesterday.

The culture is full of people who seem to be attempting the opposite. You’ve been outspoken about political issues, in particular, were you ever tempted to incorporate more pointed satire within the show?

No, for two reasons. No. 1, the characters all died before the 2016 election, so we got off on a technicality. Granted they did later un-die and go back to Earth, but we never had to mention Donald Trump’s name because they lived in blissful ignorance of the fact that he had been elected.

But the more important reason was you end up making political comments without directly making political comments, by discussing the nature of moral philosophy. When they’re redesigning the afterlife in the ninth episode of this season, the problem they identify is that people can commit crimes that aren’t by their essence cruel, and yet they’re punished in a way that is cruel, and that asymmetry is problematic.

What we’re talking about is mass incarceration. We’re not trying to — we’re talking about this ridiculous afterlife system that we invented, but this is a direct analogue to the problem of mass incarceration. We realized early on that in discussing any set of moral problems, even in the extreme abstract, you’re going to end up running alongside the car of some modern-day issue.

That said, there have been jabs implied by, say, the spinelessness of the Good Place Committee.

That’s the most pointed we ever got. That’s just pure frustration with a certain kind of politician who holds the concept of fairness and making people on the opposite side of the aisle feel good above all else, including just the basic fight for what is right and good. So yeah, that is a bit of an ax-grinding exercise.

Do you think the show had a villain? Even a guy like the überdemon Shawn (Marc Evan Jackson) has a growing self-awareness by the end.

In a tangible, TV-character way, Shawn was the villain. But I think the villain of the show, if there is one, is probably something like a belief that you’re special, or that you don’t have to follow rules or that your problems are bigger than someone else’s. Everyone in the show had some kind of personal Achilles’ heel — for Eleanor it was selfishness, for Chidi it was indecision and for Tahani it was glory-seeking. All of those things are related to the same thing, which is self-obsession.

The show was still a comedy, of course, and some of the funniest lines involved the Bad Place’s creative torture methods. Did you have any favorites?

The ones that were the silliest. Butthole spiders came up over and over again — I don’t know who pitched that the first time, but that became our baseline. The tricky thing about talking about torture is it’s the least funny subject in the world. So it always had to be really silly, like chain saw bears.

But my favorite ones were more specific. Like there’s a joke where Shawn gets zapped into a room and he looks around and he says, “Oh, dammit, I was right in the middle of torturing William Shakespeare by describing the plot of the ‘Entourage’ movie.” That one I loved. There was also one in those webisodes we made where he’s torturing Emily Dickinson by playing her the Joe Rogan podcast.

That’s a delicious treat to give a writers’ room: “We need 50 things that Shawn could be doing right now.” We would write 25 of them in about 40 seconds and then pick our favorite.

The story was tightly serialized and got pretty convoluted. What was the hardest thing to pull off?

I had never worked on a show that had a giant concept behind it. Giant concepts are great for pilots and terrible for shows because once you’re past the giant concept, it’s like, well what the hell happens now?

So I didn’t even pitch the show until I knew what the whole first season was, because you can’t maintain a consistent world for too long unless you know where you’re going at all times. If you don’t know, you’re going to do something at some point that derails you or that becomes inconsistent in the long term.

For example, in the last “Star Wars” movie when J.J. Abrams was trying to course-correct for the previous movie, the opening crawl says “Palpatine is alive” and you’re like, “What’s he talking about? Palpatine hasn’t been in the story at all.” And now this whole story is about Palpatine. Those three movies weren’t broken as one giant thing, so they had to bluntly knock stuff aside that didn’t fit into where they wanted to end up.

The “Star Wars” comment is going to be the one thing here that goes viral.

I don’t know why we’re talking about “Star Wars” now, but I guess it’s my fault. Look, I will see every “Star Wars” movie that’s ever made, but it is a little jarring when they have to explain stuff in a direct way like that. Say what you want about George Lucas’s movies, but at least he was executing a certain vision.

Because we were a year ahead at the beginning, that let us be a year ahead every year. By the time we started the first episode of any season, we already knew what the last episode of that season was going to be, so we didn’t ever do anything that was wildly inconsistent or that had to be maneuvered around. That was the hardest part of it, and also the most necessary part of making the show.

In what ways did “The Good Place” evolve that were surprising to you?

Well, there was a gigantic evolution of what the show actually believed, which was interesting. I wrote this long document to all the writers at the beginning that laid out the stuff I’d been reading and the basic ideas we’d be discussing. And I wrote a note that basically said, “At some point this show needs to figure out what it believes. There’s a lot of theories out there and they’ve been discussed for thousands of years, and if things work out and we stick around long enough, the show has to take a position.”

But I didn’t know what that position was going to be. So what ended up happening was by writing the stories and figuring out what interested us as a group, the show ended up having a philosophy about what matters. And that was really fun — it felt like a four-year conversation among a lot of really smart and funny people about what’s the best way to just approach the impossibility of being alive. And that was delightful.

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ridersinreview · 7 years

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Kamen Rider Agito

Hello to my two followers and anybody who finds this in the Agito tag. Since my Stronger review went so well I’ve decided to review what is maybe my favorite Kamen Rider Series Agito!

Agito is the father of most modern Kamen Rider tropes and I can’t wait to dissect them. Now we’re going to dive into the first episode of Toshiki Inoue’s first Kamen Rider series, Kamen Rider Agito Episode 1: The Warrior’s Awakening under the cut!

We start off with a commemoration of Kamen Rider’s 30th anniversary followed by the lovely scene of a bunch of scrap scattered around a beach. Apparently a large storm has just passed causing some damage to the Nagoya area. We follow a young boy picking up scrap when he see’s something peculiar in the sand

A strange metal cross! Not only that but those little dials start moving around ominous! But we have no time for that because we’re now heading off to the city, in particular the under ground police training facility for the Squad Against Unidentified Lifeforms, or S.A.U.L. for short.

(Ignore the discrepancy with the text on the screen, it’s a mistranslation) And we that figure in blue, our hero of the show Kamen Rider G3. Kind of weird that he isn’t called Agito but this is a pretty weird series. G3, or Makoto Hikawa, is showing off the suit to his superiors by dodging, blocking, and shooting freaking cannon balls shot at him at high speeds! The long and short of it is that G3 is an Unidentified Lifeform killer, and he’s being directed by Sumiko Ozawa the best character in the entire show.

She is the creator of the G3 armor and as the testing ends we get to see the face of the suits operator.

And wow he is like a pretty puppy. Anyways he, Ozawa and Ozawa’s assistant Takahiro Omuro

(wow that picture sums up his character doesn’t it) are the team in charge of the G3 system and S.A.U.L.’s first line of defense. After the training/showing off for the higher ups Hikawa decides to visit his friend in the O Parts research center for the police. Sure that seems like the kind of thing a police department would have.

Okay time for some real talk. Some people might be confused at why the police have an organization called S.A.U.L. or what Unidentified Lifeforms are. The answer is that Agito is a sort of sequel to Kamen Rider Kuuga. In that series the police relied on Unidentified Lifeform Number 4, what they called Kuuga, to fight and defeat the Unidentified Lifeforms, until the end of series when they developed their ultimate Nerve Breaking Bullet. Now two years later in universe S.A.U.L. seems to essentially be a response to not wanting to rely on Kuuga anymore.

So anyways Hikawa meet’s up with his friend in the O-Parts division Sakiko Mikumo

And she explains the purpose of the O-Parts Division, to examine strange technology from ancient civilizations(like the ones that gave Kuuga his powers) she shows him their latest acquisition, the metal cross from earlier. She tells Hikawa that it’s essentially a giant puzzle left by a long lost civilization and she wants to find out what’s hidden inside and he agrees.

The change locations though to a local Middle School where some girls are playing soccer. Their fun is ended however when while chasing an out of bounds ball one of the girls sees the impossible.

A young boy has been stuck into a tree far to small for him to fit in. Let’s not get too hung up on child death though because we now make our way to Johuko University where a professor is speaking to his students about their graduate thesis.

He is Professor Yoshihiko Misugi and he starts talking about how the chosen topic of one of his students, psychic powers, is not suitable for a thesis. Before the argument can get too far though they are interrupted by a young man here to give the professor the books he had left at home.

(Yep, this picture sums him up very nicely.) This is Shouichi Tsugami who the professor describes to his students as a young man living with him due to special circumstances. Shouichi leaves after saying he will be cooking dinner for everybody, prompting the professor to decide he will be eating before he gets home. Not caring about the sick diss to his coking skills Shouichi starts to head back home, but on his way back to his bike he crosses paths with another man and feels…something.

The music stops, an eerie sound is heard as both men stop moving for a second. You can feel the tension rise, building and building to an explosive climax! And then the moment ends and they go on their ways not knowing what just happened, or the significance. I mean we don’t either but we know that these two are connected somehow.

So now Shouichi is walking his bike home having run out of gas and is met by Mana Kazaya, the professor’s niece and Shouichi’s housemate.

She asks him is he remembers anything and reveals to us that Shouichi has amnesia! Shouichi however doesn’t really want to get his memories back in that big of a hurry, after all having amnesia seems pretty normal to him so why does he have to remember. Mana and him banter for a bit showing their friendship and Mana tells Shouichi that if he remembers that he’s actually really rich he should marry her and rides off much to Shouichi’s dismay.

Another cut, man this show does not like focusing on a scene for to long does it, and we are with the mysterious man who crossed Shouichi’s path earlier reenacting the opening to the first Percy Jackson movie. He surfaces when called up by the school’s swim coach and we’re given his name, Ryou Ashihara, as well as the fact that he is a member of the college’s swim team.

Apparently Ryou has only just recovered from getting hit by a freaking truck and is now ready to swim again in today’s big race!

Back in the G-Trailer Hikawa has just finished another round of testing the G3 armor but his mind seems to be on something else. Ozawa confronts him on this and asks if he’s thinking about the O-Parts group, but that isn’t the only thing that’s on his mind. You see Hikawa has heard of the murder at the Middle School and thinks that it’s something that us normally impossible.

We change locations to a home where a wife is saying goodbye to her husband as he leaves for work, but the entire scene is so tense. The mother looks frightened and lost while the husband is cold and distant. As the husband leaves for work he is being followed by a strange furry humanoid who makes a strange gesture

That’s when so many things start happening at once. A one of the many locks on the cross is opened, Shouichi has a seizure while vacuuming, Ryou has a seizure in the middle of his race, and this odd leopard creature kills the husband. So yeah, shit went down. The wife realized that her husband had forgotten some papers and goes to get them to him, but when she looks around she only finds

So of course the police are called in to investigate the scene. Not only that but we find out that the boy that was killed earlier was the child of the couple we saw earlier. Hikawa is there thinking that an impossible crime like this could only be done by Unidentified Lifeforms, unfortunately he needles the wife a little too hard on if there was anything unusual about her family and she goes off crying. Hikawa tries to follow but is stopped by fellow cop Toru Hojo

who tells Hikawa that S.A.U.L. has no jurisdiction over the murder because the Unidentified Lifeforms are all gone. When Hikawa tries to counter with the fact they were shoved into trees in a way that is literally impossible to do Hojo claims that the murderer only used a trick and that even if he doesn’t know what the trick is finding out is his job.

The scene ends with Hojo letting Hikawa investigate the scene as long as he stays out of his way. So we switch over to the hospital where Ryou is in some sort of coma. Apparently his muscles are convulsing and producing high levels of heat. The doctor suggests it could be the result of intense training but the coach tells him that Ryou is too good a swimmer to do dangerous training that close to a race.

Back at the professors house Shouichi is working on a garden he has in the front yard with the professors son Taichi Misugi.

Apparently Shouichi is really amazing at farming as shown by the fact that he has a freaking gigantic vegetables. Mana shows up and wonders if Shouichi was maybe a farmer before he lost his memory, which finds “Udderly Ridiculous”.

So yeah Shouichi makes puns. It’s pretty fitting and nobody likes them. The police don’t have time for jokes as the wife calls Hikawa to show him something about her family. She says to meet him in the middle of the park at night and that will obviously end very well. As she waits in the park our monster is waiting in the bushes.

We get some shots of Shouichi washing dishes and Ryou laying in a hospital bed as a glowing halo appears above the Jaguars head as he makes his odd gesture before going in for the kill. As the Jaguar is chocking the life out of the wife Shouichi and Ryou start convulsing and hearing a strange ringing. Hikawa arrives at the park but he’s to late and find nothing except for the wife’s purse and a photo of her son.

Yeah we’ll be looking at that in the analysis. Hikawa figures out what happened real quick and scans the tree’s and finds to his horror, like son and husband like wife. He looks for the killer and he sees the jaguar monster. Hikawa tries to fight the monster but the Unidentified Lifeform(?) literally stops the bullets mid air and vaporizes them. The Jaguar’s halo glows, he grabs Hikawa up with no effort at all, and he… throws him away and continues to walk away, not even runing. Hikawa calls the G-trailer and chases after the Jaguar and like anybody would do in the situation he fires his gun at it.

The monster can freeze bullets midair though and turns them to dust. Now the Jaguar begins to run, thankfully before he can lose it the G-trailer appears and Hikawa goes in to suit up into Kamen Rider G3.

He gives chase on his specialized Guardchaser motorcycle and is ready to kick monster ass. Hikawa catches up to the monster at an abandoned warehouse and pulls out the GM-01 Scorpion, the gun he used to obliterate cannon balls earlier in the episode, only for it to have no effect. Okay it’s immune to bullets but that’s not that bad, maybe G3 will have it’s time to shine in close combat. So the Jaguar charges and G3 loses the gun and is slammed into a car without landing a single hit.

After trying and failing to do any damage to the creature Hikawa is given the order to retreat after his helmet cam was damaged and the rest of the suit is mangled, but he can’t even stand up at this point. Before the monster can continue the assault though someone arrives.

(The light is from a car exploding by the way. It was awesome if you haven’t seen the episode) This mysterious figure attacks the jaguar and unlike G3 he doesn’t get his ass handed too him. In fact he manages to not take a single hit before he throws the monster away and prepares his final attack

The rider kick. Agito leaps into the air after getting energy from that symbol on the ground and strikes the monster with one final strike. Then without even looking the Jaguar's halo appears and he explodes

gloriously.

The episode ends with two more Jaguars looking on from the distance and uttering a single word, “Agito”

Next time on Kamen Rider Agito: Who is Agito? Ryou is getting worse! Mana thinks Shouichi might be better of with amnesia! These new monsters, unknown!

Characters:

Makoto Hikawa/Kamen Rider G3- So far it looks like this is our main character. He is the operator of the G3 armor and despite looking adept the armor itself is not up to snuff. Hikawa himself is a very nice character. He is very respectful to everybody around him and despite being a little dense in his questioning of the wife he is immediately sorry. What is a pretty good about him though is his courage. Despite being faced with an insane looking murderous Jaguar creature he still chased after it without his armor. Even when the G3 armor was failing he wasn’t running away and was ready to die to avenge that murdered family. I am looking forward to examine his character moving forward.

Shouichi Tsugami- Shouichi is very interesting. He has amnesia but doesn’t seem to even care about finding out who he is. He doesn’t seem to have any desires, just happy to be in his garden and doing housework. His connection to Ryou though is interesting and as one of the candidates for Agito he is a character I want to see more off.

Ryou Ashihara- Ryou has the least amount of screen time of the three leads but his accident, recovery, and relapse make a good mystery for the show. From his interaction with his coach he seems to be very relaxed around people he cares for, but the fact that the only person in the hospital is his coach makes you wonder where his family is. He is a candidate for the identity of Agito.

Mana Kazaya- The friendly niece of the professor and Shouichi’s friend. She seems to have a crush on him and cares more about finding out his past then Shouichi is. She doesn’t have much to do but she is important to the story later so I’ll be documenting her character progression along with he three leads.

Sumiko Ozawa- The best character in the show. Ozawa is the creator of the G3 armor and a very harsh person. Something I didn’t really note in the recap proper is that when Hikawa called for the trailer Omuro said that they don’t have permission to dispatch the trailer, but Ozawa says who cares and goes anyways.

Toru Hojo- Hojo is presented here as the Scully to Hikawa’s Mulder. He claims that there has to be a rational explanation and refuses to believe that the Unidentified Lifeforms could be back.

Sakiko Mikumo- The head researcher of the O-Parts division for the police and a close friend of Hikawa. She really want to figure out what the Cross Puzzle has inside and this curiosity seems to stem from a need for answers. She seems to essentially be a mixture of several different characters from Kuuga.

Professor Yoshihiko Misugi- Shouichi’s host and a college professor. He seems to be a sceptic when it comes to psychic powers and that was given a fair amount of focus so that implies that this will be a focus of the show.

Final Thoughts:

I love Agito. I love it so much. This is without a doubt one of my favorite rider series and maybe even one of my favorite shows period. Now that that’s out of the way time to focus on what I think was done really well. The music in Agito is top notch, from creepy ambiance when the Lords(the names of the monsters that is never mentioned on show) are attacking to Agito’s battle theme Believe Yourself which always pumps me up. The Lords themselves are well designed. The Panther lord looks very nice with a horrific mouth and eyes that just pierce into your soul.

This show is also very different from the other show I’m reviewing right now Kamen Rider Stronger. While Stronger was focused on just Jo and Yuriko with a little bit of villain screen time Agito spreads it’s time between three protagonists. Another thing Agito has done is set up a mystery. There are so many unanswered questions and little hints that we are starting to get, like the photo the wife left Hikawa. I’m guessing most of you noticed the oddness of the picture. Agito is as much a mystery at times as it is a Kamen Rider show with small questions that act as arcs like the picture and longer ones like Shouichi’s amnesia.

Despite having already watching this show I’ll do my best to keep spoilers past what I’ve already covered a minimum and act like a first time watcher when it comes to analysis.

Special thanks to Tv-Nihon who’s subs were used for some of the pictures and the Kamen Rider wiki who provided the rest.

#Kamen Rider #Kamen Rider Agito #Kamen Rider Review #Kamen Rider Agito Review #Riders in Review #Kamen Rider Agito Spoilers #Kamen Rider Spoilers

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