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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Have you ever seen where they get kids to ask the players tough questions and there all dress up and have fake beards and stuff. Maybe you could do that with Jules and Katie asking the team all these really hard questions?????

Thank you for giving me an excuse to spend an hour and a half watching adorable kids ask questions and melt the hearts of celebrities. You’re my hero. There are no fake beards here, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Sweater Weather characters belong to the incredible @lumosinlove!

“These chairs are so small,” James said as he scooted closer to the table. He nearly knocked Talker over with his elbow as the four of them squeezed in; the two kids on the other side shared a look.

“Ready, everyone?” Dorcas asked. When she received six thumbs up, she turned to the camera with a cheerful smile. “Hello, Lions fans, and welcome to Lion Pride! We have a couple of very special guests today to do the introductions.”

“Hello! I’m Katie and I’m six!” She held up six fingers and all four hockey players melted a little bit.

“I’m Julian, and I’m ten.” He waved, a little shy.

Dorcas smiled. “And how are you two related to our favorite Lions?”

Katie lit up and pointed behind the camera. “That’s my dad!”

There was a chuckle in the background. “Can you tell them my name, mon chou?”

“Pascal Dumais, but everyone calls you Dumo.” She swung her legs and her tulle skirt fluffed out.

“Remus Lupin is my older brother,” Jules said with a grin. “But Finn thought he was my dad.”

“It was an honest mistake!” Finn protested around a laugh. “Cut me some slack, Little Loops!”

“Do you want to do the intros for the guys, too?” Dorcas asked. Katie tugged on Jules’ sleeve.

“Can I go first?” she whispered. When he nodded, she hopped out of her chair and ran to the other side of the table, tapping each player on the shoulder. “This is Pots, Talker, Harzy, and Sirius.”

“Aw, man, I didn’t get to do any of them,” Jules pouted.

“You can ask the first question,” Dorcas said, hiding her smile behind her clipboard. “A quick reminder for our Lions: if you refuse to answer any of these, it means you hate children. Take it away, Jules!”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat and looked across the table with a solemn expression. “How many sticks have each of you broken?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one,” James mused. “A lot, but not always on purpose.”

“I haven’t broken that many,” Talker said. “I’ve forgotten to return quite a few to the rink after games, though. I think I have about five in my trunk that I keep meaning to put back.”

“Maybe…ten? Fifteen?” Finn rested his chin on his hand. “I should start a tally board.”

“Too many,” Sirius laughed. “I need to be more careful.”

Katie wiggled in her seat as she picked up the question card. “Why do you swear so much?”

Matching expressions of shock painted all four players’ faces. “Have we sworn in front of you?” Finn asked in a small voice.

“Yeah.”

“Mon dieu, I’m the worst person on earth,” Sirius murmured as Talker leaned his forehead on the table.

James opened and closed his mouth a couple times before answering. “Uh. Well. I don’t know, Katie. Instead of answering, I’m going to take this time to personally apologize to you and your dad, who is laughing his a—his rear end off in the back, as well as promising to form better habits.”

“If you could be any superhero, who would it be?” Jules asked, seemingly unfazed by the previous question. Wordlessly, Sirius gestured to his Captain America t-shirt.

“Spiderman,” Finn said without hesitation. “He’s the coolest.”

James unzipped his jacket to reveal a Superman shirt. “We didn’t coordinate this,” he said, tilting his head toward Sirius. “But yeah, Superman’s the best.”

Talker thought for a moment. “I really like Hawkeye. Are we talking Marvel or DC here?”

“Anything.”

“Anything? Hmm. I’m going to go with the Flash, then.”

“Nice.” Jules reached over to give him a high-five.

“I got Jules’ approval, everyone else can go home.”

“What’s your greatest fear?” Katie asked, still swinging her legs.

The table went silent. Sirius turned to Dorcas. “Is this the plan? Get us rolling with fun stuff and then give the hard ones to the five-year-old in a princess dress?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Cool. Well, munchkin, I don’t like bugs and I’m not a huge fan of the dark.”

“Vegetables,” Finn said sagely, which sent both kids into a fit of giggles and made all the adults break into sunny smiles. “God, you guys are cute.”

“Pomeranians freak me out,” Talker answered once they had calmed down a bit. “They have those tiny little eyes and sharp teeth.”

James shrugged. “I’m not a fan of heights.”

“I thought you wanted to be Superman?” Jules frowned. “He flies all the time.”

“I think I’d be less afraid of heights if I knew I could fly.”

“So you’re afraid of falling, not heights.”

James looked to the camera. “And now I’m getting psychoanalyzed by a ten-year-old. Uh, yeah buddy, I guess so.”

“Hmm.” Jules looked back to the question card. “Who would win in a fight, you or our moms?”

“Your moms,” Talker said immediately as the others nodded. “No contest.”

“How would we even get in that situation?” Sirius asked. “What the did we do to make the nicest women in the world that mad?”

“Stole brownies,” Katie said with great gravity for one so young. “Mom says you four are the worst about it.”

“Mom wouldn’t even have to fight you.” Jules cocked his head to the side. “I feel like she could just give you a disappointed look and that would be enough. Katie, your turn.”

“Yay!” She brightened again. “What is your favorite cereal?”

Sirius smiled. “Fruit Loops.”

“Cheerios,” Talker said. “They’re good for you physically and emotionally.”

“I’m with Talkie on this one,” James agreed.

Finn gave them all disappointed looks. “You’re so old. Mine’s Lucky Charms.”

“Okay, Leprechaun Boy,” James snorted. Finn reached over and smacked the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Do you ever play hockey at home?” Jules asked. “I feel like Sirius doesn’t have to answer this one since it’s so obvious.”

Finn laughed. “Does tapping a puck around on the carpet with brooms counts?”

“Yeah, that counts.”

“Then yeah, sometimes.”

“I have no space in my apartment to play hockey,” Talker said. “Though I plan on moving someday and then the answer will be yes.”

“I made a rink in my backyard.” James smiled slightly. “Lily likes to skate sometimes while I run drills.”

“My turn, my turn!” Katie scooted her chair closer. “Okay. Out of everyone on the team, what two people would you take with you on a dessert island?”

“Desert,” Jules corrected quietly.

“Desert island. Are there deserts on islands?”

“I think they mean like super sandy beaches with no people on them.”

“Oooooohhh.”

James mouthed a thank you to Dorcas, who gave him a thumbs-up in return. The other three looked at the kids with unbearable softness. “Well, I’d feel awful if I took your dad with me, so I think I’m going to go with Finn and maybe Kasey. We’d have a blast.”

“Nice, dude.” Finn fist-bumped him. “Unfortunately for you, my choices are going to be Leo and Logan, since I already know we could live together without starting a war on the third day.”

Sirius thought for a second. “I think Nado would actually be able to survive on a desert island, so I’ll bring him along, and for the second one…maybe Kasey? Yeah, Kasey’s cool.”

In the ensuing silence, Jules gave him a significant look. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“You’re not on the t—” The realization hit him like a truck; his eyes went wide and he slumped in his seat as the others burst out laughing. “Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.”

“Your own fiancé.”

“Please don’t tell him.”

“He’s gonna laugh so hard,” Jules cackled, leaning back in his chair. Even the camera crew was losing it in the background. Dorcas had to step out of frame. “You’re never going to live it down.”

“Well, the first person I would bring with me is Remus Lupin, because he’s read a lot of books and definitely knows how to survive on a desert island,” Talker said around his snickering. “And then I’d bring Cap, because God knows that would get entertaining after Loops finds out about this. The sarcasm would be off the charts.”

“Okay, next question.” Dorcas came back into view, still grinning. “Jules, go for it.”

“Can I ask Katie’s question again so Sirius can give a better answer?” he asked gleefully. Dorcas hesitated, then shook her head. “Bummer. What was cool when you were young that isn’t cool now?”

“When?” Finn looked scandalized. “I’m 24!”

“Yeah, and?”

“Ugh. Um, maybe Furbies? People were really into Furbies when I was in high school, though I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go out of style.”

James bit his lip in thought. “Tamagotchis.”

“I loved those things!” Talker said excitedly. “My sisters and I used to go nuts with those things!”

Sirius smiled. “Lite Brites.”

Finn’s eyes went wide. “I forgot about those!”

“Regulus and I each had one and we loved them. That was the only thing we agreed on and we used to sit—” He paused for a second to laugh. “—we used to sit in the middle of the ice rink in the backyard, still in our skates and everything, and do Lite Brites for literal hours.”

“That’s so cute, oh my god.” Talker shook his head. “What a nostalgia trip.”

Katie knelt on her seat and rested her arms on the table. “Who skates faster, you or me?”

“You,” all four answered in unison.

Jules rolled his eyes, but he was clearly hiding a smile. “How many push ups can you do?”

“How many can you do?” James countered. A flash of competition lit on Jules’ face and all the guys grinned. “Uh-oh, there’s the Lupin glare.”

“How about we have a little competition?” Dorcas suggested. “See how many everyone can do in thirty seconds?”

“Absolutely,” Finn said. The four of them had a little bit of trouble getting their knees out from under the kid-sized table, but eventually they succeeded and gathered in the middle of the room. “Katie, are you joining us?”

She smiled innocently. “No, I know I’d win.”

“Get ready.” Dorcas pulled her phone out as they knelt. “On your marks, get set, go!”

The guys went easy on Jules from the outset, but they made it look like those pushups were the hardest exercise they had ever done in their lives. Talker took a second to dramatically wipe his forehead and James’ wheezing was almost comical; Jules, however, was giving it his best shot. When the timer finally went off, Finn collapsed with a groan. “I forfeit.”

“Did I win?” Jules panted, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“You did, congratulations!” Dorcas put her timer away and winked at the camera as they headed back to the table. “Great job, everyone. Katie, your turn.”

“Do you live in a mansion?”

“I live in an apartment,” Finn said.

“Same.”

Sirius shook his head. “My house might be big, but it’s not a mansion.”

“Does a two-story house count as a mansion?” James asked. “No? Then no, I don’t.”

“Who is your least favorite person on the team and why?” Jules turned to Sirius with raised eyebrows. “Are we going to have another desert island problem?”

Sirius threw his hands in the air, speechless, as the other three cracked up. “Jules, can I adopt you?” James begged around his laughter. “Please?”

“You’ll have to fight my mom for that, I think.”

“My least favorite person on the team is James Potter,” Sirius sighed. “Not the person I’m getting married to.”

“We could get married. Lily might mind, though.”

“Full offense, but I know way too much about you to ever consider that.”

James ruffled his hair and turned back to the kids. “My least favorite person on the team is Remus Lupin, because he ran me over in practice the other day.”

Finn side-eyed him. “Didn’t you trip him after he stole the puck from you?”

“He ran me over.”

“Sure, Pots. Um, my least favorite is Kasey Winter. He threw ice at me while we were in the ice baths.”

“Logan took my Gatorade last week and hid it all over the rink,” Talker said. “I’ll never forgive him for such a crime.”

“Oh, I like this one!” Katie exclaimed as she looked at her card. “What’s the best birthday party you’ve ever had?”

“My tenth birthday was at Red Robin and I got a Power Ranger outfit.” Talker grinned. “I was the coolest kid on the block.”

“My eighteenth birthday was pretty fun,” Finn said. “There was a bouncy house and Alex almost broke it because we were jumping too hard.”

“Does it have to be my birthday?” James asked. “Because my son’s first birthday party was awesome.”

“Why?”

“He threw cake in Sirius’ face and a food fight broke out in the backyard.”

“That was a pretty great day,” Sirius agreed. “My last birthday party was my favorite.”

“You spent the night with us!” Katie said happily.

“I did, yeah,” he laughed. “And I had a really good time.”

Jules perked up when he read the next question. “I love this one! Do you have a lucky pair of underwear?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Of course I do.”

“Is there a superstition I don’t have?”

Jules looked especially pleased with those answers as Katie picked up her card. “This is the last one,” she warned. “And it’s super important and super hard. What kind of dog would you be and why? You can take your time, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Katie, we’ll need it,” Talker said as he desperately tried to contain his smile. “I’ll go first, if nobody minds. I would be a border collie because one, I love them; two, they have a lot of energy; and three, they love making friends.”

“That’s a good one,” she said seriously. “They’re also very soft.”

“Yes, they are.”

Once Finn managed to suppress his quiet laughter, he raised his hand. “Can I go next?” Katie nodded. “I’d be an Irish setter. They have red hair and they’re really affectionate. Plus, I met one the other day at the park and haven’t stopped thinking about him.”

“This was a tough question, Katie, but I think I’m going to go with a golden retriever,” James said after a moment. “They’re good family dogs and they like to be on the ice with those big ol’ paws.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” She beamed at him. “Sirius, you don’t have to go. I already know what you’d be.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking highly amused. “Do you now? Can everyone else know, too?”

“Well, it’s obvious,” she said. “You’d be Hattie. She looks just like you and she gives the best hugs.”

A small puff of air left Sirius’ lungs and he blinked as James reached over and patted his shoulder. “Oh. Okay.”

“That wraps us up,” Dorcas said, looking between them with a soft smile. “Any closing statements from our guest stars?”

“Ready?” Jules muttered to Katie, who nodded rapidly. “On three. One, two, three!”

“Go Lions!” they shouted in unison with matching grins. The camera crew cheered and the players applauded, all laughing.

“Thank you for tuning in, everyone! Remember to like and subscribe for more content.”

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smilesthroughfandoms · 3 years

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Every single episode of Ducktales (2017) Summarized in Roughly in One Sentence or Less!

Thank you Frank and team so much for introducing this family to a new generation of kids while remaining faithful to your source material. I hope you all enjoy my attempts at humor!

Woo-oo!: We don’t really know what’s going on yet but let’s do this!

Escape To/From Atlantis!: “Well I’m wearing a kilt McDuck! A kiiiilt!”

Daytrip of Doom!: They’re all siblings now and I love them all.

The Great Dime Chase!: “Shut up, everyone! I’ve done something brilliant!” (Also: Guess’s who my favorite character is?)

The Beagle Birthday Breakout!: Lena and Webby are best girls, fight me on this

Terror of the Terra-firmians!: This is the Spoopiest episode and also the most heartwarming.

The House of the Lucky Gander!: He’s an asshole but I love him.

The Infernal Internship of Mark Beaks!: He’s an even bigger asshole but I love him.

The Living Mummies of Toth-Ra!: I too would do anything for a good burrito.

The Impossible Summit of Mt. Neverrest!: “If I had a nickel for every person who cursed me with their dying breath, I’d be twice as rich as I already am.”

The Spear of Selene!: Of course Scrooge showed up freaking Zeus.

Beware the B.U.D.D.Y System!: The fusion of Iron Man and Sailor Moon I never knew I always wanted.

The Missing Links of Moorshire!: I always knew My Little Pony had a deadly fandom but this is ridiculous…

Mystery at McDuck Manor!: Took you long enough, Duckworth, welcome back.

Jaw$!: In this house, we love and respect Tiffany. (Also: Whoever came up with this episode title is the coolest person ever)

The Golden Lagoon of White Agony Plains!: Scrooge and Glomgold are in love with Allison Janney, and honestly, same.

Day of the Only Child!: Doofus is even creepier than Lil’ Gideon, and that is saying something.

From the Confidential Casefiles of Agent 22!: *hums James Bond theme intensely to myself*

Who is Gizmoduck?!: He’s not throwing away his shot! (I’m sorry, I had to)

The Other Bin of Scrooge McDuck!: I love Louie in this episode, he’s such a mood.

Sky Pirates… in the Sky!: The Pirates of the Caribbean meets High School Music crossover starring evil Panchito I never knew I needed.

The Secret(s) of Castle McDuck!: We’re all Webby in this episode.

The Last Crash of the Sunchaser!: *ugly sobbing*

The Shadow War, Part 1: Night of De Spell!: Donald finally gets the love he deserves.

The Shadow War Part 2: Day of the Ducks!: *spoiler warning* How is she still alive?!?!?!

The Most Dangerous Game… Night!: David screaming “GAME NIGHT!” is the best damn thing I’ve ever seen.

The Depths of Cousin Fethry!: I love Cousin Spongebob!

The Ballad of Duke Baloney!: Dammit, Frank.

The Town Where Everyone Was Nice!: They’re boyfriends mates, sorry I don’t make the rules.

Storkules in Duckburg!: Storkules is the ultimate Donald Duck fan, we cannot comepete.

Last Christmas!: Somehow the Ghost of Christmas McBrayer is the least surprising thing I’ve ever seen in this show.

Whatever Happened to Della Duck?!: Oh, so that’s how she survived.

Treasure of the Found Lamp!: Dijin is the best character.

The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck!: Yee–and I cannot stress this enough–haw.

The 87 Cent Solution!: *wheezing* Dammit, Frank…

The Golden Spear!: Oh my god, they were roommates!

Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!: Dammit, Frank!

Raiders of the Doomsday Vault!: “So stand out, above the crowd! Even if I gotta shout it out loud!”

Friendship Hates Magic!: Webby gets two friends for the price of one seance!

The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee!: BEAKS SMASH… THAT LIKE BUTTON! (I’m so sorry)

The Duck Knight Returns!: *spoilers* The single best superhero, origin story-based episode ever!

Whatever Happened To Donald Duck?!: *sobbing* He’s a good dad!

Happy Birthday, Doofus Drake!: This entire episode is creepier than most indie horror games.

A Nightmare on Killmotor Hill!: All the kids’ dreams are moods… except Huey’s, his dream can go jump off a microwave.

The Golden Army of Cornelius Coot!: Della is just pulling a Donald and adopting any and all kids within arms reach at this point.

Timephoon!: “I’m on it!” *gets struck by lightning* “I’ve immediately failed you!”

Glomtales!: I don’t know what’s more surprising, the fact that Louie won the bet or that they used Glomgold’s theme song takeover as the intro.

The Richest Duck in the World!: Drag them, Owlson. Drag them all…

Moonvasion! Part 1: *deep inhale* D A M M I T F R A N K!

Moonvasion! Part 2: Glomgold is my new favorite villain character.

Challenge of the Senior Junior Woodchuck!: Huey and Violet fight for the right to be crowned the squarest of squares.

Quack Pack!: Radical dude! *insert cheesy 90s riff here*

Double-O Duck in You Only Crash Twice!: We were all simping SO HARD this episode don’t think I forgot!!!

The Lost Harp of Mervana!: Scrooge fails a vibe check.

Louie’s Eleven!: Is it really a heist movie if something doesn’t go completely wrong?

Astro B.O.Y.D.!: So much ANIME!!!!!!

The Rumble for Ragnarok!: Eh, the MCU did it better

The Phantom and the Sorceress!: Seeing Gladstone suffer brings me an odd amount of joy

They Put a Moonlander on Earth!: They’re lesbians, Harold!

The Trickening!: Did… did no one really tell Launchpad how Halloween works?

The Forbidden Fountain of the Foreverglades!: If I had a nickel for every time a cartoon version of Ponce de Leon died a gruesome death on screen, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice, right?

Let’s Get Dangerous!: *spoilers* THEY ARE A SUPERHERO FAMILY!!!!

Escape from the ImpossiBin!: Scrooge and Beakley are a little too excited to traumatize their family because of their trauma.

The Split Sword of Swanstantine!: Dewey and Webby literally walk in blind, Violet spices things up, and Huey unleashes the Rage™

New Gods on the Block!: The most accurate representation of Zeus ever.

The First Adventure!: Young Donald is one heck of a mood.

The Fight for Castle McDuck!: The sibling culture episode.

How Santa Stole Christmas!: Charles Dickens would approve, probably.

Beaks in the Shell!: Huey ships Fendra and Gyro needs to stop hiding in the closet.

The Lost Cargo of Kit Cloudkicker!: The Battle of Theatre Kids... in the Sky!

The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck!: All the emotional weight was nearly overshadowed by One (1) attractive goth twink.

The Last Adventure Part 1; A Tale of Three Webbys!: They’re so cute! I love them!

The Last Adventure Part 2; The Lost Library of Isabella Finch!: Letting the kids on the plane is the single smartest decision Scrooge has ever made in his life.

The Last Adventure Part 3; Tale’s End!: *ugly, happy, heartbreaking sobbing* Woo-oo!

#ducktales 2017 #ducktales season 1 #ducktales season 2 #ducktales season 3 #dt 17 #ducktales spoilers #dt 17 spoilers #frank angones #don't repost #smilesthroughfandoms

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talesofstyles · 5 years

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Mates

Hello! What have we got here? A best friend!H. Does it have smut? Yes ma’am. Have I ever written smut before? Absolutely not. Do I want to run and hide in the darkest deepest part of the earth after writing this? YES.

Bless @waitingfortwilight (+for proofreading it!) and @all-things-fic because they’re most likely sick of hearing me talking about this in our group chat for the past few weeks, but hey it’s done now ;) also to @harrysdimplles for being excited with me!

Hope you like it and tell me what you think! xx

It was around six thirty in the morning when Harry woke up. He is one of the ten percent of the global population who are morning larks. He absolutely loves waking up early in the morning and almost never stays in bed past eight.

Meanwhile, you are the complete opposite. You are truly, definitely, utterly, completely, absolutely not a morning person. You hate waking up in the morning. You always set your alarm ten minutes before the actual time you need to get up so that you’ve got time to be pissed in bed because you have to wake up. Poor Harry made the mistake of waking you up early in the morning, thinking you’d join him for a morning run a week after both of you had settled into your new shared flat, and boy did he regret that decision. You’d given him a right bollocking, and sulked around like a stroppy child for the rest of the day.

You were never a morning person, so that was why Harry was confused when he heard sounds coming from the kitchen as he walked through to make himself a cup of coffee. He was looking down, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes as he entered the kitchen, so he didn’t realise the tall figure stirring coffee in the mug next to him wasn’t you.

“Morning mate,” greeted the man before he took a sip of his coffee.

Harry mumbled in response before it was cut with a yawn. “Mor- whoa,” he raised his palm to make a stop sign, and continued after he finished yawning. “You don’t live here.”

“Uh,” awkward silence filled the kitchen. “I don’t.”

“What are you doing here?” He knew it was a stupid question, but that somehow didn’t stop him from asking.

“Er, uh,” the guy looked down at his mug for a second before he answered. “Visiting.”

“Visiting what? My roommate’s uterus?”

The guy took a big gulp of his coffee and sat the mug down in the sink. “Uh, I’ll get going. Nice seeing you again, Harry.”

“Alright, bye bye now,” Harry said as the other guy disappeared from the kitchen, before muttering, “what a nonce,” under his breath.

Harry wasn’t usually mean. He was all about treating people with kindness, but apparently the motto didn’t apply to his roommate’s exes. It had nearly been a month since you broke up with Jamie.

Boy, was he fit. He’s still fit. He’s so fit. Legit ten out of ten. Was that the reason you keep getting back together even though you knew for sure that the relationship was toxic? Probably. But hey, you were a young woman in your early twenties; as young as a spring chicken, still naïve—and shallow, apparently—so nobody can blame you.

Jamie was your first serious boyfriend, because no—we are not going to count that nerdy bloke with glasses who used to do your maths homework in year 6. You were together on and off for four years, but you decided that enough was enough. It was your decision to end things in the first place, but that didn’t mean that you were okay with it. You did it because you knew it was the right thing to do—but deep down you knew you didn’t want it to end. Because controlling and guilt-inducing aside, Jamie was a nice bloke. He’s got a great sense of humour (unlike your darling roommate whose jokes tend to give you physical pain), and good Lord those lips always seem to know what you want to hear every single time. He’s romantic; such a good cook, and goodness gracious glory you, those abs. That face. Those green eyes that twinkle every time he talks about something that he is passionate about. He was a dream. But again, you knew ending it was the right thing to do.

You’d barely left your flat during the first week after your break up. You were so miserable, and Harry tried everything he could to cheer you up, but he didn’t have a lot of experience in helping girls get through a break up. All he knew about break ups was the fact that there were three phases (thank you Chandler) - phase one: sweatpants, phase two: getting drunk and going to a strip club, and phase three: picturing themselves with other people. He did offer to accompany you to a strip club incase you wanted to, but you threw one of the pillows on the couch at him for suggesting such a thing. So he just let you be. He threw away your healthy—re: shit—ice cream and swapped it with Ben and Jerry’s because he knew that you like to eat ice cream whilst watching Sleepless In Seattle or You’ve Got Mail, or basically any rom-coms that you decided to watch that night. He did the washing up for seven days in a row without moaning, and he even did some of your laundry too. He didn’t press you to talk it out, but he made sure that you knew that he was there for you.

You were so much better during the second week. In fact, you were too much better. Harry was surprised that it only took you a week to get over a four year relationship, but he was pleased to have his happy, bubbly roommate back. He was a little suspicious, but he brushed it off. He thought maybe you didn’t really love Jamie and that was why you were quick to get back on your feet. Or maybe you just had the emotional equivalent of a scavenging sewer rat. He’d never know.

Third week? You were back to square one.

“Well, well, well, look who’s up,” Harry greeted you as you appeared in the kitchen whilst he was beating the eggs and watching Gordon Ramsay as he did the same thing on his iPad. “Morning, love. Late night, eh? Y/N and Jamie sitting in a tree, K I S S I N G~”

“Morning,” you answered plainly. It was way too early for you to be arsed about his teasing remarks.

“So,” He paused as he added some crème fraiche into the pan. “Are you gonna tell me what happened last night? How that happened? You two getting back together?”

You sighed as you made your way to the counter where your nespresso machine sat. You put a capsule into the machine and turned it on because you needed some caffeine in your system before you could talk about it. Although you had a feeling by looking at Harry’s smirk that you were going to need a much stronger drink.

“Nah,” you replied and let out a yawn before you continued. “Was just a booty call.”

“A booty call?” Harry looked up from the pan at you. “Are you cool enough?”

“I am cool. The coolest I’ve ever been. In fact, I’m so cool that I’m gonna text him again for another booty call tonight. And maybe this time we can go out and have a booty breakfast.”

“You, my friend, are the furthest thing from cool. As the President of the casual sex society, local chapter—I call bull on your booty.”

“What?” You frowned. “It’s just a booty call.”

“Not with you it isn’t. You think that booty breakfast will maybe lead to a booty dinner, then maybe booty engaged and booty married, and have a couple booty kids and a booty retirement home, and then booty die together.”

“That isn’t true!” You protested.

“Yes it is! You know it is.” He went on. “You two keep going on and off you’re like Rihanna and Chris Brown, minus the punching and the duet.” Harry insisted as he put the eggs on two plates for both of you. “You were already doing so good last week, don’t go back there again.”

“Well, girls gotta eat!” you grumbled like a three year old whose candy had just been taken away, and Harry let out a chuckle.

“Go eat!” he stressed. “But don’t eat at the same restaurant.”

You huffed. “I don’t do one night stands.”

“So don’t stand. Lay down.” He grinned as he caught the cherry tomato that you threw at him in response. “Seriously, love, you need to get over him. He was a bellend.”

“You’re a bellend.”

“Oi! I was just trying to help!” this time he scrunched up a kitchen towel and threw it your way. “Listen, we’re going out tonight, yeah? S’gonna be fun.”

“I don’t feel like going out.”

“Alright, then. But remember, you can’t call Jamie again. I know it’s really not my business but you’re my best friend and I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“I won’t.” You reassured him.

Harry reached out his pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

“Oh my God, what are you? Five?” You took a sip of your coffee before you gave in and reached out yours. “Fine, promise. Happy now?”

***

“Harry!”

He sighed at hearing his name being yelled again for the third time. You had been quite short with him somehow even though he did nothing wrong. You weren’t usually like that and he knew it was just because you were upset, so he gave you a dick pass.

“What?” Harry asked you as he stood up from the couch to find you. “What did I do now?”

“I just changed the toilet roll three days ago and it’s already gone! How dirty is your arse?!” You grumbled.

Harry looked at you in disbelief. “For fucks sake woman it’s three quid for nine bleeding rolls!”

“Aye! Sorry didn’t know we’re a Tory household now, splashing money around like we won the lottery.”

He raked his hand through his hair. “Alright that’s it. Let’s get you out of the house. You’re mean at home.”

“Hey!” You swat his arm in response to his remark. Then he ended up showing off the arm that you hit playfully and pointed at it to prove his point.

“See?! Come on, let’s go get changed. Spit spot. Move along now. You can go and get ready now voluntarily or I’ll just drag you out by force in your two days old pyjamas. The choice is yours.” He shrugged and opened his palms.

You huffed but you did what he told you to do anyway, because maybe he was right—you needed the change of scenery. You wanted to just get back in bed since it was Saturday and took a three hour nap, but you knew that pest of a roommate of yours wouldn’t let you, and you knew that what he said wasn’t an empty threat. So, you went to take a quick shower and get ready.

“Seriously, where are we going?” You asked Harry as you waited for him to start his orange Vespa scooter.

“Ah ah ah,” Harry shook his head. “What did I say before? No questions, just put your helmet on.”

“Are you gonna kidnap me?”

“We live together!”

“Yeah, but who knows? Maybe you’re after my kidney.”

“Oh my God woman just shush, put your helmet on and hop on so we can get going, yeah? S’gonna be fun, promise. No kidney stealing or some other dodgy stuff.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle for the first time in a while, and Harry grinned. “See? You’re better outside.”

After putting the helmet on, you hopped onto the scooter and you held his waist. But then you felt his hands reaching for your arms to wrap it around his tummy and rest it on his belly button, making you sit closer to him. Your front was nearly glued to his back, which you were sure they would be in a second when you hit the road because the slightest bump would shift you forward.

You weren’t sure what it was. You weren’t sure why you were feeling a little flustered being that close to Harry. For a second you thought maybe it was just because you had broken up recently and your emotions were out of whack. That wasn’t the closest you’d ever been with Harry. You were both—still are—massive cuddlers, so it wasn’t rare for you two to sit on the couch cuddling as you watched whatever it was on the telly. You tried to brush it off. Besides, Harry was fit—still is and forever will be—so you told yourself it’s normal and that you don’t need to fret about it.

After a million bumps and sudden brakes, you both arrived in Camden. You thought Harry was going to take you to the market, but he surprised you by stopping the scooter in front of a grey building.

“Alright, get down and wait for me here, I’ll be back in a tick, just gonna park there.” He said, and you hopped down immediately, handing him your helmet afterwards.

He was back with you shortly with a huge grin plastered across his face. “Ready t’av some fun?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Is it one of those escape room thing? Oh my God Harry, we are both dumb—we’ll never get out!”

Harry protested. “Hey!”

You burst into laughter when you saw the look on his face. Neither of you had ever been to an escape room before, so you didn’t know what to expect. But you couldn’t deny that you were quite excited, although never in a million years would you admit that to Harry’s face.

It turned out that you were required to book the room beforehand, and obviously you hadn’t since it was pretty spontaneous. Fortunately, there was one room left available right away.

“We only have the Zen Room available for now, would that be alright with you?” The receptionist kindly offered you.

“Oh, what is it about?” Harry asked her.

“Basically your mission is to help an orphaned Japanese girl retrieve her priceless family heirlooms. Are you familiar with Asian culture? Also it’s not a requirement but if you can speak Japanese that would make it so much easier.” She explained.

“Well, I know a bit about the culture, yeah,” Harry nodded.

You lifted your eyebrow as you looked at him. “What do you know?”

“Well, I went to BLACKPINK concert once.” He gave a lopsided grin and the receptionist had a little chuckle.

“Oh my God.” You facepalmed. “We’re never getting out aren’t we?”

Harry insisted that it was going to be just fine and that it was going to be fun so you agreed to do it. The receptionist gave you a quick briefing before walking you to the end of the hall where the Zen Room was.

“There’s a screen inside and I will give you clues from time to time. Have fun!” she said as she opened the door for both of you. You thanked her and as soon as the door was closed, the light turned on and you scanned the room around you.

The room wasn’t big, but there was something like a sliding door that you were sure that would open at some point and there’s got to be another room behind that.

“Oh bollocks! Everything is in Japanese, I can’t read anything.” You grumbled as you began looking around for clues.

Harry mumbled nonchalantly. “I can speak Japanese.”

“What?! I didn’t know that.” You replied. Feeling a little relieved and for the first time you thought maybe you two were going to nail it.

He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “You never asked.”

“Alright, say something.” You requested, curious about what would he sound like speaking in foreign language. He was shit in French but you thought maybe he was good in Japanese?

“Uh, konnichiwa. Arigatou gozaimasu.”

You shook your head. “No, not just hi and thank you. Say a proper sentence.”

“I can’t. That’s the only words I know.”

“THAT’S IT?!” you hollered.

“Hey, it’s still Japanese!” he argued.

“Two words don’t count!”

“Knowledge is a knowledge no matter how small!” he insisted.

You could go on but you realised that you had a more important task. You wanted to solve the mystery before the time ran out because they gave free ice cream if you manage to get out in under an hour, and you were willing to fight for free ice cream, so you told Harry to find as much clues as he could in one part of the room whilst you searched the other part.

Harry jumped up in surprise and tumbled when the telly suddenly turned on and the receptionist’s face appeared on the screen. You cackled, and the receptionist failed to stifle her snigger. “Sorry, are you alright?” she asked.

“Well, physically I’m fine.” He replied. “Emotionally, I’m bruised.”

You howled at his response and the fact that he was looking down at the floor in embarrassment made it even harder for you to control your laughter. The girl gave you the first clue and told you to try to open the wooden box in the corner of the room. You tried to move things around before you heard Harry squeal when he found a bunch of keys.

“Hey, look at what I found!” he beamed proudly.

“What?” You asked curiously. “What is it?”

He showed you the keys that he found and shook it to make a rattling noise. “Keys!”

“Aaah! Open it! Open it!”

He struggled to get the key into the keyhole. He had tried five different keys and none of them seemed to work. “It doesn’t fit!” He grumbled, but then giggled not even two seconds afterwards. “Hehehe.”

You looked at him in confusion. “Why are you laughing?”

“If I got a penny for every time I said that.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t think any of those keys will work. That’s too easy. There’s got to be something else.”

It was safe to say that you both sucked at it. You had been in the room for twenty minutes and so far both of you had only found two little coins, a silk hand fan and a bunch of useless keys. You had tried to open every drawer and looked at underneath the tables but you found nothing. But then the sliding door suddenly opened and both of you looked at each other in horror.

“Did- what- how?!” you gasped.

“I’ve got no idea! Do you think this room is haunted?” he deadpanned. He knew you were a wimp and he found pleasure from the look of your face.

You scolded him. “HARRY!”

He giggled and walked behind you into the other room. Actually, he knew why the door opened—because he opened it. He was moving some paintings around and as soon as he moved that painting of a fish on the wall, the door opened, but there was no way on earth he would tell you that. And being the pest that he was, he made some creepy, breathy sound of your name to wind you up, making you shudder in fear.

“Harry I swear to God if you don’t stop, the first thing I’m going to do the second we get out of here is to kill you.” You threatened him, and he howled in response.

There was a giant sudoku on the wall, a table with some antiques on top of it and an empty aquarium. Great. You were shit at sudoku and you were sure that Harry was even worse.

“Oooh! Sudoku!” Harry clapped his hands excitedly.

You glanced at him. “Do you know how to play it?”

“Of course! I’m really good at it. I’m the best. I’m the king of sudoku!”

“Have you ever played it?”

He shook his head. “Not once in my whole life.”

“Oh God, we’re never getting out.”

“Come on, let’s just put those numbers in the slot.” He suggested as he began to take the wooden numbers out of the box.

“That’s not how it goes.” You folded your arms and Harry tilted his head at you, his forehead furrowed.

“That’s literally how it goes!”

“I mean,” you licked your lips for a second out of habit before you went on. “There’s got to be some rules. We can’t just put random num- ah! I remember we can’t put the same numbers in one region!”

“You’ll find me in the region of the summer stars~”

You smacked your forehead with your palm when he started to sing. After knowing him for a year and a half and lived together for about seven months, you knew that he sings 24/7. Most of the times it’s nice because you couldn’t deny that he’s got beautiful voice, but sometimes it makes you want to tape his mouth shut.

“Shut your trap and just put it in!”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He smirked at you as he put a nine and another nine but upside down next to each other in the slots.

You rolled your eyes. “That’s upside down you absolute spoon.”

You ended up doing the sudoku alone because Harry was shit at it. You weren’t much better, but you were better nonetheless. He decided to go and look for other clues. When you were done with the sudoku—re: gave up—you frowned when you looked around and couldn’t find Harry. You walked to the other room and you finally found the bloke sat on the floor in the corner of the room eating a Twix.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I need to gain strength. You want a bite?” He replied as he took another bite of the chocolate bars. Yes, he always took a bite of both of them at once because he didn’t want one of the chocolates to get lonely in his tummy.

You chuckled. “Mate we’re shit at this we haven’t even done much.”

“But still fun, right? You’re having fun?” His eyebrows waggled as he licked his fingers after the last bite of the chocolate.

“I am. But I give up.”

He cackled. “We can still get ice cream after this if y’want? Screw free ice cream.”

“You’re buying?” You grinned at him, and he nodded.

“You know what? I’ve got a better idea. We’ll go to Shake Shack after this for some burgers and frozen custard cause daddy don’t skimp.”

“Great!” you cheered. “Am starving.”

“I swear you’re either starving, freezing or fuming.”

“I want to deny but you’re right.”

“What? Say tha’ again, can’t hear ya,” he teased.

You just sat together until the time ran out and the door opened, accepting the fact that you were just shit at it but hey at least you tried. After that, Harry fulfilled his promise of buying you a burger and frozen custard.

“Oh the cow in the meadow goes moo~” Harry started to sing again as soon as you sat down at the table with your food.

“……”

“Oh the cow in the meadow goes moo~”

“……”

“Then the farmer hits him on the head and grinds him up and that’s how we get hamburgers~”

***

“Y’alright ya wee cunt?” You greeted Harry, who had some random bird’s mouth attached to his neck. You were sure it would leave a mark or two. “How you been deein’?”

Harry pulled his neck away from the bird as soon as he heard you. “For God’s sake mate how much you’ve been drinking?!”

“Eh,” you shrugged. “Just a couple.”

“A couple my arse! C’mon let’s get you home, yeah?”

“What about your b- wait Harry, your bird’s gone!”

“S’alright. Not important. Let’s just get you home before you start calling people cunts again.”

“Hey! I don’t call people that.”

“You literally just called me that!”

“Well yeah that’s my pet name for you but I don’t call other people that.”

“What kind of pet name is that?!” Harry said as he held your hand and began walking towards the door. But just a couple steps away from the door, Rolling in the Deep came on and Harry gasped. “Oh fuck!”

“Wanna stay for this one song?” You smirked at him and you knew he wouldn’t say no.

***

The next morning you woke up feeling like you had just been hit by a truck. Your head was in bits and the rain outside sounded more like gunfire to you. You didn’t remember much from the night before and you surely didn’t know how you got home since you weren’t sure how pissed Harry was last night, but the fact that you woke up alone in your own bed made you sigh in relief.

“Morning, love. Coffee?” Harry greeted as he spotted you in the kitchen.

“Ssshh, why are you yelling?” You grumbled as you covered both of your ears with your hands.

Harry chuckled lightly and whispered. “I’m not? But alright. How are you feeling?”

“My head’s in bits. How much did I drink last night?”

“Well, the club’s gone because you drank it.” He teased. “Also you called me a cunt three times so you obviously had tequila.”

“Did I try to call him?”

“Yes. And you ran to the loo when I tried to take your phone away.”

“Did you manage to take it?”

“That I didn’t because I didn’t want people to think I was snooping in a ladies toilet. They’d kick me out.”

“Oh fuck! I called him didn’t I?”

“Nah, you didn’t. After you came in, I peeked inside and shouted so everyone could hear that you were about to call your ex. There were a couple girls inside and they talked you out of it.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle, and you wished you’d remembered it because that sounded funny. “What would I do without you, H.”

“Hey, s’nothing. What do you want to do today?” He asked you as he poured some muesli into the bowls.

“Sleep.”

And that was what you did for most of the day. After you had breakfast you took a nap and woke up around two in the afternoon. It was raining cats and dogs outside so you settled on the couch watching Friends because you spent the last few weeks watching rom-coms and if you watched another rom-com you swore you would lose your shit. You were snuggling up to Harry’s side, his left arm wrapped around you as you laughed at Joey and Rachel bickering. There were some slices of pizza left on the coffee table because none of you could be arsed to cook, along with two cans of coke.

“Do you want to finish that?” You asked Harry, tilting your head to the box of pizza.

Harry yawned before he answered. “I’m full.”

“Alright, I’ll clean that up.” You said as you rose from the couch.

“I’ll help.” Harry immediately picked up the box and you put the drinks on top of the box before you bent over to wipe the coffee table. “Watch out!” Harry warned you, but it was too late. Your back bumped the box of pizza, making the remaining coke spill all over his Rolling Stones shirt.

“Oh God, I’m sorry!” You panicked because you knew that was his favourite t-shirt. You grabbed a couple tissues right away and began rubbing the stained part of the shirt hoping it would help take away some of the liquid before it was stuck to the fabric. “Harry, I’m sor-“

You weren’t sure how it happened, but the next thing that happened surprised you. His lips were pressed against yours all of sudden, cutting you mid-sentence. He broke the kiss for two seconds to put the box of pizza and the cokes back on the table before leaning back to you and pressing his lips against yours again. You’d soften up this time around. You knew that was wrong. It was Harry and he was your best friend, not to mention that you live together and that would complicate the shit out of things. But it just felt so right. You never thought you would actually kiss him and you thought it would be awkward, but it wasn’t. You parted your lips when he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip subtly, his hands moved from your back to cup your jaw.

You couldn’t help but let out a little giggle against his lips when you felt something poking you in the stomach. Harry pulled his lips away instantly as soon as he realised what made you giggle. The look on his face made it harder for you to stifle your snigger.

“Shit,” his breaths quickened. “Sorry. I- I didn’t know what came over me. We’ve never- I shouldn’t have-“

You laughed as you dropped to your knees, and you swore Harry looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His pupils were dilated and he took in a sharp breath. “Y/N what are you doing?”

“Hunting elephants.”

“I’m serious.”

“What do you think? Is it not obvious?” You asked.

“It is. Fuck, I mean- you sure? You’re gonna-“ he blabbered.

“Suck you off, yes.” You cut him short and nodded.

He was less tense by then, a grin creeping up on his face “Such a dirty mouth.”

“Well I’m about to put your dick in my mouth so I’m not really concerned about oral hygiene right now.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hehehe.” He giggled, and you looked at him in confusion.

“What?”

“You’re gonna see my willy.”

“I know.”

“I’ve got some hair there.”

“Okay.”

“Not a lot because I still shave a little to keep it nice and pretty but-“

“Harry,”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, sorry.”

You didn’t know what came over you to make you want to do it, but it was a bit too late to chicken out, and frankly you wanted to do it. In four years of a relationship—yes, on and off but we’re going to round that up for dramatic purpose—you only gave Jamie head once so really, you didn’t know what came over you.

You knew he wasn’t small. You saw a glimpse of it a couple months prior when he forgot to lock the bathroom door, but you certainly didn’t get a good look of it. Little did you know that the next time you look at it, it’d nearly poke you in the eye.

His eyes widened when you looked up to him, muttering a series of profanities under his breath. You took a deep breath before taking it into your hand, and he choked on his breath as soon as your hand came into contact. He felt heavy in your hand. He was hard and you could see him already leaking from the tip.

“Give it a kiss, love. Please.” He begged, and you obliged. Kissing the tip lightly, before you began licking from the base to the tip. You weren’t really sure what to do, but the noises that he made egged you on so you thought maybe you were doing fine. His head lolled back when you gently sucked the tip.

The grunts and praises that kept flowing out of his mouth encouraged you to take it further into your mouth. It felt really heavy and you could just feel it weighing down on your tongue as he pushed past your lips. You took the rest of him in your hand and you began to work your hand and mouth around him in sync. You knew that there was a slight chance that both of you would regret what you were doing, but it didn’t matter in that moment.

You knew that he was close when he started whining. You let him go for a second to ask him before it was too late. “Where do you want it?”

You could hear his ragged breathing but he couldn’t form a sentence - that was how fucked up he was. You let him go again for a second. “Okay, aim wherever you like, just don’t get it in my ha- MATE YOU HAD ONE JOB!”

“Sor- sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He apologised as he fell down to the couch behind him, trying to even his breathing. “Love, that was, wow I- wow I can’t even speak.”

You chuckled. “S’alright. You’re welcome by the way.”

“You.” He shook his head in disbelief, still grinning from ear to ear. “Didn’t know you have it in you, babe.”

“I’m gonna take a shower then we’re gonna go out and play laser tag.” You smirked as you jumped to your feet.

“What?”

“What? You don’t want to play laser tag?”

“Well yeah of course I want to. S’fun seeing you curse at a bunch of eight year olds and make them cry.” He paused to take another deep breath before he went on. “But, uh, you don’t want me to reciprocate?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Maybe later.” You gave him a lopsided grin.

“Fine we’re going. But-“

“What?”

“Wanna snog again before we go and get ready?”

You nodded sheepishly. “Okay.”

bow chicka wow wow

#harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry x y/n #best friend!harry #requested #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles concepts #harry styles fic

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ruensroad · 4 years

Text

maybe, just maybe, fated to be

A continuation of this Jinyi AU for @this-solaris-life, because I’m soft for them and I wanted pancake snow leopards.

Translation key: Shé - serpent shifter. Bào - snow leopard shifter. Lù - deer shifter. ---

For all he was a Crown Prince and not exactly in charge of anything, he was forced into enough meetings by his father and grandfather’s side to make his eyes cross. A pretty showpiece he felt like most days, there to be decorative, no matter what ma-ma said about his voice being important.

It’d been Jin Ling’s marriage to Lan Jingyi that had ended the war, yet as the talks went on, every comment or question about his union was aimed at Jin Guangshan to answer, or ba-ba, who always looked like he had a headache just having to speak. Jin Ling nearly cried when Zizhen slipped through the back curtain and made a show of whispering something of vital importance into his ear. It was important, in Jin Ling’s eyes, since it had everything to do with his husband and nothing to do with this meeting, and given Zizhen was serving as adviser, it was an out no one could argue.

Even ba-ba looked relieved when Jin Ling managed his escape, sweeping after Zizhen in his best, full authoritarian demeanor. The nobles hanging outside the meeting hall scattered at his determined face and hurried walk, and for all they cared he was marching to his war room, the way he had so often before the treaty. It felt like a different life now.

“What do you mean, he’s overheating?” he demanded of Zizhen the moment they were in the back hallway, far from prying eyes and ears. “Has he seen a healer?”

Zizhen looked ready to laugh and his own demeanor shifted, from war councilor to amused friend in a single beat. “A-Ling, think about it,” he said, and there was definitely a giggle starting up. “He’s a snow leopard. Do you think Gusu gets this hot?”

Jin Ling winced, because no, he knew from his jiu-jiu’s excursions into the Cloud Recesses that it was far colder and snowy, which fit the Bào well. It made the snake inside him shudder, as all serpents did to consider the cold.

Knowing he’d overlooked the reverse was an unexpected sting to his heart. One that made even his pride wilt.

“Shit,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “Where is he now, do you know?”

“The lower kitchen,” Zizhen said, already leading the way. “Sizhui helped him into it, since it’s been closed since last autumn. It’s probably the coolest area in this whole palace.”

It was, which was why his grandfather had ordered it closed and newer, much more open aired kitchens built where the sun was always shining through the windows. Too many times the kitchen staff - the majority of which were serpents or other types of reptile shifters - had been unable to finish meals, or continue working due to the chill. Jin Ling’s kind did not fare well in cold places, after all, and the idea that Jingyi now had broken into the damp, dusty place just for some relief was equal parts amusing and shudder-worthy.

Not that that would stop him from going down there, but still. There had to be a better solution.

“Zizhen, have a bath drawn in my rooms,” Jin Ling said once the kitchen door was in view. “A very cold bath, if you can. Ask Mistress Mao if she can spare some ice.”

The knowing smile that split his friend’s face had his own cheeks heating. He swatted at the Lù to get him going and stepped around him so he wouldn’t have to see Zizhen’s glee. Thankfully, Zizhen took the hint and moved off, laughing, because he was a terrible person, and Jin Ling had to take a moment to compose himself before shoving open the door.

The chill was just as bad as he’d feared and he instantly recoiled. Swallowing down a hiss, he stepped further in, ever stubborn, and looked around for any sign of gold and white robes.

“Jingyi?”

There was a soft chuff, which drew his eyes to the corner. A blob of shadowy gray was laying against the floor, and as his eyes adjusted, he took in the sight of his husband in full snow leopard form, limbs akimbo and body as flat to the stone tiles as possible. He looked ridiculous, like he was trying to hug the earth between his massive paws. It was also terribly cute the way Jingyi looked up at him with too big, rather pathetic silver-blue eyes.

Please tell me it doesn’t get hotter, his husband begged in a low, growly tone. How do you breathe in this heat? Gods… am I melting? I think my spots are melting off…

Jin Ling couldn’t fight the smile, hearing that, and knelt before him, already starting to shiver in the damp. “Your spots are all where they should be,” he promised, doing his best not to worry. Funny as it was, Jingyi was panting for real, and even this cold that had Jin Ling wanting to run didn’t seem adequate to cool him down. “And no, this heat isn’t our standard. Not to say it’ll cool down a lot, but it’s not typically this hot either.”

A groan followed that, those massive paws flexing over the floor. Sun-lover, he accused, but there was no bite to it, only resignation. How am I supposed to be your consort when I can’t even stand up straight in this weather?

“We’ll figure it out.” They had to, for Jingyi’s sake. There was no other option. “For now though, I have a remedy.”

Two big eyes looked up at him, pitifully hopeful. Oh?

“It requires you getting up,” Jin Ling said, shuddering now. “And me not freezing. Shall we?”

He held out his hand and after a long moment and deep sigh, Jingyi pushed his face into his palm before standing.

You could have just sent Zizhen in here to get me, he huffed, sticking close to his side as they walked, as though escorting him from the kitchen back to their rooms, even though he had no idea that was the destination.

“I warm up fast,” Jin Ling shrugged, unconcerned, and kept a hand on Jingyi’s scruff to gently lead him. When Jingyi seemed to realize where they were headed, he perked up, though his panting had only gotten quicker. Jin Ling swallowed around the stab of guilt he felt just hearing it and quickly pushed open their door.

The ordered bath was there as promised, with bits of ice floating on the surface. In an instant, Jingyi was gone from his side and folding over the side of the tub, careful not to slosh the water. Headfirst, he disappeared into the bath, then resurfaced with a happy purr, eyes squinted in pleasure.

You are officially my favorite husband, he said, blissful, and bobbed under the water again.

Snorting, Jin Ling pulled over his vanity seat and sat before him, smoothing back his wet fur when he resurfaced. “I’m your only husband,” he scoffed, glad he could fall back on a tease to soothe the sense of wrong he still felt in his heart. What a poor husband he was, that he hadn’t even considered what a permanent change in climate would do to Jingyi.

Even better, Jingyi said before disappearing into a pile of bubbles. When he came back up, he was human, sopping wet and utterly graceless as he shrugged off his robes and flung them away.

And that was… way too much skin. Jin Ling quickly turned away, blushing. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jingyi demanded as the last of his clothes slapped down. With a sigh of relief, he sunk down to his chin, grinning ear to ear, and Jin Ling had married a devil, it was plain. “What are you doing, sitting there all red faced? Didn’t you have a meeting?”

He had. And he’d left it to be with Jingyi, to take care of him. How embarrassing.

“Zizhen told me you were overheating. That was more important than listening to Grandfather go on and on about my importance while not letting me say a word.” He hadn’t meant to sound bitter, but there it was, and some of his embarrassment fled under that growing sense of frustration that had only grown from the moment Jin Guangshan had used Jin Ling’s marriage as another tool of power.

Something shifted in his top knot, startling him enough to look over. Jingyi had pulled free his hairpin, it seemed, and the cascade of wild, wavy hair had his face heating all over again, especially when he realized Jingyi was currently putting the pin in Jin Ling’s own hair.

“Anything is more important than that,” Jingyi agreed before leaning back and if the sight of freckled shoulders had been bad, the flash of bared neck was definitely worse. Jin Ling tore his eyes away and did his best not to leap off his seat and run.

He settled for gently touching the hairpin, the first marriage gift he’d given to Jingyi upon their union. He’d never seen his husband a day without it since, and it’d always coiled a warm pleasure in his chest to think Jingyi appreciated its simple design. Perhaps even treasured it.

He’d made it in the design Gusu men typically favored, but in the gold and rubies of his own people. It always looked striking in Jingyi’s hair, glinting in the sun. He hoped fervently that it was not just duty that made Jingyi wear it, that its mix of their cultures was more than just a pretty embellishment, but rather a promise of meshing and molding to one another that he himself wished for. He could only hope it was the same for Jingyi.

Jingyi, who looked very pleased and wild sitting in the tub in only his freckled skin, surrounded by melting ice cubes and inky hair plastered on his neck and shoulders, fanning out over the water. It was not the first time Jin Ling had been made too-entirely aware of how handsome Jingyi actually was underneath those impish grins, but it was the first time it’d happened without a stitch of clothing to preserve any sense of shame and Jin Ling had a feeling he was about to become very familiar with the detailed filigree of his desk the longer this all went on.

“I thought the Shé were free with what they felt?” Jingyi asked him, and suddenly cold, wet fingers were tilting his face back, sliding over his jaw and stealing his breath completely, even before he was forced to meet his husband’s teasing smile. “Am I too shameful for you like this, husband? Or do you just like glaring at your desk?”

Jin Ling swallowed and forced a scowl to his face, the way jiu-jiu had taught him. “I thought the Bào weren’t so shameless,” he gave right back, wishing his face wasn’t so hot.

Jingyi looked down at himself, then shrugged. “We are communal bathers,” he pointed out, which Jin Ling realized a beat too late that he’d actually known. “And we see nothing wrong with being free in the presence of our fated ones.”

Fated one. Strange how such a concept could cut through him so easily, steal his breath and leave him speechless, all in one breath. “That implies you see me as your fated one,” he murmured, not allowing himself to hope. Because there was no way he could be, not when Jingyi had been as forced into this marriage as he had been. Fated ones were for true love, and choice, not… this.

Right?

“I do?” Jingyi’s brow furrowed in thought. “At least, it makes sense that you could be. Fate means destined, right? Well, I would argue that I was always destined to be here. With you. Fated.”

Jin Ling swallowed around that and looked away best he could with a hand still cupping his face. It had more of a nuzzling effect than he’d intended, which had Jingyi smiling again, far too sweetly, that he had to hide.

He closed his eyes, stubborn against the swell of confusing feelings making his heart skip. “Fated to be yours, then? How poetic.”

“Fated to be mine,” Jingyi agreed and there was a soft slosh of water before cold lips pressed to his cheek. “And we both know how terrible I am at sharing, apparently.”

Jin Ling laughed, unable to help it, and turned towards the soft breath against his chin he could feel. “Fated to be yours,” he repeated, shivering and wanting and confused, even if this felt right. Utterly right. “I guess that’s not so bad.”

His face was framed by two cold hands then, making him tremble and his eyes open. It was a costly move, with how soft and glowing his husband looked, even if the chill of his skin was doing nothing for his composure. He was lost, completely, the moment Jingyi leaned in and pressed his lips to Jin Ling’s, a soft, confident smile against his mouth.

“Not bad,” Jingyi agreed, voice a near purr, eyes gleaming silver in the light. “Not bad at all.”

#ruenwrites #jinyi #peacebride au #i love them #i am so SOFT rn #jin ling #lan jingyi

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valmerappreciationhours · 4 years

Text

Room 313

Clenny Week Day 4--omg they were roommates

(read on ao3 here)

Clyde Donovan has been looking forward to meeting his college roommate for months. Unfortunately for him, Kenny McCormick isn't quite what he was expecting.

“You smell that? That’s the smell of new beginnings, my compatriots.”

“Bold to say for s-someone who peaked in hh—hu—high school.”

“Smells like manure and sweat.”

Clyde stopped in his trek to turn and glare at his companions, varsity jacket-clad arms crossed. His height certainly wasn’t accomplishing any wonders in terms of intimidation. “You’re just grumpy since your boyfriend didn’t come with us.”

Craig’s mouth remained set in a straight line, but a small crease formed between his brows. “I’m simply stating facts. And you didn’t say anything about Jimmy’s comment.”

“Jimmy’s comment was funny.”

“I aim to please.”

As the group continued their teasing, a cold autumn breeze picked up, whisking a few leaves past the party. The spare bits of concrete that were visible under throngs of students were littered with empty chip bags and discarded cigarettes. Booths advertising various clubs and events were scattered throughout the square, with a couple of plain buildings filling the space beyond. The clatter of voices and the rustling of bodies generated a cacophony that was a chore to speak over, but the three had plenty of practice.

“Who has the map? I’m r-ready to get out of this.” Jimmy had cut over to an empty area by a trash can and quickly readjusted his crutches.

“I second that.” Craig swiftly unfolded the campus map from his jacket pocket. “We’re going to my residence hall first. Token’s waiting with Stripe in the car and I need to get her set up.”

“Aw, Craig!” Clyde whined but sped up to keep up with the long strides. “You mean they’re not close?”

“Did you not look at any of your papers?”

The silence from Clyde was deafening.

Jimmy laughed. “Nice to know Clyde’s still the same old guy ev-even at a b-b-bi- a big university.” It was not a big university. It may quality as big by some standards, or a university by others, but the community college was far from any Ivy League school. The minimal requirements and low fees were what made the school attractive more than anything else.

“But I’ll be so quick! I just wanna meet my roommate and then I’ll be right back to help set up! I’ve been waiting forever for this.” Clyde’s excitement and fierce determination sparkled in his brown eyes, and Craig sighed.

“Do you need the map?”

“He needs the map,” Jimmy confirmed.

Clyde raced across campus, dodging other new students and luggage. His backpack thumped uncomfortably against his back, but it was no match for the exhilaration of discovering who he was going to be rooming with. Hopefully someone cool who also loved football and parties! Maybe even a science nerd like Craig, who would be down with making miniature explosions in their dorm. Clyde nearly toppled two boys hefting a crate, and made hasty apology as he scrambled up the stairs. Third floor, room 310, 311, 312, yes, 313! The door was cracked, and Clyde thrust it open to finally reveal…

An empty room.

Wait, no, there was a ratty brown backpack on the floor. Clyde glanced around, searching for something, anything more. He couldn’t have run here just to beat seeing his roommate.

The bunkbeds lacked any personal items, there were no posters, no pets. The beige walls and gray rug stared back, empty and unyielding. The desk, aside from coffee stains and indentations, bore no mark of human life. Clyde stood for a moment more, hoping for something before he left to go help his friends set up.

His saving grace was an incomprehensible muffle from behind him.

Clyde whipped around fast enough to produce a neck injury, and was met with an individual ingulfed by an orange coat covered in patches. His jeans were completely torn at the knees, showing off scrapes and bruises underneath. His shoes were unidentifiable simply by the sheer amount of duct tape holding them together. He stared, and the other stared back, blue eyes unblinking. Eventually the muffle sounded again, but now that Clyde was paying attention it sounded much more like “do you live here?”

“Yeah, I live here.” Clyde flashed a smile, leaning against the doorframe. A surefire way to make a good impression, and if this orange blob was his roommate, he wanted to look like the coolest dude on the face of the Earth.

The boy under the coat stuck out a hand, showing off fingerless gloves. Clyde took it, wondering if the gloves were a sign his roommate was chill or if he was a former homeless person. At any rate, his hands were clammy anyway.

“Kenneth McCormick,” he introduced through a thick layer of fabric. “You want top or bottom?”

Clyde let his hand keep shaking, but his cheeks reddened. “Clyde Donovan, and, uh, that’s pretty straightforward.”

Kenneth put his hands back in the pockets of the orange monstrosity. “Well, we gotta figure it out before bed.”

Oh, geez, that was straightforward! “Hey, man, you seem alright and all, and I’m sure you’re attractive under that hood, but…”

One could practically see the pieces fit their way together in Kenneth’s mind, and his eyebrows shot up. He took a hand and pointed behind Clyde, who turned to see the bunk beds. Well, what did that have to do with---ohh. Oh.

Clyde turned back in horror, cheeks surely flaming. His roommate’s eyes crinkled at the corners, alive with mirth. “Uh, why don’t you have first pick? My treat.” He quickly started moving around to the exit. “I actually gotta go help my friend set up, so, I’ll see you later, I guess.” Once out, Clyde forced a casual stroll down the hall until he couldn’t see his room anymore, then bolted.

He was going to run to Craig’s room, and he was not going to cry all over his friends because he totally bombed his first impression. Jimmy would tell a joke and make everything better, and somehow Token would provide a solution that would make perfect sense and Clyde would wonder how he hadn’t thought of it. Yeah, it would work out. Just the thought of his friends lessened the burn in his face. It would probably be brushed off and forgotten by the time he returned.

Kenneth McCormick had not forgotten. Clyde was sure of this when he headed back to the room, backpack and bags in tow, and his roommate leaned down from the top bunk. Instantly, those blue eyes crinkled. “I chose top,” he said through the coat, and Clyde wanted to scream.

“I’m doomed,” Clyde said into his mug.

“You’re doomed,” Craig agreed, not batting an eye.

“What is it this time?” Token didn’t look up from his place on the tablet screen. He may be miles away at a fancy university, but he wasn’t getting out of Those Guys hangouts that easily.

Clyde laid his head on the wood grain of the coffee shop table. “My roommate.”

“Shame.” Craig blew on the steam billowing off his mug. “My roommate is the coolest person in the world.”

“I don’t m-mmm-mind my roommate either,” Jimmy added. “What’s the issue with yu-yours?”

“The worst first impression in the world,” Clyde groaned, wallowing in misery. “And he’s never there so now the only thing he thinks of me is that I think about gay sex.”

“So, he’s p-pretty much got it.”

Craig snorted into his tea and even Token howled with laughter through the speaker, Jimmy beaming with pride. Clyde huffed, and Jimmy reached out to poke his cheek.

“Hey, it’s n-n-not a big deal. Do you really wanna be bent on the op-o-opinn-opinion of someone whose name is Kenneth? Th-that’s a nerd name, Clyde.”

That was it. The gamechanger. Clyde’s head snapped up. “You’re right! That is a nerd name!” Finally, it felt like things were starting to come together again, when Clyde’s face fell. “Oh no. I already gave him a nickname.” There went that sacred sliver of hope.

“I thought you didn’t talk to him,” Token pointed out.

Clyde leaned onto his hand. “I said he’s never there. We’ve talked and stuff.”

“H-how cool was the nickname, th-though?”

“I just shortened it to Kenny! I thought, hey, I don’t wanna be saying this long fancy name all the time!”

“You gave him a nickname!” a new voice yelped, causing three of the four boys to jolt. “Oh god, you’re in it now, Clyde!” Tweek hovered above the table, a full coffee pot in one hand, a navy-blue teapot in the other. Despite the shouting and nervous energy radiating off of him, not a drop of liquid found its way onto the table or anyone’s clothes. After years, Tweek was bound to become an expert on handling drinks simultaneous to freaking out.

On the screen, Token bowed his head solemnly. “The Tweek has spoken. You can’t come back from this.” Craig nodded as Tweek refilled the cups around the table.

“C-come on, guys!" Jimmy tried, ever an optimist. “Clyde may have st-st-started out on his dumber foot—”

“I’m gonna let you continue since you’re defending me.”

“—b-but he can ssstill pull through!” Jimmy reached out to grab Clyde’s round cheeks. “Who could say no to this ch-charming face!”

“Gah!”

“Anyone with sense.”

“Literally everyone I can think of.”

“Hm.” Jimmy pulled his hands back and poured more sugar into his mug. “I’ve worked with w-worse audiences.”

“So, you still have faith in me?” Clyde looked to his friend, brown eyes large and vulnerable. He was a drowning voyager, fighting for his life in the open sea, and Jimmy, his good friend Jimmy, was right there with a lifeboat.

Jimmy averted his eyes and loudly sipped his coffee. Fake-Clyde was left to die in the cold water.

The next time Clyde truly interacted with his roommate, it was just past two in the morning on a Saturday. The unlocking of the door roused him from a light sleep, in which he was doing a great job at crumpling his textbook pages. Clyde quickly shut the book and looked over to the other boy, expecting to find him drunk or maybe high. What Clyde did not expect was to see Kenny sporting an apron and black slacks, a to-go cup and battered paper in one hand. A scarf wrapped around his face, effectively blocking out wind, as well as Clyde from getting a look at his face.

When Kenny noticed that Clyde was awake, he lit up and quickly closed the distance, shutting the door with his hip. “Hey man, check this out.” Clyde was barely awake, mind still muddled from sleep, but his brain worked hard enough to understand the colorful paper Kenny sat in front of him. “Are you going?”

Clyde rubbed his eye, works still sticking to form. “Sure, I love a good party. Didn’t think you were a party guy.”

Kenny laughed, muffled. “That hurts, man. Why not?”

Clyde yawned, leaning back down to his homework. His words slurred with sleep. “You gotta name like Kenneth. Dassa nerd name.”

He vaguely registered the creak of the bunk as Kenny climbed up. “Hey, you gave me a nickname all on your own. That’s admitting that I’m cooler than my birth name.” The flop of fabric against mattress. “Go to that party with me, I’ll show you how cool I can be.”

Clyde mumbled into his book. “Bet.” If Kenny was still talking, he didn’t tune in, too busy getting drool all over his homework.

The closer time got to the awaited party, the more Clyde started hearing about it around campus. It became a hot topic in the halls and overtook class whisperings; what people were gonna wear, who they were going with, how crazy it was bound to be. Clyde was feeling like hot stuff for having already known about it (even if he needed the sight of the flyer to remind him), and all the buzz only made him more excited. This would mark his first real, off-the-chain college party. Quite possibly more important than first steps, if you asked him.

Clyde’s pile of homework sat untouched on his bunk. Not today; there were more important things, like the crisp varsity jacket laying on the chair and money on the desk for a dinner of tacos before. He was working on the knots of his sneakers when the door banged open.

“I’m just saying, laser eyes would just be a hazard to itself.” A boy with black hair followed Kenny into the room, still wrapped up in conversation. Clyde may have known next to nothing about the topic, but it sounded like a good one.

Kenny swung around to face Clyde. “Hey, dude, this is Stan. He’s gonna be going with us since his one true super best friend left him for a fancy school.”

“And there was no way I was going with Cartman.” Stan’s eyes were intense, practically radiating revulsion toward the Cartman fellow.

“And there was no way he was going with Cartman,” Kenny agreed, nodding. While he set to work on his parka zippers, Clyde grinned over at the newcomer.

“The more the merrier, man!”

“I’m also bringing alcohol,” Stan mentioned, holding up the twelve pack he carried.

Clyde glanced at the label and humbly dropped to a knee. “The good stuff! You’re a savior, Stan-the-man.”

“Don’t bother,” Kenny’s muffle advised, “his heart already belongs to a faraway prince.” Clyde turned to respond, but was shocked by lack of the raggedy orange parka. Instead, Kenny was decked out in a marginally better-looking hoodie and a skirt over leggings. That was a surprise, but Clyde couldn’t say it didn’t look great on Kenny. Unfortunately, a surgeon’s mask successfully continued to hide his face, and Clyde couldn’t help from groaning.

“Am I ever gonna see your face?”

Kenny strode over and patted Clyde’s back. “I’m too cute; it’s for the good of humanity that I contain it.”

“He gets sick easy,” Stan supplied from Kenny’s other side. Kenny punched him in the arm, and he glared back. “Dinner, first, right?”

“Yeah!” Clyde punched a fist in the air. “Ya boy wants tacos!”

It was beautiful. So beautiful.

Music thumped and blared out of the house, alight with strobes and the glowing cherries of cigarettes. People spilled out onto the street, most with drinks in hand. The only ones that looked like they weren’t having a good time were sitting against the side of the house, puffing on cigarette smoke. Clyde thought they looked just a bit menacing in all black with dark stares, but Kenny strode right up and held out a fist to the lone girl.

“’Ey, Henri!” She huffed and bumped the offered fist. “Glad you could make it!”

“Whatever.” She took another drag. “We’re just at this conformist party to prove a point that all this is still meaningless and doesn’t drive off the darkness.”

Clyde grimaced. Geez, these guys hit heavy. Kenny just looked infinitely brighter next to them, with his vibrant orange hoodie and blond hair.

To Clyde’s surprise, Kenny was agreeing with her. “I hear that,” he said, muffled, “but there’s nothing wrong with postponing inevitable darkness a while. Save me a smoke later?”

If Clyde wasn’t mistaken, he just saw the girl’s black lips twitch upwards. “I won’t wait around.”

Clyde looked at Stan for some clarification, mouth agape. Stan shrugged. “Goth kids, that’s Henrietta.” He pointed out the girl. “They’re a bunch of downers, but I’m pretty sure Kenny’s immune to everything the world’s got.”

Kenny rejoined their trio and led the way in. If the excitement and energy were evident outside, it was even better in the house. Pounding bass, crowded halls, laughter and dancing and so many attractive people. Clyde was sure he’d died and gone to heaven. This was where he was meant to be, and Kenny’s side pushing up against him in the crowd just made it better.

After a few drinks, the group lost Stan, but neither was too worried. “He’ll be passed out drunk somewhere,” Kenny claimed, and Clyde was too busy being distracted by the lure of beer pong.

An hour in, Clyde had taken back every worry he ever had about his roommate. Kenny was lively and wild, contrary to the stick-in-the-mud nerd assumption. He couldn’t believe he ever thought he had to be concerned about interacting with his roommate; it was as easy as breathing. The two were hovering to the side of a dim room, taking a quick breather and clinking their red solo cups, when a girl caught Clyde’s eye.

A goddess in red! The sun burned in jealously of the shine of her golden locks!

Really, he recognized her from his English class, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still pretty.

“Go talk to her.” Kenny’s breath was hot on his neck in the crowded room, and it sent chills despite the heat.

Clyde did not blush. He instead focused on making his way through the throngs of partygoers, dodging cups of unknown drinks and young adults grinding on each other. Finally, he stumbled through past a pair of girls, reaching his destination.

“Hey, Clyde,” the girl drawled, pushing back a curl. Her lipstick gleamed blood-red.

Clyde ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to make it look less frizzy and sweaty. “Hey, Bebe!” he half-yelled over the noise. “Having fun?”

Bebe swirled her drink, smirking. “Yeah, but maybe not as much fun as you’ve been having with your friend over there.”

Clyde turned his head to see where she was gesturing. Kenny was bathed in a faint blue light, forming a type of halo around windswept blond hair, making him look ethereal amidst the other party-goers. At some point in the night, his hoodie got unzipped, showing off a tank top that complimented his figure in comparison to all those baggy jackets. Kenny was talking with Stan again, who was looking pretty worse for wear. Well, less talking with, more talking to while supporting most of his weight. Kenny was saying something and nodding in Clyde’s direction.

When they locked eyes, Kenny’s blue ones glittered. He winked. The simple action made something flutter in Clyde’s stomach. Maybe it was the alcohol.

He turned back to Bebe. “He’s my roommate.”

Clyde watched Bebe crane her neck to look at Kenny again, maybe noting how cheap his clothes looked. One of the girls that Clyde had pushed past leaned heavily on her friend, voice choked with the heavy emotion characteristic of drunk girls. “Oh my god, they were roommates!”

Clyde groaned, slamming his head down onto his jumble of papers.

“Chemistry?” Kenny guessed, huddled with his own books on the top bunk.

“Spanish,” Clyde corrected. “There’s so many words!” To rub salt into his struggle, Craig just had to be fluent. Not only did that make Clyde feel worse about his own inability, Craig was preoccupied with his physics project and had turned off all notifications. Help from the local genius was inaccessible. “You wouldn’t happen to be taking it, would you?”

“Nah, I tested out.”

Clyde swung around. “You know Spanish? Please help me!”

Kenny peered down. “Not Spanish, I tested out of language with Mandarin.”

That sent Clyde for a loop. “Mandarin?” Was that even one of the languages someone could take here? Not to mention the difficulty; English script was hard enough for Clyde to read without getting jumbled; he couldn’t wrap his head around understanding the strokes of Mandarin.

Kenny flipped a page in his notebook. “I used to work at this local Chinese restaurant. I picked a lot up from the owner.” It was said completely nonchalant, as if he wasn’t talking about casually learning a second language.

“Dude! Just like that?” The Spanish worksheets lay forgotten. Who would’ve guessed his roommate was so interesting? Maybe Clyde just wanted to avoid his homework, but learning more could totally be a valid excuse here.

“Mhm.” Aside from the affirmation, Kenny was quiet on his bunk.

“Could you say something in Mandarin?” Clyde prompted hopefully.

Kenny thought for just a moment. “Tā mā de.”

Clyde looked on, starry eyed. “So cool! What’s it mean?”

Kenny scribbled some notes, but paused to glance back at his roommate. His eyes crunched in the way that meant he was smiling, and Clyde’s heart buzzed. “Fuck.”

Clyde dissolved into laughter, and was quickly followed by Kenny. “I think I will start peppering that into my conversations starting today.” He picked up his abandoned pencil and flipped a Spanish worksheet over. “How do you say it again?”

Football practice may not rank as high as triple decker nachos on Clyde’s list of favorite things, but it was up there. The satisfying strain of muscle and delight of messing with his teammates outweighed the yelling of the coaches and the aches the next day by far. It was a time he actually enjoyed, that actually made sense instead of heavy bookwork, so of course the universe wouldn’t let him have it. Ten minutes in, the sky opened up, pouring rain so hard one couldn’t see past their own hand.

Clyde trudged back to his dorm hall, squinting to see through the sheets of water crashing down. He wiped his soppy bangs from his face, but it did no good. His clothes were drenched and heavy, coupled with the weight of his sports bag of equipment. At least the dorm hall wasn’t too much farther. It was benevolent in its way of offering shelter from the storm, but cruel and unforgiving in its broken elevator sign.

Clyde was resigned to heaving himself up the stairs, bag hitting every step behind him. A hot shower sounded so good right now. Or maybe lasagna. Or watching bad television in his soft and warm pajamas, snuggled up in blankets. Yeah, his night just got booked.

He dug in his pocket for his room key, dreaming about the dollar store garlic bread he could cook up. His hand closed on nothing. Clyde switched to his other pocket, then his back pockets, jacket, and bag, growing more desperate with each pocket. Of course.

Clyde let his weight drop, falling to the ground. Tears welled up in his eyes. He was tired, he was cold, he just wanted to go home! To top it off, Kenny had been talking about meeting up with his friend Eric, and the fact that the two might get arrested and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning.

Fantastic.

Clyde tried to ring out his clothes and leaned against the door. Maybe Kenny would get back early. He would love to see that scraggly hair and patched up jacket right now. Until then, well, no point in trying to get anything done.

Clyde was jolted out of his half-slumber by the door opening behind him, pushing his back. He looked over his shoulder to see an almost startled Kenny gazing down at him. Clyde quickly lept to his feet. “I thought you were still out.”

Kenny opened the door further to let his roommate in. “Things went south,” he explained, but didn’t elaborate.

Clyde pulled his heavy sports bag into the room. “Did you get rained out too?” Most of the water that clung to him had been left in the hall, but his clothes were still damp enough to be uncomfortable.

Kenny threw himself back into the desk chair, which spun with his weight. “I got shot.”

Clyde turned with a start, but Kenny looked fine. Clean clothes, smooth movements, a stunning lack of blood. He laughed. “That bad, huh?”

Kenny’s eyes looked sunken and tired. Clyde quickly decided it didn’t suit him.

“I’m gonna order a pizza. Proven to heal even the most gruesome wounds! What do you want on it?” He was too tired to make lasagna anyway.

Kenny leaned back in his chair. “Everything in the store. I’m starving!”

Clyde dug his phone out and dialed the nearest pizza delivery. His garlic bread was gonna knock Ken’s socks off.

Nothing screamed procrastination quite like watching dumb shows. Clyde pulled his blanket closer and perused his Netflix options. It would be a good night for a comedy, relieve some stress of classes. The lamps were already turned off, the blue light of the laptop the main source of light in the room. The savory smell of noodles wafted in, and Clyde drooled. Oh yeah, it was all coming together.

He turned to see his roommate heralding two cups of noodles. Faded pajama pants hung loose around Kenny’s thin frame, and a splash of broth had stained his shirt, which proudly proclaimed that he was the Denver spelling bee champion of 2005. The lighting made it just too difficult to get a good look at the bottom half of his face. Damn. Kenny set the two steaming cups of ramen on the table and crashed down onto the couch.

“Spelling bee champion?” Clyde finally picked a series to play, and his attention was grabbed by the old tee, the colorful lettering standing out.

Kenny picked up his noodles. “I stole it from Kyle,” he explained, twirling his chopsticks.

They settled in, slurping on seasoned noodles and continuing the series started last week. It had plenty of action, but more importantly, it had comedy. There was something special about laughing with Kenny. He had a great laugh.

Clyde shifted to lean against his friend’s arm. He was expecting maybe a sly comment or for Kenny to gently shove him off; he certainly was not expecting Kenny to take a sharp breath and stiffen. Clyde scrambled to move. “Fuck! Are you okay, dude?”

Kenny rubbed his arm with his other hand, and Clyde barely hesitated to push up the sleeve and examine. Aside from a few scattered freckles, the skin there was smooth. “Just phantom pain,” Kenny explained. “I hurt it yesterday and I guess I’m still feeling it. Don’t worry about it.”

Clyde could almost relate, but his sports injuries always left a mark a day later. “What’d you do?”

Kenny looked like he was considering some options. “Nothing much,” he decided. Clyde frowned, brows furrowed, but Kenny’s face was bright when he looked back. “Don’t worry about it, happens all the time.” He readjusted and leaned back against Clyde. “I always bounce back.”

With Kenny pressed against him, hot ramen on the table, and the next episode of their comedy beginning to play, Clyde wasn’t about to argue or probe for more information. He was content to just grab his cup of noodles and move closer to his friend’s side.

“You’re a weirdo, Kenny.” Clyde clapped a hand on his shoulder. “But I’m gonna miss you.”

Kenny’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “I’m gonna miss you too, you big dummy.”

Ah shit. Tears started leaking out of Clyde’s doe eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He pulled Kenny into a hug. The shoulder of Kenny’s jacket was getting wet but Clyde didn’t notice. “I mean, you’re just so strange, man! I’ve never known anyone like you. My friend thinks you’re a demon.”

“Is it the one that’s always hyped up on coffee?”

“How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” After a few more minutes, Kenny managed to extract himself and put his hands in his pockets. “You’ll see me next year.”

No, that was way too long. Clyde pulled his phone from his pocket. “We could text over the summer! Maybe meet up?”

Kenny’s blue eyes lost their shine. “I don’t have a phone. I’m gonna be staying with my brother a few towns over. Sorry, dude.”

Clyde’s face fell, and he quickly wiped his eyes. “Alright. That’s cool. No worries, man.”

“Don’t miss me too much!” Kenny put a hand on Clyde’s shoulder as a goodbye, but it was the wrong move, as it sent the other into another death-grip hug. It might be a while.

Summer felt like a trade of Kenny for Tweek and Token back in person, and it was seriously messing with Clyde’s emotions. He loved his friends, and seeing Craig happier was always a treat, but without Kenny, things felt duller. It might’ve been easier to mope and forget those bright eyes for a while if relationships weren’t such a hot topic of conversation.

“Pretty fffunny that you w-worried all that much and all you did was fall in love with him.”

Clyde floundered. “I did not fall in love with him!”

Tweek pulled on his hair. “Gah! What if he infects you with alien spawn now that he’s gained your trust!”

Token poked at his gelato. “I thought the theory was that he’s a demon?”

Tweek set back to his espresso ice cream. “I’ve been workshopping it.”

“Don’t make him show you the PowerPoint,” Craig added. “It’s full of spelling errors and he won’t let me fix it.”

“You guys are the nerdiest couple I’ve ever seen,” Clyde said, annoyance temporarily forgotten over the pair, “and it’s so cute.” Craig flipped him off.

“S-soon they will be b-b-balanced out by the unt-untamable party couple,” Jimmy snickered.

“We’re not dating! I don’t even know if he likes boys,” Clyde defended. All the other parties present gave Clyde a long look. “What?”

“Dude,” Token began. “Kenny likes boys.”

“And girls. And an-anything that gives consent.”

“WHAT?” Clyde dropped his ice cream. “How have you guys noticed and I haven’t? Token doesn’t even go to our school!”

“Clyde,” Craig deadpanned. “He has a pride flag on his jacket.”

“It was in the—ah! It was in the picture you showed us!”

The boys all watched as Clyde tore out his phone and scrolled through his pictures until he reached the desired one. Sure enough, once he was looking, the pink, yellow, and blue patch was obvious. “Oh no,” Clyde whispered, horrified, “I’m an idiot.” He looked up just in time to see Tweek smack a hand against Craig, who had an amused look on his features. “But that doesn’t mean I like him!”

“One thing at a time, buddy.”

Clyde ripped open his dorm room door, excitement bringing him close to bursting. An agonizingly long summer, three long Kenny-less months. At last, on the other side of that door would be a gross old backpack and an orange parka and everything would fall back into place.

“H-hey, Clyde!”

Clyde stood in the doorway, staring blankly. Jimmy was on the bottom bunk, pulling notebooks out of his backpack. His smile was bright and wonderful as always, but that moment marked the only time it made Clyde feel worse.

“Oh. Hey, Jim.”

“You didn’t c-c-check anyone else’s room n-number,” Jimmy noted, unfazed.

“Nope,” Clyde sighed. If you asked him a year ago, rooming with Jimmy would’ve been the dream, but now? He couldn’t imagine staying with anyone but Kenny McCormick.

“N-no worries.” Jimmy grabbed his crutches, which were propped up against the wall. A confident smile played at his lips. “I know a v-vi-a visit with Cr-Craig will turn that f-frown upside down.”

Clyde didn’t believe it; Craig could be a sourpuss, and his general attitude was not likely to fix Clyde’s mood. Nevertheless, he was still a reliable friend. “CRAAAIIIG,” Clyde groaned, stepping into the dorm, hand over face. He didn’t bother trying to contain his distress. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Craig at his worst, anyway.

“Nice to see you too, Clyde.”

Hold up.

Clyde uncovered an eye to see a mop of blond and a horrendously vibrant orange hoodie. “Kenny!” There was no hesitation in flinging his whole weight at the other, who nearly toppled over. He wrapped his arms tight, and Kenny shifted uncomfortably.

“Might need some air here.”

Clyde loosened his arms marginally, but pressed his face into the jacket. “I’m never letting go.”

“Alright, but I don’t know the last time I washed this hoodie.”

“Same goes for my shirt, man.”

Jimmy and Craig each took a step away from the pair. Craig kept taking steps, out the door and down the hall.

“Should I be worried?” Kenny asked into Clyde’s hair.

“Nah, he’s gonna go do my laundry.”

“How did you ever survive before you met him?”

How did I ever survive without you, Clyde thought. Kenny was the sun, bright and wonderful, even if he didn’t know exactly how it functioned. If he could spend the rest of eternity here with Kenny, reckless, hardworking, witty Kenny, he would be happy. From where he was tucked, Clyde could easily peer over Kenny’s shoulder and get a good view of Jimmy. He was smirking at Clyde knowingly, the kind of look his friends always gave when it was proven that they were right.

Oh.

Dammit.

The group chat chimed a dozen messages, mostly words of encouragement. Clyde puffed his chest and began striding over to his target. The device continued to chime, and it only served to boost his esteem. He positioned himself against a wall, propping himself up against it.

When Kenny finally reached his point at the sidewalk, Clyde brushed his hair back and tried for an award-winning smile. “Hey, Ken, top or bottom?”

Kenny was still sporting his work uniform, with the addition of his heavy parka. He looked at Clyde, and his blue eyes were heavy and tired. “We don’t bunk together anymore, Clyde.”

Clyde only grinned back.

Kenny’s eyes widened. “Oh fuck.”

Clyde flashed a finger gun. “You and me, 7:00, sushi shop downtown?”

Kenny made an “okay” sign with his hand. “Hell yeah! Wanna see if Jimmy and Craig are willing to switch roommates?”

“They’ll do it, they’re great wingmen.” Clyde took Kenny’s hand in his own, confident.

Who needed classes or sports or parties or graduation? Hands down, Clyde would say the best thing about college was his super cool, not nerdy, Mandarin-speaking, psych major, idiot roommate. All that other stuff was just extra, pushing him closer to where he needed to be.

Maybe a class on mysterious boyfriend investigation would be beneficial, though.

#clenny #clenny week 2020 #clyde donovan #kenny mccormick #south park #sp clenny #my mediocre writing #it may not be perfect but I had fun making it and thats what matters #sp fic

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kaile-hultner · 5 years

Text

Dialogues With A Dreg, Part Four

Spoilers for Destiny and Destiny 2 ahead.

Hello, Guardian.

Let’s drop the allegory for a while. I don’t think it was working to begin with, and I prefer to speak plainly instead of in prose.

I love the game you serve as the protagonist in, at least mechanically. Part of the reason I’ve put nearly a thousand hours in piloting you around and clicking on enemy heads is because I’m chasing that satisfying “pop” when something’s brain explodes after I get them with a linear fusion rifle. I guess it’s better than being addicted to drugs or alcohol or video games with gambling mechan- oh shit god dammit wait, fuck, there’s Eververse here, I forgot.

Anyway, Destiny 2 has my full buy-in when it comes to gameplay, as I think it’s grabbed many folks in its three-year lifespan. I’m not as big a fan of the many modes to choose from in the game, and I think the story – when looked at holistically – is more-or-less a wash. But one aspect I can’t ignore is one I’ve tried to reason out in these Dialogues: Bungie, the game’s developer, wants me to live at least part-time in this world, and there are certain ramifications that come with that.

I first noticed these ramifications during the Faction Rallies in D2Y1, when it asked me to pick a faction and fuck shit up across the solar system. I picked what I thought was the coolest-looking faction, a group of (it turned out) thanatonautic, neoliberal warmongers calling themselves Future War Cult. They basically killed themselves over and over to see the future, and as a result they want Guardians everywhere to become absolute war machines. But as far as I could see, they were a “better” option than the other two factions: Dead Orbit, who just wanted to get the fuck out of the solar system and away from the Traveler, our slumbering charge, and New Monarchy.

New Monarchy is the MAGA hat gang of Destiny 2. They want to keep humanity safe by locking them inside the Last City, forming an eternal Guardian-led kingdom, and ruling with an iron fist. Yeesh.

In my first Faction Rally, I fought hard for FWC. I liked the gear they were giving me, not to mention the guns I could earn from them. They had an aesthetic I liked, and the story of thanatonautics is interesting enough for me to want to know more about how all that worked. But I didn’t like the insistence that we “reclaim” the far-flung reaches of the solar system, as if they belonged to us inherently. I didn’t like the ramping-up, constant drumbeat for war they were throwing out. Even if Lakshmi-2, FWC’s leader, seemed like the eye of a hurricane – calm, yet clearly still dangerous – the hurricane she was the center of was starting to irk me.

I’m sorry to say I didn’t drop FWC in subsequent Rallies, even if I wasn’t as enthusiastic about them as I was initially. If I could pick again, though, I know now I’d pick Dead Orbit. They had it the most right, plus Peter Stormare plays Arach Jalaal, the faction’s leader, which is just cool.

But the winner of pretty much every rally was New Monarchy. I couldn’t see the appeal, even if you stripped the clear trump-ass bullshit away. But a LOT of other Destiny 2 players fought for them, and they were the victors constantly. Bungie took the Faction Rally away in D2Y2, but it basically put me on an inexorable thought track to where we are today.

Simply put, I think the world that Destiny 2 is advocating for is at best a fascist one. At worst, we’re talking about reinstating the divine right of kings. Not only does mortal humanity lose in this bargain, but every other living creature inhabiting our solar system suffers for it as well.

Now, Guardian, I can see that this is an unwelcome statement to hear. I get it. After spending the entire five years of your existence thanklessly putting around the solar system and killing gargantuan, god-level threats to humanity and life itself, watching some nerdy, doughy writer cast aspersions on everything you do probably extends past irritation and into wishing you could shoulder-charge me into Glimmer particles. But I want to be clear: yours isn’t the only video game world – or even the only sci-fi world in general – that does this. As Nic Reuben (the original Destiny 2 fascism warner) put it in his 2017 post on the subject, Bungie writers are “blindly following a set of culturally encoded science-fantasy tropes”:

“‘True leaders are born. It’s genetic. The right to rule is inherited.’ Any time you play as a really, really ridiculously good looking person killing mobs of ugly things for a vaguely defined reason, you’re witnessing this kind of ideology first hand.”

One thing I would like to point out, though, before we continue: Guardian, I know you personally. I’ve fought as you across the stars. I know you don’t inherently want to rule over anything. You are intentionally a blank slate, you never voice your own desires except for that one time when a possessed Awoken prince killed your best ramen bud, and I want to believe that the only thing you want — which is the only thing I want — is to race Sparrows on Mars. But the version of you I play as is not the only version of you that exists. There are over a million of you. And aside from that million iterations of you that exist in this game world, there are others who absolutely want to rule. It’s high time to interrogate this world.

Fantasy Space Fascism: The Game

In his book Against the Fascist Creep, freelance journalist and Portland State Ph.D candidate Alexander Reid Ross defines fascism as “an ideology that draws on old, ancient, and even arcane myths of racial, cultural, ethnic, and national origins to develop a plan for the ‘new man.'” He continues:

“Fascism is also mythopoetic insofar as its ideological system does not only seek to create new myths but also to create a kind of mythical reality (ed. emphasis mine), or an everyday life that stems from myth rather than fact. Fascists hope to produce a new kind of rationale envisioning a common destiny that can replace modern civilization. The person with authority is the one who can interpret these myths into real-world strategy through a sacralized process that defines and delimits the seen and the unseen, the thinkable and the unthinkable.

“That which is most commonly encouraged through fascism is producerism, which augments working-class militancy against the ‘owner class’ by focusing instead on the difference between ‘parasites’ (typically Jews, speculators, technocrats, and immigrants) and the productive workers and elites of the nation. In this way, fascism can be both functionally cross class and ideologically anticlass, desiring a classless society based on a ‘natural hierarchy’ of deserving elites and disciplined workers. By destroying parasites and deploying some variant of racial, national, or ethnocentric socialism, fascists promise to create an ideal state or suprastate – a spiritual entity more than a modern nation-state, closer to the unitary sovereignty of the empire than political systems of messy compromises and divisions of power.”

Ross, A. R. (2017). Against the Fascist Creep. AK Press.

The Destiny franchise begins with you, a freshly-reborn Guardian, shooting and punching your way through a hive of vaguely-arachnid aliens your Ghost companion calls “Fallen.” You find a decrepit jumpship deep in the heart of the Old Russia Cosmodrome, which your Ghost fires up and uses to take you to the “last safe city on Earth,” a walled metropolis underneath the Traveler. You first meet with the Vanguard triumvirate, Titan Commander Zavala, Warlock Ikora, and Hunter Cayde-6, and then, after completing some tasks for them, you are granted an audience with the Speaker (voiced by Bill Nighy):

“THE SPEAKER: There was a time when we were much more powerful. But that was long ago. Until it wakes and finds its voice, I am the one who speaks for The Traveler.

“You must have no end of questions, Guardian. In its dying breath, The Traveler created the Ghosts to seek out those who can wield its Light as a weapon—Guardians—to protect us and do what the Traveler itself no longer can.

“GUARDIAN: What happened to it?

“THE SPEAKER: I could tell you of the great battle centuries ago, how the Traveler was crippled. I could tell you of the power of The Darkness, its ancient enemy. There are many tales told throughout the City to frighten children. Lately, those tales have stopped. Now… the children are frightened anyway. The Darkness is coming back. We will not survive it this time.

“GHOST: Its armies surround us. The Fallen are just the beginning.

“GUARDIAN: What can I do?

“THE SPEAKER: You must push back the Darkness. Guardians are fighting on Earth and beyond. Join them. Your Ghost will guide you. I only hope he chose wisely.”

Bungie. Destiny. Activision Entertainment, 2015.

This introduction to the world of Destiny is… shockingly reductive. Even playing the campaign when this happens, my first thoughts were, “wait so we’re not even smart or good enough to hear the children’s scary stories about the history of this world? what the fuck?” But over the course of years, we find out more and more about the so-called Golden Age of Humanity, the tools humans built with implied assistance from the Traveler, the various rich families and corporate megaliths that consolidated power over people across the solar system in the years and decades leading to the arrival of the Darkness and the ensuing Collapse.

Not only that, we start to get a pretty clear image of what life was like immediately following the Collapse. Humanity was almost driven to extinction, and the people left alive after this apocalypse soon wished they were dead. The Traveler “defeated” the Darkness but in the process put itself into something similar to an emergency reboot mode. It deployed the Ghosts, who resurrected people who could, as the Speaker put it, “wield its Light as a weapon,” but the first of these “Risen” were nothing short of horrific. They used their Ghosts’ regeneration and resurrection powers to become regional warlords, subjugating what few mortal people remained, draining the desolate wastes of what few resources they had, and basically sealing the deal on the “Dark Age” brought on by the Collapse. It wasn’t until the advent of the Iron Lords that these warlords were defeated and the “age of Guardians” could begin, but even the Iron Lords did some pretty heinous shit – like use a whole town of mortals as bait to lure in a band of warlords on the run.

But when it comes to creating a mythical reality, the Speaker has his formula down pat. Don’t get too bogged down with details, paint the conflict in stark good vs. evil, literal “Light vs. Darkness” broad strokes, and mythologize the actions of Guardians (but most importantly, our Guardian). And oh, what fodder for mythology we are.

By the end of the first campaign, we’re the hero who severed the connection between the Hive, the Vex and the Traveler and tore out the heart of the Black Garden. By the end of The Taken King, we’ve slain a god-king. In the Rise of Iron expansion, we stop the spread of a virulent nanoparticle with murderous intent called SIVA in its tracks, using nothing but our fists. In Destiny 2, we become the Hero of the Red War, the one who put an end to a Vex plot to sterilize all worlds, and who killed a Hive Worm God. We avenge our fallen Hunter Vanguard, we kill a Taken Ahamkara. We are the hub on which the spokes of history are turning.

In terms of video game power fantasies, I really truly can’t imagine a better-feeling one. It’s basically pure uncut dopamine being transmitted directly to the pleasure centers of the brain, one Herculean feat at a time. And if we were the only Guardian, if we were not part of a larger world, if everything around us was in a vacuum, I don’t know if I would be writing this article. But Bungie has been very clear about wanting to make a world where our actions do materially affect our surroundings. As such, we are essentially a walking propaganda tool for the Consensus, a pseudo-democratic government over the Last City, consisting of faction leaders, the Vanguard and the (now-presumed-dead, hasn’t been replaced) Speaker.

The Consensus wants badly to declare the advent of the New Golden Age, a time in which Humanity can finally emerge from under the shadow of the Traveler to pick up where it left off prior to the Collapse. The problem we supposedly face is the never-ending onslaught of Enemies. Four alien species showed up on our doorstep after the Collapse, all seeking to finish us off (according to the Speaker): the Fallen, the Cabal, the Hive/Taken, and the Vex.

Of the four-ish races of enemy, only one can said to be truly, deeply “evil” in the sense the Speaker intends: the Hive and Taken, led by Taken King Oryx and his sisters Sivu Arath and Savathun, the only force in the galaxy more fascist than the Guardians. The Vex are a race of machines whose only focus is on making more of themselves, a threat similar to SIVA. The other two alien forces, the Fallen and the Cabal, are certainly antagonistic toward Guardians but our initial reasons for fighting them are, frankly, butt-ass stupid. Basically, we fight them because they’re there. They have the audacity to land on planets that “belong to us” and scavenge resources from them. Until the Red Legion showed up on Earth, we basically only ever fought Cabal on Mars, and there’s really no reason as to why.

The Fallen, or Eliksni, on the other hand, end up coming off more as the tragic victims of our flippantly rampant genocidaire practices than actual “enemies.” They’re probably the weakest alien species we come up against. Their backstory involves them living in peace under the Traveler before their entire society was caught up in a Collapse-like “Whirlwind” and destroyed. Rather than give them Guardians, like it did with us, the Traveler instead just up and peaced out, leaving the Eliksni for dead against the maelstrom of the Darkness. The surviving “Fallen” got in their skiffs and desperately chased the Traveler across the heavens, stratifying the remnants of their society into “houses” and developing religious devotion to machines like Servitors in the process.

They tried to take the Traveler back at the Battle of the Five Fronts and Twilight Gap, and lost. Their armies were shattered, and we’ve been nonchalantly killing them en masse ever since. They are the “parasites” our Guardian must exterminate, along with the Hive, Cabal, and Vex. When we make friends with, or even simply allies with, a Fallen (like Variks the Loyal, Mithrax the Forsaken, or the Spider), it is made clear almost immediately that this 100 percent doesn’t change the relationship we have with the Fallen as a group. Variks is absolutely subservient to Mara Sov and the Awoken. Mithrax wants to create an Eliksni House that bows down to Guardians and Humanity for being “better stewards” of the Traveler than the Eliksni was. The Spider makes it clear that he only wants to grow his crime syndicate, but that we can help him out if we want. Never once does the Vanguard or the Consensus reach out to these allies and try to broker peace. And in-game, we simply don’t have an option but to fire on and kill Eliksni in droves. Kill or be “killed,” right?

When it comes to Humanity itself, while we never get a chance to actually leave the Tower and walk through the streets of the Last City, there are at least hints as to the deep class stratification at work here. You can’t get much more on-the-nose than an ivory tower of immortal beings overlooking an enclosed human race. Guardians atop humanity, the Speaker above the Vanguard over the Consensus over the people, and you, the very fulcrum on which history pivots, functionally over everything else. But in the mythical reality of this game, it’s really the Traveler über Alles, and humanity underneath the Traveler has become a wonderful, diverse melting pot without class, without fear. An ideal state where the walls keep Darkness at bay and humanity can discover the joys of tonkotsu ramen yet again.

A Light Story Vs. Lore Steeped in Darkness

Destiny has a reputation, unfairly earned, for being an okay game with a bad story, or at best a nonexistent one. The story isn’t really all that bad, it’s just poorly implemented up front, and I think my willingness to engage with the game’s world to the extent that I have is a testament to how powerful and evocative some of the beats in Destiny’s writing truly are. If we dissect the game we can separate the writing of the “story” from the writing of the “lore,” and in watching the plot develop over the past few years, we can see a gradual unification of these two areas start to occur.

This is helped greatly by third-party resources like Ishtar Collective, and by mechanical decisions Bungie made in D2Y2. Adding the lore back into the game with Forsaken was a good idea; choosing to fully integrate the lore into the world starting with Season of the Forge was a great one.

A side-effect of this lore-plot unification is a dismantling-in-real-time of some of the game’s most beloved and widely-spread legends, like the legend of Shin Malphur and Dredgen Yor. Even our personal legend is challenged in this way, and it’s a really neat way that Bungie writers new and old are critically engaging with their work. But it also really throws into stark relief some of the issues I’ve laid out in this article so far.

Take, for example, the lore book “Stolen Intelligence.”

Presented to us as intercepted secret Vanguard transmissions, “Stolen Intelligence” shows us exactly what the Vanguard really thinks of our actions, and what their goals really are. It was part of Season of the Drifter, which overall had a “trust no one” vibe to it, but some of the entries here are BLEAK, y’all.

Here’s an excerpt from the first entry, titled “Outliers.”

“Fallen armed forces continue to fall back from active fronts across Terra. Factions of House Dusk remain active in the European Dead Zone. Throughout the rest of the globe, refugee attack incidents have dropped by more than 70 percent since the conclusion of the Red War – largely attributable to depressed Fallen and human populations rather than any significant change in interspecies relations.

[…]

“The recent trending emergence of so-called “crime syndicates” (cf. report #004-FALLEN-SIV) is emblematic of the continuing destructuralization of Fallen society. Likely an artifact of multi-generational colonization of human strongholds, this agent believes that because these syndicates have no relation to indigenous Fallen culture, young Fallen are appropriating and imitating human mythology in absence of a strong cultural heritage of their own.

[…]

“VIP #3987, another former confederate of the Awoken, is a lesser-known personality known as Mithrax. Scattered field reports suggest that like #1121, #3987 styles himself a Kell of the so-called “House Light,” an otherwise unknown House apparently founded by #3987 himself. We have secondhand accounts that Mithrax has engaged in allied operations with Guardians in the field, though we have not as yet been able to corroborate these accounts with any degree of veracity. This agent is inclined to treat these reports with a healthy degree of skepticism until otherwise confirmed, as they may be propaganda from Fallen sympathizers in the Old Russian and Red War Guardian cohorts. We have requested intelligence records from the Awoken which may further clarify the matter.

“In addition, whatever the findings of said intelligence records may be, it should be stressed that one or two sympathetic outliers cannot be relied upon to erase the wrongs of past centuries, nor should their good-faith efforts to correct the sins of their forbears be taken as sufficient symbolic reparation.

[…]

“We have come too far to pull our punches now.”

Bungie. Destiny 2: Forsaken – Season of the Drifter. Lore Book: Stolen Intelligence. Outliers. Activision Entertainment, 2019.

Here’s another piece of “Stolen Intelligence,” about our relationship with Cabal Emperor Calus:

“Related to the above, #3801’s aggressive propaganda campaign appears to have been successful. Despite #3801’s recent inactivity, sentiment polls captured in the Tower at regular intervals over the last several months indicate that he has successfully swayed a significant percentage of the Red War cohort to believe that he may be a potential ally. Given our history with the Cabal as well as the events of the Red War itself, this is shocking and perhaps attributable to a case of mass traumatic bonding.

“It is my strong recommendation that the Vanguard pursue a reeducation curriculum before #3801 invites any Guardians of the City to defect to his service, a possibility which we have documented in multiple previous reports.”

Bungie. Destiny 2: Forsaken – Season of the Drifter. Lore Book: Stolen Intelligence. Passivity. Activision Entertainment, 2019.

Other entries detail the efforts of the Vanguard from keeping ostensible “conspiracy theories” from being published in the Cryptarchy’s journals; show the apparent oddity of mortal-Guardian “integrated neighborhoods;” and discuss the ongoing surveillance of the Drifter, a rogue Lightbearer who has survived since the early Dark Ages and who uses Darkness-aligned technology to run a PVEVP game called “Gambit”.

There are many other stories like these, scattered throughout the lore. Stories of Cryptarchy students being banished for making fun of New Monarchy’s leaders, of Guardians messing with Hive technology being burned alive and killed fully by the Praxic Order for their crimes of experimentation. Stories like these wouldn’t happen – couldn’t happen! – to our Guardian, because they’re too important, but are seemingly everyday occurrences to less consequential members of this society. In the real world, we’d call that an increasingly oppressive police state. In Destiny 2, it’s just flavor text.

There was a degree of narrative complexity added to Season of the Drifter that hadn’t been in the game prior. The entire season was essentially boiled down to “which side are you on, the Drifter’s or the Vanguard’s,” and in our path to make a choice, we heard from various bit players in our world. The Drifter told us his story in greater detail than perhaps we needed (and how much of it is true is debatable), but his story is also the story of a less morally-pure Guardian class. Everyone from the warlords to the Iron Lords did heinous shit to humanity while the Drifter watched, and it hardened him. The Praxic Warlock Aunor goes all in on her adherence to the City’s propaganda and ideology, trying to show us how untrustworthy the Drifter is. She ends up revealing more of her order’s goals than perhaps was wise.

This narrative complexity is nice, but it still betrays the game in a fundamental way. We now have the documents. We know what Guardians are actually about, and how they’re not exactly shining beacons of unwavering good like the Speaker would have had us believe. Regardless of declining Fallen activity, of a shift in Fallen culture, of actual living Fallen who want to ally with Guardians, the Vanguard is still adamantly pursuing “extirpation,” which is a fancy way of saying genocide (I’m not kidding, it literally means “root out and destroy completely”). We know the Vanguard and the Praxic Order have a hard-on for exile, reeducation and information suppression.

On top of everything, the narrative complexity was not met with any kind of mechanical complexity. Even with proof that the Vanguard wants to kill every Eliksni in the system, conscientious objectors don’t get to opt out. The narrative path that forks between the Drifter and Aunor converges again by the end of the quest. The “conspiracy theorist” that has been trying to publish paper after paper detailing exactly how the Nine worked with Dominus Ghaul to sneak his fleet into City airspace undetected was proven right by lore WE FIND IN THE GAME, but that doesn’t change our combat relationship with the Cabal remnants anywhere in the system, and homeboy still gets his papers rejected.

Ikora and Zavala, our remaining Vanguard members, insist repeatedly that Guardians are not a warfighting force, that the Vanguard and the Consensus is not an authoritarian organization. But everything we do says otherwise.

“A peace born from violence is no peace at all.”

Guardians do not get to choose their paths in the world of Destiny 2. The paths laid out before them lead to a life of warfare, of pain, of endless murder. Ostensibly, they are agents of good, trying to beat back the forces of evil, but if you look too close you see that really they’re just a bunch of indiscriminate killers with a mandate from the Orb God. Desperate to get out from under the heels of warlords, the Guardians created a fascist society, and adding insult to injury they pretend it’s a democratic, free one. Killing the Fallen is genocide, but you can literally never stop killing them because the game won’t let you. The only right way to play at that point is to turn off your console and go outside.

Destiny 2 isn’t the only video game to fall into this trap. As Nic Reuben said in the follow-up piece to his first story on how Destiny 2 is fascist, “I’m not saying Destiny is propaganda, just reliant on some of the same narrative tricks that make propaganda so powerful. At the same time, I don’t think that it’s too much of a stretch to say that games like Call of Duty make certain assumptions about what is justifiable, righteous slaughter and what is terrorism. Replace modern military hardware with future tech, replace terrorists with alien races that have traits synonymous with cartoon portrayals of traditionally marginalized social groups, and you’re effectively playing through the worst aspects of Call of Duty with a new coat of a paint.”

There is one glimmer of hope in the game. One sliver of lore that gives us pause and helps make the game bearable in its current state. It comes in the form of Lady Efrideet, former Iron Banner handler, youngest member of the Iron Lords, and a Guardian in self-exile from the City, the Vanguard, and its fascist dogma.

Lady Efrideet is one of the most fearsome Hunters in the Destiny universe. She is known as one of the best marksmen, if not the best one. She is impossibly strong, having once thrown Lord Saladin bodily off a mountain into a Fallen Spider Walker, destroying it. And she is also one of the only named pacifist Guardians who isn’t a member of the Cryptarchy. Her story is the story of the fall of the Iron Lords, as well as the beginning of the SIVA crisis, many years before our Guardian’s rise is documented.

But it isn’t SIVA or the Iron Lords that we’re interested in. Instead, we know that after SIVA was sealed away, Efrideet snuck away from Earth. She saw the deaths of everyone she knew and her will to fight was shattered. If this was the result of fighting for the Traveler, she didn’t want any part in it. So she took to the stars. In doing so, she ended up in the far reaches of the solar system, beyond even where we currently roam. It turns out, a small enclave of other Lightbearers, hesitant or unwilling to use their powers to kill, had also fled to this part of the system and had established a colony. It’s there that Efrideet resides, and it’s there I’d like to go.

Unfortunately, our Guardian is too “important” to the vast tidal forces at work in the Destiny universe for us to be able to leave for the outer reaches whenever we want. Because we are the hub on which the wheel of history turns, and there is no escaping that now, if ever we could. We are death, the flattening of a complex and intricate universe into one of simple shapes, the sword logic in a human/Awoken/Exo body. We are needed for the plans of the Nine/Mara Sov/Hive Queen Savathun to come to fruition. When or if the Darkness ever does come back, we will be the force that faces it and, win or lose, shape our future afterward.

Sometimes it’s nice having a video game place your character on a linear track. Games like Half-Life or Titanfall present to us simple choices in otherwise-complex story environments: progress, or die. Our characters are not immortal, but they have help from the technologies around us, are tenacious, are resourceful, are quick to adapt to changing situations. In Destiny, we simply exist. We can’t truly die. Even when it comes to the rules of the game, our immense “paracausality” causes us to shrug Darkness Zones off as mere inconveniences where other Guardians have died their final deaths. Because we are necessary. The Vanguard and Consensus need us to justify their horrific fascist policies. The great forces at work in the background need us to work as a pawn. Even Bungie itself needs us, powerful, trapped beings with a sense of right and wrong but no agency to actually act on those ethics, to continue its game.

I haven’t preordered Shadowkeep yet. For once I’m glad we’re not focusing on the Fallen or the Cabal. Going to the Moon means we’ll pretty much just be dealing with Hive, to say nothing of the unreal Nightmares we’re supposed to face. But I’m still undecided as to whether I even want to order Shadowkeep in the first place. If Lady Efrideet can go to the edge of known space and live peacefully with other pacifist Guardians, maybe I can put my controller down and step away, once and for all. It would be nice to have the extra space on my Xbox One’s hard drive. Other games exist to be played, and having the time and energy to do so would help me here, with No Escape.

But even then. I’m not expressing agency as a Guardian, but rather as the person who controls you, Guardian. While I go off to play other games, you sit and wait in stasis. Even if I don’t play, there are a million iterations of you willing to commit genocide daily for cheap rewards (shoutouts to the sixtieth Edge Transit drop in my inventory this month alone). Sure, it’s just a game. But this is what having a dynamic world means in practice. There are consequences to your actions. There always have been.

There is no reason why Humanity couldn’t share the Traveler’s gifts with, at the very least, the Eliksni. There is no reason why we couldn’t just ignore the Cabal in a state of mutually assured destruction, given how small a faction the Red Legion was relative to the Cabal army’s full size. Of the two remaining enemies, the Vex are less evil than they are simply a thing that wants the universe to be like it, and that’s threatening to diverse life throughout the universe, not just Humanity. The Hive/Taken are the true enemies in the game, but even they are directed, pawn-like, by their Worm Gods.

There is, likewise, no reason why the Risen had to organize in the fascist context they did. They could have created a society in which everyone could come and go freely, where ideas and actions could be given and received absent interference, where a true “golden age” could have sprung up naturally simply by living together harmoniously and using the Light the Traveler gave them to create, rather than destroy.

But that’s not how this story shakes out.

#destiny #destiny 2 #video games #antifascism

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fuckdamn · 6 years

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people i know from each sign

aries

this girl i went to high school with who thinks she’s billie eilish and really likes animals but really doesn’t like my poetry

this girl in my film class who made us believe that she was scammed out of university-owned camera equipment by a man who used the pseudonym “mike hunt” on venmo, going into explicit detail about how our film teacher threatened to kick her out of class, and how when the police found the camera it was full of foot pics, and how they made her pay for it out of her meal plan. a week later she revealed that this was all a prank

taurus

holly @nothingintheworldsowellasyou

my middle school ex-boyfriend who used to think he could breakdance and now he just smokes a lot of weed

my friend jon who i actually really like and admire but instead of telling him that i’m usually just like “hey jon you’re stupid and you smell bad” because that’s our rapport

gemini

bailey @bailseybooksy

the music director of my acapella group who is an immortal god of chaos in the body of a college student and also one of the best people i’ve ever met. once he told me i had an incredible range and a “beautiful upper register” and i swear i almost cried

the host of my university’s late night show who is the funniest person i’ve ever met in real life. he’s a gay icon in the purest sense of the phrase and always wears weird shirts. this morning he told me i was “phenomenal” in improv practice and i swear i started having heart palpitations

cancer

justine @romanadvoratrelundarwho

my youngest sister who has a superiority complex and likes to steal my cosmetics and use them to make slime

the head writer of my university’s late night show who does a horrifyingly accurate jojo siwa impression and dresses like charli xcx. she trusted me enough to write a sketch after my second meeting and lets me come to her house and get drunk

leo

my younger sister who won’t stop saying “ya yeet” and does anything for attention. we simultaneously came out as bi to each other like a few weeks ago

my friend angelica who is sort of quiet and unassuming at first but is actually nearly always the funniest person in any room and is also an amazing artist

virgo

this sweet guy in my film class who thought that when you cut from shot to shot the people in the shot have to stay frozen in their position

my high school’s equivalent of troy from high school musical

fiona apple

libra

my disgustingly straight friend from ninth grade who bought all her clothes at the mall

my unfortunately straight crush from ninth grade who lives in new york city now and is really really cool but is also related to my abusive ex so it’s weird

scorpio

both my parents

my roommate

my arch rival

sj @minty-minho

sagittarius

hardly anyone actually

i’m sagittarius in moon

oh my friend kaylee who likes to swim and wants to a neuropsychologist and/or a ya author

capricorn

josh @probably-not-captain-america

this kid shane who i went to kindergarten with. he thought he was smarter with me because he could spell antidisestablishmentarianism but so could i and i could also spell deoxyribonucleic acid so fuck you shane

aquarius

me bitch :)

my bf (aqua/aqua pairing of CHAOS no jk the rest of his chart is all earth and water so he Stabilizes us)

chrome @midnightraven3

pisces

my friend sabrina from elementary school who moved to new york city and was in an alt band and models and designs clothes and does art and is the coolest person on the face of the earth. she goes to school in london now. because she’s just hopping from hip major city to hip major city

my friend max who is an eagle scout and respects women

#lotte.txt #don't rb but lms lol

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vanhinkoch · 6 years

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Second Week Report: Getting Acquainted...

Hello Family and Friends!

I don't this email will be nearly as long as the last, because things are starting to get into a routine now. It's been really wonderful though, being here for 15 days now! I still reaffirm that I love being here at the Missionary Training Center so much, I don't understand why some people think of the MTC like a prison that they can't wait to leave! Elder Halverson wants to be in the mission field already; and while I understand being in Finland is going to amazing, I want to relish every moment I can here at the MTC. 1/12th of my mission experience is going to be here in Provo, I'll have the other 22 months to enjoy in Finland. For now, I'll be learning all I can about the gospel and language.

I'll start off by sharing some of the more secular/not gospel related stuff that has happened within these past 7 days.

Two things that I absolutely LOVE about my lifestyle right now: Exercise Time and Food.

Hahaha, it's so true!! My favorite part of the day is exercise time by far. Our zone predominately plays two games, Spikeball and Kill. Spikeball is alright, it's mostly a Utah kind of sport I guess, but nah; it's all about KILL >:D. Most of you already know this game, but the premise is that all the players stand in a circle and attempt to juggle a soccer ball to 3 to 4 times, then catch the ball after the 3rd or 4th hit and nail somebody to get them out. This is where I as an individual can have my talents shine, as I looove soccer, and nobody else in our zone has quite as much experience as I do. Everybody loves to play, and it's always a bundle of laughs. Another reason why I'm in no rush to leave the MTC, I'm going to miss exercise time with our zone and district.

And yes, I personally love how they feed us here at the MTC. I know some people who don't love it, but you have to a special kind of ungrateful to not love the food and effort they put into it. Every single meal is basically a buffet. You can have as much food as you want, there is a huge variety in drink options (I usually drink a glass of water + a glass of chocolate milk/coke for lunch and dinner) as well as meals scheduled, there's a nice salad/fruit bar, as well as the trusty left-over bar. They have a really awesome system here, and it's amazing how much they really care about all the missionaries. Best cafeteria experience I've ever had! Every single day I have a whole fruit, like an apple/orange/pineapple, as well as a salad. Plus the meals they prep everyday are very well rounded! It feels great to be so well nourished and taken care of. But don't worry Grandma and Grandpa, I still appreciate the "Pantry o' Plenty" experience I shared with you all when we lived together prior to this ;).

Now onto the more spiritual side of my week, and there's so much to cover, but I'll try and prioritize best I can.

Last Sunday was super great. It was sooo busy, it's funny how our "day of rest" is the one where we're running around to so many different meeting and workshops, Haha. I taught the lesson in priesthood class, alongside Vanhin Tracy, and we taught over The Creation, The Fall of Adam&Eve, and Agency. We prepared well, and led really good discussion! 1st counselor of our branch presidency commented on how he thought that was one of, if not the, best discussions he's ever witnessed during his 2 years at the MTC. So that's cool! Since I was assigned to be district leader, I led our district meeting, and I have to say I really enjoy doing that. I never thought of myself as a "natural" leader, but if I can be confident over a subject, and receive support from the people I'm with, it inspires me to believe that I am capable of being one. One thing I have certainly noticed is that I am certainly one of the least "knowledgeable" within our district; especially if we're talking about academics. I'm surrounded by a lot of bright and learned souls, sometimes it feels strange to be a "leader" over them.

A lot of my gospel knowledge has come through the Book of Mormon and the witness of the Holy Ghost, but a lot of the other district members are much more knowledgeable on the bible and deeper doctrines/history of our church. However, I have felt my relationship with the Holy Ghost become immensely strengthened since being here. I try to say more of my general prayers in Finnish, and it's the coolest thing feeling the spirit when speaking and thinking in a different language!!! But I've had some very profound experiences through prayer where I offered up the total desires of my heart in English, especially in the temple. Having this close companionship with the Holy Ghost has allowed me to keep up with the other missionaries, and teach with power. It's kind of really nice not being the smartest elder here, more many reasons, but most importantly it forces me to rely on the promptings of the Spirit. If I am to become a successful and effective missionary, I'm going to have to be worthy of the companionship of the Holy Ghost; I'll never be able to wing it based solely upon my gospel/language knowledge. I've had some fabulous teaching experiences, both in Finnish and English, and I give all the credit to the influence of the Spirit. Blessings come from being meek like unto a child, being humble and submissive, and keeping God's commandments. I can personally testify of this!

Last Tuesday, our devotional speaker was Sharon E. Eubanks, 1st counselor in the general Relief Society. She served her mission in Finland!!! She immediately became the coolest women's general authority ever. One really fascinating experience: She was speaking of how she knew an elder who grew up in Germany, spoke German, and had a German Father. He so badly wanted to serve his mission somewhere he could speak German, but got called to Finland. The Elder was initially livid to be speaking such an insignificant language, and felt that it was his destiny to serve German speaking. However, he ended up loving his mission and everything about Finland after he left the MTC. I'm not even making this up! You could imagine how I felt hearing this, having Sister Eubanks tell a story where it almost felt like I was her protagonist. After she told this story, I felt a surge to answer the next question she would address the missionary audience, which was composed of some 750+ Elders and SIsters! I chickened out on the first one, but I was on the edge of my seat so I could be first to raise my hand. Next question came, and I shot up, standing tall with my hand extended. Another Elder on the opposite side of the room did the same. It was a matter of who would have a mic ran to them first. Unfortunately, the mic runner on the other side of the hall was double stepping it, while my guy was just ambling his way up to me. I lost out, and didn't get to answer her question. She moved onto her next point, and I prayed that one more opportunity could present itself, and that I could share my thoughts and say something that would inspire the congregation. That opportunity never came. Family and friends, let me tell you, when you are denied the opportunity to speak and release the spirit that has so strongly filled your vessel, it is a truly awful feeling. There is a difference between disappointment from excitement, and disappointment from being robbed of sharing spiritually inspired thoughts. This was situation where both of these gauges were maxed out. I felt so terrible after that.

After the devotional, we were to have a district discussion over what insights and thoughts we had from the speakers. Me, being the district leader, was in charge of leading this discussion. Hahaha, family and friends, I could hardly look at my fellow elders and sisters without fighting off tears. The branch president was also there, and asked me to share any thoughts I had first. Haha, oh my goodness, I retold them of the experience I had where I was denied the opportunity to share the spirit, and I cried through telling the entire story. My moral of the story was that it isn't about us as missionaries. It isn't about us looking cool, or where we come from, and how we feel; it's about others. We are here to lose ourselves in the service of others, and the service of God. So perhaps God wanted me to realize that through this experience. Funnily enough, there was an immense spirit in the room as I spoke, and perhaps it was wisdom in the Lord that I share my thoughts personally with my district. It would've been so cool to be the German who got called to Finland, where Sister Eubanks served, in front of her and all the other missionaries; but I think that I was denied that opportunity so that I could bear profound testimony to my district. It isn't about me. It is about the people whom I am serving. It is about God and His plan for my progression on Earth. It felt wonderful to release the powerful spiritual feelings built up inside me with my district. Being worthy of the companionship of the Holy Ghost is so critical for me to have experiences like these. I hope that I am never found unworthy, and never grow content in my knowledge, but continually seek to be guided and led by the promptings of the Spirit of the Lord.

I want to try and make a habit of including Finnish in my emails, so I'll try and recite the Missionary purpose in Finnish (without cheating!).

Meidan Lähetyssarnaaja Tarkoitus:

Kutsua muita Kristuksen luokse autamalla heita ottamaan vastaan Palauttetu Evankeliumi, uskomalla Jeesuksen Kristuksen ja Hänen sovituksensa, tekemällä paranneus, ottamalla vastaan kaste ja Pyhen Hengen lahja, ja kestamalla loppun asti.

Moroni 10:5

"Ja Pyhen Hengen voimalla, sina voit tietää totuuden kaikesta"

I would like to extend a commitment to each of you this week, that you share a scripture that speaks to you with a friend (whether they be a member or not), and bear your testimony on why you like that scripture. I was able to share a scripture of my own, 2 Nephi 31:20, during TRC (basically teach a member fluent in your mission language a lesson), and while my Finnish was very poor, it magnified the spirit as I attempted to bear my testimony. Love and faith means is what pierces hearts, not clever words and logic. I invite each of you to do this and report back to me how it went. I expect 47 emails back ;) so do your part :P xD

I hope that all of you have a wonderful week :) It is always a joy to share my experiences with you all. Perhaps this email wasn't as short as I had originally thought it out to be! I hope to hear back from anybody who enjoyed the things I've shared, it means a lot! Also special shout out to last week's sponsors: Mom for the EUROPEAN FANTA she sent, as well as the Grandma and Grandpa for the huge sheet of delicious brownies!!! Letters from Mom, Dad, Saren/Donnie, and my Grandparents, were also wonderful. Thank you all so much for the overwhelming support! I love you all so much, I'm excited for the adventures of this next week, and to report back to all of you about it.

Until then,

Vanhin Koch

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