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#but it's fascinating in reality TV when people show up under their own names but have to play up this whole different persona

fantomcomics · 2 years

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What’s Out This Week? 8/7

HAPPY BEST MONTH OF THE YEAR

Shock Shop #1 (of 4) - Cullen Bunn, Danny Luckert, & Leila Leiz

Cullen Bunn (Harrow County), Danny Luckert (Regression), and Leila Leiz (The Last Book You'll Ever Read) present a brand-new horror anthology flip comic taking place in a haunted comic book shop with a twisted retailer filled with tales of terror sure to leave you with the lights on. In Familiars: After a painful divorce, Trevor rents a house and tries to rebuild his life. Soon, he discovers that his house appears to be 'haunted' by more than one spirit and the creatures begin feeding on Trevor's feelings of anger and guilt. In Something in the Woods, In the Dark: A husband and wife going through a tough time go on a camping trip with a few friends. As they trek further into the forest, they realize that they are being stalked. Something in the woods starts killing the camper and it may have ties to the camper's more than any of them realize.

Last Line #1 - Richard Dinnick, Jose Holder & Andy Clarke

Sally Hazzard just had the worst day of her life: While on a usual shift as a driver for the tube, the unthinkable happened when a man is pushed in front of her train and killed. But...there's something strange here. Sally swears the man was pushed but her supervisors, witnesses and the cc tv footage all show the man falling on his own. Sally cannot let this go, and her investigation into the murder introduces her to an MI-6 agent named Edward Tarn also curious about the so-called accident. Together, Sally and Ed discover an off-world explanation for the assassination, plus an alien invasion and the craziest plot twist of all: an interplanetary travel system buried deep beneath the London Underground!

Correspondence From The End Of The Universe Vol 1 - Menota

Marko is a young Russian university student who is looking forward to finishing school so he can spend more time with his fiancée. However, those plans go out the window when he's abducted by aliens! These extraterrestrials have a mission for Marko, one that will take ten years. All Marko can do is make the most of it and get to know the strange creatures who are now his co-workers in this offbeat tale of a life far from Earth.

The Boogeyman #1 - Mathieu Salvia & Djet

Monsters don't only exist in children's minds... Passionate about reading, Elliott has always had a preference for the stories of boogeymen, those monstrous creatures which, at night, hide in the shadows or under the bed to frighten little children. He can't imagine how much they will change his life... Witnessing the bloody murder of his parents, he will discover that, in reality, boogeymen do indeed exist, and very precise codes govern their existence. When one of the most powerful boogeymen, "Father-Death," decides to protect him, Elliott finds himself plunged into a terrible conflict at the heart of a universe as terrifying as it is fascinating. On a dark, stormy night, Elliott's destiny will be fulfilled...

Blade In The Dark #1 - Morgan Quaid, Wili Roberts & Rich Woodall

They came, masked, in the dead of night and burned the village to ash. Rook of the Hidden Song, sole survivor to his people, must seek Vengeance. Yet the path ahead is strewn with hidden dangers; monstrous creatures inhabiting the skins of the dead and dying, human soldiers warped by supernatural forces and rogue gods intent on mischief and destruction. Rook must cut a path of blood and reclaim the treasured heart of his ashen village or die in the attempt and take his place alongside his slaughtered kin.

Antioch #1 - Patrick Kindlon & Marco Ferrari

FRONTIERSMAN creators KINDLON & FERRARI pick up where that series left off with an all-new ONGOING SERIES! A king from a lost continent enters the world of man with a purpose: to stop us from killing the planet. But when he finds himself in a superhuman prison, his title is useless and his powers only matter if they help him survive!

Sabrina The Teenage Witch Anniversary Spectacular #1 - Dan Parent

We couldn't possibly enter spooky season without celebrating Sabrina as much as possible! And we're kicking off this spectacular with a BRAND NEW Sabrina story that we guarantee will be the greatest Sabrina Halloween story ever! In "Celebration Vexation!" It's Sabrina's birthday and she's celebrating her day-with an epic battle against her nemesis, a BRAND NEW character named AMBER NIGHTSTONE! Amber is an evil witch born at exactly the same time as Sabrina. Only one witch born that day may live amongst mortals, and Amber wants her turn, so she has to erase Sabrina from history! All that plus a collection of classic-style spell-binding stories!

Buckhead TP - Shobo & George Kambadais

Nigerian immigrants Toba and his renowned scientist mother have moved to a sleepy Pacific Northwest town called Buckhead. Hidden away in the basement of the school, Toba and his new friends at school discover a strange video game, resulting in mysterious and dangerous events unfolding. As they pursue a vast conspiracy with connections to another world in the fight to save their parents, they soon uncover the ancient terror that's behind it all. Will they be able to work together before it's too late? An astonishing Afrofuturist series from Shobo (New Masters) and George Kambadais (The Black Ghost) that blends the immigrant experience, Yoruba myth, and weird science in Small Town USA!

Whatcha snagging this week, Fantomites?

#WOTW #What's Out This Week?#comic #comics #comic book #comic books #Buckhead #Sabrina The Teenage Witch #Antioch #Blade In The Dark #The Boogeyman #Correspondence From The End Of The Universe #Last Line #Shock Shop

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con-fection · 3 years

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violence and intimacy are the only universal languages | BUCKY BARNES x READER | 18+ oneshot

synopsis: In which Bucky Barnes fucks John Walker’s girlfriend, who turns out not to be John Walker’s girlfriend at all.

[Alternative synopsis: Bucky happens to meet you, John Walker's girlfriend, and you're nothing like he expects you to be. He's anticipating a woman that's arrogant, mindless and fake, following after Walker like a lost puppy, a woman who puts on a front to the whole world, a terrible person hiding behind the girl-next-door facade. You're nothing like that - you're soft, intriguing and absolutely lovely, everything that's good in the world. And he's very much attracted to you, desperate to show John who you really belong to.]

Content warnings: 18+ This is SMUT. Contains sex/explicit language/,masturbation.

THIS IS SET DURING EPISODE 2 AND WILL CONTAIN SOME SPOILERS AS IT USES SOME DIALOGUE FROM THE SHOW :) IT’S ALSO TOLD FROM BUCKY’S POV :)

Word count: 17K

John Walker is absolutely insufferable.

He is a man high off his own arrogance, regarding himself as the ultimate authority, and relegating every other member of this planet to being below him. He is a bastardisation of everything that vibranium shield stood for. John doesn't have bravery, but he has pride in spades, which is more than good enough for everybody around him.

Captain America had been so deeply beloved that his loss left a crippling gape in the very heart of the American dream. It was a space that required filling - and so, in the absence of Steve Rogers, the apparent next best thing was located.

But Walker wasn't the next best after a man like Steve Rogers. They may vaguely resemble one another, in their facial features, icy blue eyes and broad, towering stature, but John fails to measure up in each and every way that matters. He fundamentally lacks the most important qualities that Steve had in abundance.

Steve Rogers had been a heart-wrenchingly good man, burdened with a righteous sense of justice, a strong moral compass and compassion. His life had been far from easy, wrought with losses that left him fractured into pieces of himself. He was loyal to a fault - willing to wage a war against the United States' government to try to clear the name of a comrade so close he would have died for him a thousand times over. John would dance to whatever tune the government gave him, so long as it resulted in his name being glorified.

John Walker knows nothing of that sacrifice. Every alleged 'brave' act comes from his warped sense of reality, one that has given him the impression he simply cannot die, that he can't be wrong in any way.

Each time he jumped on top of a grenade, or put himself in the line of fire, he came out unscathed, and so he did it again and again and again, revelling in the praise he recieved afterwards, and the eventual mantle that was bestowed upon him.

Steve had never once come out of a single fight uninjured.

That was part of the mysticism, of his heroism. He would be hurt time and time again. And yet, he would never fold. He didn't bend or break under the pressure, under the pain. He didn't so much as waver in the face of all of it. his devotion to doing what was good and what was right always prevailed, irrespective of how many bones he may break or how much blood he may lose.

Despite the fact that John Walker, the second Captain America, lacked any of the characteristics of his predecessor, he became America's sweetheart. People were desperate to have somebody fill the space that Steve Rogers had left, and to the public, it seemed like John Walker was perfect.

He gave flawless interviews, where he came across not as an arrogant, self-serving puppet of the state, but as a humble, bashful, honest man that represented the very soul of America. Watching him talk was reminiscent of his predecessor, and of course, each public appearance had been carefully orchestrated so that would be the case. Every word that spilled from his mouth was premeditated, designed specifically with the intent to appeal to the populus.

John Walker got to parade around wearing stars and stripes, cradling a shield that he was very much undeserving of wielding. And, he got to do all of this accompanied by two people.

The first was Lemar Hoskins, the Battlestar. Like Walker, he too had served in the armed forces, and was to be considered a decently skilled fighter, though he failed to measure up to the likes of either Bucky or Sam.

...and then there was you.

Bucky found John Walker to be absolutely insufferable, a blight on Steve's legacy, and some tiny, bitter sliver of that hatred was reserved for you, too.

The new Captain America served the country with his best friend Battlestar and his lover, you.

You weren't like them. You weren't some jacked-up soldier fresh out of the army who had kissed enough ass and earnt enough medals to be made into a hero. Instead, you were practically just the eye candy. America's darling, hanging off the arm of their beloved hero. There was something magnetising about you that made people just love you instantaneously. It was a raw appeal that nobody was safe from.

Initially, Bucky had regarded you as an odd choice. You weren't even a superhero. You didn't take up a stupid, convoluted mantle like 'Battlestar' had. Rather simply, you were just there, tagging along, looking pretty and people adored you for it.

There was something very intriguing to the people of America about their new Captain America and his sweetheart - you, a stunning supermodel-type with a dazzling mind and a blinding smile. It was easy for them to project onto you two, the perfect superhero couple who had a fairytale romance.

Bucky utterly detested John Walker and his lost-puppy sidekick, Battlestar.

Some tiny sliver of that malice had initially been generalised to you, too. It was hard not to feel slightly bitter as he saw the two of you on TV, giving interview after interview, cuddled up to each other. It was all so terribly fake, utter bullshit that people eagerly lapped up because it was the version of reality that they desperately wanted to believe in.

It had to be fake - nobody is simply that charismatic, especially not when they're holding hands with John Walker. There was something about the way they, they being your PR team, had styled you in a few of the earlier interviews that gave him the distinct impression that they wanted people to be reminded of Natasha Romanoff, minus the bloody past.

For a while, for your first few public appearances, you had been relegated to wearing dark clothes and leathers that made you seem every bit a femme fatale, though any semblance of danger was nullified by your friendly smile.

It also seemed like that route had been abandoned, and now you tended to appear wearing lighter clothes, whites and creams that were more innocent, like your PR team had doubled back on itself and decided to switch from the 'whore' to the 'virgin'. You seemed more genuine like that, in florals and paler colours.

Bucky would be lying if he said he had never watched any of your interviews. It had merely been a simple fascination, a way to satisfy the nagging feeling of curiosity that threatened to consume him. They were interesting, and he consumed them with an almost ravenous hunger. Simple curiosity, that was all. That was all that he would let it be.

That interview that John had given at his old high school had just been the beginning, his very debut to the American people. Since then, there had been a few more, some featuring Battlestar, who would sit obediently at his side, and others featuring you.

You would curl up next to him, eagerly pressing yourself into John's side, smiling widely as you began the interview. There was a slightly angelic quality about you, a veil of innocence around you, your lilting voice like a siren's call, and your bright, doe eyes. With a well practiced ease, you would entwine your fingers with John's and sweetly tell him, looking at your lover intensely, that he was the best thing that ever happened to you.

It was fascinating to watch, to see just what kind of image your PR team could put across. You seemed every bit like the all-american girl, like the unattainable girl-next-door who would go to church every sunday and would be an inspiration to girls across the country.

Despite the innocent-seeming way in which you were deliberately styled, you never once came across as naive. Instead, there was never any vapid or vain qualities to you. It was like you just didn't know how pretty you were, or the effect you could have on people.

As nice as you may have come across in all of those interviews, every bit the picture-perfect media darling, Bucky knew it was all a farce. John had managed to seem like a decent, determined man who was down to earth and wanted nothing more than to provide inspiration to Americans, no, to the whole world. But all of those things about John simply were untrue.

Every interaction he had with the public had been carefully created to construct an image of him that incited adoration from the public. There was no reason whatsoever why you wouldn't be the same.

In fact, Bucky found it more likely than not that you were a complete inversion of that sweet, charming woman you appeared to be on TV. It left him with a sour taste in his mouth and biting back at bile rising in his throat. It was nauseatingly fake, all masquerading around as good and just using Steve's emblem.

It wasn't until he met you that the malice rescinded.

His escapade with Sam to see Isaiah had ultimately concluded with handcuffs being wrapped around his wrists and a visit to the local police station. Bucky had been taken into some tiny, isolated cell with boring blank walls that are comprised of chipped bricks covered poorly by cracking blue and white paint, constantly escorted and monitored by police officers, who were buzzing dually with excitement and tension at having both the recently-pardoned Winter Soldier in detention, and avenger the Falcon stood outside in the hall, demanding answers.

Doctor Christina Raynor had strolled into the precinct with both weariness and disappointment in her eyes. She walked almost like a woman defeated, one hand clasping the strap of her handbag and the other falling aimlessly at her side.

Immediately, she gravitated towards Sam, who was seated rigidly in some tiny, uncomfortable plastic chair amongst a myriad of members of the public, people who were also waiting for news about their friends or family who had been arrested.

Clamoring to put on the most polite smile she could, Doctor Raynor introduced herself to Sam, barely managing to get in a complete sentence before she's interrupted.

Swiftly following the arrival of the Doctor is the entrance of John Walker. John strides into the precinct dressed in the Captain America garb, shield positioned on his back. There's something terribly strategic about the decision to be constantly wearing the suit. Perhaps it's to offer a sense of security, or maybe it's because without it John has no authority to operate on. Either way, his mere appearance results in a horde of frenzied police officers trailing after him, desperate for a selfie or an autograph, something that John mindlessly indulges them in, smiling the whole time. Sam's face instantly sours as John enters, his eyebrows tugging down into a frown.

John Walker simply saunters in, a falsely cherubic smile on his face as he stares down at Christina. "Bucky's not going to be following a strict schedule any longer."

Doctor Raynor's previously jovial attitude towards John's presence dissipates, quickly replaced by confusion. "We haven't finished our work." She protests, setting her jaw. "Who authorised this?"

There's a note of challenge in her voice as she presses John for an answer. She's the professional - she's very much the one capable of understanding Bucky's mind, and yet John doesn't take her concern into account. He doesn't even look phased by it. He's completely unbothered by any opposition thrown his way - it had never mattered to him before, and it had no reason to bother him now.

"I did," John says, pointing to himself.

Sam and Christina both stare him down, equally perturbed. They exchange a brief glance. Doctor Raynor's concerned in a professional capacity - not only is Barnes her patient, and it is her prerogative to help him take control of his mind and heal, but she is also commanded by the state to oversee his psychiatric care.

Responsibility for him falls onto her - she's the professional. Christina is the doctor, the one who understands the human mind, and John very much is not. Sam, on the other hand, is personally concerned. As much as he pretends he despises Bucky, he does care, albeit begrudgingly. He wouldn't be here if he didn't.

A tiny beep goes off, signifying that a door is being opened. Bucky is walked in by two police officers, looking mildly agitated for one second, and completely numb the next, all emotion dropping from his face to put a cool, unfeeling visage into place. It's a mask that gives him obscurity, that allows him to distance himself from the mere possibility of being vulnerable.

Christina forces the two of them into some botched attempt at therapy, forcing them to look into each others eyes and get far closer than either of them are comfortable with whilst she presides over them, poking, prodding, inquiring.

It's a demand of some emotional vulnerability that Bucky simply does not want to produce. It's not exactly heart-wrenching but it does make him feel robbed, like something had been taken from him against his will. It didn't feel like healing, like what therapy was meant to be. It felt difficult. It felt like a quiet rage building in his gut that he desperately wants to keep under wraps, lest he lash out at somebody.

It leaves Bucky feeling stripped raw when they finally leave the police station.

By the time Bucky and Sam step out onto the streets the sun has already set. The sky is dark, a deep navy blue that's mostly covered by thick dark clouds that besiege the atmosphere. The whole street is lit by lights that have been left on in people's windows, or blinkering blue lamps that run along the outer wall of the police station.

A blaring, almost comically loud beeping noise disrupts the fragile silence of the night. Lined up outside of the station are a series of police cars, all emblazoned with white lettering reading 'BALTIMORE POLICE DEPARTMENT'.

The sirens of one of the police cars is going off wildly, the noise being one disruption and the blue and red flashing lights emitting from the roof of the car being another. It's an annoyance, and creates a false sense of urgency. Those sirens are normally used when somebody's life is at risk and members of the police force are going to respond. In this situation, there's no rush, no hurry, there's no crime.

Leaned up against the car, grinning wildly, is John Walker, still dressed as Captain America, all dolled up in navy blue and red, a silver 'A' on his breast.

When he sees that he's successfully captured Sam and Bucky's attention, which he garners from the fact that both of their heads whip towards him, attracted by both the loud noise and the bright lights, he turns off the siren, restoring the tentative peace to the darkened streets.

This time, though, Walker's not alone.

Next to him, propped up against the hood of the car is Battlestar, also dressed head-to-toe in his tactical gear, arms folded over his chest and a stoic expression on his face. There's something about him that just lacks any individuality. John masqueraded as somebody else, somebody whose mantle he had no right to use, and he's always constantly accompanied by a pale imitation of a comrade.

As likely as it is that Walker and Battlestar have engaged in combat together, they're not comrades, not in the way Bucky and Steve were. He and Steve had been willing to do anything for each other - endure any pain, run from the forces of the state if they had to, even die for one another.

Walker didn't seem like the type to lay down his life for somebody else out of a genuine heart-felt devotion to them.

And then, stood a few feet away from both Walker and his loyal sidekick is you - the lover. There's a decent amount of distance between you and them, separated from one another by enough space that it quite literally looks like you're desperate to avoid Walker's presence. You huddle over by the wall of the precinct, jaw set like you were irritated by the ear-splitting sound of the siren, though you don't voice a complaint. Unlike the two men, you're not dressed like you're headed out to battle, like you're some kind of protector. No, you're dressed in some pale, flouncy sundress that grazes your thighs, and you're shivering in the night air. Of course you are - it's freezing.

Bucky has to bite back a sneer just at the sight of the three of you, a vile, acrid remark just on the tip of his tongue. He has just spent the best part of his day in some cramped cell that reminds him all too much of a HYDRA facility, and then being interrogated by his own therapist, who is desperate to push him into emotional vulnerability all in the name of progress. He isn't in the mood to play happy families, and especially not with the man now wielding Steve's shield.

"Gentlemen!" John calls out, waving his hands in the air as if Bucky and Sam hadn't already started their stride towards him, matching expressions of disdain on their faces. "Good to see you again. Have I introduced you to my girl yet? No?"

It, of course, was a rhetorical question. The two of them had only ever seen you in snapshots of public appearances that you had made at John's side. You weren't actively accompanying Captain America or Battlestar on any of their missions, and as far as Bucky is aware, there are no plans for you to do so. You're not a soldier. You're not built for battle - you're softer. More gentle. You're not the state's attempt at creating a superhero. Allegedly, you're just a regular girl - pretty and smart and charismatic, but otherwise perfectly regular - who just so happens to be dating John Walker, the new Captain America.

John doesn't wait for a response from Bucky or Sam, but he does gesture to you, beckoning you over to him by crooking two of his fingers.

You approach him, your dress ruffled by the wind. In that instant Bucky thinks that the two of you actually do seem nothing like how you do on those televised interviews - his prediction had been correct. The persona was lovely, enchanting even, but it was just that. A persona, an act for your public image. There's something almost mechanical about the way you approach John, your hands folded across your chest in an unsuccessful attempt to shield yourself from the cold. It's all too robotic. It's not effortless or affectionate. You don't look remotely comfortable, but you slide up next to Walker and Hoskins regardless. Clearly, Battlestar isn't the only one who follows Walker's commands like an obedient dog.

You slot yourself in between Battlestar and John, a grimace passing over your face as you press yourself into his side. It's odd, exceptionally so, for Bucky to see this - god, you look reluctant to accept some modicum of warmth from your own boyfriend, who you'd proclaimed publically that you loved more than anything. It's almost like you resent his touch.

And oh, that's nice. It's almost cathartic seeing somebody meant to love and adore John avoid his touch like he's got some contagious flesh-eating disease.

There's a great deal of recognition in your eyes as you look at Bucky and Sam. It's likely you'd already been made familiar with them as a result of Walker's fevered desperation to unite their forces.

Bucky's looking at you intently, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to open your mouth and prove him right - for you to prove that you were just as fake as Walker and Hoskins. It almost seemed inevitable, really. It's all too easy to seem good, sweet and polite on those well-orchestrated interviews. But real life is a completely different matter all together.

Bucky's well versed in being able to tell when people are lying, easily spotting their little tells, locating them in the flutter of a limb, the arch of an eyebrow or the twitch of an eye. It'll be a matter of moments until he spots yours. Any act was doomed to fail around him. Everybody gives themselves away somehow.

You introduce yourself, stating your name and giving them a shy wave. "It's nice to meet the two of you." You say sweetly, a smile lighting up your face.

Bucky's eyes widen involuntarily. Oh. It was one thing seeing that enchantment on TV, and another seeing it just feet away from him. There was something absolutely enrapturing about the silky quality of your voice, and the way your eyes sparkled even in the dim light.

He hadn't expected you to actually be...pleasant. It was all supposed to be this fake persona, and yet, he can practically sense the genuity on you. You don't twitch like some little rabbit, or stumble over your words. There's no sweat beading on your brow, and you're not avoiding eye-contact. If anything, you're welcoming it.

There was no fucking way. No fucking way at all that you could actually be as nice as you were in those interviews and be with John Walker of all people. You should be horrible simply by being associated with the man.

"Well, now that we're all acquainted we can move onto our first order of business." John says, not even glancing at you. His gaze is focused solely on Sam and Bucky, steely and deceptive, completely dismissive of how utterly lovely you look.

Bucky's having a hard time even looking at John, not when you're right there, not too far away, looking absolutely angelic. There was no way it was some act, right? That facade had fallen through for both John and his stoic sidekick the minute they opened their mouths, but when it came to you... the complete opposite was true. Sam had definitely remarked on his staring problem more than once, and Bucky was very much hoping that in the dark you wouldn't be able to tell that he was looking at you in something akin to awe and unrepentant curiosity. He was looking at you in both fascination and scrutiny, staring intently like he was about to authenticate a work of art.

His deep rooted dislike of both John Walker and Battlestar was still very much present, but he was currently experiencing some emotional turbulence over his deep lack of hatred for you. It simply seemed to have evaporated the second you smiled at him. Which was...concerning to say the least. Shouldn't he hate you? Shouldn't your very presence have stoked that spark of malice?

"Look, if we divide ourselves we don't stand a chance. You guys know that." John says. He's all charismatic and confident, self-assured in a way that comes across as mildly condescending. It's a pale, cheap imitation of Steve's ability to rouse even the most slovenly of men and turn them into righteous soldiers.

"So what do you got?" Sam asks tiredly.

John immediately begins his speech, eagerly describing the plight of Karli Morgenthau, and how her journey around the globe is being aided and abetted by sympathisers who want to see the world return to the way it had been during the years of the blip. These sympathisers had much preferred it when half the world had been reduced to ash and something akin to anarchy had been allowed to prevail.

Whole governments had collapsed in on themselves, and often, borders ceased to exist. It was complete free movement - there was a distinct lack of separation between different human factions, like all of humanity had been united by that grave event that took half of the planet.

Bucky had no idea what that world had been like. He'd only seen the shell of it, the hellscape that was left once the other fifty percent of earth's inhabitants returned to life.

Battlestar makes a few brief interjections, explaining a few minor aspects of the tale - the geotagging, that this threat is most likely operating out of eastern europe, and that Karli has stolen the medicine to take it to one of the camps.

They don't tend to be sanitary places. Disease runs rampant there, and nobody tends to really care about those who fall sick and succumb to their illness. Of course they need medicine - there's probably hundreds of people who are in the throes of sickness, vomiting their own guts out, their wounds crusted over with coagulated blood, infected and festering.

"Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since the blip. So, I guess you'll have to look real hard," Bucky says, shrugging with a sort of apathy. It's rather vindicating to watch the way John's lip curls up in disdain.

"Well I guess it's good we have-" John begins, his jaw set and his tone confrontational, dripping with very thinly veiled rage.

You sigh, a tiny little breathless sound that makes Bucky freeze up slightly. It sounded, for a lack of a better word, rather nice. Melodic, even. "John, calm down." You tell him, not entirely unkindly, but not sweetly, either.

There's some kind of quality to your voice when you speak to John like you're negotiating for hostages, not like you're having a conversation with your lover. It's curious, but Bucky tries not to attach too much meaning to it.

Bucky gives you a stiff sort of nod, and you reward him with a smile, your lips curving upwards. "Where is she now? Do you know?" He says, softer than he probably would have if you hadn't been there.

"No. We don't know, Bucky." John's voice is a near yell. He shifts agitatedly, gesticulating wildly, tossing his arms about and shoving you slightly, letting you nearly collide with Battlestar, who is forced to grasp your arm to keep you upright. Battlestar's hand curves around your upper arm, pulling you back until you're steady on your feet. "But it's only a matter of time before we find out."

Relatively quickly, Battlestar's hand drops from your arm, and you give him a whisper of thanks before turning to give John a glare. He hadn't even so much as muttered an apology. He was completely focused on Bucky, the two locking stares in some kind of silent battle, one of wills.

"Things are really intense for you, aren't they, Walker?" Bucky can't fucking resist agitating him, letting the taunt roll off his tongue easily, not even bothering to resist grinning when your lips quirk upwards. Oh yes, you think he's funny - he can see it in the way you press a hand to your lips in a successful attempt to quell a rising peal of laughter.

"Walker's right." Sam is the one to turn to Bucky and snap at him. He tries to diffuse the situation, glancing between you, Bucky and John like he was watching something that had the potential to go very wrong. "It is imperative that we find and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and authorisations you have to get. We're free agents. More flexible. It wouldn't make sense for us to work together."

Tentatively, you set a hand on John's shoulder, feeling the coarse, kevlar-esque material of the suit beneath the tips of your fingers as he turns rigid, looking at Bucky and Sam coldly, all pretences of being nice completely gone, having simply evaporated into the cold night air. "Mr. Wilson isn't wrong."

Like Sam, you seem to have moved on to an attempt to prevent the escalating tensions from reaching their head. You try your best to soothe John, and his shoulders do sag fractionally, like he's just been reminded of your presence. There's something about the way that Walker looks at you that's utterly unappreciative. Perhaps John doesn't want to be grounded - if his will is being resisted then he'd rather be aggressive than diplomatic.

Sam scoffs at the name, "You don't have to call me that. In fact, please don't call me that."

"It's polite isn't it?" You say, smiling, even as John ruthlessly shucks your hand from his shoulder, dismissive of your touch. He gives you an irritated kind of look, a silent admonishment of you challenging his authority. It's not the kind of look that equal partners give each other, and your ensuing glare isn't, either.

"Suppose so," Sam shrugs, his lips quirking up in amusement.

"Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes aren't obligated to help," You tell John softly, seemingly speaking through gritted teeth. "Clearly, we all want the same things - to get that medicine back and bring Karli to justice. But, if you're not all going to be able to work cohesively on a team and get the job done, it may be best to work separately. It gives you all the opportunity to handle things the way you want to. This should be about doing the right thing and accomplishing the mission, not about who's calling the shots."

John nods stiffly, turning to you for a brief moment. There's some kind of red light coming from within one of the nearby buildings, and it's lighting up the dark street in shades of red, crimson light spilling over his cheekbones and dancing across one side of his face. He's the very image of begrudging agreement. "Alright then. Just one piece of advice for you boys. Stay the hell out of my way."

"Gladly." Bucky mutters under his breath, not missing the fact that you catch it and your smile widens.

As Bucky and Sam begin their exit, he can't help but to spare you one last glance over his shoulder. Bucky's eyes quickly roam over your form, as if he's mapping you out, or trying to emblazon the image of you within his mind - bathed in dying red light, still smiling serenely at him even as he's leaving. He really cannot figure you out.

The line of what's real and what's fake seems awfully blurred when it comes to you. Normally he's excellent at detecting a performance, but when it comes to you, Bucky has no idea whatsoever what is going on. And it's very much intriguing.

John Walker he would have no problem whatsoever in leaving alone.

...but you on the other hand, were a whole different story.

There was some grand, captivating quality that you had in spades that was even more potent in real life than it had been on camera. It was in the way your hair was jostled by the wind, the pale sundress that skirted your soft-looking thighs, the curve of your hips, the way you smiled and that hypnotic twinkle in your eye.

Walker and Hoskin's lovely personalities had been something of a farce, but yours wasn't. It did, however, make him wonder what somebody like you was doing with them - how you could aid and abet their actions even though it was glaringly obvious you weren't always in concordance with them.

"Man, I do not know what the hell was going on there, but I very much did not like how you were looking at Walker's girl like she was a piece of steak, or something." Sam shudders, muttering quietly once they're out of earshot of Walker and his companions.

"I don't know what you mean." Bucky feigns ignorance, setting his jaw and very much trying to push the phrase 'Walker's girl' from his mind. It just...didn't seem right.

In all of those TV interviews, the two of you had seemed like a perfect couple - you only appeared that way because Walker was plastering on a faux persona. In reality, the two of you seemed fragmented, distant from one another though Walker did have some tiny modicum of respect for you.

There was nothing about the real, raw interactions between the two of you that indicated any intimacy. It was the complete antithesis of the united front the two of you presented, of the perpetually happy lovers that America adored.

There was just no way it could be true. In fact, it sets off something that's terribly close to jealousy in his gut. Walker's an arrogant prick who carries a shield he has no right to even look at. He especially doesn't deserve you - you with the pretty eyes and an aura about you that screamed 'holy', 'saintly', even.

Yes. That was probably why he disliked it. Because it was probably inaccurate. It had absolutely nothing to do with the way you enchanted him, nothing to do with the sight of your bare legs and absolutely nothing to do with the lovely way you said 'Mr.Barnes.' It had absolutely nothing to do with that whatsoever.

"No, no." Sam protests. "I've seen you, you know, stare at people before - but god, never like that. Fuck, man."

And it's true. It was obvious to anybody that spent more than thirty seconds with Bucky that he had yet to acclimate and adjust to social scenarios, and that once he was focused on one thing had an abject refusal to move his gaze away from it. Bucky had heard Sam call it both 'creepy' and 'unnerving', and hoped, for some inexplicable reason, that you thought differently.

After all, your eyes had barely left his. It wasn't staring if both of you were doing it - then it was mutual, some kind of joint focus on one another.

"Like what, Sam?"

Sam just shakes his head, looking disdainful, his nose turned up like he'd just smelled something foul. "Mmhm, like you wanted to do some things to her that, for the sake of my own mental health, I would rather not think about."

Well, technically, he hadn't thought about anything that bad - just your voice, your smile, and the way you might say his name. But, in that instant, Sam's words derail all of those thoughts. Because, really, you had looked so lovely that it would be forgivable to think about you like that.

There was that cute little sundress you were wearing, grazing your thighs whenever you moved or whenever the wind picked up. It's all too easy for him to imagine skirting his fingers up your smooth, soft thighs and let his hands explore you, roaming over your ass and your inner thighs, enjoying the feeling of your skin and the little noises he could provoke from you.

"...stop thinking about it. I can literally hear your thoughts right now." Sam says, grimacing at Bucky's spaced out kind of look - his glazed over eyes and the fingers twitching at his sides. It's all too easy for him to see the gears shifting in Bucky's head, openly reliving the few moments he had seen you.

"I'm not thinking about it," Bucky outright lies as the two of them continue walking down the street.

"No, you absolutely are thinking about it." Sam objects. "I can sense the impropriety."

"Oh yeah? You can sense it?" Bucky glares at Sam, unable to resist antagonising him. It's safe, reliable even, between the two of them. They'll perpetually annoy one another, being challenging, rude, and utterly impolite, knowing that when it comes down to it, they'll fight side-by-side without objection, trusting each other implicitly. But in these moments when there's no imminent danger, that opposition is welcome. It's routine, even.

"Hell yes, I can sense it."

Bucky just scoffs at him, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. It wasn't really as if Sam was wrong. There was something especially fascinating about Walker's girl - if that's even what you are. He'd known you for a matter of fleeting moments that passed by like dandelion seeds in a breeze. And yet, something about it felt terribly significant.

He hadn't actually expected that appeal to be real. He anticipated that just like Walker's carefully groomed public image, it would have been falsified.

The only thing that really seemed fake about those interviews was your affection with John. It was non-existent in real life, and for a while, you had avoided touching him, until you had to diffuse the situation. That was very, very curious. Just where had Walker found you? He had to doubt that the relationship was genuine.

Somebody as nice, as innocent-seeming as you would never go for Walker. Not when Walker's the kind of guy that Steve would have tried to fight as a scrappy teenager, before he even got the serum. The kind of guy who Bucky would inevitably have to knock the lights out of in order to protect Steve. That kind of guy objectively did not belong with someone like you.

Bucky has to shake his head ever so slightly. It's a dangerous line of thinking. God, he doesn't even know you. He's met you once, and you'd exchanged only a few words. Irrespective of how nice you seem, how entrancing you are, he doesn't know you. It hardly matters whether or not your relationship with Walker is genuine. It shouldn't matter to him. It really shouldn't bother him.

But it does, and that fact alone is almost as bad as the fact that John Walker is the new Captain America. It causes the same bitter feeling to swell in his chest.

Sam and Bucky fall into line next to each other, walking side-by-side, the dull noises of their footsteps hitting the pavement reverberating throughout the streets. There's a comfortable silence between the two of them. Words aren't needed now. They often aren't. For all of their antagonisation, they can understand each other perfectly fine with a single glance. That's what comradery is.

There are neon lights that illuminate the streets in shocking tones of red and turquoise, reflected in stray puddles that pool in the potholes of the roads. The lights seem dulled, boring despite their vividity. He'd seen brightness before. It didn't look like a street sign. It looked like the curve of your smile and the silent rage you directed at John Walker.

---

Bucky's flat is near-barren.

As much as he hates empty rooms - they remind him of cold cells in underground bases that he wishes more than anything that he could forget - he's also come to the realization that he very much hates rooms that have too much furniture.

They all feel uncomfortable, unfamiliar, a bastardisation of a normal life that he feels he has no right to live. He's so unused to the feeling of a mattress beneath him that the floor next to his bed is easier for him to sleep on. And he hates that, too.

The simple inability to slip back into a normal life makes him feel woefully inadequate, like there's still something deeply wrong with him despite the fact that the command words had long since been removed from his mind.

Sam had returned to his own home a while ago, leaving Bucky utterly alone in the flat.

It's not necessarily loneliness that he feels, but it is a kind of numbness that is close to it - the dulled pain of loss. Perhaps, if everything had gone the way he meant for it to, he would be sharing this place with Steve - Steve who would take a bullet for him, fight any force in this universe or the next for him. Steve who would probably encourage him to sleep in the bed and not on the floor next to it.

That realisation prompts him to shuck off his leather jacket, toss it into the recesses of his room and try to distract himself.

He runs a hand over his face, closing his eyes and just revelling in the darkness. Mindlessly, he sits down on the very edge of his bed, already knowing that he won't be sleeping there. It seems somewhat pointless to even try.

Despite the Soldier being gone, there are some effects of his presence that linger. Slowly, he's been getting better, but there are a few traits he doesn't know whether or not he'll ever have the courage to discard. Sleeping on the floor is one of them. That constant need to be vigilant is another. Often it manifests itself as paranoia, and at other times as staring.

Oh god, the staring.

Bucky knew it could be bad sometimes - Sam made remarks about it often enough - but today, he really felt like he couldn't help himself.

Maybe he shouldn't have stared at you so much. It probably wasn't welcome. In fact, it had been described as 'unnerving' and 'creepy' more than once. But there was just something about you that made him not want to look away.

His eyes flutter open and he lets out a ragged groan of frustration, a low noise that originates at the back of his throat.

Somehow, every little nagging thought always leads back to you, which is inconvenient to say the least. He does have to keep telling himself that he doesn't know you, mentally repeating those words like a mantra, instructing himself to just leave that train of thought alone completely, and to discard any and every thought that pertains to you. You're with Walker. He doesn't know you - but he could.

Bucky takes in a deep breath, hand digging through the pocket of his trousers, emerging with his phone. The internet was a pretty vast thing that had initially taken quite some getting used to, especially when he was still living in Romania. It had been difficult to become comfortable with the amount that society had progressed whilst he was with HYDRA.

He still couldn't get used to the music or some of the fashion trends. By the time he got to living in Wakanda, he was more than used to the intricacies of modern day technology, despite the fact that once he came out of cryogenic freezing he lived a fairly simple lifestyle.

He can't really resist searching your name.

Immediately, article after article pops up, all with headlines about you and Walker. Bucky lets out a minor, quiet noise of discontentment, opting to avoid the articles and instead look at the videos, the interviews that you had given. In most of them, you're accompanied by Walker, and occasionally by Battlestar, too. Bucky absolutely does not want to watch those ones. It feels like John simply sitting next to you is somehow corruptive.

There are a select few interviews where, mercifully, you're by yourself. Some of them are from your earlier days, where you're dressed in black leather, which was absolutely a confusing wardrobe choice.

Privately, he much prefers you in the sundress and the pale colours. In the one that he chooses to watch, you're dressed in another sundress - this one's a pale sort of pink with tiny, blooming white flowers dotted over it. For some inexplicable reason, Bucky thinks he prefers you like this - innocent, summery, and not a pale imitation of somebody who was meant to be scary - not that you had the potential to make him afraid in the slightest.

You're in some room, sitting in front of a grand, white window, seated on a wicker chair opposite the interviewer. There's a few potted plants dotted around the floor, aloe vera, lavender, a cheese plant and some other flowers that are in full bloom, their soft petals unfurled. You're beaming happily as the interviewer begins, soft sunlight spilling over your profile, warming your skin.

"It's a pleasure to finally have the opportunity to interview you - and you're so kind to let us into your house like this." The interviewer says, looking between your angelic visage and their copious sheets of notes, each one full of questions and follow-up questions that they were desperate to ask you.

Ah. That makes sense - all the plants. You seemed like the type to like them.

"The pleasure's all mine." You say, and yes, there it is. That transfixing look about you that he's slightly hooked on now that he's seen it in real life. It's a bit addictive to watch you, and god, even just thinking that does very much make him feel wrong.

"How about we get started, then?" The interviewer says conversationally. "You know, every single person in America is curious about you. I'm just here to ask the questions on everybody's minds! Just who are you? Come on, tell us about yourself."

You don't flounder. Not even for a second. You're utterly effortless in the interviews just as you had been mere feet away from him. "Well, I'm just your average girl, really. I'm nothing special, I promise you. Honestly, I'm so grateful that everybody loves me so much. I really wasn't expecting it."

Sitting there, a serene expression on your face, you sound utterly bashful, humbled and sweet in a way that wasn't quite the same as it had been in real life.

God, seeing you in real life was different to the interview. You had been, for a lack of a better word, better than how he expected. He'd anticipated meeting female John Walker, arrogant, self-assured and willing to try to strong-arm him into fighting for their team, more like Walker's puppy than your own individual person.

And you were nothing like that - you'd challenged Walker, hell, you even seemed reluctant to touch the guy at first, and then, you'd laughed and smiled devastatingly sweetly whenever Bucky would agitate him.

" - oh yes, my favourite flowers are - " You're still talking sweetly but he's only capturing fragments of what you're saying.

It's hard to focus on your exact words when you've shifted slightly, and that sundress has slid up your thighs ever so slightly, exposing more of your legs to Bucky's heated gaze.

Fuck - you don't even realise what you're doing and how it's making him feel. You're just innocently trying to get through an interview, talking about something mundane, like your houseplants, and it has Bucky's imagination running wild.

If Sam were here, he would definitely be sensing impropriety right about now.

Bucky swallows thickly, biting his lower lip in an effort to stifle the ragged breath he's struggling to take. It feels almost like there's no air left in his lungs. It's all too easy for him to picture you, right there in front of him, giving him that lovely saccharine smile, your lips pulled upwards. You'd saunter into his room, sundress skirting against your thighs, and he would be utterly enraptured.

He clears his throat, squeezing his eyes shut for just a fraction of a second. He could practically feel the blood rushing south, pooling downwards until his cock was pitching a tent, straining uncomfortably against his dark jeans.

Bucky can't even bring himself to feel any shame - he's just chasing a sensation, chasing a fantasy of you as he tugs his jeans down, shucking them off and discarding them, letting them land somewhere near his leather jacket.

With an unsteady breath, he shuffles back awkwardly onto the bed. Without so much as a second thought, he's pulling his boxers down his thighs and resting his flesh hand against his cock. He's beyond hard, steely even, and Bucky has to bite back a groan. Even the touch of his own hand doesn't offer him much relief.

He discards his phone, letting the interview keep playing, just listening to your cadence and the entrancing way you spoke, not really picking up on the words themselves.

It's all too easy to imagine you being here, in that tiny little sundress, stalking towards him. He'd want you to straddle him, your thighs framing his, sundress riding up, exposing more of your legs. He'd push the fabric up, and instruct you to hold it there.

You'd probably give him something like a shy little nod and that dazzling smile of yours, your hands fisting the fabric and holding it up.

Fuck - it was all just too good to think about.

Bucky's grip on his cock tightens as he slowly strokes himself. He could easily tug the top part of the sundress down, too, to expose your tits. Maybe he'd even play with them for a bit, licking, nipping and sucking until there's a constellation of bruises and bites decorating your decolletage.

You'd probably beg, all whiney and breathy and absolutely desperate for him, struggling to maintain your hold on your dress, your fingers twitching as you pushed your chest towards him. It would be fucking lovely. He would finally pull away, admiring his work before bothering to address your needs. He'd trail his hands up your thighs.

He had to wonder exactly what you were wearing underneath it. White? Black? Lacey? A tiny little thong that rises high on your hips, the kind he can easily rip off with his bare hands or push aside?

Or fuck, even more addicting, what if you weren't wearing any at all? His fingers would smooth up your thighs as you trembled, meeting your bare cunt.

Bucky doesn't even bother to try to quell the groan that rises up within him at that thought. God, that would be nice. You'd be wet - so wet, dripping, coating his fingers and trickling down your thighs. He'd rest his dark, metal hand on your waist whilst the fingers on his other hand ran eagerly through your folds, teasing your clit as he memorised all of the little sounds he could pull from you before he'd plunge two fingers into you.

You'd cry out, and he'd swallow the sound with his mouth, crushing his lips to yours and letting you gasp into his mouth. When he finally pulls away from you, fingers knuckle deep inside of you, your face would be painted a bright red, and your lips would be swollen as you begged him, fucking begged him to fuck you.

He'd deny you at first, watching you tremble and twitch on his fingers, practically fucking yourself on them.

Bucky would stroke at your clit, tracing tiny circles over it and watching your face contort in pure, unadulterated pleasure. He'd let you get off on his hand first. Would your eyes roll back into your head? Would you scream for him, yelling out his name? Would you get even wetter, impossibly making his fingers even slicker, fucking soaking him? You'd probably seize up, your spine going rigid, your mouth tumbling open and your walls flutter around his finger, convulsing uncontrollably.

And then, only then, would he fuck you.

God, you'd take his cock so well.

Maybe the stretch of it would be a bit much at first and you'd squirm in his hold, his metal arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you impaled on him. The noises you would make would be utterly lovely - whines and fragments of pleads that never quite get finishes because you keep interrupting yourself with your own moans.

Eventually, he'd have you in his lap, your legs folded over his, one of your hands holding up your sundress so he can see his cock entering you, pushing you open, the other resting on his face. You'd bounce on his cock, whimpering like a kitten, biting at your bottom lip whilst he stared at you in awe.

You would be good - so, so good, tight and hot around him, absolute perfection.

He'd mark your neck up too, so that it'd match your tits, leaving tiny, bloodied indentations of his teeth up the column of your throat, soothing the sting by laving his tongue over them, the taste of your blood blooming on his tongue.

'Walker's girl' his ass.

It wouldn't be John fucking Walker whose name you were crying out. It would be his. It'd be his love bites littering your neck, and it would be his come leaking out from your cunt, trickling down your thighs.

He's relentlessly fucking his fist at this point, grunting and groaning at the mental image of you riding him to completion, snug around his cock, begging for him. There's some deep, nigh unholy pleasure building within him, ripping through him like a hurricane.

"God, fuck -" Bucky comes almost violently with a cry of your name, jerking quickly, hot come spilling over his knuckles. The pearly white beads trail down his hand, oozing onto the bed sheets.

He can still hear that interview playing, your melodic voice grounding him as he comes down from his high.

You're talking about some sport you had played in high school, and the interviewer is lapping it up, eager for your attention and the exclusive interview. Bucky's chest is heaving, rising and falling heavily as he struggles to catch his breath.

Was it probably wrong to get off whilst thinking about another man's girlfriend? Yes. But, Bucky didn't particularly care, not when he'd just had quite possibly the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life, and especially not when it was 'Walker's girl' he was getting off to.

Walker probably couldn't make you come if his life depended on it. But Bucky would.

It's definitely strange that he wants you so badly. Maybe he just wants to take something from Walker the way that Walker had taken the mantle of Captain America.

He didn't really know how he'd react if he ever had to see you again. There's no way he can look at you in any non-sexual capacity, and he can just sense that this won't be the last time he comes whilst thinking about you.

It's probably for the best then, that he'll be staying out of Walker's way. There will be much less temptation on his part to interfere with your relationship. Yes, it's definitely for the best. He's probably just stressed and overworked, and that was the reason he felt the need to fuck his hand whilst thinking. about you. Just stress. And it's not exactly wrong to want to relieve that stress, is it? No. Not at all.

This is perfectly fine, and even if it wasn't, he wouldn't be seeing you again.

---

Just as Bucky had been getting ready to go out for the morning, dressed in jeans and some dark jacket that did a reasonable enough job of hiding the distinctive metal arm, a loud rapping reverberated through his apartment.

Immediately, he's frowning, and some of that old, ever-present paranoia is reawakening, like it's coming out of a coma, its dormancy ending abruptly. He pauses, slowing his gait and balling his hands into fists, bracing himself.

The knock doesn't sound like anybody he knows. It's not Sam - Sam either barges in, makes one single loud bang, or will just yell obscenities until Bucky stumbles out of his flat to meet him. This knock, a gentle rapping, is softer, more polite, and unfamiliar. If he's lucky, it'll have been just somebody who had got the wrong apartment number, or who wasn't yet aware that the previous tenant had moved out. It happened sometimes.

This knock could have a perfectly reasonable explanation behind it - it could be an honest mistake, or some unfortunate door to door salesperson whom he was about to scare off. Still, despite the fact it could be innocuous, it does have him on edge.

Cautiously, Bucky approaches the door, taking in a deep breath as he undoes the latches one by one. Slowly, he opens the door. It feels like ripping off a bandaid. To his surprise, it's neither somebody who's out to hurt him, nor somebody who's got the wrong apartment number.

It's you, standing outside of his door, wearing another one of your pale sundresses and a knitted cardigan, looking like something out of one of his dreams.

So much for not seeing you again.

Maybe he just had exceptionally bad luck, or the universe hated him. That absolutely had to be what it was - some grand, sadistic cosmic being had it out for him and was desperate to make his life hard.

Why the hell were you here? Was Walker sending you to harass him? That would be objectively cruel, and an unfitting punishment just for rejecting the opportunity to work with him. And - how the hell had you found his flat? That absolutely wasn't meant to be information available to anyone.

"Walker's girl?" He says, staring down at you, frowning.

Bucky doesn't dare call you by your name, not when the last time he said it was when he was coming all over his own hand. He hates the fact that he calls you that, and even more than that, he hates the wince you make. It's perfectly understandable that you don't like being called that, irrespective of whether it's accurate or not. Which he hopes it isn't. And then he resents himself for even being bothered by whether it's true or not.

He doesn't fucking know you. He shouldn't care.

You remind him of your name - as if he could ever fucking forget it. You brush it off pretty quickly though, smiling up at him. "Mr. Barnes, do you mind if we talk?"

Bucky is very much not enjoying the emotional turmoil you're putting him through. "Sure. Come in. And it's just Bucky."

He most definitely should not be letting you in. That would be a bad decision and he especially didn't want to get ideas about you whilst you were in his flat. And yet, he found himself readily opening the door and welcoming you in, before closing the door after you.

You make your way into his flat, looking at him gratefully.

"What's the deal with you and Walker?" The words tumble from Bucky's mouth, gruff and awkward, before he can even think to stop them.

A look of mild confusion passes over your face as you blink up at him. "Oh, John? I mean, we're not really a couple."

"I thought not." Bucky says, feigning impassiveness, even though there's absolutely nothing neutral or disinterested about the hopeful feeling that blooms in his stomach.

"Yeah. It was meant to be good for his public image, you know. The all-American guy with the perfect relationship. And I have debt I need to pay off - tuition and all that - and they compensate me for my time." You explain, laughing lightly. It sounds like bells chiming in the wind, and awakens in him some long forgotten memory of watching the sunset. It's reminiscent of something, someplace happier where his head was a whole lot lighter.

Bucky actually feels a genuine bolt of relief skirt down his spine. Of course he had been right. There was no way that Walker could get with somebody as good as you, somebody who seemed very much like an angel put on earth.

Your eyebrows tug slightly downward, "Was it obvious?"

"You looked like you'd rather have been anywhere else."

That prompts a peal of laughter from you, and all traces of concern simply evaporate from your visage, quickly forgotten. "Yeah, I suppose so. John can be...difficult at times. He's very strong-willed and we don't always get along."

"You two seem to get along well enough on camera," Bucky remarks, voice lower than he intended for it to be. Really, he doesn't want this to descend into some kind of interrogation, and he doesn't want to scare you off.

"I'm a decent actress," You say with a shrug. "And we normally do our TV appearances when we're getting along. John's not always easy to get along with, but occasionally we manage to put it all behind us. It may seem scummy, I guess. We are practically lying to everyone, but I do need the money and it's easy work."

It further reassures him - of what, Bucky doesn't quite know, but he doesn't feel half as on edge as he had been earlier.

You're not Walker's. He fucking knew it.

He couldn't possibly even conceive of a universe in which you would ever even consider Walker's advances. That bastard was lucky you even looked in his direction.

"I get that." Bucky says understandingly, a tentative smile playing across his face, his lips quirking upwards.

"I do actually have a reason for being here, Bucky." You say, sighing softly.

Oh. Yes. Of course you did. He'd almost forgotten that you needed a reason to visit - this wasn't a social call, of course it wasn't. The two of you had only ever met once, no matter how well he thought he knew you after having seen what is probably hours worth of footage of you. It's probably not a good thing that he's feeling so familiar with you - no, it's definitely not a good thing that he's feeling so familiar with you. In fact, it's probably very bad, especially with his proclivity for avoiding any form of emotional vulnerability or attachment.

"I...have the clearance to access some information that may benefit you." You say. Right now, you're being the most serious he'd ever seen you. There was a sort of solemn expression about you - your mouth set in a firm line rather than a happy smile - it's bordering on grave, and he's immediately compelled to listen, a frown forming on his face.

"Yes?"

"You and John both want the same thing, but you're not going to work together. I know for a fact you won't, and I really don't blame you. He's planning on going to see Zemo for information about the serum."

Bucky doesn't even tense up at the name. Helmut Zemo is an absolute bastard who had almost ruined his life, in addition to temporarily forcing him into a dangerous headspace, into a part of himself that, at that point, was very much present and very much not under control.

But now, the codewords are gone. They won't activate shit. Zemo's practically been neutered in that regard. He may not be able to invoke the Winter Soldier, but the mere mention of his name absolutely does invoke some kind of visceral, biblical rage that howls for revenge.

It's the kind of anger of the Old Testament, though Bucky isn't much for religion these days - the kind of anger that is desperate for 'an eye for an eye', to make Zemo hurt just as much as Zemo had hurt him. For retribution.

"We were planning on seeing him, too." Bucky says, a little stiffly, though he retains his composure.

"You'll want to get there before John does. He's planning on telling the guards not to let you in - Zemo will have his visitation rights revoked and you won't even be let on the premises."

Bucky lets out a tiny noise of irritation, a bitter little sound that originates in the very back of his throat. Of course, of fucking course Walker wouldn't be content with just working separately from himself and Sam.

Rather than just let it be, he'd try to actively obstruct their ability to work on the case - to help people. There was something about Walker's willingness to possibly prevent a breakthrough for the sake of his own ego that left a very bitter taste in Bucky's mouth. It was a complete stain on Steve's legacy.

"You have two days until John and Lemar visit Zemo. They'll probably be alerted when you show up, though, so I suspect you won't have long." You continue.

There's a possibility that you are working with Walker and this is all part of some elaborate scheme to impede his involvement in this. You could be lying through your teeth.

You had already told him you were a decent actress, and he definitely believed that to be true. Anybody that could be lovesick around John fucking Walker was either delusional or worthy of an oscar. Bucky was inclined to believe you were the latter.

That story about needing money for tuition made sense, and it also seemed reasonable that Walker's PR team would want to give him a girlfriend. A similar kind of thing had happened with Steve back in the forties. He'd been made to do all sorts of stupid campaigns, and a lot of them had involved pretty women like yourself who were willing to act, hell, even sing and dance, for the money.

Bucky wants to believe you're genuine. Surely he'd be able to tell if you're lying - he's good at that, at identifying people's tells and the falsehoods they're spewing.

"Thanks for the heads up." He says somewhat gruffly as he looks down at you.

"Lemar had a lead on the medicine and vaccines, too. But I don't know exactly what he's found." There's something about the way that you sigh that indicates frustration. "It's difficult to get information out of him. He's nice and all, but we're not close enough that he's willing to divulge a lot."

Bucky's slight frown deepens and he steps just a little closer to you, revelling in the fact that you don't stumble back or glance at the door. You're not afraid of him in any capacity.

"You're fishing for information for us? Why?"

That's the one thing he can't work out. Why show up here? Why bother to give him the warning? What could you possibly have to gain from it?

"It's the right thing to do." You say simply, that solemness receding from your pretty face to allow that sweet smile to return. "Whether it be you or John, somebody has to bring these guys down. It's only fair that you both have the same information, and I can get it to you."

How lovely. God, how had you managed to embody the spirit of Captain America more than the man who carried the shield?

"Right, right." Bucky doesn't even have a hard time accepting the answer. He should - he should poke and prod at your motives, but he doesn't want to. He finds that the desire to do good for the world is sufficient enough, especially when it comes to you. Because of course you want to help people, of course you want to help him - as if you hadn't been perfect enough already.

"I'm looking into the camps, too. It's hard to narrow the parameters, though. There's just so many of them." You say, somewhat aghast, like you're disappointed that they even exist in the first place.

There's a haunted kind of expression in your eyes, like you'd seen too much. And you probably had. Looking into all of those camps, rampant with disease, crime and horrifically painful deaths, couldn't have been easy, especially if you weren't acclimated to something so macabre or devastating.

"Hey," Bucky places a hand on your shoulder - the human hand - and he can feel the soft texture of your knitted cardigan beneath his fingers, as well as the heat radiating from your body. "Thank you. I appreciate it. You're doing the right thing. You're good."

Words of encouragement are somewhat difficult for him to come up with. He has no idea what will reassure you, so he just tells you what he knows to be true and it's enough. It's more than enough judging by the way your eyes light up and you smile at him. There's something almost devastating about that smile, and knowing that he had been the one to cause it.

"Thanks," You say, your voice barely above a whisper, voice a little hoarse. Oh. Oh. Your pupils were blown wide, and you were staring at him intently.

He falters for a fraction of a second, wondering if he'd done something wrong. And then it dawns on him - you'd liked the praise.

You had fucking liked it when he praised you. Well, shit. The rush he got from that realisation alone made him feel nearly high, like his head was in the clouds and he'd just done copious amounts of illegal substances. It was addicting, in short.

It's then and only then that he actually notices just how close the two of you are, and suddenly he's revisiting the thought that maybe letting you into his flat wasn't such a good idea.

Bucky can very nearly feel your skin beneath his hand. Having you here is such a unique brand of torture - you're exquisitely close, and you're looking at him like whatever it is that's between you, this mad, mutating attraction is reciprocated. It all feels a little too good to be true.

You probably shouldn't be looking at him like that. There was no way that the attraction he felt could be reciprocated. No way whatsoever.

"I should probably give you my number," You say, your voice still a little low - if anything, it's become silkier. Sultry, even, and it has Bucky's head spinning. "I'll send you everything I have."

"Yeah," He says, somewhat breathlessly. It's with a deep reluctance that he drops his hand from your shoulder, already missing the warmth and the closeness.

He probably shouldn't have touched you in the first place. You were so small next to him, dressed in your pale little sundress, cardigan slipping down one of your arms, pooling at your elbow to reveal a single, unblemished shoulder. There's something almost painfully innocent about you, the complete antithesis to him.

He had been a killer a thousand times over. Bucky had taken more lives than he could even begin to count, and despite his best efforts to reconcile and to make amends for it, his hands were still stained red with blood. They didn't deserve to touch you, no matter how badly he wants to.

Suddenly, you're turning away from him, snatching a piece of paper that had been lying around his flat and scrawling a series of numbers onto the back of it - your phone number. Without so much as a second thought, he's peering over your shoulder as you write them, eyes carefully following every digit that you inscribe.

You whirl around, paper clutched tightly in one hand and settling the other on his chest, fingers ghosting over his shirt. You're so, so close - a mere matter of inches away from him, and your hand is directly over his heart. Hopefully you can't feel the way it beats slightly faster as a result of the contact.

There was a high chance that if it had been anybody else, Bucky would have avoided their touch and shirked the vulnerability. He liked being in control of himself, which often translated in remaining isolated. But he doesn't really want you to take your hand off his chest. He doesn't want that at all. In fact, he'd much prefer it if you touched more of him.

The tension is literally palpable, hanging about the air like a thick fog. No, more like smoke really, with the way your presence threatened to asphyxiate him.

"Bucky," You say, so softly, your voice dripping with reverence. There's just something about the way you whisper his name that's so much better than any fantasy he could ever concoct. He's half-certain that you're going to drop your hand from his chest or shove him away, admonish him for getting too close. But you don't. Your hand remains pressed against him, fingers splayed over his torso.

He can't help but say your name in turn, his voice raspy as he looks down at you. Carefully, he takes the paper with your number on it from your hands and sets it down on one of the countertops. And still, you don't remove your hand from him. You're looking up at him and your eyes are so dark, tumultuous pits of lust that bore right through him.

Bucky leans ever so slightly closer to you, his flesh hand cupping your jaw. His index finger is curled under your chin, and the pad of his thumb is resting on your plump lower lip. In response to his touch, your lips part ever-so-slightly, and he can feel your breath ghosting over his flesh in light, shallow puffs of air.

"Do you want this?" He asks, his voice a low rasp, rough and bordering on ragged. It feels very much like he's entered dangerous territory. This is like playing with fire whilst being desperate to get burnt. He just needs to be sure. He's desperate for that reassurance, for you to explicitly say that he's not crazy or creepy, that this is mutual.

"Yes," You say, lip moving against his thumb as you speak.

In an instant, he's moving his thumb to caress your cheek and then crushing his mouth to yours. There's something utterly greedy about the way he consumes you, teeth smacking together, tongues roving throughout each others mouths, completely plunderous in nature. Because that is what he's doing - consuming you, entirely ravenous in the way his lips press repeatedly against yours.

Your hands become fisted in his shirt and jacket, and his metal arm wraps around your waist, crushing your chest to his, anchoring the two of you together. It seems as if you've gone weak in the knees. You practically crumble against him, pressing yourself into his torso until his metal arm is the only thing that's holding you up.

Oh. This was definitely reciprocated.

There was absolutely no need for him to wallow in guilt or shame or wish not to see you - because you wanted him to. It didn't fucking matter whether or not his hands were stained red, not when all you wanted was for them to touch you.

All too soon, your mouths part slightly and you're panting against one another. Your lips are red, beautifully swollen, and wet with saliva. With a mixture of his and your saliva.

"Tell me to stop," Bucky mumbles heatedly against your lips. "Tell me to stop and I will. I'll never touch you again. I promise."

It's a promise he won't want to keep. Not when he feels like a single kiss has completely fucking ruined him for anybody else.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" You whisper, gazing at him with this blazing fire in your eyes, challenging him.

"Do you want me to keep going?" He asks, and he's afraid of the answer. He has no idea what he wants - he's partially inclined to want to avoid the emotional implications of getting involved with you like this, of succumbing to your allure, but he also very much wants you to say yes, to beg him to touch you like you need nothing else more than you need him.

You tremble against his chest, a soft, keening whine tumbling from your mouth that has Bucky feeling dizzy, like the world had just tilted on its axis without any warning. It's a delightful little noise, melodious and sinful. It was so, so much better than he had imagined. He can barely refrain from rutting against you, high off the sound of your moans.

"Yes." You sound absolutely fucking devastated, pushed into abject neediness. He's reduced you to some kind of desperate mess, clinging to his chest like he's a lifeline, like you're remiss to let go of him.

And fuck, that one simple word is all the confirmation he needs.

Every single disparaging thought shatters to pieces, demolished by your eager moans. The way your chest wracks with sudden shudders, the way you breathe unevenly, perpetually unable to get enough air in your lungs as he keeps stealing it from you, your dilated pupils and your desire for his touch is all for him.

It's intoxicating.

Eagerly, he presses his mouth back against yours, revelling in the way you groan into his mouth, your eyes fluttering closed so your lashes can rest against your cheeks. Fisted into his shirt are your hands, bunched up in the fabric, constantly tugging him towards you in eternal desperation for more contact.

In the next moment, he's using the metal arm curved around your waist to hoist you into the air, letting your feet hover above the ground. It's all too easy for him to lift you.

Your legs had long since turned to jelly, your knees weakened and buckling. Your weight isn't a burden. He could toss a car around if he felt the urge to, which he doesn't. That is absolutely not even close to the urges he's having right now - the urges to make his fantasies a reality, to experience every lewd thought about you that had flitted through his head.

You release a small noise of surprise that Bucky eagerly swallows, biting at your bottom lip and memorising the delightful noises that the action pulled from you.

With his arm anchoring you to his chest, and you quite literally swept off your feet, it's easy for him to maneuver you through his flat, keeping his lips connected to yours as he walks you through to his bedroom.

The only time Bucky's mouth leaves yours is when he relinquishes his steely hold on you, laying you down gently on his bed, letting you rest atop his plain sheets, your sundress riding upwards.

And even then, he doesn't allow that separation to last long, clambering on top of you and surging forwards, capturing your lips again.

He's practically caging you in with his arms, allowing you no opportunity for escape.

Your fingers slowly unfurl from their previous position where they're been fisted, harshly gripping the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in what had been a successful effort to bring him closer to you. Now, your hands are wandering, beginning to explore. They roam freely, smoothing over his chest, tracing indecipherable shapes and fragments of words across his torso.

They easily pause at the lapels of his jacket, tugging it off with precision. Bucky has to move his arms slightly to help you divest him of the item of clothing, and he flings it somewhere across the room, not even bothering to check where it's landed. A single item of clothing seems totally irrelevant when you're beneath him, writhing at his touch.

"Please," You say between intense kisses, eyes blown wide with lust. Your pupils have expanded immeasurably, leaving a tiny ring of colour around them. "Off," You demand, tugging at his shirt.

Bucky chuckles, the low noise reverberating throughout his chest, making his torso rumble under your hands. Grinning, he pulls the shirt up and discards that too, leaving himself in just his jeans and you in your pale sundress and knitted cardigan. It's then that he falters, realising you can see the arm - of fucking course you would see the arm. There was no way that you wouldn't. It was just another horror of his existence that couldn't be avoided.

Strangely, though, you don't look at it in abject horror, reminded of his crimes, of the despicable acts of violence he had committed in the name of HYDRA.

Instead, you look at it reverently, one of your hands coming up to trace the grooves in the arm.

It was darker than any of his previous ones, a midnight matte black with stunning strips of gold running through the divots between panels. You trace the labyrinth of steady golden lines gently, fingertips tracing over the plates that comprised it. You were just as gentle with it as you were with the rest of him. His breath hitches in a way that is utterly obvious, though you don't outwardly react to it.

Your hand skirts down his metal arm, your fingertips coming to rest against the palm of his hand. The two of you aren't quite holding hands, but you very nearly are. Softly, so devastatingly softly, you tug the dark metal hand towards your face.

And you turn his metal hand over, planting a soft kiss to the centre of his palm before releasing it.

It was rather lovely, really. It made his chest swell up with some emotion that evaded description. Immediately, he's going back to kissing you, licking up into the cavern of your mouth, wordlessly showing you just how much he appreciated the small gesture.

Then, Bucky's mouth begins to traverse away from yours. He plants kisses down the column of your throat, only pausing in his quest to stick his nose into your neck, inhaling strongly. Your skin had a scent - a beautiful, honeyed kind of scent that he could very easily gain an addiction to. Fuck, everything about you was easy to gain an addiction to.

Before long, he's going back to suckling at the skin of your neck, interspersing his licking and sucking with bites that make your spine arch and prompt you to groan loudly. This great expanse of smooth, soft skin is available to him and he intends to take full advantage of it, making your skin bloom like some otherworldly piece of artwork, covered in red and purpled bruises. Interspersed between them were perfect iterations of his teeth, little crimson indentations from his incisors.

There was something absolutely animalistic about marking you up, covering you in aching bruises with his mouth alone. There was something about it that made him feel like he was laying claim to your skin, warding off anybody else who so much as dared to want you, somebody like John fucking Walker.

He probably shouldn't feel thrilled at the prospect of other people seeing you like this, your neck collared with a constellation of bruises and bitemarks that he had put there. Especially if it's one of your PR team, or even Walker himself.

Bucky pulls away from you, admiring the absolute mess he had made of you. Your hair is haloed around you on his bed, your throat is blotched in various shades of red and purple, your lips are swollen, your eyes are blown wide, and your nipples have pebbled against the fabric of your sundress. You look so fucking beautiful.

With some great urgency, Bucky divests you of your knitted cardigan, flinging it away and discarding it with some of his clothes. With his flesh hand, he eagerly tugs down the top-half of your dress, sliding the thin, flimsy little straps down your arms and pulling the fabric over your chest away to expose your breasts to his hungry eyes.

"Fuck," He breathes, shuffling forwards, one shin planted either side of your torso as you lay down, looking up at him in awe.

Bucky lets out a low noise of approval, sliding his hands up to your tits and squeezing them, earning him a strangled sort of noise that rips itself from the back of your throat. He pulls, tugs and pinches, listening intently to the different kinds of moans you reward him with - if he tweaks your nipple just right, you'll give him a breathy cry of his name.

"You like that, hm? You like my hands on your tits?"

"Yes, yes I do," You whimper. The metal hand and the human hand offer very different sensations. The flesh hand is warm, calloused, trembling slightly against your skin. The dark, metal hand with streaks of gold through it is no less dexterous than the organic one. It is, however, slightly colder to the touch, and smoother, comprised of plates of metal that don't have much of a texture. Both make you arch into their touch, perpetually desperate for more.

Bucky really can't help himself. He lowers his head, licking a broad stripe up one of your tits, eagerly mouthing at it whilst he tugs on the nipple of the other one, constantly keeping his mouth occupied. You're wrapping your hands around the back of his head, splaying your fingers over his skull, making desperate little noises as you drag your hands through his short hair.

He has you a squirming, pleading mess beneath him as his tongue roams over your chest, as he alternated between sucking, biting and pinching, watching reddish marks bloom over your torso. He's very much set on making your chest match your neck, painting it with bruises. There's something about this - the marking - that makes him feel absolutely feral, like some kind of rabid animal giving in to its most base urges.

"Please," You're begging for him - fucking begging. When he glances up, he can see your lips trembling, the perspiration beaded at your hairline and your glossy eyes. You look absolutely wrecked, and you sound it, too. Bucky's half tempted to ignore your pleas, but he doesn't want to be cruel. Not with you.

"Please what, doll?" The affectionate word slips from his lips and he hadn't even thought to stop it. "Do you want me to touch you here instead?"

His flesh hand slides down from where it had been cupping your tit, ghosting along your clothed ribs, down the plane of your belly. His touch prompts you to moan, despite the fact his hand isn't making contact with your bare skin. Not yet, at least. It's fascinating how receptive you are - so good for him.

Bucky keeps going, smoothing his hand down the curve of your hip, tugging your sundress up to expose more of your legs to him. His hand splays over the top of your thigh, thumb resting at the junction of your thighs, concealed by the very edge of your sundress.

You do something that surprises him. With a desperate groan, you reach down and grab his hand, tugging it towards your cunt. "No. I want you to touch me here, instead."

Well, fuck.

The very tips of his fingers meet your panty-clad sex, and immediately Bucky is using his metal arm to yank the bottom part of your sundress upwards, folding it up onto your stomach. Really, it's been reduced to a scrap of white fabric bunched around your waist, having been previously tugged down over your tits.

The panties were lacey. White. With thin, flimsy pieces of lace running up your hips. Bucky takes in a deep breath, staring intently at the slightly translucent patch over your pussy, the delicate fabric saturated, made wet by your liquid arousal. His fingers drift up over it almost in awe. Fuck, you're soaked. Absolutely soaked for him - all for him.

Bucky's fingers retreat from their position, but only temporarily. He slides your panties over, pushing them to the side so that he can appreciate your cunt. You gasp, your hand flying off his, where you'd previously been guiding his fingers, slapping over your mouth, barely muffling a groan.

With a renewed sense of confidence, Bucky dips his fingers into your folds. They're slippery - slick is seeping out from your neglected cunt, wetting the inside of your thighs, making them fucking gleam. You're soaked, absolutely dripping onto his fingers as he explores the most intimate part of you, slowly dragging his fingers over your clit and then circling them around your hole. You twitch and moan prettily in response to every tiny movement he makes, hypersensitive and desperate.

"Fuck." Bucky chokes out, dipping a single finger inside of you and admiring the way you convulse around him. Tight, hot and wet. His avid imagination and fucking his fist is one thing, but the sensation of you wrapped around his digit is another thing all together. Some stupid fucking fantasy could never compare - why had he even bothered to imagine that it could?

"God, Bucky, please." You whine helplessly, one hand still clamped over your mouth, muffling your words slightly.

Spurred on by your plea, he crooks his finger, pumping it in and out of you a few times before he adds a second one, using it to push against your walls, spreading them slightly in an effort to scissor you open.

"So fucking wet, aren't you?" Bucky's voice is verging on a growl, utterly animalistic as you gush over his fingers. You shuffle slightly, your hips rising and falling in a stunted rhythm. You're trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, desperately chasing an orgasm, your face contorted in pleasure. The fingers splayed over your jaw are twitching. Every single part of you is affected by him, writhing and trembling, perpetually desperate for more.

"Yes - yes," You chant, your voice a dying whisper, almost lost between your moans and whimpers.

"You're dripping," Bucky remarks, watching in fascination as your slick tumbles in steady streams down his fingers, "Fuck. All for me?"

You not emphatically, moving your head up and down, struggling to look him in the eyes, desperate to let your head fall back against the bedsheets. "Yes."

Bucky's thumb rubs harsh, unforgiving circles over your clit, his forefinger and middle fingers rocking into you, stuffed deep inside your cunt, covered in the slick arousal that's practically pouring out of you. You buck wildly against him, crying out in pleasure.

"Please - I'm gonna," You manage to stutter out, working your hips downwards, grinding onto his fingers, chasing your pleasure.

"Come for me, then." Bucky says.

He's incredibly fixated on every single thing about you as you come undone - the way your walls clamp down on his fingers, clenching tightly around the digits, the way your pretty, lust-blown eyes roll back into your skull, and the absolutely angelic noise that the pleasure he and he alone has brought you tears from your throat. Watching you come undone is wonderful. It's some kind of magical sight, made a thousand times better when you moan his name as you reach the apex of your pleasure. It's so fucking gorgeous that it threatens to make him come in his own pants like some rabidly horny teenage boy.

If Bucky hadn't already been uncomfortable, cock straining his jeans, rutting against the denim almost painfully, he would be by now. Especially when you give him that hazy post-orgasm look, a contented sigh leaving you as you finally remove your hand from where it had been clamped over your mouth.

Slowly, he drags his fingers out from inside of you. They're gleaming, coated in your arousal. Without an ounce of hesitation, he brings them to his mouth, eagerly sucking them clean, his tongue darting over every callous, every wrinkle, every crease on those two fingers, chasing your taste, completely ravenous as the flavour of your cunt explodes over his tongue.

He'd fucking ruined himself. There was nobody else after this. They wouldn't be able to compare to you in any way.

You bat your eyelashes at him, biting your already bruised lower lip seductively. Bucky's looming over you, pulling his saliva-soaked fingers from his mouth, the two of you breathing raggedly, panting like dogs.

Wordlessly, you reach forwards and palm his hard cock through his jeans, squeezing him in a way that leaves Bucky groaning, desperate for more.

"You're gonna let me fuck you, doll?"

"God, please." You breathe, eyes darkening almost imperceptibly. If he hadn't been so close to you then he probably wouldn't have caught it.

Eagerly, he undoes his belt, pulling it free from the confining loops of his jeans, and discarding it. Even as he's divesting himself of his remaining clothes, Bucky's eyes are always on you, watching you intently.

Oh yes, you definitely sparked his staring problem, especially when you're looking at him with hooded eyes, the expression on your face one of pure lust, pure need for him. Quickly, he pulls his jeans down, readily discarding them, along with his boxers.

Bucky's hard, leaking cock slaps up against his stomach. Taking in a weak, ragged breath, you beckon him closer until he's looming over you again, his chest pressed to yours and his cock jutting into your leg.

"Please, Bucky. Don't tease. Just fuck me."

"Oh, gladly," He quips, lips tugging upwards into an infuriating half-smirk.

Your panties are still pushed to the side, allowing him to run his cock through your folds until it's coated in your warm, slippery arousal. He lines the very tip up, teasing you with it for just a moment, revelling in your breathy whimpers and ensuing pleas. The very head of him catches on your entrance, and he uses it as an opportunity to begin to enter you.

His flesh hand is resting on your hip, fingers curling into your side possessively, the black and gold metal arm being utilised in an effort to keep holding himself up. Your hands, gentle and soft, scrabble to find purchase on the plane of his back, nails raking over his skin, leaving tiny red lines in their wake. Fuck. You were marking him up, too.

He wasn't even bothered by it. If anything, Bucky was pleased - he'd proudly wear whatever marks you gave him. They were little pieces of you, a litany of evidence that you'd touched him - that you had wanted to touch him.

The very head of his cock breaches you, splitting you open. He's thicker than you had anticipated, but the stretch is welcome. He practically burns you as he enters you the first time, stilling half of the way in to allow you a moment to breathe.

Happily, you writhe against his chest. It burns - but oh god it burns so nicely. The wonderful, near-painful intrusion of him is heavenly.

You're panting into the crook of his neck, frenzied breath ghosting against his throat. "More - please, more."

There isn't a single ounce of reluctance within him as he pushes the rest of his cock into you until he's fully seated.

"So fucking tight," Bucky babbles. His chest is trembling slightly, crushed against yours. There's just so much to feel - so many sensations to comprehend and decipher. You're so tight, gripping his cock like a vice, all wet and warm. It feels like fucking paradise - like some slice of heaven that he'd been gifted. Perhaps some cosmic being didn't have it out for him after all. If they did, there was no way they would allow him this.

Your legs shift, wrapping themselves around his waist, coaxing him deeper inside of you. You're moaning directly into Bucky's ear, your breaths fanning across his neck, fingers digging into his back as you cling desperately to him, saying his name like a prayer.

"Please - move." You're begging, on the verge of sobbing, lips pressed up against the column of his neck, mumbling little indecipherable words that all lead back to him fucking you hard.

And he does. Bucky unrelentingly pistons in and out of you, fucking you into the mattress. It's almost aggressive between the two of you. His hips are snapping up against yours, colliding almost violently, whilst your nails are shredding his back, though he barely feels the pain that he should.

You're a fucking mess. If he's destroyed by this, then you absolutely are, too.

Pathetic, mewling whimpers leave your throat, muffled only by the fact that your mouth is pressed into his neck, though your lips will occasionally move against his skin, your mouth falling open in a near-silent gasp as you try to pull air into your lungs. Your tits, marred by bruises and bitemarks that he had put there, are crushed against his chest. Your legs tremble from where they're almost, but not quite, interlocked around his waist, keeping him as close as possible.

He rocks into you, spearing you on his cock, enraptured by the cacophony of reactions he pulls from you.

"Can John do this? Can John fucking Walker make you feel this good?" Bucky's talking incessantly, those words dripping from his mouth before his mind can even register that the thought had ever even flitted through his brain.

He probably shouldn't be thinking about John fucking Walker whilst he's inside you, whilst his cock is nestled deep in your cunt and you're close to coming for a second time.

But he is. He looks at the vibrant red and purple bruises that litter your neck and torso, the bite marks across your body, the evidence that he's been here with you, the evidence that you had let him touch you, and he can't help but wonder if Walker had ever done this to you.

He can't help but to wonder if Walker had ever taken you like this, like a fucking animal, leaving his own god-awful marks across your throat, fucking into you with one of those sundresses that you wore whilst masquerading around as his girlfriend bunched around your waist.

Bucky really fucking hoped not.

He couldn't conceive of anything that Walker deserved less than you. Walker may not have really been dating you, but he still got to touch you, to put his hands all over you in those stupid interviews, utterly undeserving of that privilege. Walker didn't have any fucking right, any fucking right at all.

You weren't 'Walker's girl'. You didn't belong to John. And for good reason, too. You were so much better than him - the kind of person who was able to look at the mission objectively, put your differences aside, and feed the other team information. All because you wanted to do the right thing.

You gasp against his shoulder, head falling back onto the bed so that you and Bucky can lock eyes as he ruthlessly pounds into you, the obscene sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the room.

"I - fuck - I never fucked John," You say, struggling to even form words.

And god, doesn't that make him glad.

"Yeah?" Bucky challenges you slightly, still grinning as his eyebrows raise a fraction. "And you're not fuckin' gonna."

Walker didn't get to put his filthy paws on you. Bucky wouldn't allow it.

You seize up around his cock, hands grappling at his back, and then sliding over to hold onto his shoulders, the fingers on one of your hands splayed over the seam that ran over his black and golden metal arm. Your fingers gently caress the border between machine and man, gentle, in complete contrast to the way you'd clawed at his back. His blood was probably under your fingernails considering how hard you'd scratched.

"'M so close," You whimper, desperately rolling your hips.

There's something utterly debauched about you. All of that angelisism had easily given way to depravity under his touch. You were practically mewling for him, making these little breathy noises that cause his cock to swell, getting increasingly desperate to climax a second time. That debauchery is located in every single moan that leaves your mouth, in the marks you've scratched into his back and in the way your sundress is bunched around your hips as Bucky fucks you.

"Yeah? Gonna come again?" Bucky asks, breathing raggedly.

He already knows the answer. Of course you're going to come again. He can feel your walls tightening around his cock, constantly fluttering, on the very precipice of your climax. You're close, probably painfully so, and so is he - but he's not gonna come first.

"Mhm," You groan excitedly as Bucky rubs at your clit, sending sparks of pure pleasure racing through your gut.

"Walker couldn't make you come like this," Bucky says more to himself than you, though you seem to really enjoy when he talks, convolusing on his throbbing cock as you desperately chase your high, all whilst he's snapping his hips up into yours, fucking you so hard that at times your eyes will begin to roll back into your skull, and your legs will shake against him. "C'mon, doll. Who are you gonna come for?"

"You. You. You."

"Good girl," He remarks, grinning as you tighten around him. "Fuck, doll. You have the best pussy I've ever fucked - 's mine. Not fucking Walker's. He doesn't get to have you like this. And I do - fuck."

It's then that he spears hard up against something pleasantly devastating inside of you. That sensation, delivered in tandem with Bucky's fingers circling your clit has you coming instantaneously. The barrage of pleasure washes over you like a tsunami, wrenching a cry from within you. You shatter beneath him, falling apart to a thousand pieces, utterly wrecked.

"Bucky," You sob enthusiastically as your orgasm crests, speaking his name over and over again like a prayer, like it's the only word you know.

It was one thing watching you climax on his fingers, and another when it's his cock. It feels otherworldly, watching you come undone as he fucks himself into you. It's probably the best, most arousing thing he's ever seen, you, beneath him, writhing, squirming, calling his name out over and over again.

He doesn't even bother to stave off his own orgasm any longer. It would be impossible of him to even try. If the image of you under him, legs hooked around his waist, trembling from the sheer force of the pleasure he's given you wasn't enough, the fucking heavenly feeling of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock is. You clamp down around him, as tight as a fucking vice.

Bucky's own orgasm barrels into him like a truck. It's a burst of pure, blinding, hot pleasure that rips forth from somewhere in his gut.

It strikes every single nerve ending in his body, and suddenly he's coming, emptying himself inside of you, ropes of his come painting your insides, filling you up.

You both lay there for some time - it could be seconds, or it could be minutes. It's impossible to tell. Time seems hazy when he's with you. He's still laying over you, panting and grinning at the same time. The two of you just smile lazily at each other, completely spent and sated. He shifts most of his weight to be on the metal arm, lest he crush you with his weight.

Eventually, you surrender his hips from your legs, letting him pull out of you and roll onto his back so he can lay next to you whilst you both catch your breath.

Tentatively, you pull the straps of your sundress back up your arms and fix your underwear. Bucky panics internally, quickly turning his head to face you.

"Going somewhere?" He asks, as casually as he could.

"I do have to get back to work," You laugh. It sounds like bells in the wind. "I have an interview tomorrow that I have to prepare for."

Bucky just nods stiffly, trying to quell the internal disappointment rising within him. What the fuck had he been thinking? He shouldn't have touched you in the first place, and now you were probably regretting the fact that you let him fuck you.

"I'll swing by tomorrow with whatever I can find on the medicine," You say, so sweetly. "If that's okay with you?"

"It is, yeah." He says gruffly.

They need the information. The near-devastating disappointment he's feeling right now is irrelevant. Walker and Hoskins have the state's resources at their disposal.

He and Sam have whatever leads they can scrounge up, and whatever you're willing to give them. Because you're good - so good, and he knows that, but he also feels like he's dying a little bit on the inside because of you.

"Maybe I'll let you take me out to dinner next time."

And Bucky falters, looking at you with wide eyes. "Next time?"

"If you want a next time." You say, avoiding his gaze.

Bucky sits up slightly, cupping your jaw with his hand and gently tilting your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes. Now, you look enraptured by the sight of him. "I do want a next time."

"Good," Your voice is quiet, a mere whisper, talking to him in soft, hushed tones. "Because I want a next time."

He leans in closer to you, giving you every opportunity to stop him as he lowers his lips to yours. You don't. You don't want to stop him, not when you're completely enchanted.

Bucky hadn't been the only one that felt rather awestruck that day you'd met outside of the police precinct.

Really, you didn't much like your job. It paid the bills, and kept you ahead on your debt payments, but you didn't like it. The men you worked with lacked the heart that Captain America had.

And sometimes, the weight of pretending got a bit much for you. It had culminated in your guilt, and ultimately you lying in Bucky Barnes' bed, kissing him tenderly.

"So, I'm sending you back to Walker, huh?" Bucky chuckles as the two of you pull away from each other, proudly eyeing the bruises that descend down your neck and below your, now rumpled and creased, sundress.

He'd be sending you back to John Walker with small brands of possession bitten all over your torso, not to mention the fact that beads of his come were streaking your inner thighs.

Well, that'd probably show Walker that even though he got to publically call you 'his girl', you'd never belong to him in the most intimate of ways.

Bucky very much wanted Walker to see it - to see what he'd done to you. God, he'd pay so much fucking money to see the look on that bastard's face when he realised the woman he flippantly called 'his girl' was fucking somebody else.

Not just anybody else, no. She was gladly fucking one of the people that Walker hated the most. Bucky can almost envisage the way Walker's jaw would drop and the rage that would blaze in his eyes.

"I'll be back." You laugh. "As if I'd want to stay away."

Even more beautiful than imagining Walker's reaction, though, was the prospect of you coming back again.

#the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #episode 2 of the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #female reader #smut #bucky barnes smut #john walker #sam wilson #fake dating

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taehyungsbabyygirl · 3 years

Text

Socialità

Chapter 1

Genres: Light fluff, tinge of romance and wholesome(?)

Warning(s): The littlest bit of sexual tension if you squint

----------

Fortune, fame, beauty.

Those are the things that people had associated you with.

Who does not know Y/F/N Y/L/N? You're basically in every magazine cover, every Youtube thumbnail and news headline. Surpassing Kylie Jenner as quote unquote The World's Richest Young Businesswoman and even beating Ariana Grande as the most followed female influencer on Instagram.

Who really are you? Well, to explain it simply to people who are unaware of you, your businesses and socialite status, you are the owner of a multi-billion dollar brand.

What started with a small online business at 16 which sells nightwear for women with affordable, cheap prices had bloomed into a luxury brand known for their elegant, classy clothing line, ranging from lingerie to formal clothing such as glamorous dresses to charming suits and tuxedos for both men and women.

The brand name? After years of rebranding, it's finally official that the name is, Socialità. Fitting with your brand's target market which were rich socialites from across the globe. Of course there was a reason for that, considering that the materials were high quality, imported ones such as satin and silk from Japan, Egyptian cotton, and French lace, also the designing and productions team who were amongst the best in the art of fashion and exclusivity of everything that was made under the brand, without a doubt would result in a higher cost of production and simultaneously a higher price for the merchandise itself.

And all this success did not come easy, there were countless times when you wanted to hideaway and give up on everything you had invested on. At the age of 28, you finally got to where you are now, thriving with the business that you had built with your own bare hands from the confines of your own bedroom.

But, there was one thing that you were lacking in, the love department. Although you were pretty much well-known by youngsters to elders alike, luck does not seem to be on your side when it comes to romantic relationships. It's not that you weren't romantic or sweet enough, gosh you are a hopeless romantic actually, but you just somehow fall for the wrong person, time and time again.

All the people you had dated once you established a name in the fashion world were either self-centered jerks or gold-digging leeches who were only there for the fame and riches. It's as if you had dated way more men than Taylor Swift ever had, except, you don't call these people out in songs.

Aside from owning a lavish clothing brand and billions to your name, having to work with socialite circles, had granted you the socialite status too. You'd be lying if you say that no rich bachelor had tried to flirt around with you but, your previous horrible experiences with dating as a successful businesswoman made you put your guard up and in the end turning you into the most sought after bachelorette of the 21st century.

-----

"What??? The Bachelorette?? Gosh guys, that would be a horrible idea." You shook your head, swirling the red wine in your glass before sipping on it.

It was a normal weekend evening for you and your peers aka your personal management team which consisted of Selma, Carrie, Lulu, Trey and Giovanni. Sitting in the dining room of your enormous mansion in Calabasas while drinking cheap wine and munching on Cheeto Puffs.

You just finished ranting about how you are so unlucky in love and that you're almost turning 30, without being cuffed to someone. In your opinion, people in their late 20s had already met that person and having good balance in their work, social and love lives but you're here having a nonexistent love life instead.

Tired of constantly listening to the same rants over and over again, Giovanni proposed that you put yourself in a controversial yet exciting TV show, The Bachelorette.

"Girllll you should give The Bachelorette a try, I mean I know that the show is basically scripted but it seems exciting, no?" Giovanni chirped.

"Oh my god yasssss! I'd have the time of my life if I'm surrounded by a dozen of good-looking hunks!" Carrie joined in and daydreamed.

You snorted and put your glass down on the marble surface of the table.

"Yeah but the men on there are usually insincere and only in it for their 60 seconds of fame and the winner of the show is probably just motivated by money. What difference does it make with me going to a private party or nightclub and getting to know dudes there?" You retorted; brow raising to your two friends.

"Sis, the difference is, these men would have to submit a form regarding their background and audition for the show! If you want, we could even be your reps during the audition. We know who are the best people for you!" Selma answered your rhetorical question while pouring herself another glass of wine. She's your PA and bestie so she knew how to reply with the same energy as yours.

Sighing deeply with your fingers pinching your nose bridge, you thought once, twice, thrice and made your decision. Well, what's the worst that could happen right?

"Fine, fine! I'm in with the idea. But if this thing goes south, I.Am.Out." The dominant businesswoman persona in you presented herself whilst the others, especially Giovanni, cheered upon your agreement with their idea.

-----

After months of preparations for your big reality TV debut, it was finally the day for the first week of The Bachelorette. Although you're the one being the prize and the one being chased, you felt uneasy and nervous to meet the men who had passed the auditions to become contestants.

"Don't worry! Me and Giovanni made sure that we only let the best ones pass the audition. And when I say the best ones, I meant, socialites, doctors, businessmen and even kinsmen of royalty!"

"Only the best for our QUEEN!"

Those were the words that came out of Selma and Gio's mouths. Thankfully you have these reliable people to help filter through the applicants of the program. If you gave the show's producers 100% control over who comes in and comes out of the show, it'll be a hot mess and they'd probably choose the men based on their looks and bulkiness but not necessarily the brains and skills.

Throughout the audition process, all of the men's background and names were kept a secret from you by Selma and Gio, it'll be a surprise, they said and you trusted them with it.

Sitting at the back of a limousine alone, you started to fidget with the dangling diamond of your earring subconsciously; a habit that you developed whenever you had cold feet.

The vehicle was heading towards the villa where the first meeting would happen between you, the bachelorette and your suitors.

You and the production team had discussed about how the first meeting would be. You thought that the idea of having to stand in front of the villa's front door while the men arrive in limos were quite cringy and not to mention time-consuming and unnatural so you proposed the idea of having the men arrive in a first come first serve basis and sit in numbered rooms in the villa while awaiting you. In that way, you could see who was punctual and who was late. But the catch is, the contestants only have 5 minutes to chat up with you and leave a good first impression.

-----

Alas, you finally reached the villa and stepped out of the automobile. Your dress was a satin, rosé coloured one with a modified A-line, basque waist and halter neckline; glamorous yet not over the top, suitable for a socialite like you.

Not wasting any time, once the cameras started rolling, you entered the ginormous villa and headed upstairs to the rooms, knocking the door gently before entering the space.

The first man you met was Kim Namjoon, he introduced himself as an engineer, a sound engineer. He was confident from the get go and eloquent too.

"Hmm an engineer ay?" You propped your head with the palm of your hand; leaning against the couch's back pillows.

"Yeah.. My family insisted I do that. I wanted to be a musician at first, and that's why I took up sound engineering now." He gave out a dimple smile which you couldn't help but grin at. They're adorable.

You liked his presence and how outspoken he was but sadly the 5 minutes were before you knew it.

Next, you met up with a gentleman named Im Jaebum. A winery owner. He gave you a warm hug from the first time you entered the room.

"I heard that you're a wine conoisseur yourself Y/N? I'd love to take you to Napa Valley where my winery is. I'm sure we'll have a blast there." He smiled and acted a bit smug.

"That sounds like a plan.. I'm not a person who would say no to wine." You replied with a light wink, returning the smugness to him.

Continuing on, after Jaebum, you entered a room which looked bigger than the previous two you'd been in.

By the big window, there was a man with broad shoulders who introduced himself as Kim Seokjin, as he turned around, he greeted you and pecked your hand.

"Nice to meet you I'm Kim Seokjin, just call me Jin." He smiled softly, inviting you to sit down next to him.

"Nice to meet you too Jin.. So what do you do?" You asked carefully; quite intrigued by how good-looking he is with the slicked back hairstyle he has.

"Well I'm a professor of English and Korean Literature. Probably one of the most uninteresting jobs among the other guys." He timidly admitted; being quite humble.

You immediately disagreed with his statement, telling him that literature components are fascinating and that educating people about it is a magnificent job.

Afterwards you conversed with a man named Park Jinyoung. He was also extremely dashing and he's a car dealer. But not just any car, the ones he sells are top brands such a Lamborghini, Maserati, Tesla and Ferrari.

"My job is amazing. Good money, good image, but there was something missing and I think we both could relate to that, we both are looking for love." He half-bragged which didn't really impress you but you agreed nonetheless.

As you politely excused yourself to move on to the next room, where the man was leaning back and scrolling through his phone. Fair skin and contrasting ebony coloured hair.

This guy gave off a cold vibe to you but that made you even more intrigued to get to know him.

"Hi..." You sat on the couch with him and he gave a small smile as he put his phone the side.

"Min Yoongi.. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand out to shake yours. A pretty formal greeting despite the consequences you two were in at the moment.

You two kept the conversation going by talking about your jobs and background. Everything you asked, he answered in all honestly and you liked that. The push-and-pull game was a fun one to play but with Yoongi, the small talk you had was chill and relaxed, the most natural one you had the whole night.

Up next was a kind looking male, taller than Yoongi who seem to be nervous about meeting you for the first time.

"Hello!" You greeted him with a bright smile to ease his anxiousness.

"Hi, hi.. I'm Mark Tuan. I'm an artist.." He abruptly greeted you back.

"Ooh! Like musically or..?" You tilted your head.

"Visually.. I draw and paint."

You led the conversation with the man since he looked very hesitant and awkward the whole time.

The next room had a bubbly and energetic man who was basically radiating good vibes as you entered the room. His name was Jung Hoseok. As you peeked into the room, he immediately walked towards you and gave you tight bear hug with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"Well besides my job as a paediatric specialist, I also enjoy dancing. Do you like to dance?" He jumped off the seat and proceeded to pull you up with him to playfully salsa. His actions made you laugh happily.

"You're so spontaneous!" You hit his chest lightly, still laughing at you guys' actions.

After the exciting interaction between you and Hoseok, you had to calm down and lower your expectations again after it skyrocketed because of the doctor earlier.

That's when you met a muscular man, if Hoseok earlier had radiated good boy vibes, this one radiated bad boy vibes.

He was Jackson Wang, a well-known socialite who is the heir of Wang Co. Ltd. A company which sells electronics such as smartphones, tablets and computers.

"Hello.." You said softly, slightly intimidated by the man's comparably bigger size to you.

"Hello, pretty lady." He took your hand in his and kissed it just like Jin had but his way of executing it was different. The male kissed each of your knuckle and it got you culture shocked.

"Oh wow.. Okay.." You laughed awkwardly as you looked at the man kiss your hand.

The conversation went well with him despite you noticing that he was practically staring at your with those deep brown eyes while you spoke about yourself to him.

The sexual tension was there and you were hoping, praying that the next man would tone down a bit and let you relax, thankfully custom jeweler, Park Jimin did.

"I'm a jeweler.. And can I just say, I adore these diamonds. You have remarkable taste." He proceeded to run his hand gently through the diamond earring you were wearing.

"Thank you! And I absolutely adore this choker you have on.." You reciprocated his action which made him smile softly.

Next up was the room of a private jet pilot named Choi Youngjae.

"Nice to meet you Y/N! I hope we could create good memories here. I'd love to bring you on a helicopter and show you the aerial view of California." He mused but you're not entirely impressed but acted as if you were in order to not hurt his feelings.

"Aww I'd like that. The view must be amazing!" You cringed at your own words but smart enough to mask it.

Hmm, you foresee someone who's potentially going to go home first in this show. His words lacked personality and character and not well thought.

Come on, you obviously had rode a helicopter and saw the aerial view of California. You ride it to work whenever the traffic is congested. He could at least thought of another country or state but instead he settled with Cali, the state where you are based in.

Disappointed, you moved on to the next room, surprisingly, the atmosphere was different, the area was dimly lit and the man sitting on the chair had his legs spread.

"Hi.." He spoke with a deep, low voice that caused you to bite your lip.

"Hello.." You smiled amidst the tense situation, making your way towards him.

"Kim Taehyung.. Fashion designer and owner of TH Couture." He answered without you asking.

The male was quite blunt but his demeanor was alluring. There was a mysterious aura circling him, totally someone to keep an eye on. The conversation was as intense as Jackson's but the two of you had the same interest which was fashion so you didn't feel as awkward as when you were with Jackson.

After Taehyung, it is down to three more people, you were already losing momentum and excitement as you already had spoken to 11 men that night. Before entering the next room, you took a deep breathe and loosen up your shoulders.

In the room was a man, he looked the most different, he had a lengthy name, a Thai one.

"Kunpimook Bhuwakul, but just call me Bam Bam.. I know my name's quite long and I'm also more comfy with Bam Bam.." He bowed to you like a gentleman and smiled handsomely at you.

"That's an adorable name! Bam Bam huh?" You sat down and grinned at the latter.

"You think so? You're adorable-er" He winked at you and caught you off-guard.

As the five minutes of jokes and flirty pickup lines ended, you bid farewell to the Thai man, little did you know that the person you just talked to was related to the Thai royal family.

Entering the 2nd last room, there was a tall man, looking around the well-furnished room but as soon as you came in, his attention diverted to you.

He greeted you with enthusiasm, introducing himself as Kim Yugyeom, an app developer and gaming streamer.

"Gosh you're pretty." He said straight-forwardly while smiling brightly and hugging you snugly.

"And GOSH you're tall!" You replied with those words and the same smile as what he had on his face. At this rate, reciprocation is really your best friend when you don't know how to react or reply to a certain remark from the suitors.

You talked about the apps Yugyeom had developed and the variations amazed you. He had created tons of apps such as games, workout apps, e-commerce platforms, online stores and sorts. But when he started talking about games, you began to lose interest in the chatter. Games weren't your strongest suit but you were happy that he is passionate about them and sharing it with you.

Finally! The last room! Which meant that this person is the last person to arrive to the villa. You wonder who this latecomer is and when you got into the area, your eyes widened.

Jeon Jungkook? He was somebody you had worked with and still actively working with. He is the person in charge of the photography and videography for Socialità and seeing him on The Bachelorette is a huge surprise.

"Wait.. JK?" You didn't know how to react.

"Hey! There's my girl!" He walked towards you with his bunny smile and gave you a hug. You couldn't believe that this was happening, Selma and Gio must've put him in to pull a prank on you.

"One question. Why?" You laughed in disbelief.

"Can't a man try?" He questioned back cheekily.

You two continued the conversation casually without any awkwardness as the two of you had known each other already. That was when you got to know that he had taken a liking on you ever since you two started working together. Everything he told you had sounded sincere so far.

-----

After the first meetings were over, all the men were put in the lounge to get to know each other's competition while you were interviewed by the crew regarding your first impressions of all of your suitors.

"Well everyone was pleasant. But there were a few who didn't pass my vibe check. I guess we just gotta see how it goes." You gave an ambiguous answer to the camera.

"Who do you think caught your eyes the most?" Henry, the producer asked.

"Hmm.. I don't want to seem bias, I mean this is the 1st episode after all but... Hoseok was fun to be around.. Jackson came off very strong. And well Jungkook too of course!"

"You seem to know him.." The producer stated.

"Yes yes.. We actually work together.. I didn't know that he'd want to participate in this show too." You shrugged and flashed a pearly white smile.

"Do you see anyone who might be going home soon?"

"Oof.. That's a dangerous question. That'd probably be ..."

To be continued (3 March, 12 AM, KST)

Author's note: Sorry for the delay guys! I underestimated the length of this chapter but I hope you guys like it! Don't forget to like and reblog this to show support! Also follow so you don't miss out on updates! This chapter is more of an introductory chapter so we'll be seeing more action and interaction between Y/N and de boyzzz.

Who do you think would be eliminated first?

Tagging @aretha170

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fortvscue · 3 years

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╰ ( florence pugh. cisfemale. she/her. ) welcome back to hogwarts, ALICE FORTESCUE ! you’re a SEVENTH year from GRYFFINDOR, right ? i’ve got your school file right here. it says you’re a TWENTY THREE year old PUREBLOOD, is that correct ? this file even has a personality entry, saying you’re ALTRUISTIC & STEADFAST as well as DOMINEERING & WELL-MEANING. is that why you’ve chosen to JOIN THE ORDER ? would you look at that ! it says here other students also describe you as : laughing so hard your stomach aches, the warmth of a palm pressed against your own, bandaids over day old scratches, a backbone like steel and leaving a faint smell of bubblegum wherever you go. how interesting. oh well, see you in class !

Gryffindor, Seventh yr. Former Sacred 28-er turned ice cream makers daughter, now Head Girl with a heart (mostly) of gold. Duelling Club professional, Herbology club afficionado and Seeker on the Quidditch team with a Snitch tattooed behind her left ear.

Was born a Fawley, the last of her line, the daughter of Andromache Travers, betrothed to Antioch Fawley, the only surviving son of the once great Fawley family. Her childhood was a happy one, though one that was still filled with the indoctrination of purist society, and she grew up unaware that the views her parents were raising her with weren’t the norm.

Her mother died when she was eight - vanishing sickness took hold quickly, but Dragonpox was what took her. Her father when she was ten - he hadn’t needed to work, he’d been left a fortune by family members who died too soon, but he decided to work anyway, and was caught in a collapsing Egyptian tomb.

She was more or less adopted that same summer by Hugo Fortescue, a family friend who had been widowed in the same explosion that took Antioch (and, yes, her father was named after that Antioch. The Peverell one.)

Suddenly she lost almost everything she had ever known. Yes, Hugo was a pureblood, though not a member of the Sacred 28 owing to him having immigrated from France only a few years earlier to be with his wife, but he was by no means wealthy. Or, perhaps, he was a lot more frugal than Alice was used to her family being.

Gone were the parties and little excursions to her friends houses, the fancy dresses and lessons on etiquette and what to expect from the Black’s and the Lestrange’s and the Rosier’s and Yaxley’s and Shacklebolt’s, the echoing halls of her manor of a home and the cold reality that while her parents loved her, they did not always treat her as such.

Living with Hugo - and her now adoptive older brother, Florean - was a learning curve that she hadn’t ever anticipated. She was suddenly faced with the reality that everything her parents had drilled into her, all of it was a lie. None of it was true. The innate kindness they’d tried to force out of her, the natural love of humanity and awe of muggles that they’d tried to burn out of her, that was true. What wasn’t was the lesson that they were superior that they had drilled into her head, that had been why she felt so out of place here, because their blood was pure.

She didn’t want to admit it, not then, but her childhood was tainted. It’s something she struggled with for a long time, hell, even now she struggles with it - that, really, she isn’t a Fortescue, even though that’s the name she totes, the name she is more than proud of - that her family, her blood, were people who hated anyone that was different.

For all intents and purposes, Hugo and Florean were more like family than her parents ever were. They made time for her - Florean, even then, was her overprotective big brother - the one that would take a jinx to the chest for her, the one that would torment anyone who hurt her, the one who would wake up too early to learn how to braid her hair because Hugo was always too busy to do it.

Despite all the unlearning she did - and still is doing, believe me, she knows she isn’t perfect, but she’s angrier than ever and learning more and more each day - she still remained close with several of her childhood friends. They’d come visit her in the ice cream parlour, and she’d sneak them a scoop or two before abandoning her post to run around Diagon Alley with her.

That started to change as she grew - as she became a teenager, and suddenly she was listening to muggle music, and watching muggle tv shows, following Florean out into muggle London for the first time, but certainly not the last. She started to lose friends when they couldn’t understand why she was abandoning them, when to her, she wasn’t. They were so important to her, some still are today, even if she isn’t proud of that, proud of being friends with people on both sides.

When she got her letter to Hogwarts, a couple of years after being allowed her own wand - under Hugo’s strict supervision (okay, so it wasn’t necessarily always strict, but he said it was to anyone who dared ask him why she could sometimes be found waving her wand in the middle of the ice cream parlour in the middle of Diagon Alley), she knew exactly where she was meant to be.

She’d already gone through a “phase” of getting into skirmishes with people who, in her eyes, didn’t know how to treat people with respect. It’s something that’s definitely mellowed, though that instinct, that protective flare still hasn’t faded, not even now. It was obvious to any of the people who knew her, who knew her as a Fortescue, that she was going to be sorted into Gryffindor - nobody was less surprised than Alice when it barely took a second before she was swept off her feet.

Her fascination with muggle music and love of art only grew at Hogwarts - her natural ability with plants made certain Alice always found a home in the Greenhouses, and her wand’s natural inclining to defensive magic made it easy to thrive in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Trying out for Quidditch is a no brainer - she’s not so graceful on her feet on the ground, more often than not tripping and skinning her knees, Drooble’s gum bubble popped as she goes, but on a broom? She knows how to be graceful there, in the air, not quite so high as to be above the clouds, but high enough to be above their heads. She’s not meant to be trying out for the Seeker position - she thought maybe Chaser, or Beater, but Seeker was where she found herself, and where she’s stayed ever since.

Now she’s in her last year, she’s found that so much has changed. The world is on the verge of war, and Alice knows she’ll end up fighting - she wants to be an Auror, she has done since she was fifteen and met one in the ice cream parlour, looking for a lead. She just doesn’t know how far this will go - how far she’ll let herself go, how far they’ll all let themselves go. She only knows that she won’t ever back down.

- x -

middle name: marguerite.

languages spoken: english, french, latin (duh).

body modifications: five ear piercings. two tattoos. a golden snitch behind her left ear, one that moves and flaps it’s wings. a lion on her ribcage.

hobbies: photography, quidditch, herbology club, eating ice cream. being the most badass head girl hogwarts has ever seen. (in her own words, of course).

orientation: bisexual (and biromantic) af. let her have kissed girls and boys.

wand: yew wood and phoenix feather core. twelve inches. rigid. excellent for duelling, and by definition, defense against the dark arts and charms. (also with a dark and very fearsome reputation, she’s learned.)

boggart is herself turning into an inferi. that’s cool. totally not somehow a metaphor for how afraid she is of losing herself and her mind.

patronus: elephant.

amortentia: cinnamon being sprinkled across freshly baked cookies. her mother’s perfume. pink blossoms falling to the ground in the midday autumn breeze. pumpkin pasties, the way the hogwarts kitchens always make. seawater crashing against the coast. bouquets of tiger lily on the dinner table. firework sparks. droobles best blowing gum, bubblegum and blueberry mixing. water hitting tea. laundry, freshly done, just out of the dryer. woody cologne.

birthday: october 9th, 7:54pm.

zodiac: libra sun.

egyptian zodiac: horus.

positive traits: altruistic, steadfast, compassionate, loyal, personable, passionate.

negative traits: domineering, well-meaning, self sabotaging, messy, clumsy, closed off.

expanded aesthetic: laughing so hard your stomach aches, the warmth of a palm pressed against your own, bandaids over day old scratches, a backbone like steel and leaving a faint smell of bubblegum wherever you go, running hands through your hair, coffee with three sugars and no milk, eating ice cream for breakfast, leather jackets emblazoned with flowers, never letting your camera get dusty, potted plants on your window still, pressing kisses to people’s cheeks, standing by the sea as it crashes against the shore, sleepless nights buried in text books, wielding authority with a laugh and a smile.

#accio.introduction #( intro. )#give her friends pls and thanks #she will be gryffindors house mom if needed

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centrally-unplanned · 4 years

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During the Neon Genesis Evangelion rewatch I decided pick an aspect of the show to focus on as I watched, and I chose Misato; namely, how her arc connects to Eva’s wider themes. Evangelion has a lot going on and I don’t think it can be boiled down to one thematic concept, but if I were to try: real fulfillment for people can only come from being of value to and connecting with other people, but as an individual that process is inherently painful and impossible to truly achieve - What Do? Shinji embodies this in a very interiorized (and therefore very universally applicable) way, withdrawing from others and neglecting his potential to act out of fear of the pain and consequences. Yet one of the really interesting things about Eva is how the other characters reflect a different aspect of this same struggle, and so all combine into a grander narrative.

Misato does this as well - but in a way that doesn't jump out as much. Misato is very much the driver of the plot, making proactive choices around the conspiracy, the war, etc, and these actions can often overshadow her inner struggles. Thus, singling her out for focus - and from that process I feel she showcases a really unique take on the show’s themes.

Reflections on Misato’s Thematic Reflection

The other three main characters (Shinji, Asuka, Rei - sorry Ritsuko fans!) being all kids, tend to struggle with issues very close to home, but Misato is the adult in the room and so has adult concerns, namely the big picture struggle for humanity. These concerns are her duty though, not her passion - Misato is riddled with “base” desires that are emotionally and physically hyper-indulgent. Her relationship with Kaji is a constant temptation to escape from those duties and instead whittle away endless time in emotional intimacy - and also fuck like rabbits. There is a great showcase scene in End of Evangelion of this, where in their youth Misato and Kaji literally spent a week straight in their apartment doing nothing else:

----For Misato, fans symbolize sex, which I love is a sentence I can say----

Note by the way that they could have communicated that they were cloistered off banging it out in a myriad of ways, but they chose to highlight the outside obligations Misato was neglecting to do the job, because ~*themes*~. But of course such states cannot last, and Kaji himself has his own duties, very similarly to Misato, ones that he will not truly neglect for her sake.

This arc is further reflected in her relationship with Shinji, who she adopts in the opening episodes as a sort of surrogate child. While the contradictions here are less evident at first, as the show progresses it becomes clear that this family is, to quote Ritsuko, “playing house”, a pantomime of adulthood over the reality. Furthermore, her desire to mother Shinji - a desire she holds strongly for reasons I’ll note soon - starts running up against her need to command Shinji as his superior officer, commands that increasingly hurt him but are for his (and humanity’s) own good. In both of these cases, Misato is torn between those outer responsibilities and inner desires, and has to walk a tightrope of balancing them.

Like so many in the the oh-so-Freudian Evangelion, Misato’s conflicts stem from her relationship with her father; a cold, neglectful man who was absent for much of her life growing up, but who was devoting his time to NERV (the core organization in the show) fighting for humanity in his own way and also sacrificed himself to save Misato’s life when she was a teen. She loathes him and idolizes him simultaneously for this duality, which expresses itself as an outer shell of heroic professionalism masking the inner vulnerability and desire for the intimacy she lacked growing up, alongside a deep shame of that desire:

This shame is important, since I wager it would tempting to think that the conclusion of Misato’s arc is “always prioritize the big picture”, as that embodies her final moment: convincing and even *sexually manipulating* Shinji into piloting the Eva for the greater good. Its a powerful scene, and also a callback to the very first episode - where she stares on in horror as Gendo (her boss & Shinji’s absentee father) equally orders Shinji to “pilot the Eva” despite the terrible toll it would inflict on him. She judged it harshly then, but now is reprising that role under even more terrible stakes. I could see one concluding that Misato’s arc culminates in her embracing a Gendo-ian ruthlessness.

But it doesn’t, because A: Gendo is a selfish, cowardly piece of shit, not at all concerned with the greater good, and B: when Misato’s effort to Be The Adult are partially motivated by a desire to cover up for her shame in her damned sex drive, that *can’t* be fully aspirational! She was only able to get through to Shinji because of the emotional connection they shared, which stemmed from her desire to “play house”, a choice that itself stemmed from her desire to be *nothing like* her cold, absent father and not make the mistakes he made (told you we’d get there). And they *were* mistakes, despite her father’s intentions. If Evangelion has an answer to its question of “how to solve the pain of being part of society” (It does not, I am radically simplifying right now), it’s that you can’t solve it, to wipe that pain away (AKA Human Instrumentality) would be a mistake, and instead you have to accept the pain and contradictions as the key to how you evolve as a person. Misato changes over the course of the show, but never in a way to resolve these contradictions - she only evolves to cope with them.

And then she dies, but hey, its Shinji’s story in the end. Sometimes you gotta get Fridge’d for the greater good.

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A final, sort-of side note to take this a little beyond Misato’s arc, “evolution” is critical to how Misato serves as a reflection of the theme for other characters. A huge crux of Shinji’s arc is his relationship with Asuka, namely his burgeoning romantic desire for her that he is incapable of acting on due to ~arc stuff. For Shinji, if he made a move on Asuka and got down with her it would be huge progress for him! Sex is a critical component of connecting with others after all, and it would mark his ability to open himself up to those connections. But what is progress for Shinji, the teen, is regression for Misato, the adult, as her sexual chemistry with Kaji can tip into excess - for her connecting with one person is in fact a form of withdraw from her wider responsibilities. What is the healthy choice for you constantly evolves as you yourself evolve, and its really fascinating that Evangelion simultaneously uses sexual intimacy for opposed meanings via different characters. The scene I posted above, where Shinji is judging a shame-filled Misato for the sex she is having, is one where both of their weaknesses are on full, simultaneous display - very hard for one scene to pull off.

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(A final-final meta-note: I rarely write about themes in shows because I feel like everything I am saying is super-obvious; there is only so subtle a tv show can be. If you are going to do like cross-comparisons between shows or wider social trends that’s worth it, but just the show in isolation I fear it’s too basic. Would be curious if anyone who does stumble on this essay has that reaction of “yeah anyone who saw the show would know this”.)

#effortpost #neon genesis evangelion #essay

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beneaththetangles · 4 years

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The World Is Not Enough: Isekai and the Hope for More

When it comes to anime and light novels, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting an isekai series or six. Countless stories spanning many genres have used the person-travels-to-another-world premise. To borrow language from the infamous TV Tropes, the isekai concept has been played straight, played with, inverted, subverted, parodied, deconstructed, reconstructed, and more.

People must like isekai stories (I know I do!), otherwise there wouldn’t be approximately 47 million of them, with new ones coming out all the time. Regarding this topic, I recently actually-a-while-ago-but-it-took-me-a-long-time-to-write-this happened to see a post by Twitter user Sashimi Princess Maddie which was retweeted by J-Novel Club:

This post struck a chord with me because I’m fascinated by the connection between fantasy and faith. J.R.R. Tolkien’s essay “On Fairy-Stories” is of course required reading on this topic, as is Chapter IV — “The Ethics of Elfland” — in G.K. Chesterton’s book Orthodoxy. They discussed fantasy generally, and logically what is true of all fantasy is also true of the specific subset of fantasy we call isekai. Now, the tweet is obviously partly humorous, so it would be unjust to respond to or critique it as if it were a serious essay. However, I do want to highlight one point of possible disagreement that I believe is relevant to my own thoughts. (I say “possible” because without a full-fledged essay from Maddie, I may be overlooking or misunderstanding points that a more complete argument would resolve.)

Japan is ground zero for isekai. The isekai stories we consume overwhelmingly originate in Japan, and are written by Japanese people for Japanese people. And Japan is a place where Christianity’s influence has been meager, at best, since the Tokugawa period. Meanwhile, the religions with any sizeable footprint in Japan, namely Shinto and Buddhism, don’t contain a concept of heaven comparable to that found in the teachings of, say, Christianity or Islam. Christians make up 1% to 2% of Japan’s population (depending on which estimate you read), which means many Japanese people have probably never even met a Christian! Thus the appeal of isekai in Japan cannot be explained in terms of filling in a gap left behind by the decline of traditional religious hope for heaven.

The OP’s argument would work better if the vast majority of isekai came from, say, western Europe or the United States. Throughout much of the west, Christianity formerly held immense cultural influence. However, Christianity’s influence in these places has declined greatly in the past century or three. If such places produced most isekai stories, we could make a more plausible case that isekai draws upon lingering notions of heavenly reward, relics of a discarded traditional religion whose notions permeated society, in order to fill the hope-deficit created by that religion’s decline.

I believe while Maddie is correct to find conceptual connections between isekai and religion, I just find the specific relationship posited by the OP inadequate, especially with regard to Japanese people. Thus I invite you, dear reader, to consider other Bible teachings that do more to explain the appeal of isekai even in a culture where Christianity (including its notions of heaven) never held much sway. The picture of our world and human nature painted in the Old Testament provides a partial explanation for why we like isekai, an explanation that is not contingent on lingering cultural debris left behind by Christianity.

Let’s look “In the beginning” — yes, the one where “God created the heavens and the earth.” As God completes his creative work in Genesis 1, we read “And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good.” *That* is the world in which God intended us to live. And all this “very good” stuff includes humans, too, who the text says God created in his own image. Alas, we humans ruined things. To put it another way, long ago God and man lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation sin attacked.

Yeah, after God created all this good stuff (including we humans!), Genesis 3 introduces a slew of bad things that weren’t supposed to be part of this world: sin, death, the curse. Of course, God knew this would happen, and already had a plan in place. That plan reached its climax in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, but in some respects it is (at least from our point of view) not yet completed. For now, we still live in a cursed and corrupted post-Genesis 3 world, a place where sin and death run rampant. We ourselves are broken by sin, and we must endure in a world unlike the one God originally created for humans.

The entire Bible is stories of humans sinning, which goes a long way toward showing what mess this world is, but the Bible also contains an entire treatise specifically exploring how awful our post-Genesis 3 world really is. Speaking of our world as “under the sun,” Ecclesiastes incessantly hammers home the “vanity” of this life. “Under the sun” is an unreasonable, unjust, and oppressive place that we can’t understand or fix. “Under the sun” is a place where bad things *will* happen to us no matter how hard we try to avoid them. “Under the sun,” all our labors will accomplish nothing of lasting value. “Under the sun,” we’re all gonna die just like dumb animals, no matter how we lived. And then the cherry on top is that after we die, no one “under the sun” will even remember us, and any stuff we had will be misused by people who don’t deserve to have it.

Our own experiences validate this picture of pointlessness. I had an abusive childhood; I’ve faced a slew of physical and mental health issues; I’m presently almost 35 and I’ve never so much as gone on a date, let alone gotten married or had a family; I’m unemployed and living with my parents because I’m failing so hard at adulting. I’m not hopelessly miserable–God has abundantly blessed me in certain respects–but that doesn’t negate the reality that in some meaningful ways, my life is a big huge disappointment. You, O reader mine, will have different points of sadness and frustration and failure than I do, but I suspect most of us, if we’re honest, would have to concede that our lives are painfully disappointing, or at the very least have not followed the tracks we dreamed they would.

This image of the incomparable Kanami from the isekai series Log Horizon serves no purpose except to break up my wall of text and make me (you?) laugh.

Creation and the Fall provide the starting point for the appeal of isekai. God wanted us to be good and to live in a good world, but thanks to our sin, both we and this world are in far worse shape than he originally intended. Since we weren’t made for a cursed world, it is entirely natural that on some level we long for a place that is somehow more, or better, than the one we inhabit. Likewise, since we weren’t created so sin and death could dominate our lives, it is entirely natural that on some level we long to be somehow more, or better, than who we are. Even if we don’t have a clear idea of what exactly we really want, we still long for a vague something beyond our present existence.

We intuitively sense that something is off about both ourselves and our world, and this leaves us wanting a world and selves that are different from the world and selves we know. In the beginning, we were made for more, and now our existence isn’t quite right. Isekai appeals to this nebulous desire for something better that stems from our latent awareness of the Fall. Isekai stories give more concrete form to the desire to be different than who and what we are, and to live in a reality that isn’t entirely like ours. We may not want to live in the setting of every isekai story, but even grimdark isekai is still isekai, and thus shares the inherent appeal of the idea of other worlds.

Ecclesiastes is again relevant at this point. Perhaps the most hopeful part the book’s message is unstated. As noted above, Ecclesiastes keeps emphasizing how everything “under the sun” is terrible. This raises a question: Is “under the sun” all there is? And here we find the implicit note of hope: the one thing mentioned in Ecclesiastes that isn’t “under the sun” is God. Throughout the Bible, God is consistently depicted as up above. So when Ecclesiastes mentions God, this gloomy book is hinting that there is more to reality than just our world “under the sun.” There might be a chance to escape the utter vanity of this life, if we seek somewhere–and more importantly, Someone–outside and beyond the world we know.

“Now let me be clear,” God is an almighty spirit unbound by the constraints of space and time. Thus, the Bible’s references to God dwelling in the heavens are obviously metaphorical and do not affirm some sort of literal spatial relationship between God and any celestial bodies or astronomical coordinates. That said, the Bible regularly pictures God as being in heaven, and if we follow the logic of that metaphor, then God is not “under the sun.” This is supported by one of the titles repeatedly ascribed to God throughout the scriptures (most often in the Psalms and the book of Daniel): “the Most High.” Again, this superlative is metaphorical, not a literal claim about physical altitude, but to be “the Most High,” God is, in a conceptual sense, above everything else — the sun included.

The core premise of isekai stories is the idea that other worlds exist and that it’s possible to pass between them. Since we already desire something more, better, different than our present existence, isekai has a natural appeal. What distinguishes isekai from other fantasy / sci-fi stories is how directly it addresses this innate post-Fall desire for a different world. Non-isekai stories offer the possibility implicitly, not unlike Ecclesiastes: They ask us to imagine a reality different from our lived experience, but don’t necessarily give any indication that we can do more than imagine. Contrariwise, isekai takes as its explicit premise the idea that a person just like us, from the very world in which you and I live, can somehow go to a different world, and there experience significant personal changes of some kind.

All fantasy / sci-fi stories at least touch on the notion of a world unlike ours. Even if their setting is very much based on our world, by their very nature they include phenomena never seen here. Arthur C. Clarke famously captured the overlap between sorcery and science: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” All fantasy / sci-fi stories occur in a world where mechanical or supernatural forces beyond our experience or comprehension offer new possibilities. Isekai stories not only show us such worlds, they depict these worlds as existing in addition to (rather than instead of) our own, and as being possible for us to visit.

All of this ultimately brings us to the New Testament’s teachings about hope and resurrection and heaven. I think the OP was correct to see a connection between the appeal of isekai and the Christian hope of heaven. But heaven is only the fulfillment of our longing, not the origin of it. The Bible’s depiction of the Fall and its consequences explains better why we would find the idea of heaven, and isekai, appealing in the first place. We wouldn’t need heaven—or isekai—if we were perfectly satisfied with this world. But we aren’t satisfied, and the Bible’s account of the Fall and its effects explains why we find our present state dissatisfying. And so, reading isekai stories is really about hope for something beyond the reality we know. We feel rightly disappointed with our lives and with this world. We desire something else, and isekai supplies our imagination with more concrete ideas about other worlds.

For now, heaven is an incomprehensible wonderfulness. We know almost nothing about heaven, after all. Given how light on specifics the Bible is, even the most devout Christian is still limited to an amorphous notion of hope. But isekai stories are something I can wrap my mind around. The heroism, the adventure, the romance, the supernatural creatures—all of it speaks to my desire to be more, to experience more. The worlds I can imagine through isekai help strengthen my longing for the even better world I can’t yet imagine. Isekai stories help bridge the gap between the unsatisfactory reality I live with and the heavenly realm so glorious that human language can’t describe it. While we can’t really imagine heaven, isekai at least helps us envision something beyond our lives under the sun. Isekai cannot truly satiate our desire our desire to go somewhere different and be something different (that’s what heaven is for), but it does help us explore and understand our sense of longing.

People can enjoy isekai stories regardless of how much they accept or know anything about Christianity, which makes sense if our desire for an existence that is more, better, different than what we know far predates even Christianity. Isekai has not “taken the place of traditional religion as a promise that our suffering will be worthwhile” in a chronological or causal sense (e.g., religion held sway, and it declined, and that decline contributed to the popularity of isekai as a substitute). I believe it is more accurate to see isekai and the Bible’s teaching on heaven as parallel responses to the Fall. We can choose either or both, but they aren’t in competition. Isekai can be an expression of hope and longing both for those who believe in heaven as a religious doctrine, and also for people in places (e.g., Japan) where Christianity’s impact is minimal.

“In the beginning,” God intended for us to be better and to live in a better world, but sin broke the world and broke us, and now we’re all coping with this disappointing life under the sun and desiring something more. Thankfully, God promises that this world and our present condition are not final. He encourages us to hope for a world and a self that is perfect. We don’t know what that will be like, but isekai grants our imaginations a glimpse of possibilities beyond this world. Depending on isekai alone for hope, apart from Jesus, is not unlike eating a ton of junk food before supper and being unable to enjoy the real meal, but isekai can also be an hors d’oeuvre that whets our appetite for the heavenly banquet to come. To me, reading and watching isekai stories is an act of hope, helping me endure this present world by reminding me that I really do have hope of living in another world as a perfected version of myself.

#Anime #Manga #Light Novels #Christianity #Isekai #Religion #Japan #Heaven #Hope #Articles #Author: JeskaiAngel

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thefloatingstone · 4 years

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We’ve gone from Self-Isolation to Quarantine and in some places to gradual relaxation phases, but that doesn’t stop the need for more nonsense you can watch on youtube while you wait for things to get back to normal. And recommending things and making lists are some of my favourite things to do but I have not yet figured out how to start or structure a video myself, you guys get another rambling tumblr post of things you can watch on youtube.

This time I’m once again just gonna recommend individual videos rather than full channels like I did in part 2.

Part 1

Part 2

In no particular order;

LOCAL58: The Broadcast Station that Manipulates You

I recently started watching the Nexpo channel when I went on a binge of creepy youtube videos. Most of his videos are really good although the ones where he himself goes into theory crafting can be a little asinine. However, this video is REALLY good. And before you get nervous, LOCAL58 is not a real TV station. LOCAL58 is a youtube channel created by the same guy behind the Candle Cove creepypasta. This video by Nexpo covers the various episodes of LOCAL58 and discusses them. Just be aware going in that this is abstract horror, and will probably get under your skin regardless if you’re unaffected by certain topics or not. although cw for suicide mention.

I also recommend most of the rest of this channel, although be careful where you tread. I don’t recommend his series “Disturbing things from around the internet” as it can sometimes include real life crime, abuse and such caught on security cameras. Everything else is really good tho. (although I was really annoyed by his 2 videos on KrainaGrzybowTV)

The Search for D.B. Cooper

LEMMiNO has a new video out covering one of the most unexplained crimes in the past century of the US. LEMMiNO is the guy I’ve recommended before who did videos on the Universal S. He is very down to earth and not someone prone to conspiracy or even really that fanciful of thinking. (He’s like the one person I feel covered the Dyaltov Pass incident and was confused by why this was even a mystery because if you read the Russian Autopsy reports and documents associated with the case it’s all pretty logical and easily explained)

D.B. Cooper is the name given to a man who, in 1971, hijacked an airplane with a bomb, asked for a large sum of money, and after receiving it, parachuted from the plane and was never seen or heard from again.

The Austrian Wine Poisoning | Down the Rabbit Hole

Down the Rabbit Hole also has a new video out, this time covering the Austrian Wine Poisoning event from 1985. A scandal that involved literally the entire country of Austria, affected multiple countries, and forever changed the way wine was made world wide. As someone who is generally pretty allergic to most artificial substances this one made me personally very angry. But luckily, it has a happy ending and a better world for us all... if I could drink wine which I can’t do anyway.

The Turbulent Tale of Yandere Dev - A Six Year Struggle

The Right Opinion is another channel I only recently subbed to after watching his cover on Onion Boy. I put off subbing to him simply because of his channel name and I thought it meant he would come across as smug and elitist. Luckily this seems to merely be one of those “I chose a bad channel name and now I’m stuck with it” type of situations. (IHE has a similar problem).

Anyway, I have a weird interest in bizarre internet personalities, so I’ve been enjoying his channel as he simply discusses and presents a timeline of events of certain individuals. In this video, he covers the developer behind the much maligned Yandere Simulator. It’s a tale of hubris, arrogance, immaturity, and an unwillingness to accept your own shortcomings due to ego.

Oh and there’s a meme game about Japanese school girls with anime tiddies in there as well.

The Most Relaxing Anime Ever Made | Yokohama Kaidashi Kikō

Kenny Lauderdale is a youtube channel which is slowly becoming bigger which I’m very happy to see. He exclusively covers anime and live action Japanese television no younger than the mid 90s (as is the case with YYK) and which usually never saw a release outside of Japanese Laserdisc. I do wish his videos were a little longer, but if nothing else his videos serve as an excellent starting to point to find some older and underappreciated shows... or hot garbage fires. In this episode he talks about the 2 OVA episodes made based on one of my favourite manga, Yokohama Shopping Log. A Post apocalyptic anime about an android who runs a coffee shop outside of her house, and the quiet solitude of living in a world of declining human population, brief encounters with travelers and other people, and just... existing. The anime was never released outside of Japan and is only available on Japanese VHS and laserdisc.... but hey guess what!! Somebody uploaded both episodes, subbed, to Youtube.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2HCVOH6DtA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqSTwfkobME

YMS’ slow descent into madness as he uncovers just how bullshit the Kimba Conspiracy is

I’m linking a full playlist for this one.

YMS is busy planning his review on the “live action” Lion King remake as the original 1994 movie is probably his favourite movie all time (and also self declared what made him a furry). As part of the 2 hour review, he decided to what all 2000 hours of Kimba the White Lion just to mention how The Lion King potentially stole the idea. ....until he actually watched all 2000 hours of Kimba and realised that if you actually WATCH Kimba, it has VERY little to do with the Lion King at all apart from having the same animals in them because AFRICA. Watch as one man slowly loses his mind as he realises just how stupid this conspiracy theory is, just HOW DECEITFUL and straight up LYING people can be. People who write BOOKS. People who teach LAW AT UNIVERSITIES. Because NOBODY bothered to actually watch the entire show and just parroted the “Disney stole this” lie which got started by like 2 salty fans on the internet.

The man set out to just mention how Disney stole an idea, and uncovered one of the most infuriating rabbit holes on the internet. Screaming for SOMEONE to provide him with sources or evidence.

YMS will be publishing his full Kimba documentary this month which he has said is around 2 hours long before he continues to work on the Lion King one.

Science Stories: Loch Ness eDNA results, Poop Knives, and Skeleton Lovers

TREY the Explainer has a video giving us some updates in Archeology from 2019. In this video he discusses the findings of the eDNA results conducted on the Loch Ness to see what animal DNA the lake contains which will tell us what living animals currently inhabit the lake, ancient knives made of poop and if this is a real thing that could have existed, and a skeleton couple found buried together which were at first thought to be lovers, then revealed to be both male, and then how in this instance we cannot let our modern sensibilities dictate what we WANT this burial find to be, but to look at the evidence as presented to us and place in context finds of this nature. The worst thing an archaeologist can do is look for proof to a theory they already have.

The Bizarre Modern Reality of Sonic the Hedgehog

Super Eyepatch Wolf is back and he’s here to talk to us about the very very strange existence of Sonic. a 90s rebellious “too cool for School” answer to Mario, a lost idea as the world of video games changes and culture shifted, a meme and punching bag amplified by a unique fanbase and poor quality games, a transcendence into a horrific warped idea of what he once was, and modern day and where Sonic and his fans are now. As usual Super Eyepatch Wolf knocks it out of the park.

Kokoro Wish and the Birth of a Multiverse: A Lecture on the Work of Jennifer Diane Reitz

I don’t even sub to this channel as I’m not entirely sure what Ben’s usual content is about. But every now and then he has a “101″ class, where he explains to a room full of his friends in a classroom setting (complete with Whiteboard) an internet artist and oddity, the timeline, and what it is they have created. (wait... didn’t I say this already?). Unlike TRO however, the 101 classrooms are not a dark look into disturbed individuals (although the CWC 101 is debatable) nor is it a “lol look at this weirdo” dragging. Instead, of the 3 he’s done so far, it’s usually a rather sympathetic look at some of the strange artists on the internet who through some way or another, left a very big cultural impact on the internet space through their art. Sometimes they may not be the best people, but their work is so outside of what we’re used to seeing that just listening to him run you through these people’s internet history is fascinating.

In this episode he talks about Jennifer Diane Reitz. And although it is titled Kokoro Wish, the lecture is more about Jennifer’s larger work back in the early internet when being a weeb was unheard of, how being trans influenced her stories and characters, and her world building that is so rich and in-depth with it’s own ASTRO PHYSICS it puts any modern fictional world found in games or movies to shame.

Jennifer is not exactly a nice person... and in many ways can be seen as dangerously irresponsible, but she created something truly unique in a way that you kinda struggle figuring out if it’s terrible or a work of genius.

Anyway I think that’s enough for now

#Youtube #youtubers #recommendations #Self Isolation playlist #Long post #part 3 #videos #links

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miloqnzh925 · 3 years

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The Single Strategy To Use For Best Travel Vlog

Explore the world by means of You, Tube travel channels and vlogs Nathan Hutchinson/ Getty Images, The art of travel has actually changed beyond all acknowledgment in the past couple of years. What once cost a fortune and took weeks of preparation can now be recorded on a phone and by booking a flight on the way to the airport. Here's a selection of You, Tube's finest travel channels and vlogs that showcase the imagination the new medium opens to everybody. Travel stories have been shared orally from the earliest days of humankind. Yarns of excellent adventure might have been embellished with the occasional sea beast and one-eyed giant, however even these fanciful accounts had some basis in reality.

Travel books, premium photography and newspaper accounts quickly followed, before TELEVISION took over and brought unbelievable sights into living spaces around the globe. Individuals who never believed they would experience the magic of travel for themselves were now provided the urge to check out, and so a boom in the tourism industry followed. Today, thanks to the proliferation of online travel, you can see the world with the basic click of a button. It's not constantly easy to watch other individuals live out dream lifestyles while we can just look on enviously, preparing our yearly holidays from home. Sorelle Amore has benefited more than the majority of, but her graciousness and warm approach to audiences make her journey all the more satisfying to watch.

Having actually explored the nation thoroughly, Varhun is now handling the surrounding area and is eager to get other Indians to do the exact same. We actually like the way price is at the top of the list of considerations when it concerns this vlog a rare but welcome factor to consider. Likeable Geroge Benson has carefully chosen to separate his enthusiasm for travel from his love of football. The travel channel follows George as he checks out various locations in his unique style, whereas the vlogger's other channel concentrates on his cherished Chelsea FC. You'll be pleased to know George's horrible life choices appear to be limited to his sporting preferences.

Music Vlog Can Be Fun For Anyone

Mark Wiens has cultivated a big following online, and it's simple to see why. His love of food and determination to hurl himself into every obstacle is transmittable. While perhaps not for travel perfectionists, Migrationology is still among the most useful channels to follow on the platform. As soon as of this parish, Eva zu Beck is now among the most popular characters on the travel circuit. Her videos frequently feature the places we hardly ever see covered by mainstream media, making her informative look at the world particularly welcome. Eva's rise to fame began with a number of early videos going viral in Pakistan, and she hasn't recalled given that.

The only problem these vloggers deal with is that they are susceptible to becoming victims of their own success. Every action far from the "budget plan" principle appears to be a huge error, thrusting them back into the clutches of sponsors and brands eager to capitalise on their unique abilities. This is one group that we wish to see less of as their format works best in periodical dosages - travel documentary. Marine biology graduate Mike Corey prides himself on taking on the more extreme side of travel through his online experiences. Not all of his options deserve recommending, as some verge on unethical.

The slick production worths on his videos are incredibly planned, making Mike an easy watch. Boasting over 1 billion video views and 5 million fans on social media, Drew Binksy has been championed by several brands in the relatively brief time he has actually been an expert travel blog writer (travel vlog). His supreme aim is to go to every country on the planet something he was so close to doing prior to the coronavirus outbreak. We make certain his adventures will continue again quickly, and in the meantime, he can keep refining his golf swing, a sport he frequently takes part in when travelling. Part of the larger byfood.

Getting My Travel Vlog To Work

The primary focus is the country's cooking delights, but host Shizuka Anderson plainly has a flair for travel blogging, too. Explaining herself as a Tokyoite, the presenter ends up discovering locations that would illuminate any Instagram feed. music videos. It's one to inspect out if you're in requirement of enhancing your social networks game. Chas Bruns totally embraces the thrifty lifestyle he espouses in this vlog everything about the virtues of penny-pinching. Chas hunts out the least expensive experiences and holidays he can, sharing his tips with viewers. This series may not be the most refined one on this list, but it's arguably the most helpful.

This daring travel specialist might at first resemble the stereotyped travel dude all of us want to avoid on vacation, but he's actually developed an eager eye for the unexpected. Louis is a fantastic host who is at his best when taking off on his own with just a small video camera for company. Travel couples are probably the most annoying people throughout social media. There's a delicate balancing act between being excessively smug and fortunate and really interesting and informative, but Kara and Nate almost get it right. Their objective of visiting 100 countries by 2020 has actually now been achieved, so we do question if the pair will be slowing down, specifically provided how challenging it is to take a trip at the moment.

Each location they check out gets the documentary-style treatment, and their videos are all the better for it. If you're interested in what it's like to live in a nation, then Gareth Leonard's http://www.bbc.co.uk/search?q=vlog much deeper approach to travel is for you. The flashy, short-form videos that other vloggers goal for actually aren't worth your time if you want to explore a new place with somebody keen on expanding cultural horizons. Gareth takes his time with each piece of material and delivers a series that will make you want to discover more before you travel. Another excellent vlog with a strong focus on food is Miss Mina, hosted by the eponymous Mina Oh.

The Vlog Diaries

Both are fascinating in their own method, although food videos are definitely the strong point throughout. This sincere travel vlog is packed full of useful pointers and practical details. Making viral material does not appear to be at the forefront of Mark Wolters' thinking, as he and his family check out the world. All of it started from one travel let-down and has now blossomed into an incredibly valuable resource. Do not resent the rather troubling name of the vlog Aly (who is a psychology graduate from England) is in fact a great host and guide. Aly is so great that she's self-published a book to assist others seeking to travel to a few of the lots of locations she has actually visited.

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One male making a genuine modification is Phil of Philwaukee fame, who has partnered with the Matador Network for this series. It's fun, loaded with favorable vibes and something we truly wish to see more of. Delving into a classic Volkswagen (VW) van and driving off into the sundown is the things teenage dreams are made from. It's also the truth that this vlog follows, as 2 intrepid visitors intend to go off the grid and find their own adventures around the globe. VW vans obviously have various labels depending upon where you are for Brits, they are understood as camper vans, while Americans call them buses. best travel vlog.

Originally from Australia and now settling into the Los Angeles lifestyle by method of a substantial stay in Shanghai, Jenny Zhou's profession is simply as remarkable as her travel content. There are some great on-location videos on her channel, however as Jenny tries to make it in the acting world, we question how lots of more travel videos we'll get. There's still plenty to check out in the vlogger's back brochure though, and her Shanghai films, in specific, make for fun watching.

Excitement About Best Travel Vlog

Vlogging has actually ended up being a super popular way for nomads to package up their experiences and share them with the world. On the audience side, they condense an entire mess of details down into a tight little package, in addition to providing a genuine and tangible sense of what a location might be like, assisting you judge whether it's worth a go to or not. But not all vloggers are produced equivalent. To help you arrange the wheat from the chaff, we have actually gathered a list of the 16 finest and most prominent travel vloggers that you need to be following in 2021, particularly if this is the year that you're going to explore the land down under!Max & Lee are an Australian/ Canadian couple and along with their charming Australian Shepherd pet dog Occy, they have excellent enjoyable tape-recording their vlog travel adventures for their substantial 1.

If you're a fan of Van Life, then this video blog is for you. You can get some amazing pointers to help you get your own adventure on the road. It might seem a little arrogant to call yourself The Professional Vagabond, but this is a title that Matthew Karsten has well and really earned - travel documentary. He's been on the road for over eight years, and is showing no sign of slowing down, despite the fact that he's now a daddy. He's acquired over 50,000 subscribers on You, Tube, over 150,000 followers on Instagram, and runs an effective and popular blog site.

You'll observe an unique lack of Australia on that list, however he can't be too far off right Matt?A You, Tube veteran of 13 years and counting, over the last few years Overlander TV has taken its vlog to the next level, with an expert electronic camera team catching spectacular, cinema-level video footage. A number of years ago Overlander created an 87 minute feature-length movie called Australian Motorbike Experience, which followed Mark Shea on an impressive two-wheeled tour along Australia's West Coast. With over 23 million channel views and screenings of Shea's film worldwide, Overlander is revealing a simple You, Tube channel can become so much more!Careening towards one million subscribers, Marko and Alex Ayling are acclaimed travel videographers that let their pictures do (most of) the talking.

Facts About Music Vlog Revealed

They've covered most of the world, consisting of Australia, so if you're searching for a bit of Oz travel inspo especially the spots that make for the very best shots head to their channel and sign up with the movement!Looking for inspiration that is a little more unique and adrenaline fuelled? Brave & Far is run by Mike Corey, who enjoys experiencing (and recording) action-packed hijinks around the world. Don't expect any run of the mill scenery shots here; Corey is only thinking about activities that disgust, entertain and/or excite, as his 300K+ You, Tube followers will attest. Kirsten and Siya are a funny, lovely, adventure-loving couple now with a baby in tow that appear to draw in followers for their characters as much as the destinations they showcase.

The set have generated almost 300,000 subscribers, and travelled to Australia in 2017, producing videos along the method (vlog). With over 700,000 You, Tube subscribers, British backpacker Ben Brown has made a profession out of feeding his travel addiction by developing an army of eager followers. Ben has travelled all over from the Arctic to Australia and Africa, shooting in an individual, POV style so that you seem like you're right there in amongst the action and when it comes to his most popular upload, in a vehicle crash!Hey, Nadine! This travel blogger is a water fountain of understanding when it pertains to travel ideas, techniques and hacks, offering up a genuine encyclopaedia of valuable content.

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creativenicocorner · 4 years

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Lets half-ass a discussion about Merlin at 2 3am!

Stop me if you heard this one before:

An old man goes out into the world set firmly on a code for chivalry, going on an unending quest to do what he thinks is good, causing more problems in the process, making ladies uncomfortable, and did I mention making more problems? While the subtlety of reality passes over his head.

Now with that in mind Lets Talk About How Merlin’s character design reveals so much about him, and how I don’t think it isn’t a coincidence so many people associated that design to Don Quixote.

In fact the mere association to Don Quixote is a big tip that things aren’t what they seem, and I’m not just talking about seeing giants out of windmills, but rather how the perseption of the character Don Quixote has changed so much in the public consciousness.

That there is an intentional (I think) dissonance between expectation and reality.

Our first thoughts of Don Quixote is perhaps this fuddy duddy old guy on a quest to live out the adventures and chivalry of his books, and romanticizing said lessons while trying desperately to put them into practice.

From, The Man of La Mancha singing about Dreaming the Impossible Dream

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Or to go even further the fuddy duddy old guy in the ballet interpretation of him, doing roughly the same thing although following the book a bit more, and yet conveniently dropping a few details ( for those interested you can find the full 2hour ballet with Natalia Osipova, with the choreography by Rudolph Nureyev, here [ x ] )

And maybe, if you’ll bare with me...maybe once Merlin did see himself as that, specific, Don Quixote does here...once...doing what is right and just...once believing himself to be this fantastical noble chivalric version of himself...truly believed it. Maybe at some point our Merlin got wrapped up in this preconceived notion of himself in the name of what he thought was right (his version of the chivalric code) blind to the consequences...and perhaps over time becoming not so blind to his actions the harder the ‘choices’ became and the ‘bigger the picture’ he saw.

Who’s to say? This bit we’ll just have to wait and see how the story pans out. (I’ll save the discussion and HC on how Merlin and Morgana are just like two gods messing with a giant chess board without paying too much care as to what happens to their chess pieces, for another time)

I don’t have the skill of screen shots, but there’s this...this moment of eerie stillness that is so weighty when Merlin has Jim tied up. No Dialogue. Just the two characters sitting in front of the other. That is just silence. A pause. A beat. Merlin can barely even look at Jim. Inviting the audience to reflect while Merlin reflects on how best to answer Jim’s question:

“Why me?”

And delivery wise? [ chef kiss ] amazing. The whole ordeal? With the fight and the cornering and the idea of choice that isn’t entirely there?

Like, all the power to the writers there to have me realize what a horrible situation this is. Like I was on edge and side eyeing this Merlin since he first woke up, from that stranger danger approach to Claire, how he spoke to Blinky and Strickler and just uugh lot of red flags.

AND YET

This show invited me to contemplate and sit in this situation with these two characters. If I could I’d shake all the writers hands. Like WOW what a horrible situation! I felt it!! Gutturally!! You did your job team, and I appreciate it and thank you. h e c k

Like what a moment to reveal (or rather show the last straw) this uncanny bad side to a character the public consciousness up to very recently and thanks to several tv adaptations and a few movies had us think Merlin is right off the back a good guy and WHAM the rug is pulled right out from under us and just WOW.

You know who else isn’t an all together great guy, who the public consciousness transformed into this fun old guy who means well and just wants to romanticize chivalry and a code long since gone Dreaming that Impossible Dream re-imagined into a tragic out of touch man?

Don Quixote. Well...Alonso Quixano to be more precise

I could go on but Overly Sarcastic Productions explains it with an eloquence far better than mine. Here’s a link to the video if it’s not working here [ x ]

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Some neat take aways:

Don Quixote (written in 1605 by Miguel de Cervantes) was written as a critique and dissection of the at the time popular chivalric romance. Basically the Arthurian and expanded mythos.

The protagonist causes more problems than good to those around him. To the point other plots just fly over his head.

Dulcinea ( or rather how the protagonist treats women)

How the reality of the plot is so much more interesting and complex than the fantasy in Alonso’s mind

Duality.

Really, I invite everyone to check the video out it’s [ chef kiss ] neat!

tldr: I don’t think the character design choice was a coincidence, but intentional. As most character design choices are. After all character design is a way to describe a character visually to the audience in as blunt or as subtly as the creator needs. Yet here served as a sort of juxtaposition of two literary characters who both had their nature and how they were perceived change in the public consciousness over time (which is really neat to use story wise and keeping the audience on their toes, and use as a foreshadowing device .)

In one corner Merlin transforms from Welsh legend, to Christian Arthuriana be it half demon or advisor, to wise old helpful teacher, to what we have now

In the other Quixote transforms from a questionable old man used as a critique to the genera of chivalry, to opera and ballet centerpieces, to Dreaming the Impossible Dream and embodying fully that persona almost from the get go.

Now if the design choice is for this association in particular I’m not sure. For all I know there might be more information in the art book which I don’t own. Or something will come up in the story proper, which I’m very excited to see what will happen in Wizards! Where will this rollercoaster go?!

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I guess I just find it fascinating how characters can be taken and changed through the public eye over time. Take the Wicked Witch of the West for example.

but I digress.

Tune in next time and I might half ass about Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Merlin, who, while also being a Roman Catholic Cleric, was inspired by local Welsh legends of Myrddin Wyllt (Myrddin the Wild by Elis Gruffydd a Welsh chronicler, transcriber, and translator) a poet and seer, who’s stories resemble that of a figure named Lailoken.

Or maybe it’s not that deep, but for now I think I’ll tap out of this rabbit hole.

#2 cents #Nico blabs into the void #I hope you had fun - and hopefully any of this made sense?#Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Wizards

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Ghost Adventures Checks into the Cecil Hotel: Zak Bagans on Investigating the Crime Landmark

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In Stephen King’s novel The Shining, the Overlook Hotel is an expansive structure with a dark past, located in the remote Rocky Mountains. Despite its opulent beginnings, the hotel becomes a place where brutal murders occur, madness sets in, ghosts lurk, and evil itself is a permanent occupant.

Relocate King’s Overlook to Downtown Los Angeles’ Skid Row, and you have its closest real-world equivalent: the Cecil Hotel. The hotel’s checkered history, and lore involving curses and ghosts, has made it a dark tourism landmark situated at the crossroads of true crime and paranormal fascination. But despite lots of interest on the internet, the Cecil, since rebranded as Stay on Main Hotel, has never officially permitted cameras inside for a paranormal investigation.

Until now. Enter Zak Bagans.

(Disclaimer: I have previously worked with Zak Bagans on television shows, and currently appear as an expert on the Travel Channel series Paranormal Caught on Camera.)

Executive producer and star of Ghost Adventures, the long-running paranormal reality series on Travel Channel, Bagans leads his team of investigators on an exploration of a location he calls “spectacularly frightening” in Ghost Adventures: Cecil Hotel, a two-hour special streaming exclusively on the new Discovery+ service.

For fans of the ghost-TV genre, Ghost Adventures: Cecil Hotel boasts evidence of scratches, disembodied voices, light anomalies, a faucet seemingly turned on by an invisible force, and more. But regardless of one’s personal beliefs about the unexplained, the special lives up to its hype of a “first time ever” examination of the infamous hotel.

Bagans tells Den of Geek the special is also a culmination of a decade-long pursuit that began “before Elisa even died.”

The “Elisa” that Bagans refers to is Elisa Lam, a 21-year-old Canadian student with a kind, sarcastic sense of humor who loved fashion and Harry Potter; she frequently blogged observations about guys she liked, figuring out a place in the world, as well as her own insecurities and mental health struggles. Lam was a daughter and sister, and a real person on a journey of self-discovery before her life ended too soon, and she made the Cecil internet famous.

While on a solo trip to California in 2013, she went missing and died while staying at the hotel. An elevator surveillance video showed the young woman acting erratically as she pushed buttons, paced in and out of the elevator, and even appeared to be hiding from someone. Her body was discovered in a rooftop water tank weeks after she disappeared. Despite her death being ruled accidental, with her bipolar disorder deemed a contributing factor, questions remained as to how Lam could have gained access to the roof or closed the lid to the tank from within.

But before that two-and-half minute viral video made Lam a popular topic for podcasts — and before American Horror Story: Hotel drew inspiration from the landmark’s past — the Cecil’s reputation was more tied to tragedy than travel despite its beginnings in 1924 as an LA destination, complete with a grandiose lobby.

Multiple suicides took place at the Cecil as well as infanticide and the unsolved murder of Goldie Osgood in 1964. Elizabeth Short, aka the Black Dahlia, was reportedly seen in the hotel bar in the days leading up to her murder in 1947, and two serial killers are known to have stayed there – including Richard Ramirez, who committed a murder spree in the 1980s, and the investigation of whom is the focus of the Netflix documentary series Night Stalker: The Hunt for a Serial Killer.

“I knew the history of Richard Ramirez there, and the deaths, and knew it was a big creepy building,” Bagans says.

Although prior attempts to gain permission to film there had been rejected, he thinks maybe the COVID-19 pandemic and ensuing shutdowns convinced the hotel’s owners to allow it because of the location fee paid by production. “Or maybe they had things happening to themselves and had enough of it,” Bagans says.

Either way, Cecil fits neatly into Bagans’ pursuits, and it comes as no surprise that the hotel has long been on his bucket list. He has a fascination with the darker sides of this world — as well as the next. When not investigating the paranormal on television, he collects and exhibits haunted dolls and possessed possessions, along with “murderabilia” from serial killers, such as drawings by Ramirez.

“I collect his things. I have his death row TV, his sketches, his clothing,” says Bagans before adding, “I study these people.” Bagans says he even visited the Concordia cemetery in El Paso, Texas, where Ramirez “got started” and was said to practice satanic rituals.

As a result, Bagans believes that Ramirez was engaged in a “top-tier possession” with the horrors he was committing ultimately in the devil’s name. Bagans doesn’t give a pass to the murderer but does theorize that the serial killer was generating more negative energy and entities at the hotel.

Saying he believes the Cecil is “saturated with dark energies,” he thinks Ramirez’s satanic rituals added an evil residue to the building. Interestingly, however, Bagans also thinks there’s something supernatural about the grounds upon which the building stands.

Though he references The Shining, he says he also thinks of the Cecil like the vampire-infested strip club in From Dusk Till Dawn. In the final shot of the film, it’s revealed the club sits atop an Aztec temple. Bagans equates the hotel to this, saying it’s part of some ancient “machine.”

“I’ve been to a lot of places throughout the world, but when you walk through the doors of the Cecil Hotel, you know there are other doorways to other worlds,” he says. “If we were to see deeper dimensionally, you would see all these other doors and rooms, and I believe it goes way down into the earth and draws a lot of energy through the earth. It is then magnified by the dark energy and criminal activity of Skid Row, and amplified by the rituals [serial killer] Jack Unterweger and Richard Ramirez did.”

For the Discovery+ special, Bagans says he wanted to be delicate when discussing the circumstances of Lam’s death. He references the hotel’s history of suicide, and murder attributed to temporary insanity, and believes malevolent energies fed off her mental illness and influenced her.

It is admittedly a problematic theory for skeptics and non-believers of the paranormal, but Bagans — like many with lingering questions about Lam’s strange death — looks to her past behavior as telling. Lam had previously disappeared and required treatment but wasn’t known to have suicidal ideations. There were no unusual drugs detected in her system and the initial cause of death was deemed inconclusive.

“It didn’t make sense she was having a manic episode,” he says. “From my research, no one was able to say she had had a manic episode this bad before. If she was having an episode and acting that bad, how could she have taken such a calculated journey to end up in that water tank under that manic sense?”

While Bagans strives not to diminish Lam’s death, he says, “that building has the power to mess with your mind.” During the investigation he says teammate Aaron Goodwin was overcome with feelings of rage, and that his interviewees, including a crime scene photographer, were so disturbed they often needed to leave the hotel.

“You don’t know what you’re feeling there. There’s too many spirits, too much energy.”

Indeed, during the course of the special, the Ghost Adventures crew believe they encounter several spirits, including those of Lam, Ramirez, Osgood, and more.

For Bagans, investigating Cecil, or even conducting interviews about it, only serves to charge the battery of this machine. But, quoting his favorite film, 1992’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula, he says, “there is much to be learned from beasts.” Bagans is seeking to understand the unknown despite the risks.

Whether or not viewers of Ghost Adventures: Cecil Hotel choose to share his paranormal theories about the building — or simply view it as a strange nexus of true crime — Bagans says there is no denying its inescapable reputation.

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“You can renovate it, change the name, or paint it a different color, but you’re never going to erase the darkness of the Cecil Hotel.”

Ghost Adventures: Cecil Hotel is available to stream on Discovery+.

Subscribe to Den of Geek magazine for FREE right here!

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aurora-daily · 5 years

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A free bird

Interview: AURORA for Dagbladet Magazine (June 25th, 2019). Translated by fromthespaceamundo.

Anyone who loves Aurora Aksnes (23) will always come in second place.

THE FREEDOM OF FREEDOM: As a child, the record-breaking Aurora Aksnes (23) felt differently from other children. As an adult, she experiences the differentness as her greatest strength.

«It's art that keeps me up. And hunger. It's an eternal hunger.» says Aurora Aksnes.

From a red velvet sofa in a secluded corner of the Hotel Bristol, the pop artist has an overview of the buzzing room. Her third album A Different Kind of Human (Step 2) came on June 7, which got a 5 stars rating on Dagbladet and by Aftenposten was characterized as Aurora's most complete release so far. After the tour in South America, she is ready for festival summer and Norwegian tour. On June 28, she played at the Glastonbury Festival for her warriors & weirdos, the nickname she has given to her fans.

Since her artistic debut in 2014 and international breakthrough with a cover version of the Oasis song «Half the World Away», the 23-year-old has marked herself with self-written pop and distinctive talent for creating her own universe. She is acclaimed by artists like Katy Perry and has 570,000 followers on Instagram. The music press often portrays her as a kind of eccentric child, which is supported by the fact that Aurora appears barefoot in TV interviews, and privately has a fascination for moths and algae balls.

But she does not drink more than one beer, the concentration and strength of her blue gaze in combination with a low-pitched, clear voice, is more striking than her narrow sense of interest. Ever since she, as a 9-year-old, discovered the magic sounds that could be created with an old electronic keyboard she found on her parents' attic, Aurora has known the meaning of life:

«I could sacrifice all contact with others if I had to. I could sacrifice everything. I don't need anything else but to make music. Then I understand why I'm here.»

Aurora's lyrical universe is a lot about exclusion, but even though she writes about everything, from loneliness to suicide, outsiders are made into insiders in her songs, while the insiders appear as outsiders. On the title song, «A Different Kind of Human», she sings:

«We have come here for you, and we're coming in peace Mothership will take you higher, higher»

Is your own mothership hungry?

«In a way. Because hunger takes me where I am going to be.»

A different kind of human, what is that?

«Many people think that it is me because I have often felt different, but the lyrics have nothing to do with that. I ask people to make a choice and remind them that they can choose to be a different kind of human. If everybody had chosen it, the world would be a good place to live in.»

Have you chosen it yourself?

«Long ago.» Aurora responds calmly.

When did you choose it?

«When I realized I had a choice. I was a smart kid, so I noticed quickly that I am in place with people similar to me, but different. I had other dreams, interests and questions compared to the other kids. I remember thinking, ‘I don't belong here.’ At that time it felt negative, but I made a choice not to suppress it. I quickly removed the need to be understood and found the peace of mind that being alone is okay.»

At home, in the small town of Drange in the municipality of Os, the parents gave the youngest daughter room to be herself. Older sisters Miranda (32) and Viktoria Aksnes (29) were for some time afraid that the individualistic little sister, who used cut socks as arm warmers and make her own outfits, would be bullied. The problem was rather that the friends wanted more time with Aurora than she managed to give. After school, she was often out in the woods until her parents called her home for dinner with a bell.

«Mom and dad helped me be free. I was introverted as a kid, I was not so interested in people. I could sit alone for hours and thought it was great. I often chose to be alone rather than being with friends.»

When the family was to adopt a kitten from the Animal Protection Agency, Aurora had to choose. High up on a refrigerator, meowing alone, lay an old, a big and gray cat.

«I remember the first day of school. The kittens were like the other kids in the schoolyard with a lot of noise and nonsense. I recognized myself in Tulla.»

For the rest of her cat life, Tulla went to school bus stop daily to wait for Aurora and follow her through the forest towards home. It seemed that cats knew when she would show up, even though the schedule varied. Tulla never missed the moment.

«She didn't really like to be a tamed cat, but we had a strong connection.»

WAR OF WOMEN: Aurora Aksnes will give her fans, all the «warriors & weirdos», strength and acceptance to be themselves. Photo: Agnete Brun.

CURRENTLY:

• Known under the artist name AURORA. • Newcomer of the year during the Spellemann Prize of 2015. Won the Spellemann Prize of 2016 in the best pop soloist category and also took the prize for best music video. • Currently with the album «A Different Kind of Human (Step 2)». Sings on the Frozen 2 trailer. The film will premiere this fall.

One morning the Easter Bunny glowed from the couch in the living room, the next day it had found its way to the top of the roof. But when the rabbit joined Aurora Aksnes to the school and she entertained her classmates with colorful stories, a sudden sense of concern emerged in the classroom.

«The teachers thought I didn't understand the difference between reality and imagination,» recalls Aurora.

«They were worried about me. Then mom said, ’No, that's how she should be. And it's going to be her strength.’» The sense of alienation was lifted by her.

«It was very defining. It was the first time anyone was really up to me. I stood up for myself a lot, I never asked for help either. But at that time my mother stood up for me, and I have never forgotten that.»

To date, her mother's words work like a compass. Aurora stretches her flimsy arms out in front of her and slightly twists her wrists. Her glance glides at a beautiful, solid chandelier before returning.

«I knew there was a reason why I should cultivate a friendship with myself. I was going to need it. It is important that anyone who feels out of place gets a chance to see what understanding is for them in the world.»

She is most frightened to find that people do not understand what she means. She often meets a lack of understanding in depth. For Aurora, whose name means «the goddess of dawn», sunset and sunrise are not only a «a nice thing.» They are nature's short-lived works of art. Beautiful, but perishable, they give her both intense joy and sorrow.

«I think it is scary to perhaps never be fully understood. But maybe there is no real insider. Everyone experiences being an outsider, some just more than others. Acceptance is important in my world. And music... music is a healing instrument.»

CHILD PICTURE: A young Aurora Aksnes. Photo: Private.

NEWBORN: Dad Jan Øystein Aksnes with baby Aurora. Photo: Private.

REMEMBER THE TIME: Mom May Britt Aksnes works as a midwife and has encouraged her daughters to choose what feels right for themselves, rather than listening to others. Aurora herself feels like an alternative health worker: «Music is a healing instrument.» Photo: Private.

Ideally, she would have started rolling over the vacant floor space of the Bristol Library Bar, or asked someone to lift her up to be able to touch the crystals of the huge chandelier, but such impulses Aurora has learned to suppress. Guests are not allowed to put their feet on the tables.

«I have learned that the impulses can be unpleasant for people, but I have also learned when to give in to them. They can escalate if I feel insecure, but if it happens I consciously use them when there is something I do not want to talk about, or when I want to divert.»

FESTIVAL: A graduation-dressed mom May Britt, sisters Miranda, Aurora and Viktoria, as well as dad Jan Øystein Aksnes. Photo: Private.

This is how the 23-year-old makes twice as old music professionals listen. However, the leap from a natural western upbringing to the demands of an international artist was the toughest part. The NRK documentary Once Aurora (2018) reveals how Aurora has previously felt pressured to release music she does not care for and struggles to find the balance between closeness and distance to fans. She was discovered by chance when a friend posted a school video of a singing Aurora on Facebook.

«I never really wanted to become an artist. It just happened. There was a lot of pressure, a lot of sounds, a lot of work and a too much people for someone like me, who really likes the opposite. Then it helps if I have a meaning greater than myself, to see that I can help others. Making good music gives me a very special feeling. I get a sense of security in myself. I know why I'm here, what to fill the time with, and I have something to run after all the time. Something to look for that is inside me.»

Aurora puts a narrow hand on her chest and pauses a little before she continues with diligence:

«It is absolutely magical to have such a meaning in life. I never get completely unhappy when I have it. Suddenly I have people who listen, and I have a meaning in my lyrics, in who I am on stage, in that I suddenly want to write political stuff, not only emotional stuff.»

Aurora's message is: Help yourself before helping others. Stand on your own power. Be yourself.

«I learned this the hard way in a period when I was having a hard time. I struggled with panic anxiety when I was like 18-19 years old and saw how little functional I was, how little I was able to create, how little I could help others.»

The fact that she comes from a family where mental illness appears in several parts of the father's family, while artistic talent exists on both sides of the family, Aurora regards it as a strength. Her sister, Viktoria Aksnes, was diagnosed with bipolarity type 2 in the summer of 2016, and describes Aurora as one of the strongest people she knows and a great supporter.

«I learned early to be strong for others. And then I've learned a lot from my own journey in the world. I have traveled alone since I was 16. I have known grief and need, and the importance of being true to yourself,» says Aurora.

How did you get on your feet when you had panic anxiety?

«By giving myself time, not putting pressure on myself. Being kind to myself, I made sure I got what I needed to work on. You can't do anything for others until you are your perfect self. And this is not when you have many shadows.»

What were your shadows?

«They have been different things. But the biggest shadow was probably the shadow of my own success in 2016, which I didn't understand and didn't quite accept. I felt trapped in the reality that this is now a job. You're not your own secret anymore, you have to share yourself with the world, and that's the way it is.»

She stretches her arms, which are slightly clad in a cropped top under a mesh top that matches the tulle skirt over green harem pants. Aurora has mastered the art of looking simple and intricate at the same time. All her styling is done in collaboration with her older sisters: Miranda Aksnes — who she lives with in Bergen and who is often on tour with her — takes care of her makeup, while designer-educated Viktoria sews the stage attire.

«I'm stubborn and always making my own things. Magazines will often try to style me, but then I just say that I want what I like. I don't like people touching my face, only Miranda is allowed to. I do my hair myself, I do not like when people touch my hair either.»

What happens then?

«I can get really hot and then I get angry. I don't like being caught on that much. Hugging is hard. I need freedom and space. But I love people holding my hands, or taking my arm.»

Was that why you studied sign language as an elective?

Aurora, who dreamed of being a researcher in molecular biology, but dropped out from high school to spend full time on making music after the second grade, bursts into a vibrant laugh.

«Yes. I also liked the sign language because I stuttered a little. When I'm excited and girded, I still stutter, but the worst was when I had German, which is a choppy language.»

The stuttering started when Joop, a Dutch family friend and Aurora's confidant, died on Christmas Eve. During the Christmas service, the Aksnes family found out that he had died, and the funeral was held in the Christmas room. 11-year-old Aurora felt both her own sadness and the sadness of everyone around. It became so overwhelming and intense that she threw up afterwards.

«It was when I learned that funerals are not for me. It was absolutely awful Singing is easier than sitting on the benches and feeling your own and everyone else's pain. No, I do not like funerals, I get nothing out of them. Especially if the dead are young.»

They are many. When Aurora went to junior high school, her sister Viktoria lost a close friend. He was a 18 years old and died in bed by an undetected heart defect. At high school, Aurora's friend from the sign language class died in a traffic accident.

«I sang at my friend's funeral. She was kind, it was heavy.»

There was someone who committed suicide too?

«Yes, a friend of ours from Os. He was good, very good. And then I had one tho whom I was very close who died in Utøya. A boy I was in love with. He was lovely.»

Was he your boyfriend?

«We probably were, even though I was very young back then. I was 15 when he passed away. He was 17.»

The buzz in the room is increasing, but in Aurora's corner it is quiet. Suddenly she says:

«Eight days after someone I had been fond of passed away, I felt a presence. On every eight day it is if they were still here, and then no more. That's why track eight is always the title track on my albums. There is something magical about the number eight.»

You said you'd like to release eight albums?

«Yes. Even numbers are special to me: Eight is sad, eleven gives me more hope. My first album came out on the 11th. I can only have eleven songs on the album. And then track number eight is the most important one, always. I can't explain why, it's just like that and must be that way. You can find out a lot about me if you know that I love even numbers.»

She is also a warrior of love. Songs like «Queendom» have caused the LGBT community to embrace her music. The love society, Aurora calls it, who is open about her relationship with both men and women. The freedom to not define sexuality she feels is greater in her generation than among the elderly.

«I am very proud of that, because we put a label on everything. I think it is so lovely that we let love be love. Sometimes you need labels because you belong to a place, but I don't need it myself. I just feel that I am one of the many endorsers of love.»

Have you always known that you could fall for women?

«No, but I noticed that I could be captivated by them. Falling for a woman is different than falling in love with a man. A kind of mutual admiration. Something more intellectual.»

A sort of recognition?

«Yes, some kind of strength and admiration. I want to learn something from the women I fall for. With men it is perhaps a little more sexual. It is interesting to note that there is a difference.»

AURORA AKSNES

• Born: June 15, 1996. • Family: Mother, father and two sisters. I don't want to say I'm single, but I don't have a boyfriend. I'm in love. • Best feature: Independence. • Worst feature: I can be stubborn. But the best and the worst is that I am very emotional. • Reads: Only fantasy. • Listens to: Enya and heavy metal. I often fall asleep to heavy metal. It's heavy and delicious to listen to. • Watching: Ghibli films, from Japan. Spirited Away. If I need to cry, I watch The Grave of the Fireflies. It's sad. • Being provoked by: Injustice. • Admires: People's ability to cope with the invisible obstacles. • Afraid of: Dying before I have made eight albums. I'm very afraid of that, because I have to do that. • Dream destination: Moon. • To do in ten years: Maybe album number eight.

«I sang at my friend's funeral. It was heavy.»

- Aurora Aksnes (23), artist.

How are those you fall for? Do they also have algae in the fridge?

Aurora laughs at the hint of the algae ball Igor Septimus, who recently passed away in a glass of water because she had forgotten to place him in the cool and the apartment became too hot and dry for five weeks of absence.

«No, but there are often people who are free too. I like strong, stubborn ladies. I love the world to have such ladies, and I treat myself to have such a lady in my life. It is an extra spiritual thing with women that creates curiosity.

That you are hungry and can do without anything other than art? How are you at loving others?

«I think I'm hard to love. It must be difficult learning to be loved a little less than to be hungry. You always come in second place.»

Are you honest about this with those you have been with?

«I have been.»

How have they taken it?

«I haven't had so many lovers in my life so far. I love a lot and can fall fast. But then it fades over quickly because nothing can match what I feel when I make music.»

Aurora is looking for the words that can describe the indescribable.

«It is the closest thing I have to anything divine, I think. I can only find a lover who understands it. One who has passion. One who also knows what it means to create something. One with the same hunger. That can be the weird art of appreciating oneself. And they must know that music is under number one. Everything else comes afterwards. Even if I had children.»

Then the children would be...

«...number two. I know that. I have a lot of love in me, and I think I could be a good mother. I want a child who can inherit the house at Drange, which my father has built, and we, the daughters, will surely take over. That's what I'm thinking of. I don't know if that is good enough reason», she comments.

«But I had probably struggled with the conscience because I haven't managed to take a break from the studio during the whole day. It's a nice feeling that I want to give my mom and dad a grandchild, but for the time being I have no room for anything but music.»

To keep control, Aurora has learned to play various instruments and started producing her own music. The toughest thing she has had to realize is that she can not totally reproduce her own visions.

«I hear sounds that do not exist yet. So it is not entirely possible to reproduce what I have inside me, and I have accepted that. But I'm going to work a whole life to make it happen.»

FUTURE DREAM: «I dream of buying and living on my own island in Hordaland. There I will have cats, chickens and wild sheep and make music.» says Aurora. Photo: Agnete Bun.

«Falling for a woman is different than falling in love with a man.» «I'm hard to love. You always come in second place»

- Aurora Aksnes

Translator's Note: special credits for agenahadar from the Warriors and Weirdos forum for sharing the original article in Norwegian language.

#aurora #aurora aksnes #interviews #step 2

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ziracona · 4 years

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One aspect I find fascinating about your fics is that Meg and a lot of the other characters are pop culture savvy, but also live in a universe where some of the most popular horror characters were real people. So, how do you think they would've reacted to meeting Nancy and Steve, who come from a universe where Michael, Laurie, and Freddy are all horror movie characters?

Ahhh thank you so much! I’m really glad you liked that. Pop culture was a really big element for a lot of the cast, & it is kinda funny I guess that several of them /are/ core horror pop culture.

So, this is kind of a hard one for me to answer, because I didn’t do ILM canon like DbD official canon. I do explicitly reference Stranger Things as fiction in Nearly Departed, but that was because I had not the foggiest clue DbD would /add/ a Stranger Things chapter—both because it’s super new and ongoing unlike their other horror “classic” staples, & because I wouldn’t even really call Stranger Things horror. I had been so damn careful 😂—I think the only horror film I name is Friday the 13th, which felt safe at the time because it’s got its own similar game & thus seemed unlikely to give DbD rights. If I had included Nancy & Steve, I would have gone back and replaced that segment with something similar, and just had ST exist in the same world as Halloween, NOES 2010, and Saw/all of the ILM cast. It’s the best solution, and you really don’t have to change any of the stories to do it. All that would have to change is that in this version of ST, Max wore a different Halloween costume, & three lines of dialogue are different. Fundamentally it’s exactly the same world. I know that’s maybe not the most exciting answer TuT, but it’s what I’d have done for a few reasons. Ima drop the rest under a read more bc I go way into writing & a little w horror meta tho: 💙

For one, it’s just kinda sad. It lowers the storytelling stakes because even a best-case scenario would be kind of a letdown for everyone. Not as much to gain: Not as much to lose. So, sad emotionally & kinda less motivating story-wise. Like, if any version of a happy ending even hypothetically would always mean these people who have bonded through years of self sacrifice and friendship and trauma and growth either /never/ see each other again, or go to one world together where only maybe one person would ever get to see their OG family again, and might also have to suffer with seeing their life as a film on that planet? Joked about, critiques, not taken seriously, no privacy? That’s just. It’s not a happy ending, or a satisfying one, even for the characters to /fight/ for, regardless of if they can win it or not.

I’m aware that official DbD is multiverse, and there’s no assurance for even say Claudette and Meg being from the same world, let alone the world Halloween happens in, and was when I started writing. I just elected to ignore it. The devs even also explain a lot of the cosmetics as “alternate world versions” of the characters, instead of just fun costumes. I personally think that’s silly? And I’ve really never liked the multiverse decision. I got nothing at all against multiverse stories—they can be amazing—but you’ve got to have a reason if you do, and as far as I can tell, the only reason DbD is multiverse was so the Devs could release a bunch of classic horror characters into their game without worrying about continuity, which is lazy & not a great reason to pick multiverse. It can be great for stories, but in DbD, it would if anything just detract from the reality of the situation & the storytelling? Like, if I showed up in a hell pocket universe, and Michael Myers was there, it would be hard to take that situation entirely seriously, and it would fundamentally change how I interacted with others & they with me. If I knew his history, I’d use that to try to get through to him (what’s the worst that’ll happen? I’ll die like I do every day anyway?), but it would also be just weird & hard for people to relate. Like, if Steve Harrington has had conversations with a buddy about Laurie Strode being careless for not double-tapping her dead assailant & thinks of her as Jamie Lee Curtis & in some ways knows more about her life & family & universe than she does, but knows it all as an element of fiction? And at the same time, Kate’s seen Steve’s actor do interviews & play other roles and caught continuity errors in his /life/ while watching ST??? Hypothetically, someone /could/ unpack all that to tell a story, & maybe a fan has, but the Devs/game really, really haven’t, and in most instances, it’ll just mess up the characters’ abilities to relate to each other as human beings, as well as being miserable for the ones told they’re just characters from horror films in other people’s worlds.

The way DbD is set up really doesn’t lend itself to the kind of meta character vs humanity, role relationships between fiction & life narrative of, say, The Final Girls. Really all it does is make the world less real feeling. Less whole, more artificial. Less to be taken seriously, less belief willing to be suspended. Why are Laurie & Quentin fake in someone’s world? Does Meg not being in a story in Quentin’s universe mean she’s more real? It’s just messy. Multiverse is fine, but if you pick multiverse solely to make your job easier, at the cost of a more coherent, real, and engagable story (@ Devs >.>) that’s lazy/bad writing. I’ve read & enjoyed multiverse stories, but I’d never write DbD that way, bc I’d need a reason to, and I don’t have one. There was really no need for the devs to feel like they had to either, except pure ease w no work at all thinking about how or needing to explain anything, and I wish they hadn’t. : /

Like. Technically, Halloween & Scream shouldn’t be in the same canon—Halloween H20 plays a chunk of Scream 2 on TV, Scream 1 they’re watching Halloween 1978 & Scream 4 Sidney is asked “Who are you? Michael fucking Myers?” When she survives a murder attempt. But that’s not a big deal. It’s not a pivotal piece of world building and canon for either franchise. Scream is not fundamentally different if Randy is watching Friday the 13th or even some made up film, instead of Halloween. On top of that, a lot of horror references each other for fun and as tribute and I’m a huge nerd who adores this tradition. 😂 Scream & Halloween are so tight as franchises by the time Halloween H20 was released, that it actually uses chunks of Scream’s OST. It’s much better narratively for DbD if they’re all from one world, and in a way, it’s just a cool next step to the preexisting horror friendship metas between a lot of films. It’s really fun to figure out how they’d function together in one universe.

Anyway, that was long but I have so many thoughts on DbD & writing thank you for giving me an excuse to gush!! And thank you again for the compliment. I’m really happy you like my writing. It means a lot. 💙

#dead by daylight #misssingingintherain #ask #in living memory (fic)#in living memory #So ye shout out props to anyone who’s actually done multiverse for DbD & put in the work the devs didnt & actually found ways to make that #interesting/add value but also shame on devs for selling out story cohesion and value for ease dealing w continuity & questions.#writing #this ask took 9 years to let me add a read more w/o destroying the rest of the ask thansk tumblr

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talesofpanem · 5 years

Text

Tattoo Fixers : Panem

Author: @thegirlfromoverthepond

Rating: T

Summary: Katniss needs someone to fix a bad tattoo.

AN: Deepest, deepest thanks to the amazing @xerxia31 who beta-ed this piece.

Even though I liked the prompt, it took me times to find the idea for this story - until I watched my TV, which prompted an episode of Tattoo Fixers - London. Maybe some of you from the EuroClub know about it ? Anyways, here is my take at this week’s prompt.

Hope you have fun.

_____________

She would be fascinated by the ballet of assistants running around the shop if she wasn’t embarrassed to be sitting there, being prepped by a team of make-up artists and a hairdresser.

Just looking at the people putting mascara on her eyebrows or trying to tame her hair was a spectacle in itself, with their tattoos poking out from under every bit of clothing, along with piercings or blue hair.

Katniss felt utterly out of place, waiting for her turn to appear on a television show she didn’t even want to go on. Alas, it was the only free way to fix something she had regretted since she had woken up after a particularly drunken night with her cousin Gale.

It was all Gale’s fault. It had been the day of her father’ funeral, the day after Gale buried his own. After the ceremony, after everyone had gone home, Gale had taken Katniss out. She hadn’t asked, just silently nodded when he had grabbed the keys of his father’s old pickup, heading out to their favorite spot in town, to get drunk.

In the hopes they could forget the void left by their fathers.

They had spent hours in that bar, drinking until they couldn’t drink anymore, until everything faded into blackness. The next morning, however, they’d woken up together in the bed of the pickup truck, each sporting the mother of all hangovers and a lovely souvenir of their evening

Apparently, they had somehow found their way to a tattoo parlor.

Since that night, Gale had sported a wonderful peacock on his biceps, which he still found funny all these years later.

Katniss wasn’t as lucky. She all but hated the cartoonish, badly drawn bow and arrow on the inside of her forearm. The only good thing about it was its size - tiny, so a wristband could cover it easily. She took to wearing one everyday. Solid. In leather.

Arrow. Her father’s name, had been inked forever on her arm. She would have loved it if she had been able to choose the drawing properly, instead of having been branded with a cupid-ike tattoo design.

Hence her presence on the set of Tattoo Fixers, a reality show where talented tattoo artists helped people cover up their tattoo disasters with gorgeous works of inked art.

Removing the tattoo was way too expensive for her bank account. But Prim had convinced her to share her story with all the whole country, risking the humiliation of being branded as a drunk crazy woman on cable TV.

Wonderful.

“Katniss? You’re on in five,” a young assistant told her, making the team of preppers buzz around her like there was a breach in a beehive. One man, Flavius she thought his name was, because why not, was complaining about the state of her nails, how chipped they were, how he couldn’t do miracles, how he couldn’t find time to fit in a manicure in the remaining five minutes.

“I’m a botanist. It would be destroyed by tomorrow anyway.” She shrugged the thought away, almost taking pleasure in the disgusted look on his face. Take that, Flavius.

When the assistant came back, all smiles and happy mood, Katniss followed her out of the parlor and onto the street. Just like any other participant, she would have to walk to the shop, entering as if she was a totally random client.

Bull.Shit.

The only random part was which tattoo artist she would choose. At least she would be surprised by their drawings.

This was staged TV, reality-TV. She usually couldn’t stand it.

She sighed, taking her place ion the street.

“Remember, start walking when the director shouts ‘Action!’”

Katniss resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.

She started walking as casually as possible when she was told to, entering the shop as naturally as she could manage, trying to avoid laughing at the host’s attire of the day. Nobody ever bothered telling Caesar Flickerman that he might be colorblind. Today, he was mixing a flashy orange shirt with beautiful purple bermuda shorts. No doubt the episode would air in summer.

“Here is our next client!” Caesar sounded a little too enthusiastic at her entrance into the parlor. “What’s your name, darling?” He took her hand, helping her sit on the couch facing the one where the three tattoo artists were sitting.

She took a deep breath before answering, hoping her voice didn’t falter.

As she explained why she was there, Katniss took a good look at the three people in front of her, mentally thanking Prim for the briefing she’d given Katniss before she left that morning.

There was the woman, Jo, whose body was almost fully covered in tattoos and piercings. Only her face remained pristine, making her red hair stand out. She was sitting next to Finnick, who as the star tattooist of the program was sitting between his two colleagues. Finnick’s body was a work of art. Prim had swooned over it for much too long when she had briefed her sister, showing Katniss pictures of the man who appeared to live his life shirtless. Katniss had then been privy to the numerous tattoos that adorned his back, a chinese setting, dragon included.

She had seen several shots of him, of his so perfect body that made women of all ages swoon over him. Of course, Katniss was well aware of the dispatch of muscles, the Greek-god physique Finnick had, and fully expecting to be struck with lust as soon as she laid eyes on him in person. Yet nothing happened.

Nothing. At. All.

She was much more intrigued by the third tattooist, sitting next to Finnick. If Jo was a picture of the bad girl, Finnick the perfection, this third person was something else. He screamed “normal”, standing out from the two others, in Katniss’ opinion. Maybe it was because she couldn’t see a single tattoo on him, not even the required tribal band around his biceps.

There was something about his blue eyes, about his messy blond air that made her look at him more than the two others. Something that attracted her.

“This is Peeta, but we call him Peet. He’s the newcomer as Cato decided he needed a year off,” Finnick said and Peeta smiled. “So, how do you want us to cover the tattoo? Any specific request?”

“Well, nothing arrow-esque, or cupid-like. I’d like something that’s more inspired by nature,” she said. She just wanted the stupid bow and arrow to be covered.

Both Finnick and Jo grabbed their sketchbooks and started to draw. But she could feel Peeta’s eyes on her, lingering for a few seconds before he in turn, dived in.

“Well, tell us about you, Kathy?” Caesar said,making idle conversation to allow the tattooists time to finish their drawings.

“It’s Katniss, actually. Nothing thrilling, I’m a botanist and I live with my sister, Primrose.”

“Oh, that’s nice, she’s named for a flower!”

Katniss couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She knew this part would be cut because nobody really cared about the chit chat between a host and someone they would forget as soon as she left the office.

“Just like I am, it’s kind of a family tradition.”

“And you’re a florist! Isn’t it amazing.”

“I’m a botanist, but not far away.”

She was already over her talk with the host. A talk she was quite sure only lasted a few minutes, still felt like two long days.

“We’re ready, Kitty Kat. Here’s my drawing.” Jo handed over her sketchbook, on which a beautiful cat was displayed. With red fun, he would have been a striking copy of her sister’s cat, Buttercup, aka the bane of her existence. “You strike me as independent and very focused, hence, the cat.”

“It’s beautiful, Jo, thank you,” Katniss said, as she took in the beautiful shape of the cat’s ear, the detailed eyes. The woman had talent.

“I went for something more… natural,” Finnick said. “ I hope you like it!” He handed her his sketchbook, then leaned back on the couch, taking a sugarcube out of his pocket before popping it in his mouth.

On the page in front of her was a display of gorgeous intertwining orchid flowers.

“I can do them in different shades, like a watercolor painting, you know?” Finnick added, as Katniss stared in awe.

“It’s lovely, wow, I wasn’t expecting that, Finnick.” Between the two drawings, her choice was made. She wasn’t even sure Peeta would be able to compete.

“She’ll pick mine, guys, I’m ready to bet ten bucks!” Finnick lifted his arms in victory.

“It doesn’t have to be a big one, right?” Katniss asked, hoping his answer would be a no.

“It can be whatever you desire, sweetheart.” Finnick’s voice was sugary, and his green eyes sparkled as he winked at her.

Which made Katniss roll her eyes.

“Well, Finnick, this one’s immune to your charms.” Peeta’s voice, amused, chimed in. “Katniss, here is my take for your tattoo.”

She put down Finnick’s sketchbook to take Peeta’s. There were no words to describe her feelings when she looked down at the drawing on the paper. She had expected something somewhere between Jo and Finnick’s like an animal in nature, or just a drawing of a beach, absolutely not what she had before her eyes.

Peeta had drawn a wave.

A single, simple wave.

Yet, the closer she looked, the more details she could see. The wave was made entirely of flowers.

Primroses and katniss were braided together with such precision, with such attention, it was mesmerizing.

From two feet away the drawing looked like a wave.

But to her, for the closer her eyes got, it was a flower wall.

She opened her mouth to talk, to express how incredible she found the drawing.

No words came out.

She had to take a deep breath before gathering her thoughts before she was able to talk again.

“This. This is what I want.”

“Shall we go, then?” Peeta asked, rising from the couch.

She nodded her agreement before following him to the back.

She was glad the cameras didn’t filming the whole process. They were busy filming other segments with other “clients”.

“What prompted you to draw this? I mean I had no idea that was what I wanted until you showed me…” she asked.

“Your talk with Caesar. You told him you were a botanist, that it was a tradition to have flower names in your family. So I checked what Katniss was. It came up with sagit-something…”

“Sagittaria sagittifolia.,” she said under her breath.

He laughed, as he charged his machine with ink.

“Yes, that. You said you live with your sister, and I remembered you told us you got this awful thing after a funeral so I added one and one… You must have a pretty close relationship with your sister.”

“Yeah, we do …..” She was watching him come closer with his machine. She had a question, though. “How do I know you can tattoo? I mean, you don’t even have any of your own?”

“I do have one tattoo, but it’s hidden. I’m not as extrovert as Finn and Jo.”

“I noticed.. Could I see it ?”

“Well, it would involve you seeing me at least half naked… “

She blushed. “Oh, my, sorry…”

“No need to apologize. I did Finn’s dragon, and can show you pictures of previous works I’ve done, if you need references …. “

“It’s okay, I trust you.”

He smiled, a gentle, kind, warm smile at her words.

As soon as he started working on her forearm the cameras returned. He explained the steps he was taking, using the shape of the bow for the wave, the body of the arrow to line up the braids of flowers.

“It’s done. You can look.” His voice took her by surprise. She looked down, finding herself at a loss for words, again.

There was no way she would hide this one under a wristband.

After the mandatory shots for the TV, Peeta was wrapping her arm in cello, when he asked.

“I kinda won twenty bucks earlier, thanks to you. Want to share it with a tea?”

“No,” she answered. As his face fell, she added, “But I’d love a hot chocolate with whipped cream, if you know a place.”

He knew a place.

(Turned out he had a tree of life tattoo along his ribcage. She could spend hours tracing it with her fingers. Or her tongue.)

#tales of panem #talesofpanem #week 7 #wave #thegirlfromoverthepond #submission

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keysmashchronicles · 4 years

Text

my history in phandom and fandom

I’ve always been an avid reader. If I’d have been born twenty years later than I was and grew up in a time when every kid has tablet or a phone, that need for stories might have been filled by TV or other formats instead, but in my childhood years it was all about books, and visiting the library as often as possible. I often daydreamed about the characters in books the books I read, mostly egocentric thoughts of what it would be like if I were to somehow find myself in the stories I was reading. What would it be like to have them as my friends, to be part of those adventures? Of course, in typical Mary-Sue fashion, it wasn’t the real me that I imagined in those daydreams, but some idealised version that was cleverer and funnier and prettier and of course, someone all the other characters either envied or adored.

As I got older, and we moved beyond the stage of just having one TV in the house, my obsessive nature shifted to include TV shows as well as books. The first show that really caught my imagination was Dawson’s Creek. I loved it, the over-articulate teens with all their angsty problems heightened by their hormones going haywire, going through mental health issues and struggles with sexuality and of course, the classic love triangle. I couldn’t wait to tune in every week and catch up on what was happening in Capeside.

I’m not sure how it happened, but one day I was online on our cranky old computer and stumbled across some Dawson’s Creek fanfiction. I was amazed, and fascinated, and also terrified that someone in my family was going to walk in and catch me reading it. But I read every story on that website, and then started looking for more. I couldn’t believe there were other people out there like me, people who didn’t just watch a TV programme and then forget it about it until the following week. There were others who thought about the characters in a TV show so much, it was almost like they became real. People who wanted to analyse every aspect of the relationships the characters had on screen, and also take these characters off into plots and stories and worlds that were nothing like what actually happened in the show, imagine them in endless different scenarios and see them experience every kind of emotion and think about how they’d react. People who wanted to write or read over and over again about the same characters because they found more and more to discover about them every time they did.I had found my happy place!

Over the years, the obsession with fanfic remained, but the focus of it shifted.I’d go through a cycle – discover a new fandom, immerse myself in it for maybe a year or two, then slowly lose interest. There would be a period where I wouldn’t read fic for a while, maybe 6 months or a year, and then all of a sudden, a new show would capture my attention and I’d be off and running again.

After my interest in Dawson’s Creek had run it’s course, the show that took its place for me was Buffy. As I recall, I had only watched a few episodes here and there and then a writer I was already reading started to post Buffy fics. I read a couple and realised that there must be much more to this show than I’d thought if it was inspiring such good writing. I think that obsession must have lasted a good 3-4 years, one of the longest I’ve had. There was just so much good stuff for writers to work with - a whole cast of interesting well-developed characters, the good vs evil narrative, the endless possibilities of spells and demons and alternate universes and origin stories and the threat that the world might end at any moment….the list goes on. And also, there was the smut - I’d read a fair amount in my previous fandom, but Buffy fics took it to a whole other level (this by the way being a major cause of the confusion I had when trying to work out my own sexuality - how can I be asexual? Have you seen my AO3 history???)

After that came the West Wing, followed by House, followed by the other behemoth of my fandom life, Sherlock. With all of these, although I read a hell of a lot of fic, that was always as far as my involvement in fandom went. I didn’t feel the need to join any fandom communities, in fact I don’t really think I would have known much about where or how to get involved if I’d wanted to. In the early days, the fic I read was on fan-hosted sites, with the aid of webrings to help you discover other authors. Then for a long time it was fanfiction.net, livejournal and finally AO3 where I read most of my fic today.

So how did I get into phanfic? In the aftermath of Sherlock series 4, it felt like my engagement with fic in that fandom came to a bit of a stop – there wasn’t really anywhere much to take the story in terms of canon, and a lot of people felt that the whole Eurus plotline had been kind of a jumping the shark moment. For myself, I’d got to that stage where it felt like there was nothing new under the sun. I was feeling the fatigue that always eventually came when I’d overread a fandom, and no matter how hard I’d try to find something to interest me, nothing seemed to capture my imagination any more.

I left the fic alone for quite a while, turning mostly back to traditionally published media – I dipped a toe back into Sherlock fic on occasion, read a bit of MCU here and there but nothing significant.

Then one evening in June 2019, I was scrolling through Twitter when I decided to check what was trending and saw a name I didn’t recognise – Daniel Howell. I had no idea who he was, but lots of other people were clearly very excited by something he’d done, so I thought I’d have a look and find out why. Usually when this happens, it turns the person is either on a reality TV show or plays sports of some kind, but on this occasion I saw the words ‘YouTuber’ and ‘coming out video’ and it piqued my interest. The only experience I really had of watching YouTubers was through my step niece, when she’d had an obsession with Miranda Sings and we’d watched a lot of her videos together, including collabs, so I knew a few names but not much beyond that.

I clicked on Dan’s video, fully expecting that like with most random clicks, I’d watch for a minute or two before getting bored and looking for something else to occupy my attention, but that didn’t happen. The video was incredible and I was absolutely transfixed for the whole 45 minutes. I thought it was brilliant - the deeply personal story that was being told, the humour, the well-thought out and confidently delivered arguments – I don’t think I’d ever seen anything like it. As someone who had come to identify as asexual and panromantic but not until they were in their late 30s, and who was (is?) still in a place of trying to understand what that meant in my life, it was also hugely resonant to me on a personal level, helping me to realise the unacknowledged but damaging internalised acephobia and homophobia that I was still carrying with me.

I went to Dan’s channel and watched some of his videos, then was curious about that guy named Phil that he’d mentioned, so I watched some of his videos too. I came across the first PINOF and was completely charmed by it, by their rapport and silly humour and how they clearly felt so comfortable just to muck about and be themselves.

For a while I was happy just going through all the content on their channels. It didn’t really occur to me to look for fic until it was referenced in one of their videos. Up until then, RPF had really not been my thing – I’d seen some fics written about the actors who played characters in my various fandoms and I’d avoided them because it had made me feel uncomfortable about what they’d think if they saw them. I’d also scrolled past a lot of 1D and BTS fic when browsing on AO3 tags and to be honest, had had a pretty snobby opinion about it.

But having heard Dan’s story, and then seen dnp’s obvious connection in their videos, I was curious to see what the fans’ take had been on their relationship, and also to see what was being written about them now that Dan had come out. I looked to see if there was anything about them on AO3 and bam! There it was, my next fic obsession had grabbed hold of me and there wasn’t anything much I could do about it!

Since then, I’ve not only read a ton of fics, but even had a go at writing a few. It’s painful because they never come anywhere near the standard of the fics and writers I really admire. I have the desire to want to write well, but also a complete lack of the patience and dedication it takes to develop the necessary skill. But for the first time I didn’t let that stop me from publishing a few fics as I realised I was really writing for myself, to have an outlet for thoughts and ideas that had been going around in my head, and if anyone happened to read it, that was just a bonus.

Then through reading the Seven Basic Plots, I realised that what I’m more interested in at the moment than learning to write fics myself is to come to a greater understanding of how they work, and what exactly has been fuelling my fic obsession for over 20 years (wow....that was weird to think about! Such a long time!)

So that’s my history in fandom, and in phandom, and explains why reading a book about the nature of stories and their purpose made me immediately think that I wanted to examine those ideas in relation to something I know and love – phanfiction.

the seven basic plots // 1st plot - overcoming the monster

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sweetdejun · 5 years

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coterie: the shot glass (1/2)

gang!x1 x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re an ordinary girl, with an ordinary life. but what happens when you catch the gang that is famous for keeping their deeds under the table, in action?

coterie’s masterlist can be found here

pairing: song hyungjun and y/n

a/n: mentions of alcohol, and mild swearing, so proceed with caution.

“that’s mine,” the boy wearing the red blazer says, and you’re trying to think of his name, before seungwoo says, “alright, so y/n, you’re paired with hyungjun. hyungjun, take her with you and explain what you do.” you look back at hyungjun, and he’s got this empty look in his eyes. even though they are looking back at you, they seem to respond back with voidness. soon, all the boys dispersed into different directions, including hyungjun. you blinked and stood where you were. hyungjun halts and turns around, rolling his eyes, “well, aren’t you going to follow me?” you raise your eyebrows at the cold tone he speaks to you in and nodding a little, you catch up to him before he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and leads the way. you and hyungjun walk down the endless hallway, silently, him a few steps ahead of you. he finally reaches a door and opens it before entering the room and leaving the door open, for you to come into. he sits on his bed and faces you. “so, you chose me? I have to say, you didn’t seem like the kind of person to choose a shot glass. you like alcohol?” you stand there bewildered. just a few seconds ago, this guy seemed like he wanted nothing to do with you and he could care less about you, period; why did he all of a sudden show interest in you? you replied, “I don’t know why I chose it. I’m not a huge drinker, but I don’t shy away from a beer once in a while. and what do you mean by ‘kind of person’?” hyungjun hears your answer and blows a raspberry, falling back onto his bed. “boring. you’re no fun, that’s what I meant by ‘kind of person’. I was clearly right, you don’t seem like a party person or much of a drinker. well, I’m sorry to tell you that that’s exactly what I do, as part of this gang. I’m a party animal. I like to dance, drink, have fun and my main job in the gang is to keep an eye out for any specific targets seungwoo hyung tells me about or even specific clients who’ve stepped off on the wrong foot with us. capisce?”

hyungjun gets back up to gauge your reaction. you don’t seem too keen about going out and partying, he thinks. you seem like a simple girl, who doesn’t go out partying often. he almost feels bad that you picked him, of everyone. almost. “forget it, it doesn’t seem like it’s your forte. it’s not like you give off ‘party’ vibes, you know?” you really aren’t because you never used to do that in your school days. that was really the only thing holding you back, otherwise, you wouldn’t have been caught at a party over your dead body. but, now things are different. you aren’t in school any longer. what do you have to lose now? “if you don’t like it, you’re more than welcome to choose someone else-” you cut hyungjun off, putting your hand up and bringing him to a stop. now you have a goal: hyungjun had this perception of you being this plain jane. nothing wrong with it, but somehow, him insinuating this fueled this feeling of wanting to prove him wrong. now, you were willing to go to extremes if it meant you were going to change his perception of you, because hell, you don’t like it. “I won’t leave. I’ll work with you, tell me what I need to do.” hyungjun noticed this change of demeanor and was stunned, to say the least. of course, he didn’t let this show on his face too much, only responding with an “oh?” you nodded confidently, and raised your head high. “okay, well, tomorrow’s friday, so you know what that means. be ready by 10 p.m., and I suggest if you’re someone who’s not a night owl, maybe take a nap or something because we will be up all night. also, give me your phone number.” you fish your phone out of your back pocket, and then realized that seungwoo changed your SIM card, so now, you don’t know what the phone number is. “I don’t know it,” you sheepishly tell him, to which hyungjun dramatically sighs. “alright, give me your phone, then. I’ll put in my number myself.” he takes the mobile device and presses in the ten digits. handing back your phone, he shoos you out with his hand, “now go, I’m tired as fuck.” scoffing, you’re about to reply when he shoves you out of his room and shuts the door in your face. how rude.

you’ve got to say, partying is not something you would’ve preferred wasting your time on, but you needed to prove a point to hyungjun. in fact, hyungjun was surprised that you were still going with him, obediently following his directions. in the first few times, it was clear that you didn’t go to too many parties. one day, one week, and two weeks pass by and you’ve gone to these parties with hyungjun, and it went on like a routine. hyungjun would walk in, and his feet gravitated him to the bar, where he would throw back his head and swallow shot after shot. then he’d be a part of the mosh pit. you, with your one beer (if you wanted to spice it up, you’d go for a margarita), would sit back in one of the corners, next to a group of friends gossiping or a couple getting hot and heavy. hyungjun knew that you were new to this: you didn’t even have proper clubwear in the beginning. but, you didn’t care. you just did as he told you to: observe the place and not be drunk enough to where you couldn’t navigate your way out of the club. your relationship with him was getting better, you would say: in the beginning, he would barely ever talk to you, and the times he did, he would keep the conversations short. however, after spending enough time with him, you realized that hyungjun’s actually a hardcore softie. he has this tough exterior, but in reality, the boy uses mud face masks and holds his hair back with a bunny ear headband (you also found this secret stash of hyungjun’s pictures with these really cute filters... the boys don’t even know about them). he’s got quite the sense of humor also; dry, sarcastic comments are often exchanged between the two of you ( “please, keep talking, I only yawn when I’m super fascinated”, “hey, remember when I asked for your opinion? me neither.” “can you do me a favor, and kindly fuck off?” etc). at times, you still can’t believe that you assimilated here, with your kidnappers, now, your boss and colleagues. you definitely think that hyungjun had some part in this; he helped you feel more comfortable here, whether or not that was his intention. you gradually began to grow more empathetic towards him. “business” has been slow, in that sure, you and hyungjun had been doing what seungwoo asked you guys to do, but you haven’t been assigned anything too crazy. until now, at least. you were in your room, binge-watching the latest drama.

just as the drama was getting good, hyungjun barged into your room, leaving the door wide open, and stood by your bedside. he was blocking the view of the television, and you tried to look around his head, but it followed the movements of your own head. “what?” you shut off the tv and looked back at him. you noticed something different in his eyes; a fiery passion, you wanted to say. “it’s time. we’ve officially been given our biggest assignment yet. this is the one we’ve been waiting for.” your ears perked up at this, and you gave hyungjun your full attention as he broke down the details for you. the owners of the biggest chaebol were throwing a birthday party for one of their family members in the biggest casino in the city. you two were to pose as attendees (”they shouldn’t be able to find us suspicious, so be as natural as you can” hyungjun tells you) and keep an eye out for the people that were attending. “they’ll invite the most influential people in the entire country, which will be useful information for us, when we relay this information back to seungwoo hyung, he’ll know where to go from there.” you nod, and before you can ask anything, hyungjun asks, “do you have anything fancy enough to wear to the casino? if not, we may have to go shopping. or, well, you’ll go, with soonja ahjumma. the party’s in three days, okay? we can’t afford to mess anything up.” you sigh out, “I’m not sure if I have anything fit for the occasion, so I probably would have to go with ahjumma.” hyungjun nods and turns around to leave the room, but just before he leaves, he spins his head back to look at you. “remember, three days. I’ll see you then.” and he walked back to your door and was heading out, while you went to the phone and called soonja, and in the midst of all this, you didn’t notice hyungjun stop in his tracks and turn back to look at you, this unusual feeling rising in his chest.

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