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siren-nate · 1 month

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Ranking every Pizza Tower level let's go

19) 4-2 | Peppibot Factory: God, I mean, what do I even say? Nothing about this level's design works. The platforms are awkward and disjointed and broken up in a way that feels like it's not even designed with Peppino in mind whatsoever, the conveyor belts are one of the shittiest, most irritating gimmicks in the entire game, the titular Peppibots are barely even a factor in the one level they show up in - the first one is often killed before you even realize what it is, just dropped in your path with no fanfare whatsoever. The transformation is good, but it's not used to its fullest potential whatsoever in the escape sequence. Barring the music, everything about this level is just awful, not even by the standards of Pizza Tower, but by the standards of platformers in general.

18) 2-1 | Oregano Desert: The more I think about it, the more I realize this is one of my least favorite levels. The level design just feels confused on what it wants to be; there are multiple winding paths with score pickups to grab, but no route to take all of them in a loop that feels efficient or intended. The cows are a funny way to make a level gimmick into a tool or an obstacle depending entirely on context, but they completely kill the pacing. The firemouth is one of my least favorite transformations, with its incredibly floaty and imprecise jump being completely at odds with Peppino's core moveset. And, on top of all of this, the vast majority of the enemies are uncomfortable caricatures of Native American people. Lovely.

17) 2-3 | Fun Farm: Mort the Chicken, despite being a hilariously bizarre cameo, is one of the worst transformations in the game. The movement change when you have him is slow and cumbersome, the hitbox for the Mort Hooks feels flat-out broken with how finnicky it is to hit them, and most of the gameplay with him devolves into just walking to the right while spamming the attack button. Even without him, the core level design is weirdly jagged and full of roadblocks that are difficult to deal with quickly, which isn't a good match for enemies that charge straight at you weapon-first the moment they see you.

16) 3-2 | Gnome Forest: Great music, a great aesthetic with a vibrant color palette, and level design that's simple enough to get you used to Gustavo and Brick's gameplay while still having depth and challenge to dive into for a P-rank. A great level with a single, massive Achilles's Heel: Pickles. These are the worst enemy in the entire game, because nothing in your kit deals with them effectively. You can't always mach run to scare them because Gustavo and Brick don't have a move to get up to speed instantly, you can't always jump on them without them seeing you, you can't parry their shock after they teleport straight to you - the best option is the Brick Ball, but that only works if there's a relatively unbroken stretch of ground between you and them. I hate, hate, hate, HATE Pickles and think they should be literally deleted from the fucking game entirely.

15) 5-1 | Pizzascare: An attempt to recapture the magic of one of the best levels in Pizza Tower, but one that doesn't hit the mark very well at all. The central gimmicks are both irritating in different ways. The Ghost King is a constant hazard that jumps from obstacle to obstacle, but at times you actually need him to get through a section and he might be stuck elsewhere. It's neat, but you often aren't given enough time to react to him jumping to a new hazard in your way, and shockingly for a level all about busting ghosts, you never get to strike back at him. Speaking of which, the ghosts turn a power-up as tantalizing as temporary invincibility into a chore. It just doesn't last long enough to actually feel like a power-up; every time I get to a Pizza Pope, I don't feel like I'm all-powerful, I feel like I'm finally getting my head above water to breathe for five seconds.

14) 1-1 | John Gutter: A good introductory level to the game at large! It seems simple, and the secrets definitely are, but the actual level design can have some surprising depth that encourages you to explore just how quick and efficient you can be with simple but vital moves, like the mach turnaround and the super jump. The music is surprisingly reserved and mysterious, and the theme of the level doesn't make much sense until you learn just how important John and Gerome are, but it definitely gets across one thing: this game is weird, and it's proud of it.

13) 1-3 | Ancient Cheese: A solid level, but I have to admit, it's one that kind of lacks a core gimmick. The bombs and crumbling cheese platforms it introduces are ones that stick around for the entire game, meaning that in retrospect, Ancient Cheese has nothing to wholly call its own. Still a good level, with great music, but they could have done more with the theme of ancient ruins.

12) 4-4 | Refrigerator-Refrigerador-Freezerator: I don't really know why I don't like this level more. The music is good, the aesthetic is fun, and the transformation is maybe the most unique in the game as it basically acts like Peppino's Super Mode. I think what it comes down to is basically a lot of small annoyances that pile up and give me a negative vibe for the level as a whole. The overabundance of bottomless pits discourages you from going fast in a game all about going fast. The snowman enemies are the second worst in the game, as there's no good way to deal with them other than "get behind them" which isn't an option in every situation - especially at the end where the game throws armadas of them at you all at once. Even the Satan's Choice Pizza transformation has an annoyance in the way it bounces you up whenever you break an ice block, even when the game design really wants you to go downward. If I could only dive or bodyslam out of the spin attack, it would make things feel so much more fluid.

11) 1-4 | Bloodsauce Dungeon: The first truly difficult level in my mind, both on a first playthrough and when going for P-ranks. It's an extremely vertical level, unlike most other levels in the game, which means that the initial playthrough and the escape sequence can feel like completely different levels - whether that's a good or a bad thing is basically entirely up to personal taste. Sadly, just like Ancient Cheese, it somewhat lacks in feeling unique once you've beaten the game, and the music has that one part at the end that just completely doesn't fit in and makes me wonder why it's there to begin with.

10) 2-2 | Wasteyard: A really solid level. The corpse-surf transformation is black comedy as hell and feels great, even if it's not really essential to accomplishing anything in the areas where you find it - it just breaks up what could otherwise get monotonous in a fun way. The ghost transformation is also simple but very well-designed, tying into the core theme of speed but expanding it into a new dimension while removing the mach run from the equation. Ghost John also adds a whole new layer of challenge to the escape sequence, but on P-rank attempts his incredibly aggressive rubber-banding can be really frustrating; you can recover from most other mistakes, but if you get caught by John far enough into a screen, you're already screwed and may as well restart.

9) 1-2 | Pizzascape: With the introductory level out of the way, Pizza Tower puts its best foot forward by immediately giving you one of the best levels in the game. The level design switches between decently complex, and long straightaways that give you a feel for just how insanely fast Peppino can get. The knight transformation is one of the most satisfying, and serves to reinforce how important slopes are to the gameplay in case you were disregarding them.

8) 4-1 | The Pig City: The good Brick and Gustavo level. The rails and rat balloons make for great level gimmicks that both playable characters interact with in different ways, allowing them to feel almost like different elements entirely. Both songs are absolute bops, and the general presentation of a grimy city is top notch. It does lose some points for weird gaps in the level design that are at odds with maintaining speed, though - enemies in pits that you have to stop to kill to boost your combo are an annoyance.

7) 3-3 | Deep-Dish 9: I have almost nothing to say other than "God DAMN, what a good level". The music is the funkiest yet, the visual style is fantastic and quite literally triple what most levels get, the transformations are simple enough to master but tricky enough to make using them an enjoyable challenge... I guess the overuse of teleportals as an obstacle can get annoying, as running into one at the wrong moment can basically doom your combo, but they're far less of a death sentence than getting caught by Ghost John is.

6) 2-4 | Fast-Food Saloon: A fantastic level that gets better the more skilled you are at the game. Collecting all the card decks and knocking over as many bottles as you can is incredibly satisfying, and Lil' Doggy is fun to mess around with. The races with Horsey are often maligned, but they're really not that difficult once you're even slightly experienced with Peppino's moveset, and his indignant face when he loses is one of the funniest sight gags in the game. What's far less forgiving is the buttons, which are the one part of this level I don't like. I can tell how unbelievably strict their time limits are from how even after 150 hours in the game, I always feel like I'm just barely getting through by the skin of my teeth. On top of that, the Chef Task for only pressing each button once is maybe the worst in the entire game. Still not enough to bring down what a great level this is, but worth criticizing.

5) 5-2 | Don't Make A Sound: A stealth level thrown into a game as frantic and high-paced as Pizza Tower... and it WORKS! It being a stealth level doesn't mean you have to slow down; if anything, you should be going as fast as possible to kill the alarm enemies before they have a chance to actually go off. Speaking of which, running from the Toppin Bots is exhilarating, with most of them behaving in different ways that make you rethink how to get away from or around them on the fly. Do I even need to bring up the shotgun and the catharsis of running back through the level gunning down the formerly-invincible monsters that terrified you the whole way through?

4) 4-3 | Oh, Shit!: I've thought a lot about why I like this level so much when everyone else seems to hate it. People hate the Cheese Peppino transformation, but I find it incredibly satisfying to wall jump as quick as I can, and at no point in the level do you have to use it for more than like eight seconds at a time. People hate the Ninja Pizza enemies, but I find them to be a good test of your parry ability that the game should be throwing at you this late into it to be sure you've figured it out. People hate how long the level is, I just find it to be more Pizza Tower to enjoy without a real chokepoint for P-ranks that they always die on. This is just an immensely satisfying level based around Peppino's core moveset without any gimmicks that force you to engage with them for very long, which might be where I differ - I find that really fun, to take the no-frills design of Floor 1 levels and amp up the challenge to the same point as the rest of Floor 4's levels.

3) 3-4 | Golf: How is it possible that they take an intentionally frustrating April Fool's joke demo, and make it into one of the best levels in the game? It feels like it should be illegal in some way. Golf has one of the highest skill ceilings in all of Pizza Tower, with it constantly encouraging you to use Peppino's normal moveset to launch the ball for miles rather than do the seemingly intended stop-and-go gameplay of grabbing and putting him. The fact that your combo meter resets every time you so much as touch him makes this one of the easiest levels to keep your combo on, but the Golf Demons and later plethora of outlet hazards mean it's not effortless to P-rank, either. The difficulty is impeccably well-balanced.

2) 3-1 | Crust Cove: Best song in the game, and one of my favorite levels besides that. Hunting down treasure guys is a lot of fun, and the core level design involves a lot of jumping while maintaining your mach dash, which is one of the most satisfying challenges based around the basic core mechanics. The barrel transformation CAN be a little brain-dead, but it's still immensely fun and the sections never overstay their welcome too long. I do have to subtract points because there's one section just before the Pillar John that's practically a killbox for P-rank attempts. It's just long enough without any pickups that maintaining your combo is a serious challenge, and there are constant environmental dangers from the cannonballs that mean you're likely to take damage and completely screw yourself. It honestly reminds me a lot of that one section in Gnome Forest everyone hated, but unlike that, this one never got a fix in an update.

1) 5-3 | WAR: The best level in the game, and they save it for last like a bunch of absolute chads. Right after the level that teaches you the shotgun makes you the God of the Pizza Tower, WAR shows you the problem with overusing it: it slows you down in the air and outright kills your speed on the ground. Despite being THE shotgun level, it challenges you to only use it when you really need it and make your way through the most dangerous (but fair!) enemies in the game with only your standard moveset. I don't think I even need to expound on how much Thousand March gets your blood pumping.

0) The Crumbling Tower of Pizza: This one's an honorable mention. I'd find it really difficult and frankly unfair to rank this level among all of the more standard ones, as it's so wildly different. Nothing to collect and no side paths to explore, just an escape sequence through the entire tower using nearly every gimmick and transformation found along the way. It's the perfect ending and I absolutely adore it, but ranking it would be like comparing apples to oranges.

And now, as a bonus, ranking all of the bosses:

5) The Noise: I'm sure he'd take great pride in being considered the worst boss fight in the game. The Noise's lack of proper pattern means you spend the entire fight just getting absolutely fucked by RNG, as a lot of his attacks are dangerous from the very moment they come out and require you to be a particular distance away from him in order to deal with them effectively, which is just a bullshit combination. The Noisies are also incredibly annoying bait; if you want to P-rank the boss, literally just ignore them. Being able to get extra damage sounds nice, but they'll fuck you into taking damage every single time.

4) Pepperman: The perfect introduction to how boss fights in Pizza Tower work as a whole. A powerful foe who uses particular attacks in a recognizable pattern, mixed in with stage hazards that keep you on your toes and keep things semi-random. He's second-lowest on the list solely because the big statue that slides across the ground in his second phase sometimes feels unfairly hard to dodge if he's using a particular attack.

3) The Vigilante: The pistol is a surprisingly well thought-out gimmick for this fight; the difficulty curve of the Vigilante is entirely based on how good you can get at timing your charge shot so it slams into him the instant his invincibility frames run out. Once you get really good at it, you can hit him with a charge and two regular shots as soon as he becomes vulnerable, completely cheesing (no pun intended) the boss. And... that can make it kind of a joke, unfortunately. Vigilante is legitimately the easiest boss in the game once you master the pistol.

2) Fake Peppino: I don't think there's any way to really describe or recapture the feeling of just seeing Fake Peppino for the first time, let alone fighting him. The off-putting and deranged music that sounds like it's trying to be happy or funky and just not quite understanding how to, the way the Fake Fake Peppinos swarm in greater intensity the further in the fight you get, the subtle implication that the entire boss room is an extension of Fake Peppino... the fight itself is mechanically great, but it's the sheer presentation that makes it the second best and the perfect pre-final boss.

1) Pizzaface: ...Hence why the boss with the best presentation of all gets my pick for the best boss in the game. Can the first phase get a little unfairly chaotic once his health gets low enough? Sure. Is the pistol's charge shot rendered completely pointless by the second phase having no invincibility frames? Sure. Is the third phase a little too easy, even if it's trying to make you feel like Peppino's fucking invincible? Sure. But much like the horror of seeing Fake Peppino, words cannot describe the triumph of beating the final boss for the first time, and seeing Peppino get the vengeance he so rightfully deserves for all the shit he's been put through.

#Pizza Tower #Peppino Spaghetti

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findafight · 10 months

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i really agree w your opinions on stancy's (and jancy's) issues never being satisfyingly dealt w and it's a huge roadblock for me w anything set in the canon universe - esp w stoncy tbh bc then steve and jonathan's potential issues get added to the mix. recently a fic i really liked actually had stancy (tho jonathan was also present) talk and nancy apologize but for some reason during their talk the cheating is never addressed (which is esp egregious in this fic imo bc steve knows but it was jonathan who told him at an earlier point - like even if steve wasn't pissed about the cheating [he should be but the author doesn't let him be] at least let him be pissed nancy didn’t tell him herself) and the writer keeps having steve just,,, not react to the cheating. like he just swallows down whatever he felt when jonathan told him then never brings it up? and it's so confusing bc the cheating is flat out called cheating. i probably should have expected something like this from this author bc they have mentioned this supposed loophole of steve apparently blanketly forgiving nancy during their break up scene which is just not what happened (esp considering steve didn't know she cheated); all he did was apologize, break up w her officially, and say it was okay for her to date jonathan. there is no blanket form of forgiveness and there is no way for steve to magically know jancy fucked, esp when he might be v reluctant to assume that considering his spiral in s1.

The cheating (both physical and lbr emotional before then) is what Nancy should be apologizing for MOST! And then not telling him right away and letting him take all the blame for the relationship falling apart, and then all the other stuff. Absolutely agree that Steve should be pissed/hurt that he wasn't told right away, and that Nancy wasn't the one to tell him. (also i think that's the only way he'd find out)Just. That, to me, shows she doesn't consider what she did was wrong, or doesn't respect Steve/his friendship enough to tell him herself. Which is a major issue if she actually wants to make things right with him! How does she apologize for how things ended and her part in it without mentioning cheating on him!! Let steve be angry!

Steve, in the scene where he tells Nancy to go with the Byers to Hopper's cabin, is only telling her that it's okay for her to go. He's letting her go (love something set it free style). He isn't giving blanket forgiveness?? He might have picked up vibes from jancy and realize that Nancy will probably not be open to working things out, but not that they slept together? Yeah post s1 Steve would try hard to get a handle on his extreme reactions to perceived infidelity, but also. He'd been dating Nancy for nearly a year. Maybe she couldn't say she loved him when put on the spot, and she was definitely drifting towards Jon, but I'd say he still expected her to respect him enough to do the bare bones minimum of not cheating on him. Why would he think she would? Why would he think badly of the girl he loved? why would he assume she had such little regard for his feelings to betray him in such a way? After dating for a year Steve wouldn't think the worst of Nancy, and would likely assume she also wouldn't do something like that to him.

The thing is I want Steve and Jonathan to be friends, I think their dynamic could be fun! but as it stands now in canon...nah man they don't like each other. Jon thinks Steve is a reckless idiot, and Steve sees Jonathan as Will's big brother who took creepy pictures of him and his friends and that his gf left him for. Jon and Nancy cheating on Steve complicates things further, and to think Steve would push that down is not it. Let him be angry! Let him be hurt! Let him rage! Nancy Cheated and didn't have the decency to tell him or to break up with him, or to prevent him taking all the blame in their relationship.

It's frustrating because I want to see them work it out. Work through it, or at the very least talk about it. I can't satisfyingly do it because I don't care about the ship enough to do it justice, but it's the kind of fic I'd like to see. I'd love to read a stancy shipper's take on how they move forward through that hurt and heartbreak and messiness. I think it'd be so interesting. But. it seems like folks just aren't writing those kinds of fics or acknowledging the infidelity at all or, as you said, brushing it all aside, when it's a a part of Steve's characterization that he wouldn't be able to just move past it due to his home life. which is boring. And it's more interesting to address those problems! It's messy and hurtful and interesting!! (I've looked on ao3 for stancy fics like this that actually acknowledge the cheating and have found ONE written immediately post s2 by someone I think is a stancy shipper [or at least used to be] and bitter about it. Most other fics within the search parameters have STEVE the one cheating [I've complained about it before but seriously wtf])

I know in RaSEPSM I sorta...softballed the cheating a little by saying the end of the relationship was unclear, but tbh that's sort of stobin trying to defend and rationalize people they thought were their friends to themselves? because no one wants to believe their friends would do something like that, let alone to another friend, so sort of... saying that there was a nebulous period between Halloween and when Steve told Nancy to go with the Byers where Steve thought they were still dating but on the rocks but where maybe Nancy thought they were over allows them to be hurt but also not fully blame their friends, if that makes sense.

#findaanswers #Anonymous #stancy #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #stranger things #stranger things meta #this isn't anti stancy this is anti making stancy boring. let them have issues and work them out!! i would like to see it #it makes it interesting and also satisfying because those are issues from canon that are unlikely to be addressed #didn't really talk about jancy but yeah they also arent being worked out. but tbh i find them more boring jashkhfdoaushd #like tbh i think if they did talk they'd realize they want different things and break up. but. they have to talk for that to happen!#finda's rambles

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 2 years

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A STUDY IN YOU, chapter fifteen

table of contents | talk to me & join the tag list | the playlist

April 29th, 2019

The city was warm with anticipation of summer. Somehow May was around the corner--and despite the smile on Sophie’s face when your phone lit up on the table, your stomach did a flip when her eyes met yours.

It was a stand-off for a second, a dimple appeared on her cheek and she sipped her cocktail, waiting to see if you’d say anything.

“What?”

“...Are you avoiding him?”

You rolled your eyes. Max and Naomi were stuck at their internships late, and you should have known that a night alone with Sophie would include an interrogation complete with suspicious glances and nosy questions.

The setting? Your usual booth at O’Halloran’s.

“No, I’m not avoiding him.”

“That’s the second time he’s texted you and you won’t even open it.”

“I’m with you,” you brought your drink up and slurped it through the straw. “I’m being polite.”

“Fuck being polite--I want the details.”

“There’s no update, no new details” you confessed.

Her eyebrows arched, “none?”

You shrugged. “I think he’s taking a step back. Because of graduation.”

Now her eyebrows inverted, furrowed across her forehead when her nose crinkled in confusion. “Isn’t graduation the answer to all of your prayers? You can finally bone him without the guilt!”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true,” you blinked a few times.

Sophie leaned back in the booth, apparently she didn’t agree with you and the look on her face made that clear. Instead of replying to your remark, she kept her eyes on you for a second.

“What’s the roadblock for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why won’t you just tell him you’re into him?”

You sighed, partially embarrassed that it was that obvious, but also relieved that it wasn’t a secret you had to protect…at least not with Sophie.

“Because that wasn’t supposed to happen--this was just supposed to be some fun and casual thing and I’m the one who fucked it up by catching feelings,” you rolled your eyes at yourself, groaned a little when Sophie smiled behind the rim of her drink.

“You didn’t fuck it up,” she assured. You forgot how good Sophie was at calming your nerves…sometimes. “And in the words of the hottest woman on the planet Selena Gomez, the heart wants what it wants.”

Right, and there was that charming sense of humor. She wiggled her eyebrows at you, obviously trying to get a laugh and help you fucking chill.

You smiled, let your shoulder slump a little when you took another sip. “Well, feelings only work if it’s reciprocal.”

“How do you know it’s not?”

“He’s my advisor, our professor--” you nodded at his titles, how on earth was she not understanding this?

“Who’s slept over your house, taken you out to eat…licked your pussy--”

“Okay,” you held a hand up quickly to cut her off, stifling a quick laugh at her vulgarity. “Doesn’t negate his actual role in my life.”

“So you’re just gonna let this pass you by?” Sophie’s eyes narrowed now, her tone more serious when you let your eyes fall back to your phone. A reminder buzzed--two iMessages!!

“I don’t know. I mean, when am I supposed to tell him? And what do I do if he says he doesn’t feel the same?”

She took the last sip of her drink. “Well, we’re literally about to go on a trip to Europe with him and that feels like a really romantic experience,” she said all of this like it was obvious, like you were an idiot for not realizing the way the universe was setting you up for a slam dunk.

“And if he isn’t on the same page,” she shrugged, “you come home and lick your wounds and you only have to see him at work.”

“Another reason I shouldn’t do this,” you pointed a finger at her.

“False,” she pointed her finger right back at you. “Another reason you need to be honest and mature and--” she cut herself off, surprised by her own depth and sincerity. “Jesus,” she made a face. “When did I turn into some lesbian Oprah?”

You laughed, she slid out of the booth and went to fetch another round. You picked up your phone when she was far enough away.

Jason Sudeikis (7:12pm): Found this in my laundry, assuming it’s yours?

A picture right below his message, the black bra you were sure had gotten lost at the wash and fold down the block. You felt your lips pull into a smile at his implication, whose else would it be?

You didn’t reply. Instead, you sat with the realization that Sophie was right.

But at least you didn’t have to tell her that.

Surprisingly, she left you alone the week leading up to the trip. You went with her to campus to pick up your caps and gowns, Naomi was an anxious mess as she prepared to showcase her work, and Max was just as panicked about packing as he’d been the year before.

But this time you all knew what to expect. The flights, the hotel, the coastal city and the charm of sipping fruity cocktails in the evening glow. Which is exactly what you did on your first night there.

“Okay,” Max said once he’d successfully captured the boomerang of your clinking glasses. He flipped his sunglasses back down and leaned back in his chair, a long sip when he looked around the circle. “We’re here, we actually did it.”

Cannes was bustling with people in town for the festival. The beaches were packed and the streets echoed with excitement and allure.

“Three long years later,” Sophie smiled. “Hard to believe, sort of.”

“Hard to believe Naomi’s going to be famous after this weekend,” you eyed her with a smile. She spent most of the plane ride over sleeping, claimed that any time she spent awake now was simply filled with anticipation and anxiety a healthy dose of holy fucking shit.

You could relate.

Naomi clutched a hand to her heart and grinned. “Thanks for coming, you guys. It means a lot, really.”

“Thanks for the excuse to come back! I’ll drink cocktails with you three anywhere, but this place rocks.” Max laughed.

“Okay,” Sophie’s glass floated in the air when she let her eyes scan the three of you. “What's our must do list this weekend?”

“Must do?” Naomi asked, you were glad you weren’t the only one confused.

Sophie straightened up to explain. “The stuff we absolutely have to do here before we leave. Obviously Friday night,” she shrugged, the night of the screening.

“Can we please do a bougie dinner on Saturday or Sunday?” Max pouted. “I didn’t eat enough when we were here last year.”

“Yes,” Sophie pointed at him in agreement. “For sure.”

“Let’s do Sunday, though.”

And just like that, three heads swiveled towards you. You sipped your drink and blinked behind your sunglasses. “What?”

Naomi smirked. “Do you have plans for Saturday night?”

“Potentially,” you shrugged. “I don’t know what, but—“

“You don’t know what?” Max’s face lit up. “It’s a surprise?!”

“Okay,” you tried to backtrack, voice automatically quiet. “Calm down. He texted me this morning and said keep Saturday night free if I can. So, here I am. Keeping Saturday free.”

You nodded slowly to make sure they understood. This wasn’t a big deal. You were just doing what you were told.

“And you don’t know why?” Max clarified.

“No.”

“Wow,” Sophie nodded. “A little romantic rendezvous in the South of France!”

“Or it’s just us having dinner or something—“

“Even you can’t be dumb enough to think that,” Max challenged, eyes narrowed when the corner of his lips twitched into a smirk.

You fought the smile on your face for three whole seconds, but when Naomi caught your eye you were done for.

“I don’t know, okay? I’m not sure what he wants or where things are heading and I am trying to not panic.”

They all nodded sympathetically.

“But this trip is not about my clandestine melodrama,” you reminded.

Sophie ignored this. “Are you going to talk to him?”

You let out a huff, slightly bothered that she brought it up in front of Max and Naomi, but also uncomfortable in the spotlight. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe. Let’s see what happens on Saturday and I’ll consider it.”

Apparently that was good enough for her. She looked back at Max and Naomi and took other requests for weekend plans: drinks at a rooftop bar near the hotel, a morning at the beach and plenty of yummy glasses of rosé and whatever other alcohol tickled your fancy.

By midnight you were all jet-lagged enough to be face down in pillows, Sophie’s snoring was was enough to interrupt your slumber on a few occasions and sharing a bed with Max didn’t make for a restful night either. Oh well.

May 11th, 2019

Swanky music played in the hotel bar, you clinked a glass of champagne against Naomi’s when Sophie said a few words. The greatest of the great, nobody deserves it more.

You hadn’t seen him yet. You’d taken the elevator down and saw a few other students that milled about, ordered glasses of prosecco this time. Max was desperate for a change.

A dress much nicer than last year, one you could afford with your upcoming NBC paychecks. Marina approached after saying hi to some NYU kids you recognized from campus. She smiled when she hugged Max in greeting but when she saw you, she offered a look that was hard to read.

“Fancy seeing you all here!”

“We couldn’t miss Naomi’s big moment,” Sophie smiled, pushing her glass against Marina’s when she humble-bragged for your friend.

Marina grinned, “yes--I’ve heard, a huge accomplishment, Naomi, you should be very proud.”

“I’m definitely trying to soak it all in,” she nodded. “Trying to not throw up.”

“Completely understandable,” Marina reassured with an apologetic smile. “But I hope you do plenty of celebrating, this is an important week for you!”

“We’re forcing the celebration,” you informed. “Dragging her out if we need to.”

“Cheers to that,” Max pushed his glass into the circle once more before taking a playful swig.

You hadn’t seen Marina much this year, a few times on campus or in the Starbucks on Broadway. You’d catch up with her quickly, tell her about your amazing experiences at NBC or catch her up on your latest projects and scripts.

She was excited to hear about what the rest of your friends had been up to this year, interrupted eventually when Jason made his way over.

You hadn’t spotted him, caught off guard by the scent of his cologne: familiar and exciting all at once.

A chorus of greetings when his hand lingered for a moment too long on your lower back, you swiped him off and caught his eye for a second when he smirked.

He smiled at your friend. “Naomi--how are you holding up? Feelin’ alright?”

She looked at him quickly, you wondered how many times she’d be asked before she’d explode.

“Now that I’m starting to feel the alcohol I’m a little better,” she confessed, a smile when she looked at you.

It felt strange, now, to know they were in on the secret: the knowing look in Naomi’s eyes and smile, the way Sophie greeted him when he joined the group like an old pal.

The boundary between your group and his felt blurry after all these years. Like it melted somewhere along the lines and now there were times like these when there almost wasn’t separation at all.

And here, in France and on this trip with only nine days standing between you and a Master’s degree, the universe seemed to be tempting you.

So close and yet so far.

Will was only a few seconds behind, he laughed with Max about your return trip, hugged you when the room thinned out as people started heading towards the theater. You tucked your phone in your clutch, walked with them all along the glowing sidewalks, made your way inside the event space and took in the ambience: fancy perfumes and fancier people.

Another round of drinks before the lights dimmed. Somehow you ended up sitting beside him and Naomi squeezed Sophie’s hand the whole time.

Her film was met with a thunderous applause and a standing ovation by your row only--which probably embarrassed her a bit but you were too proud to care. You had another celebratory drink with her and mingled with the other audience members in your area.

The lights flashed again when you snuck by the drink line, heading for your seat when he caught your wrist by the bar.

“Hey, hey—hi, do you want a drink?”

You smiled up at him, “margarita—“

“On the rocks?”

You nodded, impressed he knew your order but also flattered he’d been paying attention. When he arrived a few minutes later with his hands full (and an old fashioned for himself), Max knocked his knee into yours.

“How thoughtful of him,” he let his brows dip in the cover of dimming lights.

You sipped your drink, fluttered your eyelashes at Max and watched on.

A few hours like that, and then you found a bar a few blocks over that had a corner booth in the back. A grumpy hostess handed over drink menus and Will cracked a joke about being terrible Americans. Naomi seemed to be a little less tightly wound, she slid in beside Marina and exhaled: thank fucking god that’s over.

Sophie chatted with other students--first and second years--when she sipped a glass of wine, Max was too busy asking Will about the best and worst production companies in Hollywood.

Which left you on the other side of Max, and on the other side of Max was Jason, who was boxed in by Marina and Naomi when he looked at you.

“Hey,” he nodded, a slight smirk when your eyes met. “I like the dress,” he quipped.

Poker face, you felt a slight twitch in your brow but didn’t let on. “Thanks.”

In front of everyone, casually. He knew what he was doing.

“Might look better on the floor,” Jason said quietly, a shrug of his shoulder and a sip of his drink as if to remind you he didn’t have any skin in the game.

Max peered over at him quickly, still engulfed in conversation with Will when Jason coughed a little and then cleared his throat. A quick mutter to Max--sorry--before he smirked in your direction again.

A close call, one that you washed down with another drink and more laughter. But you were surprised by the cool air outside the bar when your group spilled onto the street.

“It’s colder than I thought out here,” you commented, mostly to Sophie.

“It’s May in the South of France,” she rolled her eyes. “Means you didn’t drink enough,” she chided, heels clicking on the pavement when she turned around to make a silly face.

The city was bustling with groups like yours, patrons and Prada bags as you meandered down the skinny sidewalks and back towards the hotel.

“Do you want this?” Jason’s fingers tugged the lapel of his suit jacket--black and warm.

“No no,” you shook your head quickly, dismissing his kindness. “I’m fine, it’s a short walk.”

The breeze off the ocean and the long-gone sun had let a chill settle over the city streets. You listened to Will and Marina bicker about Scorcese films, shivered a little when another gust came through.

Jason took off his jacket in one movement, handed it over to you without a word. Will’s eyes followed the motion and didn’t seem to think much of it. You draped his coat over your shoulders but kept listening. They joked and teased and for a moment you wondered what would happen if you reached for his hand. It was almost that easy.

You stayed behind in the hotel lobby, lingered by the bar when Sophie requested a night cap. Jesse and Will did too, Jason met your eyes when he admitted: Tired, jet-lagged, heading up now.

Three minutes after the elevator doors closed behind him and after Sophie was sipping a sangria, you carried out your end of the bit.

“Wow--well, I’m pretty tired too.”

Max and Jesse didn’t hear you, Sophie smirked at the yawn you threw in for good measure, an arm around your neck when she whispered in your ear: go get laid.

So you read his text when the overhead arrow lit up, stepped inside and felt your heart thump like it had been doing for a year.

Jason Sudeikis (12:02am): 849

It wasn’t hard to find, the same floor as last year and he opened the door and smiled.

“Wow,” you stepped inside, looked around the room at the open balcony, the king-sized bed and formal sitting area to the left. “Good to know NYU shells out for the professors.”

“Oh--well, I upgraded, actually,” he shrugged, hands in his pockets as he also took in the sight of it. “I didn’t know if you’d be…staying…with me, at all.”

You smirked at him over your shoulder, “is that an invitation?”

“I mean I’d hope that sleeping in bed with me is more appealing than sleeping in bed with Max.”

“It is,” you laughed. “For sure. And Sophie snores.”

“Oh right,” he nodded, a smile when he remembered that piece of information from last year.

Another few steps towards the balcony and out into the cool night air. The city was aglow with restaurant signs and street lamps, music floated up to his room and the yachts in the bay bounced over tiny waves.

You watched him over your shoulder, he kept his eyes on yours as he made his way over, slow and intentional when he stepped outside to join you.

“I hope your friends aren’t waiting up for you,” his lips curled.

“They’re not,” you rolled your eyes.

He laughed, brought his arm around your waist when he pressed his mouth to yours. Out in the open, you turned towards him instinctively and tilted your chin up to kiss him. Deep enough but comfortable, you smiled when he pulled away.

“What?”

You let out an apologetic laugh. “I was just thinking that they’re probably smoking weed downstairs and will soon be opening whatever bottles they find in the minifridge.”

His eyes widened a little at your confession. He nodded and smiled down at you. “That’s what was going through your head as I kissed you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Hm,” he nodded. “That’s problematic.”

“Why’s that?”

He took your wrist and brought you back into the room, explaining over his shoulder with a playful smile: “I brought you back here because I’ve grown particularly fond of kissing you, and having sex with you--”

You let your eyebrows furrow, egging him on with a challenging smirk. “You have?”

“And I also enjoy when you’re so turned on by me that you can’t focus on anything else.”

“Feels a little narcissistic of you,” you commented.

Inside now, he turned to face you and smiled when you kept his gaze.

“No, actually, it’s quite selfless of me.”

You sat on the edge of his mattress, wondering how long you could do this before you tugged him down and top of you by the shirt collar.

“Selfless?”

“Selfless,” he nodded, a step forward.

Your hand reached out for his belt buckle, eager to progress towards skin and friction and heat. But he swatted you away and smirked.

He brought his hand to your jaw and leaned down to kiss you, his suit jacket still on the chair where you’d left it. Maybe it had been the sight of you in his clothes, the way you wanted to slip your fingers between his on the sidewalk and the way your friends acted like all of this was normal.

He liked the way you kissed him back, and eventually he nudged you onto your back and pulled your thighs down towards his face. You giggled when he tugged your panties to your ankles, felt your tummy tighten when he pressed kisses to the exposed skin.

His tongue lapped at your center after he couldn’t resist you, a choreographed number of flicks and fingers when you started to make more noise. Your fingers grabbed onto his hair, desperate to feel his tongue inside of you at the edge of the bed.

You pulled him up and worked at the buttons of his shirt, one by one until he tossed it to the floor and then stepped out of his pants. It was easier now, you noticed, to giggle and joke and tell him what you wanted and when.

He unzipped your dress and let his eyes sweep over your figure, he grew beneath the fabric of his boxers and even more when your mouth wrapped around him. He watched with hungry eyes but decided that wasn’t enough, he wanted all of you.

So you tugged him down like you knew you always would, let out a gasp when he pushed himself inside of you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he sighed, a rhythm in his hips when you arched into him.

“I would love,” you breathed, “to be fucked…hard.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

May 12th, 2019

His arm was draped over your waist when you woke up, sun filtered in through the curtain and you reached for your phone to see the time. 8:54am. Texts from the night before:

Max Prescott (1:35am): This bed is nice without you do not come back

Sophie Mendez (1:54am): Say hi to the PROFESSOR YOU’RE BANGING

Naomi Halter (1:55am): we love you have fun ignore the two assholes you stranded me with

Keep readingYou giggled quietly to yourself, felt the sheets rustle beside you when he opened his eyes.

“Morning,” he stretched, smiled a little when you clicked your phone shut and turned to face him, wondering if this would ever get old.

“Hi,” you greeted him quietly.

“Don’t even think about asking me what we’re doing tonight,” he said with a sleepy laugh when he sat up in bed, a look in your direction that told you not to push it. He stretched and peered over his shoulder, like he knew you had a comeback.

“I’m supposed to just go somewhere blindly with you?” As you said this he tood and walked over to the balcony in his boxers, hair messy from sleep and sex.

He turned to see you over his shoulder again, shrugged playfully: “Maybe I should get a blindfold.”

“No, no,” you backed off, lips twisting into a smile when he turned around. “I’ll be good, I swear.”

“Good,” he smirked, you could see the wheels turning in his head when he delivered his punch line. A few steps towards you when he spoke: “you’ve always been a rule follower. Some might say…a teacher’s pet.”

“I don’t have to go anywhere with you,” you reminded, a challenging look when you tugged the sheet to cover more skin.

He laughed, came and leaned forward to press a kiss to your mouth. It felt good. Warm. Normal to wake up beside him and normal to shower in his hotel room.

So after meeting up with your friends in the lobby for breakfast you walked around town, hoping they wouldn’t dig too hard for details or corner you in a boutique when you looked at bracelets.

The questions didn’t come until the walk back, the cobblestone sidewalks were easier to navigate than their prying: is he taking you somewhere overnight? Has he said anything about graduation?

You tried to play it off and ignore the ever present buzzing of your own questions, pricking and prodding as the clock ticked.

They sat on the bed in your joint hotel room and watched you try on outfits, Sophie pinched your ass before you blew an air kiss on exit, promising to give a full update upon your return. You could hear Max through the door once you walked down the hall and towards the elevator: She’s not coming back tonight.

Probably true.

Three blocks away from the hotel and around a street corner he stood next to an old car. The shade from gothic buildings covered his side of the street, an evening glow hung over the city.

You let out a laugh when he twirled the keys around his finger but almost dropped them onto the pavement. “Ready?” He lifted his sunglasses.

“We need a car? Where are we going?”

“You have to get in first,” he shrugged, walking around to open the passenger side door for you to climb in. You took a few steps forward, eyed him suspiciously when he smiled. “Just trust me. It’s fine.”

“Sounds like what a kidnapper would say, but I’ll let it slide,” you teased.

“Oh relax,” he laughed, climbing in beside you after rounding the hood of the car. You couldn’t tell the make or the model, knew from the leather interior and the radio in the dash that it might have been as old as you were. “It’s supposed to be--” he cut himself off quickly, “cute, or something, I don’t know.”

You felt your eyebrows raise when he started the engine, watched the palm trees pass by when he made his way out of town. Cute? He wanted to do something cute for you?

You bit your lip when he turned the radio on, then told you about the first time he came here--back in his early thirties--as the scenery shifted from bustling port to quaint country.

You sang along and laughed when he butchered the words to an old Britney song and for a moment his hand found yours and stayed atop your lap, but a bump in the road or any sudden movement could shatter the moment around you.

He pulled up to another coastal village within the hour, promised that you’d enjoy the evening when he opened your door to another cobblestone sidewalk by the sea.

“Dinner, nothing crazy,” he relented once he led you down the street and pointed at the fancy awning and script letters: La Baumette. “But since we can never really go out in New York I figured a tiny town in the South of France might be a bit more…private.”

“It’s beautiful,” you looked around, more palm trees and yachts that speckled the blue sea. “Hold on,” you said, reaching out to smack his chest. “Photo op!”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, smiled when he outstretched his hand.

“Oh come on,” you teased, a few steps over towards the railing when you pulled your phone out of your purse. “Enlighten me.”

He came over, slipped an arm around your waist and took the phone right out of your hand. He pressed his face against yours and smiled. He took two, handed it back to you and inspected them over your shoulder.

“A decent photo,” he quipped, a smile down at you when you looked up at him.

The words almost crept up your throat and over your tongue, slipping out into the orange sky when a man in a suit appeared with menus and gestured for both of you to follow.

I could spend every day doing things like this with you.

So you followed him over to a restaurant with oceanside seating, sipped prosecco and hoped that eventually, your heart would stop pounding and you’d be able to muster up the courage to ask what stood on the other side of your degree.

You ordered chicken and he got a risotto dish, it was easy to laugh about Will’s close call getting to the airport for the flight over, easy to talk like everything was about this was normal.

He kissed you on the sidewalk and licked from your gelato cone without permission and you knew. You were running out of time.

But the thought of bringing it all up and asking for some kind of something from him threatened to burst the bubble of an otherwise perfect evening, perhaps the best night you’d had with him, ever.

One without secrecy and uncertainty and one that, you realized, you could have stayed in forever.

But when you got back to the hotel reality set in. Sophie had agreed to be your cover--a fancy dinner for two best gal pals in case you were caught in the lobby and got suspicious glances. But the other faculty were nowhere to be found, too early for a nightcap at the bar.

“Jason!”

You heard his name from over your shoulder, you both spun and his brows arched at the sight: three guys his age in suits and ties and one of them was Will. Your stomach dropped.

“Hey, hi!” Jason said, a look down at you before he took a few steps over. Surprised but he hugged them, you stood awkwardly off to the side and wondered how much Will knew when he offered a tight-lipped smile in your direction. “I had no idea you guys were gonna be here this year--how are you? Holy shit! How’s Chicago?”

Right. Friends from a former life or former job and you were reduced to the 20-something who was waiting for validation and reassurance from the older guy you were sleeping with. Fuck.

They fell into conversation and you felt Will’s eyes on you. No introduction, no gesture in your direction, my student, one of my writers, nothing. You offered a tiny smile and cut in.

“Sorry--uh--Jason, nice to bump into you on the sidewalk,” a wave to Will despite the tension that now hung in the lobby. “Have a good night.”

You turned and felt their eyes on you, anger in your chest when you realized that you’d probably be stuck on the sidelines, like that, forever. Eighteen steps to the elevator and you pressed the button to ascend with a clenched jaw.

“Hey, hey--what was that?” He was behind you now, his hand around your wrist when the doors opened.

“Nothing, I’m good,” you shook out of his hold and stepped inside, forced a smile that he didn’t believe. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Y/N,” he made a face, looked over his shoulder, and then stepped inside. “What’s happening right now?”

The doors slid shut, only the two of you inside when you selected his floor. You had no clue where your friends were—hadn’t even seen Sophie in the lobby—and whatever conversation was about to unfold didn’t seem like one they’d want to walk in on.

“Nothing, Jason--okay? You can go hang out with Will and those guys, I’ll just get my stuff from your room and go.”

“Those guys are grad school friends,” he informed, “and if I did something wrong I’m gonna need you to tell me because I have no idea how we went from having a great day to this.” He motioned around the elevator as it slowed to a stop, as if your emotions had spilled onto the floor and were a mess he needed to clean up.

You stepped out and turned down the hall towards his room. You talked over your shoulder, “that was awkward for me--I was just standing there. Will saw us come in, and I have no idea what he knows, you didn’t even introduce me to them at all.”

He kept up behind you, pulled his keycard from his wallet when you approached the door to his room. He swiped, pushed it open and let you in. “Okay--sorry, yeah, I was thrown off by seeing them--”

Your clothes were on the coffee table, your toothbrush in the bathroom. Maybe it was the impending giant change in your life or the three glasses of prosecco you had with dinner, but either way, the emotion pushed itself into your eyes.

“I know,” you turned around quickly. The door latched shut behind him, he stared at you with lips parted, like he could tell that this might be the breaking point. “But after the day we had today and sleeping with you for nearly a year and playing this fucking game--or whatever it is that we’re doing!--it sucks to not even be introduced at all.”

He was defensive now, forehead wrinkled when he stammered. “Well I’m sorry, we can go back down and I’ll tell them--”

“No!” You groaned, letting your hands slap against your side as you walked further into the room. Time to get your shit and go. “I can’t do the charade anymore, okay? I can’t sit around and pretend I’m not going home with you or that this isn’t--” a long pause when you sighed, “something.”

“What am I supposed to do, Y/N? Walk in and introduce you and say, hey everyone, this is my student I’ve been fucking for almost a year?”

The frustration in his voice was clear, like he couldn’t even fathom why this was so hard for you to understand. Sure--he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t expose you and your bad choices and he certainly couldn’t expose himself, but the same question tugged at your heart and your thoughts when you looked up at him. He sighed again, like he had to state the obvious to keep both of you in reality. “We’re not a couple.”

No shit. But it only made you more angry.

“Even though the other pillows on my bed smell like you? And the fact that you took care of me after my birthday and you keep those chips in your stupid kitchen because you know I like them?”

He was quiet now, the words you finally spit out landed at his feet with a thud. A shrug of his shoulders when he shook his head and looked around the room.

“We can’t, Y/N--it’s not--” he sighed, cutting himself off when he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I can’t fuck this core faculty thing up.”

You hated the way your eyes were watering, hated the knot in your stomach when his words made it clear: he was choosing his job over you.

But what hurt worse than the look on his face when he tried to let you down gently was the voice in your own head that started screaming: I told you so, I told you so, I told you so.

Of course he had to choose his job over you. You were just stupid enough to be hurt by it.

“Yeah, no--I get it,” you shrugged, a few steps towards the door when you put words in his mouth. “It’s just sex and it’s just fun--”

“That’s not what I said.”

“--and you can’t risk your job and it’s better we just end all of this now.”

He knew you were being flippant, knew that there was anger laced in every word you said as you walked over to the door. “So you’re leaving because I didn’t introduce you to those guys downstairs?”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head, disappointed that he thought this was more petty than it was. “I’m leaving because I don’t want to be your secret anymore.”

You didn’t give him a chance to reply. You tugged the handle and pushed the door open into the hallway, partially because you didn’t feel like crying in front of him but also because the air in his room felt stiff and hot and like it’d wrap around your throat and choke you any second.

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t admit that you were stupid enough to fall for him and you certainly couldn’t admit it if he was going to look at you like that: like the kid he’d accidentally led on for almost 365 days.

Bitter and alone and even more emotional thanks to the prosecco. You wiped your eyes when the doors to the elevator parted on his floor, another cruel joke from the universe when Marina--who now looked concerned at the sight of you--blinked a few times.

“Hi,” you said shakily, wiped under your eyes to hide the evidence. “Sorry--I’m okay, just tired.”

“That feels…like a load of shit,” she laughed a little, stepped off and crossed her arms. The hallway was quiet, you were quiet, unsure what to say. When you didn’t speak, Marina shrugged. “Wanna go down to the bar and get a drink?”

So you followed her back into the elevator, laughed when she joked about being a tourist with a fanny pack. You hung your purse on a stool at the bar, climbed up and eyed the menu when she slid it over.

She scanned over the cocktail list and didn’t make eye contact, her offer was casual: “Wanna talk?”

“I just had a bad night,” you dismissed, hoping that in the morning those words would feel more true.

You wondered what he was doing upstairs. Sitting on his bed like he had been when you left? Head in his hands? Exasperated and confused just like you?

She looked over at you now, eyebrows arched on her forehead. “Because of a man?”

You nodded. That felt safe to admit.

“Professor Sudeikis?”

You looked up at her quickly, eyes wide and lips parted. “No--” you shook your head.

She smiled, looked back down at the drink list and shrugged. “Your secret’s safe with me--I mean, you know, if it is because of him.”

You were silent, stomach in a knot and desperately trying to figure out what to say. I would never, he would never, it’s not like that.

But the way she smiled when she looked at you again brought a wave of relief. It didn’t feel judgmental, didn’t feel like she was disapproving or ready to call Dean Vasquez and rat you out. Instead, she waited for a moment, curiosity in her eyes before the bartender materialized in front of you. You both ordered: a gin and tonic for her and more prosecco for you, so much for celebrating. A deep breath when you turned to face her.

“How do you know?”

“Well--I don’t,” she said honestly, a little bit of a laugh. “Instinct, gut feeling, I guess.”

“I know it’s wrong,” you nodded quickly, figuring it was best to get out in front of it. “Unethical and immoral and fucked up.”

She looked surprised at the last one. “Then why’s it happening?”

You swallowed, dropped her gaze and inspected the polish in your nails. A single shrug. “Because I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” she laughed. “I mean, sleeping with your professor might not be the greatest decision you’ve ever made but…it takes two to tango.”

You nodded, already wondering if you’d said too much. “Please don’t say anything, Marina--I know it’s fucked up and I know it’s wrong but it’s done now. It’s definitely finished.”

You hoped those were good enough reasons. All of that paired with the fact that you knew Marina liked you and you knew she thought you were a great filmmaker.

She thought on this for a second, nodded to herself as she thought it over. “You’re also graduating in, like, a week. After that you can sleep with whoever you want.”

“I don’t think he even wants to speak to me right now, so--”

“He’s an idiot,” she said suddenly, a roll of her eyes when she put her elbows on the bar.

“What do you mean?”

A pause before she answered, like she didn’t know how to say it. “I figured that there might be something between the two of you,” she lowered her voice. “I mean, you guys are ridiculously flirty and even I’ve seen it.”

You shrunk at this. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You knew it was a bad idea from the start.

“But I didn’t know it was actually happening. If he’s already slept with you and is ending it now two weeks before you graduate because of a fight or disagreement or something, he’s stupid.”

You laughed a little, thankful for her solidarity despite the messy situation.

“I think we let it go on too long,” you said honestly. “Once or twice might have been fun, but, I don’t know. Now it’s messy and the lines are blurred and--” you cut yourself off. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be venting to you.”

The corner of her mouth pulled up, the bartender appeared and placed your drinks on napkins. “Now it’s messy and the lines are blurred?”

Okay, so you actually could talk to her about it.

“I mean, maybe not now,” you laughed. “It’s been messy.”

“Well,” she lifted her drink and let it bump against yours. “If you’d like to share, what made tonight end in tears?”

You watched as she took a sip, thought about how to string the words together to make yourself sound less pathetic.

“I--uh--kind of casually implied that it might be nice…if it were more than just…casual.”

She nodded along.

“But that was not received well,” you admitted.

“Ah,” Marina nodded.

“And I get it,” you said now, apparently the flood gates had opened and you were ready to talk it through. “He’s got the whole core faculty thing next year and obviously it’s not a good look.”

“Not exactly,” she agreed. A beat when you let out a sigh and took another sip. She was hesitant, unsure if she should even ask: “Do you have, like, real feelings for him?”

You laughed a little, watched the bubbles rise in your glass when you put it back atop a square napkin. Marina nodded, knew without words that your reaction was a yes. Luckily she knew not to pour salt in a wound.

“Well, you didn’t ask, but…from one woman to another, you’re too smart and talented and you have too much ahead of you to let some asshole guy make you feel like you’re not good enough.”

You giggled a little, let your eyes glance in her direction. “I thought you and Jason were friends?”

“Oh we are,” she nodded emphatically. “But that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of being an asshole.”

Another sip, she clinked her glass against yours and eventually Sophie showed up to take over. Naomi and Max, too, and when you climbed into bed that night beside Max and heard Sophie’s snoring, you felt a tiny bit better.

At least you could always count on them.

May 16th, 2019

To: Y/N L/N

From: Jason Sudeikis

Subject: Final grade

May 16th, 2019 - 1:56pm

Hi Y/N,

Thanks for submitting your final paper early, it’s great. Final grade for Theory and Practice Seminar is an A.

Prof. Jason Sudeikis, PhD

Cinema Studies, NYU Tisch

Office hours M/W 10am-12pm or by appointment

To: Jason Sudeikis

From: Y/N L/N

Subject: RE: Final grade

May 16th, 2019 - 6:28pm

Sounds good, thanks

Best,

Y/N L/N

MFA Candidate

Cinema Studies, NYU Tisch

(212-555-8495)

You’d never been a fan of long flights. Luckily, the one home from France seven days prior was made more manageable thanks to the window seat that Max offered up and the half Xanax of Sophie’s that you took with a swig of apple juice at the airport.

Jason and the rest of the NYU crew were on the same flight, different rows, far away, and fortunately there were no bathroom run-ins.

New York had bloomed in the days you were gone, your apartment felt tinier upon return and you immediately scoured the internet for job postings over a glass of red blend.

Not that you planned on applying. You know, you were just covering your bases.

A week off from work thanks to your impending graduation ceremony, a giant vase of purple flowers arrived from all of them. Dan, Jennie, Javier, and Jason. You wondered what he said when one of them suggested it. It was probably Jennie.

Your friends were supportive. They requested your presence at every pre-graduation event: cap decorating at O’Halloran’s and some type of booze cruise on the Hudson. The good thing is that they didn’t give you shit when you flaked at the last second both times.

In fact, you managed to make it through the whole week without a lecture from any of them about rebounding. Until you were on the subway heading for Yankee Stadium.

Your purple cap and gown was itchy, you stood next to Sophie by one of the doors and watched as Max scrolled on Tinder.

“Have you swiped right on anyone, ever?” You smirked at him a little, he looked up at you quickly and was already unimpressed.

“I’m picky--which is a good thing.”

“True,” you nodded. “Wouldn’t want you to accidentally end up with a loser.”

He looked back down at his screen and kept swiping. “Have you even been on any of the apps in the last year?”

Sophie let out a sharp laugh. “I bet her last chat is from when she matched with Sudeikis.”

“So what if it is?” You asked her.

Max looked up at you with puppy-eyes. “Maybe you need a hot date to take your mind off of Professor Daddy?”

“I would rather wine and weed,” you said honestly.

“He’s onto something,” Sophie pointed at Max. “Sometimes a rebound fuck is fun.”

“No thanks.”

“You’re being miserable on purpose,” Max made a face.

“Okay,” Naomi held up a hand. “Today is a happy day, remember? We’re all happy.”

She was looking at you. So you offered a giant grin and made your eyes bug out of your head, followed them to the student meeting area and checked in with your NYU IDs. You avoided the area where the professors were, had no clue if he was over there in his own dumb cap and dumb gown as part of the tradition of the day, but you figured that if one of your friends saw him, you’d find out within a quick 60-seconds.

The seats in the stadium were cramped and sticky, and the May sun was unforgiving. Your family was somewhere in the giant crowd and the whole thing felt anti-climatic. A ninety-minute ceremony and suddenly, just like that, you had a degree and a damaged ego.

It was a happy day. No matter how the last year of your master’s program went, you were proud of the accomplishment and proud of your friends. At least that’s what you planned on telling your parents when you met up with them for lunch in Chelsea.

They wanted to freshen up first, according to a text from your mom. So when they went back to their hotel you took the long way home, got off a few stops early and walked through Union Square to trade in your regalia for celebration-appropriate street clothes.

Another three days before you’d have to face him, plenty of time to think up some kind of out and rehearse it endlessly in front of your mirror: no hard feelings, let’s pretend it never happened, strictly professional.

Your diploma would arrive by mail in a matter of weeks, but now the last three years felt too big to print on paper. Countless scripts and short films, late nights in the library had all culminated into student loans and incomprehensible confusion.

At least you had a job you liked. Too bad you’d already slept with the boss.

So you were sad overall. Angry, sure, about the way he let you walk out of his room that night and the way he hadn’t texted you in a week. He avoided you in the lobby the morning you left and he hadn’t called.

But more than anything you were scared to think about your life without him. Or, well, without him in it the way he had been. Who would you complain to about Jennie? Who was going to talk you off the ledge about script submissions and red ink? Somehow he’d left a decidedly Jason-shaped hole in your life that felt obvious and sharp and sore.

Showing up at 30 Rock on Monday would be weird. Maybe not as weird as that time you showed up after he fingered you in his office, but still.

And in your absent minded strolling you turned left onto your block, stared down at the picture of the two of you in France before you decided you’d been tortured enough today. You clicked it shut, dropped it into the tote bag on your shoulder, where you’d already shoved your cap and tassel once you’d gotten on the train. Keys, somewhere inside.

“Hi.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice. He leaned against the iron railing, sat on the steps of your building like he’d been waiting for you all day.

You stopped, stood a safe distance away from him. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“Were you at graduation?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I figured I did a good enough job of ruining your last year--didn’t want to ruin that, too.”

A beat, a breeze through the leaves overhead and a distant honk from a taxi. You stared at him. “Well, what do you want to talk about?”

He laughed a little, apparently less nervous now that you hadn’t had an explosive outburst or tried to punch him. “About us.”

You narrowed your eyes, couldn’t help it. “I thought there was no ‘us.’”

He ignored your comment, stood and looked you up and down with a smirk on his face.

“I like your outfit.”

Silence.

“Can I come inside?”

You exhaled, but then paused. “How long have you been sitting here?”

Another tiny laugh, like he was embarrassed to admit it. “Thought I’d catch you before you left, but--”

“I went to Sophie’s this morning.”

He looked at his watch. “I showed up at like, 8:30?”

Your eyebrows rose, it was already almost noon and Sophie had mimosas waiting for you at 7:30. The ceremony started at 9am and he’d been here all this time?

“Oh.”

“Yeah--I could use some water.”

You rolled your eyes at his request, he tugged on the collar of his shirt and pretended to pant.

“Cool it,” you warned. “I just sat in the direct sun for two and a half hours.”

He watched as you stepped around him and keyed into the lobby, “touché.”

He followed you up the stairs in silence and stood awkwardly in your kitchen when you got him a glass of water. You handed it to him and watched him drink it without pausing.

“I’m meeting my parents for lunch in…less than an hour.”

“I can be quick,” he nodded, another laugh when he wiped his mouth and put the glass on your kitchen counter.

You waited, unblinking, as he took a breath. Why was he here? What did he want?

“I completely understand and respect that you’re uninterested in being a secret--my secret, because you shouldn’t have to be one in the first place. Anyone’s. Which--you know--me being a professor and you being a student kind of fucked that up from the start.”

You nodded. Sure. Fine. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You both agreed to keep your mouths shut.

“But--”

“But?”

“But at the start it wasn’t…this.”

“You lost me,” You said, not following.

Another breath, more a huff, really, that you tried not to laugh at. He nodded to himself and you wondered how much rehearsing he’d done on your front step.

“You were right…in Cannes, that this is something. And I think I’ve known that, but I’ve been so hung up on the fact that it shouldn’t be something. But that doesn’t mean it’s not.” He made a face at his own vagueness, smirked a little when you met his eyes again.

“Am I making any sense?” He asked.

You shrugged, still unsure where he was going and still unsure if you’d give in that easily.

He tried again. “Just because having feelings for you is unethical doesn’t mean I don’t have them.”

Now you nodded again, repeated his words in your kitchen. “So, you have feelings for me?”

“Are you going to repeat any of this to Dean Vasquez?” He asked.

“No,” you rolled your eyes.

“Then yes,” he nodded confidently. “I like you, and not just because I like having sex with you.”

You smiled, figured you’d play it cool for old time’s sake. “Good to know.”

His jaw dropped a bit in jest, he watched you turn around and unclasp your necklace. “Good to know?! I wait outside on your front step all day and that’s all you have to say?”

“I have to go meet up with my parents! And it’s only been a few hours,” you warned, laughing when he rolled his eyes at that. You took off an earring but held his gaze. “Maybe we can finish this conversation on the other side of my lunch reservation?”

“Should I come? Show them what else you’ve been doing this year aside from getting a Masters degree?”

“No,” you laughed at his joke, a few steps over towards your dresser. “Definitely not.”

He came and unzipped your dress without being asked, sat on the edge of your bed when you stepped out of it and into a pair of jeans.

“Well,” he pushed his lips out in thought. “I cleared my calendar for this, so I’m ready to finish this conversation whenever you are.”

You peered at him over your shoulder, ran a brush through your hair and smiled a little. There’d always been something there, the reason you got into this mess in the first place was due to the same thread of tension between the two of you that existed today, right here, in your tiny apartment.

“You can stay here--if you want? While I’m gone? Or you could leave and come back later. Up to you.”

He smiled up at you, maybe that was enough of an answer for him.

“I’ll stay,” he said, a quick redirection when his brow furrowed. “Just to be clear, you’ll come back if I’m here, right? This isn’t your way of getting rid of me now that you’re not my student?”

“You’re still my boss,” you reminded. “Sort of.”

He nodded, “and that’s still hot.”

You turned around, now changed and ready to shoulder a bag before heading across town. A few steps over until you were right in front of him.

He kept your gaze for a second, reached a hand up for yours. “I’m sorry I ruined the only real date we’ve ever really been on.”

You let out a quick laugh, tugged your hand away and patted him on the shoulder when you shook your head. “Oh, we haven’t been on a date.”

His eyes got wide. “Renting an old car and taking you to a fancy restaurant isn’t a date?”

“Up until…” you checked a wristwatch that wasn’t there and smirked, “two hours ago, I was still your student. So no. You can’t take your student on a date. But you can take the 27-year-old woman you’ve been sleeping with for a while on one.”

He fought the smile on his face, nodded slowly but played along. “Got it. Okay.”

“Okay? I’ve gotta go. Do you need a snack?”

“I know where you keep everything,” he reassured.

You leaned down, let him kiss you on the mouth before you smiled. “You’re sure you’re okay to stay?”

He was. He did.

Maybe neither of you knew how to do this. Maybe crossing lines and bending rules wasn’t your forte and when he clinked a glass of wine against yours that night on your fire escape, it felt okay to not know.

After spending a year living in uncertainty it was nice to wake up beside him, knowing that whatever this was, it was the start of your new chapter: whatever comes next.

AN: There's an epilogue, don't say I didn't tell ya!

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nonsense-and-nonesuch · 1 year

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More Star Wars 'What if?' AUs

Yet more Star Wars AU Disney could make - or people could write.

Post 1 here.

Palpatine's plan to have the people lose faith in the Jedi hits a snag because it started before he planned - before the war even. Galidraan has Jedi poll numbers taking a nosedive and when the Jedi are proposed to be generals there's a giant outcry because the people don't think they can do it without kriffing up (like they did Galidraan). Jedi aren't generals = Jedi aren't where Order 66 can conveniently have them killed. Plus! The outcry focuses on how Jedi are meant to be peacekeepers, not soldiers, so the Jedi still have popular support, just not as pieces of the galaxy's war machine.

Caleb Dume actually does get found by the Bad Batch and goes with them, and ends up staying behind with Cut and Su Lawquane. He becomes their 'oldest son' and meets Hera earlier and they manage to start/continue the Twi'lek resistance earlier and build it bigger/connect it to the wider resistance earlier.

Apparently it was Darth Plagueis' experiments that led to Anakin's birth, but what if Shmi miscarried? Where would all those midichlorians go? Into Shmi, of course! But now not only is there a Force Sensitive adult that just sprang up out of nowhere, but since Force Sensitives who are untrained and experience trauma are known to cause massive upheavals and damage to various things...like slave chips, chip transmitters, Hutts' lives...

Speaking of slave revolts, what if the Alpha clones found out about the chips when they were younger and, realizing how many more of them there were than the Kaminoans+trainers, dechipped enough younger brothers that they could make a stand. Would they take all the clones and leave, kill all the trainers and Kaminoans and stay?

What if the chips actually worked less like 'woo-ooh, space magic' and more like you'd expect? Fics seem to say the chip completely overrode the clones' personalities and they became 'good soldiers' that were just 'following orders', but watching The Bad Batch, affected clones seem to have the same personalities. If the chips couldn't assert immediate, complete control over the clones, but instead just blared out the Order and what it meant, and in order to get it to stop the clone had to follow through, none of the clones would have followed Order 66, if only because it would have been a hugely confusing thing to have happen (when they'd never experienced it before).

After Nute Gunray got arrested because of Darth Sidious' plans, he decided following a Sith wasn't a good idea - especially since he lost MONEY on this gambit! The Trade Federation is no longer backing Palpatine's plans and since Palpatine has already killed his Master, Hego Damask II of the Intergalactic Banking Clan, he's not got them either.

My favorite way of killing Palpatine - what if the Zillo Beast ate him?

Mother Talzin decides the Nightsisters should actually take a leading role in the galaxy's war. Sidious is extremely unprepared.

Palpatine encounters an unexpected roadblock to getting his Emergency Powers - the Senate. None of the good Senators want him to have that much power and none of the bad ones do either - because they'd have to give up some of their own power to him!

#star wars clone wars #star wars au #what if #star wars what if

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princess-of-the-corner · 10 months

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Kingdom Hearts II: Final Mix Recap: Agrabah (I'm Looking Out for Me)

Okay so, one thing I forgot to mention WAY back when I first recapped KH2’s first trip to Olympus Coliseum, there’s distinct Command Menu themes for the Underworld and the Coliseum, similar to how Twilight Town has 3 distinct Command Menu themes (Town, Mansion, Chain of Memories).

Another thing I completely forgot until I started working on this recap is that the Drive Forms have a Level Cap.

When you first get Valor Form, that cap is 3.

When you unlock Wisdom Form, the cap is raised to 4.

As such, there’s a limit to how much grinding you can do before you hit a roadblock.

(Equipping the Zero Experience ability will only prevent Sora’s party from gaining experience, which is really nifty if you want to grind up experience for the Drive Forms without becoming Over Leveled.)

Clearing Port Royal unlocks two more Gummi Routes blocking two more worlds.

To reach today’s world, we must pass through Ancient Highway.

Ancient Highway looks like an F-Zero track that runs through a bunch of ruined buildings in SPACE as an epic guitar theme that sounds like something out of a Sonic game plays.

Sometimes, vehicular Heartless will chase you down on the roads. Other times, you’ll have to gun down motorcycle Heartless while flying through tunnels.

Also, you can encounter a Hunter here. Hunters are special Gummi Heartless that will VAPORIZE other enemies in order to take on the Gummi Ship alone.

It’s nonstop, heart pumping action.

Clearing this route unlocks Agrabah.

Upon landing, the first scene we see is Iago flying down one of the newly expanded city’s streets.

He perches on a wall and sighs.

“Agrabah! We made it!” Donald eagerly announces.

Iago looks shields his eyes from the sun, and sees Sora and Goofy walking up to Donald.

“Garwsh, I wonder how Aladdin ‘n’ Jasmine are doin’,” Goofy ponders.

“Hey, maybe Riku’s with them!” Sora suggests, apparently completely unaware that Riku was the one who kidnapped Jasmine back in the first game, while Goofy suggests that the King may be here.

Donald tells the two of them to keep dreaming, having noticed the pattern by now, and playful banter ensues as Iago follows behind the junior heroes.

Goofy, however, notices him and points him out to Sora and Donald, prompting the other two the ready their weapons.

Iago panics, and tries to explain that he’s changed, but Sora and Donald don’t buy it.

Iago then gets movie and game continuity confused by saying he was stuck in the lamp, even though only Jafar was shown being sucked into the lamp in the last game, explains that he escaped and things happened, claiming that he wants to apologize to Aladdin and Jasmine.

He asks if they could put in a good word for him.

Goofy agrees immediately, while the camera pans over to reveal Sora and Donald wearing the most skeptical faces imaginable.

Cue Heartless ambush that Iago notices.

You don’t actually have to win this fight, and in fact Heartless will respawn endlessly until an unseen timer runs out, but the battle ends when Iago accidentally knocks some boxes onto the Heartless while flying around in a blind panic, allowing SDG to escape into the Peddler’s shop.

The Peddler’s shop is a dump, with random trash laying all over the place, an obvious hole in the ceiling, and no Peddler in sight.

Goofy points out that Iago saved them, and Sora and Donald decide they might as well give him a chance.

“But you’ll have to win over Aladdin and Jasmine yourself,” Sora elaborates, “Be on your best behavior, got it?”

Goofy asks where Aladdin is, and Iago’s best guess is that he’s at the palace.

With a destination in sight, our Junior Heroes and reforming parrot set out.

You receive a map of Agrabah, and you can now save here OR buy from the Mojito’s Moogle Shop. You can get the following Armoss: a Fira Bangle, Blizzara Armlet, Thundara Trinket, and/or Aegis Chain.

Stepping outside takes you to, well… “Agrabah”.

Absolutely NONE of the level geometry from the first game is here, as it’s now a sprawling, empty ghost town with lots of roofs to jump on and find treasure chests in.

Jasmine is quite excited to see Sora, Donald, and Goofy.

Also, Sora actually bows this time, instead of Donald and Goofy having to physically force him to.

She officially thanks SDG for helping Aladdin save Agrabah from Jafar.

Sora brings up that the Heartless seem to be causing trouble again, and asks Jasmine if they could help.

Jasmine assures them they have everything under control.

“And you’ve always got Aladdin,” Goofy points out.

Jasmine brings up that he hasn’t been himself lately, and Donald (possibly remembering Beast’s Castle) asks if the Heartless are to blame, but Jasmine isn’t sure.

“Usually, he’s the same cheerful Aladdin,” Jasmine explains, “But sometimes… He just seems sad. He leaves the palace and goes off by himself all the time. I asked him about it, but he says nothing’s wrong. He’s gone again today. What if he doesn’t come back this time?”

Iago then suggests that Aladdin might have a secret girlfriend, and Jasmine freaks out and tells Sora to catch him while she warns the guards and everyone in the palace of Iago’s return.

With Iago somehow becoming Agrabah’s Most Wanted by doing absolutely nothing, our Junior Heroes and fugitive bird decide to go look for Aladdin, since they might have better luck with him.

The second they return to Agrabah, they hear the Peddler (Aladdin), who is NOT the Genie in disguise in this continuity, calling out about a thief while Abu runs by with a black lamp.

Aladdin casually greets Sora while chasing down Abu, and the Peddler soon chases after Aladdin.

Aladdin corners Abu, and the Peddler tells Aladdin to put a leash on his pet if he can’t control him.

Aladdin apologizes to the Peddler, scolds Abu, and then hands the black lamp back to the Peddler.

SDG finally catch up to Aladdin, who apologizes for earlier, and explains that Abu can’t keep his hands off that lamp.

Abu, meanwhile, waves his arms and chitters something.

SDG (plus Aladdin) laugh as we fade out to a text box cutscene.

Sora notes that Aladdin doesn’t seem to be upset, and Aladdin asks him who said he was?

Goofy explains that Jasmine’ worried about him, while Donald asks if he’s cheating on her.

Aladdin explains that he’s not, he’s just been kinda lonely since Genie and Carpet left to see the world, and so has been spending a lot of time out in the town.

The camera pans over the empty street as Aladdin talks about the action, the people, all the exciting things that are always happening in this desolate ghost town where nobody lives.

Goofy notices that Iago seems to be really terrified by something, Sora explains that Iago wants to apologize, and Iago explains what has him freaked out: That lamp was Jafar’s.

Aladdin doesn’t seem to be convinced, but Iago claims he was trapped in it for months, and thus would be able to recognize it.

(Again though, that’s not what happened in KH1, but I suppose Iago could’ve trapped himself in there after the events of the game.)

Looks like we need to talk to the Peddler!

ALADDIN HAS JOINED THE PARTY!!!

Aladdin mostly attacks with Scimitar slashes, but he has two Action Abilities:

Slash Frenzy: After spending 10 MP, Aladdin swiftly approaches his target and slashes 8 times while circling it. The attack will end early if the target is destroyed.

Quickplay: After spending 10 MP, Aladdin rushes his target and attacks 3 times, spawning 4 small MP prizes with every hit.

He also has the following Support Abilities:

Jackpot: Increases drop rate of Munny, HP, and MP prizes. The effect is increased if equipped on entire party.

Item Boost: Increases effect of healing items used on the field by 50%.

MP Haste: MP restoration increased by 25% when in MP Recharge.

Once More: Aladdin will survive a combo with 1 HP as long as he started the combo with at least 2.

Auto Limit: Automatically produces his Limit’s Reaction Command if Sora has enough MP.

Auto Change: Switches Aladdin in if Donald or Goofy falls.

Aladdin’s Limit is “Trick Fantasy”.

The limit begins with the “Speedster” Reaction Command, wherein Sora and attack all on-screen enemies with that anime trope where a swordsman moves too fast to be seen. HP orbs drop every three hits.

After that, Attack becomes “Quickplay” and the “Quickplay” Reaction Command is prompted. The Reaction Command prompts Aladdin to attack, while the Attack slot has Sora perform it. Every three hits with Quickplay causes the target to drop prizes (MP if Aladdin is the user, HP if the user is Sora).

After either Sora or Aladdin uses Quickplay six times, their version of Quickplay will become “Trickster”, wherein Sora and Aladdin repeat their opening move, with all on screen enemies dropping Drive prizes every tenth hit.

Sora attempts to buy the lamp from the Peddler, who says they can pay if they can afford it, and Donald makes a starting offer of ROYAL TREASURE!!!

As they don’t have any way of haggling the Peddler down from that (and just stealing the lamp isn’t an option) our Junior Heroes need to find a way to get treasure fit for a Sultan.

Aladdin doesn’t want to just rob his girlfriend blind, and he also doesn’t want to worry her or the Sultan about Jafar’s potential return, so Iago suggests they go to the Cave of Wonders and get treasure from there.

You can now take a route through the Bazar, wherein the stalls can be destroyed by the Heartless or your magic abilities.

Regardless, the Bazar leads to the Palace Walls (an oasis outside of Agrabah) where you can talk to your party members (and Iago).

Also, there’s a disturbing dome of darkness off in the distance.

Upon walking down the path ahead that leads to that dome of darkness on the horizon, the player is treated to a cutscene of Pete entering the Cave of Wonders, our Junior Heroes just BARELY missing him.

The Cave of Wonders’ interior has changed COMPLETELY since the first game, with the entrance leading to the “Valley of Stone”.

This is the first place where you can encounter “Fire Globes” (small Emblem Heartless who are immune to Fire but are otherwise very fragile).

The Valley of Stone leads to the “Stone Guardians” a short hallway leading up to a golden statue, with waterfalls that go up on either side.

There’s a strange gemstone floating in the air.

Examining the gemstone leads to Abu grabbing it, which in turn causes the inverted waterfalls to stop, revealing the stone guardians.

The stone guardians will conjure up chunks of ice to attack, while the golden statue in the back while summon waves of water to knock Abu away.

In order to appease the angry statues, you must guide Abu to the pedestal at the foot of the golden statue to put the jewel in the slot atop said pedestal.

Use the “Go, Abu!” Reaction Command to send Abu forwards, smash the ice blocks that the statues try to drop on him, and the “Jump” Reaction Command to make Abu jump over the waves.

“Set the Jewel” ends the challenge, with Sora getting “Summon Boost” (Summon Gauge depletes at 80% it’s usual speed), Donald learns “Donald Blizzard” (it’s Blizzard, but Donald casts it), Goofy gets +4 Max HP, and Aladdin gets +15 Max HP.

The statues surrounding the pathway shutdown, and the golden statue dissolves into sand, revealing the way forward.

(Also, a Save Point appears.)

The next room is the Chasm of Challenges, wherein a sign challenges our Junior Heroes to complete their task within the time allotted.

Activating it leads to the sign and way back disappearing, and triggers a battle where you must defeat all of the Heartless in under 2 minutes.

As soon as the timer starts, the floor vanishes, dropping you down onto the next platform, where the Heartless spawn.

Every time you defeat a wave of Heartless, the floor will vanish and deposit you onto the next platform.

This also features the debut of the Icy Cubes, which are basically just the Fire Globes, but immune to Blizzard instead of Fire.

There’s also a few Puzzle Pieces in this section, and I suggest you collect them while dropping between platforms, because they do NOT come back after you clear this challenge, and that can make collecting these a bit HARDER (but not impossible) on a revisit.

The final floor does not disappear once all the Heartless are defeated.

Instead, the stairs to the next chamber materialize.

There’s also a light that will warp you back to the top, and a treasure chest that holds a map of the Cave of Wonders.

The door is locked until you read the sign, which congratulates you and opens the door.

Entering the Treasure Room progresses the story.

The Treasure Room is full of piles of gold, with a gem-encrusted trophy-thing being placed at the top of a pedestal in the back of the room.

Aladdin notes that should do it, and Donald runs up to collect the treasure.

Pete walks down the steps, and presses himself up against the wall to avoid being seen.

He overhears them talking about trading the trophy for “that lamp” and chuckles to himself, as they talk about how they can’t let Jafar escape, or else he’ll destroy Agrabah.

Abu and Iago try to take a monkey statue holding a red gem with them, but Donald stops them, only to become enraptured with the red gemstone himself.

Pete silently turns to leave, completely unnoticed, and quietly snaps his fingers.

The room is cast into darkness, as Pete’s Heartless minions attack.

Defeating all of the Heartless grants Sora +5 Max HP, Donald +3 Max HP, Goofy Auto Healing (heals user when switched out of the party), and Aladdin +15 Max HP.

Sora declares that it’s time to head back to Agrabah.

We then cut to our Junior Heroes in the Peddler’s shop, which is completely deserted.

They overhear Pete demanding that the Peddler hand “it” over.

The Peddler refuses, because he wants to trade the lamp for treasure and get rich.

Our heroes rush out of the Peddler’s Shop, and see Pete chase the Peddler to the Palace.

Going to the Palace leads to a cutscene where Pete takes the lamp from the Peddler, the Peddler steals it back, Pete steals it again, and Iago takes the lamp while Pete’s holding it out of the Peddler’s reach.

Pete and the Peddler chase after Iago and run straight into a wall, and Iago ends up accidentally flying into another wall and dropping the lamp, allowing Pete to pick it up.

Pete then reveals his diabolical plan: summon Jafar from the lamp and turn him into a Heartless.

Cue the ground shaking, catching everyone (Pete included) off guard.

Suddenly, there’s a brief twinkle of light in the sky, and who should descend from the heavens but THE GENIE (still voiced by Homer Simpson), who proudly proclaims his return and mistakes Pete for Aladdin (somehow).

The Genie just assumes that Aladdin put on weight from living in the palace, and accidentally beats up Pete by hugging him, patting him on the shoulder, and being aggressively affectionate, up until he finally notices Aladdin standing not three feet away from him.

The Genie and Aladdin have a proper reunion, and a thoroughly ticked off Pete summons two powerful Heartless: The Volcanic Lord and Blizzard Lord.

Cue boss battle!

The Blizzard Lord and Volcanic Lord take turns attacking.

The Blizzard Lord will attack by swinging its staff, breathing lumps of ice that linger on the ground (and deal damage to anyone who touches them), hurl six ice-cube missiles at Sora, or freeze the party. When it’s using its Ice Breath attack, Sora can interrupt with “Blizzagun” (named for the Japanese name for fourth-stage Blizzard magic), wherein Sora plugs the Blizzard Lord’s mouth with his Keyblade, causing it to pressurize and deflate like a balloon, eventually slamming into the Volcanic Lord to stun and damage both (if the Blizzard Lord is alone, it’ll stop on its own).

The Volcanic Lord can attack by swinging its staff, bouncing around on its belly to leave patches of magma on the ground (which deal damage to anyone who touches them), gathering six fireballs in front of itself to fire at Sora, or by igniting party members. It’s bouncing attack can be interrupted with Firagun (named for the Japanese name of fourth-stage Fire Magic), which causes Sora to grab the Volcanic Lord and swing it around, additional presses of the Reaction Button cause Sora to swing it further and then throw it, dealing damage to any enemy the Volcanic Lord hits.

When the Lords take enough damage, they’ll break up into their component Heartless (Fire Globes for the Volcanic Lord, Icy Cubes for the Blizzard Lord) thus why I singled out those two species as being worth mentioning.

They’ll eventually reform, so destroy as many of those component Heartless as possible to lower their combined form’s HP.

When either one is destroyed, it will pop like a balloon and release its heart, and you need to destroy both to win the battle.

Defeating both Heartless earns Sora Finishing Leap (Unleashes a powerful guard-piercing attack at the end of a combo with the guard button), Donald +3 Max HP, Goofy an Armor Slot, and Aladdin +15 Max HP.

Whichever one you defeated second is the one that releases its heard and fades away in the cutscene, and Pete swears revenge as he flees.

Aladdin and the Genie celebrate as Abu flies by on Carpet and Iago collects Jafar’s lamp.

Jafar’s lamp is placed in a concrete box in the palace dungeon to ensure he won’t be escaping anytime soon.

Back at the gates, Jasmine officially decides to give Iago another chance, and Sora reveals that he’s going to go back to looking for Riku and the King.

Genie wishes them luck, while Donald notices that Aladdin is missing.

Jasmine reveals that he ran off towards town to look for Abu, but he should be back by now.

Cue Aladdin chasing down Abu, who stole that red gemstone from the Treasure Room.

SDG dogpile on Abu to stop him from escaping, and Donald notices the gemstone.

The cartoon duck tells the monkey off, only to once again be mesmerized by the gemstone.

Goofy notes that some things are hard to resist, which seemingly snaps Donald out of it, only for him to pretend to throw the crystal and hide it behind his back.

Abu angrily chitters at Donald, who sheepishly tries to claim that it got stuck, but then the gemstone reveals Agrabah’s Gate, allowing Sora to open it.

Our Junior Heroes say their farewells to Aladdin and Jasmine, promise to come back in the future and head off.

Sora receives the Lamp Charm, which allows him to use the power of two friends to Summon the Genie.

The Genie’s gimmick is that he copies Sora’s Drive Forms, with him wielding a phony Keyblade (his “tail” forming the Keychain) and wears different outfits depending on which mimicked form he’s using. “Drive?” replaces “Party” in the Command Menu while Genie is active.

In “Valor” form, Genie can use “Sonic Rave” (Sonic Blade in KH1), in “Wisdom” form he can use “Strike Judgement” (Strike Raid in KH1), Final Arcana in [SPOILER] form (no KH1 counterpart, but when Sora gets this ability in KH2 while dual wielding, it lets him combine both his Keyblades end to end and wield them like some kinda rotary blade. Think like Darth Maul’s Lightsaber), and “Infinity” (Ragnarok in KH1) in his fourth form.

These are, coincidentally, all the forms that were available in vanilla KH2 accept for Anti Form.

After clearing one of the two Disney Worlds that become available after clearing Port Royal, a cutscene plays of Pluto walking through a dark city identical to the one from KH1’s Secret Ending and Roxas’ flashbacks during the prologue, before watching Axel walk down an alleyway and into a Corridor of Darkness.

The Corridor closes before Pluto can follow him through, but a second Corridor opens behind Pluto, allowing him to happily run into that one instead.

Back on Destiny Islands, Kairi is staring out at the play island.

“Maybe… waiting isn’t good enough,” she contemplates.

“My thoughts exactly!” Axel announces from off screen, “If you have a dream, don’t wait. Act.”

Kairi glances around, trying to find the source of the voice.

“One of life’s little rules,” Axel announces as he emerges from a Corridor of Darkness near Kairi, “Got it memorized?”

“Who are you?” Kairi asked.

“Axel,” Axel answers, “I happen to be an acquaintance of Sora’s. Why don’t we go see him?”

He offers his hand to Kairi.

“… Sora?”

Kairi’s musing is cut off by Pluto barking and running up to her.

And also the arrival of several Dusks surrounding her.

An unseen voice whistles, and a Corridor of Darkness opens behind Kairi, past the Dusks, and Pluto runs up to it, encouraging Kairi to follow him in that way dogs try to get humans to follow them.

“We’ve got something in common, Kairi” Axel exposits, “You and I both miss someone we care about.” The Dusks start to close in on Kairi. “Hey…” the Organization’s hitman continues, “I feel like we’re friends already.”

Kairi dashes for the Corridor of Darkness.

“You’re not acting very friendly!” she shouts over her shoulder before following Pluto into the Corridor of Darkness.

Inside the Corridor, Nobody symbols run up the walls of the dark miasma and along the floor.

“Hey, what is this place?” Kairi ponders.

The unseen voice whistles again, this time sounding from a bright light right next to Kairi and Pluto.

Pluto rushes in, and Kairi follows, put pauses in the threshold to turn around.

A man in a black coat is standing behind her.

The light closes in around Kairi before she or the man can react.

When she wakes up, she’s on the floor of the Usual Spot, with Hayner, Pence, Olette, and Pluto looking over her.

Pence explains that she and “that dog” came flying out of a hole in the wall.

A path connecting Agrabah to a new Disney world has appeared, but a Gummi Route bars the way.

Additionally, Twilight Town has reappeared right where it used to be, next to Hollow Bastion, much to Chip and Dale’s amazement.

You could TECHNICALLY go to Twilight Town to continue the main story, BUT progressing too far in the story will cause some problems, so we’ll be checking out that other Disney World Port Royal unlocked first.

See you then!

My brain is blasting the Aladdin soundtrack the whole time

#submission

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holdingforgeneralhugs · 2 years

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Bitter Pill to Swallow

Chapter 20 (Chapter List)

A/N: FINALLY! I have finally gotten through my writers block and produced a chapter I'm actually very happy with! I'm so sorry for the long wait, I assure you the next chapter won't be so far away

"Grip those binoculars any tighter and you'll snap them in half."

Dick sighed and lowered the binoculars from his eyes as Nix stepped up beside him and leaned his arms against the railing of the bell tower.

"Can't help it," Dick sighed, continuing to scan the horizon for any signs of offensive movement, "They've cut the highway and they could head our way at a moment's notice."

"I have no doubt you'll be ready for them when they do," Nix quipped, plucking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. "Anything else you'd like to get off your chest?" He asked nonchalantly after a beat.

Dick was about to turn to Nix with an incredulous look when he spotted the tanks rolling down the road towards them. "Aw hell Nix they're coming right now," he hissed, already running for the stairs of the "a patrol of them. We need to set up a counter offensive and push them back."

"They don't waste any time now do they?" Nix griped as he fell into step beside Dick on his way down the winding staircase.

"Unfortunately for us, no" Dick sighed, his mind already going into overdrive. "Hey Harry, gather the platoon together," he called as he came to a stop in the street. He was considering how to quickly place roadblocks on the way into town when Harry returned with the platoon in tow.

"No need to panic men, it's just another normal day for Easy; we're surrounded by Krauts." A ripple of laughter passed through the gathered group, and he was glad to have at least momentarily alleviated some of the stress and tension. "We need to set up roadblocks on every road leading into town, leave them no openings. Then we hit them head on with everything we've got and push them back. Sergeant Lipton, find as many men as you can and set them up on the perimeter line."

On his command the group quickly separated, rushing to set up the required roadblocks. His thoughts briefly landed on the group in Veghel, but he didn't have time to worry about them on top of anything else. He just had to hope that they had it under control without him.

~~~~~

"Seems we scared them off," chuckled Harry as he made his way over to Dick and Nix, "they weren't long high-tailing it back down hell's highway."

"There ain't a Kraut in all of Europe that can get the best of Captain Dick Winters," Nix grinned, slinging an arm around Dick's shoulders, "in fact it seems the only person that can get under Dick's skin is a certain Lieutenant Landy."

"Oh not this again," Dick huffed, shrugging out from under Nix's arm and frowning in dismay.

"Aw c'mon Dick," Harry grinned, "you have to admit that nobody riles you up like she does."

"That's because she's..."

"The love of your life?" Nix chimed in with a grin, "the most beautiful woman you've ever laid your eyes upon? The itch you need to scratch or you'll explode from frustration?" Harry was laughing so hard beside him that his eyes were welling up.

"No!" Dick sputtered, the tips of his ears flaming, "she's very confusing and hard to read is what I was going to say."

"Yeah," snorted Harry, "that doesn't mean you don't like her though."

"If you two are quite done disecting my non-existent romantic life," Dick grumbled, "I have checks to go and do. I suggest you both do the same. " With that he turned on his heel and made his way towards the bell tower, ignoring the burning in his cheeks with vehement determination.

"Aw c'mon Dick, don't be like that," Nix called as he followed him up the stairs of the tower, "you know Welshy and I just want you to be happy."

Dick ignored him as he stepped up to the balcony and brought his binoculars to his eyes. He hoped that Nix would take the hint and drop the subject, but alas it seemed luck just wasn't on his side.

"If you both weren't so stubborn then...."

"For the love of God Nix will you just drop it?" Dick snapped, turning to Nix in exasperation, "this is neither the time nor the place for such ridiculous...."

Dick's rant was cut off by the eerily familiar sound of the German planes approaching. He leaned out over the barricade and watched on in horror as the planes bypassed Uden and dropped their payload on Veghel. He raised his binoculars once again and observed as the German tanks arranged themselves around the other town.

"Holy shit," Nix gasped as the tanks opened fire with a deadly vengeance. Dick didn't respond, unable to speak around the thick knot that had formed in his throat. "Ideally we could send them some reinforcement," Nix murmured.

"But we can't," Dick whispered in defeat, his heart sinking at the truth of it. They didn't have enough men in Uden to send reinforcements and also hold the town, so his hands were truly tied. No further words passed between Dick and Nix for what felt like hours as they watched the most intense display of firepower they'd seen since they'd landed in Europe.

"I really hope they managed to take cover," Dick murmured into the thick silence. Darkness had begun to fall, but the tanks were relentless in their barage. Dick absently noted that his knuckles were white from how tight he was gripping the balcony railing, but he found he was unable to unclench them from around the cool metal.

"Yeah," Nix sighed, lighting a cigarette with shaky hands, "you and me....shit!" They both leaped back from the railing in surprise as a bullet whizzed past their ears and pinged off of the bell behind them. "Great," Nix cursed as another bullet flew into the tower, "looks like we've lost our spot to a sniper."

They rushed towards the stairs of the tower and took the steps down two at a time, the clanging of the bell ringing in their ears. "Dropped my damn cigarette up there," Nix huffed once they were a safe distance from the tower, "couldn't he have waited 'till I'd finished my goddamn smoke at least?"

Dick couldn't help but laugh at Nix and his usual ridiculousness, but he quickly sobered up again as he heard the distant sound of the tanks beginning their barrage on Veghel once more. The adrenaline of fleeing from the bell tower had begun to wear off, only to be replaced by the sinking feeling of worry and dread for their friends in the other town.

"Careful or you'll give yourself frown lines," Nix commented, unable to ignore the unease on Dick's face.

"I think I'm well beyond the point of avoiding them by now," Dick sighed, folding his arms across his chest, "anyway I need to check on the road blocks and everything else, I'll see you back at CP later." Nix tried to stop him from leaving but Dick ignored his protests. He couldn't afford to stand about and be idle. He had to make sure everything was in order. He had to keep himself busy because if he didn't he'd be swallowed by the knot of dread that was clawing at his insides.

Unfortunately keeping busy didn't nothing to soothe his fraying nerves, in fact it only made him all the more stressed. The British tank on the northwest roadblock had been left unattended, and when the stray Lieutenant had the cheek to ask him if his tank was still there, Dick couldn't keep his temper in check.

"Perhaps you would know that if you were manning it like you're supposed to be Lieutenant." he snapped, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "I suggest you return to it now, or you'll be having a court martial on your hands." The Lieutenant in question scrambled to his feet and rushed out the door without a backwards glance, mumbling his apologies to Dick as he passed. After attempting to apologise to the Dutch woman who'd been serving dinner, Dick swiftly exited the house and went in search of Harry and his men.

When he walked into the tavern and noticed them all fast asleep against the bar he saw red. He marched over to Harry and grabbed his collar roughly, pulling his stumbling form out onto the street after him.

"What the hell are you playing at Dick?" Harry grumbled irritably, pulling himself free of Dick's grip.

"What am I playing at?" Dick hissed furiously, his clenched fists trembling, "what the hell are you playing at Harry? I told you to man the defensive perimeter and I find you sacked out in the damn tavern. I know how lacksy the Brits can be, but I at least thought I could depend on you to keep the ship afloat. You're in there sleeping your troubles away while the group in Veghel are getting absolutely bombarded. They don't get to sleep in peace and quiet, so why the hell do you think you deserve to? Its completely irresponsible and careless and I can't believe you of all people were the one to do it."

Harry was stunned by Dick's outburst, but he had the good graces to look contrite and ashamed. "Aw hell Dick I'm sorry," he replied sheepishly, "you're right it was totally irresponsible. I'll get them up and moving again, you have my word on that."

"I better not find you sleeping on the job again Harry, I mean it."

"You won't," Harry assured, "you got my word on that boss." Harry rushed off, and as he did Dick found his anger begin to dissipate. He walked down the street towards CP, but the distant booming of artillery stopped him in his tracks. It was a relentless barage, and the longer it continued the more Dick succumbed to the sickening thought that most of the group in Veghel may not see the morning. His thoughts couldn't help but drift to Valerie despite his best efforts, thinking with regret on the last time he'd seen her. They'd been so angry with each other, and as he sat himself down on the footpath he wondered if he'd ever get the chance to make it right between them, to work out whatever it was that had made her so angry.

He rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands, his heart thudding nervously in his chest. This was his fault, all his fault. If he'd made better decisions, if he'd kept the Germans occupied for longer, if he'd just been better, then maybe it wouldn't be playing out the way it was. Maybe if he'd done things differently the group in Veghel wouldn't be under such hellfire.

"Tell me you're not sitting here blaming yourself," Nix sighed as dropped down on the ground beside Dick.

"If I had just..." he started, not looking up from the ground.

"Just what?" Nix interrupted, bringing his cigarette to his lips, "you did all you could given the shit hand we were dealt."

"I know but if I hadn't been so..."

"Why don't we just acknowledge what this is really about huh?" Nix commented lightly, arching an eyebrow at his friend. Dick picked at a piece of lint on his pants and determinedly ignored Nix's pointed stare. "You know just because we all think you're a saint doesn't mean you need to act like one. You're human Dick, you have feelings and you're allowed to have them."

And wasn't that just the crux of it all? He had a standard to uphold and an example to set, and they were at war for Pete's sake. Sure, there was nobody that got under his skin like she did. And sure, he couldn't deny the swoop he'd felt in his stomach when she'd held his hand so delicately in her own. Dick was not in the habit of lying to himself, so denying his evident feelings for her any longer was a fruitless act. She was quite honestly the most remarkable woman he'd ever met. But they were in the middle of war torn Europe, and as her commanding officer there was no viable route for him to follow those feelings down.

"Even if I did," Dick sighed, picking up a stone and twisting it around in his fingers, "it wouldn't be appropriate. I'm the CO, I'd be taking advantage..."

"Oh don't tell me that's your excuse," Nix scoffed, shaking his head scornfully, "you're an idiot if you think she's not interested."

"I don't need you to prop up my ego with false platitudes Nix, it's abundantly clear that she's not even remotely interested in me," Dick huffed, throwing the stone across the street. She'd barely even looked at him with any warmth since that day she'd held his hand that day by the bridge. Whatever about himself, there was clearly no romantic interest on her end. "It's just I'd thought we'd gotten to be pretty good friends," he continued dejectedly after a beat, "but now she's chewing my head off everytime she sees me and I...."

"Wow you really are a dense idiot," Nix chuckled. Dick's jaw clenched and he stood abruptly, dusting himself off and turning to walk away.

"If you're just gonna sit there and mock me then..."

"Alright, alright cool your jets," Nix placated, gesturing for him to sit back down. He grumbled a few half-hearted protests, but ultimately conceded and dropped down in his spot again. He rested his elbows on his knees and bent his head in defeat. "I just mean that for someone so smart, I don't understand how you can't see what's staring you in the face."

"And I suppose you know just what it is," Dick mumbled, "you being the intelligence officer and all."

"Of course I do," he bragged, "what did she see you do in Eindhoven that would make her so completely furious with you out of the blue?"

"I don't know Nix, you're supposed to be enlightening me here."

"She was jealous," Nix stated plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "she saw you kissing that woman in the street and she got jealous. And she clearly didn't know how to deal with those new feelings, so she did the only thing that made sense and she lashed out. If she was so busy being angry with you on some bogus charge then she wouldn't have the time to think about the real reason she was angry with you."

Dick's breath choked him in his throat, his spine stiffening. It was not an option he'd allowed himself to consider, because it was of course completely preposterous. He and Valerie were friends, and just because he harboured an ill-fated crush on her did not mean the same could be assumed of her towards him.

"That's completely ridiculous Nix," Dick scoffed, "Valerie doesn't have those kind of feelings for me."

"Look Dick I could sit here till the cows come home and list out all the reasons it's obvious she feels the same way about you as you do about her," Nix sighed, standing up and stretching his back, "but unless you're willing to admit it to yourself then I'm wasting my breath." Nix began to saunter down the street before stopping in his tracks and turning to Dick once more.

"She'll be okay you know," he assured Dick, "she's made of tough stuff. She'll roll into town tomorrow on the back of a jeep like the Queen of Sheba and tell us all we couldn't have handled it better than her, just you wait and see."

Dick had to chuckle a little at that, because it did sound like something she'd do alright. And Nix was right, she was a very capable soldier and smart as a whip, if anyone could keep it together it was Valerie. He just had to hope she'd make it through, and that the next time he saw her she wouldn't be so angry with him.

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @stolemyspoons @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck @now-im-a-belieber @delreyleclerc @50svibes @eugene-emt-roe @pennyllane @televisionboy @sparkycorleone @ask-you-what-sir @parajumpboots @mads-weasley @tetragonia

#band of brothers #bob #band of brothers fandom #hbo band of brothers #dick winters #bitterpilltoswallow #dick winters x valerie landry #valerie landry #holdingforgeneralhugs #band of brothers fanfic

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speliviya · 2 years

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So you’re telling me…. Their most successful ship, the most developed love story… they decided to make one half of it an antagonist in the others story as relationship drama because apparently a college athlete and journalism college intern couldn’t POSSIBLYYYY be together healthily without their dream careers conflicting..? Like the complete insult to our intelligence with some bulllshit ass last minute fight that was waaaay too premature for 18 year olds to even be dealing with anyway. Well, actually not even because ASHER’S career goals are more conflicting for Spencer than Liv’s really is. They’ve let them fight and make up. They didn’t even allow the story to go in the direction of making Asher a villain in Spencer’s story despite him literally using personal information against him to have an advantage on him. Like that’s actual natural conflict and even the clear wrongness of that situation, the audience STILL took that man’s side. But with Liv, the one person who has alwaaaaaays had his back, is now turning around angry at Spencer for being in the way of her job????? Besides 4.19, where was the build up of Liv being increasingly annoyed with Spencer about the arguments they were having. She literally told him in 4.17 she wasn’t going anywhere sooooo what’s this 2 episodes later where she is absolutely fed up and can’t do ‘it’ anymore? What even is IT. 2 days later and I honestly still don’t get her point. She completely ignored every line about not communicating and instead proceeded to be upset that he didn’t validate that she was right. Like okay, whatever stance she has is already odd and ooc anyway but they could’ve at least let her speak very clearly about what she was saying instead of speaking in haiku poems. I’m so frustrated that a character this fandom all knows WELL and loves are confused with her behavior and dialogue. At what point did the switch come where her advancement in her EARLY career was more important to her than fighting for her healthy relationship and partner who would quite literally move the world for her. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe she should sacrifice her dreams for him but their writing this like that’s basically the conflict rn. It would be more in character for her to say I don’t want you working with shady and evil people because that ultimately affects your game but no, she’s saying “I can’t miss another big opportunity to advance my career because of you”. (……..) so is this tension coming from Spencer about to fight Wade over her? Like I just am so frustrated that they really are making her completely disregard Spencer’s perspective and feelings in all of this. Some people are just like “they’ll be fine, they probably won’t actually break up” well sure, maybe, but I’m more concerned for the HEALTH of this relationship. It’s not looking good at all. It’s making her look completely selfish and all consumed without her even fighting for this man and what they’ve built their relationship to be over the last year. This is not an authentic crossroads for them, this is forced drama that ‘had to happen’ to show that they’re not perfect and what balancing ‘careers’ look like for them. Spencer seemed to have figured it out well but they have her spiraling off the rails. And again, fair if that’s just where she’s at mentally but why couldn’t the root of the spiral be from work and not tension with Spencer over work she chose to do in his career field. She’s quite literally stepping at every turn to write about topics in HIS field and getting upset that he’s in her way. Like HE’S the roadblock. Well duh hun! It’s HIS TEAM!!!!

I mean on top of all this… because of her story on Wade she inadvertently almost got her and her friends killed by the SWAT team…… and now she’s teaming up with the same sociopath that almost got them killed/arrested to take down a GROWN man with even more power than the idiot who framed all of her friends just a night ago. WHERE IS THE LINE!!! Trust me, idgaf about Garrett. He probably should get taken down and exposed but she’s SO pressed to get her name on an article that she’s willing to risk that all over again just to be right?! It’s one thing when SHE was getting slut shamed in online posts, when SHE was receiving weird calls and threats but it’s a whooooole other clusterfuck where your actions in some capacity led to MILITARY GRADE WEAPONRY being pointed at your brother, boyfriend, and friends HEADS!!! And STILL the privilege of Coop working for her mom who was the literal DA of Los Angeles County got them out of that situation. Where does NK’s social justice warrior agenda END?! Destroying my favorite character for WHAT!!! I mean and the worst part about all of this is that it will all be wrapped up in a pretty nice bow because this show doesn’t even know how to commit to the catastrophes they write.

Sorry I’m just beyond frustrated with these writers more than anything else. I’m still going to be seated come fall lmao but wow! All of this roundabout nonsense just to avoid cliches. We could be joking it up about baby Crenshawn after the cliffhanger revealed a pregnancy scare arc for Spelivia but no, I’m fighting for my life trying to make sense of nonsensical ass plot lines. Why is the logic for cliffhangers to do something that will piss us OFF and not make us feel excited, intrigued, and on the edge of our seats. I’m not on the edge of my seat to find out whether my favorite ship will break up or not because I’ve already seen some of the damage done and I have little faith that the writing will redeem it in a way that does both of them justice.

#Doing the most by doing nothing at all

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

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I say Miraculous AU where Luka comes on the trip as a chaperone.

- Marinette stressing over what happened with Fu and now being guardian. Tom and Sabine are actually concerned about their daughter and want to do something about it, so when Luka visits the bakery to say “hi” to Marinette, they recognize him (he’s been in Marinette’s room in “Silencer” so they’ve almost definitely seen him before) and ask him to go along on the trip with Marinette, with them pulling all the strings to find a way for him to join. Luka isn’t a fool, so he happily agrees. Tom and Sabine like, “oh don’t forget to ask your parents if it’s okay,” and Luka’s just, “trust me, she’s fine with it.”

(optional bonus that, since the whole class but Lila went, there is actually an extra seat that they’d reserved for her before she backed out when she thought Adrien was going to stay behind)

- During the scene where Ms. Mendeleiev offers Marinette her seat, Luka moves in after the switch has been made, chiming in to offer Marinette his seat so she’s not uncomfortably crammed in between two adult men. She’s surprised at the offer, but thanks him and swaps with him, earning a nice window seat in return.

- At nighttime, Marinette wakes up (her head probably slipped and it hit the wall; didn’t hurt but she’s awake now) and slips out of her seat to go check on Luka to see how he’s doing. She giggles at the popcorn Mr. Damocles has dropped on him, finding it cute, then carefully reaches over to wipe off the pieces. She turns to leave, but her earlier motion brushing the popcorn off wakes Luka up. He gently calls her name and slips out of his seat to join her; she tries to apologize but he just smiles and assures her that it’s fine.

- While on their way to the back of the plane, Marinette trips slightly on Alya’s foot (as Alya is sleeping on Nino and her foot was partly in the aisle; Marinette didn’t bump into it earlier because she didn’t have to move to the side for Luka back then). Luka steadies her and Marinette covers her mouth to suppress a yelp, then they keep walking to the back.

- Still, the movement woke Alya up and she glances back to look at Luka and Marinette watching the sunrise together. Confused, she nudges Nino so the both of them can look together. Alya comments that she’s seen Marinette making “lovey eyes” at Luka (referencing “Captain Hardrock” and “Frozer”), but Marinette is so OBVIOUSLY into Adrien and “can’t be honest about her feelings.” Nino chimes in that he’s having “best bud struggles” too because Adrien is still as sheltered as ever and “won’t come out of his shell.” They get the idea to perform “Operation New York” as in the original and think that it’ll be totally easy with no roadblocks whatsoever!

- Meanwhile, Marinette and Luka have their talk about her getting her “clarity.” Marinette sighs and admits that it feels like people are going to talk about her and Adrien no matter what she says/does (which tips Luka off that something’s wrong), to which Luka replies with a smile that he promises not to bring up Adrien for the rest of the trip unless Marinette does so first. She agrees to that, even giving him a “thank you” hug that he eagerly returns.

- On the ride to the place everyone’s staying at, Alya tries to engage Marinette in conversation about Adrien, clearly smug and feeling confident that it will be easy, but then she realizes that Marinette isn’t paying attention and is idling on her phone. Alya nudges Marinette, earning her attention, but when Alya starts talking about Adrien again, Marinette’s phone goes off and she looks back down at it, now giggling. Alya, now annoyed, asks Marinette if she’s even listening, which gets Marinette to look up and really give Alya her attention. “Oh, sorry about that. I was texting Luka.”

- Alya is just, “?????”

- Yes, this special is very much going to be Alya and Nino suffering to try to get Adrien and Marinette alone together and constantly failing. You’re welcome.

- No sliding door lock-ins because that’s dumb and the special is dumb for thinking it. Also, when Alya goes to mock “tease” Marinette about her Adrien crush in front of Sabrina, she turns to realize that Marinette is with Luka talking to Miss Mendeleiev about where he’ll be staying since he’s not technically with the class, and/or Luka is talking to some of the New York people about how amazing Marinette is ala Jagged Stone.

- Later in the night, everyone sneaks out to the party (bonus if someone comments that they “never took Luka for the type to sneak out” and Luka just grins like, “You clearly haven’t met my mom.”; double bonus if Luka stumbled into Aeon and Jess’ room with Marinette and Adrien, so Aeon was all “those two are--!” before seeing Luka and being confused) and a few party-goers ask Marinette and Luka if they want to dance to the energetic music. Marinette grins nervously and insists that she’s clumsy and will just end up falling all over people (a few pout and complain that “it would’ve been fun” but drop the subject).

- Cue the superhero hot dog vendor (a description I never thought I would say but here we are) handing out hot dogs. Aeon (foreseeing what will happen; it does pain me to still put her in the roll of “love square shipper” but I’m trying not to change what characters do or how they act unless I’m specifically adding things, meaning the main change is just that Luka’s here) and knowing that Luka interfered earlier, sees the guitar case on his back and quickly requests that he play some music alongside Jess since they both play guitar. Luka agrees, assuring Marinette that it’s alright and he’s not interested in having hot dogs since he’d just get crumbs on his guitar.

- Alya and Nino grin because they’re finally going to do something here!! As in the original, the hot dog vendor only has two hot dogs left and Alya and Nino split them in half, handing two halves of the same hot dog to Adrien and Marinette, who eat their respective half.

- Marinette yelps as her feet leave the ground and Luka’s head darts up on alert. He immediately abandons his guitar, his hand reaching out and catching hers as pulls her back down (or at least as down as she’ll go while still floating). He looks up at Adrien - as if to consider helping - but Adrien doesn’t want it and seems to be having fun trying to figure out how to fly, even muttering to himself about how he wish Kagami were there because they could’ve done “air fencing.”

- Luka looks back at Marinette, ensuring that she’s okay. She’s staring up at Adrien, expression mixed, then looks back at Luka, his presence grounding her as she calms down. She almost seems to forget that Adrien is there, focusing on her current flying capabilities and how light on (off?) her feet she is.

- “Oh...oh!” She gasps, realizing with a grin. “I can’t fall over if I’m floating! Luka, dance with me!”

- He’s caught off-guard by the enthusiastic request, then chuckles and nods in agreement, happily taking her other hand as well as he guides her to the other people dancing.

- Cut to the next day when the group is going to the museum. Alya and Nino are absolutely exhausted because Luka has consistently gotten in her and Nino’s way, which leads to them coming up with the new scheme with Aeon and Jess.

- Nino sends Adrien to the planned room and Alya goes to send Marinette, but Luka catches on and casually asks Marinette if he can go with her. Alya cuts in to “playfully” dismiss Luka and tell him to stop “hovering over Marinette,” leading Marinette to slowly walk off with one longing look back at Luka.

- Luka intentionally waits for Alya to not be watching anymore, then follows after Marinette.

- Episode plays out mostly as normal, though because Marinette has to carry Luka off to somewhere safe, she’s not as easily able to go off after Chat until later since she had time to cool down. Aeon doesn’t die but Paris is still a wreck because Chat Noir didn’t show up, leading to the same Chat Noir quitting scene (just with Ladybug calling out Chat here instead of mid-battle) as before. Adrien still ends up having to leave and Alya still snaps at Marinette, which leads to Marinette chasing after Adrien (mostly due to just mounting stress and pressure and the loss of her partner).

- As Marinette lies on the pavement, Luka shows up, soaking wet because he had actually never gone back with the rest of the class; he’d run off when Ms. Mendeleiev explained to him that Marinette was missing. He panics when he sees Marinette lying motionless there, running up and quickly checking her for injuries and to ensure that she’s breathing. She just leans forward and hugs him without warning, defeated but happy to have him with her.

- Marinette slowly explains the situation, Luka looking horrified when she starts talking about what Alya was shouting at her about, and he listens all the way up until the end before pointing out, “You didn’t have to like him that way to want him to stay.” “W-what?” “Marinette, you can be Adrien’s friend and still want him to stay in New York with us. It didn’t have to be any deeper than that.”

- His words cause Marinette to realize something; she - and definitely her friends as well - had put so much weight to everything she did for Adrien just because of her silly crush that of course she couldn’t see him as a friend. With all the insistence that getting him permission to go to New York and wanting him to stay was due to her crush, it was all she could focus on. She can want things for Adrien and want to do things with him regardless of her feelings for him, and she doesn’t have to put a name to those feelings either; she’ll never be able to truly move on if she keeps equating any good feeling towards Adrien with crushing on him.

- That done, Luka helps her up and they slowly walk back to go inside, though stopping as they see that Ms. Mendeleiev is at the front of the building chewing out Alya and Nino; both of them for sending Marinette and Adrien away from the group for fake tasks at the museum, and Alya specifically for sending Marinette after a car in the rain. Ms. Mendeleiev states that they’ll talk about it more inside but everyone should get back to their rooms for now.

- Marinette heads back to her room alone (as she shared a room with Alya but Alya’s getting a talking to at the moment) and is later visited by Uncanny Valley, who explains that she’s needed. Marinette - now with renewed confidence in how she feels thanks to her revelation - doesn’t say that she “can’t imagine Ladybug without him” and instead states that she and Chat Noir are partners, and a partner doesn’t abandon the other. She did it once herself, a long time ago, but she was ready to face her mistakes afterwards and she hopes that Chat Noir is too.

- Cue return of Chat Noir (no LadyNoir hug because no Chat, you have to earn that back) and the battle plays out as usual. Adrien still has to go home and Marinette sends him a text for later saying, “I wish you could’ve stayed,” but with a smile on her face, confident that this really is a friend thing and that’s all it needs to be.

- Marinette and Luka end up sitting together on the plane ride back to Paris, right behind Juleka and Rose. It’s nighttime, but neither can sleep and Marinette decides to use the private time to thank Luka for what he said (really, all the things he said), but Luka assures her that any improvement is all on her and he’s just happy to be around for it. She chides him for his modesty and tells him to take the compliment because he deserves it (they’re just flirting at this point), then slips out of her seat and into Luka’s, lightly jabbing at his chest with a finger while insisting that he accept everything’s he’s done for her. He laughs and replies that he’s happy to do that and is just glad seeing her smile.

- Eventually, the subject shifts to Juleka and Rose, who are once again sitting in the same seat, all cuddled up and sleeping together. Marinette asks playfully if Juleka and Rose are like that back on the Liberty, to which Luka nods and answers that they are, all the time. They have a good giggle about it, with Luka explaining that they’re very close (possibly giving some exposition on how long they’ve been “together” which is obviously referring to dating but could be seen as friendship by writers who are chickens).

- Marinette thinks about that for a moment, fingers briefly twitching, then she settles a little closer to Luka, asking quietly, “Do you think we’re that close?”

- Luka gapes at her in response, needing a moment to study her expression - which is more confidence than he’s ever seen her show before - and make sure that she means what he thinks it might. Once he’s certain, he gives her an almost shy smile, replying, “I’d like us to be. What about you, Marinette?”

- Marinette turns more towards him, one of her hands falling upon his. She leans up, and the camera then cuts away to Juleka and Rose in the seat in front of them, smiling and cuddling closer to each other (a very obvious hint that Luka and Marinette kissed because the show is allergic to people kissing if it’s not the love square so fine, I’ll get creative)

- Just as the screen fades out, Marinette’s voice can be heard, saying, “Luka, I think I found my clarity after all.”

#category: salt #special: Miraculous New York #MC's Adjustments #adjustment: plotlines #adjusment: romance #other: ask and answer #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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scriptaed · 3 years

Text

bygones of the sun. 10 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok

length: 7.2k

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

Egocentric to pray for a delay in sunrise, but you would do it for a fracture in time would serve well as a sanctuary for your dormant star; nonetheless, when night ends and day arrives, the sweet tears of midnight will vaporize into inexistence.

Night strings along irrationality in an overexposure of our deepest subconscious. At the deepest of troughs and under the darkest of skies, there, we lie more vulnerable and prone to false hope than ever, for last night is the ultimate testament to mankind’s greatest fear.

Emotions could have been running high, lethargy could have gotten the best of him, anything could have and would have shattered the boy of last night's scattered soul poorly taped into a fragile whole; ironically, however, it is exactly the spill of burdens and truths of the night to the attentive ears of a beholder, you, which had saved him from such atrocities.

So you prayed, prayed for dusk to drown dawn in an endless embrace with itself until the boy could finally relish in the long awaited night's rest, and yet, still, you feared the longer he slept in the comforts of superficial dreams, the stronger his demons would return; and so, with a heavy and anxious heart, you had found yourself trapped in your own double edged sword of a state—basking in his warm presence, shivering in your guilty conscience.

In the end, all is for naught when the peak of sun rays through the slit of the curtains showers upon your cheeks perched on the armrest of a couch.

Squinting, you groan in a groggy voice before regretfully slipping the first word which comes to mind.

“Hoseok?”

Your following silence meets its own reflection.

With stained efforts, your body slumps into the couch as your half awakened state scans through the room that remains perfectly untouched. The remnants of your memories recalls how you had somehow stumbled your way to the couch sitting beside the bed of your motel room, refusing to fall asleep just inches beside the boy in your bed; although, said boy remains nowhere to be seen as of now.

Heavy steps and rowdy mumbles muffled by the floor beneath convince your unwilling self to drag yourself off the couch, slipping the blanket you recall being gently draped over and tucked under you in your sleep last night to the floor. Matters of the previous night forgotten, your feet stumble its way to the bathroom, disregarding the perfectly folded and tucked sheets of where he should have been lying. A few splashes of cold water to your drowsy state are surprisingly enough to fully awaken you after a relatively nice albeit anxious night of rest; with alertness, however, floods the remembrance of him.

“Jimin!” you call out, weaving through the incoming crowd of camp attendees packing their bags. Catching sight of the rather petite boy chatting away with his usual friends, Taehyung and Jungkook, you take one final stride before urgently pulling off to the side.

“Hey, Y/N,” his eyes widen in confusion by the sudden greeting, “what’s up?”

“Do you know what’s going on with Hoseok? Did anything happen to him yesterday evening?” you blurt, pausing for a second until another thought comes to mind. “Oh, and what do you mean he wasn’t on patrol duty last night? Then what—” you stop abruptly when you realize Hoseok’s likely desire to keep things between you and him confidential “—who was on patrol?”

“...I was?” Jimin arches a brow. “Why? Did something happen? Is there something wrong with Hoseok?”

So he doesn’t know.

None of the boys know the real reason behind Hoseok’s reluctance to return—or at least the surface level of the seemingly endless depth to that facade of his.

“No,” you quickly deny, shaking your head and scanning the bustling entrance hall; as if innate, your line of sight naturally draws to the centripetal force of your Earth’s center.

“Then why—”

“—hey, I’ll catch up with you later, alright? I still have to pack my bags…” your voice trails along with your eyes which follow Hoseok as he glides from one side of the room across to the other. Hand drifting from Jimin’s shoulder, you gradually whirl around and follow the beckons of your heart akin to pearls under the sway of the ocean’s waves. “Hoseok!”

Body beneath your sway, Hoseok whirls around to face you with a quizzical look glancing down at the hand which grasps his arm.

“Yeah?” he asks gently, arching a brow at you when a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Is there something I can help you with, babe?”

Initially, you had approached him with the intent to confront him about last night. His behavior, his words, his burdens, you know he's hurt and there's nothing you want more than to help him, not to mention the unreasonable guilt stirring inside you for failing to tackle the situation efficiently then and there; but even despite the momentary shock of the return of that egotistical mien of his, it's impossible for you to see him the same way after witnessing his sheer vulnerability.

For once, you must be selfless. Push aside your wants for that of his own, because unbeknownst to you, his own needs became your wants somewhere along the irrevocable path of time.

“About last night…” you start and the crease above his brow only deepens. “I just… I'm sorry I didn't comfort you or ask you this earlier…” you prim and trace your hand along his arm to meet his hands. Peering up to meet his gaze, he flinches yet you refuse to turn a blind eye. “...”...but are you doing alright, Hoseok?”

“What…” he frowns and stiffens in place, “...do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” you clear your throat, shifting your weight, “are you okay? Is there anything you want or need to tell me? Or anyone? Because I just want you to know I'm always here to lend an—”

“—look, I don't know what you're rambling on about,” Hoseok chuckles, retracting his hands from yours to nonchalantly ruffle your hair before crossing his arms, “but all I recall from last night is a certain someone refusing to sleep on the same bed as me. I almost forgot I was dating the most pristine of the untainted.”

“...rambling on about?” you repeat in a mumble, frowning and shaking your head. “No, Hoseok, listen, when you mentioned dance and… and your passion for it, I didn’t know how to respond because you were actually opening up to me.”

Hoseok blinks blankly, deep breaths in and out as his chest rises higher and steadier with each puff before he equivocates, “Y/N, I don’t recall anything of such sorts, and even if they did happen, I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Hoseok—” you pause when your voice fails you “—I’m not forcing you to talk about it, I just want you to know—”

“—Y/N,” he sternly articulates, gaze affixing to yours with impatience. “I have to help the others load their bags onto the charter, and from what I can tell,” his eyes scan you up and down as he chortles, “don’t you have to go pack your things? So if you don’t have anything else important to say, your boy has important matters to attend to.”

The crowd migrates in clutters from the lobby to the coach parked right outside, only adding to the urgency for you to get your point across; but when you recall the events of last night, how he had so defensively proclaimed to abide by the duties of his role as the dance captain, you come to the epiphany that you really are just another roadblock in his tracks at this very moment. So, naturally, you step aside with a short bob of your lowered head.

The boy chuckles softly at your surrender, taking one large stride to enclose the gap between him and you and stroking your cheeks just briefly until the warmth of his touch subsides to his sides. “And about last night… I’m sorry if my stay made you uncomfortable. I think I was just… a bit tipsy.

Clearly, he was sober, but you’re reluctant to further the discussion without the right time and place.

“Don’t look so sad or I can’t bring myself to leave you here,” he laughs bittersweet chords to the pluck of your heartstrings, especially when you notice the lack of effort in his disingenuous grin as he crosses his arms. “Come to think of it, I seem to neglect my duties as the captain whenever I’m around you, huh? Maybe we should be more cautious of our relationship around others, don’t you think?”

In one ear, out the other; more often than not, his incessant teasing would elicit a snide remark from your intolerant state, but after the events of last night, nothing seems to be the same. Rather, his own flirtations are now construed to be poor fruitions to mask the pleas crying yet buried beneath.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you press your lips into a thin line, “let’s talk more later.”

An immediate downturn of his lips tugs at your heavy chest, but never-minding his equivocal language, you turn away and depart to your room in deep pondrance.

Just what could you do to help the real Hoseok?

But who really is Hoseok? And did you ever come to know him?

Rather, did he?

Life truly has its own quirky way of doing things. One second you’re debating between the absurd albeit enticing offer in the kitchen of your house and the next second you’re already packing up your clothes on a journey bound for home.

Piles upon piles upon piles, the abundance of snacks and clothes you had brought but failed to utilize drives you to your wit’s end before you finally toss the last pair of shorts into your luggage, let out a loud, cathartic sigh, and jump into the comforts of your bed.

In reality, this position with your face buried in the depths of your pillow and your arms and legs sprawled across the soft cotton sheets would spell for doom had the occasion of falling asleep and missing the departure of your only ride home, especially since Hoseok doesn’t appear to be in his right mind nor favorable towards you against his prioritized club members enough to catch the one insignificant, missing member; fortunately for you, a good night of rest stirs you awake and incapable of slumber… plus, it turns out someone other than the names of Hoseok seeks for your attention.

Ring, ring, your phone’s vibration tunnels across the pillow to your ears.

Was Jimin asking for your assistance? Or was he wondering about the origins of your odd question earlier this morning? Could it perhaps be a message from the boys you had met and exchanged number with during camp?

Regardless of the myriad predictions, there really is only one thing that’s set in stone: it can’t possibly be Hoseok, because as much as it pains you to admit, you’re the last thing he wants to contact at this moment…

...and to your dismay, you’re right, but what really debunks your seemingly accurate theories is the name glaring from your brightly lit phone screen.

Unknown [2:06 PM] Hey, Y/N. This is Keiko. I was wondering if you have time to chat with me over dinner tonight when you return?

Straight to the point, but still lacking in details.

You can’t quite believe your eyes when they incessantly glide across the word ‘Keiko.’

What could she possibly want from you? After her ambiguous request for you during the last and only time you had interacted with the ex dance captain, you had never expected to hear from her again; in fact, to be quite frank, you had nearly forgotten about her… you had nearly forgotten Hoseok’s relations with her.

A past unrequited love? A past relationship gone wrong?

The endless possibilities tug at your chest in the familiar weighty burden you had so carelessly forgotten in the past month. You’re not exactly sure why the blur of a mystery regarding Hoseok’s relationship with Keiko pains you so, but the panic rising in your beating chest at this very moment is surely elicited by the fear of what this “conversation” could entail.

Slamming your luggage shut, you do a quick scan around your room and grab your last leftovers, but before you could roll your suitcase completely out the doorway, the sway of an unknown force rooted deep in the room keeps you from doing so; and when you glance over your shoulder to assure yourself not to linger any longer, you arrive at the epiphany of reasons residing beneath your reluctance to depart.

Because lying there on the now nicely made up bed is a couple, one asleep and one vigilant, both too vulnerable, too wary to let down their walls against the dangers of the dimming lights and the emerging night.

The longer you stand there watching, the more vividly you recall the subtle glint of his eyes—begging or pleading, you’re unsure—and your sealed lips incapable of appropriate assurance akin to a stuck zipper deserving neither the label of new nor broken; and before you know it, the desire to set things right with Hoseok rises once again within the pits of your wrenching gut.

“Y/N!” you flinch when a voice hollers at you from down the hall, causing the door to slam shut with the absence of your jutting foot. Whirling around, you find Jimin jogging towards you. “I was looking everywhere for you! We’re basically almost all ready to go in ten minutes or so and Hoseok noticed you’ve been missing for a while now, so he told me to find you.”

“Oh—” so he did remember about you “—hey, how did Keiko get my number?”

“Huh?” your peripherals catch his eyes widening into circular orbs when the two of you begin heading down the flight of stairs and he gasps in remembrance. “Oh! She asked me for your number this morning. Why? Did you not want me to? Did she text you?”

“No, that’s...” you quickly answer until your words are interjected by the sight of Hoseok standing alone in the lobby and it’s like the force field of his prevents you from moving your gaze elsewhere, “...totally fine…”

“...do you need to talk to Hoseok?” Jimin asks but proceeds to grab your luggage and head down the stairs before you. He glances over his shoulder at you and nods his head at the figure your eyes struggle to keep off of. “Here, I’ll load your bags onto the bus and you take the next ten minutes to talk it out.”

“What?” you quickly frown and shake your head, attempting to grab the bags from him in vain, “no, it’s fine. There’s nothing to talk about anyways.”

“You won’t have a chance to talk to him again anytime soon after this,” Jimin utters under his breath, gaze firmly affixed to yours. “He looks dead tired. This camp took much more of a toll on him than usual. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling he won’t be hanging around with us much after this.”

Us? Does that include you?

The thought is all too daunting, you simply can’t fathom the thought of Hoseok dropping from your life without a single word or warning; because the scariest thing is… it’s much too real, too similar to something Hoseok would do.

Just. Like. That.

“Okay… I’m sorry,” you regretfully mumble, “I promise I’ll treat you and the boys to dinner someday.”

“Nah,” Jimin chuckles and heads off on his own, “bringing him back here is already enough of a favor for us.”

Gulp. Breathe. In. Out.

His words should be reassuring, yet you find them wrenching at your heart.

Is this really for the better?

Was bringing him here really the right choice, when at the end of the night, you just know Hoseok must be crawling back into the cold embrace of his mattress, shivering from what he can’t even call home, whimpering from the throbbing pain of every inch of his body and the nightmare of a camp’s threshold.

Maybe you had inflicted more pain than cure.

“...Hoseok?”

Your voice stutters amidst the thick silence of the air as you hesitantly take one step and other towards the one boy at the end of the hall, Hoseok.

Turning around, Hoseok spots you and simply arches a brow; the dark purple bags beneath the void in his eyes and the lack of vigor in comparison to his usual smug response to your calls plummet something deep within your stomach.

“Are you… done with everything?” you take one final step to enclose the distance between you two before uncomfortably hooking a hand over your right elbow and peering up at him, who gazes at you from above. “Can I help you in any way?”

Hoseok smiles gently and shakes his head, “no, everything is loaded and the camp ends here. I’m officially free of my duties as a captain and you’re officially free from that bet of ours.”

“What bet?” you let out without a thought, mind too preoccupied with the real question which loiters in your mind: why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye to me?

“The bet we made in your kitchen,” he cocks his head and flashes a crooked smile, “a euphoric kiss for your attendance at camp.”

“Oh, right. I almost forgot I wasn’t an actual member of this club…”

He grins, “and I almost forgot I wasn’t the captain of this club anymore.”

Please don’t say that.

“Hoseok…” your voice nearly cracks, eyes averting to the side in fear of impending waterworks, “I know you don’t want to talk about last night—”

“—then why are you bringing it up,” he deadpans, jaw tightening with the grinding of his teeth.

“I just…” you shake when you take a breath, “I just want to lend an ear. I think it would be helpful for you to let it all out.”

“Or do you just want to fulfill your own curiosities at the expense of my own requests?”

“What?” you immediately peer up at the sharp edges of his eyes with your own wide ones. “No, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry… I just wanted to help…”

Silence floods the stagnating air and you’re nearly drowned with it—but not nearly as close as the effect his next words has on you.

“...can you stop prying?” he finally utters. “Can you stop mentioning it? I’m a player, don’t you remember? I only started all of… all of this because I was curious. I was intrigued by you only for a second because for once a girl wasn’t fawning over me like the rest.”

His confession plucks at your heartstrings, but your most pressing concerns lies elsewhere beyond your own state; when will he finally confide in you?

Hoseok grabs your shoulders and lightly shakes you, whether as a plea or an attempt to garner your divided attention, you’re unsure of. “I started all of this because of a dare, remember, Y/N?” his voice sounds all too desperate for you to bear. “So don’t fall too hard. Stop burying yourself into my mess and just play along without worrying, okay?”

“I don’t,” you mutter before clearing your voice and swatting his hands off you, “I don’t care, Hoseok! I don’t care how invested I am, because it’s already too late for me to back out and I don’t want to back out! I care about you, can’t you just accept that?”

Can’t you just accept me?

“Don’t you get it?” he groans, pacing in frustration. “I don’t want any help! I don’t need help. Don’t pry into my own business and stop asking Jimin and Taehyung or any of the boys about me. Get it over your head and stop investing so much time in me before you realize just how you right you were that night on our first date when you called me out on being an ass!”

The words echo along with your stunned silence. You had never seen Hoseok so infuriated before, and for the first time in a long while, you’re scared.

You’re scared he’ll drown in his own demons without your help.

You’re scared your own help will turn out to be a manifestation of your own wants over his own needs.

You’re scared the boy you love and care for isn’t the passionate captain you knew nor the renowned heartthrob around school but a enmity completely unknown.

Mostly, you’re scared because fear is the last thing you thought you would ever experience in the wake of Hoseok.

And maybe you’re too transparent or perhaps his words truly did hurt you to the point where even he could decipher, but your entire body language reclines—your eye glued to the floor, your head ducked in shame, and your body facing slightly askew—and Hoseok quickly reaches his hand out in aid.

From the top of your head down to the nape of your neck and to the stroke of your cheek, the cup of his hand brings you a step closer to him until he places a chaste kiss to your temple and retracts himself from you once again.

“Just stop worrying about me, okay? That’s the only way we can keep this…” he struggles to find the right words as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your right ear. The boy takes a deep breath and neither a sigh nor a chuckle descends from his barely parted lips, for all you hear is a weighty pant crafted of obligations. “...this thing we have going on between us. We’ll both be better of that way, alright? Even if it’s ignorant to do so. I just don’t want us to end.”

Physically, his voice drifts into the foreign wind which sweeps your grasp of time shortly afterwards; but you hear him loud and clear within the resonance of your heart, for his actions speak louder than words.

You don’t expect him to greet you, not to mention even sitting within your vicinity on the ride back… but he does. In moments when you avoid all eye contact the second his foot sets weight onto the bus, shifting towards the windows by your seat and wishing with every ounce of your will for your rather isolated choice of seating and lack of friends to go unnoticed; but he reads you like an open book. With footsteps skimming across the floor, soft yet firm enough to mark his ambitions, the boy beelines to the seat by your side. The lethargic timbre of his murmured “hey” elicits a prim response from you as he plops into the empty seat and fills the painfully heavy air of his absence.

The forecast predicts a dayful of sun, but you don’t quite realize until now, just how reliant you’ve become; for at some point in time, the sun has somehow become your everything.

You don’t expect him to spark any conversations—no, not after that discussion gone astray—and he doesn’t; but the watchful gaze of his, wandering from his chattering friends straight up ahead to eye occasional roll of your sore ankles, inquires more than you could ask for. In fact, it doesn’t take very long for his desires to bloom into fruition when, the next thing you know, he gently lifts your right leg to prop into the lap of his own and begins kneading the knots from your muscles.

“It’s fine,” you mutter through barely parted lips, attempting in vain to retract your leg when his hands firmly hold them in place.

“It’s your first bootcamp, isn’t it?” he continues to knead. “I remember how exhausted I was for my first camp. Just let me help you.”

His words sweep your own right off of your lips.

Glancing him up and down, the courage to speak doesn’t come to you until the charter enters a tunnel, blackening your sights from his soft brown hair, beautifully tan skin, and mustard tee.

“Can you stop playing around with me? Things like this mean so much more to me than what you’re asking for from us.”

The boy doesn’t answer, instead, he pauses; and after a few seconds of silence, he persists to knead for a minute longer before letting down your leg once the tunnel ends and you’re blinded by the incoming flood of sun rays.

Incapable of sight in the bright sun after a long nap, the thought of Keiko’s text remains imprinted throughout your conscious. Weighing heavily in your hands, you grab your phone and swiftly jog off the bus on a mission to inquire advice from the rest of the boys.

While Hoseok lends a hand in unloading the endless stream of camp attendees hastily lining up to grab their bags and head on home, you find the rest of the boys standing in a semicircle, conversing away and responsibly keeping watch on the slowly dwindling crowd as members of the official performance unit.

“What’s crackin’, Y/N?” Jin questions, the group following suit as they peer at you with curious eyes.

“I just,” you glance around, particularly assuring yourself of Hoseok’s distant position before whirling around and proceeding in a hush, “I just wanted to ask you guys for some advice.”

Taehyung wiggles his brows, “you need some dating advice?”

“Ooh, for Hoseok?” Jungkook adds in.

“No, it has nothing to do with him, okay? Well, sort of,” you reach out your phone to show the text to a intrigued group of boys leaning in. “Keiko wants to meet up with me.”

“...okay?” Yoongi frowns at your lack of context.

“No, I mean, she wants to meet up with me and I’m pretty sure it has something to do with Hoseok. It’s literally the only reason she would know me or even talk to me.”

“But what’s so wrong with that?”

Jimin purses his lips at Yoongi’s remark, “you think Hobi would be okay with that? With us talking behind his back, especially to his former teacher? He doesn’t even tell us anything anymore, and we used to be his closest friends.”

“Yeah, so I don’t know what to do,” you shake your head. “I want to know what Keiko needs to tell me. I feel like it’s something important that might help Hoseok…”

“...but…”

“...but I’m scared I’m just taking advantage of Hoseok’s situation for the sake of my own curiosity. I don’t want to accidentally hurt him.”

The boys exchange glances at each other, because they, too, are as abandoned in the shadows as Hoseok had kept you, yourself.

Finally, Namjoon shifts his weight, a stance demanding attention and respect, before asking, “well, do you think Hoseok is going to get any better at this point?”

To be painfully honest, the truthful answer to his question would simply and brutally be a “no.” Just as Jimin had pointed out, Hoseok carries an even more lethargic, poignant mien in him than he had prior to camp. Maybe bringing him here really is a mistake, after all, because now he seems worse than ever before.

Without dance, it’s like he’s a completely different person.

“No, I doubt he’ll be hanging around us anytime soon,” Jimin quickly answers when he notices your downcast eyes. “I don’t think it’s just me when I say: right now, Hoseok despises dance.”

Hoseok. Despises. Dance.

You never thought those three words could ever coexist.

“Then I don’t think there’s any harm in meeting with Keiko,” Namjoon elaborates. “Yes, you might be butting into someone else’s business, but from what I can tell, Hoseok isn’t just ‘someone’ to you and you aren’t just ‘someone’ to him. If you’re doing it out of good intentions, I doubt he would hold it against you for—”

—his words are cut short when everyone in the group removes their eyes off of you and darts to someone from behind you. Suddenly, a heavy arm slings over your shoulders and the rough edge of his masked voice echoes in your right ear.

“Hey, what’s with all the long face?” Hoseok feigns a laugh after glancing at you. “What’re we going on about this time?”

Rather than his untimely presence, it’s his nonchalant performance of swinging his arms over your shoulders which catches your infuriated attention. Not only is he lying to himself, yourself, and his closest friends, but now he’s acting as if he owns you, as if you two were an actual couple, as if he didn’t just tell you to your face that your relationship meant nothing more than leisure to him.

“Why do you care so much about my mood? Actually, why do you pretend to care so much?” you rebuke in spite, pushing off his hands and relishing in the sudden downturn of his lips and furrowed brows. “I thought we weren’t a thing. You told me not to be attached, so why don’t you follow your own advice?”

Your curtly remarks evoke worried albeit curious glances from the boys, but all you care about is the fury boiling under Hoseok’s poor attempt at suppressing with a smirk.

“That’s more like it,” he smugly grins, cocking his head and raising his hands defensively, “the more you push me away, the more I’ll fall. Isn’t that what you want?”

As if.

Scoffing and rolling your eyes, you shake your head and return your attention to boys before bidding them goodbye and walking off without another word to Hoseok.

There isn’t any reason nor thing for you to stay around Hoseok for, and neither does he for you; he doesn’t run after you and he doesn’t even attempt to explain himself nor demand an explanation, because to him, you simply aren’t worth the effort.

To him, you’re just a simple text away.

Hoseok, my beloved [6:56 P.M.] Well played. Let’s keep things that way.

Clink, clink, the glasses of wine tipping against its own fills the rather lavish room you hadn’t expected nor asked to be seated in; and while others hold their own in formal gowns and suits, you sit uncomfortably across Keiko decked out in sweatpants and a messy bun from lack of time between departure and arrival.

Dressed in a sleek black blouse and dangling earrings, Keiko remains the classy woman you had met the first time around; to others, you must seem like a child next to her.

The only perk you could scavenge from your ostracized self is having your expensive dinner, sure to empty your wallet along with college tuitions, paid by a responsible, full-time employed adult.

“So,” she takes a sip from her glass of wine, “how’re you doing?”

“He’s doing…” you quickly respond before stuttering, “a-alright.”

To your surprise, Keiko chuckles a sultry laugh as ripened as red wine. “I was asking about you, not Hoseok; but I guess you have some sort of a guess as to why I called you here, and to be completely honest with you, you’re right.”

“Oh… sorry...” you mumble, eyes wide and enraptured by her poise. “I, um, hope it’s not inappropriate of me to ask this, but why are you asking me and not the boys?”

Keiko cocks her head as if the answer was obvious enough, “because you're the closest one to him right now, are you not?”

“Emotionally? No… physically? Not really,” you frown, especially when she just chortles at you.

“Well, that's what I've deduced from what the boys have told me.”

“They told you about me?” your eyes immediately widen in panic, because for some odd reason, you want to at least appear somewhat decent from someone as respectable as Keiko; and it isn't a competition between you and her in vie for Hoseok’s attention, it's the elegant way she holds herself which has earned your utmost respect. “What… did they say?”

“Oh, nothing too much,” she chuckles with a shrug. “Don't worry, I have other reasons for my deduction.”

The vague answer intimidates you from inquiring further as your gaze becomes affixed to the empty plate splattered with leftover sauce from the now ingested steak. Instead of probing at you to answer her question, she allows you to recollect yourself and your state of mind in silence; and eventually, you do, for your train of thoughts stumble over the real reason you had agreed to this meeting tonight.

“About Hoseok…” you start, eyes lifting to meet Keiko’s, her brows raising to encourage you further. “He's still… reluctant to dance. I don't think he had the best time at camp.”

“Really? Spring boot camp was always his favorite time of the year,” she prims, but all you can do is sigh in a mix of awe and regret, wondering just how much more she knows about Hoseok than you do him. “Well, do you plan on helping him still?”

Helping him? Does she not know about his injury? Hoseok’s voice reverberates in your mind—stop prying—for a remark both raw and real is all too painful to hear and to forget.

It isn't your business neither is it your secret to reveal, especially not to someone he must hold so dearly—in both respect… and love.

“I don't get it…” you stealthily tiptoe around the subject. “Why aren't you helping him? You're much closer to him than I am. I can't do much… we're just acquaintances. It's not like we're dating.”

Your question elicits a loud intake of breath followed by a sigh as she reclines into her seat and crosses her legs, “because I can't.”

'What do you mean…?”

Her fingers begin to play with the glass of wine, swirling the drink round and round and creating whirlpools in the tips of her sleek red nails.

“Are you aware of Hoseok’s main reason for his hiatus?”

Sneakers squeaking and machine buzzing, collapse.

“Well, I can't because…”

Your line of sight subconsciously travels to your leg where you can practically see Hoseok's own, swelling and throbbing as you clutch it in plain just like he had on the blackest of nights.

Keiko looks you straight in the eye.

“...because I'm the one who caused his injury.”

Injury. His injury. Keiko. She caused it.

How did any of this make sense?

“Wait, what? Are you sure?” your brows cinch in confusion. “Maybe he… he…”

Your voice trails to nothing. What else could have evoked someone to blame themselves over something so horrid other than the truth itself?

“I pushed him too far,” she says after a long sigh, staring at the swirl of wine in her delicate fingers. “I was training him into a captain capable of handling anything that would come at him, be it pressure or stress, he has the potential to be the best we've ever had… I don't know if it was me or him and his own expectations which pushed him too far, too fast, but he crumbled.”

If you knew the old and new Hoseok correctly, the latter would be the valid reason. Hoseok pushed himself too far in the face of pressure.

And as much as you know the blame can't be held entirely by Keiko but Hoseok, himself, a part of you errs in the sudden impatience arising within you.

Crumble, she said.

The sun doesn't crumble, it sets.

“...weren't you watching over him…?” you frown at her.

“I did,” she simply nods. “He practiced day and night. There never was a single day when I entered or left the studio and Hoseok wasn't there. Sometimes I think the poor boy even slept in that sweaty old musty room.”

You let out a scoff under your breath, appalled. “And you didn't tell him to stop—”

“—you’re not a dancer, are you, Y/N? You think I can tell someone to stop doing what they love, what they’re so passionate in? You think we have it easy? That talent and a few hours a week are enough to make up for what we lack? You think he would listen to me if I told him to stop? I thought you knew him well,” Keiko rebukes, calm but reprimanding enough for you to wince. “Being a captain requires you to put in time and stress and pressure just comes with it. And even despite that, yeah, sometimes I do wonder if I was asking for too much. If he or I had said something, if he had quit a bit earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

“Quit?” you articulate, narrowing your eyes at her. “I don’t have to be a dancer to know that trying to prevent an injury isn’t quitting.”

“You sound like every other person who begged me to stop when I was training to become the captain myself,” Keiko chuckles, lips pressing into a thin, curved line. “I handled the pressure. I bore all the stress. I conquered it all and I thrived, Y/N, and you and I both know how talented Hoseok is. If I could do it, he most definitely could, too. I don’t know what got to him, but something did.”

“Not everyone’s body works the same…” your words become muffled by your own lips.

“Oh?” she laughs. “You almost sound like you know him better than I have in the past four years.”

Past four years? It’s almost certain they share a history together. Your gut instincts painfully tell you so.

“Anyways, I’m not here to argue with you, Y/N. I apologize if I stepped over the line just now,” her hand reaches for yours over the table and she smiles. “I get it. To you guys, us dancers seem reckless, and I admit it, we go overboard sometimes. That’s why we, especially Hoseok, need people, like you, by our sides to tell us when enough is enough.”

Her gaze sees right through you and there’s nothing you could do other than avert your eyes to the side to prevent her from reading through your transparency. It feels like she’s telling you something, hinting at an implication, but you just can’t quite get it.

You can’t read her like she or even Hoseok does to you.

“If his injury really is the reason behind his hiatus, then why hasn’t he tried to recover? Or,” you nearly choke on your own gasp, “has… he?”

“As much as I seem to know him, Y/N, I actually can’t answer that question. I really don’t know,” she sighs. “Even I’m surprised. I thought he would bounce back. He truly loved dance. He loved it to death… but maybe he never did. I don’t know if I overestimated him. I was hoping you would know. He won’t let me anywhere near him now.”

Of course not, you bite your tongue. As much as you admire Keiko for her sheer willpower, her constant disregard for Hoseok’s well-being and even questioning his passion irks you the wrong way.

“So,” she softly utters, holding your hand to avert your gaze back to hers, “can you help me, Y/N?”

Stop prying, his voice echoes; even your deepest conscience knows Hoseok doesn’t want you to help.

“Why would I do that? We’re not close or anything. I’ll be sticking my nose into someone else’s business.”

Your remark elicits a slight scoff of disbelief from Keiko as she grins at you with furrowed brows.

“Don’t you like him? Don’t you like Hoseok, I mean?”

“W-What?” you immediately shake your head. “No, I don’t know what makes you think that or whatever the boys told you, but even if I wanted to help, I can’t.”

“Oh, but I think you can,” she leans back into her seat and crosses her arms before turning to glance out the window displaying the black silhouette of the cityscape. “In fact, you’re the only one who can. At the rate Hoseok is going, I don’t think he’ll ever return to the dance scene… but you can change that.”

Everyone seems to have expectations from you, but it doesn’t matter when the person in need of help himself refuses your aid.

But you want to help him, even if that means he won’t ever dance again.

You’ve come to realize, through trial and error, all you could wish for him is bliss.

“...what makes you think that?”

“I promise I’m not doing this to gain your favor or try to persuade you, but,” she turns away from the window and leans into the table with a smile, “I’ve seen the look in his eyes when he mentions you.”

“But… but I thought…”

...I thought you never met up with him before after his injury, is what you meant to say, but the rapid beats of your heart elicited by her confession prevents you from budging a single inch.

Maybe they really are dating and you’re just being toyed around by the both of them.

“I… I just have one question,” you blurt before your more rational self could talk you out of it; for once, you’re acting on impulse and ego, but perhaps you deserve it after everything you’ve been through for the sake of him. It’s time you do something for yourself. “...did you and Hoseok ever have a relationship?”

Keiko arches both brows at you in surprise, “a relationship?”

“As in… have you two dated before?”

Silence ensues as she ponders for a few seconds and smiles, a soft chuckle drifting from her lips, “and what would you say if I said yes? Would you dislike me? Would you not do me this favor?”

Immediately, your heart sinks and something in your stomach drops.

Ah, so it’s a yes; crestfallen for reasons unknown, you begin collecting your things.

“I’ll think about it because I want to make sure this does Hoseok more good than it does me or any of us waiting for him to take the stage again,” standing up, you continue, looking her straight in the eye, “and I’m not doing this for you because I don’t appreciate the way you demean Hoseok and his own health and efforts.”

“Then who are you doing this for?”

You frown; isn’t the answer obvious enough?

“Hoseok.”

A wide grin spreads across her lips from ear to ear as she suppresses a giddy smile, quickly grabbing your hand and squeezing it firmly, “thank you, Y/N. Really, thank you. I mean it when I say you’re the only one who can bring him out of his darkest times. I’m counting on you.”

Gradually and hesitantly, you nod, slowly turning your back on the exit to make your way out the way you made it in.

Step by step, they gain momentum until you find yourself marching out of the restaurant on a mission to brew a storm in search of the world’s ends, for the hidden sun is long due for its rise.

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eve6262 · 2 years

Text

a bad day [[jayce/viktor]]

Some days are vastly better than others. It's a simple fact, innocuous on most days, obviously painful on others. It is also something Viktor's usually sharp, rational brain likes to ignore on the bad days, where everything goes wrong and he blames himself.

He'd been out of milk, and blamed it on himself despite not being the last person to get groceries. He'd started working on a new project and hit a roadblock, and that one made some sense, except then he kept stumbling over his words when he was explaining something to Blitzcrank, and that was a bit much. And then, to top it all off, a knock resounds on his door.

No one knocks. Jinx will come in regardless of what he says, Jayce doesn't bother, and no one else really comes by. "Who is it?"

"Someone for a chat," comes Silco's voice.

Of course. Just his luck.

He opens the door and invites him into the lab, to which Silco replies asking if he has anywhere to sit. That in itself is strange, because Silco is usually the last person to ask for anywhere to sit and will uncaringly take a spot or sit on the floor if he has to. It's hard not to take him seriously with that eye.

"I suppose one of the stools, though I do have a couch in the living room."

"This will do. Please," he motions to where Viktor was working at his own project earlier, the chair still in place. Tenatively he sits, watching his guest with a careful eye.

Silco, for his part, seems absolutely normal as he places himself on the stool before starting to speak. Except he doesn't- he moves his mouth, closes it, opens it again, moves his hands- everything that should mean he's speaking, except his face is wrinkled with confusion and his movements erratic.

"Yes?"

"I- this is a very strange situation for me."

"Okay?" He's beginning to think someone's playing a prank on him. Maybe a Vastayan took his identity and has started pretending to be him, trying to joke around. But Vastayans don't stay long because of the smog and their sensitivities (not like he blames them), so.

"I'm sorry if I seem out of words- you understand, yes?"

"...I think I would understand a little more if I understood what you came here to talk about."

"You know."

"I don't."

Silco shoots him a look. He really wishes he knew, at this point, but he really doesn't. "I'm serious. I don't."

"Take off the mask." He does, though with some hesitance. The bewilderment must show on his face because Silco does a double take and says, "Oh, you really don't."

"No. Why would I lie?"

"Many do."

"When have I ever cared."

"Point taken. I- it's about Jinx."

"Okay," he says, knowing that could mean just about anything.

"Have you noticed anything...off, about her lately?"

"...She's a maniac."

"Yes."

Viktor moves his hand as if to say, connect the dots. "So, if she's being off..."

"Then she has problems?"

"Yes. Which we already know, she's a maniac."

"No, not that kind of problems- I mean a problem that has just come up."

"Why are you interrogating me about this?"

"She comes to you sometimes."

"To ask me what the proper resonance structure is for a hextech-powered rocket launcher is, what kind of point is that?"

"I don't know what you two talk about."

"Well, I just told you."

The conversation continues to drag on and on, with Silco unwilling to admit whatever's actually the problem with Jinx, and eventually leaving without answers. Before that, at least he was feeling depressed about his own work, thinking it was his fault that everything was going wrong; now it just feels like a terrible day.

I haven't seen Jayce in a few days, his brain supplies quite annoyingly. It is still quite early in the morning, and he knows the man's schedule- the time is perfect to arrive at his estate with some time to spare, just in case something else goes wrong.

He tells Blitzcrank at the door that he's going to Jayce's, and that if he wants the robot can go exploring so long as he arms the security system before he leaves. Blitzcrank affirms him and does not move otherwise, so he makes his way to the elevator.

On the way there, he gets accosted by a prostitute with a metal forearm and nearly tossed into a puddle of acid by a very irritated man who seems to have him mistaken for his wife.

The elevator, to his dismay, also has two other children on it as he ascends, and he really wishes right now that his brain understood that his leg is fine now, it's made of metal, there's no need to limp everywhere and rely on his staff-cane because he could have made it through the less proper channels. Unfortunately, he has to deal with those two, but thankfully they don't directly bother him.

It is three blocks from Jayce's manor- he's gotten quite the riches from his position on the council since their initial endeavors, hasn't he- when, for whatever reason, Caitlyn tells him to freeze.

"What?"

"What are you doing up here?"

"Walking."

"To where?"

"The Talis estate."

"To do?"

"Visit. May I ask why I'm being interrogated?"

"No."

"Amazing."

"Do you have any knowledge of Jinx's current whereabouts?"

"Not this again."

"What do you mean, this 'again?'"

"Silco interrogated me earlier for nearly half an hour about this. Oh, 'have you noticed Jinx has been odd lately?' No, the girl comes to me with engineering questions and new designs, not her life struggles."

"Silco's looking for her?"

"Can I go?"

"Fine, but if I find out you're involved-"

"If I was involved, Silco would kill me before you could."

He finally gets there, half expecting to be denied by a new maid who answers the door or find that he's with a political friend right now and Viktor should probably leave because it's going to be a while. But the woman who answers the door is named Marilyn, and she smiles and goes "Oh, good, he was getting antsy," and offers to bake him something as she leads him to the sitting room.

Piltie things. Sitting rooms and last names and the like- so much pointless extravagance. But at least Jayce prides himself on buying comfortable furniture, if expensive, and not that tasteless nonsense he saw once at a party of Medarda's.

"Viktor!" Just seeing him makes the day a bit better, and he carefully recieves the bouncing hug he gets as a reception. Marilyn walks off, giggling quietly to herself at the two as Viktor is dragged to one of the three couches- three!- surrounding a coffee table.

"Okay, so I wanted to tell you about- actually, wait, you came here, not the other way around. Did you need something?" By the time Jayce realizes Viktor has already taken off his mask and folded his coat over the armrest.

"Hm? No, not particularly. Go on."

"You sure?"

"Just a...bad day, more or less."

Jayce's eyes light at up at that, surprisingly, but he nonetheless starts talking Viktor's ear off about nonsense. First it's about some party that he was excited about because him and Seraphine- some pop idol that Piltover seems obsessed with who does concerts on the in-between- met and she was actually quite sympathetic to his place, and then about some ideas for inventions, and then about what might as well be absolute nonsense.

Viktor has always enjoyed Jayce's voice. It's easy to listen to, not rough around the edges like his own, and if you don't try to look past it you can simply fall into the Piltover's Finest sort of cadence he has, the kind that makes you want to like him. It's how Viktor fell for a man who should've been the farthest thing from his type, among other things.

Excluding the body. That is very much his type.

"Sorry, I've been talking for a while, huh?"

"I don't mind. I've been interrogated twice today, it's nice to hear someone else do the talking and not need to respond."

"Oh, really? What happened?"

"Something with Jinx. Both Caitlyn and Silco were convinced I knew something."

"Huh. Weird- wait. Did they mention what happened?"

"No?"

"...Okay, this is going to sound really weird."

"Go on."

"I think Jinx left her blueprints at my place and someone found it."

"And why, pray tell, would her blueprints be at your place?"

"Well, see, it was pretty early in the morning, and she burst through the window and said 'hey! you busy?' and I said..." And he keeps going on, now talking about how Jinx and him had a sort of bonding moment as friends that morning until the workers came in to start, and she must've left the stuff there.

Near the end of the story, they're interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who is it?"

"Me," says Marylin, opening the door. She pushes a cart filled with two plates of tarts- the kind you only really know how to make if you're from Zaun- and drinks. There's a third little display with the same tarts on them. "I made you both something to eat."

"Oooh, good timing, Lin."

"Thank you."

"'Course! Hope you like them," she says, giving them both a smile before leaving.

"I'm glad she likes you."

"Does she now?"

"Oh, absolutely. Mel came to talk with me about something the other day, right?" And he keeps going on and on, letting Viktor simply laugh and watch and listen without any need for input, and belatedly Viktor realizes that the day has turned from terrible to great in the span of an hour or two due to Jayce's presence alone.

"Hey?" He asks at the end of the story."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you, love. You've been a great help."

Jayce gives him a cute little kiss in response.

---

brainrot / ventfic duo oh man

~Eve6262

#league of legends #viktor #viktor league of legends #jayce #jayce talis #jayce league of legends #jayvik #jayce/viktor #writing #short story #caitlyn league of legends #caitlyn lol #fanfiction

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Text

Just got another wonderful commission! Some shenanigans between TFA Bumblebee and Bulkhead, with the latter realizing he feels more than friendship...

Boot camp was rarely a place that offered any downtime, so whenever he had even a moment of freedom to himself, Bulkhead liked to make it count. Granted there wasn't much to actually do, but that didn't bother him too much. Hanging out with his friend Bumblebee made any given activity much more exciting.

The only roadblock to that plan was finding the little scout, who had an excellent talent for slipping away when one wanted to see him most. That skill served him well when it came to overbearing instructors and the many bullies in the program, but unfortunately it also made socializing with the little bot quite the challenge. Bulkhead had already swept half the camp with no sign of his friend to be seen. It was actually getting to the point where he felt a little worried… None of their usual hangout spots had even a sign of the scout, and no one claimed to have seen him either. The last thing he wanted to do was have to tell a commanding officer that Bumblebee was missing!

Thankfully, he'd developed a bit of a sense for tracking down the bot, so he wasn't without options. There were still a number of places to look, unlikely as they may have been, and he didn't want to give up hope. Bumblebee had to be around here somewhere…

Luck finally came to his aid when he caught a glimpse of yellow beside the mess hall, which was presently full of bots having their midday rations. With so few bearing such a bright color scheme, he was fully confident his friend was close. Not much for speed, he still endeavored to go as fast as possible towards the sighting, smiling with hope that they'd get to enjoy his time off together. As the mess hall only had one real entrance and exit, both of which were closed to keep the elements at bay, he didn't have to worry about bumping into anyone as he rounded the corner.

"Eep!"

A surprised yelp nearly sent him careening onto his back, but a servo managed to steady him on the wall. The bot he'd been searching for stood before him in the narrow alley between the mess hall and the supply shed, optics wide as saucers from the fright of being stumbled upon.

"Bumblebee!" he exclaimed happily, preparing to invite his friend for any number of fun activities before he noticed something being cradled in his lean arms. Recognizing a full oil drum, he tilted his helm in confusion. Bee was supposed to be off duty like he was, not scheduled for any maintenance or meals… There wasn't a single logical reason for him to have the oil. "What… what are you doing?"

"Well… I suppose I can tell you…" Bumblebee replied in a whisper after looking around. Face lighting up in a devilish smirk, he gestured for Bulkhead to lean down so he could explain himself in hushed but excited tones. "It's an amazing prank idea I just had! I'll pour this oil outside of the main door, pull the fire alarm, and when everyone comes running out…"

Holding the oil on one arm, the little bot smacked his fist into an open palm, mirroring the movement of a bot slipping and falling flat on their back. Just mimicking the action made him snicker out loud, his expression giddy enough to bring an infectious smile to Bulkhead's face.

"It'll be priceless!" Bumblebee declared, sounding as if he wanted his friend on board. Having been involved with a number of pranks in the past, albeit very minor ones, Bulkhead was indeed tempted by the idea.

"Yeah! But…" his smile faded as a number of very important facts clicked into place. In order to enjoy the prank, they'd have to watch it, and by standing off to the side they'd be the only bots unaffected. It didn't take a genius to realize that blame for the prank would be very easily assigned. "Won't you get caught?"

"Why do you say that?" Bumblebee asked, only moderately disheartened as he picked up the oil drum and hugged it close. Not wanting to hurt his feelings but knowing he couldn't leave his friend to get caught, the bigger bot tried to be gentle.

"Well, if you're out here already when everyone runs out, laughing on the sidelines…" he started, letting the sentence hang so Bumblebee could connect the dots as he had. Unfortunately, the little mech only tilted his helm in confusion, not at all catching on. Bulkhead was forced to apply just a little more pressure so his friend might realize what potential drawbacks his plan had. "I think the bots in charge will put that together pretty fast."

There was a heavy and not at all quick period of silence, during which you could practically hear the little bot's processor working at full power. It all clicked with an audible gasp, followed by a frown and a full deflation of Bumblebee's excitement. "Scrap… you're right."

Bulkhead nearly felt his spark break at the sight of the bright and cheery bot looking so down. Scrambling for a solution, he tried to think of alternate plans and even other possible pranks before it all dawned on him like a lightbulb going off at full power.

"But, maybe if you, um…" he stammered quietly as he made sure he had a good idea, wanting to give some truly good advice for the sake of his friend. Not being a master of pranks forced him to think very long and hard. When he was more or less confident in what he came up with, he did everything he could to sound convincing as he suggested it. "Maybe put some oil on yourself and sit in it? Make it look like you tripped, so everyone thinks you got pranked too."

Bumblebee perked up, optics widening as the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. The idea clearly resonated with him quite considerably. "I'm listening… and I like what I hear!"

"Plus, that way even if you laugh no one will be suspicious. They'll just think you're having fun with it, that's all." Bulkhead continued, brightening up himself at the light he'd returned to his friend. It was a rather quick plan, but seeing it work brought a number of warm and delightful emotions to his spark. Even if pranking wasn't the best way for them to spend their time, he was just happy at the idea of Bee having fun, especially if he got to help. There was nothing he wanted to do more, really.

Bumblebee hefted the oil drum with a grin, shaking the contents as he gave the bigger bot a look of devious excitement. "Hey Bulk…"

"Yeah?" Bulkhead replied innocently, wondering if his friend wanted more help planning his prank.

"You wanna be a part of this?" Bumblebee asked with a giggle filled whisper, holding up the can for him. The invitation was obvious, as was the little bot's total delight at the idea of his friend tagging along. Bulkhead felt his spark do a flip at the very question.

Tapping his thick digits together, he looked about awkwardly, unsure of exactly what to say. As happy as he was to help, and to let Bee do as he pleased, the big bot wasn't really much for pulling pranks. On one hand, he was absolutely massive, making sneaking more or less impossible. If he tagged along, their chances of being caught were… not great. Then there was the fact he just didn't enjoy tricking bots for his own amusement. Not that he had anything against a good joke, it just wasn't usually for him. Trying to find a way to say all that would be very hard…

"Oh, uh… I don't know if I should… It'd probably be best if I-"

Dejection like none he'd ever known filled Bumblebee's wide optics, dragging his smile down into a crestfallen frown. His conflicted spark broke at the sight, and he knew straight away what he needed to do.

"Okay, you know what? Count me in." he said, uncertainty melting away as his friend beamed with total delight. Smiling back, he was nevertheless caught quite off guard when the little bot grabbed his servo and started pulling him along, showing a surprising amount of strength for his size. Granted, the ease with which they moved may have had more to do with how infectious Bulkhead found the excitement to be.

When they ended up right in front of the mess hall, he let the prankster take the lead, stepping back to give him room.

Straight away, Bumblebee uncapped the oil drum and started pouring it out on the open stretch of ground, covering the ground in a layer of slippery trip hazards. Anybot unprepared for the mess would end up flat on their face, or back on their aft, and there were about to be a lot of unprepared bots rushing forward. At least it was rather harmless as far as pranks went. If anything, there would just be a mess and some embarrassed recruits in need of a wash.

At least, that's what he thought, before Bumblebee made it clear he was emptying the entire drum.

"Uh, you think that might be too much?" Bulkhead asked as the thick oil spread far and wide, encroaching on every inch of open ground. He didn't need to be too bright to figure that the mess might be a tad too much. Forget merely tripping, bots might have been completely unable to stand in all this, not to mention the cleanup.

Bumblebee wasn't even concerned in the slightest. "Quite the opposite, good buddy! When it comes to pranking, you can never have too much!" he declared proudly, emptying the oil drum completely before tossing it aside with a satisfied dusting of his hands. They were now on opposite sides of a lake of oil, one that was creeping outward still with every passing second. Not a single scrap of bare ground remained in front of the mess hall doors.

Grinning from audial to audial, the little mech scooted his way over to the emergency alarm, snickering as he tried his hardest not to fall. Even if he had a feeling he was beholding an impending disaster, Bulkhead couldn't keep himself from smiling at the antics. There was just something about Bumblebee he couldn't quite put a digit on that made him extremely happy, especially as the little bot took hold of the alarm level and looked to him with a wild grin. "Ready?"

"Yup!" he replied with enthusiasm, optics entirely on Bee as he pulled the lever and set the chaos into motion.

An alarm bell began to ring without delay, filling the air around them with a frantic beeping meant to get bots up and moving during times of trouble. Even through the thick walls of the mess hall they both heard the rush of panic that followed, namely shouts from confused and irritated recruits leaving their lunches behind. Bulkhead hardly noticed the chaos with his optics focused entirely on Bumblebee, who used his last few seconds to play the part of innocent bystander. Carefully dropping himself down on a spot with a nice view, he gathered some of the oil and splashed it on himself to give the appearance of having fallen and dirtied himself by accident. The smile on his face did little to help sell the bit.

Just then, the doors parted as the wave of bots poured forth to see what the alarm was all about, and raw chaos like none they'd ever seen broke loose.

The slippery surface, combined with the momentum of the approaching bots, sent them all falling forward like a crazy slip and slide. Without time to react, whole waves of recruits crashed forward and skidded along the lake with cries of total bafflement. Oil splashed everywhere as the confused masses struggled in vain to stop their wild ride, typically making it worse for themselves as their flailing only made it harder to be still. Mechs and femmes tried to cling to one another for some sense of nonexistent stability.

At the edge of it all, Bumblebee was laughing uproariously, doubled over and holding his middle as he enjoyed the fruits of his efforts. Bulkhead wasn't quite sure what to do from where he stood, but seeing Bee so happy definitely made it all better. Sure these bots were in a mess, but it was nothing too bad. The massive rush of recruits was finally slowing down now that a massive pile up was gathered in the lake of oil, with bots from all around the camp running over to see what the problem was. Some of the good samaritans ended up slipping into the mess themselves, flipping end over end and worsening the chaos. After a few mere minutes, the entire camp was caught up in the mess one way or another.

In the midst of so much confused shouting and a little bit of angry swearing, Bumblebee never stopped laughing, only reducing his guffaws to giggles as he grinned at Bulkhead from across the way. Doing little not to be caught, the small mech started working his way out of the oil, crawling over to his friend so they might make their escape. The big bot actually dared to believe they might get away with it all.

"What on Cybertron is going on here?!"

The deep, authoritative voice froze everyone exactly where they'd been, and not a bot dared to move as their commanding officer came thundering towards the ruckus. Bulkhead gulped as the bot in charge stormed up to the edge of the oil, arms crossed and expression angrier than words could convey. He had a very bad feeling about all of this…

"Someone pulled the alarm!" a random mech cried out from the bottom of the pile, which was doing everything to disentangle itself and avoid looking ridiculous. Even those who'd done nothing wrong were frantic to make themselves presentable for the furious commanding officer. Bulkhead shot Bumblebee a look, silently pleading for him to flee so that they might escape without getting caught. If his friend was captured on the scene, he doubted he'd ever see him in one piece again.

Another mech tried to clarify, slipping and sliding without a hope for stability just like all the others. His success was more than a little limited. "We just ran out to… to… whoa!"

Once again there was a great crash, and more than half of the oil splattered bots slipped and fell in a pile. The bot in charge arched a brow in a very unamused show of impatience.

Unfortunately for Bulkhead, his friend didn't pick up on the cues, and he saw the little scout covering his mouth to hold back more laughter. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Did this mech not realize what danger he was in?! Why didn't he try to escape?! They were one good guess away from being melted down for spare parts!

"Someone must have dumped this oil here!" a bot cried out as they tried in vain to wipe the mess from their face, succeeding only in smudging it further. The sight proved too much for a certain mischievous mech, who went from giggling quietly to laughing openly at the site.

"Private Bumblebee!"

Everyone froze, and Bulkhead felt his spark do a flip after skipping a few pulses. Bright yellow paint shone like a beacon amongst the sea of oil and tangled bots, turning all optics to the one little mech who hadn't managed to escape on time.

"S-sir!" Bumblebee stammered, throwing up a salute in a last ditch attempt to be professional. Bulkhead wanted so badly to run over and grab him so they might escape, but was stuck right where he was, frozen in fear.

"Why do I have reason to believe you're behind all this?" the commanding officer growled, circling the edge of the lake and closing in on the little mech. Even the bots whose only mistake was tripping flinched away from his presence, and the poor little scout all but withered under his intense gaze. The effect only worsened as the space between them shrunk.

"Sir I… beats me!" Bumblebee cried out in his lamest excuse for a lie, putting on a smile that wouldn't have convinced anyone in a hundred mile radius. "I was just walking along and got caught in the mess like everyone else!"

"The scrap you were! I saw you lugging an oil drum from storage!" one of the many bots in the pileup shouted, looking none too pleased to be dripping oil. Bumblebee flinched again, having not expected any witnesses might be able to tie him to the prank. Bulkhead almost smacked a servo against his forehelm in disbelief. Primus, had Bee really not checked to see if he'd been spotted or followed? How could he not have been the least bit careful? Now he was in a lot of trouble, and there was no one to save him…

The commanding bot sighed heavily, shaking his helm as he sneered down at the small mech shrinking before him. "Hard to believe such a small bot could cause so much trouble on their own."

Bumblebee flinched at the insult, his face dropping as a few of the gathered bots had a chuckle at his expense. Something broke within Bulkhead at the sight and the unfairness of the underhanded comment. Even if his friend had messed up, he most certainly didn't deserve to be insulted, and he couldn't let him endure any more of this without help.

"He didn't do it alone!" Bulkhead shouted over the crowd, turning all optics on himself in a dizzying and terrifying shift. The disapproving gaze of their commanding bot nearly made him collapse on the spot.

"What was that, private?" the big mech growled, almost challenging him to repeat himself.

Gulping down a whimper, Bulkhead stood firm. "I… it was both of us!" he clarified, so confident what he was doing was right he didn't even sound like he was lying. Bumblebee was the only one looking at him with an expression other than total shock, and he took strength from the hope in those big optics. He'd undoubtedly have some massive trouble coming his way after this, but it would be worth it, especially if they got to spend it together. "I helped him do this… we each did some of the work…"

"Well then, it seems we have two pairs of servos to clean up the mess…" the commanding bot said, sounding quite unimpressed. The same angry glares being leveled at Bumblebee turned his way, but Bulkhead accepted them in stride. No one had much to say as the next command was barked with unquestionable authority. "Everybot, disperse. The mess hall is closed until further notice."

Many bots groaned in absolute annoyance as they struggled to obey the order as fast as they could, irritated both by the mess and the fact most of them hadn't even gotten to finish their meals. Slippery forms slid through the muck in a slow progression of furious glares and whispered threats, leaving trails of oil in their wake when they finally escaped the pool. No doubt the mess would end up being tracked far and wide...

"The two of you will be cleaning every last drop of oil from the camp. I don't want to see a single treadmark from here to the barracks, understood?" the commanding bot said tersely, leaving no room for an argument. Both of them were perfectly aware of how serious he was, and that an even worse punishment would await them if he found even a spot of oil out of place. They nodded and gave their most emphatic salutes.

Not finished with his frighteningly calm dressing down, the massive mech gave them both a glare that could freeze a Decepticon in their tracks. "No recharge or fuel until I'm satisfied with your work. If you finish soon enough, I might just knock a few hundred rounds off the transform-ups I'll be anticipating when you're done…"

A final, deathly serious growl sent a shiver up both of their struts.

"Am. I. Clear?"

"Yes sir!" they replied in unison, notably more higher pitched than usual. Neither dared to move as the commanding officer took his leave, and they were left alone in the middle of the biggest mess of their lives. When he was finally out of sight, Bulkhead let out a sigh and made his way over to Bee, not particularly minding the mess as he went. Primus knew he would be getting it all over himself.

"Wow Bulk, I can't believe you did that!" Bumblebee said in awe as his friend carefully shuffled through the oil to be at his side. Optics wide with amazement, the little mech didn't even care about the mess of oil all over himself, looking up with an expression that managed to make Bulkhead smile.

"I can't either…" he said in agreement, offering a hand to help his friend up. Too slippery to be agile, Bee took the offer gratefully, letting the bigger bot be his support as he tried to set his footing. Wiping away some of the mess on his forehelm, the prankster surveyed his work and let out a sigh.

"You really saved my spark out there!" he said suddenly, patting Bulkhead's broad chassis and letting out a laugh of relief. The big bot couldn't imagine how anyone would laugh in such a situation, but he was at least happy to see Bumblebee smiling. "Seriously, I thought he was gonna have me converted into spare parts!"

"He still might, to both of us, I mean." Bulkhead reminded him, pointing towards the supply station. There were plenty of tools for cleaning that they'd used for chores in the past, but he couldn't imagine any of them being too useful for this kind of mess. Without the luxury of time, they would need to hurry and figure it out. Taking a single careful step, he pulled his friend alongside him. "We better get to work."

"Here, let me!" Bumblebee offered, sliding almost gracefully over the oil to grab the tools himself. Managing not to trip and break anything, he grabbed the tools they'd need and stuffed his arms with them, carrying it all back with a helpful smile. Offering one to Bulkhead, he got to work right away, going as fast as he could so that his friend didn't have to rush. "It's the least I can do!"

Bulkhead took the tool, a kind of mop built for absorbency of such messes, and started to clean. One swipe seemed to do less than nothing. If anything, it just seemed to spread everything around and make it worse…

Bumblebee either didn't notice, or didn't care, as he cheerfully whistled a tune while scrubbing away at the mess he'd made. Silently doing the same, Bulkhead was left with his thoughts. How had he managed to get himself in this situation? Here he was, splitting the punishment equally, when he'd done maybe a fraction of the work… What could have possibly compelled him to do that? If he'd have kept his mouth shut, this would not have been his problem. Bumblebee would be cleaning alone, and he'd be free to do as he pleased. The lack of logic was downright confounding.

Looking back to his friend, the confusion briefly evaporated as he felt that same warmth in his spark that had compelled him to act. Sure he didn't have to help, but he wanted to. Seeing Bumblebee happy was perhaps the greatest feeling in the world. Few bots ever got to experience a friendship so wild but true. In fact, the feelings were unlike any other friendship he'd ever known.

Then it hit him; it felt that way because it wasn't a friendship, or at least, it wasn't just a friendship.

He was head over heels for this little bot.

Figuring it out almost sent him tumbling to the oil soaked ground. Primus, in hindsight it was so obvious! Seeing this little mech happily throwing himself into absurd situations just made him feel lighter than air, and he wouldn't have traded that for anything. A goofy grin broke out on his face, forcing him to turn away lest it be discovered. Having just discovered the feelings for himself, he wasn't quite ready to share them yet.

It was an overwhelming but oddly wonderful thing to realize; he was in love. Knowing so made everything so wonderfully clear, and when he glanced over at the bot he so adored, he was more certain than ever he had made the right call. In fact, he didn't want to be anywhere else in the universe at that second.

#transformers #maccadam #tfa #transformers animated #bumblebulk #my commissions #bulkbee

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