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spnexploration · 1 year

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Collared part 17

Pairing: Dean x Reader eventually

Series summary: Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

Episode summary: Things are not going well for you.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and injuries, objectification and poor treatment, slavery, restraints, forced isolation, panic attack, negative self-talk

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: Big thanks to @mrswhozeewhatsis who helped with an idea in the big show down (I won't spoil it!)

Series masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

Part 16 <- -> Part 18

You held in a sob, knowing it was exactly what he wanted. He had you on your knees, using his knife to cut strips in your clothes, every so often nicking you so that you’d bleed but not be too badly damaged. He was toying with you.

Your mistress walked in. “Oh Room 14, you found her!” She clapped her hands together like a child excited by a toy. “Oh, I have missed her.” You shuddered.

She turned to your tormentor. “What happened with the hunters?”

“Told the others to deal with them. I've got more important things to focus on,” he said as he cut your bra strap.

Your mistress seemed displeased. “Can you think with something other than your dick for 5 minutes?! Those are the Winchesters, they are not done until they're dead and even then it's debatable!”

He huffed, taking a long swing with his knife and cutting the rest of your tattered shirt clean off. Your bra cup flopped around on the side it was cut but your breasts were still mostly covered.

You knew that wouldn't last.

“Now, Azaneth,” your mistress said impatiently.

“We’ll have to finish this later,” he taunted you. He snapped his fingers and some random henchman appeared with a leash. You shivered at the sound of it clicking into the waiting ring on your collar.

The henchman dragged you to a nearby cupboard and shoved you in, attacking the leash to a hook inside. He shut the door and then you heard a lock click.

Tears welled in your eyes as you huddled, crouched in the tiny space, unable to leave.

---

You heard yelling. You were worried about your master, but you knew that he and Sam were likely dead. There was no point in hoping.

---

That was definitely a gun shot.

---

Your back ached from being crouched over inside the cupboard. You reminded yourself to get used to it, you had gotten altogether too lax being with the brothers. The real world was back and that meant pain. Suck it up, princess.

---

It was impossible to know what was happening. Every so often you heard sounds of violence, and then it would go quiet.

You weren't sure whether to hope that no one would forget you, or to hope that they would.

---

You heard footsteps close by. You tightened your posture, dropped your eyes to the ground, and readied yourself.

The cupboard was opened. The shoes looked like your mistress’s. She unhooked the end of the leash and tugged you out of the cupboard, without saying a word. Who would speak to a slave when you didn’t have to?

She took you into a room, grabbed a small brown book out of a compartment in a desk, then started dragging you back to the corridor. You were crawling behind her, not permitted to stand. She kept tugging to make you go faster, and once painfully slapped your face when you weren’t keeping up.

You reminded yourself that you deserved this. You were a slave. You should expect no less.

She turned a corner and then you felt your leash dragged to the floor, painfully pulling your neck down. You quickly pressed your forehead to the ground, thinking that was what she wanted, when you heard fighting noises. Your leash pulled harder, dragging you forward, before eventually going slack.

You crawled to the corner and saw your mistress and your master fighting. You froze.

You started to panic, not sure what was going on. You couldn’t follow the fight, too many limbs moving too fast. You felt like you weren’t meant to be watching anyway, and tried to keep looking at the ground in case your mistress saw you, but stole many glances up at the melee.

Your breathing was getting faster, shallower. You dimly remembered Cas referring to this as a ‘panic attack’, and felt almost like you were an outsider watching your body.

You hadn’t noticed at first, but Sam was fighting some of the handlers and henchmen, further down the corridor. You didn’t want to have to witness both of them dying, but you were sure that was going to happen.

It was almost getting hard to breathe now, you were taking such short, sharp breaths that didn’t seem to be doing anything.

You noticed that your mistress had dropped the little book, and it was accidentally kicked towards you, coming to rest against your leg.

You stayed where you were. Your mistress would be angry if you moved.

A gunshot rang out, hurting your ears.

The fighting seemed to get quieter. You were staring at the ground, trying to fight the dizziness you were feeling. And if the fight was over, you didn’t want to be caught doing the wrong thing, like watching.

“Try that again and the next one goes through your temple,” your master growled. You felt a sense of elation that he was still alive.

“And the one after that will go through your brother’s,” another voice called out, from further down the corridor. You kept your eyes down, not sure what was going on.

“Well now, a nice impasse we've reached,” your mistress taunted. “Or have we!” She went up at the end of her sentence, like she was flourishing something. You couldn't hear anything happen though.

“That all you got? Lost your mojo?” your master said cockily. “Guess these witch-killer bullets pack a bit of a punch even when they don't kill.”

Your mistress seemed to feign indifference, but you thought you could hear frustration in her voice. “No matter, I can still cast spells from my book, I'll be fixed in no time.”

“You'll be dead before you can touch it.”

“You shoot me and you'll be walking out of here down a brother, remember? Now, Room 14, give me the book.”

You reached your hands out and picked it up, then looked up. Your mistress was on the ground, your master’s hand wrapped around her upper arm and a gun against her forehead. Her free hand was clutched against a bleeding wound on her leg. Further up the corridor, two guys had Sam, one with a gun against his head.

You shivered.

“Now, 14,” she demanded.

“Y/N, I need you to give the book to me,” your master said gently.

You glanced between them, unsure what to do.

“You want to spend the next month with as many punishments as I can think of? Give me the book, NOW!” You took a tiny step towards her, your mind conjuring memories of all of the things she'd done to you in the past.

“You don't have to listen to her, sweetheart.” Your eyes flicked back to your master, who was watching your mistress. You remembered his gentle touches, being comforted when you were upset, your cushion on the floor and blankets for a bed.

It seemed like if you gave the book to your mistress, she would win and be able to hurt your master. If you gave it to your master, he might win. You flicked your eyes to Sam, not really sure what would happen to him either way.

You suddenly realised that the collar wasn't forcing you to obey either of them. It must not recognise your mistress as your mistress any more, and your master had told you that all of his orders in this building weren't orders. You felt adrift at being able to make your own decision, a heavy responsibility that wasn't normally yours.

“What are you, deaf? Stupid? I ordered you to give me the book!”

Your master's eyes flicked to yours. He didn't say anything, just looked at you for a moment. Truly looked at you.

You took a step forward.

Your master and your mistress probably couldn't tell who you were walking to, and your indecision meant that you almost couldn't either.

You took another step.

Your master shifted his grip on your mistress, and in the process tapped his heel on the ground twice. You didn't really think anything of it, he was just shuffling his position.

You were nearly at them now. Time to commit.

You held it out to your master.

A/N: I'm going to try doing tags in the reblog, will see how it goes!

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 10 months

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Susan Kay's 'Phantom' Read: Part IV (Nadir)

I always knew I'd have mixed feelings about this chunk of the book.

I feel like the issues with the rampant Orientalism and just generally how very wrong Kay is about so much of this have been sufficiently commented on by others, so I'm not going to spend a lot of real estate on that. I'm mainly going to focus on what bugs me personally.

Which is... well, several things

Where do I start?

I guess with "Nadir" himself. I don't know who "Nadir" is, but he's #NotMyDaroga. 'Why's that?' You may ask? Well because, in my opinion, he's only tangentially related to his source material. There's a lot here that checks the boxes: Daroga of Mazanderan, reluctant with many of his duties, simultaneously in awe of and terrified of Erik’s genius all of that's in there. Buuuuut

First of all, Kay took the most practical, likeable character in Leroux's work and made him whiny and annoying. All he does for the first five pages is complain. Within those five pages he also refers to himself as "regrettably squeamish". Nothing happens in the course of this episode to show him growing out of that, so how we get the, pragmatic badass who haunts the Paris opera house keeping Erik in check I have no idea (I also have no idea how this is gonna go later in the book).

Not only that but this in particular stuck out to me:

Some of the illusions were positively supernatural, and long before the show was at an end, I was quietly convinced that I stood in the presence of a genie, created from fire more than two thousand years before Adam. I noted uneasily that he was left handed. Every Moslem knows that the devil is left handed--it is for this reason that we always take care to spit to the left. My fingers felt instinctively for the amulets that hung at my neck, an outstretched hand made in silver and the dried eye of a sheep, killed at Mecca on the great day of sacrifice. Both were powerful protective agencies, and I had never felt more in need of their protection. I took care not to meet his gaze, for I already feared his evil eye.

This stands in sharp contrast to the Persian of Leroux:

If I had been a superstitious man or easily susceptible to weakness, I could not have failed to think that I had to do with a siren of some sort whose task was to trouble the voyager bold enough to travel on the waters of the lakeside house; but, thank God, I come from a country where the fantastic is so cherished that we know it to its depths, and in times past I myself have studied it extensively. Anyone who knows the magicians trade can excite the human imagination with a few simple tricks.

Of course you can make the argument that the Persian speaking here has known Erik for years now and is wise to his tricks, whereas Kay's "Nadir" is seeing them for the first time. But I'm sorry. I don't buy it. Leroux's Daroga, though amazed and awestruck by Erik's skills at illusion, never indicates that he has even been so fooled by them as to actually mistake him for more than what he is: a genius, certainly, but no genie.

Which leads me to wonder if Erik's magic tricks in this book aren't a little too fantastic. Granted Kay never leads us to believe that they really are supernatural, but she uses Erik's degree of genius as a bit of a shield to get away with not revealing the secrets to some truly fantastic tricks, while Leroux nearly always explains Erik's mechanisms (whether they would work to the level of efficacy Leroux describes its up for debate, but he at least does have explanations for them all.

I think it's hilarious and contemptible that Kay has, at numerous times in this book, dropped incredibly clunky and gratuitous clusters of architectural technical terms, just lists of them for no apparent reason except, I can only assume, to show off how much research she did on the subject; and then makes it so patently obvious that her cultural research is dubious, negligible, or entirely non-existent.

She goes to great lengths to paint Nadir as a devout Muslim, which is not something Leroux ever did, now that I think about it. I don't doubt that the Persian is, at least culturally, be he seems quite ambivalent to his religion, as a rule. It quite literally (as far as I can recall) never comes up. But Nadir is. Several times she has him exclaim "Allah" much in the way a Westerner would use "God" as an expletive. Not "Wallah" not even "By Allah" just "Allah".

"Allah, how I hated cats!"

And it's not only the things he says but the things he doesn't say that annoy me (though I'm a layman, and very much open to correction). Common Islamic phrases that could easily be used in any of the situations Nadir finds himself in are completely left by the wayside. There isn't even a single "Inshallah" in his entire narrative.

Another problem I have is that Kay's Daroga is a widower with a sick son. A very complex emotional relationship develops among Erik, Nadir, and Nadir's son, Reza, to whom Erik feels an affinity, as the boy is slowly crippled by a debilitating congenital disease. I have a problem with this because its all very... I call it the Michael Burnham effect. That is to say this is a very important and big emotional thing in The Persian's relationship with Erik and I don't believe that this wouldn't have come up in any of the Persian's narrative if it was actually the case. This is a liberty which Kay, in my opinion, shouldn't have taken. It affects Erik's entire relationship with The Persian in ways that strain my credulity. And it's part of the reason that Erik's character here is fully beginning to stray deeper into a musical-based version than the Leroux-version (which I have a problem with, as this book is ostensibly following Leroux's outline). She even goes to far as to have Erik acknowledge Nadir, with complete (if reluctant) sincerity, as his friend. And this pretty much confirms my suspicions of where "Erik and Daroga are friends" comes from. Whatever Erik and The Persian's odd relationship in the book is, I can't call it friendship with how frequently The Persian calls him "the monster".

Note don't get me wrong Erik and Daroga do definitely have a bizarre bond that is, I think, a kind of friendship. Daroga feels sympathy for Erik, and also responsibility for him. He is, in many, ways, more like an older brother than a friend. I could say so much on this subject but that's for another post.

But what I find really baffling and annoying about Erik and Nadir's "friendship" in this book is the drugs.

I can't express how repugnant I find this. I think it's an insult to both Erik and the Persian, the fact that Nadir HIMSELF GETS ERIK HOOKED ON OPIUM. WHY. And then she has the fucking nerve to lampshade with all the "Oh yes Opium's a terrible horrible deadly habit" Only to have Nadir turn right around and give Erik his fix. What the actual fuck.

But setting aside that Susan Kay actually said "I'm not just going to make Nadir annoying, I'm also going to make him an enabler!" Is the fact that... I just don't buy Erik doing drugs.

I know Erik is an artist, and artists throughout the ages have been associated with decadent habits like drugs and alcohol to soothe their tortured souls or broaden their minds to ever more fantastic plains blah blah blah.

But Erik is not an every day kind of character. Erik is notable in how uniquely he glories in his tribulations. Erik's music in particular is a manifestation of his pure emotions both good and bad, and I think for him to alter his moods with substances, to him, would sully the purity of his art, which he always characterizes as a spiritual, almost holy thing.

And here's another thing. Part of the reason Erik is doing opium in this book is, yes the horrors of his past, but also the terrible things he's doing in the present... which I do think Erik of Leroux did grow sick of what was demanded of him in Persia (he explicitly says he wanted to put it all behind him), but I don't think he probably felt... that bad about it? I dunno maybe that's just me.

Moving on.

I'll pause here to say that while I think Kay is a bit guilty of "de-fanging" Erik in this book, I genuinely do appreciate her emphasis on his affinity for the weak and broken, and his knack with animals.

So now I come to one of the things that made me look most askance at this section. Again, the conceit of this book (or at least what I was given to understand the conceit was) is that its filling in the blanks that Leroux left vague. And I don't really know if that was Susan Kay's intention, but it's certainly how the Phandom took it. Which is why it bugs me when there are things in here that either don't quite jive with canon or straight up contradict it.

Now in terms of the canon of Leroux's actual book, we're not sure exactly which Shah employed Erik. Leonard Wolf point out that Leroux mentions Erik "[fighting] the Emir" and posits that he is referring to the Afghani-Persian war of 1837. This would put Erik’s age in PotO at about 60, assuming he was very young at the time (in his teens). That would make Erik's patron Mohammad Shah Qajar.

However M. Grant Kellermeyer (and most others writing about this period in Erik’s life, including Susan Kay) favour the idea that Erik’s patron was Mohammed's son, Nasser al din Shah Qajar.

When Erik and the Persian talk about the "Rosy Hours of Mazanderan" they both make mention of the "Little Sultana", who is described by Leroux's narrator in the epilogue as "the Shah-in-Shah's favourite", whose boredom was the Shah's impetus for sending the Persian to find Erik in the first place, and whose delight in bloodthirsty spectacles of torture and execution allowed Erik's talents in those areas to develop into a finely honed art.

Now I would take "the Little Sultana" to mean one of the Shah's wives, concubines, daughters, or even a sister.

But Kay, for some inexplicable reason, chooses to interpret this capricious (and bloodthirsty) female figure--the Shah's favourite--as his... mother.

Now Nasser al din Shah's mother was Malek Jahan Khanom, who, true to Kay's portrayal was Regent of Persia for one month (September 5th - October 5th) in 1848. Also like Kay's "Khanum", Malek was a formidable and politically savvy woman, and definitely not an individual you would want to cross.

I can't dispute the idea of the Khanom being an incredibly powerful figure, and the type you would need and want to keep appeased (she is described by Kay as keeping her son firmly under her thumb), but I have to look at the fact that Kay read "The Little Sultana, the Shah's Favourite" and really said, "Right. That'll be his mom" and squint a little bit.

On top of this, the Khanum is characterized as having a sexual obsession with Erik, very similar to the way Duchess Josiana is aroused by Gwynplaine's facial deformity in Victor Hugo's The Man Who Laughs, and is first irritated, then enraged by Erik's constant indifference. This fact is not lost on the Shah.

I just don't know ya'll. It's...I just... I don't know about this.

M. Grant Kellermeyer speculates that the "Little Sultana" Leroux refers to, to be the seventh wife of Nasser al din Shah, Jeyran, whom he first took as a mistress in around 1850 following a chance encounter during which he apparently fell in love with her on sight. One story of their meeting even asserts that she was one of his mother's servants.

If that is the case it would be one reason why Malek and Jeyran stood locked for years in stark political opposition to each other.

Jeyran was herself formidable and enjoyed many masculine pursuits including hunting and shooting, and not even the Khanom was able to dissuade Nasser from conferring her the title of Forough ol-Saltaneh, or from naming her son the crown prince (though this decision was stuck in political hell for years because of Jeyran's lack of influential blood-lines).

She was his favourite wife until her early death in 1860 at the age of 29.

It's my opinion that Leroux's "Little Sultana" is a composite of Jeyran and her successor as the Shah's favourite, Anis al-Dalweh, who was even more formidable and politically savvy than Jeyran. She was the only one of the Shah's wives known to share his meals and the only one he suffered to publicly criticize him, and she took over Malek's duties as the head of the harem upon her death in 1873.

Masterpost

#phantom of the opera #poto #commentary on 'phantom'#susan kay phantom #the persian #daroga #the rosy hours of mazandaran

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veryloovy · 1 year

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The "Uzi is Cyn/the unknown mansion drone" Theory Masterpost because I have been driven insane by stuff I've noticed.

Choosing to believe I was right in my post-episode 2 theories in that the unknown drone in the mansion and Uzi were connected, but specifically because of these screencaps.

N, J, and V had white eyes in the flashback (if you level adjust the colors), unknown drone girl clearly has yellow eyes. Uzi's color briefly turns yellow in the pilot when Absolute Solver becomes enabled on her. Unknown girl's introduction glitches her eyes a few times in a purple tint.

So now I'm returning to this observation after episode 4 where this goldmine was dropped:

This goldmine, whatever it means.

This goes in one of two ways. One, Cyn is a disembodied AI/horror that can possess drones with Absolute Solver enabled. Cyn possessed the body of the drone from the mansion before. Or...

Or: It's MUCH more fun to consider that Cyn is the drone from the mansion... and is Uzi's previous identity. Or at least is part of Uzi's psyche somehow. Before I get into this idea, let me talk about N's reboot message from the pilot. It's "STRING "ABSOLUTE SOLVER" BLOCKED BY ADMINISTRATION "CYN"" and I wanna point out that it doesn't actually refer to Cyn as an administrator. It's "Administration" and Cyn is placed into quotes, perhaps as a codeword? We know now from episode 4 the mansion drone did something terrible using Absolute Solver, so her name may have become the name of a failsafe placed on N, J, and V.

So, where is evidence for Uzi and Cyn being the same drone? I wanna point out something from the season 1 teaser:

Wow, that looks a lot like the mansion from N's flashbacks!

Same record player, wall lights, maybe same window even? It's very similar. So why's Uzi in this place she's supposedly never been in? Perhaps "Uzi" never lived there, but her life as Cyn did. If this theory is right, then the killed drones on the floor below her may represent J and V, whom she saw as competition to N's attention.

And also consider this:

Uzi sees this figure while investigating the campgrounds. This figure looks a lot like Tessa. That, or it's Cyn (with black hair for some reason?). They both wear bows so that's no help lol. It'd be very strange for her to see either of these characters in this sort of hallocination way because she should have never seen either of them before. Perhaps it's old memories resurfacing? There's also a hand she sees peeking from the side, which is exactly what Cyn does when she first introduces herself to N, V, and J.

On a weird note, it'd been pointed out to me that if you brush Cyn's hair down and cut her longer locks shorter, it would pretty closely resemble Uzi's hair style. I only find that interesting because Cyn's bangs are so weird there's gotta be some reason for them looking that way. Idk take a look.

Also while I'm at it, potential other clue to this theory or something AS-specific. When Uzi turns the arrow to flesh, her AS ability turns yellow. It turns red when it actually overheats later in the cabin (one wonders how this works on Doll). Every time we've seen AS and flesh it's yellow? Note Cyn showing off the tasty human hand in her mouth while her naturally yellow AS is activated. Uzi turns yellow when she decides to kill humans and later again when she turns the arrow to flesh. It was at the arrow scene where V became convinced that Uzi was Cyn. Yeah, this is all mighty suspcious lol.

Let's get into some weird stuff. Solver Drones have this zombie theme going on and Uzi does Fatal Error during this episode, so she's technically dead. Whether or not she's only dead now or has been for a while is debatable. See my last theory post on if she's even a Worker (anymore?) for additional doubt into our understanding of Uzi because we have never seen her Worker symbol at all for some bizarre reason.

On a related note, Eldritch J telling Uzi that "it hurts our feelings you don't remember us" is curious. It proceeds to show her an image of her and Nori. Nori's the key to whatever this is, this theory or not. Considering the "Uzi is dead" flags, perhaps the original Uzi died and whatever happened at Cabin Fever Labs led to Cyn becoming Uzi, who is only now beginning to remember this other past she had. The old Uzi being "reborn", so to speak, would provide an actual explanation for Khan thinking she had a totally different personality during the talk with the teacher and her classmates forgetting who she is. Might be a reach, but hey that's how it be when you talk about Liam's stuff.

Also wanna point out that Eldritch J's VA has been liking tweets about Cyn/mansion drone, most of which are theories like this where Cyn is the mansion drone. I can see that as only a confirm on her being Cyn's VA, but maybe a point for this theory.

Alternatively, this was all a huge red herring and Cyn is something entirely different. I am merely trying to read into this specific theory and see what connects.

#murder drones #murder drones theories #long post so read more #this theory is such a Design moment #Internecion Cube too since Uzi and Ic-0n share a lot of traits apparently #shoutout to the server that went insane with me over this theory #I need to make the MD sideblog already

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agent-bash · 1 year

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Does your line of work every make your mind go to super dark places when you see behind the scenes pics for PD and other shows? I’m an ED nurse, and have been freaking out internally about those sweatpants since the pics dropped. I hope it doesn’t mean what I know it can, but I won’t lie and say I don’t have a pit in my stomach now.

Alright, so I’ve gotten this ask, obviously. I addressed it without posting yesterday, and it sparked a few others asking for the “dark theory.” I took some time to assemble thoughts and debate whether I really wanted to put it out there or not. Then someone else pointed out to me that they’d had the same thought, so here we go. I’m going to preface this by saying this is not a theory. It was just a thought. A fleeting thought at that. We all have those. And they're usually coloured by our experiences, like our job.

Tagged out the wazoo and under the cut because we’re about to get very uncomfortable here. So be mindful of that and tread carefully, please.

I’m sure it comes as no surprise that I see bad things on my job. So too, would our Nurse friend here. It’s our reality and something that’s glossed over when people talk about our jobs. Even when we talk about our jobs. So Reality: if you want to become a first responder, know that you will hear things we can’t unhear and you will see things we can’t unsee. And sometimes, even an innocuous thing, can trigger a darker associated thought or memory. But cooler heads prevail and actual thoughts come through. But still we can’t unthink that darker idea, as much as we may wish to.

So how does that take us to 10x20 and a very dark thought? Again, a thought. Not a theory. Never a theory. I don’t want to see it. It’s quite simple.

In my line of work, blood stains on the rear of someone’s pants, like we see the wardrobe guys putting on Hailey’s sweatpants, more often than not mean one thing. A violent sexual assault.

Literally only once, in almost ten years on the job, as a stain like that on a patient, not been because of sexual assault or worse. So that is what first, tragically, crossed my mind when I saw those pants. Now when I first saw the pics of those pants, I didn't know they were (likely) Hailey's.

So is Hailey being sexually assaulted (again) or worse, a thought that crossed my mind? Yes, in a roundabout way I guess. Do I think it will be that? No. As I said, it was an initial thought until the asks started coming in; it went no further. And I really don’t think the show will go there. And here’s why:

It would be so ruthlessly dark for the writers to go that route. It’s already been a pretty heavy season for Hailey, emotionally and physically. And while I think the episode will also be hard and heavy, on her (and us). This? It’s way too much.

And luckily, the show's history is on my side here a bit. Sexual assault to our mains is something they’ve largely shied away from. Yes, we know Hailey has been sexually assaulted. But that was a tell, not a show. It was in the past. It happened before we met her. It's still awful. It's still an experience she had. But it's not one we got to see and experience with her. And that's what's kind of important here. This idea of telling, not showing, a past (that we don't actually see,) not a present (at any point of the show where we will), seems to be at the tiptop of their comfort level with storylines, for the main characters.

A reoccurring character? Fair game. We’ve seen it twice. Cases? No, duh, it's a cop drama. But to the main characters? So far, and that far? Thankfully a no. Hopefully always a no.

There are other ways for the blood to get there. Transfer the most obvious. Hailey will sit in, fall in, or be knocked into a blood smear. Is it her own? I'm gonna go with probably. What is the exact situation? No idea! I heard something about MMA-type fighters being cast, and I believe it was for this episode, so I'm going with underground fight club, which no lie was a fic idea I was toying with a while back. We'll find out in a couple weeks.

So yeah, call it a dark theory if you want. For sure a dark, very dark thought. But not something at all, I think, is likely to happen. The worst of worse-case scenarios.

#Asked and answered #Chicago PD spoilers #tw: blood #tw: assault #Tw: violence #Just all the trigger warnings #Read at your own risk

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gabenvrhappened · 10 months

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MoviesOr... American Psycho

Whenever I searched for videos about being successful and types of skincare routines for men, I always came across YouTube montages that used scenes from American Psycho to illustrate the perfect male physique, which made me curious to see what the fuss was all about regarding this iconic movie from the 2000s.

Apart from the obvious title, I had no idea about the storyline of this motion picture, so I decided to watch it without any research since it can be fun watching a movie already well known, not knowing a thing about it; and shocking was my surprise to see that there are men who want to be like Patrick Bateman: a serial killer who is romanticized for his good-looking appearance, his care about image, and his social position. The social critique of the movie still remains strong more than two decades later.

In the story, Christian Bale plays a deranged murderer motivated by status and envy. Even though we can be sure his instincts were always there, it's funny to imagine that the whole mess he put himself into started because of a simple business card. That was only possible, however, because of something that still holds true to this day: white (and male) privilege. More than the debate of whether Patrick (or his actions) is real or not, what struck me as the biggest intention of the movie was to show how men can get away with anything, specially if they're white. Patrick doesn't care who he kills or where he kills because he knows that he won't get caught.

More than just having multiple identities (or using others' identities to keep himself safe), the character that Christian plays - whoever it is, if that's the debate - knows that people won't delve too deeply into his wrongdoings. The detective never got to him, even with many pieces of evidence and many killings inevitably pointing towards Bateman. His lawyer, knowing or not who his real client was, didn't care much about the long frenetic confessions his client made, finding them more enjoyable than dangerous. It became clear to me that everyone would rather say that they talked with Paul Allen in London than admit that something may have gone wrong with him.

To this point is clear that the acting of Christian Bale is suberb and he deserves the credit of being in every video about the perfect men physique. It was cool to see an young, and equally hot, Jared Leto acting here as the reputable Paul Allen, since I thought he only started in this business recently. It was also surprising to see Chloë Sevigny and Reese Witherspoon, as the secretary and the girlfriend of Patrick respectively. The whole casting is great, even with Willian Defoe playing a characther that is too stupid for the role of detective that it plays.

The movie makes us question a lot of things while playing with our perceptions. I'm not here to say that the apartment sale scene isn't odd since it contradicts some of the beliefs that the story was building, but I strongly believe that Patrick is the person Christian Bale is playing, and that he really did all that we saw him doing during these almost two insane hours, and that this wasn't just a fantasy sketched in several pages of a notebook. After all, we saw him killing Paul Allen, and we saw him dropping a chainsaw directly onto one of his victims (I'm sorry, but that was genius and it reminded me of an episode of Game of Thrones that taught us all that if we're a targert running from something, we should be doing that in zig-zag).

I'll definitely come back to this movie a few years from now to have a fresh new perspective on it, which is its strongest asset for me: you want to watch more, not because the movie is too complex to be understood in only one watch, but because it has layers that can make it more and more interesting. It's just too bad that we're in the 20th century and that I can't rent this in the way it was intended: through a videotape. How awesome would it be to come back to the video rental to return this masterpiece and use it as the perfect alibi, huh? Not that I would need one, of course.

#MoviesOrGabeNeverHappened

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Dazed and Confused

Summary: You and Connie have been friends for ten years, crushing on each other like a bunch of idiots who can't confess their feelings for one another. Until you go on a trip with your friends. Pairing: Connie Springer x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: 18+, language, oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected sex, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, f l u f f Word Count: 4.2 k

A/N: I got so pissed at that last anon that I finished this oneshot quicker lol. @fiaficsxo here it is!

You loved parties. Not the loud music and thick smoke, not the booze and smell of vomit, but your friends. Every time they gathered at someone's place, your heart fluttered, filled with happiness and content and long-lasting memories.

Connie had the brilliant idea of spending a week in the mountains during your spring break, and you wasted an entire night searching for the perfect cottage to rent. Luckily everyone was down with his suggestion, the only problem was how you'd sleep. Historia obviously wanted to share a room with Ymir. Mikasa and Eren were an item now, so they'd have to sleep together. Armin wanted to try his luck with Annie, so no one objected to that. Jean declared that he wanted to bunk with Connie, like the two eligible bachelors they were, and that left you and Sasha to share a room together. You didn't mind it, in all honesty you loved Sasha with all your heart — but you secretly hoped someone would pick up on your feelings for Connie and let you sleep with him. You weren't that lucky.

You packed your bag the night before the trip, obsessively ticking everything on your list and double checking every item and pocket. It was ready, with one item missing — the white lace babydoll smoothed on your dorm bed. You chewed the pen cap, debating whether to bring it with you or not. You bought it for special occasions, but you haven't had a dick appointment in a long time, and you doubted you'd have one this week. With a shrug, you decided to bring it — you never know what might happen. Nighttime passed quickly and you soon found yourself all dolled up, albeit still sleepy from all the tossing and turning, excited to make more memories with your friends.

The train station was packed with people, especially students who went back to their hometowns for the break, and you were relieved to find Armin and Mikasa there. You three were always punctual, followed by Jean and Annie. Eren, Sasha and Connie were always late, which is why you told them the train leaves at 7 am instead of 7:30. It was a dirty strategy, but no one wanted to miss such a fun opportunity because of those lazy fuckers. And lo and behold, they decided to appear at 7:15.

"That was some good thinking." Jean shook his head, hand sympathetically placed on your shoulder.

"I'm only glad you guys rolled with it." You laughed without noticing the way Connie stared at you, and even he didn't understand exactly what he felt. Was he grumpy because he hated morning, or was it Jean's hand on you that irked him?

"It's not polite to stare." Sasha pulled Connie out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring, I was looking." Connie rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase a bit too tightly.

"I just don't get it why you don't tell her you like her." The girl popped a bubblegum baloon, proceeding to chew it very loudly.

"Are you kidding me? She obviously likes Jean. Look how she's laughing!"

Sasha placed an arm on his shoulder, a sheepish smile on her face. "You, my friend, are a dumbass."

"Takes one to know one."

To say that your friends were loud during the train ride was an understatement. They didn't really care about the nasty glares other passengers shot at them, opting to talk, sing, eat and practically embarrass themselves. But two hours later you arrived, and the fresh, crisp air of the mountains was a blessing. You didn't regret coming, all of you deserved a break after all the exams, studying and all-nighters you guys pulled.

"We could visit the military museum!" Armin suggested, but Connie scrunched his nose.

"We came here to get high, drink and spend time together, why the fuck would we visit some old ass building?"

"I'd like to go to the museum." You awkwardly smiled, earning a 'see?' from the blond. Mikasa, Eren and Annie backed you up, and since it was a democracy, you ended up leaving your bags at the cottage and touring the small town to find the military museum. The building wasn't massive, and inside it was dark, with crimson carpets and dim lights. It was actually quite a romantic atmosphere, had it not been for the weapons and armours displayed in glass cases. Connie watched you intently, taking in every movement, every flinch, every hair tucking, every scrunch of your cute nose. You absorbed the information, hungry for knowledge. This was something you and Connie didn't share — yes, you were down to drinking and smoking, but you were also eager to learn and study, while he always preached how 'you can always retake an exam but you can't relive a party.' He wasn't stupid by any means, but unlike you, Jean, Armin and Mikasa — who alwaysstudied and never skipped lectures — Connie would wing it and somehow end up getting better grades. His strategy didn't always work, and sometimes, when you were in college, he'd ask you to tutor him. Now you were second year undergraduates, and while you were studying different subjects, you still made time for each other.

"That's a nice, uhh..." Connie squinted, "...shotgun."

"It's a musket." You chuckled, your fingers accidentally brushing his as you turned around to face him.

"Shotgun, musket, same thing."

"Actually, muskets are muzzle-loaded and fire a single bullet, but shotguns pack multiple pellets in one shell." You explained. "I'm sorry, you're probably not interested in my ramblings."

"No, no, it's... interesting. I just wasn't expecting you to know so much about guns." He rubbed his nape and smiled at you.

"Well, I do study history, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You awkwardly elbowed Connie. Why was it so hard for you to just tell him your feelings? Oh, right, because you've been friends for ten years and if he didn't like you back, it would only ruin a great friendship.

"It means you brag about it so much it's kind of hard to forget." He told you, quickly realising just how insulting that sounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt..." You sighed, eyes darting back to the weapons.

"No, I didn't- forget it." Connie shook his head. Well played.

Back at the cottage, with enough food and booze to last the group a month, you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the day. It wasn't the first time you had embarrassing moments with Connie, but this particular one made you anxious to be around him. Did he really dislike you that much, or was it just friendly banter? If you were to ask him, you could find out, but every scenario in your head had a bad outcome, so avoiding him for now was the smartest choice. Sasha pleaded with you to spend the evening in the living room with everyone else, but you brushed her off, telling her you weren't feeling quite well.

"Text me if you need anything." She told you before leaving. It was immature to act this way, you knew that all too well, but it wasn't like Connie cared, right? You eventually decided to go downstairs after finishing a long episode of your favourite tv show, your stomach begging for nourishment. As silently as possible, you tiptoed behind the couch. The hallway was dim, the sun had already set, and the only lights were the ones from the wide TV screen in the living room where your friends were watching some corny horror movie. You could cut the suspense and tension with a knife, and when you dropped a teaspoon, everyone jumped.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me!"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack." Jean got up from the floor and walked behind the couch. "How are you feeling? Sasha said you're ill."

"I'm fine, don't worry." You picked the spoon up and threw it in the sink. "It's just a headache, I'll sleep it off."

"Good, we need you here." The man wrapped an arm around you. "You're missing how Connie's crapping his pants at this shitty movie."

From the outside it would seem like you and Jean were a couple, but the truth was far from it. You two grew up together, his family was friends with your family, and what you had was nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. Jean's little remark earned a disgruntled look from Connie, you quickly picked up on that, and so you playfully jabbed him in the stomach.

"Connie's crapping his pants? You're the one who almost had a heart attack." You grinned.

"Oi, that was only because you dropped your stupid spoon. I was invested in the movie."

"Mhm, sure you were."

"Hey, you sure you don't want to join us?" Mikasa waved at you from the living room. You pondered over her question. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awkward to sit with them.

"Alright, sure, why not?"

"Come, sit next to me." Sasha shuffled to the side, but what she really meant by that was 'sit next to Connie', because she shuffled to the otherside.

The following two nights were surprisingly quiet, all you did was play board games, watch movies and walk around the town taking pictures. The tension between Connie and you seemed to dissipate, and you both forgot the unpleasant interaction you had on the first day. But on the fourth night, that's when shit hit the fan. Annie and Armin left for a date, and Eren and Mikasa wanted to spend the night alone in their room, leaving you, Sasha, Jean and Connie unsupervised, bored and tipsy. There was absolutely nothing good to watch on the TV, and you almost wanted to scream when your friends wanted to play truth or dare. It was one of those games you despised, because the whole point of it was to put the players in uncomfortable situations. And you didn't like being uncomfortable, unlike your friends.

"Jean, truth or dare?" Sasha beamed.

"Dare, duh."

"Alright, I dare you to switch roommates for the rest of the week." She sipped her blackberry cider.

"Okay? So, I'll stay with Y/N, then."

Good lord, if looks could kill, Connie's would annihilate Jean and Sasha off the face of the Earth.

"No, no, you'll stay with me. Y/N will stay with Connie."

"Eh? Why does your dare involve us?" You asked, confused and curious of your friend's proposal.

"Because." She shrugged. "Don't pussy out."

"I'm not pussying out. A dare's a dare." Jean scoffed. "I'm gonna go take my shit in your room and shower."

"Y-yeah, I'll go bring mine, too." You got up, using this time to hyperventilate alone. What the fuck was Sasha even thinking? Was this some stupid joke? But your friends wouldn't harm you, so why would she suggest such a stupid thing?

You took a quick shower before curling up in the bed, blankets covering you from neck to toe. Connie wasn't back yet, and you didn't want to go after him, that would just be odd. You were hoping you'd fall asleep before he returned, to avoid any unnecessary fuss, but just as you closed your eyes, the door opened. Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? He struggled to find his pyjamas in the dark, stumbling over furniture and knocking things down, and you turned the bedside lamp on to ease his search.

"Did I wake you up?" Connie bit his lower lip, and through the dim light you watched the way his grey eyes glistened, the way his short brown hair was ruffled, and how the sage green t-shirt hugged his toned abdomen.

"No, no, 's alright. I wasn't sleeping. I can't exactly fall asleep." You clutched the blanket at your chest as you shook the intrusive thoughts away. Connie was your friend, damn it, there was no room for romance between you.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Oh, God, no, it's... stiff."

"Um, yeah, it kinda is. Alright then, I'll jump in the shower real quick before going to bed." He stumbled into the bathroom and you really wanted to fall asleep now.

But you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes, Connie's face popped in your head. So much for resting. You tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing helped. It didn't take long for him to finish his shower, and you mentally chastised yourself for not falling asleep when you felt him shuffle under the same blanket that was covering you. For a minute, you didn't utter a word, you barely breathed, afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

"Are you asleep?"

"Nope." You heard the click of Connie's phone and turned around. You couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"Do you wanna talk about something? Until we fall asleep, I mean." You suggested.

"Hmm, sure." He turned on his side and you felt his breath fanning over your cheeks. You were too close to him. "Actually, d'you wanna smoke?"

"Aren't the others gonna be mad if we smoke without them?"

"They don't have to know. Besides, you and I never smoked together." Connie was already up, rummaging through his backpack with the flashlight of his phone. "And then we can talk as much as you want."

"Alright, I'm down."

You laid on the floor, your head next to Connie's as you looked at the ceiling, smoke leaving your lips. He took the joint from you, fingers touching yours and you blushed, the haze of the weed melting your worries away.

"Do you want me to skip the song?" Connie asked, and for a moment you forgot there was a song playing.

"No, I like it." You confessed. "I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin."

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Y/N." He passed you the joint.

"Okay, tell me something else I don't know."

"I like it when you randomly say historical or scientific facts."

"Didn't you say I brag too much about it?" You took one final drag before you stubbed the joint out in a makeshift ashtray filled with a bit of water. By this point you were high as a kite, every trace of rationality gone.

"That doesn't mean I don't like it." Connie smiled and you could feel it in his voice. "Now you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I can't sleep with open doors. It freaks me out." You sat up, a breeze blowing through the window sending shivers down your spine. "It's a bit cold, do you mind if I close the window?"

"Go ahead."

You got up and picked the ashtray up but before you could close the window, you stumbled over a chest of drawers, the ashes mixed with water spilling over your t-shirt.

"You okay?" He quickly crawled to you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm just clumsy." You laughed it off and waved your free hand. "I'll go get changed, I should have a spare shirt."

But you didn't have a spare shirt. All you had was that stupid white babydoll, and anxiety seeped through your veins. You couldn't exactly show up in that in front of your crush. And you didn't want to ask him for a shirt either. Fuck it, what else could you do?

You peeked out the bathroom door and saw Connie back in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. God, this was embarrassing.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed, but when your facial expression didn't change, he frowned. "Y/N?"

"Um, so, I didn't have a spare shirt and- Jesus, this is awkward." You opened the door and his eyes widened. "Is it alright if I sleep in this?"

"Oh, I get it now." Connie scoffed.

"Get what?"

"You were hoping you'd share a room with Jean, right?" He sounded almost disgusted.

"Excuse you? Where did you even get that idea?" You slammed the bathroom door shut, arms folded across your chest.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I've seen the way you two act. Do yourselves a favour and just fuck already."

You were speechless. Completely reactionless. The weed amplified your anger, but his words brought tears to your eyes.

"You... you fucking asshole! You think I brought this for Jean? I brought it for you!"

"Eh? M-me?" Connie was confused, and you were pissed.

"Yes, you. Jean's like a brother to me, oh my God! Ew!"

"Wait, so you and Jean are not in love with each other?"

"In love?? Connie, how high are you exactly?" You walked closer to the bed, arms still crossed.

"But- Fuck, I am stupid." He shook his head, the memories of you flirting with him flashing before his eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"A bit..." Your muscles relaxed and you sat on the mattress. "Really, Connie, I... I like you. A lot. But you're always giving me mixed signals."

"That's because I always thought you liked Jean!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, you're the only one."

"Huh, guess I've really been dazed and confused."

Calloused fingertips ran across your hips leaving goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed his back and the way Connie kissed you was better than any high you've ever experienced. He was touch-starved, and you were just as needy. His knee found its place between your thighs and you moaned when it barely brushed your cunt.

"I've been dreaming for this moment for as long as I can remember." Connie breathed into your neck, the hot breath tickling your skin.

"Me too, you blind bat." You laughed and he turned you over, hovering over you.

"'M sorry I didn't notice quicker." He kissed you again. One hand travelled lower, pushing your underwear to the side before he pushed two fingers between your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Well, at least now I don't have to finger myself thinking about you." You whimpered with a grin.

"Oh?" Connie arched a brow. "Is that what you've been doing?" He curled up his fingers and you threw your head back with a moan. "I thought you were a prude."

"T-there's lots of things you d-don't know about m-me!" You replied back between oh’sand ah’s, imitating his words from an hour ago. That only earned a sneer from Connie, his head dipping between your thighs. "Wait, what are you do- ooh fuck!"

His tongue lapped at your cunt, fingers pumping in and out of you, and you completely sunk into the mattress, moaning his name over and over again. You gripped the sheets, flexing the muscles in your legs as you squirmed and thrashed. Connie stopped and you almost crushed his skull with your thighs at the empty feeling. He pulled your underwear down and shoved the cotton panties in your mouth.

"Don't wake everyone up, Y/N. You don't want them knowing what a little slut you are, do you?"

You shook your head and Connie went back to circling your clit with his tongue, adrenaline rushing through your entire body with each lick, each suck. Tears of pleasure pooled at your eyes, nose and cheeks red from the thrill of your incoming orgasm. The way he was sloppily eating your pussy and moaning while doing it drove you insane, and within seconds you came undone, thighs trembling with delight. In fact, you were so sore you had to push his head back, begging him to stop so you could return the favour.

"You taste so sweet." Connie licked his lips. You don't know what possessed you to pull him into a kiss after you removed the makeshift gag, but he was right, you were sweet.

"Can I...?" Your eyes drifted down to his twitching cock, your voice soft and quiet.

"You wanna suck it?"

"Yes."

"Later. Right now, I wanna fuck you."

Connie gave you no time to protest, his elbow pushed one of your things to the side, the blushing tip of his cock grazing over your overstimulated clit, up and down your slit. Inch by inch it disappeared into your cunt and he let out a satisfied sigh. You bucked your hips, manicured nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight!" Connie growled, head lowering to kiss you. You could still taste yourself on his lips and that only made you clench your spongy walls around his cock. That seemed to please him, because he rocked his hips harder and faster. "You like it?"

"Oh, God, yes!" You gasped, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you clawed his back.

"Fuck, I want you to ride me." He gripped your hips tighter and turned you over. You tried your best to get in the new position without letting his cock slip out of you, and when you finally adjusted yourself, it was a whole new challenge. Gravity pulled you down, and his tip brushed your cervix, your eyes squinting at the slight pain. "If it hurts, stop-"

"No!" You cried out, your hands resting on his chest. You bounced up and down, the uncomfortable feeling slowly replaced with pleasure. Connie's hands traced your thighs as you rode him, another wave of heat flushing through your core. His palm met your cunt, thumb circling over your clit. "I can't c-come again!"

"Yes, you can. And you will cream on my cock."

The disgust words worked like magic and you flexed your thighs, bouncing faster, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back. "You're so beautiful, Y/N."

"Connie, I-" The words stopped in your throat, the pressure too much for you to handle.

"You what?"

"I'm- oh, God!"

"Atta girl!" He praised you when he felt your silken walls relaxing and your thighs quaking. The second orgasm was so intense you let yourself fall over his chest, dizzy and tired. You thought he'd give you a break, but Connie wrapped an arm around your back, holding you in place before giving your oversensitive cunt a few more thrusts. "Now you can return the favour."

You mustered up some strength to get up and kneel in front of the bed, between his legs.

"Please don't come in my mouth." You asked him before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock.

"Gotchaah-" Connie choked on his words when he felt himself in your hot mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes on him. You didn't break eye contact when you pulled away and spat on the tip, hand pumping his cock to smear the spit. "Hot." He mumbled before you went back to sucking. You felt the throbbing, tightening your lips around him and picking up the pace. "Y/N-"

It all happened in a flash — Connie yanked your hair and pulled your head back, thick ropes of milky white cum shooting all over your face and neck.

"Eew!" You scrunched your nose, hand under your chin to stop it from dripping down the floor.

"What do you mean ew? That's, like, a billion kids!"

"Actually, a fertile man produces around-"

"Don't start. Do not." He pressed his index finger over your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You woke up sore, especially between your thighs, but damn, was it worth it. Connie wrapped an arm around your waist, mumbling something about how pretty you are, but you assumed he was still sleeping — or still high. The sun shone through the blinds and you squinted, annoyed by the brightness, and so you turned around, watching the way your crush snored peacefully.

"Cute." You smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead, waking him up. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Connie rubbed his eyes. "Waking up to you is a blessing."

You couldn't hide the tinting of your cheeks and the grin on your lips. "I didn't think you were the romantic type."

"There's lots of things-"

"I don't know about you. But I'd like to know those things. If you let me, of course." You bit your lower lip, eyes filled with hope.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He sat up, his eyes serious.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Okay, so maybe Sasha knew a thing or two when she dared Jean to switch roommates.

You walked into the kitchen after getting ready for the day, with Connie following behind you. Everyone was eating their breakfast, and Jean instantly dashed to you.

"Connie, bro, take me back. Sasha's leaving crumbs all over the bed! I can't sleep like that!"

"I can't, man, I wanna spend the rest of the week with my girlfriend." He sneered and you elbowed him.

"I forgot to mention Jean's overprotecti-"

"Your what? Hands off my sister from another mister, you creep!"

"Creep? You're the one who was sexting someone's sister last night." Sasha chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

"Thanks, Sash." Jean rolled his eyes. "For real, how did this happen?"

"You see, mate, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"Nope. I will not hear this."

#connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x you #aot x y/n #connie springer x you #connie springer x y/n #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #snk x you #snk x y/n #connie x you #connie x y/n

244 notes · View notes

dynyamight · 3 years

Note

meet cute number 47 is interesting!

send me a writting ask

47. Texting the incorrect number but continuing the conversation.

“You got all that, right?” Shinsou asks, readjusting his stance, so others can leave their classroom door easily.

Midoriya hums absentmindedly. He’s still quickly jotting down the last few digits onto his planner. “And, you said tomorrow morning, around 7? At the library?”

“Yeah,” Shinsou shrugs, “Or anytime really. The deadline isn’t until next month, you know.”

“I kinda just want to get it done, as soon as possible.”

Shinsou breathes out a snort. “Figured you’d say that much. Just make sure you got my number. Repeat it, if you need to.”

“No time.” Midoriya drops his bag to the side, shoving his now closed notebook inside. “Thank you! I’ll text you later tonight!” He offers hurriedly, before taking off down the campus halls.

Shinsou’s warning falls deaf to his rushed mind.

He has to run the entire way, in order to graciously catch the last bus for the hour. Sweaty and flushed, Midoriya slumps into his seat in relief. Fortunately, he was able to cop a seat for himself, settling by the window and his backpack right next to him.

Staring out, Midoriya tries to remind himself of the rest of his priorities he needed to do.

He still needed to start on Doctor Chiyo’s online Physiology exam, and gather his notes for the open book portion. It was a bit bothersome to handle tests online, but if the rest of class prefers it, there’s nothing Midoriya can do about it.

Speaking of which, Ochako had requested for copies of those exact same notes, since apparently she barely writes anything during lectures. He wants to suggest to her to just simply take better notes, but alas, he will gladly help her out.

And, finally, Midoriya has to collect reliable, approved research articles for his and Shinsou’s debate, in their argumentative project in Communications. Being assigned “PRO SOCIAL MEDIA INFLUENCE”, while being the most uninvolved people on the internet, Midoriya and Shinsou had a lot of work to do.

Not to mention it was already 18:00 by the time he reached the school’s dormitories. And yet, he needed to shower, make dinner, water his plants, and watch the newest episode of his favorite drama, airing tonight.

University was eating him alive.

Thankfully, he’s able to complete half of his list.

He finishes the exam with a 98%, and quickly snaps the pages of his notes over to Ochako and Iida, making sure to highlight the main topics questioned in the exam. Ochako sends a ‘thank you’ gif, and Iida texts a long, yet endearing message of gratitude.

Midoriya doesn’t have time to shower, instead blasting the TV volume loud, as he waters his indoor plants at the same time. He overwaters them a little bit, busy glancing back at the screen for too long. But, at least he’s able to watch the episode. He pouts when it ends on a cliffhanger, almost drowning his bonsai tree in frustration.

He’s only able to warm up a plate of leftovers, and read through only one research article, by the time it’s already blinking 21:30 on his phone. Sighing, Midoriya closes his laptop and grabs his cell phone instead.

An all nighter wasn’t preferable. But, if Shinsou is working overtime at his late night job, Midoriya supposes he can stay up and keep looking through more articles, until he has at least the required ten.

Flipping open his planner, Midoriya inputs Shinsou’s number into his phone. He adds his name, a contact photo of him sleeping, and finally taps a quick message.

(21:38) < You working?

When Shinsou doesn’t respond right away, Midoriya simply sets aside his phone on his desk. Stretching his arms, he sighs in defeat, now expecting Shinsou to be stuck at work.

He’s never worked at a restaurant, but he bets Friday nights can get pretty busy. And, Shinsou always complains that group outings and dates tend to stay over, even after the place is supposed to close. And, Midoriya trusts his word.

So, by the time his phone dings, Midoriya has been clicking through more articles on social media, bookmarking a few to go over later, as he went.

He lifts his phone, and with a bright screen, a message stares back at him.

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > Who’s this

Oh, he did forget to specify. But, Midoriya smiles, having a small prank in mind. There was no harm in teasing his friends, let alone Shinsou, who definitely needed a good laugh, now and then.

(21:58) < It's the cutie from your communications class ;)

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > So, no one

(21:59) < Haha! I guess you’re right about that

(21:59) < Anyways, it’s Izuku! You still working late, Hitoshi?

shinsou hitoshi (21:59) > This ain’t Hitoshi

Midoriya's face drops, blinking. Oh god, did he mistype the number?

(21:38) < Wait, you’re not???

Another text pops up, shortly after.

shinsou hitoshi (22:02) > You got the wrong number

Embarrassment burning his entire face red, Midoriya wishes he could delete himself from the world.

(22:03) < I’m so so so so sorry!

(22:03) < God, I thought I wrote down my friend’s number right

(22:03) < But, I was in this stupid rush to get on the bus that I didn’t make sure

(22:04) < And, listen, if I had missed that bus, I would’ve had to wait

(22:04) < Not like a few minutes wait

(22:04) < Like, a whole two hours wait!

shinsou hitoshi (22:05) > I didn’t ask

Deleting the conversation, Midoriya erases the new contact completely. And instead, he looks back to his planner, and retypes the numbers in his phone onto a new conversation.

Hopefully, he has typed the correct series of digits.

(22:07) < Hey, Hitoshi! It’s Izuku

unknown (22:08) > ...

unknown (22:08) > What the actual fuck

unknown (22:08) > You've still got the wrong number, you goddamn idiot

Slamming his phone onto his desk, Midoriya grabs a pillow off his bed and shoves it in his face. The temptation to scream sounds awfully pleasant, but it’s too late at night to do so. His dorm neighbors would definitely wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

What’s wrong? Oh, he has completely done one of the most dreaded imaginary scenarios in his head; text a complete stranger. Twice.

What was he supposed to do now? Never text back? Delete it? Block it?

How is he supposed to contact Shinsou now?

His phone dings again.

Lifting the pillow off his face slightly, Midoriya eyes his phone warily from his swivel chair.

That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. Another text from the same stranger sounds a bit unheard of.

After a seconds-long hesitation, Midoriya lifts his phone and opens it once more.

unknown (22:13) > Double check next time

unknown (22:13) > You can fucking wait the two hours, dumbass

Midoriya grows a little irked. He has a bad feeling that his stranger isn’t too friendly, to say that least.

There was literally no reason to text back something so rude.

(22:14) < Well, that wasn’t nice

unknown (22:15) > Wasn’t trying to be

(22:15) < ..Are you always like this?

unknown (22:16) > Pretty much

(22:16) < That’s sad

unknown (22:17) > What’s fucking sad is that I was woken up from my sleep

unknown (22:17) > Because a damn moron didn’t write down the right number

Midoriya winces. He hadn’t even thought about the other person’s predicament, let alone if he had interrupted anything.

(22:20) > I really didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry :(

unknown (22:22) > Yeah whatever

(22:24) > You should try to go back to sleep, then

unknown (22:25) > I was

unknown (22:25) > But the same moron from before keeps texting me

(22:27) > Who?

(22:33) > Oh.

(22:33) > It’s me, huh?

unknown (22:34) > No shit

(22:35) > Right, of course. My bad!

(22:35) > I’m going to just stop now

unknown (22:36) > Thanks

(22:36) > For the umpteenth time, sorry! ><

(22:37) > Okay, Okay! I’m stopping now, for real

Midoriya desperately needs to call it a night.

After going through his nightly routine, he slips under his bedsheets, exhausted. He sets an alarm for 5:00 on his phone, hoping Shinsou will show up at the library, regardless of the missing confirmation text on Midoriya’s end.

He keeps his phone on awhile longer, swiping through his professors’ emails, before a surprising text notification pops in front of him.

unknown (23:01) > FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

(23:02) > …

(23:02) > What was that for??

unknown (23:04) > I CAN’T SLEEP

unknown (23:04) > GOD, I CAN’T GO BACK TO FUCKING SLEEP

unknown (23:05) > AND IT’S YOUR FAULT

(23:06) > What do you expect me to do????

unknown (23:07) > HAHAHAHA OH DON’T WORRY

unknown (23:07) > IF I CAN’T SLEEP, NEITHER CAN YOU

unknown (23:08) > AND IF YOU TURN YOUR PHONE OFF I WILL SEND HELLFIRE

(23:09) > Wait

(23:09) > No, please

(23:09) > My alarm is on my phone, I need it on

(23:10) > I need to go to an important meeting for a group project at 7:00!

unknown (23:10) > Aw, really? :0?!

(23:11) > Yeah! I really do!

unknown (23:11) > Sike. I don’t fucking care

unknown (23:12) > Hope you eat shit tomorrow

(23:13) > ..Why are you like this?

(23:13) > I could literally be a twelve year old, for all you know

unknown (23:14) > I doubt fucking twelve years do group projects

unknown (23:15) > But whether you’re a damn infant, or grown adult, I hate you

(23:16) > I wouldn’t say I hate you. That’s too harsh

(23:16) > But, wow, you are very unlikable :/

unknown (23:17) > That’s the fucking nicest thing anyone has said about me

(23:18) > It wasn’t supposed

(23:19) > Nevermind.

(23:19) > Do you have any friends? Just might as well ask

unknown (23:21) > Surprisingly yeah

(23:22) > Oh, so you also agree. That it’s a surprise

(23:22) > At least you’re self aware :0

unknown (23:23) > Yeah, they are annoying as hell

unknown (23:24) > But, also pretty good people, I guess

(23:25) > Pretty good or pretty dumb?

unknown (23:26) > SHUT IT

unknown (23:27) > Only I can make fun of them

unknown (23:27) > You. Don’t.

(23:28) > You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that

(23:29) > I’m sorry :(

unknown (23:30) > You like apologizing, huh

(23:29) > There’s a lot to apologize for tonight

unknown (23:30) > Still, you don’t have to say it every damn minute

(23:32) > You probably don’t ever apologize

unknown (23:33) > Fuck no

(23:35) > Right, of course

(23:36) > Well, you know what I need to do tomorrow

unknown (23:37) > Unfortunately

(23:38) > What about you?

unknown (23:39) > I’m covering a shift at my shit job at the ass crack of dawn

(23:40) > Unnecessary visual, but I digress

(23:40) > Uh, where do you work?

unknown (23:42) > No. I don’t even know your damn name

(23:43) > I told you?? It was in my first text

unknown (23:44) > Yeah, I ain’t scrolling

(23:48) > Well, it’s Izuku. Midoriya Izuku :)

unknown (23:49) > Great. I still ain’t giving you mine

(23:50) > ?? Is there anything I can know about you??

(23:50) > You know more about me, than I do about you

unknown (23:51) > You know I hate you

unknown (23:51) > That’s plenty

(23:52) > But, I have been staying up for you :(

unknown (23:53) > Because it’s your fault I can’t sleep

(23:54) > You aren’t feeling sleepy yet?

unknown (23:56) > ..Are you

(23:57) > I asked you first

unknown (23:58) > I asked you second

(23:59) > That

(23:59) > Look, it’s almost midnight

(24:00) > Oh, now, it’s actually midnight

unknown (00:01) > I have fucking eyes. I can see the time

(00:02) > And we BOTH have places to be tomorrow

(00:02) > So, let’s just sleep. Call a truce, please

unknown (00:03) > What about my petty retribution

(00:04) > PLEASE LET ME SLEEP

unknown (00:10) > FUCK

unknown (00:10) > FINE

unknown (00:11) > I STILL CAN’T SLEEP BUT WHATEVER

unknown (00:12) > HOPE YOU FUCKING OVERSLEEP TOMORROW

The rest of the night, Midoriya hears his phone go off, but he doesn’t bother to open the messages. Fortunately for him, the time staying awake quickly catches up to his body, the moment he shuts his eyes. And, in an instant, he falls asleep, heavy.

However, he’s jolted awake by the ringing of his phone, the tone alerting him of an incoming phone call. Banging his head on the headboard, Midoriya blindly grabs and answers his phone. “Uh, H-Hello?” He blurts quickly.

“Tch.” A low voice emits, “You owe me, Deku.”

Click. The phone call ends.

Confused, Midoriya hurriedly rubs his eyes open. Running his messy curls through his fingers, he lifts his bangs up, in order to correctly look at the time.

The time was 5:10. And, his 5:00 alarm had been off the entire time.

And, instead, that same unknown number from last night was his saving grace.

#star responds #MY FIRST TEXT FIC??? WOW #i kinda struggled with how i wanted to format the texts #but alas here it is #poor midoriya smh next time repeat the numbers back #never wake bakugou up from his 8PM to 6AM sleeps LMAO #i hope this was okay !!#bakudeku #tigridiae #my beloved #FICLET

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the-six-espada · 3 years

Text

TBB Spoilers below. A rant (please don’t pay me any mind, I might delete this :d)

I’ve been fighting the urge to write about this but I decided what the hell. Please note that I’m aware I am discussing the emotions and narrative of a fake show, with a fake universe and fake characters – I’m just dumping some thoughts I’ve had in the past few days.

I’m not aiming to change anyone’s opinion here – I’m well aware there are a lot of people who don’t like Crosshair as they’ve made it painfully aware in the past weeks, however I do want to calmly explain a few things and if you’re interested in reading them be my guest.

I can understand that a lot of people might not entirely comprehend the emotions I will try to explain party because they perhaps never experienced them and partly because I probably won’t word them accurately enough but I will do the best I can.

The contents of the last episode of the Season 1 Bad Batch series have left me a little broken. I’m really trying to not get too emotional but the contents of this series have triggered some emotional trauma I’ve buried (as I’m sure it did for a lot of people, but I will be speaking only for myself here) – I’m not blaming the show in any way. I love the show. It’s because of its good writing and setting that this hurts so much.

Crosshair being left again is really upsetting to me for a lot of reasons. The gaping distance created by the Bad Batch and Crosshair is so hurtful. Earlier on in the show, after seeing the complete disregard for their brother, I thought that perhaps there is part of this narrative that we are missing. Maybe the relationship between them wasn’t as good as we thought. Maybe at some point during their upbringing or the numerous missions they’ve been on together these guys figured out they hate their brother. Or at least don’t care for him. Which would be enough of a reason for them to completely not hesitate to continue their lives without him. However what I cannot understand is – how can you leave him stranded on a platform on a planet that is just water, where the only building on that planet has been blown up minutes prior, without his weapon and backpack.

They practically left him for dead.

You don’t care about your brother and you don’t want him to be on your team? Fine. You can’t get past your differences and work together or have a healthy conversation about your differences in opinions? Understandable. But please explain to me how leaving him with no weapon on a absolutely deserted planet makes any sense? Even if the Empire does come back to look for him (which in my opinion is highly unlikely) what do you think they will do to him? The only Empirial teammate he had and was left alive saw him and snitched on him to Rampart. They gave the order to kill him alongside the other clones. They most likely will either kill him or experiment on him. Hunter knows this. He might not be certain exactly what’s going to happen but he for a fact knows the Empire will discard him - he said so to Crosshair on two occasions.

So now in my opinion is just a question of basic human decency to at least drop him somewhere - on another planet at least I don’t know.

For the people who think Crosshair was too rude to his brothers in the last episode and was making too snarky replies. First, it’s not news that Crosshair in general does that - since day one he has been sarcastic and borderline “rude”. Whether or not his brothers found that annoying or not is up to debate but at least in my opinion they didn’t seem too bothered by it. Ask anyone with siblings - bickering is part of the family relationship. Second, I don’t know if you ever encountered someone after a dramatic breakup (doesn’t matter if it’s a friendship or a romantic relationship) but his behavior was presented very accurately. Please try to imagine getting into a fight with someone you had years of build relationship, people who you deeply cared for and trusted, people you probably loved. You get into a fight, you fall out and don’t hear each other for some time. Now you have a lot of time for these emotions to brew inside you - you will mainly feel sadness. Why did this happen? Why are they not reaching out? They know you are in pain so why aren’t they trying to remedy things? Queue all of the moments you had together, all the good memories, all the emotions you’ve shared and how much you devoted yourself to them. Was it all fake? Did they feel the same? Then comes anger. How could they? How could you? Why did you let yourself be this vulnerable with someone? Why are they not trying to communicate with you? Don’t they hurt the same as you? This segment by the way opens up a whole other door of trust issues and thoughts that lead you to conclusions to never let yourself be this vulnerable with others or have any kind of deep emotions for anyone else but we are not going to tackle that. (Not to mention that until that point Crosshair was already presented as a very closed off character and probably the only people he truly felt comfortable with were his brothers but never mind that now.) So you are angry and sad. Unfortunately even with all that hurt you don’t stop loving this person/these people because it just doesn’t work like that. In fact it is so painful because you love them. Time passes and you finally meet and the first thing that it’s itching at your tongue is to tell them they have hurt you. Which Crosshair did - he explained they’ve left him even though they were brothers and in a way betrayed him. Then comes the desire to inflict pain back - it’s completely irrational because a part of you wants to patch things up but another just wants to get payback. To say something, anything, to hurt them. It’s erratic, childish - exactly what we can see from Crosshair in this last episode. He takes every opportunity to bite back. And honestly I can’t blame him. That’s a totally normal response. I would like to point out that in a way the batch does that too - they are not warm to him in any way either, which again is valid since from their point of view they also probably feel betrayed by him. Also, the fact that he doesn’t feel the need to physically harm them (even though as he said it would have been totally justifiable from his point of view) but just make a few snarky remarks? Yeah, I would let that slide.

Honorable mention to the fact that no one apologized .. for anything. Even a casual “sorry, we left you” or “sorry, we didn’t bother to come looking for you” - nothing. I think at this point no one was expecting for the batch to start dramatically confessing their feelings but just a plain apology would have been a great start. It just confuses me so much. Hunter said to Omega “I’m angry at myself. We don’t leave our own behind.” and yet couldn’t express a simple gesture of apology to him? It makes no sense to me. I know that not everyone is emotional. Not everyone can have or express strong feelings for another human being in a relationship. But the complete lack of interest from the batch since day 1 about what is happening with their brother is baffling to me.

I’m gonna say this once and there are probably going to be people out there who don’t get it and that’s fine but: If you deeply care about someone and love them you would want them to come back. Against all odds. In spite of what they say. You would dare do the impossible just for the off chance something, anything, works and you get to have them back.

The Batch went back to save Hunter. On Kamino. In a situation where, honestly, they were going to die if it wasn’t for Crosshairs decision to give them a chance. They were walking in outnumbered against a person who knew and could predict their every move. And they knew that but they had to try. No such thing at any point was shown for Crosshair. They didn’t even try to get to him at the end. The only one who did was Omega. And I’m willing to believe that if Hunter or whoever stepped in after her conversations with him he was perhaps going to crack but.. no one even tried.

I don’t want to seem like I hate the show or the other characters. Words cannot express how good this show is and how accurately it’s written (in my opinion) but it’s just hurtful. And I believe a lot of us Crosshair fans are hurt because we can empathize. I’m not living under the illusion that my opinion of Crosshair is going to change anyone else’s - this is not what I’m trying to do. This is my post, take it or leave it. I just had thoughts and wanted to lay them out. If you read through all of this, thank you for giving it your time.

#TBB #The Bad Batch #Bad Batch #Crosshair #Hunter #Tech #Echo #Wrecker #Omega #Star Wars #starwars #word vomit #I apologize I don't mean to attack anyone #these are just my feelings #might delete

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Unsolved

Raymond Wadsworth (MGG in Suburban Gothic) x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Raymond runs into the buzzfeed unsolved duo again while investigating the same place he is, plus their cute camera operator.

A/N: Day 3 of 7 for my 500 follower celebration! This ended up in a wildly different direction then I was planning on going but I still really like this one a lot- plus it’s my first time posting for Raymond! Thank you to @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff who planted the idea into my mind 🥰 Go check out their stuff it’s amazing (Especially Between Bars it’s my favorite) ~this is also unbeta’d so sorry if there are grammar mistakes~

Warnings: A few swear words, Sexual Innuendos- Plus the lightbulb breaking over Raymond story (this is way more tame then the movie however)

Masterlist Word count: 1.0k

Working as a camera operator for Buzzfeed Unsolved was a dream come true for a young adult not that long out of college like myself. Now, I personally didn’t believe in ghosts like Ryan did, but the appeal of the show for me was being able to be surrounded by great moments in history. I got to visit some of the most famous historical landmarks, ranging from the supposedly haunted ghost town of Tombstone, Arizona to the subterranean terrors of the London Tombs. Sure- it was all under the guise of ghost hunting but even that still had its charms even if I did believe every ‘encounter’ was bullshit.

My most wild encounter at a site we were investigating didn’t come from a ghost at all, rather it came from a man named Raymond when we had been at Waverly Hills Hospital. Raymond was a paranormal investigator who was far more invested compared to our group- even more so than Ryan.

It was funny to hear Raymond’s ‘experiences’ with ghosts. Compared to what I had seen with Ryan and Shane the ‘ghosts’ that had haunted him in the past seemed rather amusing to me. However- I still did not buy his story. I was more inclined to believe that any encounters with ghosts were a figment of everyone’s imagination or a story made up for profit.

When it comes to Raymond normally I’d assume that his whole story was just to get a quick buck, I mean he did have a business based around the supernatural. But, the difference between everyone else’s stories Raymond’s seemed wildly outlandish to the point that I slightly questioned his sanity. (However, that didn’t affect how attractive I found him)

Who would make up stories like his? If they were fake it was a bold move to make his whole business based off of ghost stories that even the biggest ghost enthusiast would have a hard time believing. Even Ryan raised his eyebrows every time Raymond told another one of his tales. Either that or his story of a jizz filled light that broke above his head was really true and everything I’ve ever known or believed in was bullshit. He was a puzzle for me to solve and it was one that I wanted to solve desperately.

“So you’re telling me a light bulb exploded above you and jizzed all over you?” Shane was in disbelief at this new story that Raymond was telling us. We had run into him again when we started to investigate the Sorrel-Weed house just as we were about to enter.

“I believe you think you saw that.” I piped up to say right after Shane, it was fun to get Raymond riled up. He always tended to look down at the ground with a frustrated glare whenever we tried to disprove his theories everytime we saw him. However, even though I definitely did not believe his stories, there was still something incredibly endearing about him. The way he talked animatedly and with passion every time we had a rousing debate about the existence of the paranormal or maybe it was the fluffy curly hair that looked like a bird’s nest. Whatever it was didn’t matter- just the fact that every time I was in his presence my eyes were glued to him, hanging on to every word no matter how unbelievable they were. I couldn’t help shamelessly flirting with him this time around as well the little blush he had on his cheeks everytime that I dropped a sexual innuendo during our debate only egged me on further. When Raymond left so we could film our episode I found myself getting sad, I wanted him to stay and investigate with us.

—-

After we had investigated the place we were standing by our cars listening to Ryan talk excitedly about how he saw a ‘ghost’ in the house. My bet was that it had actually been the caretaker though there was no chance in convincing Ryan of that, though I would've given anything to see Raymond’s reaction to the ‘ghost’. I was more focused on what Shane was doing at the moment, he was leaning back giving me a funny look- one that he had been giving me the whole night for some reason.

“You like him don’t you?” He suddenly remarked to me after a brief pause in Ryan’s spiel, which also gained Ryan’s attention.

“What? Who?”A blush fell across my cheeks and the rock that I had absentmindedly been kicking was now the most interesting thing in the world. I pretended to play coy, I knew who he was referring to- I had not been exactly subtle in my flirting with Raymond today.

“Raymond- You were looking at him in like- awe the whole time he was here.” He kept pushing and Ryan concurred with his thoughts. I might as well come out and admit the fact that I liked the lanky spaz. I nodded my head in confirmation to the two of them, my blush deepening even further.

“Well- just promise that you stay a Shaniac if you ever act on your feelings, I don’t want to be outnumbered.” I snorted a little at his comment and Ryan let out a little wheeze. Maybe this would be the push I needed to act on my feelings- I was pretty sure he liked me as well as his eyes tended to light up everytime I walked into a room or I started talking with him. So why not? I already happened to have his phone number in my phone so I took a leap of faith, texting him and asking him out on a date. Maybe we could go ghost hunting.

Whether or not the Sorrel-Weed house was haunted will remain-

Unsolved. (Though Ryan would debate that)

But- Whether or not I feelings for Raymond was-

Solved.

#raymond wadsworth #suburban gothic fanfic #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #buzzfeed unsolved #mgg x reader #suburban gothic #mgg fanfic #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fanfic #mgg fanfiction #raymond #raymond wadsworth fanfiction #raymond wadsworth fanfic #mgg #shane madej #ryan bergara

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escapewithbts · 3 years

Text

Secrets in a Foreign Language (Part Four) - Jungkook

<<previous _ next>>

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

A few weeks later you entered Jungkook’s apartment with your heart feeling full. You had felt so lonely these beginning months in this new country of South Korea but seeing Jungkook every week had become a sort of comfort, especially now that you knew the feeling was mutual. Once you had gotten the awkwardness of questioning why the place was already clean whenever you got there, you used the time to just hang out with each other. You got along so unbelievably well and frequently had to remind yourself he was literally one of the most famous people in the world right now. It often blew your mind. Maybe it was because his face was all over the city, the tv, the grocery store, maybe because wherever you went you heard his singing voice in songs, or speaking voice in interviews, but the concept of fame was just something you had never thought about; the media giving celebrities an almost unrealistic and ethereal standard to look up to. But that was just it. Idols were people, too. Regular human beings, just like yourself. Jungkook was your living proof. And you really liked that about him.

He wasn’t in the living room nor the kitchen when you got there this time.

“Kook?” you called out, using the nickname you had begun to refer to him by.

You went further into the home, down the hallway towards the bedrooms. As you got closer to the master and peered inside, you saw the adjoining bathroom door open and could hear the sound of the shower running.

Ah. So that’s where Jungkook was.

You retreated back into the living area, helped yourself to a bottle of water from the fridge and decided to sit on the couch while you waited for him to return.

And he did just that.

You were browsing Instagram on your phone when his voice startled you.

“Hey, (y/n)!”

You took a swig from the water bottle right as you looked up to respond to him, immediately choking on the liquid as you did so, for Jungkook had appeared in the room in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, his glistening upper half on complete display.

You learned early on that one of Jungkook’s hobbies was working out, but damn you never thought you would be a witness to all the hard work he put in. The pictures of his abs on the internet were definitely not photoshopped, an eight pack clearly visible on his abdomen. Prominent pecs, and muscular upper arms, the right one covered by a whole sleeve of tattoos. Oh my god, the tattoos. Holy shit. You had seen some of them from the days where he wore short sleeves around you, but now they were all on display, and they were just as beautiful as you had imagined.

The pants he wore were sitting low, (dangerously low) on his narrow waist, deep chiseled v shaped muscles along his hips; you attempted not to think about where they ended.

Finally, you looked up at his face. His dark hair was still wet from the shower, it was pushed back from his forehead. He had a blush on his pale cheeks, but a smirk on his thin lips, clearly aware of how flustered you had become. You cleared your throat and looked away in embarrassment, suddenly feeling guilty for staring at your friend like he was a piece of meat. But he was just so damn attractive, and you were only human, and it had been so long since you had seen a man shirtless, let alone naked… oh god, no, you were not going to go there, not with Jungkook like this in the room with you. Focus, focus on anything else.

“How-how are you today?” you stuttered.

Smooth.

Jungkook strolled over to the kitchen island and grabbed an oversized black shirt that was laying on the back of the stool. Fortunately (or was it unfortunately?) for you, he pulled it up over his head and let it fall at his sides before shaking his damp and messy hair. Then he smiled at you and walked over to the large couch, taking a seat right next to you. The smell of a masculine body wash and fabric softener wafted into your nose, instantly making you want to curl into his side and rest against him. You swallowed hard, trying to shake those thoughts from your mind.

It was just because he smelled nice, right?

“I’m good. We shot an episode of Run! BTS this morning and we were running around a lot,” he chuckled to himself, “it was fun, but I felt gross after. Sorry for being in the shower when you were here.”

You shook your head.

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you were. I wouldn’t want to hang out with you if you were stinky.”

You plugged you nose and made a grossed-out face at him and he laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“Well then hopefully I smell okay now.”

Ah if only he knew.

Jungkook grabbed the tv remote from the coffee table and handed it to you.

“You pick what we watch today.”

You shrugged and turned on the tv.

“Okay.”

You didn’t immediately go to a streaming app, you wanted to see what kind of things were on live tv at the moment. You secretly loved watching shows with commercials because while they were on it gave you and Jungkook a chance to talk more.

As you scrolled through the channels you weren’t hopeful for anything exciting as it was 2pm on a Tuesday afternoon after all.

But suddenly, something caught your attention. The mention of Jungkook’s name. You paused your channel changing for a second to listen.

It looked like a trashy show, much like TMZ in the United States, where random people seemed to think they had the right to gossip about celebrities.

“…Jungkook of BTS and idol soloist Kim Cho-hee are still going strong it seems.” One of the reporters commented.

“Yes, did you see that picture of them cuddling close at the restaurant they frequent in Gangnam? Sources say they were there for hours!”

A picture of the two of them popped up on the screen, sitting close in a corner of a dimly lit restaurant booth.

“I even heard they shared a kiss when he dropped her off at her place!”

With that you felt your stomach flip and your face get hot.

Uh oh.

Oh no.

Did you perhaps feel... jealous?

Fuck.

“You think they’ll get married? Be together forever?”

They all laughed.

“(y/n) …” Jungkook mumbled from next to you.

“… way too young, but only time will tell!”

“(y/n),” Jungkook repeated while shaking your shoulder gently, startling you out of your thoughts and snapping your attention away from the screen, “do you mind… um, changing it?”

You fiddled with the remote in your now sweaty hands.

“Oh, sorry, no, um, I’m sorry.”

You complied with his request and moved to the next channel, something about wild animals native to the continent of Asia.

There was silence from Jungkook, and you didn’t dare look at him, your heart pounding inside your chest. It felt awkward now, like the elephant that had been in the room throughout your whole friendship, or whatever this was, was now making an unavoidable appearance. You were debating in your head whether you should finally ask him about it all when he spoke up first.

“We’ve never kissed,” he started quietly.

You ran a hand through your hair, realizing you did not want to hear about it after all. You wanted to stay in this state of naïve bliss.

“Jungkook…” you trailed off.

Plus, no matter how curious you were it still wasn’t your business.

He placed his hand on your arm surprisingly, making you look up into his worried looking eyes.

“Please, I really would like to talk to someone about it and since you-you already know it’s not real, and no one else really does- “

“Do your members?” you interrupted him.

He shook his head and looked down.

“No, they think it’s real.”

You took a deep breath, now even more shocked he had trusted you so easily with such seemingly confidential information those many weeks ago.

You closed your eyes tightly, the question you’ve been dying to ask on the tip of your tongue.

“So can I ask... why? Why you’re in a fake relationship with her?”

He let out a sigh and looked down at the ground.

“It’s complicated. Cho-hee has, um, she’s not known for being the kindest person, er, idol in the industry. She doesn’t have the best um, I’m not sure of the word in English…” he paused to pull out his phone’s translator app, “…repu-reputation is the word in English,” he sighed again, “So obviously as BTS, we’ve been very successful recently, and our managers are great at making sure our reputation stays good. So, her company contacted mine, her company has a lot more media influence in Asia, and asked if one of our members pretends to date her and help boost her reputation, they will help get BTS more attention in the Asia countries,” he paused and hesitantly peered up at you, “so… yeah, that’s basically the small explanation.”

You stared at him in both shock and confusion, so many follow up questions flooding your brain.

“BTS doesn’t have enough media coverage in Asia?” was the first one to come out of your mouth.

“Well, not necessarily,” Jungkook replied, “but the K-pop competition is a lot bigger in countries like China and Japan because it has been around for so long here and there, unlike in areas like North America and Europe. You know, people in America or the UK or other non-Asian countries might instantly think of BTS when you say ‘K-pop’ these days, right? But here it can be different. Any other act could appear at any moment and take that spotlight, and Cho-hee’s company has more ties and relationships in Asia, more than our company HYBE, because they’ve been around a lot longer.”

You thought for a second before responding.

“So, you’re telling me… her company helps keep BTS relevant throughout Asia, in exchange for you pretending to date her in order to convince the media she’s a good person and keep her out of trouble?”

Your head was absolutely spinning at all this new information.

Jungkook nodded.

Your eyes went wide as you stared off into space in disbelief.

“Wow… I-I don’t know what to say…”

Jungkook buried his face in his hands and then ran them through his hair.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do it. She has that reputation for a reason. We get along fine, but she’s just so… controlling? Controlling is the word, yes? Sometimes I think she forgets we aren’t actually together.”

You frowned at him sympathetically.

“And what if,” he continued, biting his lip nervously, “what if I meet someone I do want to be with. What then? I can’t be with them?”

Your eyes met at that moment and you felt yourself catch your breath in your throat, you heart feeling like it did a somersault.

You looked away quickly.

“Yeah I don’t know. That certainly does makes things… complicated…”

Jungkook hummed in agreement.

There was a pause as you sighed.

“God I’m… really sorry, Kook, that you have to be a part of all this.”

There was a silence between you two. He just fiddled with his fingers in his lap.

Finally he said softly,

“Me, too. I’m sorry you have to be a part of it, too.”

You cocked your head in confusion.

“What? Me? Because I know your relationship isn’t legitimate? You don’t have to worry about me, you know I won’t tell anyone about the two of you or- “

He cut you off.

“Not just that,” he paused and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

You allowed yourself to take in his handsome face from this up close: his smooth skin, the mole on the bridge of his nose, the deep scar on his left cheek. He was just so exquisite; and when he opened his big brown eyes to meet yours, he looked more nervous than ever.

And when he began to speak you suddenly understood why.

“It’s also because I… I like you, (y/n). I’m really… starting to like you. As more than a friend or-or someone I just hang out with one day a week,” his face turning red as he went on, “And if you don’t feel the same way I under-”

But before he could finish you placed one hand on the side of his neck and the other on his cheek as you leaned into him and pressed your lips against his in a tender kiss. He relaxed into you and wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you close, practically sitting you on his lap. You finally let his comforting scent completely engulf you, running your hands through his soft hair and nibbling on his bottom lip.

Oh, yes.

This certainly made things very complicated indeed.

next>>

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lundya366 · 3 years

Text

Until The End Of Time (And Then Some) | Charlie Gillespie x Black!Reader

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Black!Reader

Word Count: 2235

Warnings: None that I can think of (let me know if I should add some)

Summary: Sometimes love is a lazy river that makes your heart swell, and sometimes it’s a waterfall that makes your heart pound. A cute and fluffy one shot about a quiet night in the Gillespie household.

A/N: So this is the first fic that I’ve ever written, but I like how it turned out so I wanted to share plus I haven’t seen a lot of Charlie with a Black!Reader and I wanted to see more of that. I would love you all’s feedback and would love to know if you enjoyed it!

As Netflix is about to autoplay the next episode of your show, you click pause. You stand from the couch and straighten up your leggings and pull down the t-shirt that you borrowed from Charlie’s drawer. Walking around the house you duck your head into the rooms and call for Charlie to see where he is.

“In here,” you hear from the room he claimed as his “music and masterpieces” room (his words, not yours).

You walk in to see his back facing you with just a sliver of his face in your view. You look around the room and take in the yellow walls and tan carpeting, the posters and stickers littering both the walls and the floor, the instruments propped up around the room, and the small messy desk in the corner with Charlie’s laptop set in the middle and make a mental note to help Charlie straighten things up tomorrow. You take one last look at the yellow walls and smile (he painted the walls yellow because it’s a happy color and writing music is a happy thing).

Your attention turns back to your husband who is sitting in the middle of the room on a stool. His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and he has on sweatpants and a cutoff tee, but this one is older, so it showed quite a bit more of his chest and back than usual. It was originally an oversized t-shirt you got him very early in your relationship as a joke. Across the front read “Black Queen” with the silhouette of a black woman wearing an afro. You had bought it the day after a calm discussion (cough cough heated debate cough cough) about what clothes he could pull off and you were so sure he couldn’t make this work. He picked you up from work the next day and had cut off the sleeves and put the words “I’m dating a” across the top and you laughed for a full five minutes before you were able to utter a sentence to him.

(He felt like a genius for that one and you couldn’t necessarily disagree.)

You shake your head to remove the memory from mind and focus on your husband yet again. He’s strumming the same chords on the guitar and as you step closer you can see the frustration starting to creep into his face. Your hands rest lightly on his shoulders and you can feel the slightest tension leave them at your touch.

“What’s not working out?” you question knowing his frustration comes from the song not coming together like he wanted.

“It’s just not working. None of it is. I’ve been here for hours and I finally got the melody, but every lyric I write sucks. And honestly, I kinda hate the melody now too.” He leans forward to set the guitar back onto the stand before settling back onto the stool, still facing away from you.

As he closes the journal he was using to write notes and drops it to the floor, you notice all of the scratching out he’s done. You frown at his harsh criticism of himself and start to massage his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him.

“Well why don’t you take a break for today and pick up where you left off tomorrow. Maybe you just need to see and hear everything with a fresh set of eyes and ears.”

“No no no, I can’t,” he responded, “I’m meeting up with everyone in the morning and I really wanted to have everything done for them.”

Your eyes drift up to the ceiling as you think back to the conversation you had with Charlie earlier. You could’ve sworn he said they were supposed to work on and hopefully finish the songs tomorrow.

“Oh, I thought you all were having a writing session? I didn’t know you had to finish everything tonight. Maybe I can make you a snack to help get your juices flowing then?”

You take the scrunchie (your satin scrunchie that he stole actually) from his hair and start to run your fingers through it, starting to get rid of the knots he didn’t brush out before he started writing.

“We are having a writing session; I just don’t want to disappoint them you know?” He took a deep breath as his eyes closed and his head tilted back into your touch. He hummed in contentment as your hands worked through his hair and massaged his scalp.

“Babe,” you start “you can’t be so hard on yourself okay? They’re not gonna be disappointed. You guys’ best songs happen when you all come together. Remember Youth?”

A smile took over his face as Charlie remembered the rambunctious night the song came into existence. Everyone had come over to hang out at yours and Charlie’s house to watch movies and play games and somehow everyone ended up cramped into the small music room strumming guitars, making beats, writing lyrics and throwing out ideas. Even you, Carolynn, and Owen’s fiancée threw in a couple of suggestions.

“Maybe you’re right.” Charlie said softly, his body relaxed because of your head massage.

“You know I am.” You replied back. You start to comb Charlies hair back up into a ponytail and pull it through the scrunchie and back into a bun before settling your hands back on his shoulders.

“Or maybe I’m right but I’m just tired and don’t feel like arguing with your logic, that kinda maybe makes sense?” He threw back.

You lean down to kiss his hair before wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hug him from behind.

“Mmm yeah okay. I’ll let you think that’s the case, sweetheart,” you whisper in his ear.

You start to pull back from him and plan on heading back to the living room, but before you can remove your arms from around him fully, he grabs onto your left arm. He pulls you around so you’re now standing in front of him, towering over him for once.

(You’ll admit, “towering over him” may have been hyperbolic, but how often is it that you have this height advantage over him.)

He doesn’t say anything yet, just looks up at you. You can see that his eyes trace your features, and a small smile graces his lips (not that you’re staring or anything). He takes in your pretty dark skin and thinks of how amazing the setting sun looked against it. He thinks you shine like an angel, with your coily hair as your halo and the sun as your wings. His eyes focus on your chin that he teased you about for the occasional hair or two that made their escape.

(No worries, one quip about how you at least have hair on your chin zipped his lips real quick.)

He takes in your full lips with just a touch of lip gloss still left on them, from your earlier trip to the store. He could kiss them all day and never tire. His smile grows as he gets to your nose. Your teddy bear nose as he calls it because “it looks just like the cute little noses on the Valentine’s teddy bears!” to which you roll your eyes at because in no way is your nose “little” (it’s pretty wide to be quite honest) and in no way does it look like the ones the cute teddy bears have.

(You still smile when he says it though, but you definitely don’t get flustered over it. Nope, never.)

He looks at your cheeks, your high cheekbones on display due to the smile on your lips. Secretly, it’s one of his favorite things about you, they seem to just add to the joy you radiate.

And finally, he meets your eyes, of which many arguments have come about. Whose eyes are prettiest to be specific. He says your eyes remind him of the sweetness of a Reese’s peanut butter cup, the richness of coffee, the friendliness of a puppy, and the beauty of a thousand sunsets on the beach. You always say his eyes remind you of the excitement of life, the hope of a new beginning, and a love that burns like a thousand suns.

(You guys always ended up agreeing to disagree.)

Finally, his smile grew to its full size and his eyes squinted to make room and you’re sure your expression matched. His smile never failed to bring a smile to your face. His ability to experience pure unbridled joy, unmarred and unburdened by the world, reminded you of the joy that children are able to indulge in. Fully and without obstacle.

Your heart starts to beat faster, and you feel flutters all over and suddenly you feel shy from his gaze and overwhelmed with love, all at once. His hands wrap around your waist as he pulls you to stand between his legs. Your arms move to drape across his shoulders.

“I love you,” he whispers, eyes never leaving yours.

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

Everyday you wake up thankful that you’ve never had to doubt how much Charlie loves you. His words and actions more than speak for themselves. And every day you’re thankful you don’t even have to think about whether you’ll be able to say “I love you” back. It’s instinct at this point. One you hope you’ll never have to unlearn.

He pulls you into a hug as he rests his head against your chest, and you rest yours on his head. Charlie begins to hum a song and after recognizing it as I See the Light from the movie Tangled, you join him. It was the song playing when he proposed, but that’s a story for another day. You don’t know how long passes before you pull back just enough to be able to see his face.

“Wanna watch something with me?” And just like that his smile returns full force.

“So that was your plan all along wasn’t it? Play with my hair to make me lose focus, butter me up with your sweet words, just so you didn’t have to watch a show by yourself, huh?” He said even as he stood from the stool to head to the living room with you.

“Charlie Gillespie, I’d never do such a thing. I played with your hair and buttered you up so you could watch a MOVIE with me, not a show. There’s a difference,” you said giggling at the pout on his face.

Your giggles turn to full on laughs as he scoops you up bridal style and alternates between littering your neck and face with kisses and blowing (very wet) raspberries wherever he could reach.

“Charlie!” you yelled between laughs. “Stop! That tickles! And you’re gonna drop me!”

“Say the magic word!” He yelled back, still not stopping his kisses and raspberries.

“Please!” You squirmed trying to get out of his grasp.

“Wrong magic word!” He said as his range expanded to down your chest, up to your hair, and honestly anywhere his lips could reach.

“How can there be a wrong magic word?! There’s only one universal magic word! You’re making up rules!” You laughed back at him, still squirming in his grasp.

“I’ll give you a hint, it’s food related.” He replied to you through laughs, kisses, and raspberries.

“Umm...” you said, still distracted by his mouth “peanut butter, whipped cream, ice cream, nachos, waffles, burgers?” Honestly, you were just listing his favorite foods and hoping one was right.

“Ding ding ding ding ding! You got it! The correct answer was waffles!” he yelled dramatically in a TV show host voice.

His mouth finally stopped roaming your body, but he didn’t set you down. Instead, he carries all the way to the living room (stopping at the light switch so you could flick it off) before setting you down on the couch. He let you sit up against the arm of the couch before you reached your arms out for him, his invitation to join you. He grabs the remote off the table and hands it to you before he settles between your legs. You click a button on the remote to wake up the TV about to start scrolling through for a movie. You kiss the top of his head, which in turn causes him to turn his head toward you as a way of asking for a proper kiss. You oblige him (more than once, maybe more than twice. Let’s just say you had you to wake the TV up again when you guys finally refocused on choosing a movie). You both finally settle back into a comfortable position before discussing what movie you were going to watch.

As Charlie went on about a scary movie trying to convince you that it was a great idea to watch it (at night, you don’t think so) you once again felt that surge of overwhelming love and adoration for him. Whenever that happened it always felt like your heart soared, your mind cleared, and all you could feel was joy and a love that couldn’t be put into words. A love unmatched by any you thought you had felt in the past. And as you gave in and clicked the scary movie Charlie was raving about, you hoped that feeling lasted until the end of time and then some.

#jatp #jatp cast #jatp fanfic #jatp imagine #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x black!reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie fanfiction #black reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #luke patterson #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms cast

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multimetaverse · 3 years

Note

do you have any new production info for diary of a future president?

Not really, all that’s new is some imdb info and something Brandon Severs has let slip about 2x10. Brandon was answering some questions on twitter recently and said that his favourite ep of S2 was the finale, specifically the end of the finale. He had previously posted photos of him, Charlie, and Nathan filming a night during the final week of filming and Brandon had mentioned that the scene they filmed that night was one of his favourites of the whole series (fwiw Ilana liked that tweet). There’s been a long running theory/gag on twitter that there would be a cartero confession on the tennis courts at night in S2 and someone tweeted about Brandon telling the writers about that theory. Brandon replied to that tweet saying that he was pretty sure it was him, Charlie, and Nathan who did that after they shot a scene. Later he clarified that he didn’t say anything would or would not happen and people shouldn’t go canonizing things. I think that night time scene near the end of the S2 finale is actually Bobby telling Liam and Danny that he’s gay which would be a great end to Bobby’s arc in S2.

This suggests that Bobby doesn’t have to come out to people one at a time which will help the show cover more ground. I do think that Bobby also comes out to Elena and Gabi (and most likely Sam along with them) at some point in S2 but when is anyone’s guess. Whether Disney will require big gaps between coming outs or not is still unknown. We also have no insight on what Cami’s arc is. She and Dani will most likely provide some sort of guidance to Bobby but whether the writers can fit in Cami coming out to her parents in S2 or have to save that for a potential S3 is unknown.

There are some interesting imdb updates, anyone can update imdb but since the doafp fandom is so small I think these updates are probably legit. Brogan Hall who plays Tripp is in eps 2x01,2x02, 2x04, 2x06, and 2x10. He seems to be Elena’s opponent in the school council elections. The drop off in his appearances in the latter half of S2 is something I’ve flagged before as a sign that there’s some sort of shift in Elena’s story line and a partial answer has been provided by Sanai Victoria whose imdb has Melissa in eps 2x01, 2x04, and 2x06-2x10. We know from set photos from 2x10 that Melissa is wearing an Elena for student council president button so they must be on good terms by then. So Elena’s school plot is probably running for student council president and campaigning against Tripp, maybe ending with a debate in 2x06, then spending the latter half of the season trying to come to terms with Melissa which eventually leads to them being on good terms and Elena presumably winning the election in the finale.

Nathan Arenas updated his imdb and he’s in every S2 ep except 2x08. Brandon is likely in all 10 eps this season as a while back Carmina was replying to something on twitter about S2 and tagged Brandon saying how great it was that they had all the scripts for S2. Typically shows don’t have recurring characters in all episodes but doafp already broke that trend with Sasha and Jessica back in S1. I’d assume we get more development for Danny and Liam who we really don’t know all that well. I’d like to see more explanation on why Liam is living with his grandmother in Miami now as his excuse in S1 that he had a lot of siblings back home doesn’t really make much sense and seems like it could be a cover story for family issues of some sort. Ziggy seems to not be in very much of S2. Sean Glasgow was only spotted on set once when they had their Halloween costume day. He could very well be in more but it does seem like something happens to Ziggy, whether he just moves away or has a falling out with Bobby’s crew or something else. And who knows if he’ll be back if they get a S3. There’s not much else as of now. Ilana is directing 2x09 so that could be an important ep for at least some of the story lines. There’s a character credited as ‘freshman girl’ in 2x05 so there must be some scenes at Bobby’s high school. We’ll probably have to wait until the trailer eventually drops for more imdb updates to be made.

#diary of a future president #Doafp #Bobby Cañero-Reed #Liam Carter #Elena Cañero-Reed #Doafp asks #asks #answered

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jbuffyangel · 3 years

Text

The Domino Falls: Arrow 1x12 Review (Vertigo)

It’s officially 1 year today since Arrow went off the air and I thought what better way to mark the moment than by chatting about the show we all love with a review!

We have begun the slow and steady climb to more Felicity Smoak content

and “Vertigo” is a monumentally HUGE moment in Oliver and Felicity’s relationship. One little meet up at Big Belly Burger is what tips the dominoes over for Oliver Queen.

Let’s dig in...

Olicity

Let’s get right to the good stuff. Of course, there’s other stuff that happened in this episode, but do we care? Only a little. Oliver is on the hunt for The Count – the man responsible for the Vertigo epidemic and Thea’s looming drug trial. The Count is in my Top 5 of best Arrow villains. Of course his first episode coincides with an Olicity milestone. That rat bastard worked the hardest for our ship.

The judge has decided to make an example out of Ms. Queen in hopes of deterring others from trying Vertigo. Seriously, does that ever work?

So, he chucked Thea’s plea agreement right out the window. Big Bro in The Hood is hoping to serve up a bigger fish – THE FISH – to help get his sister off the hook. Oliver is generally anti innocent people dying from illicit drugs, so there are unselfish reasons at play too.

No one knows the identity of The Count, so after roughing up the streets and getting nowhere, Oliver reaches out to Alexi Leonov. We met Leonov in 1x03, but for those who need a refresher - he leads the Starling City chapter of the Bratva. This is the first time Diggle meets Leonov, discovers Oliver speaks Russian, is a captain in the Russian mob, and can fake kill someone.

It was a big day for John.

Leonov sets up the meet with The Count and Oliver attempts to buy some Vertigo off him, sans mask and arrow. The cops show up and Oliver tries to run down The Count as he escapes, but is stabbed in the chest with two syringes full of Vertigo.

Never fear, Oliver has his magic herbs from Lian Yu which apparently can cure drug overdose. (Maybe share with the rest of the world?) Vertigo makes him momentarily murderous (more than usual) and he screams a lot.

THE POINT OF ALL THIS EXPOSITION IS ALL ROADS LEAD TO FELICITY SMOAK.

Diggle and Oliver think it would be wise to have someone analyze the Vertigo… for some reason. This leads our dynamic duo to Queen Consolidated and to our favorite blonde hacker.

Felicity rambles about Oliver’s haggard appearance (re: see drug overdose) and a cat being tased (she connects those disparate dots, I assure you). He offers yet another ridiculous lie and we embark on one of the funniest scenes in Arrow’s history.

Arrow struggled to find its footing for a long time, but “Vertigo” is the beginning of the writers settling on to solid ground. If you ever have to wonder why the show focused on Oliver, Diggle and Felicity as the core characters you only need to watch this scene for the answer.

The chemistry between all the actors is amazing. Arrow is not known for its humor (especially in Season 1), but between Emily Bett Rickard’s perfect delivery of another one of Felicity’s awkward and inadvertent sexual slip ups,

Stephen Amell’s inability to stay in character as he laughs right along with us,

and David Ramsey’s stone cold straight man reaction –

this entire scene is comedy gold.

I vividly remember watching it live, laughing my ass off, and wanting more of EVERYTHING these three have to offer. And that’s exactly what we’re going get.

“I ran out of sports bottles” reigned as Arrow’s funniest scene for a solid two years (until this episode), but it also marks the worst of Oliver’s terrible lies to Felicity. It’s so bad even Diggle has to remark on it in the elevator. Oliver’s lies are horrible, everyone knows Felicity doesn’t buy a word of it, and their need for her help is increasing with every day. Something has to change.

As we discussed in 1x11, Oliver is prone to distrust and very reticent to change his mind – ever. He’s been burned so many times in the past it’s difficult for him to view anyone through a trusting lens.

And yet, Oliver told his deepest and darkest secret to a man he’d only known for a few weeks. Yes, Diggle had soldier skills Oliver would find useful as a partner. He knew John could hold his own in the field, but it’s not just about his abilities. It was also about the person Diggle is. Oliver did his homework and realized he needed John to survive. There was a wellspring of humanity in John that Oliver wasn’t able to access inside himself. He was subconsciously reaching out for help - like a moth to a flame.

It is the same with Felicity. Yes, Oliver needs her abilities – perhaps even more than what Diggle has to offer. (It’s not like Oliver Queen can’t handle himself in the field). But he is also drawn to Felicity’s warmth, kindness, humor, compassion and openness. Oliver’s heart is encased in iron and welded shut. He doesn’t know how to open it back up. It’s been dark and alone for so long. And yet, Oliver returns again and again to this brightly shining light and why? Because he craves it.

Something has to change. We need that final push, the first domino to fall, so Oliver can make that final step and tell Felicity who he really is. Diggle was easier. He’d fought a war before. Oliver also knew about Andy’s death. Remember – Oliver brought Diggle onboard when he needed help with Deadshot. Manipulative? Yes, but it worked.

Felicity is trickier. I’m sure Oliver has done his research.

Well, yes that kind of research, but also into her background. There’s no dead family member requiring retribution. No war zone she’s recently returned from. She’s an MIT graduate with a penchant for hacking working at a global conglomerate as a wildly overqualified IT tech. The girl doesn’t have so much as a parking ticket. The leap to vigilantism would be rather big.

I also think a fair amount of his hesitancy to involve her in anything related to The Hood is the danger. Diggle can handle himself. Felicity is a different story. Oliver is constantly battling the need for Felicity’s help versus the risk he’s putting her at by asking for it. The lies are to protest Oliver’s secret identity, but also to shield Felicity from it.

Whether it is Oliver’s own distrustfulness, his inability to see an angle to reel Felicity in, his desire to protect her or all three – it doesn’t matter. He continues to lie to her. Oliver isn’t ready to make that big leap either.

Source: yet-i-remain-quiet

Until… Felicity asks to meet him at Big Belly Burger. Oliver waits for her, looking out the window on a rainy night, thinking of Yao Fei.

Oliver feared Yao Fei betrayed him and was really working for Fyers, but neither was true. He convinced Fyers of his loyalty by pretending to kill Oliver. (So that’s who Oliver learned it from!) Yao Fei wakes Oliver just as he rolls his “dead” body into the waterfall. He also slips Oliver a map with a location marked with the words “Survive.”

Oliver doubted his trust in Yao Fei, but in the end was shocked to find out he had it right all along. Yao Fei was exactly who Oliver thought he was – a good man. That final and literal push cemented Oliver’s belief in his friend and to trust his gut.

There will probably always be a debate as to when the writers began the shift towards Olicity. “We DiDn’T dEcIdE uNtIL sEaSoN 2,” is the standard story, but I’m a firm believer it began in Season 1 and often include this scene in my massive pile of evidence. The last scene in the episode either tees up the next or contains a lot of emotional significance. Felicity beings to carve out a lot of final scene time as the series progresses.

The last scene in “Vertigo” is romantically lit with rain drops shimmering on the window. Oliver and Felicity are meeting outside the office and ALONE. Soft instrumental music plays in the background. It feels more intimate than any scene they’ve shared before.

Source: andjustforthismoment

I still cannot get over Oliver “The Sex God” Queen waving at Felicity Smoak like a giddy school boy and then shaking his head over how completely uncool he looked. We watched this man leave a criminal suspended in the air with an arrow through his hand in the first scene and in the last he acts like a puppy. THE RANGE.

It’s clear Felicity is a little nervous as she exhales walking in. Is she nervous to be meeting with Oliver or nervous about what she has to say? Both. She tips her hand a bit by thanking Oliver for meeting her at Big Belly Burger. She did not want to have this discussion at the Queen mansion. (THE PLOT THICKENS).

It seems Oliver and Felicity are having similar conundrums about each other. Felicity is uncertain if she can trust Oliver and has been debating for weeks whether or not to tell him the full truth. SOUND FAMILIAR? Felicity has far more evidence of Oliver’s untrustworthiness. There’s no rambling this time. She lays out the cold hard facts which is Oliver Queen is a big, fat liar and she knows it. He knows it. They both know it. Felicity Smoak is nobody’s fool.

And yet, she trusts him. Even though Oliver has given her no reason to. Even though there are clearly things he’s not telling her. Even though Oliver has yet to show her the same trust. There is something Felicity sees in him which tells her Oliver is worthy of it. It is an unsubstantiated truth. Felicity is going with her gut and her gut says Oliver Queen is a good man.

This doesn’t stop her from asking him the simple question though. Felicity needs that little bit of reassurance before she makes the final leap.

At first, Oliver plays it off in his smarmy, smart ass and flippant way. It’s the Ollie Queen façade that always works with L*urel, Tommy, Lance, Moira and Thea.

It’s an act that’s never worked on Felicity. She sees through it now just like she’s always has. Her smile fades. Felicity breaks eye contact with Oliver and doesn’t hide her disappointment. She is tired of the games and lies. Felicity wants to talk to the real Oliver Queen. That’s the only man she will share this secret with.

All it takes is five seconds of Felicity’s disappointment for Oliver to drop the façade like a hot potato.

He even apologizes and promises Felicity he is worthy of her trust. Then, Felicity lowers the boom and hands him The List.

It is difficult to surprise Oliver Queen, but this one has him reeling. She hands the book to Oliver, the same book Robert gave him, but he hesitates taking it. He has no idea where this is going, so he defaults to his standard operating procedure and lies.

Oliver is not doing a stellar job covering his “my world is upside down” reaction, so I highly doubt Felicity believes him, but she lets it slide for now.

The more information she shares with Oliver the worse it gets. Felicity begins to fill in all the missing pieces to Walter’s disappearance and the guilt is pointing directly at Moira.

This is not the first time Oliver has reason to doubt his mother, but every time he’s able to reason away her involvement in anything nefarious. If he can’t do that on his own then Moira provides very plausible explanations (LIES), which allow Oliver to continuing looking at his family with a blind eye. But this? This is impossible to easily explain away. Particularly since WALTER was beginning to suspect his own wife.

Source: green-arrows-of-karamel

If The List cost Walter his life then Felicity is risking her own by showing it to anyone, particularly a Queen. She is literally putting her life in Oliver’s hands when she handed him that book. The first domino falls, but it’s not Oliver who pushes it over. It’s Felicity. She gives Oliver the truth when he’s given nothing but lies. Felicity trusts him absolutely when he’s done nothing to show he’s deserving of it. She risks everything while Oliver continues to hide everything.

Felicity shocks Oliver no differently than Yao Fei shocked him. We’ve been waiting all this time for Oliver to make that final step and in the end it is Felicity who gives their relationship the necessary push over the waterfall. It’s a cold awakening, but he can see things clearly now. She is like a flashlight illuminating all the answers clouded by his distrustfulness and hesitancy.

Felicity reveals so much of herself in this moment. First, she is willing to take risks if the cause is worth it. Giving Oliver that book took real courage. Second, the girl can keep a secret. She never said boo about anything related to Moira or Walter during Oliver’s little visits. Not even a hint! Three, Felicity Smoak sees clearly all the things Oliver is blind to.

This serves as an important lesson for Oliver. Felicity knows so much more than he ever gave her credit for. Most importantly, his gut was right about her and he was wrong to ever question it. Two mistakes he will never make again.

And now everything will change.

Thea and Moira

I’m not gonna sugar coat this for you guys. I was one hundred percent okay with Thea going to jail. Season 1 Thea is a pain in the ass. A couple episodes with her sitting in the slammer would be a welcomed break from the teenage ‘tude.

L*urel and Lance work out a sweetheart deal for Thea after the judge basically said he would throw the book at her. Thea will serve 500 hours of community service under the watchful gaze of L*urel Lance at CRNI. And Thea flat out refuses.

Now, typically I am a fan of anyone who tells L*urel Lance to go screw herself, but even this was too much for me. Thea wants to go to jail to stick it to her mother because she’s still convinced Moira cheated on Walter.

She didn’t cheat on Walter, Thea! Your mom just kidnapped him. So it’s fine.

Oliver decides to drop the Robert “I’m not the man you think I am” Queen bomb on Thea and tells her their father was a big hoe. Thea refuses to believe him and Moira is ticked because Oliver told the truth. Queens don’t do that EVER.

Moira: He loved you. No matter his faults. He loved you.

Thea wants to know why Moira took all the punishment for Robert’s sins and her answer is very simple. She was trying to protect Thea’s memory of her father. Moira Queen is as shady as they come, but her desire to protect her children is always the driving force of any decisions she makes – good, bad and the ugly.

Moira: One day I hope you’re lucky enough to have a daughter and then you’ll know why.

This is the essence of motherhood. We will serve ourselves up on a platter and take the brunt of their hurt and anger if we believe it protect or help our children in the long run. Right or wrong - it’s just the gig.

Source: queensarrow.

L*urel and Lance

L*urel and Detective Lance are really Thea’s only hope of avoiding significant jail time and, despite their history, Oliver has no problem groveling at their feet if it means protecting his sister. Luckily for Oliver, this week L*urel likes him, so she’s willing to do Thea a favor.

But her reason for wanting to help Thea turns out have very little to do with Oliver. It’s about Sara. When L*urel looks at Thea she sees all the wild abandon of Sara with all the red flags.

L*urel: For so long you and I have blamed Oliver for Sara's death, but Sara is to blame too.

Detective Lance isn’t too keen on helping Oliver or Thea, but L*urel calls out her father on his hypocrisy. He had no qualms about bailing Sara out after she shop lifted. The youngest Lance daughter seemed to get herself in to trouble long before she ever stepped onto the Queen’s Gambit and her father always helped her avoid the consequences of her actions. Until those consequences finally caught up with her.

This is the first time L*urel lays any blame at Sara’s feet. I find it wildly disturbing whenever I agree with L*urel, but damn it she has this one right. Oliver wasn’t the only one who cheated. Oliver wasn’t the only one who lied. Oliver wasn’t the only one who was selfish. Sara was all of those things too. Just because she paid for those mistakes with her life doesn’t erase the choices she made and the pain she caused. If someone held Sara responsible without destroying her life, like L*urel is trying to do with Thea just maybe she would have never gotten on the boat. Maybe.

The game of “What if?” is a torturous one. It never gives any definitive answers. But Detective Lance refusing to help Thea to stick it to Oliver isn’t fair. L*urel is right. Sure, it may hurt Oliver, but it won’t bring Sara back.

More importantly, it doesn’t hold Sara responsible in any way. Detective Lance is treating Sara the same in death as he did in life. She wasn’t a saint anymore than Thea is – no matter how much Lance romanticizes his memory of his daughter. L*urel and her father don’t resolve the Sara issue, but Lance helping Thea is an important step towards his acknowledgement of the truth and putting some of the blame where it belongs.

Stray Thoughts

Oliver is shirtless and handcuffed in the bunker is an absolutely wasted opportunity for an Olicity sex scene. Pretty sure I read a fic that started like it though. Source: @olivergifs

Bratva Oliver is cold, calculating and stylish. I don’t know what it is about that jacket you guys. It doesn’t things to me.

I say this as a person who was very anti murder throughout the show, but sometimes it’s great to watch Oliver do a little violence.

“Whoever you fear, fear me more!” As vigilante lines go this was a damn good one.

“I’m not the one going to prison.” Give it time, Moira. Give it time.

McKenna Hall makes her first episode appearance as the rotation of female guest stars continues while show desperately searches for a love interest Stephen has chemistry because it ain’t Katie Cassidy. (Psst! You found THE ONE already!!! Call off the search!)

Just for you multifandom folks out there McKenna is also Qetsiyah on The Vampire Diaries.

Why doesn’t Oliver give a sketch to the police of The Count? That could be helpful.

“I don’t need the bow.” Yeah, but you need to walk straight!

Musings of the Kiddo

Kiddo: How many times does he do this to her?

Me: Lie? A lot. She was very patient with him.

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me.

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

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cipher26 · 4 years

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The King’s Cage

I finally got through c2 ep69.

(**Spoilers below for anyone who is still watching through this show, obvs)

Obviously I knew the outcome, but as I said in another post the other day, seeing clips of it and just watching pieces doesn’t hold a candle to how heartbreaking this episode actually was to watch in full, along with everything leading up to it.

The look on Ashley’s face after she fails the wisdom saving role and realizes what’s happening was so sad. The rest of the party doesn’t even notice the change in her demeanor, but I couldn’t look away. Her face completely drops and she just stares for awhile until it comes back to her turn. The silence from Ashley as Fjord fails to thunderstep with her and Matt starts to describe Yasha’s demeanor just like... really stops your heart. That slow realization as the party starts to recognize that Yasha is gone, the disbelief in Travis’ voice when he asks if Yasha gets to make saving throws every turn and Matt says “no.” Marisha’s face as she goes into full sad Beau mode as she also realizes that this isn’t going to end with a victory, and possibly without Yasha. Jester/Laura crying BREAKS my fucking heart, every single time. And also the fact that they, quite literally, barely made it out of there alive. And then the final party realization after the doors close that Yasha isn’t coming with them and they just have to run.

And poor Ashley just having to sit and watch the rest of it, and then also listen to them (as characters) debate whether or not she had been evil the entire time.

It was just...so so so full of emotion that I hadn’t felt since Molly’s death. I certainly had tears in my eyes, and I can’t imagine watching that live and not knowing what else would happen.

Anyway, weird as it is, I think it’s good that she didn’t make that wisdom save, because the story created by her being controlled by Obann is honestly just so so good. For the entire party, it’s an incredible story. Which I can say ONLY because I know the future lmao. I just don’t think Yasha going off on her own “to find answers” would have been the same. This story, while tragic and painful, is just SO good as a viewer.

It’s an incredible episode. And I also can’t fucking believe Matt ENDED the episode with just Ashley at the table, my god, and then said “happy pride” at sign off as if all the gays weren’t probably screaming and crying lmao.

I’m also watching the Talks episode that follows this and it’s SO creepy that Obann was just watching them the entire time, although not surprising at all. Eww, what a creep.

And last thing for this post, just wanna shout out to the amazing Marisha Ray, whose reaction to the situation during the battle, whether it was acting or not (cause I legit could not tell), was so heartbreaking and amazing. I always love watching her, she really really puts her emotions into it and it is a privilege to watch. It really felt like she was in the same panic/heartbreak mode that Beau was in, along with Laura crying at the other end of the table, and it really pushed the emotions of this episode over the edge.

Anyway, I’m a slut for angst so I’m looking forward to the upcoming episodes a lot.

#critical role #c2e69 #the king's cage #cr campaign 2 #yasha nydoorin #ashley johnson #obann #beauregard lionett #marisha ray #laura bailey #travis willingham #jester lavorre #fjord critical role #the mighty nein #god it rea #ly delivered #even with spoilers it was an amazing and stressful episode #and i'm excited about the time between this and the cathedral cause i don't know much about it

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hansolmates · 4 years

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jjk; angel’s trumpet [08]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–mentions of sex, a panic attack w.c; 4.5k a/n; can’t believe there’s one more chapter after this! (+the bonus chapter!) its such a bittersweet feeling to close this all up so i hope u all join me in my w2!jk sobbing party im making matcha cookies rn so i can wallow

[07] [08] [final] -> masterpost

Jungkook’s worried.

After he left your apartment, he dove himself into his work and tried to get you out of his head. Somehow he ended up from his living room table to his bed, bleary and with a pen jabbing him in the cheek. He doesn’t know how he feels right now, and has micro analyzed every bit of your relationship in between breaks.

He fell fast, and loving you (as much as it scares himself to admit) was so easy it hurt. It’s why it’s so hard for him to accept that you would betray him like that. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? If you had just admitted your issues from day one, this crisis could have easily been averted and you would be with him right now.

But that’s not why he’s worried. Jungkook wakes up the following day around 10AM, noting the dozens of messages and unanswered phone calls from Jimin and Taehyung.

According to Taehyung, you’ve been missing for three days. Off-the-grid type of missing, to the point that Taehyung is debating on whether or not he should call the police.

The first day you didn’t come home, Taehyung chalked it up as you spending the night at Jungkook’s. The second day however, he visits the library where your office hours are held only to find your usual table empty and your students upset over your lack of contact.

“Here,” Doyeon had said, pointing to the vague email you sent. Taehyung skimmed through the barebones message, mentioning that you had to take an indefinite leave and that the students can email Professor Kim Namjoon if they still had lingering questions.

Taehyung notes the sincere apology at the bottom, and how you tack on that “you are a wonderful group of students and I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”

Almost as if you aren’t planning to come back.

He could hear Taehyung deflate on the line, knowing that Jungkook has no idea where you are either.

“Did you…” Jungkook scratches his head, sitting at his kitchen table, “did you check her room for a yellow notebook?”

“What?” Taehyung asks, “I checked her room yesterday. Y’know the weird thing is? Her room is clean, like clinically clean. There’s nothing on her desk, the sheets are washed, and her clothes are all folded and put away. Usually it’s like a whirlwind in here.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, remembering how your room is usually quite lived in, with warm sheets and a candle glowing.

“Why aren’t you more stressed out, dude?” Taehyung says, and Jungkook instantly feels guilty. “Your girlfriend’s fucking missing, are you gonna get up and help or not?”

“Y-yeah, I’m just a little shaken,” he manages to reply, thinking about how you tried to explain to him the other night. He pinches the bridge between his brows, regretting not letting you have your word when refusing to listen to you. Maybe if he heard it, things would have turned out differently.

Taehyung sighs, “Yeah, it’s a bit of a shock. She really isn’t like this normally, but I trust her. If you can, maybe contact Jung Hoseok? I already visited Kim Namjoon and he doesn’t know anything, but he’s the only friend I know that could have any idea.”

Jung Hoseok. He remembers that name frequently in your notebook. Not as frequently as his, but enough to have a good idea he could be involved in your sudden departure.

“Okay, I’ll visit him today.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The tables that you usually occupy for study groups are painfully absent of your presence, noted by your stressed out students that are hoping you’ll show up unexpectedly.

Thankfully, Hoseok is working today. Jungkook eyes him from the doorway of the playroom, seeing Hoseok carefully distribute plates of snacks as a movie plays on the flatscreen. He looks like a preschooler himself, decked out in a sunflower yellow bucket hat and denim suspenders. Jungkook tries to see if there’s anything strange emanating from Hoseok, like if he also has secrets to hide, but feels nothing of the sort.

“You’re really creepy, Mister,” the door swings open to reveal a little girl, tugging impatiently at his cargos.

Hoseok makes a face at Jungkook, rolling his eyes. “God, just come in. You’re scaring my children.”

The little girl practically shoves him inside, forcing him to sit at the playtable on the very end. She then hands him a plate of cheddar Goldfish and strawberry fruit snacks, a toddler’s delicacy. Hoseok makes a show of telling the children to be quiet, focusing on the movie’s “historical elements” and “symbolic imagery” but they don’t understand any of that and just want Hoseok to move so they can watch Mulan.

Jungkook feels like he’s being crushed in the too-small chair and Fisher-Price table, munching absentmindedly on his Goldfish. Hoseok is playing on his phone, not sparing him a glance as he texts someone.

Jungkook swallows, wishing he had some milk to down the snack. “Uh, are you texting y/n?”

“No,” Hoseok replies coolly.

“Well, do you know where she is?”

“I can tell you where she went,” Hoseok replies eerily, plucking a fruit snack from Jungkook’s place, “as to whether she’s still there or not, I’m not sure.”

“I’m sorry, but are you mad at me?” he whisper-hisses, not wanting to disturb the children enamoured at the front of the room. He’s tired of the secrecy and blurry answers.

“Yes, I am,” Hoseok snaps just as quietly, leaning in to get into his face, “I’m mad because I believed in you.”

“Believed in me?” he gapes, “you don’t even know me!”

“I may not, but I believed you’d trust y/n at least. She’s a victim too, y’know.”

A victim?

“Look,” Jungkook puts some space between them, afraid he would get too heated, “just tell me what’s going on so I can understand. I know I messed up, but I feel like I’ve been in the dark for God knows how long.”

Hoseok bites his lip, “It’s really not my story to tell. Y/n didn’t want to tell you right away because she wasn’t sure of the circumstances. She wasn’t sure even if she was supposed to tell you.”

Jungkook watches the expressions morph on Hoseok’s face. He sees the faith in his gaze, as he holds his phone expectantly, as if he’s also waiting for a sign that you’re okay. Jungkook suppresses a sigh, looking at his own blank screen. Shaking his head, he manages to smile knowing that so many people believe in you.

So why can’t he?

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

You hate this. Three days ago you felt peachy keen, ready to transcend into your own universe and live your life to the fullest.

Now three days later you’re sitting at the wine lady’s cottage, waiting for the past two days for her to show up.

“How long does she need to go on this ‘spiritual retreat’?” you admonish, looking on angrily at the same waitress that has served you for the past two days.

“I don’t know,” the waitress has grown tired of your presence, waiting all day in the little restaurant for the owner’s presence, “until she feels more spiritual, I guess?”

It annoys you further that this waitress has the spitting image of Sehlyung. It’s weird to see her with natural pin straight black hair, always loving the pretty blond-white color and sacrificing her hair health for the bright hue. Every time she sees you still in the same spot, she makes it a point to roll her eyes and walk a little louder. This version of her is just as temperamental, unwilling to budge.

You groan, shamelessly annoyed as you drop your head on your arm. “And are you sure there’s no angel’s wine in the bar? I’m willing to take the risk of switching lives with my third dimension-self at this rate.”

The waitress eyes the one empty bottle of soju that decorate your side of the bar, chalking it up as a drunk episode. “No,” she says flatly, jerking her hand out. “Now, please pay and leave. We’re closing up, but I’ll give you a call if she decides to show up late. Since y’know, you’ve left your number here despite our protests.”

“Can I stay until you’re at least done cleaning—”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes, snatching up your half-finished bottle of soju before tucking it in your purse and offering up your credit card in exchange. You know you’re not in the right mind, but you’re pulling at strings at this point and you don’t know what to do.

After a couple paces of shaky walking and trying very hard not to appear tipsy in public, you plop yourself onto the beach, overlooking the shore. You place your backpack next to you, taking off your shoes and dipping your toes in the sand.

You glare hard at the moon, despite the distance the big ball of extraterrestrial rock is bright and full. It reflects in the ocean and bathes you in it’s grace.

Sighing at its beauty, you take a swig of your soju as your feet wade in the water. The touch of the ocean is glaringly cold, but your body feels warm and the contrast is appropriately jarring. You feel stuck between two worlds, your body in one while your heart is in the other, desperate to find the bridge to bring you home.

What exactly was the goal in bringing you here? Did you need a break from your real life? Did fate want you to remedy your relationship with Jungkook? Were you supposed to rewrite the wrongs you committed in your other life?

You snort, taking a long swig. It's easy to see how well that went.

You miss your life back home. As much as you love the one your alternate self has made here, nothing compares to Sehlyung’s humor and dirty jokes. Nothing compares to the look on Beomgyu’s face after getting a sentence translation correct. Nothing compares to the way Jungkook looks for only you after a concert, desperate to give you a hug and an affirmation that he did well.

Just as you are about to sing to the moon and beg for a reprieve, a body plops themselves next to you, snatching the bottle from your hands.

“Y’know, normally when people run away, they leave a mysterious note.”

You frown at Jungkook, who looks absolutely ethereal as he stares at the moon. He’s glittering in his denim jacket and black jeans, as if he’s part of an intimate moment in a slice-of-life film. You have half a mind to grab your phone and yell at Hoseok, but it’s far too late since your location has already been revealed.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying not to snap when Jungkook pours the contents of your drink into the ocean. “Hey, I paid for that.”

Ignoring you he says, “I’m here to take you home.”

“I don’t have a home here,” you snap, and you mean it.

Jungkook digs a hole for your bottle, letting the sea green grass sit in the sandhole. He turns to you, looking weary and worried. You try not to feel worried over the slump in his chest, or the way he looks like he ran a marathon to find you.

“Then where is your home?” he asks gently, resting an arm over his knee and turning to face you.

You curl up further into your body, hoping you’ll shrink if you press your legs close enough to your chest. “It’s not here,” you mumble into your knees.

“Tell me where,” and you don’t shove him away when he puts his palm on your thigh, coaxing you out of your shell. “I’ll listen this time.” Deathly slow, you lift your head up, letting him catch your stray tears and spread your body with warmth. He scoots over to you, the rough sand making it difficult as he tries to wrap his arm around you. The both of you let out a breath, missing each other’s touch. “I’m sorry,” he says, the apologies melting into your temple, “I should’ve listened from the beginning, and been more patient. It’s my fault you’re all the way out here.”

The oceans crash against both of your feet, the water eager to swallow you whole.

“Two months ago I got into a fight with you, the other you,” you start, and Jungkook doesn’t budge, and you’re thankful he doesn’t attempt to bombard you with questions, “it wasn’t a stupid fight. It was something building for a long, long time. And I came home drunk. One second, I was two seconds away from being sideswept by an incoming truck, and the next second it’s daytime and it’s you that nearly runs me over.”

He rubs small circles into your shoulder, and you almost hum at his touch. You miss Jungkook so much.

“The Jungkook I’ve told you about isn’t dead,” you explain, “he’s—and I’m, we’re from another universe.”

And between you, Jungkook, and the moon you profess your journey. Starting from the anxiety you felt from the first week, how you holed yourself in your apartment until Namjoon had to whisk you out, to your relief when Hoseok believed your crazy ideas. Halfway through you decide to piece your theories within the story, your last conversation with Jungkook, coupled with the angel’s wine and explaining how scary it was to see your matching tattoos and the meaning behind them.

“But, I wasn’t trying to fall in love with you so I could go home,” you admit tearfully, feeling the weight of the night on your shoulders, “it, it just happened naturally. It made me believe that in another world, we would’ve worked out. Just like he said.”

“I believe you,” he says firmly, exhaling. The whole explanation, understatedly, is a lot to take in. But he isn’t going to reject it, in fact as absurd as it is it makes far more sense than you planning out a Jungkook-inspired sci-fi novel or questioning your sanity. “I—I didn’t want to at first. It was easier to say you were crazy but, it doesn’t seem like the case. The way you saw me that morning we met, I could see how much you cared for me—him—us?” he scratches his head, unsure of how he should refer to himself in the situation.

“I don’t blame you,” you shake your head, “Namjoon wanted me to see a doctor.”

“It must’ve been hard,” he states, “seeing so much of him in me.”

“You are him,” you retort, looking up so that your noses are touching. There’s pain in both your gazes, equally upset at the circumstances. “I’m sorry you got the short end of the stick. I wish you could’ve met me, the other me, under normal circumstances.”

“Remember what I said before?” he asks, lifting a hand to brush your hair behind your ear. “I said that our meeting was fate. And now I believe it more than ever.”

You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Y’know, Jungkook believes in fate too. He used to joke about hearing the bell when he found ‘the one’ like in Kimi No Na Wa.”

Jungkook grins, “That guy of yours seems pretty cool,” he jokes, “let him know that in our case, the bell was my horn because I didn’t wanna run you over.”

The whole situation is confusing, but you’re thankful that Jungkook seems to be at ease now that all your cards are laid out.

“So does your Jungkook do film too?”

“Uh,” you choke out a cough, “he’s actually a singer, dancer, producer, and films when he has the time. Mostly singer, the main one in a K-pop group. With Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Seokjin.”

He gapes, “Kim Seokjin? The actor Seokjin? Damn he’s like, super fine—”

“God this is so weird.”

“So how many figures are they making a year? In the hundred-thousands, like six-figures?”

“Er, more like eight,” you squeak, “and then some. But you put a lot of your money into donations.”

“Damn babe, you downgraded,” Jungkook jokes, and you smack him playfully on the arm. “So that’s how you got the song, huh?”

“Still With You? Yeah,” you say, running your hands through the soft sand, “it’s weird to live in a world without your music, byproduct of my job. It happens to be a big part of my life,” your eyes glaze over the ocean, “I missed hearing your voice.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook threads his fingers through the sand to find your hands, “I’m really, really sorry I doubted you.”

You disagree, “It’s a crazy situation. I don’t even know if I’m really sane at this moment,” you chuckle, “I mean, the time went by so fast. I would be paranoid because for you, it’s like being in a new relationship. I didn’t think it would be so easy to love you all over again like that.”

“Neither did I.” Jungkook replies warmly, and he smiles when he sees you gaping. He leans over to press a kiss to your lips, a feeling long-missed. “And a little part of me knows he feels the same way, too.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s almost 12AM before you return to your apartment, dripping wet because neither of you anticipated the sudden spring shower. You tumble in like wet noodles, giggling like children in hushed whispers as you struggle to find the lightswitch.

The lights blare on for you, Taehyung’s fingers hanging by the toggle. His hair is wet from the shower, and he looks like he sees a Christmas miracle when he wraps you up in his arms, despite the protest of you being dirty with sand and salt.

“You dummy, don’t ever scare me like that ever again!” he sobs into your shoulder, and you return the embrace as you pat his head comfortingly.

“Sorry Tae,” you say, “had to do a little soul-searching.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, more like world-searching if anyone were to ask his honest opinion. But Taehyung is looking past your body to mumble a teary ‘thank you’ to Jungkook, and he nods his head politely.

“Well next time you soul search, you better call.”

“Done and done.”

Satisfied that you are going to stay the night and not budge, Taehyung returns to his room. He gives you a good scolding however, and he makes you promise that you’ll give him the full story over breakfast.

After that bump, Jungkook and you can’t keep your hands off each other. You two shower the grime off your bodies, taking turns shampooing and scrubbing. Even after you’re clean and towel-dried, Jungkook’s fingers fail to untack from your skin, pushing you eagerly to your mattress as he presses kisses along your clothed body. He’s singing against your skin, waxing poetics about how beautiful you are and how much he loves you.

“Jung—koo, Jungkook,” you say breathlessly, running your fingers through his damp locks, “Taehyung’s in the other room, we can’t be loud.”

“Don’t,” kiss, “give,” kiss, “a fuck,” Jungkook pants, large hands trailing over your soft skin, memorizing every inch of you, He presses his length against your thigh, insistent, “if this is the last time, we’re going off with fireworks, baby.”

And with that, you relent. It’s nothing short of electric, the way he takes great care but great power into your pleasure. He takes his time, as if it isn’t the first and last night, tracing every inch of your body because he doesn’t know what the future entails for the both of you.

You’re equally stung like live-wire, wracking with pleasure as he seals his affirmation to you with sweet nothings, bodies pressed against each other feverently like they’ve always meant to be. Every bit of contact is purposeful, unbridled and overflowing with affection.

When you’re done you’re both sweaty and almost painfully content, acceptant of the ambiguity of your futures.

“Jungkook?” you ask, holding his hand tightly.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“Will you… fall in love with me again?”

“Is that even a question?” he balks, leaning forward to peck your nose. He smiles at the way you scrunch your face. “Your office hours are 1-3PM, Mondays and Thursdays in the general library. If you’re not there, you’re teaching the History of Neuroscience in the ARC building on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10:20 to 12:10. I also know where you live, so.”

You don’t care how sweaty you are, and tuck your head underneath his chin, needing to be closer.

“I will find you,” he promises, “hopefully not under my bike the second time around, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“You’ll have a lot of explaining to do, y’know,” you sigh into his chest, feeling it rumble as your hair dampens. Your hair has dried long ago from the shower, but you know Jungkook’s trying hard to be strong as he cries into your crown, “you should leave before I wake up, just in case.”

“Hoseok and I will handle it,” Jungkook assures you, “we’re like the Power Rangers, defenders of space and time.”

“Alright Red Ranger, make sure you’re at least clothed before I wake up, then.”

He pulls away lightly, seeing your equally red-rimmed eyes and ruddy cheeks. Both of you bump arms as you try to wipe away each other’s tears. The moon continues its power over your bodies, the only source of light in the room. Despite its movement since your time at the beach, it continues to illuminate the room and make the moment glisten with the rhythm of time.

“You really think this is the end for us, huh?” his voice cracks, his hands cradling your face.

Stretching to reach him, you press a kiss on every available centimeter of skin on his face. His forehead, his cheeks, his chin, his lips. You take care to kiss the tears away, silently wishing nothing but the best for him. He immediately melts into your touch, and he gives you a teary smile.

“It’s not the end,” you assure, “it’s our beginning. Thank you, for loving me.”

Jungkook nods, pressing a long, sweet kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to fall in love with you again.”

The two of you sleep like that, not with a goodbye, but with a promise.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

When you wake up, it’s loud.

The transition is jarring, painfully so. Gone are your soft flannel comforter, replaced with dry, scratchy sheets that are a poor excuse for bedwear. Your hands are heavy, bounded by the fluids snaking into your bloodstream. Your eyes are crusty and bleary, taking in the plain white and wood room. The sharp sound of the monitor reverberates in your ears, a high-pitched reminder of your slow vitals.

Everything is painful, confirming that in fact you did get hit by that truck. You give props to your alternate self for dealing with this for the past two months.

Your eyes dart around the room, taking in the night sky and the full moon looming above you. The only other person in the room is your baby niece, who is just short of five years old. She has since ceased coloring at her little table, her little mouth gaping open like a pufferfish. You make eye contact with her, and she nearly spills over her 64-count Crayola pack as she throws herself off the chair, running over to reach for your hand.

“Auntie!” she cheers, the biggest smile on her face, “you’re awake! Mama said you were hibernating like bears do, and that you would probably wake up by spring time. She was right!”

Although it pains you to smile, you manage to squeeze her hand in return. You open your mouth, the inside feeling tacky and gross. “Ah-ah,” you grimace when no sound comes out, just rasps and ghosts of what once was your voice.

Your niece’s face crumples, and she lets go of you. “Imma go get mama, she’ll bring help!”

She leaves you alone to succumb to the beeps of your monitors and the pain in your bones. Your fingers grapple the paper-thin sheets, and your gaze drifts to the moon. You think of Jungkook, sleeping blissfully in bed, holding you with so much tenderness and care. In a matter of what felt like minutes since you fell asleep in his arms, disappears just like that.

The doctors and your family find you hysterically crying, the monitors going crazy as you hyperventilate yourself into a stupor. You feel like you’re choking on air, whatever little tubes in your body restricting access to fully express how torn and conflicted you’re feeling all over again. The medical expertise does work to evacuate your family, chalking your reactions up as your trauma catching up to you and the shock of the past two months hitting you full force.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s nearly 3AM when the music cuts out with no explanation, and Jungkook is annoyed. He just got that set down and he finally felt confident in adding facial expressions, but the manager killed the music and now his head is spinning.

He’s heaving, hands on his head as he tries to get his body back to equilibrium. He watches intently as Namjoon immediately takes the call, not even bothering to leave the studio to answer it. The rest of the members watch as Namjoon’s expressions morph into happiness, combined with short “yes”es and “I understands.”

Namjoon makes eye contact with Jungkook first and beams, “She’s awake!”

What originally felt like a hot and stifling room, immediately dissipates into an air of relief. While not all the members may not know you personally, the thought of a fellow co-worker on the road to recovery is enough to ease their exhaustion.

“What?” Jungkook doesn’t hide it, and collapses on the floor, thoroughly spent for today. “Is she okay?”

“Well, she actually just passed out. But she’s conscious.”

“What, why?” Jimin asks, rolling a water bottle over to Jungkook.

“Doctors say she woke up in a panic, started freaking out when it sunk in that she’s been in a coma since winter.” Jungkook’s heart squeezes painfully of the thought of you scared and feeling trapped in that small hospital bed.

“Well, can we go see her in the morning?” Jungkook says hopefully, biting his lip.

“We can’t,” Namjoon confesses, looking down at his shoes in disappointment, “at least not right now. y/n was apparently terrified. The doctors think she’s suffering from some form of PTSD, because she can’t recall anything that happened after she got hit. Her guardians are sending her to a facility for her to process her trauma. It’s in the countryside, and she’s not allowed visitors until she’s fully recovered.”

Just when Jungkook thinks he has you back, you’re already far from his reach. He should be happy, knowing that you are well on your way to get better. He’s thankful enough that you’re finally awake. But the small, selfish part of him wants to visit you, and comfort you.

Whether you’ll let him or not is your choice, but this time, he decides he’s going to fight for you.

#jungkook fic #jungkook angst #goldenclosetnet #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook fluff

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