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vanishedinvain · 10 days

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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐄

—𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader (but she doesn't show up yet, sorry lol)

summary: benedict's last moment of contentment before the storm that marooned his dreams.

warnings: very very brief mention of a gun, baby's first fic (it's me, i'm baby)

wc: 1.6k

next chapter // series masterlist

The Wiminet Art House sits just outside the limits of Mayfair, owned by the Dowager Baroness Lyra Wiminet. It is only half the size of a wing at Somerset House, and most of the artists are either anonymous or so unknown, they are as good as anonymous. It crams in an overwhelming number of pieces, barely a centimeter between each frame. It features a myriad of styles: soft landscapes, portraits, absurd finger-paintings, violent war scenes.

When it first opened, every London newspaper dismissed it as the eccentricity of a widow, mad without a man to guide her. There was no cohesion, they said. Downright tasteless. Where was the class? The refinement? It was a laughingstock for all of two days before the ton moved on as they always did.

It was also Benedict Bridgerton’s most frequented gallery. And Eloise had no idea why.

“You have been here at least twenty times in the past year, and they have only changed a single painting,” Eloise pointed out on one of these trips. Though she did not prefer to visit the same blasted gallery with the same blasted paintings, it was more merciful than watching Daphne and their mother flit about the house searching for the perfect dress to secure a proposal from the Prussian prince.

Plus her brother promised to buy her an apricot ice afterwards.

“What could possibly be left to see?” she asked.

They were standing in front of a rather large seascape, one that spanned a quarter of the wall. Benedict turned away to look at Eloise, a grimace upon her face as she tried to see what her brother saw. It was a quality Benedict most appreciated in her; she was stubborn and quick to snark, but she never wrote off his interests as frivolous. She was attempting to understand, even if she was staring at the painting like it personally offended her.

“Do you remember when you were eleven and Colin brought home that mystery novel for all of us? The one where an opera singer was killed in the middle of a show.”

“An Aria Most Deadly,” she recalled, smiling, “I couldn’t put it down. Col was scolded for bringing home such a—how did Mama word it?—terribly gruesome and improper book.”

He chuckled, remembering their mother’s scandalized face. As Colin was being scolded, she had set the book down on the settee. Eloise, ever nimble, snatched it and ran up to her room with nary a scuff across the floor.

“You re-read it over and over, looking for the clues, even after you’d finished it days prior. A snide comment from the stagehand that was once humorous turned dark. The author’s insistence on describing the location of the candelabra suddenly became obvious.”

“The details were so much clearer in hindsight,” she remarked.

“That is usually the privilege of hindsight.” He gestured back to the painting in front of them. “What do you see?”

She stared for a moment, tilting her head to one side to see if a change in angle would help. It was a turbulent scene, violent even, with outbursts of red and orange screaming amongst the cerulean and imposing slate clouds as the ship went down.

“A shipwreck?” Eloise answered with a shrug. “An unfortunately timed storm?”

Benedict stepped back, and grabbed Eloise by the shoulders, shifting her to the right so that she could stand in his place. “Do you see that spot of red on the ship?”

She squinted slightly. “Clearly, a fire broke out on the ship. Likely from the gunpowder catching on the wood. I mean, it says it in the title, Ship on Fire in Water,” she said, reading off the plaque underneath.

“But look closer at this spot of red at the front of the ship. Or that one by the captain’s quarters. Compare it to how the artist paints the flames,” Benedict insisted, gesturing to each area of interest. “He or she blends out the flames with orange and a bit of yellow usually. But these particular spots aren’t. They’re blended with brown. Maybe even a bit of black. That’s not fire, is it?”

Her eyebrows raised as the realization dawned on her. “It’s blood! Someone was killed. The captain, maybe?” She turned back to look at him in unbridled excitement at the newly-uncovered narrative.

Benedict smiled widely, crinkles forming around his eyes, watching his little sister finally get it, get him. “Possibly.”

“What do you think was the motive? Was it a mutiny?”

He shrugged. “That I am unsure of, dear sister. Every time I come back, I see something new. So, perhaps we need to look at it longer. Or make our rounds and come back with fresh eyes.”

Eloise had bounded off before he even finished.

They spent another two hours in the gallery, making little comments on each one, attempting to decipher a story from it. They even requested a step-ladder for the ones that had been skied because Benedict, having met Lady Wiminet, knew that there was no rhyme or reason as to the placement of each painting.

There was a most brilliant park scene about half a meter down from the ceiling. The artist did not draw a realistic, soft sunset, but a heightened one with punchy plums and a bright tangerine shade to blend. It was a bold choice that Benedict would’ve never thought of. The scene itself was of a promenade, much to Eloise’s displeasure, but she found amusement in mapping out the interpersonal relationships of the swans in the lake.

They made their way back to the bloodied, fiery ship shipwreck, standing in amicable silence before Eloise spoke.

“I understand it now. Why you've been here twenty times. Why you sketch until your fingers shake at dinner, but then use your drawings as fire kindle at night. You’re chasing greatness.”

“I want to get one of mine on these walls one day, El,” he said quietly, as if they weren’t the only people in the room. It was the first time he had admitted that ambition out loud.

“You will,” she replied, equally quiet back.

He sighed in relief. He wasn’t worried about Eloise’s reaction, though her vote of confidence was cherished. He was worried about being so unworthy that the words would refuse to roll off his tongue, lodging in his throat as a croak. But the idea was out there now, and a mirthful giddiness sprouted forth in the soil where his insecurities were rooted.

“I’d be anonymous, though,” he added after a pause.

She frowned, but neither of them made further comments on the subject. He already understood what she didn't verbalize. She dreaded living and dying in anonymity without a university degree or prolific novel attached to her name, something to outlast her that wasn’t a dullard husband or terrifying child. She could not stand the thought that the world might feel zero impact from her existence.

Benedict, however, was far less eager to sign his name on a canvas. He could be displayed in any gallery in England if he simply asked, regardless of whether he was even good enough. Who would dare criticize a Bridgerton painting, with nine generations of viscounts breathing down their necks? If he were to ever put his name on any of his work, he wanted—needed—to be so good that everyone would be too awestruck by what was in front of them to check whose name was etched onto the little copper plaque beneath the frame.

This was one of the only points of incongruence between the second eldest Bridgerton brother and sister that couldn’t be remedied by a simple anecdote or shift to the right. Though, perhaps there was no need for one; a painter would never ask a writer to adjust her palette and a writer would never tell a painter his meter was off-tempo.

It was an afternoon well spent away from the ornery obligations of the social season, coming home with their appetites spoiled from the promised apricot ices. Benedict grabbed An Aria Most Deadly from the library, and read the first few chapters before retiring for the night. He’d finished the novel after he pried it away from Eloise years ago, so he knew it was the conductor who had killed the opera singer. This knowledge only pulled the deftly placed clues into crisp focus upon this second reading; even the first chapter was littered with hints.

Perhaps that is why when he sits in the viscount’s study, the one that was never supposed to go to him, he often thinks about the night of Granville’s party. That night began with him feeling so alive, more alive than he could ever fathom. Yet, it ended with a sinking stone of dread taking up a months-long residence in the pit of his stomach.

Were there clues he should’ve seen?

If he’d been less drunk off the wine or the women or both, he’d have noticed Daphne wasn’t wearing the necklace gifted to her by the prince, even though he clocked the ostentatious clunk of jewelry when she left for the Trowbridge Ball. Or that the hem of her dress was muddy and her face was pinched, on the verge of tears.

If he wasn’t so preoccupied with how to take advantage of his freedoms as the spare of the family, he’d have noticed the blooming violet bruises on Anthony’s knuckles as he yanked Benedict into the study with considerable force.

It wasn’t until he was rolling his shoulder, about to complain that his arm could've been popped out of its socket, when the gun box was placed on the desk with a resounding thud.

Things only clicked into place as Anthony began frantically talking about estates and dowries and an appointment with the duke at dawn, but there were signs from the moment he walked in the door.

The details were always so much clearer in hindsight.

next chapter // series masterlist

a/n: they dropped new abc pictures last month, and i decided to make it everyone else's problem by starting this fic. now it’s bridgerton eve!!! rejoice!!!

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix

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shigayokagayama · 1 year

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incomplete list of weird/interesting manga-anime discrepancies

-you know the bit where they break into the girls highschool in episode 2? yea thats chapter 56. spliced into the middle of chapter 4. its supposed to go before the bit with the ghost family as a lead up to the mogami arc with mob starting to consider evil spirits as just as much “people” as living humans are. all things considered its kind of weird how well it fits its anime placement

-ritsu in the manga gets introduced in the same chapter as teru. you dont see mobs family at all for the first few chapters. infact i dont think his parents appear until like. chapter 25????? every interaction you see between mob and any of his family is completely made up for the anime

-in the manga during the claw arc instead of reigen sending them away all the lackeys just stood there awkwardly during the fight w the scars fdnjksndkjgnd

-mogami arc got GUTTED my god. the part where the fake psychics tried to murder minori got removed, shinras role in the arc got reduced to basically nothing, they move mogamiland ritsu to a bridge like 50 feet away instead of having him walk right over mob, mob only gets beat up like twice, the cat lives, the boxcutter bit is totally removed, the fight with the spirits is made a lot more abstract and less graphic. like im glad this one took the hit instead of the separation arc bc i cant imagine that arc ever being effective as one episode but wow.

-putting the “mob finding his family dead” thing at the end of the episode instead of in the middle of a chapter where it originally was was an objectively hilarious move

-rip the scene of teru outsmarting all three claw guys and saying “say old man have you ever been tortured before” unfortunately all scenes of teru being competent are not plot relevant and must die. also teru can make shadow clones

-hey remember those weird satellite people in claw keeping the viewer updated on where all the characters were in that infinite arc?

-mob with a gun.

-mob getting briefly knocked out while fighting toichiro and dimple possessing him then getting kicked out was replaced w toichiro just throwing him out the window or somethhing???

-toichiro saying that he only kept the super five around as spare batteries and draining serizawas power getting cut was a personal affront to me

-every single emotion mob cycled through in the anime got a 100% meter. the kid was super emotionally unstable in that fight

-that old man whos house they went to whos wraith made everyone asleep that they exorcised? yea they anime team made that up. they never went to his house in the manga, he just went to spirits and such for a shoulder massage

-manga reigen got 0 money for helping the yokai dude. it wasnt on the table. also most of the stuff he was saying was lifted from a video game serizawa played which he pointed out. also serizawa thought getting arrested was a type of spell

-takenakas general meanness was significantly toned down manga takenaka was a huge bitch

-in general the alien arc was a lot funnier in the manga? like the scene where reigen crashes they had reached a dead end on an extremely narrow path and were driving in reverse while tome and takenaka were screaming at each other in the back and inukawa was 5 seconds from snapping and killing everyone in the car. these might be my favorite pages in the entire manga they as so fucking funny

-originally when tome said she wouldnt keep climbing reigen suggested mob carry her with telekinesis (which horrified her) and mob said he was too motion sick to use his powers (obvious lie) but could carry her instead which got her to get up

-mezato asking mob to sign a t shirt for the psycho helmet cult in exchange for relationship advice got cut

-i cry every day that the sequence of ???% waking up didnt get animated it set a very different tone than the anime did. the anime was like. slow build up of dread. the manga was immediately bone deep horror i was literally sitting in my room yelling “WHAT???” over and over again at my computer as i clicked through it

-shigeo and mob conversation cut down significantly, all the references to the body improvement club being mob making a new self rather than embracing who he really is and being scared that all the friends hes made wouldnt like the real him removed </3

-the scene where reigen takes his shoes off is made a lot less somber and depressing. it feels less like “oh he knows hes going to die” and more like. triumphant? in the anime

-100% shigeo kageyama is an anime addition they added specifically to ruin my “the first time we see mob 100% is to fight dimple and the last time is to stop himself from fighting dimple” observation

-anime teru generally seems like hes in a better place than manga teru? manga teru seems very melancholy and like he doesn’t really know what to do with his life or his place in the world (which seems to put shigeo off) but anime teru is like wanna go shopping ^_^ *sips tea happily*

-manga shigeo deliberately threw the cake directly in reigens face and my fury over them making this ambiguous will last until i am dead

#maybe someday ill go through and do my simultaneous rewatch/reread #but for now take the ones i can presently remember #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #long post #pic

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milkgemini · 9 months

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Adultery

Pairing: Jake Kiszka X f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: CHEATING (if you don’t like it, don’t read 😛), smut, minors DNI, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, language

It’s wrong.

Those thoughts you’ve been thinking? The made up scenarios you’ve formed in your head? It’s not right.

There are many layers as to why this case is out of reach. Unfathomable.

For one, it would be in your best interest to not get fired here. You work for this man. Sleeping with the one you answer to, the person who has the power to terminate you with the snap of his fingers, wouldn’t look good to your boss, huh?

But let’s cut the shit, and get to the real problem at hand.

Jake Kiszka is not a single man.

He has a partner. She is a lovely woman. Whom he’s been involved with for several years. You knew this from the way he spoke of her. Many times you’ve been witness to the rushed FaceTime calls he’s shared with her before stage.

Oh, and there was that one time you caught yourself with your ear pressed to his dressing room door, listening to the way he spoke to her on the phone. His voice soft and sultry.

“I miss you” her voice echoed from the other side of the phone.

“Can you do something for me tonight, babe?” He asked.

“Anything.” Her voice was desperate. You could hear the way she yearned for him through the phone.

“Think of me tonight when you slip your fingers below that lace and pleasure yourself. Think of me the entire time. Say my name when you cum.”

He was taken. Unavailable. Off the market.

But you didn’t even feel bad. That was the worst part.

You especially didn’t feel bad that night after eavesdropping on their phone call. You did exactly what he asked of her and thought of him the entire time. Just like most nights.

But you weren’t crazy.

There was a reason behind the pining for Jake. Every other time, the subtle flirtatious manner was reciprocated.

You remember the times where his touch lingered longer than it should have against your skin.

The times he brought you things like water or a snack, when that was quite literally your job for him.

And what about that time he specifically instructed you to “remain side stage for the entire show”?

You weren’t crazy.

Right?

“30 minutes ‘til stage people. Let’s get a move on.” An annoying voice rang through your radio.

Do they really have to update us every 10 minutes?

You added some pep to your step, despite the agitation of the constant reminder.

These places all looked the same behind the scenes. Long boring hallways with a bunch of doors to random places lining the walls.

The echo of your footsteps reverberated from the concrete floors to the cinder block walls.

“What’s the rush?”

Fuck.

The door to his dressing room was cracked. He sat lazily against the couch. His left arm draped over the top of the cushion, his legs crossed.

That curled smile. Jake had this signature smirk. It was like the Cheshire Cat. Like he knew he would forever get away with the shit he pulled.

“It- its 25 minutes to show. Shouldn’t you be…” You’ve lost your train of thought at the sight of him rising from the couch, dusting off the imaginary lint from the thigh of his pants.

“I’m always ready for whatever the night has in store.” He answers your unfinished question, the shit eating grin still plastered across his face. He punctuates his sentence with a pucker of his lips.

Before you even have time to process, the bathroom door inside the room swings open.

“Hey babe, what do you think about this dress? Too much?”

Layla.

Jake’s long term girlfriend was at the show tonight. Sitting with him in his dressing room before he headed to the stage. Dressing up for him. Doing everything you wished for.

You stood awkwardly as you watched Jake pull her body into his by the grip of his fingertips on her hips.

“You look positively radiant tonight.” He reassured her.

He planted the softest kiss imaginable to her lips - almost as if he intended not to let them meet.

His eyes quickly shifted to your presence before fixing back on her’s.

“Will you…. See if you can find Sam for me, love? Got something I want to do before the show.” He tucks her hair behind her ear as if to convince her of the task.

She nods back at him with those annoying doe eyes. You wonder if she truly is as dull as you assumed.

“Quickly.” He smacks her ass as she walks away from him.

You can’t help but roll your eyes as you begin to walk off.

“Oh do that again for me will you?” Jake calls from the dressing room.

You peek your head in once more.

“Excuse me?” Fake annoyance lacing the tone of your voice.

“What would Layla think if she heard that?” You bring yourself further into the room.

“And by the way, thats fucked up sending her on a wild goose chase looking for Sam. He’s never in the same spot for more than-“

He cuts you off by slamming the door shut, reaching his arm dangerously close next to your head.

The lock switches beside you.

“You’re catching on.”

That fucking smirk. You can hear it when he talks, even if he’s turned his back to you.

You study the waves of his hair that fall against the back of his suit.

“You don’t want me like that.” His back remains to you as he fixes two drinks.

“What?” You’re nervous. Your voice a high pitched whisper.

“I see the way you glare at her. You’re jealous. But you don’t want me like that.” He turns back to you offering a glass of amber liquid. Your stomach turns, never being much of a drinker.

Trying your best not to make a face, you sip at the drink.

“And how do you know what I want?” A flirtatious edge to your tone.

He takes a step too close to you. Angling his neck down to meet your face.

“I know what you want, because you’re just like her. A good girl that wants a good man to treat her right. Shower her with love and reassurance.”

He brushes the hair behind your ear, just as he did to Layla earlier.

“But I think there’s something different with you.” He toys with the end of your hair, wrapping it around his pointer finger.

You don’t even need to ask, he can read the question mark on your face.

He huffs a laugh to himself with a tight lipped grin.

Jake trails his fingertips, snaking them through to the hair at the nape of your neck.

“I think you’re a slut.” He tugs your hair with force, causing you to expose your throat.

He brings his mouth closer to the sensitive skin there, not letting his lips meet.

“See, my Layla, she doesn’t have that darkness behind her eyes that I see with you sometimes.”

The heat of his breath against you raises goosebumps to your skin.

“She’s sheltered and shy.” He flattens his tongue before dragging it up your neck, stopping just below your earlobe.

“But with you…” his voice is at a whisper now.

“With you, I think I could tell you ‘Open up’ and you’d spread so well for me.”

He kicks your feet apart, opening the space between your legs.

With his pointer and middle finger, he rubs the inseam of your leggings that follows your slit.

He watches your face as he starts at the front towards your clit, following the line back towards your entrance. When he reaches, he adds pressure to the circles he creates, pushing into you against the fabric.

You try your hardest to seem unphased by his lustful actions.

This isn’t right. Layla will be back any minute now. You think to yourself.

As if to read your mind he answers, “Better be quick then.”

Before you can process a response, his mouth meets yours with force.

His kiss is a parallel opposite of what you witnessed with Layla earlier.

His kiss with you is intense. Sloppy. Desperate with need.

Jake licks into your mouth, his tongue sliding over yours. He’s winning the battle of dominance, and you’re surrendering with ease.

He walks you backwards until he has you pressed against the closest wall.

In between gasps of air, he groans softly into your mouth.

You feel the calloused pads of his fingertips against the soft skin below your bellybutton as he tries to slip his hand beneath your leggings.

Just as fast as he snaked them in, he pulls his hand away.

You whimper from the loss of contact.

He breaks the heated kiss from you, panting to catch his breath.

“Take them off, now” he orders you.

Immediately you bend at the waist, taking one leg out at a time.

He studies the bare half of your body before gripping your face by your cheeks.

With his free hand he holds your neck to angle you just the way he wants you.

With clenched teeth he growls to you, “Do you always walk around your job with no underwear on like a fucking whore?”

His words alone cause you to rub your thighs together, craving any sense of friction from remaining untouched to this point.

He catches you red handed, and slaps the side of your thigh. His forceful touch leaving a sting that makes you want him even more.

Jake adds pressure to his thumb against your throat.

“Open.” He orders you once more.

You obey, spreading your feet apart, inviting him in.

He laughs softly to himself, “My girl. Such a good listener”

At last, the tip of his middle finger slides with ease through the center of your wetness.

From the look in his eyes, you can tell he loves to watch your reaction. Loves to see the approval of his work.

He teases the fingertip at your entrance. You buck your hips in his direction, silently pleading for more.

“You want it?” He looks down at you.

Your face is desperate as you nod to him.

His jaw clenches once more, “Fucking speak up.”

“Y-yes yes, Jake. I wan-“

Before you can finish your words, he shoves both his pointer and middle finger up inside of you, pumping them in and out at a steady rhythm.

His lips meet yours again. The two of you moaning into each other's mouths in harmony.

With each pump his fingers, he rocks his hips into you.

“…there’s something different with you” You think back on his words.

With your fingers wrapped around his wrist, you tug his hand from you - forcing his digits from inside of you.

“I want you to fuck me, Jake.” Your eyes lock with his as you watch them turn a darker shade of brown.

Without a word, he spins you around, your chest pressed against the cold white wall. He arches your hips for you to grant him better access.

“Fucking dirty.” He pants into your ear.

One hand is pressed to the side of your face, pushing you further against the wall, while the other fidgets with his belt.

You hear the sound of it as it hits the floor, his pants around his ankles.

“Lift up.” He taps your side, motioning for you to lift your arms above your head.

With a swift motion he pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it to the floor.

Your back arches in hopes to close the space between you both.

Jake swipes your hair to one side, over your shoulder, unclasping your bra with one hand.

He leans in to press a delicate kiss upon your spine, simultaneously wrapping his arm around your hips to meet your clit with his finger.

You whine at the sensation of the slow but steady circles he presses into you.

He grips his length, slapping it against your ass.

“I’m not going to be nice.” His voice a low groan as he teases you with the tip of his cock, sliding through your slick.

“Please, Jake” your reply is muffled with your cheek pressed against the wall.

No warning. No mercy.

He slams his entire length inside of you to the hilt. The moans spilling out of you are closer to a scream.

He makes his own ponytail in your hair with his fist, tugging with force.

He grunts in unison with each pump inside of you. The tip of his cock brushing against your sweet spot with each push.

The faster he pumps into you, the faster the circles against your clit become. With each swipe, he adds more force, pressing his finger harder against your bud.

“And when you leave this room…” he pants.

“Not a word. Not a suspicious look. Nothing.” He punctuates his sentence with a harsh smack to your ass.

Unable to respond from the overstimulation to your clit, and the pressure inside of you, Jake becomes frustrated. He pulls harder on your hair than he has yet.

“Do you hear me? Answer me.” Not once does he stop fucking into you.

“YES, Jake. Yes. Just…” your response is nothing but a whine.

He reaches around to pinch your nipple between his pointer finger and thumb. He twists and pulls as you feel the warmth pool between your hips. That familiar feeling of your climax approach.

You grab his wrist again, forcing it back between your legs to your clit.

“So close” you mumble to him, begging him to finish you off.

Without hesitation he picks up exactly where he left off. Quick swipes against your throbbing clit.

He pulls himself all the way out of you, slamming himself back deep inside.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. Unsure of how much more you can take.

Your muscles tighten to an uncomfortable extent as you hear three knocks at his dressing room door.

“Jake?” The door handle wiggles.

Immediately he wraps his hand around your mouth as he continues to fuck into you.

“Not a sound.” He whispers into your ear, his pace slows but his thrusts are deep.

“Are you in there? Why is the door locked?�� Layla whines from outside.

Jake quickens his pace, both his cock inside of you and his fingers toying with your clit.

“Let go for me.” His whisper is even more quiet than before.

He feels your walls begin to tremble and constrict around him. The muscles of your abdomen tense as you prepare your release.

“That’s it. Keep going. Your pussy feels so much better than hers.” He mumbles into your ear, chasing his own high as well.

“Jake!!” Layla pounds on the door again, “5 minutes ‘til show. What the fuck are you doing?”

As the sensation of pleasure washes over you, your senses slip. Your eyes clenched shut, and ears ringing… there is no Layla. There is no show. There is no job.

Just you. And Jake. And the feeling of him inside of you.

He pulls out from you abruptly, his release following, sliding down the inside of your thigh.

He picks his pants up from around his ankles, and quickly fastens his belt.

You’re left remaining pressed to the wall, unable to move or process anything and everything that just transpired in the small dressing room.

What am I going to do? How am I going to get out of here without facing Layla?

Your thoughts paralyze you.

You feel his tight grip on both of your shoulders as he spins you around to plant a quick kiss to your lips.

And just like that, he slips through a crack in the door, open just enough so she can’t see inside.

Frozen in silence, you stand naked in the room alone as you listen to their muffled voices through the closed door.

“I couldn’t find Sam.” Her voice, defeated.

Jake clears his throat before responding.

“Don’t worry about it. I took care of it.”

Taglist: @gretasimp @writingcold @wowkakashi @spark-my-nature @gretavanbear

#gretavanfleet #gvf #jake kiszka #gvf smut #jake kiszka gvf #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fanfic #gvf fic

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ikroah · 5 months

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A girl can get somewhere in spite of stringy hair or even just a bit bowed at the knees if she can show a faultless…personality! —“Personality,” Johnny Mercer and the Pied Pipers (1946)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #26 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding V

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Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

ohhhhh my god why did i make this script so long my hand hurts this took forever aaaaagh

Welcome to the Lucky 38! This is a script that has remained basically the same for a long time but went through COUNTLESS extremely small rewrites over the course of production just to really nail Mr. House's dialogue. He's a long-winded guy, this whole issue is basically just him doing monologues, and I wanted to make sure it was all interesting and non-repetitive. I think I took out at least three uses of "merely" from the first draft.

One of the biggest production decisions of this issue was whether or not to cut the scene with Agnes and Cass and Victor, which immediately follows the end of the previous issue. The reason to include it was because it very necessarily established the change in location from the Vegas Strip to the Lucky 38 penthouse, which would have been jarring otherwise; the reason to exclude it was that it the issue was already extremely long and I thought opening right on Mr. House would have been more impactful. Ultimately, I did keep it, which was a good decision, but only because of the literally issue-saving idea to convey it as closed-circuit television footage instead of actual panels. Every single attempt at overlaying them with the lead-in to Mr. House was way too busy, but that idea really tied the page together like a nice rug.

And lastly, the framing device of the tarantula and the tarantula hawk was actually an extremely late addition to the comic. I had already finished the first three pages when I thought of it. My problem was that Mr. House's constant monologuing and Agnes' sad expressions got pretty repetitive. I needed something to break the action up while adding thematic heft and artistic variety. I've become a real enthusiast for wasps and tarantulas over the last couple months, so this one really was just a stroke of luck. It took only minimal revisions to make room for the framing device, with the most dramatic change being the complete replacement of the last page (which was originally just a splash page of the Lucky 38 in Vegas; bookending the first and last pages is so much better). So you see, the only reason for weaving a scene into this issue of a skittish desert-wanderer getting paralyzed and dragged toward a certain demise by a predator almost perfectly evolved to destroy it was just that I like bugs a lot. That's the only reason, yep.

Original Pencils:

Due to all of the photo-collage in the final version of the comic, there's a lot of panels and details that I (thankfully!) didn't have to draw myself. Sorry that the pencil isn't blue on the last three pages, I've been on the move for the holidays so they got scanned in grayscale by accident.

I did experiment with drawing the tarantula framing device myself, but ultimately went with the photo-collage method because the artistic juxtaposition actually made it much more readable when interspersed with the proceedings in the Lucky 38.

Transcript:

EXT. DESERT OUTSIDE OF NEW VEGAS. The city glitters in the distance, nestled between the shadows of mountains, with the spire of the LUCKY 38 towering above all else.

In the wilderness, a TARANTULA emerges from its burrow.

EXT. THE NEW VEGAS STRIP. On closed-circuit television monitors, a SECURITRON ROBOT approaches AGNES SANDS and ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY, saying

VICTOR: Well howdy, partner! Fancy meetin' again here in Vegas!

CASS: What the fuck?

AGNES: Victor?

Unlike the usual police units, VICTOR's robotic "face" is that of a cowboy.

VICTOR: And heck, ya clean up nice! Sure lookin' a lot better now than when I rustled ya outta the bone orchard back in Goodsprings*--

CAP: *As was explained to Agnes way back in IKROAH #2. --Lou

VICTOR: --so how's about ol' Vic skips the rigamarole, huh? 'Fore all my yappin' makes ya want to go back, heh-heh-heh! I'm the welcome wagon, see. I'm to come and collect ya.

CASS: Agnes--

VICTOR: Boss wants t'see you, is what I'm sayin'.

AGNES: Boss?

VICTOR: Only of all of Vegas, friend!

CASS: Agnes.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA crawls beneath the starlight.

VICTOR: So why don't we mosey on over to the Lucky 38? And your good pal can come along, too!

CASS: I need to know what the fuck is going on, right now.

AGNES: I...I don't know.

VICTOR: And y'know, boss ain't ever let a soul inside before, least for not as long as I've been rollin' around on my spurs, so this ain't just an everyday social call, mind...

On the closed-circuit television monitors, VICTOR escorts AGNES and CASS to the entryway of the LUCKY 38.

VICTOR: ...but heck, I reckon ya'll oughta get along like franks on a fire! So come on! Lift's in the lobby here, and up to the top floor--and we can get the formalities out of the way before ya'll get [cut off]

INT. THE LUCKY 38 PENTHOUSE.

AGNES stands awestruck, looking upward, bathed in electronic green light. With horror, she ekes out a single question.

AGNES: ...what are you?

???: A "Hello" would have been preferable, but it'll take more than a crude faux pas to tarnish this moment. Who I am, Agnes--

What AGNES is looking at is a gigantic SUPERCOMPUTER and terminal, flanked by closed-circuit television monitors and guarded on both sides by SECURITRON police units. On the supercomputer's massive screen is the green-lit image of a face. The face

MR. HOUSE: --is ROBERT EDWIN HOUSE. The President, CEO, and sole proprietor of New Vegas--and more to the point, the intended recipient of a long delayed package.

AGNES: Oh, you...you mean the platinum chip?

MR. HOUSE: Correct. It's a...very precious artifact of the old world.

MR. HOUSE: My world, once.

In the back of the room, beyond AGNES, is an oil painting of MR. HOUSE, standing outside in front of what must have been a very large robot.

MR. HOUSE: In that world, I was the founder of RobCo Industries--a titan of innovation. We created a litany of robotic solutions for diverse markets, such as the Securitrons that you see here, and even a line of consumer-grade devices like the wrist-mounted Pip-Boy. But the platinum chip was, more than any other, my design. It was my vision.

MR. HOUSE: But it never left the factory in which it was originally made. Before it could even cool off from its assembly...we had the Great War. An international, thermonuclear bombardment of unimaginable power that annihilated the world in all of two hours.

MR. HOUSE: But not the entire world. Not Vegas. Not my Paradise. From my fortress of the Lucky 38, I saw to that. But as for the rest of the world, and my platinum chip--it took generations.

MR. HOUSE: First for the scarce remnants of humanity to crawl out from under their rocks, and for the world to at least resemble a functioning society again in which to do trade. And then for the work itself--of countless scavengers, treasure-seekers, and the like, all contracted to comb over the wreckage of Sunnyvale. It cost millions of caps, and later, New California dollars. And a not insignificant piece of my pre-war fortune as well. I, quite literally, moved mountains.

MR. HOUSE: I do not believe in providence, Agnes, but I do believe in destiny. How else to explain it? It was pristine when it was found. Neither the bombs nor the passage of time had so much as scuffed its sheen. But still...its value far transcended the mere market price of pure platinum.

MR. HOUSE: Amusingly, despite the discovery, I was still only as close to acquiring the chip as I had been originally in 2077. A final ordeal remained for me: how to ensure the safety of the platinum chip en route to its destination, from Sunnyvale to Vegas, without broadcasting its preciousness to thieves, armies, and raiders--or worse, to heavily armed fetishists for pre-war technology like the Brotherhood of Steel?

MR. HOUSE: Misdirection. Through a network of anonymous liaisons, I contracted the Mojave Express for a batch of deliveries, all superficially similar knick-knacks, to various intermediaries of myself. All but one of the orders were totally worthless decoys. But your identity as the carrier of the one genuine item was somehow compromised, leading to you getting attacked, and to the second disappearance of the chip.

MR. HOUSE: But look around you. Look where you are. You've made it, haven't you?

AGNES, still staring up at the visage of MR. HOUSE on-screen, doesn't respond. She frowns, nervous. The SECURITRONS guarding MR. HOUSE observe her stoically.

MR. HOUSE: Let me clarify: I had nothing to do with Benny's ambush. Heavens no! It goes completely against my interests. It would have been a perfectly quotidian day's work for you if not for his, and I stress, unexpected involvement. The platinum chip...belies its significance. For Benny to have not only discovered its delivery route but possibly enough of that significance to motivate such an act, this constituted a very troubling breach of my security. And I had been looking into it...but in a way, the issue seems to have resolved itself. Hm?

MR. HOUSE: A wild card. Now removed from the deck.

AGNES' gaze sinks to the floor.

MEANWHILE, a small shadow blots out the starlight in the desert outside of Vegas. It flies over the exploring TARANTULA.

AGNES looks back up at MR. HOUSE.

AGNES: I killed him.

HOUSE: So you did. I only wish that we could have spoken before you went rogue on my former protégé: if this story breaks, I can grant you amnesty, but not without controversy. And your infamy as an assassin could make our further arrangements quite difficult.

AGNES: Um...I didn't think there would be more to it than delivering the--

MR. HOUSE: Oh! Of course, of course! My apologies. Two hundred years of anticipation and yet I'm still getting ahead of myself. Well--would you mind? I've been waiting a long time for my mail.

The SECURITRON closest to AGNES wheels forward with its claw outstretched. AGNES reaches her fingers into a pocket beneath the belt of her dress to produce it: the PLATINUM CHIP. She holds it in her hand for a brief moment.

MEANWHILE, the shadow descends; the TARANTULA HAWK engages the TARANTULA.

AGNES relinquishes the PLATINUM CHIP to the SECURITRON.

MR. HOUSE: Thank you--it's a relief to pay for this chip for the final time.

The SECURITRON inserts the PLATINUM CHIP into a slot in MR. HOUSE'S supercomputer, feeding it into the drive with a CLIK.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA is fighting the TARANTULA HAWK.

From behind AGNES, another SECURITRON presents her with a stack of NEW CALIFORNIA REPUBLIC DOLLARS, which she gingerly takes in her hand and looks over.

MR. HOUSE: And I trust that you're satisfied with the agreed-upon compensation from the delivery contract, yes?

AGNES: Yeah, it's...it's fine...I'll be going now. Thanks.

MR. HOUSE: Oh? But you've only just arrived. I insist that you make yourself at home.

SFX: KZZSZZZTTT

The faces on the screens of the SECURITRONS in MR. HOUSE'S penthouse suddenly change from policemen to soldiers. AGNES recoils and tries to step away.

AGNES: H-hey, uh--

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA HAWK pierces the underbelly of the TARANTULA with its stinger.

SECURITRONS surround AGNES.

MR. HOUSE: You are the first guest ever through the doors of the Lucky 38, you know. Nobody has so much as checked a coat inside since the war, so this meeting confers you a significant level of privilege...and inevitable celebrity. The people of Vegas have always gossiped, after all. Many have even clawed at the door desperately with dreams of being where you now stand. Surely you can comprehend how this compulsion to leave after such a deliberate and remarkable invitation risks considerable insult--to both myself and my citizenry? And very deliberate this invitation was. Don't you realize: if handing off my package was all for which you were needed, why wouldn't I have just had Victor relieve you of the chip outside? No, no, you see, as necessary as its acquisition was, the chip is ultimately just a key, for unlocking a new frontier...of possibilities.

MR. HOUSE: Possibilities for prosperity, peace, and technological advancement that haven't been seen in two hundred years. Possibilities greater than anything the New California Republic or Caesar's Legion could dream of, let alone achieve, by playing pretend in the clothes of their forebearers and convincing everyone else that it's statecraft. Possibilities--which if they key is turned by human hands--become certainties.

AGNES (a whisper): Are you not human?

MR. HOUSE: Don't let the video screens and computer terminals fool you: I am a living human. No less so than you. I just live with a particular set of, well...handicaps.

AGNES: You said you'd waited hundreds of years to--

MR. HOUSE: One could argue that the world has been waiting hundreds of years for this moment. Waiting for me. For the chip. For the long-dormant doors of the Lucky 38 to finally open, to a single and specially ordained individual: you, Agnes. And there are tremendous things waiting for us, waiting for us to accomplish them, together. I certainly couldn't do them with Benny. What do you say?

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA has become completely paralyzed by the TARANTULA HAWK'S venom. The TARANTULA HAWK seizes its prey.

AGNES: ...no.

MR. HOUSE: I'm sorry--"No?"

AGNES: Yes--I mean, no. No! I don't want to help you! I...

Tears well in AGNES' eye.

AGNES: ...I just want to go back home.

MR. HOUSE: ...I see. Hmm.

MR. HOUSE: How do I put this in a way you'll understand?

MR. HOUSE: The die is cast.

AGNES, crying, looks up at MR. HOUSE again. Fear bulges on her face.

MR. HOUSE: Throughout the long delivery of this chip, several precise plans and fortuitous coincidences have aligned in just such a way as to make you, you specifically at this exact juncture, an irreplaceable asset in the ongoing endeavor of this wounded world's recovery from otherwise hopeless ruin.

MR. HOUSE: Your cooperation going forward is not merely crucial to this endeavor's success, but it's utterly non-negotiable. Should you entertain the moral issue of what's at stake, it's obligatory, even. It's why your refusal comes as such a...genuine surprise. Can't you see?

MR. HOUSE: I'm not a fascist, Agnes--I would never force you. But given the circumstances, I'm entitled, wouldn't you agree, to at least a brief demonstration of my vision? The vision that the platinum chip promises? Victor has surely seen your companion to the presidential suite by now--my other Securitrons can escort you to the basement, where I'm sure you can make a...properly informed decision.

The SECURITRONS close in on AGNES, who screams in protest.

AGNES: No! I said no! I already delivered your chip, I--I killed Benny! I-- I-- ...what do you want with me!?

MR. HOUSE: Haven't you been listening? I want what's best for you--for us. I know it's a lot, but bear with me for one moment longer, and I can assure you--that this is the beginning of something very incredible.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA HAWK has dragged the paralyzed TARANTULA back to the entrance of its own burrow.

The TARANTULA HAWK shoves its helpless prey into the hole, and then crawls in after it.

The TARANTULA is not seen again.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six #rose of sharon cassidy #victor #mr. house #agnes sands #ikroah archive #volume 02 #26

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callmearcturus · 15 days

Text

Paradise Killer is 6 dollars on Steam until May 16 and I am here to hard sell you all on it because it's one of the best games I've ever played.

I'm gonna go beyond giving you a bunch of punchy keywords and telling you it's queer as hell and making meme-y jokes, and I'm going to actually tell you what this game is.

So top-level, WHAT IS PARADISE KILLER?

Mechanically, Paradise Killer is an open-world murder mystery. There is zero combat but a lot of exploration of a very unique location. The majority of your time is going to be walking about Paradise 24, looking for people to discuss the case with and for clues that are scattered around the world.

One of the most interesting concepts in Paradise Killer that is both mechanical and narrative is deciding What Is Your Truth? What Is A Truth And What Is A Fact? From the moment you start the game proper, you can turn 180 degrees and begin the trial and decide who the killer is, before talking to anyone about the case.

For example, getting into the actual crime scene takes a lot of puzzle solving to unlock the sealed room where the victims were killed. But maybe instead of examining the crime scene, you talk to everyone on the island and think you have a good idea of what happened.

Meaning: It is perfectly valid to decide you have the answer to the mystery and just go complete the trial whenever you personally are ready. YOU decide when this ends.

Which frankly I think is a cool-as-fuck concept. Also, I fully believe if three different people find EVERY CLUE and talk to EVERY SUSPECT and hear EVERY PIECE OF EVIDENCE.... they might decide on three different truths entirely. And THAT to me is ingenious mechanical design I have not seen anywhere else in a video game.

Okay let's stop burying the lede and talk about the world of Paradise Killer.

The non-batshit version:

Paradise Killer takes place on a big, beautiful island, the 24th Paradise. The architecture is a delightful mix of black obsidian obelisks, brutalist monuments, opal crystals to slumbering alien gods, garden paths, luxury yachts, and a whole lot of gold and neon.

Neo-occultist urban residential vaporwave-core. If you are like me, you will be taking a lot of screenshots. My wallpaper on my computer is Paradise Killer.

Your interactions with the cast are done in visual novel-style, though I feel I have to shout out this isn't your stock Ren'py UI experience. Every single aspect of the way the game looks compounds the vibes even further.

And the characters are infuckingcredible.

(Notice the different font? This game has A FUCKTON OF ACCESSIBILITY OPTIONS, including dyslexic font options.)

Sammy Day Break, born under the sign of Shadow Zero, is the local distillery and bartender for the Syndicate. Talk to him about what's unique about the whiskey he's made on Paradise 24, or about the good old days of the Syndicate.

Is Doctor Doom Jazz, born under the sign of Cosmic Deceit, really that carefree about what happened? Is his willingness to rekindle his fling with Lady Love Dies just a diversion to hide something? Well, he's one of the most cooperative witnesses on the Island.

Crimson Acid has been through a helluva lot since the last time she saw Love Dies. Blessed by the gods with her stunning rack (of horns! OF HORNS!), she's become quite the idol now. So why is she also an information broker? And can you figure out what her true feelings for Love Dies are?

Between all of these conversations, you can explore the island and collect RELICS and BLOOD CRYSTALS (the local currency) and CITY POP SONGS.

Okay so the Slightly Batshit Version:

Shinji: The Syndicate worships alien gods who want to drown the world in war and blood. Lady Love Dies: I don't see how that makes us the bad guys.

You are LADY LOVE DIES, born under the sign KISS ME TO THE MOON, the INVESTIGATION FREAK. She was exiled to the Idle Lands several cycles ago for falling prey to the seduction of the god Damned Harmony and endangering the entire Syndicate. Only now, with the death of the Council on the eve of Paradise 25, is Love Dies summoned back to solve the murder.

The Syndicate are a group of functionally immortal humans from all across history who are trying to create the perfect bubble of reality, their utopic Paradise where they can safely revive their dead gods. They were granted many powers and boons by their first god, Silent Goat, and hope through rescuing more gods they will grow in power.

How do you create a bubble of reality to do all this totally ethical shit? Easy! You abduct a bunch of normie humans to live on your island to use as a mass sacrifice to generate energy to fuel the creation of each Paradise. If only the outsiders would stop getting in the way!

Paradise Killer's world is delightfully out of its goddamn mind and half of the fun of the game is just picking up little nuggets of information about each member of the Syndicate, the gods, why each Paradise failed (there was an outbreak of vampirism that took out like three of the Paradises???), and just the way this universe works.

Okay this post is already too long but I'm begging you all to give Paradise Killer a chance. It's gorgeous, it's funny, it's mechanically really interesting, it's chill as hell, it has an incredible soundtrack,

and you should try it.

I'LL SEE YOU IN A PERFECT 25 . . .

#paradise killer #arc plays games #long post

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mymoonagedaydream · 1 year

Text

Summary: After the incident things were looking pretty bleak, but the one thing you thought would make everything worse ended up saving you.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide and self harm, mentions of guns and gun violence

Author’s Note: So I wrote a one shot because I cannot, for the life of me, stick to a consistent writing schedule. Enjoy!

---

You never expected anyone to feel sorry for you. That had been a pretty consistent theme throughout your life, why would anyone feel sorry for the kid who got everything they asked for? Granted, the only things in your past that might have sparked an ounce of pity were trivial, like a broken ankle or a bad break up, but even after this mess you never expected much.

It'd been a few months now since it happened, either two or three, you weren't sure exactly- enough time for seemingly everyone you'd ever met to show up and implore you to tell the story over and over again. One or two of them did appear genuinely concerned but you couldn't shake the feeling that most of them just wanted the gossip, desperate for anything to make them the most interesting person in the room at their next garden party or champagne brunch or ambassador's reception. Every single painful, repetitive, disingenuous conversation you had to sit through served as a further reminder of why you’d left this life behind as soon as you had the chance. Now you were stuck back here for god knows how much longer, and everything just felt bleak.

A soft knock rapped against your bedroom door. You didn't bother answering, they'd just let themselves in, they always did. The knob turned and the door creaked open, your father's timid face peering in.

“Are you busy?” It was nice of him to ask, but it was also unnecessary, because you hadn’t left your couch to do anything other than pee in weeks. “Your aunt Carol is here. She brought you some gifts, I thought it might make you feel better.”

Both of you knew very well that it would have the opposite effect, the only thing you'd ever resented your mother for was bringing that vapid bitch into your life. Well, that and accidentally letting slip that the tooth fairy wasn’t real on your third birthday.

Carol careered round the door and past your father in her typical pantomime dame dress and makeup. You smirked, thinking to yourself that, in dimmer light and with some sinister music, it would've made an excellent scene for a horror film. Ever since your mother passed she’d been sniffing around the house more and more, you were convinced she was trying to seduce your dad to get his money but you couldn't prove it. Thankfully, he had enough sense to stay the hell away from her.

“Oh, look at you, you poor thing. You look awful.” She clunked the wrapped box and card she was holding down on the table and joined you on the couch, her offensive perfume making your nose begin to itch. “Come on, auntie Carol is here for you now, tell me everything darling.”

You gave your father, who was standing by the door looking very apologetic, a harsh glare.

“There's not much to tell. Dad was mid-speech when some guy in the audience stood up, next thing I knew he was getting tackled and there was a loud bang. I look down and I'm bleeding.”

“Oh my, who was he?”

“Just some crazy, nationalist, militia guy targeting politicians, apparently. They have no idea if he was alone or with a group so it’s safer for me to stay here for now. My apartment is too much of a risk.”

“Bless you. It's so difficult being in the public eye, but you are so brave.” She pointed down to your stomach, “and don't worry, I've got some magic serum that'll clear up any unsightly scars ready for bikini season. I'll send you my diet plan, too.”

You turned the dial up on the daggers you were shooting your father every time she looked away, and he finally took the hint.

“Okay, Carol. We should let her rest now.”

“Alright, love you so much baby. Look after yourself, okay? Maybe run a comb through your hair or something. Very frizzy.”

You rolled your eyes at her back as she left and reached over to grab the card. There was a sad puppy on the front, sitting beneath the words sorry you’re having a hard time. You figured that Hallmark probably didn't stock a sorry you got shot by a psychopath card.

Your father was lingering. He never lingered.

“Everything okay, dad?”

“Yes. Although, there is something I need to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“I've hired someone.”

“Right.”

“For you,” he noted your confusion, “to protect you.”

“A bodyguard?”

“No, he's not a bodyguard.” You raised an eyebrow. “He's not just a bodyguard.”

“The hell does that mean?”

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Wiping the sweat from his palms onto his trousers, he strode over and took a seat beside you, preparing himself with a deep breath. This was serious.

“The last time you saw Dr Burke she recommended that we… don't leave you on your own too much. So, he's going to be looking out for your welfare, going to be spending time with you.”

“Ah, I see. Suicide watch. Great.”

“I’m worried about you. You barely eat, you don't move from that spot, you haven’t showered for weeks. I know you miss being in your own place but,” he put his hand on top of yours, “I’ve already lost your mother, I can’t lose you too.”

Well, that hit you like a punch in the gut.

“Okay, dad. If you think it’ll help.”

“I do.” He stood up, giving you a light kiss on the top of your head before turning to leave. “He’ll be here in a few hours.”

---

You were woken from a light sleep by another knock on the door. The only thing you hadn’t been struggling with recently was sleep, it was the only way you could make your days pass quicker.

Again, the door creaked open before you answered. Your dad stepped in followed by a man you assumed to be your new long-term babysitter. You’d expected someone more stern looking, someone dressed like an extra from Men in Black, but he just looked like a normal guy. He had a strong face, broad shoulders and deep brown hair. If you’d been in a different state of mind you might even have considered him attractive, but you were far too tired for anything like that.

“Sweetheart, this is-” Your father looked blankly over to his companion, obviously already having forgotten his name.

“James. Nice to meet you.”

You mustered a faint smile. There was a brief, awkward silence as your father’s eyes flicked from you back to the composed looking guest, whose huge arms were folded over his chest.

“Well, uh- I have a call in a few minutes. I suppose I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” he clapped a hand on James’ back, “just let me know if you need anything.”

Then, just like that, you were alone with a complete stranger. Your eyes stayed firmly fixed to the movie you’d slept through half of but were suddenly incredibly interested in. You heard James shuffle forwards, his broad frame eventually scooching into the edge of your vision.

“Look, I get it. You’re a grown-ass adult, I wouldn’t like having some stranger keeping an eye on me all the time either. If you want, I can just stick to the corner, stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here.”

That actually sounded like a pretty sweet deal, but you’d feel incredibly guilty having him perched on the other side of the room like a piece of furniture. The least you could do was be a little friendly.

“That’s alright, you can have the comfy seat,” you faintly motioned your head towards the nearby armchair, “but I’ll be shitty company.”

He happily settled himself in. “Makes no odds to me, I’m getting paid to be here.”

A short breathy chuckle escaped your lips, taking you by surprise. It’d been a long while since someone had made you laugh, all the conversations you’d had in the past few weeks had been unbelievably morbid and condescending, most of them with people you had no interest in talking to in the first place.

A couple of silent hours passed. You‘d gotten so used to being alone that you kept forgetting he was there, the odd cough or movement making you jump out of your skin. Eventually, Elaine pounded on the door and announced that she’d brought dinner up for both of you, so James jumped up and helped her with the cart.

Elaine was your father’s housekeeper and the only thing that had prevented him dying of starvation or exposure since your mom died. She was kind and patient, you liked her alot. Her food was always incredible, you felt awful for barely eating it over the last few weeks but the pain from your stomach wound combined with zero expenditure of energy had just killed your appetite.

James looked from his plate over to yours, his knife and fork poised. “You not eating?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“When’s the last time you ate anything?”

Someone had been talking to dad.

You shrugged. “This morning, I think.”

“Bullshit.” Your eyes snapped in his direction. “You know you’re not gonna get any better if you don’t eat, right? You’ll just have to put up with me bugging you for even longer.”

“Thought you were gonna stay out my way?”

“Mostly.” His mouth curled into a faint smile. “How about this, you eat a couple bites, I’ll eat the rest and we’ll tell your dad you ate the whole thing.”

You considered for a second. Not a bad offer, getting your dad off your back for a while would be pretty great. You knew what game he was playing but you were more than willing to play too just as long as the benefits outweighed the drawbacks.

“Deal.”

You expended a tremendous amount of effort leaning yourself forward and grabbing the plate, feeling James’ gaze tunnelling into the side of your face as the two of you began to eat. You had to admit, you enjoyed the food much more than you’d expected, half the plate had gone before you felt full. James looked pretty smug while finishing off the rest of it.

The sky outside slowly turned dark and you could feel yourself getting sleepy, so you settled deeper into the couch for your third sleep of the day.

“Hey,” James leant forward in his seat, “you need help getting to your bed or anything?”

“Oh, no, I’m good. I usually just sleep here.”

He gave you a puzzled look. “There? Is that comfortable? Can’t be good for your back.”

“Probably isn’t, but I don’t have the energy to move.”

“You don’t need the energy,” he sprung up from his seat, “you’ve got me.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, James had an arm anchored around your upper back and was inching you upwards, away from the safety of your sad-zone and onto your feet. A few mild pangs of pain shot through your stomach but it wasn’t enough to make you fight back, so you just gave in, relaxed into his grip and let him walk you across the room.

Your mattress was unbelievably comfortable and you felt knot after knot untying in your back as you stretched out flat, but you didn’t need to tell him that. Who was this magical asshole, anyway, showing up and suddenly knowing what would help you better than you did?

“I’m just gonna crash on that armchair, if that’s all good with you.”

“There?” You carefully rolled onto your side so you were facing away from him. “Can’t be good for your back.”

A deep chuckle came from behind you. “Smartass. Shout me if you need to go to the bathroom or anything.”

You just grunted, already half asleep. It was only another minute or so before you drifted off peacefully and got the best night of rest you’d had in weeks.

Maybe this babysitting thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

You woke to the sound of soft snoring on the other side of the room. Light was bleeding in around the curtains and you could hear footsteps in the corridor, probably your father heading downstairs for his coffee and newspaper. Coming to your senses, you rolled over and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pee. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked over to see James’ limp hand hanging over the edge of the armchair.

You didn’t need him, you could do this.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and hoisting yourself up was easier than expected but that, unfortunately, made you a little overconfident for the rest of the journey. After a couple of steps the pain started. You felt pathetic but that amount of effort had actually winded you, all you could do was lower yourself to the ground to catch your breath.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You didn’t even realise he’d woken up, you were too busy wheezing.

“Gotta pee.” You managed to push your words out between gulped in breaths.

“What did I say last night, huh? You should’a yelled.” He lowered himself beside you, placing one arm around your back and one under your knees. “Alright, brace yourself.”

“Wait, what are you-”

You choked on your words when he lifted you clean off the floor, a feat that not many had accomplished in the past. He offered to take you as far as the toilet itself but you adamantly refused, determined to cling onto your last shred of dignity while just about managing to shuffle over there, supporting yourself on the sink.

You washed your hands and intentionally avoided looking in the mirror, moving straight over to the door and finding your minder stood directly outside.

He folded his arms. “While you’re here, why not take a quick shower?”

“I’m not supposed to get my dressings wet.”

“Again, nice try, but you really gotta do better than that to bullshit me.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Can’t you just let me rot away in peace?”

“I mean, I could, but I’m pretty sure your dad would refuse to pay me.”

“I’ll pay you to leave me alone.”

“You can’t afford me, honey.” He smirked and slipped past you. “I’ll get the water going.”

James turned the shower on and put some folded towels by the sink before heading back into your room and gathering some clean pyjamas. You just stayed where you were, leaning against the counter, as he buzzed around like an overexcited child.

“You’re all set. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

“Thank you, supernanny.”

He flipped you the bird. You laughed and locked the door.

Slowly, carefully, you got undressed, removed your bandages and placed them in the bin. You then had to perch yourself down on the closed toilet seat for a brief break before climbing into the shower. Standing under the water, you looked down at your wound for the first time in weeks, finding yourself amazed at how quickly it had healed. You ran your fingers over it. Never in a million years did you think you’d have a healed gunshot wound anywhere on your body. You thought back to what your aunt said, maybe it was unsightly, it certainly looked weird from this ang-

“You alright?”

James’ overbearing voice snapped you out of your train of thought.

“Yes.”

You turned off the shower and stepped out, lifting a towel to your face and savouring the feeling of finally being clean again. You couldn’t imagine how bad you must’ve smelled before. You pulled on the fresh pyjamas before taking a deep breath and wiping down the mirror, getting a nasty shock when you saw yourself. It looked like all the life had been drained out of you. Your face looked pallid, red eyes sitting above deep, dark bags while skin flaked from your chapped lips. Your hair was still dripping wet but you could tell that weeks of neglect had taken a toll on it.

It seemed like James might’ve come along just in time, any longer sitting in that misery pit and these changes might’ve become irreversible.

“Still all good?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, just trying to remember the most efficient way to cut wrists. Is it horizontal or vertical?”

Throwing your towel in the laundry basket, you opened the door to see a very unamused looking man.

“Real funny.”

He didn’t get a chance to properly scold you before Elaine knocked on the door with breakfast, a smug grin settling on your face as it dawned on him that he probably shouldn’t cuss you out in front of your father’s closest confidante.

The two of you settled into your designated spots. James immediately started digging into the plate that had been piled high for him but you held off, it had been a while since you stood up for that long and you needed to recover. Sharp pangs of stomach pain weren’t exactly the perfect accompaniment to a hearty appetite.

James placed his fork down on the table and leaned back in his chair, mouth full of food. “We gotta do this again, buttercup?”

“I just need a minute.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“We did,” a bolt of inspiration struck as you realised it was your turn to get a little something interesting out of this relationship, “but I want to change it up a bit.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I’ll eat if you tell me the most insane thing that’s happened to you while bodyguarding.”

“I really shouldn’t talk about that.”

“Shame,” you dramatically pushed your plate away with a flourish, “I was actually feeling pretty hungry.”

He considered, glaring at you from beneath an arched eyebrow and rhythmically tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Fine, but you gotta finish the whole plate.”

“The whole plate.”

“Alright.”

He leant forward again and carried on eating so you followed suit, forcing down one small bite at a time and just hoping that his story would be worth the pain.

“So, one time some rich dude hired me ‘cause his daughter was worried she had a stalker. Apparently she kept seeing someone in a black hoodie following her around, she even saw ‘em standing on their lawn a few times. Thing is, no-one else had ever seen it. I think half the reason I was hired was to figure out if she was just going crazy.”

“Was she?”

“Be patient, pumpkin. You’ll find out.” Your cheeks flushed a little when he called you that. “A couple weeks passed and I hadn’t seen anything. Then, middle of the night, everyone else was asleep and I was doing my rounds. I looked out the window to the yard and there was someone standing underneath her window in a black hoodie.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. So, obviously, I sprinted down there, but they spotted me and started running. They vaulted the fence and I would’a lost ‘em in the trees but they got snagged on the other side. I grabbed ‘em, pulled down the hood and-” He eyed the huge fork-full of food you were hovering by your mouth, “you wanna eat that?”

You rolled your eyes, shoved it all in your face and let out a muffled plea. “And?”

“It was her, the daughter.”

“Fuck off.”

“Dead serious. Turns out one of her friends had a stalker and was getting a load of sympathy and attention because of it, so she got jealous and made up one of her own. She figured if I saw it just once everyone would believe her.”

“That’s so fucked. Is that even legal?”

“No idea, not my job. I got my paycheck and left the next morning.”

“Nice to know you really care about your clients.”

He laughed. “Most of my clients are spoiled assholes who never even bother to learn my name.”

“Really? Can’t be hard to learn a name as simple as Justin.” You received your second unamused scowl of the day. “Anyway, we spoiled brats have enough on our plate without having to learn the name of the person willing to take a bullet for us.”

“Nah, you’re not spoiled.”

“You think?”

“Trust me, I’ve seen spoiled. You’re not spoiled. I think you’re the only client I’ve actually enjoyed talking to.”

Interesting. Probably shouldn’t delve into that statement too deeply.

“I’d take that as a compliment but it sounds like there isn’t much competition.”

He smirked, staying silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “My friends call me Bucky, by the way. I prefer it to James. And I really prefer it to Justin.”

“If you insist,” you shrugged, “but I still think you’d make a good Timberlake.”

---

You managed to stomach a good amount of food that day and you even had a good stab at breakfast when the next day rolled around, so you hoped that Bucky might leave you to your own devices for a while now he’d got his own way.

He did not.

As soon as you’d swallowed the last mouthful of toast he announced that he was going to take you on a walk around the garden.

You looked from him to your stomach, then back at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. We’ll take it slow, one step at a time, and it’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

“Can’t we just open a window?”

“Nope.” He slapped his hands down on the arms of the chair and jumped to his feet. “C’mon sweetheart, you know I’m just gonna annoy the hell out of you until you agree.”

“Is threatening me allowed in your contract?”

“It’s not a threat. It’s persuasion with consequences.”

You eventually relented. He was super keen to get going but it soon became clear that he’d overestimated how far along the healing process you were, it took the two of you almost an hour just to get out of your bedroom and down the stairs with all the constant stopping for breath. Bucky went ahead and pulled open the sliding glass door, your mood instantly lifting when the first breeze of fresh air washed over you. You were starting to hate how often he was right.

He offered you his arm and set a bench on the other side of the lawn as your goal. The neatly mowed grass felt soft between your toes, the faint sounds of birds and planes overhead helping you relax a great deal more than the constant background noise from the TV you’d kept switched on for weeks now. When you reached your goal, Bucky helped you lower yourself onto the seat and carefully squeezed himself beside you once you were settled. Sitting this close to him felt strange, you were used to him being confined to his armchair, and the bench was a pretty small one. His thigh was pressed up against yours. You tried not to think about it.

Deeply inhaling the smell of grass and flowers into your lungs made you feel like a new person but it was also making you a little drowsy, the journey down had zapped all your energy and the warmth from the morning sun was cosy and soothing.

The next thing you remembered was your head being gently nudged, prompting your eyes to flicker open.

“Sorry, princess. I’d let you sleep for hours but I really need to pee.”

You came to your senses and felt the crook of Bucky’s neck against the top of your head. His arm was around you, hand gently resting on your shoulder.

“Shit, sorry.” In your embarrassment you sat up a little too quickly, wincing at the pain that shot through your stomach.

“You alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Just, y’know, the ol’ bullet would.” You laughed off his concern and waved him away. “Go pee.”

“Alright, I’ll just be a minute, don’t move.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to.”

He was already sprinting across the lawn when he shouted back. “That’s the spirit, sunshine.”

You shot a giddy grin at the back of his head. It still felt like morning but you had no idea how long you’d been knocked out for, you just knew you could very easily spend every night resting in Bucky’s neck like that.

---

Your shadow had been with you for about a week now and, contrary to all initial expectations, you’d actually been enjoying his company. He could be annoying as hell with his constant demands pushing you further and further when all you wanted to do was melt into the couch, but you could see that he was good for you. You supposed that being forced to spend every second of every day with someone gave you no choice but to recognize their good qualities. Thankfully, he seemed to have a lot of those.

Elaine had just collected the dishes from lunch and Bucky had somehow stolen the remote from you. He flicked on some appallingly trashy reality show, your concentration faded in and out but every time you forced yourself to pay attention someone was either screaming or necking.

You’d barely even registered the knock at your bedroom door when he jumped up and launched himself towards it like the diligent little soldier he was. You listened intently, your stomach turning when you heard Carol’s voice interspersed with his. Hopefully he’d assess her as a security threat and slam the door in her stupid face.

To your great disappointment, he did not.

“Oh my,” she looked a little more like a painted old hag than a pantomime dame today, “who is that and where can I get one?”

“That’s James, dad hired him to keep an eye on me.”

“Do you know which agency he’s with?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t uncle Frank leave you the house and the security guard in his will?”

“Ugh, yes but he could’ve been a bit more thoughtful. I’d rather not have to look at that beer belly every time I drive through the front gate.”

“I see.”

You tried to plead for help from Bucky with your eyes but he was too busy giving a confused look to the back of her embroidered jacket, the one that you were convinced had been made from old curtains and lampshade tassels. She placed herself down in his seat, leaving him bewildered, turning on the spot like a glitched out video game NPC. He eventually just sat beside you.

“So,” she crossed her veiny old legs, “did you like the present I brought you before?”

You did not like the present she brought you before. It was a self help book whose blurb encouraged you to 'break free from your own mental cage' and 'start being the best version of you'. That mindset is incredibly toxic, Carol. Therapists and antidepressants exist for a reason, Carol. Not everyone can make themselves feel better by getting sloppy wine drunk on their dead husband's money every evening, Carol.

“Yeah, it was great. Thanks.”

“I knew you'd love it, so I brought you something else.” She scurried around in her comically oversized purse for a while before pulling out a small white tub. “It's that miracle balm I told you about, for the scar.”

She noiselessly mouthed the word scar and covered the side of her mouth so Bucky couldn't see, like it was a dirty word, like she couldn't bear to think of the handsome man in the room knowing about such an ugly thing.

“Oh right, thanks but I'm not really supposed to put anything on it while it's still healing. Could get infected.”

“No honey, if you let that thing heal on its own you'll regret it, trust me.”

“Well, the doctor said-”

“Baby, look at me.” The legs became uncrossed as she leaned in. “I'm going to be honest now because I love you. Your body is a five out of ten, maybe a six if you did a cleanse.”

“Right…”

“Now, with this hideous thing sitting on your stomach, you're down to a three. I don't want that for you, do you?”

You were speechless for a second. The words fuck off were just beginning to form in your mouth when she cut you off, turning her attention to the equally pissed looking Bucky.

“How about a man's perspective, hmm? You wouldn't want a partner with something so ghastly on them, would you?”

The calmness with which he answered her was pretty impressive.

“Well, to be honest, I couldn't give a fuck, cause I tend to rate personality higher. Like you, for example, are two out of ten but with a few lessons in grace and courtesy, I could see you moving up to a solid five.”

Your mouth fell open. The breath hitched in your lungs as your eyes flicked between the two of them, one looking outraged, the other looking very fucking pleased with himself. The silence was tense.

After a few seconds she leapt up and stormed out of the room, her heels rapidly clicking against the floor while she screeched your father's name.

Bucky just shrugged at you. “Guess her own medicine didn’t taste too sweet.”

“That was amazing.”

“I'm used to dealing with assholes like that,” he followed her lead, standing up and heading for the door, “but, unlucky for her, I'm in charge of who gets access to this room.”

“You can ban her?”

“If I think she's causing you harm I can do whatever I want.”

“You’re my new favourite person.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

He’d been gone for a while when some muffled shouting started downstairs. Too invested in the situation not to investigate, you decided to slide yourself off the couch and press your ear to the floor in an effort to make out the words. It didn’t work, obviously, and you soon realised there was no way in hell you’d be able to hoist yourself back up again. You just had to wait on the ground while your dignity slowly drained away piece by piece.

Bucky eventually returned, predictably freaking out when he spotted you.

“Shit, what happened? Did you fall?”

“No I kinda… slid.” He gave you a puzzled look while lifting you back onto the couch. “Sorry, I was trying to hear the argument. What happened?”

“She won't be bothering you again.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Can I keep you forever?” You rested your head against the couch cushions. “I’ll let you watch as much trash TV as you want.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time.”

---

A week passed and then another, and with each day you were achieving more and more. Bucky had you showering every day, eating three square meals and taking increasingly lengthy walks around the garden- when your painkillers were doing their job. He’d even spoken to your father about making sure everyone in the house waited for a response after knocking on your door. It sounded like an insignificant thing but you really valued every ounce of privacy you could get your hands on, and it did wonders for improving your mood.

Another thing that was helping in that regard was spending most of your downtime just talking with him. On more than a few occasions you’d actually forgotten he was being paid to stick around, it felt more like you were hanging out with an old friend.

Sometimes it felt like you were hanging out with more than a friend but, every time those feelings started to surface, you quickly pushed them back down into the dark depths in your mind. Acknowledging them would just set you up for inevitable disappointment.

Today, you’d agreed to leave your father’s property for the first time since the incident. Bucky had offered to take you out for a coffee as a soft reintroduction back into the normal world. He drove you out in his ridiculously oversized SUV, passing plenty of perfectly good coffee shops so he could show you his favourite one. It didn’t look like anything special but you trusted him.

He helped you to one of the outside tables, took your order and shuffled inside, giving you a wink over the top of his sunglasses. You rested your hands on the table and glanced around. The street was busy with people and cars and most of the other tables were full, it was midday so you figured most of them were working people taking their lunch breaks.

Then, just for a second, out of the corner of your eye you saw someone in the street stop. Looking over, you made brief eye contact with them before they checked their watch and continued walking. Why were they looking at you? Your eyes darted around the other faces passing by, your panic starting to rise when another of them looked your way.

You grabbed onto the edge of the table, your palms prickling with sweat. The quickening pace of your heart made it harder and harder to pull breath into your lungs, all the muscles in your legs started to tense and your vision blurred at the edges.

“You okay?”

Two takeout cups were hastily abandoned on the table in front of you and a soothing hand landed on your back, Bucky’s face trying to make its way into your line of sight.

“Mhmm.”

“I told you not to bullshit me. What happened?”

“Nothing, really. I just-” You pulled in a stuttering breath. “Need to adjust.”

“Pretty hard to do that when you’re mid panic attack, no? C’mere.”

He turned you round to face him and took you through some breathing exercises, helping you get back in control. The worst of the storm eventually passed but you were pretty shaken up, and he could tell.

“Maybe this was too soon.”

“No, this is good. It probably would’ve happened even if we'd waited longer. Better to get it out of the way.”

“And what if the coffee had taken another ten minutes? You would’a just passed out while I was waiting for fucking milk to foam.”

He seemed angry, but not at you.

“It’s okay, Buck. Really. I could’ve been hit by a truck on the walk over from the car but wasn’t, so why worry about it.”

“Still, we should get you somewhere less crowded,” he took you by the hand, which was unusual, cause he usually just guided you with a flat palm on the back, “probably should’ve started with that.”

You headed back to the car, Bucky somehow juggling you along with two hot drinks, and drove a few miles out of the city. He said he knew of a short, flat hiking trail out in the woods that was only ever busy on weekends. It wasn’t exactly the reintroduction into society that the two of you had planned but, at the very least, it was a step above walks around the yard.

He calmed down once you began walking, the jolly, laid back, Bucky that you were used to quickly resurfacing. It was a huge relief, him being on edge made you on edge and that wasn’t exactly the optimum mood for avoiding another panic attack.

He kept a firm arm around you most of the way, anchoring you to him and protecting you against potential falls. You were pretty sure they were the only reasons.

“I must look fucking dreadful,” you chuckled, “if we bump into anyone they’ll probably think you just found me in the woods.”

“Shut up, you look great.”

“For a three-week-old corpse.”

“A corpse wouldn’t argue back so much.”

“I’m just keeping you on your toes.”

“Damn right you are.”

You smiled to yourself, hearing the warmth in his voice, and decided now was a good time to finally ask him a question you’d been thinking about for a while.

“So, you’ve really never had another client you’ve enjoyed talking to? Not even one?”

“Not that I can remember.” He shrugged slightly. “Why are you so surprised, anyway? We both know how many assholes there are out there.”

“True. I just think you’re easy to talk to, I guess. I’m surprised no-one else made the effort.”

“That’s sweet of you doll, but you should know that just letting me sit by you was completely new for me. I usually don’t even get a chair, never mind a conversation.”

“Brutal. I’m glad the shelter rehomed you with us.”

“Me too.”

You laughed for a second before realising that all this talking had used up your pitiful lung capacity. You came to a stop, Bucky quickly moving to stand in front of you.

“Something wrong?”

“No, I could just use a break.”

“Take as long as you need,” he placed his hands on your upper arms, “we can sit for a while if you want.”

“I’m good.”

Without thinking, you placed both hands on his chest to steady yourself, immediately realising that it was kind of a weird thing to do. Your eyes shot up to his but he was just smiling softly, seemingly unbothered.

The two of you held that position for what felt like an age.

Then, slowly, cautiously, his hands moved down to rest on your lower back, just above your hips. He stepped in closer and your hands tensed, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt. He lowered his head, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips met yours. You eagerly reciprocated, curling a hand around the back of his neck in a feeble attempt to keep him there as long as you could. It fell, however, when he abruptly pulled away, your arms going limp at your sides.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay, I-”

“It’s not. Jesus, I’m supposed to be looking after you.” He rubbed his eyes. “We should get back.”

“Can you just wait for a second? I’m not-”

“No.” He was stern, he’d never talked to you like that before. “We’re going back to the car, now.”

You were too shocked to argue. The walk back was tense and the drive home was the same, you looked over at him a few times but his stony expression encouraged you to keep quiet. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong, and neither had he in your eyes, but you really had to keep reminding yourself of that. It felt like you’d committed a crime.

Once home, you headed up to your room but he didn’t follow, which was unusual. When your father knocked on your door later and told you that Bucky had removed himself from duty, you weren’t surprised. He claimed that a big job had come up out of nowhere.

He never even said goodbye.

---

You hadn’t so much as heard from Bucky since he left over a month ago. You’d maintained all his rituals and kept your healing process on track, adapting your daily walks so you could do them alone, sticking nearby walls and railings. It was a real struggle, emotionally and physically, but you were determined not to let him abandoning you knock you off course. You didn’t even let yourself cry when he left. You were just angry.

So, naturally, when a chance for you to prove to yourself how far you’d progressed without him came around, you jumped at it. A friend of your father’s was throwing a birthday party for his daughter, you’d never been able to stand her but you hadn’t had a proper drink since the incident- and the booze there would be insanely expensive stuff. Plus, you’d been pining for any excuse to wear something other than pyjamas.

You strolled into the party, arm in arm with your father, and you felt good. You felt ready to be there. That was, until you saw who was working security detail. You barely recognised him in the full black bodyguard suit, you were so used to a t-shirt and jeans, but it was definitely him. Your evening was instantly ruined as you started mentally plotting the best way to avoid him.

You decided a good first step was to head straight to the bathroom to compose yourself, giving yourself the same pep talk in the mirror that you’d given the day after he left. You’d come too far to let him fuck up your first big outing. You dabbed the nervous sweat from your upper lip, adjusted your outfit and gave yourself a nod. You could do this. You just needed to stay away.

Wandering back into the party, you looked around for your father, the only person in the room you had any interest in talking to. You heard your name being called over the music and turned towards it. There he was, standing beside Bucky, beckoning you over.

So your plan was fucked, then.

Your stomach tightened. You grabbed a drink from a nearby table and moved over reluctantly.

“There you are. Listen, James was just telling me about the big job he was called to, it sounds incredibly interesting.”

“Oh, really?”

You took a big gulp of champagne, wondering if Bucky’s fictitious story was as good as the real one he’d told you over breakfast that time. Or maybe that one was all made up, too. You glanced over and accidentally caught his eye for a second, but he quickly broke away and looked back at your father.

“I probably shouldn’t go into any more detail.”

“Of course not, I wouldn't want you getting in trouble.” You involuntarily scoffed at your father’s words but managed to play it off as a cough. “It’s such a shame, though. You two seemed to really be getting on well together.”

Your father looked back and forth between the two of you like he was watching a tennis match, unaware of how painfully awkward the lingering silence was. You finished off your champagne and grabbed a fresh glass from a passing waiter, looking around the room for any excuse to leave this conversation. Unfortunately, your father found one first.

“Ah, there’s the birthday girl, I’d better go pass on some well wishes. I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

You cringed as he walked away. Quickly deciding that it was better to not even attempt conversation, you just silently nodded at Bucky and turned to leave. You didn’t get far, however, as he grabbed hold of your arm and stepped towards you.

“Can we talk?”

You were incredibly shocked but tried to play it off. “I guess."

“In private?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you glared down at his hand, “but I would like it if you let go of my arm.”

“Sorry.”

He released his grip and you took a small step away, putting a safe distance between your faces. You were still pissed off at him, that much was for sure, but you weren’t ready to trust yourself being in such close proximity to him again. Anything could happen.

“I get why you’re pissed at me, I would be too. I just need to explain.”

“I know why you did what you did, Buck. You don’t need-”

“Please. Someone’s taking over my shift in ten minutes, will you meet me upstairs?”

“Upstairs? Like, past the rope with the big no guests allowed sign?”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to sneak past,” he smirked slightly, “I heard the security here sucks.”

He was right, too. You got up there with absolutely no trouble whatsoever.

All of the doors off the hallway were closed apart from one, at the very end. You took a gamble and slowly approached, peeking your head round to see Bucky perched on the edge of a huge bed. He shot up when he spotted you in the doorway.

“Sorry, I know this is kinda weird, it's the only room that wasn’t locked or, y’know… occupied.”

“Lovely.”

He nodded and gave you a smile. “You look great. Amazing, actually. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” his smile melted you a little, “mostly thanks to you.”

“Ah, you would’a been fine, I just annoyed you into being fine a bit sooner.”

You nervously rubbed the back of your head, in disbelief at how quickly he’d broken through your thick wall of resentment. You scrambled around trying to gather up some of the bricks and rebuild but being in the presence of that slick motherfucker was making it really difficult.

You gathered your thoughts, took a breath and spoke.

“Buck, like I said downstairs, you don’t need to explain. Obviously making out with your clients is a fireable offence, I get that, so you had to leave. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“You think I left ‘cause of that? You think some shitty job is more important to me than you?”

“I mean, yeah, kinda.”

“Jesus, I really am an asshole.” You gave him a confused frown as he reached out and took both of your hands in his. “Look, I couldn’t give a shit about this job, there’s bodyguarding positions everywhere and most of them don’t involve babysitting rich assholes. I left ‘cause I felt like I’d taken advantage of you. I couldn’t stand it.”

“Huh?”

“You were in a bad place. You were vulnerable and I was supposed to be looking after you, not- y’know...”

“Sucking face?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Right, but you do remember that I’m not a child, yeah? Just because I’m feeling shitty doesn’t mean I can’t make decisions for myself.”

“But it does mean your judgement is at least a little impaired.”

“Fine, whatever, but it isn’t anymore.” You squeezed his hands. “And I’m telling you now as a fully sane, rational adult that you didn’t do anything wrong. Alright?”

A relieved smile spread across his face. “Alright.”

“Good, cause I made a decision and I’m sticking to it.

“Might be a bad decision.”

“Sometimes bad decisions are more fun.”

“You can say that again.”

Your second kiss with Bucky was, somehow, even better. He was more sure of himself this time, less cautious, he moved in quicker. You did the same, wrapping both arms around his neck and letting him take some of your weight. You felt him smile against you as a hand dived into the back of your hair.

Now this was a kiss worth being fired for.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “For the record, the first time wasn’t a mistake. It was a… happy accident.”

“Whatever you say,” you chuckled, “I’m just glad we bumped into each other again.”

“Oh, we didn’t. I took this job after checking the guestlist.”

“You sneaky fucker.”

“You know it.”

---

1K notes · View notes

b1gg1e · 20 days

Text

Robert Jordan has got to be one of the most insane writers to date. He’s one of my standing favourites, simply because of three simple things that he does right that I find more modern pieces of writing struggle with.

//Spoilers for WoT

In book one, Moiraine describes how people who use the One Power without guidance—kind of “in the wild” type channellers—end up feeling very sick or getting ill afterwards, which we see with Rand after the scene where he channels the lightening in the room. But this theme is recurring. Later on, in book 8-9, Rand begins to feel sick when he channels the One Power, the sickness and the power becoming combined like Moiraine said it would. She said Aes Sedai don’t get this sickness because they’re trained to handle the power safely. This is reinforced with Rand from book 12-14 when he and Lews Therin become one person. Lews Therin who, mind you, was a trained male Aes Sedai who could safely handle the One Power. Rand no longer feels that sickness from that point onwards.

Perrin, Mat, and Rand’s character arcs are written very well. The gradual change into the people they are by the end of the series. Anyone who has gone from book 14 back to book 1, there is an obvious transition. Mat, who was originally a big prankster, still has that joking side to him at the end of the series but he also has this maturity he didn’t have before. Granted, he still pisses people off frequently, but he isn’t as childishly naïve to his antics like he had been. Perrin grows into himself. He gentle in an awkward way and, though well aware of his strength and size, he grows into it and we see him become an almost more authentically gentle and tender person because of it. He gains this deep understanding of himself. Rand’s curious by nature and that doesn’t go away, but is instead presented through different ways. His interest in learning about the Aiel, his testing of how far he can push himself, his bafflement at the way other cultures and people work. He always had the makings of a leader in him, seen in book one with Shadar Logoth when he was working out how to lead the group out, with Mat on the way to Camaelyn. Rand has always had the makings of a king, it just became more apparent.

The world building. Every single country, nation, organization, gang, army, band of robbers on the street, cluster of hills, mountains, rivers, everything feels like a part of the world itself. Often times in fictional series, things feel condensed and like the whole world is in view when you read it. Robert Jordan brought a vastness to a world that is very rare to see in modern works. It felt like a real world, with uncertainty and events happening at the same time throughout the world, even off screen things happened. It’s clear that he put thought into how things worked and how to represent them and I will forever adore the series for that.

I love Wheel of Time, guys. It’s my favourite thing ever.

#wheel of time #wot book spoilers #wot #wot book #rand althor #matrim cauthon #perrin aybara #robert jordan #I love wheel of time so much #I would talk about it all day and night if I could #wall of text #paragraphs #I love books

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getyourdirtyhandsoffme · 3 months

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Hi! I see your request is open, can I possibly get m!reader w/any male lead you want—where the reader had a stressful day at work, he gets scolded (but he's a softie), so after coming home he immediately hugs his husband and is softly crying.

Can I also get a scene where his husband jokingly tells the reader that he'll have a fight with his boss? (to lighten up the mood) ^^

— 🪞

MALE READER (FTM SAFE)

GENRE(S): Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Comedy

SETTING(S): Non-Idol House Husband Changbin and Working Male Reader Husband

WARNING(S): Reader needs a hug after getting scolded, Reader is sensitive, Changbin is here to comfort, Worried Changbin, Crying Reader, Changbin ready to fight his lover's boss, Stress Reader

AUTHOR: I needed this fluff request after writing smut. Therapy.

please reblog, like, or/and comment to support me! Thank you!

Things were already going bad as soon as you stepped into your workspace.

You work as a designer for this popular fashion company. You always dreamed about either becoming a model or just doing fashion design, but you were insecure then, so you just chose to be a fashion designer.

Being a fashion designer has always been hard since you have to think of at least a unique design and hope it gets accepted by the boss.

Your designs and creativity have been accepted and worn in commercials, music videos, modeling, etc., until some strict requests were made not by the boss but by the boss's friend.

No one liked her, but everyone chose to keep their mouths shut unless they wanted to lose their dream job.

Her sense of taste was interesting.

She knows what she wants, but every time she requests it, she denies it at the last minute. She puts big hopes into your hearts, then shreds them into pieces. So, that’s exactly what was happening.

No one wanted to work with her, even with how much she would pay, but you decided to step in just because money is money. You’ll do it for the money, and if things turn out horrible, then you can just step down and hope someone else takes your spot.

It was already stressful.

Plus, her husband, who somehow has the same personality and taste of fashion as her, even stresses you. Giving you harsh words and telling you the most single things that are missing that you keep on redoing for the past 4 hours.

She keeps on changing her mind at the last minute while her husband keeps commenting on the details as if she knows anything about fashion with his weak attire.

You were almost at your breaking point until you made a huge mistake on the dress, all because of the stress, causing a huge argument between you and the woman—well, mostly her.

You were too stressed to even argue; you felt like crying.

She called you words, saying how you even manage to get the job if you can’t do the most simple things correctly, along with commenting about your appearances and skills, which was overdoing.

Just like that, you walked away from her as she continued on sprouting nonsense along with questioning where you were going since you weren’t finished with her request; however, you were finished with her.

You got home quite early, around 4, which surprised your husband, Changbin, who was working out in the living room with a black tank top and baggy sweatpants.

“Oh, hey, love, you should’ve told me that you were coming home early; I would’ve bought you some food." Changbin gets cut off by you dashing towards him, giving him a big hug while weeping into his chest.

Changbin quickly hugs you back, caressing your back while whispering in your ear, questioning what happened.

You tried to explain everything, trying to calm yourself down. While you were explaining, Changbin set you down on the couch as he walked away to grab you a bottle of water and a tissue.

“Why does she keep doing that? I don’t understand what her motives were to just waste fabric and other stuff that she has in design, along with the fact that she has a double who is her husband. Jeez, I would’ve shouted at those two.” Changbin comforts you.

“You did the right thing by walking away from them, but what will she say when she complains about you to your boss? Wouldn’t you get fired? I know you love designing so much; this is your dream.

Changbin was worried since you always wanted to create clothes for others, including your friends, family, and even your husband, Changbin. He is your number-one model and fan.

You shrugged. “Well, then I guess I have to deal with another scolding by not only her, maybe her husband, but even my boss as well. I’ll just find another company.”

You were calmed a bit and, of course, worried about losing your job, but honestly, you feel confident that you can easily find another job because of how well-known your skills are on the internet.

“If it does happen, I’ll come in and fight them!” Changbin smiles at you, flexing his muscles. “They wouldn’t handle me; look at me!”

You laughed, nodding.

“They will for sure regret firing me when they see you. Thank you, my love.” You kiss Changbin as he smiles wider, blushing. “Of course, anything for my husband.”

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fellthemarvelous · 5 months

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Aziraphale my love

Please enjoy my WHOLE ASS OPINION AND META ANALYSIS.

I support Petty Bitch Aziraphale for season 3!! The angels have been talking down to him from the very beginning and mocking him. Every single person in his life has insulted his intelligence (yes, Crowley has done so several times). I want to see him GO OFF!!! (I posted this part as a tweet but Twitter doesn't give me enough room to write it all in one big place like Tumblr).

Like I am ready to GO THE FUCK OFF myself!

All of Heaven has been emotionally, verbally and physically abusive to Aziraphale since the very beginning. They never listen to him, and the only one he ever really wants to talk to anyway is God, but she is nowhere to be found.

Gabriel came to Aziraphale because he experienced something that Aziraphale is very familiar with. He couldn't remember why he was going to Aziraphale, but hiding away his memory in a fly ended up being just as much for Aziraphale's protection as his own. It ended up being the only way he could actually explain to Aziraphale and Crowley what was really going on.

Aziraphale was there to witness Gabriel's open expression of love for a demon and it lit a fire in his heart. He and Crowley could be together.

Aziraphale wanted Crowley to be by his side in Heaven so he could stand in front of all the angels and tell them how much he loves Crowley so they can see that there is more to life than death for humans.

Aziraphale thought taking Crowley with him meant he could continue to protect Crowley from ever going back to Hell. It's not like he's forgotten how Crowley was acting after being dragged down into Hell for saving the life of a human and persuading her to be not just pretend-y good but actually good. Aziraphale giving her the money was the temptation to always be a good person. They saved her soul together, Crowley with the angelic act, and Aziraphale's act was the temptation. They were so used to doing each other's jobs by this point that they switched roles in that scene.

Despite their last fight, Crowley came back and saved him from the Nazis in the church, and Aziraphale had that moment of realization. "Oh my God, I'm in love with my demon." Crowley wasn't interested in the holy water when he saved Aziraphale, and he saved Aziraphale's books. They also killed three Nazis in the process, which is the most romantic part of it all. The Nazis were a source of evil for Hell, so you know Hell told him to keep an eye on the Nazis. Hell was full of Nazis! We saw Furfur complain about processing 52 men called Otto. It's not normal for that to happen in Hell, and it's really starting to piss Furfur off!!

Aziraphale and Crowley working together in 1941 is the first time we see someone in Hell say WE ARE FULL GO AWAY. Hell turned some of the worst of the worst against humanity by turning them into flesh-eating zombies. "The dead shall rise from their graves and roam the Earth once more." Furfur was the first one to set Hell's prisoners free, and in true demon style, his plan backfired against him, but he'd already set the ball rolling on the Second Coming.

The man who owned the magic shop did not want to sell the Bullet Catch to Aziraphale because he could tell right away that Aziraphale was in desperate need of help as he'd just knocked down half the things on the front counter and he would absolutely die just like that Lovely Chinese Fellow (and that seems like a pretty relevant clue). The shopkeeper only sold it to Aziraphale after Crowley handed him money from Aziraphale's wallet (Aziraphale didn't even try to stop him) and used it to tempt the shopkeeper into going against his instincts.

And in true demon fashion, that immediately backfired because it was only then did he realize Aziraphale was going to need a partner, and he was the only one who could do it. I don't think either of them were thinking about what the trick actually entailed. Aziraphale just saw a gun and was like LET'S DO THIS!

They survived the Bullet Catch in a very human way. They couldn't perform miracles and had very human reactions to the situation, but Aziraphale trusted Crowley with that gun pointed at his head.

And when Aziraphale used a human magic trick to save Crowley from being taken back to Hell by Furfur, he proved that he was willing to go to great lengths to keep Crowley safe even though Crowley was a demon.

This entire time he has been trying to give Crowley a place to call home. He painted the walls of the bookshop yellow because they are the same color as Crowley's eyes, which are also the least human thing about him. He has written about him in his journals and he's openly affectionate with Crowley. He always gives Crowley gentle touches and praises him. He loves Crowley and he's showing him in the most human way he knows how.

And when Crowley is losing Aziraphale, he shows Aziraphale his love in the most human way he can think of.

Heaven and Hell have invaded Whickber Street and put the lives of all the humans at risk. The problem is worse than he thought, and he's going back to try and fix it so that Heaven will actually try to be good for once. Not just pretend-y good, but properly good. Everyone is in danger, and I think when the Metatron mentions the Second Coming, Aziraphale completes the puzzle he's been trying to put together since hearing Jim singing a human song. It makes him understand what Gabriel was running away from, and he's the one who gave Gabriel the freedom to run away with Beelzebub.

And the Metatron is not pleased. Aziraphale introduced free will to demons and angels just as Crowley had introduced free will to humanity.

Aziraphale wants to help spread the idea of love and free will around Heaven so it can be better. He's doing something he believes is right with all his heart. He's been on Earth for more than 6,000 years. He remembers the lessons he learned. He knows shades of grey exist and he wants to use this to make Heaven a better place.

But the other archangels have never respected him, and now he's the Supreme Archangel. He has a chance to make things better, and he has done Crowley's job before. He wants to talk to God. He wants to know what it is she wants. He's tired of hearing everyone else speak for God when no one has spoken to God in thousands of years.

And when he told Crowley his idea, Crowley became angry with him and called him an idiot. What he was saying was not what Crowley was hearing because Crowley was trying to confess his love while Aziraphale was trying to tell Crowley his plan to save everyone.

He only wanted to go back to Heaven when he believed he would be able to take Crowley with him, and he thought reinstating Crowley as an angel was the safest way to keep him from ever having to return to Hell.

None of Aziraphale's actions were malicious. None of his actions were to hurt Crowley. He didn't realize how bad his words sounded because he was saying something completely different than what Crowley was hearing.

All of it was a big misunderstanding. If Aziraphale had not taken the coffee from the Metatron, he would have been choosing death. The Metatron is punishing him for going against Heaven by forcing him to go back. Aziraphale only believed it was a choice when he was told he could bring back Crowley.

Aziraphale had the illusion of choice. He knew the Metatron wasn't taking no for an answer, and when Crowley rejected his offer, he still had to go back anyway. When he looked back at Crowley before stepping on that elevator, he knew he was breaking Crowley's heart by not going back to him, but he had no choice. It broke his heart too.

So now he's stuck in Heaven after having the worst fight with Crowley. He probably feels like no one believes in him. Crowley had called him an idiot and then Crowley kissed him. He's confused because he doesn't understand why Crowley is upset with him, but he's probably tired of everyone underestimating him.

Let Aziraphale be done with this shit. Let him be petty about it. He's not holding back anymore. I want him to push back just as hard and stand up for himself. He has earned the right.

#good omens #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #this is my OPINION #aziraphale defense squad #i am not going to shut up about him until fandoms starts treating him better

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aihoshiino · 2 months

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chapter 145 thoughts!

what even was this chapter, y'all. i'm getting a migraine.

While it certainly wasn't actively bad, it basically hits on enough of the issues I've been having with the Movie Arc that if you've been reading my chapter reviews lately, you could probably write this one yourself. Weird pacing, skipping over interesting parts of the movie, continued framing of AQRB as a shallow gag and failing to follow on any of the implied development from or literally any referenced fallout of the kiss in 143? It's all here, babes. It would ultimately just be boring and redundant for me to go over all that at length again, so I won't.

I will however say that I'm pretty disappointed we're blasting through what had the potential to be some really interesting bits of postmortem characterization for Ai, even filtered through 15YL. I don't mind the manga breezing past scenes we saw firsthand but like… how did Ai react when she realized she was pregnant? How did she feel, especially given that Spica once again emphasized her longing for a family of her own? IDK. The way the story is suddenly jolting forwards in these last few chapters and skipping such huge chunks of Ai's life ultimately feels very strange and I don't know what to make of it yet.

Everyone reacting to Crow Girl's acting was pretty funny though I'm kind of exhausted with Ruby's Gaga-For-Oniichansensei Gag Character flanderization. IDK if my tolerance for it is just decreasing or if it really is amping up, but at least in the 125-137 stretch I at least got the sense that they could be in the same room and have a normal conversation but ever since 139, it feels that bit more relentless. I imagine this would be less irritating if we knew how the aftermath of 143 had played out but it really seems like the manga is going to drag this out until we're all old and grey.

THAT SAID, this chapter does confirm that Aqua's hoshigan stayed white after that chapter and… eh. Who even knows what that means lol. It does at least imply that his talk with Ruby has brought him back to Baseline Aqua but Baseline Aqua is still a guy with every single mental illness on planet earth so I don't know if that's the world's biggest W quite yet. It certainly implies an improvement over double black hoshigan but… again, with Aqua being so totally cut off from the readers this whole arc and no idea of what happened in the aftermath of 143, it's impossible to make a meaningful guess as to wtf is going on with Aqua right now.

Oh yeah, uh. This chapter also I guess constitutes the reveal of how the AQRB reincarnation happened. I guess LMAO. Honestly, I don't have much to say about it other than it feels like a bit of an anticlimax for me? The idea works fine, the execution just left me… idk. Whelmed at best, underwhelmed at most. I feel like this backstory and the implied deep fondness for GRSR -> AQRB it implies doesn't really like up with the personality she displays in the Private arc but like, I kind of feel like she was tossed into the story without Akasaka having a clear idea as to what her role was even going to turn into so maybe that's not a surprise LOL

I will say I'm glad this seems to quash the theory that Aqua and Ruby were secretly capital-G Gods, instead framing it as a Tsuru no Ongaeshi type return of kindness to two otherwise mundane people. There was some fun fan theorizing around the idea, but for me personally, Oshi no Ko is most interesting when it focuses on that aspect of the story Akasaka highlighted in an interview recently, of human relationships being warped by the entertainment industry and I think an explosion of the emotional stakes to the cosmic scale of AQRB (or tbh any of the characters) being Secretly Gods All Along would be a bit of a shark jump for me and would really shift away from what I like about the series most.

That's kind of it for this one…! Not really a lot to say about this chapter, which is why most of this review was me explaining why I didn't have a lot to say about it.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #chapter reviews #onk spoilers

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antikate · 7 months

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I genuinely think romance is a deeply underrated genre that is sneered upon because of its associations with femininity; I think it’s utopian and hopeful and worthwhile and I crave good romance stories. At the same time I hate most romance novels that I try to read.

I had Covid this week and for a few days was too sick to even look at a book or screen so I downloaded a bunch of audiobooks from the library and I gave up on every single one of them:

1. Notorious by Minerva Spencer. I noped out of this a few pages in when one character was described as delectable and luscious and another character’s eyes were described as orbs. The book also comes with a whole heaping of misogyny and Islamophobia apparently.

2. Georgie All Along by Kate Clayborn. The first ??? 20 ??? Or so pages of this book consist of the heroine back in her home town and going into a deli to order a coffee and not having enough money to pay for it because she left her wallet in the car. 20 pages!!! It’s humiliating and is literally like being stuck in the head of the most neurotic person you’ve ever met. Page after page of this woman ruminating about what a loser she is. Exhausting! And I say this as someone who can ruminate at the Olympic level.

3. Pretty Pretty Boys by Gregory Ashe. This one is an m/m series about two cops who fall in love and I had hopes that it might be solid but the characterization was basically “whatever the author felt like writing”. Also the cops act like cops as in they’re abusive to random people and spend a lot of time being horrible, which I don’t really need in a romance.

4. Not Your Average Hot Guy, Gwenda Bond. Idk this was just. A bit? Boring? Also everyone was just a bit too self consciously sassy. The heroine runs an escape room but one of her props turns out to be actually a demonic book. I think one of my issues with this book and so many other romance novels is that banter is a real skill and most people can’t write it. But everyone, regretfully, tries.

5. Liar City, Allie Therin. There’s this one audiobook narrator who has such a snotty voice that I just cannot. This book might have been great but the instant I started listening I knew it was that dude. Maybe I’ll try it as an actual book.

6. The Blacksmith Queen by GA Aiken. This is one of the worst books I’ve ever tried to read. Truly. The heroine is a blacksmith and the hero is a centaur, which I thought sounded fun (also I was wondering how they’d have sex because I’m like that) but it was … puerile? Astonishingly stupid?

7.Capture the Crown, Jennifer Estep. This is also an absolutely idiotic book. The hero has amethyst eyes and the heroine has some other gem coloured eyes and someone else has sapphire eyes and if you took a shot every time it someone’s eye colour was described as a jewel tone you’d be hospitalised for alcohol poisoning by about page four.

8. A taste of gold and iron, Alex Rowland. This is decently written - as in the prose is solid - but the plot is half baked, the characters are tedious, and the world building is intriguing but paper thin. I’d say it’s a much better book than most here, but I still couldn’t bring myself to finish.

Not everything I’d read lately has been terrible so here’s some romance or romance adjacent books I have actually enjoyed:

1. The Heart Principle by Helen Hoang: This book is not going to change your life but it does what sets out to do with a slight if entertaining love story.

2. The Secret Lives of County Gentlemen, KJ Charles: I think Charles is one of the best and smartest historical romance writers I’ve ever read. Her books are everything I want out of romance: the characters are interesting, idiosyncratic, and sympathetic; the details feel right; the stories work; and the sex scenes are both hot and do important plot and character work. Her books are swoony and emotional and feel very real while still being romantic. (The audio narrator of this let it down a little because he took a lot of odd pauses but I’m being super nitpicky.)

3. A Far Wilder Magic, Allison Saft: This is a sweet YA novel set in an interesting fantasy world - I really enjoyed the prickly heroine and her dog.

4. In Memoriam, Alice Winn: This beautiful, heart-rending novel is not exactly a romance - it’s set during WW1 and has very explicit and realistic scenes set in the trenches. The trauma and suffering of the war are achingly portrayed. But it is a love story between two young soldiers, even if it’s not necessarily one with an easy or simple ending. Highly recommend with the caveat that Winn does not shy away from the brutality and senselessness of WW1.

5. Thornhedge, by T Kingfisher: This is a brief but resonant Sleeping Beauty retelling. Not exactly a romance but also not unromantic. My only complaint is that I wanted more. I’m a big T Kingfisher fan, and I adore her practical, earthy characters (like Toadling).

6. We Could Be So Good, Cat Sebastian: I’m here for everything Sebastian writes. Her books are low stakes but still compelling, her characters are likeable and complex, I actually enjoy her banter, and she has a knack for capturing historical details and moments. Her conflicts never feel fake and the resolutions are always earned.

#book reviews #books #from the trenches of Covid #complaining about romance novels #the author is open to recommendations

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vulturevanity · 3 months

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There's something very very interesting about Blanca having Lycanroc-midnight as a partner pokémon, specifically in relation to Dot's way of coping with problems by removing herself from the scene and holing up in her room.

There's a lot implied throughout the series about the relationship between trainer and partner pokémon. Namely, in that both complement each other in some ways while also being mirrors in others. Take, for instance, Liko and Sprigatito in HZ040: while Liko's difficulty to connect with people and Sprigatito's loner attitude manifest in different ways and for different reasons, in the end they both are about not making themselves a problem/nuissance to others while ignoring people's agency and feelings (take Liko losing on purpose to help Wakaba become a gym trainer, robbing her of the opportunity to prove herself worthy of the position, and Sprigatito ghosting her friends after accidentally hurting them when she tried to save them from the Spidops). Same goes for Roy and Fuecoco, with both having a pretty cheerful attitude, but Roy being too goal-oriented sometimes while Fuecoco mostly just wants to do its own thing. Roy and Wattrel have the reverse of that dynamic, as do Liko and Hatenna being similar in different ways to Sprigatito, and so on. It's no coincidence that most characters in Horizons are designed after pokémon they don't have in their teams.

Dot and Quaxly are both performers. The entire Quaquaval line is all about dancing, moving its legs and generally being a big showoff, and Dot's primary passion is in streaming and making videos about pokémon. But while putting itself out there is entirely who Quaxly is, Nidothing is, if not merely a character she's playing, a part of Dot she doesn't exactly flaunt around -- or at least, a facet of her personality she doesn't have the energy to show all the time. Being Nidothing is, like pokémon battling, something that requires her full attention and focus (symbolized by the "mental switch" headband), and Dot isn't one to waste her mental energy unnecessarily. She works hard as a content creator as well as the Brave Olivine's software engineer and IT guy, and disrupting her flow takes her out of it pretty badly (see: every time she got got by Spinel and had a crisis about it); and that part of her, as well as her earnest naivety, is reflected now in Tinkatink, who is constantly looking to build a better hammer for herself while being pretty sensitive and getting upset when interrupted.

So. Blanca and Lycanroc-midnight.

Lycanroc-midnight, as Friede's outro lecture puts it, is a reactive pokémon. It waits for its opponent to move so it can answer in kind. On a surface level, it doesn't seem to fit Blanca, who dictates the scene wherever she's present. She's overbearing toward Dot and just overly energetic in general, always moving first and listening second. People don't seem to have time to learn how to respond. That doesn't seem very "reactive" of her.

But then? When Liko and Roy offer to talk to Dot for her since she doesn't seem to want to talk to her mom, Blanca overtaken with emotion at the fact that Dot has friends who care for her that much, and immediately backs off. She has a hard time understanding Dot, which is why her decisions, which make sense in her head and are made with Dot's best interests at heart, end up making Dot unhappy. And when she gets an inkling that Dot doesn't really want to go back home, she wants to make sure she's making the right call by asking Dot, through a pokémon battle, if this is really what she really wants. And Dot confirms, cutting through every single one of Blanca's rebuttals and counterpoints, that yes, she is having fun being a trainer, traveling around the world and making friends, and no longer wants to hide alone in her dark room. And it makes Blanca so immensely glad and proud that her daughter is happier. And her answer is "of course you can stay here" -- the proper reaction to Dot's actions. The combination of Blanca's helicopter-mom tendencies and Dot's refusal to engage was making things worse for both of them, and in the end open and honest communication was the reason Blanca was finally able to understand her daughter and adjust her mothering style accordingly.

So, yeah. Blanca and Lycanroc-midnight, Dot and Quaxly. Meeting in the middle. I don't know how to end this post lol bye

#pokémon #pokemon horizons #pokemon: horizons #character analysis #trainer dot #i missed writing character analyses a #haven't done one of these since my Lilith stan days #my previous dot analysis was more about headcanons than anything else lol #i hope this is coherent btw i was really struggling to put my braincells together

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moononmyfloor · 6 months

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My Year End C-drama Review (2023)

Last year, I did two Cdrama Wrapped posts for each half of the year. This year, I watched so much stuff right away I got arrogant and was about to do a January-February summary. And then life happened and handed me my entire ass, so here we are right back on the ground zero.

Well, not exactly. I watched lots of dramas I liked this year and would like to give nods to as many as possible, and before I start forgetting details I thought I better go ahead with the entrees that I'm sure of the answers.

My initial Cdrama reviews were inspired by anniedelavoye's this post 2 years ago, I've extrapolated a lot from there but some entrees remain same.

Part 2

1. First drama I finished in 2023

Hi Venus. Modern workplace romcom isn't my go-to-genre, least of all if the ML is a CEO. If not for the unusual-for-the-genre setup of initial few eps and the strong recommendations of my friends, I might not have pressed play at all. And I'm so glad I did because it turned out to be one of the most refreshing takes of the genre, it was funny, the pacing nor the dialogues were ever draggy, the characters were intelligent and pleasant, and down to earth. It never leaned to the tropes of helpless/badass FL or tsundere/beta ML extremes, there was no dramatic villain arcs, down to the supporting characters everyone were so reasonable and mature and simply had the nicest time ever together. Now I put it like that, it sounds boring but trust me, it wasn't. Do give it a try. Your time won't be wasted.

2. An actor who took my breath away

Jing Boran as Lan Jue/Peizhi from The League of Nobleman

I mean

Look at him. Instant KO.

I remember watching this scene (and every scene that followed after, especially when he had his hair down) and being in disbelief about how he's real. He's literally glowing out the screen! His performance as a model scholarly minister, the way he conducted his glance, his steps, his speech and temperament were nothing but enchanting and... look, I can write poetry about him for ages lol.

And then I watched every single work I could find of him and ended up even more in love, because his resume was nothing but diverse. A measured scholar, a bubbling-out-of-his-skin social butterfly, a ballerina in a tutu, a man pregnant with the cutest radish monster ever, there's nothing he cannot play. I'm definitely going to check out every single work of him that'll be coming out in the future as well. Even if the plot fails, his character will surely be interesting.

(Also, I was FINALLY lured into DMBJ fandom thanks to going down his profile as well, and now I'm here to stay🤭)

3. Most relatable character

Bai Moxi from Gone With the Rain

She was street-smart and sassy, but never foolhardy. She wasn't a damsel nor was overly clever. She had her moments of daydreaming, but she knew what was and wasn't reasonable. She had a high sense of self-worth, she also knew when to make herself scarce. Despite being the most outgoing and energetic personality in the room, she didn't make everything to be about herself. In fact, she couldn't have been happier to be a background supporting character of the story, quietly minding her own business in her corner. In summary, she just felt very real, and exactly like how I love my FLs. Every decision she took felt like what I'd also have done in her situation. (Btw I hope noone messages me about loving Moxi but hating her sister because I don't. I think her character also made a lot of sense based on her circumstances even though she was bit more difficult to love than Moxi.)

Most of all, she was played to a tee by Zhang Nan, the young actress was allowed to shine to her true potential in this role, as she used to be quite stereotyped in either bubbly or petty mean girl roles. The drama horribly fell apart in the latter quarter (I'd like to pretend it all ended before that Great Seperation Scene), but I'm going to remember her charaacter for a long time to come.

4. Most inspiring character

Li Lianhua from Mysterious Lotus Casebook

The tumblr tag for MLC is already filled with Grade A+ poetry, prose and analysis dedicated to him and I'm not capable of wording it any better than them. All I can say is he really touched a vulnerable corner of my heart, and gave it strength. He's just so very admirable and represents all I ever want to be, and his entire character design and all its metaphors and philosophy especially resonate with me as a Buddhist. Like Cheng Yi said at the end of MLC concert, "At the end of the day, if you have a lotus flower in your heart that you can call your own, that's what matters."

5. Best Couple of the Year

Lu Zhaoxi and Ye Shilan (Zeng Shunxi and Liang Jie) in Hi Venus, Zhao Jian and Yuan Zhongxin (Zhou Yutong and Zhang Xincheng) in Young Blood 2

Here are two couples who were each others' equal match in every big, small and miscellaneous ways possible. Where their roles in their partnership did not have anything to do with society-determined gender or power dynamics, not about conforming to them nor about beating them. Everything about their relationships simply had to do with what they meant to each other their admiration, respect and love towards the other person, from beginning to end. In Hi Venus, it was never uncomfortable to watch Shilan being Zhaoxi's subordinate, for he always treated her like any good superior should in any healthy professional relationship. In Young Blood 2, Zhongxin would fully trust Zhao Jian with everyone else's and his own life, not because his head was in wishful romantic clouds but because he was 100% confident in her capabilities and would never disrespect her with "girls should be protected, you stay back and let me take the sword for you" nonsense.

I may check out like 50 dramas per year and may never come by such Het pairing dynamics in some years, yknow? I do not hate on any other kind of dynamic (plus I'd have next to nothing to watch in that case lol) but, THIS... this is so rare -for me to not be icked out by not even a single second of a fictional het couple's screentime lol- hence the gushing! (Though I know I'm not doing the greatest job of phrasing what I feel😆).

Following that note, though not a couple, honorable mentions to Chufeng (Bi Wenjun) and Robin (Zhu Zhengting) from Silence of the Monster who took Sui Yi (Sun Yihan) into their home not because they thought it'd be chivalrous to help a girl, but because it's the nice thing to do as a fellow human. For continuing onto integrating her into their world with ease and enthusiasm not because any of them had feelings for her but because they simply found her a good friend to hang out with.

Suffice to say I DIG ANY relationship where gender does not come into play, like, at all (or barely, if you must).

6. Best harem of the year

Orchid and Lotus harems (from League of Nobleman and Mysterious Lotus Casebook)

(Only sharing the pics of Orchid Harem because it was from the earlier quarter of this year, whereas pics of Lotus Harem will be everywhere in the Cdrama scene for quite a while to come lol)

The support group of devout puppies, zhijis, friends-with-benefits and all sorts of other polycule postions, all centered around one precious babygirl enigma of a man is just my jam, and I love it when it happens because it brings forth the fandom's most unhinged high-art. 😌😌😌

(ALSO ME AND WHO WHEN!😭)

7. Best ensemble of the year

Young Blood 2, I Am Nobody

For me a perfect ensemble is where the supporting characters are just or almost nearly as engaging and thoroughly written as the main leads, you'd love every second spent on any character just as much as you love that of any other. The ultimate relaxing experience where your brain doesn't have to pick favorites and you don't have to speed watch or fast forward or be antsy about who's going to appear next because you know it's gonna be enjoyable no matter whom.

And this year, it's Young Blood 2- with its Class 7 members who were all so different but all so compelling and equally contributing to the plot, complimented by the Class 8 and the unnervingly captivating villains.

And I Am Nobody- with its extensive spread of young and old heroes/antiheroes alike, all with dramatic backstories and individual charisma that were not second to another.

8. Favorite posters/promos of the year

Mysterious Lotus Casebook, Young Blood 2, Sunshine By My Side

Really liked what MLC did with positioning the characters on various spots of the titular Lianhua Lou, the wind-sway choices for the wisps of hair and the skirts... idk the exact angles of it all were just right for each character and their vibes and appealed to me a lot.

The blending-into-painting style poster of Young Blood was so pretty too, plus these Suoyi raincoat posters.

The comic strip posters for Sunshine were also super cute, unique and perfect for the drama's themes.

9. Best opening credit sequence

Love You Seven Times

The drama itself was a hot mess but the opening sequence was entirely worthy of being a parallelish-universe story to Love Between Fairy and Devil without a debate. IF ONLY they put the same effort to the story itself.

10. Favorite Prop/Set designs

A League of Nobleman- Lan Jue's Tea Pavilion, Mysterious Lotus Casebook- Lotus House

I wish I could install a fixture in my home where me and my imaginary homies can chat over tea while being seductively separated by an active stream of freshwater, while my not so elegant period-style caravan is waiting outside in the yard for more cozily cramped get-together times. 🤧

11. Favorite lighting/color grading of the year

The Forbidden Flower, My Journey to You

The former, a kaleidoscopic explosion of colors, a celebration of fleeting life, youth, summer and nostalgia. It was a daring drama on so many fronts and nailed each of them as well, and the use of colors represented its bold soul perfectly.

The latter, a marvelous combination of mountains shrouded by mist, dark-toned wood pavilions and fur-lined robes, pale, dusty makeup with rosy lips and plump cheeks; all combined together on screen to bring a palpable ambience of a secluded glamorous hideout in a dystopian world and its ethereal residents. Seriously, how I especially loved to stare at the bride candidates in their white getups, it was like the light bounced off of the fabric to shine on their faces even more, and the skin and hair looked non-oily and baby soft. And it didn't feel over the top but convincing because the camerawork and editing conjured a believable image of an upcountry with dense and dewy forests, waterfalls and rivers, there's no sun, no heat no sweat, only cold air and pregnant humidity. OF COURSE you are going to look like THAT.

12. A drama that taught me new things

Hi Producer

The infuriating thing about Yu Zheng's show-off genre of costume dramas is that the story may be a hit-or-miss, the "historical facts" provided in them may need to be taken with a grain of salt, but they almost always provide me with great entry points to do my own research 🥲. Most niche facts that take me by surprise and things I'd never have thought to look up on my own are randomly sprinkled all over the place and I run around like a headless chicken trying to collect them all.

13. Most exhilarating drama/scene

Three-Body

That scene in ep 5. The entire buildup to it and the resolution. The phenomenal acting bringing forth the exact emotion and exact tension required. The moment you start to understand at least a sliver of why exactly all the characters are making this much of a fuss about what's happening to them.

I cannot spoil, not even a bit. You'd have to see for yourself.

I Am Nobody

(lol Three Body and I Am Nobody. I swear that was an unintentional coincidence!)

The great V-match between certain two characters, I can't elaborate. (See the thing about exhilarating scenes is that you have to see it for yourself what's the big deal is about lol.) I really liked how both their biggest vulnerabilities and yearnings were pulled out mercilessly in public, how they both fought themselves through each other before actualizing the philosophy of what it was all about. It was beautiful to watch visually as well.

14. A drama location I'd love to visit

Yunnan province

I've seen glimpses of the prosperous and both naturally and culturally diverse Yunnan province through Bite of China Documentaries and Dianxi Xiaoge's vlogs, the beautiful bucolic backdrop of Meet Yourself only heightened the wish to experience it all in person.

15. A drama that was a pleasant surprise

I Am Nobody

Perfect casting job, earnest effort from everyone involved to bring out the 2D to live action in the bestest way possible, it was like a dream come true to see a genre that was previously limited into written media like comics and fanfics (modern cultivation) as a drama even if it meant labelling all the cultivators as aliens lol

It had a lil bit of a flavor of western coming-of-age/"teen gets powers and goes on an adventure in search of their origins" stories, a bit of Japanese anime presenting style and the chaotic-gaggle-of-youth-and-veterans-with-different-extreme-powers genre vibe. And then they incorporated Chinese wuxia philosophy into it and made it their own thing. I hope to see more of this in future, and definitely a season 2!

16. An old drama I watched in 2023

Shaolin Wendao (2017)

This is one of the best period dramas I have ever seen, but I don't recommend it unless you have a strong tolerance for angst. Like, worse than Royal Nirvana and Heroes (2022) level of angst.

HOWEVER, unlike those two, Shaolin Wendao will leave you feeling rewarded for your suffering. This drama achieved a number of things that very few other have managed to do, especially for a story with such a heavy and dark premise.

The characters remained true to their selves from beginning to the end. They grew up in various ways, at the same time remained consistent. The story made sure to make all the characters aware of their individual faults and address them.

The characters were put through immense wringer but also provided viewer with the resolution they deserved. It was SO exhilarating at times, I cried. It felt like a detox, sometimes.

They prioritized telling a realistic story about the changing nature of humans. The ending was blissful but not in the idolized, wrapped-in-a-bow-tie way one would imagine. They wanted to tell a story about tribulations and letting go, and did exactly that.

It will ignite the pain but will also make sure to thoroughly quench it. So there's that.

Oh and also, respect to all the actors. All those characters were so layered and had some quite difficult scenes. I do not understand how Guo Xiaoting didn't get any good roles matching of her caliber for years after this. She was magnificent.