#// it's dj and nothing can convince me otherwise

[the-ellia-west]

Stray Characters Tier list

(Mostly important Characters because I'm too lazy to do all of them)

We're going from Bottom to top left to right

First, F tier - Hate it

The Zurks - HAHAHAHHAHAHAH NOPE, THEY CAN CHEW THROUGH METAL (If I found that thing in my basement, God can have me.)

The Sentinels - Eh, I just don't like them. THEY KILL THE CAT IF THEY CATCH IT. Hon, that's unforgivable.

C tier - The Mediocre

The Bouncer - Who wouldn't give that adorable face Entry? HE SWATS AT THE CAT. (But he is just doing his job)

B tier - Like em, but nothing special

Zbaltazar - He doesn't do much, which makes sense because he's kind of hooked to all those TVs, but still, kinda boring, but still likable

The DJ - He rocks, but he's not special enough to put him any higher

A tier - I love them

Guardian - BABY, and his outfit is just cool. Look at him, and also he's nice to the cat and his dialogue is very CRISP

Doc - I love his little goblin stances, and he's just so sweet and adorable and just a good guy. He's so; "I MISS MY SON" coded. Also +points for the character design and the personality. Just brushes off almost getting eaten like it's no big deal.

Elliot - Look at the little hacker in his little poncho, I love him

S tier - Beautiful, chef's kiss, I want one

The Cat - What can I say? It's a cat! Top tier!

Seamus - He's so emo, and confused, and sad, and he gets like a little boy when his dad comes back. I unironically love him.

Momo - DANG IT HE'S AWESOME, He's just sitting in his apartment basically crying because he was too scared to follow his friends, and when the cat proves it's still possible to help, he's so happyyyyy. He'll do anything to help, and he's just so ASGDSBERGYEHWH *I want him as a plushie*

S+ tier - AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH

B-12 - HE'S SO TRAGIC AND ADORABLE AND THE PERFECT LITTLE GUIDE AND BABY AND EVERYTHING AND HIS DIALOGUE IS SO PERFECTLY HUMAN

Blazer - This traitor. I love him. I love characters that just go: Morals, or money... Easy choice, Would kill for a single dollar. Also bonus for not doing anything mean to the cat other than selling us out. I love him. He's a mafia boss and I will not be convinced otherwise.

Clementine - My girl. She's a badass and I would die for her. She is amazing. An outlaw? Yes. A loveable assistant? Absolutely? A Queen? 100%

Clementine and Momo are my favorites, I just don't know how to explain myself properly.

[demonsfate]

Streets are saying they will reveal Reina at the Tokyo Game Show. It's joever. Jin will have to deal with ANOTHER family member whose father is Heihachi lmao.

It seems people think this because "she's Japanese so they'll reveal her at a Japanese event" lmao. Because they were right about Steve at an England event, right? /sarcasm. I dunno about the previous games, but as of now... I think they only did that with Lili. And fans just think that means they're gonna show the character of whatever event's nationality.

They do say new challenger, but people are discussing if it's only gonna be one or two characters. I'm honestly HOPING it'll be two, buuuuuut... it'll probably just be one. So, it can still very well be Reina (I just don't think it being a "Japanese" event is a certainty it'll be Reina tho) or it'll be Victor, Alisa, or Lee. I'm honestly hoping it'll be Alisa just 'cos she's one of my mains and I'd love to see what she looks like in it!!!! Although, y'all know I'm itching MOST for DJ. But... that's something I do agree with the fandom on, DJ will probably be last to be revealed, or he'll be revealed with the rest of the cast should they reveal multiples at once like they did with Steve, Kuma, Yoshi, etc.

Or who knows, maybe they'll reveal one new character, and give us a proper trailer for one of the others that have been revealed already.

But like the more Mishimas they keep bringing in, the funnier Tekken 4 becomes. Like Jin was hellbent on killing all the Mishimas - which he thought was Heihachi, Kazuya, and himself. Imagine if Jun didn't convince him otherwise, imagine if Jin was successful. That would mean: Jinpachi would later appear and if nobody stopped him, the world may have ended. There's also Lars AND Reina which are also a part of the Mishima bloodline. Who knows, there may be MORE Mishimas out there. So, Jin would've killed himself and then not even come close to completing his goals lmao jin's a dumbass.

It does make me wonder, though. Jin's desire to destroy the bloodline was mostly a trauma response - after being betrayed / killed by Heihachi. Then he likely found out more about his father, Kazuya - and all the bad things Kazuya's done. And of course, also finding out he has the devil gene. But like... in Jin's rage and trauma... had he found out about the existence of Lars and Reina, would they have convinced him that the family line is not evil by then, or would he have been so blinded... that he would've thought they were bad by default, too? (Though Reina might be bad, we know nothing about her character so far!)

[heavyhitterheaux]

Don't Tell Her

A First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: hehe cute little short fic with Jack being a complete mess 

Synopsis: Jack is panicking because he seems to have misplaced his Private Garden ring along with his wedding ring. He enlists the help of his best friend to help him find it before you find out.

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

"Fuck!" Jack ran his hands through his curly hair indicating his frustration as Urban was also starting to look panicked.

"We're going to find them. Calm down."

"Calm down?! Calm down?! Have you met my wife!? She's going to kill me."

"Y/N is definitely not going to kill you. She might come close and have you beg for mercy but she won't kill you."

"Thank you for that Urb."

"Just saying." Urban replied before holding up his hands in defense.

Currently Jack could not find his Private Garden ring along with his wedding ring both of which you gifted him and you were due back home in the next three hours.

So he had a total of three hours to make them appear. 

You had bought everyone in PG a ring a few months after Jack got signed with DJ Drama. 

You spent a shit ton of money on them and since they had been personalized, the last thing that Jack wanted to do was lose them.

Except, he did lose them. 

"When did you last have them?"

"I remember before I took a shower I took them off and when I got out, I didn't immediately put them back on and when I remembered to, they were nowhere to be found."

"Well they just didn't get up and walk away."

"At this point anything is possible because where the hell could they have went?"

Just then they both jumped when Jack's phone went off indicating that he had a FaceTime call from you.

Both of them stared at the phone waiting for the other one to answer it. 

Then that led to Urban picking up the phone and throwing it at Jack and he responded by throwing it right back to him scared of what you were going to say.

"Will you answer it?!" Urban yelled as Jack looked at the phone with wide eyes.

"She's going to know!"

"How?!?"

"You know I can't keep anything from her and I fold every time!"

"You better not tell her if you want to live to see 30!"

"Fuck okay. Hiii baby girl!"

"Hiya smush!"

"You all done for the day?"

"Not quite. Just a few more things I have to do."

You were now eyeing him and he felt like you knew and that you were onto him.

"Baby? Do you feel okay? You look a little flustered."

"I'm fine, baby girl. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Are you sure? Because I can come ho..."

"NO!"

"Jackman what is happening with you baby?"

"I'm fine just... Urb is calling me."

"Okay, love you. See you soon. I shouldn’t be too much longer."

"Love you too mamas."

Once he hung up with you, he let out a sigh of relief.

"Well that went terribly. Now she really knows something is wrong."

"Ehhh what am I going to do!?"

"We keep looking you dumbass!"

"I'll look upstairs and you look down here."

Well, you came home and neither of the rings were found by Jack or Urban. The both of you were currently laying down and you couldn’t help but feel that something was definitely off with your husband.

Jack just knew you were onto him and no one could convince him otherwise.

"Baby?" You poked his side in order to get his attention and it almost looked as if he was deep in thought. 

"Yes mamas?"

"Do you feel alright?" You asked as you felt his forehead. He simply brought your hand to his lips to press a kiss on the back of it.

"Yeah baby. I'm okay."

"You've been acting really weird all day. Like weirder than usual."

"Me? Weird?"

"Jack, come on. You can tell me if something is bothering you."

"I know, but I'm fine. I promise."

"Imma let it slide for now, but okay. I’ll get it out of you sooner or later."

You turned your attention back to the tv, but you could tell that your husband was uneasy.

When Jack noticed you had fell asleep because your breathing had slowed down, he slid out from under you to look once more for the rings.

They had to be here somewhere.

He tore up the bathroom, the closet, the master bedroom, behind shelves, under the bed, the kitchen, the living room, the lounge area in the basement and he still came up with nothing.

It was now four in the morning and he decided to call it a night. He slid in the bed next to you and you immediately curled into him, if it had been any longer you would have woken up and would have been looking for him.

That was literally the last thing that he needed. 

It was only a matter of time before you found out the rings were missing and he wasn’t ready to feel your wrath from losing them. 

It had been a few days and Jack was surprised that you hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t been wearing his rings. You had just been going about your daily routine as usual. 

You were currently in your walk-in closet trying to make room for the multiple pairs of shoes that Jack had gotten for you recently when he walked in looking panicked.

“Hi, boo. You okay?” You asked as you reached up to kiss him.

"Baby! I can't take it anymore." Jack practically yelled and you were taken aback by his sudden outburst. 

"What? Babe, what's wrong. Whatever it is, we can fix it."

"I lost my wedding ring and Private Garden ring!"

You simply looked at him in his panicked state for a few seconds before you busted out laughing.

"Whaaa? Baby, why are you laughing? I came to confess."

"Baby, I took our rings to get them cleaned! I'm not wearing mine either! You didn’t lose them, I took them and I’m going to pick them up today." You said while holding up your left hand so he could see that your ring finger was bare. 

“Y/N, you gotta stop playin with me like that. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“Oh, best believe if you actually did lose them that I would kill you with no hesitations. But, not this time. It was my doing. You’re fine baby.” You responded while placing a kiss on his cheek. 

“Ehhh, why you always stressing me out mamas?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. I admit that I probably should have told you that I took them. But seeing you in a panic these past few days has kinda been hilarious. I had no idea that this was what you had been freaking out about. I noticed that you had been acting weird.”

“Y/N....” Jack whined before you brought him into a hug.

“I’m sorry for making you panic, smush. Do you forgive me?”

“On one condition and one condition only.”

“And what’s that.”

“Sit on my face for all the stress you put me through.”

“Your wish is my command.” You replied as you led the way out of the walk-in closet. 

@harlowsbby

Liked by y/ninsta, urbanwyatt, druski2funny, 2forwoyne, privategarden, champagnepapi, and 4,268,901 others

jackharlow: one of my favorite pieces of jewelry that wifey has ever given me. Love you mamas y/ninsta ❤️

y/ninsta: Love you more. You know there's nothing I won't do for you 🥺

saweetie: I know jackharlow is red as a tomato now. y/ninsta is truly his weakness lol

jackharlow: saweetie and I'm not complaining one bit. that's my baby 😌

urbanwyatt: is this before or after your meltdown earlier this week 👀

jackharlow: urbanwyatt after 🙄

urbanwyatt: jackharlow where were they!?!

jackharlow: she took them to get them cleaned and didn't tell me 🙄

y/ninsta: 🤭🤭🤭

jackharlow: y/ninsta baby! It’s not funny! I really thought I lost them and that you were going to kill me 😫

y/ninsta: jackharlow come on smush. you gotta admit it was a little funny. I take it you made urbanwyatt try and help you find them?

urbanwyatt: y/ninsta most stressful 3 hours of my life.

jackharlowsource: wifey stays giving you heart palpitations

jackharlow: jackharlowsource you don't even know the half of it 🙃

y/ninsta: jackharlow just make sure you don't lose them forreal. Same goes for all of PG. 🤨

2forwoyne: now how did we get dragged into it?! 😧

y/ninsta: 2forwoyne as much money as I spent on them damn rings all of yall gonna catch these hands if they get lost. don't play with me.

druski2funny: well damn

privategarden: first lady has spoken and always has the last word 😭😭

Taglist:

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

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@gbaabyyyy

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@exoticr0ses

[axewchao]

The last of the L trio, Larry! An attempt was made at a DJ getup, since Larry's been known for his apparent affinity with music ever since Mario Kart 8. Emphasis on "attempt," 'cause DJ outfits are a fashion I never looked twice at until now.

I think the refs influenced me a little too much, since once I drew the crop top on him I was like "Yes. This is perfect for you. No take-backsies." Dunno how he and anyone else who wears crop tops can handle the breeze against their guts, but I won't judge. XD

Honestly I kinda vibe with him the most so far; the blank, seemingly uninterested expression that's actually just his resting face, the headphones, the baggy yet comfortable pants… Might've put a little more "me" in this design than intended… owo"

…Welp, too late now! Tidbit Time!

Larry's magic is almost purely sound-based. Hypnosis via synthwave, bass drops that create shockwaves, electric guitar riffs to send people (and debris) flying, auditory illusions (with Lemmy's help), the list goes on. As far as he's concerned, there's a perfect sound for every situation.

Before joining Bowser (and subsequently becoming one of his sons), Larry was an average kid; went to school, went home, casually remixed songs and posted them online, nothing more and nothing less. Larry was content with this life, until he got an email claiming to come from the King's royal advisor, asking for Larry to be the DJ at a birthday party that was being hosted at the castle.

While the email screamed "foreign prince scam," Larry decided to play it safe and asked the sender to meet up with him in a public spot (with his parents watching nearby) to discuss music choices. Turns out it was real, and Kamek was more than shocked to find out that one of Wendy's favorite online musicians was even younger than she was.

Larry's magic was first witnessed at the birthday party. When Larry played, everyone who heard his music began to move to the beat, whether they wanted to or not. When he took a break, everyone's heads felt hazy, but were otherwise unharmed as the party went on.

Larry was completely unaware of what happened, satisfied with the huge bag of coins he was given and ready to move on with his life. Two weeks later, Kamek comes knocking at his door, asking Larry and his parents to come to the castle again. They agreed, and after a long, long discussion between his parents and Bowser, custody of Larry was handed over to the King.

He was wracked with guilt after accidentally calling Bowser "Dad" for the first time, fearing that he'd replaced the biological father he still cared for. Bowser was able to convince him to say "King Dad" instead so there'd be an audible difference. The other Koopalings (except Ludwig) began to follow suit.

He is never seen without his precious headphones. Even when he's not listening to music, he keeps them on his head because he likes the feeling of them being there.

He may like it a bit too much, as he struggles to function without them on. The other Koopalings discovered this after Larry was dared to go a full 24 hours without wearing them. He could only last for about four and a half hours before he cracked, his discomfort and slight panic becoming very obvious as he locked himself in a hall closet, refusing to come out until the dare was rescinded and his headphones returned.

While all the Koopalings are aware of Larry's overdependence, the only ones trying to help him with it are Ludwig, Morton, and Wendy.

He may have oversensitive hearing, which explains his dependency and the fact that he kept repeating "it's too loud" while locked in the closet.

He is constantly moving to the beat of whatever song he's listening to (tapping his feet/hands, nodding his head, bouncing in place, etc.) He will do this even in the middle of combat. Rhythm Heaven, anyone?

He tends to get hooked on a few specific things at a time and is prone to info-dumping when asked about it. He tries to hold back on doing this as he was often told to "just shut up" at school. His current interests include music, sports, and horses.

When texting, he uses emojis/emoticons and little else. No one is sure if this is an attempt at the world's longest prank or not.

His star necklace is actually his magic wand. Several of the Koopalings transformed their wands for either the sake of convenience or simply because it looked cool. Larry is in the latter category.

[asociallyawkwardteen]

FACE - Woosung/Sammy Kim - Drabble

Kim Woosung/Sammy Kim x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers

Word count: 2,5k

Summary: After a long semester of uni finally comes to an end, y/n and her friends are able to go out again and have fun. A fun night out turns into something very beautiful.

(Also I would like to apologize for any errors, english is not my first langugae so please have mercy on me ^^’)

~Hope you like it!

„Finally!!! We are done with all those stupid exams!!!” your friend Coco shouted once you got back to your apartment from Uni after having your last exam for this semester today.

“Hey, you do know that we have neighbors, right?” you giggled, hitting her in a playful way.

“Yeah, yeah, but aren’t you glad that we finally can relax?? We should celebrate it!”

“Of course I am glad, silly. So how do you want to celebrate surviving another semester?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet but I want to do it tonight! Otherwise it’s not as much of an celebration.”

“Sounds a lot like you want to go drinking, huh?”

She smiled at you sheepishly, “Maybe…”

“Okay so a girls night out it is?”

“Eeeeh…” she started hesitatingly, blushing a little

“what do you mean ‘eeeh’?”

“How about…”

“Wait! You want to ask the cute guy from our history class out, don’t you??” you said wiggling your eyebrows at her

“Heyy!” she punched your arm, “what I was going to say was: we could gather a few of our friends… and maaaaybe also hajoon…” she got quieter during the end mumbling the last word.

You grinned. “Well you can invite some people I guess, still don’t have a lot of friends that aren’t also yours here” you smiled a little embarrassed at yourself hearing that coming out of your mouth after being here for already one and a half year.

“Oh just not too many please… I’d like to still keep the circle small tonight.” you added

“Sure thing she said, sitting down on the couch and already looking through her phone for the right people”

Some time passed and you used it well by taking a nap, seemed like the best idea since you’re probably gonna be out the whole night. However, your peaceful slumber was rudely interrupted by Coco barging in your room exclaiming that she finally had the perfect selection of people.

You mumbled a half awake “Shoot” and nuzzled your head back into your pillow.

“Okay so, since we want a rather small group this time, I made sure that I selected them very carefully!” She listed a few of your friend group to which you just nodded to, still half asleep.

“And-I-also-might-have-asked-Hajoon-if-he-was-free-and-he-is-joining-us!!” She quickly spat out hiding her face in her hands squealing like a little kid.

You grinned at her, “glad you finally had the guts to ask him out!”

“That’s not all thought, I thought that since I would be a little occupied with hajoon tonight I though I would invite someone for you too! BUT- Please don’t hit me now okay!”

You slowly opened your eyes looking at her kinda pissed already. “And who would that someone be?”

“Sammy…” she mumbled

“HUH?!?!” now it was really over with your beauty sleep, you shot up in your bed looking at her in disbelief. “Sammy?, you… mean Sammy Kim?? Your freind from highschool, who I had nothing but awkward interaction with since I met him last year?” 

“Awkward Interactions?” she giggled, “ if that’s what you call love at first sight but no clue how to handle it, yeah sure you guys had some AwKwArD InTeRaCtIoNs. And now don’t act like I didn’t realize how you two were looking at each other that night, plus how often you too hung out to sTuDy.”

“No No No, he really helped me out with my photography project back then, and you promised me that we would never speak of that night again!” Just as you finished your sentence Coco’s phone made a ding. She opened it and grinned once again.

“Oh come on you both have the hots for each other but your are both to scared to admit it and I like the effect you have on each other, you both are like creative chargers for one another. I’ve yet to see you procrastinate when he is around and you have heard his music improving yourself, do you think that comes just out of nowhere? Huh? Whatever he just texted that he is coming tonight so this discussion is over!”

You looked at her with wide eyes and your heart skipping a beat. You definitely have a crush on Sammy and yeah maybe that happened the first time you met him BUT you were just never really the relationship type of girl, plus you didn’t plan on staying in Korea after Uni so you didn’t want to get to attached to something/someone plus you liked things the way they were up until said night. New Years Eve Party to be exact. You and Coco had a party at the Apartment and most of your friends were wasted at 1am already and Sammy and You also had quite a bit to drink, one thing led to another and you only remember waking up next to him in your bed, all cuddled up together with and hunch of what could have happened. Luckily you two were up before everyone else thinking nobody noticed but of course Coco knew the second she looked at you once she woke up. Sammy had to leave quickly that day because of some issues with brother, who wanted to visit him on New Year’s. Ever since than you two tried to keep it casual by not addressing it at all and kind of ignoring each other and your feelings for one another a bit. Until now apparently.

You sighed falling back into your cozy bed once Coco left your room.

~Time skip~

You pushed the thoughts of the night ahead to the side -mostly for Coco since she was worried that you were actually mad at her.

To proof her wrong you put on a smile and you two started to get ready together while blasting music and starting to pre drink a bit. It felt so good though to finally have the time to go out with some friends again after all that studying and stress with exams, just getting ready with your roommate was already so much fun.

Soon your uber came and you were on your way to the club where Coco told the others to meet you. You saw Sammy already when from the car, and your heart stopped a beat. He was just leaning against the wall, headphones in and on his phone. You took a second to admire him before the car came to a spot where you guys could get out. Coco saw him as well form where you two were and tried to scare him since he wasn’t aware of his surroundings, but she failed.

You greeted Sammy with a warm hug, thinking that he would probably feel your fast heartbeat but you always hugged him to say hello and you didn’t want to make things more weird. To your surprise you could feel his heartbeat as well, which weirdly calmed you down a bit.

You too still kept a bit of a distance for now just making things seem “casual”, clearly aware of the tension between the two of you. You got a table at your favorite club and soon drinks started to flow. Your group had an awesome time dancing, drinking, catching up and just enjoying your freedom for now

The DJ was great and constantly playing what you wanted, a couple hours went by and your friend group started to get smaller, one after the other leaving with someone they flirted with for about half an hour. Oh and Coco was all tangled up with Hajoon just as you both expected. You didn’t care about all of that too much just enjoying yourself on the dance floor and chatting a bit with Sammy while still continuously ordering drinks.

Of course some dudes tried to hit on you especially while you were dancing, overflowing with confidence but you just told them to get lost, you were really not interested in any of them. You were really just here to have fun but as you caught a glimpse of the way Sammy was watching your every move you smiled a bit to yourself.

You both were a bit buzzed by now, it being around 1:30am and most of your friends, well actually all of them already gone. The club was still buzzing and you were in no way ready to leave yet, neither was Sammy. It may seem a bit boring to just stand at a table watching a girl dance for hours, only taking breaks to pee or take another shot, not for him tho. Watching your body float over that dancefloor, never missing a single beat, smiling with closed eyes. And every time you were sick of a song you made your way over to him smiling with sparkling eyes in which he could get lost in forever. Every time you would come over you two had a shot or two and every time you went back on the dancefloor you tried to convince him to come with you. He came with once or twice, wanting to stay there with you the whole night just being weightless together but he knew that if he kept dancing with you and already being a bit drunk, he would want more and he wasn’t sure if you were okay with that so he stayed at the table.

At around 3am your feet started to hurt from all the dancing in your heels and you were feeling pretty dizzy, still not wanting to stop dirinking. Sammy knew by the way you came back to him that you were ready to leave and get some food somewhere.

“Sammy…! Wanna grab a bite somewhere?!” you shouted in his ear hoping he would understand with all the loud music and people talking.

To be completely honest he didn’t understand anything over the loud music and his own spinning head but he knew what you wanted so he just nodded and you two left. Once you stepped out of the club you both took a deep breath an looked at each other for a second. In this moment the only thing you wanted to do was kiss him, get lost in his touch and never wake up from it again but instead you just smiled at him and repeatedly said that you were hungry.

Sammy was in the same position, he knew that soon he would not be able to contain himself if you keep looking at him with those intense eyes of yours. He laughed at you being a whiny baby and took your hand to lead you to your guys’ favorite 4am drunk-food place. You both knew that he initially just wanted to yank you a bit in the direction you had to go yet you kept walking hands interlocked up until you got to the food place. It just felt so natural that none of you wanted to let go, so you kept it that way for a few moments longer.

You two kept chatting a bit while enjoying your food. For the few other people in the restaurant you two just looked like a regular couple acting all cute together, feeding each other and giggling while still ordering a few drinks. The owner of the restaurant actually thought you two were so cute that she gave you another soju-bottle for free, “For the lovebirds” she said as she put a the bottle down and winked at you.

You looked at each other with big eyes and you started to giggle since you were still pretty drunk. You took the soju with you and left the restaurant after paying. You were not ready to leave one another yet but you remember that Sammy had that great view from his apartment rooftop so you went there, on the way your hands found each other again and you just walked in silence, enjoying each other’s company.

You set up everything and settled down on the roof with your soju and a blanket just starring into nothing. Soon the two of you were cuddled up listening to each other’s breath.

You sighed “I missed this, you know?”

“Missed what?” he tried playing dumb

“This.. you… us..” you mumbled into his chest trying to hide your blushing

“Me too” he said while running his hands through your hair.

You lifted your head to look at him in the dim light just taking in his features bit by bit. He just smiled at you, slowly closing his eyes, like a cat would do. Carefully you sat up a bit and firmly pressed your lips on his. He smiled into the kiss. It was a very sweet delicate kiss, maybe even innocent, savoring every little moment of a innocent yet so powerful love. You two dragged the kiss as long as your lungs would allow it, after that you quickly nuzzled your head into his warm chest again.

“We should head inside it’s really getting cold and I don’t want you to get sick…” he softly whispered

You nodded and you packed your things to move into the apartment. It was so much warmer and just as cozy as you remembered it. You let out a yawn, stretching your body, Sammy saw his chance and wrapped his arms around you from behind burring his head in your neck. “Tired?” he asked softly.

“yeah… a bit…”

“then let’s go to bed then, shall we?” he asked while already heading towards the bedroom. He gave you his favorite shirt and shorts to sleep in, knowing you would have asked for them sooner or later, also he loved the way they looked on you. You excused yourself to the bathroom to change.

Once you locked the door behind you, you started to freak out silently a bit but on the other hand, everything just felt so right, Your bodies and minds just fit perfectly together and you were kind of mad at yourself for wanting to cut this awesome connection after it got a bit more serious. You washed you face, changed into the clothes he gave you and took a deep breath before heading back to the bedroom.

Sammy was already all cuddled up and his room looked even more comfortable with the delicate fairy-lights you gifted him last Christmas. You crawled next to him getting comfortable. He gave you another soft kiss, but you wanted more. You started to intensify it to which he gave in, you were hungry for him the whole night already so you were more than eager letting your hand slowly travel over his body an to the hem of his boxers but suddenly he grabbed your hand. A bit perplex you broke the kiss and looked at him confused.

“did... did I do something wrong?” you asked quietly “Do you not want to?”

“you didn’t do anything wrong y/n…” he gave you a peck “It’s just, the last time we did it too quickly and lost each other for a few months… And I don’t want to lose you… this... us again... is… is it okay if we just fall asleep in each other’s arms for now?”

You started to tear up a bit at his words, this was the first time he actually told you how he really felt -probably a bit because of the alcohol too but you didn’t mind that- and it made you realize how you felt as well, so you nodded stealing one last kiss before cuddling up with him and slowly drifting of to sleep while listening to his heartbeat.

~To be continued~

[theggning]

@jeannettegray

I do! It is quite bit jankier than FO4 and even New Vegas (which introduced some quality-of-life improvements that Bethesda would end up keeping, such as sighted guns) but not unplayably so, it just takes some getting used to. It's quite a bit more pure RPG than FO4 and still utilizes the skill point system, which is utilized in interesting ways, and it has a lot of creative problem solving that is far less present in FO4 (and admittedly, something I miss in that game.)

Like for an example, very early in the game when you head into the town of Megaton, you will learn that the town was constructed around the remains of a plane crash, and at the center of the crater is a big, unexploded nuclear warhead- that is live and active and could theoretically blow at any time. If you mention this to the sheriff, he says nobody in town is skilled enough to disarm it, but he would compensate you if you would. Meanwhile, a shady agent offers you money to blow up the bomb and destroy the town (a cartoonishly evil and kind of stupid choice, imho, but you get a lot of different options on how to deal with this next, based on the skills and perks you have chosen:

- if you have 25 Explosives skill (not difficult to get, even early game) you can disarm the bomb, and are rewarded with caps and a free house.

- if you are female and have the Black Widow perk, you can seduce the shady agent and he will fall instantly in love with you, and you use your wiles to convince him to talk his boss out of blowing up the town (he then sends you creepy love letters.)

- if you alert the sheriff to the agent's presence, he will go confront the agent, who will then murder the sheriff- unless you're fast or strong enough to stop him mid-attempt.

- you can go speak to the agent's boss, a shitty rich guy, and blow up the bomb for what is in essence a stupidly low amount of money to lose an entire town full of NPCs and a free house

- you can speech check most of these people to get a higher reward from them.

- you can also just do nothing, or wait til a later time when you have the skills you want for the quest ending you prefer.

The game is full of quests where you get a lot of fun and interesting choices for how to resolve them, and you often get rewarded for having high skills in certain areas. (Having high Perception and Intelligence has already netted me several unique dialogue prompts, and I know for sure high Medicine skill comes in handy later.)

The graphics are certainly aged, the environment of the Capital Wasteland is bleak and butt ugly to look at, and the (only briefly obligatory) metro tunnels are the fucking worst, but I think it still holds up if you're a fan of the Fallout world and would enjoy a new adventure as a terrified 19-year-old looking for your dad, Liam Neeson. Also some fun lore tidbits and even characters that got callbacks in FO4 (MacCready most notably, but Dr. Li and Sierra Petrovita too, among others I'm probably forgetting.) Also Three Dog is the best of the series DJs. Yeah, you heard me.

Also if you're playing it on Windows 10 there's a whole fucking compatibility problem that I had to troubleshoot my way through, but it can be done fairly simply. Otherwise, the console versions work just fine if you've still got a 360 or PS3 to play with.

[pear-pies]

Placebo in Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

Words by Jerome Soligny, photos by Carole Epinette

Wonky translation under the cut:

These three did it all. Shot with the QOTSAs and posed with Indo. They survived "Velvet Goldmine" and the Top Bab. They come back after the ordeal of the fourth album. Danger interview: “Jerome, what if you came out?” They ask our charming reporter.

"We do not regret anything"

Everything begins again with "Bulletproof Cupid", a punky instrument that pulls everything off. Then "English Summer Rein", mechanico-depressive spinning punctuated by twisted keyboards, and "Sleeping With Ghosts", the lament which advances while blistering during cooking, confirm the tone. Against all expectations, because you never know how will age the groups that the previous album installed at the Top, Placebo took over. And stuffed it in an iron glove. Further on, "The Bitter End" tumbles through yapping guitars which would stick to the hatches the thickest of the sailors. Be careful, Placebo is on the way out of being one. At the end of the record, Brian Molko, Stefan Olsdal and Steve Hewitt do not even run out of steam. The cows. They drop a "Centerfolds" which frolic like a cynical top under a shower of saving doubts. What augur still other perspectives.

The fourth album: a horror for all who have faced it. Often a stupid trap. Returning from the Gothic directly inherited from the glam of pageantry and from these hasty and harmful certainties which congest the face and the veins, Placebo publishes its first real great disc. Oh, not the marvel of wonders, not the album from the third millennium, but something very strong, compact, tenacious in listening, which proves that the future is indeed there, in front, where the light is most blinding. Calfeucée in their Parisian hotel (the Costes, of course), our three lads do not make the blow of the revelation, of the luminous questioning. Simply, they now think with their heads, a good plan most often Likewise, reality no longer frightens them, and it is probably she who is hiding behind this "Sleeping With Ghosts" which relates the sorrows only for the better. melt into hopes At the moment when rock brings us back to life and when we just want to ask them everything, the Placebo have decided to say everything. Not even in a hurry, they settle down on the couch, ready to talk like never before. Despite new batteries embedded in the carcass, the Panasonic barely a Brian Molko: Hey Jerome, you came to talk to us this time when you had not come to the previous album ...

Rock & Folk: Uh yes but I was there for the first two, that says a lot, right?

Brian Molko: Certainly, I also believe that over time, we finally appreciate the true nature of the problem: we were mainly criticized for the sound of the previous album, which I can understand but, paradoxically, it is the one that brought us to the Top.

R&F: Legitimately, we have the right to expect a lot from the people we love: while "Black Market Music" sounded a bit like a sequel, this new record is all about a renaissance.

Brian Molko: Actually, we were finally able to live a little. After having existed in a small bubble for a very long time, we forced ourselves to take an eight-month break. The album-tour rhythm put us on the sidelines: we no longer had normal contact with anything. We were losing ourselves. We have fully lived the old cliché which claims that we spend the first years of our life writing a first record and six months on the second. It turned out to be very true. We had to get back to the situation of the first album, see friends, go shopping, look at the buildings in our city.

R&F: So the freshness would come from there ...

Brian Molko: Yes, and it was essential spiritually, emotionally and physically.

Steve Hewitt: We had to be in tune with reality again.

Brian Molko: In fact, we find ourselves in a bit of the same state of mind as when we released "Without You I'm Nothing", although "Sleeping With Ghosts" is a lot less gloomy. The heroin has since stopped leaking. In fact, I feel like I've pulled myself out of what I consider my second teenage years, between twenty and thirty. I conquered the self-destruction, exorcised some demons, understood what had happened to me. I held on to what I had learned. As a human being, I am now able to continue living, to try to answer the big questions posed by existence.

R&F: Maybe that's why the melodies are needed this time. It took me four records to get a favorite Placebo track.

The whole group in chorus: Which one?

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want", of course ...

Brian Molko: The most paradoxical is that this song dates from the end of the "Black Market Music" sessions. I was not married at the time, but I was trying to get out of a particularly vicious divorce.just started. Then we wait for the lyrics, which don't arrive, it's rather intriguing. We especially wanted to avoid the big Rican producer side, we needed someone who shakes us up a bit. Jim could do that because he comes from dance and his pedigree is impressive. We have all his records at home, Bjôrk, Massive Attack, Sneaker Pimps and especially DJ Shadow. It is believed that guitar rock can only evolve by incorporating new genres, this is the only way to remain a modern rock band. At home, we practically only listen to hip hop.

R&F: Still, he didn't betray you.

Brian Molko: No because he actually brought out our rock side, which I'm particularly proud of. In fact, because we always wanted to control everything, it was not easy to be forced, to do certain things backwards, to walk on the head. But in truth, that's what we wanted: yes, there was some tension in the studio but we all took advantage of it. The challenge is necessary and it is also valid for the public. We opened up and rediscovered ourselves.

Stefan Olsdal (emerging from his chair): We found ourselves in front of the mirror, at the foot of the wall: someone had to kick our ass.

Brian Molko: Jim was like, "Why are you doing this?" We would answer him: "Because we always do it like that!" He would say: "All the more reason not to do it."

Stefan Olsdal: On the first day, he messed up all the demos, changed the tones, the tempos ...

R&F: Like Brian Eno ...

Steve Hewitt: Yeah, but with a lot more compassion. Eno is a bit (silence) ... We don't really like being told our actions, but at the same time, we are still young, still absorbing. Jim knew how to preserve us while making a modern sound.

R&F: Modern and rock'n'roll at the same time, a characteristic which does not necessarily apply to all the young groups in The which recycle the past gently but are convinced to have found the virus of the AIDS.

Steve Hewitt: Placebo doesn't belong to any current, has nothing to do with fashion.

R&F: You always pose as outsiders.

Brian Molko: It's the only way to survive.

Steve Hewitt: These bands, like The Strokes, play the nostalgia card.

Stefan Olsdal: And what happens next? I would not like to be in their place.

Brian Molko: If you want good New York pop, you better listen to Blondie.

R&F: In 2003, 11 seems that you have abandoned all the androgynous paraphernalia, sexual ambiguity, glam references ...

Brian Molko: I think today everyone knows what there is to know. Our sexual inclinations haven't changed, and we still wear makeup. It is just more expensive and better applied. We are ourselves, in our music and in private. I went through my travelo period (in French in the interview - Editor's note), and I understood that being androgynous was not wearing skirts. It is a way of being on the spiritual plane. It is not an image but a state of mind.

Steve Hewitt: It's like being punk, it's an attitude.

Brian Molko: At the same time, I don't regret any of my eccentricities. I grew up in the spotlight and it all kind of makes me smile.

Stefan Olsdal: People still talk to us about certain outfits or positions, as if it still shocks them.

R&F: Yes, and particularly in France, a particularly homophobic country which bumps heartily on gay artists.

Brian Molko: And you, coincidentally, you still hang out with.

Stefan Olsdal: Jérôme, it's coming out time (laughs) ...

Brian Molko: All that has to change, that all of France becomes gay (laughs)!

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want" precisely, here is a title heavy with meaning. What was the idea behind this song?

Brian Molko: For me, it's a study of the pathological need people have to copulate, the search for meaning in copulation. As if bachelors or monogamists were aliens. As if we were only one when we were two. The song is about the fact that one relationship has destroyed me but I can't help but look for another ... why do I keep coming back to this?

R&F: Wow, we're bathing in philosophy here!

Brian Molko: Yes and it's the same elsewhere in the record: in "Plasticine", I insist on the fact that you have to be yourself above all while asking myself all these questions. Why do we have to do a lot of forbidden things, bad or harmful?

R&F: It's therapy in public.

Brian Molko: At least I find some balance in it. These are not songs about compassion or self-pity. They came out like this because it was vital for me. I am in this privileged situation where I can express myself and the world hears me. Otherwise, I would be really frustrated and I would have suffered a lot more in the last fifteen years.

R&F: Music saved your life.

Brian Molko: Sure.

Steve Hewitt: Everyone: I think we can say that. Without Placebo, we would not be not even alive.

Brian Molko: Spitting it all out is not necessarily the right solution. There are things with which to live. In fact, I've always been afraid to go see a psychiatrist ...

R&F: Yet, listening to you speak earlier, you could have the feeling that Jim Abiss acted a bit like a shrink with you.

Brian Molko: That's right. You could say that.

R&F: At a time when Bush and Blair want to play World War III, what attitude do you adopt? What do you think of these Englishmen who left for Iraq to constitute a human shield?

Brian Molko: Let's say we stand together. We participated in the March for Peace on February 14th with Damon Albarn and 3D from Massive Attack. We were also surprised that so few groups mobilized, which increased our desire to participate tenfold.

R&F: Do you consider that it is the role of the artist to give voice in such circumstances?

Steve Hewitt: Yes, in the sense that we can help with general motivation.

Brian Molko: I'm very interested in seeing if Blair is going to let Bush bomb Iraq with the British present on the soil of the country. If he ever allows that, the consequences will be dire.

R&F: It will only be one more religious war, in the name of oil and money ...

Brian Molko: It seems absurd that we can still fight for that. And curiously, nobody speaks more, or almost, of Bin Laden. Wouldn't it all come from him, by chance, as a huge consequence of September 11? On the other hand, we have such a feeling that Bush wants to finish the job that daddy started. Its image is so bad that it needs at least one war to restore its image.

Steve Hewitt: And reinvigorate its dying economy.

R&F: The method is lamentable, deceitful. Like those employed by the recording industry which claims to be doing well by selling pop in damaged boxes to ignoramuses.

Brian Molko: The ability of this job to ingest people, bribe them and then spit them out is impressive. This is what happened here at Canal +.R&F: Business is the beast.

Brian Molko: All these pre-made artists are young and naff ...

Steve Hewitt: They'll all end up in a labor camp for ex-pop stars.

R&F: Warhol was talking about fifteen minute glory, we're brutally passed to fifteen seconds.

Brian Molko: We should have called them Karaoke idols from the start.

Steve Hewitt: And it only works because of the TV ...

R&F: Who washes the poor, helpless brains.

Steve Hewitt: You can tell how much people want to think less

R&F: And spend less. For many, music should be free: one in five thirteen-year-olds doesn't know that a disc doesn't have to be a computer-burnt puck. Some are flabbergasted when they see a cover for the first time.

Stefan Olsdal: And those who don't buy records put pressure on those who have them to pass them on at all costs, just long enough to copy them.

R&F: Exactly.

Brian Molko: That's why we blame Robbie Williams so much. Scooping 80 million pounds off EMI and then declaring that pirating music is a fantastic thing just makes him want to stick a chunk in his face.

R&F .: And then piracy is not a matter of environment. It's not a suburban thing. There are rich kids who find it normal to burn 80 CDs during their weekend and sometimes sell them to their friends ...

Brian Molko: What do these people believe? That we are there, the face in the stream with a syringe stuck in the arm singing "La Vie En Rose"? And who will pay for our children's school? Not them, anyway. Our mentality is quite different: we always want to buy records from people we love, from our friends. Personally, we are partly out of the woods, but it will be particularly difficult for new groups to make a living from music in five or ten years.

R&F: Come on, we're not going to leave each other on this, a little humor won't hurt anyone. If you were to be banned from any of these three things, which would you choose: making music, making money or making love?

Steve Hewitt (almost tit for tat): I would stop making money, without hesitation. It's because I love music and sex too much. And then, well, you have to choose.

Brian Molko (completely overwhelmed): Oh damn, that's not true. What a dilemma!

R&F: No Brian, that doesn't count, make an effort (laughs).

Brian Molko: Ah, I don't know. And then if. I would stop making money and get on well with someone super rich.

R&F: Or you would be pimp ...

Brian Molko: Yes, that's it. Good plan.

Stefan Olsdal: Stop making love does not mean to stop loving ...

Brian Molko (preparing his shot): And we can always masturbate (general laughter).

Stefan Olsdal: OK then, I would stop making love.

R&F: Okay, it will be written in black and white for all eternity.

Brian Molko: Will we live long enough to regret it? This is the real question.

*COLLECTED BY JEROME SOLIGNY

[Inset, Trash Palace]

Already present on the first album by Trash Palace which he had adorned with his presence one unhealthy recovery of "I Love You, Me No More "in duet with Asia Argento, Brian Molko is coming to re-stack. This time he cosigns directly "The Metric System " with Dimitri Trash Palace Tikovoi, an electro saw boosted to bleeps fundamentals available in two remix and its clip on an enhanced single recently published at Discograph. The result is particularly (d) amazing and sounds good logical, like of Placebo cyber.Placebo in  Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

[argylemnwrites]

Why Are We Still Waiting? - Chapter 3

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe)

Word Count: ~4900

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: A trip to meet the newest Beaumont isn’t off to the greatest start.

Author’s Note: So, since it has been ages since I updated this story, I feel like a quick recap is in order. Drake and Riley are in Cordonia to meet Savannah and Bertrand’s new baby girl, Caroline. They just met Liam’s new girlfriend, Iris, and her innocent questions about their postponed wedding made it clear that Drake is very frustrated by the fact they aren’t married yet. To catch up/jog your memory fully on this series, you can check out the It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment masterlist (link in bio).

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Drake groaned as Riley reached forward to start scanning across the radio stations.

“What?” she asked. He noticed her give a tiny shrug out of the corner of his eye as she leaned back after settling on a Greek Top 40 station.

“I knew it. I swear you pick this one just to annoy me, Liu.” Drake had made the mistake of complaining about this particular station on one of their first trips back to Cordonia, right before she’d gone back to university. It was all over-produced and sugary, and the DJs were just fucking obnoxious. Of course, that last point probably didn’t actually bother Riley, since she couldn’t understand a word they said.

“Maybe I just like this station.” 

Drake glanced over and took in the giant shit-eating grin plastered across her face and just rolled his eyes. “Uh huh, sure. Let’s ignore the fact that this station plays a ton of songs in Greek.”

“I’m just trying to broaden my cultural horizons.”

“Says the woman who refused to watch Parasite because it has subtitles.’”

“If I wanted to read something, I would pick up a book,” she said, but she did lean forward again to flip over to a different station. 

“Thank you,” Drake said, clicking on the turn signal as he switched into the right lane.

“You make it too easy sometimes,” she said, Drake noticing that she shrugged a little out of the corner of his eye. “If you didn’t act like that station was pure torture, I probably wouldn’t enjoy it so much.”

All Drake could do was shake his head. “You know, some people might not be so open about liking something out of spite.”

“No, it’s not spite.” Drake glanced over and raised his eyebrows at that, so Riley elaborated. “Spite is mean-spirited. I know you like my teasing too much for it to be spite.”

“Really.” Drake deadpanned, although he wasn’t able to hold back his grin and fully play along.

“Uh huh. What other explanation is there for you hanging around me after all these years?”

“I can’t think of a single one,” he said, earning him a flick of her fingers against his shoulder.

“Well I guess I will have to keep teasing you then. Otherwise I might have to settle for a guy who would have made me get up before six this morning.”

Drake looked over at her at that. Even after years together, her ability to jump from intensely sarcastic to gently sincere in an instant still amazed him. Last night, Maxwell had called and offered to pick them up from the palace after dropping off Mom and Aunt Leona at the airport, but they had a very early departure time. Drake had turned him down, feeling like it would be a shitty move to force Riley to wake up early on vacation, particularly since she never complained about using her limited vacation days to visit his family. Yet here she was, appreciative of his gesture that cost him nothing.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to spend two hours in the car with Maxwell.”

She let out a laugh at that. “Well, at least I rank as better company in your book.”

“Always, Liu. Always.”

“Seriously though, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Her left hand settled on his shoulder and gave him a little squeeze at that, but she didn’t say anything else, just glanced out the window as Drake turned off the main road and onto the smaller one that led to the Beaumont’s estate. Within a few minutes, they were pulling onto the driveway. As they climbed out of the car, they heard an excited little voice calling from the direction of the estate’s entrance. 

“Uncle Drake!”

Drake closed the driver’s door and pivoted around quickly, crouching down and extending his arms. Bartie ran across the drive and threw his little arms around Drake’s neck, laughing as Drake scooped him up and hugged him tightly. 

“We saw your car diving! I wanted to go out. Say ‘hi’ like Mommy or Daddy. Uncle Maxwell said I had to stay inside. Had to stand still ‘til you stopped,” Bartie rambled off, barely taking time to take a breath. 

“Thought that a little toddler darting in front of the car might not be the best start to your visit,” added Maxwell, strolling over to their car. “Hey, little blossom,” he added as he hugged Riley.

“Oh, you don’t get to just ‘little blossom’ me after you convinced Liam to keep me away!” she chuckled as she gave him a playful shove. “What happened to me being a Beaumont and always welcome here?”

“He told you guys?” Maxwell asked, turning to glance at Drake.

“Of course he did!” Riley said, drawing Maxwell’s attention back to her. She laughed a bit and shook her head before walking around the car to Drake and Bartie. “Hey, Bartie! Wow, you’ve gotten so big!” Drake passed Bartie over to her, watching as she gave him a squeeze, but Bartie started squirming in her arms, clearly wanting to be released from the obligatory hugs.

Riley placed him down, and he turned right back to Drake, grabbing his hand and tugging on it. “Uncle Drake, come see my new playhouse!” he said, attempting to drag Drake along after him as he started moving back towards the estate.

“Hey, my favorite dude, do you remember why Aunt Riley and Uncle Drake are here?” Maxwell said, crouching in front of Bartie. 

Bartie kicked his foot against the driveway before he answered. “Everyone wants to see Caroline. But she’s boring. She doesn’t do anything!”

Drake was trying to figure out the best way to deal with his nephew’s clear jealousy, but Riley stepped forward and bent down next to Maxwell. “I would love to see your playhouse, Bartie.”

“What do you say?” added Maxwell. “Why don’t we show Aunt Riley while Uncle Drake goes to see your mom and dad and sister?”

Bartie was silent for a few moments, but then nodded, grabbing Riley and Maxwell’s hands and heading inside without a glance back. Maxwell chuckled, twisted around, and called out to Drake, “You remember where the nursery is, right?”

Drake nodded and raised a hand in acknowledgment, taking the time to pop the trunk and grab their luggage before venturing inside himself. He went straight upstairs, pausing only to place their bags in their usual room, before heading down the hall, turning to the left and entering the private quarters, making his way to the small room located all the way towards the end of the hallway, the last door on the right.

It seemed like just yesterday he was building a crib in there for Bartie when Savannah was moving in. The room looked much the same, the walls still a pale grey, the furniture all pure white. The layout hadn’t changed much, with the crib placed against the far wall beneath a painting of stars shining over a lake with a squid waving a tentacle in the air, the changing table right next to it, and the dresser next to the rocking chair in the corner. The only thing that looked different, as far as Drake could remember, was the sheet tucked around the crib mattress. Back when this had been Bartie’s room, the sheets were covered in a variety of zoo animals, the only splash of color in the otherwise greyscale nursery. Now, they were a black and white check, much more subdued.

Laying in the center of the crib, wrapped tightly in a light pink blanket, was a sleeping baby. Drake didn’t have a lot of experience with infants, but even he had heard you never wake a sleeping baby, so he stepped further into the room carefully, trying not to make a sound. When he reached the crib, he couldn’t help but stare. This was Caroline. His niece.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, just taking her in, but eventually Savannah’s voice caught his attention.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s a bit creepy to just sneak into someone’s home and watch their child sleep?”

Drake turned his head to look over his shoulder. His sister was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, an eyebrow cocked. “Hey, Sav. Maxwell sent me up here.”

“I should have known,” she said, walking over to join him by the crib, wrapping an arm around his waist as she gave him a half-hug. “I see you’ve met Caroline.”

“She’s beautiful,” Drake said, looking down again at the little baby in the crib, a few fine brown hairs covering her head. His niece. She was so tiny. It was kind of overwhelming, seeing her like this. When he’d met Bartie, it had been such a total shock that he even existed. Plus, he had been so much older than this. “Congratulations.”

“You can pick her up, you know.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to disturb her.”

Savannah let out a few little chuckles. “She is the one who disturbs everyone most of the time. Besides, she’s just about due for a feeding.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, Drake. Just go wash your hands, and then you can hold her.”

And so a minute later, Drake found himself being handed his niece, so small and fragile-seeming. “Is this okay?” he asked, trying to make sure he walked the fine line between being gentle and holding her firmly as he tucked her against his chest.

“You aren’t going to hurt her!” Savannah laughed out.

“I just… I’ve never held a baby this little before. I don’t want to mess this up,” Drake said. Caroline felt so light in his arms. She was blinking, slowly becoming more alert after being shifted from her crib. Her bluish-grey eyes finally seemed to lock on his. “Hey, Caroline,” he said, “I’m your Uncle Drake.” But before he could think of anything else to say, she opened her mouth and let out a piercing wail.

Drake glanced over at Savannah. “What do I do?”

She laughed again. “God, what is Riley going to do with you when it’s your kid? She’s a baby, not an alien. She’s either hungry, sleepy, or has a dirty diaper.” But before she could poke fun at him any further, she reached over and shifted Caroline into her arms. “And since she’s hungry, I’m really the only one who can handle that.”

“Oh, do you want privacy or should I…”

Savannah shrugged. “I use a nursing blanket since Barthelemy walked in on me and made things real awkward.” And with that she settled onto the rocking chair, adjusting her top, positioning Caroline, then tugging a little cover over herself.

“What did Barthelemy do?” Drake asked as he moved to the side wall, leaning against it.

“Just acted real weird about the whole thing, talked to Bert about reminding me how a duchess should comport herself.”

“What a jackass.”

Savannah let out a sigh. “Bertrand was very apologetic when he relayed the message. But using a nursing blanket is not a big deal, and if it makes things easier for Bert with his dad…” She trailed off, staring down at Caroline, reaching under the nursing blanket to adjust something before she spoke again. “Having him around here has not exactly been some big happy family. I don’t know if his illness changed him, or if my memories of him were just fuzzy, but he’s an odd duck.”

Drake glanced over to the doorway. “Uhh, Sav. Not that I care, but the door is wide open and-”

She laughed and shook her head. “He’s at his rehab and physical therapy appointment this morning.”

“Ahh, gotcha. Any more talk of him trying to regain the title of duke?” Back when Barthelemy had returned to the estate, Sav had confided that it seemed like he was hinting that Bertrand should renounce his title and return it to his father. But since their wedding, it had seemed like most of that talk had died.

“No, he and Godfrey laid on the pressure after the honeymoon, but as soon as we announced the pregnancy, he backed off. His new mission seems to be to convince Liam that either Bartie or Caroline should be appointed as heir to the throne, which is crazy to think about, but it keeps him busy, so…” Savannah tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, letting the thought just hang there in the room. 

Drake was bothered by the implications of that statement, but he knew that pressing Savannah on it would not really get him anywhere. As inappropriate and concerning as he found the implication that Savannah and Bertrand weren’t shutting Barthelemy down completely with that shit, he knew voicing his objections now would not solve anything. Discussing this all with Liam would make much more sense. So he just filed the statement away and moved to change the subject.

“Is it easier this time around, knowing what you are doing?”

Savannah smiled before glancing down at Caroline. “I think it’s more that I have a support system. And yes, I know it was my choice to not have one before,” she added before Drake could interject. “I guess in some ways at least I know what to expect, but Caroline is way more cranky than Bartie was at this age. Besides, I don’t think any parent ever really feels like they know what they are doing.”

“Nah, you seem to have it down.”

“It’s just a lot of trial and error. You’ll see when you guys have a baby.”

Drake ran his hand across his jaw, glancing down and watching his toes nudge into the baseboard. “I have a feeling that’s gonna be a while for us.”

“Oh come on! Don’t you want your kids to grow up with their cousins?”

Drake swallowed before taking a breath. “Of course I do.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Well, getting married to start.” Shit. “Not that I think people have to be married to raise a kid or-”

“Relax, Drake,” Savannah said, cutting off his apologetic ramble. “It’s not like Bartie was a planned pregnancy.”

“Neither was Caroline,” he thought, but kept his mouth shut, not wanting to risk offending his sister or make her feel like he was judging her and her family. 

“I know you have an old-fashioned streak-”

“Hey!” Drake interjected, but Savannah just kept on going.

“-but I think you guys should think about having kids soon. You were going to be married by now anyway! And isn’t that the modern, New York thing to do?”

Drake didn’t know where all this was coming from. Why she was so insistent about something that didn’t involve her. But man, he wished she would move on to any other topic of conversation. Because what could he say? That he was ready to be married with kids? That he would have no problem starting a family with Riley tomorrow? He couldn’t share that with his sister, at least not without sharing things about Riley he was pretty confident she would never want Savannah to know.

The fact that she had decided on a birth control option that would last for three years made it pretty clear where her head was at with the whole kid thing. She wasn’t really ready, not by a long shot. And until she was ready, there was really nothing he could do about it. Drake was just going to have to wait until she felt like the time was right, whenever that might be.

Maybe it was just that he was four years older than her. Maybe that’s why he felt so ready to take those next steps when she seemed so unbothered, so willing to just roll along. And to be fair, it’s not like they were ever going to be a couple like Hana and Catherine, who had timelines and life plans and five year goals. But deep down, Drake couldn’t help but wonder why Riley seemed so ambivalent about them getting married and starting a family. Was she unsure about something in their relationship, unsure about something with him?

It’s not that she didn’t want kids ever, as far as he knew. She’d mentioned wanting kids before. And they’d planned that first wedding without issue. But now it seemed like she was stuck. No rush to get married. Not thinking about having kids for years. And Drake didn’t know how to approach the whole topic without seeming like he was demanding things. Putting pressure on her. He was happy. They were happy. It was something his younger self would have never thought possible, and it should definitely be enough. But maybe he was selfish, because there were times where it just didn’t feel like enough.

Maybe it would be helpful to talk to someone about this, but that would feel like violating Riley’s trust. He knew Riley had her therapist she talked to, and he was sure their relationship was a topic of conversation there, but that was different. The therapist wasn’t someone who knew Drake, who was his friend or family. Anyone Drake would feel comfortable talking about this with knew Riley. Knew her well, quite frankly. 

So for now, he was just going to have to keep moving forward. Keep hoping that Riley would start to feel ready soon. And at the moment, that meant sidestepping his sister’s questions and prodding.

“Geez, Sav! We haven’t even been here for an hour, and you are laying it on really thick.”

“Sorry, sorry! I know it’s not my business! If it makes you feel better, it’s not just with you. Kiara also told me I needed to back off when I started asking her about when she and Oliver were going to have kids right after their wedding.”

“Wait, when did Kiara get married?”

“Oh, Drake! At least you have an excuse for not knowing all the news now that you live abroad.” she said, shaking her head. “They eloped maybe… four months ago?”

And then Savannah was off, filling Drake in on tons of gossip he didn’t give two shits about. But it made her happy, and it was a safe topic of conversation, so who was he to complain?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Riley sat crossed legged on the floor in Bartie’s room at a little table, Maxwell seated across from her. Meanwhile, Bartie was hard at work at his toy kitchen set, organizing pieces of plastic food on plates. He wanted to show off and make “lunch” for them. Riley supposed that this was probably a common way for a three and a half year old to want to play, not that she had any such memories from her own childhood. What wasn’t common, she was sure, was the formal table setting Bartie had carefully placed in front of each of them, the perfectly pressed white apron he’d asked Maxwell to help him tie on, or the fact that he was arranging his plastic lettuce, eggs, and meat on actual china.

“Looks excellent, my favorite dude,” said Maxwell as Bartie carefully carried over several plates to the table. “What’s on the menu?”

“Steak tartare with a fresh greens salad,” he said before turning and heading back towards his little kitchen.

“Wait, aren’t you going to join us?” asked Riley, trying to keep from bursting out in laughter at the thought of a preschooler preparing such a meal.

“Aunt Riley, no aprons at the table!” he said his eyes wide as he turned back to face her.

“Yeah, come on Aunt Riley, where are your manners?” Maxwell winked before twisting to look over at Bartie. “You need any help untying your apron there?”

“No, I can do it,” Bartie ground out, tugging on the ties without much luck.

“Okay, well I’m right here if you do need help,” Maxwell responded. Within five seconds, Bartie was back, standing right next to him.

“Thanks, Uncle Maxwell!” he said, happily pulling the apron off and jogging over to hang it up nicely once Maxwell had it untied.

“You’re working hard to maintain your title as best uncle.” Riley said.

“Every time you guys come to visit, he suddenly wants to go fishing and camping instead of having dance parties with me.”

Riley laughed at that. “We’re new and exciting, what can I say.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re the favorite aunt by default.”

“What does default mean?” asked Bartie, plopping down on the floor next to them.

“It means no other choices, dude.”

“Oh,” Bartie said, nodding before picking up his silverware, pretending to cut into the plastic in front of him with surprising coordination.

“So has Uncle Maxwell been hanging out with you a lot since your sister came home?”

Bartie shrugged. “I guess.”

“We’ve definitely been seeing some jealousy,” Maxwell said with a nod. “I kind of thought this might happen, so I made sure to clear my schedule for a handful of weeks around the due date.”

“That was thoughtful of you.”

Maxwell tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Hey, I’m favorite uncle for a reason.”

“Uncle Drake is my favorite,” said Bartie, causing Riley to burst out laughing.

“Dude, that wasn’t the deal! You’re gonna pay for this,” Maxwell said, leaning over and wiggling his fingers. “The squid’s about to attack.” With that, Maxwell started tickling Bartie, triggering wild giggles and Bartie rolling backwards on the floor.

“Bartie!” Bertrand’s voice cut across the room. Riley twisted over to find him standing in the hallway, his eyes scanning over the scene in front of him. “We don’t make our guests sit on the floor, do we?”

“No, Daddy.”

“Bertrand, it’s fine-” Riley started, but he held up a hand, cutting her off.

“What do we say, Bartie?”

“Sorry, Aunt Riley.”

All Riley could do was nod, accepting an apology from a toddler that felt entirely unnecessary.

“Good,” said Bertrand, “Now go wash your hands and get cleaned up for lunch.”

Bartie scampered out of the room, turning to his left in the hallway.

“I offered to play with him, Bertrand.”

“Well, he was told that you were coming to visit Caroline. He should have known better than to monopolize your time.”

Riley opened her mouth, ready to respond, but Maxwell grabbed her wrist and shook his head. 

“How are you, by the way? I apologize for not being there to greet you and Drake.”

“I’m good, Bertrand,” she said as she pushed herself up on her feet, walking over and giving him a loose hug. “Congrats, by the way.”

“Yes, thank you. Drake and Savannah have Caroline in the private lounge if you want to go meet her. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go check and make sure Bartie isn’t making a complete mess in the bathroom.”

And with that, Bertrand was off, following the path down the hallway that his son had just taken.

“Yikes,” said Riley as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Yeah, I know,” replied Maxwell, looping his arm around her shoulders and guiding her in the opposite direction. “That is another reason I made sure I didn’t have any need to be on set or in LA for any writers meetings for a few months.”

“He’s more of a tight ass than ever.”

“I think he’s very anxious because he missed this part of Bartie’s life. The amount of research he did and the number of parenting books he read is insane. But any time any little thing isn’t what he expects, he flips out.”

“What does Savannah think about that?” Riley asked, following Maxwell down the stairs.

“Either she’s too sleep deprived to notice, or she’s just pretending not to see it. I decided to give him two months to settle into things. If he’s still snapping at everyone then, well… I guess I’ll have to stage an intervention or something.”

“Wow. Well at least you’re here to look out for the kid.”

“Yup, figure I can keep things normal-ish for him. Though I will say between watching Bertrand spiral and hearing Caroline’s shrieks, any faint consideration I might have given to parenthood has gone straight out the window.”

Riley laughed, prompting Maxwell to keep going. “I’m serious! I know I told you I was pretty sure I was good being the fun uncle, but these past few weeks have really locked in that decision. Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but Bartie is right - Caroline is boring. And loud. And I am so glad she is not my responsibility.”

All Riley could do was laugh more. “Do you need me to make up an excuse for you so you don’t need to be in the same room with her?”

Maxwell nudged her with his shoulder. “Oh, laugh it up! I don’t have any issues with her. She just confirmed that fatherhood is not for me, no matter how cute she is when she isn’t screaming her head off.”

At that point, they entered the lounge, so Riley dropped any further teasing she had for Maxwell. “Hey, Savannah. Congrats!” she said, walking across the room and giving her a hug.

“Thank you, Riley. It’s so good to see you!” Savannah replied as they pulled apart. Riley moved to sit down next to Drake on the couch, who was cradling a baby against his shoulder.

“This must be Caroline,” she said, watching as Drake tapped his hand against her back lightly.

“Either that or I have a lot of explaining to do,” Drake said, glancing over at her. Riley just smiled and nudged him lightly with her elbow.

“Drake, why don’t you let Riley hold her?” Savannah asked. “She should get to meet her aunt, too.”

“Do you want to?” Drake asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Of course,” said Riley, reaching over and helping him peel the tiny little girl off his chest, nestling her into her own arms.

Caroline was awake, her eyes roving around as Riley shifted back onto the couch more fully to try and get comfortable. After a few seconds, they seemed to settle on Riley’s face. All she could really do was stare back, taking in this child, this baby girl who might not have been planned, but would certainly be loved by so many.

“Yeah, I know I’m a stranger right now. But in a couple of decades, I’ll be the one you come to when you want nightclub recommendations in New York City.”

“Hey, I want in on that invite,” said Maxwell as Savannah let out a few chuckles. Riley glanced over at Drake, expecting him to be rolling his eyes or shaking his head, but instead was caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. He was staring at her holding Caroline with such passion, such longing, she felt almost exposed. All she could think to do was drop her eyes back to the baby, not wanting to dwell on what that meant at that moment.

Unfortunately, Savannah must have noticed Drake as well, because she said, “Oh, I see that look. ‘A while’ my ass. I bet you’ll be pregnant by the end of the year.”

Drake let out a sort of sputtering cough at his sister’s comment, but before he could say anything, could so much as get a word out, Riley felt her own mouth opening. Her own response spilled out so glibly, without a second of thought. It was almost like she heard someone else saying the words, even as she knew she was the one speaking.

“Don’t give him any ideas.”

She felt Drake stiffen beside her, saw Maxwell shifting in his seat, and heard Savannah mutter out a little apology, but all of that was just background noise as her brain screamed at her. How could she have been so fucking stupid? What possessed her to say that? Or at least to phrase it like that? There were ways to shut down Savannah’s prying without implying that Drake had baby fever and she wanted no part of it.

The uncomfortable silence in the room was broken as Bertrand and Bartie entered. “Lunch is ready in the dining room,” said Bertrand, gesturing to the door behind him. Bertrand then stepped over to Riley. “I can go put her down,” he said, gesturing at his daughter still in Riley’s arms.

“Oh, sure thing,” said Riley, passing him Caroline before standing up. Savannah, Maxwell, and Bartie had already left the room, but Drake was still seated, his eyes locked on his knee that was bouncing up and down.

“Drake, I-” she started as soon as Bertrand had stepped out, extending her hand to help him to his feet. But Drake ignored the gesture, pushing his hands into the cushions of the couch instead.

“I’m hungry. Let’s just go eat, Riley.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t-.”

“It’s fine, Riley, Really. We can talk later” He nodded at her and started walking towards the door, leaving Riley to follow after him. And more than the brush off, more than his refusal to hold her hand, the fact that he’d not called her ‘Liu’ let her know that she had made a huge fucking mess.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

TRR/TRH: @twinkleallnight @iaminlovewithtrr @mskaneko @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff  

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know  @iplaydrake

ICWAM: @thequeenofpixels @sunnyxdazed @sammie0220​

[talesfromlissom]

A-z sfw for lucio! please ! there is such little content for him!

you're right about Lucio having not alot of content. He's on of my favorite healers, despite the fact that I cannot play him for the life of me without being a heal bot lol

A (Affection) - How affectionate are they? How affectionate are you? When do you guys show affection mainly? He’s extremely affectionate. His hands are all over you whenever they can be. Hugs and soft kisses on your cheeks and forehead are a norm, and something to be expected every time you two see each other. You on the other hand tend to keep your PDA on the downlow. Your affection is mainly reserved for private times. You’re a member of Overwatch, and although he worked with Overwatch once, he’s still technically regarded as a civilian.

B (Breakups) - If they were to break up with you how would they do it? What would their reasons be? He’d probably break up with you by flat out telling you. However, if you did something drastic like cheat on him, he’d write a song about it. Lucio doesn’t like to think about breaking up with you, but his reasons would probably be because you two don’t see eachother often, or because you’re keeping too many secrets from him. You on the other hand, wouldn’t dream of breaking up with Lucio. Although if you had too, you’d probably do it because he’d be safer if you two weren’t together.

C (Cooking) - Who does the cooking? Who's the worst cook? Surprisingly, Lucio does the most cooking. His apartment isn’t very big, unlike most people who think he owns a big one. He actually has a few friends who made it seem like he lives in a mansion, but in reality he lives in a small apartment in Rio that he enjoys very much. You’re the worst cook. You’ve burnt noodles, caught the kitchen on fire more than once. Lucio has refused to let you into the kitchen unless your taste testing.

D (Driver) - Who's the best driver? The getaway driver? You’re the best driver, Lucio didn’t own a car when he was younger. You’re also the getaway driver because of various reasons.

E (Encounter) - How did you two first meet? You two first met when Lucio called for Overwatch during an Null Sector attack. You didn’t travel with the original team, but you had told Winston that you’d meet up with them. You stayed behind on the ship when the ramp was destroyed. Using your teleportation abilities, you and Lucio got out safely.

F (First Kiss) - When was their first kiss? What was it like? Where was it? Surprisingly, you guys didn’t have the usual ‘first kiss’ and then started dating. It was backwards. But it was a date you two went on.

G (Giggle) - How do they laugh? How do you laugh? How do you make eachother laugh? Lucio’s laugh tends to be very loud and genuine. He laughs at alot of things. There was one instance that includes chocolate cake batter and whenever he sees a chocolate cake, or chocolate in general he loses it.

H (Hobbies) - What kind of hobbies do you two do together? You two like music. Lucio makes music, and as you used to be a music teacher, you listen to his tracks and help him improve them. Otherwise, the two of you enjoy going out and playing soccer with the local kids.

I (I Love You) - How often do they say 'ILY'? When was the first time they said it? You two say you love each other quite often. It’s more along the lines of saying ‘I love you’ between playful kisses. But the more genuine ones are said behind closed doors. The first time he said it was when you two went on a mission and had to lay low in a motel room. The lights flickering above you, with you bleeding out before him. He was certain you wouldn’t survive as his tech had stopped working about an hour ago. He said it in a spur of the moment, afraid of you dying.

J (Jokester) - Do you pull pranks on each other? How many inside jokes do you two have? How playful is your relationship? You two pull pranks on eachother pretty often. But they’re not really ‘pranks’ its more like, ‘ha ha. You know how I said I was going to the store to get fruit? Well jokes on you I got fruit, and your favorite ice cream. #epicprank’. You two have alot of inside jokes, as your relationship tends to be pretty playful. Most of them last for a month or two before they aren’t that funny anymore. Minus the chocolate cake joke, that will probably last until you’re old.

K (Kiss) - How do you two kiss? It varies, some are short. Others are breathy.

L (Little Ones) - How are they around children? Do they want children? How many? Names? Lucio is great around children, young or old. He isn’t sure if he wants kids; however, he already gets stressed with how much publicity he gets from being a DJ, and how difficult it is for him to see you without cameras in his face. If he were to have children, he’d probably have 2. As for names he doesn’t care.

M (Mornings) - How are they in the morning? He’s almost like a lazy cat. You can tell he’s awake because he turns to place his forehead against your chest, or your own. This little fiend refuses to wake up by himself, so he will poke you until you wake up.

N (Nights) How are they at night? He absolutely crashes at night. He steals all the blankets, your shirts, and hoodies are convinstated, even if you’re wearing them he somehow manages to convince you to take them off. He goes to bed earlier than you most of the time, as he prides himself with having a good sleeping schedule. He sprawls out like a cat in the sun until you move him around so you have at least some of the bed to sleep on.

O (Oh The Names) - Any nicknames? Pet names? You don’t have any nicknames for him other than ‘Lu’, but Lucio is the exact opposite. He has pet names that range from american ones like babe, and honey. Other times he uses xuxuzinho (sweet pumpkin), or coração (heart), which seem to stick the most.

Q (Query) How much do they remember about you? Is it the little things, like your favorite flavor of ice cream? Or is it big things like important holidays for you or dates? He remembers everything about you. Your favorite tea brand, types of music, ideal dates, etc. Everything. He has it written down somewhere, because he does tend to forget most of it due to his busy job and constantly on the go lifestyle.

R (Remember Me) - What's their favorite memory of you? His favorite memory is when he came home early and found you dancing in the house, vacuuming and pretending to sing to a song. It was one of his songs as well, and he started singing along and laughed when your faced flushed so red.

S (Strengths) - What's the strongest part of your relationship? The strongest part of your relationship is your dedication to eachother. It doesn’t matter where you two are, even if you end up breaking up with each other, you’d still have each other's back through thick and thin.

T (Tall) - How tall are they compared to you, or how short are they compared to you? God, Lucio is so much smaller than you, only at 5’’3, versus your whopping 6’’0. It’s great.

U (Unity) How do they feel about PDA? What is their main type of love language? What's yours? Lucio loves PDA. It makes him laugh when he makes people uncomfortable because of it. Lucio’s main type of love language would probably be words of affirmation, and quality time. Your’s is gift giving and acts of service.

V (Vanity) - How concerned are they about their looks? How concerned are they about yours? Lucio is only slightly concerned about his looks. He’s constantly in the eye of the public. He’s slightly concerned about yours as well, don’t take it as wrong, but he just wants you to look nice. Despite the fact that you look good in everything….and nothing.

W (Weaknesses) - What is the weakest point in your relationship? You being in Overwatch, and him being a civilian technically. As Overwatch is becoming larger and more involved in government similar to the way it was before, you cannot tell him everything about Overwatch. He gets angry at first, but understands, if Talon or other organizations find out about him knowing secrets about Overwatch, he could be in alot more danger than he’s ever known. Needless to say, that anger returns when he knows that he can handle himself and broke into an omnic ship and survives.

X (Xtra) - An extra headcanon. Lucio loves the piano. It’s much softer sounding than some of his more popular tracks that he is recognized for.

Y (Yucky) - What is the one thing they don't like about you? As stated before, he doesn’t like how secretive you can be when it comes to your job, and how you’re gone for a long time. Sometimes he can’t even contact you during that time.

Z (Zaney) - How do they act when they're drunk around you? The reckless drunk. Lucio is very smart and is able to come up with plans on the dot. The thing is, he often goes through this plan multiple times to make sure there’s no flaws in it. When he’s drunk however, that second step is completely skipped, so you end up with all these crazy shenanigans he tries to pull. Thankfully, he’s easy to convince not to do them.

[ravenadottir]

kassam quarantine headcanons

did someone ask for these? no. kassam just lives in my head a lot. from time to time a situation occurs and i think “what would kassam do?”

so here are my headcanons for our favorite prickly dj:

this is the perfect opportunity to bring his girl to new castle. her occupation is not gonna suffer any consequences if she goes to live with him during quarantine.

he’s the type that makes space in each room of his -place for her stuff. in the bedroom? a dresser. in the bathroom? half of the vanity. in the living room? half of the tv rack. he’s very methodic about space and has no problem making room for her

i don’t reckon he’s picking up a lot of new hobbies, but i do think he might try cooking with his girl. it was fun back at the villa, and maybe that will bring them closer

he’s going live on social media platforms like youtube, reddit and instagram, and playing music at least once a week

in my head, kassam has a home studio, so i believe he’s been producing more than never, and having a great time by not leaving his house! he does miss the tours, but not the process that leads to it.

i don’t know why i have this imagery, but i think people on instagram ask kassam to do reactions to the villa episodes, A LOT! and that’s just so funny to me, because he would argue “i don’t emote like most people, so i don’t know what you’re all chuffed about!” and that’s exactly why!

excited to teach his girl if she’s not familiar with arrangements and music in general

out of nowhere, on a wednesday afternoon, after his girl’s shift, a date will be waiting in the living room. not your usual friday night, since he likes to surprise a girl at all times.

i believe kassam likes to set the mood with lights, and now every room of the apartment will have different settings. romantic and relaxing for the bathroom, relaxing and sexy for the living room, and so it goes

he’s not so keen on games, but that might be the start of it for him, especially if his girl likes it. video, board, cards, you name it.

as he evolves in the videogames, i can see him buting heads with henrik and gary while playing online. that’s the time you’ll see the most sarcasm dripping!

he exercises daily, we can argue it’s canon, due to his “easy” challenge back in casa amor, but i don’t see him as the gym type, and even if he’s a member in one, he’s assembling a space in his apartment for this time. “oh, what a shame, now i won’t have anyone badgering me with useless conversation and unfunny anecdotes”.

i believe kassam’s biggest pride, even out of canon, it’s his hair. it’s the only thing he truly cares regarding appearance, and i reckon he already knows how to cut it at home, and do an excellent fade. he does own a vanity full of products and different buzz cutters.

he’ll be trimming his girl’s hair, and not the other way around. not because she doesn’t know how, but because he wants to show off a little.

on that hairy note, i believe he’ll let his beard grow. ain’t that a goddamn vision for all of us?? nothing too big and think, but he’ll slowly experiment with a light stubble and move from there. i do see him as the maniacal clean face type, but if he doesn’t do this on quarantine, when will he ever have this opportunity again?

also, i do think kassam would be the type that would do a twitch stream of a new tattoo, and donate the money to a good cause, like BLM.

no one can convince me otherwise. kassam is a cat person and he’ll adopt a couple. periodt. i cannot for the life of me see him with a dog. even a quieter type. 

i mentioned this before, in his story, back in february, but he writes a couple of songs for his girlfriend. melodies that ringed in his head since the first time he saw her

he’s not the touchy feely type, but he’ll open up more as time goes by. he doesn’t have a lot of insecurities, but i believe he goes to therapy on a weekly basis. he might talk it our to his girl when they’re closer.

i cannot see kassam with kids on this phase, or even talking about it. bobby, gary and noah might have lactating stains on their shirts, but kassam, i believe, doesn’t have the urge of discussing it yet. it might get a bit awkward.

he’s not built for binge-watching or marathons. but one thing he loves and can do for hours is to hang out, quietly. if you have work to do, he can just sit there, reading something or scrolling down his phone. he enjoys calm time with you.

OR listening to music while telling each other stories from the past. his favorite genre is the crazy ones you have during school that involves friends getting wasted.

if his girl doesn’t know a thing about the french language, and wants to learn, he’ll be happy to teach. starting off with dirty expressions, moving on to the sexy ones, then the bad words. in that order.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @bnhamoonsunzine! I wanted to do something soft after the festival arc.

…

…

…

…

Sprawled on the ground, Kaminari woke up to a pounding in his head and a stiff back. He lay still, staring at the cloudy night sky, feeling an unfamiliar weight across his waist. His sides were warm. This was not his bed. Actually, this was not a bed at all, this was the sandy beach and it was a big mistake to sleep like this. Looking to his left, he groaned as he saw Izuku’s feet next to him. That would mean…Kaminari looked down and groaned again. Kirishima’s arm was hanging limply over his waist, his friend lying spread out as though to cover the most space. Maybe it was a manly thing in his eyes but it was a disappointment in Kaminari’s.

Slowly, he slowly examined his surroundings. Lying prone around him were the rest of his classmates: some on the chairs, some on the ground like him. A handful had managed to make it back to tents the teachers had set up. Around them were streamers, plastic cups, and cake crumbs, the remnants of their afterparty. After having the world’s best culture fair, with the most rocking band, they’d all celebrated. And maybe over-celebrated—Kaminari had never seen Iida loosen up and dance like he had and he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to see it again.

He wasn’t sure how they managed to convince the teachers to let them have a beach party. Maybe it was because it was November and no one was there anyways. Or maybe they needed a break too; they’d been cooped up inside of their school for so long. Either way, he was glad to finally take a break from it all: the villains, the fights, the homework. Kaminari closed his eyes, listening to the waves as they gently lapped the shore.

Now that he was thinking about it, he was thirsty. And hot. Definitely hot, his friends were like heaters next to him. Carefully, he picked up Kirishima’s hand and tossed it off. Fortunately, the big lug was as dense in his sleep as he was awake and just mumbled something unintelligible as he rolled over. Kaminari sighed with relief. So far so good. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet. Now he just had to make it through the obstacle course of his friends and he could find something in the cooler. Hell, he could even sleep in his sleeping bag after this; the sky above didn’t look like it was going to be day anytime soon.

As he lowered his eyes, he noticed a figure further down the beach, by the pier: Jirou’s. Forgetting all about his thirst, he quietly wandered toward her, carefully dodging his classmates and the trash they’d left behind. Despite it being November, the air was still warm. A breeze ruffled through his hair, carrying with it the quiet notes of Jirou’s guitar. Now that he was closer, he could see her holding her instrument, strumming it every now and then as she cleaned it and tightened the strings. Padding over, he asked, “You really love that, huh?”

“Wha—?” Immediately, Jirou’s earjacks tangled around his feet and he tripped. He cried as he hit the wooden pier and she looked at him in surprise. “Oh, it’s you—don’t surprise me like that!”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he groaned, rubbing his chin as he sat up. Hopefully, nothing was bleeding. “You should have been paying more attention.”

“And you should have reacted quicker,” Jirou snapped back, her ears red. No doubt it was embarrassment for what had just happened. She’d never been one for apologizing, a trait she shared with Bakugou. “What’re you doing here?”

“I saw you.” Kaminari sat down near her, looking curiously at her guitar. It was a different one than the one they’d used for the band, a big wooden one that didn’t look anything at all like that electric monster. Faintly, he remembered her bringing it down for the party. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I dunno, just felt like playing something. And I wanted to clean it up from all the soda you kept splashing on it.” Jirou patted the guitar, smiling.

“You had to do that all the way here?” he asked, raising a brow. The only thing the pier had going for it was the lamp posts behind him, bathing them both in a pool of light. While there wasn’t much sand here, there was a little. If there was one guarantee about sand, it was this: it got everywhere. “What about your tent?”

“…right. I could have done it there.” Jirou slapped her forehead. She started to stand up. “I’ll go, don’t want to wake anyone else up.”

Immediately, he latched onto her wrist, preventing her from getting up. When she looked at him, perplexed, he shook his head, letting go of her arm. “You didn’t wake me. And it’s nice here. So, stay?”

It was the least eloquent he’d felt his whole life but she stayed put anyways. “It is nice out,” she agreed. That was Jirou-nese for ‘I want to stay’. He was starting to get a read on her, get a hang of the strange ways she acted.

“You were great today.” Crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back into it. “I can’t believe you can play so many instruments and sing—you should be in a band or something.”

“Or something,” she echoed, going back to adjusting her guitar. Her eyes remained strained on the knobs even as she answered. “My parents are musicians, actually.”

“Really?” Then again, considering her bedroom, he could believe it. Either that or she was a music nut. Or both. Definitely both.

“Yeah, but I want to do something more…heroic. Help more people.” Jirou strummed her guitar again, her lithe fingers dancing on the chords. “I can always sing after.”

If he had that much talent and a chance at a cushy life, would he have made the same decision? Probably not. Half of the reason he came here was because he didn’t really have any other plans. “That’s amazing.”

Looking embarrassed, Jirou shook her head. “Not really.”

She always did that. Putting herself down, acting like her talents were nothing—it was one thing to be humble, it was another to pretend she had no skills whatsoever. Kaminari frowned. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” She blinked, staring at him blankly.

“You always make it sound like it’s no big deal, but it is.” He moved, ignoring her surprised intake of air as he sat next to her. Leaning close, he glared. “Take credit for what you do. It’s amazing. You’re amazing. Stop pretending otherwise.”

“I…” She swallowed, scooching back a smidge. “I guess you’re right.” Tucking her hair behind her ear, she grinned. “I am good at music.”

“Yeah, you are!” He agreed, smiling broadly back. “You’re amazing, good at music, heroic—”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” She laughed, embarrassed.

“And cute,” he added with a wink.

Jirou glared at him, flushing. “Ok, enough with the teasing.”

He wasn’t. The blush on her cheeks only made her cuter, but Kaminari had enough wits about him to know better than to say that. She’d probably punch him and he didn’t want to ruin the mood. Glancing at her guitar, he changed the topic. “So you don’t only play rock?”

Eyeing him suspiciously, she nodded. “Yeah. I like rock the best but my parents taught me different styles and how to mix them.”

“So you’re like a DJ?” he guessed.

Her withering glare told him otherwise. “No, that’s a different skill entirely.” When he fell silent with a sheepish look, she sighed. “It’s more like…uh, how’s this.”

Jirou started strumming her guitar, a familiar sound he recognized as Born to be Wild. Only…only different. Maybe it was the guitar itself, the strings softening the sound. Occasionally the notes didn’t sound quite right, like Jirou had tweaked them, plucking them from the song and rearranging them. It became a song he knew and didn’t know. After playing half the song, she stopped and looked at him, her eyes shining. “See?”

If she had been cute before, she was downright beautiful now. Kaminari swallowed, barely able to nod. His neck felt hot, his palms sweaty, and just like the song, he felt different. Like she’d plucked his emotions and rearranged them. Now he was the one who couldn’t look at her. “Do you know any others?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Her eyes drifted off him and he breathed in relief as she focused on her guitar. Still excited, she jumped from song to song, rearranging melodies as easy as counting to three. “What about this one?”

Kaminari looked up at the stars, listening. His eyes started to slide shut. It was strange, despite them being rock songs, they felt like a lullaby. Head heavy, he started to lean to the side. Falling on Jirou’s shoulder, he felt her stiffen before sighing. Exasperated, he was sure, but hopefully there was some fondness in it too.

Hopefully.

She said something unintelligible and he was asleep before she switched songs.

[demonsfate]

An interesting theory someone posed on Reddit. I find it to be plausible. But honestly, I don’t think this is it. I don’t blame Kazuya, but instead I blame Lars (which I do enjoy Lars mind you, he can’t help what the writers did to Jin) because I’ve seen this pattern happen so many times in media - especially comics.

Jin suffered from Character Assassination™️ Think about it. This was the first game in which they introduced a brand spankin new protagonist since Jin’s debut. Obviously, Jin would be a protag that would easily be compared to Lars - and some fans may not like it, some fans may get into debates on why Jin’s the better protag. What best way to steer clear of this and hype the new MC up? By ruining the old MC. If the old MC is now a horrible, horrible person who lost all his compassion, and tells people to die constantly, and is the result of a million deaths - then no one’s going to like him anymore. Therefore, it’s no competition that Lars is the better MC for a fresh new start. I feel this is even more obvious with the eye-rolling Alisa “death” scene. The infamous one where I keep laughing at how unnecessarily, and uncharacteristically cruel Jin is about a frickin’ robot’s shut down. That scene was BLATANTLY written to get both Lars (our new MC) and the audience furious at Jin and his behavior. It was BLATANTLY trying to write Jin as hateable as they can - especially when the robot girl in question is this perfect waifu material girl who is very sweet, very pastel design, and agrees with everything MC does. It doesn’t matter how it makes no sense for Jin to behave this way, how much the fans know Jin wouldn’t behave this way because this goes against everything his character was, what mattered is Jin’s now an irredeemable asshole and we have a shiny new protagonist. Don’t think too much about it.

The only reason why they made Jin a “plot twist” anti-hero(? if you can even call him that) is because they realized they already did this shit with Kazuya. And Jin in this game was already far too much like Kazuya. Therefore, it makes him a little different. A little more “surprising.” (Except with Jin, it wasn’t surprising at all when the writing is pulled out of their asses and it falls apart once you really start analyzing Jin and what the character is supposed to be)

Character assassination is a common ploy and marketing trick by companies when it comes to media - a way to either trick the audience into loving a Brand New Character, or to get rid of a character they simply got bored of / no longer like. As I said above, it happens so often in comics, but it can happen to any long ongoing story regardless what type of media it is.

Of course, it’s safe to say they’ve realized their mistakes. While Jin was absent in TK7 for the most part, he was set up to be the main protagonist again in TK8, and many of his more antagonistic intros/win animations were removed in TK7. And Harada, recently, has even acknowledged that yeah, he noticed how most of the fans didn’t like Jin being an “almost” villain.

Now I don’t know if this is it or not - I could even go as far to say it is both, to make Jin feel more like Kazuya so they can get their sweet, sweet mishima asshole money because Heihachi and Kazuya do so well, and to also hype up new MC at the same time. But I strongly believe it was to hype up the new MCs (Alisa, and especially Lars) It just makes the most sense when you think about it.

[fanfictiondotmess]

The pulsating sound of music made conversation hard, but Kaito had decided to relent and take a seat at a booth with the reluctant soon-to-be detective who had finally agreed to come out to a club. It’s important for a man to get out and de-stress once in a while, and though a good workout was the best for that, dancing was another way to shake off the pressure of the daily grind. Hopefully Shuichi would learn that sooner rather than later.

“So! Pretty cool, huh?” Kaito asked dropping on to one of the cushy seats of the booth. With a laugh drowned out by music, Shuichi sat on the other side. “What? What’re you laughing at?” He asked, raising a hand to signal to a server that the two were ready for a drink.

“Nothing.” Shuichi shook his head and looked back out toward the dance floor.

“You’re making fun of my dancing, aren’t you?” Kaito asked, shrugging in a self-admitted defeat. “Can’t be perfect at everything, but a real man can admit that and still have fun. Remember that.” He sat back in his seat, still grinning.

“Right, Kaito.” Shuichi agreed. There was a small lull in music as one DJ passed it off to the other and some generic- but probably quite popular by club standards- song played while the new guy set up some equipment that the other DJ hadn’t had. Perfect timing for the server to swing by.

“What can I get for you boys?” A middle-aged woman asked. She had a warm smile despite the bags under her eyes.

“We’ll have whiskey. Straight.” Kaito answered immediately.

“He’ll have whiskey. I’ll have a blue Hawaiian.” Shuichi interjected, earning a laugh from the server. She scribbled something down on her notepad and leaned in a bit, checking to make sure that both were wearing wristbands for those old enough to drink. She gave a nod of approval.

“Our kitchen will be closing soon. This’ll be your last chance to order something to eat.”

“Thanks! I’d hate if my sidekick here missed out on the fries here. Two orders!” Kaito exclaimed. The server continued to smile as she looked to Shuichi, giving him a cue to speak his order if he wanted one. He gave a smile in response.

“Alright then. It’ll be out in a minute.”

—-

“Hahaha! Your face!” Kaito doubled over, nearly hitting his head on the table as he laughed.

“Ugh! How can you drink this stuff?” Shuichi asked, fanning himself with his hands. His face was scrunched up in disgust.

“Really puts the hair on your chest, huh?” Kaito accented his statement by downing the rest of the drink. The two had been talking in shouts for well over an hour, conversation becoming more animated with every drink.

“You said you’d try it.” Shuichi said, pushing a blue drink across the table.

“Alright alright. You-“ Kaito stopped in mid-sentence when he felt someone grab his shoulder and shake him. It wasn’t hard or violent or anything. Just unexpected.

“Hey. I’m dizzy.” An unfamiliar voice slurred. As Kaito turned, a small person climbed on to his lap, wrapped an arm around one shoulder, and let his almost limp body fall with a full weight against him.

“Uhh...”

“What the...?” Kaito pushed his back against the booth, trying to put some space between himself and the purple-haired stranger. It didn’t accomplish much.

“Is this your friend, Kaito?” Shuichi asked, eyes wide in surprise and confusion.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Kaito glanced toward the dance floor for any hint of an identity. Needless to say, the mass of people bobbing and swaying didn’t give him much to go off of. To his relief, a group of three men approached after not too long.

“That’s our friend. Can’t handle his liquor for shit.” A man with uneven patches of facial hair explained. “I’ll take him off your hands.”

“Thanks-“

“What’s his name?” Shuichi asked, putting a hand out quickly to stop the advance of the man. Kaito and the man both looked at Shuichi.

“I don’t think that’s really important right now, Shuichi.” Kaito said.

“Yeah.” The man agreed with haste.

“It is. What is his name?” Shuichi asked again. “Give me his wallet.” He asked, rising from his seat.

“Alright.” Kaito said, uncertainty clear in his voice.

“Uhhh, Kazuki.” One of the other three spoke. The third remain silent, crossing his arms over his chest in a sign of hostility.

“Come on. You can give me your number and I’ll have him call you if you’re that interested. We need to get going.” The first man spoke and took a step closer. This time, Shuichi put himself entirely between himself and the other three.

“That’s not his name.” Shuichi stated.

“What’s up, man?” Kaito asked, ready to be rid of the strange trio and the obviously intoxicated fourth.

“Don’t you find it strange that they’d have spent the entire night with him but don’t know his name?” Shuichi explained.

“We’re newly acquainted. We met last week. I probably wrote his name down wrong when he gave me his number. Clubs are loud.” The second man explained, not missing a beat.

“Alright. Then call him. Call his phone.” Shuichi ordered. By then, Kaito had gotten wind of what was going on. He wrapped one arm around the male, protecting him from being grabbed away and freed his other arm, ready to jump to his feet on the drop of a dime.

“This is stupid. Just hand him over. It’s late.” The first man spoke while Shuichi and the second man stared each other down.

“Yeah? Then all three of you hand me your ID’s right now.” Kaito demanded.

“Fine.” The second spoke. The three all started pulling out their ID’s when a female voice interrupted.

“Are you all together?” The server from earlier asked.

“No.” Kaito and Shuichi answered in unison.

“Butt out, lady.” The third man said, his voice just as hostile as his demeanor. The woman seemed unbothered, almost like she hadn’t even heard the man speak.

“Excuse me, but did he come with these three?” Shuichi asked.

“Hm? Oh no. He’s here all the time, but these three just arrived. Is there a problem?” She asked.

“No.” The third man spoke. “We’re leaving. You fags can-“

“Hey! We don’t tolerate that kind of language here.” The server spoke over the remainder of the man’s sentence. The group retreated hastily with the server on their heels.

“Good call, bro.” Kaito complimented Shuichi as he returned to his seat. “Man! That was so cool! You didn’t even waver!”

“My hands are shaking.” Shuichi admitted and held his hands out as proof.

“That’s even cooler. You were scared but stuck to your guns. Looks like I’m rubbing off on you!” Kaito said, relaxing into his seat. Shuichi scratched the back of his head and cast his gaze to the side, a look of embarrassment clear on his face.

“Anyway, what are we going to do about him?” Shuichi asked, gesturing to the still unconscious male.

“Maybe the waitress can take him- nah. I’m not gonna push anything else off on her. She got rid of those guys for us already.”

“True.”

“Not that we needed her help. We could’ve taken ‘em down with our hands tied behind our backs!”

“Whatever you say, Kaito.” Shuichi put a hand to his face, not caring to dispute the other on this. For all he knew, he’d find the guys in the parking lot and challenge them to a three-on-one fight just to prove himself. He didn’t even need to be drunk to do that. “Ah...”

“What’s up?”

“If they are waiting out front...”

“Not a problem!”

“No, it probably would be a problem. After all, we don’t know if they’re armed.” Shuichi reached out for his drink, but paused and pulled his hand back having decided against putting anything else in his body that might come to hold him back later that night.

“There’s a back entrance. I’m sure the waitress’s let us use it. It’s employees only and there’s a cop monitoring the lot.”

“What? Why do you know that?” Shuichi asked.

“Oh yeah! I never got to tell you. This one time there was this guy causing problems. You know, refusing to leave this girl alone. So I kicked his ass. But then his buddies came in. I was ready to go! But then the cops showed up. They couldn’t arrest anyone, but they said I should probably leave through the back when I did so that I wouldn’t get jumped if anyone was waitin’ up on me. I couldn’t convince ‘em otherwise, so I had to.”

“That’s a pretty impressive tale.”

“Yeah. It was cooler in person. It felt like an action movie. And with the music-“

“Hey. You’re loud.” The purple-haired male interrupted, lifting his head a little bit. His eyes were as purple as his hair. “It’s annoying.” He mumbled before closing his eyes and resting his head against Kaito’s chest.

“Hey! I just saved your ass! You could be a little more... ugh. He’s asleep again.” Kaito shook him a few times, but to no avail. “What a brat.”

“What did he say?” Shuichi asked, leaned across the table. He’d been too far away to hear him over the noise of the club.

“He said I’m annoying then fell back asleep.” He answered, his voice bitter. Shuichi stifled a laugh. Before either had a chance to say more, the server returned.

“Hey, boys. Thanks for looking after him. He’s a bit of a troublemaker, but I’d hate to see anything happen to him.”

“Do you know him?” Shuichi asked.

”Well, not really. Every time I talk to him, he tells a different story about where he’s from or what his job is.” She looked the male over and sighed. “It might be best if you leave through the back tonight. Just in case.” And though she had not told them it was time to leave, both understood the hint well enough.

“Gotcha. Let’s go, punk. You’re coming with us tonight.”

“Us?” Shuichi asked.

“You don’t think I’m gonna let my sidekick go off on his own with those three losers prowling around, do you?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“Hell no!”

“Sidekick? I didn’t realize you were a superhero and an astronaut.” The server said, her smile back on her face.

“Ha! I can do it all.” Kaito exclaimed. He readied himself to stand, bracing himself a bit for the struggle of carrying an entire human being along with him, and stood. “Man. I’ve carried sacks of potatoes heavier than you.” Kaito spoke to the unconscious male. “What’s his name anyway, Shuichi?”

“Kokichi.”

“Huh, Kokichi. Well, I sure as hell hope this is the last time I have to deal with you.”

[atamascolily]

Telling, not showing: subversion and missing scenes in TLJ

 I spend a lot of time thinking about The Last Jedi as I work on my fix-it fic, and I’ve finally been able to articulate one thing that’s bugged me ever since I saw it. For me, the film divides very neatly into two parts: one where Rey is anti-Kylo, the other where she is pro-Kylo. The cave scene at the film’s midpoint also marks the transition between the two.

From a storytelling perspective, the problem isn’t that Rey becomes zealously pro-Kylo, although I must admit I am not a fan of this particular evolution in her character. The problem is that the writers use a twist to subvert their audience’s expectations and surprise them with a “Gotcha!”--except that in so doing, they skip over the parts that make that transition emotionally plausible to me.

Let me explain. Up until the cave sequence, Rey’s only interactions with Kylo have been through three unexpected, unwanted conversations via the Force that neither one is controlling or directing (even if Rey/the audience is skeptical of this at first). [The fact that Snoke is setting them up is a different story problem, but that’s not relevant here.] They are all negative.

In their first encounter, Rey straight up shoots him with a blaster. (It doesn’t take.) In the second, she’s standing by the ocean next to the Falcon and she calls him a monster. (Kylo agrees.) In the third, he gives her his own version of what happened the night the temple burned, and tells Rey her parents were junk traders who sold her for drinking money. As a result, Rey heads for the mirror cave to investigate, demanding to see her parents.

The mirror cave sequence is eventually revealed to be a flashback: Rey is wrapped in a blanket next to a fire in one of the stone huts, narrating her experience to someone. We’re supposed to assume it’s Luke (or maybe Chewbacca, although goodness knows the narrative forgets about him until they need someone to fly the Falcon). But then Kylo says, “You’re not alone,” and the camera shows us Kylo, sitting across the fire from Rey. He’s been there the whole time, not Luke. And his relationship with Rey is now radically different from anything else we’ve been presented with before.

The problem is that because of the way this scene is framed--because of the twist--we don’t see the transition from angry/antagonistic!Rey who (correctly) calls Kylo Ren a murderer for killing Han Solo to the calmer, more open Rey who is willing to share personal intimate details about her life and experience with someone who literally tortured her in the last movie. I know, I know, the writers of TLJ would like me to forget that, but I really, really can’t. Sorry. That happened. And, silly me, I think that would impact their relationship. You know. Just a little.

So I don’t see how Rey softens towards Kylo, I only see the end product, when the movie presents it to me as an accomplished fact. And I don’t know about you, but I personally need to see that transition in order to find her “conversion” to the “Kylo Is Good” cult believable.

Unlike JJ Abrams, who never met a Force vision he didn’t want to show the audience in jarring and confusing detail, the writers of TLJ don’t show us what Rey experiences when she and Kylo make contact in the infamous, slow-motion “hand touch” scene that follows. All we know is what Rey tells us, and what she sees is clearly enough to convert her all the way to Team Kylo, because she immediately attacks Luke when he intervenes and orders her to stop. We don’t see what she sees to make her believe that Kylo can be redeemed, that he is trustworthy/reliable/necessary.

You can argue that we did see events from Kylo’s POV in the flashback prior to the mirror cave sequence, but if that’s the case, what makes Rey’s vision in the hand touch different from the information she got then? What changed to make her believe it now when she didn’t believe it then? And if it is different, what makes it different? 

All I know is that Rey jumps from “Kylo is my enemy” to “Kylo can be redeemed and I have to go rescue him right now” and it’s so sudden and jarring, I can’t see how we got from one to the other so quickly. I can see what the writers are trying to do. I can see what they think they’ve done. But what’s presented in the film as it stands just doesn’t work for me. I don’t find it convincing. But the film doesn’t care, the film says, “Okay, wasn’t that great, Luke is pathetic, Rey is awesome, let’s go!” and moves on, assuming that Rey is now so pro-Kylo now she’s willing to drop everything to save a man because she’s convinced everything will be saved if he can turn back to the light.

The unspoken subtext: because Rey doesn’t think she’s good enough to save the world herself? Because she’s lonely and wants a companion/lover/boyfriend? Because she needs a man to complete herself? Unlike Luke, who had a meaningful, if one-sided relationship with the idea of his father before he learned the truth, Rey and Kylo have... nothing outside of negative interactions. (Comforting Rey by saying, “You’re not alone,” doesn’t make up them, and I personally don’t consider it as positive interaction given all other gaslighting that’s been going on in their interactions over the past movie and a half.) Luke has to believe that Vader can be redeemed because otherwise he’s left wondering if he himself can be truly good if he comes from evil; restoring Vader to Anakin is the best way to resolve the cognitive dissonance. Redeeming Kylo.... doesn’t do that for Rey, because her core issue isn’t with Kylo, it’s with her identity, her relationship with her parents, and her struggles with finding her place in the galaxy. None of those things are something that Kylo--redeemed or not--can give her. So why is this suddenly her driving motivation?

And then the rest of the movie happens, and it’s more or less consistent with Rey’s character transformation as pro-Kylo, right up until the point he takes up the mantle of Supreme Leader of the First Order and roundly rejects her overtures. But it rings hollow for me because I don’t see the transformation myself--all of the important bits are deliberately kept off-screen and so I’m just left with this trailing feeling of “Wait? What just happened?”.... which is my default reaction to TLJ in general.

And I think that there are those who would argue that my feelings of bewilderment are proof of this movie’s sophistication, people who like the “gotchas!” and the twists and the “things aren’t as you thought they were” topsy-turvies. I enjoy my plot twists as much as the next person, but they only work for me if they are emotionally plausible and explained, not assumed, and I don’t see any evidence for that when I go back and re-watch the film specifically looking for it.

And this is a recurring theme throughout TLJ; in fact, film’s tagline ought to have been “This is not going to go with the way you think!” It happens with Rey’s relationship with Kylo, it happens with Luke’s death, it happens with Holdo and Poe, it happens with DJ’s betrayal... every relationship, every trope from the previous films and movies is upended. The patricidal Kylo draws the line at killing his mother; the courageous Finn is revealed as a coward; Poe’s daring becomes arrogance. The Resistance is no better than the First Order because they buy their weapons from the same vendors and slaughter innocent bystanders in their struggles, while the New Republic stands by and lets it all happen.

It’s not that there’s no place for nuance, for subversion, for this kind of moral examination in Star Wars. I just wish it was better executed. As it stands, the film comes off to me as a kind of grimdark moralism, with the message that “All your heroes will disappoint you, and there’s no point in trying to accomplish anything because you’re doing it wrong,” and I just... don’t find that uplifting or enjoyable.

TL:DR: my relationship with this movie can be summarized by this handy meme:

[fucking-zawa-sensei]

Opulence - erasermic fanfic

Title: Opulence

Pairing: erasermic

Rating: Explicit

WC: 9k+

Summary: 

When they’re done, when Hizashi is finally, finally laid bare and beautiful across their sheets, still shimmering and sparkling and flushed a delicious pink, the blond is breathing heavily, sweat drops gathering along his hairline and in the ridges of his collarbones. 

He looks absolutely filthy in the best kind of way.

Notes: An incredibly late birthday gift for my friend, @rootistabootus(it has been 4 months girl I am so sorry), who can always make me smile any day, any time, who sends me the best memes, who supports my love for characters she doesn’t even know, who is quite possibly one of the bubbliest, most positive people I have ever met.  Who makes me feel like I can do anything, who inspires me to create and take risks and stop letting fear dictate my life. She’s selfless and one of the hardest workers I have ever met. Her optimism is fierce and strong and makes me think that anything is possible. Thank you for always being there for me and making my life that much brighter. You are an actual piece of sunshine fallen down to Earth and I am happy to have the opportunity to bask in your endless warmth. I love you! 

Read full fic here on AO3

Opulence

It was a normal occurrence, something that happened probably once a month at least.  

Hizashi would come home, door swinging open and caught just before smacking into the opposing wall, the telltale clack of expensive heels giving away that this wasn’t a post-patrol late night entrance. His costume boots sounded the way all heroes’ did: like nothing at all. 

Underground or not, every hero needed to be capable of stealth when the situation called for it. 

With villains who had guns for fingers and steel wire hair, the situation often called for it. 

Hizashi rarely dressed up for the studio either, unless he had a celebrity guest joining him on air. Shouta still remembers the glittery gold suit pants Hizashi wore when his favorite DJ was in town. It was hard to forget, with the way they threw speckles of rainbow light across every surface in their bedroom each time Hizashi opened the closet on the rare nights when Shouta forgot to pull the blinds shut. 

Modeling was something that came with any popular hero’s list of duties, along with interviews, commercials, cameos in movies or TV shows, presentations at hero schools, the list went on. 

The more public you were, the more the public wanted you. 

Hizashi hadn’t gone the way of selling albums or cologne in magazines. Instead, he’d used his agency’s desire to sell his body in print and pixels to gain himself a spot in the fashion industry, a passion he’d had for as long as Shouta had known him. He once saw the young hero-in-training cutting out swatches of colors and patterns and pasting them inside his notebook, erasing any useful study material beneath. 

Not like Hizashi ever needed to study. 

Shouta didn’t quite understand the difference between couture and editorial, but he liked the way Hizashi’s smile looked when he ran his fingers over a sequined body suit or a faux fur shrug. 

He never paid it much mind when his husband came home from a photoshoot, knowing the first place Hizashi would go was the bathroom to wash off any lingering glue and makeup, working gel and temporary dyes out of his hair. He’d spare a glance, curious to see what the other man had been zipped into that night, Hizashi somehow convincing designers to gift him the outfits more often than not, but that was about it. 

Here and there he’d make a comment, a low whistle if it was particularly sexy, something more snide, like, that is not staying here for more than a week, if it was something they both knew Hizashi would never wear outside the house again. Shouta can still remember the great purge of spiked leotards and pointed shoulder jackets they’d been forced to endure last year when they’d run out of room in the closet for their actual clothes. 

Tonight is different.

Tonight, as Shouta casts his eyes over his shoulder from where he is spread out on the couch, half-finished book in his hands, he is unable to turn away. 

The smirk on Hizashi’s face, as he tilts his head up from where he’s bent down, unlacing the long, knee high black stiletto boots hugging his calves, said he hadn’t expected anything less.

Shouta’s eyes can’t pick one thing to focus on, generously grazing over every curve and dip in Hizashi’s body, all deliciously on display. 

Hizashi’s shimmering, gold nails release their hold on the metallic painted laces, his hands running lightly over his knees, and then his fishnet covered thighs, before settling on his hips as the blond straightens into a standing position. He leans back a bit, the way he always did when he was feeling confident and hungry for attention, cocking a hip seductively. 

That grin, accented by glimmering, glitter dusted lips, stays in place. 

Shouta’s gaze is ravaging his husband. 

Tonight, they’d put him in a long sleeved leotard, something Shouta was pretty used to seeing. This time, though, the material was all a shiny, smooth faux leather, with a delectably deep plunge from Hizashi’s collarbones down to just below his navel, his belly button piercing shiny and vibrant like all the other accent pieces to the outfit. Shouta is pretty sure they must have the suit taped over Hizashi’s nipples because there was no way it would be staying in place otherwise. 

He also knows for a fact that they didn’t have Hizashi take out his nipple piercings, as the little ball studs were just as prominently on display as the perky flesh they were slipped through. 

The whole suit looks like it was engineered to be one size too small, hugging Hizashi’s lean frame like a second skin, accentuating the angles of his hips and the deep V between them, the curve of his biceps as he shifts his arms, even his ass, never particularly all that large, looked plump and delicious with the hall light falling over the tight fabric. It left nothing, absolutely nothing, painstakingly nothing, to the imagination. 

Shouta knows before his eyes dare to fall on the space between his husband’s legs that the bulge will be there, but he doesn’t expect Hizashi’s manicured fingers to wind up in his view as well, casually caressing the growing mound as Shouta continues to stare. 

As if this wasn’t enough, as if the thought of his husband walking from their apartment’s parking lot and through the lobby in this incredibly sexual outfit wasn’t already getting Shouta’s throat to dry up, whoever designed this shoot had decided to take it a step further. 

Hizashi had a natural beauty that was impossible to deny, and a sinful ability to turn on the heat when needed. 

So why they’d decided he needed to be slicked up in a shimmery, glittering body oil was beyond Shouta. 

As he finally rips his eyes away from the blond’s fingertips, still stroking over his erection as it pulls against the taute fabric, he sees Hizashi’s chest looking dewy in the same way it did in the moments before orgasm. A fierce, unrelenting heat begins pooling quickly in Shouta’s lower belly. 

“Like what you-”

“Yes,” Shouta cuts off Hizashi’s teasing words, clichéd and useless. Of course he liked what he saw. Who wouldn’t? The whole point of dressing Hizashi up like this was to make any witless fool who picked up the magazine have to resort to using it to cover themselves up. 

Hizashi exhales softly through his nose, one arm coming up, hand moving toward his face, and it all feels like it has slowed down, like each miniscule movement takes one whole rotation of the little hand around the analog clock hanging on the wall next to the kitchen entryway. Shouta watches the way the fabric relentlessly constricts around Hizashi’s body, as his hand runs through his hair, disrupting all those flawlessly smooth locks. They hadn’t styled it in any way tonight, letting it all fly free over the man’s broad shoulders. The golden shine of Hizashi’s hair broke up the predominantly dark outfit nicely. Shouta could see why they’d made the decision, but it certainly isn’t helping the uncomfortable way his jeans are getting tighter by the second. Hizashi lets his hand fall carelessly to his side when he’s done running his fingers through his hair, a few strands getting caught on his lip gloss and his long, fake lashes. Hizashi blinks slowly, eyes downcast, and Shouta doesn’t think it’s possible to get to the bedroom fast enough. 

Judging by the way Hizashi’s next breath brings forth a small shudder as he releases it, he’s feeling the exact same way. 

Shouta isn’t one to rush anything, though. 

He closes his book in one hand, his middle finger still stuck between the pages, and slowly, slowly, leans forward, never breaking eye contact with Hizashi, to set it on the coffee table in front of him. Still bent over, he extracts his finger just as languidly, licking his bottom lip as the digit slips out. Hizashi swallows loud enough for Shouta to hear it from across the room. 

“Are you going to take those boots off anytime soon?” Shouta asks, falling back against the couch, sinking lower into the cushions and lazily letting his legs spread wide. He lets one of his hands fall into his lap, just close enough to his crotch to stroke one finger lazily over his growing erection. He rests his head against the cushioned back and tilts it toward Hizashi, wearing a smirk of his own now. 

Hizashi might have got him going with his outfit, but Shouta knew exactly how to get the other man just as riled up. 

Hizashi hated waiting, and more than that, hated when his pleas for attention went ignored. 

Shouta watches as the corner of his husband’s perfectly painted lips twitches. The blond flips his hair over his shoulder, brushing away the pieces that had stuck to his gloss, before sliding his legs and feet out of the high boots. The fishnet stockings go all the way to his toes, as does the body oil, despite never being in the photographs. 

Hizashi steps up out of the entrance way, one hand still firmly planted on his hip, and begins sauntering across the hardwood floors like he’s gliding across a runway at fashion week. Each and every step pulls at the tight clothing, the light catching every curve, every dip as he moves, one foot in front of the other, bare thighs rubbing against one another, his hardon pressing up against the leotard, his slicked chest rising and falling with heavy, hot breaths. 

The hand not stroking himself through Shouta’s pants is now curled into a fist beside him. Shouta clenches his jaw to stop himself from jumping off the couch as Hizashi finally stops in front of him. The blond’s last step is a powerful stomp that leaves his legs spread wide in a triangle, one hand still firmly planted on his hip, the other comes up to run over his own chest, fingers impossibly sliding beneath the bodysuit. Shouta watches with interest as Hizashi’s fingers make their way to the small bump of his nipple, everything so easily visible despite the fabric. Hizashi’s eyelids slip closed, long lashes caressing his upper cheeks. He throws his head back, letting his mouth pop open, as he pinches and rubs at the sensitive bud. Hizashi lets out a moan that Shouta knows is only half real, is entirely constructed just to get Shouta even more bothered than he already is, but it doesn’t matter. 

His mind doesn’t care if Hizashi’s putting on an act. 

His mind is hardly there anymore, all the blood gone rushing down to Shouta’s crotch the moment his husband had passed through the door. 

So when Hizashi finishes gasping and tilts his head back up to stare down at Shouta, he stops playing games. 

Shouta’s hands latch onto that deep plunged neckline and pull. 

Hizashi comes all too easily, as if he’d planned the whole thing, as if he knew full well he’d end up straddling Shouta’s lap, their clothed cocks rubbing against each other with each and every panting breath they took. 

He probably did. 

Shouta doesn’t particularly care if it’s all going to Hizashi’s plan. He’s too busy fastening his mouth to the blond’s throat, kissing and licking over his adam’s apple, his collar bones, his jawline. 

An annoying little voice in the back of his mind thinks I hope this oil is edible, but it doesn’t stop him from enjoying the soft, supple feeling of Hizashi’s skin beneath his lips. 

It’s made all the more better when one of Hizashi’s hands comes to his chin, pulling his face away from the other man’s collar bone and toward his mouth. He knows when they part he’ll have that glittery lipstick all over his mouth, that they’ll be laughing about it tomorrow morning, still tangled together beneath their sheets. Shouta’s stomach jumps in the same way it does each time he looks outside the school’s windows and across the courtyard to the other side of U.A.’s towering building, where Hizashi and he cross paths during third period, separated by far too many walls and windows and trees, but the other man never failed to send him a large, shining Present Mic grin. 

It was the little things that got Shouta’s heart skipping, which brought a light pink flush to the tips of his ears. 

Right now, though, his whole body was warm, as Hizashi’s tongue drags him back to the present. 

The blond’s thighs tighten around Shouta’s, and Hizashi shifts positions, bringing his chest closer, pressing into Shouta’s, so he can settle his ass over Shouta’s achingly hard cock. He starts grinding on Shouta’s lap, bringing a gasp from his lips. Hizashi hums into their kiss as Shouta’s hands move from the blond’s hips to those two plump cheeks, digging his nails in just hard enough to get a rouse from the other man, but not enough to leave a mark. He never liked bruising Hizashi, though the blond sometimes seemed to enjoy rougher treatment. Shouta didn’t think it was good to have any tender spots on your body when you were a hero, no matter how many times Hizashi insisted no villain was ever going to get close enough to his ass for that to be a problem. 

Hizashi’s hands make their way into his hair, curling around Shouta’s wavy, unruly strands. He pulls, just enough to get Shouta moving back, their lips separating, both gasping, panting for air. Hizashi stares down at him, his hips stilling as he catches his breath. 

“Y-” Hizashi tries to start, but clearly needs another second. He swallows, takes another breath and says, “You ready to cut me out of this thing?” 

Shouta raises an eyebrow, a smirk coming to his lips. 

“Are you saying you can’t get out of that yourself?”

Hizashi rolls his eyes, “I’m trying to be sexy, Sho!”

Shouta doesn’t give in. 

“I think it would be sexy if you did a little strip tease,” he says, squeezing his hands around Hizashi’s ass cheeks, making the other man jump.

“F-fine,” Hizashi says, an additional blush rising to his face atop the lovely glow that had already formed during their kissing. “I don’t know how they packed me in here and I don’t know how to get out.”

Shouta snorts as Hizashi’s eyes dart away, his lips coming dangerously close to a pout, and Shouta’s heart skips. 

Hizashi could come home bare naked and he’d never be more attractive than like this, natural, guard down, no personas or masks or other personalities fighting for attention, just pure Hizashi.

Shouta releases his grip a bit, bringing a hand up Hizashi’s back, rubbing soothingly across the smooth faux-leather. Hizashi’s eyes and mouth soften at the touch, before he leans back in for a less hungry kiss. 

This one feels like it lasts too little, but the message it leaves is far more than just lingering, it’s persistent, unending. 

I love you. 

Hizashi smiles as he pulls back, head titled just enough to the side to make Shouta see him in another time, japanese maple trees framing him, the orange autumn glow shining through their leaves and cascading over Hizashi’s shoulders.

Hizashi’s thumbs brush along Shouta’s scruff covered jaw. 

“Bedroom?” Shouta asks on the tail end of a breath he’d been holding for far too long, bringing his hand to Hizashi’s front, finally dipping into the space left bare by the deep plunge neckline, casually playing with the longest jewel that hangs from Hizashi’s belly button piercing. He turns it over between his thumb and forefinger, watching how the lamp light beside the couch plays in all the little rivets of the small stone. 

“Please,” Hizashi begs, his hands dropping down to Shouta’s shoulders, squeezing at the same time as he jerks his hips forward just enough to get some friction on his aching cock. They let out matching hums of pleasure and the heat in Shouta’s belly becomes more insistent. 

“Then let’s go,” Shouta says, his voice deep. 

For how weak his legs feel right now, he still manages to wrap his arms around Hizashi’s back and lift them both out of the chair, the other man quickly crossing his long legs around Shouta’s waist. Even this feels like too much, too similar to all the times Hizashi and he had pressed one another up against one of the many walls of their home, too distracted by the others’ body to make it anywhere near a horizontal surface. Hizashi had always joked it was a double workout, could be counted as training, but the hungry look the blond gave him each time he slipped his thigh between Shouta’s, rubbing up against his crotch before hoisting Shouta up the wall, said keeping in shape was the last thing on Hizashi’s mind.

Admittedly, Shouta gives a couple glances toward the smooth, sturdy surfaces framing their hastened walk as he carries Hizashi down the hall. The other man doesn’t help, doesn’t seem to care at all that Shouta’s hands are digging further and further into that faux leather as Hizashi sucks harshly under his jaw and along his collar where his shirt has been pulled down by Hizashi’s weight. 

Read the rest here...

[cinnaminsvga]

💋 | tlhc!yoongi

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ tlhc!yoongi ft. jungkook | 3.5K words → a/n: this was written after an anon sent me a REALLY angsty idea for tlhc and i haven’t stopped thinking about it since. also, this takes place after namjin’s wedding but before yoongi and y/n get together (in this drabble, they’re “dating” but i say that loosely because... well. they’re fucking yoongi and y/n so OFC they’re stupidly, emotionally constipated). anyway... here’s This!! rip!!

Yoongi knows he’s being childish when he leaves your shared apartment with a large pout on his face. He knows that if he just tried a little harder, he could’ve convinced you to let him stay at home instead of going to some godforsaken bachelor party. He hasn’t been to a party involving body shots and strippers since he graduated from university, and he isn’t exactly keen on returning to that particular scene either. He has always been a more wine and dine type of guy, and everyone is aware of this.

It’s a well-known fact amongst his circle of friends that Min Yoongi isn’t keen on attending most types of social gatherings. Birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, casual get-togethers… It didn’t matter what the occasion is because Yoongi is certainly going to hate every second of it. It didn’t even matter if the party was being hosted by a long-time friend; after all, sitting in a room filled with half-strangers and estranged friends isn’t exactly what Yoongi would consider a “fun time.”

It doesn’t stop people from inviting him out of courtesy, though.

Most of the time, Yoongi is able to grit through the pain of human interaction as long as you tagged along with him. You’re kind of like Yoongi’s walking meat shield when it comes to parties, though you aren’t exactly fond of his analogy when he had explained himself to you. Nevertheless, you always did understand him better than anyone else, always being his savior from awkward small talk by redirecting the conversation away from him. Or, you would quietly tug him outside to the backyard so that the two of you could pet the party owner’s dog or something.

Truly, what would he have done without you?

“I still don’t understand why you expect me to go to this party alone. You’re practically feeding me to the sharks,” Yoongi whines, not at all immaturely. He can hear your exasperated sigh through his phone speakers, though he imagines that you hadn’t been aiming to conceal your ire in the first place.

“Yoonie, it’s Jungkook’s bachelor party. You heard what that dweeb said: ‘No girls allowed’ or some shit. Like some sort of toddler. I’m surprised he even asked you to attend.”

“Are you implying that I should be barred entry because of my feminine hips?” Yoongi asks, hopeful. “Cause honestly, I was only kinda offended when Jungkook said I had twink-sized proportions, so I mean…”

You scoff, though Yoongi can imagine you shaking your head with tired fondness. AKA, your default mood towards him on most days. Yoongi doubts that fondness is going to help him convince you to let him get the fuck out of this party, though. “Save it. You’re going to that party or else.”

Yoongi sniffs, offended. “Honestly, you should be the one going instead of me. I’m not as close to that pussyboi as you are.”

“Hey, only I’m allowed to call him that,” you chide. “Besides, you already left the house. I don’t understand why you’re calling me in the first place. It’s almost 8PM and you should be at the restaurant by now.”

It’s true. Yoongi is literally already in front of the restaurant where they all agreed to meet before heading out to the “main event,” or whatever the hell that means. It could only end badly; after all, Park Jimin had been the one to organize this shitshow of a bachelor party. Things will not go in Yoongi’s favor tonight if Jimin can help it.

“I’m only here because you threatened to disfigure Kobe Bryant-sunbaenim! That bobblehead is limited edition!” Yoongi has the strongest urge to stomp his feet, though he restrains himself only so that the hostess by the entrance of the restaurant won’t call the manager on him (again.) He is nearing his 30’s for fuck’s sake! Then again, Seokjin is a year older than him and if Yoongi’s future is anything like his, he shudders to think what might become of him.

“Yoonie,” you say, voice steely and quiet. Uh oh. You’re getting genuinely angry by now, and Yoongi knows he’s pushing your buttons to their limits. However, he wouldn’t be doing it otherwise if he really didn’t want to go to this party. He hates disappointing you, but nothing on this planet could ever make him want to go through those mahogany doors and face that bucktoothed loser with stars in his googly eyes.

Yoongi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. “I know, I know. I’m being childish. It’s just a party and I should just endure it. Although, I’m not promising that I’ll even try to pretend that I’m enjoying it. That’s beyond my paygrade, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says, picking his hangnails as he gazes at the entrance of the restaurant. The hostess’ left eyebrow twitches slightly, a forced customer service smile on her lips. Yoongi feels a sudden sense of strong camaraderie with this stranger.

“I was just gonna say that if you really can’t stand the party, then I’m allowing you an out. If you can stay there for at least two hours, then you can leave once you’ve––“

You hardly get to finish your sentence when Yoongi cuts you off, a strangled sob of relief escaping his throat. “Oh, thank you, my goddess! You are truly the apple of my eye; I shalt never speak ill of you no longer! You are heaven incarnate, my fair and beautiful mistress, the sun who has chased away the darkness––“

“Shut the fuck up, court jester,” you say, endearment dripping like honey off of your words. But Yoongi is already smiling ear to ear, hopelessly warm for some reason. If Hoseok had been around, he would have gagged at the sight of the two of you.

We’re so whipped, Yoongi thinks idly to himself.

“Now go say hello to Jungkook for me, will you? And please, if either he or Jimin do anything stupid or illegal, try to hold them back a little, okay?”

“Nope, I don’t think so,” Yoongi says, before promptly hanging up. Before he pockets his phone, he texts a short “ily” just in case he actually might have pissed you off. Either way, that will be a problem for future Yoongi to figure out.

Just as he ended the calls, a muffled crash and what sounds like a hyena being forced down a trash compactor from inside the restaurant echoes ominously through the open streets. Yoongi and the hostess hardly flinch at the cacophany, both of them staring glassily at the smoggy South Korean sky with quiet acquiescence.

“Fuck me,” Yoongi says. “Fuck me, indeed.”

*.*.*.*.*

The party is as terrible as Yoongi had imagined. Scratch that––Yoongi doesn’t think his imagination is capable of conjuring such a nightmarish scene. He’s pretty sure at least 99% of the inhabitants of this strip club were doing something slightly to moderately illegal. Case in point:

“Jeon Jungkook, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Yoongi yells over the discordant noise that the DJ is trying to pass off as “music.” Jungkook pauses in his ministrations to turn to face Yoongi, which is a feat in itself, as it appears that Jungkook’s eyes were facing opposite directions. Yoongi chooses to maintain eye contact with his left one.

“Whaaa? Why not, coconut?” Jungkook giggles at his little rhyme at the end, but his laughter sounds garbled, probably hindered by the amount of saliva pooling inside his mouth.

Yoongi points at his hands. “Jungkook. I’m pretty sure that is not salt that you are pouring over your fries.”

It takes a few moments for Jungkook to register anything that Yoongi had said. In fact, Yoongi doesn’t think he registers them at all; Yoongi has to forcefully take away the soiled plate of “mystery powder fries” away from him before Jungkook even realizes anything is going on.

“Heeeey, getchur own food, boomer!” Jungkook whines, making grabby hands at the plate before flopping pathetically onto Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi, ever the gentleman, pushes the younger off until he tumbles off the side of the booth and into a mysterious puddle spilled by one of the scantily clad “mechanics.” Jungkook, to his credit, gets up back onto his seat with some semblance of grace (which is to say, he managed to get his ass onto the couch without any additional injury.)

“I can’t believe I’m literally at a glorified children’s party. And I thought babysitting Namjoon’s little demon was bad enough,” Yoongi groans, grimacing in disgust at the mystery liquid from the floor oozes gently down the side of Jungkook’s face. “Dude. Wipe your fucking face.”

Jungkook, known laundry-fanatic and clean freak extraordinaire, promptly takes off his pristine white shirt and uses it to dab his face away. After which, he throws it somewhere behind him, right into a circle of twinks who proceed to fight over who gets to keep it. “Better,” he mutters, same dopey smile on his face.

“Just 1 hour, 18 minutes and 34 seconds left, Yoongi… I can do this,” Yoongi says through clenched teeth. He takes a deep breath, counts to ten, tries to remember what his therapist told him to do when he’s slowly losing his grip on reality. Then, Jungkook throws up all over his new leather shoes.

“Hyung,” Jungkook mutters sleepily, head lolling like he’s about to drop dead in a second. He grins dopily at Yoongi, a string of saliva dripping down the side of his cheek. “I think I’m sick.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” And so, like the kind person that he is, he drags Jungkook by the armpits, dodging sweaty strippers and drunken guests alike as he tows the younger to the nearby restroom. Yoongi contemplates bringing Jungkook to Jimin to take care of him instead, but that idea is completely dashed the moment he sees the latter drinking shots as if it were water. The risk of having two people vomit on his shoes in one night would have been extremely high, and Yoongi isn’t an idiot. So he takes the idiot draped across his back to the toilet himself.

The restroom is empty when they arrive. When Yoongi slams the door shut, it becomes shockingly quiet as the noise from outside gets dulled to a soft throb. Yoongi immediately dumps Jungkook against one of the chipped porcelain sinks, grimacing slightly when the younger causes the sink to groan precariously from his weight.

“Hyungie,” Jungkook warbles. The sweat on his brow has made his bangs stick to his forehead in strange patterns, and Yoongi imagines he could rearrange his hair to spell out “SHITHEAD” if he so desired.

“What.” Yoongi grabs a handful of paper towels and proceeds to try (and fail) to clean the carnage on his shoes. Meanwhile, Jungkook just stands there quietly, spit long since dried on his face, adding to the sheen already there. The quietness of the restroom is both jarring and awkward compared to the insanity just behind the door, and Yoongi finds himself preferring to look at his black-turned-brown shoes instead of the boy standing just to his right.

“I think I overdid it,” Jungkook admits after a while. Yoongi chances a glance upwards before looking back down at the floor, uncomfortable when he sees the surprisingly sober face of a man who had just finished drinking ten tequila shots. 

“You think?” Yoongi snorts, rolling his eyes. He inches forward towards the sink, gently nudging Jungkook out of the way to wash his hands. Jungkook has still yet made a move towards the faucet himself, but Yoongi isn’t about to offer to clean him up either. He’s already a Samaritan for bringing him to the restroom; he’s used up all his empathy points for today.

“Y/N and Tae always say that I have severely low impulse control.”

True to form, Yoongi’s traitorous ears perk up at the mention of your name, and he finally makes full eye contact with Jungkook through the mirror. “It took two people and ten tequila shots to figure it out? Geez. No wonder you almost didn’t graduate kindergarten.”

“Hey, I told you that in confidence,” Jungkook pouts.

“Not my problem,” Yoongi retorts, indifferent. Yoongi stares at him for a moment. “Jesus. You look like a fucking mess. You sure you’re getting married next week?”

“I’m pretty sure, unless Taehyung changes his mind,” Jungkook shrugs. Well, that was certainly not quite the answer Yoongi was expecting. Yoongi must not have been quick enough to hide his surprise because Jungkook laughs coldly, the sound mirthless and paper-thin––not at all like the ridiculously mirthful manchild he’s always known him to be.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet?” Yoongi had meant to say it like a joke, but his harsh tone doesn’t escape his own ears. God, he wishes he was better at this, but sue him for lacking practice at consoling other human beings.

Luckily, Jungkook takes it in stride, shrugging his shoulders. “Not really. More like… I’m in disbelief? That he’d actually… after all this time…”

Yoongi doesn’t reply at first. For as long as Yoongi has known him, the elder has never quite connected with Jungkook, for whatever reason. Hearing him speak so candidly about his feelings like this is new territory for Yoongi, and it’s strangely making him nervous. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention as he is faced with a side of Jungkook that Yoongi didn’t think he was capable of having. Sure, you’ve told him vaguely about the problems that Jungkook has asked advice about, but never has Yoongi ever thought that he’d be doing the same. The two of them just weren’t… like that.

“I’m sure Taehyung likes––no, loves you. A lot. Anyone with eyes can see that he absolutely adores you,” Yoongi says after a while, coughing awkwardly into his fist. God, he sucks at this. Where are you when he needs you? You always knew what to say in moments like this.

Jungkook laughs again, and it’s just as discordant as the first. He shakes his head, empty smile on his lips. “It’s not that. I don’t doubt him in the slightest. It’s more like… I’m doubting myself.”

Now that catches Yoongi’s attention. Self-doubt, loneliness, fear: if Yoongi had to be an expert on anything, it would be for those three. He… he gets it. “Jungkook, if this is about feeling like you don’t deserve him, then you’re dead wrong. You’re allowed to be loved, Jungkook. Believe me, I know more than anyone what denial feels like. The two of you aren’t going to crash and burn, okay? You’ll be fine.”

Jungkook smiles wryly at that. “Thanks. But it’s not… it’s not that.” Jungkook pauses, and it looks like the words get caught in his throat. He opens his mouth, closes it. Grimaces like he’s swallowed something bitter. He takes a deep breath, looking as uncomfortable as Yoongi feels. “Yoongi-hyung, I have a confession to make.”

Now Yoongi’s confused. “What?”

“I haven’t been… candid. With you. About…” Jungkook takes another shaky breath. “About me and Y/N.”

Yoongi’s blood runs cold. He feels the sweat start to form across his palms, and he clenches them into fists to stop them from shaking. He can almost sense the disaster before it even hits, feels the floor swimming underneath his feet, waiting to devour him whole.

“What?” Yoongi repeats.

“I’ve been thinking about it, recently. It’s been years since I last even remembered it, but then it started plaguing my dreams, and it’s… It’s ruining me. I need––I need to come clean or else I might die with regret,” Jungkook says. Yoongi still doesn’t understand what he means; Jungkook is just saying words without saying anything at all, and it’s making the wait even more terrible.

“Kook, just spit it out already.”

“Hyung, I beg of you. Please don’t think badly of me but…” Jungkook slumps to the floor just then, both the sink and his legs unable to keep him up any longer. Against his will, Yoongi tumbles with him, compelled to follow him down.

“What? What? What?”

“I kissed her,” Jungkook murmurs, voice low. Whispered like a secret. Because it is a secret, even though it isn’t any longer. Not when the words have crawled out his mouth and into Yoongi’s ears, making its way to his brain where it refuses to be understood, to be processed.

“What?” Yoongi can’t seem to remember how to breathe, much less how to speak. He can’t say anything else except, “What?”

“N-not recently. A long time ago,” Jungkook hurries, fear crossing his face when he realizes how he must have sounded. “I would never cheat on––Y/N would never cheat on you––“

His words do nothing to quell the thunderous beating in Yoongi’s chest. He can only stare as the younger jumbles over his words, fat tears starting to dribble out of his eyes like waterfalls. Why is he crying? This is so wrong.

“We––when you broke her heart, all those years ago. Before she ran away to Daegu––“

Yoongi remembers. Of course he does. He doesn’t think he can ever forget.

“––she was so so sad, and it fucking hurt. It hurt seeing her like that, you know? I… I hated you for it. So much, hyung,” Jungkook sobs, hiding behind his hands. He wipes at his face, smearing his sweat, tears, and vomit with shaky movements. “And then she kissed me but it was a mistake because she was heartbroken and she just wanted to feel––to feel something? I don’t know… And then I pushed her away––“

“You pushed her away?” Yoongi interrupts, uncharacteristically calm. He thinks like he should be screaming, maybe. Or feel jealous, even. But then again, this had happened years ago, when you and he hadn’t even been… anything, at the time. Hell, he has no right to be hurt by this. He shouldn’t even be allowed to resent Jungkook for it. Shouldn’t have to feel like he won’t be able to forgive Jungkook. So then why is he..?

Jungkook nods. “I-I did, but that’s not… the whole thing. For a while, I thought that maybe…” He curls into himself, bowing his head in shame. Yoongi doesn’t need to hear the rest to know what he was about to say.

“You used to love her, didn’t you?”  

Jungkook nods again, ashamed. Disgusted with himself. “Pathetic, right?” 

But the thing is, Yoongi already knew this. You’ve told him about Jungkook’s misplaced affections for you; it had happened during a stressful time for the both of you, and you had assured Jungkook that his feelings were just a figment of his imagination. You believed that Jungkook had just been lonely, desperate for someone to cling onto especially after all that drama between Taehyung and Hoseok at the time.

“She kept telling me that I wasn’t in love with her. And for a while, I believed her. But then, when she was about to leave for America, we… we kissed again. Just to… I wanted to make sure,” Jungkook slams his fist onto the dirty restroom floor, clawing at the tiles like an animal in pain. It’s getting harder for Yoongi to understand Jungkook through his sobs, but he is afraid of even moving lest Jungkook stops speaking. It’s like watching a car crash––no matter how much Yoongi is afraid, he can’t look away.

“When we kissed the second time... She laughed. I laughed. ‘No spark,’ was what she said. I agreed because I had no other choice but to,” Jungkook admits. He exhales like his chest has been ripped open, like he’s drowning. Yoongi feels the same way.

“It would be unfair if I said anything. To her, to you, to Taehyung… but most of all, to myself. Because it would never work. It’s not… I’m not...” Jungkook coughs, trailing off. He hacks his lungs out, forehead banging against his knees from the force. He heaves for air once, twice. Then, silence.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi whispers, momentarily stunned. When the younger doesn’t reply, he nudges his shoulder. No movement. Yoongi tilts his head upwards, only to find Jungkook’s eyelids already closed and breathing steadily through his nose. The bastard had finally passed out.

“Jesus,” Yoongi sighs, letting go of the younger and letting him crumple to the floor. Yoongi contemplates passing out as well. “Jesus,” Yoongi repeats.

He sits there in silence for a while, accompanied only by his thoughts and the muffled sounds of the party outside. He doesn’t know how long he sits there for, only thinks to leave the restroom when a young couple (Jungkook’s college friends) burst in while making out, both incognizant of the odd pair slumped on the floor.

Yoongi leaves Jungkook there, but not before sending a short text to Jimin to go check on Jungkook, and sending another one to Taehyung for good measure. Yoongi rushes out of the club without looking back, feeling slightly more empty than he had before the night started.

You don’t comment when Yoongi comes back home earlier than expected. You don’t even scold him for breaking his side in the agreement. Wrapped up in blankets in front of the TV, you wordlessly open up your cocoon to let him slither in beside you, allowing him to wrap his cold feet against your legs. You don’t even complain when he falls asleep without another word, just gently caressing his hair as he descends into fitful dreams. He doesn’t bring up the party the next day, and neither do you.

The following week, the two of you attend Taehyung and Jungkook’s wedding.