#(excuse this old eyeball he has yet to understand that this is a thing and that some inhabitants of pop star can more than take a few hits)

[phoenixyfriend]

Fake Sith TCW Trio

I have another fucked up time-travel AU! Who’s surprised? (Nobody.)

So like. Have you guys read that one fic where Luke and his students go back in time and pretend to be Sith Lords and are super hammy about it? (Sith Lord Swell by AMournfulHowlInTheNight)

This AU has contributions by @atagotiak, @the-lunar-system, @purronronner, @gelpenss, @creepingthroughthistidalwave, and @thisarenotarealblog.

I want TCW trio (plus Rex and Cody) to go back to several years pre-TPM and, since the Council DEFINITELY won't believe them about the Sith being back... they'll force the issue.

Anakin is weirdly excited about things and building up their backstory.

Anakin: Okay so I can definitely be a Maul type, with the unhinged ranting and manic laughter, Obi-Wan can be the whole Refined Rich Guy type like Dooku, where you can't even tell he's evil until he starts talking about getting out the eyeball scoops, maybe toss in a bit of mad science stuff? Ahsoka could play up like Ventress OR, oh oh, she can be the Light Side Child we need to PROTECT who's publicly begging us to return to the Light after our big dramatic Falls where we murdered like eighty people to save her, and-- Obi-Wan: Why are you never this enthusiastic about actual undercover missions. Ahsoka: Did you just have all this ready to go, or...? Anakin: WE COULD GET YELLOW CONTACT LENSES FOR ME.

Obi-Wan: How's my evil laugh?

Anakin going “Okay.. so if any of us need to murder someone to sell the bit it should be me, I think I could handle it the best. Why? No reason.”

Obi-Wan: I'm not sure a complete Fall could come from protecting Ahsoka, really-- Anakin: No, no, it could.

Obi-Wan: Surely you’d hold back because you realize neither of us want that for you. Anakin: Uh. Sure. Definitely.

Obi-Wan points out that none of them can channel the dark side to Prove they're Sith and Anakin just goes "Okay, give me like two seconds to stew in my negativity and--right, you can stop staring in horror, please."

Anakin rambles on that they can TOTALLY make the galaxy a better place while playing at being Sith! He's got a whole LIST of slave empires to "take over" and disassemble!

Anakin has a whole excited spiel about how EVIL soldiers and assistants are minions, in this case partly because Cody and Rex are too good at what they do to be mooks. Cody could pull off evil minion very well. Facial scar? Looks good in black? Quietly competent and sarcastic?

He also pushes for Obi-Wan to lounge in a fancy throne with a glass of wine while Anakin stalks the shadows and Ahsoka hangs out on the window ledge. The disaster lineage is dramatic, okay, Anakin’s just leaning into it, he’d appreciate it if everyone stopped looking at him like that.

Qui-Gon, surprisingly, ends up a skeptic about all of this. Everyone is freaking out about the Sith and he’s like “y’know I’m not even sure they’re darksiders.”

Some Jedi, possibly Qui-Gon for his conspiracy board, gets in a real risky situation and one of the Fake Sith saves them, but also panics and kinda drops character for a bit.

Jedi: You saved me! Why’d you do that? Anakin: I uh... just wanted the pleasure of killing you myself?

"You saved me. Why?" "Mmmm. Jedi." [walks away]

Qui-Gon: [trying to figure out what is up with these people semi-competently (from his perspective) pretending to be Sith] Dooku: [trying to protect Qui-Gon from Sith influence]

The gang is the most successful at pretending to be Sith to Dooku. Sure, they’re not gonna punish him for something he hasn’t done, but it’s not hard to act menacing and angry around him.

(They really do have so much fun irritating the heck out of Dooku. He hasn’t Fallen yet, but they want to keep an eye out.)

At some point, future Obi-Wan definitely drops that little tidbit of "What, you didn't think the Banites were the only Sith running around did you? You... didn't even know about the Banites. How... disappointing."

They REGULARLY use Ahsoka as an excuse to be marginally less terrible. They claim that if Ahsoka pouts, they stop. ‘Soka also uses them as an excuse for why she’s a lil feral. (To be fair, that one is accurate. She was already a lil feral before but it’s not like they did anything to stop it.) Ahsoka gets her "breaking into people's offices" jollies by bugging Nute Gunray's office.

The Jedi keep trying to Rescue Ahsoka.

Rex and Cody end up in real beskar, there's a whole Thing with Mandalore and Jango and Satine.

Obi-Wan is CONSISTENTLY worried about Anakin Falling for real, which... hey, at least he knows to be worried about Anakin Falling. Step up from canon, really.

Anakin is WAY too into killing the Hutts but like. It does... technically sell the bit.

Obi-Wan: Sure, I’m not sad that they’re dead, especially because we’re not connected to the Republic, so we don’t need to worry about starting a war and all that. But. Anakin is disturbingly cheerful about this. Rex: Wasn't he a Hutt slave? Obi-Wan: Well yes, but-- Rex: I'd kill Nala Se if I could get away with it.

Cody and Rex are very supportive of Anakin's murderous intentions.

Obi-Wan does understand anger, even killing someone in anger. Like Maul (the first time at least) and D’nar and a few others. All the same, like... y’know. The level of bloodthirst from the others is a little off-putting.

At one point, Anakin accidentally addresses young Obi-Wan by name, despite never having met before, and to cover it up, he... panic-flirts. He panics, and so he flirts, with young Obi-Wan.

(He will later blame this on old Obi-Wan, because he had to pick up the habit of flirting with the enemy from somewhere.)

Anakin vaguely implies that he's a wee bit obsessed with young Obi, and that the padawan should "get used to being the target of a dark-sider's interests," because he’s scrambling for Ominous Shit and, well, future Obi-Wan was pretty frequently a fixation point for darksiders, right?

The second he gets out, he just starts screaming into a bucket while Rex pats him on the back.

For the next however many terrible months, possibly years, he has to keep up the act while having an ongoing meltdown about how That's My Dad As A Twenty-Something.

(It doesn't help that young Obi-Wan reflexively flirted back.)

Old Obi-Wan, meanwhile, is just very "you dug this hole yourself, padawan."

There is an argument at the beginning about Obi-Wan’s outfit. If he’s gonna be a Sith, he can’t just go around in beige, but he’s like “I like this and it’s comfy.” Sure, he’s changed clothes for undercover stuff, but that’s always been temporary, y’know? He likes his beige.

We have a number of options.

My first instinct? Beige linen three piece suit, like a southern lawyer. "Now I may just be a simple Outer Rim force adept--"

And, of course, you can TOTALLY make the beige sinister: he’s impersonating a Jedi! Jedi impersonation would also explain why nobody has a red saber.

“Sure is good that the Jedi don’t seem to realize most of the galaxy doesn’t know red sabers are different and bad.” “Shhhh, stop poking holes in our story where a Jedi might overhear.”

Like.... if you do enough doublethink, it works! How would a Sith hide? In plain sight. Also, it’s a GREAT way (if they were actually assholes) to try to slander the Jedi name.

(Anakin and Ahsoka still think he could stand to put a little more effort in. Add a splash of color, for pity's sake!)

Though tbh part of me is like “What if Old Obi wore, like... a split skirt suit...” Victorian womenswear inspired because he misses his robes, but he has to look Professional, and like he's MOCKING Jedi instead of BEING one, so he wears a vintage-y split skirt thing over his leggings. Ends up looking a lot like what Ventress had for a while, but Beige. I also keep wanting to put him regency menswear.

Anyway. Obi-Wan’s wardrobe aside...

Anakin builds up his Tatoo accent again. It helps him with the (mostly true) "slavery helped me fall" backstory.

Either Cody or Rex offhandedly mentions being made to serve them (the Fake Sith) and now the Jedi are somewhat concerned about brainwashing. Are these Mandos the victims here?

“No like. Literally made for this. In a lab.” This is even more horrifying. So...

On the one hand good! The Jedi should be scared about Sith! On the other hand... it makes the Jedi more determined to stop them, specifically. They keep on getting in the way, just, all the time, and they’re not investigating the actual Sith problem, which is decidedly not great since the Team doesn’t actually know who’s a real Sith right now, except Maul, and who even knows where that guy is.

Obi-Wan, at some point: Do you think we've succeeded at this ruse... a little TOO well? Anakin: I don't follow. Obi-Wan, gesturing at the truly obnoxious amount of wealth they've collected, including "trophies" of their kills: Really? Because I'm a little worried! Anakin, planning out a battle to take on Nar Shadda: ...I'm not.

"How many people do we realistically we need to take over Hutt Space? Apparently... five."

(Mostly because Anakin is ridiculously op.)

ANAKIN AND YOUNG OBI GET KIDNAPPED BY PIRATES TOGETHER. It's tradition.

Anakin: Okay, so, I need to get really angry about something to pass as a Sith... time to think about my WIFE and how I'll NEVER SEE HER AGAIN.

Since Anakin’s life never goes as planned... this does not work. Instead of getting properly angry, he makes himself sad. There are tears. There is wailing. There’s a distraught rant or two. Young Obi ends up awkwardly trying to comfort him.

“Oh no, this… Sith?? Is crying on me. What do I do???”

Later on, when the Council wants intel: "So... one of the Sith cried on me about his wife. I think she's dead? He wasn't very clear about it but it, uh... it sounded like it might have contributed to his Fall. Also the relationship was a little unhealthy? He basically worshiped the ground she walked on and kept ranting about how he would have given her the galaxy on a platinum platter of she'd only asked, but that might be new and inspired by the Dark."

One of the random Jedi is REALLY good at detecting the truth Through The Force, and asks Anakin how he Fell...

Anakin just. Tells the Tuskens story.

They don't get pinged as lying, but oh boy does old Obi have a LOT of questions for Anakin once they're in private.

There are other things happening to help sell the ruse. Some of them are necessary! Some of them are... not.

Obi-Wan: What's the best way to show we're rich and kind of evil, but like... classy about it? Anakin, immediately: I sit on the floor next to the throne, leaning against it, and you call me pet names while stroking my hair, and then when you need something killed I get to do it for you and then I go back to the floor and you thank me for the directed violence, and then you go back to Negotiations with criminals while I’m sitting there covered in blood. Obi-Wan: ...is there something you want to TELL us, or...?

"You're all going to get a glimpse of something normally kept hidden about me." "Anakin, you don't have to do that." "No, I'm gonna."

(Anakin has decided hes going to peel his kink tomato to sell this ruse, and the others are slightly uncomfortable with that.)

Anakin: Okay, I cannot keep flirting with you. Young Obi: Wait, what? But that's the best part of any time we run into you! Anakin: You look WAY too much like my Master did when I met him. Obi: O...kay? If someone looked like my master when HE was young, I'd-- Anakin: My Sith Master half-raised me. He's basically my dad. Obi: ... Anakin: What's that look for? Obi: I mean, you spend a lot of time lounging at his feet, and, like, given how much you hate slavery, I... kind of assumed it was a kink thing? Anakin, brightly: Oh no, I just have a LOT of trauma. And neuroses. Snips says they’re neuroses.

Young Obi is a little upset because he was actually getting REALLY into Flirting With The Enemy and was hoping it would go somewhere. He mopes to Qui-Gon about it. Qui-Gon isn't sure whether to be proud about Obi breaking rules, or worried over Obi-Wan falling for a Fake Sith.

(As Tia put it: "You enjoy making young Obi-Wan have a completely unrequited crush on Anakin, don’t you?")

Fortunately, one of those attractive Young Mando boys very kindly helped him tape up his ribs this one time, and has thus caught his eye...

I feel like having Cody date Young Obi would court an entirely different kind of (internet) drama because clone ages, but whatever.

Also please imagine an element of "so I'm dating the genetic identical of my boss... who's dating the man I'm a genetic identical of..."

(It's probably not actually Jangobi but man would that be funny and also stupid.)

Somehow Young Obi figures out that the "Sith Master" is a future him before he realizes that they're not actually dark. In his defense, Anakin was pretty convincing. Especially with the wife rant. It makes HIM more obsessed with Anakin, in a reversal of the implied earlier dynamic, which is all kinds of weird. Less romantic but like. Still weird.

"Future Me Scares Me" with Extra stupid. "Future Me Annoys Me." "Future Me acts like grandmaster Dooku, but more sass." "Future Me raised a really hot evil guy that refuses to bang Present Me." "Future Me might be a Sith, but I'm getting more and more convinced he's just fucking with us all." "Future Me is really rocking that beard, and I can't BELIEVE we figured out a way around the babyface."

"I’m kinda concerned about the whole evil thing, but I’m also glad that I know I’ll stay hot as I get older."

Quinlan approves of the priorities.

Also a lot of interactions with older Obi are very Anakin: [does/says something deeply unhinged] Obi-Wan: So, do you want to…. Talk about that? Maybe? Anakin: What’s there to talk about?? I’m fine, everything’s fine! Anyways how about those plans for tracking down Maul?

Anakin later, like way after the ruse is lifted, just blankly tells everyone that he did Fall, once, and Older Obi made him get therapy about it after the truth came out between the two of them a few months into the Fake Sith thing.

Where'd they find a therapist? I'm sure there's one SOMEWHERE around. Denon and Herdessa are close enough, and they've done enough "your criminal empire now belongs to me" that they can pay well. They make sure to find one that takes confidentiality real seriously.

It's all very "we need some more time to unpack all that."

Therapy helps get Anakin to figure out Sheev’s whole deal. They don't necessarily figure out he’s a Sith from it, but they figure out he’s sketchy and they need to look into that more. Obi-Wan probably already thought he was sketchy, but the whole active gaslighting campaign was a little surprising. They realize that he kinda benefited a lot from a lot of Sith plots and they still probably don’t think he’s a Sith but Obi-Wan is definitely starting to think he’s working with one.

"Okay, we're already bugging Gunray, should we bug Palpatine just to be safe?"

They get away with a lot of slicing because Anakin is a technical genius from twenty years in the future.

The reasons they're so good at Taking Over Hutt Space: 1. They know parts of the future. 2. They have superpowers and FAR less reason to not use them, now that their actions aren't going to reflect on the Republic. 3. They have Cody and Rex, who are two of the greatest military minds in the galaxy, and know EXACTLY how to wage a war that covers a solid third of the galaxy, starting from a position of relative weakness. 4. Anakin's charisma is scary high, and his knowledge of slave culture means they gain a lot of trust from the people they free, and they just... keep acquiring volunteers for the army they didn't plan to have. Obi-Wan doesn't know what to do. He thinks they might have started a cult?

In his defense, Dooku sort of started a cult, and Komari got kidnapped by a cult, brainwashed into joining it properly, and then took it over as head figure of said cult. It's practically tradition!

Comics Vader is the central figure of like three different cults, it was really just inevitable.

Anakin: Aw, don't worry master, it's not a cult, it's a revolution! Ahsoka: They're worshiping him, though. Anakin: ...it's still a revolution! Just... with some misunderstandings.

Also, if they got wind of people trying to keep people from being able to leave and other culty stuff like that, they’d probably put a stop to it pretty damn quick.

Names! Time for names. As per usual, it's easiest to keep track of Obi-Wan's alternate Older Self by just calling him Ben.

Darth Ben.

Ahsoka: You should be Darth Boring. Obi-Wan: I can still make you run laps, you know.

Anakin: The Force is telling me to call myself Darth Vader. Obi-Wan: ...why? Anakin: I dunno, but it sounds cool, I'll run with it.

Someone: Ben has all the answers; we shouldn’t question him, ever. Ben: One time I lost a planet, and a five-year-old found it for me.

More options: Going with the "evil word with the prefix 'in' chopped off" that we get with Sidious and Vader: Darth Surrectus (as in insurrection) Just random Latin words: Darth Temporus (time) Darth Commenticius (fake)

Anyway, back to Nonsense:

Maul goes after young Obi early, because the Fake Sith are really invested in this one random Padawan (Sidious is saying he might be a cousin of the false Sith Master? They do look similar enough) so someone needs to investigate. Naturally, Anakin shows up with some wild screeching to fight Maul, and when someone questions why he got involved it gets very "Kenobi is MINE!" and like. Okay. So.

Anakin means it in a very Sith "to toy with" and "to torture" way, or the ‘my chosen opponent!’ way, just the same kind of Obsession as Maul had with Obi-Wan in the original timeline. Unfortunately, Anakin’s a weird-ass person who flirts with Young Obi against his own better judgement, so there's some awkward "Like... your boyfriend?" from young Obi. Anakin just screeches in SOME emotion that nobody wants to interpret, and couldn't even if they wanted to, and starts whacking away at Maul again.

(Anakin hasn't explained the "you look exactly like my dad, sorry, it's just too weird" thing yet, and he is HAVING MANY REGRETS.)

There's definitely at least one instance where a person asks Anakin if he's planning on dating That One Jedi Twink, or at least banging out the tension. At that point in time, Anakin doesn't actually know who the fuck they're talking about, because "Obi-Wan + Twink = Does Not Compute" for dear, dense Ani, and instead he just ends up ranting about how he is LOYAL TO THE MEMORY OF HIS LATE WIFE, how DARE anyone so much as INSINUATE that he would TARNISH HER PERFECT MEMORY and UNWAVERING KINDNESS and WHOLESOME BEING, and the person who asked doesn't end up lightsabered but they do end up with a LOT to tell whoever they're reporting to.

Young Obi-Wan definitely hears Anakin mutter the phrase “something to discuss with my therapist later” a few times, and he’s a little bewildered because darksiders definitely don’t seem like the type of people to go to therapy. They’re the type of people to need therapy, sure, but not the type to go to therapy.

I think it would be very fun for Young Obi to continue sighing over Anakin (who's pretending to be fine with it and even flirting back because he's in too deep to stop and hasn't worked up the courage to explain the elephant in the room) while Anakin is covered in grease and infodumping while having a slightly manic hyperfocus on engine repairs while the two of them Somehow got stranded together in the middle of bumfuck nowhere (it's Plagueis's doing, he finds the interactions between THESE two in particular to be the most informative regarding the fake Sith).

Anakin, at some point while stranded with young Obi-Wan, and having actually started unpacking some stuff in therapy, though he’s def still got a ways to go: I’m pretty sure Ben cares about me. He acts like he cares, like he’ll do stuff like put extra blankets in my quarters in the spaceship because I get cold real easily or track down those droid parts I need for a project and he always has my back in a fight but y’know it’d be nice to hear him say he loves me once in a while. Especially because we kinda had a rough start and idk I don’t think he wanted me around at first.

And uh. Obi-Wan definitely relates to that a bit too much, y’know?

I want to say that Young Obi ends up mentioning All That to one of the clones or Ahsoka later, because they seem probably invested in Anakin's well-being, even if Ben is, well, a Sith, so Obi-Wan's a little worried the man's affection really is fake, but at least Ahsoka...

(Ironic, given what Anakin's actual eventual Sith would-be-Master was like.)

Young Obi mentions Anakin’s most recent rant to Ahsoka, and she just goes "Wait, is that why Skyguy likes to sit by the throne and get called pet names?" "Uh... I don't... know... but it sounds like all of you have a LOT to unpack there, Miss Apprentice."

Later on: "Master Kenobi, you need to tell Skyguy you love him 'cause apparently he's been having a lot of emotions about you not telling him you care and he's been talking to mini-you about it whenever they get stuck together and--"

Young Obi-Wan is just constantly the "Now we don't have time to unpack all of that" John Mulaney gif. Anakin in particular is a mess, and young Obi-Wan slowly goes from "I want to date that" to "I want to study that" about him.

Obi-Wan gets stuck somewhere with Ben, tries to small talk, gets on the topic of Vader, and spills the drama. He gets an awkward “Thank you for bringing that to my attention.”

It’s followed by a fairly frustrated “I try, but Anakin refuses to communicate his needs to me, and it feels like I’m always falling short.”

At least one member of the group is in therapy, probably all of them, but they’re still using young Obi as a sounding board for all this stuff. On the bright side, this is probably good for impressing the importance of good communication on Obi-Wan.

Good for Obi-Wan! And... whatever Padawan he eventually has.

As for baby Anakin, who is approximately age four, I want to go with "Anakin decides to be his own uncle, and Shmi just rolls with it because fuck it, she’s not a slave anymore, and a Fake Sith is a solid defense against anyone trying to re-enslave them."

[This is a backstory I've had them use before (see here and here).]

Seeing Big Ani and Little Ani in the same space might be what finally pings the "oh shit, that's future me" thing for Obi-Wan... you know, if he’s ever allowed close enough to see Little Ani in the first place.

Little Ani stays with the fake-Sith and is sorta jointly trained by all of them, and young Obi-Wan teaches little 'Soka at the Temple. Ani and 'Soka still end up friends somehow, but it is fairly different.

Every time little Ani addresses Old Obi as "Dad," it's just like ten kinds of awkward. The one time someone tried to explain that Ben wasn't his new dad, Shmi glared them down. She is of the opinion that, all the gods be damned, Ani deserves to refer to the most mature man in his life, who raised another him in another timeline already, as a father.

Ani doesn't NEED a father, Shmi herself is more than enough, but he does deserve to have this if he wants it.

An alternative conclusion to the time travel is uh. So the Mandalorians are genetically identical (give or take a hair gene) and really resemble Jango Fett, though whether anyone notices that is up in the air. Then the three ‘Sith’ (two fake Sith and their morality chain tag-along) have three younger, identical copies show up….

It could be really weird cloning shenanigans. Now, it makes no sense that they’d make clones, and stagger their production like that, and leave them as babies on various planets for Jedi to find. IDK what reasons Obi-Wan would come up with for that, but it’s a fun little detour before he gets to time travel.

There's a really painful moment (for the audience, who know about canon Vader) where someone tries to convince Ahsoka to leave the Sith and she's just like "no way, they'd never hurt me!” Then she clarifies that “someone has to keep them from doing stupid Sith shit whenever they get bored, you know?"

A bunch of Jedi probably think she’s delusional, but the few that have seen her get into trouble that is legitimately too much for her, which isn't often, have then seen Anakin show up like the devil himself to save her, and it's like. Oh. This is why she isn't scared of them hurting her.

We’ve discussed how Anakin does get concerningly in character with the fake Sith thing. However, Anakin and Ahsoka are, just once in a while, surprised by how Ben gets sometimes when playing the bad guy.

After all, he stabbed a dude with a fork and threatened to eat him during his time as Hardeen…

He has the same dramatic streak as all the rest of the lineage. He can be vindictive and creepy and scary as fuck.

HOWEVER:

Obi-Wan: I know I'm supposed to be playing at evil right now, but how do we feel about me making that evil a little... fruity? Ahsoka: Fruity, master? Anakin, who knows where this is going: [buries face in hands] Obi-Wan: You know, the... [limp wrist] Ahsoka: ... Obi-Wan: I mean, I'm already bisexual and well-groomed, I can play it up.

What’s the point of being evil if you can’t be flamboyant?

Anyway, I had to put in a lot of thought for what to do with Rex and Cody, because there's a solid place for them in terms of strategy, but it doesn't do much to give them independent narrative arcs, and 'young Obi-Wan has a crush' isn't much of an arc, you know?

So, basic info first: Cody, Rex, and Anakin all hold the rank of General in this AU because, like... who else is gonna. Ahsoka remains a commander because everyone declares her Baby, and also to keep up the "I'm a morality chain" ruse.

Cody maintains a very stern and unyielding public persona, but the second they're behind closed doors, he's roughhousing with his little brother.

Rex has some fun pretending to be a sadist whenever he and Anakin have to team up, because hamming it up as an evil bastard in front of Jedi is actually really fun... but usually, he's a competent fucking professional.

Because here's the thing: someone has to be.

They both kind of hate the army they've gotten, because these people don't even have proper trigger discipline, let alone any actual discipline.

This army? Tragic. They hate it. Give them the clones.

They have to be drill sergeants for months before they have anything worth sending onto the field.

I think that might be how/when they end up reaching out to Jango. Like, the first inroad is absolutely "we're your clones from the future and you were a Shit Dad so you owe us," but then they actually talk him around into letting the Fake Sith hire him. He brings along all the Mandalorians he can get to answer his calls, and on suggestion from Those Mando Twins, joins the army Ben doesn't even want.

Darth Boring doesn't want an army! Unfortunately, Cody thinks that's stupid as hell, and is overruling Ben so they can actually work on this 'cleaning up the galaxy of slavery' thing with actual resources.

Cody and Rex are super competent, and it shows in their horrified disdain for the state of their troops.

Rex: Fucking natborns. Anyone who isn't in the know: What's a natborn? Rex: [leaves without answering] People: WHAT'S A NATBORN???

(I'm assuming that the word smush is harder to parse in Basic.)

I think young Obi-Wan's new crush on Cody should also be unrequited. Cody's just like... bemused. Very "Okay, then, that sure is an Affection you've decided on."

Cody and Anakin both: Sorry, it’d just be too weird. Obi-Wan: Why would it be too weird? Cody and Anakin: Reasons.

Rex has to deal with the "whyyyyy" from both his brother and his (former?) General.

Young Obi-Wan just likes cute boys that fight good! Is that so wrong???

Ahsoka: So since we're not officially Jedi anymore-- Obi-Wan: We're still Je-- Ahsoka: Can we date? Can I date now? I want to date someone before we go back to the Code. It's a classic life experience for most teenage girls, and I want to Have That Experience before we're back at the Temple. Obi-Wan: You're not... you can date, Ahsoka, that's not actually banned by the Code. I mean, you'd have to keep it casual, but-- Ahsoka: I CAN DATE!!!

(Great priorities, Ahsoka.)

An idea I'm toying with is that one of the clones ends up Legally Engaged to Satine for political reasons, and young Obi-Wan is just like ???? because not only can he not date the hot boys, but one of said hot boys has become Mr. Steal Yo Girl.

Young Obi-Wan is suffering, and Quinlan is the worst friend ever because Quinlan is laughing at him.

There is obviously the question of

"How would Satine ever end up agreeing to that, given what their public personas are like and all that? She puts duty ahead of personal feelings but all indications are that it’s a terrible decision both ways." (as stated by Tia)

Which, yes, I forgot to actually say that I was imagining Jango had declared "those twins" his heirs after telling people they were his younger* cousins. Because reasons.

* Jango is about 27 when they land in the past, and I’m going to say the accelerated aging ended after hitting physically twenty because no, I don’t want to deal with that. As far as anyone knows, Cody and Rex are about five years younger than Jango. They’re less than year apart, which isn’t very visible, and most people assume they’re identical twins (except Rex’s hair), and that Cody just looks slightly older because of the scar.

Darth Boring had convinced Satine that the way to keeping Mandalore peaceful was to work with Jango (because Darth Boring, which is not his actual title but it is what Ahsoka insists on calling him in private, has a vested interest in keeping Mandalore and all interested parties calm), and he... maybe accidentally set up a political marriage between her and one of the clones.

It wasn't on purpose! Satine never married in his timeline, okay, he didn't expect her to ever get married here, either! He didn't even suggest it! This just happened!

(I want to say that Cody would be more competent at having a political marriage? But IDK.)

Do I do the Satine thing? It has potential, but also it's a bit of a cop-out. Do I have Cody be a diplomatic representative for their pseudo-Sith empire? He could be, but I think he'd hate it. Do I have Rex date one the Chaos Entities (Anakin or Ahsoka), or is that too repetitive with my other works? THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH GOING ON.

Part of me wants Quinlan to get a crush on Cody, and the crush gets bigger specifically in response to the fact that Cody refuses to take him seriously and/or just doesn't give him the time of day.

Based on their one interaction in TCW, they probably let get along ok. Cody maybe likes him back, buuuuuuut internally he's just a little "you were tolerable at almost-forty; early twenties you is obnoxious."

Just imagine the absolutely puppyish attempts at gaining approval and Impressing The Hot Mando General. Quinlan keeps having vague daydreams of seducing someone to the side of the Light. He really leans into the bodice ripper fantasies of saving someone evil with the power of love! (And also the power of really good sex.)

Bant looks at Quin and Obi and wants to throw them both into the nearest pond because they're idiots, but on this topic they are the same flavor of idiot. She considers calling up Reeft and Garen to help her knock some sense into them.

Quinlan: Can I volunteer to go undercover to the Sith? The Council: No. Quinlan: ...what if I-- The Council: No.

Tholme tries to get Qui-Gon to commiserate over their Padawans getting obsessed with Hot Sith Boys, but Qui-Gon just finds the whole thing funny. He knows from the chats he has with Ben that Anakin feels so completely, utterly, incredibly awkward about all of this.

(Ben continues to hold to "Anakin brought this on himself.")

(Ben also “kidnaps” Qui-Gon a lot.)

Also, hey, at least Quinlan isn’t actually into hot Sith boys! He’s into hot Sith minions which is... probably a step up. At least Cody’s not a Sith himself!

It's a step in some direction but Tholme has no idea which one.

(Quinlan sees Cody in dress uniform once and just keeps the mental image for Ages. It’s in his dreams. Sometimes said dreams overflow to Tholme via Force Mind Magic and Quinlan wakes up to someone smacking his face with a pillow.)

Arguably, Quin's also a lot more romantic about his crush than Obi-Wan is, in this case. Quinlan: I want to save him... Obi-Wan: Hey, hey, cute boy. Look at me. Let’s bang.

Cody: There are currently two future Jedi generals having some form of absurd romantic fixation in my direction. I don't know how to feel about this. Rex: Bed them. Cody: ...I'm not saying that's not eventually an option, but one of them is the younger Kenobi, and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that. Rex: Pat him on the head like a tooka and then bed his friend, it'll be funny.

I think the Quinlan thing and also general exasperation of leading an absolutely useless army can function pretty solidly as the basis for Cody, but I have another idea for Rex now.

Komari is currently brainwashed in a cult, yes? So.

I keep bouncing around back and forth on what to do with Rex, but part of me suddenly really likes the idea of, after Team Fake Sith finds and dissolves the cult (as one does), and takes Komari into custody (because she's dangerous and deeply unwell), Rex kind of ends up her touchstone to being a decent person. He’s not a morality chain, and it’s not really a redeemed-through-love thing, just This Is A Solid Dude who doesn't pity her or thinks she's irredeemable (however you choose to define such a thing), but actually relates to the kind of conditions living like that can involve, and just kind of...

I don’t know. I think Rex's arc in this AU could be very heavily grounded in something to the effect of "You're not the worst darksider I've met. You're not the only person who was in a cult. You're not even the only former Jedi I know that's committed awful, horrible crimes. My question is just this: What are you going to do moving forward?"

Later Anakin: Wait, who do we know that was in a cult? Rex: What did you think Kamino was?

(Rex isn't as chill as he'd like her to think, but he's trying, and she's fairly reliant on the Force to understand emotions, and is currently in nullifying cuffs, so he can bluff.)

Komari needs someone solid and dependable to rely on for at least conversation, and I think Rex needs to feel needed.

I’m not sure if it’d be romance or friendship, but I think there's a solid basis to work with, potentially.

Per Tia:

One thing about Rex and shipping is like. If you want to do Rexwalker again that's fine, but if you're worried about repetitiveness but still want to like. Ship him in a non-political-convenience way. Rexsoka here actually would be different than your other stuff.

I'm trying to figure out if I can make it work because Ahsoka thematically fits very much into a little sister shaped hole here? She feels younger than in other works, despite not actually being younger than she is in, say, Commander Buir. In those other fics, she has some time alone to function and prove herself independently of Anakin and Obi-Wan.

I usually pluck Ahsoka out at sixteen if I'm pulling her from TCW, so she's got most of her competence but hasn't gotten quite all the trauma yet. Commander Buir, in particular, also has baby-shaped Anakin for contrast.

That said, I can see a decent source of narrative conflict in her wanting to experiment with romance and all that, and Anakin trying to tell her she's too young.

A year into this whole time-travel mess, she wants to give the dating thing a shot, and it spirals into "You were only two years older than me when you got married!"

I think I could build a plot out of Ahsoka wanting to do these things, and Anakin as an audience insert not quite processing that she's old enough to make these decisions. If she's choosing to date Rex, whose age works out as being close to hers when one takes into account Kamino fuckery, and whom she trusts absolutely, it’s arguably extra weird for Anakin to be upset with it.

"Senator Amidala was five years older than you, and you married her when you were nineteen and had only really known her for a week! I can go on a date with a guy we both know is one of the most trustworthy people alive if I want, Skyguy!"

I can definitely see Ahsoka getting annoyed with Anakin being overbearing and controlling at some point before that unrelated to romance, too. It’s not exactly a new fault of his.

My god, just imagine someone snidely asking Anakin "where's your little shadow?" and Anakin, being Himself and also a Fake Sith, has an emotional breakdown about how Ahsoka yelled at him for micromanaging her and not trusting her to make her own decisions in life and so she got herself a multi-month solo mission from Ben that Anakin isn't allowed to know any details about, and--

It's another one of those "oh, you have PROBLEMS problems with your mental health" incidents for the Jedi to add to the file, because Anakin having emotionally charged rants about his issues at seemingly terrible times is how they get a lot of information.

Some of the rants are planned.

Many of them, actually.

They want the Jedi to know these things.

Just, well. Anakin.

He really is a little Like That.

On that note, I'm low-key imagining that Anakin gets put on mood stabilizers by the therapist in this context, and he's doing good! He's handling his issues! He's--been captured with Obi-Wan the Younger again and his medication was confiscated.

Anakin is... not great. He's a little out of practice managing his unmedicated self, and when adding withdrawal symptoms onto that... poor Anakin.

(Poor Obi-Wan.)

I think it would be best if Anakin makes a bunch of ominous blustery comments at their captors about how they won't like what's coming to them if they take his belongings (AKA the fanny pack that has his backup pills), and then Obi-Wan just gets to watch Anakin get more and more erratic, because like. Yes, Anakin is using the Force to compensate, but unfortunately he's mostly cut off, and the stress of the situation is pushing him away from depression and into the beginnings of a manic episode.

Anakin is aware of his issues to the point where he's mostly managing, and he keeps asking Obi-Wan "would it make sense for me to [slightly deranged, very impulsive action]," and Obi-Wan realizes he's being the morality sounding board for the Hot Sith because ??? reasons?????

Eventually, Anakin does flop back in bed and dramatically throws his arm over his eyes, and says he needs his meds back, he's absolutely going to lose it, and Obi-Wan tentatively asks what kind of medication. There are levels to worry about. Mild allergy medication is one thing, but heart medication that needs to be taken every four hours is another, you know? He wants to know how much panic is appropriate.

Anakin lets him know that it's Psychiatric In Nature. Obi-Wan suddenly realizes that he really, really, really doesn't want to know what a properly erratic, unmedicated Anakin is like.

(An unmedicated Anakin really isn't nearly as bad as Obi-Wan fears. Anakin's been dealing with this for a while, and knows what his issues are and some of how to deal with them. He'd need to be running on no sleep and higher levels of stress, or to have been drugged with something meant to increase his aggression, to really lose his shit and do something worthy of Vader. RotS levels of stress and sleep deprivation is required to pull RotS levels of manic paranoid delusion.)

Tia asked:

How long does it take the Jedi in general to catch on to how like. They have opportunities. But these Sith never seem to harm any Jedi. And it’s not just like, the past timeline parts of the disaster lineage. They probably get opportunities to hurt other Jedi. Ones that are less skilled at saber work. And more importantly ones that they don’t seem weirdly interested in."

I'm not sure, really. The Jedi don't spend as much time in the Outer Rim as they could, and that's where the Team operates, so actually running into them by accident is unlikely for anyone other than Shadows.

Fortunately, it's really easy to toy with Shadows with the excuse of "I want to see how long it takes before you Fall with us."

I do want like... okay. Here’s the mental image:

Qui-Gon calls them out on being Fake Sith pretty quickly, so Ben just sort of eyes him, dramatically, and orders out "Leave us" to all non-team people. The threat of torture is implied but not stated. He gestures with wine to keep in character. He definitely makes sure Young Obi-Wan is ushered out, so it's just five time travelers, Qui-Gon Jinn, and Ahsoka's immortal force birb.

"...so, what's the reason for the farce, Obi-Wan?" "How in all the hells did you figure it out so quickly?"

(Qui-Gon cheated a bit. He could feel the broken training bond that was never properly severed due to Traumatic Death Of A Master on Ben's end)

Ben didn't realize he'd feel it! Young Obi-Wan can't feel his older self or a training bond with Anakin or Ahsoka, so why could Qui-Gon?

IDK if there would be anything on the level of crying and hugging it out, but I think it would be very funny if, every time young Obi and Anakin are getting captured by pirates or something, Ben and Qui-Gon are just having a nice afternoon tea and checking their watches to see if their respective walking bundles of neuroses are done with their adventure yet.

The Council is So Done, because Qui-Gon continues to insist that they're Not That Bad, but every time anyone other than Qui-Gon brings up the friendship, Ben laughs and makes a comment about how absolutely gullible Master Jinn is.

Obi-Wan is skeptical of his own experiences with Anakin, at least, if only because he's skeptical about Anakin's everything.

"I don't know if Vader is telling me the truth. I don't know if he's telling himself the truth. I don't think he's a great source of information even when he thinks he's being honest."

Anakin could tell Obi-Wan the full and complete truth, and Obi-Wan would worriedly put a hand to his forehead and start doing tests for hallucinations and paranoid delusions. In his defense, this is a very reasonable assumption to make with an individual like Anakin. It's just also not accurate, this time. I don’t know if Anakin hallucinates in canon without a weird inciting incident like Force Nonsense or getting drugged by the enemy, but paranoid delusion is pretty much all of RotS.

"I’m your time-traveling padawan who’s pretending to be a Sith to catch some other Sith who’re going to start a galactic civil war and those Mandalorians you like are from a clone army based on a template of Jango Fett made to serve the Jedi (because that’s totally something he’d sign up for), and one of the Sith is your grandmaster but he doesn’t seem to have fallen yet, it’s probably fine," is hard to believe.

Honestly, even if he seemed stable before saying that, which he doesn’t, it’s all real far fetched. There's a lot going on and Obi-Wan wouldn't even begin to believe it without evidence.

I've had it in my head that he and Bant and Quinlan have been gossiping about the mess for months if not years about these idiots, and at one point it became common knowledge that Ben was a Kenobi, and Bant convinced them (since the two were among the most likely in the entire Order to encounter the Fake Sith) to get a DNA sample, probably hair or blood since that's easiest so they can figure out HOW these two are related, if they are, and then there's a whole big thing.

Bant: No, no, this must be contaminated, it's coming up as Obi-Wan! Are you sure you didn't accidentally grab some of your own hairs? I know it's a little long for most of your hair, but the braid-- Quinlan: Wait, they keep claiming stuff about cloning, right? Maybe someone's a clone? Check for artificial telomeres! Bant: ...okay, so, there aren't any artificial telomeres, but the ones from apparently-Ben are... a lot shorter... um... I don't know what to do with this. It's like I have two samples from the same person, twenty years apart. Quinlan: Obi-Wan, what's that face? Why are you-- Obi-Wan: Vader told me he was a time-traveler. I thought it was the fever talking, but...

That’s how he finds out that Ben is future-him before finding out about how he’s not evil!

"Master Jinn... I think... I think the Sith controlling the Outer Rim is me from the future." "Oh, you finally figured it out?" "I AM HAVING A CRISIS HERE."

Obi-Wan, after a few hours of dazed realization, runs screaming to Quinlan and Bant like 'GUYS GUYS THIS EXPLAINS WHY VADER KEPT SAYING IT WAS WEIRD AND THAT I LOOK LIKE HIS MASTER AND THAT IT WOULD BE LIKE DATING HIS DAD.'

You know, the important stuff.

I think Qui-Gon tells him that Ben isn't evil because, like, That Sure Is A Crisis Obi-Wan's Having. He could hold off for shits and giggles, sure, but Obi-Wan’s on the edge of something Really Concerning, mentally. Best help calm him down on at least one or two things.

Obi-Wan’s maybe still a little skeptical until he confronts them over it. Because their Sith act was real good and also like. Maybe Qui-Gon just wants to believe the best of his Padawan, y’know?

Quinlan runs into Ben before Obi-Wan does, after this whole mess, and gets to observe as money changes hands and people act like sore winners about bets made for When Does Obi-Wan Figure It Out.

Anakin was saying 'soon' because he really didn't think the fever-fueled rant would be discounted as easily as it was.

Cody was of the opinion that it would take at least a few more years since they're actually pretty damn good at this whole schtick.

Quinlan: Wow, he's... going to be really disappointed that you have such a low opinion of his intelligence. Cody, gesturing at Ben: Experience. Darth Ben: ಠ_ಠ

Cody just rattles off some of the Extremely Stupid Shit that Ben's done in their time working together.

Rex cheerily offers up "You didn't even realize General Skywalker was married, sir! And they weren't subtle!" "I knew they were together, I just didn--" "Everyone knew they were together, sir. Everyone."

(Rex had the lowest opinion of their deductive capabilities. He claims it would have taken until Baby Ahsoka showed up at the Jedi Temple.)

-Once Obi-Wan accepts that they're decent people after all- Obi-Wan: Wow, Anakin, you're real good at acting unhinged! Anakin: Haha. Yeah. Thanks?

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

[danielxricciardo]

Hi love the writing! Could you do something angsty around 26 or 35 with max??

Summary: You found out Max cheated on you

Warnings: angst, swearing

Word count: 2.5k

26. “Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?”

35. “What will you do if we break up?”

'Max is looking at you' you read what your best friend Anthony, an engineer at Red Bull Racing, wrote.

And you worked at Red Bull Racing too, you decided with Max Verstappen, your boyfriend, that this is the best way for you to travel with him. You didn't have a complicated job. You dealt with filtering the negative ad on the team and then you gave it to Victoria to deal with the articles as she knew.

'Okay, let him look,' you write on the piece of paper that Anthony wrote quickly on.

You were at a meeting with all the Red Bull Racing employees, to your bad luck. Being in the same room with Max Verstappen was the last thing you wanted at the time.

Sure, your relationship was beautiful, or it had been anyway. He was whatever you wished from a man and more. He looked like a bad boy but he was the cutest and most thoughtful man you knew and he made you feel safe even when you couldn't see him.

His words still resonate in your mind and you had to make a supernatural effort not to cry.

You knew Max Verstappen loved you. He told you that every day and showed you through the gestures he made. He never gave you a reason to doubt him, and you didn't look for scandal either.

But every time you saw her, a lump appeared in your stomach. Without wanting to, you became careful around you, looking for her or Max. When you saw them talking, you looked for any excuse to go near them.

But your fear was unfounded, wasn't it? Max loved you, you were together for two years and you were fine.

But you also looked at her. She had also had a long-term relationship with Daniil Kvyat, a relationship of almost three years and they have a little girl together. There can be nothing between them.

Anthony has told you several times that Max and Kelly have been spending a lot of time together, at least lately, and you said you weren't worried. Why would you be?

But last night all your worries and fears came upon you at once. Anthony told you he saw Max leave the paddock with Kelly and didn't come back for about three hours. He didn't want to pay attention to this thing but when Anthony went to the driver to show him some sketches he noticed a small bruise on the backside of his neck.

"Really?" he tells you laughing. "How old are you to leave hickeys on your skin? Only teenagers still do that."

You felt all the color drained from your face. Hickey? You never left anything like that on his skin.

Anthony probably realized that what he said was not about you.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry..."

"It's ok," you say and smile at him even though you wanted to die at that moment. "I need a little bath, I'll be right back," you say and get up from the chair.

You started crying in the bathroom. You were disappointed, scared, disgusted, and shocked. To learn that someone you trusted unconditionally had been lying, cheating, and had developed an emotional bond with another woman behind your back was not registering in your brain.

Yes, you weren't a model, you didn't look like one, but Max always told you that you were perfect and that no other woman compares to you.

You literally could not wrap your head around what was happening...

You hoped that your darkest thoughts would never come true, but they did. Max and Kelly. Together. Behind your back.

It feels like every nerve in your body has either frozen or left your vessel completely. Your body literally enters a state of shock; adrenaline. You are absolutely stripped. Vulnerability. Disbelief. Disgust. Horror. Anger. Confusion. Shattering, crippling, traumatizing heartbreak.

Trust, honesty, and respect are necessary for a relationship, and Max just shattered all three at once. You have been the victim of an emotional crime. You ask yourself, how could this person fuck me over like this?

I trusted them.

I loved them.

I was loyal to them.

I kept my end of the fucking bargain.

How could you emotionally manipulate me?

What was I lacking?

Am I the problem?

Truly sickening, reality-twisting, mind-fucking stuff. You just couldn't believe that this was happening to you. Infidelity is something you hear about quite often, in books, movies, the media, or to other people, but not to you. This was somebody you loved with all of your heart, who told you he loved you, who had never shown the slightest inclination of dishonesty or moral transgression or disloyalty.

"Y/N, are you okay?" you heard Anthony behind the door, the fear and worry present in his voice.

"I'm fine," you say, though no one would have believed you. "I'll be there in a moment."

You splashed some water on your face, looked in the mirror, and bit your lip. You looked like hell. The eyes were red, the small veins that irrigated the eyeballs were broken, the face was red, in a combination between the violent crying crisis and the anger you had.

What were you going to do? Will you pretend you didn't know anything? Will you tell him you knew? Were you going to break up with him or were you going to wait for him to break up with you to be with Kelly?

You finally came out of the bathroom and Anthony was waiting for you at the door. He hugged you tight and assured you that everything would be fine. But he had no way of knowing that. It was nothing more than his simple hope that his best friend would not lose her fucking mind.

The phone starts ringing. Anthony lets you go and he goes to see who's calling you. He gives you a worried look. You immediately realized that it was Max who was calling you. Tears began to flow down your cheeks again and Anthony took your reaction as an invitation for him to answer the phone.

"Hey, man," he replies, and you don't hear what Max is saying. "No, she went for a coffee and left her phone on the table. Okay, I'll tell her. Okay, bye."

You approach him after he's finished the call to make sure you don't hear Max's voice.

"He said to go to his room."

"I don't want to see him."

"I realized that. Let's go, we'll deal with this problem later."

You went for a walk. The fresh air calmed you down a bit, but you had all kinds of thoughts in your mind.

How many times has this happened? Did you really want to know that? You really wanted to know how many times he kissed her and then he would come to you and tell you that he loves you.

If Anthony hadn't seen the hickey, how many more times did he planned to cheat on you?

Did he love her? That would have hurt you the most, knowing that you failed to give Max the love he needed and had to look for it in the arms and bed of another woman.

"Just know that I understand your feelings. I've been through this myself." Anthony breaks the silence and you look at him. "To be cheated on, it's a feeling of helplessness and zero self-worth. You feel as if you didn't do enough for that person which is why they reached out for someone else sexually or romantically. You blame it on yourself half the time. You dig for answers in your memories to try to figure out where you went wrong, where things started to go in a different direction. You hope that it won't happen again. You hope that the saying "once a cheater, always a cheater" it's just a myth. They broke your trust, how could you ever trust them again, right? You become paranoid when they go out at night or they don't answer your phone calls by the first ring. You find yourself having more down and depressed days than happy days. And a lot of questions will always replay in the back of your mind. Why? Why now? Why with them? How could this be happening to you? No matter how many times you get an answer, it won't be enough. Day after day, it'll get better but worse at the same time."

After two hours you returned to the paddock. You were immediately notified that Max was looking for you everywhere and he was worried he couldn't find you. Ironic, isn't it?

"Y/N!" you hear Max's voice.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Anthony asks, standing in front of you to block your image of Max.

"No, it's okay. I'll handle it somehow..."

Anthony nods and leaves, staring angrily at Max.

"Hey, I was looking for you everywhere. Are you okay? Your eyes are a little red." he asks and if you didn't know better you'd think he cared.

"Let's go somewhere private."

You went to his room. You sat on his bed and thought about what you could say. You were thinking about what Anthony told you when you walked together.

Max hands you a dose of Red Bull and you take it, feeling your throat very dry.

"We need to talk," you tell him and you feel your eyes start to sting. It was not yet time to start crying.

"Okay? Is something wrong?"

"Is it true what Anthony told me?" you ask and you see that Max doesn't know what you mean; how would he know? "Is it true that you and Kelly spent some time together?"

His face went blank for a moment as he tried to understand.

"What you mean?"

You reach out your trembling hand to the collar of his polo shirt to lower it where Anthony told you it was the mark.

And Anthony was right. There was, in front of you, the hickey Kelly made on him.

Max didn't expect that. He looks at you with wide eyes and you hear his heart start beating harder. Sweat dripped down his forehead.

He looked away from you, numb. You discovered his secret. You didn't know if he was afraid of your reaction or sorry you found out his little secret.

"I didn't intend to hurt you," he says, and you realize he's telling the truth.

He had a guttural voice.

You smile at them. A broken smile that hid the primordial desire to cry and hit him with all your best.

"I don't care about your intentions. They're irrelevant. You didn't intend to hurt me? Well, you didn't intentionally try to keep me from harm either."

You don't know where you had the strength to look into his eyes and not cry. Max looks crushed. Because you found out? Because you're breaking up? Because he has to put an end to the affair with Kelly?

"How long was it actually going on before I found out?"

You see Max trying to think of an answer that doesn't affect you so much or destroy you at all.

"For less than a month," he answers.

One month? Where were you a month ago? In Spain. Did something happen there? Did you notice anything strange about him? To his behavior? No. You didn't notice anything.

Was he really that good at hiding his mistakes?

That, of course, if he considers the relationship with Kelly a mistake.

"Did you ever think of me when you were with her?"

He did not answer. You didn't even know if you wanted to know the answer to that. What would it be like to answer that he never thought of you and that his mind was soaked in serotonin that only Kelly could think of those moments?

"I never stopped loving you."

"I don't believe you loved me while you were cheating on me. Love and betrayal are incompatible. I don't feel safe with that kind of 'love.'"

"So? You're breaking up with me?" Max asks.

Although you still had so much to say, you no longer had the power. You were so mentally and physically exhausted that you just wanted to be alone and cry.

"There's nothing else to do, is there?" you say and leave his room.

Anthony was waiting for you. He noticed that you had no tears on your face and frowned.

"What happened? Did you guys make up?"

You hug Anthony hard and cry. At that moment you gave up being strong. You gave up pretending, even in front of you, that you were fine.

Fuck it, you weren't fine. You were far from fine.

You looked back at Christian Horner, who was presenting something on the video projector. You lost the whole meeting with the crew. You had no idea what was being said.

Honestly, you don't even care what they said. You only worked there because you were Max Verstappen's girlfriend. But for eighteen hours, this was no longer true. So what's stopping you from going to Christian and telling him you're resigning? What keeps you from going home and forgetting about Max, forgetting the last two years of your life and starting over?

"That's it for today, thank you very much, friends, and let's get back to work, yeah?"

Everyone gets up from their seats. Anthony draws your attention and beckons you to look at the garage door.

You could faint then and there. No one and nothing ever prepared you for the emotions you were experiencing then. Kelly Piquet was at the garage door, waiting for the meeting to end. She was staring at Max, but he was just looking at you.

"Can we talk a little?"

You nod to Anthony that you're fine and he can leave. You look at Max and you see that he doesn't look very good. He had dark circles and you're sure he didn't sleep last night either, just like you.

“Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?” he asks, looking down at his shoes.

"Yes," you answer categorically, looking at his face, waiting for him to raise his head so you can look him in the eye.

“What will you do if we break up? You will leave here or-” you interrupt him.

"Not 'if I break up with you,' we've already gotten over it," you say and Max looks at you with wide eyes. "We already broke up last night. I'm still here because I haven't had a chance to talk to Christian yet to tell him I'm resigning."

"Are you leaving?"

"I have nothing to do here. I came to Red Bull Racing for you."

A tear runs down Max's cheek.

"What can I tell you to stay?"

"There's nothing left to say. Now go," you say and you feel a lump in your throat. "She's waiting for you."

Max turns to the garage door to see who you're talking about.

"I gave her a text message last night and told her it was all a mistake between us."

You smile at him. "Goodbye, Max," you say then you shout for Christian.

[randomingoftherandomness]

What I am hoping for from Winner is King ( 烽火流金)

Okay, so at this point, let’s just be reals here, Word of Honor has kinda set the bar for me in terms of standards to expect from the slew of danmei adaptations this year. Granted, I know that there are some who think the way it was adapted was not up to their standards and that it could have been done better, please don’t bring it on this post because this is not the post for it.

In this post, I’m going to talk about  Winner is King (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑

Now, Sha Po Lang, the original novel, is for me one of the best things that I have read in a very long while. As such, I can be rather precious about what I am hoping to see come alive on the show and what I am hoping will be present in the portrayals I see. I know there are some concerns regarding the script and behind the scenes stuff - and they are very valid concerns that I feel too! - and with the recent announcement that instead of 45 episodes, we are only getting 40, I can foresee that there could be some rushed handlings of the very plotty nature of the source material and perhaps a sense that style can trump substance.

But as the actual show isn’t beaming right into our eyeballs just yet, here are some things I am looking forward to seeing in Winner is King and some things that I am crossing my fingers will make the final cut! 

Warning for some novel spoilers ahead. I’ll keep it under the read more.

Tagging @zhongwans because I said I would haha...

Things I am looking forward to:

The Changgu dynamic. I think it goes without saying that if the chemistry between your leads is a dud, the show doesn’t need to even pass Go, it can just shuffle itself off the board because it will be dead in the water. The Changgu dynamic has to be nailed; I need to see that self-doubt, that caring for the other but coming at it from the wrong way, that awkwardness that comes with trying to hold back the burden of your love and care because you don’t want to overwhelm the other... 

I need Gu Yun to be shamelessly sweet with his words and his coaxing of his Yan Wang from a sulk. I need Changgu saying “I hate you to death, Gu Yun” (pining)

Hu Ge Er. Let me just be clear here, I will cheer when she dies, but I hope that how they handle her characterisation will do her justice. There is no excusing the level of horrible that she is, but I hope that she isn’t written as a single dimension abusive piece of shit. Nuance, is what I am looking for. I need her to be the villain and the reason for Chang Geng.

I. NEED. THE. WOLF. ATTACK. SCENE. OUTSIDE. OF. YANHUI. TOWN. aka The First Time They Meet

There is legit no excuse for them to fuck this up, but the Steampunk elements. I would not know what else to say if they fuck this one thing up that is so integral and basic to the love of this IP. They cannot fuck this up. I am very sure I will join people in rioting if they do.

I need to see my Red Kites, my Heavy and Light Armours, my Dragons... I need to see the steam powered lamps, the iron puppets... I need them to get the Wind Slashers right. I need them to get this world-building right ok? I need to be dropped into this show and just swoon over just how accurate to imagination everything looks. Tencent does have the blessed ability to make very good looking productions, so on this note, I am assured. 

I need them to get the human element right; I need to understand why Gu Yun is the way he is, I need to know why the members of the Lin Yuan Pavillion will back Chang Geng and why they won’t. I need to know why Liao Chi would betray the Emperor. I need them to make me feel; I want them to make my heart hurt when Chang Geng’s heart is hurting, I want them to make me cry when Gu Yun is at his lowest and feels like he can’t go on. I want them to make me laugh, I want to feel for Shen Yi and Miss Chen’s awkward courting. 

On that note, I hope they get the Shen Yi and Gu Yun dynamic right too! These two are bros ok? Life and death, ride or die, best bros forever and I need, need them to nail just how integral these are to each other and how much they chose each other as family. I need the bickering, I need the protectiveness, I need the banter. 

I also need Chang Geng conspiring to marry Shen Yi off quickly so that he can have Gu Yun all to himself lol but lbr here if we can get an ending for this show from Tencent that even breathes the same atmosphere of air as satisfactory I will praise the heavens

The Bone of Impurity. I don’t know to what extent they will cover this or if they would do it the way the book does it, but this being an element that is integral to Chang Geng, I would be surprised if they dropped it entirely. So yeah, I am looking forward to seeing Chang Geng fretting and worrying and getting Bone of Impurity attacks.

Just the way that Gu Yun allows himself to be cared for my Chang Geng and how Chang Geng lets Gu Yun care for him

I want one acupuncture hedgehog scene please and thank you

I do want to see how they handle Chang Geng and his elder half-brother; how that dynamic unfolds will be something to pay some attention to, I think

Oh! That moment when Chang Geng kneels down in front of his brother and tells him to please bury any talk of his marriage and revealing to his brother the scars that he carries from his time living under Hu Ge Er’s roof (this is one brand of Whump that I promise you will hurt you very badly and it will be very good)

The argument at Jiangnan is something I really think will also make the final cut. It wouldn’t make sense to drop it seeing as this is a pivotal shift in their relationship where Chang Geng is finally holding his ground and not bending over backwards and believing everything his Yi Fu says. And this was the catalyst for their four year separation so yeah. I hope they do this justice.

I am not a betting person, but I high key bet that the scene between Gu Yun and the previous Emperor where he tells the man, “If you go, then I won’t have anyone left” and this being the moment that softens the dying fucker’s heart enough to give him a bracelet of beads that will be a major plot point towards the end

THE. BATTLE. SCENES.

Things I am hoping will happen:

At this point, speculation is that the point that tripped Winner Is King up for a recheck was the politics. This year is the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Communist Party in China and rumour has it that shit be sieving thick and so a lot of shows are erring on the side of caution. 

Politics is the highest likelihood of a recheck but I am hoping that it won’t be dumbed down or watered down too much because the politics and the way things played out in the book was absolutely divine and I really want to see that court intrigue and scheming and interplay unfold.

I’ve mentioned in my most recent podcast episode that I am banking on this show to scratch my itch for a Nirvana in Fire level of plottiness and infinite craftiness of the characters and I am crossing all fingers and toes for that to happen because All! The! Characters! Hold! Their! Own! And I need to see that play out please I am not asking for much...

The final sea battle with the Pope. I wouldn’t even know where they would even begin to shoot that scene but this is something I would love to see happen.

The Bone of Impurity attack after Gu Yun sneakily left the capital. That was the scene that caught me and hooked, lined and sinkered me for Chang Geng as a character. Listening to this scene be brought to life in the audio drama has really hammered it home that if they make this bit into the show, I will watch and weep if it is done right. 

Cao Niangzi being Cao Niangzi. I am thinking it might not happen the way I want, but I just need them to get them right.

Ge Chen peeing on the enemy’s face. Please. I laughed so hard. I need this. It will be a balm to my soul.

Please, I need Gu Yun’s soul crushing flute playing like I need Gong Jun to always be absolutely horrible at singing because baby this is your niche and this is your charm own it work it

I also need Gu Yun stealing a bamboo flute from a 10 year old because he got jealous please and thank you

Any flashback of Chang Geng and Hu Ge Er before Yanhui Town

I want to see that moment that Gu Yun hears first hand from someone who had knowledge of what Hu Ge Er would do to a baby Chang Geng and the horrible abuse she inflicted on him, because up to that point, he only knew that something went on, but never to the extent that revelation wrought unto him

Any of the Bone of Impurity moments; any mention of it, any visual representation of it... Gosh, just the idea of having the Bone of Impurity made visual is just... Ugh. Yes. Please. The suffering.

[bonus] Things I wish will happen but will probably not:

The hot spring scene or a version of it

An implication that baby cannibalism was involved in the making of a Bone of Impurity

The scene where they get to the goddess doll (the description of it in the book was so bone chilling and if they do this I will have nightmares, I’m just warning you)

I really, really want a scene where, after being crowned Emperor, Chang Geng goes to the frontlines to reclaim the South and upon hearing that he was there, Gu Yun immediately panicked like he was about to be caught with his pants down doing something illegal when all he did was ordered his subordinates to keep news of his injuries from being reported back to the capital

Any flashback of Chang Geng and Hu Ge Er before Yanhui Town; especially when they were with the Barbarians

I want to see some version of Hu Ge Er realising what she has done to her own child and to Chang Geng

Okay this got super long but what are you guys looking forward to seeing when Winner is King hits our screens? I’m looking forward to creating content for this fandom when it hits ೕ(˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ๑) In the meantime, sound off on what you’re expecting and what you’re maybe wary about!

[secret-engima]

In Demons verse, what are some of the more memorable/fun instances of Noctis' new subjects following him around / parenting him / interacting with him?

Hmmmmm

-Noctis once had a very old Arachne following him around because she thought his current clothes were ATROCIOUS for royalty to wear and wanted to make him new ones. He kept politely saying it wasn’t necessary, so she just- started stalking him. Openly. Following him around aggressively weaving him new clothes just by eyeballing his figure until he finally gave in and stood still for a proper fitting.

-A pack of daemon kiddos once overhead Ignis complain that Noctis didn’t let himself get enough rest and REALLY for his own health he should slow down. Maybe take naps or something. Cue a small army of daemon bbys trundling into the throne room, since that was the only place they KNEW Noctis would be sitting down, and fearlessly climbed onto his lap and chair to snooze. This was fairly early on in Noctis’s reign, so the adult daemons were freaking out internally because WHAT IF HE TAKES IT BADLY. But once Noctis got over his knee-jerk surprise-suspicion and realized he was being cuddled by purring, oddly shaped kids, he just- rolled with it. Welp no getting up from here he’s just gonna-zzzzzzzzz.

-Gladio described the scene later to Ignis, now Ignis siccs the daemon kids on anyone he deems isn’t resting enough. Prompto has, in turn, sicced the kids on Ignis for the same reasons.

-Noctis doesn't use Greatswords often, but he still practices with them to stay skilled. He does this maybe three times before he notices a growing collection of Iron and Red Giants lingering to watch from a respectful distance. The moment he addresses them, the oldest member lumbers in and starts Fussing™ because their king is Tiny Human Man. Not like their new Gladiolus Boss who has many muscles for a Human. What if His Majesty hurts himself with a sword that big? He should leave Big Sword Things to the Iron and Red Giants. Noctis listens to these concerns with internal despair. How is it in the space of months he went from being feared as their new king to being parented by like- five different types of daemons at any given day.

-The Imps show appreciation for a ruler by leaving gifts. It’s not an uncommon thing. However, since Imps have a ... loose understanding of personal property when the owner is not capable of hissing/clawing/snarling/setting things on fire in defense of property, their collection of gifts is ... eclectic. Noctis doesn’t realize WHERE they’re getting their trinkets at first since it starts with baubles and shiny rocks, then, as their appreciation and love of their new king grows, upgrades to rusty weapons, shiny weapons, crude jewelry, FANCY jewelry (which is when Noctis starts getting suspicious of the origins of the gifts) and then finally, in what the Imps think is their grandest gift yet-

-Two Actual Live Elven Children™.

-Noctis is Not Amused™. The kids are terrified until Ignis and Prompto sweep in for tea, cookies, and story time while Noctis has a Talk™ with the Imps.

-The Imps excuse: No one was caring for the kids. The Imps found them in a  house with no adult around and no food. Noctis likes taking care of things like the good king he is and they know he likes the daemon kids so they thought he’d like having kids of his own.

-Once Noctis finishes choking on his spit, he goes to talk to the kids and learns they’re mother was dead and their father had abandoned the family long ago. They had no one but each other.

-Noctis processes that, sighs, and offers to let them stay here. Then he turns to the Very Smug Imps and says Don’t Do That Again.

-....Unless you’re 100% certain that the kids have no family to take care of them.

-Abused orphans randomly vanishing into the Night, stolen by daemons, becomes another new ghost story for the general populace of the kingdoms even after they become allied with Lucis (Lucis and Tenebrae are the only kingdoms to know that this is really an Insomnian adoption and that all the kids are there only because they agreed to it and that the kingsglaive are THRILLED to have new members deposited on their doorsteps. Noctis is an Eternal Sigh™).

[kunstpause-archive]

FFXIV Write Prompt #5: Matter of Fact

Apparently today’s theme is sisters! ❤ Have some Cassia and Adriene.

1

“Maker’s breath, Cassia, why do you have a giant eye with arms hovering behind you?”

Adriene had jumped up from her spot next to the fireplace where she kept the first watch for their small camp.

“Hush,” Cassia admonished her sister, looking over the quiet tents behind them. “No need to wake anyone, and this little fellow is just lost. I’m just going to return him to where he came from.”

She was rummaging around in her backpack for the small vial of void-tainted blood she knew was still in there somewhere, ignoring Adriene’s still unsettled look for a moment.

“Return him back to where exactly?” her sister asked carefully.

“To the void of course,” she said matter-of-factly. “I closed the portal he came through a little bit too early so I’m going to take him to another one.” 

“Excuse me, what?” Adriene sat up straight, her voice dangerously low. “The void?”

Cassia thought her explanation had been sufficient, but by the absolutely shocked look on Adriene’s face it clearly hadn’t been.

“Uhm, yes?” she said, sounding a bit more careful. “You know how I’ve been travelling around closing those void portals to prevent certain doom and everything?” Something suddenly came to her, putting a sheepish look on her face. “Didn’t I tell you about that?”

Adriene’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You did not!” she pointed out dryly and Cassia let out a nervous chuckle.

“Oh, must have gotten lost, terribly sorry about that!” It didn’t surprise her completely, given how busy each one of them had been lately. “Anyway, I have to be off now, portals and void creatures and what not,” she said hastily, gently nudging the still confused void creature behind her further away from their camp. “Come on, blinky, we have to go!” With a quick wave to Adriene she hurried off. “I’ll be back for second watch, promise!”

“We are going to talk about this, Cass!” came Adriene’s exasperated voice from behind as Cassia did her best to pretend like she hadn’t heard her sister.

2

“Cass, we talked about this!” 

Adriene looked at her, full of disbelief.

“When?” Cassia asked, puzzled. The miniaturized version of Titan ran tiny circles around them as Cassia tried to make sense of her sister’s look.

“After you conveniently failed to tell me you were dabbling in all that void stuff,” Adriene huffed and Cassia shook her head.

“First of all, that ‘void stuff’ is called black magic and it has a long, if a little hampered lately, tradition. And second of all, this is completely different!” She nodded emphatically, as if that alone would be enough to make her sister see her point.

“You summoned a primal!” Adriene said in that moment, eyeing the small Titan suspiciously. 

“To be fair, it is a pretty tiny one,” came Layanna’s dry comment from the side. “It’s kinda cute when you look at it closer.”

“It’s an old, totally valid fighting discipline, “ Cassia protested. “And they are not comparable to the things we fought. Not really!”

“The things we fought, that is exactly my point,” Adriene said in that moment. “We fight primals. We talk day in and day out about the dangers of summoning and you just go out and take it up as a full time profession…”

“You were the one that suggested I look for help with my magic and learn to control it better,” Cassia pointed out. 

“I sent you to the Arcanists,” Adriene huffed, “Not to do this!” After a moment of silence she let out a deep sigh. “Look, Cassia, I am glad you got the hang of your magic this well. I really am. I am just also really worried about you!” 

Cassia could see in Adriene’s eyes that this was the whole underlying issue. That all the tiny complaints and small critiques lately came from a place of concern and she smiled at Adriene.

“I know you can’t stop worrying, but I promise you, I am doing fine!” She put a calming hand on her sister's shoulder. “I’m not doing any of this alone, I have great teachers. And besides,” she nodded at the tiny primal, “this little guy isn’t even my first try.”

The last bit seemed to be just a little bit too much again. “Not your first?” asked her sister wearily and Cassia had a sheepish look on her face again. 

“I may have failed to mention it, but Y’mhitra also taught me how to summon a small Ifrit!”

“Oh, show us! I bet he is adorable as well,” came Layanna’s voice full of enthusiasm. It nearly managed to drown out the exasperated sigh of Adriene.

“Of course you did,” her sister mumbled. “Why not? Let’s just have an army of miniature primals run around. There is nothing that could go wrong…” With a shake of her head she sat down, leaving Cassia to wonder when would be the best time to bring up her and Y’mhitra’s plan to add Garuda into the mix.

3

“This Red Magic sounds like a very smart idea,” Adriene mentioned as she handed the bread basket over to Cassia. “Getting in and out of danger quickly while having some healing magic as your back-up… I must say, given the previous things you’ve learned it sounds downright reasonable.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Cassia replied with a wide smile. “I knew you would think so.” For once she had had no qualms telling her sister all about what she had gotten up to in the time they hadn’t seen each other. “My teacher is a bit overly serious from time to time, but we’re getting along well and I even have sort of a student of my own by now. You’d love her, she is quite amazing!” With a small sigh she added, “She also makes me somewhat understand why you keep being so worried about me all the time.”

Adriene’s wide eyed look turned to amusement and she started to laugh. “Amazing! For that alone I am glad you picked up yet another discipline.” She was still chuckling as she gave Cassia a fond look. “It’s not that easy, being the one that worries, isn’t it?”

Cassia nodded gravely. “It really isn’t, and I feel I should apologize to you!”

“Ah,” her sister said good-naturedly, “Not necessary. But if it leads to you being just a little bit more carefully even, I am definitely happy about all this.”

Cassia hummed in agreement. “I swear, I was going insane with worry for the girl at some point, but after we faced that void queen and took care of that whole possession business I think she will be a bit more careful as well.”

“Void queen? Possession?” Adriene looked at her with wide eyes before she shook her head in disbelief. “I take it all back, you are not reasonable at all and I am right to worry day in and day out!”

“Says the woman who took up jumping off the highest spots she can probably find for thrills,” Cassia replied dryly before taking another piece of bread. One day she would learn how to leave out the more worrisome bits, she vowed.

“That is different, and you know it!” Adriene protested, but it sounded half-hearted at best.

“Uhuh,” Cassia said, her eyebrows raised at her sister. “And how exactly is the possibility of getting eaten by a dragon or falling to the influence of some magical eyeball less dangerous than what I do?”

“Your food is getting cold,” was all Adriene answered as she decidedly ignored Cassia’s question and kept her eyes on the table. 

‘We are eating bread, Adriene,’ was on the tip of Cassia’s tongue but she only smiled to herself as she took another bite. It didn’t matter how much either of them trained or how long they had already been at this, she knew that Adriene would always be a little bit worried about her. Would always be her big sister, if only by a two minute head start. And if she was honest with herself, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Baby its Cold Outside (PART 8)

Bakugo x Reader

Push it, Push it! To the Limit, Limit. Now we’re in it to win it! 

Words: 2509

PART 1 HERE, PART 2 HERE, PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE PART 5 HERE , PART 6 HERE PART 7 HERE PART 8 HERE PART 9 HERE PART 10 HERE PART 11 HERE PART 12 HERE PART 13 HERE PART 14 HERE

*****************************************************************************************************

Okay today is the day. It’s been three months since the accident and you were eager to get back in the saddle. Sure you still had the occasional jump scare, but it was manageable.

Technically you were on call for back up duty. Which means a couple days a week you go hang out at the agency and wait to see if anyone needs backup. Sure it’s not glamorous but its a step in the right direction.

The best part about getting to hang out at the agency all day was you were assigned a personal trainer that was ready to work with you whenever you wanted to. And you definitely wanted to.

You didn't waste any time going up to the front desk of the state of the art training facility in the basement level of your agency. You used to come here with Bakugo when you first started working together. But you never got to utilize the trainer because he insisted that no extra could possibly teach him something he didn't already know. You almost felt like you were cheating on him.

Your trainer’s name was Dylan. She was a small petite women who specialized in quirk training. She was an expert in taking someones quirk and helping them find new ways to use it or helping them make it stronger. And that’s exactly what you wanted to do. You wanted her to help you figure out how the hell you teleported 15 miles.

You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous. All the stories you've heard made her seem pretty intense. But then you remember who you were dating and there’s no way she could be worse than that. Hopefully. 

You saw her across the training facility over by an obstacle course, it looked like she was reading a file. Probably your file. You wondered what was in there. Was it good stuff? Did it mention you were shot? Was she already judging you based off a few pieces of paper? Get it together Y/n you’ll be fine. 

You couldn't help but notice her stern posture and long black hair that hung in a perfectly in place pony tail. You gulped and wiped your now sweaty hands on your training pants. Good thing you don’t have Bakugo’s quirk, you may have set off an explosion by now. 

“Hi I’m Y/n! It’s very nice to meet you. I’m really excited to get to work with you. I’ve heard you’re the bes-”

Dylan’s eyes snapped to yours and you felt a chill go down your spine. Yeah intense is probably the best way to describe her. She didn't say anything just held eye contact for a few seconds before squinting and cocking her head as if she was trying to understand a abstract painting, “Interesting.”

You almost flinched at how sweet her voice sounded. A stark contrast to the heavy glare in her eyes. She hadn't even blinked yet. “Uh... is something wrong?”

Her shook her head as if trying wake herself up and blinked rapidly, “Oh no sorry about that I was just assessing your quirk. You see my quirk allows me to see the limits to others ability as long as I can maintain eye contact. So I can see how far they can go, their greatest strengths, their weaknesses, their potential. It’s what allows me to be a great trainer. I always know what needs to be worked on and how far I can push my heros.”

Your jaw dropped, “That’s a super impressive quirk! Why aren't you a hero? It would be amazing to know all the villains weakness just by looking at them.”

She just laughed, “Oh no! I’d just be a liability in the field. I’m tiny and not very strong. Besides it only works as long as I maintain eye contact, and I don't know many villains who willingly just stare into heros eyes.” She just shrugged as if this were old news. She must have to explain it to everyone. She threw your file over in the direction of a nearby bench, “Now we've wasted enough time let’s get started shall well? I want you to start by getting through this obstacle course but only by teleporting.”

You bit your lip, “Uh I don't know if I can. I have to be able to visualize where I’m going. There’s too many things blocking my view...”

Dylan gave you a bored look, “You think I don't know that? Much like everything else in this course its just another obstacle for you to overcome. Now you only have me for two hours. Lets make it count.”

And thats how you ended up going home that night covered in bruises from running into things. But as sore as you were you were also excited. Dylan had been right. The harder you pushed yourself the easier it got. By the end of your session you had managed to teleport past two obstacles perfectly fine. You were over the moon but Dylan still looked bored. “Good, now tomorrow we’ll do it again but I’ll have cementoss change the set up and I’ll blindfold you.” And like that she was off to her next client, her ponytail swaying like a pendulum. She was either going to be the death of you or the best teacher you ever had. Only time will tell.

You were snuggled up with Zuko watching tv when Bakugo came home. He looked exhausted. He dragged his feet all the way to the couch, “Oi Zuko.. get down it’s my turn. You know the drill.”

Bakugo had spent a lot of time training Zuko and you could tell that although Zuko loved you more, he definitely respected Katsuki as the alpha. He hopped off the couch leaving room for Katsuki to plop down on top of you.

You groaned in protest because you were still super sore from training. But he was already half asleep meaning his day must have been really hard. So instead of scolding him you just ran your fingers through his hair while he snuggled in to you, his head using your boobs as a pillow. He was so adorable like this.

You stayed like that for a an hour or so until your stomach started to rumble with hunger. Apparently it was loud enough for your boyfriend to hear because he started to stir, “I swear sometimes I don't know who I have to take care of more... Zuko or you.” He slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “What do you want for dinner?”

It was only then that he really looked at you since coming home, “Oi... what happened to you? I thought you were on call today? Did you get pulled to duty?” You could see the concern in is his eyes, “It was your first fucking day back and you’re covered in bruises.”

You rubbed your thumb between his pinched eyebrows, “No I didn't get pulled, but I did some training with my new trainer Dylan. I was trying to learn how to teleport to places I cant see. So naturally I ended up running into a lot of stuff.”

“.... Dylan? Who the fuck is Dylan?”

“Yes Dylan. And before you get yourself all worked up, Dylan is a girl and she is awesome.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “How awesome can she be if you end up covered in bruises?”

“Her methods might be harsh but they work. Within our two hour session I was able to do something I’ve never been able to do before. I teleported somewhere I couldn't see and had never seen before! She said our quirks are like muscles, they only work in ways that we practice using them. If we don't exercise them in other ways then we won't ever reach our full potential.”

He scoffed, “Sounds like a load of horse shit to me. Every quirk has its limits.”

“True but her quirk actually allows her to see those limits. So she always knows exactly what buttons to push to help you maximize your abilities.”

He was in the kitchen now already bored with the conversation, “Well have fun with that. Just please don’t push yourself too hard alright? And don't forget who your favorite trainer is either!”

You sighed at your jealous boyfriend, “No need to be jealous Katsu, you’ll always be my number one. Even if you did catch my hair on fire our second year at UA.”

His laugh echoed through the apartment, “It’s not my fault you tried to sneak up on me.You’re lucky it was just your hair!”

The next day you practically skipped on the way to training. Excited to push the limits once again. True to her word Dylan blindfolded you and would walk around the obstacle corse and yell. Your job was to listen and try to teleport to her based on hearing alone. It was so difficult. You were soaked with sweat and exhausted but she wasn't done with you. She kept pushing and pushing. You felt like a rubber band about to snap. By then end, it was easier but not by much. It was something that was likely going to take a while to master. But hey just two days ago you didn’t even know it was possible, so small victories.

You worked on it again the next day and every day after. It became almost like a warm up, then you would move on to other things. Today you were trying to teleport objects without going with it, which proved to be the most mentally challenging thing you had tried yet. It took immense focus and even then the best you had done was teleport a marble from your hand to Dylans hand when she was standing about three feet away. It left you dizzy and with a nasty headache. Your eyeballs felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets and your shoulders were so sore from you tensing up so hard.

“Will this ever get any easier? My head is killing me...”

Dylan handed you a water bottle, “Of course it will. Everything does with enough practice. It may not be today, tomorrow, or next week. But it’ll come as long as you keep up with it.” She took a sip of her own water bottle, “I’ll tell you, you are probably one of the most motivated clients I’ve ever had. I can see it in your body language. You’re determined to get better.”

You gave a soft laugh, “Yeah well that’s because for the last five and a half years I’ve had Ground Zero kicking my ass and he doesn't except excuses. You either give it 110 percent or you get the fuck out.”

Her eyes widened, “Pshhhh and people say I’m intense. I’ve met Ground Zero a time or two. He’s got a mouth on him and attitude to match... but he’s a great hero and from what I hear he’s actually a pretty decent guy.” 

You blushed as you smiled into your water bottle, “Yeah he’s the best once you really get to know him. It might take a few years but he’s definitely the kind of guy you want in your corner when shit goes down.” 

She gave you a knowing smile, “You two are lucky to have each other. You know usually I don’t do this kind of thing but between you and I, you’re my favorite client and Ground Zero is kind of my kid’s favorite hero... so what do you say you guys come over for dinner sometime?” 

You tried to hide your surprise at the fact she had a child, “Oh that sounds excellent! We definitely will!” 

That night you decided to take a bath to soak your sore muscles. You had your eyes closed and were listening very intently to all the noises around you. Trying to map where these sounds might be coming from like Dylan taught you. The water was still hot when you heard Katsuki come in and quietly close the door behind him. You didn't open your eyes but your smile gave you away. You heard his clothes hitting the floor and him step up to the tub, “Scoot forward a bit will ya? Make room for me.”

You chuckled as you did what he asked, “Since when do you like baths?”

“Since I walked in and saw my incredibly hot girlfriend taking one.”

He started to rub your tense shoulders and you couldn't help but moan in response. “Well as long as you promise to do that you won't hear me complaining.”

He kissed the side of you neck, “Is that all you want me to do?” You could almost hear the smirk in his voice, “All those workouts you’ve been doing have you all tense.” His voice dropped to the delicious bedroom voice he only reserves for you, “Lets see what I can do to help.”

His hands moved from your shoulders to your chest, massaging lightly the area above your breasts. His thumbs continued to rub small circles into your neck and it felt heavenly.

You slowly eased into his touch, letting your head rest on on his shoulder. You just closed your eyes and hummed in contentment. You loved simple moments like these. 

His hands traveled down your arms and rubbed the sore muscles there, before returning his hands to your hair and started to massage your scalp. “mmmm your truly are the best boyfriend ever.”

You could feel his dick start to get hard as it pushed into your back. “What have I said about making noises like that? You know what it does to me.” His hands traveled back to your chest except this time it was to grope your breasts. He nibbled your ear as he started rolling your nipples between his expert fingers. You arched your back pushing your breasts into his hands. Desperate for his touch. “Oh baby girl, you look so beautiful. How did I ever get so lucky?”

One of his hands stayed on your breast while the other trailed south until it found the area truly craving his attention. Without any hesitation he pushed a finger into you, quickly followed by another. It was sweet, and slow, and it was driving you insane.

You squirmed beneath him trying to get more friction. “Always so impatient aren't you baby?”

You huffed, “I’d say I’m more than patient considering I had to wait over five years for you to make a move. And even then I believe I was the one who kissed you.”

You knew that would get a rise out of him in more ways than one, and you were not disappointed. He pulled his fingers out and with firm hands pushed you up. “Turn around and get in my lap.”

Your eyes lit up with excitement. His hand coming down with a hard smack on your ass as you briefly waved it in his face as you turned around. His hands found your waist as soon as you were straddling his lap and pushed you into his erection. “That’s right. I had to wait over five years. I had to watch as guys drooled after you. I had to sit behind you in class every day and listen to your goofy laugh. I listened to you complain about all the assholes you ever went on dates with. I watched and I waited until the perfect time...”

He thrust himself into you, “And baby, I’d do it all again if it meant we’d end up right here, right now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulder. The water started sloshing around as his thrusts became more intense and sloppy. He latched on to your neck sucking hard. It was definitely going to leave a mark and you would try to remember to scold him for it later. But right now you were too blissed out.

You were grinding into him to meet his thrusts. You really were making a mess now but you didn't care.

It wasn't long before you felt that familiar coil in you start to tighten, ready to burst any second. He pulled you into a tight hug, lifted his hips and really pounded into you. You felt your walls flutter and your vision blurred as you came for what felt like forever.

Katsuki gave you a couple more sloppy thrusts before he emptied himself inside of you.

You were both laying there panting, your head on his shoulder, his hands rubbing softly up and down your back, “So what do you say? Was I worth the wait?”

His hand froze, “What kind of dumb ass question is that?”

You giggled as you sat up and pulled the drain from the tub letting what was left of the water drain out.

He was handing you a towel when an idea came to you.

“Oh babe I want to show you something!”

“Huh? What are talking about?”

You grabbed a sleep mask out from a bathroom drawer and walked back to him. He smirked, “Oh kinky...”

You rolled your eyed and gave his chest a smack. “Oh stop it I’m serious watch this!” You put the mask over your eyes, “Okay now I want you to go hide somewhere in the apartment and when you’re ready whisper my name.”

He gave you a bored look but because he’s a good boyfriend he would go along with your shenanigans.

Not long after you heard him whisper your name, you focused really hard and *Pop* you teleported right into him knocking him over.

“What the? How did you? THATS AWESOME!”

And that’s how you ended up playing the most intense game of naked marco polo ever.... like the two adults that you are.

[iheardarumorxxx]

Midnight Sun, Chapter 9 - Port Angeles

Right. I remember this chapter from Twilight. I also have heard quite a bit about this chapter. This is gonna be a ride. 

Eddie starts off this chapter saying that he used to be the ‘responsible’ one. I would like to remind everyone that Edward Anthony Masen Cullen spent a few years eating people he percieved to be horrible criminals because he didn’t like animal blood and was being a whiny baby. But go off, Eddie.

SM is still trying to paint Jessica as a rude bitch and I still don’t buy it. It is extremely clear to anyone with eyeballs that Mike has a thing for Bella, and it is pretty obvious that this date he’s going on with Jessica is because Bella said no. So her thoughts come off as insecure. She’s a teenage girl, so I think insecure is a pretty standard thing. Not always, but SM has painted these kids as the stereotypical teens, so.

Basically, I still don’t buy the attempt to make Jessica seem evil.

Bella has wandered off to go get that book she wanted, and Eddie is simply freaking out because he let his daughter out of his sight for one minute and she wandered off. He’s about half a second away from considering getting a leash to put on her. Seriously, though, that’s how this reads. A parent frantic because they lost their child in a crowded store or park. We all know she’s gonna get a serious scolding for this one. Maybe even grounded.

a volly of snarls erupted from my throat

Okay, we’re still not to the big rant about vampire instincts in this universe, yet, but I want you guys to remember this for later. It absolutely aides in the point I plan to make there. Also a ‘volly’ of snarls. That sounds so forced and I genuinely laughed out loud when I read it. Anyway, Eddie has found Bella and she is with the Evil Bad Guys Who Have Ill Intentions. 

I would see how he enjoyed the hunt when he was the pray. I would see what he thought of my style of hunting.

Technically a spoiler because it hasn’t happened yet in this book, but not because we’ve seen it in Twilight. Eddie literally does not do anything to this Lanny guy or his friends. He gets out of the car, makes a mean face at them, and then gets back in the car and drives off. Maybe SM has Eddie go back out and hunt them later after he drops Bella off, but that doesn’t fit in with his squeaky clean good boy persona that Daddy Carlisle puts on him, so I doubt it. The scene as we know it comes off as very ‘man, if my girlfriend wasn’t here I’d kick your ass’. Because Eddie is a lot of bloated, puffed up talk.

When SM uses dialogue tags like ‘ordered’ to describe how Eddie says things, it just really hammers home that point I’ve been making about red flags. Even if it’s practical, like him telling Bella to put on a seat belt, especially since Pires bend the will of cars to their inane and idotic physics.

We went on a tangent about one of Eddie’s kills from his Vampire Batman days, and like honestly? I watch a lot of Criminal Minds. I see a lot of this kind of stuff, and it is absolutely awful that people like that exist in the world. I’m not saying that they shouldn’t be stopped. HOWEVER, this idea Eddie has that he was playing a good guy by taking justice into his own hands, I don’t jive with that. Now, I am aware of how faulty the criminal justice system is, especially with victims of sexual assault and domestic violence. I’ve lived that, myself. But if Eddie is so comfortable taking another life, no matter how he tries to justify it, he is no better than the people who he’s deciding to kill for their crimes.

a highly justifiable murder

See, this. This is why I don’t buy that SM’s Cullens are the paragons of good that she is constantly trying to say they are. There is no such thing as a justifiable murder, no matter what. Solving heinous acts with heinous acts simply perpetuates a cycle of heinous acts. 

I wasn’t giving her a chance to say no.

This is a trend that will continue throughout the entire series. I will point you to all of the times that Edward never gave Bella a choice in a matter, including leaving her in New Moon, and DISMANTLING HER CAR ENGINE IN ECLIPSE SO THAT SHE COULDN’T GO SEE HER FRIEND. That one in particular rubs me the wrong way for reasons, but we won’t do that here. Just know that Edward never actually lets Bella make a choice in this series, and even when he pretends to, he does everything in his power to make the outcome go his way.

And now we’re at the restaruant. I’ve heard some stuff about this scene and god, can I not WAIT, but for now, let’s just talk about the one off waitress character. She is clearly only here to be a rival to Bella for this scene. Brief, unimportant, underdeveloped. And honestly? One off characters don’t actually need that development, not really, but what I can’t stand about this one is that she is literally only here, both in this book and in Twilight, so that SM can puff up how clearly Bella is so much better than she is. Because, you see, Eddie doesn’t find the pretty hostess attractive, he only has eyes for Bella. Her entire point is so that Edward can look at Bella, and therefore, the audience as Bella is their SI for this world, and go on about how much better and prettier and more perfect she is than this woman. It’s just gross.

“Do I dazzle you?”

This is still, in my personal opinion, the best and most iconic line in a series full of iconic lines. Eddie the Dazzle Machine. Charming the pants off people when he’s trying to scare the shit out of them. It’s hilarious, and so fuckin’ romance novel cliche, and I love it.

This restaurant is apparently a real place in the real Port Angeles. And from what I understand, at least when the Twilight craze was in full swing back in 2008, they got a lot of extra business and a lot more people ordering the mushroom ravioli. Even put something about Twilight on their menu. Good for them, taking advantage of that free marketing. I have never been to Port Angeles, and am allergic to mushrooms, so I can’t say I’ve experienced the dish, but if any of you have, please let me know if it’s worth the hype.

Its so funny that right now, Eddie is worried about Bella being cold and going into shock, while Bella is over there huffing the fumes off his jacket like it’s a paint can, and he can’t even tell that that’s what she’s doing. The girl is doing everything short of just shoving her whole face in it and inhaling, but he’s too thick to get it. 

And here we are folks. The meat and potatoes of this chapter. The big comparison. The reason the cover has a pomegranete on it. Edward Anthony Masen Cullen has the absolute GALL to compare Bella, the boring, walking video game avatar to Persephone. Lets break down Persephone for a second here. There’s a lot to break down, but let’s stick to the basics, for fear that this rant gets wickedly out of hand before I can stop it. Persephone radiates optimism and hope. Persephone is soft, sweet, but has a temper that could kill a man. Persephone is sympathetic. When in the ever loving FUCK has Isabella Swan ever shown any of those characteristics? She is NEVER optimistic about anything. She fucking exists in a constant cloud of negative thought and assuming the worst. She isn’t hopeful about ANYTHING, not even her future with her PRECIOUS Eddie because she’s always questioning his intentions and feelings for her. She is not sympathetic in the slightest, no matter what SM tries to shove down my throat. She treats her friends like shit, she manipulates and lies her way through conversations so she doesn’t have to deal with them, she compares Mike to a FUCKING DOG. Bella is not comparable to Persephone, and it’s fucking beyond ham-fisted, it’s fucking EGREGIOUS to try to make that comparison. 

I could see more of an argument for comparing Eddie to Hades, since, ya know, Hades fucking stole Persephone to be his wife and most stories about Hades paint him as kind of a moody, brooding dickbag, but I’m still calling fucking foul on this attempt at comparison, SM. No dice.

Moving on.

Eddie describing Bella’s skin as ‘velvety’ gives me war flashbacks to those grocery store checkout novels with Fabio on the cover that my mom used to read. Eghhh.

So, Bella touches Eddie’s hand and it’s described in a way that gives me very G-rated sex vibes. Which just makes me wanna tell them to get a room because they’re in public right now, and also don’t do that in front of Bella’s salad ravioli.

Eddie is still being super controling and weird about Bella eating, and honestly, I super wish that Bella had had the good sense to get the hell out of there with Jess and Angela. Or that she would have the good sense now to excuse herself, find someone on staff, ask to borrow a phone, and call her dad. Because this guy is literally throwing out every red flag that exists. I know I say this a lot, but if Bella were a normal girl, she would not be charmed by this guy, she would be freaking creeped out and trying to get away from him. He isn’t even subtle about his creep factor or charming enough to play it off.

Edward thinking he has any edge at all is like white bread thinking it’s the right kind of bread for a hamburger.

Anyway, chapter ends with Eddie paying the bill and the pair getting in the car to head home. And the drama chord of the last sentence that’s supposed to play in your head when you read it falls flat. They’re on the way back to Forks and Eddie is chomping at the bit to hear Bella’s latest theory that we know from Twilight isn’t actually a theory so much as she heard a story from Jacob and then did some searching on some shitty Angelfire website. Or Geocities. Either way. And then she just went ahead and had a big old prophetic dream about it. 

Next time, we get the awkward car ride home and more. Thanks for hanging around guys. As always, feel free to message me (though, please note to anyone who has sent me anon messages that are rude or angry because I’m making fun of this book, I’m gonna ignore you.), recommend what books I should put on my list for my next recap series, and feel free to buy me a snack using the CashApp tag in my bio.

See you next time, babes.

[vegetacide]

Cloak and Dagger

Veg●notable: Okay, I had a little fun with this and took a few liberties with one of the boys… It worked for I wanted but I am not sure how it will be received... ::ducks behind a Tracy so she doesn’t get hit with anything...::

Also I am kinda being a pantser with this chapter.. I have a general idea of where I want it to go but I didn’t suss it out like I have in other chapters so please excuse if the pacing if off. I kinda let the Boys tell me where they wanted to go and what sort of interactions they wanted to have….and they may have gone a bit off course..

As per the norm.. All errors and such are my own.

Read, review, like, reblog.. Whatever the platform, it is very, very much appreciated and it all acts as my motivational fuel.

Previous Chapters

Intro  | One  |  Two 

Chapter 3: Games 

Enjoy!

o0o

Scott drummed his fingers along the careworn surface of his father’s desk, his gaze lost to the middle distance as he thought over the information that had just been brought to him. Not that there was much, which was the problem in and of itself.

Kayo and Lady Penelope had had very little to tell him. After Fuse’s botched attempt at the old, disused power plant to obtain nuclear material he’d just up and disappeared. Their security expert and London agent had been traipsing around the globe trying to track down leads for weeks now but there was no sign of the Chaos member, his sister or for that matter the Hood… anywhere..at all.

For the Hood on his own, it wasn’t that unusual. The criminal would go quiet for a spell and not resurface for months. Now that he was with the Crew, that was an entirely different story.

Normal some tidbit of information would crop up of a sighting in some far corner of the world, or a rumour of some heist or another would drift about on the dark web. Either Lady P would poke at it to figure out if it was worth further effort or Kayo would get a call from the GDF to check with some contacts but everything had gone silent. There was nothing, no where.

Scott looked up at the muted holo-cast. A variation of the same headline scrolled along under the chrome anchors’ desk and something in the pit of his stomach tightened. This eerie feeling of foreboding had been dogging him since the plant and he just knew this wasn’t going to end well.

Picking up an old school stylus that for some reason his father had kept even with the advent of modern computer interfaces, Scott examined its length. His father had owned it for as long as he could remember. He’d once asked Jeff why he insisted on keeping it and his father had smiled in that way he did and had said that ‘somethings were just worth keeping.’ He hadn’t elaborated in any other way or given any other hint to his reasoning after that. It left Scott scratching his head in confusion.

Even now all these years later he still didn’t understand though as he looked at the smooth finish and felt the weight of it between his fingers, he could understand its appeal. It provided something tangible to hold on to, tactile.

In his case not only physically but it also provided him with a psychologically connection to the man they all missed so much. A man he truly wished was with them right now.

Maybe the great Jeff Tracy would be able to wrap his head around all this, come out with a master plan so at the end of the day the world was a better, safer place. Scott certainly didn’t think he had the chops to do it himself. Self doubt was a bitch especially when there was no supporting hand to guide you.

His father was going to come home, Scott knew that for sure. WIth Brains basically locked away working on the zero-x engine it was only a matter of time. Scott just hoped that when they got their father back…. Why was he even thinking about this? Setting the stylus back down, he rubbed at the back of his head in hopes of dispelling the direction of his thoughts. This was not helping.

Snagging his forgotten cup of coffee, he took a swig and grimaced. Cold and it was the good stuff from Virgil’s hidden stash behind the lima bean in the pantry. Eyeballing the drink with its thin layer of cream film on top, he sighed and tossed the rest back. It was too much effort to haul his ass downstairs for a fresh cup, besides his brother would kick his butt if he were to find out he knew of the existence of the rich, smoky ground beans and had wasted it. Better to just suck it up and deal with the cold brew then risk the engineer’s wrath.

“Thunderbird 5 to base.”

“Hey John,” Scott greeted with the raise of his now empty coffee mug. “What’s up?”

“Just letting you know Grandma is on approach. Will be there in t-minus 5”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

John nodded in return and they sat in silence for a moment. By the controlled look on John’s face Scott could tell that the monitor was working up to say something more. Leaning back in his chair, he cocked a foot over one knee and steepled his fingers as his brother processed whatever it was that was on his mind.

Scott didn’t want to push but time was ticking. “Johnny….?” He knew the use of his brother’s childhood nickname would get the ball rolling.

John’s eyes narrowed in annoyance at the moniker but the redhead let it slide. “How’s it going down there?”

Scott dropped his hands, pushed up to his feet and walked the short distance to the sunken seating area. “As well as can be expected.” Taking the steps down he parked on his usually couch with a heavy sigh. Sinking into the cushions with a slouch and tossing an arm up and over the back.

“That sounds...” John paused as he searched for the appropriate word, “to steal a phrase from Alan.. craptastic.”

One shoulder went up in a shrug and Scott dragged in a deep breathe. “Ya, well. Shitty situation but you know how these things go. Time and space and all that.”

“Time and space?” A smirk settled on John’s face. “This coming from you. Eos mark down the time and date. Scott is being reasonable”

“Time and date noted, John.” Came the young voice of the A.I. “I have also taken the liberty of recording this interaction for posterity in the likelihood that you want to revisit the momentous occasion.”

John chuckled as the light ring came into the view field of the camera. The array of little lights flashing in what Scott could only conclude as amusement at his cost. The A.I was learning and learning fast and Scott didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Hardy har.” A dry sound, accompanied by an eye roll. “Am I really that bad?”

The stare and awestruck look he received by way of answer should have been enough.”Aw, come on…”

“If smother hen was in the dictionary, Scott. You would be the picture beside it.” It was said rather frankly and that irked Scott into yet another eyeroll. “Matter of fact, it might actually already be in Urban Dictionary..”

“Okay. Okay..I get it. Enough already.” Scott’s boredom and disdain at the direction of the conversation wasn’t hard to miss. “I can’t help it. I worry about all of you.”

John took pity on his elder brother, the smile leaving his face. “I know you do, Scott. Especially when it’s Virgil.”

Scott sagged further into the couch.

“We all need to fall apart every now and again. The same applies to Virgil.” John spoke, his voice carrying across the distance. “As much as we rely on him to be the family rock, even a rock wears down over time when enough stress is applied.”

“Ya, I know. You’re right.” Scott leaned forward, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he looked at the floor. “I just wish…” He didn’t finish his train of thought.

“Scott, he’ll be fine. Just give him the room to breath and in a day or two he will be right as rain again. He needs to stew this over a bit.” John shifted his gaze away from the cam, his projected hand skimming over something off screen.

“Well from what Brain’s has told me, Virgil has him doing system checks on all the wash-bays. Maybe an answer will be there for him.”

“You talked to Brain?”

“Yes, just before calling you. He wanted me to look at some computations. Double check his math and he didn’t want to bother Virgil with it” Floating about the space station some 22,000 kilomitres above them, John glaced backup a moment. “Why? Haven’t you talked to him?”

Scott sat up a bit straighter, sheepishly ashamed that the yelling the night before had sent the mousy genus into hiding in the bowels of the island. “Not since we got back..”

“Oh,” John failed to hide the nonplussed expression that flashed across the screen. “Glad I was off world last night than..:”

“Jay, you’re always off world”

John couldn’t say anything to counter that and Scott knew it. The star obsessed Tracy rarely made landfall and Scott tried to think back on how long it had been since the astronaut had been forced to submit to some down time.

“Scott, you’re getting that look in your eyes again.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I need to smother’ look that comes with the forehead wrinkles of the elderly.. Don’t you dare set your sights on me. I am needed up here with full access to all of 5’s systems and you know it.”

Scott put his hands up in surrender, not wanting to have another sibling forcibly shutting him out. “Message received and watched the old person jokes. They are laugh lines not stress.. The hair though, that’s all from you guys.”

John looked off camera again and his expression changed from brotherly bemusement to curious. “Aunt Val is reaching out. I’ll patch her though.”

Scott cursed under his breath and ignored the admonishing glare from space. Seemed he hadn’t sworn as quietly as he thought, good thing Gran….

“Scott Bartholomew Carpenter Tracy!”

Scott flinched at the sudden loud bark of reproach directed his way as his Grandmother marched into the room, fire and brimstone in her wake. “You were not raised in a barn, young man.” Crap, his diminutive elder was not impressed, especially if she broke out the little known and seldom used ‘Bartholomew.’

He was the only brother out of the five to be graced with the additionally middle name, gifted to him as the first born from his great, great Grandfather. A Tribute to a war vet that his father had been blessed with as well and one that made Scott shudder every time he heard it.

“Well technically… “John piped up earning him a warning glare from Scott.

“Gee John, thanks for the warning.. “ Scott grumbled with little enthusiasm and dripping with sarcastic annoyance.

“I did,” John blinked.

Scott contemplated several ways to seek revenge over the tirade of the fierce and feisty Sally Tracy and most of them involved airlocks and a module full of moldy bagels.

John did his level best to hide his smile at the misfortune of the eldest. “I told you she was on approach and you know she has the ears of a bat, Scooter.”

Scott glared at the space nut but all he got in return was a very large grin before the monitor disappeared and the 3D rendition of his Godmother materialized.

“Colonel Casey” Scott acknowledges, his Grandmother patted his knee in greeting and settled down on the couch beside him, the vexed look still sparking in her cerulean gaze.

“Valerie,” His Grandma piped up. “You’re a sight for sore eyes”

“Scott. Sally.” A crisp, formal acknowledgement. Definitely a business call.

The tone made Scott straighten his spine, posture ramrodding as his years of military training kicked in. Pushing to his feet, the Commander of International Rescue took up the forefront of his mind. The dilemma of the current Tracy drama brushed aside as the call to arms; so to speak, was issued by his honorary Aunt’s projected persona.

“What can I do for you, Colonel Casey?”

“Orders come down the pipe, Scott. General Abner informed me this afternoon that World Council has declared Kazakhstan a no fly zone. All personnel, both combative and civilian are on evac orders effective immediately. As of 23:00, anything in or outbound found crossing restrictive airspace will be termed hostile and dealt with accordingly.”

“And as our liaison..?” Scott asked, bracing for the answer that he feared.

“I’ve been advised to inform you that the restriction extends to International Rescue as well. Under no circumstance is International; Rescue to enter that airspace. Any action will be seen as an act of aggression against the WC and those perpetrating said act are to be shot down.”

“Noted.”

“Scott, you need to abide by this ruling. This is from way up the food chain. There will be nothing I can do to help you if these orders are disregarded. “ Casey stressed. “You will be on your own.I’ve also been instructed that anyone aiding and abetting is to be brought in and prosecuted under the full force of the law.”

Meaning, the whole family would be under threat and the whole might of the GDF would be pointed in their direction. Even though they claimed no allegiance to any known entity, International Rescue and by turn the Tracy’s would be marked as traitors “I understand Colonel.”

Essentially the country has been walled off and Scott wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He just hoped that there would be no call out for iR in the vicinity of the damned country but he knew from experience hopes and wishes were very seldom taken into consideration.

-o-o-

Some 6,500km away, tucked under a remote mountain village on the furthest edge of Kazakhstan a display monitor beeped to life with the flow of garish, green text. Servos hummed, fans ticked on and a smile crept across the harshly angled face with amber eyes.

Piece by piece plans that had taken months to arrange were finally starting to come together. Money had passed hands, people had been bought, information exchanged and like pawns on a chessboard, the players were shifting into their places.

Looking at the board, the queen slipped into place and unbeknownst to all but one, the king now sat vulnerable. The end was in sight.

Let the games begin.

TBC

[weaselandfriends]

Hymnstoke XIII

Have you heard the story of bladekindEyewear the Blind?

In infinite folly, this man strapped knives to his eyeballs, depriving himself of sight. Nonetheless he was known as the wisest man in Homestuck Tumblr, with a wicked pack of classpect analyses. As Homestuck progressed through its lengthy sixth act, he developed a wide sleight of theories as to how it would end and what it would mean when it ended that way, focused most famously on each character's SBURB class and aspect (classpect for portmanteau).

When Homestuck ended, and then ended a second time, he turned out to be wrong.

In a recent post, he made this comment about his wrongness:

BlastYoBoots  04/26/2019:  part of why all my theories were wrong is that they were arrogant and misguided and just all-around regrettable and I thought I "knew" what Andrew morally wanted out of a story when he wasn't after the same thing at all

I bring this tale to your attention not to drag our Sosostris through the mud. In fact, I'd say he's unduly harsh on himself here. He may indeed have had a decent grasp of Hussie's moral purposes regarding Homestuck—in 2013. It has been a long six years since then, during which Hussie followed in the footsteps of other noted New England authors J.D. Salinger and Thomas Pynchon and vanished off the face of the planet. It would be fair to theorize that what Hussie "wanted" out of Homestuck changed considerably in those years. And the truth is, because Hussie has disappeared so utterly, any illusion of knowing his "moral" goals has completely dissipated. It's not even clear at this point how much of the Epilogues he wrote. What statements can possibly be made about authorial intent outside of baseless conjecture?

Mr. Eyewear had the unfortunate position of writing critical analysis of a work that was not yet finished, a position not often imitated by critics throughout the ages. It's relatively easy to look at a work by a long-dead author and make some grand, sweeping statement that "this is what it means." Because the author is literally dead, Death of the Author becomes much less controversial to apply. Even now, after the dust has settled, a new installment of Homestuck may unexpectedly arrive that obliterates any previous critical insight on what Homestuck "meant." Homestuck is ostensibly over, but the Epilogues left plenty of room for continuation.

Someone who read the previous Hymnstoke installments came to me and said (paraphrased), "Do you really think Hussie knows anything about Gnosticism? It's far more likely he googled it and used a few names here and there to sound smart." Thinking about it, I wouldn't be surprised if this turned out to be his modus operandi for the Pale Fire and Waste Land quotes I wrote so lengthily on in previous Hymnstokes as well. Wouldn't it make so much sense if Hussie googled "Literary quotes about April" and put in the Waste Land quote without ever having read the poem, without understanding its historical or literary context?

Would it matter?

Hussie may or may not be ignorant of literary history, or his own literary moment. In that Stanford interview he flatly denied any knowledge of "post-irony." But the author's ignorance doesn't excuse the work from the world. Homestuck itself is rapidly becoming a historical work, fading from the immediate cultural consciousness. Yet it has left a mark. How many works will be created in the coming years that draw heavy inspiration from Undertale, which itself was heavily inspired by Homestuck? And if we take Homestuck's most explicit inspiration to be Earthbound, what works inspired Earthbound? What works inspired the works that inspired Earthbound?

Whether Hussie knows what DFW stands for or not is inconsequential. Homestuck is not a work in a vacuum, neither the beginning nor the end. Con Air, the Greek Zodiac, Insane Clown Posse—whether the reader knows what those things are doesn't matter within the space of Homestuck, because Homestuck invented new meaning out of them all. Whether Hussie, the author, knew what Gnosticism, post-postmodernism, or Dadaism were—I would argue that is similarly inconsequential. Homestuck repurposed all of those -isms, either knowingly or unknowingly, into something new. It is the act of repurposing that is the most important part, not whatever those things were before.

So bladekindEyewear observed Homestuck through the lenses of knives strapped to his eyes. From that perspective, he conceived of what the facts (the text of Homestuck) "meant." I'll also be looking at Homestuck through a certain lens. Neither lens is the same as Hussie's lens. No lens except Hussie's can be Hussie's lens: that is something the postmodernists realized, that "truth" was fragmentary and differed from person to person. Perhaps even different within each person; the Hussie of 2013 may have a different lens than the Hussie of 2019. Put succinctly: No absolute truth exists.

But Homestuck, I feel, moves beyond the problems proposed by postmodernism. In Homestuck, differing lenses, even completely opposite lenses like "irony" and "sincerity," "science" and "magic," "time" and "space," or "author" and "reader" (as seen in the Epilogues) become blurred, indistinguishable, ultimately reconciled as essentially the same thing. It's that reconciliation that I think is Homestuck's most meaty—or candiey—thematic component.

With that in mind, let's continue.

What is under the rug is much worse than any trap you can imagine.

It is a member of a species that you do not recognize, with a ghastly furred upper lip.

I don't even know who this is. Jeff Foxworthy? I guess I might not be a redneck.

Soon these lugs will learn to show you some respect. You made this town what it is after all. Wasn't nothin' but a bunch of dust and rocks before you got here.

Okay. I was right. I knew it, all along when I was reading the Epilogues I knew something was off. I felt certain, and now it's been confirmed for me.

Homestuck does not use smart apostrophes, while the Epilogues did.

For those not in the know, a smart apostrophe is curved based on the text that comes around it, like so: ’

A regular apostrophe, by comparison, is not curved: '

As you can see in the quoted text, Homestuck proper uses your regular dumb apostrophes. Which is good, because smart apostrophes are the devil. They frequently get slanted the wrong direction and conflict aesthetically with Homestuck's monospaced, geometric Courier font. Yet all throughout the Epilogues, smart apostrophes are used. It drove me insane. I hate those things.

Can't overthink this time stuff.

I guess I should actually talk about the Intermission. Internally, it's pretty straightforward, borrowing liberally from Problem Sleuth. But what exactly is its purpose? Yes, on a purely plot level, elements of the Intermission return in Act 5. Spades Slick remains a character who exists all the way until Collide, although he is one of the unfortunate casualties of Act 6's awful ending and is too dead to get any kind of relevancy redemption in the Epilogues, unlike similarly extraneous Act 6 characters Jane and Jake.

Fundamentally, then, the relevance of the Intermission extends only as far as Cascade, with elements malingering longer but never amounting to anything new. Many things will extend only as far as Cascade, which eventually becomes Homestuck's midpoint. In earlier Hymnstokes, I mentioned a few times that I didn't think I had much to say about Act 5. I said that because, while Act 5 is impressive from a technical standpoint, it's a lot less dense in meaning compared to early Homestuck or Act 6. It functions a lot like a machine with many perfectly-placed parts (or rather, parts that were retroactively made to look perfectly placed, depending on how improvisational you think Hussie wrote) that slot together like a machine, rifle, or clock to create a flawless cascade of storytelling. I'll talk more about this kind of "clockwork storytelling" when I actually get to Act 5, but for now one might consider the entire Intermission to be one of those perfectly-placed pieces, and the Spades Slick storyline culminates in Cascade to slot alongside the other pieces in a satisfying way.

One might also interpret the Intermission as a primer for certain elements that will become important in Homestuck proper, such as the aforementioned "time stuff" that gets its first real exploration here before becoming a convoluted but finely-wrought entanglement in Acts 4 and 5. Toss in vague foreshadowing to Lord English and the Intermission's existence is at least purposeful, regardless of whether one considers it necessary.

But what about structurally? I mentioned in the previous Hymnstoke that the Intermission is similar to Act 5 Act 1 and Act 6 Act 1 in that it dramatically downscales the tension, introduces a slew of new characters, and shakes up the tone of the story. Each of these three parts are nostalgic for "Old Homestuck," the Homestuck that is more like Problem Sleuth, and they feature many text commands and faffery like what you see in Act 1. By juxtaposition, then, each emphasizes how far Homestuck has developed across its run, and the differences only become more striking each successive iteration.

The Intermission is probably the fragmenting point. In Homestuck proper, there are no more kids to introduce. John, Rose, Dave, Jade, for each of them we've cycled through the database-structured INTERESTS and INSTRUMENTS and WEIRD PARENTAL FIGURES. Bit by bit that kind of content will vanish in favor of a new sort of storytelling, and the Intermission is where it becomes obvious that this is happening. Jade's introduction already subverted most of the established tropes, and the Intermission reads like a parody of them, with the Midnight Crew's set of traits being plaintively ridiculous (each keeping a different kind of candy in their backup hat, each having a different kind of smutty material, et cetera). Act 5 Act 1 will also be parodic in its approach to these database traits, but I think in a less effective way, as the differences between the kids and the trolls are less extreme than the differences between the kids and the Midnight Crew. Furthermore, the Intermission really drives the nail into the coffin of Problem Sleuth, severing Homestuck finally from its predecessor. Act 6 Act 1, by comparison, is more of a wistful yearning for Act 1 than any kind of new take—which might itself be meaningful in the grand scheme of things.

Still, it might come in handy down the road. Lord English is supposedly indestructible. He's rumored to be killable only through a number of glitches and exploits in spacetime. The doll may ultimately help you work the system if it comes to that.

This line, along with the way Problem Sleuth ended, was probably the primary driver that led to people expecting a final boss fight with Lord English on par with the one with Mobster Kingpin. Although the Epilogues were a fantastic ending, it's still underwhelming to think about just how poorly-conceived Collide and Act 7 turned out to be. Of course, the Problem Sleuth sort of ending is definitely more of a "clockwork" storytelling style, and Act 6, as has become clear by now, has a much different style.

Dirk, the ultimate inheritor of the clockwork style—he specifically describes storytelling in terms of machines—has as one of his INTERESTS robotics and technology. Lord English, likewise, is surrounded by a clockwork motif. Of course, these characters will eventually become explicitly linked via the method of Lord English's creation. But unlike many other INTERESTS, which turn out to be irrelevant, this machinery fascination ties in to Homestuck's final thematic dichotomy. But more on that when we reach the Epilogues.

29/1000 CLOCKS DESTROYED

I guess we know what side of the dichotomy Spades is on.

This is the same calendar Dirk has in his apartment in Act 6. I remember I once had this theory that the Midnight Crew would be reunited at the end of Homestuck even though the B2 Hegemonic Brute was dead because it would be revealed that Hearts Boxcars was still in Dirk's calendar and would come out riding Dirk's mini Maplehoof.

I don't know why I had this oddly specific theory, and it was probably obvious it wouldn't happen.

And thus ends the intermission, with an eye toward the next bizarre deviation in the storyline (Act 5 Act 1).

It's been awhile since I last read Homestuck. My memory of Act 4 is dodgy, so I might actually stumble upon something new. But as I mentioned earlier, the Intermission is the big, obvious breakpoint between the old, Problem Sleuth style of Homestuck and the new, clockwork style. The database-driven character creation will gradually fall away (minus a parodic revival in Act 5 Act 1) and narrative elements will become more consistently introduced with an eye specifically toward Cascade. For many people, this is when Homestuck starts to "get good," and I think it's because there's something innately satisfying about a finely-crafted machine slotting into place. There is a kind of intrinsic beauty about it, art for art's sake if you will, and that is also what seems to draw Dirk toward it.

But more next time.

[apriumjam]

Satsuten Cafe Drama CD Script

Once again, @jae-ha sent me the audio from @sodawithcereal for the final Satsuriku no Tenshi drama CD, the cafe AU. Here is the script! Keep a look out for the video she’ll be posting!

E: Now then, we’re all here again as usual, but the café is closed. To tell the truth, today is our day off. That’s because it’s December 23rd. In other words – it’s Christmas tomorrow!

D: Mmhmm, that’s right, Eddie.

E: So today we’re getting ready! It’s a bit troublesome, but we have to work hard this year too.

Z: And who the hell are ya talkin’ to, anyway?

E: Shut up, you savage! Eheheh. Have you gotten used to it, Rachel?

R: I’m…not really…

E: Oh, that’s right, that’s right. You just started working here. This is your first Christmas!

Z: Ah? Is the brat still yammerin’?

E: Hmph! Every Christmas, the café we work at, Angels of Death, hangs up many decorations and entertains the guests!

R: I see…

D: It’s a bit troublesome to us, but it’s the one special day of the year. We also end up having a lot of fun.

E: Every year, I make a special cake for Christmas. I have to show my skills as a genius patisserie!

Z: Oh, that’s right. The taste is good but the shape isn’t.

D: Hahah. Eddie’s cakes are always made to look like graves, after all. But I’m looking forward to it.

Z: Anyway, the old man ain’t here yet?

D: Come now, don’t call manager Gray an old man.

E: See, Rachel, every year Gray decides what the theme of the decorations and props will be. He said he would announce it today, but…

R: He might be later than usual.

D: Cathy isn’t here either, for some reason. I wonder what happened.

G: I’ve kept you waiting. My apologies.

R: Welcome back, manager Gray.

C: I’m here…

D: Welcome back. Oh my. What’s wrong, Cathy? You look quite down.

C: Doctor Danny, would you mind not bothering me?

D: Eh? What happened?

G: Ahem. Please listen.

E: You’re going to tell us about the decorations, right? Hey, hey, what sort of theme are we going with this time?

G: I’m sorry. I’ll make this short. This year’s Christmas celebration will be cancelled.

R: Cancelled…?

Z: Hah? Why, old man?

D: Hey, Zack. Manager Gray, what on earth does this mean?

G: Cathy.

C: Guh!

G: You take over from here.

C: Y-yes…I understand, manager.

G: Do you all remember the maid robot?

E: Oh, that piece of junk you brought in to the shop – it broke right away.

D: It was supposedly equipped with the latest AI technology. What about it?

G: Hmph. I knew nothing about this. So, Cathy, seeing as you ordered it, how about telling us how much it cost?

C: O-o-o…one…million yen...

E: EH?!

D: (coughing) Is that true, Cathy?

C: I wouldn’t lie about this right now.

Z: Uh…so how much is a million yen?

R: Zack-senpai, a million yen is a million yen.

G: I have no intention of critising Cathy any longer, but managing the café is a battle of money. It’s unfortunate, but it would appear we no longer have any left in the budget. In other words, we have nothing for the Christmas party.

E: How awful, Cathy! That robot ended up being completely useless!

C: Guh – ! How dare you! Be quiet, you brat. If I were to wash the dishes in winter, my hands would dry out! My beauty is what attracts customers to this shop in the first place – if my lovely hands got ruined, that would be even worse for the café.

Z: Who cares?! If yer not gonna move around, yer sleepin’ face is fine!

C: Excuse me?! Don’t screw with me, Zack! The robot broke because you kicked it around on the first day!

G: Come now, Cathy. How unsightly.

C: Ugh – I’m very sorry, manager Gray…

D: Well, it’s all in the past now. But Cathy…perhaps you should try to remedy your wasteful habits?

C: Guh…

E: Aww…I can’t make my new cake…

C: I’m sorry…

D: There’s nothing we can do. Let’s just operate the shop as normal this year.

R: Um, manager…

G: Hmm? What is it, Rachel?

R: Everyone was talking about Christmas. I think it’s definitely a very important day for everyone. I believe that we’re not the only ones who are looking forward to it – the customers are, too. So…

C: Rachel…

R: So…let’s try to do what we can, even without money.

E: Rachel!

D: That’s right. Yes, it’s as Rachel says.

Z: Hey, Ray. You’ve gotten pretty useful!

E: All right! Even with less money than normal, I’ll put all my feelings into my very own grave – I mean, cake, the only one in this world! Just watch, Rachel!

D: Yeah. I’ll do what I can, too. Eheheheh…Rachel…seeing those pretty eyes of yours…(creepy laughter) I feel myself getting inspired…(more creepy laughter)

C: I’ll try to get back that one million yen! And, Doctor Danny…please don’t show that face to the customers. It’s creepy.

Z: Well, I’ll do my part too. Let’s work hard together, Ray.

R: Okay.

(overlaying voices)

E: Ah –

Z: Hey, brat, I definitely –

C: One million yen is –

G: Heheh. I never expected the newcomer would save us. Perhaps she’s grown up a bit.

R: Let’s work together –

G: This may wind up being an especially extraordinary Christmas.

C: I have some orders! Two cakes, and a milk tea with a melon float! Doctor Danny! I’ll leave those customers to you.

D: All right, Cathy. Ah, since opening today, we’ve had an enormous number of guests today…Welcome! Before you decide on your order…heh…we have some eyeball jelly on the house. Please feel free to partake. (creepy laughter)

C: Like I said, Doctor Danny, please stop making that face.

Customer: Um, the decorations this year are more lively than usual, aren’t they?

D: Oh…did you notice? This year we decided to use our own personal belongings as the ornaments.

Customer 2: Oh…is that red ribbon attached to a syringe?

D: Hmm? Oh, that’s right…ahahah…

Customer: It’s kind of cute!

Customer 2: Yeah! It feels very original!

D: I-I’m so glad it suits your tastes…hahahah…Well then, once you have decided what to order, please call me. …Cathy, you’re not doing anything at all, are you? Well, the customers seem happy, so…

C: Oh, my! Thank you so much! Eddie! How are the cakes?

E: Just about ready! Now, for the final touch, I’ll put this on like this…yup! They’re done! Rachel, I’ll leave these to you.

R: Ah, yes. Hmm? They have my name written on them.

E: Heheh it’s a grave – I mean, a cake for you! Do you like it?

R: But…the customer is going to eat it…

E: It’s thanks to you that the café is so lively today. So I put all my gratitude into these cakes!

R: I see…

Z: Hey, brat, stop standin’ around! More orders are coming in. Three cakes!

E: Shut up! They’re ready, so just take them!

Z: Hah? Graves again. It just looks like Ray’s grave.

E: Stop complaining about every single little thing! It’s fine, isn’t it?!

Z: Tch…normally, I’d hit you, but today’s a special day, so I’ll let ya off.

R: Zack-senpai, that’s unusual.

Z: Ah? Maybe. I’m in a good mood today. It’s because of you, Ray.

R: Eh?

C: Rachel, the cakes are for this table.

R: Oh, okay. Two cakes. Thank you for waiting.

Customer 1: Thank you.

Customer 2: Excuse me, miss waitress…is that a scythe? A scythe wrapped in bandages?

R: Oh, that’s…I heard that is a Christmas tree.

Customer 2: Heh…the café seems more fun this year than usual!

R: Yes. Thank you very much.

D: Rachel, I’ll leave these customers to you.

R: Okay.

Z: Hey, Ray.

R: I have to work hard…I have to be useful…

Z: Hey, Ray!

R: Ah, Zack-senpai!

Z: I prolly don’t got the right t’ say this, but aren’t ya a bit too awkward?

R: Awkward?

Z: You should be a bit more honest, rely on people more. I think things’ll be better if ya do. The world is full of things we don’t understand. I didn’t even know about Christmas until recently.

R: Oh…you noticed…

Z: Huh? What’s that? Were ya tryin’ t’ hide it?

R: Well…my mother and father didn’t really get along…we didn’t celebrate Christmas at home…

Z: Oh…yer the same as me.

R: But, I thought Christmas seemed nice. So…even though I said all that, I didn’t really know what to do.

Z: Till comin’ to this café, I just wandered around town, ‘n I always thought people smilin’ around like idiots were damn annoying. But after starting to work here, I realised…spending time with people special to you, on special days like this, ain’t that bad. Eating good food, exchanging presents – I’m pretty much satisfied even without doing those things.

R: Presents…

Z: Huh? Oh, that’s right, ya never got a present, did ya, Ray?

R: No…

Z: That so…

R: I never had anyone to get one from, or to give one to…

Z: Hmm…

D: So you two were hiding in this corner. The last guest just left. The café is closed. Good work.

C: Ahh…I’m tired…now then. What were you two talking about? Sorry for interrupting~.

Z: Ah? I dunno what yer talkin’ about, but ya ain’t interruptin’.

R: To tell the truth…to tell the truth, I never –

(bang!)

R: Eh? This is…

D: Oh, sorry. I suppose you got surprised.

C: How stand-offish. You should have just discussed the Christmas preparations with us.

E: Sorry for not telling you. While we were making everything ready, we figured out that you didn’t know much about Christmas. So…eheheh…we made a party in secret! And of course, it’s for you!

Z: Well then, let’s have yer first Christmas!

R: I’m sorry I didn’t help with the party.

Z: This was supposed t’ surprise ya, there’d be no point if ya helped.

(everyone laughs)

G: Good job, everyone. Thanks to all your efforts, today was a good day. Now then, how about we start Rachel Gardner’s party?

E: Yay!

(indistinct)

R: Today was kind of fun. Coming home and thinking back on it makes it all seem like a dream. Everyone was smiling. Sometimes Danny-senpai’s smile was a little scary; and Eddie-senpai and Zack-senpai fought; and Cathy-san drank too much sake; and manager Gray’s speech was a little difficult, so I couldn’t understand all of it…but it was kind of fun spending time with everyone during the party. I took a shower, so I guess it’s time to sleep.

(time skip)

R: Christmas…it was too fun. I feel like I’ve just woken up. I don’t think I can sleep. Eh?

Z: Tch…what is it with this window? Why’s it so hard?

R: Is that…? Oh, no!

(window smash!)

Z: It finally opened. Tch. Where’s Ray’s sleeping? Oh, she really is asleep. ‘Cause yer not supposed t’ see Santa or somethin’, right? I’m kinda worried she didn’t wake up, ‘cause I made such a loud sound…Well, here. I’ll leave the present here. (yawns) Ah? It’s kinda late, I’m sleepy. I’ve got work at the café tomorrow, too. Guess I’ll go home’n’sleep.

R: I think he left. That’s no good, Zack-senpai. Santa Claus wouldn’t break a window with something like that. I wonder what’s inside. A Christmas present…I’m kind of happy. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.

[feenyreadscomics]

Rosaries, pt. 5

Sorry for leaving on a cliffhanger! Last time, Matt had given up being Daredevil (though not officially, he's just depressed, and that's preventing him from Daredeviling) and turned to even worse coping mechanisms (self harm) and Foggy is about to beat his door down and fistfight Matt's brain, while Steve trails him, and Steve still doesn't know what's up. This installment will be a bit happier, as Matt gets help, and goes on vacation. Basically, this is a bit of a fixit from last time. Also I have decided Matt is tiny. For the sake of this, assume foggy told Steve matt was Daredevil on the way there.

Matt heard a banging at the door. "Matt! It's me, Foggy! And apparently a friend of yours!" Shit. Now's really not the time. "I know you're in there!" Matt quickly put the lighter and knife in a drawer. He unrolled his flannel sleeves, covering where he had burned himself. "We, and by that I mean Steve and I, want to help you!" Then Foggy started messing with his keys. Shit. He was coming in wheather Matt wanted him to or not. "I'm coming in, so you better be decent!" Matt walks into his living room.

The door opened. Foggy came barging in, heartbeat racing and smelling of concern and the crap coffee Karen makes and bagels and just. Goodness. Foggy is so good and he... isnt. He can't be good. He has blood, so much blood, on his hands. "Hey buddy, what's wrong?"

Silence. Steve trailed in.

"Come on, let's go sit down." Foggy sat down on the couch. Matt sighed and sat down next to him. "Actually, do you want some tea?"

"No." Matt tilted his head. "Steve, you can come sit down too." Steve walked over and sat down. Foggy put his head on Matt's shoulder, and threaded his hand through Matt's, absentmindedly running his thumb along Matt's hand.

Then Foggy felt a ridge along Matt's wrist. Really, it was a blister. Matt bit back a grimace, and heard Foggy's heart rate accelerate.

"Foggy. I'm ok."

"No, I'm fairly certain that's a burn. And you haven't been Daredeviling, you cant give me that as an excuse. So. What's up? Is this third year all over again?"

Matt nodded and mumbled something about it not really being like that, but yeah, it was also a bit like third year.

"Ok, then. You are going to get up with me, and we are going to run this under cool water, and do the medicine stuff we need to, and maybe see about getting you a goddam therapist"

Steve let the language thing slide. So did Matt. Foggy got up, dragged Matt to the kitchen sink, and ran his wrist under cool water.

"Does that feel better?" Matt nodded. Foggy dried off both his and Matt's hands, went into the medicine kit, and found the aloe. He applied it to Matt's burn, and then hugged Matt. Matt returned the hug. They stood there, hugging for a while, Matt resting his head on Foggy's shoulder, Foggy stroking Matt's hair.

Eventually Matt breaks the hug, and Foggy pours himself and Matt a glass of water. "Steve, do you want any water?" Steve nods.

They sat in Matt's kitchen for a bit. Matt sullenly drank his water, and Steve sat there rigidly, back straight, hands in lap, like he was a child told not to touch anything. Foggy waited for Matt to finish, then gave him a few minutes.

"Ok, now you are properly hydrated. When was the last time you ate?" Foggy asked.

"Only an hour or so," Matt replied cooly.

"And you ate what?" Foggy shot back. Matt grumbled.

Foggy got up and went into Matt's fridge. Empty. Damn. "Okay Matty, pizza or Thai?"

"Not hungry." And it was true; Matt wasnt feeling super hungry.

"Matty, you need to nourish your body. Not punish it. So, pizza or Thai."

"Said I wasn't hungry."

"Thai it is. Steve, do you want anything?" Foggy slides Steve a menu. Steve stared at the menu with an expression of total confusion.

"Do you like spicy food?" Foggy asked. Steve shook his head. "Pad Thai it is," Foggy responded.

Foggy called and placed the order. "Okay, they should have it ready in twenty minutes." Foggy sat next to Matt and put his arm around him. Matt leaned into the hug. Steve moved to Matt's left, and made a Matt sandwich, placing his arm around Matt as well. They sat there for a bit.

"The delivery guy is coming."

"Ya know, I don't think I'll ever get used to that." Foggy got up and made it to the door just as the delivery man arrived. He paid, and brought the food back.

Matt and Steve prayed over it, and then everyone started eating. Matt had a few bites, and then realized he was hungrier than he thought. Slowly, surely, Matt started to feel a bit better. He listened to Steve and Foggy as they ate. He could tell Foggy had mixed his food. Steve attempted chopsticks, failed, and switched over to a fork, judging by the dropping noises.

"Okay Matt, I'm going to give you the sniff test." Foggy lifted up Matt's arm and sniffed his pit. "Ew. For someone with super senses, I dont understand how you can stand yourself. Go shower. Do you need me to find clean clothes for you, or do you got it?"

"I can do it, Foggy."

"Ok, go shower. I'm doing a check in fifteen, so dont even think about drowning yourself." Matt made a face, then walked into his bedroom. He came out a few minutes later and headed into the bathroom.

"Sooooo..." Steve stared awkwardly into space.

"Soooo.... I bet you have questions."

"Of course. He is blind, right?"

"Depends on what you mean by blind. His eyeballs don't work. But he can basically echolocate. A true batman." Steve gave him a look of disbelief. Foggy continued. "Look, aliens are a thing now. You were basically dead for seventy years. This isn't the craziest thing you have heard of." Foggy paused. "Also he can probably hear us right now. Supersenses." Steve nodded.

Matt came out of the shower, dressed in an old tshirt and basketball shorts.

"Ok, Matt, now we are going to talk about how you are feeling, and eventually, why you lied to me, and why Captain Goddam America came into our office. I am going to need you to not ninja away." Foggy grabbed Matt by the wrist, and set him down on the couch. Steve awkwardly followed. "So. Talk. Why are you upset?"

Matt shook his head. "I can wait all day." Foggy stared Matt down.

Matt took off his glasses and stared back, milky blue eyes meeting Foggy's. "Please leave it alone."

Steve speaks up. "Would going to church help?" Matt nods.

And then they are outside, hailing a taxi.

--

They go in, Foggy being extremely uncomfortable, and find Fr. Lantom reading out of a book. Fr. Lantom closes the book, and waves. Matt sits down next to him. Steve and Foggy awkwardly move to the back, hoping to give Matt some privacy.

Fr. Lantom and Matt talk. Matt cries; he cries for the boy he couldn't save, for Mr. Smith that he couldn't help. For all the people he couldn't save. He cries over the injustice of it all.

Eventually, Fr. Lantom leaves. Steve and Foggy make their way up to the front. They sit, one on each side of Matt, embracing him, and Matt cant help but to feel like the angels and saints are surrounding him. Eventually Matt makes his way in front of the tabernacle, Foggy and Steve still hugging, still protecting him. Matt sits down directly in front of the tabernacle. He pulls out a worn, rope rosary and starts muttering, feeding the knots through his hands. Steve pulls out his own rosary, joining his own voice. Foggy, unsure, runs his hands through Matt's hair.

In the second decade, Matt starts crying again. The trio sits there for a while. Eventually, Matt gets up, dries his tears, and walks out. Steve and Foggy follow.

--

Matt seems to be getting better, Foggy thinks. He comes into the office with a smile the next few days, and will call Foggy when he feels the urge to self harm. But still, Matt has the remarkable (Catholic) ability of suppressing his emotions, and Foggy just can't be sure everything is okay now. Particularly since Foggy hasn't seen any Daredeviling going on.

If Matt were normal, Foggy muses, he wouldn't be Daredevil at all. But Matt has been hurt, hurt badly, and so he is a vigilante. And lawyer, because he hates himself. But things get really bad when Matt isnt regularly bashing criminals heads together. Which is disturbing. God, Matt needs therapy. So something is up.

That Saturday, Foggy gets a phone call.

"Hey, Foggy? Can I ask a favor?"

"Sure bud. What's up?"

"Would it be ok if I took some PTO?"

"I think so. Can I email you files so you can help out a bit?"

"Yeah. I'll be sure to pick them up."

"Can I ask what for?"

"I need to think about some things. Get out of the city, clear my head, that sort of thing."

"Can you keep me posted about where you're at?"

"Sure."

"Have fun."

"You too." Matt hung up.

--

Matt was just getting seated and comfortable on the train when a man sat down next to him.

His hair sounded like Foggy's college hair, swishing as he moved. The most notable thing though, was his arm. It whirled and clicked, and blood didn't flow through it. It also vibrated, not an unpleasant frequency, but unnerving just the same. He carried a large duffel, full of metal and plastic parts that clanked together as he threw it in the overhead compartment.

"Is the seat next to you taken?"

"No."

"Mind if I sit here?"

"Go for it."

The strange metal armed man sat down, and the train began to move.

Thank you for reading! So to recap: Matt is now out of New York and has met Bucky. (Matt doesn't know who he is yet) They are going to go on travels through the US, and on the run, while Steve and Foggy are in NYC, being team Blondie (Foggy in this is a very dirty blond, so often people will say he's brunette.) This does take place after CA:TWS, but I don't remember all the details of that movie. So here we are.

It does come up here, but basically: Foggy doesn't recognize it, but DDing is a form of self harm for Matt (headcanon here, and DDing doesn't have to be, but Matt doesn't take care of himself) and it requires a lot of effort. So not DDing means he doesn't have enough energy to deal with his shit.

Responses and comments are appreciated. Feel free to message me with any input you might have!

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

The Heat Between Us

Chapter Seven

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Logan Howlett x OFC  |  Word Count: 2387 Warnings: Swearing

The earth was warm beneath her. A frond from a nearby fern tickled her arm. Savannah’s body was replete. Her mind calm. The heat which had come over her had gone. Whether it was finished or would hit her again later - hours from now, days from now - she didn't know.

Logan was at her back, arm tight around her waist and legs tangled together. He was leaning against her slightly, his weight familiar yet so very different. A slow pass of a warm wet tongue climbed the side of her neck.

“Logan…” she sighed.

“Kitten, you back with me?” he kissed her beneath the ear and ran his tongue down her shoulder.

She shivered in pleasure at the action and turned her head. “Did I go somewhere?”

He chuckled softly. “You drifted off for a while. Was it that good?” He teased her, the light in his eyes and soft smile showing nothing but contentment.

Savannah rolled over and arched her body against his, purring like the kitten he’d named her. The hand at her waist slid down to grip her ass and pull her closer, making her groan and rub her nose on his chest. “Tender. I think you bruised my ass.”

The hand softened and rubbed gentle circles instead. “What’s that saying?” he chuckled. “Sorry, not sorry?”

“You’re kind of a shit, you know that right?” She found herself on her back with his heavy body on top of her and smirked a little, looking up to see him grinning down. “What?”

“I may be a shit, but I’m your shit,” he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose.

The action melted her heart and sent her hands gliding up his ribs and over his chest to pause when she reached his shoulders. Eyes darting down, she stiffened in surprise. “Logan? You… don’t scar, right?”

“Nah, never. Why?” he asked.

“This did…” she whispered, lightly touching his shoulder. The place where she’d bitten him was healed, but the bite was still there, marked on his skin in a perfect silver scar.

“What?” he sat up, back on his heels, and reached for the mark. His fingers brush the slightly raised skin, then, he was reaching for her and dragged her up, turning Savannah as he did so he could shove the hair from her neck. “Yours too.”

“What?” she gasped, fingers flying to the back of her neck.

“How did it feel when I bit you?” he asked.

Redness washed over her cheeks when she suddenly felt self-conscious and dropped her eyes away to trace a finger over the vein in his bicep. “Good. Really good.”

“For me too, darling,” he said, causing her chin to lift as she returned her gaze to his.

“Really?”

He tilted his head and gave a slow nod. “What’s this mean, Savannah? What just happened here?”

She shook her head, trepidation washing through her. “I don’t know. The heat, the mating, the choice of you… that I understand. You're mine, I'm yours, but this…” Her fingers return to his scar. “I just don't know.”

When her parents had died, she’d been far too young, too small to have gotten any of these answers. There was so little she knew of who and what she was. Not knowing what this was, she had concern streak through her heart. Just what had she done?

“Logan, I'm… afraid,” she confessed, curling into his chest.

He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her in tight. “We’ll figure it out, kitten.”

A feeling of contentment flooded her, warm and soft. There was safety to be found wrapped in the arms of her mate.

His head whipped up, and nostrils flared wide. Savannah sensed it seconds later. They broke apart, both diving for clothes, it going unspoken that Logan’s shirt was now hers. It barely covered her ass, clung to all her curves and was still damp, but it smelled like him.

He'd gotten his pants up and chucked his boxers at her. She chucked them right back, ignoring his scowl. She wasn’t getting stuck in his underwear if she needed to shift.

He stuffed them in one of the many pockets in his pants and turned to the trees, backing toward her as he growled out, “I know you're there. Come out where we can see you!”

Heart beginning to pound, Savannah placed a hand lightly on his low back and stepped closer, slightly to the side where her view wasn’t interrupted by his broad shoulders. His hand fell across her body, gripped her hip, and kept her a half step behind him, his intention clear in his soft growl of warning.

He was practically immortal.

She was not.

Out of the trees stepped a woman. Older, perhaps seventy. An elder, Savanna thought. But an elder from where? Who? There weren't supposed to be people here.

Her garments were loose and flowing, and she seems unaffected by the heat. The dress was a myriad of greens and browns, ones which would blend into the forest and make her virtually invisible when still. It wrapped around her, tied behind her neck, and flowed to her knees. Her feet were bare. The skin of her arms, hands, and face was weathered and wrinkled with age, but her eyes were sharp. Piercing. Nearly black they were so dark.

In her hand was a walking stick, gnarled but smooth from the caress of many palms. She moved with a serene grace toward the two of them Savannah had rarely seen in another person.

“Greetings,” she said, coming to a halt a few feet away. Her eyes flick from Logan to Savannah.

Logan remained tense beneath Savannah’s hand, and his eyes darted to the trees beyond the woman. “Where's the other one?”

Savannah could feel eyes on her and turned to hiss viciously at the forest.

A man walked from the brush, chest bare and hands empty. Unlike the woman, he was younger, early thirties at the latest. His stride was cocky and self-assured, almost a swagger. The smirk on his face and the way he eyed her was how she’d previously eyed Logan. It made her instantly uncomfortable, and she tugged at the hem of Logan’s shirt.

Logan’s swept her in against him, his claim clear as he shifted to keep both newcomers in sight. “We don't want trouble,” he growled, “But we ain't afraid of it neither.”

“No, no. You misunderstand our intentions,” the elder woman said, all smiles and nodding head. “We felt the arrival of a Pantera and came to see who had returned to us.”

“Pantera?” Savannah murmured, unable to understand why the word resonated with her.

She frowned, he scoffed, and Logan slowly closed his fist. It was that action Savannah focused on, his precursor to claws and screaming and bloodshed. He and the man from the forest, the one who was all roping muscle under sun-darkened skin, have been having a glare down, but Logan wasn't one to take being eyeballed politely. The slowly closing fist, and the way the hand at her waist was tightening, along with the rotation of his left foot, were all leading up to an explosion. A violent one.

Her hands came up and pressed down on his abdomen. “Logan, they may have answers.”

He hummed, the sound irate, rumbling deep enough to be mistaken for a growl. “Junior there best stop checking out your ass then, or he and I are going to have words.”

The woman shot her companion a hard glance, barked out what was clearly a reprimand even if it came in a language Savannah couldn't understand.

Jungle boy took exception and spoke for the first time. “He is not Pantera. His claim is invalid.”

“But hers is not! The decision has been made. A mate claimed. You cannot dispute it!”

“It went unwitnessed!”

“I stand as witness,” she growled, straightening to her full height.

A shiver raced Savannah’s spine when her eyes flashed from black to shining green. Jungle boy backed down, but she could tell he wasn’t happy about it.  

“Excuse me?” Savanna called out, disrupting the standoff happening between them. “What is Pantera? Who are you? Where did you come from?”

Her eyes return to Savannah with a snap. “You know… none of this? Child, who are your people?”

Pain rippled through her soul, and Savannah’s eyes fell to the ground. Logan's hand tightened around hers when she murmured, “I don't know. My parents died when I was little.”

The elder chuffed sadly.

The sound brought Savannah’s head up in shock. “Are you… can you… shift?”

Her frown deepened. “You and yours will come with us. There is much to explain, and my bones are too old not to sit when I do so.”

“Savannah,” Logan rumbled, looking down at her. He doesn't like it, clearly. Didn’t trust them. They showed up out of the blue and were hesitant to answer questions, but they seemed to know things and… they smelled like shifters.

She bit her lip, hesitant to agree, but she wanted to. Her trust, however, rested with Logan a hell of a lot more than either of these two strangers.

The choice was decided when Logan asked, “How far?”

“Twenty minutes.”

He glanced at jungle boy, scowled but nodded. “We’ll go.”

“Excellent!” The old woman smiled brightly. “I am Vala. This is Tajmi. We are pleased to guide you home young leopardess.”

It startled her, the title, especially as Savannah wouldn't classify herself a leopard so much as a Jaguar, but she didn't correct her, only sent a glance toward Logan who nodded and motioned for her to follow.

He stomped his feet back into his boots, causing a sneer and a look of contempt to be aimed his way from Tajmi. The barefoot male was, evidently, unimpressed by Logan’s need for footwear.

Savannah threw a glare of her own at Tajmi and moved cautiously toward Vala. “I’m Savannah. This is Logan. We came looking for a temple? It's allegedly around here somewhere. It’s supposed to tell the history of the Pardus Populus.”

Tajmi was on her in an instant, grabbing for her arm. “Where did you hear that name?”

She leapt back out of reach seconds before Logan’s fist connected with Tajmi’s face. The blow knocked jungle boy back and straight to the ground.

“Ain't no one ever told you it's not nice to grab at a woman?” Logan snapped, voice hard and cold.

Again there were words flowing between Vala and Tajmi. Angry words with a harsh undertone.

“I apologize for Tajmi, Logan. He is young, still, and hard of head.” Vala offered an apologetic nod.

“He’s going to be gettin’ worse than a punch to his glass jaw if he comes at her like that again.”

The warning was the only one Tajmi was going to get. They had yet to realize just who the ultimate predator is in this group was, but she knew and reached out to him. “Logan?”

“You okay, kitten?”

“Fine. Can we go, please?” She was hoping for clothes which didn't allow for so much airflow up her nether regions.

Tajmi snorted. “He calls you kitten?”

Savannah bristled. “And what's wrong with that?”

“Nothing if you're three.” He rolled his eyes.

“Tamji! You will return to the village ahead of us. Inform them I am bringing guests,” Vala commanded, her eyes beginning to glow green again, clearly fed up with his insolence.

He flinched before offering a short bow. “Yes, elder.” He was gone with a bound into the forest.

“There, we will have peace to speak as we go,” Vala said, smiling and making her way toward what was little more than a space between trees.

Savannah followed along, aware of Logan behind her. When she glanced back, she found him checking out her ass and rolled her eyes before asking Vala, “Why was Tajmi so wigged out by Pardus Populus?”

She sighed softly, her walking stick thumping with each landing. “That was the name give us by our enemy many years ago. Pantera is what we call ourselves.”

“What enemy?” Logan asked.

“They have had many names, but most recently have been calling themselves the Requiem Society.”

“Not anymore,” Logan scoffed. “We took them out little more than a month ago.”

She stopped, turned, and stared at them. “What…?” Vala whispered.

“We're with the X-Men,” Savannah said, causing Vala’s eyes to widen further. “How is it you speak English so well when you live… here?” It was the middle of nowhere.

Her mouth opened a few times before snapping closed with a click. “We do not all stay in the jungle forever, Savannah. We leave at some point. Many go to school, train to be doctors, teachers. Some return, some stay in the world, working to conserve our home.”

“Oh.” That would explain why she seemed to know about X-Men. “What was Tajmi talking about before. About claimings?”

Vala glanced back at her but kept walking. “Our females are not as plentiful as our males. The first heat for our women is a time of claiming. The males fight for the right to become her mate. You… skipped that step by choosing your young man. He is not of the Pantera. Many will see this as a thing to be contested.”

“Contested how?” Logan growled.

Again she glanced back. “A challenge could be called. The claiming of your mate was not properly witnessed.”

This time it was Savanna who stopped dead in her tracks. “Someone has to… watch?”

Vala smiled. “Not watch, but feel the binding take place.”

“Binding?” Her mind was already reeling from finding out there was more of her kind. Savannah wasn’t sure how much more could she could take.

Vala chuckled and shook her head. “The bite, dear. You tied your souls together.”

Next Chapter

[ficdirectory]

Disuphere Universe miniseries: The Early Years: Levi

Nia Major first met Paris West in September of 1993, coming out of the post office in Brainerd, dropping off a package for Mom.

On the way out, she caught sight of the car - an eyesore if she’s ever seen one: lime green.  Four doors.  Parked right by the elementary school.  The driver’s got binoculars.

Nia normally wouldn’t confront anybody like this, much less a man, as a single woman.  But she has Mom’s great dane at her side.  Parks him right in the way of the man with the binoculars, spying on the schoolkids.

The driver rears back, realizing his view is obscured.  Startled by the dog.  It being the size of a small horse and all.

The man clears his throat.

“Excuse me?  Ma’am?  Would you mind moving your dog?”

“I would mind.  I would mind very much.  See, this is Vader.”  (Nia has the joy of seeing the man in the lime green car gulp.  Must know his Star Wars.)  “And Vader doesn’t take to men who lurk and spy on kids in the schoolyard.”

Vader gives the man the hairy eyeball.  Very effective.

“Okay.  Well, please tell Vader that this ain’t what it looks like.  I’m here because I’m checking on my daughter.  She’s ten.  But I can’t see her out here anywhere.  Maybe they moved...” he ventures under his breath, sounding lost at the possibility.

“Most people’d just go to the front desk and ask at the school.  Better yet, go home and knock on the door,” Nia points out, crossing her arms.

“Afraid I can’t do that, ma’am.  Her mother and I are estranged.  It’s a long story.  Any way I’ve tried to see her legally?  Gets blocked.  So I’m stuck out here.  Pair of binoculars and no dignity.”

“You sure you got a daughter?” Nia asks, still not willing to let Binoculars off the hook.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and digs in his pocket.  “This is Pearl.  She was four here.  The last time I saw her.”

Nia stares at the picture.  At the man in it, who looks so much younger, despite the date on the front stating the picture was only taken six years earlier.  Both of them seem so happy.

After a minute, she extends a hand through the open window.  “Nia Major.”

“Paris West,” he returns, shaking her hand.

--

Nia and Paris end up seeing each other here and there in town for years.  For a while, they go to the same church.  After a year, he finally accepts her invitation to go out for a cup of  coffee, but insists he’s not looking for anything other than a conversation partner.

Makes it clear that after his last relationship, his trust is good and dented.  And it’s gonna take a while to trust a woman again - even the good ones.

They have coffee once a week for a good year or two in a row.  She asks about Pearl.  He checks in on Vader.  They discuss life, and faith.  Things that matter.  Then, Nia’s job transfers her suddenly, and she’s got to take it or risk losing the position altogether.

It all happens so fast, there isn’t time to say goodbye to Paris in person.

They transition to letters.

He is her one constant, writing every single week, regardless of if Nia finds time to squeeze in a reply.  

In 2001, the letters stop.

--

It’s the end of January, 2002. Seven months shy of ten years to the day when Nia first caught Paris with the binoculars, checking on his daughter.  There’s a knock on her door.

It’s him.  “I wondered if you’d like to come out with me for a cup of coffee,” he says, like no time at all has passed.  “I mean, assuming you haven’t settled down…”

“Paris!” Nia greets, her smile so big it’s about to crack her face in two.  She throws her arms around him.  “You know settling doesn’t suit me.  I’ll get my coat.”

They go for coffee, just a cup.  Five hours later, they’re still there.

“So, how’s Pearl?  She’s got to be, what, in college now?  Have you all managed to reconnect?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says, swallowing.  “I really wouldn’t have the faintest idea.”

“Why?  What happened?” Nia asks, concerned.  It’s been no secret for as long as they’ve been friends that he’s been holding onto this hope.  That once Pearl turned eighteen, she’d get in touch.  It’s why he hung around Brainerd so long.

“I keep writing her, Nia.  Not just holidays and birthdays.  I’ve written her every single week since the day I left.  Not one reply.  I’ve stopped by the house a time or two.  Driven by, but I never see her.  I don’t know if she’s forgotten me.  If she thinks I don’t care.  Or if her mother’s doing her best to keep us separated.  But I waited, Nia.  Seven months of waiting since she turned eighteen and nothing.  Not one word.”

“I’m sorry, Paris.  I know how much you love her,” Nia says and means it.

“So, I figured.  I spent enough time wallowing.  Time to get myself to Colorado and check in on my favorite person.”  He offers her a smile.

“What?” Nia looks around comically.  “Me?  I’m your favorite person?”

“That, you are,” he nods.  “So, I’m not getting any younger.  What do you say, we get ourselves married?”

“Uh…  Excuse me?” she stutters, nearly spitting out her coffee.

“I’m pushing 50 years old.  It’s time I start living my life again.  Wanna live it with me?” he asks.

--

They marry in August.

By September (and feeling about like Sarah in the Bible) Nia’s pregnant.  They pray together about what the baby’s name should be.  They can only come up with one option.

--

Levi Paris West is born on June 10, 2003 at 10:20 AM.  

He comes via scheduled C-section, and when the doctor says that’s the soonest available time, it doesn’t even hit Nia.  Not until after Levi’s been in the world several hours.

Not til Paris is holding him.  And Nia’s in the bed still recovering.

“You and your big sister share a birthday, you know that?” he asks little Levi.

Nia can’t respond.  She’s too spent to say anything.

In fact, it’s not til Lev’s about 2 months old that Nia can properly follow up about it.

“Paris,” she asks, finding him awake for Levi’s 4 AM feeding and taking care of everything before she’d been able to even fully wake up.

“Yes, dear?” he asks as Levi takes his bottle hungrily.

“Just wanna say...I didn’t know...about it being Pearl’s birthday and all.  I mean, I knew.  I just...I didn’t think about it.  And if it was hard for you…  Well, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Paris nods at her to come in. He stands, leaving the rocking chair free for her to sit in.

“Doesn’t bother me.  It was fate,” Paris says, walking easily back and forth, patting Levi’s back like a pro until a loud burp escapes.

“Fate?  Paris West, we don’t believe in fate,” Nia admonishes lightly, a smile on her lips.

“Whatever the case...I think it was the plan all along.  And how can I be upset about a miracle like this?  A little spirit meant to be?” Paris holds Levi close, rocking him.  

She falls asleep to him asking the baby, “Do you wanna be an astronaut?”

--

It’s September of 2004, and their baby, Levi is growing by leaps and bounds.  Nia gets the joy of learning more and more about his personality.  And so far?  She knows he loves Vader.

Everything Nia’s ever read says that Great Danes don’t live much past eight to ten years.  But Vader has defied expectation.  Eleven years old and going strong.  Lets Levi chase him and lie on him and all kinds of things.  There are moments it looks like the giant dog could gobble up tiny Levi in two bites, an instead, Vader’s tongue is out licking Levi’s whole face and Levi’s laughing a great big belly laugh.

Nia’s a little concerned.  That Levi’s not started talking yet.  She’s tried not to overthink it.  She’s heard it said that boys talk later than girls.  Nia has it on good authority that Levi understands a good deal of what she says.  And even what he doesn’t?  She makes sure to simplify, so he can get it.  Babies are smart.  Nia’s sure about this.

Paris is just getting home from a long day at work, when Vader (whom Paris affectionately calls “hellhound”) lets out a happy bark.  

Seconds later, a smaller human bark follows.

Nia double takes, at Levi waiting at the door with Vader.  Both barking in anticipation of seeing their daddy.

(A few months later, Levi’s real first word comes.  Surprising to absolutely no one?  It’s “Puppy.”  Vader licked him good for that.  It was like he knew.)

--

Levi’s just a little older than two years old when Nia finds the recipe for Mexican lasagna.  Has got to try it.  She sets Levi up on a chair next to her at the table while she arranges the ingredients in front of them.

When it’s time to get cooking, she sets Levi far back away from the stove, giving him the bag of shredded cheese to hold.  

“You hold onto that cheese for Mommy, okay?” she asks.

“‘Kay,” Levi answers.

“Good job,” Nia tells him and gets busy at the stove.  Seems like two seconds pass and she turns around.  Sees Paris with the video camera.  Baby Levi with an empty bag of cheese.

“Uh-oh!  Levi, where’s Mommy’s cheese at?” Nia asks, a smile on her face.

“Ah-gone!” he shows her the bag, with wide brown eyes, cheese crumbs all around his mouth.

“All gone?” she asks.  “Where’d it go?”  

“Ah-gone, Mommy!  Ah-gone!” Levi glances around.

“You gonna find it for Mommy?” Nia asks, gasping for breath through her laughter.

“‘Kay,” Levi nods, and climbs down off the chair, still toting the empty cheese wrapper in his fist.  He checks under the table.  In the garbage.  Even in Daddy’s pockets.

“No cheese?” Nia asks, drying her tears.

“No cheese, Mommy.  Sorry.”  Now, Levi looks contrite.

“Oh, it’s alright, son.  We’re gonna be just fine.”

Paris walks into the kitchen, hugs Nia.  Levi caught between them.  The baby reaches up for Paris’s hat that’s been around for at least 20 years, if Nia’s guess is correct.  Levi takes it off his Daddy.  Puts it on himself.  Grins.

“Tell Mommy, ‘No Sweat!’ Paris grins at Levi.

“Mommy, puppy eat that cheese…” Levi says, looking at Vader seriously.

--

They lose Vader when Levi’s 3.

It’s harder than Nia ever imagined.

Levi wants to sleep with the dog’s blanket.  Is convinced that when he is “all done playing” Vader will “come back.”

No matter what they say to Levi, they cannot convince him otherwise.

--

June, 2007 came and Levi turned four.  Had a Clifford the Big Red Dog party (of course.)  In September, he started preschool.  Was nervous to ever leave Nia’s side, but Paris promised to wait outside all day in case Levi needed him.

“Honey, don’t you think that’s a little over the top?” Nia asks.

Paris just raises his eyebrows.  Levi finally stops crying.  “You come to school with me?” he asks.

“You bet.  Daddy will be there.  All day.”

“Protecting me?” Levi asks, wiping his eyes.

“Yes, sir,” Paris nods.

They go out the door together.

That Friday, somehow, all of Paris’s precautions seem just extreme enough to protect their son.  Nia can’t look away from the news.

“Honey, did you hear?” she asks, when Paris calls from work.

“Hear what?” he asks.

“A little boy got kidnapped out in California,” Nia relays in a hush, aware that Levi’s in the back seat now.  That she just picked him up from preschool.  “I heard it on the scanner.”

“Say a prayer for him.  That’s about all we can do.” Paris says.

“That’s it, and that’s a lot,” Nia decides.  “Love you, baby,” she says, hanging up the call.

“Mommy?  Is that boy sleepin’” Levi wonders.

“What, Levi?”

“That California-boy?  Is he sleepin’?” her son persists, staring at her from the back seat, his brown eyes wide and innocent.

“I hope so, Levi.  I really do hope so.  Hagrid, get back,” Nia warns, waving their English Mastiff puppy to the back seat.  Hagrid ignores her and continues wedging his head in between the seats.

“Get back here, Hagrid,” Levi giggles.  

Nia lets out a breath, sends up a prayer, turns the car around, and heads toward home.

[itsmedianapatino]

CREATIVE NONFICTION WEEK 3-QUARTER 3

I. Reading Exercise. Read the essay below entitled Oedipus in Repose by Dawn Marfill and answer the questions that follow.

Oedipus in Repose

Dawn Martil

According to Sigmund Freud's theory of the Psycho-Sexual Stages of parents are freaks of nature. It's either that, or I am the freak. Although Freud's the child and not the parents, I still blame my parent's inability to function like my skewed development. Perhaps if they had been normal, I would have fulfill of the Oedipus Complex which usually manifest itself during the child's phallic old. According to Freud, I would have fallen in love with the parent of the oppos and dreamt of murdering the parent of the same sex, my mother. But at six yea love with my father and plotting the demise of my mother. I was in love with P which was about as phallic as it could get, and I wanted to kill both my parents

Papa was a good model for all the men I would meet in my life. He taught how young or old a man was, he would always have the emotional maturity of a most especially when it came to toys. We had a Family Computer, the Neander Playstation, whose game cartridges you had to smack lightly with your palm the it to work properly. My mother had issued an edict that during the schoolyear like the Family Computer must be kept away from my grubby hands and there topmost part of her clothes cabinet. My father, responsible for guiding my edu home, was supposed to implement this rule with an iron hand while my mother he did it so splendidly.

While I slaved away on my homework in our sala in front of a television shut down, Papa, without fail, would always take down the Family Comput place, rouse the TV from sleep, and play B-Wings or 1942 right in front of me and table I was trying so desperately to tattoo in my brain. It was like dangling a bai of a hungry monkey. But he was very strict, my father. He never let me take a Player B, not even when I finished my homework. After all, my mother had de Computer off limits for the rest of the schoolyear. She really should have emp off limits for everyone-including Papa-as there were not one, but two children

I never had playmates when I was young because I was never allowed apartment. We lived in a tiny rented apartment in an area of Sampaloc, Manila were so narrow that a car passing by would have crushed someone even if h experienced none of the usual teasing and taunting that kids playing in the s to doing to other kids, and as a consequence I wasn't as "tough” as they were sheltered childhood left me defenseless against my father who found it funny me about being fat, thanks to all those hotdogs my kitchen-impaired mother ke Ironically, my mother is a nutritionist/ dietitian.

Every time my parents introduced me to a friend to theirs, they would always pinch my cheeks or whatever excess body fat they could grab and say, “Ay, bakit parang napabayaan sa kusina?" I thought they were commenting on the fact that I was left alone in the apartment most of the time because my mother worked two jobs and my father either read books in silence or was out of the house all the time, and I had agreed with these people silently. Of course I was a neglected child because my mother never sewed my Home Economics projects for me and my father never helped me with my Math homework. Why those people chose to say I got neglected in the kitchen was beyond me, but I supposed it was just another way of saying that they were not properly giving me parental attention. It was only when I got older and my comprehension for Filipino expressions became sharper that I understood what those nasty people meant-I was fat because my eating habits were uncontrollable.

I began to suspect a conspiracy. My mother and father were so in love that they were willing to keep each other happy even at their only child's expense. My mother knew that my father was happily calling me a variety of loving nicknames like, “Ms. Piggy," "Oink Oink," "Piglet," and “ Biik." So she willingly compromised my health by giving me fastfood cuisine-hotdogs, Jollibee Chickenjoy, spaghetti with hotdogs, burgers and other food varieties rich with Vitamins A to MSG, so my father could keep on doing what made him happiest-tease me about being fat.

The worst thing he ever did was when he kept saying "Oink!" every time I put a spoonful of food while the three of us were eating dinner one night. I remember bursting into tears, getting up from the table without excusing myself and banishing myself into a corner facing the wall where I proceed to bawl, hiccup and choke on my half-chewed food. And because our apartment resembled a Polly Pocket toy, that corner was basically two steps away from the dinner table My mother, never having heard of Good Cop/Bad Cop, went on laughing and doing nothing to soothe my fragile nine-year-old ego. She was never one to participate in the crass name-calling that my father was so fond of. No, she was classier than that. Her silence, which I mistook for a hidden love for and acceptance of me, was actually the calm before the storm.

My mother bided her time and pounced on me when I was in high school. I had to edit a video presentation one weekend and I asked her to take me to an editing center in Dapitan. Saturday was my mother's beauty parlor day and she refused to have it disturbed by something as insignificant as my schoolwork. She said she would take me there but only if I promised to let her stylist dye my hair golden brown because my black hair was too “matapang." She hadn't called me an eye sore yet so I let her play with my hair. It was just hair anyway.

I should have known she wouldn't stop there. Long before Dra. Vicky Belo and Dr. Calayan, my mother knew of a Dra. Lagman and her little shop of horrors near UST. She often went there for facials and she dragged me there once, not to have my face cleaned but to be electrocuted. She ranted about how her mother was to be blamed because I had somehow managed to inherit my grandmother's warty skin. Those offending little bits of flesh over my cheeks had to be burned by electricity at all costs, even my tears. Somehow, the anaesthesia they gave wasn't enough for me because I felt every little bolt of lightning scouring my skin. So I sat on that chair and let some woman electrocute my face while I tried desperately not to cry from the pain. It was nothing as

noble as needing to bear the pain stoically. I was just paranoid that my teare and possible conductor of electricity, would somehow direct electricity from to my eyeballs. Thus began my mother's legacy of beauty and pain.

By the time I graduated from high school, my mother had discovered D my mother her straight, high bridged new nose. Mama told me, while to night, that I was lucky because I inherited the bridge of my nose form my fat

"Pero ito," she tapped the end of my nose with her well-manicured fin ilalim, parang kamatis! Sa akin galing iyan eh." Then she began talking abou to remove the tomato part of my nose once I got older. That was my cue to mother. I may have gone through chemicals and electricity for her but I ha going under the knife.

Sigmund Freud said that the only way to resolve the Oedipus Complex the parent of the same sex and renounce the attraction for the parent of the I looked at my mother's swollen and bandaged nose, the inner corners of he deep red as if she had been poked at repeatedly after her rhinoplasty, I cou identification with my parent of the same sex. Shouldn't she be teaching met myself as I am?

I did renounce my hotdogs though-because I had a new mission in beauty queen to teach my mother that a girl can be beautiful, even withou Someone had to be the parent in this relationship.

Answer the following questions.

1. What personal information or details did the writer reveal about her herself?

She loved hotdogs; she also thinks that she is a freak; she had grudges to her parents that she could want to kill them.

2. What personal information or details did the writer reveal about her herself?

The writer tells that her parents is a freak and they didn’t care for her.

3. How did the writer portray herself and her family in the essay?

They’re portray her as a pig.

4. What is the tone of the essay? Cite some passages from the essay to prove your answer.

The tone in the essay is disgruntled. Her family say word “oink oink” to her.

5. What technique/s of did the author used in developing and revealing her characters? Prove your point.

The author used direct description so that her story is easy to understand and to make her audience/readers easy to analyze and imagined it in a easy way.

II. Based from the observation you had with the people at your home in Test Yourself using the STEAL method, synthesize your answers and write a character sketch(must be 10-15 sentences long) of your chosen subject .

Speech- my father is always in a high tone when speaking. Even when you message him thru social media, you’ll feel like he’s message is in a high tone. His way of speaking is so solid/pure that you will able to understand it.

Thoughts- my father way of thinking is strict. The way he thinks is so direct to the point. The type you just open your mouth, you can immediately think of what he will say because you know you both think the same.

Effects- He will first think carefully about whether to interact with that person or whether the interaction there has a purpose.

Actions- in his actions, you can really learn because when he acts, it is very clean and easy to learn especially when he teaches you with good speech.

Looks- He is very tidy. With him, you can also learn how to dress properly or partner with what you wear. Every time we will go outside to have a family date, he looks like a young man without a wife and children because he is really very well dressed. He’s also not the type of excretive at home.

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 303

Ok so I was out of town this weekend and rather than word-vomiting nonsense into evernote as I watched the episode like I usually do, I happy-flailed, rage-flailed, made incoherent noises while pointing at my phone, somehow managed to get myself buried in the pillows I was leaning on, chose to not unbury myself and eventually just kept dramatically flopping and throwing the blanket over my head because it was 2:30 in the morning and I was in a special kind of ridiculous mood that comes from running around a warehouse for two hours at the best version of Macbeth ever. (Third time going and it’s still one of my favorite things.)

Anywho...

I think this episode is my favorite so far this season? But like, I still have the same general feelings about it that I had after the first two? I liked Jamie’s side better because it didn’t make me rage. Claire’s side was just about Frank’s #manpain, because of course it was. Last week her side didn’t make me rage and was actually about her so of course now we’re back to #manpain. And obviously I have rage about it. It felt less rushed than the last two, but like I almost wish they cut back on the Claire and Frank stuff to give the Ardsmuir stuff a bit more time? Which isn’t to say that I think Claire is less important than Jamie or in any less pain than him or is any less broken or empty (I don’t feel that way *at all*), I just keep thinking that since they decided to literally just make her side of things about Frank and not explore her becoming a surgeon or her with Bree, that it could have be told in a more concise way since Jamie’s side of things has more plot points to hit along the way? I don’t know... Whatever, at least Frank’s dead now and went out as the steaming pile of shit he’s always been.

The word version of my dramatic flopping is under the cut...

Scotland

I like the walk and talk with LJG. Sets up everything without feeling like an exposition dump. Ok a little like an exposition dump, but I still like it.

Slash I like how we know Lord John remembers exactly who Jamie is and what he did just by him losing his cool for a second with “I’ll not dine with that--”. No further explanation necessary or given.

MURTAGH!!! Guys I’m still fucking ecstatic that they decided to save Murtagh. Like thank you, show. I know I shit on you on the reg, but holy shit thank you for saving Murtagh.

I can’t wait to see their reunion. I’m guessing since we didn’t get it here, we’ll maybe get it when Claire comes back and Jamie’s telling her that Murtagh survived? Like I’m guessing that scene and the Ellen’s tower scene and Claire doing surgery will be in ep. 306 when they’re telling each other what they’ve been through? Since Matt wrote this one and that one?

The first time watching this I was like ok he’s coughing. He can’t be coughing. Because coughing means he’s gonna die and he can’t have been saved just to die. But I love how it plays out.

And I *love* that it’s Murtagh’s bit of plaid. I love that he’s the one who is holding on to the old ways and to the memory of Claire and wants to talk about her. It’s a nice contrast to Jamie who has yet to say Claire’s name because it’s all he can do to hold himself together and talking about her and the baby with others would make him lose it completely. Like he clearly thinks about her all the time and uses what she taught him, but he never says her name because at this point that’s still too much.

I’m also really glad they cut the bit where the plaid was found and Jamie gets flogged again. We’ve seen him flogged enough times that we really don’t need to go back to that yet again. And I feel like with the small tweak to the stuff with Lord John, it wasn’t needed. I like that they just let the plaid be a small symbol that despite the English’s best efforts, the Highland culture hasn’t been entirely snuffed out.

Jamie using what Claire taught him to care for Murtagh and the men makes me feel all the feelings. He can’t say her name, but dammit he loves and misses her so much and has so much respect for her skills as a healer and *assumes fetal position*.

I giggle every time Lord John is referred to as John William Grey. Like they gotta keep including that middle name since they forgot his first name last year. (I know, I need to stop picking on that. But it was dumb and will never stop being dumb.)

I love the small expression on Lord John’s face when he finds out the men eat the rats. Like they’re prisoners but that’s an indignity too far? Reminded me of how Hal insisted that the men be propped up to be shot in ep. 301.

Lord John’s line about how heavy Jamie’s irons must feel give me preemptive sads for just how heavy they are and will remain for Jamie. Because he feels their weight for years after they’re struck off.

Jamie putting pride aside and asking for blankets for Murtagh specifically (not just asking as the leader of all the men) makes me want to hug him and tell him it’ll be ok. (Also, are we just ditching the Fraser part of Murtagh’s name? Because he’s just Murtagh Fitzgibbons twice in this episode? *shrug*) And the look on Lord John’s face there. Like he knows that it’s costing Jamie to expose a point of vulnerability here with this request for Murtagh and he can appreciate just how much Jamie must care for his kinsman since he’s willing to ask.

The look that comes over Jamie’s face while their theme plays as he thinks there’s a glimmer of hope that he can find Claire again murders me. In the best way possible.

“There’s nothing you can do that hasn’t already been done to me. So, try if you must.” Excuse me while I get a bit emotional.

Jamie’s hesitation before telling Murtagh that Kerr mentioned a white witch makes me feel things to the point where I almost forget that all the white witch stuff makes me roll my eyes, but they’re committed to it so whatever. Like telling Murtagh about it is a step beyond just hoping. It’s admitting out loud to that hope. And that’s a vulnerable place to be in, like it makes the hope a bit more real.

Murtagh talking about Claire and the baby and how he thinks of her and wanting to talk to Jamie about it is so sweet and I just love Murtagh so much and I’m so glad he’s not dead.

Seriously though, Jamie’s respect for Claire’s healing and dietary advice throughout this episode kills me with feelings. Frank uses her doctor title to try to hurt her while they fight. Jamie is just filled with respect for his wife’s skill.

Also, I love Jamie using his wine knowledge. Like the dude has suffered so damn much, I’m glad he got a little grin out of still being able to identify what wine it was.

And omg him telling the men about the food plays so much better in the show than it did in the book.

I giggled about the little hiding spot bit, but I really do love that the men respect him enough and are loyal enough that they go along with his plan instead of feeling like he’s abandoning them and rat him out.

And I do like the parallel of Jamie sneaking up on Lord John, but him calling him William Grey again and then reciting his birth order and father’s title really just rubs in again how silly it was to not just go with the name last year that he’s going to use for the rest of the series. (I’m letting this go now, I swear. Until the next time. Because apparently this is the hill I’m willing to die on.)

The flashbacks are a bit much though. Like we eventually see pretty much that entire scene from last year and I really don’t think it was necessary. But like, whatever, it’s not something I’m like ragey about. Just like, I feel like that time could have been better spent...

And yeah, since we didn’t see Jamie at the tower in this episode, I’m guessing we’re going to get it when he’s telling Claire about it. Which I’m here for. Like let us see the emotional part of it when we can then see Claire reacting to Jamie’s emotions. Give me that in my eyeballs please and thank you.

Although I feel like the scene of him asking to be killed as the second part of Lord John’s promise would work a little better if we did get a little more of his despair. Like his last shred of hope of finding Claire again was just dashed and that’s what’s prompting this. But I feel like there’s a little something missing that might have made it land better? Whatever, I still get the point I guess?

Also, this is the second time that someone has promised to kill Jamie and reneged on that promise. First BJR and now LJG...

“She’s truly gone.” JUST WAIT ANOTHER FEW EPISODES, BUDDY! YOU CAN DO IT! IT’LL BE OK!

Thanks, Lord John, for the rando doctor because it would really suck if Murtagh was saved just to die in prison! (Guys I am seriously beyond fucking pumped that Murtagh got saved. THINK OF HIM MEETING BREE! THINK OF HIM GETTING REUNITED WITH CLAIRE! THINK OF ALL THE AWESOMENESS THAT COMES FROM MURTAGH STILL BEING AROUND! I LOVE SHOW!MURTAGH SO MUCH!)

I like that much like Jamie hasn’t been able to say Claire’s name up until this point, Lord John doesn’t say Hector’s.

“Some people you grieve over forever.” I’m hoping I like show!LJG better than book!LJG, but I do like that he can probably appreciate what Jamie is feeling better than most people.

“I think perhaps the greatest burden lies in caring for those we cannot help. Not in having no one for whom to care. That is emptiness. But no great burden.” No comment on this one, just glad that was included because I like it a lot.

Gah but with that whole exchange. Jamie knows that Lord John might be able to understand the depth of his loss and says Claire’s name for the first time and I have feelings.

I wish the moment wasn’t broken up by a flashback, but I do like the back and forth with Jamie telling Lord John that the woman was his wife.

But ugh, Lord John. Nope. Don’t do that. Don’t touch him like that. I know you just bonded but not like to the point where you’d think this was ok. And even if you were feeling things, you definitely wouldn’t do this. Like not just because you’re used to hiding that part of yourself, but because you’re an honorable soldier and the power dynamic here is not ok. You’re not equals and as much as you guys just got real with each other, I don’t think you’d forget that.

And I 100% think that Jamie’s reaction here is strictly PTSD from his rape. Book!Jamie definitely had some homophobic tendencies, but in this scene I really think it’s just his trauma coming back to him. Like his face. Omfg there is zero doubt that he will kill Lord John right there, consequences be damned, if LJG doesn’t move his hand.

I really hope they tone down Lord John’s constantly reminding everyone that he’s in love with Jamie. It’s why I can’t really be on board with him in the books. But if they make some small changes, I can definitely be on board with him in the show.

I like that Murtagh was revealed to be alive now rather than waiting until like the end of the season once he’d been transported. (Because we all thought that if he got to live, he’d end up transported, right? I feel like that was a thing most people were guessing.) Like now we don’t need to have to care about prison randos and we [hopefully] get to see Jamie finding out he’s alive when Jamie tells Claire he’s alive, and then another reunion when [I’m guessing] they find him again in the colonies.

Lord John apologizing for touching Jamie in the prison makes me really hopeful that I’m going to like him in the show. Like I *love* that they had him apologize. They’ve done such a good job adapting the secondary characters that I think it’s not too much to hope that I’ll end up liking him more than book!LJG. But yeah, great change, show. Well done.

Lord John giving Jamie the best life he can because he wants to discharge the debt for his own name, and not because he’s like in love with Jamie or whatever, makes me happy.

(For real, can they just be friends without the gay guy in love with his straight BFF trope? And just let them have a friendship based on mutual respect and shit? Please?)

Boston

Not a fan of the dog as the title card. Like I get that it’s a reference to the book where Bree had a dog, but the dog is in like half a shot in the show so it’s just random to use that instead of something that’s actually related to what they’re exploring in the episode? I mean, who cares, it’s a title card. But it’s still an odd choice.

Oh look! Frank’s in the kitchen! The woman’s place! *eye roll* Except nope it’s not because he’s a nice guy and is cooking breakfast to be helpful. No. Of course not. Because this is Frank and Frank is an asshole. His breakfasts obviously have an ulterior motive. Like seriously, Frank. Bree’s growing up in the U.S. She’s going to like fucking Eggos. Eggos are fucking great. Just ask Eleven. But no. Claire likes America and wanted to become a citizen as something for herself and now Bree’s an American so clearly that needs to be remedied. Let the girl eat the damn frozen waffles, Frank, and stop trying to force *everyone* to be the version of themselves that *you* want them to be.

Look at Claire being all pleasant and conversational. Look at Claire being friendly and making casual, platonic plans. Look at Claire knowing that they’ve decided to live separate lives but still being civil and personable and friendly because they live together. And now look at Frank being a steaming pile of trash. She’s not asking you to go on some romantic date or to pretend like you’re in a regular marriage, you rancid trash fire. She’s literally seeing if you want to go to the movies. And you need to go and make it uncomfortable because clearly seeing a movie twice is just absurd and casually being like thanks for the offer, but I think I have to pass on this one would be the nice thing to do, but you can’t help making Claire feel like shit at every possible opportunity. Like seriously, making Claire feel like she did something wrong there, like somehow with this innocuous invitation she’s breaching the agreement you have, is just a dick move. You’re a terrible person, Frank.

“Nothing a cold martini won’t cure.” I want to be friends with Joe. Joe is great. I love Joe. I wish we had more with Claire and Joe because dammit, Claire needs someone in her life who isn’t trying to make her feel like shit every time they interact.

Oh hey! It’s Frank’s girlfriend! Time to go on a ramble. I’m glad that they had Claire be like yeah, it’s cool to live separate lives. Because Claire knows she’s never going to be what Frank wants her to be. And Frank makes damn sure that she can never forget that. Because Frank is an asshole. Like Claire should have left, promise to Jamie or no promise. It’s stupid and really not believable to me that she stuck around. Your mileage may vary. But she stayed and says it’s cool for Frank to go and lead his life. There’s a line in Drums where Claire is thinking of why she never called Frank out on his affairs: “I could not; I had no right.” She knows that she can’t be what he wants her to be. She knows she’s emotionally unfaithful. The affairs in the book hurt her, she’s only human, but she believes that she really can’t call him out. So I like that here, instead of it being like they’re actually still pretending to be in a functioning marriage, she gives Frank that freedom. Because Claire is imperfect, but still a good person.

And then there’s Frank. And Frank is a vindictive jackass. There’s living your own life and having a girlfriend and whatever, and then there’s inviting your girlfriend to your house on the day of your wife’s graduation party. And then when she shows up, *inviting her in* while your wife wrangles all the guests and has everyone leave. Because Claire went to med school and became a surgeon so of course even that has to be about Frank and how much of a piece of shit he is. Claire can’t possibly have one moment to celebrate her achievements. Nope. That’d be too much to ask. Gotta throw some Frank bullshit in.

“You invited her here. Where our daughter lives.” Claire’s first thought isn’t of how Frank fucked up her day here. Which she’d be totally entitled to do. No, Claire’s first thought is about Bree. Because her priority is to make sure Bree has a loving environment. Even if it means staying in an absolutely shitty situation. (You seriously should have left, Claire...) She does it for Bree. And Frank fucking brought his girlfriend over and threatened the illusion for Bree. Honestly, Claire’s the one here who looks like a good fucking parent. You’re a rancid glob of old cheese that’s stinking up the fridge, Frank.

“You were taking the car, she was just picking me up.” Right, Frank. Sure. You want brownie points for being discreet while also inviting your girlfriend to pick you up from your house where a graduation party is being held. I don’t care if you thought the dinner reservation was at a different time. If you’re actually looking to be discreet, you don’t have your girlfriend come to your damn house.

“You really dislike me that much?” Yes, Claire. He fucking resents you. He’s a shit sandwich. He resents you for not being what he wants you to be even though you’ve been honest about where you were about things from the start, and instead of leaving he sticks around and makes you feel terrible about yourself because he’s a petty, selfish, pathetic excuse of a man.

“Do you honest think that anyone at Harvard believes that we’re happily married?” No no no. Noooope. No, Frank. You don’t get to pull some whataboutism bullshit here. It’s not Claire’s fucking job to convince your Harvard people that you’re happily married. That’s not part of the fucking conditions. She said she wouldn’t talk about the past and that you could raise Bree to think you were her father. She’s doing that. Beyond that she owes you jack shit. Like you’re making it seem like she actually went to your work shit over the last few years, which would be doing you a fucking favor she didn’t have to. Because you’re living separate lives now, remember? It was Claire’s idea. That goes both ways. You get your girlfriend and she doesn’t have to pretend like she’s in love with you. And jfc the fact that you don’t see a difference between not “acting happy enough” at a work thing and FUCKING BRINGING YOUR GIRLFRIEND TO YOUR WIFE’S GRADUATION PARTY makes me want to punch you more than I already do. You really are the world’s biggest douchenozzle, Frank. I can’t wait for you to die. *checks time left in episode*

Having Claire call whatever her name is a harlot is not a good look for Claire. But like I said before and like what’s in the books, Claire’s human and Frank hurt her by bringing the girlfriend around. I can understand why she’d hit back like this. And it parallels Frank reducing what she had with Jamie to just fucking. Except what Frank and this lady have is def not the same as what Jamie and Claire have, because I honestly think Frank is incapable of loving and accepting a woman as his equal.

“Green ain’t your color, Claire.” Yeah, but like deep down she’s not jealous? Like on the surface, maybe, she’s human, but she doesn’t want you? She’s pissed that you were a complete twatwaffle and is hitting back. Because she’s fucking human and we all do shit like this when we’re pissed. You’re still the bad guy here, asshole.

“You wanted to hurt me.” “Maybe I did.” Yeah, no shit you did, Frank. That’s the only fucking reason you’re still around. To fucking hurt Claire. Because you’re so fucking selfish and petty that once you finally wrapped your fucking head around the fact that she’s never going to love you the way you want her to, you fucking stuck around to make her life miserable. You are the worst kind of cruel.

“Maybe I wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine.” Ok but you knew what you were getting into, Fred. Claire has been honest from the start. And she’s clearly been trying to make things as ok for you as she can. (Seriously, Claire, you should have fucking left.) She’s literally living up to her end of your deal while letting you do whatever the fuck you like with whoever the fuck you like. It’s your own damn fault you decided to stay. You lose all right to be this shitty. You can leave and you should leave but it’s your own selfish pettiness that makes you stay just so you can make this woman’s life miserable.

And the loathing in his voice when he says “Dr. Randall.” Like it *kills* him that despite his best efforts to destroy this woman, she managed to achieve her own damn goals. How anyone can think this fuckwad is a good guy is beyond me. (Like you do you, keep thinking whatever you want to think. Each to their own. Yada yada yada. But I will *never* understand it.)

“Have you fucked her in our bedroom?” I honestly don’t think Claire’s upset here about if the fucking actually happened, I think she’s just realizing just how vindictive Frank is that this is something he’d probably do just to spite her.

“File for divorce. You’d have your freedom.” “Yes, I would.” Like yeah, Claire should have left, but she didn’t. Because she promised Jamie and then because she’s a good person who didn’t want to take Bree away from Frank. But I love that she’s turning the tables on Frank now. And being like yeah, you know what. You can leave too. It’s clearly the best move. But Frank’s like nope. And I don’t believe for a second that it’s because he thinks Claire will keep Bree from him. Claire wouldn’t do that. She knows that Bree loves Frank, and Claire isn’t a piece of shit. She’s flawed, but she’s not a terrible person in the way that Frank is a terrible person. Claire would never take Bree from Frank and Frank knows it. He’s literally only staying so he can keep having his cake and eating it too. He can have his girlfriend and still torment Claire at every available opportunity.

“Forgive me, Claire, if I don’t risk everything on your promises. You have not been very good at keeping them.” Uh, buddy? Slow your roll. Yes, she fell in love with another guy when her whole life was turned upside down. That hurt you. I get that. But shit happens and most people can move on without being this much of puddle of raw sewage. And since she’s been back, she’s been exceptional at keeping her fucking promises. She accepted your damn conditions and she has kept them to the letter. Even at the cost of her relationship with her and Jamie’s daughter. So you, sir, can go fuck yourself.

Frank contradicting Claire over Bree’s birthday wish is such a perfect little window into how much of a manipulative, terrible person he is. It’s not enough that he gets to raise Bree as his own like he demanded. No, not for good ol’ Franky boy. Nope. He needs to undermine Claire. He needs to be the good guy who might give Bree a car when Claire says no. He needs to subtly (and probably consistently) make himself seem like the one who truly cares about Bree. He needs to carefully do stuff like this the whole time Bree is growing up so she notices that Claire is a bit distant. That’s not being a good parent. That’s being a terrible parent. Frank really needs to die already. *checks time left in episode*

Omg Claire’s face when she tells Bree she’s proud of her at graduation. Like Claire so obviously loves her daughter. And I honestly think that if Frank wasn’t undercutting her at every turn, she could have managed to have a better relationship with Bree. Like there was always going to be some distance, but I’m thinking Bree might not have noticed as much if Frank wasn’t like always making himself out to be the Good Guy parent?

“I’d like to take Brianna to England. I want a divorce, Claire.” You really are the most selfish prick, Frank. Like Bree’s going to go off to college regardless so this is Frank’s last chance to use her as a weapon to hurt Claire.

And jfc, “We’ll get married as soon as I’m free. I’m finished with this, Claire.” Seriously, Frank. You could have left years ago. You *should* have left years ago. You don’t get to be fucking butthurt here. Claire didn’t fuck with you. *You* refused to accept reality. She tried her fucking best for all these years. Now that you’re *finally* accepting how things are, you don’t get any fucking sympathy. You don’t get to play the fucking victim. You have spent fucking decades making Claire’s life as miserable as possible. You are not a good person. You are fucking scum.

Claire realizing that he’s only stuck around to fuck with her is kind of heartbreaking. Like she had things so much worse because she never was given the space to grieve, and just kept everything bottled up and it was all for a guy who just wanted to hurt her.

“Be reasonable, Claire.” HOW CAN ANYONE POSSIBLY FUCKING THINK THIS GUY IS ANYTHING BUT A FLAMING SACK OF SHIT?! BE REASONABLE?! SHE’S BEEN FUCKING REASONABLE FOR ALMOST 20 YEARS. SHE’S DONE EVERYTHING YOU’VE FUCKING ASKED AT THE EXPENSE OF WHAT *SHE* NEEDED. SHE COULDN’T GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANTED SO SHE GAVE YOU WHAT SHE COULD. AND YOU WERE NOTHING BUT TERRIBLE TO HER IN RETURN.

Yeah, they took out him being racist af, but show!Frank is just as fucking terrible as book!Frank. Can you please just fucking die already. *checks time left in episode*

“I would like to live the rest of my life with a wife who truly loves me.” EXCEPT THAT CLEARLY YOU’D RATHER TORMENT CLAIRE THAN ACTUALLY DO THAT YOU PATHETIC, PETTY WASTE OF OXYGEN. YOU COULD HAVE MARRIED YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND YEARS AGO. YOU KNEW YOU COULD STILL BE IN BREE’S LIFE. BUT YOU CHOSE NOT TO BECAUSE YOU’RE SO FUCKING SHITTY YOU WOULD RATHER STICK AROUND JUST TO HURT CLAIRE. YOU DO NOT DESERVE A HAPPY ENDING, FRANK. YOU DESERVE A MORE VIOLENT DEATH THAN YOU GOT.

“You couldn’t look at Brianna without seeing him. Could you? Without that constant reminder.” NO SHIT, FRANK. BUT NO, YOU COULD NEVER SEE HOW MUCH CLAIRE WAS HURTING. OR HOW MUCH YOUR FUCKING CONDITIONS WERE RUINING THE RELATIONSHIP SHE COULD HAVE HAD WITH HER DAUGHTER. BECAUSE OF COURSE SHE WAS FUCKING REMINDED OF JAMIE. SO OF COURSE IT HURT HER TO NOT BE ABLE TO SHARE JAMIE WITH BREE. AND OF COURSE SHE FUCKING HAD TO WATCH HERSELF AROUND BREE CONSTANTLY SO THAT SHE DIDN’T SLIP UP. EVEN WITHOUT YOUR UNDERCUTTING HER AS A PARENT, IT WAS ALREADY YOUR FAULT THAT SHE WASN’T AS CLOSE TO BREE AS SHE COULD HAVE BEEN.

CLAIRE YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING JUST LEFT. I KNOW YOU PROMISED BUT FFS JAMIE WOULDN’T HAVE WANTED YOUR DAUGHTER TO LOSE YOU AS WELL AS HIM. UGH I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS. LIKE IT’S SO WELL ACTED BUT I STILL WANT TO THROW SOMETHING.

“Might you have forgotten him, with time?” “That amount of time doesn’t exist.” Yup. Boom. And yet she still fucking tried, Frank. She still gave it everything she fucking had. She didn’t even get to grieve. She fucking bottled everything up and fucking put on a brave face and fucking gave it her all. And you were too selfish and petty to fucking see or appreciate just how hard she was fucking trying. You are literally the worst.

I’m usually ok with changing stuff from being verbatim from the books (with a few exceptions...), but in the scene with Claire and Frank’s body, I kind of miss the finality of the “once” at the end of the line? “I did love you. Once.” But yeah, he was her first love. And that does mean something. But not enough of something for me to not be annoyed that 2/3 of her side of the story thus far has been about him.

I think I find this side of things so annoying and rage-inducing because none of it feels like it earned the right to happen. The choice, to me, for Claire was never Jamie vs. Frank. It was Jamie vs. the entire 20th century. That was the hard choice. The Jamie vs. Frank choice was easy. Frank wasn’t right for her before she left. She chose not to go back to him. And having her stay in a loveless marriage with a manipulative asshole for 20 years is far less interesting to me than watching her try to get along by herself with Bree might have been. But “she made a promise to Jamie” yada yada, and we’re stuck with Frank. Who stopped being relevant ages ago. I know, “jfc, get over it, this is how it is, stfu,” so consider standard disclaimers about this being just my opinion and other’s being able to have theirs and yada yada applied. I hope assume most people who find this take the most annoying have already unfollowed/blocked/blacklisted me. But holy shit I’m glad this asshole is finally dead, and I really hope the Claire and Bree stuff in the next couple episodes is amazing because that’s what I’m here for. End rant.