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kaypeace21 · 4 years ago

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Rebel Robin podcast (ep 3 &4 analysis)

For those who haven’t read them yet. Here’s the analysis for podcast ep 1&2. Analysis of Rebel Robin book-here. And eastereggs from rebel robin novel- here.

So the main things I noticed in ep 3 was how Robin spying was shown as a huge NEGATIVE-and Mr Hauser got upset over her doing so. Robin listens to mr. Hauser’s phone call (like Karen with Mike in s3/ us gov spying on calls in s1) & on a different occasion Robin also eavesdrops on a private convo he is having with someone else in his classroom ( like El spying on Mike talking to Lucas in s3). And when he finds out about this he tells her how wrong it was to spy on other people like that. In the past, I also talked about how the theme of spying is shown for many other st characters ( in the show) and how it isn’t romanticized like people think it is- here .

Anyways , Ep 3 ends with a call from a h*mophobic teen( Dash) telling Robin to “stay away” from Mr. Hauser cause he’s “dangerous”. Why he thinks he’s dangerous is solely for the fact he’s gay.I think this theme may come into play in s4 Hawkins (in relation to the satanic panic). In ep 4 Robin jokes to (gay) Mr. Hauser : “ So what are you into... satanism?” (Sadly most queer people have been told over and over we’re going to hell for being gay/lgbt+. it’s sadly an almost universal experience.) For those unaware- the ‘satanic panic’ was a right wing christian movement in the 80′s that WRONGLY associated certain things with supposed satanism. Just some of the many things they demonized : rock music , stephen king , wearing black, horror/fantasy media, and of course queer people and d&d (hellfire club - the name is a a xmen ref but in the show it’s probably an inside joke about the satanic panic and people being scared of d&d). We see foreshadowing of the satanic panic hinted in s3 (in relation to d&d)- on tv the narrator asks if “satanism” (pans to d&d set) is to blame for the odd occurrances in Hawkins. And given how the s4 el-trailer had the clock say 3:00am for the “witching hour” also called “the devil’s hour” since it’s supposed to be a subversion of jesus dy*ing at 3:00 pm. And the possibility s4 may take place around Easter. I think we’ll see that religious (Christian) extre*sm causes many people in Hawkins to interpret the supernatural as ‘satanic’. And no , I’m obviously not talking poorly about all religious/christian people).

After this Mr. Hauser jokes how Hawkins is like “lord of the flies” and how he “worries” what would happen if teens were left to their own devices-like in the book. The themes in the book mostly focus on the dangers of ‘mob mentality’ and how human beings can become v*olent and turn on each other- if the safety of civilization disappears...

This I believe is foreshadowing - i mentioned in a post a while back (here). How movies on the s4 list had the theme of : a supernatural event indirectly causing towns people to act irrationally and turn on eachother v*olently. Despite literal monsters attacking them from outside (they chose to turn on eachother instead). In the end some townspeople become the real monsters via mob mentality/v*oence/false witch hunts (the mist, the birds, etc). In ‘the birds’ (while people are hidding in a store)- they wrongly blame certain characters for the supernatural chaos. Similarly, in ‘the mist’ (crowd of townspeople are trapped in a store) and some start interpreting the monsters as being sent as punishment by god- some town’s people start quoting the bible and saying the only way to stop the punishment is to start “sacrificing the s*nners and nonbelievers”. BIG YIKES.ST references mapple street (where the wheelers and sinclairs live). It’s based on the twilight zone ep of the same name “The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street” .The ‘monsters’ of that episode -were the townspeople turning on eachother because they incorrectly think their own neighbors are part of an invading supernatural army. The enemy was actually the paranoia/mob mentality-not the supernatural force they feared. And yes i do think this concept is linked with 80s satanic panic and will cause some town division/obstacles for our heroes to deal with . **I also think the s4 bts of the Hawkins blood clinic-may be used to show h*mophobia (linked to satanic panic) in the town. Like in one s4 movie “paradise lost”the punk rock boys who were into black clothes, rock music , horror/stephen king books- were accused by the town’s people of being gay AND have demonic powers that are k*lling fellow town’s people.

Mr Hauser says he thinks steve Harrington is Ralph from lord of the flies. And Robin disagrees saying he’s Jack. Personally- since this was when Robin didn’t know/hated Steve. I think Mr hauser is right that Steve is Ralph (one of the oldest boys) who’s “commitment to civilization and morality is strong”. But Jack (perhaps the popular s4 kid Jake?) and his savage crew take control of the group and start trying to attack Ralph and his friends (steve’s crew- over satanic panic?). How this begins is -

Jack, torments Ralph and others. And some kids begin to develop savage personalities, after someone claims to have seen a Beast (demongorgan?) in the woods. This creates fear among the boys, which allows Jack to access more power.Ralph gets into an argument with Jack, who splits from the tribe. Many of the other boys follow Jack, who uses fear to manipulate the boys into leaving Ralph. And Jack’s crew begin attacking Ralph and his friends.

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Ok, next topic of ep 4- the sentimental part of my brain got emotional when hearing how upset Robin was. And than Mr Hauser-telling her she’s wrong and she’s not “broken” or “rotten” and “nothing about her needs to be fixed’” (got me right in the feels) . As a queer person- I feel like every lgbt+ kid/teen needs to hear what Mr. Hauser said to Robin.

However, the analytical part of my brain -did notice some easterggs/ series parallels.

The convo starts with them talking about music Mr hauser likes (such as Bowie). And transitions to Mr Haauser asking about things she likes, whether she’s being bullied, and he later tells her “ DON’T let other people’s small mindedness make you fell bad about yourself. you don’t need to change yourself-no matter what anyone else says” . And Mr Hauser than says him calling her the “weirdest girl in Hawkins” was a compliment (not an insult-like she initially assumed).

This is remarkably similar to certain scenes in s1/2. In s1, Jonathan mentions musicians he likes such as Bowie, asks Will about what he likes, and tells Will “don't like things cause people tell you you’re supposed to-especially not him (their dad who called him h*mophobic names)” . In s2, Jonathan tries to cheer Will up after asking if he's being being bullied. And calls Will “a freak” (and says it’s a good thing) and he should be content with being a “freak “ and compares Will to Bowie ( who was openly queer since the 70s) .

In ep 4, Robin also mentions how sad she is that her parents won’t let her ride her bike anymore cause their paranoid about her safety (like what happened to Will in s2).

Robin (before Mr. Hauser comforts her) says she feels like she has a “rot” inside her . This is a s2 eastergg that could be linked to either Will or El. Will says his now-memories are “growing”, spreading”, and killing.” Later Kali says the emotional pain caused by her father caused a “wound” to “spread”. Later allusion-Brenner tells El she has a “terrible wound “ (“a rot”) that Will “grow, spread, and kill.”

The reason Robin rants about feeling like she has a “rot” inside her is because she’s being bullied, and lost all her Hawkins friends and says “maybe I’m broken maybe there is just something about me that drives people away? I’m the only common denominator-there’s something wrong with me! There’s something inside of me that’s just rotten and there’s nothing i can do to fix it”. Which 1)-poor Robin. 2) I feel like could easily be How Will feels in s4(who will be the same age as Robin is here in the podcast)- his dad abandoned him, all his hawkins friends are gone , the st s4 movies have h*mophobic bullying in them (and he was bullied in the past). In a interview Noah said Will in s4 “doesn’t really get along with people-it’s just him and Mike.” I think it fits more so with Will than El . But they may feel similar: it’s implied in s4 audition tapes she’ll be bullied too, she moved away from her friends, and her father (Hopper) fake “passed away.” It could easily be how both Will and El feel in s4- that there is something “broken”/ “rotten” about them . In fact, in the rebel Robin novel there is even a character named Sheena. Sheena reminds me a bit of a mix between Will and el . She is very quiet, queercoded, and is often bullied. And she finds mean notes and other things stuffed in her locker- placed there by bullies. A bit like how Will found the zombie-boy note in his locker. A teacher doesn’t stop her bullying just blames her and says “ This wouldn’t happen if you made it just a smidgen easier for PEOPLE to understand you.”(sort of reminding me of that Noah quote about s4 Will not getting along with most people/Jonathan saying not to change himself cause “people” say to). But sheena can be another name for Jane (there was also a 80s show character named Sheena who was psychic) so ...maybe foreshadowing of el/jane being bullied in highschool? Along with Will?

*It’s not a eastergg/parallel...just speculation. Unlike the rebel robin book... in the podcast (in multiple episodes) almost every time she opens up to Mr Hauser about her problems she says it’s ok for him to do the same and she’ll be supportive and listen. However, Mr Hauser (so far) always rejects her offer-much to her hurt/frustration. In ep 4, she asks if he has someone his “own age” he can talk to about his problems-which he says he does. Now... since in ep 4 Mr hauser is paralleled to Jonathan maybe Jonathan will have someone his own age to talk to about his problems (maybe his new friend Argyle?) We see similar to Mr Hauser giving advice/pep talks to (gay) Robin. Jonathan is always giving advice/peptalks to our (gay-coded) Will. But so far- Jonathan has no one he really emotionally leaned on in the same way (Will does with Jonathan). I also wonder if Will in s4 starts gets tired of how he always confides in Jonathan (but Jonathan never does the same with Will in return)? Like Robin with Mr. Hauser?

#robin buckley #steve harrington #will byers #el hopper #jonathan byers #stranger things #stranger things theory

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interact-if · 4 years ago

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Umm hi 👉👈 I realized that most of the asks you guys get are about games and rec lists. You guys deserve so much recognition for the work you put in this blog, so I wanted to ask if I can do a little get-to-know-the-mods thing? If that's okay!

1. Besides writing, what are your hobbies?

2. Do you have a niche interest right now?

3. Any fave songs/artists/bands?

4. Any fave movies/tv shows?

5. On a scale of 1-10, how likely would you survive in your wip's world?

You can totally ignore this if you guys want, no pressure. Anyway, much love to all the interact-if mods! You guys are incredible! ❤

We saw this ask and we went 👀 👀 👀 so we’re happy to answer! Thank you so much for the fun ask!

We also rated our survivability in all of our collective games, since Mars isn't an author! Fun stuff! Spoilers, though: it’s really not looking so great for me (Dani) but that’s fine!!! 😌

1. I’m a photographer as well as a graphic artist (but not like. A painter/drawer kind of artist!) and, on a general level, a maker and a tinkerer!

2. Fountain pens! I only write with ink, and only with fountain pens, and I use bottled inks/converters!

3. I’m pretty eclectic with music, but my top genres are alt rock, indie, indie pop, etc, as well as top 40s and some rap.

4. I feel like this is the hardest one for me to answer? Favorite movies/shows? Avatar: the Last Airbender has been a favorite show of mine since I was a little kid, but I have a harder time thinking of shows I would call a favorite in recent years. There are shows I’ve liked, and a lot of shows I’ve watched. But I’m picky! And demanding! It takes a lot to earn a place in Dani’s Trophy Case of Favorites. 😌 I would say I quite liked A Quite Place (movie), and I liked Us (movie). When it comes to TV shows, I have a hard time being pleased with them if they don’t end well. As a result, I have a penchant for a good limited series/miniseries (because they’re stories that have an end in mind and the plot reflects that, dagnabbit).

5. Heh. Okay.

In The Goodfellows? I think I stand I chance. I can exercise my sparkling wit and lovable personality to the best effect. I’m gonna give myself an 8/10 survivability rating. Even if I don’t have the right skills, I can go crying to the person who does and they’ll save me. Maybe.

In Creatures’ Cradle? I’m super $**!%d. 😌 1/10 survivability rating. And that 1 is me being nice to myself. The day the apocalypse breaks out I would probably be patient 0. I am self-aware. I would not do well in an apocalypse. Zombies care not for aforementioned sparkling wit and lovable personality, and I have all the muscle of a boiled spaghetti noodle. So it’s a no go.

Greater Than Gods (Cruz): Well. I’m going to be optimistic. And say that I have the wisdom not to do things I shouldn’t do and not to rock boats I shouldn’t rock. I’m going to give myself a 7/10 based on insider information, but also based on reckless optimism!

Vardir (Cruz): Cruz says this is a lighthearted game, so 10/10 LOL.

When it Hungers (Roast): I’m giving myself a nice, mediocre 5/10. I think I could put my mind to work here; I joke that I’m the village idiot, but I’m actually pretty smart! Unfortunately, I’m also curious, and maybe a little bad with authorities who won’t answer my questions. So I knocked off a lot of points due to the fact that I’d probably poke the metaphorical bear. So it’s a real coin flip as to whether I’d really make it or not.

Orthall Bay (Nines): Considering the genre is “horror” and the game intro includes the words “monster” and “maim,” I’m giving myself a whooping, enthusiastic 3/10. Yes, folks, I am that confident in myself! Once again, I can’t charm the socks off a monster (or can I?), so one of my greatest weapons is snatched from beneath my feet. Alas!

1. Beloved I’m a college student in the middle of a pandemic... i can hardly even write LOL i do draw at times which u can see in my personal blog (nothing too good really) and i used to do karate before things went to shit <3

2. Nothing niche I believe? All I do is leave Netflix as bg noise every day n play popular videgames (genshin)

3. Porter Robinson <3 I love Bea Miller a lot as well but lately I’ve been feeling Porter a lot

4. The Good Place <3

5. My WIPs:

Greater than Gods: Highly situational, the world GtG is set in is as broad as the real world LOL so I don’t have an universal answer. But keeping it vague, and knowing my own personality, I feel like 5/10. depends on my luck.

Vardir: 10/10 no one dies in Vikgade, unless you’re a hunter but I wouldn’t be a hunter <3

Others’ WIPs

I'm gonna give myself a solid 5/10 in all other WIPs because y'all aren't writing lighthearted stories either. I feel like as long as I avoid the role of the MC I will be mostly fine. I hope. But as Dani said I'm also prone to fight the wrong person and dig my own grave so 😌

1. Well, writing is a very, very, very, distant hobby since Words Hard, but I like to crochet and sculpt a little! Anything to do with fiddling with my hands and I’m good to go. And like, debatable but graphic design is my passion [insert clown emoji here since Tumblr said No]

2. Oh yeah a bunch! DnD yelling at people, thinking of arson, crocheting, rock climbing and simply vibing. I got into podcasts a few years ago and I’m always looking for more recs, so if you have some, hmu 😤

3. Pls,,,,my music taste is,,,so weird do not let me expose myself with lack of consistency but uhh. Current songs that are stuck in my head include; Cult of Dionysus , Achilles Come Down and The Last Shanty

4. If you’ve ever spoken to me before, I probably yelled about Pacific Rim to you or at you. Plus I love all The Mummy films and really enjoyed Castlevania (s3 excluded, we do not perceive that) as well!

5. Ah, mod survival simulator pt. 3

Alright, let’s go! I don’t have a WIP because again, words hard, but like, considering how feral I am when not tryna seem professional hm...

The Goodfellows: I wanna say a solid 7/10 because I’d hardcore vibe with the Traveler and probably instigate so much nonsense. I can also bribe with blueberry cake so maybe.

Creature’s Cradle: maybe a 4/10 and only because of pure spite keeping me alive long enough to smack someone. I’ve prepared for hypothetical zombie apolcapyses and I won’t hesitate to bap, but will be bapped back because I’m weak as hell.

Greater Than Gods: a toss up between 2/10 and 7/10! I can vibe and be chill but I also have terrible impulse control so...

Vardir: hm....I think pretty good survival rates all around? If you ask me to fight then like, okay sure, your knees are mine. So maybe a 8/10?

When it Hungers: .......8/10 just because I’d refuse to die if I can be a cool creature. Living for the aesthetic can and will drag me outta hell. But I’m also clumsy as hell so I’d probably crash as a porcelain or hold a rooster and perish (aka, real rating is a good 3/10)

Orthall Bay: 2/10, nope. Nope I’d be taken out in a heartbeat. Monsters can go pspsps and I’d head straight into the dark creepy forest like a fool if someone comes @ me. Half the time I’ll just assume it’s sfx makeup and vibe until it’s too late.

god, never put me in a universe where I cannot squawk like a bird and throw pebbles from a window. Oof

Anon, you're so sweet! I give you a forehead smoomch <333 As for your questions...

1. If I'm not writing, I'm usually watching video essays on Youtube. My go-to channels as of right now is Disrupt and Aperture! I just really like their videos. Aside from that, I recently got into podcasts. Currently going through Hello From The Hallowoods and Shelter and Warning, which are made by queer creators!

2. Oh oof, there's quite a bit so I'm just gonna put down one thing. For some reason, I really got into collecting tiny astronaut things? I recently bought this astronaut desk light, and I've got a package coming in for the miniatures I ordered. No purpose for them other than I think they're neat <3

3. I'm a bit private with my music taste (even tho I have Spotify connected on Discord lmao), but there's 5 songs that I'm currently obsessed with. I keep replaying them over and over again. Just squeezing all the serotonin I could get outta them.

4. I can't really say I have a fave TV show or movie because I can't really just pick one, but my current fave is 9-1-1 and Resident Alien. 9-1-1 because I just really love the found-family dynamics and how the show tackles sensitive topics, and Resident Alien because it's lighthearted comedy. My all-time fave movie is Flipped! I have the book too and I like rereading from time to time <3

5. You're in for a doozy, anon, because we're rating each other's games <333

The Goodfellows: 7/10

Listen. Shenanigans with the Traveler. I would get up to so many of them and that is what'll get me possibly bodied, not the actual environment itself <3

Greater than Gods: 7/10

I like to think I have enough common sense to uhhh not recklessly flip stones that should not be flipped <3 I'm a cautious and skeptic person irl so I think I'll hold up well? Then again, it's a vast environment change and while I can adapt pretty quick, I wouldn't like the lack of control in the unknown.

Vardir: 10/10

Going off what Cruz said, Vardir is lighthearted and focused on personal growth so I think I'll be okay! Self-growth here I come, babey!

Creatures' Cradle: 8/10

Maybe I'm overestimating myself, but I think I'll be able to survive in a supernatural post-apocalyptic world! Ah, but it depends on the motivation though. I like the idea of rebuilding communities and eventually societies, but the survival turmoil would be a constant battle I'd have to overcome. If we're talking survival itself though, I think I'll do well.

When it Hungers: 8/10

That's probably my wishful thinking but I think I'll be fine. Maybe. Possibly. Don't like the idea of being regulated by an organization so if I was a non-human creature that could pose a problem but I can roll with it <3

Orthall Bay: 6/10

Assuming I'm not playing as MC, my chances of survival uhhh changes quite drastically. Not enough to guarantee an untimely demise, but certainly enough that it would constantly keep me on my toes. I think that's the safest answer I can get without spoiling anything lmao

Thank you so much for asking! It's super sweet of you <3

1. Too many :'D I knit, I sew, I do carpentry (well, learning), I bake, I'm hammering away at HTML and CSS, my job kind of encourages learning new things and I take that to picking up new hobbies!

2. My time is kind of consumed with school work and work work and WIP work so not a lot of time to pursue niche interests right now. I've been watching a lot of horror game playthroughs, true crime youtubers, and an adorable show on Netflix called the Repair Shop <3

3. My taste in music is "what am I vibing with atm?" I've been listening to a lot of 80's music atm (don't @ me), but also Lo Fang and Kaleo, and whatever spotify recommends me on my discover weekly which is usually complete chaos.

4. I love the Mummy even though it hasn't aged 100% well (I'm a librarian, of course it's one of my gotos LOL), Legally Blonde, Leverage, Jumanji (the original), I'm....very bad at having recent tastes... and very bad at remembering my favorites when asked.

The Goodfellows: I'm a creature of comfort, 5/10 if I can just luxuriate in town and not actually interact with the story sfjkdbsdkf

Creature’s Cradle: I'd like to think I have a 50/50 shot XD 5/10, I want to think I'd be decent at a zombie apocalypse but ultimately would suffer an early fate.

Greater Than Gods: 10/10 if I'm just vibing, less so if I'm involved in the actual story XD

Vardir: I'd still suffer without technology but I can also knit for a living in this world so I'm down 8/10

When it Hungers: I feel like I could vibe here, there's tech if dated, hot showers, telephones are around by now... might still get bored. 7/10 though it'd be cool to be another creature....I should make a 'what creature of snv are you' quiz!

Orthall Bay: 7/10 idk I feel like after the first monster of the week I'd just skip town XDDDD I'm the worst protagonist, I see danger I just leave.

#mod talk #long post #interact if: asks

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tirsynni · 4 years ago

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Okay, keep in mind I’m going to start my RE6 watch in, oh, fifteen minutes and haven’t seen it yet, so this bit of Leon flailing is based on what I have seen. This also relies on both the games and movies (and ignores the books and other bits of canon/pseudo-canon).

Under a cut because this went longer than planned and I think I forgot what I was going for after a bit due to Leon flailiing.

We meet our intrepid hero in RE2 (and technically, RE2 Remake, as they provide different bits of background on Leon). In the original, Leon was late because his girlfriend broke up with him, he got drunk, and overslept. In the remake, he was deliberately told to not come because the outbreak had begun and ended up going to Raccoon City when he couldn’t get a hold of anyone (I think that’s what it was). For the sake of argument, we’re combining the two. He had a girlfriend, she broke up with him because he had this crazy idea to apply to a police officer position in another city because he wanted to investigate insane murders of all things, dealt with the break-up by getting drunk, but was late going to the city because he was told not to come. In at least one RE universe, it’s established that drinking is a possible coping mechanism for him. No further details given.

So we have an inclination there but no further evidence of use. Not yet. In RE2, he still pretty optimistic, helpful, compassionate, and people-focused. Honestly, a pretty sweet guy who just wants to help people (and not be turned into a flesh-eating monster). By the end of the remake, we have some foreshadowing after Ada falls when the shadows fall over him and his face is grim. We have a hint as to what he could be.

The end of RE2 is full of betrayals and pain. He learns about Ada. He is horrified by Annette’s attitude toward the virus and her dismissal of her role in it. He is kidnapped by the government who, instead of helping him and Sherry, threatens her life to force him to work for him. The scene ends with him still bloody, hunched over, and shouting that she is just a child. Fucking ow.

His next bit is in Darkside Chronicles. Still pretty sweet, pretty optimistic, a trained fighter not flinching when attacked by monsters, and there’s a nice contrast between him and the more grizzled Krauser. Krauser is more cynical, more ruthless, not a bad guy (not yet), but unlike Leon, he tends to judge things in certain categories, like victims, weapons, etc. The most interesting bit of contrast between the pair is that Leon is far calmer about the monsters than Krauser, who is terrified and, between that and his career-ended wound, sees the viruses as weapons which can be utilized. At this stage of the game, Leon’s big concern remains helping people, as seen in his defense of Manuela. Even after his betrayal by the government, he looks at Krauser and never thinks of the man betraying him or hurting him. He fearlessly extends his hand to Krauser.

In DC, when the final scene of RE2 is referenced, he never mentions the government’s threats or his own forced employment. There is no canon reference to him telling anyone ever.

RE4 is just... fucking trauma. He deals with it with quips and puns and bad humor, but you can tell he’s frustrated and angry. He’s furious with the bad guys and how they treat Ashley and Krauser. He’s betrayed by Krauser and is confused by how Krauser chose his path (which hurts a bit, honestly). How Saddler uses the parasite to control and hurt him. Confirming Ada is alive and the betrayal inherent in that. There’s just... a lot going on for him in RE4. Still! He maintains his sense of humor, keeping Ashley’s spirits up, and flirting with Hunnigan at the end. He’s still holding on.

ID takes place after RE4. For the first time, he references his horror at how the government destroyed Raccoon City without trying to help survivors. He references his horror about the nightmare that was surviving in Raccoon City. He is, again, betrayed. He, once again, has the nightmare that is his own government thrown back in his face.

Still, he’s hanging on! He’s trying to be optimistic, but you see him faltering when Claire is angry with him at the end. Hell, I swear you see him trying not to cry at certain scenes.

Again, no reference that he’s tried to explain anything to Claire, and... yeah. I can see her trying to fistfight the government over all of this, and Leon repeatedly, desperately hopes to end these horrors without accidentally creating more.

Still holding on, though! Still hanging in there!

Damnation, in my opinion, is when we really see him start breaking for the first time. By the end of that movie, he’s realized how thoroughly the government has manipulated and betrayed him. The government couldn’t act in that country, but they knew he could and would and set him up. He just had to shoot a man to save him. He has Hunnigan, someone he trusts because Leon trusts easily and gets attached to people easily and she’s been working with him for years, insisting that she knew nothing about it. He’s exhausted, hurt, betrayed again, and with Sasha and later by himself, you see him drinking, the former with a flask used by yet another person he wasn’t able to save. No sign of optimism. No joking. With Sasha, he gives the suicide speech which could easily have been intended for both of them: you can’t eat a bullet not because life is good and worth living but because you chose to serve others when you picked up that gun and now you need to live for them.

RE6? More horrific betrayals. More... everything. It starts terrible and then keeps going.

By Vendetta, he gets vacation time and slinks away with a bottle. There is no indication that even by then anyone has any idea how terribly the government has betrayed him, and he’s stuck with them. When he wants to lick his wounds, he doesn’t go to anyone for help. He claimed vacation time, hid himself away, and pulled out a damned bottle.

So we’ve had hints from the start that alcohol was an acceptable coping mechanism in his head, even if we didn’t see any signs of self-medication until the end of Damnation. The guy also hides and tries to treat his wounds by himself. He never tells anyone about how much the government has fucked him over. He does try occasionally to reach out -- to Luis, to Krauser, to Jason -- and it didn’t help any because they all ended up dead

It makes me curious about what would have happened if Chris and Rebecca hadn’t found him in Vendetta. When his vacation was done, would he just have taken a deep breath, trashed the bottles, and greeted his co-workers with a dad joke? It’s also interesting that one of the few times we see him that hostile toward an ally is when he does take that time to tuck himself away and engage in behaviors we don’t see him normally display around others. He’s the guy who either breaks the tension or, if he’s fucked up, just withdraws. I don’t see him as an alcoholic, although that is a popular fan headcanon. That would take it more out of his control, put it more into the public arena. He keeps pain and unhealthy coping mechanisms private, with Chris and Rebecca literally having to hunt him down in a random location when he tucked himself away to drink.

Through his timeline, we see the ongoing betrayals and hits take their toll on him, we see him using humor less and withdrawing more, we see when he picks up that bottle in Damnation.

But we also see him pick himself up in Vendetta when needed and take to the battlefield and stagger to Chris and Rebecca after getting his ass kicked by Arias. By that time, he’s definitely no longer the bright-eyed rookie in RE2, but his core remains the same.

If Chris could just give him a hug instead of a bottle after Vendetta, I would appreciate it.

#leon kennedy is a cinnamon roll #leon needs a hug #meta #rant was in control in my head #and then went off track when i started flailing about it #be nice to him once #okay canon?#this was supposed to be about his drinking timeline #and just became a rant about why he needs a hug

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sodalitefully · 4 years ago

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Enter freely and of your own will [GNR, Sluff AU]

I know, I know, I've written vampire AUs before… Several times. But I had to write something about what a nerd Slash is for vampire fiction! Mostly inspired by interviews Slash gave after gnr covered Sympathy For The Devil for Interview With A Vampire (so any digs at the movie adaptation are based on Slash’s opinion, not mine – I’ve never seen it!). Occasional mentions of blood and stuff, but not particularly graphic. This fic is expanding on an AU I originally drew here.

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In my mind, it all played out like the plot of a paranormal romance novel. I’ve gotten familiar with those lately, thanks to the collection hidden in the bottom shelves of Slash’s library, buried below the gothic horror classics, the crime thrillers, and about a mountain of nonfiction. Hell, I could probably write my own! “Tall blonde unexpectedly falls for rock and roll bad boy with a dark secret,” yeah, the readers would eat that up. Of course, our love story didn’t really start when the unsuspecting protagonist moved to a new city, or when the leather-clad love interest showed off his supernatural shredding skills. No, I’d say it started a couple years later, when I found out Slash’s other deep, dark, embarrassing secret.

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night… but it was a movie night at my place, a tradition for Slash and I. Whenever we needed a break from the so-called rockstar lifestyle, we’d get together for a night in, smoke some pot and put on a movie. Slash laid back on my couch while I dug through a cabinet packed with VHS tapes and listed off a few options:

“Let’s see, we have Jurassic Park, Alien, Interview With a Vampire – Uh, sorry, I guess that would be weird huh?” Slash made a sour face.

“Ugh. I hate that movie, it’s such a bad adaptation. Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, seriously?”

“Wait,” I dropped The Empire Strikes Back and Blazing Saddles onto the growing heap of tapes and sat back on my heels to look at Slash in surprise. "You’ve seen it before?”

“Uh…” Vampires may not be able to blush but I'd known Slash long enough to tell when he’s flustered.

“And you’ve read the book?”

“… Yes?” I laughed, Slash ducked and hid his face, obviously feeling self-conscious, but I didn’t mean to laugh at him. It was just…

I’d assumed that a real-life vampire would roll their eyes at the cliche, over-romanticized movie interpretations of their kind. Instead, I learned of Slash’s (nearly) indiscriminate love for all things vampire, anything from Carmilla to Buffy The Vampire Slayer. He was a sucker (hah, get it?) for dripping fangs, swishing capes, even those crazy accents, ever since he was a kid. And I can’t lie, it was pretty endearing. I wasn’t in love with him yet, but the more he told me about his obsession, the more warm and tingly I felt, charmed by how genuine he was – Hell, I barely even teased him about it! Somehow, that conversation felt even more personal than finding out he was a damn vampire. I was really touched that he felt comfortable sharing his interests with me, that he trusted me with his softer, nerdier, more romantic side.

I resisted the temptation to press for more details that night, but a month or so later, I caught him in the act! I remember waking up in the afternoon after crashing at his place so late it was early the night before. I wandered around his big, spooky house until I found Slash curled up in one of his fancy antique armchairs, his legs dangling over the armrest and a paperback book cradled in his lap. I couldn’t make out the curlicued script on the cover, but from the captivated look on his face it was a favorite – his eyes were bright as they darted across the page, and his lips curled into a warm, gentle smile.

I couldn’t stand to disturb him, so I snuck off before he noticed me in the doorway, and headed down the hall to the room he’d transformed into a tiny library – The man had a library in his house; between that and the subtly gothic decor it was hard to believe I never noticed that Slash was playing up the vampire aesthetic, consciously or not! Anyway, I poked around until I found where he hid his collection of vampire lit, and snatched a few that were, shall we say, not quite as acclaimed as Dracula or even The Vampire Chronicles. I don’t remember the titles, but there were a couple paperback romances and a horror novel with a badass-looking dude on the cover.

I had to see what all the fuss was about, you know? Yeah, this kind of thing wasn’t exactly up my alley, but Slash usually had good taste, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to check it out. Plus, if it was important to Slash, I wanted to know about it! And not just the well-known classics either; I wanted the guilty pleasures, I wanted to see what it was that could make Slash smile like that when no one was watching.

I’ll be honest, it wasn’t bad. I wasn’t a big reader at the time, but I raced through the horror novel in just two days, and trust me, I barely slept the night in between! The trashy romance was more enjoyable than I would ever admit; even with all the cliches and melodrama there was something compelling about unraveling the tangled web of forbidden love in a world full of the supernatural.

At this point, I was very cautiously beginning to entertain the idea that I might see Slash as more than just a buddy and a bandmate. As friends, were were closer than ever, hardly spent a day apart, and I was beginning to notice things that I hadn’t noticed before. Things like the way he always smiled at my lame jokes, the way he leaned on my shoulder when he was pretending to be drunk, the way he tossed his hair on stage… And I couldn’t help wondering whether Slash identified more with the heroine or the love interest. Did he want to be the cool, mysterious vampire lover, or the unsuspecting protagonist who gets drawn into an alluring new world?

I got my answer a couple months later, in town again after a leg on the road. It was a steaming hot summer day back in L.A., and Slash was dozing on his couch. This wasn’t unusual in and of itself, Slash’s sleep schedule had been fucked for as long as I'd known him. No, what made this instance significant was that I was also on the couch, reclined with my feet over the armrest and Slash draped across my chest. Tales From The Crypt played at a murmur on a brand-new TV set, but I wasn’t paying any attention.

See, at this point I’d recently learned that, when Slash focused hard enough, he could hear a living person’s blood pulsing in their veins and detect changes in body temperature. And that had me wondering: Could he tell that my heart beat faster when he leaned against me on stage? Could he tell that my ears got warm every time he turned a smile my way?

Could he tell how much I was affected by his weight on top of me?

He was like a huge cat in my lap, relaxed from head to toe. If you paid attention, you could tell that he was breathing more slowly that an ordinary human should be and his bare skin was slightly cool. Other than that he looked completely normal… Except for his teeth. His mouth was slightly open, allowing his pointed, knife-sharp teeth to scrape against his lower lip.

To Slash’s chagrin, they weren't gleaming white, perfectly straight fangs; instead they more closely resembled a shark’s jaw, crowded with small flesh-tearing blades. It was rare to see them exposed, Slash was careful to limit himself to tight-lipped smiles and mumbled dialogue whenever his secret was at risk. Even in private he was self-conscious about it, and I considered myself lucky when he grinned openly in my presence.

“Hey, Slash?”

“…Hmm?” Languidly, he shifted until he was looking up at me. Midafternoon sun leaked through the blinds brightly enough for me to make out a hint of red in his eyes, the other (un)dead giveaway that was usually obscured by his sedately lidded gaze.

"You know how you said the other day that you have really strong senses? Well... I was wondering what other, uh, non-human traits you have. How true are the myths about vampires, really?”

“Well… Hm. My eyes are pretty sensitive to daylight. And technically I’m nocturnal. But I don’t have fangs, I don’t really look like a vampire and I don’t have superpowers.” I swear to god, he pouted a little. "All things considered I didn’t really get any of the cool stuff."

“No super-strength? Or mind reading? Can you shapeshift into a bat?”

“Don’t you think I’d tell you if I could turn into a bat? At least I don’t have any of those stupid weaknesses, I can be in the sun and eat garlic and whatever.” He paused ponderously. “…You know, I might be immortal, I was around a long time before Tony and Ola took me in. Guess I’ll find out in a few decades.”

“That would be pretty cool.”

“Yeah, maybe."

“So... do you enthrall your victims?” I prodded, in a spooky, menacing voice belied by my goofy grin.

Slash snorted a laugh and shook his head at my antics. “No, I can’t do that either. Well, I don’t know, do you feel enthralled?”

I laughed awkwardly and counted my blessings when Slash didn't notice that my unspoken answer was an empathetic Yes.

Slash chuckled with me, then sighed. “Fuck, I wish vampires like that were real, though…” he confessed softly.

“Like what?”

“You know, badass, seductive, awesome powers…” He waved a hand toward a pinup poster on the wall with a corset and fangs, then let his head fall back to my chest. He mumbled into my shirt, “Is it really so much to ask for a sexy vampire to come and sweep me off my feet?”

“Slash, I hate to tell you this, but…” I couldn’t make it through the sentence with a straight face.

He swatted my bicep – pretty hard too, was he sure he didn’t have super-strength? “Fuck you, Duff, you know what I mean."

And, yeah, dreaming of being wooed by a beautiful, badass, intelligent and darkly mysterious vampire? Who appeared in my life and changed it forever, who blew me away with his capability and his passion? Who could captivate me with just a look?

Yeah. Believe me, I could relate.

~~~~

Happy Halloween!

#don’t think too hard about the timeline in this au #my sincerest apologies to any of you who is sick to death of my vampire aus #hell I’M not even that into vampires #I’m just into slash being into vampires…#slash #saul hudson #duff mckagan #gnr #guns n roses #guns and roses #halloween #gnr fanfic #guns n roses fanfic #sodafics

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thenightgazer · 5 years ago

Text

The Finding of Almagest

The elder son of Sparda wants to seek solitude inside a small local library. He finds himself trapped in an insightful conversation with the librarian as they share the stories of the stars.

(A/N) : My first DMC fanfiction! Took me long enough to finally made it. English isn’t my native language, so feel free to send me private message if you find grammatical errors! Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy the journey of our favourite brooding devil and his friendship with a local librarian! xD

Special tags : @queenmuzz for encouraging me to finish this fic❤ @voldemortimaginarynose96 for her nonstop support 🍫 and @drusoona for bombing me with Vergil screenshots! 💜

You can read this fic on my AO3

–

“The meeting of two personalties is like the contact of two chemical substances, if there is any reaction, both are transformed.”

-Carl Gustav Jung

For a second in eternity, Vergil could finally rest his head between the familiar smell of stack of old books.

He just finished his latest mission; a pack of Empusas attacked a local church and brutally murdered the reverend and most of the nuns.

When Dante received the call, he casually laughed and said, ‘That sounds like a wicked slasher horror movie!’. Nonetheless, the owner of Devil May Cry still sent Vergil to do the mundane mission, much to his annoyance. The church paid him and that’s good enough. Vergil never really agreed about demon hunting business since the brothers came back from Underworld, mainly because his brother’s incapability of running the business neatly but that’s the only best thing they could do to make a living— a normal one.

Normal life, huh?

The words already lost its meaning since he was attacked in the graveyard when he was eight years old.

But now he has a second chance— a family to reunite. For that reason, Vergil decided to throw away his pride and stubbornness to make things right. In order to do that, first, no more raising or opening something leading to Hell for the sake of power.

Second, catching up his long-lost time to bond with his son, Nero.

For the love of Sparda, the hybrid demon tries his best to be a proper, competent father of a twenty-something grown man with anger and abandonment issues, which is challenging as much as it’s…. unbelievably exhausting. Not that he hated their bonding moments. It just sometimes confuses Vergil, this humanity contexts. He still has a lot to learn and catch up.

Third, try his best to make a normal life.

Which is one of the reasons why he ended up in this small, rustic local library in the town.

If anything about living as a human that could make Vergil at least enjoy his humanity, that would be a book to read. He is still and always an avid reader, even though there are not much books in the Underworld or Mundus curse was powerful enough to made him senseless about anything but The Prince of Darkness orders.

Before the memories of his time as Nelo Angelo stings his head again, he chooses to focus on his reading.

There is one larger library in the town, but this library suits him best. It doesn’t have too many visitors, much to Vergil’s benefit because he appreciates seclusion. He likes this place particularly because the library has rare collections. Perhaps this place is like a heaven on Earth for Vergil, now as he reads a rare edition of Paradise Lost.

His mother was the one who introduced him to literature, but Vergil’s love for reading bloomed since he meet the Redgrave City librarian— the same man who gave him William Blake’s anthology, which is now Nero’s possession.

A subtle smirk curves in Vergil lips, remembering how angry and nervous his son when Vergil came back from Hell and Nero wanted to return the book. But Vergil declined, said that it belongs to Nero now and to take care of it with honour. Instead of thanking his father, the boy challenged him for another duel.

You said you won’t lose next time, old man, Nero had said to him.

And of course, that time, Vergil won. Which lead to another demand of challenges from his wayward son.

“Cuppa?”

The sound of a woman distracted Vergil.

Another best feature from this library; they serve free-refill coffee. The best coffee Vergil ever tasted since his return from Hell. The fact that the library doesn’t often have visitors might be the reason why they willingly serve free drinks to attract more visitors.

“Thank you,” Vergil said as the woman refills Vergil’s cup.

“You’re welcome,” the woman replies in polite smile.

She always has that kind of smile. Vergil noticed it since his first visit. Always speaks in a-matter-of-fact tone with pleasant but business-only smile. She almost never speak unless necessary.

Dante had brought him fake ID and licenses from Morrison. Vergil isn’t obnoxious enough to not aware about human ways of bureucracy. His time as V taught him a little too much about it. It just hard for him to believe that Dante made him an obviously fake driving license while he possessed the Yamato, which is more convenient than any vehicles.

“At least,” Dante mocked. “It’s way better than your previous not-so-clever alias.”

Which resulted in another jabbing and broken properties.

What a way to show brotherly love.

Luckily, the younger twin was considerate enough to keep Vergil’s original name at those ID cards, even though it irritates Vergil because the main trouble of having an ID is that your identity would easily revealed. Vergil doesn’t need anyone knows that he’s son of Sparda. That legacy always left him more troubles.

So when the librarian lady asked his name to register his library member three months ago, Vergil, much to his dismay, showed her his fake citizen ID.

“Vergil?” she repeated his name.

“Correct.”

She looked at him suspiciously, “Just Vergil?”

“Yes.” He sensed that the librarian didn’t believe him. He would’ve just go and never return if she declined him, but she just shrugged and wrote his name in her notebook.

“Please wait for a moment,” she smiled while walking to back office.

Three minutes later she brought him his library ID card.

“Two weeks for returning the books. No more than three books to borrow for a week. Rare collections are for read here only. We sell secondhand books too— right there before the reading corners,” she pointed to the bookshelves which has ‘FOR SALE’ sign. “Please contact me if you need some help for searching books or recommendation.”

She handed him his ID card which Vergil accepted.

“Happy reading, Mr Publius Vergilius Maro.”

Not that old joke again, he lamented his parent’s choice of name. How dare this woman-!

“Pardon my rudeness,” she apologized in furtive manner. “The name was just the first thing popped into my head when I heard your name. I mean no offense at all, sir.”

Vergil thought probably she was just one of those people who wants to make some meaningless conversation. Or she was just always like that to new customer to break the ice. But in truth, he was intrigued by her audacity to tell him a joke. He, Vergil, whose entire demeanour screams stay back or die. Moreover, she still able to stayed calm and gave him apologizing smile. But her nervous fingers spoke different meaning, like it begged him to end her misery of being intimidated by his infamous deadly glare.

“None had taken,” he finally said, remembered to show some politeness. A devil he might be, but he’s a man with courtesy. “Thank you for your assistance, Librarian.”

She nodded politely and gave him final apologizing smile before she returned to her work and Vergil walked to his reading corner.

The two has never really spoken since then. Just her offer of a cup of coffee and him thanking her. He sometimes observes her talking with another customers, giving some book recommendations to them, and he think her choices of book are quite impressive. It took him almost three months to realized that this woman is unbelievably brilliant. Her love of books is tangible, as shown when she cleans the bookshelves, organizing books, the way she hands a book to a customer and her anger when her co-worker unintentionally scratched the book.

Somehow it reminded him with the Redgrave librarian. The man who taught him to cherish the splendor of the books.

He turns his attention to a passage from Paradise Lost :

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven…

Such a truth spoken by Satan.

The deeper Vergil digs inside his head, the more he doesn’t want to know what happened in the depth of his memories. His familiars might had gone, but it doesn’t mean he is unbothered with his own dark side of his mind. Ever since his first slumber in Devil May Cry after his arrival from the Underworld, he only slept for no more than a half an hour. His sleep was dreamless, followed with the instinct to stay awake like he used to be in the Underworld. He ended up restless for the rest of the night. Sometimes he would read Dante’s little collection of books, anything which doesn’t include inappropriate contents. He just want to distract his unsettling memories, mostly about his regrets and unanswered questions from the past.

He didn’t know where was that librarian after demons attacked Sparda Manor. Had he survived? He wouldn’t know for sure. He didn’t have time to think about it that time. He needed to save his mother and brother, but instead he was left—

Stop, he urges himself. Mother tried to save me too.

Vergil doesn’t even realized he gripped his book a bit too hard.

Maybe I need something lighter to read.

He close the book and stand up to return the book to its shelf. He never moved too far from his favourite reading corner for an introverted man like him; the farthest corner between rare collection bookshelves. Here he could read in peace, musing without any interferences except the librarian’s offer of coffee, which he eventually get used to.

“Hello again, Mr Vergil,”

There she is, standing on the ladder and organizing books. She barely sees Vergil’s figure, but it’s easy for her to recognize the presence of the only rare collection’s visitor, who is none other than Vergil himself. She knows other visitors would leave this corner immediately because of Vergil’s intimidating demeanor. None of them would stay to read or just searching for book.

Vergil returns the book to its place. His icy eyes sneakily lingers to the figure of the librarian. She looks busy storing the books, humming a song which Vergil doesn’t recognize.

“Done with Milton already?” she asks.

How did she know?

“You looked rather enjoy it before I offered you to refill your cup,” she continues. “It makes me feel guilty, as if my presence ruined your mood.”

“It has nothing to do with you,” Vergil turns his sight to another row of bookshelf. And more importantly, why doesn’t she just shut her mouth?

She finishes her organizing and starts to climb down from the stair. Vergil could not help but admiring the way she seems pleased with her job. She cleans her hand with a napkin, folding it and put it back inside the pocket of her brown midi skirt. She suddenly turns her attention to Vergil, who is quickly pulling away his gaze, pretending to be busy searching for book.

“May I give you some recommendations?” she offers with careful and awkward gesture, like she’s afraid she would disturb the menacing man in front of her.

Despite his annoyance of her presence, he remembers her passion of books. He noted her excellent choices of book. She seems reliable enough. Maybe she really could help.

“At the current given moment, I prefer to read something lighter, but enough to give me an insight.” Vergil answers dismissively. “Not necessarily fiction, actually.”

A little challenge to show your competency.

The librarian goes silent for a moment. Her eyes wander to the bookshelves. There, Vergil silently notice, that the librarian always has that kind of eyes; a pair of beautiful brown eyes, but a blank, void stare.

The truth? Her eyes slightly bothers him. Every humans, even demons, always has something to tell from their eyes. But the ones that librarian possess doesn’t tell him even a thing.

“Right!” she exclaims, pointing at a book in the row next to Vergil. “How much do you know about astronomy?”

“Beg your pardon?” The hybrid couldn’t believe what he just heard as he turns around to face the librarian.

“Astronomy. A branch of science that studies celestial—“

“I am fully aware of what astronomy is,” Vergil declares. “All of those books, why do you choose astronomy?”

“Because,” she takes the book she pointed before. “You seem to enjoy ancient texts. Your top borrowed books were all classics. You see, we don’t have many visitors and it’s noticeable that you’re the only person who consistently lingers at this section. It’s not hard to tell that you fancy this section the most. I thought classics and ancient knowledges would suit you the best. Therefore…” she shows him the book she recommended. “You might like Almagest.”

Almagest. Vergil remembers the copy of that book in Sparda’s private room in the Manor. He didn’t really paid attention to that book, although he did actually pick up that book and observe it delinquently rather than taking it seriously. He was still a child after all. He didn’t even think about reading it until now.

He receives the hardcover book from the librarian’s hands and observes the book. His fingers flip the pages carefully.

“Almagest is one of the most influential text all the time. The very source of ancient Greek astronomy that was accepted for more than 1000 years and becomes one of the basis of modern astronomy. Unfortunately, we don’t have the original version of Almagest… but the one you read now contains both the original and translated texts. You won’t find any difficulty to read it, just in case you’re not familiar with ancient Greek. The book also contains star catalog. Ptolemy’s catalog contains about 1022 stars, including the stars positions arranged into 48 constellations. The Ptolemaic constellation… as we know it in the present. Andromeda, Ursa Major, Sagittarius…” the librarian explains while observing Vergil’s behaviour cautiously, looking for some approving signal from the hybrid. “A rather quite insightful reading, don’t you think?”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Vergil sternly states. His eyes still fixates to the book, studying the graphs and tables, admiring the beauty of ancient Greek text and the planetary model. “Although, indeed, quite like a page-turner for stargazer.“

“I believe that astronomy is more than mere stargazing,” the librarian continues. Her tone is almost enthusiastic. “It is concerned with the formation and development of the universe itself. The universe always expanding, getting further from us while we are still standing here, wondering what happened outside the Earth…”

Vergil glances at her. The librarian’s eyes scanning through the books, but she seems out of the place. Caught in her own muse. The fusion of the magnificence of bookshelves and the librarian’s state of wonder somehow makes her look ethereal.

She looked pale, mysterious—like a lily, drowned, under water.

“There is Demon World,” Vergil sighs, closing the book in satisfied gesture. “The one human still trying to figure out in which system this world could be.”

“Oh, I wonder that too!” she quickly agrees. “They published a lot of researches about that. None of them actually make sense, more like a pseudo-science—Oh, pardon my twaddles! Are you going to borrow that book or should I recommend another one?”

Vergil shake his head, “This will do. Thank you for your recommendation.”

The librarian sighs in relief, “Anytime, Mr Vergil. I shall continue my work then.”

There it is again. The blank stare. The unsettling mix of pretty smile and void eyes. Something is off, but what? What does it means? She is nothing but a mere human. Why am I troubled for something nonsensical like the voidness of her eyes?

Yet he knows that if she turns her back and leaving him, he would never get his answer.

“On second thought, Librarian.”

The librarian tilts her head, “You changed your mind already?”

“On the contrary. I need some enlightment about Almagest and your knowledges regarding astronomy,” Such a buffoon, Vergil Sparda. “I believe your help will suffice.”

The librarian seems pleased with Vergil’s request. She nods in excitement, happy that someone needs her help and ideas, “Certainly.”

She excuses herself to get more coffee for both of them whilst Vergil returns to his usual desk and rest his head, processing to clear his brain from any irrelevant informations when suddenly a glimpse of his experience as V comes up.

This life’s dim windows of the soul

Distorts the heavens from pole to pole

And leads you to believe a lie

When you see with, not through, the eye.

There was a time when he, as V, memorized that poem at the center of Redgrave City. He was exterminating demons along with his familiars. He did his best to save any last survivors as much as he can. Between his own survival agenda and his unnatural obsession to defeat Dante, he truly realized the tremendous gravity of crime he did all this time for his pursuit of power. All he wanted that time was just a chance of redemption. He saved the humans compulsively, again and again. Like he would never get atonement at all.

That was the time he learnt that every humans and demons has stories in their eyes. Whether it’s hunger, glutton, joy, fear, sadness, painful memories. It was all reflected in the eyes. Their desires were always transparent like an open book. Even his mother once said that eyes are the window of the soul. Vergil used this wisdom to analyze his enemies. To find out their true intention. But at that time, as V, he used the knowledge to understand humanity and self-introspection. To accept his own emotions and weaknesses.

It all make sense now why the librarian’s existence intrigues Vergil.

It’s her eyes, Vergil contemplates. Ones that didn't tell me its stories.

He quickly lifts his head when he hears the little steps of the librarian approaching him.

“I am sorry to keep you waiting,” she apologizes while placing a tray of pot of coffee and a book on the desk, careful not to place it too close to the Almagest. She fills their cups calmly, enjoying the coffee’s delightful smell. Though Vergil noticed her awkwardness for being around him.

It’s clear that the librarian feels a degree of burden from accepting the challenge from this mysterious, brooding tall man who visits the library almost every week. She’s aware of how intelligent this man could be. How he would challenge her intellect and make her arguments invalid. Even his name is enough to convince her that the man in front of her will be her most peculiar customer to handle.

However, their discussion regarding Almagest is running smoothly. Though not an expert of astronomy herself, she’s capable of explaining Vergil’s questions regarding the Almagest and astronomical trivias. Her eyes might not tell him anything, but he can sense her true passion in astronomy. She doesn’t speak unless Vergil ask her something he’s not quite understand. He notices the librarian silently reads The Fall of the House of Usher. She shows no difficulty switching her reading and tag along with their discussion.

“I am sure not an expert of Almagest, but I hope I can still give you some enlightment,” says the librarian before she sips her coffee.

“You already are,” Vergil admits. He scans Ptolemy’s equant model and memorizing the librarian’s explanation. From all chapters of the book, he found the star catalogue to be the most interesting part.

Young Vergil was astonished with the stars. Back to his childhood at Sparda Manor, when the night falls, the twins used to sneak out from their bedroom and climb the roof to stargazing. They were too young to truly acknowledged the beauty of the night sky, but Vergil enjoyed that moment. It was hard to find the right time to get along with Dante and made him sit still without bugging him any further. Dante would occasionally pointed on something in the sky, pretending he saw a meteor. Vergil would replied with sarcastic remarks as always, saying that he acts foolish or something. Then it would lead to another brotherly fight.

“The star catalogue is certainly the most enticing part of the book,” Vergil mutters, sipping his coffee as he inspects Ptolemy’s star chart.

“Indeed. The star map is ancestral to the modern system of constellations. Now there is another 40 officially recorgnized constellations and two trillions galaxies.”

The librarian adds new informations for Vergil, including the brightest stars of the constellations and best months to find it. He returns the favour by telling her more details about Greek mythology, which is inseparable with Ptolemy’s star mapping.

“It seems to me that ancient Greek gods has a fancy preference to placed their fallen heroes in the sky, if not, curse them into something ridiculous,” the librarian contemplates.

“Not all heroes,” Vergil refutes. “Cassiopeia mocked the Gods by boasting her daughter being more beautiful than all the Nereids. She was chained in her own throne as her punishment. Then Poseidon condemned her to circle the celestial pole forever.”

“More like a good example of what being a narcissistic could do rather than a tribute for her.” She mumbles. “It’s interesting to note that both Cassiopeia constellation and narcissistics have a similar trait.”

“Which is?”

“They are all easily spotted and visible all around the year.”

Vergil tries so hard not to burst in laugh. “Are there any constellations visible all the year aside from Cassiopeia?”

“There are Draco, Cepheus, Ursa Major and… Ursa Minor. There,” She points the picture of four constellations. “Together with Cassiopeia, they are circumpolar constellations of northern sky. These constellations circling Polaris, the brightest star of Ursa Minor. Commonly known as The North Pole Star. The big bear Ursa Major is the largest northern constellation. It also contains the most prominent asterism in the night sky, oftenly confused for the constellation itself. Cassiopeia is always easily recognized for its clear W shape, like she was being chained on her throne as you mentioned it earlier. While her husband and worst father ever to sacrificed his daughter to sea monster, Cepheus, is not widely known in spite of its size. Cepheus and Draco are two of the largest constellations in the sky but their stars are not as prominent as Ursa Major.”

“And these constellations remain invisible from southern locations?”

“Sadly, yes. But the south has its circumpolar constellations too. There are Centaurus, Carina, and Crux. You won’t find Carina and Crux in the Almagest. It was Argo Navis before French astronomer de Lacaille divided it into the three smaller constellations; Carina, Puppis, and Vela. As for the Crux, it was originally considered to be a part of the Centaurus before 1679, and the smallest of 88 constellations, if I’m not mistaken…”

“If you are not mistaken.” Vergil emphasises sarcastically.

“Which means I am certain that I mentioned it right.” she evades.

The librarian tries her best to not let her laughter comes out when she notices Vergil’s permanent frown gets more crumpled.

The librarian seems to enjoy driving the half-devil to the edge with her dry wit. She finds it funny to see Vergil grunts in annoyance, or his slightly amused grin whenever she said something peculiar. Maybe because the man in front of her right now is always covered by mysterious cloud. That his face is always solemn, imperceptible. He looks sullen, like he never laughed for his entire life. He really needs a bloody lot of kips, she thinks, taking note to Vergil’s darkened eyebags as she compares with her own eyebags, which she thought were quite dark already.

She was going to continue her explanation regarding the southern circumpolar constellations before an unexpected thought spills out from her mouth, “You are haunted, Mr Vergil.”

The atmospheres shifts abruptly. The hybrid’s shoulders stiffens as he glares to the librarian as a warning to not cross the line. His frightening stare sent chills down to the librarian’s spine that she almost choked on her own coffee.

“What’s with the sudden impudent commentary of yours, Librarian?” Vergil doesn’t try to hide his vexation.

“Uh… well…” the librarian chuckled nervously as she hides her face behind her novel, shielding herself from Vergil’s intimidating glare. “You always look like you are either staring to nothing or focus on your book. There is no in-between.”

“You’d be disappointed to know the fact that a lot of people do that. Every time.”

“True,” she agrees. “But you are different. You have the eyes of a man who still try to adjust the new world. Most of people are haunted by the past… but you are haunted by the present.”

She shut her mouth almost immediately, realizing Vergil does nothing but giving her threatening look to stop analyzing him. It was her only detriment; to be innocently curious about everything, silently observing and analyzing things. Most of her ideas are boxed inside her head. She never said it out loud. But this time she couldn’t help but spilling her thoughts. That she finds Vergil interesting.

“I will forgive your impertinence,” the blue demon closes the book and shifts his position to relax his previously tensed shoulders. “Only if you explain why do you think I’m haunted by the present.”

“Well,” she grins and bluntly explains, “There are two kinds of people who willingly to spend the rest of the day staying here; a keen of literature or a misanthrope. I dare say you are both, but I think you are here because you are overwhelmed with the outside world. You are adjusting something you had never experienced before. That adjustment, whatever it is, haunts you. It confuses you, what happens now and how you would react about it. Like the moment when you were unfamiliar with our registrative custom, which was odd because you looked like it was your first time registering something. Honestly? I thought you were making up your name. You looked terribly confused back then, as if you didn’t recognize your own name. You seems… detached from reality.”

I must not let my guard down anymore, Vergil makes a mental note as he feels defeated, even though he won’t admit that everything she said was the truth.

“Pause,” The librarian let out a gasp as she notices Vergil’s inconvenience, “Is it really okay if I continue? I don’t like being psychoanalyzed and I’m completely understand if you want me to stop.”

“You are too late for that. You already talk a little too much.”

“But you said you will forgive me only if I keep talking!”

“If you explain your impertinence.. not chattering like a mockingbird.”

“That’s harsh! Besides, how could I explain if I am not allowed to keep talking?”

I’m done playing words with this woman, Vergil slowly growls in frustration. He never thought that having conversation with a human could be this infuriating. “Then let’s settle the matter. Tell me your thoughts and be done with it.”

“Fair enough,” she seems satisfied, enjoying Vergil’s defeat and curiousity. “For the record, you are the one who asked me to talk. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Where was I…? Oh, yes, detached from reality. You speak about humans differently. You treated your surroundings like a bystander. Like you distinguish yourself from reality. It make sense, actually. To understand something, we must separate ourselves from it.”

“I get your point.”

The librarian looks puzzled, “Did you?”

“Of course.”

“Was that mean I was right about you?”

“Even if you are right, I won’t bother to tell you.”

“No… it just…” she taps her fingers slowly. “It’s hard for me to express my point of view, particularly to strangers. Moreover, to make them understand.”

“You’ve done well to the customers.”

“That was different. It’s for business.” She waves her hand nonchalantly. “My point is, maybe this library is the right place for you to adjust yourself. I don’t have any slightest ideas of what you’ve been through, but you deserve to find your peace. Other customers will find you too scary that they will leave this section as fast as they can—I mean, look at yourself! But what I see is just… a man who wants a little solitude from this noisy world. And I believe everyone deserves their own place in the sky… like the stars. No matter how insignificant they feel about themselves.”

The elder son of Sparda found himself stunned by her words. He never thought a human could possess the ability to see people in such illuminating way. She doesn’t flatter nor mock him, just simply stated her intuitive opinions about him. She but a stranger, seeing right through his psyche. The same odd woman who is now obliviously reading her novel like she had already forgotten of what she said earlier.

“You saw a lot, Librarian. That’s an exceptional gift.”

“Compulsive observation isn’t counted as exceptional gift. More like a curse, but thank you. Of course I could be wrong. Maybe you are just another introvert bloke who’s happened to passed by and read something here. Who knows?”

They now surrounded by a soothing silence. Both of them are preoccupied with their own thoughts. Vergil contemplates the librarian’s words about his adjustment with the present. He never really paid attention about that, but it turns out to be the very reason why he still fear any kind of human contacts. He lost so many years that he almost forgot how it is to be alive.

When he saw Dante and Nero for the first after he re-emerged, he couldn’t believe that everything around him was real. That everything was not a mere illusion anymore. He spent mindless and controlled under Mundus’s cruel illusion for years that the line between the real and the fake were blurring. He was blind and chained. Far too long that his soul was decayed.

And to think he still has a chance to make things right… to be truly alive in the present…

Yet there is still one thing that holds him back. There is a part of him which screaming in agony, searching for validity of his confusing emotions. A part which he hides it deep in his mind palace. The one he refuses to share. For he is afraid that he won’t get any enlightment. That he could be the old Vergil who was obsessed with power. The part that granted him moral codes and compassion.

His doubt on his humanity.

“I used to hate humans,” Vergil finally confesses. “I used to think that they are all weak and useless, and I loathed myself for being a part of human.”

The librarian gives him a curious look, her lips curves into a playful smile, “You stop hating them now? Why, you are right about them anyway.”

The hybrid cannot hold his surprise. The lady in front of him… a mortal human, confirmed Vergil’s confession with ease. As if she herself isn’t human. But that can’t be true, you are a human, right? Vergil tries so hard to not bluntly asking something obvious which could make him look like an imbecile. She doesn’t seem surprised at all by Vergil’s unusual confession.

“It might sounds strange, for I myself a human. But you are right about humans. I could understand why you hated them. Easily corrupted and manipulated, they destroy themselves for something meaningless. But humans are truly fascinating being.”

“Fascinating being…” Vergil murmurs dismissively.

“I think you know it as well as me,” she peeks over her book to meet Vergil’s intimidating, yet calming gaze. “They stand on the grey zone. They are unpredictable, complex being. While most demons only want power and human flesh to consume, humans only desire self-actualization. To be a better version of themselves. That could lead them in many ways. To do things differently. Isn’t that interesting, to think that all the humans in this world are never really the exact same individual? Humans are unique, Mr Vergil. Each of them. Their ability to endure is transcendent.”

“Humans are selfish being.” Vergil objects. “Their desire of self-actualization is misleading. Some humans want to be demon so much that they become something worse than the demon itself.” Including my former self. “They crave for something more. Their greed is boundless.”

“Indeed,” she admits. “I won’t defend that fact. Humans are biologically and inherently selfish. The same goes with human emotions. Though oftenly fallacious, it’s important for human survival…”

“Sounds like a creature of flaw.”

“No one’s perfect, Mr Vergil. Everyone’s flawed. “ the librarian took notice of skepticism in Vergil’s statement. “Yet you stop hating humanity.”

“I try to embrace the fact that I’m part of humanity.”

“Why?”

“… because I have a family to protect.”

“There,” she gives him understanding wink. “Unlike demons, humans have connection to each other called compassion. Their instinct to protect their beloved ones. Their need of security and sense of belonging. Without all of it, humans would ended up just like beasts. That’s what distiguished us from demons. But not all demons. They said Dark Knight Sparda fought for humanity and became a human as well. It seems to me that every humans and demons have choice to be the better or the worst version of theirselves… to be a demon, to be a human… to conquer or to protect.”

“Without strength, you cannot protect anything,” Vergil adds, more like talking to himself.

“Fine word, Mr Vergil.”

“That’s what happens when you’re responsible for lives other than your own.”

“Which means you are not fighting alone. You have someone to protect you.”

You’re gonna need some help… and someone to keep an eye on you, Dante’s voice echoed inside Vergil's head. Had Vergil dismissed him, he would ended up alone again in the Underworld. The fact that Dante was willingly throw himself to join Vergil made him feel secure. That he’s protected.

Why did it take him so long to realise that he was always saved by humanity?

“Ah… that remind me of something…” The librarian seems out of place again. Her unusual pale face is suddenly turns deadpan. But that statement just left hanging in the air as the librarian went back from her reverie. Leaving a trace of voidness in her eyes.

“Your eyes, librarian,” Vergil addresses after he saw the voidness again. “Those eyes spoke nothing.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ve seen thousands stories behind every eyes.” The hybrid knocks his fingers on the Almagest as he feels the urge to tell her the truth. That he was enchanted (or bothered?) by her unsettling eyes. “But yours telling me nothing.”

“Oh… well, what am I supposed to do with that information?” she closes her book abruptly, startled by the statement. “They said eyes are the window of the soul, am I right? Was that mean I have no soul?”

“On the contrary,” Vergil disproves. “You have a wanderer soul. A mind of philosopher.”

She flustered as she breaks her eye contact with Vergil. “Well… thank you?”

“You are welcome.” he says softly. “It just… nevermind. Forget everything I said about your eyes. I must have mistook it for something else.”

He lied, of course. His intuition never betrayed him. There’ll be another time, Vergil thought, realizing it’s futile to contend with the librarian. This was their first real conversation since their encounter three months ago and both of them need some time to open up. He won’t rush it. Not that now he really wanted to at least make an acquaintance with a normal human. Moreover, the one who could keep up with his mind and antics,

The librarian seems uncomfortable with Vergil’s appraisal. It was odd, since she thought Vergil isn’t the kind of person who would’ve easily praise someone. Little does she know that Vergil would only compliments people who’s worth his time and energy. She avoids Vergil’s inquisitive eyes, tapping her wristwatch, ”I hate to end our discussion, but apparently we’re closed.”

Vergil surveys at the winter sky that soon will turn into dark, velvet blue from the window beside his desk, “Very well then.”

“You may borrow it as long as you want,” the librarian points at the Almagest as she cleans the empty cups.

“Would that be okay for you?” Vergil doubtly glances at the book.

“Just please don’t report me to Mr Steiner,” she chuckles when she mentioned the library’s owner. Vergil remembers an old man and his occasional visits to the library and checking notes at receptionist table. “A kind one, that man, but his wrath was horrendous.”

“Won’t your colleague complain about this?”

“Nate? He’s off duty today. Worry not, he rarely checks Rare Section.” She stands up, about to lift her tray. “Oh, and please take a great care of it. I’d lose all of my wages if you somehow decided to broke it.”

“I won’t,” he reassures. “Although it is not wise to trust a stranger, Librarian.”

“Righty-ho,” she winks mischievously. “Yet I believe this stranger will keep his words.”

“And how would this stranger keep his words if he doesn’t even know the name of the very person who made him promised?”

“Ah… Mr Vergil… I did mentioned my name in our earlier discussion!” she giggles as she grips her tray in excitement. “But yes, I didn’t precisely tell you that it was my name.”

“I don’t like riddles.”

“Ha! Then let’s play a riddle, shall we? It should be easy if you listened carefully to my explanations regarding constellations!”

It is surely futile to contend with this peculiar woman. As much as he dislikes to accept the challenge, he ultimately agreed to prove his competency. He won’t lose to everyone, let alone this scallywag librarian. He folds his hands on the chest as she prepares to give him clues :

“I am visible in the Northern and Southern hemispheres

I am prominent in the summer night sky

I belong to the Hercules family of constellations

My closest neighbour constellation is Cygnus

The meteor shower appears annually in April

I have one of the brightest star in the sky.”

The hybrid goes silent, recalling his recent discussion with the librarian. He remembers the librarian briefly mentioned this constellation— a small constellation, but its brightest star is the fifth brightest star in the sky…

The process of recall also brings him to the second passage of Georgics, which originally was a Greek tale of tragic story between a musician who attempted to retrieving his dead lover from the Underworld. He managed to get through all of the obstacles only by the play of his music instrument and softened the heart of Hades, the ruler of the Underworld.

This pattern of memories immediately leads him to his answer.

“You are heavily associated with the musician Orpheus, who took his own life after his failure to ressurect Eurydice, his beloved wife. Then Zeus placed you, Orpheus’s most cherished instrument, amongst the stars,” Vergil smiles in victory. “The lyre… Lyra.”

Lyra smiles slyly, “Touché, Mr Vergil.”

“Just Vergil is fine.”

“Very well then, Vergil.”

Lyra excuses herself to wash the cups, but Vergil insists to follow her to receptionist table. He waits her to finish the washing and packing her belongings while reading the motions of Venus and Mars from the Almagest. He occasionally asks her something concerning the part he read on and she’ll answer his questions from her office.

“Your choice of word was interesting, Vergil.” Lyra shouts while drying the cups.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said Orpheus took his own life,” she recites. “But let say God doesn’t exist, then it’s absurd to say that he took his own life. Taking it from who? If his life was truly his…”

The hybrid demon sighs frustratedly, “It’s a figure of speech. Do you always take things too literally?”

“Blimey, Vergil. I was just joking!” the librarian appears in the office doorway as she wears her gloves. Her blue oversized sweater is now covered with black babydoll coat. Vergil makes a mental note of her elegant, classy appearance as the two of them heading out of the library. Clearly she is a type of person who prioritize comfort in clothing rather than fashion, but she is nonetheless still an attractive woman.

“Your whimsical sense of humour could drive one to insanity,” he remarks, but there is no offensive tone in his voice. He does enjoy her quirky humour, though he won’t admit it.

“Oh, Vergil…” Lyra smiles mysteriously while locking the entrance door. “You have no idea what insanity is.”

Or maybe I do have the idea.

They continue their conversation until they walk pass the crowd of the street. As the conversation goes on, Vergil mentally noted Lyra’s favourites and her quirks; she has too many favourite books, but she will always re-read The Hound of Baskerville and The Silence of the Lambs. Vergil was never stand too close from her to notice her slight limp on her right leg— too subtle that normal human eyes couldn’t spot it. He wonders how she got that, but he doesn’t ask. Instead he tells her his favourites and that he prefers classics, but he’s open for something new.

“Wait a second.”

Lyra jogs to a patch of blooming snowdrops as they’re passing a playground. She picks the flower, making a small bouquet from it, and quickly returns to Vergil, who’s waiting for her in confusion.

“Galanthus nivalis,” she hands him the bouquet. “They say snowdrop represents a friend in adversity.”

“Also consolation and hope,” Vergil adds. He touches the petals with one of his gloveless finger delicately, as he recalls the language of flowers his mother taught him once. The twins were regularly helped their mother gardening as she told them the story behind every flowers.

Lyra lifts her eyebrows, “Never thought you’d familiar with floriography.”

“As a librarian, I think you know it better than me to not judge a book by its cover.”

“You got a point there," she scans through the snowdrops on Vergil’s firm hand. “My mother once told me, if I find myself lost, pick flowers.”

“That was an exquisite wisdom.”

“It is,” she grins. “That’s why I picked you these snowdrops. You seem lost. You should start picking more flowers.”

“Only if I lose myself,” Vergil pledges. “At the moment, I think I already have my answers. You’ve been very helpful.”

“No worries,“ Lyra continues her walk before she turns her back to Vergil again. “I’ll take my leave here. It was a pleasure to meet you, Vergil.”

The hybrid doesn’t respond. He doesn’t like the idea of her walking all alone in dark alleys. There is a part of him which urging him to escort her until she’s safely arrived at her house. The world is full of danger. It could be anything; demons, thieves, serial killers, even natural disasters. “I could… you know… escort you home.” Vergil almost bite his lips, curse himself for his reckless offer.

Lyra shake her head, although she noticed the visible concern from the man who stand still in front of her. “It’s very kind of you to offer me escortion, but I still have to stop by my friend’s house.”

Her face determines her reluctance to be escorted that Vergil couldn’t find better excuse, “If you say so.”

"Well… normally I would say ‘goodbye’ to strangers because I don’t plan to meet them again. But this time I’ll say ‘auf Wiedersehen’, means ‘until we see each other again’”.

“Bold of you to assume that we will see each other again.”

“As a librarian, I have a duty to remind you that you still have a book to return.”

Vergil couldn’t help but chuckles as he’s amused with her perfect comeback. Her laughter is strong enough to make Vergil reciting a poem that revolved around his head regarding her presence :

“The sun descending in the west

The evening star does shine

The birds are silent in their nest

And I must seek for mine.

The moon, like a flower,

In heaven’s high bower,

With silent delight

Sits and smiles on the night.”

The librarian stands speechless. The pupil of her eyes dilates in awestruck, not aware of the hybrid’s delicacy of making those void eyes now full in adoration.

“That was… splendid.” she blurts. “I’ve heard that somewhere… Shakespeare? Wordsworth? Oh, no no no… hmm… Blake?”

She smiles in victory as Vergil gives her a confirmation nod. She remembered Vergil’s book list, “Your favourite, of course.”

“Do me a favour,” Vergil says seriously. “Be very careful on your way back home. Our world is a savage world.”

“Of course.“ She nods in beam. “Though I assure you, I’m penniless and too troublesome to be kidnapped.”

“I can see that.“

Lyra waves her hand playfully as she takes her leave, “Auf Wiedersehen, Publius Vergilius Maro.”

The blue demon couldn’t help but rolls his eyes.

“Word of advice, Vergil,” she shouts before she disappears into the crowd of the boulevard. “Ad astra per aspera.”

To the stars through difficulties. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Vergil waits until he can’t see Lyra’s figure anymore. He somewhat feel guilty for leaving her defenseless, alone in the street. Yet he trusts his intuition, that she is capable of taking care of herself. It doesn’t stop him to think that he will escort her if she allows him, though. Being around her is just… different. It’s different from what Vergil feels when he’s with Dante and Nero. Definitely not the same way when he’s around Devil May Cry crews. Even this is the different kind of feeling he once had for Nero’s mother, a long time ago.

The blue hybrid looks up to the cloudy night sky.

According to Lyra’s explanation, winter is the best season for stargazing. There are so much observable astronomical events in this season, not to mention the appearance of Winter Triangle and Winter Hexagon, the two major asterism that dominates the winter night sky.

“The Winter Triangle formed by Betelgeuse in Orion, Sirius in Canis Major, and Procyon in Canis Minor,” Vergil recalled Lyra’s voice when they discussed asterism. “While the Winter Hexagon are much more complicated. There are Rigel in Orion, Aldebaran in Taurus, Castor and Pollux in Gemini, Capella in Auriga, and the two from the Winter Triangle: Sirius and Procyon. Sometimes both asterisms appear simultaneously.”

One of the perks of being a half-human and half-demon is enhanced senses, including advanced vision. The sky isn’t clear, for the clouds are too dense, but Vergil can easily spot the Winter Triangle without difficulty. The stars are shining brightly that it reflects back in Vergil’s blue eyes. There is Sirius, he spots the second brightest star as viewed from Earth. He remembers Lyra mentioned that Sirius will continue to be the brightest star in the Earth’s night sky for the next 210.000 years.

He’s not sure that he would live to witness that phenomenon. Even Sparda didn’t live that long. Yet the fact that he would someday die doesn’t bother him. He is no longer interested in searching for power anymore, now that he realized that his true power lies within his humanity. He becomes more convinced after his conversation with Lyra. That humanity is flawed, but worth to defend. It makes him the man he is now.

The thought of the librarian gave him a moment of serenity in the darkness of the street. Gently, he slips the snowdrop bouquet Lyra made for him between the pages of Almagest. The token of their friendship. Her offer for his adversity. That remind him of a poem his mother once recited for him, when he was helping her at the garden of Sparda Manor :

“Now— now, as I stooped, thought I

I will see what this snowdrop is

So shall I put much argument by

And solve a lifetime’s mysteries.”

“Interesting.” He mutters to himself as he summons the Yamato, cut the space to open a portal and walks towards Devil May Cry office.

–

Here's the source of recited and mentioned poems and lines :

Paradise Lost by John Milton

Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

Georgics by Virgil

Night by William Blake

The Snowdrop by Walter de la Mere

107 notes · View notes

softyoongiionly · 6 years ago

Text

Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Nine

Confronting your fears for a final grade sounds unappealing but, with Yoongi as your partner, things might not be so bad.

Summary: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Underground Rapper! Yoongi, Soft!!! Yoongi, Fluff!!!, some moderate angst (later), smut (later later), slow-ish? burn.

Word Count: 8.3k (holy moly)

A/N: Thank you all for waiting! Don’t forget to check out my post to weigh in on my upcoming fics :)

Warnings for this Chapter: language aka the bros are wild as usual, smut, also if you’re afraid of spiders, they are mention in (gross) detail later in the chapter.

Warnings for the Fic: mentions characters confronting their fears, characters in uncomfortable situations, emotional moments between characters, mentions of bad parenting, explicit language throughout the fic, moderate angst, and very explicit smut later in the story.

Chapter 9: Spiders and Scary Movies

“So…like…was it big or?” Jimin’s mischievous voice twinkles though the speaker causing Tae to chuckle. Jungkook wrinkles his nose, vigorously shaking his head.

“I don’t know why that matters, when all they did was hold hands…right Y/N?” Jungkook chimes in over Jimin’s voice, giving you a pointed look.

You giggle, shaking your head before leaning back against the arm of your couch. As promised, you had FaceTimed your friends after your study group to inform them that, no, you did not in fact sleep with a man named August.

“Right, that’s it, just a lot of hand holding and absolutely nothing else.” You agree, your lips pursed in attempt to hold in your laughter.

Jungkook looks pleased with your response, his face relaxing momentarily but, its short lived when Taehyung pipes up to give his two cents.

“That’s funny…” He begins smirking, nodding to you. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a hickey from holding someone’s hand before.”

Jungkook’s brows raise up in horror as his face snaps up toward you, wide eyes frantically searching your face and neck. With a furrowed brow you look into the screen, trying to locate the cause of the commotion. Your teeth tuck into your lip as you finally spot the aggravated bit of violet skin near the base of your neck. You hadn’t even noticed it when you were rushing to get ready earlier in the day and, the realization that your friends at your study group had definitely seen it, quickly washes over you

“Must have held his hands too tight…” You concede, smirking to yourself

“Y/N…” Jimin whines, he flops his head back onto his bed, looking mildly impatient. “Tell us what happened…I’ve been waiting all day. Kookie just cover your ears if you don’t want to hear about it.”

“I’m not giving you his measurements Minnie…” You insist, giggling at his antics.

“If you guys keep talking about the details of his dick, I’m hanging up.” Jungkook grumbles, his lips pouted and, you can’t help but notice how much he looks like his younger self: pouting because Jimin and Tae forgot his banana milk on their convenience store run.

You recount the story to your best friends, detailing the events over the last 24 hours however, you are careful to avoid any details that involve Yoongi’s behavior during sex. To be honest, it was something you were still mulling over in your own head and, so much had happened so fast, you still hadn’t had much time to process it. Besides, you liked Yoongi and, you didn’t feel right exposing a part of him that he likely wanted to keep private.

“Wait…you like…like him like him…” Taehyung observes ever so eloquently as you wrap up your story, his face slightly surprised.

You bite your lip in thought, giggling at his jovial conclusion before nodding.

“Yeah…I think I do.” Your voice wavers slightly but, you smile up at the faces on your screen, confident in your response.

“Awwwww my baby has a crush.” Jimin coos, his eyes swimming with fondness as he beams, his puffy lips making kissy faces at the screen. “…and she got some good dick, I’m so proud of you.” Jimin finishes, pretending to cry as he wipes invisible tears from his cheeks.

“So, since he’s a rapper does he say “Skrrrt!” when he cums?” Jungkook finally pipes up after a long period of silence, his initial apprehension clearly wearing off.

His comment causes the three of you to burst out in a fit of laughter, Jungkook joining in soon after as he sees that his ridiculous joke was successful.

Eyes rolling, you reply through the chorus of giggling, “You’re so dumb, stop!”

Jungkook snickers, clearly proud of himself as he adjusts the collar of his sweater, he looks over at Taehyung for a moment, mumbling something to him, before Tae nods in response, smirking.

“Yah! Secrets don’t make friends! What are you two mumbling about?” Jimin protests, one of his hands running through his pink locks, his eyebrows raised in offense.

They both chuckle shaking their heads at him before Tae nods to the screen.

“What are you two doing next weekend?”

“Probably studying for finals…and crying…definitely crying.” You conclude, accepting your fate as finals were only three weeks away and, you had so much left to do.

“I’m in rehearsal most of the weekend but, I have Friday night off so, I can rest.” Jimin explains and a soft smile graces your features momentarily as you hear that Jimin scheduled a rest day; proud that he had taken your advice.

“Well…Kook and I are gonna be at Kappa Sigma’s senior party so, you guys should keep Friday night open…for some entertainment” Taehyung casually drops the bit of news, still smirking towards Jungkook who is now looking toward his floor. A flash of different emotions play on your face as you look between the two men. Jimin obviously responds first, failing to address the confusing aspect of their announcement, his excitement bubbling over.

“Yay! Really? Wait does that mean you’re coming two weekends in a row then? Cause my showcase is the weekend after that…”Jimin’s voice fades at the end of his sentence, his eyes holding a bit of concern before, Jungkook quickly reassures him.

“Yes, Jimin-ssi…we would never miss the nation’s sweetheart, brutalize his competition for the fourth year in a row…”

Jimin’s face blooms with a beaming smile, clearly satisfied with Jungkook’s response, his body shifting happily in his seat.

You smile fondly at the two of them before nodding to Taehyung, the charm emitting from the exchange wearing off as you still have no clue why Jungkook and Tae would be at another fraternity’s party 300 miles from their own.

“Wait, why are you guys gonna be at Kappa’s party? Doesn’t your frat normally do something for seniors?” You smirk as Jungkook seems to shrink away with uneasiness, Tae chuckling at his side.

“Well, our Jungkookie here thought it would be a good idea to shit-talk the president of Kappa Sigma while they were playing games on live and, made a bet with him that he could…” Tae trails off as he shoots a taunting glance towards Jungkook, mischief in his eyes, “What were your exact words Kookie?”

“…crush his high score, wasted, with one hand tied behind my back…” Jungkook mumbles in response, a cheesy smile on his face as he avoids eye contact with the screen. You burst out in a fit of giggles, Jimin joining you soon after.

“Oh my god Kookie’s such a light weight he’ll be wasted after one drink!” Jimin wheezes through his giggling, the corner of his eyes wrinkled in absolute delight. “You know who Kappa’s president is right? Were you drunk when you made the bet?”

The president of Kappa Sigma is none other than Kim Seokjin; resident ladies man, beer pong champion and, e-sports legend. Seokjin, or Jin, as you called him, was a good friend of yours and, aside from his incredibly large ego, is a pretty great person. The two of you had met your freshman year during your human sexuality class and, spent most of the time trying not to laugh every time your professor said phrases like “low hanging balls” or, “orgasmic euphoria” or, your favorite, “cursed clitoris.” The two of you never had much time to hang out but, Jin never failed to let you know that he was there if you needed anything. Back in your first years of university, partying was something you did more frequently, you used to frequent the Kappa Sigma house a lot and, Jin taught you most of what you know about drinking games, hangover cures, and cooking. He used to FaceTime you when he was preparing food for Kappa Sigma’s party and, showed you probably 50 different ways to make ramen and, at least 14 or so, different chip dips. In essence, Jin was the fucking best and, you missed him a lot.

“Hyung, he talks so much shit! I want show him who the champion is so we can squash this beef once and for all and, I can play Mario Kart in peace!” Jungkook gripes, passion in his elevated voice as Jimin’s eyes widen before, falling back into his previous giggle fit. Your eyes widen with him as Jungkook mentions that he would be battling Jin in a game of Mario Kart aka the game Jin was an expert in.

“What? Why are you guys laughing at me, have a little faith, I’m Jeon Jungkook! I always win.” He insists, puffing his chest out and slapping it lightly.

“Kook, Jin has won the national,” You emphasize the word, trying to let your giggling subside so as to reason with your overly confident best friend “competition for Mario Kart for the last 6 years and, you bet him that, not only could you beat him, but, you could beat him wasted, with one hand tied behind your back, at his best game. We love you but, are you insane?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, waving you off as Taehyung and Jimin continue to snicker occasionally at him.

“The only reason Seokjin has won for the last 6 years is because, I’ve never entered his stupid little competitions.”

At this, Taehyung scoffs, “The one’s you watch every year?” He accuses, with his brows raised and Jungkook shoves him playfully, the two of them snickering.

The conversation ends with a mutual agreement that the four of you would see each other next Friday and, that would all be wearing “Team Jungkook” shirts to the party. You made a mental note to text Jin and explain that, you still love him even though, for one night only, you would be actively rooting against him

You lean over to the other end of the couch in an attempt to coax a curious Marzipan into your lap. She reluctantly follows the movement of your hand and plops down onto your lap as a satisfied smile makes its way onto your face. You can feel the heaviness in your lids take over and, you decide that it was time to start your #nighttimeroutine that consisted of you, turning on Netflix, falling asleep on your couch with your mouth open and, waking up at 3am to drag yourself into your bedroom. Subscribe!

Anyways...

The TV lights up with the trusty red logo, you know all too well and, you begin searching through your “Continue Watching” section because, let’s be honest, you’re not going to be watching anything new tonight. As you make it to the section, you feel a little flutter in your stomach as you spot the dragon documentary you and Yoongi had started (but definitely not finished) earlier in the day. The thought to text him plays on your mind for a moment before, you squash it, remembering that he was working on his project tonight and, deciding that you didn’t want to disturb him.

You did however, find yourself replaying the events from the last 24 hours in your head, again. Thoughts of Yoongi had been looping in your head the entire day despite your best efforts. Yoongi wasn’t exactly an open book so, it’s not like you knew all of his deepest secrets but, you had to admit that his behavior during sex was surprising. Hell, your behavior was surprising, there wasn’t a single sexual experience that you’ve had that could replicate the energy you felt when you were with Yoongi. You had never really thought of yourself as a dominate person in the bedroom but, there was something about Yoongi that made you want to fuck him so good that he couldn’t remember his name. A smirk plays on your lips as you log that idea away for another time. There was a small amount of anxiety around being with Yoongi as you had never really been in a real relationship before. You hooked up with a few people and, saw a guy briefly during your sopohmore year but, no one had ever made you feel the way Yoongi did. Quite frankly, he had you feeling all kinds of soft and mushy.

Gross.

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Sunday had passed with minimal excitement. You spent the day cleaning up your apartment and, tackling the mountain of laundry that had formed in the corner of your bedroom. There was an attempt to work on your final paper but, you only managed to get out a page or so before, getting distracted by more important things i.e., using a laser pointer to play with Marzipan because, lord knows, she needs the exercise.

Monday moved agonizingly slow but, you made it to all of your classes without being overtaken by senioritis. Although, you did attempt to talk yourself out of going to your 8am class but, thankfully (?), the logical side of you prevailed. The rest of Monday evening consisted of spicy Ramen (Jin’s recipe of course) and, more coursework that you definitely did NOT fall asleep on.

Tuesday had mercifully arrived and, you were now currently seated in your Psych class, eagerly looking towards the door, waiting for a certain platinum headed boy to trudge through into the room. Morning lectures were the worst but, getting to spend them with a sleepy, pouty, fluffy haired Yoongi made them a little bit better. Professor James strolled through the door moments later, smiling softly at everyone, waving a hand to the lecture hall. He busied himself at the front of the room as began getting things ready for class whilst the students who were filing in started pairing up with their partners and, pulling out their research journals. As the classroom fills more and more you feel a bit of disappointment brewing in your stomach. It wouldn’t be unusual for Yoongi to miss class as, he was absent quite frequently but, you had been looking forward to seeing him.

The hope of Yoongi showing up to class slowly dissolves as the last of the students trickle in and, Professor James turns on the projector.

“Morning everyone, I hope you all had a good weekend.” He begins, his voice echoing throughout the lecture hall.

There’s a chorus of unenthusiastic murmurs responding to his greeting causing him to chuckle, his brows going up in mock offense.

“Wow, chill, the energy in this room is off the charts.” He jests, and scattered laughter is heard throughout the room as he continues. “Alright so, most of you are nearing the end of your projects and, from what I’ve seen so far, everyone seems to be doing a great job.”

You glance down at your research journal, your fingers flipping through the pages as you nod to yourself. Time had been flying by and, until Professor James said something, you hadn’t even realized that you only had two fears left to tackle.

“I only have a couple things I want to mention before letting you guys pair up with your partners. First_” Professor James stops abruptly as the door to the hall swings open.

You bite your lip to stifle the incredibly huge smile that is threatening to overtake your face as, Yoongi walks in, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and some ripped gray jeans. His bag is slung over his shoulder as usual but, his hands are clutching a drink carrier. You squint your eyes slightly to catch a glimpse of what he’s brought but, your question is answered as he stops momentarily at Professor James’s podium, his hands extending slightly toward him.

“Mr. Min you are a life saver, thank you so much, 50,000 extra credit points to you…” Your professor bellows, hands outstretched to take the tall paper cup currently nestled into Yoongi’s drink carrier. As Yoongi nods to him, he turns around and you catch him smirking at your professor’s comment. Wow, he has no business looking this good at 8 in the fucking morning. Looking into his carrier, you notice he’s still wielding two more drinks and, as he makes his way towards your desk, his eyes find yours. The smirk dissolves into a softer smile, his feet picking up slightly before finally making it to the desk you had saved for him. You smile back at him, looking curiously at the drink carrier before; Yoongi pulls one of the cups out and places it on your desk.

“I hope they made it right, the lady behind the counter was new…” He whispers to you and, you just about melt into a helpless pile of mush. “Also, this still doesn’t count as one of the times I’m paying so, don’t get any ideas.”

You giggle at his comment, his small gesture touching you more than you cared for him to know.

“You are the best person in the observable universe…” You whisper back to him, eyeing the drink eagerly.

“It’s just coffee, don’t be ridiculous.” He grumbles but, the playful glint in his eyes makes it obvious that he’s kidding.

“Did Professor James ask you to get him coffee? I’m so confused.” The question passes your lips as you move to take a sip of your coffee. It was perfect and, there’s another annoying flutter in your stomach as you realize that Yoongi remembered your order despite only ever hearing it one time.

Yoongi takes a sip of his own drink, an iced Americano, his dark eyes normally puffy from the lack of sleep, lighting up slightly as the caffeine hits him. He nods, chuckling, the two of you keeping your voices down as Professor James continues speaking.

“James is actually a good friend of my roommate so; he’s at the house all the time. He texted me this morning and, said he forgot his coffee and, asked if I could pick something up for him.” Yoongi explains, his morning voice crackling in the space between you. “Luckily for him, I was already at the coffee place.”

“Really? How does your roommate know him?” You can feel your energy elevating more and more as the caffeine and Yoongi’s presence work wonders on your previously sleepy self.

“I think they met in their undergrad?” Yoongi’s eyes are squinted in thought before he nods to himself. “Yeah, I think that’s what Namjoon said. They go way back.”

You cock your head, confusion painting your features. Undergrad? You had assumed Yoongi’s roommates were still in their undergrad.

“Is Namjoon in grad school?” You ask to sate your curiosity, taking another sip of coffee.

Yoongi smirks, his eyes flitting over to you as he shakes his head.

“No, he’s in his third year of medical school. Namjoon got his bachelors 4 years ago.” He explains and, your confusion doesn’t wane. This must have been obvious as Yoongi just chuckles before speaking up again.

“Yeah, he’s kind of a genius. He graduated high school two years early and, started college while he was still in his junior year. He got his bachelors at 18 and, then started medical school. Him and James roomed together during their freshman and sophomore year. That’s how they know each other.”

Your eyes are wide with amazement, shaking your head, impressed with Yoongi’s explanation.

“Damn…that’s insane. I just assumed he was in our year, did you guys not meet on campus then?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Namjoon and I have been friends since we were kids. We went to school together when we were little until he moved away but, we always kept in touch. When I was looking for a place to stay after I moved out of my dorm, Joon offered his place to me. Hoseok and I moved in at the same time.”

“…and I’m guessing Hoseok is Jay right?” You clarify, only remembering Yoongi mentioning two roommates.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, chuckling as he nods, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that’s what he goes by on campus but, in my house he’s Hoseok or, Hobi. That’s what I usually call him, Jay just feels weird.” He explains as he scribbles down something on his notebook. Professor James had left a few reminders up on the projector after he finished wrapping up his introduction. You followed suit, a fond smile still on your lips as you listen to Yoongi talk about his friends.

“They seem like good people, it’s good that you ended up living with your best friends instead of ending up with a college roommate horror story.” You point out

“Yeah, yeah they’re alright.” Yoongi waves you off but, the fond smirk doesn’t really leave his face. “I’m sure you’ll meet them someday, you guys would get along well.”

Yoongi’s comment sends another flutter to your stomach but, you attempt to keep the conversation going without melting for the millionth time.

“I’d love to meet them.” You murmur, smiling softly. “My friends know Jay pretty well actually.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Yoongi chuckles airily, his dark eyes regarding yours. Yoongi is definitely one for subtly and, although he doesn’t do anything obvious, you can tell he is much more comfortable around you than he ever has been. “How do your friends know him?”

“He was in a few dance classes with my best friend Jimin and, he was in my other two best friend’s fraternity before he transferred to our campus.” You explain and Yoongi nods in understanding, taking another big gulp of his Americano.

“Hobi knows everyone, no matter where we go; he’s always running into someone. It gets kind of annoying actually because, then he spends way too much time talking their ear off before we can move on with our day.” Yoongi laments, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance.

“What, you don’t love standing by awkwardly and doing that polite little wave when you’re friend finally introduces you? That is peak social interaction.” You lean back in shock, earning another eye roll from Yoongi as he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Fuck no.” He states bluntly, the two of you laughing together as class begins to wrap up.

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The two of you had decided to combine your fears once again and, agreed to meet at your apartment later on that night. After the remainder of your classes you headed back to your place to get everything ready for the night ahead. You and Yoongi had decided you would watch a horror movie that contained spiders in it thus, tackling his fear of scary movies and, your fear of spiders.

Joy.

Yes, you were spending time with Yoongi and, that was a well and good but, you were not (!!!) excited to spend two hours watching a movie about the creepy crawly creatures that had plagued you since childhood. You shuddered at the thought of it before attempting to busy yourself with preparing the living room for your morbid movie night. Yoongi had, of course, insisted on bringing the food and, as promise, you had allowed it with no resistance. You were thankful that you had spent Sunday cleaning your apartment because, normally, you would be cleaning Marzipan’s litter box and, frantically shoving a pizza box into the garbage chute before Yoongi arrived. However, today you decided to put in a little extra effort since you had the time.

After about an hour of work, you had transformed your living room into a sleepover scene that Pintrest users everywhere, would envy. Your couch was pulled out into a bed that you had lined with your fluffiest pillows and covered in the large fluffy white duvet that normally resided on your bed. You had your end tables positioned on other side of the bed, for optimal snacking, both of which held your homemade caramel corn and, snack sized bags of chips. Your fairy lights framed the walls surrounding your living room ,illuminating the space with a soft glow.

If you were going to spend two hours staring into the (eight) eyes of evil, goddamnit, you were going to do it in style.

The final step was for you to change into something more comfortable so, you opted for one of your biggest black hoodies and, your favorite pair of PJ shorts. You pulled your hair out of your face and, decided that reapplying a little bit of concealer was a good idea but, decided not to fuss with too much considering that any makeup you apply may fall victim to your tears. Because, you know, spiders. Whilst strolling out of your bathroom, your phone vibrates with a text from Yoongi.

Yoongi: I’m here; can you open the door when I come up? Hands are full.

You feel your mouth water at the thought of food before quickly sending your reply and, heading towards your front door.

You: yeah, no worries

A minute or so later, a knock emits from your door and, after fluffing the pillows a final time, you walk (run) to the door to let Yoongi in. As you open the door, you see him standing there, dressed in a pair of gray jogging bottoms and a black hoodie that’s easily four times his size. His hands are clutched tightly around two pizza boxes and, you move quickly to open the door wider so we can enter.

“You read my mind; I’ve been craving pizza all week.” You groan, hungrily eyeing the boxes he was carrying.

Yoongi’s brows rise, placing the boxes on your countertop, “It’s only Tuesday.” He points out, chuckling at you, his eyes holding a bit of fondness.

“Well, it’s a good thing you took care of my craving today, who knows what could have happened.”

Yoongi snorts, his eyes rolling as he braces his hands against the counter, he opens his mouth to respond but, stops himself as he catches a glimpse of the living room. You notice his eyes soften for a moment, his lips pursed as nods toward your finished project.

“Did you do all this for tonight?” He inquires, his voice less snarky than before, dark eyes scanning the room.

Your teeth nibble on your bottom lip as you follow his eyes to the living room. For some reason, his soft gaze is making you nervous but, you play it cool as you nod.

“I’m hoping the snacks and mood lighting will distract us from the awful, awful things we are about to witness.”

A soft smile graces Yoongi’s pout lips momentarily as he snickers, nodding along to your response.

“It looks great.” He concludes, the softness never really leaving his features.

The two of you decide its best not to start the movie while you’re still eating and, you’re grateful for this because, you really don’t want to watch a movie about one of your least favorite things whilst eating one of your favorite things. Roughly 7 slices of cheesy pizza are demolished before; you grab the remote, your thumb hovering over the play button.

“Are you ready?”

Yoongi had himself propped up against the mountain of pillows, wearing an uneasy expression. He finishes wiping his hands on his napkin before nodding to the spot beside him, brows raised expectantly.

“Well you’re over there…when you should be over here so… no.” Yoongi’s crisp voice is dripping with sarcasm, his eyes playful during his comment but, you can tell he’s nervous.

A giggle bubbles over your lips and, you shake your head, eyeing the spot beside him before situating yourself against his side. His arm wraps around you, his hand loosely draped over your shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. A smile touches your mouth momentarily as you lay your arm over his stomach and, although you don’t see it, Yoongi smiles softly down at you.

“Are you ready now?” You inquire playfully, looking up at him.

He pretends to think for a moment, eyes squinted in thought before nodding thoughtfully.

“I think so.”

You laugh at his antics before, your thumb presses the play button on your remote. The opening credits for the movie start playing and, you feel yourself growing slightly uncomfortable at what was to come. The movie was called Under My Skin and, it was about a town afflicted with a horrible disease that caused spiders (!!!!!!!) to grow underneath a person's skin. Like, seriously, who the fuck comes up with these things??? You tried to focus on how unrealistic the premise of the movie was but, all your brain kept going back to how horrifying that reality would be.

“I think we’ll be okay; this movie seems too stupid to be scary.” Yoongi assures the both of you, confidence in his voice.

“I agree, it doesn’t make any sense. How does a disease just make spiders grow under your skin? It’s so dumb.” You agree, eyes trained on the screen as the main character is introduced.

The two of you zone out, focusing on the movie as it starts progressing more and more. As usual, the silence that settles in is natural and pleasant. You tuck your fingers underneath Yoongi’s hoodie, your nails lightly brushing the bare skin over his hip. Yoongi feels himself warming up at your touch and, it frustrates him slightly that he’s so affected over such a small gesture.

“Oh god why is it so big???” You groan, your legs subconsciously curling up to make yourself smaller.

Yoongi snickers beside you, his hand patting your shoulder, lazily attempting to comfort you.

“Cause the guy forgot to take his medicine and, remember, the scientist said they would grow bigger if they didn’t take it.” He explains matter of factly as a giant hairy spider pops onto the screen.

Both of you jump at that, Yoongi’s grip tightening on you slightly, a grimace on his face.

“fucking jump scares.” Yoongi grumbles to himself and, you bite your lip to keep from giggling, choosing instead to press a kiss to his side. “This movie is horrible.”

You nod as you look up at a slightly scared, disgruntled Yoongi: Brows furrowed, lips pouted, his voice a slight whine as he stares at the screen. You’re about to agree with him right as a giant spider bursts out of the main characters skin, followed by hundreds of other spiders running all over his body. Your eyes widen as you cringe harder than you’ve ever cringed in your entire life.

“EW! Oh my god, what the fuck, what the fuck???? I hate it....I hate it....” You exclaim, voice elevated slightly as you practically pounce onto Yoongi causing him to erupt in his rickety laughter, his hands coming up to steady you. “Yoongiiiiiiii” you whine, brows furrowed in disgust, your skin crawling.

Yoongi’s laughter doesn’t cease and, if you weren’t so grossed out, you would take time to appreciate it. Groaning, you stuff your face into his chest, taking solace in his scent.

“We could have just watched a video on tarantulas...” Yoongi points out, eyes damp with tears, no doubt from his fit of laughter. “Why did you pick out such a disgusting movie?”

“Cause I was trying to challenge myself...” You grumble, voice muffled by the material of Yoongi’s sweatshirt.

He chuckles, his hand coming up to rub the back of yours gently, his fingertips lightly brushing your scalp.

“I think you went a little overboard...” He’s smirking now, looking down at you fondly as you pull your face from his chest.

“Hindsight is 20/20.”

Pieces of hair have fallen in your face, from your previous outburst and blowing air from your lips doesn’t help you but, it does cause Yoongi to laugh again (a beautiful sound). He lifts a hand, gently brushing the hair from your face, a faint smirk still on his lips as he shakes his head at you.

“Do you want to turn the movie off?” He suggests, brows raised, his teeth chewing on the inside of his lip as he nods to the TV.

At his suggestion you perk up, quickly moving off of him as you turn around to grab the remote. You press stop right as another spider tries to make its way onto the screen. The main menu of Netflix pops up and you grimace as you see that “Under My Skin” is now suggested on your ‘continue watching.’

“They can’t hurt us anymore...” You vow, drama coating your voice as you nod solemnly towards the TV.

Yoongi rolls eyes, his expression incredulous as he snorts, “You’re ridiculous.”

Your head whips around in his direction, eyes widened in mock offense. “I’m not ridiculous, I just saved our lives. You’re welcome.”

Yoongi bites his lip, stifling his laughter as he nods thoughtfully, his hands raised.

“Thank you, your bravery will not go unnoticed.”

Your eyes slit momentarily before pouncing on him, your legs making their way around his waist. Yoongi eyes widen, his hands coming up to catch your hips, his face blown out with shock.

“Why are you always such a punk huh?” You tease, hands worming their way in the crook of his neck, tickling at the skin there.

Yoongi squirms, laughter bubbling over his lips as his face scrunches up at the sensation.

“Yah! Why are you always so theatrical?” He cries out through his laughter as one of his hands makes its way to pinch at your side.

A squeal leaves your lips, eyes widening as you loose your balance, falling backwards onto Yoongi’s legs.

“You know what??? I’m not theatrical, I’m just expressive unlike some people I know!” You retort, eyes pointed in his direction.

Yoongi scoffs, acting quickly as he moves on top of you, nimble fingers pressing into your sides, causing rather unattractive giggles to leave your lips as you try to wiggle out of his grip.

“What was that Y/N? I can’t hear you.” Yoongi tilts his head in a mock attempt to listen to you, all while his hands tickle over every surface of your body he can reach.

“You’re an ass oh my god!” You giggle, hands desperately trying to tickle him back but, he manages to pin your arms above your head in the process, leaving you helpless.

“Oh I’m an ass am I? Well that’s just rude.” He admonishes, eyes a light with amusement as he moves to tickle over your ribs.

Your feet frantically kick behind you, stomach clenched as you giggle harder, thrashing beneath him before, an idea pops into your head. Yoongi’s lips move closer to yours, and you take advantage of the moment, pushing your lips against his. At your gesture, Yoongi’s hand stalls, the hand that’s holding your wrist softening as he leans into your mouth.

You tuck your lips between his, nibbling on his bottom lip as he sighs out through his nose. A twinge of satisfaction stirs in your stomach; you were amazed at how fast you could get him to react. He kisses you back with gentle but firm lips, his hands braced on either side of your head as the kiss deepens.

“You’re cheating...” He mumbles against your mouth, words slightly muffled by your lips.

“I wanted to kiss you.” You smirk, your voice reduced to a shallow whisper as you lean up into his mouth. Yoongi’s lips were made for kissing, everything about them made you want to suck and bite and kiss into them until they were wet and swollen from your movements.

Yoongi pulls back momentarily, breathing slightly ragged as he looks down at you. His hair fell into his eyes that were dark and deep with want, his cheeks flushed as he returns your smirk. Your own eyes travel over his body before zeroing in on the seam of his joggers that were inflated with his hardening dick.

“It’s not polite to stare...” Yoongi whispers, tongue licking over his lips as he regards you with mischievous eyes.

Your brows raise at his comment, head cocked slightly as you return his stare before pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“You’re being awfully bold today Yoongi...I think you’re forgetting your place.” You whisper and, your smirk grows as you see him visibly inhale at your comment, his dick twitching in his pants.

However, he doesn’t back down and, instead tries his luck once more, “Oh my place huh? What place is that?” The questions leave his lips with a scoff and, his attitude ignites something inside of you. You push off your elbows, hands coming up to press against his chest, pushing him back against the bed. The motion makes him gasp slightly, his brown eyes wide as they stare up at you, some of his attitude wiped from his expression.

You giggle lightly, head tilting to the side, lips moving slowly to hover over his as you respond to his question,

“Beneath me...” You whisper and, at your response, Yoongi’s dick seems to swell from underneath you, the breath he held escaping shakily through his lips.

“You want to do all the work again huh? Please, be my guest...” He smirks, eyes scanning over your body he does, his attitude quickly returning as you kiss his lips again. Your lips start moving along his jawline, paying careful attention to sensitive spots. Yoongi sighs, a slight groan catching on the end of it as he tilts his head back for you.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who’s going to be whimpering in a few minutes.” You say simply, feeling your panties dampen as you start to kiss over his collarbones. You may have a slight fixation with them. Teeth nibble and suck over the sensitive skin as Yoongi opens his mouth to respond. His response is quickly cut off when you press your hips to his dick, words caught in his throat as he groans slightly.

“Talking shit is my kink...” He whispers, smirking, his eyes lulled with lust, teeth biting into his bottom lip as he pushes his hips back against you.

You giggle at his comment, lips pressed against his skin as you do. Your careful to ensure that the seam of your leggings lines up with the seam of his joggers so, that you can feel his swollen dick press against your clit. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine and, you hate that you’re already so eager to have him inside of you again. Your hands slip underneath his hoodie, pushing it up further and further, exposing Yoongi’s chest. He takes the hint, hands quickly coming up to remove the article of clothing, revealing his body to you. His nipples are hard, his smooth stomach clenched slightly in anticipation as he looks down at you. You bite your lip at the sight of him, lips returning to his collar bones, kissing and sucking over the skin there.

“Is that why you’re so hard?” You quip, Yoongi’s hands coming up to push at your own hoodie, encouraging its removal with furrowed brows. He gets his way as you briefly pull away from his neck to take off your sweater before, returning back to kissing your way down his chest.

Yoongi’s soft laughter can be felt against your lips, his hips pressing up into you again before he responds, “No.”

“No? Then what’s making you so hard?” You pull back, sitting on him, putting your lace covered chest on full display.

With eager eyes, Yoongi scans over your body, taking in the sight before him, sucking on his bottom lip.

“You’re so hot...” He mumbles, mostly to himself, his hands coming up to squeeze at your hips.

“That doesn’t answer my question...” You retort, voice soft and raspy with lust as you smirk down at him.

His nimble fingers find the clasp at your back, undoing your bra in no time, pulling back to look at your breasts, licking his lips as he does. Yoongi’s gazes shifts to meet your own before returning your smirk, sitting up slightly to wrap his arms around you fully.

“Yeah...” He presses his lips to yours “it does.”

He’s leaning you back slightly, your legs wrapping firmly around his torso as he kisses at your lips, a gummy smile flashing when he pulls away. Another laugh leaves your lips as you come up to place your fingertips on either sides of his cheeks. The energy between the two of you is so pure and refreshing, you felt so comfortable and elated and turned on all at the same time and, by the way Yoongi was peering into your eyes, lips still playfully attacking your own, you could tell he felt the same way.

Yoongi leans forward a bit more, laying you down on the opposite end of the bed, hands eagerly tucking into the band of your leggings and pulling them off in one quick motion. You squeal slightly as he does, feet landing on either side of his knees, as you stare up at him.

“Your turn...” You nudge his hip with your foot, toeing the hem of his joggers. Yoongi snorts, batting your foot away before pulling his joggers and boxers off at the same time. His dick was so hard it stood prominently away from his hips, veins pushing against the smooth skin, as the tip of him shined slightly with precum.

“You left my panties on.” You point out, eyes swimming with desire as you pry your eyes away from Yoongi’s cock. The black lacey panties you chose to wear for the evening we’re drenched and, you wondered whether or not Yoongi could tell.

Yoongi’s heavy eyes meet yours, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a half smile as his hands come up to rest on your knees, parting your legs.

“I know...” He whispers, licking over his lips as he slots himself between your thighs.

The smirk returns to your mouth as you pull him closer to you, your breasts pressed to his bare chest as you place a searing kiss against his bitten lips. He smiles into the kiss, hips aligning with your own as he does, his swollen dick agonizingly close to where you want it the most.

“Is that another one of your kinks? Fucking me with my panties on?” You mumble into his lips as he braces his hands on either side of your head.

Yoongi smile waxes again, his teeth biting into your bottom lip as he nods, his brown eyes wide and falsely innocent as they look into yours.

“Can I?” He murmurs, fingers tracing patterns on your inner thighs, only adding to the wetness in your panties.

You nod eagerly, looking down at where the two of you are connected, your fingers moving to tuck themselves into the side of your panties, pulling them over to expose your bare pussy to Yoongi’s gaze.

His eyes close momentarily as he lets out shaky breath through his nose. They open seconds later, a renewed amount of darkness in them as he looks up at you, his hand wrapping around his dick. As he strokes himself a few times and lines himself up at your entrance, his eyes never leave yours even when he pushes himself into you. The moment you feel him enter you, your pussy tightens around him, contracting and pulling him closer to you. A drunk smile graces Yoongi’s features as he lulls his head back towards you, his shallow breath catches in his throat as he starts to move in and out of you, grazing that spongey spot inside of you as he does.

“Good?” You whisper shakily, giggling at the blissful smile on his face.

Yoongi stares down at you, chuckling darkly, his words slurred slightly as he responds, “So good.”

You start to meet the motion of Yoongi’s narrow hips, your feet planted on either side of him for leverage. Yoongi leans down, kissing into your neck and across your chest as his hips start to subtly pick up the pace. You can feel your clit swell at his motions, the increased speed nudging that spot inside of you more consistently. Everything about him felt so fucking good, his hips, his lips, his dick, even his breath. If you had it your way, it would last forever but, things with him were so good that you found yourself wanting to cum way too early.

Yoongi sucks on a particular part of your neck that makes your eyes roll back and, you tense at the pleasure, your hands coming up to grab at Yoongi’s back. He picks up the pace of his hips slightly as he feels you on his back, soft grunts leaving his pouted lips as he does.

“You always make me feel like I could...cum so fast...” Yoongi’s gravelly voice is muffled by the skin of your neck, the tone almost pained as he grinds slower momentarily before picking up the pace again. “It’s not fair.” The last bit of his sentence sounded very much like a whine and, you giggle softly, feeling very drunk yourself as you meet the motions of hips with your own.

You feel your nails press into the skin of his back, digging in roughly and, you realize you must be doing something right because, you literally feel Yoongi throb inside of you.

“You like my nails?” You whisper in his ear, nibbling on the curve of it, sending a shiver down Yoongi’s spine as he still continues kissing over your chest and neck.

He nods, not fully attentive as his lips wrap around one of your nibbles, soft tongue coming out to rub against it. Your back arches into his mouth, eyes closing at the feeling, hips moving faster and slightly harder as you run your nails all over his back. There is a familiar tightness in your stomach that’s weaving its way into your pussy, your clit jumping in response as Yoongi hits your spot with more force.

You moan softly, as Yoongi kisses his way up your neck, settling on your lips. His eyes are wild and blown out as he looks into yours, his lips lacking all sense of technique as he kisses at you.

“Jagi...” He whimpers into your mouth and, the sudden change in his tone makes you almost loose it right then and there. You suck on his bottom lip in response your hands rubbing on his shoulders as the two of you fuck into eachother harder and harder.

“Are you close?” You whisper, a moan catching on the end of your question as Yoongi delivers a harder thrust, your orgasm rapidly approaching as he nods, his teeth knocking against yours slightly.

“Want your nails...” He mumbles again, lips kissing on your lips.

You flex your fingers over the skin of his back, hoping to find the motion that makes his dick throb, trying to keep focus through the hazy fog of your impending orgasm.

“You want me to scratch you baby?” At your question, Yoongi snaps his hips against yours, the movement causing you to almost loose it.

Yoongi pulls back from your lips, flitting his eyes toward yours, his gaze intense and, swimming with pure desire as he forces out a raspy, broken response.

“If you scratch me, you’re gonna make me cum.” He warns, hips grinding upwards to focus on your g-spot and, your thankful for his warning because, you were not in a position to last any longer either.

“That’s ok, I’ll cum with you, I’ll cum too.” You assure him, hand coming up to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, his lips turning to kiss against your palm before he nods.

“Do it...I’m so close jagi, please.” He pleads with you and you oblige, digging your nails into his back, scratching against his skin as he starts to fuck you so hard, it forces air from the back of your throat.

“fuck...” Yoongi whimpers, his voice almost small as you feel his hips tense against yours, his first rope of cum hitting the walls of your pussy. Yoongi’s eyes find yours and the desperate, fucked out expression he sports, is enough to send you over the edge. The tension in your hips breaks as warmth and euphoria spread throughout your body. Yoongi’s hips are unrelenting as he fucks through his orgasm, a deep shaky moan leaving his lips.

“Yoongi...” You moan softly, still scratching at his back and, at the sound of his name, Yoongi crumbles, his eyes rolling back as his orgasm continuing to shatter him as he collapses onto your chest, his lips sucking on the skin there.

The two of you start to come down as Yoongi slows the motion of his hips, his body covered in a sheen of sweat and goosebumps. The nails on his back soften as you ride out the rest of your orgasm, your fingers brushing against the battered skin of his back gently. There’s quite a few moments of silence before he pulls out of you and, if your panties weren’t wet before, they were completely soaked now. Yoongi cuddles up into the crook of your arm, his sweaty blonde head, resting on your chest as he does. You smile softly, still breathless as your hand comes up to comb your fingers through his hair.

“Do you want to stay the night?” You whisper finally, breaking the few moments of silence.

His eyes are shut, a blissful smile on his face as he cuddles into you further, his heart still pounding when he nods.

“Yes please.”

Skkkkrrrrt.

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szopenhauer · 5 years ago

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What’s the last NON-SURVEY RELATED thing you typed? I’ve been texting my gf and my dad

Are you currently in a complicated situation with someone? I am

When was the last time you were really grossed out? today?

What was the last thing to make you laugh? this song

Was the last hoodie you wore too big for you? that’s how I like them

Is your pet currently being annoying? my dog is very rarely annoying if at all, usually it’s not his fault anyway

Do you know someone who has 5 or more siblings? my grandma had many siblings but it was normal for her times

Do you prefer movies at home or movies at the theatre? home

When’s the last time you had a rock, paper, scissors match? long time ago

What would your name be if you were a boy? hopefully Nataniel (or Sam if it was english name)

The forever on-going question: Is Twilight stupid or actually brilliant? dumb af

Finish the sentence: Remember, remember… I’m bad at dates but I know what it’s from

Did you understand Shakespeare? I didn’t enjoy Shakespeare, I think he’s not that clever - instead of rhyming he was creating his own words, cool thing to invent your own words but why rhyming then if you really can’t without that?

Can you differentiate between the words “your” and “you’re?" I can

Do you use hair ties as bracelets? at times

When did you learn the ninja turtles were named after Renaissance artists? it was obvious

Would you tell your co-workers what underwear you have on? why would they want to know?

How far do you live from your parents? I live with them

Are you happy with how much money you make? I don’t make my own money

Do you believe in staying “healthy”? I tried and ended up worse than those who didn’t :(

Do you answer your phone on the first ring? never

Do you sleep with the curtains or blinds on your window open? hell no

Would you stay at a haunted hotel? don’t wanna bother ghosts nor tempt my fate

Have you ever gotten pizza delivered to your house that you didn’t order? that happened to my dad at work once

What’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever encountered while at a hotel? nothing luckily

(Insert random song lyric of your choice here): But our love, was a song, sung by a dying swan

Can one person really make a difference? one stinky man in a bus makes everyone sick so think about it

Ring the bell for service or wait patiently for a minute first? wait

Do you honestly know how to play Monopoly or just make up rules as you go? we make up rules as we go playing Scrabble to make my mom happy lmfao

Be honest… ever peed in the pool? once

Have you ever fallen off of a treadmill while walking/running? was I ever on a treadmill?...

Do you drink milk/juice right from the bottle/carton, or pour yourself a glass? pour!

Do you hide when Jehovah’s Witnesses knock on your door? I pretend I’m not home

If you farted in front of your significant other, would he/she care? omg

Must you grab a souvenir from almost everywhere you go? ... yes

Have you ever walked out on a movie at the theater? Which one? nope

Did you enjoy making things out of Play-Doh as a child? I loved the smell

Are you currently sleepy? not really

Was the last movie you watched a horror film? nooo

Do you own a lot of tee shirts? shitload

Do you handle pain well? compared to people I know - very

Have you ever been so nervous you threw up? I would throw up all the time then, glad I don’t do that outta being nervous, phew

Do you have a leather jacket? fake

Do you think hugs are awkward? often

Has anyone ever been weirdly obsessed with you? could say so

If you’re reading a book, what page are you currently on? I'm not

you’re getting ready to go to bed and the last person that you kissed shows up, what do you say? woah in the middle of the night? why?! what happened? :o What does the last text say? no ja wiem

What do you think the last person that you kissed is doing right now? she’s doing survey that I made and sent her Was your last text message from a girl or boy? gal How’s your day been? ugh... What were you doing at eight this morning? slept Are you afraid of shots? no When was the last time that someone of the opposite sex gave you a hug? yesterday Would you rather write in pen or pencil? pen Could you date someone who can’t make you laugh? if they laughed at my jokes Are you wearing your favorite color right now? I don’t Describe how you feel right now in one word? anxious What are you listening to? Fever Ray are you ready for kids right now? I'll never be Were you an adorable baby? pfft

Do you prefer water or land? land Would you consider yourself to be mature? at times only At your workplace, are you required to wear a uniform? used to Is sarcasm like a second language to you? maybe Have you ever witnessed a physical fight in real life? nothing like in an action movie tho What do you think of people who get drunk every weekend? disgusting, stupid, I hate them Do you require a lot of private time? I do Do you use a lot of hair products? shampoo only Does it bother you when people copy your actions? especially when they laughed at me for that first and then been complimented

When was the last time you had a nightmare? tonight

Have you ever made up a secret language? I made up a language to my book that you can truly use

Were you born before 1992? I was born exactly in 92

If you got married now, how old would you be by your 50th wedding anniversary? dead 78

What did you do last New Year’s Eve? spent time with my parents as usual, I like it that way

Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medications for it? I do and I was taking meds that fucked me up even more >.< What was the last thing someone said to you that you kept repeating over & over in your head? I’m still wondering what my gf didn’t want to tell me last evening but not only just that

If you could, would you work from home? I’d love to <3 What were you like in middle school? I had some phases because I finally stopped wanting to fit in Which do you think is harder: realizing you haven’t changed, or realizing you have? if changed for worse then it’s obviously harder Have you ever won some sort of prize or prize package from a contest? What did you win? more than one thing/contest Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? horrors, Gummo, Pentameron?... What one thing has always bothered you, but seems to bother no one else? smells and sounds for example Do you still own VHS tapes? we do

Do you feed your leftovers to your dogs? some

How often do you use Facebook? everyday What is the fanciest restaurant you have been to? those were wedding parties took place? What is the worst damage that your car has seen? I don’t have a car When was the last time you got a new ringtone? recently Have you ever peed yourself from laughing? luckily not

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doraspenlow · 5 years ago

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ok it’s clown movie fanfic time

We Go On

(you can read on ao3 here)

It’s been three years now and Derry, Maine is a nice town, anybody will tell you that. There’s been a little boom of people moving in, who knows why– getting away from the city, enjoy the suburbs, commuting in to work. It’s a nice town. The people are nice too. There were some… incidents, quite recently actually, but who wants to talk about that. So some madman who once killed his father busted out and killed some kids. Well, he died. (The cops never found out what happened to Henry Bowers, his skull split open, but they weren’t investigating too hard). So that one poor man got thrown off a bridge. The town had a nice little candlelight vigil. It made the local news, and those boys all went to juvie. Nobody talks about these things anymore. Sometimes it’s as if they’ve forgotten entirely. It’s a nice town. Sure thing.

(The five of them will never, ever go back.)

Bill’s new book is coming out, finally, and the preorder numbers are higher than they’ve ever been. The New York Times gave the ARC the best review they’ve ever bestowed upon him. Something about “fundamental humanity in the face of terror”. Something about “the agonies and joys of growing up and facing your childhood”. They still think the ending is shit. That’s alright. Can’t win ‘em all. Anyways, he doesn’t love the ending either.

He and Audra got divorced– a month after the movie project he’d split from came out. The critics loved the movie. (Loved the ending especially, though it’s not his ending, it’s the work of some guy they yanked out of nowhere to ‘fix things up’). Everybody said the director’s an auteur, Audra’s a genius, that if the academy didn’t hate horror it’d get nominations for sure. All the buzz drove him crazy while he meddled around in his office. He screamed once too often. She left him. It’s probably a good thing– he didn’t know how to cut the chain. Three years later and she’s doing prestige stuff now, she’s engaged to that pretty boy actor boyfriend of hers. He’s happy for her. He really is.

He’s left California for Oregon. It’s cool, northern, but with a touch of that west coast freshness. Everything back east is so old. He doesn’t date, he’s taking time to “work on Bill” as he tells any interviewer who asks. One day he might try again– find some nice woman. A blonde or a brunette. Somebody who doesn’t remind him of anybody.

Richie’s still in LA, and he’s started dating, really dating, for the first time in his life. There were some half hearted attempts at having girlfriends in college, and a few hookups with men here and there, but he’s never done the whole romance thing. He feels awful pathetic, dating for the first time in his life at over forty, but it’s alright. The men he’s gone out with have been very understanding. This latest one’s real nice– a clever, tidy sort of guy, doesn’t care for stand up and had never heard of him before a mutual friend introduced them. They’ve been going for a month maybe. He doesn’t think the guy’ll last, but he’s hopeful someday someone will.

He took a long break, after Derry. An unexpected and abrupt hiatus. There were a few months were he wanted to die, a few months after that where he went to a lot of parties and snorted a lot of coke. That ended, and he started visiting this therapist– some beaky little woman his manager recommended. He still wanted to die a little bit, but he decided it was probably better to live. The tour after that crisis was the “Come Out Comeback Tour”– he wrote some of his own jokes for the first time in a long time. He told funny stories from when he was a kid. It was strange, he reflected, that he had funny stories to tell. Rooting around through his memory was like running his tongue along a line of rotten teeth. It ached, almost unbearably. But there were pleasant moments, and he was glad he hadn’t forgotten them.

“I guess my first real crush was this kid in middle school– he’d been one of my best friends forever, but about seventh grade I started having all of these feelings– and I decided to do something nice for him, something discreet– I was going to give him a popsicle. Like a literal popsicle, you perverts! C’mon! Anyways, at lunch one day I bought a bomb pop, I went to our lunch table and… I chickened out. I stuck the popsicle in my pants pocket, because I was 12 and a fucking idiot, and I went on my merry way. It was only after my next class was over that I realized the popsicle had melted through my jeans. It looked like I pissed my pants. But I pissed my pants for love, and how many seventh graders can say that?”

The divorce was a mess– Bev had expected it to be, but it still made her panicky. She didn’t so much as want to see Tom again, much less have a legal battle. For months, she’d wake up crying, miserable dreams dripping out of her mind like water. She won, in court, testified and showed pictures of bruises and witness reports and described how it was all her work, and wound up getting a restraining order against Tom and full ownership over Rogan and Marsh fashion– now just Beverly Marsh fashion. She thinks about changing the name to something modern, anonymous– but she doesn’t. It’s nice to know she has something hers. That she can be just her, and be alright. “You’ll be nothing without me––” well haha, she is something. She’s Beverly fucking Marsh, and that’s something.

It’s nice to be loved, though. Divorce is as sweet as a summer's day, and remarriage is as sweet as honey. She and Ben got married less than a week after it’s all finalized, in a courthouse, in their everyday clothes, a couple of her friends as witnesses. They bought rings on the way home, simple little bands. They split their time between Chicago and Nebraska– Ben’s used to working remotely, and she doesn’t mind it. He’s started talking about maybe building them a house of their own– she says maybe New Mexico? It’s so warm and dry and safe in New Mexico– and all the artists love Santa Fe.

So maybe they’ll move to New Mexico, or maybe they’ll stay here. It doesn’t really matter where they go. They’ll be together. It feels so good to be loved like a person. It feels so good to know she’s a person. She still has bad dreams, but she has nice ones too. Lovely ones– a boat on the ocean with the sky clear and blue. A litter of puppies she can hold. Her husband kissing her. A group of children, laughing children, playing little kid games. There’s seven of them, the children, all splashing each other in a lake, like they’ve never suffered and they never will. She wants to have children, though she’s getting older now. She wants two or three of them. She likes to think she’d be a good mother.

Ben thinks she’d be a good one too. He adds plans for children’s bedrooms to his favorite piece of mental drawing paper– a building titled “the dream home”. He’s been working on it for a decade– the dream home had a double bedroom before he had anybody to share it with. He was so used to loneliness it took him a while to get used to another person’s rhythms– how she’ll get into bed and just then remember to brush her teeth, hopping back out again, how she sings in the shower and refuses to acknowledge it.

He’d once thought he’d be lonely forever. Now, at 43, he’s trying once more to make friends. He goes to dinner parties and makes meaningful conversation, he takes up fishing with a man from work. You might never love your friends as brilliantly, as totally as you do at 11, but there's a comfort in the easy, mild talks about the weather, about work. He lets himself eat ice cream, now and then, and a social life means less time for working out. Nobody really notices– Bev says he’s still hot. But of course she’d say that, she loves him– And oh, it rushes over him sometimes, she loves him, she loves him, she loves him.

He used to write poems, but he hasn’t since college. He feels like he’s getting rusty with words somehow, and he’s always been better with his hands. He’s fixing to unveil this stunner of a municipal building in Chicago– it’s maybe the best thing he’s ever designed. He takes Beverly on a private tour a few days before the ribbon cutting– there’s some last minute things being put together, furniture and lighting, but she still tears up when she looks around. “It’s so lovely,” she says, “this is the most wonderful–” and cuts off, moved. He thinks, looking at the light caught in her hair ‘I’ll build you something even better, darling. I’ll build you a future.”

Mike heads down to Florida, like he used to dream about. On the way there he made a stop in Atlanta to see Patty Uris. She was very polite, pleased to meet one of her dead husband’s old friends– hungry for stories of a childhood he never spoke of. The mirrors were still covered, and she tangled her hands in and out of knots. Mike still felt guilty. He’s been trying to not feel guilty. He told her anecdotes about Stan as a child– he didn’t know him as long as some of the others, but he knew him enough. He knew him when it was important. “Your husband was a brave man.” He told Patty, who closed her eyes. “He was, he really was.”

He contemplated, for a moment, staying in Atlanta– befriending Patty, telling more stories. But he’s a little sick of playing historian, of being a keeper of ghosts. He heads down to Florida. He gets a job in a small town library, makes acquaintances, meets a woman. If he wants, he can go anywhere in the world. The freedom shocks him, the lightness. Anywhere in the world– Rome, Tokyo, Sydney, Helsinki, Cairo. Places where it never rains, places where it rains all the time. He keeps a framed photo of his parents on the counter– his parents as he never knew them– young and just married and laughing to each other. He likes to think they’d be proud of him for leaving. For having the world at his feet.

He has two dogs and a cat, eats vegan, takes up biking. The children at the library call him ‘Mr Mike’ and climb over his arms like a jungle gym. Eventually, his neighbors start calling him Mr Mike too, which is funny. Most people don’t look at him like an intruder, and when they do it’s easier to shake off their stares. His hair starts greying at the temples and he relishes it. He’s made it this far. He hopes to keep making it.

It’s almost always Mike who send the emails, a tradition at this point– “Hey everybody!! Want to meet up? Where, this time? Kansas? Colorado?” And the others will reply– yes-yes-of course-yes-let’s go to Denver-lets get Greek food-I know this really great spot-how about Mexican-July-maybe August?– And he amalgamates their suggestions into plans, sends off the group message, mark his calendar. He sits back and smile, types out “I can’t wait to see you all again”. Presses send.

So it’s been three years now. And here they are, in a Mexican restaurant in Denver (they never get Chinese). They’re chattering about their lives, the five of them– Mike’s girlfriend, Richie’s boyfriend, Bev and Ben’s fertility treatments. Bill’s a little quiet. They look at him. He pulls the new book out of his bag– four copies. They coo dutifully over the cover, flip through the pages. Get to the dedication. Stop. To six that made my lucky seven– Stan, Eddie, Richie, Beverly, Ben, Mike. All my love. The loser’s club rides forever.

“The ending’s still awful.” Bill says, to stop their tears with laughter. They shake their heads and say they’re sure they’ll love it. He thinks they probably won’t– even he thinks the ending isn’t great. He’s bad with endings, he’ll admit that now.

The friends in the book, they all go off. They kill the bad guy, get their tidy endings, resolve their trauma, end up with their sweethearts or happily alone. He wrote it, and yet it still rings half hollow to him. No one can walk off the page happily ever after. They’ll still have nightmares. They’ll ruin relationships, try to pick up the pieces. Things are always going to be difficult. But they’ll keep going. And that’s the other thing he’s always hated about endings– the finality, the never-see-you-again. That’s the worst thing of all. He’s lucky, he thinks as he looks at his laughing friends, his best friends, the loves of his life, he’s lucky that life isn’t a story. That it goes on. That they’ll keep going on.

The loser’s club rides forever.

#it chapter 2 #richie tozier #bill denbrough #reddie #benverly #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #mine #it fanfiction #my writing #speech #sk tag #it

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mobius-prime · 5 years ago

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169. Sonic the Hedgehog #101

Welcome to the once-planned hundredth issue, everyone, and there's something at the end of it that has made me lose my freaking mind. You know my penchant for calculating meticulously every tidbit of information that the comic gives us about thing like square miles/kilometers, planet size, orbital height and whatnot. It's become almost something of a running joke in this series. Well, we've hit the peak. After this issue, absolutely nothing that the comic throws at us anymore can possibly compare. Just. You. Wait.

Altered States

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Frank Gagliardo

We left off last issue with Sonic realizing to his horror that Nate is still trapped within Robotropolis. He rushes back toward the city to try to save him, but before he gets there the energy dome goes up once more, causing him to bounce back off it painfully. And right as he does… everything changes. Suddenly, he and Tails once again have their classic designs, and find themselves facing down… Metal Robotnik?

The world appears to have strangely shifted sideways into an alternate reality based on the Sonic OVA. Sonic and Tails work together to battle Metal Robotnik so they can enter Robotropolis and save the princess (Princess Sara, that is), and along the way Knuckles, in his trademark cowboy hat from the movie, hops in to offer his help as well. Unfortunately, they all become cornered… but then reality shifts again. This time, Sonic finds himself witnessing the betrothal of Sally Acorn to Knuckles, with both King Max and Locke happily commemorating the union of the two families after seven years of an official alliance. No one is roboticized, and there appears to be no sign of a war or of Robotnik. Sonic becomes upset at the proceedings and races off, wondering how things came this far.

He heads to Uncle Chuck's chili dog restaurant to have a heart to heart with him, during which time we find out that ten years ago Julian's coup was nipped in the bud before it even began, with the only casualty of the whole affair ultimately being Sonic's father, who was still roboticized from Julian's sabotage. Apparently in this reality, the entire kingdom has been at peace ever since, and everyone has been happy except for Sonic, who feels, as he puts it, like just "the kid who's dad is a 'bot." Uncle Chuck encourages him to still treasure his unofficial ties to Sally, and once again… reality shifts. This time, Sonic and Sally have been cornered at the edge of a building by Robotnik while on a mission, and while pretending to surrender, end up jumping off the building, straight into the path of an airship flown by their friends, who rush to save them.

As they fly off triumphantly, both Sonic and Sally are suddenly overcome with a strange feeling that none of this is right. Sally recounts a dream she had about being engaged to Knuckles, as well as having an older brother and still-living parents, all of which Sonic can remember as well. As they puzzle over how they somehow remember the same events, reality shifts yet again. Sonic finds himself standing alone in a room, with tears gently dripping from his face onto a photo of Sally, marking another rare occasion of Sonic actually shedding tears. His roboticized parents come to retrieve him, and he sadly walks outside… into a funeral party.

As he and his friends mourn over Sally's death, Sonic finds himself suddenly overcome by strange memories - memories of defeating Robotnik, and of kissing a very-much-alive Sally after her miraculous recovery from her injuries from the fall. He stands up, announcing to everyone that Sally isn't actually dead, and as they doubt his mental health he continues to insist that it's true, that he and everyone else, including Sally, have just escaped Robotropolis with the Robians and are returning to Knothole - and all at once, reality rights itself. He finds himself staring at all his friends just outside the energy dome over Robotropolis, and everyone stirs, feeling as though they've all been dreaming. Sonic wonders if Eggman is behind all those weird reality shifts, but Nate informs him that it's not, that Eggman wouldn't work with a plan that's so scattered and that the random nature of the shifts indicates that whoever is behind it isn't fully in control of what's happening. Sonic realizes this isn't the correct reality either, as Nate shouldn't be here with them, and as Nate worries that these shifts could cause reality itself to become unstable, in a single moment Nate morphs into Uncle Chuck, finally bringing reality back to the way it should be… with Nate still trapped inside the city.

And thus, the band leaves the city and heads back to their own village, sadly leaving Nate behind, remembered as the hero who saved them all.

Reboot

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Dawn Best Colors: Frank G.

So who exactly was behind all those reality shifts, then? Well, of course, it was the work of Green Knuckles! Back on board the Dark Legion's battleship, Julie-Su privately confronts Knuckles about his decision to ally himself with the Legion, demanding he explain himself. He surprises her by saying that in the end, Tobor's death influenced his decision - that Tobor died full of anger and hatred, and he felt it all, up to the moment of impact.

Despite Julie-Su's misgivings, Knuckles asks Dimitri for advice on controlling his newfound powers, to which Dimitri reminds him that now that he's essentially a living Chaos Emerald, his powers are almost unlimited. Knuckles then gets the idea that he could possibly travel through time, to prevent any of the negative events of the past centuries from taking place at all, and despite Dimitri warning him that not even he himself had wanted to try something so risky, Knuckles is able to bring himself back to the very day that the Floating Island was first raised from the land. Realizing that everything bad that ever happened could be traced back to the island being created in the first place, he uses his powers to destroy the comet before it can hit, so that the scientists never have to raise the island at all. He finds himself confused why he still exists at all, considering that this should have solved everything, but then out of nowhere, a massive earthquake hits, knocking him off his feet…

He suddenly comes to back on the battleship, as though nothing happened. Dimitri again warns him about the foolishness of trying to change the past, but Knuckles simply calls him a coward and prepares to try again. Dimitri reveals that as far as he knows, there's only three junctions within time where he stands a chance at actually fixing things, and the comet strike was the first, so Knuckles decides he's going to go back to the other two junctions, leaving us on a cliffhanger.

Whoo, those were some pretty intense stories, right? Well, we're not done yet! It's been a long time since we got extra supplemental material like a map or a character profile, but we get both in this issue! First up we have a character profile for Sally Acorn, most of which is just a recap of previous events and is therefore mostly known to us, but which is still worth going over. It's noteworthy that both this and the next page were, though not credited, clearly written by Penders - it has his art and writing style all over it, and furthermore Sally's page has a big ol' picture of her making out with Geoffrey even though that weird era has long since passed us by. Furthermore, he's decided to make up his own various units of measurement without actually giving us a translation for them into real-world units, meaning we have to do a bit of math and guesswork. Sally's height is given as "73 marks," and her weight as "6.5 stone." We don't have any real-world units to compare these measurements to, but what we do have is Sonic's height and weight from the games. He has a later data file for himself, so using his measurements from that later file and comparing them to his measurements from the games, assuming they're equivalent, one mark is worth about 1.43 cm or 0.56 inches, and one stone is worth 4.86 kg or 10.69 lbs. From that, we can easily find Sally's height and weight in real-world units. She's about 104 cm tall or 3′5″, and weighs around 31.5 kg or 69.5 lbs. That seems reasonable, especially given the small stature of most Mobians.

Sally's birthday is also given as the 186th day of the year. On Mobius, the year length is the same as ours, but they don't appear to use months, merely marking the passing of time throughout the year by counting the days. Converting this to something we can understand, this means that Sally was born on July 5. The only other really noteworthy thing in the profile is the statement that she began to officially lead the resistance against Robotnik at the age of thirteen, and that "more than a year later" Julayla died and she acquired Nicole. Now we know when those events happened - just before the Sonic In Your Face special. This would mean that, if she and Sonic are sixteen now, it's been two full years since that issue. I know continuity has always been a little weird in this series concerning how much time takes place in between major events, but two years seems about right, and seems to fall in line with what I've estimated earlier, if she and the others were only around fourteen during the majority of the first two eras. If anything, it's really nice that time actually passes over the course of the comic, whereas the games often seem to take place in some kind of nebulous world where time doesn't really progress and Sonic is forever fifteen.

And now, we come to the second data file: the Floating Island.

I've included the whole page, because we are going to need all of it. I first overlaid this map with the previous one that we were given in the first issue of the Knuckles miniseries to check how well it held up, and to my surprise it matches up perfectly, even down to the most minor of locations - Penders must have traced this map directly from the other one, and just flipped it on its side. The only big differences are the location of Mount Thunder, which was not mentioned at all on the previous map, and the gray area at the right side, which is what the island lost due to the hit from the quantum beam. Right off the bat, we're given the surface area of the island. It used to be 57.75 square metrons, but after the quantum beam it it's been reduced to 41.35 square metrons. That's a reduction of almost 30% in size! I dunno about you, but that gray area does not look like 30% of the total landmass to me. But whatever - all they lost was uninhabited desert, so it doesn't affect the plot much and we can just chalk it up to a small discrepancy or something.

But this does bring us to the very important question of, how much is a metron, exactly? Well, we know from my previous calculations that the surface area of the island is (or rather, was) 2,325 square miles or 6,022 square km in area. Now, calculating the length of a metron in proportion to a mile or kilometer is a lot harder when all you have to work off of are equivalent elliptical areas, so I contracted my math-genius girlfriend for help on this one, and through the power of overcomplicated diagrams, frantic internet searches, cobbled-together formulas, and shameless guesswork we ended up with this: there are roughly 6.34 miles, or 10.14 km, to one metron. Fair enough! This wouldn't be a problem, if it wasn't for the next two measurements given. Mount Thunder, according to this data file, is 1.79 metrons high, which translated into real-world units makes it a whopping 11.35 miles, or 18.15 km, high at its peak. I know it's a bit cliché to use Mount Everest as a reference for Tall Things, but this mountain would be over twice as high as Everest if that is the case. And things only get even more ridiculous when you take a look at its "orbital height" of 6.83 metrons. Congratulations, Ken Penders, now I know you were never bothering to pay attention to scale. Forget our old outdated estimate of the island floating only eight miles high, because this translates to the island consistently floating 43.3 miles, or 69.3 km, off the surface of the goddamned planet! Do you have any idea how high that is?! That is smack dab in the middle of the mesosphere, far above the ozone layer, right around the height at which meteors start burning up on entry into Earth's atmosphere. That is almost twice as high as weather balloons float before they burst due to the difference in pressure. The temperature at that height would be around -60°C, or -76°F, which is almost exactly equal to the average temperature that Antarctica regularly experiences in its coldest locations and seasons. Breathable air straight up doesn't exist at that altitude. This one just blows every other previous absurd measurement out of the water. This is the thing that makes it clear, once and for all, that despite apparently being invested enough in this universe now to be creating fictional units of measurement for it, Kenders still can't bother to try to actually make sense of what he's created. Granted, this is by far one of the least objectionable things to emerge from his work, but as someone who pays a great deal of attention to these kinds of small details in worldbuilding, these kinds of errors are glaring. They're also hilarious, and I will continue to document every single one for posterity because this ongoing saga is probably the best thing to come out of me rereading this series by far.

Ultimately, the rest of the information related in the data file is either already known to us, such as the explanation of the island's history, or largely worthless. There are no real-world measurements provided to compare to "datrons," meaning that the "3.2" number given for the island's orbital period is indecipherable. If there were a comparable unit given, and if we were told which direction the island orbits (east-to-west or west-to-east) then I would probably have spent even more of my time calculating its average speed, as well as just how much longer or shorter a day is on the Floating Island due to its orbit, but that's just not possible for now, unfortunately. But the two data files in this issue are far from the last we'll see, so expect more analyses and calculations like this in the near future, cause lord knows I can't get enough of doing 'em.

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 101 #writer: karl bollers #writer: ken penders #pencils: ron lim #pencils: dawn best #colors: frank gagliardo

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yoongi-sugaglider · 6 years ago

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Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, possible future main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 3810

Part 1 === Part 2 === Part 3

“Sounds like it’s going well enough for them.” Namjoon muttered as he trailed behind me down the steep flight of stairs.

The basement was massive, spanning the entire length and width of the house and trailing a bit beyond the foundation and segmented off into several small rooms.

Just to the left of the stairs was what I’d designated our just in case pantry. A room filled from ceiling to floor with shelves piled high with canned goods and the MREs I’d told Jimin to take stock of earlier. I barely glanced inside, mentally taking note that most of the shelves were properly full as I’d intended them to be.

Beyond the pantry lay a large open area filled with couches and bean bag chairs of varying varieties. Against the far wall were several televisions, doubling as both gaming and movie watching areas as well as where the various security cameras that surrounded our home could be monitored.

Namjoon branched off from me at that point, going over to speak with Tae who’d currently been watching the security feed in order to ask him where he’d left the plasma torch as he’d been the last person to use it.

I moved on, making my way past another room that doubled as Jungkook’s private gym and another who’s door was closed that I dismissed immediately off hand.

The last room in the basement was our makeshift clinic.

Large metal cabinets lined the walls of the room, filled with what I knew to be all kinds of medical equipment and medications that we’d gathered from one source or another for emergency purposes. In the center of the room sat a large metal table, one that a person may have expected to find in a surgical theater but that currently held a very faint Hoseok.

He clutched desperately to Jungkook’s hand as Jimin worked quickly to sew up the wound that spanned a 3 inch portion of the dancer/ bodyguard’s lower shin.

“Give it to me straight Doc, am I ever gonna dance again?” Hobi tried to joke, despite the wince of pain that crept into his normally smiling face every time Jimin’s needle and thread passed through his skin.

“Sorry bud. Looks like we may have to amputate it.” I announced myself between passes of the needle, knowing ( and yes true to form he did) that Hoseok would jump and cry out as soon as the words left my mouth.

His face turned white as a sheet as he stared at me before his nervous eyes darted back to Jimin.

“Nooo...say it ain’t so Doc. Tell me she’s lyin.”

Jimin chuckled, snipping off the last bit of thread with his scissors before reaching over to the counter and grabbing a bit of ointment and bandages that he’d obviously prepared beforehand.

“No way hyung. You’re gonna be just fine. 6 stitches is plenty to keep this bad boy together. A few days and you’ll be up and about walking and dancing in no time.” Jimin patted his elder’s uninjured calf, giving him a sly grin as Hoseok swung his legs off the table.

“Don’t you know though? Ladies love a good scar. Love it even more when there’s a hot, life saving event to go along with it.” I chirped cheerfully.

“Yeah,well,” Hoseok began to roll down his pant leg, eyes staring up at me through the fringe of his bangs. “The way things are looking you’re gonna be the only lady around here for a while and with Jungkook in charge I doubt I’m gonna be getting anything anytime soon.”

The comment earned Hoseok a swift and sharp smack to the back of his head, though he grinned at me despite the pain.

“Keep mackin on my girl and that leg ain’t the only thing you’re gonna be worried about boy.” Jungkook’s growl was fierce as he stalked around the table and swooped me into his arms.

The show of aggression was just that, a show. Something to lighten the tense mood that seemed determined to creep into the moderately warm basement.

I smiled as his hands circled my waist, delicate fingers digging lightly into tender flesh as he pressed his hard body into mine. His eyes held a fire as they stared into mine, but also...something I hadn’t seen in a long time. Something I could have sworn was fear.

“Babe?” My voice came out hushed, a whisper that seemed to echo in the quiet room as he grazed a tender kiss across my partially chapped lips.

“It’s crazy out there. I honestly don’t know how we made it home safe.” He pressed his forehead into mine, eyes closed as he seemed to want to block out the whole world and focus in on the one thing that could always ground him. The feel of me beneath his fingertips.

“I know baby. But we’re safe. Our family’s with us and we’re safe.” I whispered, fingers tangling with feather soft hair as my nose brushed lightly against his.

He inhaled, fingers for a brief moment painful as they dug into the delicate skin of my hips through my black jeans. And then he pulled away, vulnerable boy gone to quickly be replaced with the authoritative man that the 7 men around us trusted to lead them and guide them.

“Alright assholes. Get this shit cleaned up. Pow wow upstairs in 20.”

Jimin and Taehyung snapped up instantly at his harsh tone, saluting him quickly and getting to work cleaning the blood off of Hobi and the table. I shot the three a small smile as Jungkook lead me away,one that each of them returned in kind just before we rounded the corner and disappeared from their sight and up the stairs.

Yoongi and Jin had been busy as well, cleaning the trail of blood from the garage to the stairs with an efficiency which only the two of them could have managed in the short time I’d been gone.

“Building’s secure.” Yoongi announced, eyes never leaving the floor as he mopped up the last of the lingering blood and doused the stained mop in the pink tinged water of the mop bucket.

“Anything new from the news?” I asked as Jin and Jungkook exchanged handshakes.

“T.V went out about 15 minutes ago. Nothing from any of the local or national news and the rest is just fuzz. Looks like it’s actually going to shit out there.” Jin’s voice was grim, something I wasn’t used to hearing from the normally jovial man.

My heart clenched, a moment of panic overtaking me as my grip tightened around Jungkook’s hand. He squeezed back in reassurance, motioning for the two to follow us as he lead the way into the living room.

True to Jin’s word the tv showed static, the black and white snow-like images flickering in the quiet room.

“Anything on the radios?” Jungkook motioned to the police scanners to which Yoongi shook his head.

“I checked a bit ago and the last thing that came in was that the Americans were pulling back to their base, probably got orders to high tail it back home.”

“Who can blame them though. We did the same.” I winced at the taste of blood in my mouth, realizing quickly that the anxiety I’d been trying to push down had caused me to worry my lower lip to the point of bleeding.

“Well shit…” I muttered as I made my way to the coffee table and dropped down onto the sofa with a huff.

Snagging a tissue from the box on the table I dabbed at my lip, shaking my head when I pulled the tissue away to reveal a bright red blemish on the normally pristine white cotton.

“I doubt the Americans would abandon us like that. They wouldn’t leave one of their allies like that just to die in the thousands from some dumb psychos.” Jin came to their defense, trying I’m sure to rationalize the situation.

“No, not unless they’re going through the same shit and need their men back home more than here.” Yoongi spat out bitterly as he plopped onto the other end of the sofa beside me.

I huffed, feeling the need for information pulling at me. I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone while checking the gun at my hip for reassurance.

“It’s 2019, surely the internet’s got something. Some kind of information to let us know what’s going on with the rest of the world.” I squinted down at my phone, typing in my password to unlock it as I stared at the signal symbol in the top corner of the screen.

“The fuck...I’ve got no sig…” My words were interrupted as the power around us flickered. For the briefest of moments we were plunged into darkness before our fleet of backup generators kicked over and the power came back on.

“Holy fuck the world’s fucking ending.” Yoongi grinned, staring at the ceiling as if he’d lost his mind.

“Dude, not cool. I’m sure there’s an explanation for that.” Jin argued as he walked over to the window that faced the street outside and flipped open a few blinds with his fingers.

“Yeah, sure there’s an explanation. There are psychotic people wandering the street, infected with some super rabies that’s got them eating other people and the world’s about to end.” Yoongi let out a light giggle, leaning back into the sofa and closing his eyes in an almost manic glee. “This is too fucking much. I feel like I’m in some lame ass tumblr fanfic or something.”

I frowned, head tilted slightly as I watched him giggling quietly to himself. “The fuck are you talking about Yoongi?”

The man shook his head however and sat up, eyes now open and pinning Jungkook with his cool and calm stare. “Alright fearless leader.” He said as the others began to trail in minus Namjoon.

Jungkook frowned in his direction, effectively silencing his elder friend as Taehyung helped Hoseok gingerly sit on the sofa on the other side of me. Jimin sat at the corner table, eyes darting around anxiously as he fiddled with the cellphone he’d turned off earlier in the evening.

“Joon?” He asked, the question directed at me.

“Working on a barricade for the garage.” I answered as I handed Hoseok a pillow so that he could prop his injured leg on the coffee table.

“Good. Jimin you said you’d taken stock of our supplies?” Jungkook turned when Jimin yelped at his name being called.

“Ah yeah um…” He pulled the notepad from the large front pocket of his scrubs, flipping through the pages until he’d come to the list he’d made at my request.

“We have enough food to last the 8 of us as least six months down there. And three years worth of MRE’s per person.” He gulped as he flipped to the next page, squinting at his doctor’s chicken scratch as if he was having trouble reading his own handwriting. “Medical supplies are good to go so long as we don’t end up having to do anything like major surgery. But that’s just what we have downstairs. I’m sure the rest of the house is plenty stocked with supplies.”

Jungkook nodded,seeming to have taken mental note of everything that Jimin’d said. He turned to Yoongi who’d finally seemed to sober up to the situation.

“Weapons and ammo?” Jungkook asked, his voice firm as he checked the gun in his hip holster as a reflex.

“Everything’s good on that end. We’ve got plenty of the larger rounds. Small ammo’s been scarce around here lately but we’ve got a couple hundred 22’s. The extended clips for the semi’s y/n ordered last month finally came in, those are in the vault downstairs.” Yoongi tugged on his ear lobe, seeming to lose himself in thought for a moment.

“There’s also the C4 and those hand grenades you ordered but didn’t tell us about.”

I shot Jungkook a look, brow furrowed in anger as my suspicions raised. “The hell you need fucking C4 for?” I demanded, my voice almost shrill in the silent room.

“Doesn’t matter now. Pretty sure the Fire Fangs were caught up in that hospital bullshit. Apparently their leader was one of the first one bit. Had them all up there worried and shit when the shit hit the fan.” Jungkook scoffed at their idiocy, turning to the living room door to acknowledge Namjoon who’d just entered the room.

“Barrier’s up and the door’s secure Sir.” He brushed some of the hair out of his face, revealing a small burn mark on the back of his hand.

“Jesus hyung, the hell did you do?” Jimin jumped up from his chair, grabbing the elder man’s hand and twisting it to examine the injury.

“Ah, burnt myself on the torch. No big deal it’s not important.” He tried to wave his younger friend off but to no avail.

“The hell it isn’t. With what’s going on out there I’m not risking any of you walking around with uncovered wounds.” Jimin waved to Hoseok’s now well bandaged leg before shaking the hand he still gripped.

“Go sit down I’ll be right back with some disinfectant and gauze.”

Namjoon did as he was told, walking over sheepishly to sit in the chair Jimin had just been in. The boys were used to this. Jimin turning from shy young boy into authoritative doctor at the mere mention of an injury. His ability to stay calm in an emergency was what made him the best in his industry, and also why we kept him around.

Taehyung, who’d been quiet all this time finally spoke up, having been huddled in a corner with his eyes glued to his phone for most of the conversation.

“So boss, you gonna tell them what we’re up against? They’re gonna need to know at some point or another. They need to know what to be ready for.”

Throughout his short speech his eyes never left the multiple camera views flashing across the screen of his phone. He’d been a security agent before. Eyes trained to spot any threat no matter the video quality on his feeds and reflexes honed to perfection just like the other men to respond quickly and accordingly.

Jungkook ran his hands through his hair, fingertips combing his bangs over his eyes for a moment before brushing the strands back off his forehead. The unruly strands just fell back into place though, casting a haunting shadow over his eyes that sent a chill racing down my spine.

“Fuckin hell man…” He leaned up against the wall, using the edge of the wall mounted plasma screen to scratch at an itch on his shoulder as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“We were heading back from the botanical gardens. Hooked up with Tae at the public library when we heard screaming.”

“Screaming?” I asked and Jungkook shot me a gruff growl for interrupting.

“Yeah screaming. Sounded like it was coming from the middle school behind the library.”

“Apparently people starting to get evacuated from all the major buildings. Government telling the civilians to get home and stay safe.” Hoseok grunted as he shifted his injured leg to get more comfortable.

“The fucking looting had already started, and really can you blame folks? Chaos means free money, we shoulda took the chance when we had it and ran.” Jungkook scoffed at the idea, glaring down at Hoseok who managed to look sheepish under his leader’s glower.

“Look man, a little kid got pushed down. The crowd around us was going wild coming from the school and the little girl was cryin for her momma.” Hoseok shrugged, picking at the lint on his shirt sleeve.

“Hoseok, ever the hero picked the kid up and was runnin with her when the kid started freaking out. Yellin that she saw her moms and tryin to get Hobi to put her down.” Jungkook’s face all this time had begun to turn pale. Even in the bright lights of the living room it seemed like all the blood was draining away from his face.

“Hoseok couldn’t hold her anymore. Dropped the kid when he tripped over a curb. Girl went running right into her momma’s arms. Who promptly picked her up and bit her fucking face off.” Tae’s voice was cold from the corner and his statement caused everyone to freeze. I could hear Namjoon gagging from the corner and Jimin had chosen that exact moment to come back from his supply run. The bottle of rubbing alcohol dropped from his hand as he stared between us all.

“Are you serious? How the hell could a mom even do that?” His voice came out as barely a whisper as he bent to retrieve the fallen bottle.

“ ‘S cause she wasn’t that girl’s momma no more.” Tae answered. He looked up from his phone to bore his heated gaze into each one of us. “Bitch turned. Turned into whatever the fuck the government’s calling those fucking creatures.”

“That’s about when we noticed that literally all around us people were just...eating each other.” Hobi shivered as he wrapped his arms around himself and I reached over with a trembling hand to try and rub some comfort back into his chilled skin.

“We ran. Trying to get back to the car without getting bit or having to hurt anyone. But a car came blasting through the intersection, knocked Hobi off his feet and busting up his leg and smashing right into a group of people just trying to escape.” Jungkook ran his fingers through his hair again, a clear sign of his barely restrained fear and anxiety.

Hoseok glared down at his fists in his lap, clenching and unclenching his hands as if they had betrayed him. “If only I had kept hold of that kid. We could have saved her!”

The bodyguard had always prided himself as being able to protect anyone put into his care. His strength and agility gained from years as an underground street dancer had easily earned him a reputation that had gained him the attention of Jungkook and the respect of his fellow members.

To see him questioning himself now was both heartbreaking and terrifying.

“There was nothing you could do Hobi. Had you still had hold of that girl then both of you would have probably died stuck underneath the fucking car that hit you in the first place.” Jin, ever the voice of reason spoke up for the first time.

Hoseok looked over at his senior, eyes glazed over with tears and the memories that I’m sure would have haunted him for the rest of his life. The sound of a whimper tore his gaze away and the group of us turned to see Jimin finally treating Namjoon's burn.

“Ah hush, I've pulled bullets out of you worse than this little thing.” Jimin said through clenched teeth as he struggled to hold Namjoon's arm still.

“But it huuurrrtttsss.” Namjoon tried to pull his hand away once again, earning him a smack to the arm from a now irate Jimin.

“Quit acting like a child and let me treat this fucking thing.”

I shook my head at the two, attention turning back to Jungkook.

He seemed to have been watching the interaction between Namjoon and Jimin but as I watched his eyes glazed over and he swayed on his feet. I bolted up, racing over to his side and reaching him at the same time as Yoongi who I guess had been watching him as well.

“Woah, easy there bud.” Came Yoongi’s mutter as the two of us supported Jungkook’s wilted frame.

We led him over to the sofa, gingerly setting him down beside Hoseok who’d scooted over to make room for him.

“M fine guys step off.” But his half hearted arm waving didn’t deter either of us from putting his feet up on the coffee table and making him lean his head against the back ridge of the sofa.

“You’re obviously not fine babe. Or you wouldn’t have been on the verge of passing out on your feet like that just now.” My voice was firm as I patted his hand, my free hand reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow and gently caress his cheek.

He closed his eyes, nuzzling into my touch with a quiet hum of comfort.

“Did he eat today?” I asked Hoseok who shook his head no.

“We were up early as hell and busy around lunch time, I know I ate breakfast but I don’t think he had anything.”

I cursed beneath my breath, shooting a glare in Jin’s direction. The elder man nodded at my glance,heading out of the room to begin working on dinner at my unspoken directive.

“How could you be so stupid Kookie?” I demanded quietly as I glared at his resting face.

“Didn’t think about it. Had work to do.” Came his muttered reply.

Shaking my head I stood, eyes darting around at the other figures who stood warily nearby.

This all felt so surreal, like I was watching my life be played out as a movie on the big screen. The attacks, the loss of power, and now the leader of our group basically out of commission because he’d let his blood sugar get too low.

Of course it was entirely possible he was suffering from shock, as that seemed to be the case for the other pale faces as well. It was rare for us to be gathered together like this and for the room to be so deathly quiet. Even Namjoon had quieted down from his whimpers of pain as Jimin wrapped his hand in a small bandage.

“What the hell are we going to do?” I asked to no one in particular as I stared listlessly at the snow filled TV screen.

“Nothing for now.” Came a quiet reply and my gaze snapped to the normally silent Taehyung.

“We wait, hope that the generators hold up until the cops and military can get a hold on things.” He shrugged as he looked up from his surveillance cameras.” Start turning off anything unnecessary to conserve power and make sure everything is properly locked and secure.”

“We’ve already done most of that…” I muttered as I planted my rear on the cool surface of the coffee table.

“Then just wait.” Tae returned his gaze to the security feed. His lips thinned into a hard pressed frown as he quickly tapped and expanded on one of the cameras.

“Tae? What is it?” I asked, voice laced with worry as I watched his eyes harden.

“There’s someone outside on the front lawn. And I don’t like the way they’re moving.”

#bts #bts jeongkook #bts jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #bts jungguk #jungguk x reader #bts gang au #bts zombie au #bts apocalypse au #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts park jimin #bts kim taehyung #bts kim seokjin #bts kim namjoon #bts min yoongi #bts jung hoseok

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haberdashing · 6 years ago

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Three’s A Crowd

Into the Spider-Verse fic. Noir’s relationship with Ham becomes complicated when he grows attached to a man from his own dimension.

Inspired by this text post.

on AO3

Spider-Noir was surrounded by a group of Nazis who seemed intent on cornering him in a dimly-lit alleyway. It was a battle of one against several, and every time he punched out the lights of one Nazi, another one would rise up and take a swing at him.

A pretty typical evening for him, really.

A few blows landed with more force than he would have liked, but he could handle it. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before. He’d probably have half the details of the fight forgotten by the next morning.

What Noir hadn’t expected, however, was for a nice-looking man in a suit to see what was going on and join the fray rather than walk on by and pretend he hadn’t seen anything.

As the stranger reached into his pocket and slipped on a pair of brass knuckles, Noir wasn’t entirely sure which side the other man would be on. He hadn’t noticed his Spider-Sense increase upon the man’s appearance, but given that it was nearly overwhelming him as it was, that didn’t mean much. Noir watched the stranger carefully, ready to take him on if need be-

And watched as the stranger delivered a solid left hook into the jaw of one of the Nazis.

Noir nodded slightly in approval, and without sharing a word, the two men began to work together to tackle the threat in front of them.

Noir could have handled the fight himself, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t deny that it was nice to have a bit of help all the same. It meant a few less hits landing on him, a few less aches and pains he’d have to contend with throughout the night.

As the fight drew to a close, with all of the Nazis that had attacked Noir left unconscious, webbed into immobilization, or both, Noir turned towards the stranger that had fought alongside him.

The man extended a hand in his direction. “I’m John.”

Some small part of Noir wanted to reciprocate the gesture, to tell John his own first name, but the rest of him knew better than to share such important information with someone who was practically a stranger. Information like that always came with a cost, and even if this John really did mean well, it would be better for everyone involved if he knew as little as possible about Noir’s true identity, just in case.

“Spider-Man.” Noir took John’s hand. His grip was firm, but not overly so; his hand was warm, but not sweaty. The man knew how to give a good handshake.

John looked into Noir’s eyes- or, rather, the eyes of his suit- as he deadpanned, “Never would have guessed.”

Noir didn’t laugh, but the tips of his mouth did curl ever so slightly upward.

After they were reunited, after they had obtained a means of inter-dimensional travel that didn’t come with the risk of their cells violently glitching and dying in the process, the other spider-people had started to refer to their group as the “Spider-Family”, or “Spider-Fam” for short.

Noir wasn’t so sure he bought into that idea.

Okay, so Miles, Gwen, and Peni would be the kids of this supposed family, which made some sense to him, even as the three protested that they were mature and capable and didn’t need to be babied by the older members of their group. And Noir supposed that he could see Peter B. as the brother he’d never had, in a way.

But Noir’s feelings about Spider-Ham weren’t familial in the slightest.

They were... different.

The two had never outright talked about it, had never put a word to this strange attraction between them, but when it came time to rest the two always ended up side by side, body pressed into body, the feeling warm and soothing and right.

John had a knack for showing up when Noir was in the middle of a tough fight. If he hadn’t known better, Noir could have sworn that the man had a Spider-Sense of his own.

The second and third time they bumped into one another, they shared a table at a local coffee shop afterwards.

The fourth time the two met, they rented a hotel room nearby, though they both returned home well before dawn.

But it wasn’t until the fifth time that Noir and John came face-to-face, after Noir invited John up to his apartment, that the two really got a chance to talk.

Noir let loose a few things. That his name was Peter (though John still preferred to call him “Spidey”). That when he wasn’t Spider-Man, he was a private eye. That he was lonely. That last one almost felt like a lie, after he had gotten to know the other spider-people better, gotten to know Ham better, but loneliness had been ground into his soul for a long time now, and a handful of meetings with kindred spirits from other dimensions wasn’t enough to change that.

John let loose a few things, too. That he was a Chicago native, having moved to New York City only a few months prior to their first meeting. That he’d never gotten this close to another man before. That he was a radio host.

Noir listened to John’s radio show whenever he had the chance, in between hunting down bad guys both as a private eye and as Spider-Man. The man was talented, that much was for sure. Despite everything, John’s show always managed to make Noir laugh.

But then, that was what had first attracted Noir to Ham as well- that the pig could make him laugh.

He had gone so long without laughing, before.

“Noir? Hey, Noir!”

Noir snapped to attention. They were in Gwen’s dimension, now, in the middle of a movie marathon- horror films, mostly, as Halloween was quickly approaching.

(Halloween wasn’t a holiday that Noir particularly cared for; it was hard enough tracking down bad guys when they were the only ones wearing masks.)

Noir should have been enjoying himself, should have been focusing on the movies and on the other spider-people and on how Ham was squeezed in between himself and the wall, but his mind kept drifting elsewhere. And now, apparently, Ham at least had noticed.

“What is it?” Noir asked.

“What pizza toppings do you want?”

Oh, that was all. Somehow that wasn’t what Noir had been expecting. “I’ll eat whatever everyone else wants. I’m not picky.”

Noir almost went on to mention why he wasn’t picky, how he had learned too well how it felt when money was tight and having food on the table might as well have been a minor miracle, how to him food was just fuel and he would eat anything put in front of him just the same, grateful to have any food at all- but they didn’t need to hear all that. He didn’t need their pity.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Ham rested one arm across Noir’s shoulders. “You’ve been acting kind of weird today, Noir.”

“Weirder than normal, you mean?” Noir didn’t have to turn around to tell that the voice was that of Gwen, her voice muffled by the potato chips she was shoveling into her mouth. Neither Noir nor Ham deigned to dignify her comment with a response.

“Penny for your thoughts, mister tall dark and handsome?”

Noir’s face grew hot as Ham finished his sentence. That was about as blatant as Ham’s flirting ever got, at least when the others were around.

And then Noir remembered what, exactly, he had been so distracted by in the first place... or rather, who had been so distracting.

Ham deserved to know. It wasn’t fair for him to be carrying on with another man behind Ham’s back, Noir knew that. But Noir also didn’t want to get into it while everyone else was around, didn’t want to derail an evening’s entertainment with discussion of his love life.

Noir made a decision, one that he knew he might live to regret.

“...nothing. It’s nothing.”

Noir and John were side by side in Noir’s bed. Noir was getting tired, though he’d never admit it. It had been a long day, and a long evening as well.

“Pity what the world’s coming to these days.” Noir said.

John nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“I’m glad somebody does, at least. Just look at what’s happening in Germany- look here in America, even, Nazis taking to the streets-”

“At least we’re doing what we can to shut them down here.” John replied. As Noir murmured his agreement, John continued, “It is scary, though. And it’s personal for me- I mean, my wife is Jewish, and she’s wonderful, I-”

“Your... wife is Jewish.” Noir repeated.

It took a moment for John to realize what exactly he had just said, for his eyes to grow dark with emotions Noir couldn’t quite place. “Oh, that sounds bad, doesn’t it...”

“Your wife is Jewish.” Noir stood up and started to throw his clothes back on, his mind racing. He was disappointed in John, sure, but more than that, he was disappointed in himself. He was a private eye, for God’s sake, he made his living off of noticing details that others would overlook, and yet he hadn’t realized that he’d been sleeping with a married man.

“Spidey- Peter, it’s not what it sounds like, I can explain-”

“I think you should go, John.”

John stood up, but made no motion to put his clothes back on or to head towards Noir’s apartment door. Instead, he took a deep breath, then let it out before saying, “Annie and I have an... understanding.”

Noir’s eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself.”

“Before we got married, we each chose one celebrity that we could sleep with if we got the chance, regardless of our marital vows. She chose Gary Cooper. I chose Spider-Man.”

“You’re joking.”

John didn’t waver even slightly. “No. For once in my life, I swear, I am not joking. Scout’s honor.” John made a gesture crossing his heart before adding, “Granted, I don’t think either of us were expecting to actually take advantage of it...”

“Have you told her? About... about us?”

“I have, yes.”

“What did she say?”

“That I owe her a ticket to Hollywood.”

Noir couldn’t help but laugh, despite the circumstances. It was ridiculous, really. It was just ridiculous enough to be true. “I’ll help pay for that ticket.”

“I’ll let Annie know you said that. She’ll probably get a kick out of it.”

Silence loomed in the room as Noir picked his next words carefully.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely forthright with you either, John. There’s somebody else in my life, too.”

John’s eyes widened. “Really? Because your apartment screams bachelor to me...”

Noir wasn’t sure whether to take John’s comment as an insult, or an attempted joke, or a mere observation. Nevertheless, he pressed forward with his speech. “Well, he doesn’t live here. He doesn’t even live in this dimension, actually. His name is Peter, too, and he... he’s a pig. A talking cartoon pig. With spider powers like mine. Because he used to be a spider.”

John laughed. Noir hadn’t had the opportunity to hear John laugh much. It was a beautiful sound. “Now, Spidey, I’ve never heard you joke like that before-”

“I’m being deadly serious right now.”

John’s laughter died as abruptly as it began, replaced with a look of pronounced befuddlement.

“It’s a bit of a long story...”

The next time their group of spider-people got together, as they sat together on a rooftop in Peter B.’s dimension, Noir pulled Ham aside and cleared his throat before speaking.

“We need to talk.”

“Well, I’m always glad to talk to y-”

“Let me clarify. We need to talk, alone. I don’t want the others to hear.”

“Got it.”

The two swung over to another building before facing one another.

“There’s somebody else.” Noir’s voice was low, almost a whisper, partly because he didn’t want the sound to carry over to where the others were sitting, partly because he felt like saying it too loudly would make it seem that much more real.

Ham didn’t share the same mindset; his response was as loud as his usual speech, or perhaps even slightly louder. “Another spider? Well, I-”

“No, not another spider. Just a-” Noir faltered for a moment, and when he resumed talking, he couldn’t look Ham in the eye. “-a man. A nice man, who I’ve grown... close to, over the past few weeks.”

“From your dimension?” Ham asked.

Noir looked back at Ham and blinked a few times before answering. He had anticipated a number of possible questions from Ham, but that hadn’t been one of them. “Yes, from my dimension.”

“See? I knew your world couldn’t all be as doom and gloom as you made it out to be.”

“Is that a joke?" Noir’s voice grew louder with every word. Part of him knew that if he spoke too loudly, the others would hear; part of him didn’t really care at this point. “Is this all some big joke to you?”

“No!” Ham protested. “But- you’re not- is this your way of telling me we’re through?”

Noir held one hand against his temple. “Well, I- I care about you, but I care about him, too, and if I have to pick one of you I don’t-”

“You don’t have to pick.”

Noir let his hand fall to his side as he looked at Ham. “What?”

“You heard me. You don’t have to pick. Just because you care about one person doesn’t mean you can’t care about someone else. That’s not how it works.”

“So you’re- you’re fine with me being with... someone else?”

“Sure.” Ham paused for a moment before adding, “As long as he’s fine with it, too.”

“He- he is. We had a talk about it.”

“Man, would I have loved to be a fly on that wall.” Ham muttered just quietly enough that Noir wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to have heard it. In a normal voice, Ham added, “So, tell me about this new beau of yours.”

“His... his name is John, and he’s a radio host...”

John wasn’t usually in Noir’s apartment in the middle of the day, but then, that wasn’t going to be the most unusual thing about this particular meeting of theirs.

“When is he going to get here?” John asked.

“Any second now.” Noir replied.

Indeed, it was only a matter of seconds before Spider-Ham materialized out of thin air at Noir’s side.

Before Ham and John could utter a word to one another, Noir introduced the two. “Peter, meet John. John, meet Peter.”

The two extended their hands at roughly the same time, though John had to crouch down to complete their handshake.

“Pleasure to meet ya.” Ham said.

“Likewise.” John replied. A moment later, he added, “Now what is all of-” John pointed in the general vicinity of Ham. “-that?”

“Color. It’s color.” Ham clarified. “Specifically red-” Ham pointed at his mask- “And blue.” Ham pointed at his legs. “I know, you’re not used to the stuff.”

“You can say that again.”

As the two talked, Noir tried and failed to suppress a laugh.

Both Ham and John looked over at Noir.

“What is it?”

“It’s not that funny, is it?”

“No...” Noir replied. “It’s- the same voice. You two have the same voice.”

“What are you talking ab-”

“No, that can’t be-”

“Oh my God we have the same voice.”

Noir wondered if the voice similarity was part of some greater connection between the two. He tried to remember if any of the Peter Parkers- which Ham wasn’t, as he was Peter Porker, and from what Ham had explained regarding his origin story, he hadn’t even started out with that surname- had shared a voice. His voice wasn’t the same as Peter B.’s, that much Noir knew, but did it match that of the Peter from Miles’ world, the one who had died trying to stop what had both endangered the rest of them and brought them all together? Was Spider-Woman Gwen Stacy’s voice the same as that of the Gwen Stacy that Peter B. had alluded to before, but never seemed to want to talk about?

Noir didn’t know the answers to these questions off-hand, but nevertheless, it felt like two pieces that he had struggled to fit together in his mind for so long were finally fitting into place.

And, perhaps more importantly, both Ham and John had joined in Noir’s laughter, and the two were sharing jokes now, and...

And it had all worked out, somehow.

He had two sources of laughter in his life now, and it seemed that both of them were here to stay.

Perhaps he was ready to start making up for lost time.

#into the spiderverse #into the spider-verse #spider-man #spider-man: into the spider-verse #spider-noir #spider-ham #personal #my writing #hamnoir #ham/noir #i don't even fucking know okay

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jaywhitecotton · 6 years ago

Text

Fuck Elvis

I used to play this terrible game with some monstrous friends at karaoke shows. It was all based on how Michael Jackson died at the right time and if he molested just one more kid we’d be screwed out of decades of music and nostalgia.

We’d then apply other artists to this molestation scale. Like if MJ set the standard at say 7 known kids we’re pretty sure he finger banged, how many could say Aerosmith’s Steven Tyler get away with?

Turns out - it’s one. One for sure, but I’m pretty sure there would have to be at least three before we as a society are willing to let go of Dream On or Bruce Willis’s meteor sacrifice.

Bob Dylan? So hard. Old white NPR people would blame the motorcycle accident and give up everything after to protect his earlier legacy, but comparing Michael Jackson to Bob Dylan’s importance? He’s got to be able to molest as many - if not three more kids - than the King of Pop, right? I mean Jewish or not, he is still white so that has to give him the edge over Jacko in what he can get away with.

Anyhoo

Comics have been acting like comedy has been bringing “truth to power!” and patting themselves on the back, but thirty years of Michael Jackson jokes couldn’t do what one documentary has done.

Proving if you really want any justice these days, you need to first invest in some production value and an editor who knows how to make criminal acts look especially bad.

The reactions are pouring in and people are very conflicted. Many questioning whether or not it’s ok to like an artist because of their lurid personal life.

Look, can we come to a consensus on just one thing?

Human beings have been giant flesh bags of hot garbage since the very beginning of our upright existence. We started out so bad, we’re not even sure of what are real beginnings were actually like.

And its not even people that are the worst either. Look at life itself.

Nature is gruesome and horrifying! Every nature documentary is inherently a horror movie missing the scary cello mood music. If you knew how much ducks gang-raped in real life you would burn any remanence of all those duck-themed shows from the 90’s.

Even the creation of space and time was the result of a destructive explosion that shit us out into the nothingness of space.

Disagree? Thinks humans are great? Cool. Keep in mind a lot of people watched a movie about a guy who sexually abused children and their first thought was “Can I still grab my dick and effeminately scream ‘ohhhhh’ whenever it gets super windy? Because I don’t want to live in a world where I can’t do that!”

To me anytime a person does something exceptional - THAT should be the thing that is celebrated. Like “Wow, you overcame being a piece of shit and had a moment of triumph for our species, well done ya piece of shit!”

Thomas Jefferson and the Declaration of Independence, Gandhi and Civil Disobedience, Beethoven’s 9th have all stood the test of time and those acts are worthy of praise.

Are we going to really miss Ignition (remix)?

I’m not saying any of these people’s flaws should be ignored, but seriously - there were plenty of slave fuckers, wife abusers, and piss-on-tweeners out there who not only did that shit - but didn’t even have the decency to form an experimental democratic republic placing power in the hands of the people, much less write a catchy tune.

We have got to start holding a higher standard for what we consider legit and meaningful art.

Is Trapped in the Closet really an achievement for humanity? Is the cinematic legacy of Space Jam ruined by the tainting of I Believe I Can Fly?

Was American Beauty and House of Cards our civilization’s finest cinematic moments? Has there been nothing else to watch?

Can we no longer backwards slide dance at house parties because a guy who dressed like a sequined private eye slept with kids?

I’m not saying you can’t still enjoy those things, or even question your feelings about them. I’m saying don’t make those things more important than they actually are. You can both think an actor should be castrated and get lost in visualized fiction.

Just as easily as you can decide to never watch again. It’s all disposable.

To me the real crime is needing a movie like American Beauty to be the pinnacle of human achievement because you got your first handy in the theater when it came out or whatever.

Not that anyone is exactly saying that, but you big bad wolves get my straw house point.

What is the value of achievement? How do we measure what’s important? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s what the consensus decides should stay. Maybe it’s the individual.

Sometimes it feels like a lot of our general arguments are between the perspectives of group thinking socialists versus self-motivated libertarians. Maybe they’re both right, I guess it depends on the situation.

Personally I think most the arguments about entertainers matters most to the people who have a vested interest in brands and making it in the ‘look at me’ industry.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m in the thick of it having done music and standup most of my life and have the same guttural need for a stranger’s approval, but sometimes I feel surrounded by people who treat every moment of their lives like a biopic. Selling themselves on social media as if they’re the subject of their own Rolling Stone exposé.

People who define themselves by the most disposable of expressions and since trying to be good and known is so difficult, decided it’s easier to just simulate success instead of working harder on the mediums.

You know, frauds.

I’m surrounded by a generation of ‘fake it til you make it’ personalities who thrive on all the shit I find utterly useless, meaningless and the worst crime - boring.

Entrepreneurs in narcissism who communicate through gossip and trade in brand expression, littering the artistic landscape with recycled lateral thinking dog turds.

It’s exhausting,debilitating, and absolutely the future as AI replaces our normal careers, forcing all of us into becoming Instagram models and Influencers.

And everyday I have to have deep sobering introspection trying to figure out if I’m not equally culpable in this terrible trap of meaningless thinking.

Not that there’s anything wrong with meaningless. Not everything has to have as everlasting an impact as Ode to Joy.

I mean really, what actually matters if we all die and whatever impact we had becomes erased regardless of whether or not it takes years, months, days or even minutes after we are laid into the ground?

Most of everyone who has been born has meant nothing and left no trace or measurement that they even existed at all. Think of all the stillborn babies who didn’t even get the chance.

Nature the cold hearted bitch strikes again!

People call me jaded and bitter for these thoughts, but I promise you - I hold no anger or selfish need to compensate my own lacking by exclaiming ‘people are mostly shit and none of this will stand the test of time’. I’m very fun at parties.

It’s just the people desperate to matter that think reality is inherently mean.

Celebrate the achievement not the person, but also - let’s not over inflate the achievement to validate our own petty need for someone to hear our folk song about getting a handy while watching American Beauty or whatever.

A quick story.

One of the most talented people I ever met was a dude from Philly named Perone.

Perone played bass and was known across the city as being this incredible player who for some reason just never found a project he clicked with.

I met him when I was 18 and homeless, living in a 24 hour diner he waited tables at. Everyone loved this dude and for some reason he took care of me. Hooking up free salads, sodas, bread. He was the coolest dude I ever met.

I was learning guitar and we both loved 70’s soul and blues music so we’d jam together which in hindsight was wild.

I had no fucking idea what I was doing and yet here was this genius jamming patiently along.

Teaching me without putting in a show that he was actually teaching me, if that makes sense?

Was he perfect? No. Not at all. He was charismatic as fuck, but obviously weighted down with some demons.

The weirdest thing I could say about him - and I don’t know how to even properly frame this was - he used to draw on bed sheets.

For years he had a dream about a woman he never met and would paint her face on the bed sheets and attach lyrics to songs he was writing next to her face. These sheets hung all over his walls.

Keep in mind he was living with a girl at the time. He had a kid, yet here were all these sheets dedicated to a fictional white woman he was obsessed with, hung like championship banners across his entire two bedroom apartment.

My last conversation with Perone was perfect. I sat strumming his guitar while he smoked meth out of a can of Pepsi, telling me how Michael Jackson was the King.

Every click of the lighter, every inhale and exhale would punctuate just how much Michael Jackson meant to the world and music.

How Motown celebrated their 25th anniversary with a tv special and Michael Jackson came out and destroyed with the moonwalk.

“Dude, (click) black people loved Michael (inhale). White people loved Michael. (exhale)Young people loved Michael. (cough) Old people loved Michael. (click) None of this race or generation shit mattered. (inhale) It was because of the music and HE did that. (exhale) He bridged everything together in that one moment. (violent cough) Michael Jackson is and will always be the King. (click) Fuck Elvis.”

That was twenty years ago. I have no idea if he’s still alive, earned a living with his music or met the woman he’d dreamt and painted for years. Or if instead he succumbed to meth, took his own life and or manages an Olive Garden.

I don’t know and I don’t have to. I miss him and appreciate the things we shared that mattered and helped me grow as a person, but that’s all it ever will be.

Let justice be done and handled by those involved in their situation and value only the things and constructs that have some permanence or growth in your own life.

Either way you will still die, and wether it’s alone and forgotten or if it takes centuries for people to forget you were a miserable deaf cunt who wrote some sweet jams - you’ll eventually be nothing.

Fuck Elvis.

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darley1101 · 7 years ago

Text

A Bit Of Normal

A/N Some fluffy goodness featuring Damien and Ava for @confessionsofabrokegirl. “I care about you, I've always cared about you” and “Time flies when you're with someone you love.” They fit in nicely within the realm of my Perfect Match series, so that is where it is set. I hope you guys enjoy! If you would like to read more Ava and Damien you can do so by clicking HERE

Warning: cute bit of fluffiness with a side of angst

Tagging: @clarissafics @confessionsofabrokegirl

Permatag: @debramcg1106 @boneandfur @speedyoperarascalparty @flynnomalleys @blackcatkita @mfackenthal @hamulau @endlessly-searching-for-you @umccall71 @damienazariostan @penguininapinktuxedo @eileendannie @writtenbycandy @josieschoices @tmarie82 @drakelover78 @starstruckpixelberryhistoryvoid @kingliamthirst

A Bit of Normal

Drawing her legs to her chest, Ava wrapped her arms around her calves and tucked her chin into the little valley between her knees. Through lowered lashes, she stared out at the vast expanse of woods that butted up against the back of Damien's property. With the full moon casting shadows and a slight breeze causing the trees to sway in some hypnotic dance, it reminded Ava of a scene out of a horror movie. She half way expected a monster truck sized werewolf to come galloping out to howl at the moon; or worse, Cecile and her gang of Eros thugs. Thinking about Cecile and Eros made Ava think about Alana. It hadn't come as much of a surprise that Damien's ex was connected with the corrupt research corporation. From the very start, there had been something shady about her presence in Damien's house. Hayden taking a nose dive into the hardwood floor right before they could put some distance between themselves and the scheming bitch had really put a kink in things. They couldn't travel with a comatose android and they couldn't leave him behind. Alana had seized the opportunity to drag Damien into the office, literally slamming the door in Ava's face when she tried to follow. There had been raised voices, talk of some guy named Nikos, and then their voices had dropped so low it had been pointless to try to eavesdrop further.

Letting out a sigh, Ava let one of her legs drop so that her toes barely touched the dew covered grass. Her body tensed as a bush rattled to the right of her. She let out a nervous laugh as calico cat darted out and sped across the back yard, disappearing into the woods. There was no point in telling herself to stop being so paranoid, it would be an impossible feat at the moment. Between expecting Eros to pop out of the shadows at any moment and waiting for Alana to take them all hostage, Ava was the poster child of a paranoid wreck.

“This seat taken?”

Slowly shifting her gaze from the woods to the man standing next to her, Ava tried to smile but ended up grimacing instead. “I'm surprised the treacherous bitch let you loose.”

Without waiting for an invitation Damien sat next to her, reaching for her hand. Semi-reluctantly, she let him twine his fingers through hers. She wanted to ask him why he had let Alana slam the door in her face, why their conversation had to be secret when it was all of their lives hanging in the balance. “You're pissed.”

“Not really,” she admitted, ducking her head down so that she could study her chipped toe nail polish. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Getting so emotional over something as trivial as chipped polish seemed so silly. It wasn't the polish so much as she missed the certainty of her life in New York. Now, nothing was certain; other than Eros was hunting them and they couldn't trust Alana...except they probably had no choice now that Hayden was, for all intents and purposes, in some sort of software malfunction coma. “Just tired, I guess. I'm really tired of not knowing what's going to happen next. And yeah, okay, maybe I am a little pissed. She slammed the door in my face, that would piss anyone off.”

“Hey,” Damien said softly. He cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his gaze searching her face. “I'm sorry about Alana. She had no right to do that. The only reason I let it slide was she was willing to offer up information on a source that might be able to help us getting Hayden running again.”

Ava nodded, her fingers sliding up Damien's arm to wrap around his wrist. She dragged his hand upward so that it cupped her cheek and leaned into it. “I'm not mad at you. I promise. I'm just...ready for things to be normal.” She lift her head, her eyes meeting his. “Do you think she really has a source that can help Hayden?”

“If anyone can help Hayden, it's Nikos. Long as we don't question where the parts came from or insult his bears, we'll be fine.”

“Bears?” Ava felt both of her eye brows shoot straight up. It was a joke. It had to be. This Nikos character didn't really keep bears...did he?

“He likes to surround himself with a bunch of goons and then nickname them according to whatever bear he thinks they most resemble.”

A giggle erupted from Ava. “That's ridiculous!”

“Pretty much,” Damien chuckled, wrapping his arms around her slender waist. “So, I was thinking...we have some time to kill before we meet with Nikos...how would you feel about salty, buttery popcorn and one of those ridiculous romcoms Nadia's always going on about? We can mock its cheesiness.”

Twisting in his arms, Ava narrowed her eyes. “I like rom-coms.”

“They're all the same,” Damien teased. “There's always some poor schmuck pining away for a girl whose completely oblivious until said schmuck finally says 'I care about you, I've always cared about' and then poof the girl magically realizes she feels the same way. Of course there's hilarious one liners and the accident prone co worker for shits and giggles.”

“You realize that up until recently I was the poor schmuck pining away for the boy who was oblivious to my feelings,” Ava sniped, crossing her arms over her chest and eyes still narrowed as she waited for Damien to respond.

“Not the same thing. I wasn't the only one oblivious to how the other felt.” Damien had her there. They had both been fools, pining away for the other when had they just spoken up they could have saved themselves a world of heartache. Perhaps even avoided this whole Eros fiasco. Or, she inwardly grimaced, maybe not, since it was Nadia who initially brought Eros into their lives. Nadia and her innate need to find true love. “So...how about it? You. Me. Popcorn. Cheesy movie.” He drew her closer, nuzzling her neck with his nose. “Would kind of be like we're having a little bit of normal before the next shit storm.”

Normal. Just the word itself was like a soothing balm. Ava closed her eyes and snuggled against Damien's chest. “A bit of normal sounds nice. There's only one problem...this place doesn't have a television.”

“Who says we need one of those?” Damien rest his cheek atop her head, tightening his hold around her. “Close your eyes.”

“They are closed,” she murmured.

“Good. Now...picture this. There's this incredibly handsome private eye whose just sitting at his desk, enjoying this beaut of a sandwich-”

“It was a hot dog,” Ava giggled. “The private eye was eating a really messy hot dog and had mustard all over his chin and down his t shirt. Which had several holes in it. He also had on this really ugly old plaid flannel shirt. But yeah...he was kinda handsome. If you're into sexy Puerto Ricans. Which I am.”

“Good to know,” Damien chuckled. “So our sexy Puerto Rican private eye is eating a messy hot dog, covered in mustard, and minding his own business when the door to his office is flung open. Standing there is this short, overly cheerful woman with lots of hair, a squeaky voice, and an armful of weird, perverted drawings. She throws the drawings on his desk, wanting to know if he can find the weirdo whose sending them because a. she wants them to stop and b. she wants to suggest they go to art school because they're not half bad and with the right training they could be really good.”

Lifting her head, Ava opened her eyes and stared at Damien. “You're kidding. There's no way Nadia thought those freaky, cartoon-ish porno comics featuring her and that bozo Randolph were any good.”

“I wish I were. She actually said if he apologized she would write him a reference for NYU's art program.”

Ava let out a groan and buried her face in Damien's chest. “My cousin is the weirdest, nicest person I know.” She toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Of course the detective took the case. It was too good to pass up. It wasn't every day some cute girl came in wanting him to track down some amateur cartoonist with a fetish for provocative caricatures.”

“Provocative caricatures?” Damien shook his head. “That's a good one.”

“I thought so,” Ava demurred. “Now...where were we?”

“Alright looking girl walks in wanting help finding perverted cartoonist.”

Giggling, Ava shifted on the bench so that her back rest against Damien's chest. Her gaze drifted towards the stars glittering above, a sense of awe washing over her. It was hard to see the stars in New York. Between the smog and the brightly lit city-scape there wasn't much room for stars. “They're so pretty,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Damien agreed. “Think our detective should ask his artist client to go on a star gazing date or...should her smoking hot cousin that he accidentally meets in a bar?”

A soft smile tipped the corners of her lips. “The smoking hot cousin,” she replied. “Always wait for the smoking hot cousin.”

“Hm. Good idea. Except, oh wait, the smoking hot cousin thinks the artist and the detective would be cute together so she tricks them into going on the most boring date in the history of boring dates.”

Ava bit back a groan. “Are you ever going to let me live that down? It was an honest mistake! I thought you guys were crushing on each other. Nadia kept talking you up and you kept asking us to come in to go over mundane details of her case.”

“Correction, I kept asking you to come by, you're the one who kept inviting Nadia. And Nadia was probably talking me up because I kept asking her if you were single.”

“We really were oblivious schmucks weren't we?”

“Absolutely.”

Twisting so that she could see his face, Ava reached up and cupped his cheek. She drew the pad of her thumb across his cheekbone, her eyes memorizing every feature. His impossibly long lashes, that tiny mole near his left ear, that lock of hair that always fell across his forehead no matter how much product he used. “I love you,” she whispered. “And thank you for the distraction. It's made things a little bit more bearable.”

“Time flies when you're with someone you love,” he joked before turning serious. “We're going to get through this. Before you know it, we'll be back home in New York and I promise to sit through as many of those cheesy rom coms as you want.”

“You don't know what you're promising,” Ava laughed, curling into his lap. “I have quite the collection of cheesy chick flicks.”

“I've been to your apartment,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “I've your stash. Who knew you were a fan of Jessica Simpson's acting.”

“Hey, just because she can't act her way out of a paper bag doesn't mean the movie isn't good,” Ava protested.

“That's debatable.” Damien gathered her against his chest, squeezing her. “I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. How about we finish 'watching' that detective get his girl from the comfort of bed?”

#choices perfect match #damien x mc #damien nazario #long post

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