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whatyourusherthinks · 5 months ago

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The Watchers Review

UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH

So, fun fact, M. Night Shyamalan is probably my least favorite filmmaker. Ever. I've only seen four of his movies, but I only like one of them and I know enough about the others to know I wouldn't enjoy them if I did watch them.

Um excuse me Roan, the director is this movie isn't M. Night Shyamalan. It's directed by Ishana Night Shyamalan. Oh right, I got confused because the Watchers looks exactly like a M. Night movie from the trailers and Ishana is his daughter. Seems like she learned all she knows from dear old dad. But you know what Buggnutz, I'm actually glad you brought her up. This is the first movie by a new director, so I want to make something crystal clear. Despite everything negative I am about to say about this work,

I do not think Ishana Night Shyamalan should stop making movies.

I will never be the one to squash a first-time creative's project. Unless it is hate speech or something deliberately offensive, which the Watchers is not. I just think Ishana would do well to learn from other directors as well as M. Night.

Final order of business, I've got an axe to grind with the Shyamalans, and it has to do with the most infamous parts of their movies. Yeah, I'm going to try to prove that every single Shyamalan twist doesn't work. It will be it's own section of the review, so skip that if you don't want every Shyamalan movie twist spoiled, including Devil. Because Devil sucks.

What's The Movie About?

A woman wanders into an Irish forest and get kept as pet by the Watchers, a mysterious group and they are exactly what you think they are from this description. (What? I technically haven't spoiled the movie yet.) Anyway all the captured humans try to escape captivity. Then the last 45 minutes is the sequel to this movie completely rushed.

What I Like.

The cinematography I thought was pretty cool. When Shyamalan nails a shot he nails a shot, and Ishana certainly caught on to any lessons in that regard. There's a couple emotional moments that I felt like were better than 90% of all other Shyamalan movies. And the acting is... uh... mostly better than M. Night movies. (Honestly it dips in and out of quality but M. Night has pulled a good performance like twice in his whole career so I'm letting Ishana have this one.) The character writing is definitely better than M. Night movies. No one is written to be "quirky". I guess the lead keeps talking to a bird but that made me laugh so whatever. There is also some pretty interesting imagery from time to time too. The forest they shoot in for most of the movie is very pretty.

What I Didn't Like.

Holy shit, where to even begin with this one. It is amazing to me that a movie can be, simultaneously, so bad it is funny, so drawn out I was begging for the movie end, and only two hours long. Pretty much every aspect of this movie is inconsistent in some way. The acting is fine sometimes, and sometimes it's the ol' wooden Shyamalan special. The characters aren't quirky, but they do act stupid sometimes for no reason. I'm getting really tired of writers taking the Lovecraft shortcut for their monsters. Y'know, all they have to do is say "Looking upon them will destroy your mind!" or "Erode your sanity!" or some other bullshit that means they don't have to design a monster. The Watchers are shown in some capacity but, uh, well... While some of the imagery in the movie was interesting, but the effects wildly range in quality. Not even on the lines of the type of effect. Some CGI effects look good and others terrible. Some of the practical effects are cool and others are so bad you can almost see the tape and wires. They fake a computer screen (for some reason I couldn't fathom) and it literally looks like a cartoon layered on top of a real computer. The worst part about the movie, however, is the script. The script is almost TRAGIC in how bad it is. You thought I was joking when I said the sequel to this movie is jammed into the last 45 minutes of this one, but I wasn't. The characters escape the forest, with the twist about what the Watchers are revealed, and then it goes on about another layer to the Watchers' agenda and there's a SECOND TWIST and it's all just so completely unnecessary! All Shyamalan twists are unnecessary, but to talk about it we need to move on to the part of the review where I tear apart every M. Night Shyamalan movies' twists.

The Part Of The Review Where I Tear Apart Every M. Night Shyamalan Movies' Twists.

There is a channel on YouTube called Overly Sarcastic Productions, or OSP. They make really good content, and my favorite is a show of theirs called Trope Talk. In the Trope Talk about plot twists, the host, Red, broke down the four ways a plot twist can fail. I'm going to steal that categorization to explain why all Shyamalan twists don't work. Here's the break down: The twist contradicts canon or generally makes no sense when considered, the twist is more boring than the non-twist option, and the the twist has no meaningful impact on the plot. There is fourth failure where the twist isn't as clever as the writer thinks it is, but that is literally every Shyamalan twist, so I'm instead replacing it with the twist is super obvious. If you want a more detailed run down I highly recommend watching the OSP video. Then the rest of the Trope Talk series. Then all of OSP's other videos. They make really cool and interesting content.

Anyway, I'm now going to go over every movie directed by a Shyamalan since the Sixth Sense, plus Devil because that movie is fucking stupid and is basically an M. Night movie that he just didn't direct.

The Sixth Sense: Roan, you are not about to shit talk the Sixth Sense. That movie is a classic! The twist is iconic and the best M. Night Twist there is! ...Yeah, everyone told me that before I saw the movie. Honestly, the only great thing about Sixth Sense is Haley Joel Osment's performance. The problem with the twist of the Sixth Sense is that the movie has to make up a bunch of bullshit to justify it. Ghosts perceive reality in the way they want to, so they can't see other ghosts and Bruce Willis makes himself think his marriage is failing and it's just a big load of nonsense! Yeah! I said it!

Unbreakable: Okay, time for me to fess up. I keep saying every Shyamalan twist is terrible, but there are actually 2 that I think work. And Unbreakable is one of them. This is the only M. Night movie where thinking about it doesn't completely unravel the film. So I won't spoil, since this the only Shyamalan movie I have seen that I like.

Signs: Why the fuck do people like this movie? I don't think that the twist of the Aliens being highly allergic to water ruins the movie. It's completely stupid and is a lame Deus Ex Machina to wrap up the movie, but the movie was bad before that point. Wait, Roan, haven't you heard the theory that the Aliens in Signs are actually Demons? First of all, that doesn't change the movie pulled a boring solution to the plot out of its ass. Second, this just makes allegory of the movie more obvious and stupid. Third, again, the movie was bad before the twist ending. Do you remember how M. Night wrote and directed those kids?

The Village: We're now moving on to movies I haven't seen. The twist of the Village is, infamously, the first this your mind thinks of when you hear the premise. The setting is a medieval village in the middle of nowhere and you're correct it's actually modern day. Not only does this not connect to the movie at all (you find this out at pretty much the end of the movie and all the characters decide to just ignore the fact that they know the twist) but I would argue a movie about an isolated medieval village having to deal with wood monsters is way more interesting whatever the fuck the ending of this movie was supposed to be.

Lady in the Water: Okay this one was difficult to parse out from just reading the Wikipedia plot synopsis but basically the plot of this movie seems to a massive prophecy and the twist is the people who thought they were one role in the prophecy were actually another. I mean... This just seems pointless. Most people who have seen the movie say that this twist is just in the movie so that there is a twist in the movie, but I'm also going to say it is nonsensical because reading the plot summery gave me a migraine.

The Happening: The Happening is a special kind of twist in which the twist is there is no twist. That could be interesting if it was in literally any other movie. But the explanation of the Happening is that the trees just decided to release a gas that makes humans suicidal. Really dumb, really boring, really obvious.

The Last Airbender: You may not remember, but the twist of the Last Airbender is that the Avatar isn't supposed to kill people. He's just supposed to be a icon, or something? Like every aspect of that movie, it's incredibly poorly done, so a lot of people don't even realize there is a twist in this movie. But there is. The fascinating case for this movie is that the exact opposite scenario plays on in the cartoon, so we know how boring and dumb this twist is. Also, the hero of the movie has a rule not to kill anyone? I don't know about you guys, but I assume that in every movie I go into until I'm proven wrong.

Devil: The last Shyamalan movie I've seen before the Watchers, Devil is dumb as hell! It seems like every other idea M. Night has would be better if there wasn't a twist in it, and Devil is an exemplar example. A thriller about a bunch of random people being killed one by one while stuck in a faulty elevator? Awesome idea! The culprit being the devil ruins it. Also the twist is that the old lady who dies early in the movie is the Devil and this movie has the same bullshit that the Sixth Sense has where they just make up a bunch of shit to justify the twist.

After Earth: My favorite part of the obvious twists is that they almost always are given away by the title of the movie. The twist of After Earth is it was Earth all along. This has like nothing to do with the plot either. It makes no different whether Jaiden Smith is running around on a future Earth or an alien planet.

The Visit: This is the other twist I think works. Probably. I haven't seen the Visit, and frankly, I won't ever watch it. But the twist seems to make sense, it has bearing on the plot, and isn't obvious or boring.

Split: Split being a secret sequel to Unbreakable doesn't really change the plot of the actual movie at all. I haven't seen it, maybe the rest of the movie is good, but I feel like audiences might have tapered their enjoyment of the rest of the movie since Glass sucks by most accounts. But even if it didn't would it matter? It's not until M. Night puts those characters into that next movie does it play into anything.

Glass: By most accounts, Glass sucks. Again, haven't seen it but the twist of it was the Illuminati all along is really stupid. It is also an incredibly lazy way to avoid characterizing your villains. Seriously, faceless organizations that can just do whatever they want because "they control everything" are so tiresome as a concept. I get that some people are stupid enough to think that's a real thing, but maybe we'd have less of them if movies would stop making all their bad guys shadowy masters of everything. I'm also tempted to put this twist in the obvious category, since the character who is trying to convince a guy who can crawl on walls that he doesn't have superpowers is trying to suppress public knowledge of superpowers, but I'll cut Glass a break since that seems to be dependent on how they explain it in the movie.

Old: The twist in Old is that the beach that makes you old is controlled by the pharmaceutical industry so they can run trial tests on humans really fast. This yet another villain that has all the power and can just do whatever they want because they cover up anything they want, but with the additional problem that the mechanics of the beach itself are completely contradictory and inconsistent. Plus it just exists to give a convenient wrap up for the plot. I'd say sticking to the graphic novel's ambiguity would have saved this movie, but from what I heard happens in the movie, I don't think that's possible.

Knock at the Cabin: Dave Batista was right all along and one of the gay couple should've killed themselves, their partner, or their kid. I hate this twist because it feels weirdly manipulative and kinda homophobic. I'm sure it's unintentional in the actual movie, but like, dude. The world is gonna end unless we kill one of you? That is literally an insane belief. The fact that killing a minority is the answer is pretty gross. But Roan, it's because their love was just so pure. You realize how patronizing that is to real queer people, right? Plus, again, why is just having a thriller about these characters being chased around by a cult in a cabin not good enough? YOU DON'T HAVE TO PUT A TWIST IN EVERY MOVIE M. NIGHT!

And finally, we get to the Watchers. Both of its twists are bad for different reasons, so let's start with the obvious one. The Watchers are fairies. Changelings to be specific, and they are observing humans so that they can learn from them to eventually become them. This doesn't really have any significant change to the plot, it just makes the monster something we recognize. It makes it extra annoying that the movie goes for the humans can't comprehend them gambit when humans have literally been doing that for thousands of years EVEN IN THE STORY ITSELF, but then we brush up against the second twist. After the humans escape the fairy forest they have to go destroy this professor's fairy research, and it turns out that the old lady who knew all the rules about the fairies was a fairy herself! Gasp, what a- Wait does this mean she was lying about how the changelings work the whole time? And the literal hour of exposition that we got from her was entirely POINTLESS? The bigger problem with this twist is that it is pretty much the reason the ending of this movie is dragged out as long as it does.

Final Summation.

I'm honestly split here. The Watchers is an awful movie. But not only is about half of it so bad it's hilarious, but I don't really want this movie to do badly. My honest recommendation is to get kinda drunk, watch this movie to the part where they leave the forest, then stop watching. But does that mean I recommend or reject the movie? Perhaps this calls for an addition to my categorization. I am please to declare that The Watchers is the first Recojected Movie! This is basically gonna be any movie where you should see part of the movie, but definitely not the entire thing. Or a bad movie that I still think should have financial support. I'm narrowly defining it because I don't want to use this categorization too often.

Well, if there is one bright side to this whole debacle, it's that there won't be another Shyamalan project this year. The man takes his time with his ideas, he only releases once a year usu- Wait what that?

OH GOD DAMN IT.

#The Watchers #Recojected Movies

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 287: Family Reunion

Previously on BnHA: The Tomura For One VS Deku And Pals clusterfuck reached new levels of clustfuckery as AFO possessed Tomura’s body and stabbed Kacchan and Endeavor. Shouto was all “good thing I leveled up offscreen so as to be able to fly around whilst carrying 400lbs worth of people”, and did just that and it was like, damn, son. Meanwhile Deku’s rage went Mach 100, and he kicked Tomura’s ass for almost two whole seconds, but in the process he apparently forgot that IF TOMURA TOUCHES HIM THAT IS VERY BAD, and so he stupidly let Tomura touch him and Tomura was all “GAME, SET.” Fortunately for Deku, his quirk plays by its own rules, and so the chapter ended with us cutting to the METAPHYSICAL OFA/AFO PARANORMAL DREAMSCAPE OF MYSTICAL BULLSHIT, where AFO!Vestige was all “lol Tomura y u mad”, and Nana!Vestige was all “SUP DEKU, YOU’RE JUST IN TIME, LOOKS LIKE IT’S ASSKICKING O’CLOCK.” I’m paraphrasing a bit, but that’s more or less the gist of it.

Today on BnHA: AFO is all “well if it isn’t Tomura’s grandmother who I murdered that one time”, and Deku is all “?”, and AFO is all “fucking vestiges, man, wild”, and Deku is all “??”, and AFO is all “ANYWAYS GETTIM TOMURA”, and OFA is all “NOT SO FAST”, and Deku is all “???”, and really, same. AFO then goes off on some wild tangent about how Deku is unworthy because he couldn’t protect everyone and needed help from OFA and got mad about his friends being stabbed, which is such a cold take it gave me hypothermia, but it ends up not mattering since Deku and Tomura both wake up seconds later with OFA still in the possession of its rightful owner, HOW ABOUT THAT. The chapter ends with the LoV approaching on Gigantomachia’s back with Dabi practically salivating at the mouth, and Toga trying to reignite an old fandom blood feud. Toga why would you do this to me. Toga.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSS

[CROWD LOSING THEIR MINDS] FINALLY THE NANA HAS COME BACK TO BNHA!! IF YA SMELLLLL WHAT THE NANA IS COOKIN!!!!! [RINGSIDE BELL CHIMING WILDLY] [LOUD AIRHORN NOISES]

“chapter 287: mistake” omg. yeah I’ll say you made a mistake, AFO. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THESE FLEETING LAST MOMENTS OF YOUR SHITTY EVIL LIFE

(ETA: so in all seriousness this must be referring to AFO’s belief that All Might/OFA made a mistake in choosing Deku, right? “I can’t believe you went and chose this shounen manga protagonist as your champion, what were you thinking.” I’ll just put this out there: however many comic books AFO read as a child, it clearly was not enough.)

wow Deku how slow are you

yes you’re inside OFA you dimbulb, did you think your clothes suddenly vanished out of the blue and the ghost of Nana just randomly appeared in the real world by some freak coincidence?? can you believe this kid. breaks his arms a measly 10-15 times in a row and all of a sudden he can’t think straight, get it together Deku

but also brb having a moment at the fact that his thoughts immediately run back to Kacchan, even with all of this nonsense going on and Nana about to lay the beatdown on AFO’s potato-lookin’ ass. forget that noise, all he wants to know is whether or not Kacchan is all right. fuckin’ geez. AM I OVERREACTING HERE A BIT. probably

(ETA: ALSO!! the way he just trails off!! “Kacchan is...” and then he can’t bring himself to complete the thought. oh my god my heart.)

HOLY SHIT

okay,

damn but this man sure knows how to ruffle my feathers. as eminently detestable as ever!!

could it be any clearer here that AFO is not on Tomura’s side?? for a moment I thought he had actually grabbed him by the back of the head in order to get him to look. but nope, he’s just resting his pointing hand on top of his head instead while he’s all “HEY TOMURA LOL IT’S THE GHOST OF YOUR DEAD PATHETIC GRANDMA”

for those keeping track at home, this would be the first time that Deku has heard this information -- that Tomura is Nana’s grandson -- and possibly the first time Vestige!Nana has heard it as well. Nana died when Kotarou was still a child, so for all we know the Vestige!Nana didn’t even know she had a grandson, lol. TODAY ON “MAKESTE RANTS AT LENGTH ABOUT THINGS THAT WILL PROBABLY BE ADDRESSED WITHIN THE NEXT THREE PANELS”, anyway moving on

lmao for the record I fucking LOLed at this giant question mark immediately bubbling up over Deku’s head

no idea what AFO is about to ramble on about now, haven’t read that far yet. but let the record show that Deku’s immediate reaction to hearing “BTW NANA IS YOUR ARCHNEMESIS’S GRANDMA LULZ” is everything I could have hoped for

(ETA: fandom nailed the shit out of this one with the confused Mr. Krabs meme lmao.)

okay so now AFO is monologuing at length about how he would sometimes have “riveting dreams” about the previous owners of all the quirks he stole. but once he gave the quirks away they stopped bothering him?? holy moly let me just take all the notes

okay so he’s saying that Vestiges are created whenever someone has their quirk stolen by AFO. but if they then disappear when he gives the quirks away, does that also mean that whoever receives the quirks also gets the original owner’s Vestige bundled in every time?? that would be wild okay hold up let me read the rest of this

so he’s saying that the Vestiges are actually the “consciousnesses” of the original quirk owners, which have become embedded in their dna or something. SOUNDS INCREDIBLY DUBIOUS TO ME LOL but on the other hand this is a world where children can be born with airplane heads, so my disbelief can hardly afford to pick and choose what it’s gonna be suspended at! anyways though, how does he know he’s the only one who was able to converse with them? did you conduct detailed six-month follow-up interviews with everyone you gave quirks to or what

and if it really is the case that this ability was formerly exclusive to him, isn’t that more evidence than ever that OFA and AFO are actually THE EXACT SAME QUIRK oh whoops am I getting ahead of myself again, sorry

MEANWHILE TOMURA IS ALL, “GRANDMA?”

“WHY AM I HERE, WELL LET ME TELL YOU A STORY, GRANDSON. YOU SEE THAT MAN GROWING OUT OF YOUR RIBCAGE THERE? WELL IT’S JUST THE FUNNIEST THING, ACTUALLY”

WAIT SO IS HE SAYING THEY’RE SOULS OR NOT??

this makes it sound like they won’t ever get to rest, which sure sounds like a soul thing to me. well whatever, soul, consciousness, I guess it’s just semantics at the end of the day

anyways though, so this asshole is finally done talking (I’m sure that won’t last), so now we can finally have the heartwarming reunion we’ve all been waiting for

sigh

-- actually, no, not “sigh”!! you know what!! because Tomura says “whatever the reason”, but that’s only because he doesn’t actually have a fucking clue about the reason. like, I don’t know if the knowledge that AFO killed Nana would be enough to give him pause, but if he knew the whole story and knew that AFO was behind not only Nana’s death, but the rest of his family’s deaths as well... now that would be a whole different thing

anyway. but at least it’s becoming clearer now why AFO spent all that time raising Tomura up as his heir and brainwashing him even though he seems to have been planning this body takeover the whole time. it’s all because he loves making people miserable! yaaaaay

btw HAS NANA HAD THE EXACT SAME MOLE ON HER CHIN AS TOMURA THIS ENTIRE TIME WTF. am I just the least observant person who ever lived lmao

lol wtf

ground: [randomly starts exploding]

Deku: “ONE FOR ALL IS BEING ERODED!!!” LOL IS THAT WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE, OKAY THEN. I’ll take your word for it

y’all I cannot fucking get over this “AFO growing out of Tomura’s hip socket like a fucked-up ventriloquist dummy” shit though

you do realize that absolutely no one can take you seriously right now, right?? it’s important to me that you know this

WHAT’S THIS NOW

seems like SOMEONE has had it up to here with a certain SOMEONE ELSE’S bullshit lmaooo bye Felicia

I SAID GOOD DAY!!

you guys why is he not dying!!

-- OH DAMN

love how Deku is just lying there like “YOU KNOW THOSE DAYS WHERE YOU’RE LIKE, THIS MIGHT AS WELL HAPPEN.” poor Deku

(ETA: where in god’s name is OFA Prime standing. why are my thoughts fully consumed by this lmao.)

are Nana and OFA Prime even doing anything?? why are they sticking their arms out like that. wait hold up is this all a big metaphor for the back-and-forth going on between Tomura trying to steal OFA and OFA being all “actually no you can’t, please enter your password and click on all the boxes with bicycles in them to prove you’re a human first”?

OH SNAP OFA PRIME SAID NO THANKS

“SORRY BRO WE’VE ALREADY MADE OURSELVES AT HOME HERE”

I have only just noticed that metaphysical!Deku has the same scars as actual!Deku. and yet his arms are not currently broken! that doesn’t really seem consistent to me but whatever!! maybe he saved right before the boss battle, that would be smart of him

anyway, that’s great and all that OFA Prime is here helping out, but I really wanted to see Nana fight AFO in a one on one though so I’m a bit disappointed. also why is it only the two of them?? where are Banjou and the others. of all the times to be sleeping on the job

FOR FUCK’S SAKE, THIS MAN

WOULD YOU STOP. WOULD YOU JUST QUIT IT ALREADY

oh shit hold up

doesn’t this confirm that the reason he wanted to transfer his power to Tomura is because he believed it would make him strong enough to finally take OFA because of Quirk Singularity? jesus christ. and here he was so sure of himself. but it turns out he doesn’t actually know shit! you can’t just fucking take OFA like that ya dingdong that’s not how it works

(ETA: SO, A THOUGHT -- is there any sort of subtle hinting here in the way that he words this? “if your strength is combined with mine”, as opposed to “if my strength is combined with yours”? no idea if the admittedly-so-small-as-to-be-almost-inconsequential distinction between those two sentences exists in the original Japanese or not, but I find it very interesting that the English wording implies that he’s the one adding Tomura’s strength to his own, rather than vice versa.)

now he’s insulting Deku!!

excuse me sir WHO ASKED YOU anyway. and never mind that being consumed by an, AND I QUOTE, “unquenchable” rage is your protege’s whole THING, and that he also needed your help to avoid being burned to a crisp a short while ago. where do you get off I swear

(ETA: also just want to point out that in the panel before this one he says that he’s been “watching through Tomura”, which pretty much confirms that his consciousness or whatever is alive inside of him all the time. Tomura is definitely not getting rid of this guy any time soon.)

WOW

first he calls Kacchan useless, then he calls Deku a simpleton, and don’t even get me started with Nana. just, you guys. this man is just... a very, very rude man

NOW OFA IS ALL “THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT MAKES HIM SUCH A GOOD PROTAGNIST YOU BUTTMUNCH” AND OMG PREACH

“DESPITE HIS COMMON SENSE” sdfkllk my man he already has one brother roasting him, take it easy guy

AHH WHAT

IS THIS BACK IN THE REAL WORLD

YEP

hahaha nice try Tomura

so Deku’s all “I didn’t lose my power! BUT” and I assume the “but” is the part where his arms are still broken and shit, and meanwhile Tomura’s body is almost healed up now finally

they’re both wiped out and now AFO is again petitioning Tomura to let him take over goddammit

“you won’t lose your mind” yep, he sure won’t! scout’s honor!! pinky swear!!

meanwhile Deku is getting fucking desperate flkjl;k my baby. and Machia is going to show up any second now too, probably. what else can fucking go wrong at this point

oh shit I shouldn’t have asked

get ready to rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrruuuumble, probably

OH MY GOD

WELL AT LEAST SOMEONE HERE IS HAVING A GOOD TIME. jesus

so as soon as he heard Endeavor was there he got all, “TIME FOR THE BIG REVEAL”, is that right? WELL JOKE’S ON YOU TOUYA, YOUR DAD DOESN’T SEEM ALL THAT CONSCIOUS AT THE MOMENT, SO THAT’S GOING TO DRAIN A LOT OF THE TENSION FROM THE SCENE WHEN YOU GO ALL REVERSE DARTH VADER ON HIM AND HE’S ALL “ZZZZZZZZ”

meanwhile Toga is having unsettlingly quiet angst

jesus christ Toga this is all we need right now

“WAS JIN-KUN NOT A PERSON” sdkfjlk Horikoshi I swear. please have mercy on this fandom. this is the debate that refuses to die!!

but seriously ffs, the issue isn’t that Jin deserved to die, it’s that the countless people whom Jin would have either directly or indirectly killed didn’t deserve to die either. people don’t only become people when you attach names and faces to them! we all loved Jin because we’d gotten to know him, but that doesn’t mean his life was inherently worth more than the lives of all the people he would have killed. sometimes there’s just no good answer

like, it’s just crazy to me that because the heroes are all “we want to protect everyone!” but then aren’t always able to do so because that’s literally impossible, whereas the villains are all “we don’t care about anyone other than the select few people that we actually like!”, the villains somehow wind up getting the better PR. it just so happens that it’s infinitely easier to be loyal to the interests of a few people as opposed to ALL THE PEOPLE. like, no shit, it’s easier to stick to your moral code when you barely have a moral code. and so the villains can kill thousands and no one bats an eye, but if a hero fails to save even one person they’re hypocritical moral failures. like what the hell

BUT ANYWAY, sorry to go off on a tangent there lol, it’s not really a big deal. I’m just preemptively trying to stave off more discourse about it lol but who am I even kidding

anyways lol, but of course they won’t kill you unless they have no choice, Toga. but when it comes to catch-22 situations, it’s a bit much to infer that the heroes don’t consider the villains people just because they opt for the choice that spares more innocent lives. I sure as hell don’t want my babies out here killing people, but to say that they can’t no matter what or else they’re no different from the villains is just...

anyway so the chapter has now just ENDED, just like that!! on a shot of Ochako’s face!

I SENSE ANOTHER THROWDOWN COMING. and it had better not be a total letdown like the last one! NANA BARELY DID ANYTHING HORIKOSHI, WHAT THE FUCK. I started out with such high hopes lol

but I will settle for Toga VS Ochako, and Deku VS Tomura: The Sequel: Shouto’s Revenge! SPEAKING OF HEROES WHO HAVE NO QUALMS ABOUT MURDERING PEOPLE lmao

#bnha 287 #shigaraki tomura #all for one #shimura nana #midoriya izuku #one for all #lil bro when are you gonna get yourself a proper name so I can tag you #himiko toga #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #ofa the first

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frostahesmegabite · 3 years ago

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@daily-writing-challenge - Day 2 - Blame & Wander [ Potential Content Warnings Ahead: Blood, Gore, Mild Body Horror, Sexual Suggestions ] Early Morning in Orgrimmar was one of the few times the desert heat didn’t make Orgrimmar horrible to live in. Crisp arid air rushed through its valleys, wafting through the many smells of large breakfasts being made for the many households that lay within. It was this reason that Mega took this route for his morning run, the smells and rushing morning air was enough to keep him distracted from the burning in his thighs and calves as he began to work himself into a sweat. Heavy breathing and a lack of a drink brought with him forces him to take a stop off at the Valley of Honor at the Wyvern's Tail. A place he tended to avoid in the evenings due to the overly abundant population of her occupants that came prowling for drinks or easy lays. Looking back, he could appreciate the place for what it was. Before Nat, he did much the same but got tired of the constant view of taller races who wore little to nothing and his head potentially being the resting place for someone's junk or ass. An unfortunate side effect of being a Goblin. While it did have its moments, those were heavily outweighed by the negatives, especially after a hot day of fighting or working in the heat. It was even worse on days that people decided bathing was optional. Just the thought alone nearly makes Megahes gag and forces him to cover his mouth just to clear his throat. His head shakes, causing his large ears to do the same in a more exaggerated motion before they come to rest. He heads up to the counter and helps himself to a large container of what smells like Black Rock Coffee. Typically great for waking up half-drunk Peons or Grunts, this stuff was strong enough to give Mega the pep in his step that he wanted without the need to resort to drugs or other crazy shit. The cup’s quickly taken over to a table under the stairs and he leans back against the wall with his cup in hand over his lap. His breathing was beginning to slow, allowing him to relax more and take in the scents and early morning conversations as Grunts discussed where they were patrolling for the day, catching the last remnants of drunks being pushed out to go elsewhere or up to the hammocks above that Gravy rented out. A sigh comes as lips hit the rim of his wooden mug and that energetic assault on his taste buds begins! “That’s the spot…” He sighs and with the tone of his voice, one just listening in could swear he was being serviced and in a way… He was. Mega smiles and leans back against the wall, enjoying the coolness of the wood under and behind him. It’d be something he’d need to relish, because before long, he’d be back at the shop working inside, under or over machinery if not working the forge to beat and mold metal into whatever shapes were needed for the day amongst his other workers. Suddenly, an odd calm occurs and silence with it, prompting Mega to look up and around. Everyone was gone. Gravy, the Innkeeper, the drunks who refused to leave. Everyone. It’s enough to make Mega call out, but no sound comes from his throat, only silence. This prompts a moment of panic as his hands reach up to feel his throat. Nothing seems wrong but this only makes him realize his coffee was suddenly missing too. What the hell was going on? Mega stands and heads for the door, looking out across the Valley. The howling wind blows through an empty Orgrimmar. Not a body stirs and everything looks as if it was just straight up abandoned. No clutter in the streets, no blood, no armor or gear. Just, straight up everyone left with everything they had. Concern begins to quickly manifest and Mega wanders into the street, calling out in silence still for people who are nowhere to be seen. No corpses, no burning buildings, not even a single buzzard, crow, bird or wyvern overhead either. This continues on in every building he passes. The building with the Ethereals? Empty, their machinery still abuzz with energy, but they themselves are missing. The

Bank? No tellers, the coin just left abandoned with its associated paperwork on the counter. The Baker, gone too, their loaves of bread left cooking. This continues on as Mega heads into the Valley of Strength, the reception hub for pretty much all and any business coming into Orgrimmar. This prompts even more concern and Mega goes straight for Grommash Hold. If there was anyone, there’d be all the racial representatives and the city guard along with some Kor’kron too. Unfortunately, that’s not the case as the closer Mega gets, the more the scent of Blood and gore begins to fill the air along with the sickly sweet scent of cracked skulls and grey matter. For those unused to it, the scent was nearly vomit-inducing and it was enough to force Mega to take his breathing in through his mouth like some idiotic Trogg but even then, the scent was so thick on the air that he was still catching it despite the effort. The closer he got, the worse it became and despite every red flag telling him to leave and run, his curiosity propels him forward! He moves in, taking note that the dark wooden floor below wasn’t just dark due to its nature, but it was slick and pooling with blood and viscera. The deeper into the building he went, the worse it became until his trek forced him to stop. There at the doorway into the Warchief’s Chamber was a massive pile of bodies. Racial Leaders and their Guards slain in horrific ways. Some of them strung up for bloody rituals as their entrails were used to carve out runes or sigils. Others torn and mangled, barely even a shadow of their former selves due to the mutilation. Mega felt the need to purge his stomach of his earlier coffee but what he finds in the center of the room upon a pile of bodies makes his blood go cold. “Y-you.” He tries to steel himself, voice quivering as his hands ignite with Fire and Holy Magic as it suddenly finds volume despite its earlier silence. “We killed you. Zokkine melted your fucking bug infested face and we left you a burning husk in Ahn’Qiraj.” Dinthoqaf the Defiler; the Cult Leader of the Sanctum of the Forbidden, crazed fanatic of the Old Gods. Megahes and Dinthoqaf went back several years now and he was singularly responsible for Megas current physical and spiritual condition as of present. The elf looks upon Megahes with putrid green eyes and the stare alone makes his heart and chest hurt right where… where… Megahes’ hand rushes to grab at himself. Was he having a heart attack? He gasps and grunts, pulling open his shirt to find not the Naa’ru shard that was fused to his chest to purge him of Dinthoqaf’s Curse, but a gaping wound that reeked of bile and pus that bubbled with sores. His hands lost their Holy flare and the fire began to sputter out as Mega’s strength quickly fades and he hits the gore soaked floor with his knees. His ears droop and despite his efforts to stand, all he can do is flounder and continue to keep falling as the Cultist walks down the heap as if it were nothing but dirt. “Poor Little Thing… To think, you have fought so valiantly and for what? This…?” Dinthoqaf’s arms come out in a hollow gesture. “Death and Destruction to be laid at your feet.” Something was wrong here. This wasn’t the Elf he killed, he was.. Different. Megas bright red eyes peer up at him, unable to move as if by some oppressive aura holding him down. “You don’t get it, do you?” He asks, his tone condescending before the Elf squats, letting his robes slip into the crimson pools around them, gliding across its surface and pushing back the pools just to be overtaken moments later for the fabric to drink it all in. “In all of our fear of one another.” His fingers come forward and he presses them into Mega’s wound, causing pus to gush down his front and pain to rack Mega’s frame. “You and I are caught in a cycle with one another. Your ‘Light’ and my ‘Darkness’. Parts of the same coin you know.” His slender fingers slide up along Megahes’ body and he jerks back on his hair, giving him access to put himself cheek to cheek with this Goblin. “You blame me, for this,

for you? For how your body fails you less you cling to your ‘new-found’ faith. How long will it last you Goblin? How long until you realize that I acquired the rights to my Title long before you even breathed your first breath! How long until you figure this out?!” His voice was stern and hard, aggressive and angry to the point he splashes spittle into the Goblins ear before he shoves him onto his back in the blood where his bloody foot presses into Megas stomach and his toes play chicken with the edge of his gaping chest wound. “Behold, Megahes. The rebirth of Dinthoqaf the Defiler for by your hand are all my future atrocities yours to shoulder.” His voice sliced into Mega like a new razor as he looked on and up in horror. The Defilers body begins to melt and erode, turning into ooze, rot and pus that did not just fall away but begins to head for the very wound he made years ago. Megahes thrashes, trying to tear and push away at the mass that was trying to creep into his body and fight he did but it was no good. Little by little, he could feel his body become invaded and nested within by his greatest enemy and even larger fear. Megahes flails and kicks and releases a blood curdling scream as he rips at his clothes and tears stream from his face as he knocks over the table in front of him and sends his coffee all over himself. The burning liquid doesn’t even register to him as he makes for the door in an absolute fit of terror, gripping at his chest just to find the Naa’ru shard embedded within still and his wrists glowing. The metal and Light were still working and everything was in place, but here Mega was standing in the Valley and looking at the Tail in horror and confusion as several others also looked on, wondering what the hell was going on. Megahes’ breathing was worse now than it had been during his running. His heart beat pounding in his ears and fear blasted through his veins. He wanted to run, he wanted to fight. He just wanted to survive and live, no matter what that meant but against what? Dinthoqaf was dead. They took what little of his head remained and his corpse was left to buzzards. His curse now imprisoned and locked away, not even capable of hurting Megahes anymore so long as his protections kept their power. “Was a… Gold fucking damn it…” His breathing is hard and heavy as his hands find his knees, making him bend over to catch his breath. “Fucking nightmares.” Megahes turns, making his way north towards the rear gates or Orgrimmar so he can head to the Harbor… He had work to do and now his stay at the Tail would surely be frowned upon, it was time to go. [ Thank you for reading through all of this story with me today! This is Day 2 of the DWC and I'm absolutely loving it so far! I hope you also enjoyed this glimpse of the horror show that likes to show its ugly face for Megahes every now and again! Todays words for use were Blame & Wander! :D ]

#dwc2021 #daytwodwc #day2dwc #Goblin #Megahes #Dinthoqaf the Defiler #Blood Elf #RP Prompt #Warcraft #Wyvern's Tail #Orgrimmar #Cultists

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peachyteabuck · 4 years ago

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under cover of darkness

summary: a 24-hour convenience store, the night shift, and the man who gets you through day.

a commission for @lovelycarose

pairing: eliot spencer x reader

words: 5510

trigger warnings: mentions of a break-in with canon-level violence, fluff, mentions of an unspecified chronic pain disorder

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

There are some good things about the night shift. It’s easier to balance classes and your precarious mental health, plus the pay wasn’t terrible – a few extra bucks per hour were thrown your way after eleven and before five.

So you kept with it, one earbud in so you could listen to music while the hours ticked by at a pace so slow it felt like some supervillain had not only completely frozen time – but was also determined to thaw is at room temperature.

That was another thing about the night shift – the customers. It was mostly regulars, or tourists who forgot something at home but didn’t want to spend airport prices for a travel sized container of deodorant. None of them really stick out, none interesting enough to stick in your brain for long as you mindlessly pack their various items into white plastic bags.

That is, until he starts coming in. Tall and impossible big – it’s hard not to marvel at him as if he was a breathtaking skyscraper, like you had never seen something so magnificent. His flowing dark brown hair, his tight jeans…it’s all nearly too much for eleven-at-night-you. (Also for “I haven’t had sex in so long and I think I’ve eroded the ridges on my vibrator from using it so often and holy shit I would do anything to have that man under/above me” you, a you only made stronger and more desperate by how late it was and tired you were.)

He walks around with the confidence not often seen in newcomers, your eye used to college students too drunk to stand up perfectly straight. You’re used to people stumbling around with eyes-half closed, rubbing their temples as the bright white lights feel like cheese graters shaped like ice picks against their already hurting brains. You’re used to watching them stumble around, using some Neolithic instinct to find the cool fridges where they’ll rest their faces against the glass for an oddly long amount of time before opening it up to grab as many Gatorades as they could hold before attempting to grab one or two (or five) frozen pizzas, never able to access the higher order thinking necessary to understand that maybe grabbing one of the baskets by the entrance is important.

Or, on the other end of the spectrum you’ve come to know as normal: soccer moms searching for alcohol for their husband’s post-game barbecue. Moms with large dark circles under their eyes who probably read (and watched) the Fifty Shades movie unironically but still feels weird when their husbands suggest having sex in any position besides missionary with the lights off. Moms who went to college just to meet some mediocre-looking frat boy who votes Republican just because his father did and thinks thirty seconds of oral is enough foreplay.

They don’t spend as much time in the store as the drunk/high students, but it’s still just as entertaining watching them grab the food and drink – but not before lingering in the makeup aisle, staring at bold shades of red and waterproof mascara and the bright hair dye whose advertisements have terribly applied photoshop.

No matter the type – no matter the customer – they were nothing like the man who stood on the other side of the store, staring intently at your soft drink selection. None of them were beefy men with crumpled grocery lists, permanently furrowed brows, and the most beautiful five o’clock shadow you’ve ever seen. None of them wear thick black work boots that make not a single sound as they walk around the store, none of them wear jeans that are so criminally tight around a perfect ass.

Not even a perfect ass – the perfect ass. It’s symmetrical, looking as if it was drawn by a pin-up artist in the 50’s whose specialty involves drawing super buff men in poses meant for petite, slender women with perfect curves. As he walks you half expect sparks to form on his backside as if you were in some kind of Anime, or for each individual cheek to bounce up and down on their own asynchronous accord. Normally you’d be terrified of being caught staring – of him turning around and catching your eye and mocking someone like you for having the nerve to be attracted to him.

But that doesn’t happen, because for once in your life the universe is kind to you. For once in your life you’re allowed to listen to music and stare dreamily at the hot guy who checks the ingredients on every snack dip option you have available before choosing three different ones with a small, disappointed huff.

You watch him with that same silent intensity as he fills the bright red carrier he grabbed without a sound when he first strutted in, the packaging of the items crinkling being the only way to track his location when he steps out of your eyeline. If your boss wasn’t the one on security cameras you’d be angling all of them to follow him around the store, your eyes hungry for another look at him at whatever angle and whichever quality you could get. You feel like a fangirl obsessed with some boyband, your heart rate determined by the amount of the mountain of a man you can see between displays of holiday-themed candy and cheap make up.

You’re not sure how long it is before he’s approaching your counter (time appears to have lost all meaning the second he stepped into the store), but whether it had been five minutes or five years, he still takes your breath away. As he steps closer you realize he’s fucking massive – something your grandmother (a wonderful woman, but one lacking when social situations called for, among other things, any kind of brain-to-mouth filter) would call a “shit brickhouse.” He doesn’t even need one of the baskets as he prowls the aisles – scanning every item like a lion watches the Sahara through tall grass. It’s hard to look away, to go back to the book you’ve been trying to read the same page from since long before the little automated bell above the door had announced the man’s arrival – but the only distraction before had been the tiny, exhausted voice in the back of your mind that was shaming at you for not sleeping before the night’s shift.

Now, though, the voice has quieted to allow your tired eyes to follow him, pupils tracing along every inch of him.

The man checks out without a word; shaking his head when you ask if he has a rewards card and paying in cash. When you give him $7.26 in change, your hands touch for a brief moment and you nearly stop breathing – lungs suddenly void of their capacity to hold air as sparks fly from his callous fingertips to the bottom of your spine. He pulls away, eventually, because he has to – depositing the totality of the meager amount of money you’d just handed him into the donation box plastered with facts about victims of domestic violence right next to your register.

The box is made of an opaque deep purple plastic, the coins making a loud clink sound as they crash into the near-empty container. The man stares at it for a moment, swallowing an apparent lump in his throat as his eyes go blank for a fraction of a second before he digs into his pockets and fishes out a thick wad of perfectly folded five dollar bills before stuffing them into the hastily cut slot at the top.

Neither of you say anything as he does so, you too stunned by his generosity and him too occupied with making sure he had no more money hidden in his pockets to try and muster some vague capacity for speech. Still, as he turns and leaves, you cough to clear your throat and call out a loud and slightly hoarse “thank you!” to which he just turns and gives you a small smile in return.

The moment between the pair of you is fleeting but still makes your heart beat rapidly in your chest, swelling until your lungs feel tight against your ribs as you struggle to breathe. Fuck, you think. You haven’t felt like this since middle school when Jamie told you that your Katniss braid was adorable and you followed him around for two weeks until he agreed to take you on a “date” during lunch. You don’t even know this man’s name and you’re fawning over him as if you have another girlhood crush.

God, you need to learn his name.

Luckily, you find out the next time that his name is Eliot, even though the name embroidered in red above the right pocket of his dirtied coveralls says “Evan” in a fancy looped script (whatever, you don’t question it. You regularly wore your roommate’s sweatshirt from her alma mater even though you didn’t attend the university – must be the same thing, right?). That time all he buys is hair ties and chapstick – lots of hair ties and chapstick, just another thing you don’t question – but stays to talk with you about the Robert Frost poem you were annotating.

“Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening?” he reads aloud, smiling a little as he does so. “Is that for class, or…”

“It’s for class, but I’m liking it a lot more than the other obligatory readings for my degree,” you tell him a small laugh. “Do you enjoy poetry?”

Eliot shrugs as he grabs the full bags. “Oh, ya know. Just the occasional piece. You have a good day now.”

You smile as he walks toward the exit, butterflies pounding in your stomach once more. “You too!”

God, you think as he disappears from eyeshot. You’ve got it bad, girl.

He comes in again, irregular in each way except for the fact he arrives. Sometimes he’s clean cut, standing straight as he takes his sweet time wandering the store – as if he has nowhere to be, no need to rush around.

On those days, he buys a lot of things. Duct tape, orange soda, hair ties, sour candy in all shapes and colors. He makes conversation, asking about the book you’re reading or what you’re listening to, asking about your classes when you wear a jacket embroidered with your university’s logo on the front. On those days, he waits a little – even when all his items are bagged and there’s no real reason for him to stay – picking up on anything that would give him another thread of conversation to pull at.

“Something new?” he asks when you dogear one of the first few pages of a poetry book your friend had lent you.

“Yup!” you perk up just at the sight of him, cheery now more than you had been the entirety of the day now that he’s arrived. “Told a friend of mine about the assignment I was working on the last time you were here, and she shoved this anthology into my hands.”

You like those days – you look forward to them each time you step through the large door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY” in large white letters that stand out against the incredibly depressing brown that’s been peeling since the day you interviewed here, spots covered sparsely by the maintenance guy who you’ve never seen. Those days are good, fun – they make you smile hours after he leaves and occupy your thoughts until you go to bed, sometimes even making it into the margins of your notebook when you’re zoning out in class.

Sometimes, though, he comes in nearly limping – at least one eye blackened and dark navy baseball cap pulled as far down his forehead as he can.

It scared you the first time, watching as he grunted with each step, every item he grabs from the shelves seeming like it pained him, his face scrunching into a wince each time he raises an arm above his ribs. You checked his items (bandages, ice packs, gauze, antifungal cream, a few first aid kits) with bated breath, terrified of making his mood worse.

It isn’t until you tell him the total, until you finally look up from your hands – that you finally look him in the eyes. They’re always warm like plate of freshly baked macaroni and cheese (and always make you feel just as gooey), but now appear to be clouded with a type of pain you can’t pin down. He doesn’t say much – or anything – as you bag his items, placing them gingerly into the paper bag as if it was an extension of him.

You try to keep a happy face throughout the entire ordeal, not wanting to push him in case what happened was particularly bad. Eliot gives you a similarly small, but earnest one in return – even if he barely hides the wince in his side as he does so.

But that was the first time things seemed a little off – your first time, specifically – and the others get easier as time passes.

At first, “easier” meant a return to days similar to the good ones – telling him things about your day as you ring up all his first-aid related items. He doesn’t respond with as much enthusiasm, doesn’t have the same witty banter – but gives you a small smile that you recognize nonetheless. But then, as the weeks bleed into months, you learn how to handle both the terrible days, the bad days, and the good days all the same.

It’s on one of the good days that he buys tampons, a piece of every kind of chocolate item you sell, and enough Acetaminophen to knock out a horse.

“Your girlfriend is very lucky,” you tell him, blushing as you bag the items. For a minute you think you’ve embarrassed him, crossed some line as a sickening silence grows between you two like mold on two-week old leftovers in a fridge that was turned off. It’s just as disgusting, too, which is why you’re so happy that he still gives you a small smile when you dare look up from where your scanner’s red line centers on the barcode of one of the tampon boxes.

“Nah, just,” Eliot’s plump lips look so kissable it makes your heart pick up. “A roommate, uh. She needs this. Her boyfriend is doing some game night thing and couldn’t pick it up. So I, uh. I got drafted.”

You give a little snort as you grab the receipt, smiling wide as you place it in the bag. “Well, your roommate is very lucky to have you.”

Eliot laughs as he grabs his stuff, cheeks heating up as he blushes. “Can I kidnap you for a little while so you can come remind her of that?”

In a rare moment of confidence, you lean forward and grin. “Is it kidnapping if I want it?”

The blush rages as he sputters a response, eyes downcast as he turns to leave. You get no witty response back, but the way he turns to wink at you as the automatic doors part is enough of a rebuttal for you to feel satisfied with your quip.

No matter what kind of mood Eliot is in, you look forward to his visits, watching and talking with him. Each evening you get ready for work you wondered if he would come in that night, if you would be able to tell him about the dumb thing this guy in one of your seminars said, or how you won an argument during bar crawl over the weekend using some of the random things he had taught you during the very conversations you now wish to have with him. It’s nice, the nicest thing you have in a long time – and somehow that doesn’t scare you, and somehow that makes you feel even better each time you see him.

But then “The Day” happens, and it changes everything.

The evening of “The Day” you woke up from your pre-work nap with this unexplainable feeling that something was going to go wrong. This feeling deep in the bottom of your stomach that you can’t quite place, one that makes the back of your knees sweat and where your ribs feel just a little tighter. Each and every sound – the cars that drive way too fast down your street, the creaking in your house, the dogs that bark obnoxiously – seem loudly, harsher than usual. When you sit up in bed when your alarm goes off it’s like you can feel the muscles in your back contract, feel the bones in your joints grind against each other. There’s some electricity in the air like when it’s right before a storm – only the sky is clear and your weather app doesn’t predict any rain until next week (and, even then, it’s only a drizzle).

At first you think it’s just a bad pain day; not bad enough to keep you home, or make you forget even the idea of doing anything besides groaning in pain in your bed and taking as many pain medications as your doctor says you’re able to. Still, it’s quite noticeable, and occupies your thoughts as you go through each part of your pre-work routine. Even as you shower, turn on your coffee pot, do the minimal make up required to make it look like you didn’t just roll out of bed or are some Victorian orphan plagued by tuberculosis and possibly a deep sadness embodied by the terrible weather that crashes outside their overcrowded London orphanage – you can’t seem to get rid of the proverbial dark cloud that settles itself between your brain and skull, clouding your thoughts and making your stomach hurt just a little.

It doesn’t get better when you get into work, either. There’s a tenseness in the air you can practically taste – electricity in the air that settles over your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straighter than the carefully constructed sales display of some B-list celebrity’s nail polish collection, the one you spent hours fussing over during one of your very rare day shifts. It somehow only gets worse when Eliot arrives, whistling some tune that normally would be wistful and happy, but given the context sounds like something straight from a horror movie trailer that invades your otherwise-sweet daydreams for weeks to come; one of those songs that everyone knows but no one knows the name of that sounds really creepy when played slowly over a clip of some old, beat-up doll being held by an adorable little blonde girl with black-out contacts in.

You don’t tell him to stop, but the tune does slow when he notices your tense state when he passes to get to the soft drink aisle. When he gives you a questioning look you just shrug, hoping he forgets (or finds it in himself not to ask) about it by the time he finds what he needs. Judging by the song, lack of list, and spring in his step – it’s a good day, one where he intends to meander around the store and grab whatever it is catches his attention. Today that appears to be anything with sugar, most notably soda in every color but orange.

At some point he finds his way closer to you – more specifically he finds his way to the chocolate aisle, which faces your register – and strikes up a conversation. It’s just small talk, and doesn’t do much to distract you from the twisting in your gut, but you appreciate his efforts nonetheless. The small talk just feels like a dead-end – a polite road to nowhere that feels pointless to engage in. Still, it’s Eliot, so you give half-hearted answers and ask half-hearted questions and hope he doesn’t press you too hard on your slightly-sour mood.

And, because it’s Eliot, he draws a few small laughs and a couple of tiny smiles and it’s…nice. It’s not the usual “Good Day,” but it’s not a bad one, either.

But then it happens. And it happens quick – all of it.

Three men, dressed head to toe in black, enter guns a blazing as if they own the place. They’re wearing masks over everywhere but their eyes, the thick, black material likely silencing their voices if they weren’t screaming at the top of their lungs.

They enter in an oddly-triangular formation – one you’d describe akin to the Charlie’s Angel’s post if you weren’t scared out of your fucking mind. One of them runs to the aisle where you keep cold medicine, the other ransacking the liquor aisle and shoving heavy glass bottles of your most expensive bottles of alcohol into the black duffel bag slung around his shoulder. The last one – the one you think is the leader – keeps his eye on you as he steps closer to where you are at the register.

It’s the scariest fucking thing to ever happen to you, and what occurs next happens too fast for you to describe.

You blink once and find that you’re staring down the barrel of a handgun that’s definitely loaded and definitely has the safety off. The end shakes just a little, as if the robber is nervous, and you wonder why he’s the one scared. Both of your hands are up in the air, elbow bent at a ninety-degree angle while sweat pools at your brow and your bottom lip trembles. It’s the most terrified you’ve ever been in your entire life, and if you had enough in your stomach you throw up, you totally would’ve.

But then – Eliot.

You’re screaming at him to stop, to get away and hide and what are you doing? They’ve got a gun! Get away! You could be hurt! Eliot!

But then you realize that, holy shit, he’s actually taking the guy down. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the face. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the gut. Holy shit, Eliot just disarmed that dude while punching him.

It’s only when the guy that targeted you is screaming in pain from a dislocated shoulder that the other two realize something’s up and come rushing towards the man that stands just in front of your register. You’d scream if you weren’t stunned – eyes not sure where to look as Eliot disarms them with the grace of a professional ballet dancer at the same fucking time. He’s fierce but controlled – not breaking any bones but definitely leaving some bruises as he knocks them to the ground and kicks their guns across the carpet.

It’s then – when the inferior robbers are writhing in pain on the ground – that he grabs the leader by the collar of his black hoodie and pulls the teenager’s wincing face close to Eliot’s raging one.

“I will give you one warning,” he hisses, teeth bared like an angered wolf as he spits. “one warning to leave this place and never come back. If this,” his left hand raises to gesture to you in all your petrified glory. “Nice lady tells me that you have returned to so much as buy a single stick of gum, I will track you down and find you and make sure you pay for the damage you’ve done here today. You got that?”

The still-masked teenager immediately nods furiously, eyes wide with terror and legs already kicking at the ground to leave.

Eliot gives a small, faux smile, and shoves the kid back down onto the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him. “Good, now get the Hell out of here and don’t come back.”

Without hesitation, the would-be robbers scatter as fast as their damaged legs can carry them, clutching their bags to their chests as they rush to their crappy getaway van.

If you weren’t scared shitless you’d admit you’re a little turned on at the feat, especially as Eliot flips his hair from his face as he watches them speed away.

Your boss appears a few seconds later, apparently one more to watch from his safe room in the back than to interfere. Thank Heavens Eliot was here, you think. Facing those three kids on your own – even if they were, indeed, kids – makes your blood pressure spike once more.

“Should I call the cops?” he asks, looking at the wreckage around the store. The only silent alarm is located under the counter where the register is and, given your petrified state, you weren’t one to trip it.

Eliot just sighs and shakes his head, kicking a broken bottle of whiskey that for sure was going to stain the carpet. “No, they can’t do much – those kids probably don’t have a record and I don’t think you’ll get much out of ‘em if they do find the bastards. They’re young, broke, and I don’t know how much priority your case will be given.”

Your boss sighs, rubbing his face. It’s not as if they stole more than a few hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise, but being the victim of a robbery is still both tiring and rage-inducing – especially when someone like him has gone so long without incident. “But, I, what am I supposed to do? I just-“

Eliot grabs his wallet from his back pocket, reaching into it to fish out a small, professional-looking business card that he hands to your boss. “Call the number there come sun rise and tell them Eliot referred you. They’ll help you out with whatever you need.”

The man who signs your paychecks furrows his brow and reads the block print allowed. “Leverage, Incorporated? They can help me replace what I lost?”

Eliot nods, placing a comforting hand on your boss’ shoulder. “Everything.”

Immediately the man nods and steps away to go out the back exit, leaving you and Eliot in the center of it all.

It’s then – just as you’re alone – where the sun’s just coming up and the large windows in the shop allow its warm light to bath the both of you in a beautiful soft orange. There are no other customers there, and with your boss preoccupied with calming himself down, it really does feel like it’s just you and Eliot – just the two of you with the whole world still asleep around you. It’s nice, perfect.

He’s the one to break the silence, voice gruff as he flashes you a small, shy grin. “So, uh…you want to go for coffee?”

Your heart rams in your chest even louder than when you were staring the possibility of a gunshot wound to the face, the poor organ exhausted as your brain screams at you to accept his generous offer. It takes what feels like an eternity to muster up the courage to do so, but before you can Eliot’s already speaking once more.

“Not that you, uh,” he clears his throat. “Not that you should feel, uh, pressured, or anything. I just mean like, hey, you worked all night and just went through a pretty rough event, and you’re probably tired, and probably pretty hungry as well, and a coffee place just opened up a street away that I’ve heard good things about. I’ve wanted to try it out, for a while actually, and I wanted to, uh, see if I’d have the honor of you joining me…”

“Eliot,” you laugh as you step closer, placing your hand on his face to guide his eyes to yours. “Don’t be stupid. I’d love to go with you,” he smiles and it warms every bit of you. “Just let me grab my bag and clock out, I’ll meet you outside in a moment.”

He sputters through an “okay, sure, yeah,” before you both turn to leave – him out the front doors and you behind the large one your boss had just been hidden behind. Your hands shake just a little as you insert the little card into the dinosaur of a machine, the loud noise and sputtering sound it makes now white noise as you grab your purse and rejoin him outside.

When you arrive at the coffee shop (aptly named “The Bean Spot”) you order a caramel latte with a cheese Danish, Eliot getting a simple black coffee with cream along with a walnut muffin. You wait for your breakfast in relative silence, neither you nor Eliot sure what to say after such an event. When the food and drink are handed over to you, you find a spot tucked in the back with an excellent view of the whole place.

The coffee shop is nearly empty since it’s still so early in the morning – the only patrons coming in, getting their coffee, and zipping off to the next part of their day. It’s nice to be the only inert thing, the movements of the people around you providing a nice cover as they zip past, locking you and Eliot in your own little world as the world stretches its arms and prepares for another day of hustle and bustle.

By contrast, you and Eliot are wide awake, laughing as you swap horrible roommate stories and whatever else comes to mind. He asks about your degree but has enough class not to ask you about your graduation year (a rare feature of conversations these days), talking to you about all the books you’ve read and professors you’ve liked.

It’s odd – not bad, per say – but odd nonetheless, to be able to talk freely and openly and having him in front of you, within arm’s length as your knees barely touch under the small table. Seeing him in this space, a space more conducive to conversation and watching his hands as they pick at his blueberry scone and watching his mouth as the corners of his lips twist into a smile every so often and watching –

You blush at your own serial-killer-like thoughts, trying to suppress them with another sip of way too expensive but totally worth it coffee.

Eliot notices, because of course he does. “Hey, you alright?”

You nod, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. “Y-yeah, just-“

He smiles warmly, one hand moving to cradle your chin – to guide your downcast eyes to his. “It’s weird, seeing me in a new place, isn’t it?”

Once again, you nod. “It’s not that I don’t-“

“It’s okay,” his smile widens even as he now avoids your gaze, his hands moving to his lap as he fiddles with them. “It’s…I understand. Trust me, I get it.”

You exhale deeply, your shoulders falling a little. “I’ve thought a lot about this moment for, like, since you walked into the store for the first time…to have you here,” you gestured vaguely to the rest of the coffee shop, to the very few customers and baristas chatting about something you can’t hear and don’t care to pay attention to. “It’s…I don’t know. It’s not as if you’ve fallen short of expectations-“

Eliot gives a little chuckle, mumbling an “I sure hope so” with a glimmer in his eye that makes you want to jump on his lap and kiss him right there. Somehow, you find it in you to continue.

“It’s just super, super weird,” you tell him honestly. “And I don’t like it.”

The man in front of you leans forward, placing a hand over yours to calm you down.

“How about we get out of here,” Eliot murmurs, voice warm and thick like the caramel drizzle over your latte. “I have an espresso machine at my place, and could make you homemade baked goods a million times better than whatever you bought, and we can continue this in a space where the baristas don’t misspell my name on overpriced coffee.”

He gestures to the cup labeled Elliott, wincing as he does so. It makes you laugh, and you nod in agreement. Together you down the coffee and throw the empty cups along with the wrapping for your pastry away. It’s natural – the way the two of you move – as if you’ve known each other for a millennia, as if whatever it is between you two that’s formed is already as strong and sturdy as an oak tree.

Eliot places one of his large hands on the small of your back as you exit the cafe, thumbing at the fabric of your sweater as you wait to cross the street. It’s comforting – just a flash of the fire that he started for you back at the store a mere hours earlier, heat warming your blood from your toes and up your spine. As he guides you to his apartment his hand finds yours, his fingers fitting neatly next to yours as he points out parts of the city you’ve never slowed down enough to see.

You may not have known Eliot for very long, but even within that short amount of time (and even shorter conversations) he had become a safe house for you, one that you could easily make a home.

And, unbeknownst to the other person, the both of you intended on doing just that.

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer/reader #eliot spencer fanfiction #eliot spencer #leverage #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff

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july-19th-club · 4 years ago

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could you do nie mingjue? your post about him being a boxer in your future podcast fic lives in my mind rent free btw

well friend i WILL write at length about nie mingjue you do not have to ask twice

1. How Do I Feel About Him:

a) he lives in my head rent free all versions all canons all AUs (except the animated tv show because i think he is ugly there lmao) b) eldest sibling handshake emotion at all times c) my hand in marriage d) holy shit

my love for mingjue is not complicated only deep and wide

2. Romantic Ships And That:

i’m a nielans bitch through and through. two people who appear to be paragons but who are in fact all too human and fallible looking out for one another, sharing a lifelong friendship, and probably having all kinds of sex that i dont know about. nothing but net on that one baby

i’ll be honest, there’s only one specific treatment of this story that compels me to indulge in a full 3zun because if you do it by canon its just an extremely unhealthy dynamic for everybody involved BUT if xichen was a lawyer in the 1870s in sacramento and mingjue was a cowboy on the range in the same setting and meng yao was a railroad union man and their adventures took them into one another’s paths then i think i could gladly 3zun

bro i told you it was specific

3. Non-Romantic Relationships that Hit Just Right:

first of all the Brothers Nie i cry every day and also it makes me think about my sister in a different way than jiang cheng makes me think about my sister, because she is my ONLY little sister and she’s eight years younger than me and sometimes we barely comprehend each other but her happiness is important to me no matter how frustrating she frequently is second of all the intense complexity of who he and meng yao were to each other in the days when meng yao was meng yao and what each of them might in their furthest hearts miss about those days (and maybe it was romantic after all who am i to say?)

4. Unpopular Opinion:

i’m camp nie mingjue DOES have self-awareness and IS capable of self-reflection and DOES know what he has and hasn’t done right but crucially, he’s also very bad at conveying it because he has a terminal condition that is eroding his ability to regulate and express his emotions! i cannot fault him or criticize him for that. i am no monster. and yes, he did punt jin guangyao down the stairs that one time and call him a bastard and a whore’s son, but a) he was pretty ill at the time and b) he seemed to have figured out a large portion of jin guangyao’s many crimes and therefore was perhaps more focused on that than on policing his language. and i would also point out to the court that this is the only occasion in their entire fraught history during which nie mingjue plays that card, and he spent the rest of that history being one of three people who never counted meng yao’s past or upbringing against him (the other two being xichen and qin su who deserved so, so much better). so the defense rests.

5. Something I Wish We’d Gotten In Canon:

🥺 wish he was alive bro :(

#the untamed #q #me? anything less than complete nmj apologism? some other time #orsenna

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bestworstcase · 4 years ago

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Since Gilbert took over Corona in the latest chapter, I wanted to know like, what is his relationship with his brothers? Do he and Frederic usually get along? Is it a kind of "I was supposed to inherent the throne" kind of deal? Also how does he feel about Arianna, Punzel, and Eugene?

alrighty so!!

gilbert is the middle sibling; fred’s older, ludolf is younger. i don’t think he has much, if anything, in the way of ambition to rule—he’s very much a traditionalist and that includes buying into the system of monarchy and frederic having the “right” to rule as the eldest son.

however he absolutely is not the kind of person who could loaf around being a rich prince all his life, and since the temple didn’t appeal to him (too boring) and neither did diplomacy (too delicate), as a young man he enlisted in ingvarr’s battalion and served as an officer in the hvassjarn war, which was a fairly significant war ~20 years ago involving, primarily, a territorial dispute between ingvarr and seland, with their respective allies getting dragged into the mix (and quintonia stuck in the middle like “god damn it, guys, again?).

and that is an environment in which gilbert definitely thrived. he always has a very black and white, us-vs-them mentality that suited him well for war; he liked the military camaraderie of the battalion, the physical and mental challenges of battle, and the... simplicity? of the whole conflict. i think any political nuances that existed were entirely lost on him and in his mind it was a very straightforward... we (the seven kingdoms) are the good guys, we want the land, seland/the hĺessian alliance doesn’t want to give us the land, therefore they are bad and we’re fighting them.

buuut then the war ended, and he retired with honors from the battalion and returned home to corona, where... there was really nothing for him to do except advise frederic and involve himself with the king’s watch, which is the closest thing corona has to a standing army. and i think he found that sort of boring and unfulfilling / ended up being to restless to ever... like start a family of his own.

i figure in the last 20 or so years he’s been in and out of corona a fair amount for diplomatic reasons, and he doesn’t... enjoy that, but it’s something he can do to Serve Corona, which he’s very keen to do. because he’s very patriotic. but like, in general, he isn’t a man who... can exist without an enemy, if that makes sense? he needs a them to be in opposition against, and in times of peace there’s really not. a clear cut them

and then of course in this same time frame his baby niece was kidnapped and he was heartbroken about that and dealt with that heartbreak by, even moreso than frederic did, looking for someone to blame...

...which is where his hatred of saporians really started to boil over. like he was never not bigoted against them, but when he was a younger man i think it really was more just the average... thoughtless dismissal / distaste and casual distrust of saporian culture that Most Coronans have. but after rapunzel was kidnapped gilbert a) looked at the exploding popularity of saporian separatism and went “clearly Those People stole, and probably killed, my infant niece,” and then b) generalized separatism to all saporians and entrenched himself further and further in that bigotry until he got to... where he is today, which is something goes wrong and his knee-jerk reaction is to be like “the saporians did this somehow”

when the saporians / the coalition between the separatists and the syconium started actually seriously laying the groundwork for a rebellion, gilbert was already mentally primed to jump straight to saporians are the enemy and we need to treat this like a war...

...which frederic repeatedly refused to do. and gilbert was legitimately distressed about this, because in his mind, saporians are The Enemy/not coronan, and they’re a dire threat to corona, and he can see very clearly that they’re going to become a worse threat if something isn’t done, and... frederic is doing nothing about it. [what fred is actually doing is applying moderation and recognizing that saporians are part of corona too, but that. doesn’t register as doing anything, in gilbert’s brain]

so gilbert is like UH??? because it feels to him like he’s the only sane person left in the room and everyone else is just sitting on their butts with their heads in the sand. and he really doesn’t know what to do about it other than loudly and insistently asking fred to Do Something, but that keeps... not... working...

and then the saporians steal the journal of herz der sonne. this compromises herzingen’s security in a MAJOR way, and gilbert is able to wring a couple concessions out of it... but it’s nowhere near what he feels is enough, in his mind the task force (under sir peter’s command, not his) is a token gesture at best. it’s not going to fix anything.

and then his niece gets kidnapped AGAIN! and STILL nothing changes! the witch who kidnapped and hurt her gets coddled [this is how gilbert interprets sir peter chewing out the guards he catches roughing her up] and lackadaisical security allows her to not just escape but also murder a guard on the way out. and still nothing changes except for a handful of arrests and interrogations that don’t really go anywhere.

so gilbert is getting very frustrated and uneasy and upset, and he feels like the only person taking this huge burgeoning crisis seriously...

...and that’s where he’s at when cass dips and leaves her note confessing to stealing the journal, and gilbert is like. HOLY SHIT. THIS HAS GOTTA CHANGE THINGS. and he pushes very very hard for more stringent measures, and for the most part he gets them, but that ends up being, in his mind, too little too late, because just a couple weeks later socona revolts and almost thirty coronan guards die. (and there’s also the report from falke that two of the guards stationed in socona were traitors lol)

and then in the scene with him and sir peter in the hospital in artois, gilbert very much sees that... sir peter is not going to emotionally be able to handle a war where cassandra is on the other side, so he’s like. weighing up the odds he can get frederic to remove sir peter from the commandership and he’s like... Doubt.

so that’s the point at which gilbert commits himself to a coup, because he is at his wit’s end and in his mind it’s either... a leader who is better prepared for war steps up to steer corona through this, or the saporians destroy corona forever, and as much as he doesn’t want it to come to forcibly removing frederic from power he feels like it’s his only choice, because frederic is too soft and sir peter is too emotionally compromised by. everything.

and then it’s uh. about a month, give or take a bit, for gilbert to actually put the coup together—which is a FAST turn around, but he’s able to pull it off because a lot of the king’s watch is very unhappy about how sir peter has been handling the whole “saporians keep killing guards” and “cassandra was a traitor” situations, and it doesn’t take a whole lot of effort to get enough of them on his side for a coup to be possible. and then he waits until the next opportunity presents itself and rolls in with a plan and the backing of corona’s closest thing to an army at his back and strong-arms frederic into abdicating to facilitate a “peaceful” transfer of power. and now frederic and arianna are under a soft house arrest rip them

*deep breath*

anyway all of that is a long winded way of saying in gilbert’s mind, he’s 100% the Virtuous Underdog Hero who is Selflessly Stepping Up to save corona from its Well Meaning But Incompetent Leaders in a Time of Dire Consequence. so that’s where he was coming from.

as for his relationships with his family:

- he loves frederic but does not respect him very much, because the events of benighted / fred completely losing any semblance of control he had over the separatists eroded gilbert’s respect for him pretty signifcantly. (prior to benighted, i think gilbert felt pretty favorably about frederic’s leadership; he approved heartily of the crackdown, though he kept trying to nudge fred to go even harder to clean up those last few hotspots of separatism in southern corona)

- he also loves ludolf but ludolf confuses him because ludolf is perfectly content with his life as a rector and gilbert is just kinda like. but isn’t it boring. but he keeps that thought to himself because gilbert is a fairly devout man and he respects ludolf’s decision to devote his life to the temple quite a bit even if he absolutely does not get it. he does however think that ludolf, and the whole temple really, is Too Soft and Too Idealistic to function in reality

- he clashes with arianna a lot on political grounds because they have almost no common ground in their opinions on the direction corona should go, but he likes her as a person and thinks she’s generally a good fit for frederic / he’s pleased to have her as a sister in law. they just. have a no politics at the dinner table sort of agreement. because otherwise they Will fight.

- he was firmly, if silently, convinced that rapunzel was dead until she strolled back into herzingen. after that he was delighted to be wrong, and very happy for fred and ari’s sake in addition to just happy to have his niece back / for the chance to get to know her. i think a lot of his pushing and some of the desperation he has in benighted comes in part from a desire to protect rapunzel, though he sorta conflates her safety with the safety of corona as a whole in a way that frederic doesn’t.

- he... did not like eugene at all at first, and still doesn’t like him very much. he thinks eugene is a rude, ignorant layabout who is taking advantage of frederic’s and arianna’s gratitude and he does not like that rapunzel is involved with him and he was PISSED after the botched proposal. i think fred and ari had to tag team him to get him not to just like. explode at eugene, and that only worked because gilbert knew other people were chewing eugene out for the whole thing. he has warmed up to eugene very slightly since then, because eugene started to get his act together and stopped acting so lazy. but he still is definitely like, hoping rapunzel will dump him and kick him out of the palace soon lbjkskdjlfjksd

- he’s very big on the Idea of family, even though he was never able/ready to start a family of his own (which i think... is something that bothers him a bit, though not something he dwells on). so the coup is something he genuinely didn’t want to do to frederic, but he did it because he felt it was for the greater good / he had to put his personal feelings aside to do the Right Thing. and in general he wants and tries to have good personal relationships with his family.

#bitter snow #Anonymous

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cutebutstillsingle · 4 years ago

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REASONS WHY YOU’RE STILL SINGLE: BECAUSE YOU’RE DATING A NARCISSIST, PART 2 (examples from my “entertained a narcissist” situationship)

...............................................................

Sadly it might have to be one of those horrible experiential learning kinds of situations where you can’t “know” what I’m talking about until you live through it. But hopefully you catch any narcissistic and inappropriate behavior before it annihilates your spirit completely, and before it starts permanently making you doubt and question your own sound judgement and amazing qualities. The less you tolerate narcissistic behavior, the better you fare.

I’m gonna be vulnerable and admit that never in my wildest imagination of knowing myself, would ever think that I, of all people, could get emotionally manipulated by narcissistic behavior. I like to consider myself a “no bullshit” kind of person. Either way, I feel like I did take some narc bullets that still have me shook to this day as I learn more and more about myself and do the work of running through that relationship to learn from it.

Here are 10 real life examples of red flags that I allowed to permanently enter my memory bank, because the chemistry and similarities between me and this dude seemed so unbelievable that I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m grateful to God that I still managed to picked up on some of the yellow lights and red flags. When I dumped him, I literally had to tell myself “do it now, or you’re going to lose your nerve”. I genuinely believe that was the holy spirit speaking to me. Because on my own strength I would have stayed in, and what I have gained by parting ways is priceless in getting to know and love myself more.

CLUE 1= He was still fully in touch wit his ex wife, and would openly talk about being in touch with her. At some points he even said he still loved her, despite saying that he loved me within one month of meeting me. But I was that stupid and I ignored it. In reality, a man should not be in touch with any past partners whatsoever unless he has kids with them. And no one should say “I love you” to a complete stranger they just met a month ago, and then turn back around and also say they still love their ex-wife. Also, pay attention: EX wife. There’s a reason they did not last. And it may have been him.

CLUE 2= He started disclosing way too much about himself to me, a complete stranger that he had only known for about a month. I now realize this was on purpose to make me feel like it was a “safe” space to disclose way the eff too much about myself way too soon. Ladies, pay attention please. Nobody should be revealing classified information about your life to anyone who you have known for less than six months. You should only be telling your most intense personal information to people who know you the absolute BEST, and who have made it into your inner circle after proving their trustworthiness to know your secrets, keep them, and never use them against you.

CLUE 3= Whenever I would talk about things that excited and interested me, he would rapidly shut them down, make me feel dumb for being excited by my interests. I was reading a David Goggins book and he tried so hard to shit on David Goggin’s accomplishments saying anyone could do Navy Seal swimming drills. He also tried to accuse me of being sexually attracted to David Goggins (David Goggins is of neutral attraction to me, TBH. One has to imagine David Goggins is not terrible in bed if he approaches sexuality with the same approach he uses for the rest of his life endeavors, lololol. But that shouldn’t make anyone you date feel that insecure). If I was excited by learning yoga inversions, he would say he did gymnastics for years as a kid and it’s not that big of a deal. If I said I wanted to learn to bake better cookies, he would say his aunt and mom were the best cookie bakers in the world. After I baked a kick ass batch of chocolate chip cookies because he said he loved sweets, he wouldn’t even try one. A narcissist will work hard to make you feel like you can’t ever be worthy or good enough.

CLUE 4= He refused to ever meet any of my friends. And I think this is because he refused to see me in an empowered state where other genuinely kind and awesome people were drawn to me just for being my kind and awesome self. Weirdly, I had met all his friends and family within a month of knowing him.

CLUE 5= He would repeatedly say that most people were dumb and sheep-like. Again, with this need to put others down.

CLUE 6= He actively hated on complete strangers and nearly all of his family members. Road rage with insults was a common occurrence.

CLUE 8= He had a history of severe alcohol and substance addiction and abuse. His version of it was “I am in recovery and have been sober for X number of years. I was arrested in the past for a DUI, and that was the point that turned it all around and I knew I had to get sober. I got myself sober with no help”.

Well the truth was he was NOT completely sober-- he was still a hardcore pothead, and he still drank NA beers on the regular that tasted just like beer because they are beer. I later ended up background checking him when I was learning how to use background check websites as research for this blog (which I’ll discuss in a future post); and uh... his history was WAY worse than he made it seem. People with substance addiction issues are often narcissistic. The two often go hand in hand.

CLUE 7= He once told me that during an argument with his brother and family, his brother said I was ugly. A solid BF would never pass on any indirect insults to his GF. I have a feeling that this was never true, TBH. Steve Harvey has said in his book “Act Like a Lady Think Like a Man” that if a man truly loves a woman, he will protect her. And that includes protecting her from anything negative anyone says about her. If there’s one thing I know about me, I’m in “the pretty girls club”. Not to sound conceited because looks aren’t everything and we will all end up old, gray, and wrinkled one day. But I come from a family line of historically gorgeous women; and I have been a competitive and paid professional Tahitian dancer since I was 13. Google “Tahitian dance Competition” or “Heiva i Tahiti” if you want to see what gorgeous women look like. But the point is, to this day, that comment began to erode my self-esteem.

CLUE 8= At other times he unleashed passive aggressive insults such as “I can’t deal with your apparent relationship insecurities”-- I called him on this immediately. And mind you, this line was how he responded when I asked him to join me at a BBQ invite with some of my friends, and I was disappointed when he said no.

CLUE 9= he was arrogant. Never did he fail to boast about all his accomplishments, skills, and intelligence. He also had a lot of grandiose ideas.

CLUE 10= when I dumped him, he immediately responded by calling me a “train wreck” and a “bitch”. At no point was there a “wait.. what? Please don’t do this. We need to talk, I’m calling you/ I’m coming over, I still want to be with you”. I’m not kidding in the least when I say his immediate response was “I dodged a major train wreck. Good luck bitch, you gonna need it.

Well, good luck, narcissists of the world, you gonna need it. Because narcissists and narcissistic behavior are the real train wrecks we all need to learn to avoid if we want to date successfully.

#dating a narcissist #I dated a narcissist #narcissist examples #dating #relationships #why you're still single #relationship advice #dating advice #online dating

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urcadelimabean · 5 years ago

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Fellowship of the Ring rewatch thoughts from one of those intense lotr nerds!

- One thing that strikes me after so long - I think the last time I saw it was about 3 years ago - is not just the music but the sound...the sound effects for the heaviness of the Ring, the way spells echo and amplify when Gandalf or Arwen speak them, the sound effects for bowstrings, the screams of the Nazgul being so inhuman, the drums in the deep of Moria, the scrape of stone on stone for the Balrog...if the sound hadn’t bee so good the movies honestly wouldn’t have worked this well. God the soundtrack.

- I will always have little quibbles about stuff -- the Ring moving onto Frodo’s finger in Bree with CGI, Galadriel’s over the top green CGI moment, the fact that we see too much of the Watcher in the Water -- but in general, like in GENERAL, the fact that these movies are so beautiful and well made....we didn’t just dodge a bullet we dodged a nuclear weapon LOL....we really did. These could have been so atrociously bad, but instead they are beautiful.

- no one should be reading LOTR as an allegory anyway, but the Ring is often read as an allegory for addiction or a nuclear weapon and somehow not as frequently likened to carrying trauma. Which is absolutely wild to me. The concept of carrying something that poisons and hurts you but that you can’t put down....it seems much more similar to trauma than many of the things I see it compared too

- I love moral complexity, greyness, etc, but I find the idea that the Ring is just utterly and completely evil very refreshing. That there are things that you cannot compromise on, that are indisputably evil.

- One thing i love about LOTR is the fact that it is not what people think of as “high fantasy” - it doesn’t take place in a shiny, perfect world, it takes place in a decayed, faded, eroded remnant of so many things that have been lost. The whole setting being created that way is so important. And magic honestly doesn’t even come into the story that much. The Ring is magical, but the way magic functions in LOTR is so different from how it functions in Harry Potter for example and I am so thankful of that because it’s a refreshing and beautiful and different world.

- I’ve thought a lot about how Tolkien’s time in the trenches of WW1 influenced his outlook and therefore his writing, but the part where Frodo is talking to Bilbo and he says “My own adventure was quite different. I’m not like you, Bilbo.” It really struck me as something straight out of Tolkien’s mouth. This was a generation that became so disillusioned about the point of war and all this bloodshed and all these young lives lost, who found out that this idea that ‘fighting for your country is some grand adventure’ is completely empty.

- Really has been bothering me for years that the conversation of racism in Tolkien’s works is restricted to conversations about orcs and dark/light. Left out of that conversation is all the talk about bloodlines, pure blood, heritage, etc, and all of that stands out so sharply to me...like HELLO. That’s clearly as much of or even MORE of a problem than the other things, and once you know how drawn white supremacists are to LOTR it’s not hard to connect the dots as to why. But the LOTR fandom has historically been absolute shit at admitting this.

- I really really love that in LOTR you have characters like Merry and Pippin who have no special powers, no special birthright or parentage and the reason they are heroic is simply because they are loyal and protective of their friends. The way they distract the orcs by waving to them to come get them, so Frodo can run away - it has nothing to do with how good they are at fighting, they dont protect Frodo with special powers, they literally just do WHATEVER they can even if it means sacrificing themselves.

- And then you have Sam - he doesn't have special powers, or special parentage, or magic - and it’s again a situation where his heroic moment is simply refusing to be parted with Frodo. He wades into the water even though he can’t swim. All these movies these days are just heroism = powers, and it’s so refreshing to see the opposite, of heroism even when it’s almost futile, and that’s why it’s heroic.

- There’s something so painfully bittersweet about LOTR, and it’s one thing I love the most. It feels real because it’s painful. It wouldn’t feel real if it didn’t have this thread of sadness running through it.

- Everyone saying Gandalf is a Christ figure....brooooo do you know Odin??? I’m not even denying there are Christian themes in LOTR but Tolkien created LOTR to be a pre-Christian myth. Clearly it is compatible with Christianity, but Tolkien was a scholar of all these pre-Christian epics and he knows there are themes that are shared across mythologies. Compatible with Christianity does not mean original to Christianity. Also all this death and glory shit is so Norse guys come on. anyway ODIN.

- GOD the mythic themes of hubris, the importance of promises, warrior’s deaths....LOVE THAT MYTHOLOGICAL FEEL!!!!!!!!! LOVE IT

- everyone wants in on a redemption arc but Boromir is out here literally getting shot full of arrows, dying a courageous warrior’s death and confessing his love and loyalty to his King.....everyone just want what he has!!!!!!!!!!

- love me some hobbits. curly haired. small. love food. would love to marry one one day.

- did I mention how much I love Ian McKellen? I swear every time I hear him say those lines to Frodo I heal in some amazing way. “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” I remember the first time I read the Fellowship when I was 13 and Gandalf died I was just like “nope. that did not happen :)” and then sure enough I was right!!! and then I felt relived but not even that relieved because I literally had refused to accept it in the first place so I was just like :)

- Saruman should start a hair product line. His hair looks so silky. No but seriously Christopher Lee was perfect. Imagine how bad the casting could have been. I’m so glad they got the right actors. Viggo Mortensen!!!! that man

- Legolas after Lothlorien was literally like Gimli likes blondes? maybe I have a chance after all.....eyes emoji....

- never over the level of detail in the costumes, the armor, the chain mail, the Elvish in the songs, the way the scenes mirror paintings from book illustrations....like holy fuck. FUCK!! FUCK

- the way these movies do or don’t reveal things is so integral to how well they work. the fact that at first you meet one Nazgul, then two, then three, the fact that you hear the Balrog before seeing it, the fact that you rarely hear Sauron speak unless it’s indistinct, the fact that you never see Sauron in battle except for in flashbacks. It all preserves the mystery and suspense that makes it scary and compelling. Lotr made in 2020 would be like Aragorn vs Sauron and it would be literally awful.

- the amount of hugging and crying and actual human emoting in this one movie cleansed me of so much marvel fatigue. it’s so nice to see characters actually grieving and comforting each other instead of acting like cardboard cutouts.

- I’ve talked a lot about this before elsewhere but the reduction/interpretation of lotr to this black and white good versus evil type of story really does a disservice to the whole ass POINT which is that it’s a story about despair in the face of insurmountable evil, in the face of the destruction of the environment and the destruction of freedom and this awful powerlessness, and so it’s not just a story about despair it’s also a story about hope in the face of despair. which feels very needed right now.

- these bullet points are getting less coherent but I’m still just thinking about that last shot, of Sam and Frodo beginning to walk away into the wilderness towards Mordor, and the soundtrack.

#seagul shooting laser beams from eyes.jpg

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sergeanttpoliteness · 6 years ago

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➹embroidered hearts➹(ps4 peter parker x reader)

Requested by anon➝ hi! idk if you’re taking requests right now, but if you are, do you think you could write something for ps4 peter parker? maybe like a friends to lovers thing. thanks!

You just... really liked to disappear, huh? To vanish, slip from his fingers. Except that this time Peter found you, caught you before you left once again, which may have just been exactly what you needed.

word count: 2.7k

a/n: holy wowowow, this isn’t a false alarm, y’all-- i actually posted! i’m sososo happy i finally did, and i’m really sorry about how long it took me to do so. school drained all my motivation but exams just finished this friday so i decided to get this done once and for all. i’m shocked that i finally liked something i wrote this month, it’s progress (’: anyway, here’s something for 1 pretty boy whom i love very much, i hope the nonnie who requested it likes it! (: also i had a terrible allergy while editing this so if there are any mistakes pls know that it’s hard to write while sneezing every five seconds. hope this week is great for you bc u deserve it, ok, ily that’s it adios (last thing lol, expect some noir stuff next and that beter sequel eye emoji)

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes since you told him you were going to the bathroom with a wavering smile, and you were nowhere to be seen. Peter set his empty glass of water on the table for the third time— God, he experienced a déjà vu that left him stumped and everything, and as he watched the crystal liquid stream from the pitcher, he could also sense his bladder protesting against all the suffering he kept putting it through. Nonetheless, he simply thanked the waiter for the refill, or else he was sure that if he didn’t continue drowning himself, the disquiet abounding in his system as a result of your unknown whereabouts would strangle him with its unnerving claws. Perhaps the entrance dish bombarded your stomach (if so, then he hoped you were alright), or the toilet devoured you and swallowed you down the drain. Two-year-old him never trusted the porcelain seat, after all (it... was an actual fear of his, actually). However, past all those justifications and silly fears, he knew something wasn’t right, for there existed no chance you’d simply vanish just like that after the anxiety for tonight nearly eroding you alive, and you wouldn’t surrender an opportunity for a promotion... right?

He scanned the party room, through the many dresses and tuxedos either standing by still or swaying together, awkwardness raining over and staining his skin when he recalled he was the last remaining person in the table after everyone else retired to chat with other fancy people. He surely didn’t fit in that category, neither was he acquainted with anyone — he wasn’t even invited, for crying out loud, rather you were the reason for his attendance; still, you weren’t there. He considered possibly checking the bathroom to make sure you seriously hadn’t died, because you weren’t answering any of his calls and... oh, no.

Your boss walked on stage and tapped the microphone, a muffled thud reverberating through the speakers. “Good evening, everyone! I’m glad the night’s been such a lovely one, I hope you’re all having a great time.” The man — Peter couldn’t remember his name, honestly — spoke, a charismatic grin that paraded his astonishing dental care on his face. Though no alluring smile impeded Peter from panicking further or his limbs from driving him out of his chair and into the tight space in between a cluster of intimidating guests, looking identical to a little kid who couldn’t find his parents at the supermarket.

“Where are you, Y/N?” He muttered to himself, a question he’d reiterated in his head far too often for the past seven months. A haze of amazement and disbelief encompassed his brain when you called him to ask to come as his date— all he could do was blink, his throat clogged up and his heart so unbelieving as if you died and had risen from your tomb, but you might as well have and he wouldn’t have even known, because it’s what it seemed following such a tediously long time of dead silence, of not seeing that lopsided grin of yours, of nothing. It should’ve pushed him away, if anything, although how could it? How could his stunned little heart let you go after you’d embroidered yourself into it, sewn the threads, a perennial string that led back to you, the first day you met? And yet you still gripped it closely, unwilling to detach as he desperately dialed your number again, his stomach diving faster down to the Earth’s core whilst your boss’ speech went on and a high-pitched beep rang in his ear. ‘The person you have called is unavailable right now...’ Not a good sign. No, most definitely not.

“However, I’d like to invite on stage a person who we appreciate greatly in the company,” ‘The person you have called is un—’ Peter hung up, over that goddamn message that always appears to torment him, and grimaced as your boss studied the crowd with proud eyes. “Please, a big round of applause for Y/N Y/L/N!”

The room exploded with sophisticated cheering, but it declined gracelessly, the clapping stuttering, fully ceasing when the moments dragged on and no one entered the spotlight. The leader squinted, visibly distressed, brows perplexed as he leaned closer to the lady beside him. “Y/N... did make it tonight, correct?” He whispered too loudly, gossip escalating in the audience. Peter bit his lip, stepping back closer to the exit door until a rough hand clutched his sleeve.

“Hey, you’re Y/L/N’s boyfriend, right?” An older man with fuming blue eyes and a bald spot questioned, spit flying but thankfully not anywhere near Peter who sputtered, chest warming up when his tongue failed him, became tangled in his mouth.

“Wha... n-no, we’re just friends—”

“I don’t care. Listen, if that idiot is not here right now then I’m gonna be in deep shit.”

Peter’s brows furrowed with anger, “Hey, shut up, man— Y/N’s not an idiot.” He snapped, but the guy barely flinched and rolled his eyes as he let go of the taller young man.

“Just do something!” He hissed, equally as bitter and prodding his chest before disappearing into the crowd.

Peter opened the double doors and sped down the hallway straight to the bathrooms with a sour mood; however, before he knocked, a figure outside the window captivated him and calmed his hammering heartbeat. It... couldn’t be you. Why would you be out there? He surveyed the area, and when he saw no sign of another person or any security cameras, he unfastened the window’s lock and slid it open.

Could he have gone outside like a normal human being? Yeah, sure, except that— first — where’s the fun in that, and second, he didn’t want to walk all the way to the other side of the building— it was an emergency, or at least that’s the excuse he’d use if anyone caught him as he landed softly on the grass. It was indeed you, he realized, sat on a bench, observing nothing in particular unless the building under construction across the street held any trace of beauty in your eyes. He stopped a few feet away from you, mouth twitching. “Is this seat taken?”

You almost jumped into space and out of orbit, your neck whipping around, large frightened eyes gradually lightening when they took him in. There it was. That lopsided grin, unchanging from when you were a sophomore in college apart from the darker under eye circles. And there was his own shy smile, too, accompanied by the blush that stained his face, like red wine spilled over a tablecloth. “Yes, actually, by my imaginary friend Pedro.” You patted the area beside you, on the supposed Pedro’s knee, and he sneaked his hands inside his blazer’s pockets, feigning disapproval.

“You exchanged me for a Pedro?”

“He’s a nice guy.” You giggled as he sat down next to you, your stare fixed on your lap. “Let me guess: I messed up the night and that’s why you’re looking for me.” You said, playfulness faltering and insecurity peeking its head in, and he noticed how it sculpted your expression and body language with its discouragement.

“Not exactly, no. I was still going to look for you, but a jerk who called you an idiot really needed me to do so.” He grumbled, irritation returning as a combo along with remembrance of the incident. You didn’t reach, though; you solely raised your eyebrows, unruffled, your friend more afflicted albeit he wasn’t the one who was called an idiot.

“A short guy that kinda looks like an odd mix between John Stamos and Danny Devito?” You queried. Peter rebuilt the man’s appearance in his head, and you had to laugh at his raw shock when he recognized the accuracy of your comparison. He... really did look like that, seriously, it’s the most bizarre combination you could think of. “Yeah, that’s Jonathan. We’re not exactly best pals.”

“I kinda figured that out, Stavito didn’t look so happy.” A smile flourished on his countenance as quickly as a match is set alight after you cackled, your hand flying up to your mouth to mute your laughter.

“Stavito? Man, now he’s gonna hate me even more because I’m never gonna stop using that one.” You shook your head, rubbing your crinkled eyes. He hummed, loosening his tie, wearing a crooked grin that you fathomed meant incoming pain for you—

“He’s gonna stab-ito you!”

Jesus Christ. You let out a drawn-out breath and picked up your legs, expression similar to a parent seeing their kid’s report card. “I hate you. This friendship’s on hold until further notice.”

“It was a great pun!”

“Was not.” You objected, although both of your bodies shook with hilarity. He looked at you, the moon painting silver strokes on your tranquil frame, the delight in him for just being by your side too much that his stare lingered; though not for long, for your attention strayed up to him and his eyes immediately shifted down to his hands, his leg restless, bustling.

“Why are you out here? We could’ve left if that’s what you wanted.” He said, brows knitted. You changed to a cross-legged position, rolling your lips.

“I originally was just going to take a five-minute stroll, but once I sat down here, I just couldn’t go back inside.” You confessed, shrugging. Gloom reemerged, drooping the corners of your lips, striking a spike of ice in your gut— the frost trickled up and down your body, goosebumps of sorrow growing over your skin. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible friend. Jonathan’s right: I am an idiot.” You whispered.

He held in his breath, blank on what to say. “Why would you think that?”

You snorted, expression unamused. “They’re facts, Pete. Good friends don’t just… fall off the face of Earth without a warning.”

“I’m… sure you had your reasons.”

“They weren’t good reasons, though. I should’ve at least told you something. But I bet it was nice to get a break from me, huh?” You joked, hurt and self-doubt seeping through your voice.

He frowned, immediately denying with his head. “Why would I want to get a break from you? Y/N, we don’t even get to see each other that much. If anything, I…” He halted, gulping. ��I-I want to see you more.” He admitted quietly.

Your bewilderment was dim but still present as you ran your hand up and down your arm. “You’re dumb. You could spend your time with people who are actually great but you want to spend it with me.”

“Yeah, well, if I am dumb so what? I still wouldn’t change my mind.” He argued, a line in between his brows. You sighed, sliding down the metal seat, your eyes shut as you tilted your head back.

“Peter, stop, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do, though. I mean, yeah, it… it hurt a bit,” Peter raised one shoulder, aware that it hurt more than just ‘a bit’. “I thought you decided to break contact, but it’s okay, really.”

“Give yourself some love, it’s not okay that I hurt you like that.” You momentarily put your hand on his, repentance etched on your features. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“We’re talking again, though, that’s all that matters.” He brushed you off, raising up to his feet. The guilt still held you, played with you like a doll, but the reassuring quirk of the corner of his mouth somewhat relieved it. “We should go back inside, don’t want you catching a cold or Stavito getting fired.”

“He’s not gonna get fired, he’s just way too over dramatic.” You grunted, showing your clear distaste for the John Stamos and Danny Devito love child. Peter lent out his hand but you blinked at it, chuckling uncomfortably. “Don’t you rather stay out a bit more? The sky looks great tonight— I can see a few more stars than usual.” You pointed at the dark blanket of nebulae and astral bodies. He glanced up, close to dropping to the ground to inspect the night sky until he heard the stifled music from the party.

“We can stargaze once the event’s over.” He promised, gesturing with his head to the building. It was then when he distinguished the dread in your eyes.

“...Are you sure you don’t want to do it now? What if it gets too cloudy?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is everything alright? Why don’t you want to go back in there?”

You tried to utter another excuse, but you couldn’t. The ire at yourself made your hands tremble, set your mouth in a hard line as you were incapable of looking right at him, the humiliation far too much.

“I hate my job.”

Peter sat back down, staring at you, his expression sad. “You know, I spent the entirety of high school and started college with this idea of what I wanted my future to be like. But now that I did it, now that I’m actually there, I’m so… bored with everything. I don’t know what to do. Like, what am I supposed to do now? Go to work and what else? Because if that’s all there is to my life, I don’t know why I should even bother with it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Peter what am I doing?” You scoffed, scowling. “Look at me: what the hell am I bringing to the world? You’ve got FEAST, and just got that job with Otto Octavius— you’re… so amazing and will do so many great things. The world needs you. I need you. We all do.” You mumbled, voice breaking.

His sight gravitated down to your lonely hand that rested so near to his, that had the string running from his heart encircled around its ring finger, beckoning him closer. His fingers reached out slowly, hesitantly, with great fear. But he wound up grazing your hand, and then he fully wrapped his own around it— around the artist that sewed a handiwork of untouchable adoration into him. “But what if I...” He began, struggling to come clean. “What if I...” He saw your anticipating gaze.

“I need you, too.” He whispered.

Your view averted down to your linked hands and then up at the boy unknowing that he, just like you had to him, had tailored a piece of himself in you long ago. You hugged him. Crumbled, snuggled deep into him, allowing yourself to accept that hand reaching out to you, to surrender to comfort. He hugged you back with as much gentleness and warmth, his chin on top of your head. “You should give yourself some love, too.” He murmured and you let out air through your nose, agreeing with him. “You’ll find your way because you’re incredible, alright? I just wish you could see that.”

Seven months weren’t eons, Peter acknowledged, but perhaps they could be; perhaps they were enough to view everything differently, past that veil that cloaked his eyes, past the doubt and uncertainty, because there was something distinctive in your familiar smile when you pulled away. Something unusual as you sat straight, your eyes drifting sideways to him. “I guess we can help each other with that self-love thing.” You suggested.

He got the hint in your voice, and all of a sudden, he figured out what that something was; but he didn’t want to accept the truth that crashed against him when he realized that it wasn’t new. No, it’d been there all along.

He could try to believe.

“Maybe we could, uh, we could go out for dinner some… some time. Get started with some good food, y’know…” His tone was quiet and he couldn’t have resembled better a nervous teenage boy asking his crush to dance on prom night as he wrinkled his nose in embarrassment.

You faked a cynical expression, despite already knowing the answer in your soul. “Some time?”

“Or never, if that’s what you prefer.” He laughed tensely, his eyes growing wide when he turned his head and cursed at himself internally. You smiled to yourself, moving a strand of hair out of your face.

“How about tonight?”

“Tonight? Like…” He checked his wristband, only to remember it wasn’t a watch. “...tonight? What about the event—”

“Forget the event,” You stood up, and now you were the one stretching out your hand to him. “C’mon, let’s look for some restaurants because why not, am I right?”

Peter clutched your hand, the contentment a welcomed compensation for all those months of not seeing you.

“Yeah, why not?”

#ps4 peter parker x reader #spider man ps4 x reader #spider man ps4 #insomniac spider-man #peter parker x reader #ps4 peter parker one shot #ps4 peter parker imagine #fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral

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ifwegettherebysunset · 5 years ago

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I know that requests are closed but your works are amazing and very interesting. I would love to see you do something with Dark Signer!Yusei or something of the sort.

First of all, THANK YOU!

Second, I’ve been thinking about this so much lately. Yusei dying saving Rally. Jack not being able to summon Stardust without feeling a deep sense of betrayal and anger. Would probably have the hummingbird, since I’m pretty sure it’s the only one not taken before Carly?

Anyway, I want him so bad to have a Subterror Behemoth deck just because I LOVE them on Duel Links. It could also be the metaphor like, Jack buried Yusei without remorse, and now he has to face that revenge rising again and again and again

And he’d hide too—like Misty. He’d come to Neo Domino lookin’ completely normal. But he’d speed RIGHT past Jack, because it’s not time yet, he just has to get to the Dark Signer hideout first. Which leaves Jack confused and irritated, but he didn’t see which way Yusei went.

He’d get blackmailed into the Fortune Cup, so Yaeger’s on his List. Then the duel with Aki comes up and he’s like oh I fucking FEEL YOU SISTER. And a little bit, just a little bit of that undying wrath comes out. And through that shared rage and love of making others suffer, Aki is like holy shit wait a minute maybe this ain’t the way to go he like…..doesn’t look……good….

And like he helps Rua and Ruka still too, which adds some complexity. Like he’s still so good with kids, he’d never harm them. Martha sees something off about him, but he’s also so sweet with her too, just like that boy she raised.

You could go treasonship if you want, some Dark Signer Yusei/Kiryu. Or some kingcrabship when the duel with Jack comes up and Yusei reveals himself. They get to the place where Jack’s supposed to put the seal on, but no Dark Signer comes. Then Yusei’s like I’m surprised you didn’t notice and Jack’s like ??? and the glyph fires up (literally, ehhhh?)

So Jack’s gotta play Stardust at some critical moment, prob after the Hummingbird’s summoned. Which just pisses Yusei off more, cause there’s a red mark trying to appear on his other arm, like Stardust is trying to bring him back but he sees it as Jack rubbing it in his face

Jack’s forced into an Emotional Moment like what I did was fucked up man I should’ve done it another way you’re my best friend etc etc and Yusei’s like O RLY WELL TOO FUCKIN LATE DIPSHIT U LEGIT KILLED ME

But Jack sees how Yusei makes sure they’re well away from Rua and Ruka and all the kids. So he plays a Plot Device Card—because why not, it’s yugioh and he’s a protag—that makes them switch monsters. And Yusei’s probably got a Subterror on the field, probably Warrior Nemesis just ‘cause of the name. So like when he summons Stardust he immediately switches control between Stardust and Warrior so Yusei has Stardust on his field.

The Hummingbird and Stardust snarl at each other ofc. Stardust visibly curls close around Yusei, who’s like, wtf did you just. HAND ME the win? You bitch??? Fucking fight me?????

But Jack has won. Because Stardust’s light is so blinding, and Yusei ends up with two marks on his body and Akakiryu is winning because Stardust is not giving up, they’re just as stubborn as Yusei, as hopeful as he used to be

Jack forces Yusei to destroy Stardust for the effect—probably through Red Dragon’s effect, so like he doesn’t attack and it pisses Yusei off because again, fucking fight me—and again and again Stardust comes back so it’s like the duel with Aki in the original canon and Jack’s like I deserve all your rage come the fuck at me

And slowly but surely Stardust is eroding Yusei’s dark mark

Jack’s like yeah what I did was unforgivable. But you letting this take over? Letting it roll all over you? What the hell I thought you were stronger

Yusei loses by 100 life point difference through some kinda Plot

and he’s like oh fuck…oh fuck what have I done Jack holy shit what

he disappears with fear and self-hate in his eyes and Jack can’t even say anything

he’s like Kiryu—he remembers everything he did as a Dark Signer n shit, but his Signer mark and sense of duty brings him back even though he’s like. So damn quiet, even more than in OG canon. Until Jack and Crow force him out of it (”I’m not dead” scene maybe? but with more panic attack like “omfg i’m not dead”)

anyway uhhhhh YEAH I’VE BEEN THINKING A LOT ABOUT IT NONNY HA

#nonny non #dark signer yusei #love that angst mm good flavor #kingcrabshipping

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giasonesdream · 6 years ago

Text

The Center Console Does Nothing To Support You (Bad Behavior 2 Part Series)

Summary: You and Jeongguk come from a wealthy background. That doesn’t stop your boyfriend from getting into activities he has no business in. All you can do is support him, encourage his bad behaviors with questionable acts of your own. (Explicit)

Word Count: (I’ll be right by your side, ‘til) 3009

tagged: Jungkook x Reader, drag racing!AU, Smut, road head, exhibitionism, dom/sub undertones

Lake Shore Drive after Rush Hour is beautiful, empty. That, plus the added late night summer air rushing through rolled down windows, it all makes you feel weightless, free, adventurous.

But tonight’s adventure is not really one of your own, but your boyfriend, who sits behind the wheel with one hand gripping the tattered leather and the other rubbing at your bare thigh. It’s a situation you two have been in more than a handful of times this summer, sneaking out of the gated community of your north side homes, travelling the half hour path to get to your friends waiting for you on the south side, your and Jeongguk’s safe haven. On eroded streets littered with potholes and weeds growing from sidewalk cracks is where you feel the most at ease.

Electricity thrums from the palm wrapped around your skin. Jeongguk is excited for the race tonight, ready to show his friends how much he has improved since their last one. You truly have no interest, unaffected by your boyfriend’s competitive side. You have been with him too long to care, but also because you know your disinterest makes him work even harder to win.

You will not lie to yourself, the dynamic of your relationship with Jeongguk must seem a little odd from an outsider’s perspective (hell, even some of the older boys in Jeongguk’s group would question him to the umpteenth degree), but it is one the both of you are very comfortable with. You and he are equals, and for the most part, you come across as best friends; not all that big on PDA besides the times either of you are feeling more introverted or needy, choosing to glue to the other’s side. And the banter is endless, sometimes quipped and hard to tell if you’re joking or not, sometimes so over the top and dramatic no one could possibly mistake you two for just being typical young adults in love.

There’s a lurch in the car as he speeds down the rather empty expressway, and you subtly eye the needle and see it push towards 75 mph. With a sigh, you continue scrolling through your phone.

“Try not to get us or yourself killed tonight, Jeon,” you mutter nonchalantly. “You know you don’t get anything if you win this stupid race, right?”

Jeongguk scoffs next to you, and you don’t even have to turn to see the offended look on his face. “Um, bragging rights is what I would win, [y/n].”

Right, because Jeon Jeongguk, Certified Shy Dork, would totally use the bragging rights with anyone but you (you, who does not give a shit). You tear your eyes away from your screen to stare him down until he feels it.

The street lights trail across his face, accentuating the roundness if his cheeks, the slope of his nose, the sharpness of his jaw, and it takes all of your strength to remember why you chose to glare at him in this moment.

He feels it soon enough, your eyes on his profile, and he chances a glance over in your direction before focusing back on the road. “What?”

“Jeongguk, you don’t have to impress these guys. They like you. You’re in their little gang.” Though you are neither here nor there when it comes to his new choice of friends, you understand his desire to fit in, to have them like him. It would be adorable if he wasn’t partaking in an...illegal form of entertainment.

You hear him scoff again, twitching at the way he involuntarily kneads your thigh. You must have hit the nail on the head, as you usually do. “I’m not trying to impress them,” he denies, not even sounding confident to himself.

You give another sigh, this one not as noticeable. You and Jeongguk were born and raised Northsiders, living a rather privileged life with proper allowances for taking out the trash and not worrying about getting sick because health insurance is a thing. Of course Jeongguk would want to make these guys think he could hang, “get down and dirty” as he had said unironically one time.

You pat the hand that’s still firmly on your leg, rubbing mindlessly at the sturdiness of his forearm before covering the top of his hand with your own, playing with the fingers. You can feel his nerves become restless as you continue to fret with his fingers, pulling at them only for them to snap back into place against the skin cloaked in warmth.

“Issue?” you hear him ask, his previous laxed state becoming more and more wired.

You give a pout you know he won’t notice, turning in your seat to practically face him head on. “Ggukie, your hands are getting clammy,” you whine, only slightly teasing. It truly did gross you out a tad when his furnace of a body would get sweaty at too much contact.

With a smirk, he loosens his grip only to move his palm further up your thigh. And normally, you would push him away, cringe away from the humid touch- but his fingers skirt on the inside of your thigh as they run higher and higher, and your legs jerk together at the barely there stimulation.

Jeon Jeongguk had been a special case, never going a moment in his 22 years of living when he wasn’t getting attention from women. You distinctly remember when you both were children, how your mother and aunt would fawn over the adorable runt, how small and pure he looked.

“Oh, [y,n], don’t you think little Jeonggukie is cute?” they would ask you, heart eyes too prevalent for your liking. It made you roll your eyes and turn your nose up at the boy.

And even through his awkward teenage years, he still got the attention because he was still adorable, or that is what your friends and mother say. He was just Jeongguk. Always had been. It hadn’t dawned on you that maybe the girls in your school had a point until one day he came over to visit you, and suddenly you opened the door and had to look...up. That was at the age of nineteen, when you first realized that yeah, Jeon Jeongguk was an eyeful and more (cue the flustered, bumbling idiot you became).

And here he sits now, one strong hand easily steering the leather bound wheel while another built arm is stretched to constantly be touching you, and really, how can someone look so hot doing so little?

He’s right there, you think to yourself, mindlessly chewing at your bottom lip as you contemplate your next move. The lights still dance over his face, illuminating his features in the dark of night in a lazy rhythm. He really is right there. All you have to do is lean over and…

You place a peck on his cheek, pulling back a bit to check his reaction, testing the waters. He seems unfazed by the gesture, only half of his lips tugging up in a smile. So you go back in again, leaving open mouthed kisses that trail down his jaw. You don’t realize the grip you have on the wrist connected to the hand still trapped between your legs until you let go to pull at your seatbelt.

With a quick glance, you look outside the windows, making sure there isn’t a car riding besides you (fuck anyone behind you). And since the coast is clear (enough), you let your hand slide over to his jean clad legs, the other hand finding balance on the leather console between you two.

“Holy shit!” Jeongguk shouts, urgency in his voice enough to make you flinch away in panic.

“What? What?!” You ask frantically, checking the road around you, slamming yourself to duck your head out the window. You swear to god, if Jeongguk hurt an animal-

“Were you about to blow me?”

As his words slowly catch up with your brain, you turn back to glare at him, eyes squinted and tongue poking in your cheek. His expression is a mixture of wide-eyed shock and an eager smile.

You speak too calmly for comfort, obviously hiding your irritation with being interrupted. “I was...planning. On it.”

That does nothing to change his face. He only glances at you, huffing out a laugh. “That’s a real thing?”

...Did he seriously just ask you if roadhead is a real thing? “What?”

With a defensive shrug, he explains. “I just...I thought that only happened in movies and fanfiction.”

Leaning against the passenger door, you scrutinize your boyfriend, pushing his hand away from you. Leave it to him to ruin the moment with his very unsexy antics. “Whose fanfiction are you reading?”

Jeongguk sputters for a second, the streetlights catching the gaping look on his face. “I...pfft, is that part important? At least, right now?”

You want to interrogate him, watch him get flustered with the idea of having to admit one dirty little secret you seemed to not know. But, unfortunately (or very fortunately, depending on how you look at it), he’s still very hot and still very much mouthwatering in probably the most naughtiest of ways.

You can curse your hormones later.

You crawl back into your previous position, noting how Jeongguk leans his head to give you more room to lick, mouth and bite at the skin of his neck. You barely miss the way his eyes flutter, and you snap instantly.

“If you don’t keep your fucking eyes and focus on the road I will climb into the backseat, I swear to god, Jeon,” comes the hissing threat. At his frantic nod, your lips fall back to his throat with more fervor, frustration building at having to stop so many times. It shows in the way your teeth bite harshly into the meat of his neck, sadistically satisfied with the air he sucks in through his teeth.

Your palm goes back to work, breezing through the foreplay of feathering up the inside of his thigh and quickly palming at the semi-hard length in his pants. You’re sure he feels the smug grin against his neck; how sensitive your boyfriend is, how worked up he gets for you so easily. It sends a shot of lust to your own core to know you affect him so.

When you try to shift closer, the seatbelt locks, and you huff again, having to pull away to shove it off of you so you can try and mold the upper half of your body to his as best you can with a goddamn console still there and immobile.

You are quite skilled, nimbly undoing the buttons and zipper of his jeans so you can stuff your hand down his underwear. The hissed “shit” he whispers only makes you thrum with more excitement. You have lost count of how many times you have done this, worked your hand up and down his cock (Jeongguk could probably tell you because, underneath this sexy exterior he sometimes wears, he is always 100% A Dork Trademark). You have become an expert, collecting the precum that pools at the tip when he’s finally completely hard and hot in your closed palm. Though the precum acts as a decent lubricate, you both know a more effective way of getting him dripping wet. You give a slow lick at the sensitive spot behind his ear, biting back a smile at his heavy exhale, before you finally lower your mouth to breathe against the head of his aching member.

It takes some maneuvering, getting into a somewhat comfortable position where your ribs aren’t entirely digging into the console. There’s still a pinch, but it’s manageable; and really, feeling the way the smallest shiver shoots up Jeongguk’s spine when you wrap your tongue around the underside of his cock just makes it worth it. You repeat the action, letting the tip of your tongue get caught under the head before wrapping your lips around it completely. With one hand wrapped around the base, you move your mouth lower and lower, always licking until the head rests at the back of your tongue. Your gag reflex betrays you when you try to inch downwards, closing up and making you pull off to breathe.

Your reflexes can be a bit finicky, sometimes wanting to cooperate, sometimes wanting to be a complete and utter bitch to work with (“so, a lot like your personality, as a whole,” Jeongguk would say, which would result in a smack to his shoulder). But you keep your tongue moving, leaving kitten licks at the crown while your throat calms down enough so you could try again.

You take your time, ignoring your own eagerness, as you suck your way down his length, making sure to breathe heavily through your nose and keep your throat open until- success.

The center console presses against your lungs, and your other hand scrapes the leather as you try to focus on the way he hits the back of your throat. With another steady breath, you experiment with swallowing around him.

You feel the car swerve and you yank your head off his cock, yelling his name angrily, though your throat is a bit scratchy. Your body lurches to the side as he jerks the car back to its straight position.

“Fuck, sorry,” he apologizes with a tight voice, weaving his fingers into the tresses of your hair. “It’s just...your mouth.”

You think any other time you would flattered, maybe even a bit cocky with how he submits when you’re the one with his dick in your mouth. But you would very much like to live, or at least not die with his dick out and have the firemen find you in this rather precarious position.

You don’t regard his apology, simply opting to go back to your previous task. The air rushes outside, but it doesn’t mask the slick sounds that accompany you coating his dick in your saliva, mixing with the salty precum that beads at the top whenever you go just a bit lower than usual.

He does a lot better when you decide to try for deepthroating again, electing to tighten his grip on your head and stuttering out a groan when you swallow a few times around him. You even congratulate yourself when you don’t choke as he bucks his hips up, desperate to go deeper in the wet, tight heat of your throat.

You’re a mess, spit dribbling from the tight seal of your lips and smearing down your chin and your hand; it’s fucking hot. The heat swirls and knots in the pit of your stomach when he accidentally pushes your head down, moaning out another frantic apology. It takes you a second, but you’re finally pulling your hand away from the base, confident that you can steady yourself enough to fit the last few inches down your throat.

“Shit, shit!” Jeongguk tries to bite back the noises, successful up until you pull up to suck tightly around the head. In the back of your mind, you notice that the air outside the car has eased, meaning you must be off the expressway and onto the side streets that take you to your destination. You must be close.

You suck with a purpose, moaning and rubbing your thighs together because you won’t have time to get yourself off. You hear his faint warning, the “gon-gonna cum, [y,n]-” as you keep your lips secured around the tip, bringing your hand back to stroke the length now completely saturated with spit and precum.

His breathing is heavy, and you chance a glance to look up to see his brows furrowed together, jaw slack as noises get caught in his throat. Right before he cums, his mouth snaps shut, teeth biting into his bottom lip and his muscles tense. Your eyes flutter shut when his seed coats your mouth, not giving yourself a chance to taste too much before you swallow it down. Your hand still twists up his cock, milking him for all he’s worth until the last remnants dribble pathetically against your tongue.

You give one last lick, holding back a giggle when he tries to flinch away from the overstimulation. With a final kiss to hiss check, you fall back into your passenger seat, rubbing at your ribs as you try to will down the lust that makes you throb in your shorts.

“Shit, [y/n].” Jeongguk’s voice pitches at the end, his tone showing just how wrecked he is. You’re sure you would sound the same if you spoke, so you only nod.

The road you’re on now is familiar, the asphalt getting bumpier and holier the further along you go. You’re almost there.

Still not trusting your voice, you only give your boyfriend a look when he suddenly pulls over to the curb, shifting the gear into park and leaning over the console to drag you into a sloppy, open mouthed kiss.

You swallow his groan, and you’re sure he can still taste himself on your tongue. When he finally pulls away with a tug of your bottom lip, he grits out, “Your turn.”

When the hand that had been on the steering wheel comes to your knee, you can ignore the dampness of his palm in lieu of how he tugs your legs open.

“What about-” you pause to clear your throat. “What about the drag race?”

Jeongguk clicks his tongue. “They won’t start without me. Besides, you can be my goodluck charm.” He beams up with a smile that seems so pure, you honestly can’t believe this boy is your boyfriend, the boyfriend - who still has his goddamn dick out -ready to finger you.

“Tch, fucking better win,” you mumble as he tugs at the buttons of your shorts. “Drag me all the way out here for nothing.”

You both knew your words were empty. Away from your homes on summer nights like these, this was your safe haven, paradise.

A/N: I haven’t watched the new episode of Bon Voyage, but I’ve been seeing gifs of Jeongguk driving and welp. Here ya go. This is the first part to a two part series. Hopefully I can finish the second half sometime soon.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #drag race!au #sub jungkook #sorta #bts scenarios #bts

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handdrawnfantasma · 2 years ago

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back when i was knee-deep in avoiding my end-of-year-coursework stress in late spring this year i did a rewatch of flux and made notes on my thoughts on all the episodes. now i’ve reached that point again in my pre-tpotd rewatch i figure i may as well clean up and post the ones that never made it out of my drafts so here we go, the flux rewatch and associated Thoughts(tm) continue now in once, upon time edition

i still love Bel SOOOOOO much holy shit. every time she is on screen i am SO invested in her. honestly i think her leitmotif is one of the best bits of music segun akinola has composed during his run on this show?? i love her determination i love how much she Cares i love how she admits that she’s trying to make sense of a world that no longer makes sense. LOVE IS THE ONLY MISSION. IDIOT.

i also love how bel’s part of the story is like. so necessary for again, showing us what the post-flux universe looks like. and it DOES show us what the actual universe looks like, bc she is here on this journey looking for Vinder than spans multiple planets/parts of space. which like, correct me if i’m wrong but i don’t think any other “the universe is ending” plotline in new who has ever actually shown us that as extensively?? we’re often TOLD it’s affecting things but we only ever see it from an Earth perspective or companion perspective. here we’re getting someone who’s not from Earth and who is on an epic odyssey of her own and who doesn’t know the doctor or companions and honestly i really love it. ALSO everything about the way the post-flux universe works is so Sunless like. day randomly switching to night?? maps don’t make sense anymore?? the destruction bel flies through on her way to try and find vinder and how it seemingly defies so many laws of physics and is all the more unsettling for it?? the damage to space and now time gradually eroding what’s left of the universe?? it’s all SO Sunless, thank u creative team of this era for catering to MY interests, specifically, i feel so pandered to

also like, it’s Interesting how Bel mentions that there’s a rumour spreading about the mouri being compromised, bc like........ the mouri being on a planet that is supposedly not meant to even exist makes u wonder how something like that spreads. is it bc the flow of time is already so damaged that it’s actually making it POSSIBLE for that rumour to spread bc time is no longer as linear as it should be (plus the flux having destroyed so much of the universe already making space wibbly as well as much smaller???). or is it just that the person she says she heard this rumour from in a bar had connections to all of this Deep Lore?? much to think about. from a doylist perspective Bel being able to do a monologuey-voiceover about this was probably to aid with narrative flow and make sure that the mouri being compromised = the universe getting even more broken connection was firmly established in our heads, but STILL, i could world-build so much fanfiction from this if i so chose

i’ve talked about this recently in one of my tag rambles on someone else’s post but like........ the daleks and cybermen squabbling over the scraps of the post-flux universe trying to be the rulers of what’s left rather than like. doing anything to help the situation. once again chibs is not subtle with the ongoing theme of imperialist regimes and empires taking advantage of catastrophes for their own gain and like tbh. he uses these old-sci-fi-style allegories really well to aid his point. Bel is Right when she tells the last cyberman she downs that any victory they gained would be hollow and pointless. they want to rule over the universe for the glory of being able to say they rule over the universe, even if that universe is empty. ideology ENTIRELY divorced from reality

okay all that side, turning my attention now to all the temple of atropos stuff......... at the time i made this post i just typed “many thoughts head full re: the nature of the mouri and atropos and the anchoring of the thread” and tbh that is still true. the mouri were “assigned” by persons about whom “information is unavailable” to hold Time together and control it into a linear form but other than that they are still VERY mysterious. (i kind of love this btw, i FIRMLY believe that anything to do with ordering such a fundamental part of the universe as we know it in a fictional setting SHOULD stay shrouded in mystery and defy understanding). but that just opens up so many questions, like - are the mouri like eternals? do they even exist in the same dimension as our main characters, or as temporal beings are they almost entirely removed from it? were they always creatures whose nature was related to time, with the ability to control time and withstand it being channelled through them, and was this ability co-opted by whoever it was that “assigned” them to their posts in the temple of atropos, or are we looking at something even more sinister than that??? do the mouri have a culture?? i have SO many questions and will enjoy generating potential answers to these questions for y e a r s

anyway i still love how the timeline stuff and the chaos of time running mad was handled in this episode. like it was chaotic but honestly it SHOULD have been. and i also loved how everyone’s experience of being pulled through their own timestream was so different?? this was really cool. like the difference between Dan’s chaotic jumping around his timestream from moment to moment mid-conversation vs Vinder’s very linear experience of key moments from his backstory vs 13 being continually pulled back into the same lost memory vs Yaz experiencing moments that she doesn’t even recognise. some actually really enjoyable timey wimey bullshit

like with dan - the seamless change between time and place while he’s still talking, all of these shifts in space and time happening during one single conversation with Di?? so unsettling, love this. the fact that Di herself seems to at one point also move forward in time and become aware of her true place in the timestream rather than continue playing her scripted role in whatever conversation Dan is remembering was also VERY neat, like, i wonder if that was because the Passenger form with her inside is nearby in the physical space outside of the timestorm that the flux gang are trapped inside?? also!! i love that this is the first time that Dan meets Joseph Williamson and it’s while the dude is wielding a very un-1820s-like laser gun. quality DW buffonery

then with vinder, i thought it was actually a REALLY good storytelling device to use his being trapped in the timestorm to give us his backstory exposition and how he came to be on the outpost that we first met him in in 13x01. i actually really loved that while his timey wimey bs was much more linear and he was seemingly much more buried in playing out the events as they happened to him, there was the Off part of Yaz repeatedly showing up replacing figures in his backstory and probs contributing to those short moments where he became Aware of the fact that he was reliving things he already lived. and his backstory itself is so interesting, it’s probably one of my favourite parts of this episode because it’s drawn so clearly and with such confidence - the ace pilot bg, the complicity with the Grand Serpent’s political machinations (stopping the recording and hearing the deal he makes to have the family of his political opponent meet nasty accidents), and then subsequently deciding to do the right thing and expose it once it’s happened... i’ve seen people draw comparisons between both Vinder and Kate Stewart and also Vinder and the Doctor and honestly, it’s absolutely valid on all counts, he’s absolutely here as another example of someone who was complicit in a corrupt system but then decided to turn away from it because of the strength of their convictions regardless of the cost to themselves. his complicated feelings about home! he swore loyalty to his constitution, not to a single person, but unfortunately that constitution turns out to mean next to nothing when other people would rather see him exiled for trying to uphold that integrity. also: everything with the grand serpent is still so sunless lol

yaz - back in april i wrote how it was interesting how yaz’s timestream is showing her stuff from her FUTURE, but now with the TPOTD trailer out and the 2 planets (2 Earths???) firing at each other, i’m wondering if there isn’t another explanation to this. an alternate timeline leaking through the cracks in the broken time??? back when i first watched this ep i thought it was just the scene with Sonya but on a rewatch the way that Yaz was talking it’s clear that the scene in the police car is also something she hasn’t lived through yet either?? either way, still hoping that this is Proof/foreshadowing that yaz is going to survive and choose to leave the TARDIS on her own terms (tbh, i am like 85% sure that this is what is going to happen tonight. don’t fuck this up for me Chibs). but in any case: also interesting how the angel chooses to stalk Yaz when 13 is its real target. i guess there’s an argument to be made that Yaz experiencing these disruptions in her timestream featuring events that she hasn’t experienced is only down to the presence of the angel within it, so all my speculation above could be totally baseless, but oh well! fun possibilities to rotate in my mind all around. also also interesting how 13 is the most Present when she drops in on Yaz’s timestream as opposed to when she drops in as a floating hologram-esque thing for Vinder and Dan. VERY obvious who 13′s priority is lmaoooo

anyway moving on to 13 and good lord there is SO MUCH JUICY STUFF HERE. i love how john bishop replicates karvanista’s mannerisms so well?? like if you’re looking for it or Know then its very clear from the start that Dan is Dan-As-Karvanista. i’m like 67% certain that Yaz is Yaz-As-Gat based on the mannerisms and that Vinder is Vinder-As-Lee based on mannerisms + the fact that when the Doctor was experiencing “temporal hazing” he’s the one that the other two send to talk to her so like...... please give me all the Fugitive Doctor’s Division team content?? i’m SO INTERESTED in this!! the “temporal hazing” injections are sus af. like they’re clearly enough of a routine thing that it opens up the awful possibility that this is just another tool in Division’s toolbox for controlling the Doctor, perhaps via making sure that any memories they don’t want bleeding through are suppressed?? this combined with the tidbit that this mission on Atropos was supposed to be the Fugitive Doctor’s last job for Division and that it was sold to her as such when we already know from 12x05 that Division had NEGATIVE interest in letting her go and she eventually just took matters into her own hands, removed her own identity and hid herself on Earth as a human, including burying her TARDIS next to a lighthouse, all in the name of escaping Division, like......... can we say Big Yikes!!

interesting tidbit dropped here that Passenger forms are banished from this dimension but of course that doesn’t stop Division from using them. also very funny how Swarm thinks he’s hot shit and ~danced around the universe~ with the Dr but everything about the Drs attitude in this flashback suggests that she does not Care. like this is just routine for her, she is So Bored. he raises some interesting points tho. “it’s a complicated moral high ground you occupy”. “working for Division must be so compromising”. also Confirmed that “erasure of identity” and “isolation prison terms for the infinite duration of the universe” are common tactics in the Division playbook. its interesting that 13 in the memory, as the Fugitive!Doctor, still frames the mission as being for the sake of the universe like. i have so many questions about this. is this a classic dr coping mechanism, is this how Division frames things to her to make what they send her to do more palatable to her/her more biddable, like... What

anyway that scene right after time is fixed and the mouri are put back where 13 is absolutely beside herself from being denied the end of the memory she was just living through is so painful to watch. honestly i’m really sympathetic to her here but the bit 5 mins later where she again says something Concerning, Actually that Yaz RIGHTLY asks her about only for her to snap ‘does everything have to be a discussion?’ i am less so. stop being a dick!! (this is my emotional reaction obvs, as a writer i am LIVING for this moment bc i feel like with this being the halfway point of Flux, this is like... the summit of Flux’s throughline of 13′s grief+obsession with finding the truth about herself+inability/unwillingness to talk to anyone about what she’s feeling/doing poisoning all her interpersonal relationships, it’s honestly very very good)

i STILL love Dan again bringing the fight me energy and also the “him and the dr are the same kind of idiot” energy. extremely funny to me that Dan was ready to do the Exact Same thing for Di that 13 just did for Yaz and 13, king hypocrite, holds him back with a “do as you’re told, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, i do”. like on the one hand she’s RIGHT, Dan trying to get Di out of the Passenger would do nothing but put him in danger as well, but it’s still hysterically funny. they are LITERALLY the same kind of idiot.

i think i actually rambled in the tags already about my excitement and fascination over the fact that Vinder knows what a TARDIS is but i am going to leave in my statement about it anyway!! it’s just so INTERESTING. LIKE. WAS HIS HOME A GALLIFREYAN CLIENT STATE or what. involved in the Time War?? some other thing??? i have so many questions!!!!

Vinder’s hologram message for Bel, as well as being extremely sweet, is just......... extremely nice foreshadowing and parallel for the hologram message that 13 leaves for yaz in 2 episodes time. chibs was REALLY not being subtle wrt setting up thasmin as a thing by making this very intentional and obvious parallel with the established romantic couple who spend this serial Yearning and fighting to get back to each other here

ALSO LIKE........Vinder’s home planet being destroyed?? like it makes sense bc of the nature of the Flux but i can’t help feeling like this is some kind of callback to some s12 stuff here for sure. Vinder is clearly someone who cares about his home despite the complicated position he must occupy with regards to it now, and considering him and Bel have a shared history with it, it must be a wrench to see it that way!! (cross-reference 13′s own complicated loss of Gallifrey, i guess). 13 gives Vinder a direct line to her and the TARDIS thus again proving one of my fave things abt 13 which is that She Cares. like even when she’s hurting and being an asshole she cares so much that it spills out of her lmf. like also cross-reference with how when the angel has the TARDIS she IMMEDIATELY puts herself between yaz+dan and the threat like. im okay i am fine and normal about this

#fel livebagels the space hobo show

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gukyi · 7 years ago

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just a little bit of love (is all you really need) | pjm

⇒ summary: jimin’s something of a legend at gymnastics, but suddenly you walk in and turn his whole world upside down. quite literally, might i add.

⇒ gymnastics!au

⇒ pairing: jimin x female reader

⇒ word count: 4.5k

⇒ genre: fluff

⇒ warnings: none!

⇒ a/n: inspired by this post which, if you see my tags, is pretty much this entire fic laid out straight up. i power wrote this before a football game, so it’s unedited. also, flexible jimin?????

Jimin’s always kind of been flexible. He remembers playing in the park with his brother when he was three, jumping around and playing as three-year-olds do, when his brother taught him how to do somersaults in the grass. That summer, any time Jimin was presented with a flat surface in front of him longer than two meters, he’d do somersaults over and over and over, to the point where his neck would be sore and his head would be dizzy, and he loved it.

The following autumn was when his mother decided that enough was enough, and that if Jimin was going to be tumbling around the carpet in her house, she might as well get him into lessons where he can tumble elsewhere and get good at it. So she signed him up for toddler’s gymnastics at the local gymnastics center, and by the time he turned four that October, he was somersaulting like a pro.

Flexibility is just something that’s always come naturally to Jimin. He’s never not been able to bend backwards, to reach the tips of his toes with his palms when he stretched out over his legs. If you ask any of his family members, especially his mother, they’ll tell you how squeamish he was as a kid, how wriggly and wormy he was, always pulling these damn contortionist stunts as a casual toddler.

And flexibility is something you need when you’re in gymnastics, Jimin’s figured that much, and now he’s finally got this thing under his belt that he knows he’s good at, something he can be proud of. There are just so many benefits to being flexible when doing gymnastics, from when he was the first kid in his age group to master the splits—regular and straddle, to being the first one in his floor exercise class to not be afraid to bend backwards into bridge position, to being the kid all of the instructors praise during warmups, when he’s stretching his hands out nearly a foot past the end of his legs, pressing his chest right against his thighs as he stretches.

Jimin wins his first competition at age eight, holding that gold trophy that’s nearly as large as him as high as he can, in his small little arms that should have more muscle on them because he is a gymnast, after all, as he grins with all of his teeth to the camera flashes. He goes on to sort of amass quite the collection of trophies and medals and ribbons and plaques in his room over the next several years. They collect dust, now, his parents reserving a special shelf in their living room just for all of his achievements, a shelf Jimin hardly pays attention to unless he’s adding something to it. Just another thing to add to the transcript, Jimin thinks, but he doesn’t know what his life would be like without gymnastics to be there for him, without that one thing that Jimin loves more than love itself.

Jimin pours his heart and soul into gymnastics. Mind you, he pours his heart and soul into everything he does (except math, ugh), but gymnastics is all Jimin really cares about. It’s his favorite damn thing in the world to do, getting to the gym and changing into his gear in the locker rooms before tumbling onto the floor. It’s something that he feels confident about, and Jimin can’t necessarily say the same for his math skills.

The only downside to gymnastics? Jimin swears it’s stunted his growth.

It’s the summer before university, and Jimin picked a school near where he lives just so he wouldn’t have to leave the gymnastics center he loves so much, the faulty trampoline in the corner that breaks if you backflip on it too hard, the dusty beams in the center that make little kids scared to cartwheel off of, the aging locker rooms with doors that get stuck more often than not. Most of all, the coach Jimin’s worked with for the past ten years of his life is the best coach that he’s ever had, clearly, and Jimin would be nothing if not a fool if he gave him up.

“Park!” Hoseok shouts from inside the gym, where he’s working with a couple of the younger boys on their pommel horse moves. “You’re late! You said you’d be here at two!”

“I know!” Jimin shouts as he looks over the ledge separating the waiting area from the gymnastics center, meeting Hoseok’s eyes apologetically. “I got caught up in traffic!”

Jimin can practically hear Hoseok shaking his head to Jimin’s shitty excuse for why he was late. The truth is, Jimin saw a lost dog in the neighborhood he drives through every day to get to practice, and he wasn’t just going to leave a lost dog in the middle of the road like that. When he got out to check the poor thing’s collar, most of the engraving had eroded, but he could make out the road name, and went to every door on that street until he found the animal’s owners. Good waste of thirty minutes, if he’s being honest, and totally worth the thirty minutes lost of practice.

“Yeah, yeah, just get changed and get your butt in here! We have a floor routine for you to master!” Hoseok says mindlessly, focused on the younger kids in front of him as he guides them with the loving expertise of a more trained individual. Hoseok is only mean to Jimin, but that’s just because he cares, and it’s also because they’ve reached that level in their relationship where both of them can be playfully rude to each other without being personally offended.

Once Jimin’s got his Adidas duffel in a locker and his uniform on, he’s hopping over the ledge and meeting Hoseok on the floor as he finishes up with his pommel horse kids. Hoseok’s dusting off a significant amount of chalk on his hands, watching it fall to the floor like a drug littering the carpet.

“Did you warm up yet, Park?” Hoseok asks.

Jimin drops into a split for a quick second, twisting his back and cracking a good couple spots before switching legs. The whole process takes maybe fifteen seconds.

“Now I have.”

“Jimin, you’re really pushing it with this whole splits warm up thing. What if you tear something and can’t compete?”

“But I’m fine, Hoseok. See? No injuries,” Jimin whines petulantly, stomping his foot and curling into himself.

“Stretch, okay?” Hoseok orders, pointing to the floor. Jimin reluctantly sits down with his legs spread out, beginning to warm up like he inevitably does every time he comes, despite his protests. “There’s a new gymnast coming today, one around your age from a different city, and I have to go show her around. But I’m watching you.”

Hoseok points to his eyes with two fingers before pointing them back to Jimin as he leaves the floor, heading over to the waiting area to go talk with a girl and her mother. He does keep his eye on Jimin, though, so Jimin makes sure he’s stretching properly so he doesn’t tear some goddamn ligament during this practice and has to go to the ER and then can’t perform in his upcoming competitions and all of those awful things.

It’s not long before Jimin’s warming up on the floor with a couple flips and short routines, one-liners that take him fifteen seconds to complete, and Hoseok is finally walking into the gym again, albeit with you behind him.

Hoseok points to Jimin just as he finishes a run of some aerials and a backflip or two.

“That’s Jimin,” Jimin can hear Hoseok tell you. “He’s one of my best pupils. Killer at floor and rings, meh at everything else.”

Jimin scoffs at this, standing up quickly with his hands on his hips as he shouts. “Hey!”

“I’m kidding, though you do need to work on your bar routine a bit,” Hoseok promises, shrugging Jimin off because it’s practically second nature for him to just casually insult Jimin like it’s no big deal. No hard feelings.

You finally turn to him after nodding along to whatever Hoseok is telling you, and send Jimin a small wave. The miniscule action sends shivers down Jimin’s spine as he feels all the blood rushing to his head, pooling in his cheeks as he tries to wave back as non-awkwardly as he can, because holy shit, you are cute and he is nothing if not a sucker for cute people. If Hoseok loved Jimin enough, he would give him the rest of the day off and just let him show you around instead.

But he doesn’t, so Jimin is stuck standing in shock on the floor of the gymnastics center, watching you leave the area as Hoseok directs you to the smaller room with all of the bar equipment, both you and him vanishing from Jimin’s view.

Jimin somewhat (and by somewhat, he means a lot, very much so, a great amount) rushes through the floor routine Hoseok is making him learn, a dramatic thing that he is expected to master by the time competitions roll around in less than two months, just so he can cram in any time to go casually talk to you, gymnast to gymnast. Unfortunately, he’s been with Hoseok long enough for him to be able to pick up on any discrepancies in Jimin’s daily performance, and when Hoseok makes him slow down and practice despite Jimin’s clear insistence to just speed through the entire thing, he knows something’s up.

“Jimin, what the hell’s gotten into you?” Hoseok asks as Jimin bounces up and down on his toes, antsy. “You always slow down and practice your routines. Your body’s also too loose, what’s going on?”

“I just wanna get this routine down,” Jimin fibs.

“Not like this, you don’t,” Hoseok says, an eyebrow raised as he crosses his arms. “Run it from the top again, with the first big run of your stunts. Come on, we don’t have any time to waste.”

Jimin sighs aloud, letting his shoulders deflate as he moves back to the corner where he starts. The only good part about this starting point is the fact that if he cranes his neck just enough, he can get a glimpse of you covering your hands in chalk as you walk around on the mats under the unevens.

“Yoohoo!” A clap snaps Jimin out of his trance. “Jimin! Focus! I’m hitting play now, okay?”

Jimin manages to stay on track enough for him to complete the routine, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he completes it well, and Hoseok knows it. He gives him the rest of the day off to, in his words, “get his shit together”.

“Jimin,” Hoseok says before Jimin starts marching off towards the bars, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “What’s gotten into you recently? You’ve been totally loopy today.”

“Nothing, nothing, really, I’m just out of it, I guess,” Jimin says quickly, shrugging off Hoseok’s hand as he makes eye contact with you. You smile amicably when you catch him looking at you, sending another small wave his way before moving on to whatever you were primarily focused on.

Hoseok might have dropped out of his law major in university, but he’s still smart enough to put two and two together. “Oh, I see what this is now.”

“What? What?” Jimin asks, as if he’s challenging his own coach to try and prove him wrong.

“You like that new girl, don’t you?” Hoseok asks suggestively, a smirk on his face. Jimin’s cheeks turn bright red once more, and as if that’s not already enough to give it away, he belatedly sends the most painfully awkward wave back to you.

“Don’t—”

“No, you should totally go for it, honestly. She’ll really help you out with bars.”

Hoseok leaves him with that statement and a supportive pat on the back, making Jimin cry out in objection as his coach leaves him behind.

Jimin stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and moseys his way on over to you, trying to act as casual as he can despite the fact that his nerves are currently being doused in gasoline and lit aflame.

“Hey, you’re the new kid, right?” Jimin asks casually as you hop off the unevens, dusting your hands off. It’s a shame he missed your routine.

“Me? Yeah, that’s me,” you respond. “I just moved here from across the country. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Jimin, but I’m pretty sure Hoseok was talking trash about me to you, so you probably know that already,” Jimin responds, and oh my God, he has to shut up and stop talking and just stop saying so damn much all of the time. He always does this, always says too much to people he has a crush on, he’s been doing this since he was seven. “Anyway, you do bars?”

“It’s my favorite,” you admit sheepishly. “But I’m pretty good at vault too, when I try my darnedest.”

“Floor and rings are my specialty,” Jimin says, and it totally sounds like he’s bragging about his best qualities, God, he should just never talk to other people except Hoseok ever again. “You know, if you ever need help with anything, I’m almost always here every afternoon.”

“Really?” You ask, smiling with your eyes wide. “I’d appreciate that a lot.”

“Yeah, um, if you ever need my number, wait—”

“Let me get my phone real quick,” you tell him as you scurry off, and, well, score!

You return hardly thirty seconds later with your phone in your chalky hand, white dust rubbing off all along the case, but you’re barely paying attention to it, quickly typing in his number as he rattles off each digit. Jimin doesn’t have his phone on him—it’s currently camping out in his duffel bag back in the locker room—so he just tells you to text him, and you send him a little hi! :-) so that he has your number. The conversation sort of tapers off there, the five minute interaction ending as you return back to the task at hand, the uneven bars in front of you. Jimin bids you goodbye and begins to walk off, getting just far enough out of view for you not to be able to feel his piercing gaze on you while you practice, but close enough for him to get a good view of what you’re doing.

And holy shit, Hoseok was not lying when he said you were good at bars. In the nicest way possible, your casual practice routine makes Jimin feel like he’s five all over again, staring in awe at all of the big boys and girls practicing on the bars like it’s muscle memory and only dreaming that one day, he would be that great.

Everything, from your routine to your stunts to your execution, is flawless in his eyes as he watches, stars circling his pupils. Jimin’s never been that good at bars, period, but your routine makes him look like an absolute rookie on them. You glide from each bar effortlessly, never hesitating in your movements, and the momentum that keeps you going is stronger than Jimin thinks he’s ever witnessed in his entire life. From beginning to end, your routine leaves him starstruck as you finally salto off of the bars, sticking the landing almost 100% perfectly if it weren’t for your slight wobble. But honestly, that little wobble can be completely overlooked in comparison to the rest of your practice routine, because holy shit that’s just a practice routine.

You dust off your hands once more and high-five one of the girls’ coaches, and Jimin presses his back against the wall of the gym and sinks to the floor.

He’s gonna need to up his bars game if he wants to come anywhere close to impressing you.

Unsurprisingly so, Jimin begins to stress workouts on the bars rather than his forte, the floor, when he’s with Hoseok, and especially whenever you’re there at the same time that he is. Any chance he can get he’ll spend going over and over different moves and routines and workouts just to step up his game.

But every damn time that Jimin thinks he’s come this much closer to impressing you, you arrive at the gym with your leotard on and totally blow all of his moves right out of the water without batting an eyelash, and all it does is leave Jimin breathless as Hoseok taps him on the shoulder and tells him to keep trying.

The only good part about constantly being in the bars room is that he keeps getting to see you, and you’ve reached this point in your relationship where you’ll just smile every time you meet eyes and crack silent jokes to each other when the coaches aren’t watching you, and it’s on this weird fence between acquaintances, friends, and romantic interests, and he can’t say he’s exactly sure where he falls. You haven’t alerted him of any need for gymnastics help since you arrived, but why would you, when you’re brilliant at everything you do. Even Jimin feels a little self-conscious.

“Jimin, come on, up you go,” Hoseok says again, throwing the chalk chunk Jimin’s way. “What’s with the sudden interest in bars? Last time I checked, you didn’t really try to perfect your bars routine when you always have so much going for you on floor and rings.”

“I just thought I might need to step up my game,” Jimin says, trying to avoid your eye contact even when he knows you’re trying to grab his attention to make a quick joke about something. “I wanna do better in the next competition.”

“But on bars?” Hoseok says skeptically. Jimin takes this as the perfect time to meet your eyes as you pretend to snort the dust of the chalk off of the ledge, making him snort to himself, catching Hoseok’s attention. It’s like he has a damn epiphany when he figures it out, mouth dropping open in realization as he nods ever so slowly. “Oh, it’s because of Y/N. Damn, I should have guessed that by now.”

“What are you even talking about?” Jimin asks, trying to play it off.

“Don’t try and fake it, Jimin. I told you you needed to work on your bars routine, but this isn’t necessarily the motivation I was going for. If you want to ask her out, just do it. You don’t need an Olympic-medal winning routine to knock her socks off,” Hoseok says.

“But don’t you want me to have motivation to get better at my routine, coach?” Jimin asks, confused. Isn’t this what Hoseok wanted? He’s always known his bar routines were lackluster, but Jimin isn’t a national floor champion for his bar workouts.

“I do, but if you’re just doing it to impress her, then I want you to know that you don’t need this whole big sha-bang to do it,” Hoseok says, and, well, that’s the end of that. “Anyway, get yourself back up there. You need to work on your giants between stunts. They’re not smooth enough.”

Jimin embarrassingly begins to spend more and more time later in the evening trying to perfect a bar routine high enough to meet your standards. His plan is for him to show up to the gym earlier than you and spend the entire time on the bars. As you walk in, he’ll perform his showstopping routine and blow you away, and once he sticks the landing, he’ll casually walk over to you and ask you out. Simple. Foolproof. Genius.

Hoseok thinks Jimin’s being ridiculous, and that a good bar routine won’t make you more or less likely to accept his offer, but it’s too late now, because he’s already doing it and it’s happening.

He hears through the grapevine (he texts you the day before asking how late you’ll come to the gym) that you’ll only be able to make it to the center after most of the classes and coaches are gone, which is perfect, because it allows for a more intimate moment between the two of you without screaming little kids running amuck around the place.

So Jimin gets ready, chalking his hands up more than he needs to, really, just to be extra safe. The chalk makes his hands dry and crackly and calloused, but every gymnast’s palms are like that anyway, so what’s a bit more chalk going to do?

If he messes this up, he’ll be damn pissed, because this is what he’s spent the last two weeks on and been totally disregarding his Expert Floor Routine for, and now it has to be perfect.

He begins to warm up on the bar when he hears the bell over the entrance to the gymnastics center ring and your soft voice greeting the lady at the check-in, doing a couple of giants to gain momentum, swinging around the bar several times as he listens to you place your duffel bag down on a chair in the waiting area, footsteps echoing throughout the room as you walk around on the hardwood.

Jimin’s going to get this right, goddamnit.

He’s been here all day for it anyway.

“Jimin?” You ask when you see him twirling around on the horizontal like it’s nobody’s business. “What are you doing here so late?”

Jimin stops, letting gravity pull him back down to Earth until he comes to a stop, letting go of the bar and dropping to the mat below. He shrugs casually. “Just getting in some late night practice.”

“Do you compete much on bars?” You ask, smiling as you enter the gym, adjusting your grips and heading over to the chalk.

“A little. I’m trying to get better at them, you see,” Jimin says, and he can feel himself leading up to his big moment.

“Really?” You ask, amused as you take a step back from your own uneven bars, turning to watch him on the mat with a tilt to your step.

“Yeah,” Jimin admits. “Wanna see?”

You nod excitedly, and Jimin takes it as his cue to take off, so he does. He jumps up and grabs onto the bar, pulling himself up and beginning to start his routine. He knows you’re the only one watching him, the only other person who cares enough to come so late, the only person watching him, but still his breath is getting quicker and his hands are getting clammier, even with all this damn chalk on him. It’s you, he swears, you’re the one that makes him so nervous. He begins to pick up steam, gaining momentum as he begins to turn once he reaches the top of the bar, shaky movements that have his body loosening ever so slightly, but it’s no big deal. He continues to push through, letting his body do all of the work and giving his mind a goddamn vacation because he’s thinking way too much right now, thinking about you and your smile and that laugh you do when you both make an inside joke during afternoon workouts.

Maybe Jimin should have taken into account the fact that you always seem to make him sweat without even trying, always get his nerves all tingly and jumpy, always make him hyper aware of every move he makes. Because, like he should have seen it all damn along, the clamminess of his hands melts down the chalk, and there’s not enough on the bars to keep him going, and suddenly he’s toppling to the floor.

“Jimin!”

Your voice is the only thing he hears as he hits the mat with such great force Jimin swears he’ll hear the sound in his nightmares.

After being a gymnast for so long, pain shouldn’t hit Jimin like it does this time, but maybe that’s just the massive bruise to his self-confidence after totally bombing his extravagant ask-you-out routine right in front of you. Damn, Hoseok’ll be pissed.

“Are you okay?” You ask, rushing over to him with concern lacing your syllables. “That was some fall.”

“I’m fine, really,” Jimin promises as you crouch over him, trying to press himself off of the mat but feeling his wrist give out from underneath him, crashing down.

“You don’t look fine, holy shit,” you say with furrowed brows. “Stay here, I’m gonna get the first aid kit.”

“It’s not like I was going to go anywhere,” Jimin jokes, and even in this time of gymnastics crisis you laugh, and for some reason, it feels like the only drug he needs to alleviate the pain.

Regardless, you come back hardly a minute or two later with the little plastic box of first aid nonsense in your hands, and here you are, crouched over him in the dim light of the gymnastics center as you tend to his poor wounds after he tried to impress you with his bar routine, and this is not where he thought this night would end up.

“I don’t think you’ve broken anything,” you say as you tenderly hold his wrist. He winces in pain and it makes your eyes dilate in worry. “But it might be a sprain.”

“I feel so dumb,” Jimin finally tells you.

“Why? You’re not dumb for falling,” you promise as you grab the gauze and begin to wrap it around his hand as a makeshift cast until he can get to an actual, qualified professional. “It happens to the best of us. I have so many battle scars.”

“I was just trying to do a cool bar routine…” Jimin says, voice trailing off as he mumbles, “to impress you.”

“What?”

“I just wanted to impress you,” Jimin breaths out quickly, the words leaving his mouth in a rapid fashion as you pause mid-wrap, letting his sentence sink in.

“What?” You repeat. “Impress me? Why would you want to impress me?” You ask in confusion.

Jimin feels his cheeks getting all red and his hands getting clammy again, and he’s worried that it might prevent the gauze from staying properly. “I just wanted to see if maybe you’d want to… uh, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore, don’t pay attention to me,” Jimin says, waving you off as you tape the gauze off so it stays wrapped around his hand and wrist.

“No, what were you going to tell me?” You ask, a hand on his upper back as you look him softly in the eyes.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime?” Jimin finally, finally musters out, and you giggle at how shy his confession is, how much effort it takes for him to just ask you out.

“Oh, Jimin, was that whole bar routine just for me?” You ask, touched.

“It might have been…”

“No one’s ever tried to perfect a horizontal routine just to ask me out before,” you tell him.

Jimin frowns. “But I totally screwed it up.”

“That makes it even sweeter,” you promise.

“So do you want to go out sometime? You know, after I get my wrist checked out,” Jimin says, holding up his temporarily bandaged wrist with a grin.

The answer comes to you like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Of course.”

And maybe the whole routine thing didn’t go as planned, but the best proposals are always the unexpected ones, aren’t they?

⇒ hmu w feedback or just talk 2 me here!

#sfwbangtan #bangtan bookclub #bangtanwriters-net #bts writing squad #jimin fluff #bts fluff #jimin imagine #bts imagine #jimin scenario #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts au #jimin au #jimin athlete au #JIMIN IS SO FLEXIBLE ALWAYS #wow i really power wrote this in a day #ok gotta stop writing abt jimin i have TWO hogwarts aus on my wips list #w: just a little bit of love

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