#He really is such a mishmash of things isn’t he

[eglerieth]

Elrond be like: I am 4/8 human, 3/8 elf, and 1/8 angel. My mother is a bird and my father is the planet Venus. My twin brother was the first king of Atlantis but somehow I seem to be more famous than him. I am one of three ringbearers, the other two being the female version of Feanor and a guy who loves fireworks. My foster father is a crazy homeless guy who likes music and his whole family is dead. My many-greats grandnephew is in love with my daughter. No one can tell my sons apart. I like waterfalls and am both a glorified innkeeper and a top-notch doctor. I am the voice of reason no one listens to.

[callahanisms]

a fair trade

pairing: miguel o’hara x gender neutral! reader

word count: 1,010 words

ao3 link: 🕷️🕷️🕷️

summary: your help is needed to defeat a multiversal entity, one that you’ve defeated before. but what can miguel offer in return for your service?

notes: kind of mishmashing the movies and comics together. do not fret if you haven’t read any of them! it’s mostly just referenced (much like how it was referenced in the last post). the fic on ao3 is also locked to registered ao3 users only. it’s a precaution i’m taking in response to ai using ao3 fics to be trained.

“(Y/N), we need your help.”

“Miguel, I’m in the middle of eating lunch. Because, you know, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“That’s on you.”

“Some of us don’t like breakfast.”

“Okay that’s not the point! The point is that we need your help!”

You were just sitting at your table, peacefully. After a mission earlier today, you thought you enjoyed a nice break. All you’ve been doing is going on missions across the multiverse, at the expense of your personal life back home. Your friends missed you and were constantly wondering why you would dip all of a sudden. After all, it wasn’t like you to just...cancel last minute. You loved your friends. You always made sure to be there. What you didn’t expect when accepting Miguel’s invitation was to be worked constantly. There was always a multiversal threat at stake, even for something small.

You were literally the local expert on the multiverse. Small things wouldn’t cause catastrophe. But Miguel believed they would. He believed in a domino effect. You believed that it was necessary to stay vigilant but not every small thing required attention. Sometimes the multiverse acted weird. It was a multiverse. It acted on its own accords.

“Miguel, is it actually something to worry about? Or is it something like the Vulture ended up in the wrong reality which can be cleaned up without my help?” You took a sip of your drink.

“It’s someone by the name of Verna. And she’s brought with her an army.”

“Verna? Never heard of her.” You shake your head.

“Really? She claims she’s fought you before.”

“If I saw a picture, then maybe I would recognize her.”

Miguel doesn’t hesitate. “Lyla.”

Part of you wondered what it would be like if your name was always on the tip of his tongue, ready to speak on a moment’s notice. You always wanted someone who could say your name with such ease, who thought of you constantly.

“Already on it.” Lyla pulls up a video. “This is live footage of the whole thing. We’re lucky she hasn’t spread her destruction further.”

As you were taking a sip of your drink, you choked on the liquid. Thankfully, you did not die. “We need you alive (Y/N).” Miguel says.

“I thought I banished her to the ends of the Multiverse!” You exclaimed.

“So you have fought her?” Lyla questions. “Was this the multiversal being you battled before?”

“She’s the reason I have no magic!” You crush the metal cup in your hand. “It took everything for me to banish her! And she just comes...comes back like nothing happened?” You squint a little. “She also looks a lot different than I remember. You said her name was Verna?” Lyla and Miguel look at each other before nodding. “She went by a different name. Called herself the Matriarch of...something. I don’t remember.”

“All the more reason for you to finish up and join us.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I lost my appetite.” You picked up the dishes and cleaned out the plates, dropping them off with the conveyor belt of dirty dishes. “You owe me Miguel.”

“Owe you what?”

“A break. Like a real break. My body needs to properly recuperate, you know.”

He inputs the numbers and opens the portal. “I can do that. You’ve done good work so far.”

“Exactly. Not getting paid here.”

“None of us get paid.”

“It was a joke. You know, Peter was right. You’re like the only one of us that isn’t funny.”

“That’s hilarious.” His voice did not change in tone and his facial expressions did not give away that he was humored.

“Lighten up a little. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re extra stoic because you want to kiss me.”

“I do not want to kiss you.”

“Everyone wants to kiss me.”

He looks at you, eyebrow slightly raised. “You should pay me in kisses actually. Think that’d be a fair deal. I help you guys stop Verna, again, and I get a kiss. It’d be the perfect reward.”

You feel his gaze on you. “It’s a joke, I promise. You don’t have to actually.” Even if you did want to kiss him.

He takes a step towards you, much to your surprise. His hand reaches up, fingers curled slightly, and his knuckles graze the skin of your cheeks. It’s reassuring in a way and his touch is gentle. It reminds you of when you first joined, how his fingers gently wiped away the crumbs at your face. His hand uncurls and cups your face. “How badly do you want a kiss?” He asks.

His voice made your legs shake. “If I answered that I think you’d make fun of me.”

“I mean...it’s a simple yes or no question.”

“Yes?”

You weren’t expecting his lips to crash against yours. The sheer force almost causes you to fall over and your hands fumble to grip onto his body. You could feel his muscles flex beneath his suit. You kiss him back, but most certainly not with the same amount of force he does. Miguel even goes as far to nip your bottom lip, causing a small gasp to emerge from your throat. It was a little embarrassing and your cheeks grew warm. He pulls away, satisfied and with that cocky smirk on his face.

“Make it back alive and I’ll give you another.” He puts his mask on. “Maybe even more.”

“You...have a lot of confidence that I will.” You were out of breath. Very much out of breath.

“You’ve beaten the odds before. It’s part of who we are.”

Miguel walks through the portal and you clench your hands for a few seconds. You were nervous. It wasn’t just the kiss that made you nervous (though your heart certainly was pumping for that reason primarily). Lyla looked at you with a smile. “You better come back. Or else I’ll lose the primary thing I make fun of him for.”

“I’ll try Lyla. For you.”

“Sure, sure. Now get going before people die.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

never not mine | jjk | "... the whispers..."

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game. This confrontation is long overdue and is either going to end in handcuffs or tangled limbs.

part i | this is part ii | part iii

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; things are thrown during a public altercation; second chance romance?; angst and fluff and feels; Jungkook's POV

non-idol!AU; fashion model!Jungkook — ft fellow model/actor!Kim Taehyung and model/businessman!Kim Seokjin; a few cameos you can speculate on and one named cameo hehe; reader is not part of the entertainment industry

--

whether I'm gonna be your wife or gonna smash up your bike, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back – imgonnagetyouback by taylor swift

It was a night just like any other night, which meant Jeon Jungkook was somewhere doing something because he was someone. On this night he was visiting a new upscale nightclub owned by one of his close friends, which was why he was at a table surrounded by his bros, expensive bottles of alcohol, and beautiful women. Not his scene, really. He was an introvert at heart. Despite that, he had obligations to be here. Obligations to laugh, to jest, to be merry, to be somebody.

But he knew he was just a somebody surrounded by much better bodies.

So, really, he was only a ghost.

“Hey, isn’t that…?”

It was luck and good friends that got him in the position he was in now. Jungkook knew that. He couldn’t complain too much when they invited him out. After all, they were only doing it because they cared about him. Yeah.

“She's really staring at you, man.”

Someone nudged his arm. For a moment, he didn’t comprehend that it was him that was being spoken to. Maybe it was the heavy black leather jacket. Underneath, he wore a tight white tank, and completed his outfit with studded charcoal-wash jeans and black leather boots. Nice, sure, but there were other men that much more sharply dressed with bigger designer labels. Of course, he cleaned up well with his slicked-back black hair and clean-shaven jawline. So did any other male model out there. He was not so egotistical to think he was the most interesting man there.

“Hmph, who?” he snickered, swinging around in his chair with the ice in his glass clinking. He would figure out who everyone was talking about from the reactions of the public. He snapped his head around, stray tendrils of black falling free onto his forehead, obscuring his vision for a split second, and then he faced the crowd beneath the VIP tables.

Time slowed.

The club was loud. Very loud, due to the deafening combination of music, chatter and laughter. It was lit with the imperfect balance of light and dark, oscillating spotlights exposing corners and weaving through moving bodies clad in fitted dresses, high heels, tailored blazers, suit pants. The alcohol was high-grade. The crowd was cherry-picked and pre-screened at the door. It was what it was. Individuals who had money blowing money, ignoring the sins around them to commit their own. It was hard to pick out someone.

But Jungkook saw her right away.

The club became quiet from his point of view. Sound became a mishmash of muffled, incoherent noises fading to the background as the faces blurred. The music dulled. All lights dimmed except in one area. Everything was still moving, still thriving, still breathing yet he was only aware of one single person.

His ex-girlfriend stared right at him from below.

Even from this distance he could feel the blades in her gaze.

Black patent leather jacket. Very short, cut just under the breasts. Black lace corset, see-through except for the cups. Skintight lilac miniskirt. Legs for days. Pointed-toe black pumps with a thin ankle strap, the kind he had trouble with due to the small delicate buckle.

He tried to breathe but the air was like concrete in his lungs.

She tilted her head, narrowing her smoked-out eyes. Her lips were glossy crimson, cool-toned to match the palette of her outfit. Her hair had been pinned up, exposing her graceful neck and glimmering collarbones.

She began to walk through the crowd.

Jungkook spun around and suddenly all the sound roared back, intense and thunderingly hostile. He winced, clutching his drink and holding the side of his head, trying to make sense of it all.

“Tch, why is she here?”

“Right? She doesn’t belong here.”

“She can be wherever she wants to be,” replied a calm, deep voice.

He could hear voices around him talking but it wasn’t making any sense. How? Why? Was he seeing things? And why did it matter? It didn’t. It didn’t. He took another sip of his glass and found it bitter and tasteless. Maybe that was in his head too. It didn’t matter if she was here. Someone was tugging on his arm. He pulled himself free, snapping his hand down onto the table.

The world crashed back into place as his drink sloshed and spat out from his force.

A startled feminine gasp.

The calm, deep voice returned. “You okay, man?”

Jungkook jerked his head up and saw Kim Taehyung carefully surveying him. He was a man with strong, masculine features and a comforting baritone voice that reminded one of cozy winters and romantic nights. Out of all his friends, they were the closest in age. However, Taehyung was more than a year older and a much more seasoned veteran of the modeling industry. He had been scouted at a very young age, quickly learning the ins-and-outs without losing who he was. He was grounded, easygoing, and never had a crack in his composure. At least, that was how Jungkook thought of him.

Taehyung raised a dark eyebrow, repeating his question without saying a word.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook scowled, then controlled his face a bit better. “What?”

Those dark, moody eyes served him a dose of silent judgement as one of the girls at the table spoke up again.

“Oooh, she’s sitting down at a table.”

He told himself not to look. It didn’t matter if she was here. And yet his head moved on its own, pivoting to the left so fast he almost had whiplash. At high-end clubs like this, there were tables available depending on to how much a patron spent. The larger tables had to be paid for in advance to be secured a space. Such reservations were violently expensive, signaling VIP status. A lot of the smaller tables on the lower level were occupied. The more exclusive tables were higher up, needing stairs to access the higher tiers. A waiter was holding her hand, carefully guiding his ex-girlfriend up the stairs to an empty round table that typically seated ten.

There was no one else at the table.

She sat down at the seat closest to overlooking the club.

“She can afford that?”

A crackling laugh. “Doubt it.”

“Who are you to say what she can’t afford?” Taehyung cut in sharply in a disapproving tone.

“O-Oh, well… It’s just not that common, you know.”

The chittering was from the women they had invited to the table earlier. Shit, their presence seemed so frivolous and annoying now. Jungkook had half a mind to turn around and glare at them. Instead, he was transfixed by the woman in patent leather and tight lilac. She crossed her legs, smoothed her skirt, and leaned back in her chair, scanning the crowd. A waiter came back and brought a bucket of ice with a champagne bottle and accompanying flutes. A waitress came by with another bottle. Porcelain, with painted flue floral design, and placed two crystal glasses onto the table. His former lover smiled at them, nodding. They bowed and took their leave after serving her.

Instead of touching the drinks, the woman turned her body and locked her icy stare right on him.

Jungkook stiffened and turned away quickly, feeling his body running hot. The table was still talking, but it was behind hands and feigned disinterest. Taehyung sighed, shaking his head. Of course, there had been other friends at the table too. Only now did Jungkook notice that they were missing. Must have wandered off. At the very least, their host Kim Seokjin would definitely be gone for a while. He was an affluent actor, model, and owner of several establishments, including this luxury nightclub. Eventually the tall, broad-shouldered man would return to see them off, but there was no telling when.

“Did you know she was gonna be here?” Jungkook hissed through gritted teeth, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the women. They still lingered for the free drinks which Taehyung kept supplied. No sense in wasting Seokjin’s endless tab after all.

Taehyung frowned. “I don’t police people’s actions. Does it matter what she does?”

Jungkook scoffed. “Oh, so this wasn’t your idea?”

Those normally warm brown eyes turned cold. “It wasn’t. Besides, she’s no longer your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely not.”

A growl collected in Jungkook’s throat and he was about to let it loose. He swiveled his head again only for the sound to die before it began. A man was standing by her table. He was sharply dressed in a suit and tie, with tied-back bleached-blond hair that laid over his shoulders. He had a pleasant decorum and a smile like a predatory feline. She gestured him to sit down and poured him a drink as invitation. He watched in horror as his ex-girlfriend chatted up a beautiful stranger.

He didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or run over there to flip the table.

A low voice cut through his thoughts.

“Wasn’t the breakup amicable?”

He froze.

Slowly, Jungkook faced Taehyung, his long-time friend. He never really could bring himself to fully lie to those piercing dark orbs, now reflecting the same reserved gaze that Taehyung had given him when Jungkook provided the same flimsy excuse he was once again repeating.

“I… It wasn’t meant to be,” Jungkook mumbled once more. “The traveling… it was too much for us.”

The older male was too good at reading between the lines, especially when it came to romance, his forte. “Hm.” He knew when he wasn’t getting the full story. “It’s probably too late to ask now, but was it what you wanted?”

Jungkook couldn’t help it.

“It was…”

He looked over his shoulder again.

“… What I deserved.”

She was thanking the blond-haired man. He bowed ninety degrees and leaned in, whispering something in her ear before leaving the table. His glass was empty. Someone else was approaching the table. A pretty woman with long black hair in a white minidress and short, pearl-white nails sat down, bowing lightly and introducing herself. His ex-girlfriend offered between the two drinks and the pretty woman chose the champagne. A waiter came over to uncork it for them, pouring a healthy amount into the two flutes.

They two chatted, immediately absorbed with each other.

“For a guy naturally talented at a lot of things, you’re such a stupid idiot.”

He was.

Wait.

Jungkook scowled, turning back to a disapproving Taehyung cradling a small ceramic cup. It was hand-painted with the smallest of brushstrokes, depicting a flock of black birds disappearing into the white sky. He took a sip with a gruff sigh, making a tense face. He was a wine guy, but he couldn’t turn down traditional Korean alcohol. That would be uncouth.

“How long are you going to continue moping?” Taehyung scoffed.

“I’m not moping,” Jungkook countered, hunched over the table and gripping his whiskey glass a little too hard.

“You are convincing no one. Least of all me.”

His eyes flickered upward, glaring. Taehyung remained refined, unperturbed, nearly prince-like in his half-open floral-and-forest-green silk shirt and ruffled hair. A black-brown curl perfectly grazed one of his eyebrows, accenting his condescending look with a dash of softness.

“Did you ever realize how much she did for you?”

Jungkook pushed away his glass. He couldn’t reply. He stuck his tongue in his cheek, trying not to feel. It was only then that he noticed that the table was strangely silent despite the fervor of the environment – the women had made themselves scarce, understanding that this conversation was much too serious for their girlypop night.

Finally, he forced himself to speak. “For me? I take care of myself.”

Taehyung winced. Hard. “You cannot be serious right now.”

Another peek behind him. A different man at her table now. Silvery-blonde hair, tan skin, muscular like a godly titan. She caught him looking and stared directly back. Jungkook cursed under his breath. “What did she do then? Hm? Enlighten me.” His voice was becoming rougher, slipping out of his practiced Seoul dialect and into his Busan dialect. The broad-shouldered man at the table had no suit jacket. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up. He must have noticed her lack of attention, because he began to turn around as well.

Jungkook jerked away before they could lock eyes too.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two,” Taehyung exhaled, not quite annoyed but getting there. “But I know you were the one that was wrong.”

Yeah, right.

“Never once did she complain about you. Never once did she butt into your business and cause you trouble when she could have. Never once did she talk behind your back when we both know damn well that you’re no saint, Jeon Jungkook.”

His tattooed hand against the table balled up into a fist, the familiar ache in his chest splitting, threatening.

Unintimidated, Taehyung continued. “The travelling was rough? Of course, it is. And there are probably a thousand ways to make it up to someone you love, but instead now I’m looking at you sitting here and her sitting there, pretending to be strangers. Tells me a whole lot about how that worked out.” His natural Daegu satoori was becoming more evident during his tirade. Taehyung wasn’t trying to be polite, though.

“You don’t know anything,” Jungkook retorted.

“I don’t.” Those dark brown eyes burned hot, scrutinizing him and tearing him apart. “And I don’t need to. Your hostility is telling me everything.”

“It was you,” Jungkook snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. “You invited her here.”

Taehyung’s low voice became lower, more accusatory. “Go ahead. Keep deflecting. Run back home and hide. That’s what you want to do, right?” His gaze narrowed and Taehyung’s normally friendly warmth morphed into scalding heat. “You heard what they said. She doesn’t belong here. And yet, here she is. They all talked and gossiped and badmouthed her, right to your face even, and yet you said nothing. You still don’t have the fucking balls, man. You didn’t respect her for all she was. In spite of that, she stood beside you, head held high, until you tossed her away. You brought her into this world, you ripped her out of it, and guess what? She is here. She holds her own. You deluded yourself into thinking she needed you. But she doesn’t, and it’s the other way around.”

Jungkook shot up out of his seat, nearly knocking the chair over. He was breathing hard, his furious anger so violent that it clawed at his insides, and Taehyung tilted his head, mirroring the expression of an adult tiger observing a foolish cub.

“You’re wrong,” Jungkook gritted out between clenched teeth. “You’re fucking wrong.”

He… No. She did this. This was her fault. She was the one that always pushed him to go for what he wanted. She was the one who always helped him make it work. Last minute changes happened often early in his career and she always smiled at him and told him to go, to run, to chase those adventures. And she always waited for him to come home.

“I wasn’t like that.”

In the middle of dinners for two. In vacations cut short. In forgotten special dates. Go. She always waited for him to come home. He couldn’t be blamed for that. Those were all her own decisions. He just had to do what he had to do, didn’t he? He couldn’t be blamed for doing what he thought was best. He couldn’t be blamed for trying his best. This dull ache created from a thousand cuts was not made from his own hand.

Right?

“You’re hopeless.” Taehyung slumped back in his chair and sighed. “Do as you wish.”

He wasn’t the person Taehyung was saying he was.

If he was, then…

No.

Jungkook whipped around and locked his eyes to the table, walking determinedly up to it.

There was a different man sitting there now. A very tall one with very short hair, violate energy, and a striking profile, deeply engaged in conversation with his ex-girlfriend. Currently laughing bashfully at something she must have said. The stranger was wearing a crisp black dress shirt with the first few buttons undone and well-tailored black slacks. Jungkook wanted to punch him in his very handsome face. He didn’t care that the man’s shoulders and arms were so built that they were nearly bursting the seams of his dress shirt, nor did he care that starting a fight right now would do absolutely nothing except get him thrown out in handcuffs.

Jungkook wanted to kill him.

Her eyes took a moment to shift from the very handsome stranger to him.

It hurt.

It really fucking hurt.

He glared back. Her gaze was not as heated, nor did it hold the same ice she had during their last conversation way back then. There was a completely different mix of emotions conveyed now. Almost disconnected, lonely, and loathing all at once, the last not directed at him but at herself.

As if she didn’t want to care but did and hated herself for it.

It wasn’t who she was at all, and Jungkook hated himself for doing this to her.

“Dude, I’m going to need you to get lost.”

Startled, the seated man turned his head to see Jungkook giving him a death stare. He hated seeing the puppy-like expression on such a masculine-looking man, not because he looked down on that but because it was a genuine, adorable reaction that couldn’t be faked.

She probably liked that.

She probably deserved that.

Jungkook was determined to ruin this too. Why the fuck not?

The man looked confused, and then irritated. “Uh… Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I don’t think you belong here.” He had a commanding, stern tone. He shifted in his seat, halfway to rising. “This conversation doesn’t include you.”

“No, this conversation doesn’t include you,” Jungkook snapped, glancing at her. His ex-girlfriend did nothing but raise an eyebrow at him, her arms crossed under her breasts. “Fuck off.”

The man in the black dress shirt began to stand, brows furrowing. “Hey, I’m going to have to ask you to leave–”

“Excuse me.”

She stood up.

From this distance, Jungkook could fully take in how the smoke-grey eyeshadow accentuated the shape of her eyes, making them more prominent and intense. The lights caught the glow of her skin and the vividness of the scarlet of her lips, giving her an ethereal, untouchable demeanor. Loose layers of her hair framed her face despite the majority of it being pinned up, casting cold, dark shadows around the hot radiance of her gaze.

“I’m sorry to cut our conversation short, but I think it’s best if you give us a moment,” she said politely to the tall stranger while bowing. “I was enchanted to meet you tonight, Kim Mingyu.”

A pink flush dusted over the man’s cheeks. This motherfucker had the audacity to be flustered. Jungkook still wanted to punch him in the face. Maybe more now than before.

“O… Oh… Um. Alright.” He glanced between Jungkook and her. “Will you be okay?”

She smiled, maintaining confident eye contact with the stranger. “Let’s not assume the worst of people. And… Your words have given me courage. I thank you.”

It took everything in Jungkook not to trip the guy on his very expensive designer shoes as he hastily bowed and took his leave, offering an awkward half-wave before backing away. She raised a hand back, not looking away even when he turned around.

And then.

Quiet.

At least as quiet as a loud nightclub could be. But it all became background noise in the face of loaded silence. The safety off now. The bass faded into heartbeats as she raised her eyes and, once again, they faced each other across the table. Jungkook stood with his hands balled up into fists in the pockets of his leather jacket. His former lover stood with her hands in front of her. She was still the most beautiful, graceful, and collected woman that he had ever had the pleasure to know.

“I’m…”

And he missed her so, so much.

“I’m sorry.”

So fucking much.

Her eyes flickered down in a pause, and then back up. “It really doesn’t matter anymore. The past is in the past.”

Her name on his lips felt foreign and familiar all at once. She didn’t react. It was as if he had said nothing at all. He said it again, almost with an edge of panic, and she closed her eyes, breathing in slowly. He wanted to run to the other side. He wanted to climb on top of the table and grab her hands and tell her it was going to be okay, that he was going to be better, that she was the love of his life and that he could be hers too, please, if only he had a chance. Instead, he stayed where he was, frozen in place, trying not to do the wrong thing even though everything about this scene and script was all wrong.

Her eyes opened in a resigned, resolute flutter.

“Do you think saying sorry takes back everything you’ve done?” she asked in a measured tone.

He pulled his hands out of his jacket, shaking his head. “No. No, of course not. I… You didn’t give me a chance to apologize, and I–”

“Apologize for what?” she coldly interrupted.

“W-Well… For… everything, really.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know.”

Jungkook blinked hard, trying to banish his tears. “Know?” he echoed.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” Her words were sharpened steel, cutting right through him.

“I do,” he insisted. “For all the times I left during dinner, for all the times I’ve left during our scheduled time together, for forgetting your birthday, anniversary–”

“For the blatant disrespect,” she interrupted, her hands separating, those intense eyes narrowing. “For always believing I could fend for myself when you got swept up during work events. For contacting me not to talk about my day, but to interrogate me on what I was doing. For not believing me and asking me to send photos every time I was out somewhere.”

He sputtered, taken aback. “That wasn’t… Those things–”

“For always knowing I understood your position and taking it for granted.” Her glare was like daggers, cutting through all the lies he told himself. “And yet never understanding mine. Never believing in the love I had for you.”

“I did believe!”

“And so you accused me of lying?” she shot back, scathing him. “I have never done anything to make you believe I was disloyal to you, but I was five minutes late to a date and suddenly I need to be lying? Suddenly that was a sign of my nefarious plans? Suddenly I’m the bad guy that needs to be backed into a corner? Suddenly I must beg on my knees to soothe your feelings?”

“I didn’t ask for that,” he retorted. “I just asked why you didn’t text that you were late.”

“I don’t need to repeat what I said then,” she growled, bristling. She had been five minutes late because of an elderly taxi driver taking his time. “Because it didn’t matter what the reason was for you. I know that now. You were scared. You were insecure. You were nervous that I was beginning to fall out of love with you. You latched onto the first thing I did wrong and blew it out of proportion to force me to grovel to you. You could have asked me directly how I felt. Instead, you decided to play fucking games.”

Jungkook couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

Her hands balled up into fists by her sides. “I was patient. I was understanding. I loved you.” She dug her nails into her palms, clenching her jaw. “But I was not going to let myself be manipulated by your insecurities. I was not about to lose myself to become an extension of you, Jeon Jungkook.”

Past tense.

“You… loved me?”

She might as well have stabbed him right through the heart.

A thundering pause.

Finally, she sighed. Her hands relaxed.

“When I came in here, I didn’t know if I wanted to run to you or slap you.”

She looked around, down at the crowd, up to the lights, to the bar, the tables, the people.

“Before you, all I had was a decent job. Not exciting, but good enough to enjoy the life I wanted. I had loose acquaintances and once-in-a-blue-moon friends. I had mediocre hobbies that I was okay at. Before you, that had been enough. This,” she breathed, indicating the people and the money being flaunted around like water during a rainstorm. “I didn’t know this. I didn’t know how lonely it was to be standing this high. I didn’t know… My acquaintances and few friends saw the life you gave me and faded away, no longer relating to the extravagance I was exposed to. My job became a forbidden topic for the mere crime that it was boring. My hobbies became childish to these refined eyes. Yet… I could live with all that. The life I wanted was the one I had with you. And… it turned out to be miserable.”

For the first time, Jungkook realized how much she lost loving him.

“I was miserable.”

She half-laughed, empty.

“But I loved you.”

Lowered her head.

“And I was so, so damn angry with you.”

She smacked the table with her palm, hard enough to make the people around them flash them a startled look. Her fingers tensed, cherry-red manicure flaring over the wood.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” This was the part Jungkook didn’t understand. His voice rose in both frustration and desperation. “Why didn’t you just blow up on me? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Say what?” she snarled, snapping her head up, each word a bullet tearing through him. “Huh? No, don’t go? How dare you leave me, again? Create the war wounds right before we part? What good does all that do? Make us both upset right before you run off? Because you would anyway. You know you would, because you are stubborn and selfish and always doing what you need to do, putting me at the bottom of the list since I am capable… right? I can handle myself, right?”

He was rounding the table, knocking chairs aside. “You could have been angry at me. You just didn’t want to be!”

“Who wants to be angry? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“What, you were worried that you would no longer be the perfect girlfriend if you weren’t understanding?” he accused.

She looked livid. “Don’t you dare flip my consideration onto me.”

He stopped right in front of her, tension all over his neck and jaw. “It’s your fault too. I can’t change if you act like everything is fine!”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious? I have to be the one to teach you not to be a fucking selfish prick and think about someone else for a change?” she hissed.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Of course, you know!”

They were beginning to draw whispers and stunned faces but neither of them was backing down or ashamed enough. Or, perhaps, they were simply completely unaware of the disruption they were causing.

“You knew – no, you still know,” she snarled, jabbing him in the chest with a impeccably manicured finger. “You have never felt like you fit in with these people. That was why you tried so hard. That was why you took every opportunity to be a lapdog. That was why you dated me, because I am not privileged and enabled, that’s why you dragged me into your world and got paranoid when I wasn’t showing the same apprehensions as you, putting me in impossible positions and playing games, when we could have been teamed up against the world, when we could have been yin and yang, but all we were was a pair of damn cowards!”

His eyes went wide.

Fury laced in her helpless expression.

“You could have protected me. All you did was make me throw myself to the wolves to protect you!”

Her hands slammed into his chest and she shoved him, hard. He stumbled back, throwing his right arm out, knocking over a champagne flute and shattering it. Glass exploded onto the floor, delicate shards shooting out and catching the light, scattering into dust beneath designer feet.

People gasped and someone screamed at the unexpected noise.

His left hand reached out and gripped the patent leather sleeve of her jacket. Their gazes locked in shock and comprehension. His lips parted. One of his knees was still bent to steady himself from falling. But before Jungkook could say anything, she squeezed her eyes shut, breaking their connection, and ripped her arm from his grasp.

Then she seized the porcelain bottle with painted blue flowers and threw it onto the floor, shattering that too.

One moment of awful, dazed silence.

The next moment, men in security uniforms swiftly and silently crossed the distance and surrounded them. He was being grabbed and pinned down to the table, metal handcuffs clicked onto his wrists behind his back despite his protests. His jaw dropped when one of the men touched her shoulder and she immediately turned around and slapped him. Instantly, she too was firmly pushed down and also restrained, both of them staring at each other over the surface of the wood, their previously well-styled hair in disarray all over their faces, their eyes wide with the realization of the severity of their public argument.

He couldn’t help but think she looked fucking hot.

Something flickered in her eyes. She recognized his exact thought from their shared look. And his ex-girlfriend burst out laughing at this absurd situation, even as security hoisted them up and dragged them down the stairs. So, fuck it. He couldn’t help it either.

Jungkook started laughing too.

-

“This is your fault, by the way.”

“Feel free to add it to the list of shit I’ve done wrong.”

They were still handcuffed. Both standing a respectful distance away  from each other in the middle of a storeroom crammed with boxes stacked like a cardboard maze. There were no windows. The door was closed and presumably locked. Neither of them had moved towards it. There would be no criminal undercover going on here. They were already in deep enough shit. Adding attempted escape would probably change their current storeroom location into separate jail cells for the night.

They did not look at each other.

Jungkook leaned against the boxes, his hands stuck behind his back. One of the sides of his leather jacket had slipped down, exposing his right shoulder. It was nice, actually, since the previous scuffle had left him rather hot-blooded. He snuck a glance beside him.

His ex-girlfriend’s body was facing the door. The backs of her hands rested on the prominent curve of her ass in that tight lilac skirt, her straight posture making her waist look even smaller. Must be nice to have a built-in shelf. His eye line travelled up to her hair, seeing it half-undone and falling down her neck. Half of the pins were still holding up by sheer luck. The patent leather of her jacket crackled as she adjusted, stretching out her ankle. She was still in her high heels.

“Uncomfortable?” he found himself quietly asking.

“Could be worse,” she answered back, still not turning around.

He waited for her to elaborate.

She didn’t.

The silence was palpable. Somehow not unbearable. He looked back down at his feet, wondering why they had been left here. He half-expected security to escort them off the premises and into a police car, but they had marched them behind the kitchen and told them to stay put and not cause trouble, similarly to how misbehaving kids were put in time-out. Then again, the owner of the club was his affluent friend Kim Seokjin. Perhaps this was a rich people thing. Or an under-the-table thing.

Her voice echoed in his head.

You have never felt like you fit in with these people.

“Hey, uh…” he started, trailing off.

A light sigh.

Then, she shook her head, somewhat vigorously. Some of the hairpins loosened up. “Ugh, my hair is more annoying than anything,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s all messed up.”

Hell yeah, it was, and it was a turn-on, reminding him of after-sex tousling. Jungkook kept his mouth shut. Not the right time for that. He chewed on his lower lip, wondering if he could do anything. Wondering if he should do anything. She still hadn’t turned around.

So, he did.

He turned around, bent down slightly, and tried to reach up. The angle was difficult. Not high enough either. His leather sleeves were also constricting his movement and making loud creaking sounds. He looked back, trying to reach up with a grunt, and she stiffened, swinging her head around. He froze in an awkward position. She stared at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He blinked back. “Um… I… I was trying to help…?”

Her eyebrow raised. “By… doing yoga?”

He let out an impatient huff. “No, I’m trying to help you take the pins out of your hair,” Jungkook clarified, straightening with a frustrated shake of his body. “It’s bothering you, isn’t it? But I’m not flexible enough and you’re too tall in your heels.”

She paused. He looked away, feeling somewhat embarrassed for even trying. Who was he to think that he could do something like that? Hah. His hands tightened behind him. They weren’t close like that anymore. They weren’t even friends.

He felt a sting in his heart remembering that.

“Sorry… I should have asked if you wanted the help at all.”

He exhaled heavily.

Stillness.

Then he heard the crack of patent leather and raised his head to see her squat down, lowering one knee to the concrete floor, her back perfectly straight and her head at his waist height. She was facing the door again so he couldn’t see her expression.

“If… Well, it would be helpful if you could… If you could remove the hairpins,” she mumbled, keeping her head up. “Please.”

He gawked at her kneeled form, unmoving.

His heartbeat accelerated.

“Um… if you’re going to do it, faster would be better,” she added hesitantly with placed-in chuckle. “I don’t know how long I can keep my balance in these shoes.”

His cheeks burned. “Uh, yeah, s-sorry. I’m on it.”

The metal handcuffs clinked as he moved. He turned around and backed up a bit, reaching out to feel for her hair. Sucked in a quiet breath as his fingers grazed the soft strands, memories of stolen nights drifting back to him. He swallowed hard and bit his lip, using touch to search for the hairpins, and then loosening them as gently as he could. One by one. He tried to tuck them in his palm as he continued. Sometimes he would need to rest one hand on her head and use the other to pull them out slowly and carefully. She said nothing, tilting her head slightly as he made his way around. He felt his way along her scalp, running his fingers through her hair, remembering the familiar scent he could detect when he used to breathe it in, remembering his hands holding her head as he used to lean in and kiss her, remembering that he had lost all of that now.

Jungkook lowered his chin, letting out a soundless cry.

“You liked my hair down, I recall,” she commented behind him, her soothing voice mirroring the rolling tide late at night.

“Y… Yeah.”

He smiled despite himself. He pulled back his handcuffed hands.

“You have lovely hair. I don’t like seeing it all tucked away.”

For a moment, there was a quietness as those words sank in. She shifted, and he heard her stand up, the sharp click of her heels indicating as much, but he kept his back to her, unsure if this was the last time he would touch her hair. The last time he hadn’t known it would be the last, so he didn’t mourn the moment until way later, but this time…

“Thank you.”

He breathed in through his nose. Oddly stuffy in here.

“Y… You’re welcome.”

He wished he could take it all back, but he couldn’t. He wished he could prove he was a better man, but he didn’t know how or even if he could. She was right. He had gotten swept up in his ambitions and the superficial relationships. He had been afraid. He had let that fear control him because he had felt out of sorts with who he was, who he was becoming, and who he wanted to be.

“I really… I really am sorry.”

They were back-to-back. Not touching. Just close enough to feel each other’s presence without seeing them. Hands behind their backs, staring in opposite directions but finally seeing the path before them.

“I know.”

She let out a soft breath.

“I wished for the way I felt to change once I could accept your apologies, but,” she whispered. “Life isn’t that simple or clear cut.”

His chest ached. “Yeah.” It didn’t matter if his actions had unintentional consequences. The consequences still existed. “You’re right. About it all. About the person I became and how I treated you because of it. About how this was because of me feeling like I don’t fit in.”

She didn’t say anything, yet Jungkook could sense her acknowledgment. He couldn’t really explain why he knew. Maybe it had something to do with their current circumstances.

“I keep trying and I… I don’t know. Maybe I’m too simple-minded. Maybe I can’t understand the world these people live in. I mean, my friends seem like normal people but there are still moments where I catch myself thinking, I wouldn’t have thought to do or say that. I feel so… disconnected, sometimes. Meaningless. Maybe I’m not worth a damn to them.”

He was rambling, slipping between his refined dialect and his Busan satoori. He caught himself, about to correct his wording.

“You don’t have to be like the people around you to fit in,” she chided.

He stopped trying to form a sentence and listened.

“You don’t listen. That has always been your strength. Your charm is your natural character with the added spice of rebellion.” Her chuckle lightened, making his heart tighten and feel like exploding at the same time. “Your talent has always been bravely walking your own path, confusing as it may be. There is a pureness in that. You have friends because they want to protect that part of you. Haven’t you noticed? Your friends have never asked you to change or be like them. They just accept you for how you are and push away people who try to mold you into their vision.”

His friends? Well, true, they were the main reasons for him getting the jobs he got. He had always felt somewhat inadequate, realizing his success was from seniors in the industry helping him out. They all told him that this was how it worked. They all told him to do well so he could get more opportunities. It was part of the reason that he felt that he couldn’t let those connections down. He had always felt that he couldn’t refuse.

“Your friends have always been on your side. They don’t want you to be like them. They want you to stay as you are. You mean that much to those around you.”

But perhaps he had been wrong all along.

“Only you thought you needed to change.”

There was probably a lot of sound outside, but the distracting racket was inaudible from the distant storeroom. Her quiet voice amplified her words in this slice of stillness. There something stricken and bitter haunting the air between them as the revelation settled.

He clutched her hairpins in his fist.

“I didn’t… I didn’t date you just because you weren’t part of this vapid world I’m in.”

He wanted her to know.

“I wish…”

The tears stung the corners of his eyes. He refused to let them go. Jungkook looked up to the ceiling, taking in each breath as steadily as he could. He felt like he was drowning, except instead of water, it was all the things he never said.

“I wish I could have been strong enough for you to be angry at me sooner. Tonight, I realized… It was my own shortcomings that made you stay quiet.” He chuckled dryly in admiration. “You endured more than I ever could. More than anyone should.” He didn’t know if he was making any sense but he kept on going. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so mad. That was the most emotion I’ve ever seen from you. You must have spent a lot of nights… feeling so alone because of my selfishness.”

This was not a romantic setting at all. They were stuck in a storeroom with no windows, surrounded by boxes, handcuffed for being a public disruption, for being too dramatic and too emotional. Neither of them could look at the other. A disaster in every sense of the world.

But.

Maybe this was the most honest moment they had ever shared.

Her laugh simmered behind him.

“I’m sorry for losing my shit.”

He half-smiled in rueful relief.

“It wasn’t so bad. Low-key kinda hot. I almost lost the plot at times.”

She laughed under her breath. “You don’t mean that.”

A single heartbeat of silence.

“I kinda do,” he admitted, feeling the upturned corners of his lips falter.

It became quiet once more. An embarrassed quiet, but maybe only on his side. Jungkook still couldn’t bring himself to turn around and find out. He shifted awkwardly, realizing he was still holding her hairpins in his hand. Uh. Well, he couldn’t exactly ask her to put them in her pocket. Did she even have any pockets with that outfit? He furrowed his brows, thinking about that tight skirt and lace corset. Doubtful there would be any pockets in such fitted clothing. Maybe in her jacket, but it was so short that he would basically have to reach for her tits to…

His face heated slightly realizing that he was heavily focusing on her body right now.

Click.

He didn’t really register the sound behind him at first. It sounded like something falling onto the concrete. There was another sharp tapping sound, but before he could shift and twist his body to see, he felt her fingertips brush against the knuckles of his fist.

“I’m sorry too.”

He was too shocked to even move or react. Just stood there wide-eyed, struck by the lightning of her touch, realizing they were that close and that it was her who initiated that.

“I should have brought up the little things that bothered me. I shouldn’t have let it snowball simply because I thought it would make your life easier. I should have tried to remind you not to be intimidated by those around you,” she sighed heavily. “And I should have believed in your apology more than I did.”

The pads of her fingertips stilled.

One by one, they lost contact.

Jungkook dropped all the hairpins on the floor in a cascade of metal raindrops.

He reached back and grabbed her hand, gripping her fingers tightly, gasping as he felt her cool skin against his warmth. He felt her initial rise of reluctance, however, she did not pull away. Their handcuffs clinked against each other, the chains colliding. He scrambled to reach a little higher. Grasping her hand in his. Her right in his right. He tried to say something. Something romantic, something reassuring, something self-derogatory even.

But nothing come out.

He tried to breathe and was choked by inner tears. Tried again, shaking, trying to be silent. Her fingers curled around the back of his hand and laid there. She gave him a light squeeze.

“Don’t worry.”

Her calming voice a dream on this night.

“I’m here.”

They held hands.

It must have been only for a short while. It felt like forever packed in minutes. He inhaled deeply, catching fleeting traces of her sweet and sultry perfume. Closed his eyes with an exhale. Another inhale, slower this time. Maybe this was futile. Maybe this was objectively wildly inappropriate. Maybe he was the fucking worst, wishing, hoping they could reset to something new. All of this could crash and burn.

Or.

Or, maybe.

He swallowed tightly. Leaned back just a little. Their shoulder blades touched. A moment of suspended anticipation. She leaned back against him. The backs of their heads didn’t yet touch. He felt her hair on his neck. It was only the tops of their backs that touched, but now there was only centimeters of trembling air between them.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice rough and nervous.

“Only a little.” Her thumb brushed against the side of his palm. “I’ll be alright.”

Yeah, he knew that. “You’re the most capable person I know.”

She sighed. “It’s not all sunshine and roses.”

He scrunched up his face in search for the words. “Well… You suit moonlight and thorns more.”

She nearly snorted. He felt her shoulders shake in silent laughter. He winced, thinking he said something wrong.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I like those better, anyway!” He blurted it out quickly. Maybe too quickly, curling a bit in on himself once he realized what he said, cringing, but she tugged on his hand ever so slightly. It was obvious she was shaking her head from her hair swishing over his neck.

“You always had a thirst for danger, Jungkook.”

Her tone was slight and playful. He felt his cheeks burn and his heart race so hard that he almost couldn’t breathe from the pressure. Nearly stuttered when he heard his name in her voice, clenching his jaw shut so he didn’t make a fool of himself. Again. His entire body tensed, on edge and vibrating from the rush of emotions.

“Are you trying to break my hand?”

He was gripping her hand way too tight. “S-Sorry!” He loosened his stiff fingers, twisting his wrist to keep his hand cupped around hers. “Sorry…”

“Heh, it’s not like you to apologize,” she teased.

Jungkook furrowed his brows. “Hey...”

Her head laid against his shoulder.

He stilled, heartbeat pounding. She looked up at the ceiling. At least, he presumed that from the angle. The back of her head touched his left shoulder, just barely. Her hair spilled against his collarbone and back, messy and free.

“I bet you have somebody. You’re too good-looking to have nobody lined up.”

Her murmur was soft and resigned. Guilty.

Her words hung in the air.

He tipped his head back, the nape of his neck against her shoulder. The patent leather of her jacket squeaked loudly under his presence. He wished. He hoped. He…

“I have someone,” he confessed.

He squeezed her hand. Their faces tilted upwards to the ceiling, and still Jungkook could recall every detail of her eyes – the way they glimmered when she smiled, the way they sparked when she was serious, the way they twinkled during all their special moments, the way they hollowed out when she turned away from him.

His fingers gently separated hers, interlocking.

The words were at the tip of his tongue.

His lips parted.

Suddenly there were loud footsteps on the other side of the heavy wood door. His ex-girlfriend jerked up in alarm. Jungkook stumbled. Both of them quickly sprang away from each other as the noisy jangle of keys was heard and then the heavy door swung open, revealing the two of them standing there, tense, now staring wide-eyed at a tall, broad-shouldered man flanked by two security guards. His black hair was perfectly parted, half brushing against his forehead and half combed back, giving a corporate feel in his tailored black suit. He was strikingly handsome by all accounts. Intense dark brown eyes, sculpted brows, full lips, stunning jawline.

Kim Seokjin wore an exasperated, annoyed expression.

He ticked his head to Jeon Jungkook’s ex-girlfriend.

“You. Come with me.”

She hesitated for a second and stepped forward, hanging her head a bit. “I sincerely apologize for the trouble I’ve caused.”

It would be expected for such a stern, posh-looking man to be harsh. Instead, Seokjin stuck his fists by his waist and sighed loudly, similarly to a disappointed grandmother scolding her favorite child.

“Haaah… come on. You’re not going to jail. I want to talk to you alone. Hey, uncuff her,” the owner of the nightclub tutted. One of the security guards went around her to unlock the handcuffs. “It took me a while to handle everything out there. At least the incident won’t be on the news or anything.” He reached out and held her elbow as she was released, steadying her balance and leading her out of the room. The guards followed, not taking a second glance back.

Jungkook frowned. “Hey, hyung–”

Seokjin whipped up and pointed a finger at him. “No. You stay here.”

Jungkook balked, offended. “What?! What about me?”

The older man glared at him like he was the naughty child. “I’ll have a conversation with you after. Stay.”

Anger boiled high. “I’m not a dog!”

Offensively, Seokjin barked back with, “You’re right. Dogs are loyal. And want to listen to people. You have the listening skills of a straw. In one end and out the other.”

The door slammed shut with finality.

Jungkook stood there, speechless, gawking at the sheer audacity.

Then he kicked the floor with a roar of impatience once Kim Seokjin’s insult finally registered. What the hell! Kim Seokjin was the one to invite him here in the first place! Seokjin was the oldest of Jungkook’s friends that took him under his wing, teaching him about various business aspects behind the scenes and making sure Jungkook knew the importance of having a good lawyer to look over his contracts. Now Seokjin had him locked up as if he was a five-year-old receiving a time out! Who did he think he was, his disciplinarian?

“What the fuck?!”

Then Jungkook ceased all movement, no longer stomping around in circles.

It was him.

Kim Seokjin had invited him here tonight.

It was him. Kim Seokjin had told him he better get his ass over here on this night in particular if he knew what was good for him. Not unusual, as his friends usually had to threaten him to go outside these days. It was you. You invited her here. It wasn’t Taehyung who invited her. He had been telling the truth all along.

“That bastard.”

Snarling, Jungkook whipped his head to the door and glared at it, fully intending to charge like a goddamn bull right into Kim Seokjin once it opened again.

I, I hear the whispers in your eyes I'll make you wanna think twice you'll find that you were never not mine you're mine

-

i hear... | ... the whispers... | ... in your eyes.

--

masterpost

[zedif-y]

Joel wakes up screaming.

His first thought, honestly, isn’t very coherent. A mishmash of need more time and a throat-tearing scream escaping him as he opens his eyes to–

His scream dies down. Joel looks around– at least, he thinks he’s looking around. Hard to tell when it’s all pitch black and he can’t see a thing, is he sure his eyes are working–?

Joel brings a hand to his face, “Did I go blind– What the heck!”

His voice comes out shrill, a hair away from a shriek (because no, it wasn’t a shriek, it was all manly and stuff, thank you.) as his hand kind of– it kinda–

He knows where his head is. Obviously. Be a bit weird if he didn’t. He knows where his head is, and he knows where his hand is. Both are important. So when he reached towards his head, right, gotta see if there’s a cloth over his eyes, or if he’s gone blind or whatever stupid thing must’ve happened to him after… After he…

His thoughts go fuzzy for a second, like that feeling you get when you think you’ve forgotten something but can’t remember what. Like knowing the shape of something you’ve lost, its absence so pressing that it chokes you like sand, clogging your lungs with each second it's gone but what the heck is it–?!

Where was he, again?

Oh. Right. He was freaking out.

The point is– because there was a point, right before things got all weird there– his hand went through his head.

It… He doesn’t even know how to explain it. It felt like… Not much, really. Didn’t feel like anything. But that’s the issue with it, the issue of something should be there, like skin and muscle and bone and perhaps even a brain. But instead, Joel put his hand where his face should be and he felt nothing, no matter how hard he tried, how far he reached and pushed and–

Joel wants to scream. Or laugh. Or cry. Either of the three, though preferably not that last one.

It’s so weird. He just wants…

There it is again. That feeling. The clawing, desperate something in his chest that twists and writhes–

“Hey, Joel.”

Joel screams. (First option, then.)

Jimmy just stares at him, unimpressed. His sunglasses are blocking his eyes.

For some reason, it makes Joel want to cry.

Jimmy sighs, “Are you done?” Joel gapes at him.

Are you serious, “Am I d– What the heck, Jimmy?” He snaps, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, I’m not bloody Grian–”

Since when did Jimmy get so quiet, anyway?

“Of course you’re not Grian,” Jimmy says, his voice all weird. Off. “It’d be easier if you were. He’s already moved on.”

Joel’s hackles rise, “What d’you mean it’d be easier?” He snarls, like snapping teeth. “And he hasn’t moved on, he’s just–”

“Looking for new friends?” Jimmy deadpans. Joel’s jaw clicks shut. “ ‘s what I thought.”

Oh, Joel wants to punch him in the–

Wait a second.

It comes back to him then, slamming into him like a wave. The bubbling, helpless laughter in his chest as he leaps and runs across a flimsy dirt bridge. The way he knows he’s fallen before, fallen a million different times and came out both dead and alive but he doesn’t care.

("–you can't keep doing this–")

He doesn’t (didn’t) care, because why should he, he’s got– he’s got water. He’s got water, like everyone else on this blumin’ server, he’ll live, surely, so there’s no need to be scared.

("–got to let go, eventually, right–?")

No need to worry, even as yellow feathers plummet and disappear from view and lightning strikes where Jimmy’s voice cut off–

“Joel!” Jimmy shouts, practically right in his face. “Joel, are you even listening–?”

This, Joel decides, is not Jimmy.

It's got the shape of Jimmy, sure. Right hair and face and everything. Right voice, right bloody curve of his eyebrows, which makes Joel laugh, because it isn't him.

It can't be. It can't be, because Jimmy's dead. Jimmy's gone, he ran out of time because he fell like an idiot so no, this can't be him, there's no way.

On all levels except physical, Joel can't seem to breathe.

There's no way this is Jimmy, he thinks, just the right amount of hysterical. It's just not possible.

Because if this is him, (and that's a big, gigantic if) then that means– That means wherever he went, Joel followed. Joel followed, and now they're in the Void, or Limbo, or whatever the heck it's called, and that means that Joel–

Joel failed Grian, too.

"You're not Jimmy," He says at last, with his not-there tongue and not-there face. His voice sounds distant. "He'd be like, crying. Screamin' about dying first again, going oh my gosh!" Joel tells Not-Jimmy, pitching his voice up and then laughs, laughs, and laughs.

Until he can't breathe. Until it hurts to.

Until it's not much of a laugh at all.

Light shines on Not-Jimmy's sunglasses. He's still the only thing Joel can see.

Joel reaches out, pretending to see two, shaking hands grab Jimmy by the shoulders. He pretends, thinks about it hard enough that he almost feels the texture of Jimmy's denim under his palms. He thinks, imagines, pretends, whatever, that the fabric crinkles under his touch, that the sob that makes his way past his lips is a laugh as he says, "I'm sorry."

Something wet trickles down his not-there face.

" 'm sorry, Jim," Joel rasps out, and it hurts. "You weren't supposed to– I had a surprise for you, you know?"

Jimmy's voice is quiet, "What kind of surprise?" He asks, and Joel…

Joel thinks he might be falling apart.

(Or maybe, his mind supplies, he shattered a long while ago. Like glass hitting the floor.)

He grins, or at least, he tries to. "I was gonna break your curse," He confesses, with his terrible, trembling mouth. "I was gonna sacrifice myself for you, be all heroic and everything."

Jimmy says nothing. Joel still can't see his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

He's getting tired of pretending.

"Will you come with me now?" Jimmy– Not-Jimmy says, his voice ringing like the toll of a bell. "You've said your piece, not many are afforded that luxury."

Joel blinks. Death stands before him, no sunglasses to cover empty sockets.

For a moment, Joel considers fighting. Again, and again, and again.

But he is so, very tired.

He sighs.

I don't feel very lucky, Joel wants to say. And you still aren't Jimmy. 

"Whatever," He says instead. He feels his entire being slip away like sand, like time held tightly between two fists. "Take me away, or whatever it is you do."

Joel closes his eyes, "I'll tell him when I see him."

[tripleglitchwriting]

Wohoo! My first fic on this blog.

This one isn’t specifically any continuity, it’s kind of a mishmash of all of them. It is set in a first contact universe.

Ratchet-centric, GN human reader (though there are POV changes)

Ignition (Part 1)

CW: Graphic injury, mild language, angst

Flashing lights and blaring sirens shouted at Ratchet from all sides of the ship. He’d been in the medbay when the attack started- while not entirely unexpected considering where they were it was still a surprise. Despite their best efforts, a Decepticon ship had managed to track them down.

Not two minutes later Optimus ordered a retreat. At the time it didn’t make much sense to Ratchet, but he trusted his friend enough to go with it. Arcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Drift, Wheeljack, and a couple others joined him in getting into an escape pod. Frankly, he was hesitant to go, there were plenty of bots unaccounted for still on the main deck, but Optimus let everyone know through the comm link that he had a plan. With that he begrudgingly boarded his pod, expecting to be launched into space and put into stasis. The pod shot out of the ship normally, but the next couple minutes were anything but normal.

Outside the small window he immediately noticed they were very, very close to a nearby planet. So close, in fact, the escape pods wouldn’t be able to get out of orbit. Immediately after that realization, and saying something along the lines of “this couldn’t get any worse”, things got worse. The pods’ emergency warning systems activated, which would have been a surprise if Ratchet didn’t already feel the impact of what was most likely heavy blaster fire on the back of it.

Again, lights flashed and sirens of all sorts begged for his attention, yet the stasis lock system was a-okay. It was also beginning to activate. Now as he plummeted to an unfamiliar planet in a damaged escape pod he could only hope the rest of his friends were safe. Then, he heard a very loud explosion from farther away and promptly went into stasis.

—————————

“Go on a hike”, they said, “It will make you feel better”, they said. Well, right now you feel pretty damn bad considering you were incredibly lost, had no idea how to survive in the wild, and you had a very definitely broken leg.

It hurt like hell when you fell and it really didn’t get any better from there. Most of your body was either scratched or developing a nasty bruise, other than your right leg which was bent in a way it shouldn’t be. You fought off nausea as you lay on the forest floor, at the bottom of a steep cliff, tears stinging your eyes and hands clutching the bag you managed to hold onto. You didn’t think it could get any worse. Of course, that notion was quickly thrown out the window when a very loud explosion shook your aching body to its core.

You groaned at the feeling, but still turned to look in the direction of whatever it was. You didn’t see much other than trees, leaves, and your own tears clouding your vision, but you did notice some weird thing streaking through the sky. God, maybe you hit your head harder than you thought. Still, even if you did just spontaneously develop exploding head syndrome and began hallucinating, checking out a possible source of help was better than laying in your spot to rot.

You just needed to drag yourself to wherever it was… and try to ignore the pain while you did it. Needless to say, you made it a solid two feet before your body gave out and you lost consciousness.

————————

Ratchet woke up in what was now effectively a pile of burnt metal. He murmured some unintelligible curses to himself before running a self diagnostic- luckily nothing too bad had happened to him, at least nothing he couldn’t fix. He tried to activate his comm link, which unsurprisingly only sputtered static. He pushed down the horrible feeling in his fuel tank in favor of focusing on the problem at hand: Where the frag was he?

Slamming his servo on the release switch, Ratchet stumbled out of the pod, falling on the floor immediately. Right, his injuries. He would have to fix that. Just after he made sure the rest of the crew was alright. Looking up he noticed the world around was primarily organic. He’d landed in some dense forested location. The good news was the temperature, atmosphere, and plant life (from what he could tell from a simple scan) were safe. The bad news was there was absolutely nothing remotely cybertronian within scanning range, which meant his friends had probably landed much farther away, or… well anything could have happened, really. He’d just have to hold onto hope, not that that has done much good so far.

If there was any sentient life on this planet (which, frankly, he doubted there was) they weren’t anywhere around here. During the war the Autobots had visted plenty of organic planets with sentient organic lifeforms, though not all of them were friendly. Either way, by the looks of things he was going to be here awhile. He realized a lot later than he’d ever admit in order to explore around being able to walk would be pretty useful, so Ratchet began repairs. It wasn’t long before he was able to get back on his pedes with minimal pain. The next step was to look for anything useful.

Unfortunately, despite how broad the term was, “anything useful” didn’t seem to show itself. There was dirt, plants, and more dirt. There were various creatures he would have loved to have a look at if the situation wasn’t so dire. As the planets star went down and dark started to creep into the land, his grip on hope started to slip just a bit more.

Ratchet decided to go back to his pod- maybe he could fix up the distress beacon, or patch up his comm link, or just do anything other than walking around getting dirty. Of course, just as the pod came into distant view, a high pitched squealing noise from below nearly gave him a spark-attack.

It was small, probably the size of one of his digits. Splayed out on the ground with this strange expression on its face. When he looked down at it, the thing made a similar noise, trying to move back. Most of the creatures he’d encountered had scampered off before he could get a good look, but this one stayed put, its little chasis heaving up and down at an alarming rate.

He bent down to get a better look at the thing. It had some sort of covering on it, something that wasn’t the plants he’d become so familiar with. Its face became strained as once again it tried to move back, now squeaking out unintelligible nonsense. The pieces soon clicked into place: It wasn’t curious or stupid, it was injured. That was made obvious by the small cuts decorated with dried red energon, or whatever organics had in them, but it was made very clear when he noticed the angle one of its limbs was at.

It was trying to leave but couldn’t move. Scrap, did he do this? Was it caught in the crash? He quickly moved to scoop the thing up out of instinct, but it only shouted more, this time with a feral twinge.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. I’m going to help you.” Of course he knew speaking slowly wouldn’t make it understand, but maybe the tone would show his intent.

Judging by how its optics widened and began to drip some sort of liquid, he figured it was a failed attempt. Though even if it didn’t like it, the thing still needed help, and if he couldn’t help his friends at least he could help it. Whatever it was.

Very, very carefully he shimmied his digits under its back, trying again to speak in hushed tones. It squirmed and writhed and screamed, wincing at every touch. When it was safely in his servos he closed them around it, hopefully protecting it from any natural predators they might encounter. He grit his denta at every attempt it made to escape or wiggle free. As he made his way back to his pod, Ratchet had a feeling this was going to be more than he bargained for.

[auckie]

Neil gaiman is such a fucking hack. All he does is ride off Terry pratchets coattails, gets. I really hate the word cuck but idk how else to describe the Amanda Palmer situation. Cucked by women and regurgitates that into flat one dimensional characters. Queer baits and panders to trashy online YA level drivel types. He’s the definition of the word fandom. If men like his garbage they’re always the kind of guy who has a beard and lets you know he has a beard. He probably owns a kilt despite not being remotely Scottish. Funko pop owner for sure, has a mini tardis and probably that dr who scarf. A pentagram tattoo, maybe some runes.

And like. Neil gaiman is a capable writer do not get me wrong. But his idea of creative writing is theorizing about how the afterlife is all bureaucracy bc that’s never been done by a bitter atheist. It’s always secularly Christian too isn’t it? I mean i guess that’s what he knows.

So im saying this knowing that he’s not solely responsible for it, really, and having read the comics and not enjoyed them at all but continued to have done so out of some weird sense of obligation, I’m very angry to admit that I’m enjoying the stupid Netflix production of dead boy detectives. It is absolutely a mishmash of other similar cw-type shows, but that’s just the thing. I eat that shit up. Riverdale, Sabrina, teen dramas with obnoxious editing and low brow production value. I even liked the second season of good omens despite like, hating a solid 40% of the secondary character and plot direction. It’s sorta like eating little Debbie cakes yknow? Or binging reality tv.

DBDA is better than all that, like it’s a crust above but it’s wrapped in the trappings of really shitty things, and whenever it manages to be a bit better it’ll sink a smidge lower by referencing its ilk or doing exactly what you’d expect of it.

Whenever I see the ‘two skinny whitish boys with obvious sexual tension and an annoying women in the middle’ I stop and ask myself— does this writer have a track record of making the same dynamic.

An obnoxious woman is not a bad thing. She can be a good thing even, but if she’s a mirror image of a million other toxic characters that indicates two things: projection, or a formula. Especially when paired between two male characters that clearly interact in ways that urge the audience to say ‘they should kiss!’

Then she becomes an obstacle. It’s rare for a character in this role to rise above the narrative, and even rarer for authors to try and write one capable of that.

A lot of fans will see people hating on her and cry ‘misogyny!’ Instead of asking why she was written, and why hundreds of other past iterations and future clones of her continue to be written. A similar character is the empty lesbian who stands in both popular media and fanfiction to prove that the author is not just obsessing over gay men and throws a bone to the supposed lesbian audience as well.

And then you have the flat poc or other LBT, sometimes disabled characters who serve to act as a tick mark off a checklist. It’s lazy, it’s annoying. But that’s a whole different can of vaguely related worms

[avelera]

Wheel of Time for all its flaws really was just The Most Worldbuilding

Like it really showed that oh, that cool idea you have for a fantasy world? Yeah come back when you’ve got 200 more of those to layer on top of each other. Ok, you’re almost half way to the amount of batshit worldbuilding in just the first three books out of fifteen.

It’s post apocalyptic sci-fi

It’s also Arthurian

It’s ALSO Norse mythology

It’s ALSO a totally new elemental magic system a generation before Avatar the Last Airbender

It’s ALSO a reimagining of Tolkien’s “a wizard shows up to take some provincials on an adventure where they become Important People”

It’s ALSO a political epic

It’s ALSO a reimagining of Dune

It’s ALSO an exploration of war veteran trauma and a denunciation of pain as having moral value

It’s ALSO a total remix mishmash of all the world’s cultures

It’s ALSO a deconstruction of the Chosen One trope where the Chosen One is utterly ruined by all the “cool things” destined to happen to him

It’s ALSO an air-tight prophecy engine where one tiny lie buried in the middle of just ONE of the THOUSAND PAGE BOOKS that many took to be an error was actually a huge character reveal they got debated for LITERAL DECADES before it was confirmed

It’s also an interrogation of gender in a world where women with magic are essentially the Vatican because men with magic are doomed to go insane, such that they’re hunted down like dogs

(And before I have to deal with the whole “gendered magic makes it transphobic” no it FUCKING ISN’T. It’s not perfectly progressive ffs because it was written in the 90s, but a man reborn into a woman’s body channels male magic because he is MALE and I’m so sick of people saying that the book is gender essentialist. You just haven’t read far enough.)

Anyway. Wheel of Time is totally unhinged worldbuilding. It was my first most beloved fandom. It’s totally unlike so much other fantasy to this day. The showrunner loves the books enough to know they have to be broken and reformed, just like the world itself, to work in this new Age and he’s done a fabulous job. You don’t understand how abnormal I am about this series.

[quibbs126]

Well now the headache’s back, but I ended up making this the past couple hours

I really don’t know if this is supposed to mean anything, this more came from the fact that today, I learned of the existence of a character called Toxitron, and I also decided to listen to Iron Man by Black Sabbath, and the two things sort of culminated into what you see here

I had him saying “I am Iron Man” because I really like that droning line at the beginning of the song

Basically the song made me think of ideas for a hypothetical Toxitron. The ones I do have is that he’s a man-made Transformer, possibly inspired by Optimus but I’m not sure. He spits out acid from his hands, and he’s not very bright. He’s alive and thinking but his processor is not at the level of a normal Cybertronian. I’m thinking that maybe he was a far more rudimentary bot originally, but some Cybertronian artifact made him closer to an actual Transformer, but maybe it didn’t give him a fully functional processor. Or it’s due to his corrosive nature, with all his acid

He’d originally be a third party character due to his origins, but he might end up with the Decepticons or the Autobots later, I’m not sure who. But I also don’t see him lasting long in a show, not much more than a season. He’s only surviving to a finale/premiere if he first showed up in the middle-ish of a season and isn’t a main focus of those end points, just a side character. But yeah, he’d probably end up dying relatively soon, probably in a gruesome manner, maybe melting. It might be like a self sacrificial move, or it could just be gruesome death of a villain

But anyways yeah, I had all these thoughts, and I was considering trying to design this guy, with the image you see here being like a side sketch thing in the picture. But then I just decided to make that the whole picture instead of trying to properly design him in full

I’d imagine he’s saying this at the point where he becomes like a fully functional Transformer, and not just a man made attempt. I don’t know whether he’d actually say this, but it’s just supposed to be from the song, let me have this

He’s sort of just a mishmash of his Animated and comic designs, as well as me just doing whatever I want. The design in general takes more inspiration from Animated, since while I haven’t been drawing too much of TFA, I really like how shaped the art style is

If I were to make a proper design, there’d probably be some changes, but whatever, it was just for this. No clue what he properly looks like

I made the art sort of crude on purpose, because it was supposed to reflect him and his crude nature

Anyways, I think I had more but the headache is becoming unbearable, I think I should just stop writing soon, but I like this piece. I’m just gonna say that, I think it turned out relatively well

I realize he’s probably not super accurate to the original character, but shut up, it was a thought and I had to make it

[littlemissmanga]

Rainy Day Comforts

Pairing: Wrecker x (gn)Reader

W/C: 1,141

Warnings: Nothing but comfort & fluff

This is my entry for @clonexreaderbingo for my "Rain" square :) Dividers by @djarrex & @samspenandsword

The sound of rain against the side of the Marauder wakes you up. It’s the softest alarm you’ve had in a while, though most things are gentler than the boys’ arguing or Tech’s evasive maneuvers to avoid asteroid fields.

You were warm — warmer than you expected to be — and the pleasant weight of multiple blankets pressed you deeper into the bed. Peaking an eye open, you see a mishmash of colored fabric covering you. You lift one to examine it more.

Isn’t this Echo’s?

A smile crossed your face with the knowledge that Wrecker must have bundled you before leaving your side. And it only took a single attempt at getting up before you immediately retreated into the safety of your cocoon, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

The chill from outside permeated the ship. Leaving your makeshift nest in nothing but your thin sleepwear was not going to be pleasant.

The thud of heavy footsteps stole your attention.

“Oh, good. You’re up!”

Wrecker strode through the Marauder, his long legs eating the distance until he reached the bed, sitting on just the edge.

You smiled ruefully at him. “Did you give me all these blankets?”

“Sure did! I had to get up and help the guys move some things, but I didn’t want ya to get cold without me.”

“That’s sweet, Wreck, but you didn’t have to steal stuff. I’d have been fine.”

Wrecker let out a dismissive huff. “You were shivering, mesh’la. ‘Sides, everyone else is up already. But that’s not why I came back here.”

“Oh? What’s on your mind, big guy?”

“We’ve got a free day! Tech an’ Echo are fixing the ship, so Hunter was gonna take Omega into town to pick up a few supplies. He says there’s a bookshop in town, too. One with real books, on flimsy and everything. I know you like those, so I figure we can go check it out. We got some extra money from our last job so we can pick one to read together. And when we get back, I’ll make ya some of that tea you like.”

That got you out of bed. Books, tea, and no mission? It was all your favorite things at once. Excitedly, you jumped up onto your knees, hands reaching to steady yourself against Wrecker’s sturdy form. “Really!?”

“Course! So get ready and we can head out.”

“I mean, you won’t hear me complaining, but what inspired all this? I feel like you’re spoiling me.”

Wrecker looked at you with genuine confusion. “Do I need a reason to spoil my girl?”

You melted at that. You loved when he called you his girl. Wrecker wasn’t possessive in his actions, and you didn’t want him to be. But your heart stuttered whenever he would call you his and let his words tie you together, claiming you in his own gentle way.

The rest of your day was just as warm and sweet despite the raw weather. Your trip to town was filled with playful banter, holding hands under your umbrella as the pair of you indulged in a little alone time. Or at least, alone from the rest of the batch.

You explored the bookstore, sorting through the options and picking a title that intrigued you both. Usually, you hated reading out loud, finding the act of saying the words enough to pull you from the story. But in this case, you were actually looking forward to reading it with Wrecker. You still had some money left over afterward, so you grabbed a few local snacks to enjoy with your tea at a nearby shop.

Back on the Marauder, Wrecker went to make your tea as you changed out of your now wet clothes. When you were ready with dry clones, snacks, and tea, the two of you snuggled back into his bunk, sans everyone else’s blankets this time, however, as they had been reclaimed by their original owners.

You didn’t mind. Wrecker was able to keep you both warm.

He tucked you against his side, his arm around your back as you began to read softly, not wanting to disturb the others. A few chapters in, you realized the rain picked up again, pinging against the metal hull in a unique rhythm.

It’s almost like a lullaby.

You read for a while, but after a few more chapters, you grew tired of fighting the drowsiness brought on by your full belly, Wrecker’s warmth, and the melody of the rain. Especially after such a wonderful day.

You looked up from the words in front of you to take in the details of his face, smiling stupidly at your boyfriend.

Wrecker cocked his head at you.

“I love you so much,” you declared.

The biggest smile broke over Wrecker’s face at your words. Slipping his arm down to grip your hip, he pulled you into his lap.

“Aw, I love you too!” Wrecker tightened his hold on you, but only slightly.

“I really mean it, Wreck,” you insist, turning to press your face into his chest. “Today was so perfect I don’t even have words. You’re too good to me.”

Wrecker curled around you, bringing up his knees to cocoon you in his hold the way you were cocooned by blankets this morning. You melted in his touch as peace radiated through you. Nothing could hurt you when Wrecker held you like this and that sense of security soothed something deep within you.

“Nah, that’s not possible,” he said, one large hand coming up to rest ever so lightly against the back of your head, keeping you in place against him.

You can feel your hair catch on his calloused fingers as you shake your head. “It is. I don’t know what I did to deserve being spoiled today, but I loved spending every minute with you.”

For a moment, Wrecker was silent. It wasn’t heavy, but you could feel the words sitting on the tip of his tongue. You counted the moments of waiting through the beat of his heart against your cheek. But before his voice hit your ear, his lips pressed against the crown of your head.

“You don’t need to do anything, mesh’la. I’ll spoil ya any chance I can, and you’ll deserve it every time just ‘cuz.” He paused for just a heartbeat before adding, “I like takin’ care of ya.”

Your eyes burned as they began to water, so you shut them tight and snuggled further into the safety of Wrecker’s hold.

“Well, next time we have a free day, it’s my turn to spoil you,” you mumble just loud enough for him to hear.

“Ha! Sounds good to me, baby.”

The two of you stayed like that the rest of the night, basking in each other as your breathing evened out to match the rhythm of the rain.

A/N: I entirely meant to put off all other fics until I finished the final chapter of Date Night, but then my husband woke me up asking if I wanted to go to Barnes & Nobel to get a book and a PSL. Then he took me to Whole Foods for wine and cheese and we just spent the day together chatting and snacking and reading, which we don't get to do a lot since he works crazy hours. We had a version of the conversation that Wrecker and Reader did at the end of our day and I needed to put it to paper to process. Halfway through my journal entry though I realized I was writing it like a fic and I just kept going, and there is no character I associate with such a comforting idea more than Wrecker <3 Mostly because my husband is very Wrecker coded

Masterlist

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Join the taglist here!

[ciaossu-imagines]

Okay, but tell me that Blush Blush isn’t just one humungous polyship? It totally is and it’s hinted at strongly through text even in game! So I didn’t even have to pick one particular polyship here and just based it off the entire cast of lovely, sexy men! I hope you enjoy the headcanons, based off this prompt here!

Who shops for groceries?

I feel like Nimh definitely always remembers to shop for groceries and that grocery shopping dates are a huge thing for him. They’re just very relaxed and cutely domestic and really up his alley. Myx, maybe not so surprisingly, is really into farmer’s markets and, while some dates he takes you on are raucous or crazy, he appreciates a good Saturday morning date with you to the farmer’s market.

Who kills the spiders?

William does not abide spiders being killed. He traps them with a glass and takes them outside and even gives them a name as he says goodbye to them. Anon makes you kill the spiders for him, while Volks will happily kill the spiders for you.

Who comes home drunk at 3 a.m.?

Eli, Dmitri, and William have all done this in the time you’ve known them. Eli loves clubbing and the nightlife and it’s too easy to get drunk off those frou-frou, fruity drinks he loves because it’s so hard to taste the alcohol in them. He’ll happily stagger home, drunk and giggling, with you after a night out on the town. William is a wine drunk and gets silly when drunk and it’s up to you to get him safely back home and into bed to keep him from getting into much trouble. Dmitri doesn’t get drunk quickly but when he gets drunk, he gets horny and it will be a race for him to either get home to you or to take you home…or anywhere private, really.

Who makes breakfast?

Kelby makes protein shakes every morning and always makes one for you if he’s with you. Nimh cooks you a healthy breakfast every morning you’re with him. Eli loves brunch with you and will take you out to brunch fairly often, where there will be mimosas and gossiping. Garret makes the most heavenly flapjacks but doesn’t often eat breakfast – they’re normally a breakfast for supper kind of deal.

Who remembers to feed the fish?

William never forgets to feed any animal. If you have fish, Sven really likes feeding them too…and sometimes, you’ll find that the fish have been fed, though you can’t remember feeding them, and it’s usually because it’s one of those little things that Cole breaks in to your house to do does for you as sweet gestures to make your life easier.

Who decorates the apartment?

William, Dmitri, Volks, and Stirling all have very set senses of style when it comes to interior design and their apartments are all quite decorated. Nimh’s is kind of a cozy mishmash that he encourages you to add to. Eli loves shopping for furniture and interior décor as dates but would want to design the apartment with you instead of by himself. Scale, Ichiban, and Garret aren’t really into interior design strongly and are happy to turn the reins over to you when it comes to decorating. And as long as it’s really damn clean, Anon doesn’t much care what the place looks like…just, clean it. Please.

Who initiates duets?

Come on, the answer to this one is so obviously Myx that you had to see the answer coming. He breaks out in random song and loves it when you harmonize with him.

Who falls asleep first?

Okay, so I feel like Nimh, Kelby, and Scale fall asleep before you. Stirling stays up most of the night since he doesn’t need a lot of sleep but he does like watching you sleep. Myx and Eli want you out with them until late, enjoying the nightlife, and fall asleep about the same time as you. Ichiban has a habit of staying up late playing video games and it’s not too rare for him to come to bed after you’ve fallen asleep. William is hit or miss – sometimes he likes waiting for you to fall asleep, just enjoying the peacefulness of the moment with you and thinking how cute you look while sleeping while other times he passes out first.

[jichanxo]

ok, i’ll bite: how pathetic is kitakata in sensei au fic in a scale from 1 to 10, and will he have some kind of kuwanafication-level fuckup (or at least a chance to fuck up that much)?

omg hi… thank you for asking… (twirls hair around my finger)

this got long (of course it did) so it's under the cut for those who would prefer to scroll past.

okay pathetic level… uhhh ummmm hm… how to quantify… I want to say either a 7 or an 8? he does embarrass himself quite a bit. he has no idea how to act around yagami FOR SURE. so while some of that is just him being annoying, a good chunk of that is. flirting. and he’s SO confident about it even though he keeps failing over and over again… buddy you gotta take a hint… and eventually something comes of it! but yeah he’s super embarrassing about it. and he’s down so bad for yagami. and his bedroom talk… yeah he’s lame. he’s very lame I think. trust me. (using my best judgment here)

kuwanafication-level fuckup… so far? no. current plan for this fic is essentially a mishmash of lj school story and kuwagami-romance-drama bullshit, so just by having that as the basis, there isn’t really that much opportunity for something that life-changing to happen, really. I have most of the kuwagami-romance-drama bullshit side of the story sorted, but I still need to figure out more of the school story side of this fic (I gotta go over em and take some detailed notes to make sure I write it correctly…), so there’s still a chance that something else will pop up as I write it, especially depending on how things with Itokura shake out, but so far there aren’t any plans for anything like that.

it’s definitely kind of this idealised universe where everything Just Goes Well, yknow… a contrast from canon… but this kind of mundane kuwana is nice too… he’s done his best to try and learn from his near-fuck-up. he’s not perfect but he tries.

in regards to Kusumoto Mitsuru, since it’s important and I don’t remember clarifying this in any post/tags – the deal here is that kitakata still fucked up but he managed to fix everything at the last second before mitsuru died. so kitakata’s kind of had the lesson but without the, yknow. the transformation. I wrote about it as a kind of prequel here if you haven't already seen (obligatory reminder to heed tags etc since it's heavy stuff). I assume that’s kind of sort of relevant to what you’re asking? it’s not that this kitakata never had it happen to him, he messed up and he was forced to stare that in the face, but he managed to avoid the worst outcome, took responsibility, tried to change and continued on with a renewed perspective on his job.

but let’s go back to kitakata actually fucking up during senseific, because I definitely have that! rn the most obvious example is yagami and kitakata getting into a fight and sawa having to intervene and tell them both off for it. it sounds silly when I put it like that, but in context it’s a big moment and a big deal for them both. it’s not just kitakata’s fuck up and it’s there’s more to it obviously (kitakata wouldn’t get all worked up without reason, right?) but yeah, having your kouhai/ex-student have to intervene because you’re trying to punch a grown man in the face? it’s a fuck up. lmao

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 25: Surgery

Being monitored

2177 Words; Betrothal AU

TW for injury mention

AO3 ver

Jay floated back to consciousness much like a dead fish floating to the surface of a lake.

He felt about as bloated and gross, too, the sweat between him and whatever he was lying on one of the first things he registered. The world spun into being around him in a wobbly, maybe drunken fashion, shapes and colors and sounds all kind of mish-mashing together until Jay’s brain sorted itself out enough to start differentiating between them all.

He felt funny. His head really hurt, and there was a strong sense of nausea in his throat, like something was caught there that he couldn’t cough out.

Okay, Jay, time to think. The thought was kind of watery, a bit insubstantial—oh, was he concussed? Concussion. Concussion. Conk-ush-un. What a funny word.

Okay, yeah, definitely concussed. Or maybe drugged—his limbs felt kind of floaty in the way they did that one time his appendix burst and his parents took him to the hospital and he’d been on painkillers—

The point was that the feeling was vaguely familiar, even if Jay couldn’t consciously place it.

He was lying on what might have been a stretcher or might have been a cot, a gentle pressure on his wrist resolving itself into a leather cuff. The room he was in was mostly bare stone, with a small counter with a sink off to one side and a single cabinet. There was a guy in a funny-looking outfit leaning against what was probably the door, but Jay couldn’t tell if the guy’s eyes were open or not. Everything was just a little blurry—that wasn’t normal, right?

Oh, yeah, concussion. Conk-cussing. Ha! Jay giggled, amused with his own thoughts. The giggle turned to a hiccup turned to a cough, and he thought the guy by the door must have shifted because something about them looked… different.

Or maybe it was the concussion talking.

But what had Jay been doing before… before he got here, because he was pretty sure he’d never been in this room before—he’d been doing something important. Something stressful, something that made flashes of sand and lightning pass through his mind. Something… Cole had been there, hadn’t he?

Cole had… it was something important about Cole, Jay was pretty sure. Something to do with—with snakes, purple snakes slithering across bare skin—

The tattoo!

It hit Jay like a—well, like a lightning bolt. The alliance. The accusations against Chen. Chen’s response, the search for tattoos—

Cole had an anacondrai tattoo on his back.

Was that—was Cole the spy? But how? Why? No, no, that couldn’t be it—

“Awake, I see.” Jay’s train of thought careened off a cliff into oblivion at the new voice, and he turned to look. A wave of nausea punished the motion, and Jay’s vision swam as a guy approached—wait, that was that mage guy, the one who always followed Chen around—Clouse!

Jay attempted to say something, either a complaint about his accommodations or some pithy line he didn’t have—his voice came out kind of garbled, random syllables mishmashed together as his tongue struggled to remember that it was a tongue.

“And clearly still out of it.” Clouse drawled, hands folded behind his back. He sighed, and Jay finally found his voice—

“At least I’m not ugly.” He snapped, which wasn’t what he meant to say.

Clouse sighed again. “Maybe you are well enough to work in the factory, then.” He suggested, making Jay balk, the cuff tugging on his wrist—or was he tugging against the cuff?

“Um, wow, is the room spinning for anybody else? Haha wheeeeee I’m so dizzy, you totally shouldn’t trust me around heavy machinery—”

“Silence.” Clouse hissed. Jay’s rambling petered out slowly, his vision blurring as his headache surged. Clouse looked him over, then—

“One more day’s rest.” He decided. “If he isn’t in a state to work by then,” he shrugged, “so be it.” With that, Clouse left, leaving Jay alone with the cultist from earlier.

Ugh, this sucked. Jay made some attempts to talk to the guy, but—no dice. His headache kept coming and going in waves, his thoughts scattering in circles.

A flash on something gold in his memories, something important—something about Cole, that Jay needed to remember. But all he could remember was the shift of moving earth, the thud of rock against sand and the buzz of lightning through his veins—lightning he didn’t have anymore, dammit Chen—

But there was something important Jay needed to remember, through the fog and haze and pain of his concussion (ha, it had the word cuss in it!). But he just—couldn’t.

After a few hours, Jay laid back down, letting unconsciousness take him.

+=+=+=+=+

The atmosphere in the cafeteria was subdued. And no wonder—nobody had gotten much sleep on the bunks the night before, and now it was early in the morning. Plus the whole attempt to get all the elemental masters together in an alliance had ended in failure, thanks to—well.

Kai scowled into his breakfast. Getting the gang together had been a mistake. Beside him, Lloyd was morosely picking at his own breakfast, while Garmadon carefully ate what little the cafeteria staff were willing to give him. Cole was nowhere to be found—none of them had seen him since his fight with Jay the night before. Which didn’t bode well for Cole’s apparent status as a spy working for Chen—

“I can’t believe it.” Kai muttered. “We trusted him!” Who he was talking about went unsaid, but Lloyd and Garmadon understood it perfectly.

“But…” Lloyd started, clearly deep in thought. “Why would Chen tell us about the spy? I mean—” He gestured loosely, “Wouldn’t that just defeat the purpose of having a spy?”

“Chen can be impetuous in his manipulations…” Garmadon mused, clearly reminiscing.

“It broke up the alliance, that’s why.” Kai suggested. “Chen traded his advantage in order to get rid of ours.” He crossed his arms, leaning back. “We did kinda put him on the spot.”

Lloyd hmmed. “I don’t know…” He pulled his mask from his pocket and fiddled with it. “Something about it just doesn’t seem right. How would Chen have even convinced Cole to side with him?” He tossed his head back, considering. “I mean, it’s Cole.”

“He has Zane.” Kai pointed out softly. “Maybe that’s how he got Cole.” He sat up, crossing his arms. “What I don’t get is that pendant. Like, you all saw it, right? That was half of a yin-yang pendant, right?”

“That is a very confounding element, yes.” Garmadon agreed. “That he felt it important to show Jay means it must be related, but…”

“But how?” None of them had any idea what a yin-yang pendant had to do with anything. None of them had even known Cole was engaged—well, assuming it was a yin-yang pendant and not something else.

Kai’s shoulders hunched as he fought back to that fight. He hadn’t been able to hear what Cole and Jay were staying, from up in the stands, but he had been pretty sure that they were reconciling sometime after Cole pulled out the pendant—though Kai couldn’t begin to fathom why Cole would have a yin-yang pendant—

And then Cole had suckerpunched Jay with a rock. It just didn’t track with the Cole that Kai knew—

“Hey.” Well, speak of the rain, and the sky will open. Or something like that. Kai looked up to see Cole standing at the edge of their table. He looked like… a mess, actually, dark lines under his eyes and hair messier than normal. Now that Kai was looking, he could see a chain around the sides of Cole’s neck leading somewhere under his gi—the pendant?

“Cole!” Lloyd greeted. “Where have you been?”

“Throwing rocks around.” Cole responded, deadpan. “Can I…” He gestured towards the other side of the booth, at the empty space next to Garmadon, something sheepish in his eyes.

Kai’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell, Cole.” He led off with, which maybe wasn’t the best choice of words, if the way Cole’s shoulders hunched was any indication. Well, whatever. Kai was too tired to be gentle. “I want an explanation.” He demanded.

Cole nodded, still standing. “I—” he started, gaze darting to the floor, “There’s something I should have—” whatever Cole was going to say was cut off by a sudden clatter behind them, making them all turn to look at the source of the noise. Skylor was standing up slowly, sheepish look on her face as she offered a hand to help Shade and Paleman up. Neither took it, standing on their own and moving away from Skylor, clearly annoyed. Paleman went to go grab a new tray, while Shade left the cafeteria entirely, disappearing into the shadows and leaving some of the spilled food clinging to him behind.

Kai winced in sympathy. That had to be embarrassing for Skylor—the idea that she might have done it on purpose to copy Shade and Paleman’s powers simultaneously never even occurred to Kai.

“That’s awkward…” Lloyd was also wincing, while Garmadon’s expression was more reserved.

Cole, however—

“Really?” He muttered, face twisted in a mix between annoyance and disbelief. The lack of sympathy for Skylor, who was sheepishly trying to take care of the worst of the mess on the floor, irked Kai deeply. Maybe Cole really was the spy, then.

Skylor looked up, flashing Kai a quick smile—shit, how did she make being covered in bits of scrambled egg and syrup look good—before her gaze slid to Cole, who stiffened as her eyes narrowed. As Kai watched, Cole’s eyebrows did a complex dance, several emotions passing through his face too fast to parse, as though he and Skylor were having some kind of silent conversation.

Oh, right. Because the whole debacle with Jay and Nya during the robot apocalypse apparently wasn’t enough. Kai glowered as he remembered the way Cole had made Skylor laugh, or the way he’d seen them almost flirting at the skate rink—

(And wasn’t Cole supposed to be engaged? What was going on?)

“Cole?” Lloyd prompted, snapping Cole out of whatever silent battle he was having. “You were gonna explain…?”

Cole sighed. “This isn’t a good place.” He said softly. “Too many eyes.”

“Wh—” Kai stood up, “That’s it? We don’t see you at all all night and that’s all you have to say?” Maybe Cole was the spy. Maybe there was something else going on. Kai didn’t care about maybes—he couldn’t put his hopes on maybes. What Kai knew was that Cole had an anacondrai tattoo on his back and suckerpunched Jay with a rock to the face. Something wasn’t adding up, and Kai was done being led around by the nose. “Just leave, Cole. We don’t need a spy hanging around.”

Cole shot them all a helpless sort of look, before tearing his gaze away. “Whatever.” He said, with no energy in his voice. And then, in a slightly softer tone, “If you really wanna know… the answer’s in my room.” With that, he left—

—and Kai knew they were missing something.

+=+=+=+=+

Ugh, this was getting annoying.

The cultist hadn’t left, except for when another cultist came to trade places with him. Presumably, it was in case Jay hurt himself somehow—at least, that was probably how the cultists or Clouse would justify it—but Jay knew why they were really there: to keep him from escaping. He didn’t doubt that the factory would have similar supervision.

Being cuffed to this stupid cot sucked ass. Having a concussion and no elemental power sucked ass. Being constantly watched by some hardass who wouldn’t entertain joining Jay in conversation sucked FUCKING ass!

That Jay still couldn’t remember events in full also sucked ass, but in a much worse way. He knew something important had to have happened in that fight, something related to the coiled tattoo across Cole’s back and Chen gleefully admitting to having a spy among the competitors. Something to do with a golden teardrop shape—

But all Jay could recall were bits and pieces of the fight. He could remember zapping Cole with more volts than was really safe, and he was pretty sure Cole had socked him in the jaw for that. He knew they had thrown their elements around, that there had been sand on the arena floor—

But what had Cole said to him? How had the fight ended—when did Jay get hit hard enough to get his concussion?

Jay buried his face in his hands and groaned as another wave of nausea passed through him, vision blurring. He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember, and it was going to drive him insane.

Assuming this whole “locked alone in a room but for a guard that actively ignored him” thing didn’t drive him insane before that.

Ugh, he missed Zane. He missed him so much—

Was that why Cole had an anacondrai tattoo? Because of Zane? Jay didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know!

He was no closer to answers when Clouse came by the next day and had him hauled off to the factory, either.

[hitchell-mope]

At this point I have to wonder

Does anyone on tumblr actually like the genre of the shows they watch anymore? Wednesday, supernatural, stranger things. None of them are ever going to be the peppy, inoffensive milquetoast, glurge fest they want it to be. For example

The possibility of Xavier being Wednesday’s stalker and Tyler being a serial killer exponentially increases the chances of her choosing one of them. The only things standing in the way of either happening is Wednesday getting Xavier arrested, which he seems to have gotten over pretty quickly may I say, and the fact Tyler made her look foolish. The creepier they are the more interested she is. She’s not a normal person. She doesn’t live by normal person rules. It’s an Addams family murder mystery, comedy, whodunnit. I’ll say it again Addams. Family. They don’t work by a normal morality system. You complain they seem too normal. Then you complain when Wednesday night get with a creepy boy. Make up your damn minds and get with the genre already. You might enjoy it more

I have no doubt that hellers like to go on about how Dean’s “cray cray”. But then he wants to get into bed with the car he was conceived and raised in. Or he puts everyone in the universe in the line of fire on the 0.1% chance it’ll save Sam. Then they go “oh god no. Too crazy. We should make unfounded baseless think pieces about how he likes to dye his hair unflattering colours and slow dances with his roadkill boyfriend on the beach at sunset to completely out of character music”. That’s not Dean. That’s not supernatural. That’s what Victor Frankenstein thought Adam was. A nonsensical, monstrous, mishmash filled with unfulfilled expectations. And the hellers are ostriches with the heads in the sand because the truth will upset their “delicate sensibilities”. And yet they still play the victim.

Stranger things is a horror show. Not a campy eighties set comedy. Horror. So the cries of “make Will the main character and let him be happy” is a veritable oxymoron. He’s either the focus and he suffers beyond belief like in season two. Or he’s in the background and safe-ish. And besides. He’s not The Main Character. He never really was. He’s A main character, sure. But The Main Characters are Joyce, Jim, Mike and Jane. First four credited. And the ones who do the most legwork. I love Will. I do. He’s a great character. Even if he did get a little too bitchy in seasons three and four. But the fact of the matter is. He was the goal in season one and a chess piece for the Mind flayer in season two. He suffers less otherworldly torment in 3&4 because he isn’t the goal or chess piece anymore. It might be an ensemble show. But there are de facto main characters. Four in fact. But contrary to major belief. None of them are Will. If some of you learn to accept that. Then you might get a little less testy and be able to enjoy the show for what it is instead of what you’ve imagined.

All three are great shows. Well. Supernatural could stand to treat Sam a lot better. But the streamlined inoffensive claptrap some fans think it should be isn’t it. And it will never be it. It’s better how it is and some fans just have to accept that. Although I doubt they ever will

TL;DR: Wednesday, supernatural and stranger things are great, interesting and most of all dark shows. Removing the darkness removes everything that makes it interesting. Cutting and pruning them until they’re unrecognisable just leaves you with a blob fish slowly dying for lack of water. The shows are more than just what some fans think is or should be palatable. And the sooner some fans realise that the better the fandoms will be.

[raphmybeloved]

I'm always down to hear people's yokai lore!!

Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to share my thoughts because they’ve been inhabiting my brain like a stubborn group of wasps

SO slime yokai lore

For the most part yokai are so varied and mishmash that separate distinct types isn’t really a thing with a few exceptions like gargoyles and slime yokai

Slime yokai reproduce asexually! All slime yokai have only one bio parent

They are traditionally genderless but the younger generations play around more with pronouns

Exploding Frankie uses he/him pronouns but mostly just for convenience doesn’t feel connection to a gender

Sunita DOES feel connection to a gender and identifies as a girl making her the closest thing yokai have to transgender. her dad is very supportive

Slime yokai are “born” very small (like golf ball size) and super dense and become more goo-like as they grow

Once a slime yokai is fully grown @ like 20 that is all the goo they ever get. If goo is lost it isn’t regained that part is just gone or the mass of the yokai is diminished

Because of this slime yokai don’t really “die” they just eventually loose all mass normally over hundreds if not thousands of years

Exploding Frankie got in an accident in his youth hence his very small stature

Sunita is a lesbian and when she tells her dad he’s very proud (he has no idea what a lesbian is because it’s not really a yokai concept but he’s supportive anyway.

[vaguely-concerned]

Evil Campaign/Zeblue Thoughts Extravaganza

This is a merry mishmash mess of reactions, transcriptions of some important scenes from the podcast, notes for my fics, and general happily unhinged ramblings about the Campaign: Star Wars Evil Campaign! Don't... don't look at the wordcount please

- blue definitely for sure would be dead a thousand times over if it weren't for zero but I also wish to point out that when blue was out for one night zero lost two arms and almost got annihilated by force lightning. blue is zero's emotional support little bitch boy and clearly his functioning without him goes down catastrophically

- blue's little holo-screen saver zero that goes 'I love you!' when it goes away and the fact that by the finale he's added a little holo-screen saver blue to keep him company, I'm just -- aaaaaah

between that and how earnestly giddy and glowing blue gets about how cool synox is as soon as he knows that synox can't hear him... zero I kind of get it. you're still bonkers for it of course but I do see where you're coming from I sort of want to stop him from getting thrown off any more roofs too even though he provably deserves it. No one who makes a little chibi Zero holo who says ‘I love you!’ when he’s just like bored is completely rotten all the way through, I agree with Zero there’s something in there that’s worth it 

- can u believe that zero's first real appearance is leenik barely scratching his chest as if with a fingernail and then he just. chops leenik's hand clean off in one turn and moves on with his life. and he gives a shrug emoji about all the grievous bodily harm he's caused when blue tells him to stand down. He bombards blue’s inbox with cat memes. In his spare time he’s a DJ. He can crunch a man’s rib cage like a soda can with barely a flick of his wrist. He knows the tango. the perfect marriage of terrifying murdermachine and goofball

- "Zero, talk some sense into me or him" hfjdksafhsakjd obviously hilarious in itself but also... damn blue trusts zero SO MUCH

- Just me gathering some info together in one place: Zero bleeds blue, and whatever happened to him before he got his cybernetics was extensive enough that it left him on life support, so he originally turned this amount of cyborg more out of necessity than anything it sounds like. (From what they say about gank culture he probably had some modifications before that too, since Tubaik is notable for being the one person we know going ‘nah bro miss me with that shit’ completely.) He says something like ‘have you ever had to regrow a face?’ to Aava, and when there’s the whole ‘just because you can’t tell that she’s armed doesn’t necessarily mean she isn’t’ thing with the possessed Force lady he says something like ‘lost a limb last time I made an assumption like that’. He’s clearly got some Issues around it — warns Aava that ‘it isn’t pretty back there’ when she asks to see his face behind the helmet, the dark side mind reading pulls out ‘there’s no power that you possess with your broken body that could ever hope to save him’ from him. He’s 53% cybernetics, making him just barely more machine than man haha. His legs are at least partially cybernetic — he has them glutes and thighs Synox is checking out. Someone says something about an exoskeleton at one point, but I’m not sure how seriously we’re meant to take that, it might have been a joke. His first appearance in Campaign proper really emphasizes that he has one cybernetic eye, but it doesn’t really come up again once the character solidifies so *shrug* I suppose he might still have that going on behind the helmet screen. He has a math chip in his head and he regrets installing it because he hates math. I love him very much

At this point I’ve stopped trying to get actual Star Wars canon ganks to make sense and declared that as far as I’m concerned hashtag Kanan gank facts reign supreme. As such: Kat agrees on calling Tubaik ‘a fox-dog sort of person’ (and jesting comparisons are drawn to various Starfox characters lol). A little under six feet tall (most wolf/cat/dog species are GIANT, for no reason [transcriber’s note: it’s for the sake of blue and the furries]). Rangy, with a short muzzle. I think Zero is probably even a bit taller than Tubaik, since Blue is actually pretty tall and Zero is noticeably taller than him again, from the Vibes.  

In short: Edge of the Empire ganks look cool as fuck in an edgy teenage guilty pleasure character design kind of way, canon Star Wars ganks look like absolute bow-legged dorks

- blue instinctively calling out for zero first thing after coming around from being stunned and zero reflexively asking blue if he's alright before being like 'wait wait why am I asking you that when the solarium's open to space and you’ve been standing here the whole time go help synox' fhsdfa

- (blue re: the story behind synox' butt tattoo lol) "Details? and will this story not make me cry, like the last one?" lmao oh that's... so cute to me somehow. Gather round for war story time with good old Uncle Synox (17) on the Bluebird. 

- Hilarious that Blue and Aava are both like ‘hell, Synox, don’t be so down on yourself, you’re a catch!’ and Zero takes a hard stance of ‘he’s mid at best honestly sry :I’ fhdskjfa. Guess Zero goes more for twinks 

- I am building out a lot of dramatic backstory for Zero in this that isn’t even hinted at anywhere in the original text, but I do think I’m backed up by the self-evident truth that anyone who’d fall in love with Blue already must have something deeply wrong with them 

- Blue’s momentary sincere tired incredulity that Corvanus (Corvanas? Who knows) is trying to tell him they’re just buying food and medicine on Metalorn is so funny to me fhsjdfhas. Also the fact that he is SO ready to double-cross everyone immediately. Like no doubt in my mind that he would have fucked over corvanus too as soon as it became the least bit convenient to him, but he really does go and collude with a rebel in his very first arc because some guy kind of annoyed him and it might serve his interests. He’s been a minister for like. A month and a half at this point. Stunning. Splendid. No notes. He’s got the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair and it fills me with wonder and affection in equal measure. 

- added bonus and new entry into the Blue Hypocrisy Hour gameshow: zero calls blue ‘kid’ not half an hour before they meet with the condescending rival minister and blue doesn’t even react. He really said ‘zero’s got roasting rights over me and you do not. The punishment is death btw make peace with whatever god you think will stoop to taking you in’ 

- ZERO HAVING BLUE’S LIFE SIGNS UP IN HIS HUD WHILE HE’S IN THE HOSPITAL AND CONSTANTLY CHECKING IT FOR REASSURANCE *insert elmo surrounded by flames gif here*  

- The way Tyler makes Zero’s voice slightly higher and softer when he’s out of the helmet… emotional terrorism specifically directed upon me and my person

-“Where’s Blue? Is Blue okay?”

augh……………………………

- man I love aava. What an interesting character. Like the very idea of anyone taking Tamlin away from the Mynock crew makes my heart shatter into a thousand pieces but it is easy to see where she’s coming from. 

- Blue twirls his hair around his finger when he gets bashful and Zero knows that………… omg

Also another testament to Blue’s ultimate character I think: he sends himself fake fanmail (lmao) superficially to praise himself and his work, but actually to ask Zero for reassurance that they’ll be together to the end and to tell him how important he is to him in just… the most bafflingly roundabout elaborate non-committal way fhdsja. Like yeah he is a raving egomaniac but under that is always ‘...but do you like. Like me?? We’re friends right???’. He doesn’t deserve it but I do kind of feel for him. imagine facing the mortifying ordeal and indignity of being twenty years old and the most pathetic person alive. Shudder. Glad that’s over with at least 

- Say what you want about Blue but truly he is not a coward. He doesn’t even scream when Tryst shoots out his kneecap and in fact does not back it down with the attitude at all afterwards. Fhdskjafs he asks Tryst to carry him and makes him! (like yeah yeah we already know you’re gay blue). Literally too insufferable to be cowed. Isn’t the capacity of the human spirit spiked with caf and megalomania beautiful

- Commander Synox and the happy private world of ‘Pincer Maneuver :)’. I love him so incredibly much

- I want you to know that my insanity levels have reached the point that I’ve trawled fucking twitter for content. I’ve been using the search function on twitter. Yes I am desperate. Yes half of the posts are gone even aside from the awful format twitter already imposes. I have spent hours in the Musky muck for a scattered few nuggets of gold and it has been worth it but STILL entering a small fandom years later is a special kind of hell and I would not wish it on my worst enemy (this was written before musk went ahead and crashed the whole thing definitively into the iceberg early in June 2023 lmao. My point still stands tho. The things you do for love)

- Zero describing working directly for the empire as ‘ew, gross’ is so funny lmao. Okay buddy you keep desperately repressing your own complicity I understand why  

- “Master? Thaaaat’s — I gotta tell you, that… Friend? Employer? Confidante? Drinking buddy? He’s, he’s a good guy. Uh…”

<3 &lt;3 <3 also the way he immediately tries to walk it back with ‘it’s mostly professional istg’ and then by the end of the arc (so literal hours later) he gives it up as a bad job and just. Is so sweet and gay about it while aava is right there and can see it. The zero in agent zero stands for ‘no (0) chill whatsoever’. (also ‘confidante’ along with some of the dialogue they have when they’re alone in a scene implies some very sweet things about their relationship to me and I’m glad Zero has found this in his life even tho it does also mean being inextricably connected to one of the most exasperating people in the galaxy lol)   

- Agent ‘yes he is incredibly annoying yes I would kill, die and live for him hope that helps’ Zero and Aava ‘it really doesn’t but good for you honey’ Arek; Ultimate Bros. They really became best bros after hanging out for one (admittedly mutually harrowing) day huh

- The fact that Blue and Zero coordinate their outfits and vehicles, including Zero’s arm… 

- does zero eat ice cream through a straw. He must, right. These are the important questions. Hopefully he and blue figure their shit out asap so he can have his helmet off comfortably and experience eating ice cream with a spoon again at least in a private setting b/c that is Sad to me somehow

- “You just asked me to go to the gala with you, with documents that I forged, to show up another minister! What could possibly be more romantic than that?” and “I need a trophy husband!!” (Aava: “*genuinely bewildered* and why does that equate to a dress in your mind???”) *sniffle* I’m so used to giving and now I get to receive —

The fact that Blue apparently had that dress made to Zero’s measurements before he knew about the gala too is very… Blue Blue we need to talk, explain the strange workings of your mind here please some of the implications across this whole arc — mind boggling, flabberghasting, deranged in the most delightful way there is something so deeply wrong with this man (affectionate despite myself)

- there’s nothing that makes me clutch my face and weep like contemplating all the ways Synox and Bacta are actually very similar. And yet. And still. And here we are and these are the things we’ve done to each other brother. It’s such an interesting way to show off character, having two people with so many shared basic instincts (they are the nature’s Team Dad wet blankets (affectionate) of their respective crews lol) who make such different moral choices about it and end up in such different situations.

- “Love’s a bind. Feelings. Bind” fhdsakj oh zero. Also why did you think having a poetry book about this just casually on you would be less incriminating 

- I have a big place in my heart for Aava/Synox. Knowledge of exact placement of buttcheek tattoo? Canonical fake dating backstory to work with? Aava will call him things like ‘babe’ and Mr. Synox ‘that’s not regulation ma’am’ doesn’t even lift an eyebrow? yes good excellent wonderful (tbh I also quite like tryst/aava and synox/that one art thief nemesis from the dear bluebird letter — campaign star wars is one of the extremely rare pieces of media where I’m mostly a multishipper. It’s only blue and zero who have got such a weird intense obsessive thing going on with each other that I can’t really see (or wish it upon lol) anyone else getting in on it on that level, other than that all combinations are pretty plausible to me and I can see this sea of queer disasterness freely intermingling haha. Thank u campaign for letting me taste the peace and equanimity it is to be a multishipper, I’m normally out there putting all my eggs in one emotion basket like a damn fool) 

- It’s so funny that Zero just lets Blue decide the colours his arms come in. Big ‘happily letting his partner buy his underwear for him kinda man’ energy despite how stylish he is otherwise

- Synox may be the character that makes me laugh the most in all of Campaign. There’s just something about his dry nasal little straight man voice saying something awful that tickles me so very much. I love him utterly you all just don’t know him like I do listen — 

- Synox: “I will say — I really admire the cybernetic thighs and, uh, and glutes that Zero — 

Blue, vehemently agreeing just a little too quickly to not have given this A Lot of thought himself: “Sturdy.”

Synox: “-- that Zero has, yeah.”

Blue: “Sturdy.”

Zero: “Powerhouse.” 

Synox: “Very firm and sturdy, able to withstand any sort of rocking on the ground or anything like that… Sometimes, in the heat of battle, I find myself admiring just how well those machines function.” 

Zero: “...wait, are you checking me out in battle? I mean, that’s fine, but —”

Synox: “Just to make sure —”

Blue, darkly in the background: “No, he isn’t.” 

Synox: “ — make sure your firm is standing… is standing tall and proper.”

Zero: “Why are you sweating so much?”  

Synox, strangled: “Is it hot in here? Is it?” 

Blue: “I’m only gonna say this once. Synox, back off.”  

What a way to send the Evil Campaign off honestly

- Blue casually saying it took like 15 to 20 minutes for him to decide he wanted Zero around for life I’m just — Blue will literally say the most insanely sweet and romantic things solely and only when he’s not aware he’s doing it huh

- for someone whose blorbo love language is fondly dragging them I haven’t made fun of zero nearly enough in this but like… remember when his main objection to blue’s (patently insane) ‘we need to get a kid to pretend to be a perfect nuclear family for the cameras’ idea was ‘yeah I’ve got like nineteen hours to work with here blue I can’t make that happen for you’. That was where he decided the problem was with this. OK simp king

- Zero’s real and deep love for Blue truly comes out in the fact that after all these years he still insists on trying to teach him self defense on a regular basis. The boy’s a twig zero he’s more of a danger to himself than to anyone else and I refuse to believe he could even make it through a pushup. And yet I understand why you must at least try  

- Blue going ballistic at the dude on Metalorn for calling him a kid while being like ‘well you know what difference of opinion here but fair enough I can respect that!’ at Synox aCTUALLY POINTING A FUCKING BLASTER AT HIM AND FIRING TWICE… blue I love you you are strange and unhinged and your priorities are rancid

- Credit where it’s due: Blue’s plan for taking over Phindar for the Empire is actually kind of clever; I wonder if that was something he’d planned for a while or if he came up with that one basically from the hospital bed? He has apparently been going to BHIKKE with Zero for years (even if he does nothing but complain the whole time, predictably, lol and Zero referring to him as ‘his date’ awww) so I can see how the idea could have been percolating in the back of his mind. Either way it’s not a lot of recovery time between the whole getting thrown off a roof thing and the broadcast he does. You get to see so many of his foibles and neuroses in the Evil campaign that it’s easy to forget he actually like. Succeeds at stuff quite frequently too lol Zero has such faith in him for a reason I guess. Did he reach his position by being insane??? (I mean yeah that too. Also Tarkin apparently just collects younger evil gays he’s going to throw in the trash and steal all the accomplishments of once it becomes convenient so that probably did something here. A Krennick is a coincidence, a Krennick and Blue is a pattern)  

- Blue: “I’m not concerned with that position. What I am concerned about is personal goals. And that is something I have in spades. I don’t know what your personal goals are, Aava; that’s why I can’t connect with you. But I have goals, I have aspirations, I have things that I want to complete, and when I complete these things, it makes me whole.”

Aava: “And they don’t have to do with getting any sort of recognition from the Empire?” 

Blue: [sounding faintly puzzled to be asked] “No.” 

This is where my brainrot truly set in I think. ‘When I complete these things, it makes me whole’ and suddenly you understand so much more of what the fuck he’s doing and why it’s never going to work and I’m just — SCREAMING. You fool. You poor stupid idiot. For Zero’s sake if nothing else I wish you a very get well soon and get your priorities in order (tbf the dice stepped up on this one later in the arc I think there’s reason to hope)  

-  Raxus:“I can feel you. You are clever to have gotten this far. But I can feel your fear. Fear of death. But not yours — how noble. You fear the death of another.”

Zero: “I’m not — you’re not in my head.” 

R: “The one you care for… you’re a very nurturing creature. You create these attachments very easily. Looking for a smaller, weaker thing to be the strong arm for.” 

Z: “Get out of my head.”

R: “YES! Anger! Yes! That is what I want. Yes, your anger and your fear — hmm, it slakes the hunger of the Fanged God.” 

Z: “You don’t know — you don’t know what you’re talking about, you don’t know me.” 

R: “I know everything that I need to know about you. I have tasted the blood of the warrior you are many times before. So often do your feelings drive you to victory… but you face the Fanged God now. You’ll be a worthy sacrifice. And after our battle, I will find him, and I will strike him down. Know this: his death is fated. The Fanged God will taste his blood, and there’s no power that you possess with your broken body that could ever hope to save him.”

New ping to Aava: “Zero: Kriff. (transcriber’s note: lol) She sees me. Or she… feels me.”

+ (about Aava trying to save the possessed lady with a ritual instead of killing her) Zero: “We have two different objectives. She threatened Blue!”

So fucking sexy across the whole spectrum tbh. Emotionally dramatically psychologically sexually interpersonally narratively, this fucks. Zero is the ultimate service top and I support him so much. He’s A Very Nurturing Creature and he found this pathetic ginger trash racoon baby in a dumpster doing the knife cat meme; he never stood a chance. Also so kinky fhsadkfhsa he. Enjoys being wielded, does he. Goodness. 

Aava saving Raxus from Zero’s righteous wrath only to have Synox swing in and shoot her dead right after is PEAK comedy and I’m so happy about it

- Aava and Zero teaming up to come up with brand new silly nicknames for Synox casually through a conversation is so blessed. Aava comes out with ‘Syclone’ at one point fhkdjfhask. Syguy. Syclopse, even.

- Transcript of The scene after the gala:

As Aava and Zero are having this conversation directly in front of Blue, Blue’s head just sorta sinks down again. And his whole body sinks down — he just drops to the ground, sits on his ass, puts his back to the bannister that’s behind him. Throws his cane off to the side. 

B:“It’s been a mess of a night. It’s been a mess of a life. I — I came from, what some would say a lot, what some would say was very little, to, to make a name, and I’ve — I’ve made a name, I have made a name that I thought matters. But every time I come to one of these events, I’m the butt of the joke. I’m the butt of the joke before I get here, I’m the butt of the joke while I’m here, I’m the butt of the joke to my face; my friends who came with me — I’m the butt of the joke right in front of them. Right now… how am I supposed to function in that type of environment? How can any person deal with that level of stress? The only thing I am is what a success I am, and I am not actually a success. I’ve convinced one person in the entire Empire to give me a shot, and that was Grand Moff Tarkin; I have done one thing successful in my entire career, and — I sit in a room with people laughing at me. 

Zero, you wanna go home? Go home. I pay for a bodyguard, not because I need a bodyguard, I pay for a bodyguard so you’ll be here. Aava?”

A: “Mhmm?”

B: “You’re an evil, evil space witch.”

A: “Morality is real relative, Blue. I take exception to ‘evil’, and I wish you wouldn’t use it.” 

B: “And you have very annoying beliefs on philosophy. But you are one of the few people I trust in a deadly situation, and that’s why I asked you to be here.”

A: “...at a gala?”

B: “Does it get any more deadly?” 

A: [crestfallen] “YES! Blue… yes.” She sinks down on her knees next to him. “These things aren’t that scary.”

B: “You can handle these things.” 

A: “Yeah.”

B: “I — listen. I know you see me as a rock.” 

Z: [Flatly & immediately] “No. No one sees you like that. You’re like…”

B: [:’( ] “Really?”

Z: “Yeah. You’re like… at best you’re wet sand. Like, you’re able to take a lot of different shapes, but —”

B: [interspersed]  “These — these are the insults to — to my name and — I — very hurtful—”

Z: “ — but at any kind of, like, opposition — a water current, even a little bit of rain, and you start crumbling apart.”

A: “There’s a difference —”

B: “Knives to my heart right now.”

A: “ — a difference between an insult and an observation.”

Z: “Yeah…”

B: “Uh, I’m not, I’m not seeing the difference between the two in this particular instance.”

Z: “No, keep going, keep going, I feel like we got a bit, side tracked you with…”

B: “Yeah, you did, okay, where were we — you all see me as a rock.”

Z: “Nah. I gotta say — again… no, we should — ”

A: “You’re very shaky. As an individual.”

Z: “Yeah. Mhm.”

A: “Both physically and mentally.”

Z: “It’s real easy to get under your skin, and I feel like — like once, you do it one time and the whole week is ruined, and…”

B: “I’m a sensitive guy, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.” 

Z: “Okay, okay, yeah — continue. Just, not a rock, but, uh, continue. [muttering all in one breath] Okay go ahead.” 

B: “You all see me as a rock. But I’m actually a sensitive guy. Every now and then you can see glimpses through, to the true Blue. And I’m a little blue, sometimes. Events like this, I thought this would be — this would be my time. Could show up someone, could be Blue, I wouldn’t be…the guy being laughed at, wouldn’t be the kid. That’s what they call me in that room, you know it.”

A: [softly] “You’re pretty young.”

Z: [also more softly] “Yeah, man.”    

B: “I don’t like being called a kid. I don’t like being treated like a kid. I don’t like being treated like the person who doesn’t belong in that room. Zero, did anyone think you didn’t belong in that room? Aava, did anyone think you didn’t belong in that room?”

A: “Probably.” 

Z: “No.”

A: “You don’t know that.”

B: “I do know that!”

A: [sighs] “They also don’t believe Zero belongs there. Because, the thing is — he’s a bodyguard. And I’m an alien. And there are starting to become problems with being an alien. Are you not paying attention to what the Empire is doing, Blue?”

B: [slightly affronted] “I’m paying very close attention to what the Empire is doing. Yes, there are xenophobic people in here, but that’s not the large reach of the Empire. (tone implies a little bit of a …?)”

A: “It’s also what you are promoting. It’s what you’re creating.”

B: “Hm, you gotta do what they want you to do, to a degree.” 

A: “Right, I’m not talking about that, I’m just saying that — that’s the increasingly predominant culture.”

B: “...do you think so?”

A: “Yes.”

B: “So you don’t feel like you belong here either?”

A: “No.”

B: “Zero, do you feel like you belong here?”

Z: “Aaah, I don’t belong here, and I don’t wanna be here.”

B: “Well, the ship doesn’t get back for another four hours. And if the three of us don’t belong in that room… why don’t we order some damn drinks and have our own little party here?”

Z: “I talked to the guy at the bar, uh, he says he’s gonna be breaking out the cherry mimosas soon. Maybe get a sneak peak at that guy, and… I don’t know, maybe see if we can get access to Jakar’s cruiser and… mess up the engine?”

A: “Yes! Yes!”

B: “I’m fully on board with this.” 

A: “Yes! Yes!”

B: “Waiter! Three mimosas and the largest wrench you have!”

Ah yes here it is… ground zero for my all-encompassing insanity. Can u believe that the dramatic climax of the Evil Campaign as it ended up is just proving once and for all that Blue has a soul somewhere in there. It took a dice roll damn near close to divine intervention, but we got there. The Force is real and it ships Zeblue. 

- the fact that the pivotal moment at the end of the evil campaign is blue rolling a fucking insight check on himself. Like that check was not about aava or zero b/c they’ve spelled their side of it out Very Clearly. That was just to find out if Blue has any idea about his own bullshit. He basically just obliviously speedran processing Some Shit about internalized homophobia and compulsory heterosexuality in a frenzy and in the least graceful way imaginable and made it the problem of everyone he loves and that was the subtextual background theme, there was so much other stupid shit going on in the foreground the whole time as well. Wild. what a strange and beautiful world we live in. what a weird little dude (affectionate). Zero’s weird little dude. Also genuinely that conversation leading up to it was more stressful to me than 90% of all horror movies lol you do not need an action scene to keep me riveted you just have to offer up some prom night drama and I’m out here biting my nails. The fellow autistic ‘blue you are getting an F- in being a person something that is possible to achieve and normal to dread’ trauma response 

- Zero (RIGHTFULLY!) being so hurt and mad at Blue and still just holding his caf and giving it to him after he’s finished his own… I’m sorry 0ni it’s love and it’s terminal

- Also Zero is extremely valid for being upset about all the shit Blue pulls in that arc but there is also the element of like… some of the lack of clarity in that relationship is on Zero too for taking the easy out of claiming he’s mostly in it for the paycheck again and again. Like for god’s sake don’t let the little trash man off the hook for any of the nonsense that just went down but you have also not been communicating what you want from this, and he is actually doing his best to provide you with the stuff you have told him you want. He’s SO interpersonally stupid and you know this, you know him, he is not going to miraculously sprout the ability to intuit your deepest hopes and dreams from nothing, especially when you specifically keep deflecting away from them fjhsdkjhfa you can’t both keep playing chicken forever

They clearly have a really intense and intimate connection and seemingly have from very early on (again blue says it took him fifteen minutes to know he wanted zero around for life so like jot that down I guess wtf), but the heavy romantic and sexual undertones to their relationship (at least in any mutual or realized way) are presumably quite a recent development — Blue met and hired Zero when he was 14/15 and from the Vibes I’d say Zero is probably about a decade older (ETA: checked the wiki and campaign twitter and that does indeed seem to be right); he seems to have had a pretty storied career and a huge life-changing injury he’d cyborged himself through already. So for the first time Zero knew him, Blue was a kid, and you can absolutely see traces of that in how they interact sometimes. Not quite parental or older brother territory, but certainly a sort of nurturing caretaking thing that makes a lot of sense once you know Zero was around for Blue’s most undignified teenage years and probably is the only reason he survived them because you know he was pissing so many people off left and right haha. 

In the Metalorn arc especially we repeatedly see Blue turning to Zero for guidance more like you would from a guardian than a bodyguard or employee or even a friend. (See: the “Awww but I wanted to rampage :(“/”We’ll go out and rampage some other day, buddy, does that sound okay?” convo especially haha but that same vibe pops up in lots of places. Actually taking the advice Zero gives is another thing entirely of course.) There’s also his complete conviction in Zero’s abilities that edges on the touchingly naive — “You’re Zero!”, like more than anything that’s got an edge to it of the utter faith a small kid has that their parent can do anything, because they always fix things.

We never hear anything about Blue’s parents and he certainly seems to be completely in control of his own estate and money, so my assumption is that they’re probably dead? My personal headcanon is that he hired Zero because his parents died (read: were politically assassinated) and wanted both security and revenge, but even aside from that I think we can read from his entire *gestures vaguely* deal that there was some deeply lacking parenting going on from the beginning haha I think I said somewhere before that if any character has ever had My Parents Never Loved Me energy it’s Blue.

And then you get to the place in the timeline where the actual podcast runs, where Blue is a grown man now, and they’re much closer to actually being equals in some ways and it’s opened ahem some new doors, but also the seesaw of their dynamic haven’t quite settled into that balance yet (and has some real hurdles they need to clear re: the employer/employee aspect of it all as well, messy power balances all around here) and it’s a bit of a Struggle, which is some of the subtextual throughline I’m seeing through their whole arc. 

So while of course part of the imbalance in their relationship is that Blue is Zero’s employer, and also wields power politically in ways Zero doesn’t (and couldn’t, because of the anti-alien policies of the Empire) and also is awful in his own strange special little ways that must be pretty hard to live with lol, there’s also all this other stuff, like the age gap where Zero is older, more experienced and capable out in the world and in relationships (also more psychologically stable in general but that’s damning with faint praise I suppose), and that their relationship must have shifted in some key ways quite recently as Blue is growing into adulthood. It’s so weird and messy and interesting at the same time that it’s oddly comforting and domestic and incredibly mutually tender-hungry and I am obsessed with it. Most of my writing energy has probably gone into picking apart ‘...so why doesn’t this feel creepy’ 

- Sort of adjacent but also fascinated by how, to Zero, Blue seems to be some insane combination of ward and liege lord (as a public thing much much more so than a private one I think but no matter what it seems deeply kinky haha) and friend and boss and brother and purpose and partner and someone he’s clearly grown to desperately want to kiss in recent years despite the warning signs etc. What if you were one of the coolest guys in the galaxy and you met a terrible little nerd guy who gives your life meaning. Zero having such a drive towards being something to someone. He likes being the right hand, the sword, and what does mutuality look like here. It’s a delicious sort of equal partners/conspirators and fealty dynamic going on it’s very interesting

- Zero’s priorities are hilarious and wonderful to me honestly. Working, however indirectly, for an Empire that is, for sure, very eager to eradicate him and people like him eventually? Mild unease and distaste at worst, eh, it’s a living, in this economy what can you do, I go where he goes. Blue not paying attention to him for 24 hours? Meltdown. Personal and spiritual crisis. I cannot live or thrive under these conditions. 

- is it logistically likely that Blue has never seen Zero’s face under the helmet before? Probably not, honestly, it’s been like six to seven years and presumably he must at least have done research on Zero to have hired him in the first place. Is it thematically delicious if he hasn’t but some day soon will? Yes. And that trumps everything else lol 

- The fact that the Bluebird crew have karaoke nights and ice cream Sundays. And Synox is being so brave about it. 

- Blue going “We are in public!” to Zero. married vibes. Also the choice of calling the hired killer he employs ‘pretty’ while he’s moving him around (which Zero must be partially letting him do because he would need to tense one (1) muscle to resist all the force Blue is physically capable of extending). Many thoughts. 

- What if Blue’s family was like… nouveau riche though. What if the wealth happened in the generation of his grandparents at most and it was based in some sort of ingenious patent in agricultural engineering or whatever because they were farmers originally. Genuinely groundbreaking stuff in that field that increased agricultural yields across the galaxy (or some significant amount of biomes, at least) and everything, but hardly something to build a political career on in the Empire. Making sense of how completely disdainful Blue gets at the idea of being a farmer because Blue is nothing if not a complete hypocrite lol

This also makes some sense out of him having both seemingly unlimited funds but also a mountain-sized chip on his shoulder to me haha. He never denies that the credits sure do help kickstart a career, but at least in his mind (BIG YMMV disclaimer on the actual facts of the situation of course lol) he’s also starting from a disadvantageous situation in other ways. He says: ‘I came from what some would say was a lot, what some would say was very little, to make a name’ (implying the name has not ‘been made’ before him, despite the embarrassment of resources his family clearly has had at their disposal?). Having him be from a non-warrior clan in Mandalorian culture and/or an established family who’d fallen entirely out of relevancy until very recently is my solution but also it’s fun that as short as this campaign is there’s enough great Stuff in it to make for this amount of theorizing haha. 

ETA: so I scoured the campaign twitter back to 2016 (*gentle sobs are heard in the background*) and apparently Blue’s parents were pacifists and (from what I could read out of it) probably connected to Satine’s system/new nobility! This matches up pretty well with what I’m going for already so that’s nice

- Commander ‘Overprotective Dad’ Synox sending a whole little squad of stormtroopers for Aava and Zero after their speeder blows up…………… 

- zeblue is just… 

Zero: *sigh* I want to fuck him so bad it makes me look silly😔

Blue, heartbroken and jealous: WHO??? Who is this mystery man I must kill I mean vet before you kiss him

Aava: you do look very silly but unfortunately I am in no position to judge

- Synox sending Blue reading material about traditional Mandalorian warrior culture because it’s Their Heritage and Blue being like ‘lol. Lmao.’ and not reading a word of it is sooooo… listen their dynamic has Layers. There’s some Stuff going on here. It’s Mandalorian fuckery all the way down. Blue is Mandalorian and fits much better in the mold Satine tried to fit the culture into, but he uses that to dedicate all his time and energy to presenting Synox, who’s in that weird liminal space of Mandalorianness of all clones what with their training and origins, as a new modern soldier’s ideal for the Empire but shorn of all distinctness or cultural specificity and that’s the thing they make together for the Empire. There’s that disdain in Blue’s view of the culture he comes from, and yet he has such a good eye for the appeal of elements of it in Synox (and also a lot of stuff about the presentation of masculinity in here haha. Blue has a Fine Eye for it. Who knows why. Could be no reason at all. Who’s to say) 

Also probably not something to read into but from Synox’ comments, Blue’s music sounds notably non-Coruscanti (what it does sound like, presumably, is ‘a fucking cacophony’)  

- Zero and Blue audibly high fiving in the background when Zero gets the ‘I’d never betray you’ right on the second try fsdfjad ah Friendship

- “why do you need a bodyguard?” 

“Look at me!”

Amazing self-own from blue outta nowhere jfsjda

- gentle reminder that after talking to jacinto reth, blue spends the rest of the metalorn arc absolutely drenched in caf. He does his little sales pitch to corvanus presumably covered in duracrete dust and definitely caf. The fact that it almost kinda worked is a miracle basically I guess people are just taken aback by being talked at loudly and confidently by a dude who looks like he’s barely out of middle school 

- Zero drawling “You’re just so wildly efficient” on his and Blue’s private line is extremely… it’s very…. Several points in this first episode where you’re just like ‘HOW! HOW are they not already fucking’ lol. (To which the answer seems to be: Probably because Blue does not seem entirely clear on what sex is yet. Man the BDSM Dear Bluebird sure was a ride but it also explains so much) He’s just talking about how he’s going to get paid to watch Blue smile. Keep it in your pants Agent Zero you’re in Louphan’s office fhdsjkah

- “Zero, just — honestly. Did I act unprofessionally or rash in this situation?”

(sounding slightly defeated) “We didn’t act any differently than we normally do. It’s just that —”

Why is this so funny to me. So that really is just how they’ve been rolling through the galaxy is it. This is just how they live. 

- The immediate shift in tone between Zero and Blue once Synox leaves the room so they’re in private and Zero freely freaking out is everything to me fhdsjakfhas it’s so… domestic. Like they’re both putting up public fronts for Synox and then collapsing into unvarnished intimate back and forth chaos the moment they’re alone.

Z: “HE DIDN’T MOVE AT ALL!”

B: [giddy]: “I know, it was really badass!”

Z: [indignant] “What, are you kidding me, are you on the droid’s side??”

B: [still equally giddy] “Well, clearly I’m not!”

I think Blue just gets off on seeing Zero do cool stuff honestly lol  

- Zero, turning to Synox: “If you draw a gun on him again, you lose that hand” SO sexy. Oh to have someone who will back you unconditionally even when you are 100% for sure the problem in this situation hahaha. Oh to feel that ride or die certainty for someone. Oh to be that utterly selfish. 

- I am making But if you saw him when he isn’t putting on that front… it’s worth it. Somehow do so much work in this fic I am taking so many things on faith but also I think I am right to. Zero might be besotted but he’s also not a fool, if Blue was genuinely a nightmare to deal with interpersonally (like one on one) most of the time I don’t think he would have stuck it out this long haha. Considering that the minister posting is a relatively new development I could see all that stress exacerbating what was already a less than pleasant/stable personality at the outset

- relistening to campaign from the beginning and getting to zero’s introduction scene again is such a ride. The first time around you’re just sitting there in ‘uh-oh leenik!!!!’ dread and then the second time my reaction was ‘AW LOOK IT’S MY GOOD GOOD FRIEND AGENT ZERO :D OMG HI’ as he walks away drenched in blood fhsakjd   

His BIG SIGH at blue talking to him over comms and telling him to stand down… there’s a little bit of early appearance weirdness going on with him in the beginning (like his weird growly voice hfsjkda) but that is pitch perfect. That is spiritually correct for him.  

- Zero (breaking Aava off during a Dear Bluebird where a Sith-adjacent sort of person is asking what to do with their murderous underling): “You give ‘em something to do, keep their hands busy. But also, you gotta think about why this person is insisting to kill so many people. Is he trying to impress you? Is he going after some attention you’re otherwise not giving him? These are all things that can feed into outlashing — acting out, taking out your aggression on something else. Whether that be meaningless tasks, or the blood of another species.”

Aava: “Absolutely! It’s a master/student relationship, and if you’re not being an adequate master to this person, then to my mind they have full right to rebel.”

Zero: “They gotta get satisfied some way.” [transcriber’s note: GOTTA GET SATISFIED SOME WAY that’s how you chose to phrase it is it? I was willing to let ‘Is he trying to impress you? Is he going after some attention you’re not giving him?’ go, but ZERO!!! BUDDY!!!!!]

Blue: “...Zero, do we need to — do we need to have a conversation? You’ve flipped the last three Scrabble boards, and now, based on, on your answer — you okay? You getting everything? Do we need to do Sunday night ice cream again? What’s going on with you, buddy? Huh?”

Zero: “Sometimes, the Bluebird isn’t as big as you think. And I just kind of want to stretch out, and there’s so many training sessions going on all the time, and everyone’s stuck to such a very strict regimen, and there’s only so many places where you can get alone time, and then you installed the morning announcements, and I don’t wake up when you wake up. And you wake up before anybody ever should wake up.”

Rare Synox and Blue bonding over being the most sleepless bitches on this ship by design lol. Listen blue I’ll believe that synox is just built different but you’re going to have a heart attack before you reach thirty pls sort this out I don’t want to see zero be a widower

- Lore note: Zero does not like Scrabble fhdskjfhas. Space Scrabble, presumably. Sprabble.

- both zero and blue noticing synox getting triggered by seeing a battle droid in the metalorn arc and stopping what they’re doing to check in with him is. Kind of sweet actually

- today I found out that the guiness world record for an ensemble of stringed instruments is 1021 people playing at the same time. so I think blue was actually being admirably restrained and everyone owes him a big apology (I jest(er) of course no one should ever apologize to blue for anything)  

- B: “I think that’s something we can all agree with. Right, Aava?”

A: “Why are you looking at me?”

B: “I’m looking at you because I don’t think you support this.”

A: “Stop.”

B: [Suspicious/incredulous] “Hmm.”

A: “Look at Zero.”

B: “I’m not gonna look at Zero.” 

A: “You like looking at Zero.”

B: “I do like looking at Zero. I’m gonna glance over there, but I’m coming right back.”

Z: [ :) ] “Hi.”

B: “‘Sup. [Beat] Aava, you need to answer the question.”

A: [Innocently] “What was the question?”

B: [Clearly derailed from one quick peek Zero-ward, laughing] “I’m… not really sure.”

What a GIFT, best setup of all time followed by slam dunk no notes 

- “You just said we need a heads result, I give you a heads result!” Love, Blue style. He will rig a coin flip to let you kill someone you really wanted to kill 

- Synox going “Zero doesn’t have any rank, it wouldn’t matter if we killed him” in the background is so underestimated both in terms of hilarity and awfulness fhsdja

- Zero’s very carefully neutral statement about Blue’s fashion sense pre-jester reveal that “You are definitely the one of us wearing the most layers” fasdkjha

- I’m going to take Zero’s after-gala ‘where are they now’ segment as definitive proof he and Blue worked it out very quickly after that night. Your honor, I summon the panini metaphor for making love (notably not having sex. Making love.) from the Dear Mynock in episode 70 as evidence for my case, and now I shall rest it safe in the knowledge that at least spiritually I am Right thank you and good night. 

He made a panini. It was good :) good for him <3

- Z: “Blue and You! Write that down!” haha awww he sounds so genuinely excited! Maybe one day when their relationship could stand up to this utmost challenge they could be a musical duo (orchestral string music and edm/house would be. It would be something as a combination.) 

- Dear Bluebirds outside of Evil Campaign:

Episode 60

Episode 73 (fashion one, jester supremacy. If you haven’t seen this animatic of that one before, please give yourself a treat and do so now, it’s one of my favorite things in the whole world) 

Episode 79 (Phindar takeover)

Episode 83 (it’s the BDSM one fjsadkl)

- Basically I think what I’m trying to say is that the Bluebird crew are a group of very bad people whose sole saving grace and hope for salvation from themselves is that they love each other. And I wrote a lot of words about that and had a lot of feelings. Thank you to the Campaign podcast for getting me through 2023, I'm very grateful.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Well Maybe Just A Half A Drink More

Characters: Steven Grant x Reader

Summary: When the holiday season comes to an end there is adulting to be done, but can Steven convince you to hold off just a little longer?

Word Count: 1159 words

Prompt: #16: A and B argue over the appropriate times to put up and take down holiday decorations

A/N: This is the last Steven Grant fic on my Steven’s Greetings series. I hope you have enjoyed it, and if you have then please reblog. If you didn’t enjoy my ramblings then go about your life and don’t give it a second thought.

It was that time of year once again, the one where nobody is entirely sure what time it is, or what day it is. The time of year that proves time is a social construct which passes at different rates for different people at different moments. The time of the holidays when you really should emerge from your blanket cocoon and take a shower only to discover that you now only have the choice of leggings or sweatpants thanks to your snack consumption levels vs actual meal intake.

“All I’m saying is that they’re up now and they make things look all twinkly and pretty.” Steven hummed over his coffee as he leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“But it’s bad luck!” You whined, leaning next to him, empty cardboard boxes scattered around the floor ready to be filled with the mishmash of holiday decorations you’d accumulated over the last month.

“I thought it was bad luck to take them down too soon.”

“You have to take them down before the twelfth night, which is either the 5th or 6th, I’m not entirely sure which.” The two of you fell into a thoughtful silence, sipping your hot beverages as you surveyed the many random decorations brightening Steven’s place.

“And what happens if you don’t? Do the fairy lights explode and set fire to your house?” He teased, earning him a light slap on his bicep.

“No, but I don’t want a year of bad luck just because we couldn’t be arsed tidying up.” You sighed, feeling no motivation at all to pack away the holidays but knowing it was the ‘grown up’ thing to do.

“Hold up, let me check google.”

“Really? You’re going to google it? What are you putting in there?”

“Wonders of modern technology, love.” He shot you a boyish grin and you couldn’t help but shake your head fondly as he typed and spoke at the same time. “What happens if you and your girlfriend don’t put the Christmas stuff away.”

“You didn’t just type that in!” You laughed, trying to see his phone. Steven simply brushed you off, moving his phone higher and out of your reach as he read from the screen.

“Right, so it says here that if you leave them up past epiphany, whenever that is, you have to keep them up all year to avoid the bad luck. I say we just do that.” He shrugged.

“You seriously think we should keep the Christmas tree up all year?” Your eyebrows raised as you looked at him skeptically.

“I keep my Menorah out all year.”

“Is that even the same?”

“Well, I mean, a Christmas tree isn’t a religious thing so probably not, but doesn’t that just back up my argument? I mean, surely religious symbols are more important than random traditions?” You both knew there was a flaw in his logic somewhere, but the amount of telly you’d consumed over the last few days had dulled your brain and it was difficult to spot, so you took a different course.

“Steven, it’s a two foot tree. All we have to do is take the tinsel off it, unplug it, and put it back in the box.” That would be simple enough, right? It wasn’t like you’d got a real tree. It was a crappy one from the pound shop that you’d bought when you found out he didn’t have one. Not that you wanted to force Christmas on him, it just felt nice to meld both traditions together, like melding the two of you together

“Yeah, but then that table in the corner will look all bare and lonely. It looks so jolly with the tree there. Maybe we could decorate it with other stuff.” He said hopefully, staring at the small tree.

“OR I could buy you a plant to put there.” You reasoned.

“Ah, but then where would we put the plant next Christmas when we put the tree up?” There was a beat of silence where Steven thought he might have actually won that argument, but then he turned his head and saw you staring at him incredulously.

“Seriously? That’s your argument?”

“Okay, what about a compromise?” he proposed, not entirely sure where he was going with this.

“What are you suggesting?” There was quiet once more while he gave this a little thought. What would be a compromise? Something that didn’t require step ladders would be good.

“Hows about we take down the tree, and the tinsel, and the snowflakes because they will not look as good in the summer, but we keep the fairy lights, the paper twisty things and the snowman in Gus’ tank. I think the little guy would miss him too much if we took him away.” Steven watched your expression carefully as you considered the offer, knowing you didn’t want to pack stuff up just as much as he didn’t.

“Right. I will take that compromise because we both know how much of a faff it will be taking down the paper twisty things and the fairy lights.” You nodded before putting down your mug and picking up a box.

“Woah, it’s not epiphany! We can’t take them down now because that will mean bad luck.” Steven grabbed your hand as if you were about to put it into a woodchipper, his dramatics causing you to chuckle. “I think we should just put the boxes away and we’ll do it on the sixth. Got to make sure we don’t end up with a year of bad luck, right?” He grinned, using your own logic against you.

“You’re lucky you’re gorgeous because that sort of sass would get maddening very quickly if you weren’t.” you chuckled, dropping the box back to the floor.

“Right, so now we’ve decided we’re not going to pack up anything today, what do you think about crashing on the sofa and watching Muppets while eating what’s left of the holiday goodies?”

“And right there is the sort of thinking that makes me love you.” You hummed without thinking about your words, words which caused Steven’s brain to seize up for a moment.

“Y-you..?” He stuttered, drawing attention to what you’d said, causing your eyes to widen in panic. It was true, you did love him, but this wasn’t exactly how you wanted to tell him that.

“I mean, I-“

“I love you too.” He cut in quickly, as if the words had been desperate to escape him for a while now.

“Right. Well. That’s good.”

“Yeah. Good.” The two of you stood there for a few moments, just grinning like two fools in love, which was exactly what you were.

“So,” you broke the silence, slipping your hand into Steven’s and leading him towards the sofa, “we watching A Christmas Carol or Treasure Island?”

“Both. Both is good.” And so the two of you spent the rest of the day lost in Muppet movies and each other.