#I feel as if this is subpar but maybe that's just my self doubt

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE! BATFAM W/ MILES MORALES (BUT GENDER NEUTRAL) ! READER

[ PART ONE ] [ PART THREE ]

GENERAL CW/TW: Spoilers for Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse. Typical Yandere themes of stalking, violence and whatnot.

PART CW/TW: Reader gets called a beauty (beauty/beautiful is gender neutral fite me).

EXTRA: also uh mind you most of my knowledge on the boys come from reading fics so if i get any of my info wrong feel free to correct me

current status: unedited

summary: reader gets into multiverse related hi-jinx and almost gets their ass broken if it weren’t for a tired, definitely sleep deprived senior catching them. (it’s tim you guys)

Reply if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

WHAT’S UP DANGER

(PART TWO)

“I like tall buildings so I can leap off of ‘em,

I go hard wit’ it no matter how dark it is.”

Turns out being a hero is hard skill to learn. Especially if you were working on a time limit.

You had recently gained the ability to uh- well you didn’t know what exactly. All you knew is that somehow you were at least 5x as strong as you were before and a lot more sticky.

Not to mention your senses were all over the place.

It’s like you could see, hear, smell and feel everything.

You didn’t really want to avoid Damian, but whenever you came across him — or just went within his immediate vicinity. Your “tingles” and enhanced “senses” would flare up and make you dizzy.

Usually it’d only be that bad when there were projectiles or insects around you. You surmised it was probably your powers warning you of the dangers he may potentially bring. Whether it’d be from himself (the heir must have some sort of self defense skills) or his name (you didn’t want to think of the target you’ve put on your back both in school and life in general by being his acquaintance. Jesus [Y/N]. Being distracted by your future and planned failure in academics doesn’t excuse letting that happen. Stupid.).

You were mostly stumbling around with your strange set of abilities until you met this girl named Gwen.

First of all, she was just — incredibly pretty. You couldn’t but just stare at her sometimes and—

Getting back on track — !

After getting some spidey sense feedback loop and ripping off a massive chunk of her hair. You find out that you’re this universe’s “Spiderman.”

And that she, was from another universe entirely.

Even a big sci-fi junkie like you had to doubt her words, but as she showcased her abilities you pretty much went on your knees and begged her to teach you.

The both of you get to work quickly. Investigating how she got to your universe and practicing the use of your powers.

The first part went really well. You even met a few other dimension traveling spider-people (and animal) along the way. After sneaking into a lab, you found out that it was a rich man’s, King Pin, “bring his family back project” that brought you all together. But that his actions were probably going to destroy the fabric of reality if he kept going.

The second part, not so much. Your stickiness was something you just couldn’t control.

Luckily it was winter break and that prevented you from ripping another schoolmate’s hair off.

Your “universe specific” abilities, as the other spider-people called it, like invisibility and bio-electricity only came out at random. Sometimes at the most inconvenient times.

Your webbing abilities were subpar to say the least. Many attempts led to you breaking several bones.

Praise super-regeneration and all

But f u c k did it still hurt.

and it was during one of those web-swinging practice sessions when you fall into the arms of Tim Drake.

Tim was just trying to get some fresh air.

After passing out on duty last night and having to deal with Damian suddenly abandoning his missions for some reason. He decided that maybe it was time for a break.

He didn’t exactly expect to have a young adult falling into his arms during said break.

He was just talking a casual stroll really. In a relatively quiet part of Gotham, he didn’t expect much to be happening much less a pretty/handsome giving him a small wave as they sheepishly laugh at their . . . strange encounter.

“ Hey. ” You smiled at him. Praying to all that is holy that he doesn’t notice the bits of undissolved webs you have littered across your hoodie. Thank goodness you didn’t wear your makeshift mask today. He was going to think you were even more of a weirdo than you already are!

“ Hey. ” Tim replied. Praying to all that is holy that you don’t notice his heart rate picking up and his ears turning red. It was the cold he swears! The cold!

“What’s a beauty like you doing around in a place like this?”

They both ask in sync with completely awkward delivery to boot.

Taglist: @vanessa-boo @w31rdg1rl

[ PART THREE ]

[wingedqueenlynx]

Rewriting and tidying up my story drafts is always interesting thing for me to do. Like- due to my dyslexia and my less than subpar grammar skills, I'm always reading either a sad sentence that doesn't make a lick of sense or a sentence with the same fucking words being reused lol

Then there's characters' characterisation when I'm writing- my lord XD

I'm in a constant state of self-doubt and second-guessing myself when writing characters, especially canon characters too. One moment I'll be like- "Am I even writing these characters right???" Then the other moment, I'll contradict myself by also saying- "Holy shit- I fucking love the way I've written them interacting with each other. This feels right. :D"

Writing Characters interacting and developing dynamics is always my favourite part of the process fr.

Like I know, I'm not as gifted with writing as I am with drawing, but i think that's all down to practice. I fucking hated writing in school and only starting writing my stories out a few years ago during lockdown. And I do believe I improved? I think? Idk, I'm just some lil weirdo rambling rn. Maybe it's because I had to fix and reword so many of my chapters 😅

So yea- Writing is always interesting for me to do and having to reread my gibberish every time lol :,D

[alargehunkofdebris]

The Flip-Flopping Confidence of Aziraphale

So I made a post a bit ago about Aziraphale’s reaction to the kiss, and someone very correctly pointed out that Aziraphale does not believe he is undesirable (as I had claimed in-essay), citing that one little look in the first scene, after Crowley calls the universe “gorgeous.”

This is so true. What the heck is with that look?

I’ve thought about it, and here are my thoughts.

Long story short, Aziraphale is a big ol’ ball of contradictions, as is what sometimes happens with people who’ve suffered in toxic relationships.

But short story long, however…

Okay, so first of all, Aziraphale’s happy little expectation thinking that a complete stranger would call him “gorgeous” out of absolutely nowhere is bonkers. No other word for it. If I met someone for the first time, and they called me “gorgeous” straight to my face, apropos of nothing, no lead up whatsoever, I would be looking over my shoulder, wondering what the hell they were referring to. So this is either a very angel thing to do (they could just go around complimenting each other back then, who knows) or—and this is kinda my opinion—this was just a funny foreshadow thing that Mr. Gaiman did for the fans and to set the tone of the season. Or a mix of both. Remember, this is portraying the beginning of time—this is before they even really had corporeal forms. What we see, I’m guessing, is less a purely accurate visual of what happened and merely a representation. A stage-play version of the events. Yes, this is a comedy that uses modernisms to juxtapose for humor (referencing lead balloons before balloons were even invented, etc) but we can still (if we want) imagine that, for this to logically work, this is just a way of conveying these events in a way our 21st century brains can handle. For all we know, these two were balls of energy, conversing in some ancient star language through telepathy. And at this point, appreciation for another’s form might’ve just been a common thing. They were all so gorgeous, they just went around appreciating each other.

I don’t think this was meant to be so deep dived, however (doved? doven?). I think Gaiman just wanted a cute scene that shows their flirtation from the beginning. But I will argue, still, that this is at a point where Aziraphale hadn’t developed any kind of self-esteem issues. He was a baby angel, used to compliments, or maybe just so new with interaction that he wouldn’t have been surprised by anything. Let’s just say this: the Aziraphale of modern day probably wouldn’t have made that assumption.

It's a sad thing to think, but I think the modern day Aziraphale is one who has lost a portion of the self-confidence he’d carried in that first scene.

Because he is, at heart, a confident person, even when all evidence contradicts that feeling. He feels confident he can do slight-of-hand magic when he barely can, for example. But, after 6000 years of living amongst the humans, I’d say he’s also nestled very comfortably into the role of observer, never truly a part of anything. He playacts, and has fun, but knows he’ll never be a true magician. He makes believe, and has fun, but he’d never be a real reporter. He puts on ball, and dances, but he’ll never truly experience romantic love.

I think this stems hugely from this concept of being a mediocre angel. He’s felt that, ever since he befriended a demon. He’s been an observer of the “good” angels, but was never quite up to snuff himself (with exception, likely, to the time before the Fall). Crowley, on the other hand, while technically has been a “bad” demon, has still maintained a great reputation in Hell because he’s just damn good at selling himself. Aziraphale is too honest to lie, so he’s always (in my head) been a subpar employee, even before Armageddon’t. And his bosses don’t have any qualms about reminding him—they belittle him constantly, familiarly. To the point where Aziraphale has internalized this nugget of self doubt that keeps him from taking risks, going against the status quo, etc.

I know very well this weird, contradictory feeling. One moment you feel hot, and self-confident, and like no one on Earth can touch you. The next, moment, that old standby mode kicks in, and your feeling 6/10 once more. It’s a reminder, a wake-up alarm – don’t go too far, bucko. Don’t get too big for your britches. Remember who you are.

The times he feels the least connected to this self-doubt, this built-up lack of self-confidence, is when he is just doing small things with Crowley, and usually when it’s not anything high-stakes that would involve Heaven/Hell. He can bicker happily with Crowley about the car, he can nettle Crowley into doing a little apology dance, he can put on a ball and have fun. These low-risk times are when he can let loose, be happy and confident and himself, because these small moments will go unnoticed by Heaven. He’s not at risk of his bubble being burst, of being told “stop that. Remember your place.”

And that voice, tell him to stop and remember his place, is what keeps his confidence in check for the big things. Things like acknowledging that he and Crowley are more than friends, that Crowley wants to be with him so badly. Because, technically, Crowley is a much more “impressive” being than Aziraphale, and always has been. He was a higher-ranking angel, and was the demon chosen to tempt the humans. Though Aziraphale had a big job (that he screwed up on immediately, of course) he was still not the top in his rank (I don’t know anything about the bible, but if he was the angel of the Eastern Gate, I always assumed there were more guarding the walls/gates). Aziraphale was always getting reprimanded for his work, and Crowley was getting praise. Aziraphale is so used to being the “lesser” angel that he might even apply that title to him and Crowley, and be shocked at the idea that a slick, laid-back, higher-ranking demon (who is not typically even capable of love, perhaps) could make an exception for such a mediocre being. Despite all their flirtations and years of friendship, Aziraphale still sees it as this kind of play-acting – a dance they do for fun, but it’s never serious.

This is, of course, just one opinion in my brain – there’s a lot of ways to interpret it, and I can’t decide which one I really believe. Because if Aziraphale really saw nothing there, then what was the “you go too fast for me, Crowley” all about? It could’ve just been yet another moment of “You go too fast…in friendship,” thing, but who knows.

What I do know is that there’s something always holding Aziraphale back from Crowley, but it is not for lack of want. Aziraphale wants it just as much as Crowley. But he’s got many, many potential things holding him back from even considering this life – fear of heaven, lack of self-confidence, lack of trust, etc. It’s all adding up to one thought, the theme that’s threaded through his long, long, life—you’re not allowed to do this. You’re an angel, nothing less, nothing more.

[notsosilentsister]

The Lost Daughter

It is a film about an older woman developing a weird interest in a younger woman, which is neither sexual nor particularly related to jealousy over a guy. They're both tourists vacationing in Greece, and there's a fleeting sensation regarding the young man working at the poolbar, a particularly animated conversation that could be read as flirtatuous, a moment of maybe disappointment to find him entangled in an affair with the young woman - or maybe not disappointment, but rather a sense of recognition, a wistful, painful reminder of personal past transgressions. But that's not what packs the emotional punch.

The young woman has a child and and a sister-in-law highly pregnant with her first child at 42. I catch myself briefly thinking, oh, maybe I could have a child at 42; I'm turning 40 this year and in a self-flagellating mood about closing windows of opportunity, but maybe more because of the principle of the thing. At this point of the film, I'm also a bit projecting, thinking, oh, that's why the protagonist keeps staring at the young mother with the kid, she's regretting her own choice not to have any. This is of course a bit of a baseless projection; the protagonist is 47, at which point one probably would have made peace with that. Besides, she soon talks about her own two daughters in conversation, which are also shown in the flashbacks regularly interrupting the current stream of the narrative.

The flashbacks, however, are shrouded in a certain sense of forboding. Clearly, there is something to regret. It's not what I initially assumed watching the scenes of the young mother searching her kid on the Greek beach interspersed with scenes of the protagonist searching her own daughter on another beach in a flashback - but in its own way, sufficiently devastating.

The protagonist is a professor, a scholar of comparative literature. In flashbacks we see her quoted by the hot colleague she's crushing on, about the importance of attention. For her, hospitality (linguistic hospitality, she writes about translation) comes in holding attention, even in crisis. Hot colleague also quotes Simone Veil, about attention being the rarest and purest form of generosity.

But attention is a limited resource. How much attention can a mother give, with two little girls constantly tugging at her? Something, someone won't get enough. I'm reminded that I would make a pretty subpar mom; I react very badly to being interrupted in a train of thought; I find it easy to blend out my surroundings when absorbed in a matter of interest - I might be terribly neglectful, if insufficiently dutiful; or terribly resentful, if barely dutiful enough. It's a struggle that clearly tears at the protagonist in all her flashbacks. The young mom in the current timeline seems to struggle too. Her jealous, short-tempered husband is frequently absent (and possibly involved in some shady activities), the daughter picks up on the tension and acts out a lot. When she loses her doll, she's inconsolable and the young mom's nerves start to fray more and more visibly.

I am turning 40, and I find myself getting strangely sentimental about young women at random moments. It's so weird to think about this idea men often express that the chief emotion one would feel is jealousy. I don't doubt it's a problem for some women (on a school trip with my class this spring, Letitia and Undine came to me to complain about a rude couple they had just encountered in the mall, the man had been leering at them and the woman called them slurs - I didn't know what to tell them; it seemed patronizing to say they didn't deserve it as if that needed saying, obviously they knew they didn't deserve it; so I just confirmed - this is so messed up, the nerve of some people! The nerve, I said, and the indignity, I thought, to fight over a guy who's leering after sixteen-year olds. And I shuddered internally, like one shudders at the thought of Carthaginians feeding children to Moloch, penitents wearing hairshirts to mortify the flesh, anchorites volunteering to be immured - alien compulsions of past ages) - but it's really just one of a million things one might feel! Wistfulness, sure (which is not the same as envy; you can't step into the same river twice; to feel nostalgic is to accept the loss), but also relief (I've been through that too! I made it out!), pity, protectiveness. Or simply recognition - that's who I was, who part of me still is.

I've just returned from a trip to Trieste; I went there alone, to meet up with friends eventually. But I had a day to kill on my own. That suited me well enough; I often like to do a bit more sight-seeing than my co-travelers and don't like feeling as if dragging people along - a good opportunity to book a guided walking tour. It was the middle of August, during a heat-wave - not a popular occasion for such activities; so it turned out to be a really small group, me, a young Spanish couple, and one other Austrian, a pretty girl with chestnut curls. She made me think of a Studio-Ghibli heroine: bright, curious eyes, oval face, gentle contours, dressed in a simple, practical outfit, comfortable shoes, ready for adventure. At the end of the tour, I asked the guide for further suggestions, and Chestnut Curls enthusiastically chimed in about her ferry-ride to Miramare. I could have asked her for details; I planned to go there too. But anyway, taking the bus would be faster, and I get quickly bored on boats, so I dropped the issue, and we parted ways. I immediately regretted it. I felt I would have enjoyed talking to her a bit longer, and for the rest of the day, I kept returning to that image of her amidst the serene splendor of the borgo theresiano, waiting for the tour to start in the still merciful morning light, before the sun would subjugate us under its full power. So, what was this about? Obviously not about being a pretty girl with chestnut curls, which would not have described me at any point in history. But recognition, still. That’s who I was, who part of me still is. The urge to leave the group for a short private excursion, the thrill of independence - getting up earlier than everyone else, to make the most of the morning, the day wide-open, impossibly wide. I thought of a stroll at the beach at 18, a vacation in Croatia with friends, at that moment still asleep in the apartment we had rented. They had been sitting up late, drinking and talking, but this one evening, I had left them early, to rise early. I had wanted to see the sunrise.

The thrill of independence wears off –  I’ve chosen a solitary life; I’ve started to take it for granted. But I had never been to Trieste before. It’s still an adventure. And I can still get up early in the morning. I should get up earlier more often.

[animebw]

Short Reflection: My Hero Academia Season 6

I try not to be too smug when talking about anime. Discussing media always works best when you keep an open mind to all perspectives, so if someone has an opinion I disagree with, I do my best to disagree politely and present my side of the argument fairly. I’m not always successful, but I always make the attempt. Today, though? I feel justified in being a bit of a smarmy jackass. So allow me to present a couple of quotes from my review of My Hero Academia’s fifth season, back when everyone was calling it the worst show in the world because it made a couple arcs 50% less bloody.

“All this is to say, don’t be surprised when My Hero Academia once again becomes the most beloved shonen on the planet heading into its final stretch. Because this show has far from run its course yet.”

“Season 5 may be a low point in its history, but the fact that its low point is still so damn high is a testament to why this show deserved to conquer the world in the first place. My Hero Academia is still good, and I’ll be happy to say “I told you so” when the final seasons blow everyone’s socks off and make them fall in love with it all over again.”

Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, allow me to state, on record, that I fucking called it.

God, do you know how long I’ve been waiting to get that off my chest? I’ve suffered through years of mediocre actioners being worshipped as the new best thing ever, watched as bottom-of-the-barrel crap like Tokyo Revengers and Fire Force tricked everyone into liking them, listened to a flighty, tasteless fandom turn their backs on one of the modern era’s greatest shonen because their lizard brains couldn’t concentrate without a thousand particle effects popping off every second. But no more. No more do I have to carry the torch solo as I have for far too long. Because at long last, after two subpar seasons that still blow most of its contemporaries out of the water, the second anime I ever watched has clawed its way back to the front of the pack and forced everyone to remember why My Hero Academia remains one of anime’s greatest modern standard bearers. The king is back on top, and I look forward to apologies from everyone who ever doubted it deserved the crown.

Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh. It’s not like My Hero Academia has ever been a perfect show, despite its self-evident excellence. Even in this fantastic return to form, plenty of its old issues still carry over. There’s the stupid unnecessary title cards all the characters get every episode, like the show thinks we’re so stupid we’ll forget everyone’s name in the week’s time between episodes. There’s the comedy that never quite clicks as well as it needs to, often disrupting otherwise fantastic scenes. The cast has grown overstuffed enough to officially qualify as a problem, with some characters frustratingly underutilized and some given way too much attention (seriously, who thought Best Jeanist was interesting enough to take over the tertiary protagonist role this season?). And it has a bad habit of stopping at huge moments and pausing the action for unnecessary flashbacks that we didn’t need to understand how the characters got where they were. If you’re the kind of shonen-head who just wants to turn your brain off and enjoy a bunch of flashy fights, it’s no wonder you’d be seduced by the sakuga-laden likes of Demon Slayer and JJK, despite their far more glaring issues in the story department.

But if you’re someone who actually appreciates a good story as a backbone to all those fisticuffs? Then you already know why MHA stands head and shoulders above its competition. And after five seasons watching this pressure cooker of a society boil hotter and hotter, it’s finally time for the lid to pop.

Season 6 is an explosion, plain and simple. It’s over a hundred episodes of peeling back the layers of hero society finally coming to a head and bringing the whole damn house of cards crashing down. The season’s first half is entirely taken up by a massive heroes vs villains war, a war in which everyone is pushed past their breaking point and forced to make climactic decisions about who they are and who they want to be. Characters die, self-actualize, rise to their ideas and shatter beneath them, on all sides of the conflict and sometimes all at the same time. If the All Might vs All For One battle back in season 3 was the end of My Hero Academia’s first act, then this barn-burner brawl is the climax to its second act. It’s the destruction of the status quo, an inflection point for all its characters, and as definitive a no-going-back mic drop as you can imagine. This is the end of the world as we know it, all the mistakes and hypocrisies of heroes past finally coming home to roost as Shigaraki puts his master plan into motion and the foundations of the earth itself tremble in response.

And once the rubble has finally settled, the season’s second half turns to tackle the aftermath. What happens when the world falls apart? What happens when everything people believed in turns out to be a lie? The heroes they put their trust in failed to protect them, and many revealed themselves to be little better than the villains they were supposed to be fighting. Fear and hatred compound, safety nets fails one after the other, and this society that once seemed so perfect reveals itself for the sham it always was. And Deku and his friends are caught right in the middle of the chaos, thrust far too soon into the role of the world’s hope for the future. They always wanted to be heroes: now, it’s time for them to come to terms with what that really means.

There’s a level of moral complexity to these developments that I don’t think any of us could have predicted. My Hero Academia started out as one of the most outwardly inspirational, optimistic stories on the market, but it’s proven itself more than capable of deconstructing its own premise. Heroism in MHA isn’t a static state of affairs; it’s a question that must be asked, re-asked, and asked again through the contradictions and imperfections of the real world. What does it mean to protect? To save? Where does the responsibility lie when we fall short? Is it ever too late to fix your mistakes and start over again? A lesser show might shy away from those questions, but MHA relishes in teasing out their intricacies. And it makes this season- especially the second half- some of the most captivating drama we’ve ever gotten from this genre. Watching the world come undone, and watching the heroes struggle to face the new task before them, results in not just some of MHA’s best moments, but some of the most hard-hitting resolutions in all of shonen history. The Deku/Shigaraki parallels! The return of You Say Run! Uraraka’s climactic speech re-cementing her as one of the all-time great shonen love interests! Payoff for not one, but two of the best goddamn redemption arcs this side of Zuko (and with Shigaraki, that number may climb to 3...)! Twice! Hawks! Lady Nagant! Season 6 is a portrait of a world falling apart, but it’s also a portrait of what rises from the ashes it left behind. As Deku himself says at one point, the world is far more complex than simple black and white, but that only makes it even more important to stand up for what really matters when the chips are down.

I’ve been watching My Hero Academia for a while. I started it back when there were just two seasons out and everyone was still riding high on the hype train. I’ve experienced its highs, its lows, its brilliance and its stupidity (Mineta has done nothing pervy this season and I am SO HAPPY YOU GUYS). I’ve been with this show for a long ass time. But no matter how its perception has shifted over the years, no matter how much anime I’ve consumed since then, I keep returning to the simple fact that MHA is really goddamn good. I don’t just like it because it was one of my firsts, or because of sunk cost fallacy, or anything like that; this genuinely is one of the smartest, richest, most emotionally resonant works of shonen storytelling to ever appear in Jump’s pages. And watching so many of its threads come to a head in season 6 has only confirmed that it’s going to stand the test of time. I can’t count how many episodes left me weepy, how often I was left astonished at the courage and intelligence of Horikoshi’s writing. This isn’t one of those stories that squanders its potential along the way and leaves you indifferent by the end: this is a story that’s going to fulfil every last promise it made, pay off every last idea it set up, and bring it all together in a complete package that makes the entire show better in hindsight.

Because even in its slowest moments, this show was so much more than a mindless punch-em-up. This is a story all about the nature of heroism itself, and what it truly means to be a hero in a seemingly perfect world that actually has more cracks in its foundation than a log cabin built atop the San Andreas fault. This is a story about what happens when golden ideals run up against reality, how good intentions go awry and send an entire society down a path to ruin. This is a story about what drives villains to be villains in the first place, and why they deserve our understanding even in spite of their crimes. And it’s a story about how to rediscover and reforge hope, learning all over again what it means to make the world a better place. Unlike so many of its contemporaries, My Hero Academia actually has things to say about our modern world, ideas it wants to convey that run deeper than “just believe in yourself!” Demon Slayer can lavish as many pretty lights and spinning cameras as it wants atop its cardboard world and stick figure characters, but that momentary flash is nothing compared to this slow-burning tale of what it takes to rediscover heroism in a world that’s forgotten its true form.

Season 6 of My Hero Academia is phenomenal. It’s a lightning-bolt payoff to a story years in the making, sending it hurtling into its final act in as staggeringly brilliant fashion as I ever could have dreamed. It’s not just a new high water mark for this show, finally surpassing the bar set by season 3; it’s cemented this show’s status as one of anime’s all-time classics. When we look back on this period, it won’t be the vapid flashiness of Demon Slayer or the agonizing stupidity of Tokyo Revengers that stand the test of time. It’ll be the story of how a crybaby with green hair became the greatest hero... and how the entire world became the greatest hero right alongside him. And for that, I’m more than happy to give it a score of:

9.5/10

We’re almost at the end now. Bring it home, Horikoshi. I believe in you.

[transmissionsfromthebattlefield]

A Roundtable Discussion on Heavy Metal (and Melanie)

A few days ago, my boyfriend sent me a link to Lil Pump’s recent smash hit “Pump Rock x Heavy Metal” saying, and I quote, “DO NOT LISTEN TO THIS.” But it’s hard to not forcefully contaminate myself to music that is atrocious to make the good music all the more worthwhile. That’s how dedicated I am to my love of music.

Besides, I was meaning to explore this on my own anyways after hearing Lil Pump’s glorious, glorious weird scream-grunt noise on an Instagram story. Let’s review whether or not Mr. Gucci Gang is able to elevate two of rock’s most iconic subgenres to the modern age.

“Bob” help us.

The intro is, fittingly, the most stereotypical take on punk rock possible, and is probably most similar to what disconnected old farts think all punk rock sounds like. Mediocre Generica was the title of a (much more sonically interesting, if guilty pleasurable) Leftöver Crack album, and it fits here. Upon further reserach, last.fm tagged this song as rock, metal, nu metal, rap metal, drone metal avant-garde, beatdown hardcore, AND crossover thrash, so maybe my aural analysis is subpar. Maybe all this time I was actually the musical equivalent of one of those people who gets repulsed by eating anything better than McDonald’s and I had no idea. If so, I feel ashamed.

In this striking vein, I’ll give the rest of the song some credit: the production is actually interesting! Sonically, it’s more interesting and attention-grabbing than a lot of the more recent music I’ve heard, with an intense throbbing bass line that I particularly like. Too bad it’s got Lil Pump singing over it. I love having to hear scrawny men with awful hair sing about emo bitches and having a dagger dick, which is extremely disturbing. He calls himself a narcissist in this song, which makes sense with how self-indulgent and oblivious to common sense the lyrics are. As a complete outsider to the whole “emo rap” or whatever scene, I’m kind of fascinated by the repeated motif of wrist-slitting throughout the song - if this song is declaring itself “heavy metal,” does this mean that all those sensational news reports from the eighties about how those poor teens were beckoned to kill themselves because a Judas Priest song told them to, were actually true? It’s hard to overlook lyrical content when someone has such an awful voice.

This song seems to have been created for people who enjoy the concept of punk rock and heavy metal, but don’t have much knowledge in anything beyond the sloganeering and looking like you have street cred. I doubt Lil Pump has much knowledge past that regard either, or has any interest in going beyond it in his music.

I had been meaning to write this post for a short while, but I kept getting busy. But yesterday morning, the Instagram algorithm similarly offered me another current music faux pas that my masochistic brain just had to subject myself to, and I just had to get something about it out there. This time, it was a paragraph Melanie Martinez had written explaining one of the songs on her new album, because her fans are apparently too dumb to be able to come to their own conclusions about the meaning of her songs. She says:

This is obviously the best thing to be reading while you’re preparing breakfast. Funnily enough, Lil Pump also alludes to period sex in his previously mentioned song.

I read the lyrics, which I refuse to link because they’re stupid, and I listened to as much of the song I could stand, which wasn’t very much. It sucked. You know when you only read the lyrics to a song and you come up with your own musical accompaniment in your head? I knew it wasn’t going to be as good as my brain’s assumptions, but I was stunned. You would think that an artist who is supposedly going through some radical image change would make music that similarly pushes boundaries, not just something created solely to be covered on a ukulele. It was one of the most mild mannered, unoffensive sounding songs I’d ever heard.

As for the lyrical content, it is sad to me how Melanie could not even come up with a basic metaphor to convey her idea. Like Little Pumperton, who uses the usual guns-and-cars flexing to communicate masculine hood prowess, Mel resorts to the most basic, blatant concepts to get across her point of being...a woman who exists and does things, I guess. As a cisgender young female, I technically should be on this song’s side, but it only comes off as condescending. I don’t need something that is completely natural and familiar to me explained to me in such, er, explicit terms. (“Womb shedding.” Gag.)

If I’m somewhere near the target audience for Melanie’s music in terms of my age and sex, then I’d say we deserve better. Young women can think for themselves and don’t need to be spoon-fed a fourteen year old’s concept of lyrical depth in order to feel “empowered.” Neither do young men need watered down portrayals of material wealth, hoe-wrangling, and glorified self harm. In today’s world, everyone fears being misunderstood. But the answer to that should not be undermining people’s intelligence and spoon-feeding them lowest common denominator nonsense. People should be allowed to bring their own interpretations to the songs they listen to and not have everything spelled out to them. Nuance and complexity are good things, and they should be present in what we see, read, and listen to. We should be encouraged to think critically about what we consume.

If we don’t, then...well, I guess we let songs like these take the world by storm.

[i-taste-the-revolution-xxx]

Pigeon Pit - Feather River Canyon Blues

Pigeon Pit’s 2022 album Feather River Canyon Blues is, in my opinion, the most relevant US protest music of the year. A star of folk punk’s newest wave, Lomes Oleander is a multi-faceted, endlessly passionate artist whose work never fails to surprise and impress. Her latest release, FRCB is a folky, much more overtly political stray from her usual borderline-emo, acoustic works. There are still of course the vital songs of queer love and queer self-acceptance, but FRCB features the anthemic protest songs Milk Crates and Soup For My Family. The album delves into the simple—but full-of-struggle—rural American life, particularly through the eyes of a visibly queer person, and where Oleander finds her joy and calm and escape in the midst of it all. The album primarily features acoustic instruments and country music essentials—acoustic guitar, steel guitar, fiddle, banjo and a wobbly, all-permeating washtub bass—fronted by Oleander's’ gritty, breaking voice. Her sophomore album, Shut In, framed her as a staple in the folk punk genre, while this last release brought her more mainstream fame. She was raved about by NPR’s music journalists, named in the top albums of the year, and brought on to perform a live set for NPR’s Tiny Desk, where Lars Gottrich described her songs as “offering some sweetness in a world that doesn’t always share the same in return.”

So, going in order, here are my three favorites off the album:

Track 5: Empties

This is without a doubt my favorite song off this latest release—maybe off all of her releases (though Wichitalk is tough competition). Empties is a love song. It’s a song about the small shows of intimacy, how one person takes care of another, how deeply two people can become intertwined, and what it means to miss someone. The beat is light and fast and impossible not to dance to, while the lyrics will worm their way into your head and leave you absolutely enamored with Pigeon Pit.

2. Track 3: Milk Crates

A protest song, Oleander prefaced her Tiny Desk performance of Milk Crates with a speech on the inaccessibility of trans healthcare and abortion, the construction of Atlanta’s “Cop City”—a heavily protested police training camp whose construction is draining the city of resources, putting marginalized people in even more jeopardy and is responsible for the destruction of massive chunks of the Weelaunee Forest—as well as the stigma and discrimination against people with substance abuse and mental health struggles and the country’s pervasive homelessness epidemic, as well as other things. 

The opening verse goes:

"Like a dog tugging on a rope

I don't even know where I'd go if they let go

In my selfish narrow mindedness

They put up a chain link fence

Now there's nothing I can do but bark my head off

But we're not fucking playing

I got these teeth for a reason

I know that it's life or death, I can't forget it

I lie down and you kiss my forehead

I tell you I'm just fucking exhausted from work

I don't wanna get drunk, I don't wanna go out

It feels like survival just isn't enough, is it?"

Milk Crates is one of the overtly political songs on the album, calling out the unethical treatment of workers in the country, the systematic oppression that props up all of our social structures, and the powerlessness we all feel when we become aware of the ways we’re being taken advantage of. She doesn’t resolve these tensions for us, but she describes to us the ways in which she lets go and what she lets go of in order to still live a loving and fulfilling life:

"And there are things in your life

That you were made to run away from

But it's not your grief, or your pain

Or any other kind of love"

She finds comfort in people and in herself and in her community, and really in anger and protest itself. Her passion and her will to change the world just pours out of her, and as a listener you can’t help but to feel that flame spark inside of you too.

3. And last, but by no means a subpar song is track 4: River Song

River Song is another love song, a song (in Oleander’s words) “about going swimming with your friends” and how “ there’s really nothing more important”. It’s about platonic love just as much as it is about romantic love. It’s about the role friends play in one’s personal growth and how desperately we all need each other. It’s about letting go of the pressure to mask and to perform for other people, and just giving into the love and chaos that people will pull out of you.

So, definitely, definitely, definitely go check out the album:

And if you have time and want to see Pigeon Pit’s incredible performance on Tiny Desk, I really highly recommend it. This set includes Empties, Milk Crates, River Song, Soup For My Family, and Wichitalk, my favorite song off her last album, Shut In. She’s amazing; please go check it out if you found this at all appealing. 

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Wp99TlXu8U 

[dindjarindiaries]

A Bullet For You

summary: When your office comes under fire by Escobar’s men, Javier and his men come to the rescue, where he promptly offers you his bulletproof vest to keep you safe.

note: translations included at the bottom

pairing: javier peña x colombianf!reader

warnings: violence, blood, death, shooting, smoking, angst, fluff

rating: R

word count: 2.723k

masterlist

“Te amo muchísimo, cariño.”

Those were the last words you’d said to Javier before this very moment, where you now find yourself cowering in the corner of your office with your coworkers—pinned to the spot by the guns of Escobar’s allies.

You’ve never expected to see such action at your accounting job in Medellín. You’ve lived in Colombia your whole life, watching the drug crisis unfold before your very eyes. Nevertheless, you’ve always avoided it, simply desiring to live your day-to-day life with a job that, honestly, could be more boring—just so you could play it safe.

That was, until Javier Peña walked into your life. Or, rather, stumbled.

You’d been hoping for a hookup that night at the bar, needing some kind of change in your everyday life. When you saw the man who practically glowed even under the shitty lighting of the bar, you instantly knew who you’d wanted to go for—but you felt something you weren’t supposed to. After the first few drinks, casual conversation, and sharing the heated dance floor together, you realized you were in deeper than you’d first bargained for. Javier, on the other hand, was completely gone by the time you wanted to head out with him, in no good shape to do anything other than put one foot in front of the other.

So, you’d helped him get back to your apartment, providing him with a glass of water and your bed before he passed out for the night. You took the couch, and by the time he was wandering into the kitchen the next morning with a furrowed brow, you’d already prepared something for him to eat. According to him, that’s when he knew he was in love with you—and you’d told him that you had the same realization around the same exact time.

Now, it’s been a few months, and you’ve at least gotten to the point where you don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore. Javier told you all about his job with the DEA and his life growing up in the States, and you were impressed that a gringo could have such skill with Colombian culture and the language. You’d taught yourself English by watching American television growing up, and Javier helped you fill in the gaps. Though he was very solid at Spanish, you still helped him whenever he needed it, and it’s become just another way in which you’ve bonded over these past few months. If you’ve noticed anything about Javier, though, it’s his protectiveness. Even in the first few weeks of your relationship, he was hesitant about letting you go out on your own—despite the fact you’d been doing so ever since you could remember. He was relieved to hear that you had such a normal job, one that wouldn’t easily be infiltrated by the chaos he witnesses on a daily basis.

Yet, here you are, watching Escobar’s allies violently interrogate one of your coworkers—who you’ve now discovered has been doing some work for Escobar—while you and the rest watch on with horrified eyes.

“¡Puta rata!” one of them shouts, giving your coworker another punch across the face. “¡Has estado hablando con la policía!” He chuckles darkly, placing the barrel of his gun against your coworker’s temple and giving it a nudge. “¿Pensaste que podrías safarte de nosotros tan fácilmente?” The man clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he gives your coworker a hard hit with the barrel of the gun. “¿Qué les dijiste?”

Your coworker looks on with a terrified gaze. “¡No dije nada!” they insist, their voice cracking in their panicked emotion. “¡Por favor, créeme!”

The same man from before gives his head another shake. “Es demasiado tarde, rata.” With that, he lifts his gun and pulls the trigger, and you along with your coworkers give a terrified shout as you try to look away from the gory sight. You close your eyes and keep your face tucked away, feeling your heart race a mile a minute as your mind only starts to think of Javier.

“Voy a regresar a las cinco esta noche,” Javier had said to you this morning, his hands resting so gently yet so securely on your hips as you stood just in front of your apartment door.

“¿Me lo prometes?” you’d remarked, your voice barely above a hushed whisper as your fingertips trailed down his cheek.

Javier had given you one of his infamous smiles, making you drown in his dark gaze of deep affection. You knew he was going to stay true to this one—because the recently late hours and time spent away from you had been taking even more of a toll on him than it had on yourself. “Tienes mi palabra,” he’d assured you, placing his soft lips against yours. The touch had left you a melted puddle of pure love on the apartment floor, leaving you to grip onto his neck for fear of your knees giving out beneath you. When he pulled away, Javier had left another tender kiss on your forehead, reestablishing his eye contact with you. “Hasta pronto, mi amor. Cuídate.” He took your hands from around his neck, holding them in his as he left a kiss on your knuckles. “Te amo mucho.”

“Te amo muchísimo, cariño.” Your lips couldn’t stop smiling despite the fact you were watching him walk through the door, unsure of what would befall him that day but knowing you’d see him sooner than you were getting used to.

And now, you’re not so sure you’ll get to see the end of Javier’s promise—but at least, you try to comfort yourself, it’s not his fault. The thought of your lover keeps you relatively calm until Escobar’s men cock their guns at you and your coworkers, giving you their full attention. The man who’d shot your other coworker steps forward, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Entonces, ¿quién sabe qué le dijo la rata a la policía?”

You and your coworkers begin looking at each other nervously. No one even knew that man’s been working for Escobar, and since none of you have any information for these men, that means you’re going to die at their hands.

Meanwhile, at the embassy, Javier’s had a pit growing in his stomach all day for no good reason. It’s only just past noon and he’s already almost gone through an entire pack of cigarettes. When Javier lights his last one, Steve’s whistling pulls him out of his funk, drawing his attention to see a raised brow looking back at him.

“What’s up, Peña?” Steve asks almost cautiously.

“What do you mean?” Javier remarks, taking his first puff with agitation.

“I’ve lost track of your cig count for the day,” Steve says, leaning forward on his desk in a questioning manner. “So, you’re stressed over some shit. What is it? Is it your girlfriend?”

“God, I hope not,” Javier mutters, temporarily setting the cigarette onto his ash tray. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, Murphy. I’m just…” Javier trails off, shaking his head as he tries to justify his odd feeling.

“… paranoid?” Steve tries to finish. “I know that sometimes I can start thinkin’ about Connie and get all worked up for no good reason.”

Javier shrugs, picking up the cigarette again at the thought of you being in danger. “I just gotta be home by five,” Javier mutters, tossing a file from his desk onto the large pile behind him. “I’m probably just worried I won’t make it on time.”

Steve’s about to say more, no doubt asking why Javier had to hold such a tight schedule, but gets cut off by the ringing of his phone. He raises a curious eyebrow at Javier before picking it up, his eyes widening the more the voice on the other end speaks. The pit in Javier’s stomach begins to grow, to the point where he has to put his cigarette down again in fear of making himself sick. Steve writes down an address and gives a reassurance, hanging up and rising from his chair. Javier stands up with him.

“What’s goin’ on?” Javier asks, trying not to make his nerves so obvious.

“Hostage crisis, with some of Escobar’s men,” Steve informs him. “Guess the police has had contact with an accountant who was working for Escobar and was giving them information—and Escobar found out about it.”

At the naming of the profession, Javier’s blood practically turns to ice, and he takes an urgent step towards Steve as his brow furrows. “Accountant? At a company?” When Steve gives a nod, Javier’s heart nearly stops. “What’s the address?” Steve offers the piece of paper, and Javier takes it in his shaking hands to see exactly what he feared: your workplace. “Shit. Fuck!”

Steve’s slightly surprised by Javier’s outburst, watching as he lunges for his gun and bulletproof vest with intense urgency. “Javi, what the hell—?”

“That’s her office,” Javier explains in a quick breath, already starting to head out of the office. “We gotta go!”

Upon hearing that, Steve’s soon going at the same speed as Javier. His heart’s practically in his throat the entire way there, his mind only able to go back to the same memory as yours—the morning that could be your last one together.

Back in the office, you’re thankfully at the end of the line, watching as your coworkers endure violent tactics in an effort to get them to reveal something—anything. You try to think of bullshit excuses in your mind, wondering if you can offer them something that’ll keep them from killing all of you. But you’re not that quick on your feet, and you suddenly wish more than ever that you had the quick thinking of Javier to assist you.

“Mentirosos, todos ustedes,” the main man scoffs after he’s given another one of your coworkers a hit of their gun to their head. “Alguien tuvo que haber oído algo de lo que el puto soplón dijo.”

“¡No sabemos nada!” someone speaks up, their voice full of nothing but fear as they look pleadingly up at the man in front of them. “Si supiéramos, ya te hubiéramos dicho todo.”

“Habla por ti mismo,” you scoff, your eyes widening as you realize you’ve said the thought aloud.

All eyes turn to you, and the man’s soon making his way over. “¿¡Qué dijiste!?” he questions, his voice hauntingly dark. “No te escuche bien.”

Instead of freezing up like the others, you think of Javier again, and your blood boils. These are the men who would shoot at him in a heartbeat, with the intention of taking him out. These are the men who keep him away from you each day. These are the men who make his life a living hell and take such a heavy toll on him that some nights, he just has to cry to you. So, rather than taking back your words and offering some bullshit, you tell them the truth. “Come mierda,” you mutter, spitting on his shoe.

The man’s face darkens immensely, but before he’s able to do anything to you, there’s the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway stairs—a practical stampede of them. Every head turns to the door, and you barely have time to see it fly open before the bullets start flying. You gasp and keep yourself ducked down, trying to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Your arms remain over your head as you kneel on the ground, shaking in your sudden horror. Despite the threat of your own safety, you can’t stop thinking about Javier—until you feel a familiar touch on your arms. When you lift your head, you see him kneeling there in front of you, and the pure sight of him practically brings you to tears.

“Mi amor,” Javier breathes, barely audible over the shooting as he holds your face in his hands and inspects you for injuries. “I thought that… that…” Javier can’t finish the thought. Instead, he reaches to take off the bulletproof vest he’s wearing, beginning to put it around you. “Wear this. You’ll need it while I get you out of here.” He straps it on you as quickly as he can, but you’re unsettled by the idea of it.

“No, Javi,” you insist, grimacing with disapproval as he finishes securing it. “It’s yours. You need—.”

“I’ll be fine,” Javier insists, still having to raise his voice above the gunfire. “But we have to get you out of here, now!”

You give him a nod, letting you wrap both your arms around one of his as he holds his gun securely in his free hand. Javier begins to guide you back to where he’d came from, looking around whenever he can for any potential threat. You’re still shaking as you grip onto his arm for dear life, still unable to believe that you’re back in the security of his presence. Javier notices this, and he looks back for a moment to calm you with his dark eyes.

“Relájate, mi amor,” he assures you softly. “Voy a sacarte de aquí sana y salva.”

You offer him a nod, but soon find yourself gasping when a bullet whizzes by your ear. Javier turns around to shoot the man who’d almost gotten you, and you see him fall to the floor in pain immediately. Javier continues to move forward quickly, taking you with him as you refuse to loosen your grip on his arm. When you reach the staircase, you can barely descend them with the shakiness in your legs, but thankfully Javier keeps you propped up as you’re soon exiting the building and entering the security of the blockade that surrounds the perimeter. Javier tries to get you to sit on the hood of his car, but all you can do is wrap your arms around him tightly, hiding your face in his shoulder. He holds you back, running his hand through your hair to calm you.

“I’m so glad you’re alright, hermosa,” Javier mumbles in your ear. “When Steve showed me that address, I thought I’d never get to hold you again.”

You hold him tighter, pressing your cheek against the fabric of his shirt. “Solo podía pensar en tú, Javi.” You sigh shakily, feeling Javier run another hand down your head at the sound of it. “I wanted to say that I loved you a thousand more times.”

Javier’s smile is nearly audible, but he continues with an interrogation of your wellbeing. “Did they hurt you?”

You shake your head, still keeping it against his shoulder. “They were about to.” When Javier tenses, you let out a quick chuckle and continue. “When they asked us for information, I may or may not have told them that I wouldn’t have told them even if I knew—and then told them come mierda.”

Javier lets out a low laugh at your words. “Ay, mi amor, eres muy fuerte. Estoy orgulloso de ti.”

You chuckle once again and then pull yourself away from him, holding onto his shoulders as you’re suddenly very aware of the bulletproof vest you’re still wearing. “You walked through a shootout without a vest for me.” You bite your lip to keep your emotions tucked away as Javier gives you a small smile and a nod. “How?”

Javier tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “I would take a bullet for you any day, mi amor.” He says the words without hesitation and with such certainty that you can practically feel the truthfulness in his core—and as much as you love it, you always feel terrified by it. Javier sees this, and he cups your cheek in his hand before he goes on. “But hopefully I won’t have to.”

You finally give him a smile at that, leaning up to brush your nose against his. “Te amo más que a mi propia vida, cariño.”

Javier leaves a short yet very sweet kiss on your lips, pulling away to leave an additional one on the tip of your nose. “Te amo muchísimo, mi amor.”

translations:

Te amo muchísimo, cariño. = I love you so very much, sweetheart.

¡Puta rata! = Fucking rat!

¡Has estado hablando con la policía! = He’s been talking with the police

¿Pensaste que podrías safarte de nosotros tan fácilmente? = Did you think that you could get away from us so easily?

¿Qué les dijiste? = What did you tell them?

¡No dije nada! = I didn’t say anything!

¡Por favor, créeme! = Please, believe me!

Es demasiado tarde, rata. = It’s too late, rat.

Voy a regresar a las cinco esta noche = I’m going to come back at five tonight

¿Me lo prometes? = Promise me?

Tienes mi palabra = You have my word

Hasta pronto, mi amor. Cuídate. = I’ll see you soon, my love. Be careful.

Te amo mucho = I love you so much

Entonces, ¿quién sabe qué le dijo la rata a la policía? = So, who knows what the rat told the police?

Mentirosos, todos ustedes = Liars, all of you

Alguien tuvo que haber oído algo de lo que el puto soplón dijo = Some had to have heard what the fucking snitch said

¡No sabemos nada! = We don’t know anything!

Si supiéramos, ya te hubiéramos dicho todo = If we knew, we would have told you everything already

Habla por ti mismo = Speak for yourself

¿¡Qué dijiste!? = What did you say!?

No te escuche bien = I didn’t hear you well

Come mierda = Eat shit

Relájate, mi amor = Relax, my love

Voy a sacarte de aquí sana y salva = I’m going to get you out of here safe and sound

Solo podía pensar en tú, Javi = I was only able to think of you, Javi

Ay, mi amor, eres muy fuerte. Estoy orgulloso de ti = Oh, my love, you’re so strong. I’m proud of you.

Te amo más que a mi propia vida, cariño = I love you more than my own life, sweetheart

Te amo muchísimo, mi amor = I love you so very much, my love

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Under My Skin (Ethan x MC)

Warning: 18+, NSFW

Summary: Set in the middle of chapter 6, Ethan and Naomi have it out over the current state of the diagnostics team.

Tags: @colourmeshy @virtualrain202 @fanmantrashcan @writinghereandthere @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune ~v~

Naomi stares at the textbook in front of her, eyes tired and blurry. She checks the time on her cell phone and 3:22 AM stares back in bold, white letters. Craning her head slightly, she spots Ethan standing at his kitchen island, looking at something on his laptop. 

She never thought she’d be back in his apartment, but he invited the entire diagnostics team over so they could get some research done on Leland Bloom’s case. Ethan wants it to be solved as quickly as possible, and he wants to be rid of the tech billionaire, so after work they all congregated in his apartment, eating Chinese food, drinking wine, passing around textbooks and throwing out theories. 

They’ve been at it for almost 6 hours now. 

The energy in the room is off. Ethan’s been pissed ever since the board told him they’d need to be for-profit and start accepting wealthy clients and potential donors, and everyone feels it. June, Baz, and Naomi have been walking on eggshells around him, but aside from occasional snark from Naomi, they’ve been extremely curt.

Jenner likes her though. The golden retriever took a shine to her the moment she crossed the threshold to Ethan’s condo, sniffing at her feet and attaching himself to her hip. He’s now lounging with her, head in her lap and she pours over this book, and she’s glad. The friendly dog provides an excellent distraction and Naomi is thankful, because his owner currently sucks.

Naomi has dealt with a lot of Ethan’s moods before: upset, defeated, angry, happy, the works. But she’s never had his ire directed at her before. They’re in this mess because of her, and it’s a tricky space to occupy. It’s not fun.

“As much as I love reading, if I look at another word, I think my brain might melt,” June says, breaking the tense silence. She stifles a yawn.

“I’ve tapped out for the night as well,” Baz adds. “I’ve looked up every possible kidney and bladder disease and disorder known to mankind. I’m on sensory overload. I think it’s time I go home.”

Ethan looks up from his laptop. He knows his team is probably exhausted. He can’t believe they’ve actually stayed over this long. “Well, thank you for staying. Go home, get some rest, I’ll see you at the hospital.”

June and Baz gather their belongings and all of the study material they brought along with them, returning Ethan’s living room to its original tidy state. Muttering goodbyes, the two of them exit the apartment. 

And then there were two. Naomi ignores the tension, ignoring the fact that they haven’t been alone together in over a week. Instead, she buries her face in her book, trying to focus on the words.

Ethan doesn’t bother sparing Naomi another glance before asking, “You didn’t want to leave with them?”

“Why, are you about to go to bed?”

“No.”

“Then, no.” She’s not going to stop now, and give him the satisfaction of thinking she’s given up for the night. Her stubbornness won’t allow it. “I don’t want to disrupt the process. I want this guy diagnosed and treated as badly as you do.”

Ethan scoffs. “I doubt it.”

Naomi has been giving as good as she gets when it comes to the passive aggressive snark, but it’s just exhausting at this point. She refuses to be his emotional punching bag any longer. She whips around in her seat. “God, is being a petulant little crybaby a second full-time job for you?”

That manages to get Ethan’s full attention. He levels a cool glare at the young resident, eyebrow raised in challenge. “You’ve gotten real comfortable calling me out of my name recently. Care to repeat that, Valentine?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Ramsey. You’re being a petulant little crybaby. You’ve been trying to pick a fight with me for the past 2 weeks. Look, I apologized, multiple times, for going behind your back or over your head, but I will not apologize for doing what I believe is right, not just for the team, but the hospital.”

“And you’re an insubordinate know-it-all!” Ethan shoots back. “You’re the type to touch the hot stove despite being repeatedly told not to because you think you’re a special snowflake who’s above getting burned. You lack foresight and analytical thought and self-preservation.”

Naomi recoils, having not expected Ethan to snap at her like that. “Excuse me?”

Jenner recognizes the change in tone between both adults. Not wanting to be caught in the crossfire, he moves from his spot on the couch and trots out of the living room, disappearing into the hallway.

“You thought this was going to be easy, that patients would just come flocking to us, but look at us, and everything would be perfect. We’re part of some social media...something or another’s video diary, we’re competing with a subpar hospital for patients despite being better than them, wasting time and resources because he wants to treat this like a reality show contest, and who knows what’s next, because you’ve opened Pandora’s box. We’re whoring ourselves out to the highest bidder, and the integrity and core foundation of this team has been compromised. So please spare me the martyr act, Naomi, and while you’re at it, please remember that I’m still your boss the next time you want to spout off at the mouth.”

Naomi’s hands are shaking, and she can practically feel the anger boiling in her blood. The nerve of this man. She stands up, ignoring the heavy book that fall out of her lap and onto the floor as she does so. She charges over to him, and sizes him up. Ethan’s almost a foot taller than her, but Naomi doesn’t care about the height disparity. She tilts her head back so she can look him in the eye.

“I’m not a martyr, but you’re a self righteous hypocrite. You’ve been pouting and waxing poetic about Naveen’s mission when you were the first one to mess with his legacy.”

Ethan’s nostrils flare at the accusation. “Excuse me?”

“Last year, you got into bed with Declan Nash and big pharma, compromising your own shaky moral code in order to save the life of one person. I’m trying to keep the team around in order to save a lot more people than just Naveen!”

“That was different!” Ethan argues. It doesn’t even feel right coming out of his mouth, but they’re far too deep in the argument for him to do anything besides dig his toes in.

“The only difference is you were the one in control then. But because it is my idea, you’re rejecting it. You’re being completely unreasonable here, Ethan. We’re standing in the middle of a sinking ship. Edenbrook is in trouble. My friends and I didn’t get our new salaries upon becoming residents, there’s talk of them shutting down the free clinic, and they’ll be coming after our team next. Who knows, maybe they’ll decide that mental health isn’t important and the entire psychiatric department should go. And then the nurses. And then they’ll start ordering less and less supplies, just to stay above water. And maybe you don’t care, because you’re Ethan Ramsey, you’re so wealthy that you only get a one dollar salary from the hospital, you’re established, your livelihood isn’t on the line, and I’m sure any hospital in the world would kill to employ you, but the rest of us? The little guys? We don’t have that option, so again, if you’re looking for me to kiss your ass and grovel because I made an executive decision, you’re going to be looking for a mighty long time.”

Ethan studies her, his gaze coolly fixated on her as she rants because he’s waiting for the second she stops talking, so he can jump back into his own argument. He realizes that it’s not an effective way to debate, and he falters slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Naomi goads, her voice taking on a singsong tone. She’s embroiled in the fight now. “Cat got your tongue?”

In his 37 years of living, Ethan can confidently say Naomi Valentine is the most infuriating woman he’s ever met. A stubborn, impulsive, hot-head with a smart mouth. 

And fuck, he’s made a mistake.

Her mouth. Now his gaze is fixated on it, her full lips that she’s repeatedly bitten down on during this argument, the tackiness of her lip gloss, the way her tongue darts in and out.

Their argument is now the furthest thing from his mind, and he’s actually annoyed by it. What is it about this…woman that completely bewitches him? He wants to argue, not be transfixed on how pretty she is. She doesn’t even have to do anything and he’s under her spell again. 

A sharp jab in the middle of his chest pulls Ethan back to reality. He looks down and realizes that Naomi poked him in the chest, out of anger or to get his attention, he’s not sure.

“Hey!” The fact that he’s ignoring her only makes her more incensed. He started this fight, he doesn’t get the right to dissociate and shut down in the middle of it. “Have you listened to a word I just said?”

“No,” Ethan answers honestly. Naomi’s eyes darken at the response. He didn’t say that to piss her off further, but he won’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy the sight.

He can tell she’s going to launch into another tirade, one that’s completely separate from their original issue, because that’s just how things are between them; they spiral before either of them knows what’s happening.

Before she can even fix her mouth to call him another name, his hand cups her jaw, tilting her head back, and he slants his mouth over hers, kissing her fiercely.

She gasps. This is the first time he’s ever caught her off guard and initiated a kiss. She’s usually the one to be in control.

All too quickly, Ethan pulls back, locking eyes with the young woman in front of him. She’s dazed, chest heaving and eyes glazed over.

“Did you do that to get me to stop talking?”

“No, I kissed you because I wanted to. But the fact that it got you to stop running your mouth is a personal bonus.”

Naomi huffs, but doesn’t say anything else. God, he could be such an asshole at times.

“I want to do it again,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His blue eyes pierce into her own, and it suddenly becomes hard to focus on anything other than him. “Can I?”

She doesn’t know why it’s so sexy, him asking for permission, but she feels the butterflies in her stomach rumble at the question. She’s barely able to nod her head before Ethan launches himself at her, sending her flying back into the kitchen counter.

It’s so different from any other kisses they’ve shared. This one she can feel all the way down in her toes. His tongue darts out, gliding against her bottom lip and demanding access to her mouth, which she eagerly grants him.

Everything about him invades her senses: the feel of his calloused hands touching her jaw, the scratch of his beard against her face, the smell of his cologne (something by Gucci that she’s been yet to narrow down), his taste (she can still taste the wine on him, even though he drank it earlier), his sounds (the little groans that only she’s privy to, always gravelly and smooth, that make her knees buckle). It all culminates into this one man that is so all-consuming, it makes her lose her mind.

The kisses become shorter, more teasing, allowing Naomi the opportunity to actually breathe. He leaves kisses along her jaw and neck, making her whimper.

Ethan wraps an arm around Naomi’s waist and spins them, pushing her against the wall. She winces upon contact. “Warn a girl next time.”

“You want to know what’s been on my mind recently?” Ethan asks, nipping at Naomi’s earlobe.

“W-What?”

His hands find purchase underneath the grey Henley she’s wearing and he lifts it up. Her stomach clenches under his touch and it’s maddening just how responsive she is to him. “I haven’t been able to get the sight of you out of my mind since I came to pick you up from your apartment the other day.” With trembling fingers, Naomi helps him remove the shirt, and it’s tossed somewhere behind them.

She’s not wearing the grey bra he saw the other day, this one is a soft pink, and he groans at how it contrasts against her skin. There isn’t a color that doesn’t look good on her. “I stood there…” he only pauses to place opened mouthed kisses on her collarbone. “...like a floundering idiot…” this time he kisses slightly lower, earning a sharp inhale from Naomi. The noise does nothing to soothe the erection straining in his jeans. “...while you decided to tease me.”

“You’re the one who decided to stay,” Naomi shoots back with a shrug. “So I had to put on a little show.” He hums in agreement. His tongue darts out, flattening over her lace covered nipple. “Fuck, just take it off!”

“You still have no patience,” Ethan observes. He yanks at the material, until he hears a loud tear.

“That’s La Perla!”

Ethan blinks, struggling to find the significance in that statement. Was it supposed to mean something to him? “Okay?”

“It was expensive, you jerk!”

“I’ll buy you 10 more,” he replies with a shrug before resuming his previous activity, pulling one of her nipples between his lips, sucking lightly. Naomi’s breath comes out in quick bursts, and it’s becoming harder for her to stay grounded to reality. She reaches out, wanting to touch him, but he intercepts, catching her wrist. “Hands to yourself, Valentine.”

Ethan’s fingers make work of the button holding her jeans together, and he drags down the zipper. He yanks at her jeans with the same care he afforded her shirt and bra, tugging them down until they pool at her feet. Naomi does the rest of the work, hopping around until the pants are fully off.

“You and the thin scraps you call underwear, have been driving me insane all week,” Ethan confesses. “The other day when I came to pick you up, part of me was so mad at you because of your blatant defiance, but the other part of me wanted to push you onto that bed, and do very, very inappropriate things to you.”

The wetness that floods her panties is overwhelming. She clenches her thighs together in hopes of alleviating some of the tension, but it doesn’t help. Figuring out a new strategy, she wraps a leg around his waist, pulling him flush to her. She rolls her hips, grinding into him. The growl that escapes his lips only fuels her and strokes her ego. “You should’ve.”

Ethan kisses her again, reveling in the needy way Naomi claws at him. Her fingers are desperate, fingering into his t-shirt, twisting at the fabric. He’s unsure if she wants to take it off, or if she’s impatient enough to say ‘fuck it,’ and just rip it.

Whatever the case, he doesn’t let her continue. Grabbing both of her hands, he forces them on either side of her. “You really do have a problem with listening. No. Touching.”

The gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down her spine, but whatever rebellious side of her that wants to challenge the command is squelched with one look into his eyes. She can tell he means business and now isn’t the time to challenge his authority.

With restraint she didn’t know she had, Naomi places her palms on the hall behind her, and she stays as still as she can.

“Good girl.” Ethan smirks and drops her hands. He untangles himself from her and steps back an inch to admire his work. “You followed directions for once.”

Whatever smart aleck reply that was about to fly from her mouth is stifled by Ethan pulling her soaked underwear down and slipping two digits past her folds. The noise she lets out is a mixture of a high pitched yelp and a strangled moan, something that threatens to choke her.

The pace he sets is random and uneven, never giving Naomi a chance to settle into a rhythm, and she wonders if this is his way of punishing her, keeping her keyed up and writhing on him for what feels like eternity, trapped in her own form of purgatory.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and bucks her hips wildly into his hand, trying to keep pace with him.

“Stop doing that,” Ethan demands, using his free hand to pull her lip out of her mouth. “I want to hear you, Rookie.”

Something about the use of her former nickname makes her moan, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Ethan.

“You like the nickname,” he states. “It’s funny, you know.  You take every opportunity to defy me, argue with me, and push my buttons, yet you get off on me controlling you.”

She can’t focus. He’s too close, it feels too good, and her brain can’t function properly under these conditions. He presses forward, the heel of his palm pressing into her clit, earning a hiss.

“Admit it.”

At this point Naomi would admit to committing armed robbery if it meant he’d keep doing this. She nods frantically. “Yes, Doctor.” He groans at the use of his title, and he pumps harder, curling his fingers inside of her. 

Naomi stands on tiptoes and desperately claws at the wall behind her. “Fuck Ethan, please!”

“Please, what? What do you want?” His lips find her neck again, and he sucks on her pulse point, only making things more hazy. “Use your words, Rookie.”

She wants a lot of things. She wants to cry out, she wants to dig her nails into his back until she draws blood, she wants him to keep talking her through this, his gruff voice in her ear as she shatters around him.

Unfortunately, Naomi cannot form a coherent sentence to save her life. She just rolls her hips, shamelessly grinding herself into his hand. “I...I…” The pleasure mounts, building in the pit of her stomach, spreading out. She’s so close, she can almost taste it. 

“Do you want to cum for me?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, please, I want–” Ethan rewards her for her honesty and his thumb drags into her clit and he rubs the sensitive nub in tight, quick circles. That’s all it takes, and she orgasms with a strangled cry and she’s thankful Ethan is right here because he holds her upright as her legs momentarily give out.

When Naomi regains the ability to stand on her own, Ethan lets go and slowly removes his fingers. Moving fast, Naomi grabs his hand, and without breaking eye contact with him, she slides the two digits into her mouth, licking them clean.

Ethan’s next breath is a shaky gasp that leaves his lung far too quickly. “Fuck, Rookie.”

“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom?” Naomi suggests, releasing his fingers with a loud pop.

Ethan shakes his head. “No.”

He registers the confusion on her face, but Ethan doesn’t give her a chance to respond. He grabs her by the waist and kisses her again, walking them towards the living room. He only breaks the kiss to pull his t-shirt over his head, and it joins the growing pile of discarded clothing scattered around. Naomi helps him speed the process along, getting rid of his belt and popping the button on his jeans. Her fingers hook into the belt loops of the pants and she pulls them down.

Before she can do anything else, Ethan stops her wandering hands. “Wait, wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Ethan knocks his forehead against hers and he sighs deeply. “Naomi, if you don’t want to do this, please stop me now.”

She thinks it’s cute that he’s giving her an out, but she doesn’t need it. Her fingers slip past the waistband of his soft cotton boxers, a warm dainty hand wrapping around him.

Ethan shudders as a warmth spreads through him at the touch of her hand, and he mentally curses himself. He pushes her hand away.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m not cumming into your hand.” Ethan spins Naomi around and bends her over the arm of his couch. 

While it’s not the desk in his office, Naomi won’t complain. She feels one of his calloused hands trace the length of her spine and her eyes flutter shut in anticipation.

No patience left, Ethan tugs down his underwear, letting the material pool at his ankles. Without another word, he lines herself up at Naomi’s entrance and thrusts into her all at once. He groans at the sensation.

Naomi has never been more thankful for couch cushions, as they muffle the scream that escapes her.

“Fuck, Naomi.” He digs his fingers into her hips before pulling out and slamming back into her. He doesn’t give her any time to adjust, but she doesn’t mind. They both know patience isn’t her forte. “You’re...so...tight.” His words are punctuated by sharp thrusts that threaten to steal the air straight from her lungs.

He leans forward slacking against her, but Naomi welcomes the weight. His beard scrapes against her shoulder blade, his breath warm against her ear, his fingers which are no doubt going to leave a bruise, all of it makes her dizzy, and god, this isn’t going to last much longer.

His thrusts become sloppier, more frenzied as the pleasure mounts, his blood boiling in his veins like molten lava. The only thing he can hear is the sound of the skin slapping, and his ragged breaths.

“Are you close?” He asks. But Naomi can’t think, let alone actually speak words, even if something monosyllabic would suffice. Why does he keep trying to make her speak? Her head drops with a thud and she mumbles something incoherent.

“For someone who had so much shit to talk earlier, you’re mighty silent.” Letting go of her hip, Ethan tangles a hand in her hair, yanking it back so she can’t hide her face in the cushions anymore. His other hand reaches around and he rolls her clit with his middle finger. Still way too sensitive from her last orgasm, she thrusts back, clawing at the couch with her nails, but he holds her in place, refusing to let her move.

“Ethan, fuck, don’t stop!” The words fly out all at once, shaky, fast and jumbled, but it’s all Ethan needs. 

With a burst of energy he didn't know he possessed, he drives into her, plunging deeper. “Cum for me, Rookie.”

Naomi screams. Loudly, and she’s sure his neighbors might be very annoyed, but she doesn’t care. Everything goes white behind her eyes as he all but pushes her over the edge. She clenches around him and Ethan hisses as she’s holding him in a vice-like grip. A few quick thrusts later, and he’s joining her in ecstasy, spilling inside of her. The hand holding her hair tightens for a second, then relaxes.

She’s pretty sure she blacked out for some period of time because when Naomi is finally able to focus, they’re no longer obscenely bent over the arm of Ethan’s couch. They’re on the floor, in the cramped space between the couch and the coffee table. 

She’s hot and sticky and absolutely exhausted. She places her hand over her heart, willing it to stop beating so erratically. Stealing a glance, Naomi peers up and looks at Ethan. He looks as disheveled as she feels, his hair tousled, lips swollen, chest and neck flushed red.

Her voice is horse and completely shot to hell when she finally speaks, “If that’s how our fights are going to play out from now on, I’ll let you pick more fights with you. And I’m a Cancer, we’re stubborn people.”

“I think we can find a happy medium somewhere.”

Naomi rolls over, until she’s nestled into his side and her head is on his chest. She can feel his heart beating rhythmically under her cheek. “Are we still fighting?”

“No.”

“Are you still mad at me?” He doesn’t answer the question right away, and a sense of dread fills her.

“I was never really mad at you,” Ethan admits after a long bout of silence. “I’m just mad at the entire situation. I’m mad at the budget cuts, I’m mad at our country’s healthcare system, I’m annoyed with your inability to listen to me. I’m mad at Leland Bloom’s obscene wealth and the fact that he gets to dangle his money in our faces like we’re horses waiting for carrots.”

“You made the right call, Naomi,” he continues. “But it’s a call you shouldn’t have been forced to make in the first place. I’m sorry for making you carry the brunt of my misplaced anger.”

“Apology accepted. And since we’re apologizing, I’m sorry for calling you a petulant little crybaby.”

Ethan chuckles. “Do you apologize for calling me a goddamn diva, as well? Don’t forget ‘entitled jackass’ and ‘spoiled child’.”

“You co-signed ‘spoiled child’ so I am not apologizing for it.”

“Fair point,” Ethan concedes.

Blindly searching with an outstretched hand, Naomi finds her cell phone and checks the time. She has to be at work in 2 hours, though she’d much rather get into Ethan’s bed and go to sleep.

“That happy medium that you mentioned? I think I have it figured out.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh, yeah?”

“First and foremost, I promise to never go over your head again, if you agree to do a trial run on whatever ideas I may come up with. You can’t shoot me down immediately.”

“I’m...willing to agree to that.”

“And once this all settles down and the hospital isn’t on the verge of complete financial collapse, maybe we can convince the board to only take on one or two billable patients a quarter.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” 

“Yeah, I tend to have those every once in a while,” Naomi teases.

Ethan stares at Naomi as she laughs at her own poor joke. Everything about her is an anomaly to him. She blew into his life a little over a year ago and here he is, willing to adapt his entire ethical code for her. And here they are, entangled together as if he didn’t spend 2 months on a different continent in order to get her out of his head. What is it about her that he can’t shake?

He gently cups her jaw and kisses her as if she’s a precious gem, like he didn’t just try to devour her. “What are you doing to me?”

Naomi smirks, recalling that it’s the same question he asked her in Miami. “Hopefully something good.”

He kisses her again. “Better than good actually.”

Realization washes over her that once she leaves this apartment, things are going to go back to being the way they were. He’ll go back to pushing her away. “So does this mean you want to have another reset?”

The question throws him off, but he soon understands what she means. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Ethan repeats. If there’s a happy medium to be found between his team and the board, maybe there’s one for him and Naomi.

She doesn’t allow herself to get swept up by his words, but instead she braces herself for the chance that he pulls the rug from under her feet. “Well, what does that mean?”

“It means you and I are going to take a shower together, go to work, and we deal with our obnoxious patient. And after work, you’re going to put on something fancy because I’m taking you out to dinner. How does that sound, Dr. Valentine?”

Naomi can’t stop an annoying grin from spreading across her face. “I think it sounds pretty damn good, Dr. Ramsey.”

[stray-tori]

Emma’s character arc in the anime (or what I think it is, anyway) (anime-only)

Her "nothing has happened in a year and it's my fault" vent is -- a) kind of meta (they literally have only been passengers in their s2-story so far*. rescued by mujika/sonju, directed by Minerva, chased out by the farm force & now on the run. right now, they have so small agency in the story and not only is the narrative acknowledging it, Emma's development herself seems to be a result of it)

* in part that's also true for s1, they have always been carried a little. By Krone, for giving them the pen, and by Norman for generally being the connecting piece until he was gone and even then he outlined most elements of the plan for Emma.

-- b) interesting because right now it makes her the opposite of Norman who despite not being in the season for almost half of its run time, arguably made more goal-related progression (i.e. stealing children from farms - assuming it was them -, while Emma couldn't even go back for the Phil and others; probably having a base to bring the children they steal (i doubt the group that was with him are ALL of them), while Emma's base, the bunker, had to be abandoned). He’s the plot-driving character even when he's not there and now that he is, I'm assuming there will be more of a lead / idea of where to go from there.

It feels like a foil setup but I'm not entirely sure for what.

.

so, clearly this season's theme is not burdening everything by yourself - proof:

Ray spelled it out in ep1, Gilda reaffirmed it in ep2 and the opening’s visuals with her in the vidaflower field also seem to carry the whole “we’re finding hope together” angle

Emma did agree to it but then still said “I’m fine” after the vidaflower scene and is now blaming herself for everything that has been going subpar

also, the tidbit about the older kids always leaving more food for the younger ones also fits this theme, though it's not just Emma in that regard. and Lani and Thoma were the “don’t burden everything on yourself” argument in that scene.

I actually think Emma has slowly become more self-burdening, because I feel like back in s1, while she always seemed strong, it never felt like she actively hid from anyone. She did some things by herself like figuring out the room measurements, but she still felt free to bring up anything to the others and involve the children (place trust in them) later with the execution of the escape plan. Even when Norman's life was on the line, she never really intended to fully sacrifice herself like Ray had with the distraction plan or Norman did with his shipment - she never said anything like taking his place, she was still very much in the "we" mindset (at least if I remember correctly). We haven’t seen her work together like towards the end of s1 where she coordinated everyone - even when the kids were a huge part of the solution, like Chris knowing the bunker’s layout, it wasn’t because she told them to do that.

In a way, I feel like Emma's development actually made her more like Norman (who usually used to keep stuff to himself, and tried to juggle all the conflicts himself, and in the end, took the burden of making the plan work even at the expense of his """"death""""). Heck, her words after the vidaflower scene ("I'm / it's okay" (daijoubu)) is something Norman says/said a lot, it's basically his trademark pff-

So I can't help but assume these are connected, and Emma is - whether intentionally or not - trying to mirror Norman because in her mind, everything's been going wrong since he wasn't there to aid them anymore (which she's actually right about, which leads me to my next point).

.

The fine line between character angst and the savior trope. I hope the anime will use this whole setup with Emma’s arc instead of just being like “ah, Norman Christ has arrived, our lord and savior, how good that we don’t have to worry about anything anymore”. Because they actually, in-universe, acknowledge that "nothing has happened" and that's imo a fine line they have going on right now, which could lead to some interesting character moments.... or they completely ignore it and thank god, our lord and savior.

Because it's not a problem that they are being carried, in fact, as mentioned before they have been carried outside of s2 as well, by Norman specifically as well too. He's always been a sort of savior figure, even after his death he motivated them to go on (see ghost Normans, see Emma talking about how she promised him, see Ray on the ground wanting to continue because he promised (to Emma too but you get the point, and Norman was the one who initially saw through his plan)) - he IS in a lot of ways, a savior. So I'm not saying it's bad narratively if now he's back and the plot moves more towards the goal again. I'm saying it's questionable, if now Emma's and the narrative's acknowledgement of that lack of progression go away too. Because THEN it's actually just "everything is solved now and we're useless without you", and I think it NEEDS to develop Emma further in order for that angle to still be there (and to still be kind of questionable), but to be narrative-ly significant because it's part of Emma's arc and therefore her later actions.

In short, Emma’s low-point revolves around the stagnation and to resolve it (the lowpoint) with Norman’s return would be questionable.

SO I have hope for juicy angst but also see how this could horribly backfire.

.

Now, I've been trying to figure out were her arc is going, considering all of that.

"Burdening everything by yourself is bad" theme

Emma hates herself for not being able to do anything

Norman is her opposite / foil in that regard

.

So possible ways to go here are

a) further make Emma feel inferior to Norman, since she never got to do all those things she took upon herself and make her mental state even worse

b) it will probably lead to Emma contributing whatever she can to her family’s rescue, no matter what it takes out of her.

likely both.

The interesting thing is that while narratively this sets up a sort of opposite-dynamic between Emma and Norman, they do both share the self-burdening-thing now (I doubt that changed about Norman, but maybe it did); so I feel like this can only end in a "who's more self-sacrificial and bottling up" contest.

.

Taking the theme into account, I feel like it’s going for one of the following things, maybe multiple:

a) they all work together in the end to reach their future (probably Ray has to bonk them both and be like "shut up, we're doing this together" because I feel like he's the only one who actually got out of his self-damning hole somewhat)

b) the kids come barging in with the/a solution while Norman and Emma are busy trying to be self-sacrificial (Lani and Thoma HAVE been observing and trying to balance the self-sacrificial out throughout the season, mostly by humor, so I feel like that could work even if I don't know how it could be DONE so hmmm)

c) if someone has to do a sacrifice like Norman in s1, it won’t be done through trickery of the others, or won't work / will be stopped / backfire

Because I don’t think what will happen is that someone actually gets to sacrifice themselves without massive consequences from the other characters because that’d contradict both the overall season's theme and if it was forced upon the others, it would just mirror s1 and show no narrative growth.

It's a fickle situation because I feel like the natural evolution of this arc would be to have Emma be, the "hero" or a leader-position or something of the sort.  But the self-sacrificial theme forbids her from doing it on her own or by massively hurting herself in the process so.... ahhh idk how they'll handle that!

because I like the "together" message it seems to be aiming for but at the same time, having a character struggle with not being able to do anything by herself in the same like 6 episodes as “yay, we need to do it together!” is a little risky since while it could work, doing teamwork in a way where everyone is important, while also not validating Emma's belief is.... hard.

It could work if Norman’s arc is the opposite, to let others do more for him and let Emma take over (who needs to built confidence as a leading figure); but even then Emma has to be driving force. If Norman initiates that, he’s actually saving her in every sense.

[scone-lover]

Thirsty Thursday

It’s that time of night again... when it’s nearly midnight and I finally remember to do this. 😂 I browsed/read/marked for later so much fic this week that I’m literally four pages into my AO3 history... whoops. 

Thank you for the tags @foolofabookwyrm​ @gampyre​! ❤️ 

Ebb & Fiona: Cryptid Catchers by @subpar-selkie​: So I have to start this off with - SELKIE GIFTED THIS MOST WONDERFUL AND RIDICULOUS CRACK FIC TO ME, AND I LOVE IT WITH MY ENTIRE HEART. It’s so absurd and I am obsessed PLEASE READ IMMEDIATELY. ❤️😂 

Can't Find My Way Home by @carryonsimoncarryonbaz​: So I was listening to the audiobook of the first few chapters by @krisrix​ @vkelleyart​ @penpanoply​ and then, of course, I just had to reread the rest of the fic. This is the first CO fic I ever read! And it was wonderfully comforting coming back to it.

Three-Chord Progression by @krisrix​: Finally binge-read this yesterday and today, and it’s absolutely one of my new favourite post-canon fics. A really perfect deep-dive into Simon & Baz’s feelings about love and intimacy, all set against the backdrop of kitchens & dates & SPA WEEKENDS. ❤️ 

Pour Some (Maple) Sugar On Me by @hufflepunky​ @foolofabookwyrm​: Two words: Stripper Simon. Wait, two more words: French Canada. I could keep going. This fic is an absolute delight and I can’t wait for more.

It's A Handheld Disaster by @neck-mole : I’ve been weirdly obsessed with text fics lately and I found this delightfully meta, utterly bingeable fic that gave me all the feels. Funny yet so touching, tugs at the heartstrings.

effusive (is that the word?) by watfordbird33: A laugh-out-loud funny and brilliant text fic. I couldn’t put this down. Highly recommend!!!

Let's Dance by @carryonsimoncarryonbaz​: I reread this recently because it’s such a delight. This fic has a hilarious and creative premise and I was pleasantly surprised at there being a second chapter that I never noticed before. 😂 

Miscellaneous kisses by @ninemagicks​: ALL OF THESE KISS PROMPTS ARE SO GOOD. SO GOOD!!!

Self-care bingo by @ninemagicks​: Also reread this as a comfort fic - ninemagicks’ stuff never fails to bring a smile to my face. I love this fic because it’s honestly such a real and absurd portrayal of the past few months of our lives. I like that the grocery shop panic is preserved here, forever in the hallowed pages of AO3 - it makes it feel less like a fever dream. 😂 

Your Card's Been Declined by GallaPlacidia (do they have a tumblr?): Canon-diverge post-war, the Old Families have to pay endless reparations and Baz has become a prostitute. I read this all in one go - it’s gorgeously written with a lot of nuance and a lot of feelings. Really loved it.

Still working through the remixes!

Erasing the Line (a Crossing the Line remix fic) by @carryonsimoncarryonbaz (remix of Crossing The Line by @f-ing-ruthless-baz​): There was only one bed - the original from Baz’s POV, and the remix from Simon’s. It’s charming, they’re both gorgeously written, and I loved getting all the extra bits and pieces from the new POV in CSCB’s fic. (Also there are awkward boners. And it’s wonderful.)

Sweet Nothings by @annabellelux​ (remix of If you don't have anything nice to say by @sharkmartini​): I read the original first, which is endlessly delightful and clever and so funny. And I remember thinking, damn I wish I could read that lake scene! And then I was blessed by the remix gods, because that’s exactly what @annabellelux​ wrote!!! And it is so goddamn sexy and well-written and slots perfectly into the original fic as that “missing scene.” Bless. 🙌🏽

When In Doubt by @f-ing-ruthless-baz​: The Humdrum sends a creature that exposes everyone’s deepest doubts and fears. This only made me cry a little... it’s heart-wrenching and feels like a gut punch but in a good way. ❤️ 

Thursday’s long gone. 😂 Maybe next week I’ll remember on time. If you still want to do it, consider yourself tagged if you’re mentioned above 😊

[willowbird]

Hi! How are you??? Congrats on 100 sweets!

For the prompt thingy can you write some Andrew and Kevin being best friends and shit (maybe Neil as well... idk) but yeah. please. Thank you<3

Oh! You want Kevin and Andrew going apple-picking and Andrew being his wingman? That’s what you said, right? Right? (also thank you thank you thank you!)

This one got a little bit long again, sorry friends. Rather read it on AO3? None of my formattings transferred over so if you want the full effect of how often I use italics (a lot, it’s a lot, like -- it’s excessive I’m sorry) then you might wanna click the link. Otherwise!! Enjoy :)

-----

The rusticly decorated archway had a worn sign that proclaimed 'Welcome to Sonny Acres Farm!' far too cheerfully. Andrew looked up at it in disdain and then landed his judgemental stare the reason he was here in the first place.

Kevin was too used to the glare to be affected by it. "It has good reviews," he explained, like that was anywhere close to being a valid excuse for dragging him out here. The sun was warm but the breeze was mild, the fresh scent of autumn leaves made just a bit sweeter by the hint of apples. It was ten in the morning, the world was quiet but alive, and Andrew was disgusted by how fucking beautiful it was. 

"Right." Andrew didn't know why Kevin had wanted to come to this place so badly, but he was sure it had nothing to do with the reviews. First of all, why the fuck was he looking at reviews anyway? Why the fuck would anyone want to go apple picking of all things? When Andrew had asked these perfectly reasonable questions, Kevin had been annoyingly evasive.

'Are you coming or aren't you?' he'd snapped instead of giving a straight answer, already getting flustered. As if it weren't already glaringly obvious that he was hiding something. Which of course meant that Andrew had agreed to go, if only to see what the fuck this was really all about.

"So are we just going to stand here, or…?" Andrew raised a single eyebrow at his distressingly tall best friend, mostly because he knew how much it irritated him.

Since it looked like Kevin was still preparing himself for something, and Andrew was getting impatient, he only gave him a moment to respond before shrugging and striding forward. He passed under the sign and followed the path to the building closest to the parking lot they'd just come from, not bothering to look back and see if the Abominable Anxiety was following or not. The building revealed itself to be a shop, selling everything from Sonny Acres merch like t-shirts and tote bags to baskets of apples and just about every apple-themed product you could imagine. Apple sauce, apple butter, apple candy, apple pies. Apple soap, apple shampoo, apple lotion. Apple plates, apple dresses, apple earrings, apple apples. 

(No, literally, there was a statue thing that was a large apple… made out of smaller apples.)

Also, four shelves of different kinds of apple candles. Andrew wasn't sure whether to be disturbed or impressed.

The bell on the door chimed behind him before he could make up his mind and he looked behind him to see Kevin entering. Andrew looked him dead in the eye and made a slow, simple gesture at the shop, keeping his expression deadpan.

Unaffected, because he was a bastard, Kevin dared to just roll his eyes and walked past Andrew without comment. He walked through the shop to the check-out counter at the back, looking around like some kind of lighthouse-wannabe giraffe man until he came to stand before it. He stood there awkwardly for a moment before knocking on the surface and clearing his throat.

"Uh… hello?"

Andrew continued to look around the shop, discovering a new apple-themed bit of nonsense with each scan of his eyes. His brain was beginning to hurt. He didn't look over at the desk through the shuffle of the clerk or whoever coming out at Kevin's call and didn't really register their greeting in return. He did snap his attention in that direction at Kevin's response though, which was a stammering, awkward, "Oh, hey… yeah. Hi. Apples."

Andrew watched with instant understanding as the veritable catastrophe played out before him. It was a fucking train wreck and Andrew had never been more glad to be at a place called Sonny Acres in his entire fucking life. Kevin hadn't stopped talking. It was like he couldn't, and it just kept getting so much worse which meant it kept getting so much better. Andrew thought about coming to his rescue, he really did. 

"I mean, there are apples here. Of course there are apples. I mean, apples to pick. I came to pick your apples - oh God not YOUR apples! The apples that you grow at the farm. On the farm. On the farm. I promise I understand English grammar."

Oh Kevin. So that's why he's been unable to get a straight answer out of him earlier. There was absolutely nothing straight about this little trip to the apple orchard at all.

The not-straight answer in question was several inches shorter than Kevin but still too tall to be trusted. Additionally, he was wearing a sunny, affectionate smile like he did so often, the expression easy and comfortable on his face. There were even dimples in his light brown cheeks. Ridiculous. His hair was curly and bleached to a springy caramel except for the roots, and was held back with a headband that, yup, had apples on it. Objectively, Andrew could see why Kevin was being an absolute disaster over the man. Personally, he liked someone a little less sunshine and a little more lightning bolt. Or he would, if he did relationships, which he didn't. He didn't even think about them, and certainly not regarding the unfairly hot neighbor that lived across the hall from him and Kevin.

Andrew moved forward, jamming his focus back on the two morons in front of him rather than Idiot Who Shall Not Be Named.

Sonny Acres Sunshine laughed at Kevin's antics like he was being charming, his eyes dancing. Yeah, dancing. Sweet fuck. "You're a riot Kev."

"Yeah, Kev is hysterical," Andrew agreed breezily as he stepped up beside him, looking the other man up and down. "Aren't you Kev? A regular John Mulaney this guy. Hysterical." He slapped Kevin on the back harder than necessary and ignored the glare he got in return. The dumbass could thank him later.

Sonny Sunshine grinned at him. "You must be his roommate. Andrew, right? I'm Jeremy! He's talked a lot about you. I'm glad you guys came."

"Funny," Andrew deadpanned, studying his own fingernails, "he never mentioned you. Wonder why that is."

"So! Apples," Kevin cut in, apparently feeling pushy today. "Ah, we've never been apple picking or anything. Is there a way we should go about this?" 

The process seemed fairly obvious to Andrew, but he let it go.

Jeremy grinned at Kevin, bright and enthusiastic. "I can walk you through it, no problem. You'd be surprised how many people have never been apple picking before."

Somehow Andrew doubted this, but - charitable soul that he was - he let that one go too.

"Really? Fall is supposed to be the time for it though, right?" Kevin attempting to chit-chat was one of the single most pathetic sights Andrew had ever had to witness. It took all his self control not to grimace.

Jeremy didn't seem to notice though. He just kept smiling, watching Kevin talk like -- oh. 

Well then, Andrew's role here had just changed. Andrew could practically see the blue, purple, and pink hearts dancing around his roommates head. Idiot. Ah well, if they were going to do this, they may as well do this. 

Andrew sighed heavily. "Maybe you could just come with us? Kevin owes me a home-made apple pie and I will not suffer subpar apples."

The look of annoyance Kevin shot him morphed quickly to gratitude the second he realized what Andrew was doing. 

Jeremy was oblivious.

"Sure thing! It'd be my pleasure." Andrew didn't miss the way Jeremy looked directly at Kevin as he said that, because clearly neither of these idiots understood subtly. That was fine. It made his job easier. More amusing, too.

Jeremy asked them to give him a moment to recruit something called an 'Alvarez' to watch the shop for him then left them alone, disappearing into the back room.

As soon as he was gone, Andrew dropped a heavily judgemental stare on Kevin. This one had significantly more effect and Andrew was pretty enough to feel smug about that. He let the silence stretch until Kevin visibly strained with how hard he was trying not to squirm. Then and only then did he sigh and release him, granting a benevolent shrug as he strolled lazily around shop, trailing his fingers over the apple merchandise. 

"So," he said, "Jeremy."

"What about him?" God, it was like he wasn't even trying. Andrew gave him a look and Kevin sighed. His shoulders sagged as he accepted defeat and Andrew basked in sweet victory.

"He's just perfect, alright? He's smart, and athletic, and adorable, and perfect, and sweet, and hilarious, and when he suggested I come see the orchard…" Kevin drifted off, like no other explanation was needed. For once, he was right.

"For the record, I fully expect an apple pie out of this." Andrew picked up an apple-shaped snow globe with an apple tree inside it that had miniature apples floating about in place of snow. He shook it and watched the apples spin and cloud around in a murder-red blur for a moment before he looked up at Kevin. "Also, you are buying the ice cream."

Kevin sighed but didn't argue. "What am I supposed to do? I've been out of the dating sphere for a while."

"Kevin you were never in the dating sphere." Kevin's 'dating' experience included mostly a lot of pining and one actual relationship with a girl who had gotten pissed at him for being abused by his shit family. Yeah. Andrew didn't tell Kevin what to do, but he could lay ground rules that the bitch wasn't permitted at their apartment. He also corrected Kevin every time he said her name by muttering 'Traitorous Bitch' until Kevin finally saw reason and broke up with her.

"You aren't being helpful." My, someone was whiny today.

Andrew set down the snow globe. "Want my advice?"

"Yes!"

"Offer to suck his cock."

"Andrew!" Kevin looked so scandalized one would think a nineteenth-century rake had just asked him to bare his ankles. 

Andrew rolled his eyes. "Just be up-front with him, Kev. You like him, tell him. Be honest about what you want, ask him what he wants. Talk about it. Take it from there."

"What if I embarrass myself?!"

"Then you embarrass yourself." Andrew shrugged and scooped up an apple-shaped hackysack. He tossed it into the air a few times then grabbed another and tossed them back and forth. "What is the worst that could happen? Mr. Sunshine says 'no thanks'?"

Kevin scowled at him. "Yeah, and then refuses to ever even look at me again."

Andrew scooped up a third applesack (hackyapple?) and adjusted his rhythm before he landed his judgement back on Kevin. "If he never speaks to you again just for being honest with him then he isn't worth your time to begin with." He stared at Kevin for several revolutions of his pattern, the schick of the hackyapples hitting and leaving his palms the only sound in the shop. 

Predictably, Kevin was the one to look away first. Andrew gave him a moment and added a fourth hackyapple to the pattern. 

"I really like him…" Kevin finally said, his voice low.

"Clearly," Andrew agreed without sympathy. "Look, you have two choices here Day. You can do something about it, or you could do nothing about it, and let me tell you - pining is not a good look on you."

The overgrown ear of corn muttered something like "Speak for yourself" and then yelped as Andrew smoothly nailed him in the forehead with a hackyapple (those things had just the perfect heft to them).

"What was that?" Andrew asked nonchalantly, smoothly dropping into the three-pattern. 

"I said, speak for your-- ow! Stop that!"

Andrew gave him an innocent look.

"Oh cool! You can juggle?" Jeremy's sunny voice cut in before Kevin could attempt to say something stupid again. Andrew looked over and abruptly dropped his hands to his sides, letting the applesacks hit the ground with soft whacks.

"Nope." Andrew shrugged, picking up the apple-globe again and shaking it as Kevin grumbled and scooped up the fallen hackyapples.

Jeremy chuckled like he'd just made a joke and lifted up three honest-to-fuck baskets with little gingham clothes lining the insides to protect the apples. One was red, one was green, and one was blue. Andrew sighed and held his hand out for one, the just stared at Jeremy when he was offered first the red, then the blue, before taking the green one that was rightfully his. "Kevin likes red," was all he said.

"Yeah?" Jeremy looked at Kevin and smiled as he offered him the red basket. "That's perfect then, blue is my favorite. At least of the baskets. I also like green," he volunteered, looking into Kevin's green eyes.

Sickening, this was truly sickening.

"Yeah, green," Kevin offered eloquently. 

Andrew watched as Jeremy nudged the tall idiot and just barely managed not to shake his head in disdain. He did snort his amusement when he caught Kevin watching Jeremy's ass as the man led them out of the shop through a side door near the back by the desk. The door took them right out to a path that led directly into the orchard. Andrew gave Kevin a pointed shove and made a meaningful gesture for him to catch up with the object of his affection. Kevin scowled at him, but did as instructed because he knew Andrew was right. Because Andrew was always right.

As it turned out, apple picking wasn't as terrible as Andrew had thought it would be. Getting to watch his best friend trip over himself on a constant loop served to be excellent entertainment for the day. He also got to covertly vet this guy that Kevin was so stupid over and as far as he could tell, Jeremy Knox was exactly what he appeared to be. He laughed at Kevin's terrible attempts at humor, was actually able to keep up with him when the conversation turned to the misrepresentation of American History in public schools, and Andrew counted at least thirty-seven times over the course of their little apple picking extravaganza where Jeremy found an excuse to touch Kevin. They weren't invasive touches, nothing gross or grabby or anything, but they were telling. Jeremy was always adjusting the basket he was holding or touching his arm or his hand or picking a leaf out of his hair or -- well, yeah. It was gross.

For his part, Andrew hung back and let the two idiots moon over each other, occasionally joining the conversation whenever Kevin shot him desperate looks or the topic deserved his input.

By the time they were done, Andrew was half-expecting an invitation to the nuptials.

"Hey, this was really great. I'm glad you decided to come by," Jeremy said as he packed their apples into white paper back with smiling little apple-people on them. "Both of you, of course," he amended unconvincingly with only a small glance to Andrew before giving his undivided attention to Kevin again.

"Of course. Yeah! This was amazing. With the apples. And you." Dear Jesus.

Andrew gave Kevin a swift kick to the shin and just stared at him when the man winces and glared down at him. He tried to laser the instruction 'Ask him out you nimrod' directly into his stupid brain and it must have worked because when Kevin finished his silent hissy fit he turned to Jeremy with an apologetic smile and said, "We should do this again."

Andrew kicked him again, because that wasn't good enough.

"I mean! Without the apples. Not that I don't like apples, Andrew ow! Cut it the fuck out!"

Andrew heaved a sigh and threw up his hands, turning to go find those hackyapples. You try to help a guy…

Jeremy was chuckling by the time Kevin turned back to him. Andrew watched out of the corner of his eye as the cheerful orchard-tender placed a hand over Kevin's on the counter. He couldn't see Kevin's face from the angle he was at but he was sure it was as red as some of those fucking apples they'd picked.

"I'd really like that," Jeremy said more quietly.

"M-me too," stammered Kevin with the utmost class.

Pleased with himself, Andrew scooped up a handful of the hackyapples and made his way back to the counter to purchase them. Because he was feeling charitable, he said nothing about the dopey-ass grin on Kevin's face as they gathered up their apples and left. He didn't even comment on the way the dumbass was legitimately humming when they got into the car -- because he was a supportive and generous friend.

That generosity lasted all the way back home. They were just getting to their apartment and Andrew was holding both bags of apples so Kevin could unlock the door when Kevin suddenly stopped and looked down the hall toward the stairs they'd just climbed. Then he lifted his hand in a wave and said, "Oh, hey Neil."

Shit shit shit shit shit!

Andrew glared at the back of Kevin's head, willing him to open the goddamn fucking door.

"Kevin, hey. Andrew? What've you got?" Unable to ignore him now that he'd been directly addressed, Andrew turned slowly and stared blankly as Neil-fucking-Josten came to stand right in front of him. He was wearing a lightly curious smile on his stupid face, one that pulled up on just the one side of his mouth and revealed just the shadow of what might be a dimple if the infuriating man were to smile any deeper. What was even more offensive was the way his eyes reflected the light so that they looked like a celestial sea, stars within stars staring back at him, tempting him with all the things he didn't want to want. 

Not only that, but Neil must be just coming back from a run because he was lightly flushed and the pink that clung to his cheeks, throat, and ears made Andrew’s brain do a thing resembling an old-fashioned VCR when you attempted to rewind a tape while it was still playing -- streaks of static breaking up what should be comprehensible. His wild auburn curls were pulled back with a garishly orange bandana but that only meant there was nothing in the way of his eyes.

His eyes...

He must have been silent for too long because Neil peered into the bags he was holding. “Oh, hey -- apples.” That curious little smile softened and spread slightly as he looked up at him again.

Andrew said, “Apples.”

“I love apples,” Neil said.

Andrew said, “Apples.” Because he was that fucking smooth.

Kevin coughed behind him and Andrew tore his gaze away from Neil’s stupidly pretty face, glaring down into the bags of apples. 

“You should take some,” Kevin offered. “We have more than we need. I’m going to look up how to make an apple pie later too, if you want any.”

“Really? Thanks.” Neil flashed a cheeky grin at Kevin then looked to Andrew. “Can I?”

Andrew said, “Apples.” This time though, he also nodded and attempted to angle the bags so that Neil could reach in a pick out a few. He was sure the other man could hear the way his heart was playing his ribcage like a xylophone as he leaned in so damn fucking close to examine the apples that Andrew could see how criminally long his eyelashes were. Then he was pulling away with his prize, three smallish apples and one large one.

He held them up and nodded. “Thanks for the apples. See you later for the game, Kevin?”

Andrew nodded mutely and Kevin grunted an affirmative, and then Neil was gone, vanishing into the apartment across the hall. Andrew stared at the closed door for a moment then turned toward their own apartment. Kevin was standing there with a smug look on his fucking face. 

“Apples,” Kevin said conversationally.

“Shut the fuck up Kevin.” Kevin was still cackling when the door shut behind them. Fucking bastard.

[bibbykins]

Scopophilic Affection (M)

Here it is! At last! I have had a rough couple of weeks. My roommate left me and my gf with the rest of the rent without any notice (yikes, I know. Kids, don’t break the lease, it’s shitty) soooo I’m going to plug my ko-fi below. Anything helps and would be greatly appreciated. Either way, donation or not, I hope you thoroughly enjoy and know that my ask box is open!

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: Voyeurism, choking, obsessives themes, yandere

Summary: Scopophilia is a more dignified way to define voyeurism, something Seokjin had no intention of partaking in until he came across your live stream. Seokjin is a dignified man, but never in his life had he felt so depraved watching you smile and work like it was his profession, unable to reach through the screen and make you his. Unable to tell you how much he loves to watch you because you have no idea you’re live stream even exists. He can’t tell you how hypnotizing you are without the glaring controversy of him watching your hacked-into webcam, both as a human and director in the computer science division of the company he is a board member of. Nevertheless, you were his very guilty utmost pleasure. 

A beige wall with the blandest accents he’s ever seen with a sketchy cream color. The kitchen appliances were conformity white with rust whispering its way out from under the oven. The toaster was melted on one side and he couldn’t help but wonder how. The microwave was in slightly better shape but the stains seemed to still hold the screams of food from the 1990s. The carpet was somewhere between the beige walls and the mahogany table and looked about as comfortable as sandpaper. 

This would not do at all. 

Even with the personality shining through the subpar living space, it was just not suitable. Not for much longer.

Jin was a man of exquisite taste. This, among his impeccable beauty and breathtaking aura, was some of his best-known traits. He was the sweetest dream everyone on campus would ever have the privilege to even catch a moment of. He was the Director of Software Development within the largest tech company in the country. He came from money and yet made more than enough of his own all while juggling graduate school. Beyond his professional talents, he was a natural virtuoso and musician. With fans from all sides of his life, it would come to no shock that he was a picky man. 

Ever the kindest member of the campus princes, he opted for an aura of stoic professionalism. He exchanged pleasantries and engaged in his fair share of banter with people beyond his close-knit group of Adonis-like men. However, he had a strict limit on how much he could take of people he didn’t care about.

He had everything he wanted and it was nearing time for him broaden his capacity beyond his close family and six friends by just one person. The pool was exceptionally lengthy considering his father’s very own Cinderella story and his parents’ overall good nature. And yet, nobody was fit to be his. Nobody he met even gave him anything to think about beyond their pleasantries. He would not settle for good enough, they had to be perfect. They had to be someone entertaining, someone, without such an evident facade, and even then, someone worthwhile behind that facade. Maybe he had trust issues, or maybe he knew how much one could hide in public.

While a man of exquisite taste, it was also… particular to say the least. Kim Seokjin was not built to marry these nice girls his parents set him up with from time to time, he was built for someone much greater. He had a taste for the more sinister sides that he seldom was able to properly explore with others. Kinky is a word one could use, but he believed adventurous encapsulated his preferences more eloquently. He took pleasure in spoiling someone with all he could offer as they spoiled him with their body. Empty hands begin to ache after some time. He was longing for something to grip other than himself on more irritable nights. He had found previous sexual partners who suited him just fine until they stepped out of the threshold from the bedroom. Vice versa, he had also been on perfectly good dates but with terribly bland sex. 

It was on one of the nights after a mind-numbing date that he threw himself into work whilst listening to the background noise of tech reports. All was fine until there was talk of a hard to reach website that allowed patrons paid access to people who “consented” to 24-hour streams of their lives via laptop and the highest payer owns who can view that particular person. Call it morbid curiosity or his voyeuristic side making an appearance, Jin found himself on the website with ease and scrolling past a ton of stranger’s faces. The teaser clips showed thirty seconds of the past day. 

Jin doubted the website would be up for much longer due to its legal gray area of filming people without informed consent. It seemed the website operated on a one-click user agreement to a couple of separate websites they controlled. It didn’t take a genius to see these people had no idea of their streams. On each profile, it had general demographics, the times that person was in frame, if they ever changed on camera, and even if they performed sexual acts for an audience they had no idea about. Jin felt some remorse as he scrolled from victim to victim, but something happened when he came across a bland beige wall behind an interesting girl.

Sure, he had seen many beautiful women but none of them were shown sitting in front of the camera and so adorably pouting at the camera for the entire thirty-second clip, occasional huffs of irritation coming from your plush lips. It awoke some kind of curiosity he could not understand but wanted to satiate. Were you reading emails? Had you gotten a bad grade? Were you watching a frustrating film?  It seemed you were a college student but spent your nights at home. He figured you worked full time while not at school and used that as an explanation for your socially inactive life but deprived sleep schedule. Against his better judgment, Jin gained full reign over your stream, making it exclusively for him. 

He never quite cared for sharing.

Just like that, there you were, in a large shirt and shorts as you stared at the laptop with a blank face. It went on like this and Jin began to feel silly that he made such a rash move to violate your privacy like this, not to mention the fact that he spent such a grandiose amount of money just to stare at a girl. This was obviously a mistake. He should just turn off his computer- you began to laugh and just like that, Jin was enchanted. Maybe it was the fact that you laughed so wholeheartedly despite being alone or just that you were your true self at this very moment. He had unrestricted access to you like this. He wondered what you were watching. Against his better judgment, he wondered if he could make you laugh like that.

Your phone rang, making you jump ever so slightly. Jin smiled at this, noting how easily startled you were and the way your eyes looked so kind after being broken from the trance your laptop had you in. He found himself holding his breath as you pressed the phone to your ear, waiting to hear how you sound, “Hello?”

You paused the movie you had been watching as you waited for your cousin’s girlfriend, Jaelin, to speak, “Y/n! Where are you?!” The background was loud and she was evidently drunk.

You rolled your eyes, “At home, where else?” This was a common occurrence, and usually, you would not entertain her drunk-dials, but you figured hearing another human’s voice today wouldn’t hurt.

“You should meet me! There’s a ton of parties tonight!” She screamed and you flinched at the volume her mic had to endure.

“I have this screenplay to annotate and I’m leading the stage tricks seminar in a week to practice so…” You trailed off, holding up your finished and annotated screenplay before shrugging.

“People are going to that? Seriously?” You stood corrected by yourself as a sting hit your confidence. This human’s voice was indeed beginning to hurt you.

“Professor Tarbot is having the freshman attend it so, yes, people are going to my seminar, so…” You trailed off as you heard your cousin’s voice in the background, reminding Jaelin that you don’t need to go out before the call went dead, “Lovely.” You muttered before pressing play on the movie. You were always the black sheep of the family. If familial love was kickball, you were absolutely picked last. Despite this, when you moved out as soon as you could to pursue your dreams, your family was appalled that you would leave your own flesh and blood.

Your smile noticeably died with the phone call and Jin couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened. He missed your smile already. You looked down at your phone for a while before your lip begin to quiver ever so slightly and Jin felt his stomach churn.

“No, no, no.” You fanned your face before looking to the ceiling, “None of that, crybaby.” You cursed before sighing out and looking forward again, “Work on the seminar.”

So, you were a fine arts major of some sort. Jin thought about this as he watched you get ready for bed and eventually fall asleep in front of the laptop you took everywhere. By the end of the night, he had just about a full apartment tour. He shook off this new feeling in his chest before closing his laptop.

The week went on with Jin’s and your nightly routine remaining the same. He did his work, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. Except, he had you playing in the background. You, on the other hand, would write, procrastinate, brush your teeth in the messiest way, and return to either schoolwork or some show before falling asleep, usually at your desk or on your bed in front of your computer.

He certainly was not proud of how you would excite him in ways other women just… couldn’t. It was on one of his more irritable nights that he focused all of his attention on you. You were just watching a movie, nothing too crazy. Even so, Jin’s skin was set ablaze at the way your floral underwear was poking out as you sat on your bed with your knees up. Without fully realizing it, he began palming himself through his sweatpants. 

He groaned out as you spread your knees to sit more comfortably. You leaned back and he could almost make out what your sex looked like. Your underwear was thin, so thin. You would surely soak through them if you let him have you.

“Y/n.” He breathed through clenched teeth as you stretched. You were goggling a little at the movie, taunting him almost. He cursed as his hand sped up, “Fuck, baby.” He moaned and when you simply gasped at something Jin could not see with his eyes screwed shut as he chased his high, he went over the edge. He moaned your name out like a disciple to his savior, like you were his light at the end of it all. The experience itself was nothing less than religious and an absolute breakthrough that Jin had been trying to avoid for a long time.

From then on, Jin had been watching you under a new lens. You were no longer a morbid curiosity of his, you were the object of all this affection he never felt such an immense need to release.

“What’s up, Jae?” You answered the phone after brushing your teeth, putting her on speaker, “A little early to be drinking, no?”

“Y/n, did you hear about the ArtCast scandal?!” You jumped at her volume as you applied your skincare products.

“ArtCast? I haven’t used the site since I signed up, what happened?” Jin tensed, already knowing what the female on the phone call meant.

“Get a new laptop, now!” Jaelin screeched and you looked at your phone with bewilderment, “They have been sharing user info and hacked into laptop cams for creeps to watch on the dark web!”

Jin hardly considered himself a creep. His actions were creepy, but he was not a creep, just a curious soul. He fought the urge to try and reason with you by finding your contact information. Although the idea was scrapped since that would certainly not help his case.

You rolled your eyes at this, “I doubt anyone wants to see me laze around and edit-” 

“THIS IS SERIOUS!” You flinched at this.

“And I seriously don’t have any money to get a whole new laptop and I kinda need my webcam for work so,” You looked dead at the camera, eyes boring into Seokjin’s form, “Hi Mr. Laptop Man, if you have some spare money my PayPal is-”

“WHY DON’T YOU ASK YOUR FAMILY? I’M NOT KIDDING.”

Your eye twitched, “Don’t yell at me.” You seethed, “If they won’t pay for my school or even a meal, what makes you think they would buy me a laptop?” The pain was terribly evident on your face and your lip quivered, “Face it, Jae, you took my place and you feel bad, so that’s the only reason you even talk to me.” 

“Y/n…” Her voice was softer this time and Jin watched a tear fall down your face and felt his heart clench. He didn’t care who your family was, all you would need is him soon enough. 

“And I appreciate it, even if it is pity-based, but don’t pretend like they care about me.” You huffed, wiping your tears, “Mr. Laptop Man must think I’m so dumb.” You scoffed and Jin noticed the way your features twisted from anger to pain and melancholy. There was evidently some deep-rooted pain when it came to your family

You were isolated from them. This past week, Jin gathered that you were eccentric and not afraid to make a fool of yourself or put yourself out there. He now understood it was because your family must have degraded you to such a degree, you eventually began to take it in stride. 

“Y/n, I didn’t mean to…” 

You frowned as Jin wondered why you felt any remorse for this person, “No, I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” You sighed and glanced at yourself in the mirror and poked at your eye bags, “I’ll catch you later, okay?” You closed your eyes, “Have fun on the trip. Give everyone a hug for me.”

“You could come-”

You clenched your fists against the counter, “Jae… don’t.” You breathed, “I’ll talk to you later.” You quipped before hanging up the phone, “Ugh, I probably sounded like such a bitch.” You combed your fingers through your hair, tugging at the roots slightly before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Your fingers slowly uncurled themselves and you robotically placed them at your sides, “No, none of that.”

It was evident that was a coping mechanism, a way to express your pain and insecurity. He imagined it was more than likely much worse before. This made his fist clench. Must he protect from everything, including yourself? 

He scoffed at himself. He didn’t even know where you were in the world. He was lucky that he even understood your native tongue. He was also lucky that you spoke Korean on occasions. This made the odds of you living even remotely near him better, but not definite.

Why was he even doing this? Why was he watching you and fantasizing about you when you had no idea who he was and he had no idea where you were? Suddenly, he felt terribly ridiculous. He had spent every night this past week just watching you without your consent, dreaming about you, and imagining this entire life with you.

With a heavy heart, he waited for you to be out of frame before exiting your stream. He effectively wiped it off the website, he figured it was the least he could do to atone for the hours he spent watching it.

Jin rubbed his hands over his hands in frustration. This sexual and romantic solitude seemed to be really getting to his head. Tomorrow was a new day and he had to seriously consider finding someone as perfect as you and fast. 

Or at least someone who could pretend was as perfect as you for a night.

The next morning went on as usual. He got up, went to work, and finally, attended school. His classes went on and eventually, he was in the courtyard with the same people as always. 

“Dove, would you hand me the water bottle?” Taehyung mused to his girlfriend as he laid his form between her legs as she sat on the table. She handed him the water bottle and he kissed her hand as he retrieved it from her.

Jin rolled his eyes as he sat next to her, “And just when I thought I couldn’t feel any lonelier.” He groaned out.

“It’ll come when you least expect it.” She turned to him with a short giggle, “Tae just swept me off my feet just like that.” She snapped to indicate how sudden.

“It’s all about timing, my friend,” Taehyung spoke blissfully as his girlfriend combed through his hair.

“Yeah, look at my little Odette and I.” Jimin nuzzled into the neck of his girlfriend.

“Not helping the whole loneliness feeling for Jin, babe.” She grunted as she pushed his head away, “But he is right, he found the right time to fuck my brains out and now it’s a forever thing.” Her crude language made Jimin smirk a bit.

“Same boat, Jin.” Yoongi sighed, “We’ll get there.” He spoke before putting his headphones back in.

Jin nodded, used to hearing and seeing the same things. He looked out around the campus before heaving himself off the table, “I’m gonna get a soda, anyone want anything from the vending machine?“ When everyone shook their heads, he headed out onto the path to the Arts building.

It was outside the building that he saw a large gathering of some freshman intro class. He shrugged it off until he heard an eerily familiar voice.

“Okay, so that puts the whole hand through the coke can effect to rest.” Your voice was playful and melodic, “Now, for my final act, pun intended.” Jin whipped his head around as you beamed among the genuinely entertained class, “The infamous stage kiss!” You proclaimed as a rustle came about the crowd, “Yes, mumble, mumble, groan, groan. I know, but it’s a basic skill and as an intro class, you need to know them.” 

Jin didn’t know if he was dreaming or not. Even if he was, he’d like for it to stay that way if it meant you were here. You were more than he imagined. You were all he could ever imagine for this past week. You were right there.

“Now, I need a volunteer.” A myriad of male and female hands went up much too enthusiastically for Jin’s taste. You chuckled, “Flattering, but I need someone above my age.” Hands went down, but not enough, “I will check ID, kids.” All the hands went down, but some unknown force made Jin’s hand go up, “I see one hand back there, so come on up!” You chirped and Jin made his way to the makeshift stage.

He found himself surprised for one of very few times in his life. What the fuck was going on? How were you here and in front of him? Was this even real?

To say your heart fell out of your mouth would be a gross understatement. Kim Seokjin was sauntering up to you, “Well, I don’t think you’re in this class.” You mused softly as he made his way to you.

He gave you a small wink and you would’ve squealed if you didn’t have self-respect, “Y/n, right?” He more so stated as he shook your hand.

You nodded with an evident gulp, “Kim Seokjin, our very own campus prince!” You clapped along with the rest of a suddenly envious class, “Okay so there are a couple ways to do a stage kiss. This can be done a couple different ways.” You explained and turned to Jin, “What is most important, though, is that your partner is comfortable with whatever you decide on, which goes for every aspect of life, my dears.” You winked at the crowd, “Now, are you okay with getting close to my face and me touching your face?” Jin smiled before nodding.

You were clearly in your element and it was mesmerizing. You had a passion for theatre and entertaining a crowd. This would be fine with Jin so long as the world knew it was his hand you’d be taking the moment you stepped off stage. You would give anything to be happy, this included your family’s support.

“Okay, so the typical way is the old fashioned way of covering your partner’s face with yours or vice versa.” You talked animatedly with your hands as your grasped Jin’s wrist and led him to the makeshift wall you had, “You have the regular kabedon way.” You moved to put his hand beside your hand, but Jin took initiative, making you jump, “A-And then the partner, or you, would close in at an angle and…BAM!” You giggled as Jin was brought to a halt leaning in, “A kiss.” You stared at Jin’s face for a while before breaking the spell with a sheepish smile, “Okay, so time is running thin, so, I’ll show you the thumb kiss.” You were so cheerful as you turned to Jin, “Now what you do is slide your hand behind their hair all romantic-like.” You went to bring your hand up to Jin’s face, but he took initiative making you jump as his hand cradled your face ever so softly, “And-uh- place your thumb on their mouth, and tilt ever so slightly, and…” You tilted your head up and Jin took this as the signal to bring his lips to yours softly, internally cursing his own thumb.

“BAM!” Jin chuckled, “A kiss.”

You giggled as you both broke away and Jin basked in the sound, “Alrighty, that’s our time! Thank you for being so responsive!” You beamed as the class dispersed with returning smiles. You turned to Jin, “And thank you, kind sir.” 

“I can be quite the thespian if you want me to.” He was flirting, he was just hoping you knew he was.

“Quit trying to make me blush.” You chided with a playful smile, “It’s a felony to make me flustered, it’s a whole mess.”

Jin felt like this was an out of body experience. He wanted to pinch himself just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming about you as he had this entire week. Everything felt so natural with you. There was no facade or fake laughter. There was just you and him.

“As penance for my crime, I’ll help you clean up.” He smiled as you and you gave him a toothy grin.

He helped you pack up your random props and insisted on giving you a ride home, “There’s no way I’m gonna let you ride the bus with all of this.” Jin was adamant.

“I really don’t live far, it’s why I don’t take my car most of the time.” You tried to reason.

“Which is why it’s no problem for me to drive you.” Jin shot back and you huffed, giving a pout he knew all too well.

“Promise you won’t turn out to be some murderer?” You spoke through puffed out lips that he wished to place his own on.

He smiled warmly at you, “Promise, although my jokes are killer.” 

You burst into a fit of melodious giggles as you shook your head, “Yeah, no way you’re a murderer, dork.”

The walk to his car was filled with stupid jokes and goofy laughing as if you had known each other for years. You basked in the warmth he provided you in such a short amount of time, and yet it far exceeded what your family supplied you. Maybe you didn’t have to get accustomed to loneliness if Jin was around. He made you feel valued, and you had heard he was kind, but you never knew just how kind. Was he like this with everyone? Or could he possibly like someone like you? Even just as a friend. At this rate, anything worked.

With this in mind, you turned to him, “So, are you gonna tell me how you knew who I was?” 

“Well, that’s a loaded question.” Jin sighed out, debating on telling you some semblance of the truth, “Have you heard of the ArtCast scandal?”

“Oh, yeah, the whole thing with- Oh no.” You stopped walking, “Are you telling me that-”

“It’s a long story.” Jin smiled sheepishly at you, “I didn’t see anything intrusive or anything but-”

There was a lot to unpack in that exchange. On one hand, Jin had seen you in your most private area of existence, but you were never quite good at being angry about things. At the end of the day, you felt like it was your fault you were on there and you doubted Jin made a habit of dark web encounters. You reminded yourself he was a computer science major… or was it computer security? You’d really hate to make things awkward by being angry. Even so, were you angry? Were you this starved for a companion?

He stopped when you began laughing, “Man, I need to read User Agreements, that’s embarrassing.” You shrugged and Jin was taken aback by your calmness, “You must think I’m such a dweeb.”

“You’re not… creeped out?” Jin sped up to catch up to you.

You just offered a shrug, “All I do is cry and watch videos, so it’s not a big deal.” You chortled, “No use in dwelling on it, I got enough to dwell on.”

Jin felt a huge weight lift off of his chest as you went along your merry way with him. On one hand, you had no self-preservation skills, but you also had no hatred in your heart for anyone. This was enough to keep him tethered to you, and no longer the idea of you. You were nothing like him with your rose-colored glasses that you viewed the world with. You were much too delicate of a flower to be alone, vulnerable.

“You are one of a kind, y/n.” Jin mused and you felt your face heat.

“As are you, Seokjin.” Jin caught the extra skip in your step, “I’d like to see more of you.”

“And I, you.” Jin winked at you.

—-

When Jin pulled into your apartment complex he shuddered at the architecture, or lack thereof, “Terrible isn’t it?” You hummed.

“It's… not that bad…” Jin gave you an uneasy smile and you rolled your eyes, “Close to campus…”

“Well excuse me, sugar daddy, not all of us can afford a high rise.” You stuck your tongue out at him, but he was too focused on how inviting your mouth looked to him.

“Stick your tongue out like that,” He leaned closer to you in a half-joking manner, “And I’ll bite it.” He threatened, which only furthered your grin and made your nerves come alive.

“Kinky.” You leaned closer to him and suddenly the atmosphere in the car became much heavier with your tone, and Jin went to grasp your chin, the heat that pooled in between your legs when he did so made you gasp softly, “I dig it.” You breathed and that was all it took for Jin’s resolve to break.

Before he could make the move, you smashed your lips onto his. He responded immediately, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you closer. The kiss was everything either of you could have wanted despite how unbelievably sloppy it was. Your tongues soon intertwined and Jin went to your waist to pull you from the passenger seat to his lap. Somehow, you managed to do so despite the difficulty that came with keeping your lips connected while you did so.

“Your lips are so fucking soft.” You hummed against his mouth before going to his neck, “Your skin too.” You smiled against it.

He groaned when you began to shyly suck on top of his jugular, “Fuck, good girl.” He moaned out before you ground your hips against his at the praise. He then grasped the back of your hair, accidentally pulling a little harder than intended to bring your face back to his. He was ready to apologize until you moaned at the sensation, throwing your head back.

“Shit.” You moaned when he placed his plush lips on your neck, sucking hard, “You’re gonna leave a mark-ah!” You bit your lip when he sucked at your sensitive spot.

“Good.” He grunted and you only ground against him harder, “Fuck, you’re really testing me.”

“I live right there.” You panted as he pressed you against him, his hands grabbing at your waist.

“But your stuff.” He noted as he sucked on your neck.

“I’ll get it tomorrow morning?” You spoke softly, more shy, trying to ask him to stay the night without asking, “It’s been ages since I’ve had good dick.” You groaned.

“And why’s that, sweetheart?” Jin was domineering and it made your thighs clench.

“Nobody’s been worth my time.” You smirked as he gripped your hip, much to your delight and you giggled at this, “Okay, maybe that’s a lie and I just want you to think I’m desirable.”

Jin smiled at this as he unlocked his car, “I already desire you, baby.” You shuddered at this. You move to get out of the car, but Jin took the initiative to move the both of you. You should’ve been more embarrassed than you were about your legs being wrapped around a man you had only met properly that day as he carried you into your apartment while whispering the R-Rated version of sweet nothings in your ear.

You handed him the key, and the moment the door shut you were up against the wall in an instant. You weren’t shy about the continuous moans and groans he ripped for your throat with the way his hand cupped your sex and began ministrations. 

Jin reveled in the sound you made, only bolstering the unyielding need he felt for you. He had pictured this moment for so long and here you were, legs wrapped around him as he stumbled from wall to wall to get to your bedroom with one hand inside your panties.

You didn’t even think to ask how he knew where your bedroom was when you passed the threshold because if the way his fingers slipped inside proved to demand your attention more. He laid you down on the bed and you scrambled to your knees to unbuckle his belt as he stood over you. He let out a low groan when your tongue made a stripe along the base. You had to admit that his dick was quite beautiful and thankfully clean. Granted, you’ve seen some nice dick, but he was so well kept and soft and everything you were happy to put your mouth on.

His hand grabbed ahold of your hair and you moaned with your mouth full when he took control of you by tugging your hair. You had always liked it rough, and it was like he was reading your mind. He was fucking your face in no time and your thighs clenched in an attempt to alleviate the ache that only he could satisfy. He eventually pulled you off him and he left your mouth with a satisfying pop. 

He stared down at you, hair messy, drool trailing down your chin, and eyes captivating with a carnal want. The sight could absolutely make him cum if he concentrated hard enough. He gave you a teasing glance as his slender fingers took their time with his shirt and you stripped yourself of the dress you wore in an instant. By the time Jin was in view again, he dove at you, lips attaching to yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as you clutched him closer to your form and you took a moment to appreciate how fit he was. His plush lips trailed down your body while his soft hands reached behind you to remove your bra.

Jin pulled away to sit up and stare at you for a moment. You were under him, chest heaving, mouth open in want, and he looked at your body, breasts beyond what he imagined and he moaned when his hands ran over your body. His hands nearly ripped your underwear down your legs and he studied your pussy like a scholar. His fingers spread you and he groaned at how wet you were. His mouth engulfed you, tongue having ached to taste you for too long and the way you squirmed only spurred him further. He ate you up like a man starved. When his tongue went inside you, you swore you saw God. 

"Jin!” You gasped, body unable to squirm in his firm grip. If you hadn’t been feeling so good, you would swear he was eating you out more for his sake than yours. You couldn’t even form words, only his name would come out of your mouth, and this was only aided when one of his hands went up to squeeze your nipple. His other hand went to stretch you with three fingers as air flooded your lungs in a dizzy of lust, “Fuck me!” You finally gasped out and that was all the prodding he needed.

Next time he would have to make you beg, take his time, drive you mad, but right now, he needed to feel you around him. 

Jin plunged into you and you were immediately fucked out. The pain was delicious and you wanted more. He began to thrust slowly at first until your hips began to spasm, “Harder,” You moaned, “Please fuck me hard.” You begged and something in Jin just snapped.

“Who?” He slammed into you as you groaned in delight, “Who do you want to fuck you hard, hm?”

You took his hand and placed it around your neck, “You, Sir, please.” You batted your eyelashes at him and that was it, “I want you to fuck your cum into me.” He was a weak man for you. This much was solidified when he expertly slammed into you as he squeezed your neck intermittently. Strangled moans came from you until the hand holding his wrist squeezed and Jin let go of your neck to hear you scream for him as you came.

You didn’t disappoint as your back arched and eyes rolled back. The erotic image paired with the way you clenched around him only pushed him over the edge as he came, hips stuttering as you both rode out your respective highs. 

You hardly remember him cleaning you up, what mattered most to you was the way he held you through the night. 

You woke up to an empty bed and sighed out, figuring he was gone. Maybe this is your punishment for never making the guy wait like your mother said to. You huffed as your feet made contact with the floor and you flinched in pain, understandably sore.

You paused when you heard a sizzling. Jin was cooking. He was awfully comfortable in a home he had rarely seen and never been in, right? You stopped yourself for a moment.

You really fucked your hot stalker, didn’t you?

You audibly laughed. Your life was a fucking joke. Were you this desperate for attention to overlook the fact that this man had looked through the lens of your laptop long enough and hard enough to know the layout of your apartment. 

You sure were.

You shook your head in exasperation as you headed out of the room where you encountered Jin in your kitchen, cooking eggs and he gave you a small smile. You returned if despite the conclusion you came to.

You certainly did fuck your insanely hot stalker.

“You know Jin, I don’t think you were completely honest with me earlier.” You mused, not bothering to look at him for a response, “It seems you encountering my little stream wasn’t as casual as you say.”

Jin froze for a moment. You weren’t an idiot. He knew it wouldn’t take you long to organize your thoughts and see the truth. Not that he planned to omit the full truth for long. He had just been hoping you were in love with him before it came out. He could only hope the orgasms brought you at least a quarter of the way there “Why do you think that, baby?” He spoke slowly as he used the plastic spatula to move the yolk.

“Call it a hunch, but I don’t think anyone is that passionate fucking someone they just met.” You spoke listlessly, “I don’t mean to sound vain, but are you obsessed with me?" 

Jin let out a short laugh, "The short answer is yes, but before you kick me out,” He turned the stove off as he placed the cooked eggs on a plate before turning to you, fingertips drumming on the counter, “Why don’t we eat a bit while I make you a proposition?”

The smart answer would be no. The smart choice would be to kick him out, an idea you hadn’t considered until he said it. However, you were known for your charisma much more than your intelligence. With that, you sat down at your table and Jin smiled in relief ever so slightly. It almost made you wonder if he knew you weren’t going to kick him out at all.

“Who am I to say no to free food?” You hummed as Jin opened your silverware drawer without even needing to ask you, almost as if he had obsessively watched you go about your daily life for a week.

He handed you the fork as he sat next to you. You took a bite of the perfectly scrambled eggs because of course, they were perfect. 

He watched you eat with an emotion you hadn’t seen before. He could tell you were confused, and he wanted so badly to tell you it was adoration. The swine you were surrounded by had been to idiotic to appreciate what they had. Even just watching you was a gift nobody deserved.

“So this proposition?” You mumbled as you chewed lightly.

Jin snapped out of his trance, “Ah, yes.” He straightened his posture and rolled his shoulders like a true businessman as you watched his mouth settle into a confident smirk, one slightly different than the one he held whilst holding your legs open mere hours ago. The memory almost made you want to forego the offer and proceed with another round instead. Never in your life had anyone made you feel so wanted, “I would like for you to be my… companion.” He snapped you from your thoughts and considered the word for a moment before speaking again, “I find the word girlfriend to be too casual for what I would like our arrangement to be.”

You shifted a bit in your seat, unsure what the word companion even meant to him, “And what arrangement would that be?” You took another bite, trying to avoid his intimidating aura.

“One of a romantic variety.” You nearly choked on the food, “I suppose the end goal is for you to be my wife.” This time you did choke on the food. Your windpipe had welcomed the egg but Jin was quick to pat you on the back as you coughed, “I was just about to say I’d like to grow old with you, and here you are, almost killing yourself.” He chided as he pushed a cup of water your way and he waited for you to put the cup down before proceeding, “Essentially, I love you, and I’d like for you to commit to being with me and eventually loving me back as we go through life together.”

Your eyes were wide as you looked past Jin, trying to avoid eye contact. Had anyone ever really loved you? Your parents, maybe. However, she was required to by society. Jin had no obligation to feel anything for you and yet here he was, making you food and offering you the love and attention you craved.

You felt your face heat at his nonchalant confession of love and yet your heart was racing at his hand landed on top of yours. Your entire body was buzzing and you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or anticipation, “Well, w-what’s in it for me?” The question was shaky at best. You were willfully confused and unsure why you had been so ready to say yes without even hearing the benefits. 

Jin was evidently amused by your attempt to put on a disinterested front. You had never been a good liar. He loved that about you and thrived on your honesty, “For one, you’ll have a stable and consistent person in your life.” That one stung a bit which is why he wanted to get that out of the way first. He knew how lonely and isolated you were, “You’ll always have my support emotionally, physically, and financially.” You nodded, asking him to go on, “You’ll never have to worry about anything really, I find myself with an aching need to bend to your every whim.” You smiled sheepishly at this, “I can offer you a life of happiness, loyalty, security, and endless love.”

You didn’t realize how hard you had clutched his hand until you breathed out a released Jin from your clutches. He stroked the top of your hand in response, “And what’s required of me?”

Jin squeezed your hand for a moment, “Your love and affection.” He mused, “I want you to commit to being my lover- ah, that’s the word I had been looking for.” He lightly tapped his head, “You make me woefully absentminded.” He chided and you felt your heart flutter, “All you ever have to do is look at only me as far as potential mates go. I can certainly promise to keep you interested.” A smirk played on the edge of his lips as his other hand stroked your knee, “You’re intoxicating and I could very well prove to be your drug of choice as well.” He spoke lowly and you almost shivered, “Your rules, for lack of a better word, would be to love me, and only me, and ideally, work at home for the most part.” This caught your attention, “Your passion seems to lie with screenwriting and editing with a dash of set design, yes?” He hardly waited for you to confirm, “So, you can do most of your work at home as is, on any other endeavors, I’d like to accompany you.” You nodded again, agreeing before your mind was fully made up, “I don’t like the idea of the outside world having free access to you.”

“Go figure, considering the outside world had paid access to me.” You chuckled before taking a breath after seeing Jin’s smile falter, “Anywho, I would be quite a fool to deny you.” You sighed out, “You paint a nice picture, especially to someone as isolated and affection-starved as myself. You seem to have made yourself the skeleton key to all the locked doors I’ve been faced with in my lifetime.” Jin smiled proudly at this, “Yeah, it’s creepy you got off to watching me and are literally obsessed, but if you look like this, have that much money, and can make me cum like that during our first time, who am I to say no to a life of comfort and happiness?" 

"Do you think you could love me?” Jin asked, confidence mostly gone and his eyes left with pure hope. For the first time, he didn’t know your answer.

You smiled at him, no doubt in your answer as you brought your hand to cup his cheek softly, “I certainly could.” You were softer this time, “But riddle me this…" 

"Anything.” His hand brushed over your own as your thumb stroked his cheek.

“Why do you love me?” He placed a kiss on the back of your hand after holding it.

He sighed dreamily, “I’m surrounded by people with the whole world in the palm of their hand.” He rubbed his face against your hand, “Some love it, some hate it, but they’re all the same.” You saw him grimace at the very thought of these people, “They lie and constantly pretend to be something they’re not.” He looked up to meet your eyes, “But you, are so unapologetic about who you are and what you love.” He cupped your face and you could feel yourself heat at his touch, “You’re honest and not afraid to feel despite everyone trying to get you to conform to their standards.” He smiled at you and you knew it was over, “I genuinely just want you in my life, and I want to be someone special to you as you are to me.”

You were shaken from the trance when you felt a tear slide down your cheek. Never in your life had anyone been so kind and supportive of you. He didn’t joke about how unlikely your career path was or give you a backhanded compliment. He was just a guy who wanted to be in your life and support you- and if overlooking his obsessive stint of his was what you had to do, then fuck it. He could’ve easily lied to you and you would’ve fallen for him none the wiser. What does you knowing about his obsession really change? It doesn’t make him love you any less and it doesn’t make you any less infatuated. You would be his and he would be yours because you both wanted it to be as such.

Jin’s hand brushed the tear off your cheek, “No need to worry, petal.” His voice was gentle, “Not anymore, not while I’m around.”

Your eyes glinted with hope and just a hint of trust when Jin met them again. You leaned in to kiss him softly, an affirming kiss. It was a kiss that said, “You better not be lying to me Kim Seokjin, I’ll go crazy.” You breathed the words against his mouth and he gave you a playful smile.

He gave you a kiss in return, reassuring the faith you decided to put in him. He would never disappoint you. His hand went to the back of your neck as he tilted your head upwards to pull you in deeper, “I’m so in love you.” He breathed on your mouth in return and you shivered, the feeling foreign to you.

“Well,” You huffed, catching your breath, “Do I get to live in your fancy penthouse now?” You gave me a carefree smile, and it sunk in that he was no longer forced to watch you through a screen. He could watch you all day. He had plans to do as much. He found he could prove his love best by merely looking at you. 

You really knew how to read him like a book. He noted how terribly naive you were. In a matter of 24 hours, you agreed to move in with a man who had spied on you like an animal starved. However, Jin only determined this as an exhibition of how meant to be the both of you were. A great playwright must have written your love story for the ages. 

The world looked much more beautiful with your hands on him. 

ko-fi

masterlist

[itzagothamcitysiren]

Welcome to the Family

Ah, I decided to just do it and post two chapters in one night. This chapter is I think the longest I wrote and I hope you guys like it, I’m trying to start to get Halley out there and out of her comfort zone without her changing character completely. 

Also, this story will start to take a somewhat darker turn, you could say after this chapter, I already swear a butt load in this I guess, but I mean more content wise? I like the darker  and grittier aspect of Gotham villains. I love the fun stuff like Joker and Riddler and stuff, but the disturbing and creepy bad guys they fight are my weakness lol.   

and just in case for anyone new, link to my masterlist is in my bio and I’ll also repost it here :) 

There’s a Web That You Have Wove pt.5

           The days dragged as Jason dug himself in a deeper hole with each passing day. He didn’t know what made him act the way he was acting, and he’d go as far as deny that something was wrong with him to begin with if asked. It was starting to really piss Halley off, who had appeared to be the one he was directing all his anger out on. She had no idea that going off to get food with a friend would make him act like a complete child, if she had she would’ve never gone.

           She tried talking to him about it on constant occasions, only to get his door slammed in her face, or a shoulder shoved as he brushed past her to get away. She was growing tired of it and hadn’t a clue what his problem was. It had gotten to the point where she was desperate enough to go vent to Kori about it, of course making her swear not to tell Dick. He’d only make it worse by marching down to the cave and demanding to know what was up.

           “And it was after the party he started acting this way?” Kori questioned for the third time after Halley finally finished ranting. She was surprised when Halley called her again, but excited to find out how her party went. She was even more surprised, amused even, at the girl’s boy issues, which the alien heard was basically a given with High School parties.

           “Yes and I have no idea why.” Halley huffed, laying on one of the love seats in one of the many sitting rooms throughout the manor. She wanted privacy while she talked to Kori, and went off into one of the wings of the manor they barely ever used. “I don’t understand. He just started acting so strangely all of sudden. I just want to know if I did something wrong but he won’t talk to me.”

           “You did do something wrong,” Kori’s voice chuckled in her normal perky voice. She thought the girl’s innocence was endearing and made her think back to when she was only a little bit older than Halley. Dick had been this way with her for a while, and being from Tamaran she was unaccustomed to such childish behavior.

           “I did?” Halley gasped, not understanding.

           Kori laughed again, holding her hand to her head, shifting on her bed to get more comfortable. This was going to take a while to explain. She loved the girl like a little sister and had hoped that she’d one day have the conversation about boys but she hadn’t expected having that phone call anytime soon. Halley reminded Kori of herself when she first found herself on Earth, a lost girl trying to learn about many of earth’s customs. What was the phase Dick used to use? Oh yeah, fish out of water, Kori remembered.

           “Well, you didn’t really but to him you did.” Kori nodded, as if it was obvious.

           “That makes no sense. What did I do but not do wrong?” Halley pressed, now sitting up straight. She felt a growing headache, it increasing as she saw the time on the wall clock across the room.

           “Dick used to do the same with me when we first started noticing our feelings for one another. He’d grown very jealous but when I confronted him about it he’d push me away, saying that I misread his actions.” Kori reminisced. She continued, “Jason was simply upset that you left the party with another boy. He wanted to spend time with you.”

           Halley gulped, trying to process her friend’s words. She didn’t have feelings for Jason and there was no way Jason had feelings for her. They were just friends and nothing more. Sure, she knew Jason could get a little jealous, but only over his stupid self-confidence issues and feeling subpar to her when it came to their night job. But there was no way Jason would get jealous over something so stupid. Her and Dylan were just friends and like her and Jason they were nothing more.

           “Jason’s the complete opposite of Dick though, there’s no way.” She insisted, holding the phone closer to her face.

           “Alright fine, don’t believe me.” Kori shrugged, leaning into her pillows. She perked her head up when she heard her door opening. Dick walked in, holding a couple of bags of take-out. “Oh speaking of Dick, I’m going to let you go Halley, Dick’s here with dinner. I’ll talk to you soon.”

           “I want to say hi,” Dick started, putting the food down.

           Halley heard him and quickly said how she had to go, telling Kori to tell him hi for her before hanging up. Dick would know something was up at the tone of her voice, especially after the thoughts Kori just put in her head and she doubted she’d be able to hide it. Letting the phone drop on the couch she let out a groan, falling back and letting her head hit against the armrest. With a roll of her eyes, she stood up and began heading to her room.

           Ever since the party and Jason ignoring her, she had been talking to Dylan more; but that was only because Jason was being weird. Maybe Kori was right, now that she thought about it. No, she shook her head, Jason did not like her like that. They were friends, just friends. Friends who’ve barely spoken all week, she huffed to herself as she reached the hallway that held her room. She had to get ready due to that plans she made with Dylan tonight. It was her first time going out with someone from Gotham that hadn’t been Jason or Dick, and she was anxious enough about it she didn’t need to be thinking about any of this right now.

           She’d never gone bowling before and Dylan had been shocked after bringing up how he hadn’t gone in a while. He had been excited because a group of his friends were all going and couldn’t stop talking about it in class the other day. He had been appalled when he found out she’d never been and insisted she come with them. She tried saying no, knowing that she’d be out of place with his friends, even though she’d never met them to judge if that would be true or not.

           They all went to Gotham Central High, one of the city’s public schools. Apparently Dylan had gotten into Gotham Academy last year after winning one of the Wayne Grants due to his grades. He was a good student and a good kid, it wasn’t like she doubted that his friends weren’t the same as well but she couldn’t help but feel like she was imposing on their time together. He said otherwise, saying how he’d mentioned her to them and they wanted to meet her. Way to make her even more nervous.

           She reached her room and made her way in. She could hear Jason inside of his, music blaring out from the speakers. She thought about inviting him but wasn’t in the mood to have a door slammed in her face. She had a feeling it’d be the same answer as the one her gave her at the party anyway so why even bother. If Jason wanted to sulk and be lonely in his room on a Friday night then so be it, she didn’t care.

           Going to her closet, she began to try and put something together, this time making sure not to make a mess like last weekend. Alfred hadn’t been too happy about the wreck of a closet she left and forgot about. She knew what bowling was and decided she wanted to dress comfortably. Pulling out a neat pair of black leggings first, she then grabbed her favorite plum colored sweater. The air was still slightly chilly out even for it being the end of spring, she still reached for her jean jacket just in case.

           As she finished dressing she heard her phone buzz from its spot on her bed. Reaching for it she saw it was Dylan texting her that he was outside. She sighed, trying to get her nerves together. If you told her this time last year that’d she be going out for pizza and bowling with kids her age she’d laugh right in your face, but yet, here she was about to go do just that.

           She replied back, saying she’d be right down. Stuffing her phone and wallet in the pocket that hid inside her jacket she slipped her shoes on before rushing out of the room. Closing the door, she turned to see Jason’s one more time. She thought about knocking, to let him know she’d be leaving but paused. There was no point in that, don’t be silly, she told herself.

           She rushed down the stairs, feeling bad for making Dylan wait any longer. She rushed past Bruce and Alfred as they were making their way out of Bruce’s personal study. She had asked if it was okay to go earlier and after a nod from Alfred, Bruce said it was fine, asking her to just be back in time for patrol, which she of course agreed too. She waved a flustered goodbye to the older men, wishing them a goodbye. They paused their conversation to watch her disappear down the hall.

           She jumped down the stairs, stopping once she reached the bottom. Straightening out her sweater and pulling at her jacket before she opened the door. She saw his car parked down the steps and smiled. Closing the door behind her, she made her way down to the car. They were meeting his friends at the bowling alley, so he was the only one in the car, making her feel a little pressure being taken off of herself. She opened the door and took a seat, giving him a soft smile.

           “Hi,” she said, moving to grab her seat belt.

           He smiled back, waiting for her to get fasten her seat belt before pulling off. He’d never been to Wayne Manor before and couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping when he first pulled up to the gate. He had to be buzzed in, making him gape at how someone could live at a place so fancy. How Halley managed to keep a level head while being the adoptive daughter of Bruce Wayne was beyond him, but he hoped she never did let it get to her head.

           The car ride was filled with them talking about their day, Halley avoiding the topic of Jason, after her friend brought him up. Dylan mentioned how he was surprised she didn’t ask to bring Jason along, noting how close the pair were and couldn’t help but notice how off they’d been acting this past week. Halley merely waved him off, saying Jason was busy and just stressed about school.  She still frowned though, thinking now that she should’ve invited him. She didn’t linger on it for too long, Dylan noting her change in mood and started talking about something else soon after.

           She couldn’t help but find herself comparing him to Jason at this point though, which was new. The thought never crossed her mind until now. Both boys were a lot alike but at the same time completely different. Dylan was a lot more open, in a way reminding her of Dick. He shared his feelings on things and always asked how she was doing. Whereas with Jason, she’d never seen someone so closed off with their feelings besides her. She never really knew how he was feeling and when she thought she did, she learned that she was still missing something. He also never had to ask her what was wrong, unlike Dylan, he just knew.

           The more she thought about it there weren’t that many similarities between the two besides the fact that she felt comfortable with them. She felt like she could let her guard down and start to act like a normal teenager even with the thought of her still wanting to be like a normal teenager still odd to her. The former assassin didn’t feel like a former assassin when she was in their company and it was nice.

           They reached the bowling alley some time later, the drive from the manor to the city taking at least thirty to forty-five minutes depending on traffic. She felt bad for making him drive so far out for her and apologized once it dawned on her. She insisted on giving him gas money but he denied it saying how he didn’t mind.

           He parked the car and began leading her towards the building with neon lights on the doors and a giant bowling pin outside of the building. Her eyes surveyed the building once they entered it, the bright red rugs catching her eyes along with the checkered tiles down near the actual bowling alley. She noted how there was a snack bar and also an area for an arcade. She’d been to an arcade once, with Wally and Dick. It’d been really fun and hoped she’d have a chance to go over there before the night ended.

           She noted that the room was loud, music playing, but it was completely different from the music played at the party. She actually didn’t mind this. And it was crowded but again not like the party. She didn’t feel annoyed or claustrophobic, just curious.

           Halley looked up as Dylan’s friends came into sight, him calling out to them and ushering her quickly over. They all sat around a table, laughing and joking with one another, immersed in whatever topic they were talking about. Once they reached the table, Dylan motioned to Halley after greeting his friends. “Guys, this is my friend Halley,”

           They all waved at her as Dylan proceeded to introduce them each at a time. First he pointed out to his friend Danny, a dark skinned boy wearing a grey beanie and black and red flannel shirt. She noted the Batman logo on his shirt and smirked. She remembered Dylan mentioning him once before; they’d been best friends since they were little kids and Dylan spoke very fondly of him. Halley smiled back at him, giving him a shy wave.  Next he pointed to pale skinned boy wearing some sports team jersey. He introduced himself as Colton and following him was another guy named Max, another light skinned boy with long brown hair, whose nose was buried in a handheld gaming device.

           She greeted them each, noting how Dylan failed to mention that they were all guys. She didn’t have anything against them being all guys, she was the only girl in her household currently anyway so she was used to it. She just assumed there’d be another girl there for whatever reason. Her fears of being out of place striking back at her again as she looked between them all, after giving them all a smile and a wave.

           “So we already got our shoes and a lane, just waiting for you to finally show up.” Colton said, motioning to the lane that stood behind the table and down the steps. Dylan nodded, taking Halley to go pick out a pair of shoes and a ball.

           It took her a two tries to get shoes that fit, feeling sheepish as she got her size wrong. The shoes fit looser than normal shoes but Dylan just laughed and said it was okay. Once she grabbed a ball that felt like it was okay in weight, she followed Dylan back to his friends. They started just as they arrived, letting Halley go first since it was her first time. Eyes wide, she nearly begged for someone else to go before her so she could watch, not ready to completely embarrass herself yet. Danny chuckled, saying how he told Colton that they shouldn’t have wrote her name in first. He offered to switch places with her, and she thankful agreed.

           She watched, trying to learn as quickly as she could, as he walked up to the line separating the floor from the alley. The dark skinned boy took aim, letting the ball roll out of his grasp. She watched the ball reel down the alley, hitting the pins in seconds. He knocked down a good amount, only two pins standing by the end of his second turn.

           Halley felt butterflies in her stomach as it was her turn. Walking up to the conveyor belt of balls she picked up the one she chosen.  Inserting her fingers into the holes, she walked over to the line like Danny had. She was a master marksman, she could easily hit those pins. Biting the inside of her cheek, she aimed and threw the ball. She gasped as the ball felt like it was going to pull her fingers out of their sockets. She gasped again as the ball landed on the shiny wood floors with a loud thunk before rolling right into the gutter. She watched as the ball slowly rolled right past the pins and disappeared.

           She turned around with red cheeks. Looking at Dylan in a loss for words she let out a laugh. The boys joined in, Colton cackling about how bad that was. She felt a little bit better, reaching for the ball as it reappeared on the belt. Dylan stood up offering to help her this time, telling her to not basically chuck the ball, and she should be good. She nodded, lining up the shot again, this time going easy as she tossed the ball more gently this time.

            Halley watched as it made contact with the pins. She didn’t hit that many but she didn’t get what they called a gutter ball, which she was satisfied with. In fact, she was quite satisfied overall with her performance all night. She wasn’t great in no means but that first gutter ball had been her last at least and she’d been making progress throughout the night. And she didn’t really care about her bowling skills as she ended up enjoying herself regardless. It turns out she was right about Dylan’s friends, they were great. Colton was a little rough around the edges, a little too cocky for her tastes but she loved how Danny was right there to shut him up.

           After they played a few rounds they made their way to the snack bar, ordering a pizza to share before heading over to the arcade. She had just finished playing the fruit ninja game, absolutely slaying, in Max’s words, when she felt her pocket vibrate. Excusing herself, she let Max take over her next turn and walked away from the group. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and cursed. It was almost eleven and she had a bunch of missed texts from Jason. She’d taken off her jacket while she was bowling and only now had just put it back on when they reached the arcade.

           -B wants to know if you’re on your way home.

           -Yo?

           -We’re leaving soon. Alfred’s now worried, good job dork.

           -He’s not happy

           -By ‘he’ I mean Alfred. And Bruce too…

           -Alfred’s about to leave to go get you

           -You’re in so much trouble, hope you’re new boyfriend was worth it

           “Shit,” she cursed reading through the texts quickly. She winced at the last one; Jason was totally jealous. Her heart thumped faster as she looked back at the group. The time had gone by so fast she had only felt like she’d been there for an hour or two. She moved to step outside to call Jason and let him know she was alright and sorry. The cold spring air hit her in the face and she placed a hand in her pocket as she heard the phone start to dial. She moved out of the way of the main doorway, stepping closer to the edge of the building to give the people walking into and out of the bowling alley space to move.

           Jason’s voicemail greeted her and she hung up, moving to text him instead. They must’ve already been on patrol. She opened up her messenger app and began rapidly typing. She’d have to call Alfred after this, apologize for making him drive out here this late.

           As she was about to hit send the sound of feet scuffling and a sharp cry reached her ears. She walked forward, not stopping until she reached the corner of the building and came face to face with the alleyway. Peering down, she had to squint due to the dark, but nevertheless made out two figures struggling for dominance. Putting the phone in her pocket she crept in get a closer look, now in full work mode.

           Once she was closer she got a clearer image of what was happening. A woman struggled to get out of the grasp of a man. The man held a knife to her neck while the other was grasping towards her chest. His face was hidden as he kissed up her neck, ignoring the woman’s blubbering for him to stop.

           “Hey!” Halley curtly yelled, venom dripping out of her mouth as she made her presence known.

           The woman’s eyes darted to hers almost thankfully but then scared again. Halley just looked like any other fifteen year old, she didn’t look intimidating right now. The man thought so too, letting out a laugh as he raised his head to look at the intruder. Halley took a step back once his face was raised, hand instinctively reaching for where her knives would’ve been, if she was wearing her damned uniform. Just as she felt her phone starting to vibrate again she locked eyes with none other than the man she’d faced only a week ago, Victor Zsasz.

[okaytimeswithscar]

sick and tired of trying

want a fic where i project on ex so hard he cries? no? too bad im posting it anyway

also available on ao3

trigger warnings: panic attacks, implied self harm, implied suicidal thoughts, past violence

Ex heaved for breath as he ran through the shopping district, weaving between the colorful shops and glancing behind him at the absolute horde of hostile mobs that were chasing him. Honestly, would it kill these hermits to light up their builds for once? Screeching to a halt outside of iTrade, he all but threw himself into the nether portal, holding his breath as he was transported between dimensions.

Stumbling out on the other side, he fumbled for the switch on his helmet that would let him breathe nether air as he tripped over his own feet and fell onto the dark glass floor. Finally managing to hit the switch, he had a minor coughing fit before figuring out how to breathe again.

Ex pulled himself up off the ground, leaning on the portal frame for support. As he did, pain shot through his ribs, and he winced. Oh, yeah, not supposed to exercise in a binder. Forgot about that. Well, it wasn't as if he really had a choice anyway - it was either "run like hell" or "get brutally murdered by monsters", and Ex didn't fancy losing his gear and ending up wherever he'd slept last again.

Sighing, Ex glanced around the empty nether hub, trying to decide where he wanted to go. Xisuma's base was a definite no - his relationship with his brother was still very strained, with X only having unbanned him fairly recently. Ex didn't particularly want to interact with any hermits at the moment, for that matter. He'd been feeling awfully self-conscious all day, like every person who so much as looked in his general direction was judging him.

Deciding the best course of action was to find a place nobody but him (and X, but he was likely busy with other things) enjoyed being in, Ex headed for the portal that would put him closest to the nearest stronghold. This time, he switched the settings on his helmet before going through, resulting in a much smoother exit as he came out in the overworld.

Ex's mind wandered as he slowly made his way towards the stronghold, going over everthing that had happened since X had been convinced to unban him around two months prior. Most of the hermits hadn't seemed bothered by his return (if they were, they sure weren't saying so) and some seemed... far less than bothered.

At first, Ex had been kind of annoyed by their attempts to befriend him. However, he'd ended up developing a soft spot for several of them; Stress, Zedaph, and Grian being a few of the lucky ones. Keralis and Bdubs had even managed to convince him to build a house in the aptly named "New Guy Village", and even if his building skills were subpar and he was barely around - preferring to explore and sleep wherever he found himself - they seemed content with him just trying.

Of course, you can't mention hermits trying to befriend Ex without talking about Joe, who was the reason he was even here in the first place, having smooth-talked X into unbanning him entirely on his own with several hours worth of vaugely threatening, philosophical poetry. Ex asked him why on several occasions, but Joe only answered with cryptic prose that Ex didn't get anything out of except that Joe though he "deserved a second chance, a chance to change, a chance to try again."

Entering the stronghold didn't startle Ex from his musings, though he did briefly remark to himself that the hermits seemed to have remembered that torches existed while fixing up the stronghold. He stepped through the portal and came out on a cobblestone platform, hitting the buttons that detached his helmet and pulling it off. He breathed deeply, enjoying the crisp coldness of the End, a stark contrast to the slightly stale air his helmet filtered for him. He began to walk across the precarious cobblestone path to the main island, slipping back into his thoughts as he sat down with his back against one of the obsidian pillars.

Ex pondered for what seemed like the millionth time about his name. Ex, short for Evil Xisuma, was... not his favorite way to be addressed. He disliked being written off as just an "evil" version of his brother. He'd had his own name, a while back, but thinking about that one felt even worse than being Ex. He'd tried to think of new names for himself, but none ever seemed to fit, and he doubted he could get anyone to stop calling him Ex anyway. He hated being labeled as evil no matter what, even if nobody truly meant it that way anymore.

He'd never really wanted to hurt anyone. He felt abandoned, bitter at being left out of everything, so he lashed out at anyone who he could. Everything hurt, and he bottled it up, but it all had to explode eventually. Ex knew he had been out of control, destroying everything indiscriminately as he raged on. He knew X had to stop him somehow. It didn't stop it from hurting when his own brother, his younger twin who he'd looked out for and loved all his life, faced him down and banished him to the void right at the beginning of this new season.

Everyone knew this reasoning. Everyone knew it hurt X to do that too, to be suddenly alone and without his older twin for the first time in a very long time. And now, everyone knew Ex was trying. Trying not to lose control again. Trying to make up for the things he'd done. Trying to let others in. Trying to change, trying to fix it trying trying trying. Ex was so sick and tired of trying. It was all he could do, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to atone, it wasn't enough to participate, it wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough, and his stupid ribs hurt, and his eyes stung but he wasn't going to cry, he wasn't, but that wasn't enough either and Ex curled up into a ball next to the obsidian pillar and he couldn't breathe, his chest was tight and it hurt, but he wasn't going to look at himself right now, he couldn't handle it, the emptiness of the void was right there, calling him, he couldn't do this, he couldn't do this, he dug his nails into his arms, the wounds there still far too fresh, it hurt but he didn't care anymore, it was too much, not enough, too much-

-and suddenly Ex was sobbing into someone's shoulder, and someone was holding him tightly, and someone was whispering to him but he couldn't understand them, and he tried to scratch at his arms but someone held him so he couldn't, and he couldn't stop crying but they just held on, and they whispered again and Ex could hear them, just barely, but who was it, who was here-

"Ex, ex, hey, hey. Hold on. You're okay. It's okay, you're okay." -Joe, that was Joe. Joe was here and Ex let some tension go and wrapped his arms around him and cried, but Joe just whispered that he was okay, that it was gonna be okay. Ex relaxed into him, Joe leaning up against the pillar as they hugged, reassuring Ex as he slowly calmed. Ex pulled his head off Joe's shoulder, his eyes red and with tear stains running down his face. He pulled back from the hug, moving over slightly to sit next to Joe, still holding on to his arm. Joe simply let him, taking deep breaths as Ex unconsciously followed his example.

"...Joe?" Ex said quietly, his voice hoarse from sobbing.

"Yes, Ex?" Joe replied just as quietly, sounding concerned.

"...thank you. For everything, I mean. Letting me come back, and being my friend, and this..." Ex turned away from Joe, but still didn't let go of his arm.

"It isn't a problem. I believe that everyone deserves another chance, including you, and by gosh I'm gonna get you one. That's the JoeHills Difference!" Ex giggled quietly, smiling slightly as he finally let go of Joe and stood up, Joe doing the same.

"Hey, what were you doing in the End anyway?"

"Oh, just collecting some obsidian in return for gracious compensation at the hands of one X-I-Zumavoid."

"He's... paying you to mine obsidian?"

"Precisely! He seemingly needs a sizable amount, and has decided the wisest way to procure a large quantity would be to enlist as many individuals with a diamond deficiency as possible to obtain it for him."

"...I didn't really understand that, but okay."

"Would you be willing to assist me in this obsidian-aquiring venture?"

"I... sure."

Ex, still slightly confused, and still trying to wipe his eyes discreetly, followed as Joe, rambling on about something or other, strode towards a half-mined obsidian pillar. Ex grinned as he played along, pretending to understand the other man, and deciding that maybe, just maybe, this was enough for now.

[seeaddywrite]

for prompts, something in the same world as your vampire au maybe??

if you wanna, send me prompts? 

tbh, nonny, when i got this prompt i honestly didn’t think i was going to be able to fill it because i have so much of the vamp au flushed out in my head, well beyond the original fic, & it felt weird to only share a snippet! but then i got hit with this idea, & got only knows how long it’ll take me to get around to writing everything i want to in this ‘verse, sooo. 

context: this is set in a future fic from the vamp AU. jesse’s still around, causing problems, & alex is stressed. & even though michael’s been pretty firm in accepting alex for who - & what - he is, alex’s greatest fear is still losing what’s left of his humanity. thus…

warnings: graphic descriptions of blood/blood drinking, dark alex, nightmares

“Alex, come on,” Guerin is pleading, trapped somewhere behind him in the trap Jesse Manes set for them, but Alex is too far gone to care. He’s got the scent of blood in his nose and a terrible hunger gnawing at his insides, and instinct cannot be denied.

In the space between heartbeats, Alex’s visage twists and reforms. His irises bleed crimson, and dark veins distort whatever humanity might remain in his expression. Fangs emerge from his veins in a sickening slide, and Alex doesn’t hesitate. He fists claw-like fingers in Jesse Manes’ short hair and yanks his head back to expose his throat, and faster than the mundane eye can track, he strikes. Blood spurts from the brutal wounds, and the warm liquid fills Alex’s mouth, beginning to slake his omnipresent thirst.

Even better than the relief is the fact that it is his traitorous father pinned beneath him, bleeding out under his fangs. Years of torture and abuse, of feeling subpar and subhuman, of fearing for his own life and Michael’s— it can all end now, in this moment.

It’s going to all end now, no matter how Michael pleads for him to stop, to see reason.

“Alex. Alex! Come on, stop,” Michael begs, his words increasingly desperate as time passes. “I know you want him dead, baby. I know. And I don’t blame you. But this isn’t the way. He’ll be dead, but this is going to fuck you up. Maybe it’ll feel good for a while, but eventually – shit, Alex, ask Max! He’s been trying to get over killing Noah since it happened, and he still can’t sleep through the night! I don’t want that for you. Not over that piece of shit. He’s not worth it.”

Michael’s words ring in the silence between them, but instead of helping, they only infuriate Alex further. Hasn’t Guerin gotten it yet? Regret and guilt are human emotions, and the only human in this place is the one bleeding out into the dirt. Alex snarls and yanks his fangs from enticing warmth of his father’s throat and turns, baring bloodied teeth in Michael’s direction. The horror on his face doesn’t matter, doesn’t feel like a slap in the face any longer – shame is another emotion lost to rage and animal instinct, and Alex doesn’t miss it.

“You can’t honestly think I’ve never killed anyone before,” he drawls, the words crisp and clear despite his protruding incisors. “I was in a war, Guerin. I’ve killed more people than you can imagine, and for fewer reasons than he’s given me. I’m no innocent.”

The speech is frighteningly logical, cold and detached in a way that Alex doubts Michael has ever seen from him. But he can’t maintain the illusion of nonchalance for long; Jesse twitches beneath his hands, and Alex growls, low and inhuman.

“Maybe not innocent,” Michael returns immediately, his words tripping over each other in his haste to get them out. “But you’re a good man, Alex. Everyone you’ve killed, it’s because you didn’t have a choice. Self-defense, to save your men, or me – I know you, Alex.”

Michael’s breathing is labored, Alex notes distractedly, eyes tracing the spiderwebbing of veins beneath the sun damaged skin of Jesse’s throat. Something’s wrong; he’s hurt. But still he doesn’t react, doesn’t move.

“He’s unconscious, and he can’t hurt anyone – least of all you and me. You don’t need to kill him, Alex. Please. Just … don’t do it. Just come over here and get these damn chains off of me, and we’ll leave together.” He swallows audibly, dry throat clicking in the ominous silence. “Please, Alex. Please. This isn’t you.”

Alex’s crimson eyes meet Michael’s head on, and he smiles a gruesome, rictus grin: “Yes, it is.”

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

Alex wakes choking on a scream, clutching at Michael’s warm body tightly enough to leave bruises, his beloved, sleep-muddled voice muttering soft reassurances against his ear. “It’s okay, it’s okay. We’re safe. Everything’s fine. We’re here in the cabin, just you and me. You’re safe.”  There are fingers in his hair, stroking down his spine, handling him like a frightened kitten, and Alex can’t bring himself to object.

Horror and abject terror of the version himself he saw in that dream has stolen his voice, so it’s easier to let Michael assume that it’s himself he’s scared for and accept the comfort of his arms than to try and explain. Alex presses his face into the humid space between Michael’s neck and shoulder and squeezes his eyes shut, begging for his mind to lose all memory of that nightmare before morning.

Sleep is long time in returning, that night.

[check out the rest of the vampire AU, if you’re so inclined :)]