#I'm thinking yellows will either focus too much on guessing and not enough on their task (when it's not one like martyn's which went

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

WOW

I am SO GLAD Martyn got his task especially because it was so difficult but WOW this episode was wild

Slay for the yellows for guessing Tango!!

But speaking of. . .

I know he wasn't the first to die, but other people started dying after Jimmy. . .

Anyway yeah this was INSANE

Loved it though xD

I'm going to love BigB's lol, based on Grian's chat ("B hasn't figured his out" "and I haven't figured B out" or something close to that xD)

Also I don't think they were all included in Martyn's video but I love that there was a line for the people who failed lol (if not literally, but they were all like "get in line" xD)

Lastly, the mob mentality of this season is getting kind of scary xd

[adobe-outdesign]

So what are your thoughts on the Frigibax line? Personally I’m... not too keen on them

While I'm admittedly not big on this line either, I will give Frigibax points for being hilariously dumpy. It looks like a rejected Muppet, and that does make it endearing right off the back.

Silly appearance aside, Frigibax is alright. The yellow accents pop nicely against the gray and the simple color palette works in its favor. I do, however, find the tiny diamond of ice by the mouth distracting. I guess its there because both of its evos have ice on them, but it doesn't fit with the rest of the design. I might find it less distracting if the underbelly wasn't there. I'm also not big on the quills; they're weirdly floppy and don't read as quills in the slightest.

Frigibax's inspiration becomes a lot clearer when it evolves. It's based off of Concavenator dinosaurs, who lived in the area of Spain in the past. This is why it has the quills on its hands, as well as the sail on its back:

Arctibax is considerably less goofy than Frigibax, but it does at least retain an interesting body shape, especially when taking the sail into account. I do question the quills being orange (I think they were trying to transition them into being red, but that raises the question of why they change to red to begin with) instead of just being yellow to match the eyes, but otherwise, it's fine.

I think this line's biggest problem is that it's not really clear what it's going for. It's a Convaenator, sure, and it's ice-type, but what's the visual focus? There's not really a single element that jumps out at me. The quills are brightly colored but ultimately incidental to the design. The sail is interesting, but is no more emphasized when it evolves (in fact, it's less emphasized). The ice-y areas feel fairly generic. If they had tried to integrate the ice idea into more of the key elements (for example, giving it a snowflake-like sail, or extremely long icicle quills) the design might have more of a "catch" to make it memorable.

Baxcalibur tries to add a bit of a theme by having a Godzilla thing going on with it, but A) we already have a Godzilla 'mon in the form of Tyranitar (not saying we can't have two, just that it doesn't stand out as a unique theme) and B) it doesn't do much with the idea other than having a similar body shape. Which, if anything, feels like a downgrade; I would've loved to see it retain a body shape more similar to the dinosaur it's based on, as we don't have many 'mons that look like that.

Visually, it's harmless enough, but there are a bunch of things in the design that don't work together. The red quills are okay, but they feel at odds with the yellow eyes (once again, why not just leave them yellow?), and throughout the line nothing interesting is done with them despite their visual emphasis aside from adding a quill for each evo. The shape of the quills kind of matches the ice areas on the face and sail, but the hexagonal areas don't fit with anything, and nothing matches the diamond shape on the back.

It also doesn't help that Baxcalibur is nearly as stiff as the old-school Godzilla suits it's based on. Sometimes an unfocused design can make up for it by having an interesting personality, similar to Frigibax up there, but Baxcalibur leaves no impression at all.

Also, side note: Baxcalbur's signature move, glaive rush, involves it flipping upside-down to attack opponents with its back sail, which totally looks cool and not completely ridiculous and improbable.

Anyway, overall: this line isn't terrible, but it mostly suffers from a lack of clear focus or direction. The designs are fairly generic and don't seem to have a single focus point, while the theme isn't clear until the last stage, and even then nothing is done with it. Could be worse, but could also be way better.

[accirax]

https://m.youtube.com/shorts/nomGD-7eyfA?si=3gqcD5LRBrRzwGD9

So which DC duo would you assign to each one? :3 You can name any or all of them.

alright, i'm going to challenge myself by not repeating any characters as well >:)

Moon & Sun

(thank youuuuu to the DC wiki for making it easier for me to find screenshots!)

a classic pairing to start us off. Aiden has kinda moon-colored eyes, while James is wearing a bright yellow shirt. Aiden is more introverted and "cool," while James is more extroverted and "bright." it may be basic, but it works really well! (<- that's a good summary of jaiden's relationship, honestly.

Coffee & Tea

well, this one was definitely inspired by Kristal canonically having a personal espresso machine, haha. but, i think it also makes sense. Kristal has to always be full of energy-- to the point it can cause her to crash-- while Oliver is the warm and calming force in her life. and, at the end of the day, they're more similar than they are different, wanting to make a good show not at the cost of their employees' health, ingredients steeped in water.

Water & Fire

also inspired by Riya having the fire powers in the superhero episode! even though Grett is the one who actually had the water powers. but, trust me, Connor has enough associations with water to pull this off. first of all, he makes perfume, which is water-based. he also throws that perfume into the water in that one scene where he sees how far Riya's fallen. oh god, and being in the deep water is Riya's greatest fear, too! both Connor and water bring out Riya's weaknesses, and thus she wants to stay as far away from them as possible. and he has a go-with-the-flow attitude befitting of water, too. i'd elaborate on Riya's associations with fire, too, but i think those are a bit better known because of the superhero episode already.

Monochrome & Colorful

Tess was actually my first thought of who could be monochrome, before i realized that Hunter is actually even moreso. i guess Ally just likes to surround herself in people who like to wear black and white. that's kind of befitting of the other aspect of this dynamic too, though-- Ally is colorful because she's always focused on a million things all the time, while Hunter (and Tess) are more monochrome in their singular focus on one thing. in Hunter's case, that's making sure that Ally is okay. and winning challenges, i guess.

Fall & Spring

alright, so the association on this one is Ashley is like Applejack -> Applejack is associated with apple bucking picking -> apple picking is a fall activity. and then, Will wears a green shirt, which is spring enough for me. also, Ashley was born in November, and Will in March! i didn't consciously remember that when i assigned them this pairing, but clearly i was on to something if ONC agrees with me.

Vintage & Futuristic

well, i didn't have much to go off of for vintage other than... old, so Miriam winds up on vintage with her hip and young son figure representing the futuristic. he was in the space episode, alright? and he's worn some kinda sci-fi/video game inspired outfits in the greetings! Jake is totally futuristic!!!

Blue Hour & Golden Hour

this was the closest i could get to "grumpy & sunshine," which Derek and Trevor absolutely are.

Salty & Sweet

you really can't argue that Ellie isn't salty. and it's hard to say that Gabby isn't sweet, either.

that was really fun! :D i'm curious to know if you had any thoughts on which pairings would go where, and if we had any in common.

[platonic-qpr-selfshipping]

Safeshiptember Day 2: Masquerade

Title: The night the Deer wished for a kiss from the Sun

Characters: Claude von Riegan, Helios (S/I)

Words: 1.9k

AO3 link: hehe I'm the link

Summary:

The mission was simple: if your possible future enemies invited you to a masquerade, you shall not go alone and only try your best at making it a useful night. War would start at any moment, that was a fact the monastery had witnessed already. So with perfect masks and Claude's plan, both Helios and him would play the nobles' game to try get some secret cards for the Golder Deer.

Without, of course, getting too caught up in intense feelings, right...?

“Are you sure you don’t want to choose someone else for this?” Helios asked, a bit hesitant to follow the plan. Yes, maybe wearing a suit was a rare yet gratifying sight but, to a masquerade full of nobles in disguise? That certainly sounded a bit too out of reach for someone who had grown up in the forests of Ordelia territory. Still, as they always did with their mischievous leader, they trusted his decisions. And they really wanted to continue doing so, but seeing Claude approaching them with a special mask made for the occasion… Oh, feeling out of place never seemed so probable. “Lorenz knows more about ballroom dancing, doesn’t he?”

“Do you want me to risk being scolded during the whole masquerade?” Claude joked and chuckled at his own words. He was wearing a gold deer mask already, its prominent horns reminding Helios of the strongest trees. “You are my greatest option, trust me. Plus, it’ll be fun,” he winked under his elegant disguise. “Let me help you with this.”

Helios only nodded. They had noticed the yellow mask Claude was holding so they waited in silence for him to do as he planned. When he got close enough, his fingers hid Helios’ long bangs behind their ears, right where the pink part of their darkish short hair started. And he gifted himself some time there; fixing some hairs that didn’t need to be fixed, quietly putting the mask in its place as if the littlest bit of rush could make the object break apart. It’s not like Helios noticed how he used it as an excuse to stand closer either way: they were too absorbed analyzing Claude’s clothing to even consider it.

Compared to their suit, Claude’s formal attire didn’t even seem from Fódlan. Did he secretly change it and didn’t wish for Lorenz to go because of that? The differences between their jackets, his thicker belt around his waist…

Well, it’s not like Helios knew much about nobility etiquette and stuff like that. Perhaps what they would call gracious would be a crime against fashion in Hilda’s eyes. With that thought in mind, they refrained from speaking a word about it and only then noticed the weight of the mask covering their features.

“How is it?” As soon as Helios asked, Caude’s hands went back to himself in a swift movement. “To be honest, I didn’t even check what the mask is of.”

Claude gladly answered with a gesture. He held their shoulders to turn Helios around, who had to blink twice at the new view. Out of the blue, only a deer and a sun existed in that room of light candles. Night was already embracing them, yet the sun design of Helios’ mask looked as bright as the star itself. Especially in Claude’s eyes.

Helios’ mouth opened in surprise. Maybe it was then, seeing their reflections on that mirror, that they realized Claude really wanted them for this mission. And Helios would do anything for their leader’s decisions.

“See? It’s perfect for you,” he spoke, his warm hands still holding Helios. However, their eyes went somewhere else for a second. They couldn’t afford to fluster when they needed to focus on the plan ahead. 

“Aren’t we supposed to hide under these, though? Why did you choose a golden deer mask? That’s quite….”

“Obvious?” he guessed the word, at which Helios hummed in affirmation. “That’s what they’ll also think. And sometimes, my dear Sun, becoming an easy target can be the crucial step to get the information we need.”

The unexpected nickname had an effect on Helios’ heartbeat. No, it was both that and the reflection on the mirror. Claude had gotten closer and closer as he spoke, his head menacing to rest on theirs now. They could follow the silhouette of his curls behind the mask and those green eyes that could shine though any ornament. A sigh escaped from their lips before Claude’s voice filled their heart with determination once more:

“Let’s go, Helios.”

Garreg Mach was as destroyed as ever. That may not have been the most accurate description as it came from someone who had barely spent two months there, but Claude could agree on it. The prediction of an inexorable war was written all over its broken windows and falling walls. Nevertheless, even in the middle of the political and material chaos, nobles had decided to hold a masquerade in the center of Fódlan. As if it were a goodbye letter to peace, a last opportunity to see others before circumstances obliged you to finish them off in the battlefield. Helios would never understand them, but they were smart enough to play along.

When the ballroom opened in front of them, Helios unconsciously straightened their back. By their side, Claude gave a quick look to everyone around them before deciding where to head first. There were quite a lot of guests, yet very few of them had chosen to leave their guards down and enjoy the music in what could be considered the dance floor. Helios followed Claude’s fast steps towards one of the tables. The food displayed on it seemed to have caught his attention, but just a moment later he was found analyzing the space again. There were masks Helios couldn’t decipher, just like Claude’s intentions.

They nudged him and Claude couldn’t help but smile when he saw the arm he was being offered.

“What? Want me all for yourself?” he whispered, his lips teasing in a smirk.

“I just don’t want you to disappear on me.”

“Even in the rare situation that something were to happen, I’m strong to get through it, you know?”

“Yeah, and we were asked to come unarmed while witnessing the start of a war with strangers whose skirts can hide plenty of dagues,” Helios replied, gazing upon the small groups of two or three people around the room. Everyone avoided being alone. “I have my reasons to worry, Deer.”

That sole argument seemed to have been enough: Claude’s mouth was shut once more. However, right when the musicians started to play a new song, he pulled his companion’s arm to bring them to the dance floor. 

“Those blue and grey masks,” he pointed out in a whisper, declaring the action had just started.

The person behind the grey mask was taller than their dance partner.  Although both face masks looked pretty bland, the blue one had some splashes of paint that could try to simulate explosions. Their sudden presence on the dance floor could have been a warning. When Claude held Helios’ hand to guide their steps, they returned the gesture by holding his a bit tighter.

They had talked about this phase before: prying could be considered one of Claude’s strong points while Helios’ main focus would be to maintain safety and not to attract too much attention. An enviable duo, but others would have their own strategies, too. They had barely looked at each other when the targets started to walk towards one of the balconies. 

No words were needed to adapt to this. Helios was suddenly going along with the spins Claude began as they slowly stepped out of the dance floor. While he guided them, Helios kept staring at the floor in an attempt to make sure they wouldn’t mess things up at this point. That’s why they didn’t see it coming when Claude pinned them against a wall.

“Clau–”

“Shh,” he hushed, eyes looking behind them. The access to the balcony was by their left, but he could also see those two dancers through the window by their right. Not Helios, though. Their peripheral vision was blocked by Claude’s arm. He hoped the broken glass of that huge window would help him get the gist of the others’ conversation.

So Helios just stayed there. Quietly, standing as calm as they could with Claude’s arm brushing their cheek and the shadow of his mask’s horns crowning their head.

They swallowed saliva. The mission had not ended yet.

Thus they tried to focus on their security again. That was Helios’ main priority, after all. All their attention went to other people’s gazes and movements, leaving none for whatever the targets were up to. They trusted Claude to take care of that.

Even though the only candelabra lamp light’s didn’t reach them as well in comparison to the rest of the ballroom, two figures suddenly put their attention on them and started to walk their way. Caude’s chin was up as the gears in his brain worked to confirm his hypothesis. Helios had to act quickly and on their own.

Without giving it a second thought, they grabbed Claude by the waist and pulled him towards them with one hand. They heard a low gasp coming from him as they pried over his shoulder. The possible intruders had decided to walk somewhere else and Claude’s warmth was so, so close.

Minutes went by and Helios did not loosen their grip.

“Claude? Did you find out anything useful?” they softly whispered, still in place. No answer was heard. They waited a bit in case the targets’ conversation was still going. “Claude…?” they repeated after a moment of silence, lowering even more the volume of their voice.

Still no answer. So Helios decided to move back a little, the little they could in that position between the wall and their leader's body. When they looked up at Claude, they found his green eyes staring back at them. He quickly looked back to the balcony, yet Helios stared a bit longer with confusion on their face. Both golden deers’ cheeks were getting warmer.

“Yes, uhm,” Claude rushed to speak again. “I don’t think the Kingdom will refuse to cooperate with us. Sounds like I can make a good use of some of their interests to convince them to work towards a common goal.”

“Good.” Interpreting those words as the mission ending, their hand left Claude’s waist and their shoulders relaxed a bit. However, he did not move an inch. He actually complained on the spot.

“Don’t–”, his voice went down when he continued. “Don’t let go just yet…”

“Huh?” the sound left Helios’ mouth in a breathe. And their hand, guided more by their heart than by their brain, slowly went its way up to Claude’s waist once more. They started to doubt if they had heard correctly. Was it, for some reason, another decision for the greater good of the whole masquerade plan? Or was it something he longed for behind the mission’s facade?

The feeling of Claude’s head on theirs dissipated Helios’ questions. The Sun bearer heard him sigh as his body melted a little on top of theirs. His big mask seemed to be no obstacle when he wanted to rest like that so badly.

“Are… Are you feeling alright?” they genuinely asked, trying their best to contain the fluttering feeling that refused to go away.

“Yes, I am.” Claude could feel words piling up in his throat until none of them could get out of that cave. Just as if there was no space for all those feelings inside of him, because they could not escape from his head and much less from his mouth. Music was still playing but his thoughts couldn’t dance to it right now. There was only one sentence his labyrinth of a heart managed to get out: “I’ve never been better.”

[marinedecoder]

Got some money from a relative, and acquired the RH girls that are tall, short, and/or curvy!

Forgot to get an in-box pic for Lilac in my excitement, lol. She's stunning. She really does feel taller than the others, even just in the box. Her hair has a really pretty blend of colours, and her little accessories are fun. Her box informs me she's a fashion focus, but I think maybe we've just gotten lazy and started labelling all the dolls that, since it also claims the same for Blu and Pinkly (which sure is a name). Of the three, she's the one I most buy it for - textile scientist gal, working on improving the materials used at RH, or something.

I'm going to (eventually, once my degree is done lmao) make her a second outfit and a lab coat. Shocking lack of PPE on this girl, despite having a conical flask full of some unknown purple fluid on hand. I know RH can afford PPE, they're not run down like some of the labs I've studied in, no students using alcohol burners from the 70s in that place.

Speaking of, I'm genuinely delighted by her little science bits and bobs. Her notepad comes with a tiny pencil that's been squashed into her bag for fear of losing it to the cats here. Not the biggest fan of the switch to non-fabric bags, but I think we all knew the quality was winding down for RH when they stopped including second outfits. What can you do?

Picked up Pinkly and Blu today, having gotten Lilac back on Friday. I find the box displays they come with really cute for all three girls - they've got a bit more personality about them than your standard RH boxes, but still keep the lines style in mind. It's a fun change.

Pinkly first - and I really think she'd have benefited from a second outfit the most. I can't stand what she's wearing, and being one of the two curvy dolls she's not going to get her hips into your standard RH clothes I wouldn't think. Her accessories are fun enough - the camera phone and makeup put her more in line with being one of the influencer-style digital media students rather than the fashion focus ones, in my opinion. Her handbag is cute enough, though plastic again, and I could rave for days about how pretty I think her hair blend is. It's got this gorgeous mix of pink and a kind of vanilla yellow, giving her hair a berries and cream kind of look. It's lovely! What's not lovely is her horrid little "dog", Bubblegum:

This thing is a flesh homunculus. It's legs are incapable of bending in such a way that it resembles an actual dog, and it's body is shaped more like some kind of awful baby. It's head can't bend much, either. Think he's going to be swapped for a more appropriately real-ish dog at some point, but until then I guess he'll just live under the dollshouse bed or something, a grim reminder of the horrors of dog breeding gone too far. Or something.

Then there's Blu! Also not a fashion focus for me, I'm slam-dunking this girl alongside River in the "sports and performance" section of RH. Love her style, honestly. The cast is made in a really fun way where it sort of wraps around her arm, locking her wrist in place like a real cast would. Headphones seem to actually fit her head, too, which is nice. Hair is, as always, a lovely blend of colours, and I love the pop of red her lipstick gives her colour scheme.

The three together for a height/size comparison, and finally with Shanelle (please excuse her awful, half-braided hair style) for a comparison with one of the standard RH style dolls. Lilac seems to get most of her height from her limbs, and seems marginally slimmer, too. I will say there's definitely SOME height coming from her torso, but not much. Blue and Pinkly have some nice extra weight on their legs, and have sizable hips. Their chests are also shaped...a little oddly, to me? But I do understand that to a degree this is likely so they look better with their clothes on. I feel like it would have been nice for at least one of them to have some fat to their arms, possibly to their neck in some way, in all honesty. They have basically the same body shape, and for this line to be about body diversity it could have been improved a little in that way. I'm shaped...pretty much exactly like them - wide hips, butt, thighs, no thickness to my arms at all, more of an obvious tummy, but again I know that's to do with dressing them, but it still would have been nice for at least one of them to be more obviously fat in some ways.

Overall, I love them. Wish they came with more than they do, but the slime stuff was on route at this point, so... 🤷

[ariel-s-awesome]

Commander Peepers, love cute little evil bastards. Also I heavily relate to this nerd.

Lord Dominator, there's soooo much misogyny and demonizing women for not returning men's advances in her character. Literally ruined the show.

Friendship!

My artstyle is still heavily based on it. Also I learned about some writing mistakes to avoid.

The Funk! I love how it really showed Hater and Peepers' friendship. Also bonding over being horrible is funny.

The Toddler was kinda a weak episode. Not bad but...

The Eye on the Skullship! I love watchdogs so I was glad to see them get some focus!

There was literally nothing enjoyable about The Matchmaker. Not only was it incredibly heteronormative, but it established a pattern that twisted Wander and Sylvia's relationship and made it unhealthy. Sylvia was taught to ignore her own doubts and trust Wander without question. This was treated like a good thing. I also hate My Fair Hatey because as an aro (and someone who thought I was a girl at the time), it... literally broke my heart.

Sylvia's. The cyan and magenta with yellow and black accents is a really good look.

Ripov! She's soooo cool and I wish she got introduced far earlier. Maybe as part of the core cast instead of Dom. I'd love to see her and Sylvia bounce off each other. Directly related, I wish Captain Tim appeared more. He's such a large part of Hater's life, and his relationship with the watchdogs didn't get much focus.

Watchdogs by far.

Death Glare. Wouldn't want Peepers' obvious crush requited pre-character development and establishing a healthier (and far less toxic) friendship though. Btw I have no clue what Nomadic Heroes is.

Sylvia. She's my second favorite character and a pretty cool gal. ...And the only member of the main cast who isn't exhausting to be around.

The Skullship is super cool! And I'd love to see the watchdog homeworld... Can only interpolate what it's like from the Skullship's design and the watchdogs.

Peepers and Sylvia's gay/lesbian hostility and/or solidarity.

Yes. Most of them are prominent in season 2, although seeds were planted in season 1. I could write multiple essays. Most of them stem from misogyny and the distinctly Christian ideal of unconditional faith.

No one, I'm aro/ace. If I wasn't, Sylvia. Gotta admire cool buff women. I can also see Peepers' appeal, but he's horrible to be around and surely worse to date.

Mayo, the smell of mustard literally makes me gag.

The standard. And the variant in The Fancy Party.

Eh? Peepers', I guess? They're fun to draw.

Depends on the situation, I guess. And the hat's whims. I don't think it's what Wander hypes it up to be, just a traveling companion who tries their best and doesn't communicate well.

Looney Tunes, specifically with Marvin the Martian or Commander X-2. Either one of them could be a great friend and/or rival to Peepers'. Their respective universes would also mash up well.

Sylander. Please stop ruining a rare m/f friendship with heteronormativity/amanormativity... Men and women can be close friends. There's no such thing as people being too close to "just be friends."

Rhubarb, meringue is kinda tasteless.

That's How We'll Get Her. I love how they bounce off each other! And how it shows that while Peepers and Sylvia are both realists, Peepers is an optimist that starts with "what will it take to get to my end goal?", in contrast to Sylvia being a pessimist who defaults to "how can we salvage this situation?" Also we didn't get nearly enough of Peepers and Sylvia singing.

I already mentioned the one that made me boil with rage so here's a touching one: When Sylvia called out the Lords of Illumination for tormenting Wander.

Backstories, character development. They had a lot of good ideas but wasted time with that all-consuming love interest subplot.

Frankly? No. After season 2 it was a mercy kill. (And the whole Dominator thing, and tainting Wander's character by making him an infallible Space Jesus are not my only complaints.)

Peepers'! I don't remember the source but apparently a crew member said that they recorded Peepers singing The Commander Who Gave His Last Command. And they never released it??? A tragedy.

No. Being aro aside, he's just a cube. Honestly he's a meh character anyways.

Wander over Yonder Themed Asks!

[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part VII

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1864.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

________

You wanted to slap yourself. What the hell was wrong with you today? Why did you tell Peter that?!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” Completely baffled with you behavior, you were deeply ashamed, unable to look the guy in the eyes and wanting nothing but fall into the earth.

“Ah, I got it. It’s Steve, isn’t it?” All of a sudden, Peter let out an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes skywards and rubbing his neck. “Of course, who else would say such nonsense. Blackmail, really? Funny he didn’t call me a stalker or anything.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean it, I’m really-”

“It’s ok.” He closed the locker, slamming its door loudly and making you jump. “It’s not your fault. If I heard that from somebody, I’d be scared too.”

He spent a couple of seconds staring into the wall until he rubbed his neck again tiredly and huffed. It took him less than a minute to regain his composure, and you heard him murmuring, “What a freak.”

He didn't return to the corridor, heading to the sports hall for his PE class, instead moving to the bench in the locker room and motioning you to sit. Feeling terribly awkward, you hoped he wasn't going to do anything out of anger, even though he had every right to be upset at your stupid behavior.

"About what he said," Peter took a deep breath, "it's nothing like that. I don't dig up some nasty stuff in the web to blackmail people. I've never done it. The reason why Mr. I-am-better-than-you said that is because I've made him take me into his little bodyguard group when I heard him talking to Loki. You're nice, and I wanted to help. Of course, Steve started acting like I was some creep, so he refused, and I had to remind him that, technically, he had to report your issue to the administration, not play a hero. I said that if I go and tell the whole story to the dean, Steve's gonna be in trouble because he knew who thieves were and didn't report them."

It was a loud off your mind. Goodness. Rogers called this a blackmail? Really? Just because Peter pushed Steve into taking him into their group?

You were less and less sure Rogers was sane. You definitely had to be careful around him.

"I can't believe he called it a blackmail." You admitted quietly, and the guy sent you a tired smile. "Peter, I'm so, so sorry. It was so stupid of me."

"Nah, don't worry. I'd freak out too if I didn't know the whole story."

You knew your apologies weren't enough, but you hoped Peter didn't take it to heart - if you can take such an accusation easily, that is. Shit, shit, shit, why did you believe everything these guys were saying? You didn't even know them in the first place! Why on Earth did you go asking them their opinions on others if all of them were biased, and every guy could twist the truth the way he liked? You shouldn't have let their words affect you that much.

"Whatever. At least now you know what Rogers is like." Peter sent you a grim smile and got up, picking his bright yellow sackpack from the floor. "Shit, I gotta go if I don't wanna be late. Let's meet in a library later, alright?"

"O-of course." You hurriedly stood up and left the lockers room after him, turning to the library: your Lit class was cancelled, so you decided to go study right away. At this time, the library was usually full, and you felt safe there.

Your thoughts were all about the guys again even when you were staring at your laptop, trying to focus on Excel numbers. Why did you feel like the atmosphere between them was so dense? If they were at such terms with each other, why did they group together to help you? What, because all of them loved you so much? It was ridiculous. There was something else to it, and you didn't know. You had a feeling no one was going to tell you the truth until you figured it all out by yourself.

Weird. It was all so weird. Steve's plan, their behavior, the relationships between them, and your nagging feeling they all were hiding something. Was it them who were actually following you?

The thought scared you to the point you started shivering. Oh shit.

"Hi there," the guy appeared behind your back so suddenly you almost jumped, looking at him wide-eyed, "sorry, did I startle you?"

"H-hi Jake! No, it's ok, I was just... studying." Both of you were talking in hushed voices, knowing the librarian would kick you out immediately if she heard some noise. "How are you?"

"I'm great, how're you?" You could hear concern in his voice: he was one of Thor's friends you met yesterday, and although you spoke briefly, Thor definitely told him more about you. "You look a bit worried."

"Oh, it's Math, I didn't really understand the topic, and we're having an exam on Monday... guess I'll be studying the whole weekend." You gave him your best smile to reassure you were totally ok, and the guy relaxed a little, smiling at you, too.

"I'm sure you'll pass. Thor said you're very smart."

What, he said that to all of them? Was he simply boasting about his girlfriend to his friends or was there something more to it?

"You're too kind. Thank you."

His smile grew wider, and he landed on the next seat to yours, resting his hands on the table. Apparently, there was something he wanted to talk to you about, and you grew uneasy.

"Listen, about these incidents... Thor told us all about it, so if you see any freaks following you around, you can message any of us, and we'll come right away." Looking at his serious expression, his bushy brows furrowed, you hoped he eas being sincere with you: you had enough with people you could no longer trust. "And also... that kid, if he's giving you troubles or anything, just let me know, and I'll tell him to keep his hands to himself"

Oh, he was talking about Peter, wasn't he? He had probably seen that silly photo. Wow, you though, Peter was totally right about Instagram: it was the best news source in the academy.

Thanking him for his concern, you laughed a little, convincing him there was nothing serious except for the theft and promising to tell him if anything weird would be going on. While it should have made you feel safer, in fact, you only grew more frustrated with this situation. You wanted to forget about these freaks and just spend you day like any normal student would, but everywhere you went people were staring at you as if you had a horn; one boyfriend or the other was always close to protect you from some unknown danger, and although you believed they tried to help, you hated the feeling they were hiding something from you. Why did you have to be going through all this? Wasn't it really better to drop off school, spend a year working and then apply to a better place?

Thinking of the faces your parents would make once you returned home, you realized it wasn't. This school with all those creeps wasn't worse than home that never felt like a safe place you wanted to come back to. Besides, all money you saved up until now were only good for buying food and things like that: you'd never afford to rent a decent place unless you found a well-paid job. It meant staying with your parents, and it wouldn't be much better than here, just different. If you wanted to drop off, you had to find a good place to stay.

Well, you could at least try, right?

When Peter met you in the library, the two of you no longer talked about anything important, simply studying together to prepare for the exams next week. It didn't feel off: from time to time you met his gaze, and the both of you smiled. You were thankful he didn’t talk about Steve or other guys or that weirdo in the lockers room.

Once you returned home, you went straight to bed, completely exhausted. Luckily, you did much more than yesterday, so you could rest now, but then you thought of Thor kissing you and bit down the pillow, angry at yourself. Why did you keep thinking of him right now?

______________

When you woke up the next morning, you felt like something was off: your body ached, your throat hurt, and your headache was only making it worse. Dammit, you caught a cold, probably. And that’s when it was finally the day to meet Steve, the guy you thought was a mastermind behind all these manipulations that were making you sick to the core. 

Anyway, it’s not like a mere cold would prevent you from doing everything you had planned. You left your bed and went to the bathroom, moving the dresser before again. 

Honestly, it felt terrible. It was definitely because of that flimsy dress you wore to school yesterday when the weather was becoming chilly. Argh. Watching your puffy eyes and swollen nose, you sneezed. Today you had to apply way more makeup to look decently.

Steve showed up earlier than either Thor or Peter: you had to skip your breakfast, hoping to buy something cheap in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” He said with his everyday polite expression that soon shifted into a concerned one. “Are you alright?”

What, was it that bad? You did your absolute best to apply enough makeup and do your hair. Did you still look so sick?

“Good morning. Yes, I’m ok, just feeling a little sleepy.” You yawned on purpose, covering your mouth with your hand, and Steve’s face softened.

“Did you study all night?”

“Yep, exams are driving me a little crazy.”

“I understand. I also stayed late last night.”

Of course, the student council president studying all days long to be number one student in the academy. If you didn’t know of his twisted nature, you’d think he was the most typical nerd.

You spent most of the time either in silence or talking about studies, the academy, and everything related to it. Steve acted like a gentleman and a scholar, albeit a little too demonstratively. Walking with you as if he were a king of the place, he constantly replied to greetings of others, waved to his acquaintances and smiled. You felt so off you wanted to find Loki and walk with him: unlike Steve, he was considered unpleasant by the prevailing majority of students.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” America golden boy asked you for the last time, and you forced yourself to smile.

“Of course. Thanks for coming, see you later, Steve.”

As he finally left you in peace, you almost fell down into your chair, your fever only getting worse despite the fact you took some painkillers. It was going to be a long day.

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi @nectav @whatever-happened-to-the-ducks

[yunkiwii]

—potions gone wrong—

☆ hogwarts au ☆

pairing: bsf!hyunjin x gn!reader | ft. jeongin and mentions of minho

supportive oc: angela, female

genre: sfw. comedic and chaotic, may be considered fluff by some people

wc: 2.4k

warnings: hints of jealousy, mentions of illegal (magical world wise) actions, potion-induced obsession

a/n: i'm pretty sure that in the harry potter series amortentia doesn't work the way i described here, but let's just ignore that shall we? ♡

summary: two boys decide to make a love potion to conquer the crush of one of them. unfortunately, something seems to have gone wrong and y/n needs to step in..

shout out to: ficscafe prompt dialogue event ♡

↳ "I'll give you 20 bucks if you kiss me."

↳ "I don't think that's legal, but we can work around it."

↳ "Shut up, this isn't a wattpad fanfic"

Completely imersed in the pile of books you gathered in the library in order to try and understand more about potions, you get startled when a boy throws himself into the chair next to you, a yellow stripped tie hitting your head in the process.

"I'll give you 20 bucks if you kiss me."

"What? No!", you give him a disgusted and confused look before digging your head into the old dusty pages again.

"Come on!! Angela keeps coming to me trying to snuggle and kiss me and-", as dramatic as he is, Hyunjin pretends he is going to be sick, exaggerating on the nasty sounds way too close to your ear.

"What? Why?", your bestfriend finally caught your full attention as you turn to face him, "Wait, Angela as in like, Angela your major crush perfect-Angela? Weren't you supposed to like, I don't know, enjoy the attention?" But then the face he makes, his cheeks turning shades of pink as his gaze drifts away from you and he sinks down in his chair in embarrassment, realization hits you, "No! No you did not! Are you like what, dumb?", you flick is head inducing a loud squeal to come out his mouth.

"It was Jeongin's idea!", his voice three pitches higher than before, "And I can't be that dumb if I managed to make that stupid love potion work. But that's beside the point, will you do it or not?"

"Do what? Kiss you? And how will that help you dimwit?", you went to flick his head again because, to be fair, he deserved it, but Hyunjin knew you too well and held your hand in time to stop you from hurting his pretty face, as he likes to state.

"To break the curse! Make her give up on me by making her think we're together or something!"

"What curse? There is no curse! And she isn't even thinking right now, she might just kill me out of jealousy!", at this point you're pratically yelling at each other and are forced to leave the library, resuming this odd conversation on your way to Ravenclaw's common room.

"I still can't believe you let yourself go with what Jeongin tells you. He's evil you know?"

"Should've guessed by the green scarf huh?", you slap his arm lightly, not very fond of the jokes made regarding the fact your other best friend is a Slytherin.

"So, how do I solve this?", he basically pleas at you as you sit down on the desk next to the fireplace, as far away as possible from your housemates. Every two in three students has made, or attempted to make, some sort of potion or spell to have something in their advantage. However, amortentia wasn't just "some potion", and if some were to find out that Hwang - head in space - Hyunjin succeded at his attempt they would never leave his poor ass alone, so for now your plan was to keep this subject as low-key as possible.

"Marry her." you say nonchalantly while, without his knowledge, already looking up all about amortentia, its possible side effects and how long it would take to wear off - if ever-, receiving a whine in return.

"It was really fun at first, you know? The flirting was cute, the smooches were great," and boy he put some emphasis on that adjective,"but now it's like she's obsessed with me! She's clingy and talks with that annoying voice and I can't seem to get rid of her!" Hyunjin throws himself face down into the old couch and whines again, words muffled by the pillow where he burried his face. "She's probably standing right outside the door just now!"

"Wait, what do you mean it was fun at first? How long has this been going on Hwang Hyunjin? And why am I only knowing of this now?", you turn around in your chair way too fast, hitting with your knee on the other chair next to you before facing the mop of brown hair all spread around the blue pillow.

"Well, I barely ever saw you all week!", the boy turns his head just the minimum amount to look at you, "You're either with your nose buried in those old books, or with your hands all over Lee Minho! Not my fault you no longer have time for your friends..."

"First of all," you pull out the pillow he's laying on, his face falling on the black cushion as a few curses leave his lips, "lower your tone! I did not spend the week with my hands all over Minho, I am tutoring him in potions!"

"Which you're not that good at, that's why you walk everywhere with those fat books..." Hyunjin rolls his eyes at you as he recovers the pillow from your hands again, "Don't deny it (y/n), you've got the hots for him!"

"Oh sweetie, I sense jealousy in your tone... is that why you gave Angela a poorly made potion?", you show him the page you've been reading between the backs and forths of your not so relevent argument, only for him to realize the potion should've worn off two days ago. Instead, it only got worse. "Perhaps you could use some reading too huh?"

The boy rips the book from your hands, grunting between his teeth sounds you doubted to be words as he makes his way out, only to shut the door as soon as he opens it, squealing loudly when his eyes meet the ones from the Gryffindor's brunette standing right in the middle of the hallway.

"I'm telling you (y/n), she won't leave me alone! It's like she's obsessed!", Hyunjin keeps his back against the door, afraid the girl could open it by some miracle driven by her potion induced feelings, hence she doesn't have the password.

"Well, you see Hyunjin... that's because she is! And it's your fault, you should simply face it..."

"Oh I'm going the kill Jeongin...", the boy grunts ignoring your words completely as the whines coming from the other side of the door overlapped them, "Can you go get him? Or get rid of her?"

You make your way to the door Hyunjin refuses to unblock and, when words and pushes didn't make the tall boy move, you had to resort to your wand, although the simple threat was more than enough for him to make way for you. He stayed hidden in the corner as you parted the door slightly to tell the girl her beloved had disapparated from there, and she should probably look at the quidditch court. The fact she believed you only proved how strongly she was affected by the potion, since everyone knew Hyunjin would never go to a sports court by his free will and disapparating into and out Hogwarts wasn't possible at all.

As soon as the path got clear you both made your way to the shrieking shack through the whomping willow everyone was so afraid of, but that was exactly why the three of you claimed it as your secret meeting place.

Jeongin was already waiting as you sent him a message through your magic notepad when you got rid of Angela, and you had to secure Hyunjin to not throw the book at the Slytherin boy who only laughed in return. The laughter didn't last long though, because you only stopped Hyunjin so you would be the one scolding the younger one, flicking his head the same way you did to the lover boy earlier.

"Hey! What did you do that for?", the boy frowned at you rubbing his forehead.

"To bring you back to reality, so you can both fix the mess you made!"

"But what's the problem?" Jeongin looked at you with honest confusion on his face, "Is this about the potion? You know that thing wears off in like a week or so right?"

"Exactly... do the math now genius..." Hyunjin rolls his eyes before leaning his back against the spiderweb covered walls.

The three of you spent the whole afternoon trying to figure out what went wrong in the first place, you analyzing every single detail of the procedure, and the boys trying to recreate every step they took to reach the final product. But, after hours of research and theories nothing seemed to have gone wrong, well except for the exaggerated and long-lasting effect of the potion.

"We should just obliviate the poor girl..." suggested Jeongin at one point, head in his hands as a sing of withdrawal.

“I don’t think that’s legal, but we can work around it...” You agree with him closing the book you were now reading for the fifth time.

"Are you guys serious? Because that sounds great! Can we get away with it?" Hyunjin's eyes were sparkling in hope as he shifted in his seat to a more straight up position, ready to do whatever it took to get to walk in peace around the school, without being unexpectedly smooched in the cheek and squezeed into a hug every time the girl spotted him.

"No, it's a joke!" You both sigh at your friend's desperation before calling it a day, deciding to resume your research first thing in the morning.

As per usual, you met with the boys for breakfast at the dining hall, though this time they weren't alone and you couldn't help out a giggle when Angela, as glued to Hyunjin as possible while feeding him something funny looking with a spoon, winked at you as soon as you sat in front of her and next to Jeongin. The latter looked almost as horrified as the pampered boy, and you had to focus to try and keep yourself from bursting into laughter before the scene that was unfolding in front of you.

Hyunjin looked like an annoyed pouty baby slumped in his chair - as an attempt to go unnoticed -, while the smiley girl, - one that seemed to have way too much energy in the morning -, pulled some strands of the boy's hair behind his ear before kissing his cheek, "You're so pretty Hyunnie-jin, and I hate to leave you," the girl pouts as she pinches his cheeks rather aggressively, "but don't worry sugarplum, I'll be waiting for you in the astronomy tower when you leave class." This time the kiss is aimed at his lips, but Hyunjin antecipates her intentions and dodges his head with a slick move, just not fast enough to be fully free of her, ending up with her lips awkwardly attached half to his jaw, half to the corner of his lip.

"So you decided to give in?" You couldn't help the grin that was forming on your face, finding it hilarious how the universe always had a way to keep things balanced.

"Shut up. I had to if I didn't want to starve myself, it was one sacrafice I was willing to take." Hyunjin furiously rubs his face with a napkin, as if it would erase the memory of the previous demonstration of affection.

"I say it's the karma, you were basically playing and manipulating her the moment you gave her the potion, now you face the consequences."

"It's like she's taking revenge..." Jeongin mumbles more to himself than to his friends, but he was still heard, and had now two pairs of eyes locked on him waiting for a further explanation to what seemed to be a pretty plausable theory. "We already concluded we didn't do anything wrong, right?"

"Yes, it's still hard to believe though..." you take a sip of your pumpking juice with a raise eybrow, honestly still impressed at how they pulled that off.

"So what if she got aware that Hyunjin gave-"

"We, Jeongin, we!! This wasn't just me okay? I just got the, uh, benefits?"

"Ok, sure, whatever... What if she became aware that we," emphasis on the pronoun as he glanced at Hyunjin, "gave her a potion and now that it wore off she is pulling this act as a pay back? Because, according to our lover boy, if it was nice at first then why would she suddenly start acting all obsessively?"

Both you and Hyunjin took a moment to reflect on this new theory, one Jeongin was really proud of as showed by his smug grin when he crossed his arms and relaxed back in his chair.

"I hate to admit it, but that makes a lot of sense... and explains why she winked at me when I got here..."

"Okay yes, she is faking it... why else would she wink at (y/n) when I'm the one she's supposed to be focused on?", the boy threw his arms up with a questionting - and slightly offended - look.

"Time for confrontation!" you were already standing up with Hyunjin following the lead, but you held yourselves back when you realized Jeongin wasn't moving, looking between the both of you still grinning.

"I've got a better idea..."

It was a terrible idea, you thought, and wanted no part in it at all so you let the boys discuss the details while you just sat there judging their poor life decisions.

The plan was for Hyunjin, instead of confronting her and get it over with as you suggested, to play along as if he too was deeply in love with her, and see who would break out of character first. As much as you tried to explain how childish and stupid the plan was, the boys simply wouldn't listen to you, convinced this was the best idea they've ever had.

Hyunjin got oddly excited about this and ran to astronomy class, already antecipating the act he would pull off when he'd see the girl waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs when he'd get out, leaving you and Jeongin alone in the dining all. The contrast of your opinions on this was pretty clear in your faces, Jeongin laughing loudly, you furrowing your brows and shaking your head in disapproval.

Then, all of a sudden, the boy stops laughing and looks at you, "What if they actually end up falling in love after all this?"

He sounded seriously concerned yet amused at the same time, while you only rolled your eyes at him before collecting your books and leaving for class as well.

"Shut up, this isn't a wattpad fanfic."

networks: @ficscafe @k-library @k-dinernet @districtninewriters

taglist: @dreamwrld @su-lix @bobateastay @leihey @serialee @hyunsluvv

⇢ let me know if you want to be added to the taglist ♡

[joaquinwhorres]

Stitches & Blankets (Joaquin Torres x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› You find Joaquin Torres after he tries to stop the bank robbery.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,000-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› OK, why are there not more Torres fics? I'm legitimately confused about that. Also, I realized after writing half of this down, that a bank was robbed, so there were probably still police on the scene and the reader'd probably be speaking Swiss-German but uh...fan fiction.

There was a body in the street, which was not what you expected to see coming out to your car.

You'd heard the wailing sirens and shouting and the thunderous footsteps--they're what kept you pressed against the side of the building for the past ten minutes, avoiding the chaos as much as possible. It wasn't fear that kept you there though, it was experience. You'd become used to the quick riots and little skirmishes for resources over the past few months. You knew it was better to stay out of the way, wait out the storm, and then go about your life. They became nothing more than minor nuisances. Bits of unrest that were there and then gone in the next instance. They weren't supposed to leave a body behind.

"Meine Fresse," you murmured, racing forward to the person lying supine on the stones, arms out to their sides, the white of their sneakers reflecting the street lights. As you drew closer, you saw it was a man--about your age with blood around his eye and nose and lip. For a brief second, you wondered if he'd been trampled, but he definitely would have looked worse for wear based on how many people you'd heard.

"Bist du okay?" Your voice was loud as you checked over the rest of his body. He didn't seem to have any other injury, and there wasn't any blood under his head, so you decided it was safe enough to gently shake him.

He didn't rouse.

So, instead you knelt your ear down to his lips, laying your hand flat on his chest. You felt your hand rise before you heard the slow intake of breath, and you rocked back onto your knees. He was breathing. He was alive.

Still, something gnawed at the back of your mind, urging your fingers up under his jaw, gently pressing into his neck. It was only then that you felt a surge of relief. His pulse was there, and it was strong. He was really alive.

And then you remembered that you should probably call 112.

All things considered, it was a quick phone call--the operator seemed to know your exact location and vaguely what had happened as you explained where you were and how you found him. Instead, most of the conversation was spent listening to their instructions to roll him into a recovery position and check for any signs of life-threatening injuries. When they told you that you could hang up because they were close, you did so and found the man blinking at you.

"Hoi," you greeted soothingly. "Wie heisst du?"

He groaned, attempting to roll onto his back once more. You reached out a hand stopping him, and he looked up at you confused.

"Comment t'appelles tu?" You attempted, hoping he wasn't an Italian or Romansch speaker. You hardly knew enough of either language to tell him you couldn't speak it.

He winced and lifted his hand to his face. "Shit."

English. Good.

"What's your name?" you asked, and his eyes seemed to focus on you once more, this time a spark of recognition or maybe just awareness lighting up behind them.

"Joaquin," he informed, and you released an arm, allowing him to finally roll onto his back like he wanted. He had a strong American accent, even through the gravelly voice of barely regained consciousness. "Did they get away?"

"Ähm," you looked around at the empty street. "Yes?" you guessed.

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna have to call some people."

"I think you should wait for the ambulance."

"Yeah," he agreed, the word breathy and pained. "That's probably a good idea."

"What happened?" you asked, and he raised his eyebrows, looking back at you.

"Flag Smashers."

"I didn't think the Flag Smashers hurt people."

"I'm just lucky, I guess," he answered, and you smiled, letting out a small laugh. He offered a small smile as well.

You could hear the siren now, the faint sound winding its way through the curving streets of Zürich and towards the two of you. Your head turned towards the sound, as if you could trace it back to the ambulance, and gauging the distance. "They should be close," you said, returning your attention to Joaquin.

"What's your name?" he asked, and the question surprised you. Then again, if the two of you were stuck waiting for an ambulance at nine o'clock on a Sunday night, maybe a bit of small talk shouldn't have been so surprising.

"Y/N," you answered, and he repeated it.

"You're very pretty, Y/N."

The laugh escaped you on instinct, although to call it a laugh might not be the best descriptor. It was more of a surprised noise, partially exhale and a tinge of amusement added through the slight smile at the corner of your mouth.

"Thank you," you said. "You are very pretty too."

And he was, underneath the dark red and rapidly purpling injuries. He had a strong jaw and kind eyes, and even the hint of a smile he'd given earlier had made something in your chest constrict.

"I don't feel so pretty," he responded, and this time your laugh was more of a laugh, and he reached up to feel at his face. You took hold of his hand, bringing it back down and trapping it in yours.

"Pretty enough for me to hold your hand," you joked, hoping to distract him from continuing to poke and prod and break all of the rules and instructions the EMTs had given over the phone.

"Well, I got that goin' for me, I guess," he said, letting his hand relax into yours.

Headlights bathed you in a warm yellow light as flashing blue lights bounced off the surrounding buildings, illuminating the rest of the street.

There were some shouts as the doors of the ambulance opened and people poured out, running towards you and Torres. The paramedic crowded around quickly, a blonde bearded man asking  quick questions in German.

"Er spricht Englisch," you explained, and he nodded, switching languages.

It became apparent as police officers pulled up and flooded out of their cars that you were no longer needed. You stood up, backing away and letting Joaquin's hand slip through yours.

"You're not going to stay and hold my hand?" Joaquin called out to you, and you let a smile curl across your lips. Around you, people were starting to come out onto the street, lured by the sounds of the sirens and lack of shouting and general ruckus. Your eyes fell back on Joaquin who was still looking up at you, even as a paramedic flashed a light into his face.

"Maybe he can hold your hand," you said, gesturing to a paramedic who had slid into your place. Joaquin gave half a smile as you turned and left him in the hands of the professionals.

As you rounded the corner, arms full of blankets, the last person you expected to almost run into was Joaquin.

Part of the surprise was the kind that generally accompanied running into someone outside of the context you know them in. A larger part of the surprise was the fact that he was not in the hospital.

Instead, he stood before you, face swollen, bloodied and bruised, with the small white bandages of butterfly stitches above his right eye. He blinked at you, as if he was caught in the headlights.

"Pretty Joaquin," you said, surprise ringing through every part of your voice.

"Y/N."

At least his memory wasn't affected by whatever the Flag Smashers had done to him. His response time was also quicker than it had been two and a half hours ago, and he seemed all in all more present and less hazy. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here." Your own surprise and mild confusion had not quite worn off. "What are you doing here?"

For a variety of reasons, he was not the typical person who stumbled into the Zürich GRC Refugee Camp. He was both too young and too old and far more put together than a normal incomer. He didn't have that haunted look behind his eyes that made your heart wrench. He looked battered and bruised but ok.

"I need a place to stay."

Your eyes ran over his form, from his fluffy dark hair and banged up face to his bright white trainers. You lifted an eyebrow. "The hospital wouldn't take you?"

He shook his head with a sheepish grin. "It's just a broken orbital. Not much else they can do for it." Your eyebrows didn't lower and he gave half a laugh. "Trust me I'm as shocked as you are."

"I'll need you to fill out some paperwork."

He winced. "Any way that could wait until tomorrow? My head is killing me."

You stared intently at his face. Over the past four months of working at the GRC camp, you'd gotten good at reading people. You had an eye for knowing who was going to be trouble down the line and who would need some extra comfort and care. You knew who to push about their stories, and who to wait for--to be there as they slowly unraveled their tale.

So while there was a lot about pretty boy Joaquin that just didn't add up, you could see in his eyes that he could be trusted to stay the night. Just not here.

"You can't stay here without going through intake," you shook your head. "But if you really need a place to sleep, you can come with me."

"Really?" Joaquin asked, turning to follow you as you set back off towards your car, and you nodded.

"It's nothing special--just my couch. But I've been told it's very comfy."

Joaquin faltered a step, slowing down. "You're sure you want me coming and bloody-ing up your couch? I could just stay here and leave before--"

"I'll put down some papers," you said jokingly in an attempt to cut off the subject of him staying at the camp.

"Ok," he said, his voice distracted before there was a quick shuffle of footsteps and he caught back up with you. "Ok, thanks."

The two of you arrived at your car shortly thereafter, Joaquin moving to sit in the passenger seat as you dumped the blankets in the car. You came around to slip into the driver's seat, quickly backing out of the spot and setting off back home.

"So what's with all the blankets?" he asked, pulling his attention from the streets and buildings and back to you.

"We got a late donation tonight," you answered, flicking on your turn signal. "They needed someone here to help organize the drop off and then our washing machine broke, so I have to take work home with me." You smiled at the joke, but he just nodded, leaving you to wonder if maybe your English was off. The next few moments passed in quiet before you checked over at a traffic light to see if he was still awake. He was, but he looked dazed. Maybe he had been telling the truth about his head. You eyed his injuries which looked even worse in the red light. Like his entire right side of his face had been smashed.

"So what brought you to Switzerland?"

It wasn't the question you wanted to ask. You wanted to ask him what had happened with the Flag Smashers--why had they beaten him up so badly. But you weren't sure you were ready for that answer or if he'd even give it. So you asked a question you didn't care if he lied to you about.

"I was looking for someone," he said, and the light turned green, causing you to turn away and focus on your driving rather than him. Still the sentence seemed to end earlier than his thought as you could feel the weight of more words hovering between you. It was a familiar pressure in your ears and your chest, and you'd long grown accustomed to the discomfort.

Like many, Joaquin didn't give the thought words to escape on.

"A refugee?" you asked, and he wobbled his head.

"Yes and no. She survived the Snap."

"She?" A small feeling like a tight wire cord wound its way around your chest and a  warmth of embarrassment flooded the back of your neck. "Your sister? Your wife?"

"No," he shook his head. "My grandmother."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him look at you for the first time.

"What's her name?  If she came to the camp I should know her."

"Mariana Torres," he answered, and you ran through the array of faces you'd met. There was a Mariana Böschl , but she was old enough to be his mother, not his grandmother.

You shook your head slowly. "I can check the registry tomorrow, but I don't think she's with us."

"Thanks," Joaquin said, looking back out the window at the passing city. "Were you Blipped?"

"No," you shook your head, pulling into your designated parking spot by your apartment. "I was lucky." The two of you climbed out of the car, and he met you by the trunk, pulling the blankets out before you could reach for them.

"Thank you," you said.  And he gave a small grin.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you."

You gestured with your head up the stairs, heading to your third floor apartment.

Joaquin trailed behind you, arms laden with the blankets, waiting patiently as you stopped and opened the door. "Welcome to my home," you greeted, allowing him to enter before you. Your small apartment was dark, and you flicked on the light so that Joaquin could walk further inside without running into a wall or your table. "You can put the blankets by the couch, I'll wash them tomorrow," you instructed, and he did as you suggested before wandering over to the couch.

"I think I have an extra pillow in the closet," you said.

"Great," he thanked, dropping down onto the couch.

It took a few minutes to find the pillow and put a pillowcase on top of it. By the time you walked back out to the living room, the light was still on, and so were his shoes, but he was passed out. You walked over to the sleeping boy, placing the pillow down next to the couch in case he woke up and pulling the blanket over his body, your eyes once more tracing over his injuries.

You would have to speak to Karli about the violence.

[captains-simp]

Carol Danvers ~ Two Sides Of The Same Coin

Chapter 1: Audacity

The bounty of a lifetime isn't one you're about to turn down, despite the life threatening challenges and rivals. The most irritating of which is an intergalactic superhero who becomes insistent on aiding you, whether you like it or not

Two

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"For the hundredth time, I don't know where he is! Either buy something or go someplace else."

Fuck, another dead end.

You searched the bartender's irritated eyes for any trace of a lie, already knowing you wouldn't find any but still holding onto a glimmer of hope you would catch a trace of something.

Nothing.

What had hope ever gotten you anyway?

"Just some Asgardian ale." You muttered. You really shouldn't have been buying such an expensive drink. Not to mention wouldn't be able to have much of it due to your plans of not passing out drunk that night. But you were just as frustrated and tired as the bartender.

A break could help. You lied.

You paid the bartender and tried to ignore the harsh feeling of regret already being planted in your gut. At least the alcohol would get rid of that - before it got worse.

Taking the glass, you dragged yourself to the back of the bar towards the corner you thought you wouldn't be disturbed in. That was usually the kind of environment you had your best ideas and tactics planned. The noise stopped your mind from wandering and the low level allowed you to concentrate. Even the slight buzz of the alcohol had its advantages.

But there was no success that night.

The bartender knew nothing. He was your final lead who would corporate with you. The next person you visited would be far less welcoming.

You had known that would happen when you accepted the job. It was going to be the hardest one you ever did, and the most rewarding. You had to keep reminding yourself that.

You're going to make a lot of enemies. You warned yourself for the hundredth time that week. It was true, you would. The number of people you could trust would plummet. You would have your own hit on your head. Was that really something you were prepared for?

I already have. Nothing will change. I've prepared for this. This is the bounty of a lifetime.

You were staring into your glass when she sat down. Her blonde locks were a blur in your peripheral, a momentary distraction from the recognisable colours of her suit.

It was hard to comprehend it for a second. She had arrived so suddenly and caught you unaware. Something you weren't familiar with. It was unnerving.

You sat upright and met her studious gaze. She was watching you carefully, as though trying to get a read on you. You did the same.

You had always wondered, maybe even hoped, that you would meet her. You were in two different lines of business but it wasn't like you hadn't crossed paths with heros before. There was usually some kind of mutual understanding, even some respect. You were quick to learn there wouldn't be any of that from her - not in that bar.

"Y/l/n." Carol stated, as though the pair of you were already acquainted. But it was far from a warm greeting.

Part of you wondered if you had done something illegal in your last job. Usually things like that were never dealt with, no one had the time to be chasing around bounty hunters when they were practically always on the move (and you saved the authorities a lot of trouble).

"Danvers." You replied. Both of you maintaining your stoic expressions.

"Captain Danvers." She corrected. You didn't acknowledge that and made no effort to correct yourself, wondering if it would damage that ego you had heard so much about, so she continued. "I've heard you have some information that could be of interest." She said. You didn't like where that was going. "What do you know about Daexire?" Fuck all. "Working progress." She quipped an eyebrow at that and waited for you to elaborate. You hoped she would be quick to catch on that you weren't much of a talker and that you had no interest in letting her swoop in to take your bounty.

"Do you know where he is?" God, no.

You breathed deeply through your nose before you leant forward onto your arms and flicked the side of your glass. The sound carried between you for a brief moment.

"Do you really think I would be sat here if I did?" Carol's eyes flicked down to the liquid in your glass, took in your outfit then finally returned to your slightly narrowed eyes.

"I wouldn't be surprised." You put a lid on the anger starting to replace the regret in your guts.

You were about to assure her that wasn't what you did, that whoever had told her about you didn't know you at all. She started talking again before you could, not picking up on - or maybe just not acknowledging - the trace of annoyance that may have slipped. You blamed the alcohol for that.

"Do you know anyone who does?" You did. That was a long list you were working through. Daexire was a famous man. But he was also a feared and respected one. Both were hard to overcome.

"I don't." Had it been another bounty and another hero, you would have told them. However a bounty like it wouldn't come up again, it was what you needed to escape that life you had forced yourself into. And Carol's complete disregard of your capabilites was definetly something that was going to encourage you. Maybe your pride was a little fragile.

Carol narrowed her eyes at you for longer than you were comfortable with, because you both knew she didn't believe you. You also both knew that you wouldn't tell her anything different. Yet she persisted.

"Daexire is a powerful man. He abuses that power and will continue to do so until he's stopped." The seriousness of her voice had a small voice in the back of your head urge you to tell her what she needed to know. She was right. Daexire was powerful, and so was Carol. But you knew what you were doing too.

"So I hear." Was all you said as your eyes stayed fixed on hers.

"This is serious, y/l/n." Carol warned.

"So I hear." Her jaw clenched firmly at that. You were glad to see you had gained the upper hand in some way. It certainly encouraged you.

"You're in way over your head with Daexire." It was your turn to clench your jaw. She didn't even give you the benefit of the doubt.

"And what makes you think you're not?"

Without a word, Carol held her arm out at her side and aimed her fist at an area over your shoulder. Swirls of yellow light flowed around her fist with spikes of blue and red among it.

There was no time to admire the lightshow. A blast of energy left her fist and fired across the bar, sending everyone into panic.

Everyone ducked down to avoid the blast and it's damage but you weren't focused on them, or even the photon blast. Sure, it was a little close for comfort, but Carol wouldn't hurt you. That you were certain of.

"You want to distract Daexire with a lightshow?" You quipped, feigning disinterest. Carol was far from pleased with that.

"You're going to get yourself killed trying to capture him." She no longer held herself back, set on saying something to make you second guess your stubborness. "Just tell me who can lead me to him and it will all be over so much quicker." Carol was growing impatient and didn't try to hide it, or perhaps she was unable to. You had been taking the piss more than anyone had in a long time.

"I can handle myself and I can handle Daexire." Your confidence in your knowledge and abilities had never failed you before.

You downed the Asgardian ale in one before Carol could get another word in. Embracing the instant, electrifying burn of the alcohol, you stood up from your seat and left the bar without looking back at Captain Marvel.

* * *

"I don't know anything." He was lying through his teeth, which were currently tainted a light red from the blood in his mouth.

Just as you had guessed, your visit wasn't welcome. The moment he opened the door to you he tried to slam it in your face upon recognition, instantly attempting to flee through the back door. He had put up a fight when you caught him - a surprisingly long one - that had ended with him tired to his own chair while you looked around the house and asked him questions.

You found nothing. You knew Daexire never liked having a paper trail of his work, but you would be kicking yourself if you didn't try.

"What was the last thing you designed for him?" You asked as your eyes wondered across the mantelpiece.

The man, Owen, was renowned for his weapons. They weren't exactly your style, but you had seen enough close up demonstrations of those weapons to know they were efficient to say the least.

They were all overtly large and had a hell of a kick to them (and must be a joy to try out) not to mention the most expensive weapons on the black market. So it was no surprise there had been countless rumours that Owen had designed one or two things special for Daexire. Whether it was a spineless ass-kissing attempt, a try for an alliance or just fear of being on Daexire's bad side, you weren't sure.

"Nothing. I've never had any business with him." You didn't have to turn around to know he was lying. Having him in your peripheral was enough.

"You're not getting out of that chair until I'm satisfied with what you tell me." You said, eyeing the figurine of an old fashioned Earth car.

"I have nothing else to say." Owen scowled.

"Maybe we could have a chat instead?" You spun around at the sound of the cocky voice.

Carol met you with an arrogant smirk at the sight of your confusion, wanting to know how she had snuck up on you without you noticing...again!

You watched her in annoyance as she strolled across the room towards Owen.

"Seems like you do know people who can help, y/l/n."

"Must have slipped my mind." Not bothering to conceal the lie. Carol hummed in response and trailed her focus back to Owen.

"Daexire. Where is he?" Carol demanded in a no-bullshit tone. You watched Owen  carefully, curious to see if he was going to respond differently to the arrogant blonde, that would definetly be irritating.

"I already told that crazy bitch," he nodded in your direction, "I don't know." That wasn't a lie. He really didn't know. That didn't mean there wasn't other things he could share.

Carol clearly hadn't come to the same conclusion. In a second she had her arm raised and fired a photon blast across the room, making a prominent indent in the wall. That's getting annoying really quickly.

"He really doesn't know." You said as you leant back against the wall, your arms crossed as you watched the interaction.

"And how are you so sure?" Carol asked, completly unconvinced.

The corner of your lip twitched into a small smile. You weren't going to let Carol in on your secrets. At least not yet.

"I just do. So leave it."

"No chance." The swirls around her wrist started up again and this time Carol levelled her arm to Owen's chest. She wouldn't...would she?

Owen seemed skeptical too, willing to try his luck. "You're not going to kill me."

"Who said anything about killing? There isn't just one level to this thing, you know? It could just hurt...really badly." Carol left her implications hanging in the air as you both watched Owen fidget in his seat.

"I really don't know where he is-" Carol's fist lit up more and a soft hum emanated from it warningly. "Because no one does." He said in a rush, turning his face away. "He knows about the bounty and he doesn't trust anyone right now." Owen explained as fast as he could.

Carol glanced over at you, much to your surprise, and you nodded. He was telling the truth.

"So he's scared?" Carol asked, still holding her fist close.

"He's preparing."

"For what? Me?" You rolled your eyes and tried to ignore Carol's I'm-the-centre-of-the-universe attitude.

"For anything." That had you wondering just how many people were going after Daexire. You had assumed it would be very few. For most they wouldn't even come close and if they did it would be certain death.

"And that's all you know?" You knew it needed to be asked, but you hated that question because you were already certain of the answer. You looked up to have your thoughts confirmed. Truth.

You walked towards Owen and took a knife from your belt. He leant away for a moment but relaxed when you started cutting the ties.

Another dead end. You pondered if the knowledge that a lot of people were after Daexire would help you at some point. You knew you shouldn't let that optimism distract you.

"Thank you for your cooperation." Carol said in a mocking business woman tone.

Owen made the smart decision of not responding and rubbed his wrists as he watched the pair of you leave with another scowl.

"So where now?" Carol asked as you stepped out the door of the house with the blonde right behind you.

"Were you following me?" You accused as you took a step back to put some space between you.

"Yep." You didn't know if it was that Carol knew you would see through her lie or just that she wanted to declare that with some pride. The smug look on her face told you it was the latter.

It has been a couple days since your meeting in the bar. You would be lying if you said Carol hadn't popped up in your mind since then, wondering if you had made the right decision in brushing her off. But you really hadn't expected her to be following you.

"Well stop. This isn't happening." You motioned between the pair of you and made your way back to your ship to consider your options.

"I helped you out in there!" Carol called out as she jogged to catch up with you.

"You did fuck all." You scoffed. She didn't have a reply for that. You weren't entirely right - she did help - but you would have been fine on your own. Interrogation was something you excelled at. It wouldn't have taken you long to get those answers on your own.

"I can help." She insisted.

"Then help yourself, Danvers." Deliberately not calling her Captain.

You remotely opened the cargo door of your ship from the device around your forearm before you turned around to get another look at Carol.

"And don't follow me." You said as the door closed. She made no objections, but something told you you would be seeing the blonde hero again.

[allegra-writes]

“Heartfelt”

Bar musician! Harry styles x Bartender!Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

Just some Valentine's day fluff with our favorite green eyed boy. Dedicated to @gaycinnamonrollgirl for giving me the idea, and @tomsrebeleyebrow for patiently listening to me endlessly gush about Harry Styles and still being my friend. Happy belated Valentine's day 💖

"You don't have to say you love me

I just wanna tell you somethin'

Lately you've been on my mind..."

Adore you - Harry Styles

...Oh, she looks so good, oh, she looks so fine

And I got this crazy feeling that I'm gonna ah-ah…

"Bartender, my good friend! I'll have my usual and a plate of your finest chips, if you would be so kind"

It was closing time when Harry, the local musician, sat in front of you, elbows on the bar you were wiping down while humming to Patti Smith's "Gloria".

You raised an eyebrow at him, but the willowy man could see the slight tremble at the corner of your lips, a tell that you were suppressing a smile.

"I'm afraid the kitchen is closed, mister Styles. Sam left an hour ago."

"Yes yes, but I have it from a very good source he left you a big pile of leftover chips before he did," He accused, "you know, as he does every night..."

You frowned in confusion,

"I thought you hated cold fries. That you found them to be, and I quote, soggy and disgusting" 

"I guess you can say I acquired a taste for them" He shrugged, mischievous green eyes sparkling, "Just like you did for this lowlife songwriter in front of you and the heartfelt conversations you share with him" 

"Did you now?" There was an edge of scepticism in your voice, but you were already disappearing inside the kitchen. 

Harry's heart did a little jump as you didn't immediately deny liking him.

"Hey, Joe" he called out, "why don't you go home? I'll help Y/N close when we're done…" 

There was a deaf noise as a young waiter, the only person left in the bar beside the two of you, set the last chair on top of a table. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I got this" he reassured him, "did it dozens of times. Go home to your girl"

"Thanks, mate!" The second brit practically skipped on his way to the backroom, but turned around just before reaching the door. "Listen, you know I like you, but if you hurt y/n in any way…"

Harry smiled, genuinely. He could never get mad at anyone that protective of you.

"You know where I live. Pick my sister on the way, though. I think she would like to join you."

Joe rolled his baby blues,

"I know you're not a creep. I meant her heart"

"Yeah, me too…"

Whatever your friend saw inside Harry's eyes was enough to convince him. He nodded and left, as the musician got up to lock the front door and turn the "open" sign off. 

If you noticed Joe's absence at your return, you didn't comment on it, simply setting the giant pile of chips and two cans of cherry cola you were carrying, down in front of Harry, who had returned to his seat. 

"Ah, you always have the good stuff!" the sigh that left his lips as he took the first sip of the soda was not unlike the one any of your regulars made after the first taste of something strong after a hard day. 

"Rough night?" 

"Kind of. Good show though, so at least I have that going on for me…" 

"It really was, I'm actually impressed" You had to confess, "And surprised too, it was a bold choice going acoustic on a night like this, with such a big audience," So many people had gathered to see the show that the bouncer had to start rejecting people so you wouldn't have trouble with the fire department "but it definitely worked" 

There was a slight blush on the singer's cheeks when he replied, far more humble than you were used to,

"Well, you know, Valentine's day and all that. The band, all have boyfriends and girls they wanted to spend the evening with…"

You tilted your head,

"And you didn't?" It was hard to believe, when almost every night he played there you would see him leave with a different, always sculptural, painfully perfect girl. Or man. 

Harry didn't reply, choosing instead to stuff his face with stale fries.

"Alright then" You raised your shoulder in surrender, "keep your secrets…"

He squinted in disbelief,

"Did you just quoted The Lord of the Rings at me?"

"Did you just recognize my Lord of the rings quote?" You countered.

"You are such a nerd!"

"Look who's talking, chicken little!" You gestured at his powder blue sweater with a yellow baby chick at the front and herringbone pants. 

"Oi!" His manchester accent popped out, like it always did whenever he lost his cool "I'll have you know, this is Gucci"

You scoffed,

"That doesn't make it any better, it just means that you spent a shit load of money to look like my third grade teacher, mister Harrington!" 

"Ok, first of all," he countered, "your teacher sounds awesome and second-"

An inelegant snort escaped your mouth. Harry's emerald eyes pinned you down. 

"Second of all, you're no one to talk either, kitten hoodie" 

You could feel the heat creeping up your cheeks. Praying he couldn't see your blush in the dim light, you took a mouthful of soda to cool you down. 

For a moment, none of you said anything, the sweet notes of Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams" the only thing filling the silence.

… Players only love you when they're playing

Women, they will come and they will go...

"Listen, y/n-"

"If I'm being honest-" 

He chuckled,

"I'm sorry, ladies first" 

"Now I'm not sure if I wanna tell you…"

"Come on" A grown ass man pouting should not be that cute, "I want to know"

You feigned a long suffering sigh,

"Fine, if you must know- If you must know, I actually like your new style. It's way better than that... rock and roll cliche... thing you had going on when we first met" You gestured vaguely in the direction of his body, "You know, the long hair, black clothes, doc boots…" 

He flinched, 

"Ugh, Don't remind me. I was trying too hard back then. And not only with my clothes, with my music too"

"Oh, yeah, I remember. All you used to sing about was" You chose your words carefully, "frisky girls and being horny…" 

"Well, to be fair, I still sing about being horny"

"Yeah, but now you're…"

You trailed off, unsure of how you could explain the difference, the change in your feelings towards his music, without explaining the change in your feelings towards the man that made it.

However, Harry would not let it go that easy. He was used to you being sharp, opinionated, guarded. Now there was a crack on that armour, and he wanted to see what was underneath it. 

You hadn't even realized how close you had leaned into each other until his hot breath fanned over your face.

"Now I'm what, y/n?"

More real. More mature. More emotional, as if he had finally found the link, made the connection between sex and love. 

"More open"

Harry smiled,

"Open. Yeah, I like that…"

So close. He was so close now, his malaquite eyes were out of focus. So close you could feel his magnetic field, the gravity of his atoms pulling in yours.

"Harry…" 

Never in his twenty seven years of life and over ten as a musician, had he heard a more beautiful sound than his name, breathlessly falling from your lips.

"Yes?" He murmured, lips ghosting over your soft, perfect ones.

"No"

"No?"

"No" You repeated, more firmly, taking a step back, putting as much space between the two of you as possible, "I know what this is"

"And what is this, y/n" To your surprise, he didn't sound mad, or demanding. He sounded confused and sad. Dissapointed but unsurprised, as if he had expected it to go south or… never had dared expect it would actually happen at all. 

"A bad idea" You explained, "with guys like you, is always the same: You have beautiful women throwing themselves at you every night. And you take them home with you cause why wouldn't you? You are young, and free and hot. There is nothing wrong with taking what's being offered" 

"Y/n-"

"I'm not saying it's your fault" You went on, ignoring him, "And I'm not saying you don't fall in love, sometimes. But that's the exception, not the rule, and I… I'm the kind of girl that's the rule. Not the exception"

Harry had always thought the worst that could happen to him was losing your friendship. Finally making a move, a real move, and getting rejected by you. He thought that was the definitive pain, the one that would obliterate him, if things were not to work out. And he was almost certain they would not work out. 

But sitting there, in front of you, separated by a wooden bar that might as well have been the great wall of china as you stood there, arms around yourself, small and defenseless as you explained to him all the reasons why you wouldn't allow yourself to love him… that was way worse. 

"What if you already were my exception?" He blurted out, before he could stop himself, "What if I was in love with you?"

You laughed, bitterly.

"Harry, I'm not even your type. I've seen you leave night after night with models and socialites and actors, each one more surreally stunning than the last one…" You didn't have a bad self esteem, you didn't. You considered yourself attractive, but the people Harry usually went for were on a whole different level.

"Yes, but that's only because the most absolutely perfect woman in the world for me, keeps me at arm's length!" He rubbed his face in frustration, "And it's so maddening, so fucked up, the way I can't even get away from her long enough to get over her, because even the pain of seeing her every night knowing I can't touch what I see, that I will never have her, is better than the pain of being away from her. 

So I keep on taking home the hottest people I can find hoping they will keep me distracted long enough to fill the hours until I can see her again… until I can-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Never, in all the time you had known each other, had Harry given you a single signal indicating he had any kind of feelings for you. Your relationship had always consisted of friendly banter and quip battles. Sure, you could get flirty sometimes, but you were a bartender, flirting was pretty much your customer service voice, and he was a musician, he would flirt with his own shadow if he could.

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but a familiar melody started coming from the still working speakers.

Walk in your rainbow paradise

Strawberry lipstick state of mind…

"Hey, this is my song!" You didn't quite understand why he seemed so marveled, "You never added any of my songs to your playlist before!"

Oh. Oh.

"Yeah, well" Harry could now clearly see your darkened cheeks as you stumbled over your words, "I guessed I never liked one of your songs so much before" 

This time, he was the one blushing and avoiding your eyes.

"What would you say if I told you-... If I told you I wrote this one for you?"

"I'd say you're full of shit" You scoffed, "Didn't you tell me you only ever wrote about girls you had dated?"

"No," he corrected, "I said I only ever wrote about women that had broken my heart…"

"How did I break your heart?"

Harry sighed. Your walls were back up, higher than ever, and he didn't know how to break through them. It wasn't your fault -and had it been your fault, truth was he could never blame you either, there was something about you that made it physically impossible for him to get mad at you- you spoke from experience, he didn't need to unlock the secrets of your past, didn't need the details. It was obvious you had been burned before, and though he hated it, hated them for whatever they had done to you, he couldn't fault you for trying to protect yourself.

Not when he wanted to protect you too. 

"You didn't like me, back when we first met"

"Harry-"

"No, it's ok. You didn't like me, and you were right not to like me. I know you probably didn't realize it but, that first time you rejected me, when I flirted with you that very first night and you rolled your eyes at me… you changed my life"

"What? How??"

"You weren't wrong, I was a cliche. And I was trying way too hard, to be cool, act like a rockstar… but you took a look at that guy, at that though, playboy, sex, drugs and rock 'n roll guy… and you hated him" Harry snickered. You didn't understand what about all that was so funny, "I had created that guy so that everyone would like him, and you hated him. And the funny thing is-" He finally met your eye. No, he caught your eye and imprisoned them, "The funny thing is, you hating me for what I wasn't, somehow allowed me to start being myself a little bit more, because if you already disliked me… then I had nothing to lose" 

You didn't quite know what to say to that.

His bright green eyes were unable to face yours, choosing instead to focus on the palms he was picking at,

"Is that why you… uhm…" You pointed at his sweater.

"Yup" He admitted, "I showed up here one day, on laundry day, in one of my old nerdy sweater vests and you smiled, when you saw it"

"I remember that!" You chuckled, "It was the brown striped one, it almost looked like a crop top, cause it obviously didn't fit anymore"

Harry nodded,

"I may have had a couple grow spurts since I got that in high school" 

"Ok, but, you made it work somehow…" 

"Thank you. The point is…" he turned serious again, his deep, rich voice even more hypnotic than usual. Or maybe it was just you, for the first time allowing yourself to enjoy it without reservations. "The point is, you didn't like cool Harry, but you liked the real me. Even if just a little bit, and that meant the world to me. I… I adored you because of it. So I wrote a song for you, cause even if I couldn't say it to your face, I had to get it out. Just like I had to get this out tonight"

He opened his arms wide, in his typical ta-da gesture, sad, resigned smile on his face, before getting up from his stool, grabbing his jacket and guitar case.

"You don't have to say anything, I don't expect you to love me back" He declared, "I just- I thought I'd let you know. Valentine's day and all that."

He turned to leave, his own voice still signing in the background,

I'd walk through fire for you, just let me adore you

 Oh, honey…

"Harry, wait!" You almost fell on your face, trying to jump over the bar, but managing to stop him right before he reached the door. His poorly concealed smirk told you he might have seen your little show, but you didn't care.

"Did you mean it? That you'd do anything for me?" 

"I did" He confirmed, earnestly, "I still do. Anything you want, just say the word"

"Well then," you took a step towards him, that he mirrored without even noticing, "what about a date? A daytime date. At a public place." You clarified. Harry did smirk at that.

"What's the matter, afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me?" He teased, leaning closer. 

"Don't ruin this, Styles" You warned, raising to your tiptoes to meet him eye to eye.

His smile faltered, replaced by the most sincere intensity you had ever seen on his handsome face,

"Wouldn't dream of it, bartender" He whispered, before capturing your lips with his.

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

The Critique of Manners Part VI

~Or~

An Attempt at an Objective Review of Emma (2009)... VOLUME TWO

Haha, bitches you didn't think I could wait a whole week did you? Nah, not me. and guys, I added to it--all total, it's 9,023 words now. this half of the review is 5,214. HOW DO I HAVE SO MANY WORDS FOR THIS THING? I'm not gonna split it into a third part, because I don't need to for picture limit purposes, but buckle in.

If you didn't catch it, read part 1 here

Here it is, the stunning conclusion to my Emma Adaptation Review series (but this isn't really the end because I plan on doing some rankings later). In this half of my review of BBC'S Emma (2009) we'll discuss Costumes and all the very specific things that I love about this version, and some things I don't like, and some things I'm here to defend.

Let's dive in!

Costumes

Generally I liked these costumes pretty well. They were designed and facilitated by Rosalind Ebbutt, also known for her work on PBS’s Victoria and Vanity Fair (1998). And her work is, as her filmography would suggest, by turns, great and so-so.

These costumes are definitely in line with the adaptation’s general aesthetic: warm pinks and golds, with mints emeralds and blues to cool it off a little, are the order of the day. I really appreciate that every character has a definite color palette. The tradeoff is that this adaptation is the WORST EVER offender for the Jane Fairfax Blue™ trope.

Daywear

Emma’s daywear is full of warm and muted colors. Salmon and magenta are commonly seen. I love that most of Emma’s daywear consists of sleeveless or short-sleeved gowns with wide-sleeved linen blouses underneath. It’s not a commonly seen aesthetic so it feels light and fresh. My favorite of Emma’s daywear dresses is the pale yellow with purple floral print.

There’s one other in particular that I love.

Emma’s blue, sleeveless dress. I love this because of HOW OBVIOUSLY it’s a reference to this portrait of Charlotte, Princess of Wales. I mean...

I’M NOT IMAGINING THIS, RIGHT? WHY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT THIS? This is a REAL dress. They still have this exact gown of Princess Charlotte’s. It’s on display. It’s faded, but it’s the same dress.

Harriet has a fresh and innocent green, white and purple color scheme with healthy doses of peach and pink showing. I particularly like her white and purple floral print dress.

Mrs. Weston’s color palette varies, but leans heavily on tans and purples, which is very flattering, I must say, to Johdi May’s coloring and is really refreshing for Mrs. Weston who seems to get stuck in pinks and yellows a lot. No idea what’s going on with the laced-front dress though? This doesn’t quite read as authentic to me, but I do like that her first dress seems to be an apron-front.

I know I already said that this is the worst Jane Fairfax Blue™ offender, but guys I can’t stress it enough. WE ARE 5/5 ON DAYWEAR HERE. LOOK AT THAT. (Also of note, Jane 5 is one of Gwyneth Paltrow’s dresses from the '96 Emma.)

Mrs. Elton seems, at all times, to be wearing some form of pink, but I think I’m right in saying that the white day dress with the rose patterned bodice under the yellow and pink spencer is one of Jane’s dresses from P&P ’80. Can anyone confirm that? They did sneak in some Mrs. Elton Orange™ though, for Box Hill, and it’s worth noting that Mrs. Elton is the only lady who’s appropriately dressed on that occasion.

Isabella gets some understated day gowns that are very nice and also VERY “Jane Austen” in the sense that I feel like Jane Austen herself might have worn them.

Miss Bates, unfortunately is slapped with brown at just about every turn, but at least her “Nice” day outfit has some subtle leaf patterns, which is refreshing. Also Mrs. Goddard has a slappin’ cap. Love that.

Also, Harriet’s Grecian costume for the painting (upper right hand corner). What can I say, but that I love it. I love that it hints at the neoclassical influences on Regency fashion too. This is my favorite interpretation of the painting too.

Evening Wear

You know what I love about this version? It’s the first version of Emma where her gown for the Crown in Ball isn’t WHITE. I know, I know white was fashionable, but it’s just… it’s nice for not EVERY gown in a ball scene to be plain white friggin muslin and also, it’s not one she’s ever worn before, which is great.

Harriet does have only white evening gowns but that’s okay. My only complaint is that, specifically on her Crown Inn dress and in a lot of her costumes in general, the waistline seems just a little low. Hmm. I really like the pale blue pattern on her first evening dress though.

Mrs. Weston though. Woo. Look at those. She has a dark chartreuse gown with black lace trim that any other version would have put on Mrs. Elton, so you know from the dark tones that she’s a bitch. Not so with Emma '09, and that’s good. And her teal dinner number is a favorite of mine. I never paid much attention to her green and gold ball gown but it has some really beautiful, subtle leaf or maybe peacock feather patterns on it and I love that. My only problem is that there seem to be some fit issues. She’s got muffin top way too often. Her orange evening dress is a bit of a dud though, firstly, because it has long sleeves (which is an evening gown no-no) and the fabric slaps a bit too much of sari fabric for my tastes.

Jane, not only is put in blue with both of her evening gowns (although one is so pale it borders on white), ONE of them is another Emma ’96 repeat and not only that, it’s one of Jane Fairfax’s dresses in that film! Perhaps that’s enough to make it an homage, and I have to say, I think Laura Pyper wore it better.

Miss Bates only has one evening wear ensemble, but at least it’s cream and not brown.

Mrs. Elton’s gowns are surprisingly understated, and yet still seem to be annoyingly fussy and, what’s better? They’re not sickly green. One of them is actually a very pleasant mint.

Outerwear

Outerwear is roundly pretty great here. Emma’s primary choice of color for spencers is emerald/evergreen and one of them is Elizabeth’s Bennet’s from the 1995 P&P (though to be honest, I think Jennifer Ehle filled it out better.) I do love Mrs. Elton’s pink and yellow number with the slashed sleeves. Jane Fairfax’s only spencer is, you guessed it, blue, but her friend Miss Campbell has a rather fun mauve one.

There’s no shortage of pelisses and redingotes either. Harriet can be seen in one borrowed from Elinor Dashwood in the '08 S&S, Mrs. Weston has a rather fabulous purple one which she wears with the most delicious looking hat I’ve ever seen.

Emma has two. The first one is a great magenta number with military braiding (and I think she wears with it one of the brown slouch hats that Kate Beckinsale wore in the same role) and while the other pelisse is brown, they had the sense not to make her wear a hat with it that was also brown. Instead, they gave her a contrasting color. Good on ya, Rosalind!

Speaking of hats, I don't often single them out for commentary, but I want to here because… the hat authenticity is… kinda spotty. Let me show you.

Okay first of all, Emma may be a teenager in this pic on the upper left, but she is not dressed formally enough for her sister’s wedding (which is what’s going on in this scene) but at least her hat is pretty good. You can see the ribbons are on the inside of the hat here, which is as it should be… but she never wears this hat again. At any point in the series. Instead, we next see her in the one on the upper right and ye gads this is atrocious. WHY IS HER HAT NOT PINNED ON? IT’S SLIDING DOWN THE BACK OF HER HEAD. SOMONE FIX IT. PLEASE. But wait, there’s more. This kills me because these bottom two are so similar to the one she wore earlier (the correct one) but crappier looking. Jeez.

This is not a hat. It’s a peanut. You know who doesn’t have this problem? Harriet. She only has one sun hat but at least it’s correct.

I also wanna touch briefly on this ^ costume continuity issue.

WTF is this? She’s in the hall, her ribbon is contoured to the line of her dress; she goes into the drawing room and… it isn’t anymore? Wha happun?

I took more menswear screencaps for this version than any other version. And that’s because the men just have more outfits that are, y’know, different from each other.

Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight the first pic there and why I love it. This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding.

He also has a rather lovely blue evening waistcoat that I WISH I could have gotten better shot of (although I do believe it’s also worn by Henry Crawford in the '07 Mansfield Park, so for further reading…)

Mr. Weston finally gets to wear clothes that aren’t all brown! He only has ONE brown outfit. He gets PATTERNED waistcoats, one of them a rather spiffing blue and brown striped number. And he wears TROUSERS! Because he’s a gentleman, and he’s not that old and trousers are worn by fashionable gentlemen in this period!

You know who else gets to wear trousers and at least one fun waistcoat? Mr. Woodhouse. Check out that lovely Sunday Best™ waistcoat. The red striped one. That’s delightful.

John Knightley’s evening wear intrigues me. That’s a double-breasted jacket, and you know I’m not totally sure that’s very authentic for evening-wear of this period, but it is different. Unfortunately he also has a flared top hat and that is definitely not on for this period.

One of my favorite things about this version is that they don’t dress Mr. Elton as a clergyman all the time. Yes, he may be the vicar, but he’s also allowed to dress like a fashionable, handsome young man. So I’m really happy that he gets to flex his fashion muscles here.

And speaking of fashionable young men, FINALLY frank gets to be COLORFUL and his trousers are even tight enough. Both he AND Elton are often seen wearing TWO waistcoats, as I would expect them to, and even though Frank’s a dandy, he knows that flashiness is gauche so his pops of color are bright, but not in your face. His green and red waistcoats are always worn under more muted colors, and I just love it.

The only problems are… what’s with the turned-down waistcoat collars? There’s no precedent for this, in fact I think it’s directly contradictory to the style at the time, and also it makes the cravats look a bit unruly.

A Critique of Manners

A lot has been said about the manners in this adaption. Like, the actual manners, body language and facial expressions, specifically vis-à-vis Romola Garai.

And, oh yeah, there’s a lot to pick at here, but first I’d like to talk about the facial expressions.

I'm mostly gonna be talking out of my ass here, but this is my take, so if anyone can make a better argument against my points, I am listening, because I don't really like talking out of my ass and I like to be informed. That said...

I tend to be lenient on the… exaggerated facial expressions because, something I’ve noticed reading Austen’s works through the last several months is that Austen is very descriptive when it comes to facial expressions and I just find it hard to believe that people in the Regency Era never made exaggerated expressions like this.

I’ve heard a lot about how Garai’s Emma is not dignified or lady-like. But let’s think about the context of Emma Woodhouse – she’s never been in society. She’s only had a governess to teach her, and we know Emma’s always been sort of averse to being told what she can and can’t do. Emma is the highest ranking woman in her social circle (barring Isabella’s occasional presence). Emma doesn’t have to be ladylike. At 21, she’s already her local Lady Catherine. She puts a lot of stock in her position in society but, as Mrs. Elton will be the first to hypocritically point out, she’s very poorly behaved. I'd be very curious to see what would happen if Emma went to London for the season. Probably, she'd be seen, comparatively, as a country bumpkin. Can you imagine how she might get on in a sea of accomplished young ladies? She can barely handle having ONE rival with any kind of grace.

Austen never describes bodily movements of the kind we’re looking at when we watch adaptations, so why not have Emma’s body-language be un-ladylike in the conventional sense of the time? I’m not saying this to excuse the absolutely inexcusable (Frank’s head in her lap, kneeling on the sofa backwards etc.), but while Emma’s mannerisms aren’t exactly ladylike for her time, they’re not overtly masculine either (which was one of my biggest problem with Death Comes to Pemberly for example.)

Yes, there’s an ideal for manners. But we know real people didn’t always follow those ideals. In dancing for example, many dancing guidebooks of the day were full of repeated instructions not to be too loud or rambunctious when dancing. What this tells us is that people were doing just that, and probably quite a bit, too. I think that, while taking societal strictures into account, we shouldn’t totally discount the idea that people in the Regency weren’t really that different from us, and young people especially.

Now I’ve already mentioned some of the inexcusable aspects of interaction in this adaptation and they’re so notorious at this point, I don’t think that I really need to go over them much here. Although I will say: is it ridiculous to have Frank Churchill put his head in Emma’s lap? Yes. Did it make me more viscerally uncomfortable with the situation on Box Hill than any other version? Yes.

I was like, 14 when I watched this the first time. This was an effective way to telegraph to young people like me that Emma is being extremely inappropriate here in a way that no other version really managed to, even when I watched them when I was older and understood the period more. I’m far more acquainted with Regency manners than I was then, but to be honest – if they had been accurate with the manners here, when I was 14 I would not have understood what the big deal was. Is there merit in circumventing historical accuracy in favor of reaching a less-informed but still-interested audience? Yes, I think so. There were three other versions of this, at that point, that did this scene with more or less pristine manners. Not every version has to follow the manners of the time to-the-letter to be good. That’s my feeling on the matter.

There are things that do really bother me though. Like the idea that Harriet Smith doesn’t know how to spoon soup, for instance. As I said in my review for the Miramax version, table manners are pretty basic, there’s no reason Mrs. Goddard wouldn’t have taught Harriet this. It does provide a good moment to show Emma tacitly coaching Harriet and showing the trajectory in which this relationship will go, but personally I don’t think it was necessary—there are plenty of other ways that could be done.

Also: kids at the dinner table? I know this is part of building the familial atmosphere but it really does annoy me, because apart from building the familial atmosphere (which they do very well and frequently in other ways) it really didn’t need to happen, and it doesn’t add anything.

The Heart of Highbury

So, as I’ve hinted at throughout this review, the bread and butter of this adaptation of Emma is emotion. This version goes hard and heavy on showingthe relationships – Emma’s relationships with Mrs. Weston, Mr. Knightley, her father, her sister, her brother-in-law, Miss Bates; Jane’s relationship with Frank; Frank’s relationship with his father; The John Knightleys’ home life – and it illustrates things that can be surmised from just reading the story, but really draws your attention to them in ways that other adaptations just don’t.

It does this from the very beginning with the prologue which explains in detail (not just in quick exposition between characters) how Jane and Frank were separated from their families at young ages. We know now, from psychological study, that being taken away from their primary caretakers during their formative years is one of the most psychologically traumatizing things for a child. This is deeply important context which is explained in detail by the narrator in 2-3 large pages (in my Barnes & Noble anthology) in the book.

In the featurette on the houses, they talk particularly about Hartfield and the Woodhouses being the heart of Highbury and how they particularly wanted it to feel homey because Hartfield is Emma’s house and they wanted the audience to feel why everyone is so drawn to it, and to Emma; to me that is what they did with the whole adaptation in microcosm.

I usually talk a bit about the dancing and I'm going to here as well because this is maybe the most special dance scene in any Austen for me. Of course I'm going to link to Tea with Cassiane as usual because she knows what she's talking about and I don't. But I wanna add some comments. She gives this a pretty low rating in spite of a generally favorable commentary because of two big oopsies, the circle dance formation is one, and the other is I believe, an issue with the style of dance not matching the tune in Emma's dance with Knightley. Throwing out any objective technical analysis though, this is my favorite Ball in any Austen and it all comes down to the cornerstone of this adaptation--emotion.

All of the songs and dances were original compositions and choreography made for this adaptation. So they're not period per se, but the tunes at least are representative of how Regency dance music should sound. These dances are upbeat, and lively and, damn they look like fun. Everyone is excited here and it makes me understand why dancing was such a big thing. Best of all that excitement adds to the emotional charge of the scene. "The Ship's Cook" is the most fast paced dance and I'm glad they made this the dance where Elton snubs Harriet because it really hits for me just what Harriet would be missing out on if Knightley wasn't so fucking aptly named. In all other versions you get the insult, but the dance that's taking place is usually a Baroque walker so it doesn't seem terribly like she's missing out on much. Here, this is like not getting picked for kickball-- not only is it a slight that no one wants you on their team, but you miss out on even playing the game. Harriet looks so lonely, and her feeling of being out of place rolls off of Louise Dylan so forcefully it chokes me up just thinking about it because I've been there, man. I feel this shit. *dabs eyes*. Ahem. So, yes, when Knightley engages her for the dance the excitement the viewer feels is that much more forceful and Harriet's exuberantly starting to jump in when the timing is off and Knightley gently pulling her back, it just hits me in the feels center, guys. (I wanna take a moment to give a shout out to every camp counselor who ever partnered with me for any game at summer camp.) Emma's reaction too, is gold. Her genuine relief at Knightley swooping in is one of those great reminders that Emma is Harriet's friend, and she does care about her.

Finally on the dancing front, I wanna talk about Emma's dance with Knightley and why I prefer it to the one in the 2020 version. I already talked about this a bit in the 2020 review, so I'm gonna try and keep it brief. That shouldn't be too hard, because I'm probably mostly going to repeat a lot of what I've already said about Emma and Knightley in this version as a whole.

The big thing everyone loves about the Crown Inn dance in the 2020 is the yearning, the sexual tension, the quivering touches etc. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE all of those things but... not all the time. Not in everything, and definitely not in Emma. Because Emma, to me, isn't about repressed sexuality or heated tension or seething passion. Emma and Knightley are the opposite of that, to me, really. One of my mutuals put it best, I think: "Emma and Knightley are more suited to stolen glances than hot touches."

In Part 1 I talked about how Knightley is Emma's comfort object. When Emma is out of sorts, Knightley re-centers her. It helps set up, and puts emphasis on, the crisis of the story in the last act--Emma not knowing what she has until [she thinks] she's lost it. Emma and Knightley are Friends to Lovers done as it should be. She is already so comfortable with him she doesn't even realize her own feelings. She just feels right with Knightley and that's what this dance is here to show you--a foreshadowing of matrimonial harmony.

The dance itself, of course, is always up to interpretation, because Austen never describes how it goes, just that Knightley asks Emma to dance and Knightley doesn't dance (barring charitable causes). If you prefer the sexual tension take, if that, to you is an improvement on Austen's story and gives you what you've always felt was missing, I'm glad that there is a version now that gives you what you've been looking for, but for me, I think the 09 approach hits closer their dynamic in the book.

Now do I do think the Emphasis on emotion maybe went a little too earnest in some places in this adaptation? Maybe. Just a little.

In my last review (1972) I went on a rather lengthy tirade about the scene where they turn Emma’s appeals to Harriet to exert herself and move on following Mr. Elton’s marriage into Emma guilting Harriet into thinking she’s a bad friend for being heartbroken and then throwing her into the situation most likely to rub salt in that particular wound.

In this version, while I love the emphasis they put on the stress Emma puts on her own guilt for being the reason for Harriet’s situation in the first place, I think it’s maybe a little too… much.

That’s the only way I can put it. I know I’ve just said that I think there should be a bit more expressiveness in period drama, but this doesn’t quite match the way I read it (Emma’s a bit less desperate in Austen’s prose. Very dedicated to helping Harriet feel better, but just a skosh more composed). I think she’s even crying in this scene.

While we’re here let’s go over to Box Hill ONE. MORE. TIME.

First of all, this is where this screenplay shines, in my opinion. This is the big turning point in the story and as such, should be a touchstone for the judgment of any adaptation. This sequence in the 2009 version is a perfect crystallization of everything I love about this version—namely that this is the version that, to me, most feels like someone read the book thoroughly, paid attention to what Austen was describing and then actually tried to convey it on screen. A lot of other versions sort of feel (to me), like the director glanced at the page and said “here’s what I want to convey in my version”. Insofar as making a piece of art goes, that’s good. Directors are artists as much as painters are and movies are their canvass, but it’s seldom that you find a director who honestly wants to hit as close to the author intent as possible and this Box Hill sequence makes me feel like that’s what Jim O’Hanlon was going for. I have the book open next to me as I write this and it’s shocking to me how minutely the atmosphere described in the book is conveyed here. Most of all, the fact that Emma’s insulting Miss Bates is not the only thing faux pas she makes here. Box Hill as a whole is a disaster, and it’s largely because of Frank.

“When they all sat down it was better; to [Emma’s] taste, a great deal better, for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first object. To amuse her, and to be agreeable in her eyes, seemed to be all that he cared for—and Emma, glad to be enlivened, and not sorry to be flattered, was gay and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the admission to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most animating period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own estimation, meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people looking on it must have had such an appearance as no English word but flirtation could very well describe. “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse flirted excessively.” They were laying themselves open to that very phrase—and to having it sent off in a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to Ireland by another. Not that Emma was gay and thoughtless from any real felicity; it was rather because she felt less happy than she expected. She laughed because she was disappointed…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Most other versions rush through Frank’s “excessive” flirting with Emma (Right in front of Jane) to get to “Three Things Very Dull Indeed” as fast as possible, and yes that’s the crowning horror of Box Hill, but there’s a very intricate setting here, too, and this version has the time to lay back and let it all unfold in the oppressive discomfort of an English summer day.

Even better than all of that though is Knightley confronting Emma after it all goes down. This treatment is neither plaintive, nor aggressive as it was in ‘96 and ‘97 respectively. I’ve already extolled the virtues of Johnny Flynn’s Box Hill rebuke, but for a change I’m not going to zero in on Miller’s performance which is, at least as good as Flynn’s, but on Romola Garai’s, which I find superior to Anya Taylor Joy’s. Specifically, her reaction once she’s alone.

ATJ in the 2020 version immediately breaks down sobbing and it’s hard for me to feel that she’s sobbing for “anger against herself, mortification, and deep concern” or that there’s much self-reflection going on there. To me it rather just feels like she’s crying because she got shouted at. The theatrics of it, to me, feel childish and self-centered.

I don’t feel that with Garai’s performance.

“She was vexed beyond what could have been expressed—almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was most forcibly struck . . . How could she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in anyone she valued! And how to suffer him to leave her without saying one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness!

Time did not compose her…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Of course one can make the case that Emma's reaction should be a bit childish because Emma is an immature character, but that's the thing--I can agree with you anywhere else in this story but this is Emma's maturing moment. This is her turning point as a character. It's where we should see her reactions shift from the same childish denial we're used to seeing when Knightley scolds her, because this is different. It's not the usual brushing off of big brother Knightley, this is a young woman reacting to an esteemed friend pointing out how abhorrently inappropriate she's been and her having to admit that to herself.

I didn't really want to drag comparisons to the 2020 film into this, not on this scale at least, but this just jumped out at me the last time I watched the new film and I have to express it somewhere.

What I see in Garai’s performance is desolation and mortification. That shocked tearfulness of knowing you’ve been justly reproached for wrongdoing, but being too frozen in a pretense of composure to actually cry about it until you’re quite sure that no one will see you. And especially when it’s someone you esteem rebuking you, the horror of them leaving before you can admit that they’re right. There’s so much more depth here, I think, and I can’t even quite express what it makes me feel.

The aspect of time not composing her is another thing that they decided to put stress on in this version. Emma looks fucked up in the following scenes. When she goes to see Miss Bates, she clearly either hasn’t slept or has slept very badly. I feel like this is maybe an anticlimactic conclusion to this section but I’m afraid I’m very close to reaching incoherence, so I’m just gonna leave it here.

My absolute favoritest thing about this version though—something that sets it apart from ALL other versions and even adaptations of other Austen stories—is the inclusion of the post-confession conversation.

This is something of a trope in Austen books but it very rarely finds its way into adaptations: confessions of love are out of the way, the hero and heroine settle into an easy an comfortable conversation, glowing with happiness as they explain and laugh over their actions and misinterpretations of each other’s choices. It happens in Pride and Prejudice, in Persuasion, and yes, in Emma. This is the only Austen adaptation, that I've seen, to include this kind of conversation in any kind of detail. The 1995 Pride and Prejudice alludes to the corresponding scene in it its source material, but the lines pulled from it get tossed into the confession scene itself and then it flies through to get to the obligatory wedding—a side effect of rushing through endings, a convention I’m rather tired of.

Emma (2009) takes its time with this, as with all other aspects of this adaptation. For a version that’s so full of energy, its pacing is extremely laid back and comfortable, without dragging. When you hear the gentle musical swell and Emma and Knightley have their kiss (this whole confession sequence is so sweet and wonderful in its own right), you expect that to be it. But no, we cut to them, the picture of contented happiness, sitting together on a bench overlooking Hartfield’s garden, just talking and enjoying being together, with no teasing, no pretense. If Jane Austen stories emphasize anything, it’s the importance of communication in relationships, and I think that’s maybe why she made it a point in almost every story to show her characters communicating their feelings in words, even after all the conflict has been resolved. This is my favorite scene in the whole series (In case it being my header image didn’t make that obvious.)

This is followed rather promptly by a cut to the next day, with Emma bursting in to Donwell in hysterics about how they can’t be married because she won’t leave her father alone.

This is one of those maybe over-the-top choices that a lot of people don’t like, but guys, it was so funny to me when I was fourteen and it still makes me laugh. It might seem outlandish, but to me it’s just the emphasis on personal relationships and emotion coming through again and it always makes me smile.

Final Thoughts

It’s hard for me to give a proper round up of my feelings for this section because I think I’ve poured just about all of my feelings on each aspect into its dedicated sections.

At the end of the day, the only thing that really disappoints me about this version is the number of missed opportunities there are here. One of my favorite parts of reading Austen is when I run across a line in dialogue or narrative that just… slaps. But they never make it into the adaptations. Emma is full of them and I just wish that Sandy Welch could have taken an opportunity to slip a few of them in.

In summary, I think this is a wonderful, heartfelt adaptation aimed at getting to the emotional heart of a story that often gets caught up in the Mean Girl-ness of its main character than the coming of age story that it is. It's one of my favorite period dramas because it's one of the few that really captures the spirit of the source material as it's always felt to me. There's really only two other period dramas that I esteem on the same level as this, and they're North & South (2004) and Jane Eyre (2011) and it's for the same reasons; because they impact me deeply on an emotional level--which is what art is supposed to do--because of how well it captures the essence of the story that I know and love.

So did I succeed in a more objective review of Emma 2009? I' feel like probably not. But I tried my best. It’s so hard to be objective about something that makes you as happy as this adaptation makes me.

Ribbon Rating: Most Agreeable (83 Ribbons)

Tone: 10

Casting: 9

Acting: 9

Scripting: 7

Pacing: 10

Cinematography: 7

Setting: 9

Costumes: 6

Music: 8

Book Accuracy: 8

[nomazee]

saw you responded to my prompt idea (Heather) and I'm really sorry for not including a specific character the first time! i did send in a second ask as a follow up. but ushijima pls

Starting Over

(original ask: hi there 😎 hope you're doing well!! just dropping by to suggest a prompt idea!! IM THINKING; Heather by Conan Gray? There's flirty banter going on w/ u 2, and you think the feelings are mutual.. but then there's someone else in the picture. He's giving them all of his attention and you're kinda pushed to the side. Angst pls ): hurt my feelings but then hold my hand after. fluff maybe)

ushijima x reader; tendou & reader

word count: 3000+

content: unrequited crush, angst, loneliness, personal development

(thank you so so so much for this request!! don’t worry about forgetting to add the character, it’s completely alright!! i sort of strayed from the prompt a bit but i tried to maintain the primary concept as best as i could. i enjoyed writing this a lot and i hope you enjoy this!!

also just a fun fact--i was absolutely prepared to make the reader and wakatoshi’s gf fall in love with each other and elope and i’m very close to rewriting this and making it go down that route 😃

ALSO-ALSO—i have a multi-part series in the works right now (by “in the works” i mean BARE BONES PLANS) and im gonna share some details + a sneak peak soon!!! i’m kind of excited cause it’s gonna be the first long multipart series i’m gonna make, so i hope you guys are excited about it too!!

thank you all so much for the support recently, every like and commment and follower i receive motivates me so much and i love u all to bits <3

happy reading!!) 

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

Wakatoshi is not a romantic. You know that best out of anyone—knowing the boy for years gives you a decent awareness of what type of person he is. He doesn’t have much of an interest in things that aren’t volleyball. Even his friends are scarce, limited to you and Tendou and some of the other third-years on the volleyball team. It’s not like he’s lonely—he’s reserved by nature and choice, never really expanding his social circle and putting his energy into extra practices rather than nights out. 

You suppose that’s why you get along so well with him. You also suppose that’s why it was a shock to hear that Wakatoshi accepted someone’s confession. 

You were no stranger to hearing about these confessions—not because Wakatoshi tells you about them, but because you’re often the one who has to act as the messenger between the confessors of the week and Wakatoshi himself. It’s a bit draining, frankly, to be looked at as a tool to get closer to the ace, but you put up with it because at least you still have him. 

Her name is Hana, and she was one of the very few people who confessed to Wakatoshi personally. 

He told you the details while walking you to your dorm, and you were a little suspicious of how in-depth he seemed to go about the event. He was interested, you deduced, and in the moment you forced yourself to shove down the ball that rose white-hot in your throat. 

“She invited me to dinner on Sunday. Her family owns a restaurant. She said she’ll make me my favorite.” 

Oh, you think, I’ve made his favorite plenty of times—you cut that thought off in fear of sounding bitter over losing someone who was never really yours. 

“So you’re going, then?” 

It’s silent. You stare intently at the way your feet step against the concrete. At the persistent lull in the conversation, you glance up to Wakatoshi. 

His cheeks are red, and his gaze is trained pointedly away from you. 

He’s blushing, you realize. He’s blushing because he’s embarrassed, embarrassed that now he has someone he’s interested in. 

You know you should be happy, and the robotic voice in your head chants, “That’s cute! That’s great!” But you know yourself a little better than that, and decide that you aren’t the happiest with this epiphany. 

But you’ll sure as hell make it seem like you are, for Wakatoshi’s sake and Hana’s, too. 

You give a smile, one without crinkles at the corners of your eyes, and elbow him playfully. “That’s cute, Toshi. I’m surprised you found someone you’re interested in, but I’m really happy for you.” 

He’s smiling, now, and it’s a gentle smile you rarely see form in your presence. As you wave goodbye to him at the steps of your dorm building, you wonder if you’ll have to stop calling him Toshi in fear of upsetting Hana. 

---

You’re getting ahead of yourself, you think in the days following Wakatoshi’s unintentional admission of feelings. He’s just trying out a date for once. It’s not like you’re going to lose him immediately.

For the remainder of the week, Wakatoshi still walks you to your dorm after practice (you stay in the library until he’s done), and still lets you sit with him at lunch. By Friday, you make an excuse to avoid the cafeteria (read: avoid him, but you don’t tell him that) and tell him not to wait for you after practice. 

You text him on Sunday asking him to tell you how the date goes. He responds with, “It was very fun. I really like her :)” and you feel your heart crack under the strain of your unrequited feelings. But you suck it up, like a good friend, you think, and tell him “that’s great!! i’m so happy for you :)” 

On Monday, you go back to sitting with Wakatoshi at lunch. When you smile and place your bento box on the table, he waves awkwardly and blinks at you. 

Oh, you think, yet again. Maybe I shouldn’t be sitting here.

You feel a stifling lack of familiarity in the air, and it pains you to admit it. You nod back at Wakatoshi, then blink at your lunch tray, feeling too awkward to even open it up and start eating. 

He doesn’t say anything. You uncharacteristically take the initiative. 

“So… your date,” you begin. “Did you like it?” 

His eyelids flutter yet again, and a fond smile crosses his features. “Yes, I did. Her restaurant is very nice, and so is her family. The hayashi rice was very good. She wants to go out again this weekend.” 

“You’re going again?” It’s rhetorical. You know the answer already. He nods, and goes back to eating his lunch. A few minutes pass by, and you still can’t find the strength to pick at your bento. 

Just as you open your mouth again to babble about a random topic to fill the silence, Wakatoshi’s head darts up and his eyes focus on something behind you. You twist around to see what it is, but a cold feeling in your veins tells you you already know. 

She’s pretty, you think as she waves at you and Toshi and takes a seat next to him. Really pretty, actually. 

And an angel. She greets you politely, with a wide smile that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle. Her hands are soft and she has pastel yellow acrylics on her nails. “Hi! I’m Hana, it’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?” 

The question sends another wave of cold electricity through your system, and you feel like crying at the realization that Wakatoshi probably didn’t even talk about you. He probably never talks about you, you think, because there’s just not much to talk about when it comes to you. 

You give a smile. Your eyes don’t crinkle. “[Y/N],” you tell her. “I’m Ushijima’s friend.” 

Maybe the use of his family name is a bit petty, but you convince yourself that you’re just trying to make yourself distant, trying to make yourself appear as less of a threat to Hana. You think it’s natural that she might get antsy about another girl being in Wakatoshi’s life, but then think that she’s probably too kind to ever get jealous or upset. It only makes your heart ache more. 

You see the subtlest flinch from Wakatoshi at the use of his surname, but you assume he doesn’t really care much. Him and Hana start talking casually, and tears prick behind your eyes as Hana does her best to involve you in the conversation. She’s so nice, so so nice, and it isn’t fair for you to be so bitter. 

“I have to go study in the library now,” you tell them, picking up your untouched bento box from the table and standing up. “But it was really nice meeting you, Hana.” She smiles again, glossy lips and pearly teeth before Wakatoshi interrupts you. 

“You didn’t tell me you were leaving early?” 

You pause, and think of the irony of that—he didn’t tell you Hana was sitting with him, otherwise you would’ve left them alone in the first place. But you brush it off, and maintain your smile. “Yeah, I guess I forgot.” You huff a humorless laugh. “But I’ll see you guys later.”

You don't end up going to the library, instead settling for the nurse’s office. She’s nice, you think, nice enough to let you get away with a stomachache and sitting out of class for the remainder of the day. 

When you’re dismissed, you habitually wait for Wakatoshi at the side door of the school building. It’s a Monday, and he doesn’t have practice, so he’d be able to walk you back to your dorm rather than making you wait in the library. 

It’s a fruitless effort, and you hit yourself for not anticipating it earlier—maybe if you did , you would’ve been at your dorm already. If you did, you wouldn’t wait for twenty minutes with the empty hope that Wakatoshi would still walk you home. If you did, you wouldn’t have to watch them pass down the sidewalk together, his team jacket draped over Hana as they talked with each other, hands interlocked and smiles persistent. 

As you blink away tears and walk away from the scene, you think that Hana must really be someone special, to break down Wakatoshi’s walls so quickly and make him be so familiar with her in a matter of days. 

Either that, or you were never anything special. Just complacent with the relationship you had with the boy, which you think was only formulated out of the coincidence of growing up together. 

You try not to let the thoughts get to you, but after a heartbreak it’s a little difficult to think positively about yourself. You settle for taking a nap once you get to your dorm, and hope that the school’s library is open during lunch tomorrow. 

---

Thankfully, it is, and you wordlessly leave Hana and Wakatoshi to their own devices during lunch. He doesn’t question it, doesn’t text you, doesn’t ask you after lunch or during class about it. When you dismiss, you don’t wait for him to walk you to your dorm, and for the second time, you’re left walking alone. It’s a little nerve-wracking, having such a sudden change in your routine, and you’re starting to regret not expanding your social circle. If you did, you’d have someone to talk to at lunch, someone to walk with after dismissal, someone to hang out with during the weekends, another contact in your phone that wasn’t just your parents and Wakatoshi. 

The week ends. Wakatoshi never texts you, never asks you if you’re okay or questions why you’re so distant. It’s simultaneously painful and relieving—knowing that your presence could so easily be deducted from his life made you rethink a lot of things, but at the same time you think his lack of action makes it easier for you to deal with it. 

During lunch on Monday, you’re alone in the library. Until you’re not. 

Red flashes by your vision until you can properly process the form of a boy sitting across from you, chin resting in his palm as he looks at you curiously, a teasing expression on his face. 

It’s Tendou—you know him fairly well. You can’t consider him a friend just yet, but you’re somewhat close to him, what with both of you being friends with Wakatoshi. 

You blink at him, and cock your head to the side. He follows suit. He’s interesting, you think. 

“Hi, Tendou.” You greet. “What are you doing here?” 

He narrows his eyes at the stiff greeting, and the arm supporting his head drops to the table. A smile peeks through his features, and while his eyes don’t crinkle you can still tell it’s genuine and friendly. 

“Just wanted to say hi. I didn’t see you in the cafeteria with Wakatoshi like you usually are. Actually, I haven’t seen you there for a while now. It took me some time to find out where you go, but I’m here now!” 

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you settle for a blank stare. He huffs in mock annoyance, and throws his head back with a groan that nearly alerts the librarian. 

“Aren’t you happy? Now you can stop moping around and hang out instead.” A pause, then, “So what’s up with you and Toshi? Why don’t you sit with him anymore?” 

So this is a therapy session, you think sardonically. Alright, sure. I guess I can tell him. 

“He has a girlfriend.” You wince at how sad the words sound coming out of your mouth, and quickly try to defend your tone. “Which is a good thing! I’m not upset—” oh yeah, definitely not, “—but I wanted to leave them alone, so they can hang out. I don't want to get in their way.” 

Tendou doesn't respond immediately, instead settling for tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in suspicion. You’re sure he already knows the real reason, but give up on trying to clarify yourself any further. 

He gives a wordless hum, eyes darting to the bento box you’d set aside at the beginning of the period. “You’re not eating.” It’s not a question, more of an observation, and you tense up. Tendou isn’t a threat, you know that, but his hyper-awareness of everything and everyone around him intimidates you greatly. 

“Not hungry,” you respond, avoiding his scrutinizing gaze. “I eat breakfast, and I don’t normally get hungry until the afternoon.” 

“It is the afternoon.” Technically, he’s not wrong. It’s almost 1:30. Regardless, you huff at his technicalities and remain silent. 

His gaze is still locked on you. You wonder what he’s still here for, and jokingly tell yourself he’s going to give you a letter and ask you to give it to Wakatoshi like everyone else does. 

“You don’t have to stay alone just ‘cause Toshi got a girlfriend.” He’s blunt in his words, which you detest and appreciate at the same time. “He’s not your whole life—doesn’t have to be. You’ve got me now. I’m your new friend, Tendou Satori!” By the end of his spiel, he’s back to his playful self, tone turning childish as he strikes a pose and winks at you. 

You make an agreement (more like, he makes a proposition and forces you to comply) to wait for him in the library after school and let him walk you to your dorm. As he leads you to the building, chatting loudly and making you laugh harder than you have in weeks, a strong resolve plants itself in your head. 

You have a new friend, and his name is Tendou Satori. 

---

For the next week and a half, Tendou is complacent with your dismissive attitude regarding Wakatoshi and indulges you in mindless activities to distract you from any stresses. During the weekend, he takes you out to the mall, buys you boba, and forces you to try on clothes of his choice with the promise that you can do the same to him. While you both giggle in front of the mirror of the dressing room, he pulls out his phone, snaps a picture of you and him in the mirror, and posts it on his Snapchat. You don’t think much of that. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while, and even before then you don’t remember enjoying your time with Wakatoshi as much. 

That epiphany makes you hurt a bit, but then you feel Tendou grasp your wrist and lead you off somewhere and things are better. Things are a lot better, really, until a new week approaches and Wakatoshi texts you for the first time in nearly a month. 

You hung out with Tendou? 

You blink. It’s an interesting way to start a conversation. You suppose Wakatoshi’s not one for formalities, and conclude that he must’ve seen Tendou’s post. Frankly, you’re a bit insulted that Wakatoshi seems shocked at the concept that you can make friends on your own, but you brush it off and text him back. 

yeah!! we started talking a while ago. he’s cool. 

Oh

Are you mad at me? 

You don’t know what to think of his question. You don’t know where it came from, or how to respond. Discerning his tone of voice is a bit difficult over text, even more so than it is in person. Nevertheless, you answer honestly. 

no? not really? why are you asking? 

It takes him a while to respond, and your anxiety grows with each passing second. 

You haven't talked to me recently. You don’t eat lunch in the cafeteria anymore. Did I do something wrong? 

You don’t know how to explain it to him—don’t really have the energy to go on a rant about how you were avoiding him for your sake, his sake, and his girlfriend’s sake, how you had feelings for him for years and he never noticed and how it was kind of a dick move to be upset over you avoiding him for a month and not even bothering to approach you about it in the first week you started going to the library or the nurse during lunch and walking to the dorms alone. 

You settle, once again, for something simpler. 

don’t worry about it :) i wasn't avoiding you, but i wanted to give you and hana time alone, so that i didn’t bother you.

Are you and Tendou dating? 

You’re sure you’re going to get whiplash from this conversation. You let out a breathy chuckle and tap away on your phone. 

no, ushijima, we’re just friends 

Oh. Okay

Would you like to sit with me and Hana at lunch tomorrow? 

You read the text, then reread it, and lean back in your chair with a sigh. You’re not sure that Wakatoshi knows what he’s doing, but you still appreciate the intended kindness behind the words. You straighten out your posture, look at the blinking line in the message box, and turn your phone off. 

The library doors open, and Tendou bounds through with a cute little hop, immediately going to your usual table with a smile. 

“Ready to go?” He asks. You check the time—it’s nearly half past six. Tendou notices and apologizes. 

“Sorry for making you wait so long. Practice ran a little longer than usual and I didn’t get the chance to text you about it. Wakatoshi was kind of out of it, so Coach made us all suffer the consequences.” He coupled his statements with a laugh, and it eased the unpleasant feeling that arose with his last sentence. His thin fingers wrapped around your wrist carefully, and he tugged you out of your seat to lead you back home. 

Wakatoshi left a bit of an empty gap in your life. And you knew that you’d still be reminded of him often and that pain in your chest will return sometimes. The doubt of your previous friendship and the personal guilt of not trying to get closer to him sooner would still linger for a while. But Tendou Satori was a good distraction, and a great friend.

[accirax]

Disventure Camp All Stars Power Ranking (Round 15)

Can you believe this is my 10th round of doing these Power Rankings? Despite the ups and downs of the season, it's been super fun to see this through throughout the entire season. Let's hope that my 10th ranking will bring a 10/10 score! (Or, rather, a 6/6.)

In case you haven't seen my previous power rankings, the Power Ranking Format is essentially a way of ranking how well each player is doing in the game. So, in essence, this is a long form way of predicting who I think will be eliminated from the competition in the next episode. There will be spoilers for last week's episode (obviously) and its power ranking, so make sure to read that first if you don't want to be spoiled on how I ranked our last boot. If you want more clarification on the rules, that first post will help you out as well. Furthermore, I'm going to be spoiling the preview for next episode, so if you want to go in TOTALLY blind, save this for later. Let's go!

Recap - Aiden's Elimination

Current Score: 65 acquired/97 total

(Points versus @venus-is-thinking: 16 acquired/23 total)

Seems like it was finally Aiden's time to go. Although, really, it should've been Jake's time to go (in universe), he just won immunity. Still, Aiden has gotten so much spotlight these past few seasons that the end of that focus felt inevitable. I'm not too mad that he was eliminated in this way, only upset that I didn't put him lower on the list. Damn you, Grett, and making it sound like you would vote with the heroes...

I still don't completely understand the logic behind Grett making this move (as I elaborated upon at the end of my initial thoughts), but I'm way less confused about this than I was about, say, Aiden's plan to expose the kiss, or even Magenta's choice to eliminate Hunter way back when. I think it'll make for a more exciting finale either way, so it's probably for the best. Again, only mildly frustrated with myself that I didn't call it better.

Trailer Analysis

Okay, so this definitely seems relevant to the challenge. Given all the other stuff we've seen, I'm guessing it's the end?* Go through a bunch of obstacles; first person to zipline to the flag gets immunity. Seems simple enough...? At least Aiden doesn't have to once again face his dubiously remaining fear of heights.

What a surprise that they're fighting again. They're in their pajamas, meaning that this is probably at camp near the beginning of the episode.

Emily is real again! Seems like they may be plotting their revenge this episode, as opposed to actually carrying it out. Or, this could be Trevor changing his mind about revenge in the first place.

Connor giving Riya the silent treatment. Good for you, king.

Okay, I wouldn't normally put this in, but given that they put it in, clearly there's something to be gathered here. This really seems like it would be a non-team challenge, meaning there's probably only one challenge tester? If so, then I think the relevant piece is that neither Derek nor Trevor is testing the challenge. My guess is that Derek is exempt via Kristal, but Trevor may have ditched in his rebellion.

Okay, so sandbags are part of the challenge, and it appears Connor and Alec reach them first.

There's also rock climbing.

Riya is potentially sabotaging Yellow? From the previous shot, it looks like Alec is blue, so it's not him. Interestingly, Connor also seems to be running past Yellow, so it's not him. It's also not Grett, as she's shown as Orange in the thumbnail. Maybe Jake is Yellow? Or maybe Riya is just picking up her own bag.

More of Riya using her feminine wiles.

Ally is black, and *it seems like that wasn't the challenge endpoint after all.

Ally and Jake's fighting will get physical, as well. Given that we don't really see Ally's hair messed up elsewhere, maybe the rock climbing is the end of the challenge? Although then, where did the bags go?

Riya's trying to kill people again, including her (former?) allies. Typical. (Alec is the question mark; Connor is clearly a former ally if you even count him as ever being an ally at all.)

"Don't mind him. He's just moody~"

The malewife-ification of Alec continues. Riya has definitely gone mad with power if this is how she's treating her only real alliance. I feel like Alec's gonna snap sooner or later.

Power Ranking

#1: Connor

Venus and I talked about this one a bit after last week's episode, and, it would be way too sad if Connor was taken out in this time in this way, right? He literally directly vowed that this time, he would be the one to take out Riya (and win), and he even has a totem now. If he went home with an idol in his pocket, that would be devastating, and totally go against all the positive momentum he's been building up to this point.

Now, it's certainly possible that Connor will have to play his idol this episode if he wants to survive, but that still means that he wouldn't be going home this time. Especially with Grett potentially giving him a tip-off about what the vote would be, he really shouldn't fail in this regard.

Now, I'm still torn about whether Connor will be a finalist or not, and I don't think he'll win. Or at least, I hope he doesn't, because other contestants need the money way more than he does. And, you can't even really argue that he played the best game, considering that he literally got voted out once before and only managed to get back into the game with Ashley's help. I think Connor could be a losing finalist, or get eliminated at final 4 or 5. However, I don't think he's headed home just yet, so he's at #1 for me.

#2: Ally

Perhaps it's Ally's fate to ping pong across my list, this late into the season. Or, maybe just pong. That's the video game version.

As Grett pointed out, Ally is now in a swing vote position. It'll be up to her and Grett to determine whether one of Alec and Riya or one of Jake and Connor is going home. Therefore, there really shouldn't be any reason why Ally would be going home this time. Sure, Jake might want her out, but him choosing to either A) convince Alec and Riya to work with him and Connor to take out Ally or B) convince Grett to likely send it to a 3-3 tie both seem incredibly implausible. I guess the 3-3 could work if Connor planned to idol Ally out by protecting himself/Jake, but still, it's a bad idea to let Grett in on schemes to eliminate Ally, even if Jake might not know it.

From a narrative perspective, I also don't think it would make sense to eliminate Ally here. She has more decisively turned towards the villainous, but all of the heavy plan-lifting has been left to Riya or Grett. I'm not necessarily saying that Ally needs to herald a scheme of her own before she's eliminated, just that sending Ally home as collateral damage to one of them feels like an underwhelming end to her character. All of this arguing must be building up to something big, right?

#3: Grett

She's here along with Ally as a likely swing vote who has a scheme up her sleeve that seems like it's going to play out. One question you may be asking, though, is why I have Grett below Ally. Grett is a strong winner choice, and the one driving the plan. She probably has more options than Ally does, due to a longer history with the villains and a better relationship with the heroes. Shouldn't that make her more invincible?

Well, as I explained for Ally, I think that Grett going home as a result of her own plans is a better narrative ending than Ally going home as a result of someone else's. Make no mistake, I still think that Grett has been building up to at least one win all season (even if it isn't actually winning the season directly), so I suspect that whatever her plan is will work for the time being. However, she did have a really nice bookend to the pull-up thing last episode. Was that a feather in Grett's winner edit cap, or was it a signal that Grett's character arc is done, and so is her time in the show?

While I'm not relying on it as much as last time, I do think that Grett's going to be pulling the strings this time around. There's a chance that she could yank too hard, and wind up cutting hers instead. That's unlikely enough for now, though, that she's here at #3.

#4: Jake

I definitely struggled with whether to put Grett or Jake higher, as I'm expecting that neither of them will go home, but could see scenarios in which they could. I wound up putting Grett higher, because I think that the high likelihood of her plan working is more important than the longevity vibes I get from Jake. However, I think that Grett also has the more compelling reason to go home, whereas Jake's is more... bleh.

Basically, I see Jake going out if Riya wins immunity, and Grett and Ally decide that it's better to work with the villains for another round (and still be able to 3-2 them later with Connor) and take out Jake. In this scenario, they don't tell Connor to play his idol on Jake, and he doesn't figure out that he should because he just assumes that Riya will want to eliminate him first and foremost. Basically, this is another "the narrative stalls for an episode to set up bigger conflicts later" option.

It's logical enough-- keeping Riya, Connor, and Alec in the game means that they can keep working on their little trio relationship together, while Grett and Ally stay in the game together to continue strategizing. Jake does have relationships with Connor and Ally, but his elimination could cause Connor to become even more firm in his need to play his idol correctly, and Ally to see how she feels once she finally got what she wanted.

The issue is, the whole plan sucks for Jake's characterization, including the fact that he'd go to the Loser's Motel and see Tom several episodes before the dedicated time in which we could see them talk. This option only works if the writers decide they don't care about Jake anymore, and given how much focus he's gotten, I find that unlikely. Still, with this few people left, that still puts Jake in the bottom half for now.

#5: Alec

Sort of similar lines as Jake, but this time if Riya wins immunity and Grett and Ally choose to simply switch villain targets (at least, as I see the setup in my mind). Alec is still a challenge threat, on both a physical and intellectual level. Riya by far has more power now-- including over Alec-- so she's the bigger threat. But, still, it took Miriam, Fiore, and Ellie working together last season to keep Alec out of a Final 3 he probably would've won. If you have the chance now, it could be a good idea to take him out.

It'd be a sad ending to Alec's story, but so has, like, everything in recent memory. I could see them striking a balance where Alec is still mostly "punished" for his villainous actions overall, but is able to reconnect with Connor (much like he already reconnected with Fiore) before his elimination. Alec and Connor seem like they'll be on good terms this episode, running and climbing together, so I could see that going down.

I've mostly just been stalling before the main event, though. There's no way it's not #6... right?

#6: Riya

I also talked about this with Venus last Saturday, so I already know that we're both going to have Riya at the bottom. There are, like, a bazillion reasons why it makes the most sense for Riya to go down next. Okay, maybe not a bazillion, more like four. But still, here they are.

Riya is, overall, very threatening. It's true that she's not that strong, and she doesn't really have allies (in or out of the game) other than Alec. Still, she's a villain who will absolutely cheat. I wouldn't want that in the finals with me.

Riya was a finalist in Season 2, landing in second place. Under the assumption that the writers don't want any repeat finalists, she is going to go home in the next three episodes.

Connor, once again, literally told us directly that he was going to take her down. Connor is a hero, and Riya is a villain, and we're meant to root for this happening. It feels too late in the season for this to be a subversion where the heroes(?) bounce back after Connor fails. Who would fill his shoes to finish the deed, Jake? How is Connor meant to have any more time to turn his story around?

We've also seen a lot of evidence of Alec's mounting frustrations with Riya. Literally no one wants her in this game anymore, other than maybe Ally.

The bigger question in my mind is whether Connor will need to use his idol to take her out or not. There are some nice parallels to be had if he does, both with him taking extra steps to take her out this time instead of sacrificing himself to keep her in, and possibly with an idol successfully being played on Jake at the final 6 instead of it being wasted like it was in Season 1. But, I really feel like it has to be Riya's time to go. If it isn't, well... I hope the rest of my list holds up well enough.

That's all for now! Being confident always scares me, because sometimes you turn on the episode and you just instantly know you're wrong, y'know? And that feeling is terrifying. Needless to say, Venus and I will be on a wild ride if Riya does win immunity or whatever. I'm hoping that we'll all see Riya take a massive L this Saturday... for the sake of my rankings, of course.

[duskyskz]

Blueberry Claws - H.H.J

Warnings - Halloween Au, mentioned assault, choking, Hyunjin!Dom mild tones, slight violence

Word Count - 4.7K

A/N - ahaha this .. turned out way longer than I meant to ohno I'm sorry Hyunjin had my heart in a vice grip lately

Part of @nightshade-minho and @mini-meanhoe 's Halloween collab!

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

Elbow deep in ruddy earth, you kneel among the undergrowth of your garden, plucking away stray roots and weeds. It’s not your favourite part of the day, but you pride yourself in the exquisite berries your growth produces, and adequate sunlight is a must in bringing the sweetest fruits. Autumnal chills creep down your spine, warning you of setting sun and cooler nights looming over the forest horizon. It is a quaint little house, settled carefully between the curve of the river and the forest border, a hat’s toss away from the village settlement, and you enjoy it that way - far away enough for privacy and undisturbed peace, yet not isolated enough to be unreachable and dreary. 

People weren't the only viable company, anyway. Your neighbors came in the form of passing badgers rummaging through your compost, squirrels and mice poking their noses through cracks in your windowsill while you bake, the sweet smell of sugar and jams luring in a furry audience you felt obliged to entertain, tossing crumbs and peels into the open yard. 

“Croak!” 

You raise your head away from the mud at the screech, glancing upward. 

“Hello.” You greet your most recent visitor. The magpie quickly climbed upon your friendlist, introducing itself with a persistent knock of its beak against your poor kitchen windowpane. It came back the next evening, and the one after that, never missing more than a day in it’s routine to rob you of your pie crusts. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“Croak!” You suppose that’s a yes, considering the intensity with which the bird stares down at your precious blueberries. 

“Come on, then. Lunch wouldn’t hurt me, either.” 

***

“Can you believe that - that witch!” You stomp along the pavement to your front door, slamming it open. “The audacity to even imply my pies are anything but organic!”

Positively fuming, you don't entertain the absurdity of venting your frustrations to a corvid. At times, you think to yourself the little blackbird almost understands you - head tilting in accordance with your words, nodding when appropriate and watching your dutifully as if awaiting continuation. 

Then it’s attention switches from your wild gesticulations to the fresh batch of muffins cooling on your counter, and your suspicions of a higher intelligence disappears, leaving you to sweep cake crumbs off it’s feathers. No, plunging neck-deep into hot cake is not wise, you’d point out later. 

***

Maybe the loneliness does get to you after all. It’s a little embarrassing to admit how reliant you become on the magpie’s company. Its’ shrill croaks and glassy eyes became a comfort to you, a presence your day no longer felt complete without. Brushing your fingertips over the delicate feathers on its back, you rest your chin on your other palm. 

“It’s a dreary winter coming, birdie.” You muse, humming at the overcast sky. Masses of grey and washed out blues tumblr over the hills, warning you of approaching snows and rains. “I should fix the roof hatching tomorrow morning - be a shame to freeze my toes off before the solstice, wouldn’t it?” 

 The magpie doesn’t reply, and you don’t expect it to, but the slow blinks as you speak convince you your words don’t fall on deaf ears. 

“As long as I don’t have someone warming my bed, I better do all the warming myself.” Springin to your feet, you set to work on tidying the front yard. 

“Would you care to join me to fetch new hay for the roof tomorrow?” 

Your unconventional companion opens his beak, groaning. Then it snaps down into the ground, impaling one of your finest strawberries. 

Ah, well. 

You can only guess what a magpie must tend to in a day - you weren’t about to keep it from important bird tasks.

***

Your window panes quiver with the force of the hurricane, creaking sadly in their wooden frames. You have no idea what time it could possibly be, but judging by the time already passed since sundown, it’s way into the late night. Dismorphed figures haunt the outside, shadows passing over your bedroom like a predator, and you burrow deeper under your covers. Of course, approaching winter was harsh. In the hillside, mountain winds rolled down rocky foundations to crash into your humble home with rapid force. Turning onto your side, you press your head against the pillow to mute the whistle of the wind through your thin walls. You’d patched the roof last week - but you had yet to insulate the walls fresh, and chills made themselves known through cracks and gaps in last year’s worn overlay. 

With a soul-crushing snap, your window is thrown open as the lock gives way to hurricane, two fragile glass planes whipping open into the dead of night as you curse your luck and scramble out of bed to grasp the handles before they’re torn off entirely.

Yet something past the glass grabs your gaze before you can pull them shut, petrifying you in place. You don’t know if it’s the rain freezing your feet to the ground, or the unfiltered terror, but you can’t even scream as your eyes meet the vividly yellow ones across your garden.

Hunched above your blueberry bush, in a cloak of pitch black, stands a creature you’ve only seen in manic sketches in the village hall prior to tonight. Its’ spine seems bent, somehow, too long and too skewerd to fit precisely in its body, leaving two lumps protruding from its back. In a pale face, boxed in by wisps of black, you can only focus on two luminous eyes, zeroing in on your figure with far too much attention for your liking. 

In its knifed claws it grips a branch of your favourite plant, mangled and weeping blueberry juice onto the dirt. Maroon splatters blot the beast’s face, but you don’t gaze long enough to separate fruit from the blood of some poor soul. 

Maybe your blood will be next on its beak. 

Yanking the window shut, you tumble into your bed, curling as tight as you can into the duvet, shielding your head. Maybe it’ll go away if you don’t make noise, holding your hands to your ears. 

Maybe it’ll just go away.

***

It’s been three days since the storm, and coincidentally, three day since you’ve last seen your closest friend. Really, mayhaps this was a sign your friendship should extend elsewhere, and not the local corvid populace. Shovelling pastries into your hamper, you venture out into the open air for the first time since that night.

You’re still unable to clean the wreckage in your front yard. Somehow, the thought of laying your hands on the same branches that unknown horror touched fills you with dread, and you can’t bring yourself to rid the leftover mess. You had enough jams and preserves stockpiled to last you the whole winter if need be - if you weren’t financially obliged to sell most of them, anyway. 

Fitting yourself with a scarf to guard from temperamental weather, you wrap the wool tightly up to your nose as the first leaves fall from the oaks beside you. 

You love your town, you really do. 

The whimsy of nearby streams rolling over lustrous green fields is a wonder to wake up to every morning, and the walk into town is always a pleasant meander under centuries-old oaks and pine trees, spying on the conversations of woodpeckers and crows.

Yet, among all the commotion, you find yourself missing one particular croak. Never quite the same elegant cry as the other birds, but particular and endearing in its own right. 

And entirely missing from your life for half a week.

Passing the stone gates, you keep to the right of the road to make space for idle carts and horses wandering the streets. Carefully, you unload all your stock onto the market table - this stand has your name carved into the wooden leg, and you pride yourself on being a regular enough attendant to warrant a reserved place. 

The day flurries by you in a mess of clinking jam jars and passing coins. Afternoon had already set in a while ago, traversing into the evening by the time you begin wrapping up your last sale. Bidding goodbye to the market staff, you hoist your (significantly lighter) basket over your forearm, leaving the town square. It’s not dark yet, bare wisps of the night inking over your head as the sun lowers over the woods, letting you lose your train of thought in the scenery.

You feel the last pricks of stress leave you as your thoughts drift to the hallowing creature from nights ago. Perhaps your mind, in its hazy and exhausted stade, played up the vivid shadows and reflections in the moonlight? Yes, surely. There’s no way an animal this size and fright roamed your woods unacknowledged - The only terror you knew was the fabled warlock, but nobody has seen his face in decades. You weren’t even sure what he looked like. All tales of warlocks the library gave you marked them as haunted men, selling their soul for mastery of dark arts, giving up their limbs for a hint of inhuman power. Some had horns, you’d read. Some, a devilish tail winding between their legs, while some gave up their own eyes and replaced them with animal counterparts for better senses. 

It scared you more than you’d like to admit, the more you entertained the possibility of a being so twisted hiding in the depths of your woods - but was Hwang Hyunjin even real, or a figment of townsfolk imagination? 

Entangled in your own head, you fail to notice the arm lashing out to grab your elbow and yank you violently sideways, slamming your back into the brick wall between two buildings. 

“Ouch!” You rasp out, catching your breath, but your scream is broken by the hand quickly winding around your throat.

Great, after a shitty week you were going to get robbed, too! 

“Don't you try open your mouth again, you little bitch.” A coarse voice hissed against your cheek. You tried to reel away from the terrible stench of his breath, but with your back against the wallside, it was impossible to weasel out. “Made quite a pretty penny at the market today, didn’t ya?”

A large, cold hand snuck down your waist, over the ribbons tying your corset shut, and you were sure you’d retch when clammy fingers started tugging at the knot. 

“Where are you hiding it, then? Down your vest?” One sharp pull leaves your corset flying open, exposing your skin to freezing night air, shielded only by a thin undershirt. You try to shake your head, but the hold on your neck makes it impossible to even curse. “That’s a bit thin, isn’t it? Not much to hide under such flimsy fabric -”

“Shit!”

You heave in a breath as the tightness around your throat suddenly wanes, disappearing, and all weight lifts from you. Eyes watering from the lack of oxygen, you blink rapidly to clear your vision, stumbling back as you find focus. 

Shrill cries tear from your assailant, angry red oozing from the gash above his left eye, arms flailing maniacally to chase away the blur of feathers thrashing around his head. Slinking down to catch your breath, you pull your knees to your chest to steady your breathing, though the scene before you grows more gruesome every time you blink. 

You can’t tear your eyes away, even as the bird dives down again, embedding its razor claws in the man’s eye socket. The screams are terrifying, but you don’t have the thought to wonder how no one else came to check the commotion. 

Maybe nobody wanted to.

In muted horror, you watch as the man finally lands a hit, thrashing the tiny bird into the wall opposite with a numbing crack, spinning on his heel to face you once more, though his one eye struggles to find your face. He stumbles forward, lurching in your direction, drops of fresh blood flying at your feet.

“What are you, a witch? I should burn you alive -”

Smack!

You’re sure you’re hallucinating as he topples to the pavement, struck by a surprise force. Hunched over him, in a flurry of black feather, sits a mass you know  you’ve seen before. For a moment you think, another bird? A whole flock? But then the feathered cape shifts, raises, and you realise it’s one pair of  heavy-set wings protruding from a broad back, arms poised to strike over and over at a target long void of defense. You feel sick - everything that unravelled in the last few moments makes your stomach churn, and you vomit onto the floor between your feet. You can’t watch the blood any longer, listen to the crunching sound of tendons snapping and bone breaking, rolling over as you feel your legs give way to jelly.

***

You can feel yourself swaying, gently. You don’t feel the ground, but you know you’re moving, head balanced on something pillowy and warm, but still solid - what a weird combination. 

There’s something holding you up by your legs, and another clutching onto your back. You have half the mind to open your eyes when you’re coherent enough to, knowing you should be alarmed given the situation you just vaguely avoided. But this is nice. Your lift your eyelids barely enough to take in your position, head propped carefully on a shoulder. You can’t see much beyond the collarbone your nose is tucked into without outing yourself as awake, so you settle for breathing in deep, lulling your nerves with the scent of ash and fern. It's safe, comforting somehow, in a way you’ve never felt comforted in. Your forehead grazes his cheek, tips of his dark hair tickling your skin as you heave out a sigh and press your face deeper against the warmth. 

“I’m sorry I left you, Birdie.”

His voice is gentle, too. You let it ring in your head, soft whispers and words you can't quite decipher but appreciate nonetheless lulling you back into shallow sleep. You recognise your surroundings by the shift of light, stepping out from the tree canopy into wide hillside, catching last rays of sunlight. 

You think he’s going to wake you and ask for a key, but your front door grants him access with just a single flick of his wrist under your knee. You’ll have to ask him about that later.

Nudging his way inside, ducking to fit past the low doorframe, your saviour swiftly marches to your bedroom, confirming your suspicions. The layout of your house was entirely too familiar to him for it to be the first time he’s visited the premises. Or the second, if you count the night visit three days back. When he lowers you onto the mattress, it's with such care your heart skips in your chest, and you pray he doesn’t hear it stop entirely when you feel his fingertips brush over your shoulder to pull the blankets over you, strong arms straining under his shirt as he moves your head from his shoulder and you immediately miss the heat. There’s a cup of water by your bedside that wasn’t there before, and when satisfied with your placement, he steps away. Your eyes blink open fully when you feel his presence leave your side. 

“Are you leaving?” Your voice sounds small even to you. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me around.” He answers after a hesitant pause, kneeling by your bed. “You - You looked really scared that night. I never want you to be scared of me.” 

You sit up, reaching for the glass of water which he swiftly passes to you to soothe your throat and wash out remaining bile. Your skin still burns in the places that asshole touched you, and you hiss when your fingers rub the sore spots on your neck, before a larger hand wraps around your palm, bringing it down to glare at the bruise.

“I won’t apologize for what happened to him, though.” The venom in his voice makes you still. “That filth got what he deserved - I should have taken his other eye, too.” 

“...Is he dead?” You’re not sure you should ask.

“No. I left him breathing, but I can’t guarantee someone will find him in time.” 

“You left him blind, that’s enough Hyunjin.” His head snaps up at the name, as if he didn’t expect the confrontation. “You’re the magpie that’s been visiting my garden this summer, aren’t you? You’re the fabled terror in our woods.”

You say the last part with a smile, but the warlock  lowers his head still, glancing down at the blanket curving over your hips.

“....Yeah.” He mumbles, observing the many silver rings at his knuckles. “Is that too much for you?”

“What do you mean?” You scrunch your nose, confused, when he doesn’t elaborate. 

“At first I just came to visit because of the garden, but every time you saw me you’d talk to me like I was a person - Like I could understand. And I know you talk to the others too, like that ugly goose -” You want to scold him for calling Truffles ugly, but he carries on without pause. “But in my head it was just, nice. Even if I couldn’t reply, whenever you speak, there’s no darkness in me. Nothing but you.”

Hyunjin frowns, not wanting to meet your eyes yet. His hand grips the edge of your duvet, straining the fabric as his wings twitch.

“I was so fucking mad at myself when you saw me. You looked so small, so petrified - and of me. And as much as I wanted to take you into my arms and reassure you I couldn’t.” 

You can’t deny it, you were scared then. But knowing the man before you now, the events of today and the large part thunder and your own exhaustion played into your fear that night, you felt none of the apprehension now, resting your hand atop his shaking ones. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t want to see me again, if you’d guessed what I was after that. So I let you be, watching from a distance, because I couldn’t bring myself to let go completely. And today, fuck -” He runs a clawed hand through his locks, pushing hair out of his face to finally look at you, golden eyes rooting you to your spot. “I should have snapped both his legs for even thinking to touch you.”

“But maybe that’s my own vice.” You watch soft pink lips form words you’re not sure are real. They could have been your own imagination, for how quietly he speaks. “Maybe my love would be too much for you.” 

The silence that follows his confession is crushing to both of you, for entirely different reasons. 

You barely wrap your head around the idea of being loved by him before he pulls his hand away from yours, accepting rejection he knew was coming. It’s not until he stands that you breathe in, catching the edge of his jacket before he can leave you again.

“It’s not.” You state. “It’s not too much.”

You hope he doesn’t mistake the quiver in your voice for doubt, because you’ve never been so sure of something in your life. 

“Do you mean that?” The hopeful lilt to his voice sparks your heart alight, he’s at your side in seconds, long feathers sweeping the floor below his feet as he moves. “Are you sure you want me the same way I want you?”

“I do.”

You nod to reassure him, sliding further down the bed to make space for his larger frame. Hyunjin slinks in next to you, crawling over to hover above you, taking in the way you look finally beneath him. His feathers block out most light, sun long set. You can barely see, but before you can complain about missing his ethereal beauty, a candle flickers alight by your window, and another on your bedside table. Another, and yet one more afterward, until your bedroom filters in a warming glow from a dozen shy fires. 

Ah, warlock things. 

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin hesitates still, lips stopping millimeters away from yours as the last strings of hesitation cling to his thoughts until you urge him to move. “You can touch me.”

His lips are warmer than anything you’ve ever felt, moving over your mouth like fine malt wine. There’s a quiver in his hands when he brings a palm down to cradle your cheek, running his thumb over the smooth skin as his tongue runs over your teeth. 

You don’t notice your legs spreading open to allow him between your thighs until his knee bumps against your core, bundling your skirts in his fist to pull them down and off. 

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to have you under me like that, birdie.” Hyunjin whispers. “All for me, at my mercy - you look so good like that.”

The irony of him using your own nickname for him on you is lost in the moment you arch your back into his touch, pressing your still corseted chest against his palm. Every place he touches has you needing more of him, every part you can reach. 

“Undress me, please.” 

“Gladly.” Nimble fingers pluck the bow of your shirt open, lifting it over your head. In the cocoon of his wings and candle light, you feel a love you’ve never known before. Discarding his own shirt next, you hardly have a moment to take in the exquisite expanse of his chest before your field of vision is taken up with glimmering navy feathers, Hyunjin’s head dipping to swirl his tongue over your nipple. Your grip in his hair makes him keen against your chest, groaning over the sensitive flesh between his teeth.

“Are you - You’re a virgin?” The idea of him being the first to make you feel so open, the only person to see you react to such intimate touch gets him harder than Hyunjin thought possible. 

“Ah, yeah…” You nod. Were your reactions so telling? You suddenly felt even smaller, caged between his arms and the pillows, watching his tamarind eyes flicker.

“I’ll love you well, birdie. Don’t worry.” He blows cool air onto your damp bud and you feel like crying. One hand leaves the space by your head, pinching your other peak. At first gently, testing how far he could push your limits to get you melting at his touch, then harder when you moan at the slight burn. 

Your hips rise to rub against his thigh, unknowingly seeking out friction to aid the dampness gathering in your underwear. His hand meets you there, slipping a finger under the band of your panties to snap it against your skin for your impatience, and you still immediately, recognising his dominance even without prior warning. 

“Be good and wait. If I own you, I’m taking my time with you.” There’s a hard edge in his voice, something about the empty threat makes you want to push his buttons until he snaps. 

You don’t need to wait much longer.

Ridding you of the last scrap of clothing you had left, Hyunjin has you bare and displayed, every part on show and within his reach. Slower than you can take, he drags his thumb on the inside of your thigh, kissing and nibbling the delicate skin just inches away from your dripping cunt. When his thumb finally, finally rubs a circle against your clit you whine his name so loud he nearly bites down hard. Still, he holds his pace, pressing his thumb in patient patterns against your nub as his teeth mark up your thighs.

“Jinnie, go harder, please.”

You know you fucked up when he glances up at you, brows quirking in amusement. 

“I said I’ll take care of you, y/n. If you want to cum, lay there and take it.”

You’re thankful he has a shred of mercy for your sanity, because your pleas seem to have a marginal effect on his movement. 

You eat your words when Hyunjin forces two fingers inside your already wet slit, scissoring you open with harsh flicks of his wrist. His lips remain stuck to your clit, and the sudden assault on your senses has tears rushing down your cheeks.

“W-Wait! Hyun, wait, I don’t want to cum yet!” You don’t really believe he’ll listen.

“Don’t you? But I thought you wanted me to hurry, birdie?” The mockery in his voice makes you clench, and you’d flush if you weren’t so close to orgasm. “For someone not ruined before, you beg for a dick so well.”

“No...Not yet, I wanna cum on you, please.” 

Hyunjin can resist many things - spells, curses. Killing a man on multiple occasions. 

Your whimpering voice as you beg for him to take your virginity in your own bed, wrapped around his fingers and blushing from his tongue is not one of those things. 

“Fuck, okay.”

Pulling his fingers out, your lips part at the emptiness, but your nerves prickle with knowledge of what awaits you next. Hyunjin is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, sweat dampening his forehead and eyes peering right into your heart whenever your gazes meet. You’re hypnotised by the way muscles in his back tense when he kneels between your thighs, urging you to open up for his fit. You only catch the briefest sight of his length, but it’s enough to make you gasp in anticipation at the size and thickness of his base. 

“You’re sure you want me?” Your legs wrap around his waist as he asks, not yet penetrating you, only resting his length on your slick core. 

“I want you more than anything I’ve ever dreamed of, Hyunjin.” You channel all your love and trust into your words, daring yourself to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. 

Feeling the stretch of him is euphoric, inch by inch, more than any discomfort could hope to reach. Your focus on the flex of his forearm propping him up beside your head, the tantalizing way his mouth curls in a moan of your name when he bottoms out, placing his seal on you completely. 

“Tell me when I can move, alright?” 

“N-Now, you can move. Please move.” You’re gonna go insane if he doesn’t ravage you right now, digging your nails into his bicep. Hyunjin starts off slowly, gentle languid strokes brushing over your walls. With every move, he feels you relax, the tension in your legs loosening into desperate longing as you pull him deeper into you, trapping him against your body.

You open your eyes only to grab his hand, wrapping it around your throat. His hips stutter, before he grips you fully, squeezing the sides of your neck until your moans turn to broken cries of his name.

“You’re such a cute little whore, love. What a dirty pussy you’ve been holding out on me.”

The smirk he looks down on you with is downright filthy, degrading every shred of dignity you had left, but you don’t take in anything but him, his hips slamming you into the mattress and the hot breath against your ear. “Are you gonna cum from that? My good girl, just like that...Let go and cum under me.”

He pulls his hand away from your neck, allowing you to heave in a breath and scream his name. Hyunjin holds you down by your wrists above your head, thrusting relentlessly as you cum around him, shaking and sobbing from the overstimulation at your centre. He allows himself to release then, as your whimpers quieten and he rides out your highs with you, filling you to the brim. 

You stay entwined for a moment as you catch your shaky breath, coming out of the headspace Hyunjin fucked you into. When he pulls out, you fight the urge to clamp your legs shut as he holds your thighs apart, admiring the way his cum spills out of your rawed hole. 

“Let me clean you first, birdie.” 

You nearly drift off in the blissed-out feeling that envelops you as he wipes your legs clean with a warm, damp cloth, stroking over tingling bruises with adoration. 

When he’s finally satisfied with your state, Jinnie allows you to tug him back into bed with you, arms immediately coiling around your middle to press you into his chest, nose nuzzling against the crown of your head to breathe in your scent. 

“I meant every word I said.” He mentions, speaking against your forehead. His lips tickle you with every word and you’re so tempted to kiss him again just because you can. “ I really do love you.”

“I know, Jinnie. I love you too.”

****

Tag list - @defsbxessi @godlyaj @palet-innie

[alcalexandria]

Terminator: Dark Fate - Chinese Cut.

Truly, I'm the very Dumbest of Asses.

You know how easy it would have been to find the Chinese Cut months ago if I'd just rubbed two brain cells together from the get go and did this?

Incredibly easy, turns out.

Anyhow, first thing's first, runtime -

2:07:04 – Chinese Cut.

2:08:06 – Western Cut.

As you might guess, the changes aren’t major. For the most parts they are just cuts, but a full minute shorter is significant enough that the pace feels a LOT faster during key moments.

The legit substitute takes are mostly early in the movie, with later substitutions done via slightly ropey dubs – the dubbing on Grace saying she wants to beat the “snot” out of Sarah on the train is, uh, rough to say the least, as is “future stuff”.

But yelling “no!” when the pickup’s engine starts failing is a distinct take, and Grace telling Sarah she’ll kill her, rather than merely fuck her up, is too – I actually kinda like MD’s delivery of “kill you” better, and Linda’s delivery of “We’re not machines!” is fun.

Curiously, Dani’s allowed to call the Rev 9 a “fucker” when declaring she’s going to kill it. Maybe they get an allowance.

Speaking of machines, almost all the blood is gone now, as you’ve probably figured, because wailing on robots is fine, but not humans. An interesting aspect of that though is that most of Grace’s wounds in particular either aren’t shown or they’re significantly less dramatic; her blood is also much more visibly yellow and viscous, like honey. The arrival fight is a fraction of the length too, to spare us all the kind of unsanctioned butt that risks freeing the Uyghers and recognizing Taiwan as an independent state.

So Grace loses a *lot*. From her flashbacks, the stuff in the CBP infirmary, and from after she’s injured towards the end. For example, they can’t show how much she’s bleeding when she’s brought into the bunker, so that scene is seconds long; and with no time for the medic to hesitate, becoming an Augment seems like no big deal. Linking up with Dani in the centre is even choppier than the Western cut, because they can't linger on Grace's shrapnel wound. Dani and Grace’s exchange over taking her power source feels really rushed, and because they can’t show how badly hurt she is (her gross neck wound is just gone and her belly injuries are shadowed to hide them) it doesn’t really feel like anything. It also looks quite a bit like Dani just guts the shit out of somebody who’s pretty much fine apart from a dirty face and the wheezes.

The incidental effect is that, I think if this was the only cut I’d seen, Grace would have come across as a lot less human and quite a bit more machine. That gently shifts the movie's focus towards Dani to a degree I didn't expect, but it's interesting how much of a difference a minute and change makes.

Worth checking out once as a curiosity, but not superior or anything. Though it's almost it worth it solely for the overdubbed “Oh shoot!” when a dumptruck with a bulldozer blade rams through a foot thick concrete wall to kill them all.

Misc observations about the movie in all forms –

- Linda Hamilton’s real tattoo is briefly visible in the shot of her picking the lock in the CBP centre. It’s either covered by a watch or digitally erased otherwise. Hamilton had the co-ordinates of her Cameron-money Malibu mansion tattooed on her when she sold it, and I’m pretty sure Grace’s tattoo is an in-joke homage to it.

- Somehow I hadn’t noticed Dani actually says “I’m sorry Grace” before cutting into her, which feels much sadder to me than just “I’m sorry” for some reason.

- When they can’t get the door open at the dam, Sarah’s left arm flails around weirdly in front of the other two (it’s really noticeable in gifs). I didn’t twig what’s happening until now – she’s trying to reach back for Grace, but her other arm is still half-busted so she's distracted trying to hang it from her vest comfortably as a kind of improvised sling. Her busted arm is also why Dani says neither of them can throw a punch. IDK why I didn’t put that together before.

- The Rev-9 endoskeleton design is absolutely fantastic and I wish we’d seen much more of it.

- Not sure how I completely missed it every time until now, but Grace actually specifically mentions she's got a Thorium microreactor to Sarah. IDK why I thought we only knew that from extended media stuff.