#Smiley is such a goddamn hero | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( SOMETHING COMFORTING. )

Jeon Jungkook loves Overwatch, drinking games, and Halloween. What he loves more than that? You.

pairing. gamer!jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating. idol!au set in room filled with bunnies and a cotton candy machine that’s exploded. it’s just that fluffy. (but also explicit cause why not.)

tags / warnings. established relationship, gaming (overwatch), dorky weeb references, mentions of drinking, yugyeom makes an appearance (!!), fingering, soft soft soft love making in the shower.

wc. 9.7k

beta reader(s). the lovely @kerikaaria read through this to make sure i didn’t get too nerdy. tysm! 💛 i may like further changes once my beloved @hobi-gif gets her hands on it but i’m a potato who wanted to post this quickly. oops...

author note. this fulfills the “jeon jungkook” square of @btsholidaybingo‘s bts holiday bingo 2020 and this is the couple from angels & airwaves. while this story isn’t super plot-driven, it’s meant to be a little peek into the lives of a couple that live in my mind rent-free and continue to make me soft and gooey inside. i hope you enjoy it!

You don’t know how he talked you into it or how it really happened. You remember, faintly, the mention of a party. Something about it being a small thing - just a few close friends, the members, etc. He’d said it so offhand, like commenting on the sky or asking for another package of Choco Boys, so you hadn't given it a second thought. If it was important, he’d bring it up again and if not, well, you hardly remembered it anyway. Win-win or whatever.

So you’d given up some intelligence points, traded them for space to fit more gaming knowledge. Somewhere along the line went your memory too - the conversation wiped from your brain like Will Smith had lasered it clean.

“Zarya’s one! Zarya’s one—“ You’re not sure how many times you can repeat yourself, shrieking through comms to a team that doesn’t seem to want to listen. You’re blasted into oblivion, Mercy’s prone body launched across the map as you watch your Rein fall too. There’s an irritation bubbling in your stomach, fizzing uncomfortably like the Japanese honeydew soda you’d had at lunch. “Zarya’s actually one!”

No one cares. She’s healed by the time you respawn and make it back across the map.

“Jesus—“ Your push-to-talk remains off for that flippant comment, distaste colouring your words a bitter shade of blue. You almost want to let your Ashe get headshot by the enemy Widow, only switching the stream from damage boosting to healing when your teammate starts spamming their hotkey.

I need healing! I need healing!

What you need is a team that listens to your calls or at the very least communicates in some way. Doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen though. There’s near radio silence in the voice chat, the only other person remotely helpful being your bouncing booping Lucio that’s trying to keep a flanking Tracer off point. Stupid. You almost feel bad for him, Guardian Angeling to him when no one else seems to want to offer any support.

Ah, the life of a support player in masters ranked. So infuriating and yet— nope. Just infuriating.

You lose the first round with 1:56 to spare, to no one’s surprise. Okay, maybe to your Reinhardt’s surprise. He’s being surprisingly chipper in text chat, sending WP and a dorky smiley face. You think he must volunteer at the local animal shelter and buy coffee for the people behind him in the drive-thru. He’s far too well-adjusted, not shooting off a single accusation to anyone on the team. A silver lining, you suppose.

Your second round starts well enough. Your comp is solid - as much as it can be in the current off-tank dominated meta. Hog, Zarya, a private profiled GM Widowmaker, Tracer, Lucio, and you as Ana. You’d prefer to play Mercy - find the most comfort in her skill set - but on an attack map, you’re not risking a headshot right out of spawn. Broken maximum damage good stuff means healers are squishy and you don’t have your usual DPS to boost. (He’s off doing god knows what - maybe filming an ad for Samsung or breaking the internet with his permed man bun.)

You make it through the choke without much ado. The enemy Rein is wildly out of position, eager to make some big brained play that goes terribly wrong. Your Lucio chuckles through voice and you join him, tossing a nade when your Zarya looks like she’s about to die to a poorly executed 360 shatter.

“You winning?”

It’s your boyfriend peeking over your shoulder, so close you nearly scream, mouse launched across your desk with the intensity of your reaction. You hadn’t heard him come in, the stupid sneaky bastard as quiet as a mouse.

(It’s not your own fault. He knows you can’t hear anything when you’ve got your headphones on, the noise cancelling in your state of the art Sennheisers not something to scoff at.)

“Jeez, Kook!” You want to be more mad. Really, you do. You’re scrambling across your desk to retrieve your mouse, squeaking a quick apology into team voice when your hero stays in one place for too long. Luckily, Hog - previously sweet kind Rein - throws his big fat piggy self directly in front of you, effectively saving you from an otherwise miserable death at the hands of Torbjorn.

“What?” Jeon Jungkook has the audacity to look scandalised, shiny eyes so wide and innocent they feel more as if they belong in an early 2000s anime.

You’re not even looking at him when you huff - too invested in your Overwatch game to give him the hell he deserves. All you manage is a swift don’t scare me like that! as you pump your tanks back to full health.

You notice Jungkook hasn’t moved away, still peering curiously over your shoulder. You know he hasn’t had much time to play lately, too involved with appearances for their comeback, his schedule too packed even for you some days. You don’t blame him when he pulls his chair up behind you, rolling into place so he’s just within your periphery.

It’s a little distracting; he smells good, like his - and by extension your - favourite laundry detergent and a fruity, nectarine-heavy shampoo you’d picked up for him when he’d run out of his usual. You notice then that his hair is wet, just the wrong-side of too damp with droplets beading over his neck. Moisture soaks into the top of his shirt and you think it might be more soaked than you can see; it’s hard to tell when it’s a jet black shirt, one of the many he keeps in your closet for the nights he stays over. You realise then that he must’ve been home far longer than you’d thought, if his freshly washed pink cheeks are any indication. (Because he takes seriously long showers, nearly doubling your water bill in the year you’ve been together.)

You want to ask what he’s doing here - you’d sworn he was busy for the next few days - but can’t find the adequate brain power to do so. You’re playing an incredibly high skill character (your words) and if you don’t get this goddamn shot on your Lucio to keep him up, your team is going to die (your ego’s words).

‘Ask Kook about his day’ gets scribbled on a paper on the desk in your head and filed away under To Do Later in your overflowing brainiac filing cabinet.

“Can we pleaaaaase focus their Zarya? She has grav.” Though you offer the tidbit of information, you don’t assume it’s going to be relied upon. Your team is well on their way to taking first point - surprisingly - and there’s still nearly three minutes left on the clock. If the six of you idiots can keep it together and kill that goddamn Zarya, there’s no doubt in your mind you’ll win the game.

Alas, fate is but a cruel mistress and said Zarya gets said grav off, sucking your own Russian tank and Tracer-turned-Soldier into her hell void. Not even your well-timed nade can save them from the Genji that dragon blades directly into their faces. Your poor Lucio dies to the same ult and you imagine you or your Widow are next. Your Hog’s just respawning, his lumbering silhouette not even on screen.

“Rip,” says your boyfriend - like the sound, not the letters - from beside you, a droplet of water splashing across your wrist when he shakes his head. He looks disappointed - as if he’s the one that’s lost the match. It makes you laugh, the sound tripping off your tongue despite the overwhelming rage you’re currently battling.

“Rip is right,” you mumble back, tossing yourself off the map. If you’re gonna die, it'll be on your own terms. Jungkook chuckles at that.

By the time you respawn, both you and Widow are joining a fight that looks like it’s going surprisingly well. There’s no one on point and you’re capping uncontested. Widow even headshots a wayward Moira.

“You should go top left.”

You don’t turn your head. Jungkook’s always been a bit of a backseat gamer, whether he’s watching your stream while he’s out of town or sitting right beside you. Sometimes, you love it; other times, you hate it. Most times, though, he’s right. He has surprisingly good game sense, despite being lower ranked than you (something you remind him of constantly, without shame).

“Can we go top left?” You parrot into your speaker.

For once, your team listens, most of them running up the sidewall with Widow right down main. Not for the first time you wish you were playing Mercy, if only to be able to damage boost your sniper while she distracts the enemy team. Still, you make due, taking your boyfriend’s next piece of advice when it comes, unsolicited. “You should be back right by the stairs. You can see up the hall and still heal Widow on top.”

You’d kiss him if you weren’t so intently focused, unable to tear your gaze from the screen when the enemy team seems to pluck their strategy directly from Jungkook’s skull and hold conservatively on point. Amazing.

“Your Zarya has grav. She’ll probably throw it on point so you should nade as soon as you get in and Widow can pick them off without full charge.”

If he were anyone else, you’d probably be giving him hell for mansplaining your favourite game to you. As it stands, you follow his instructions to the letter and the Team Kill marker flashes across your screen.

“Told you,” he quips, ever the snooty dork you adore.

“I was going to say thank you.” Just not right now. You can’t multitask quite like he can.

If you could look over, you think you’d see him grinning from ear to ear, buck teeth and dimples on full display. “I know.”

As it stands, the other team has trouble getting on point fast enough and you’re left with a whopping 3:56 left on the clock. Thank freaking god. You can win this, you think. Easy. No problem.

“Go Ana on defense.” At some point, Jungkook had gotten up to find a snack and he returns now, bag of shrimp chips in his hand and packet of matcha Pocky held between his teeth. You open your mouth for a stinky tasty treat and he shoves four crisps in, unceremoniously and with his signature dummy grin.

You manage to crunch crunch crunch through it all but shoot him a glare the entire time. He only smiles wider, all perfectly white enamel and enough cuteness to make your heart skip a beat.

“Do you just want to play?” You don’t mean it seriously. You don’t mind him watching and you know he enjoys pretending like he’s better than you. It’s a strange give and take but one that’s uniquely yours, built over nearly a year of online friendship and another year of a real-life relationship.

“Nah, I’m snacking.” He punctuates his response as a child would, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. You wonder, briefly, why you love him so much when he’s a certifiable goon.

The third match begins and you’re not too proud to say you spend most of it following Jungkook’s directions. He tells you to sleep the enemy Genji trying to scale the right wall - you do. He tells you to nade once their Rein gets in because your own Rein is going to shatter - you do. He tells you to do the macarena and— okay, that, you don’t.

You sweep the match, leaving the other team without a single tick.

When it comes to the final round, he seems to have lost interest in the game, instead rolling himself back to his computer with a parting, wayward ruffle of your hair. You don’t blame him but you thank him nonetheless, blowing a kiss before he settles his headphones over his ears.

You, of course and unsurprisingly, win the game. There’s nothing like using a Sym portal onto point when they’ve got a Bastion set up off point and no shield to protect him from the back.

Satisfied, you don’t bother requeueing and instead force yourself into your boyfriend’s personal space, draping your arms across the idol’s neck as he scrolls through YouTube like a zombie. “We won,” you sing-song into his ear, proud and a little smug.

“Of course you did.” He sounds equally smug and you suppose the win does belong to the both of you. He’d been a great coach.

“What’re you doing here?” It’s pure curiosity offered in the form of a kiss to his cheek, fingers locked across the broad expanse of his chest. He’s delightfully warm beneath you, familiar and unyielding as you sink over the back of his computer chair. (You can feel the chair creaking as it reclines. You don’t care.)

“Whaddya mean?”

The look he levels you with makes you think you’ve grown a second head.

“Your schedule said you had a thing tonight.” You remember, because you’d been disappointed. Halloween was one of your favourite holidays and all you’d wanted was to watch some campy horror movies and use him as a personal eye shield and security blanket combo.

“We have a thing,” he states, like he’s talking to a moron. You know it isn’t meant meanly, too emphatic and amused to hurt your feelings.

When you echo his words (“We?”) you swear you see him roll his eyes in the reflection of his computer screen. Luckily, he laughs, sweet and cracky, somewhere high in his throat - a barking hyena. It’s so cute - your favourite thing in the world - that you don’t have it in you to shame him for it.

“Yeah, we,” Jungkook repeats around something close to a snicker. “Halloween party, baby. Seriously— you forgot?”

It’s then and there you have two crises: (a) you don’t have a costume and (b) Halloween party? You didn’t think idols had those. Weren’t they all too hip and cool to get together to dress up and act stupid?

(You know the answer is no. Exhibit A being the costume-wearing dance practices BTS put out.)

“I don’t have anything to wear.” It’s truly the one thing holding you back, creasing the soft skin between your brows to resemble a peach. It’s also nearing seven in the evening and you’re absolutely certain you’re not going to find something so late in the day.

To your surprise. Jungkook looks flabbergasted, that same you-have-two-heads stare wrought across his face. It’d be endearing if it were directed at anyone else but with it trained on you, it’s rubbing you and your confusion the wrong way. Why’s he looking at you like that? Why’s your memory so bad? Why hasn’t he said anything to answer all of life’s questions?

“You said you’d go as witch Mercy.”

All at once, you’re pulled back to the offhand conversation, the pleading in his eyes, your half-asleep acceptance. It’s the memory you’d lost somewhere along the way in upgrading your in-brain video game storage. A conversation had in bed, his cheeks so big and full of joy they’d waned his eyes into crescents, and your uncoordinated answer because you’d just wanted to go to sleep and not think about anything after indulging in a few too many mochi cream buns.

“I— don’t remember that.” You’re lying through your damn teeth. Your parents would be devastated, all their hard earned money wasted on the braces-straightened enamel that was now letting lies pass.

“But you did!” He’s like a kid being denied candy, rounded bottom lip dropping into a pout that should, frankly, be illegal. It’s far too powerful on him, paired with those Bambi eyes that scream don’t eat (hate/deny/etc.) me! You can only scowl at him, because you know your own puppy dog eyes only work 100% of the time half of the time whereas his track record was immaculate.

“Okay, but I forgot to get the—“

“I have it!”

Jeon Jungkook has an answer for everything, it seems.

“I picked it up on the way here. It’s in your room along with my costume.”

The knowledge of his own intrigues you, squarely centring your curiosity on that and not the fact that you apparently need to get tested for early onset dementia. “Who’re you going as?”

“You’ll see.”

Your costume is spectacular. You can’t even find it in yourself to put up much of a fight when your boyfriend reveals it like you’ve won the lottery, throwing his arms wide in a flourish.

It’s incredibly well made, intricately tailored in a way that makes you worry how much it costs. (When you bring it up to him, Jungkook simply shrugs. You think it’s as much a gift for you as it is for him.) It’s witchy and eye-catching, the belt hung across your hips clipped with an actual book - hollowed out, thank god but also poor thing. The hat that sits on your head is neatly crumpled, sitting at such an angle you worry whether you’ll need to avoid too-low door frames. Your wings - well, you’re almost too afraid to touch them; Jungkook has to help you pull them over your arms, falling into near hysterics when you twitch your elbow the wrong way and smack him right between the eyes.

“I don’t think I can pull this off,” you state, somberly, despite the fact that you’re not terribly self-conscious. (You were, once. Being in a relationship with someone that worships your body has helped with that.)

The top of your outfit is fitted, boned and ribbed and snapped together in all the right places. Leather stands in stark contrast to your skin - summer-soft and gently golden - and hugs curves that don’t quite exist, falling short in a way that has you glaring down at your own chest. You’ve never wanted a Playboy body but in this sort of costume, it practically demands it. (You try not to dwell on the fact that you’ve been conditioned to want to look like an impractically designed video game hero.)

From the foot of your bed comes a snort, a derisive sound that draws your attention. Jungkook’s unabashed in how he admires you, stare roving over every inch like he’s about to devour you. You’re not sure how you can feel so soft for him when he looks completely the opposite, jaw set and expression sharp. A Greek god carved from hardened honey, dressed in Balenciaga blue. “You look great, angel.”

Your heart skips a beat - plays a funny little game of tag with itself - and you can’t help the smile that comes, brought to life by his reassurance. It isn’t necessary to rebuff him then - eyes rolling, laugh spilling - but you do it anyway. “You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

“I don’t have to say anything,” he retorts, levelling you with a look that has your insides molten. It’s the look that reads don’t test me but also I love you and you’re my idiot. It’s your favourite look in the world, lending wings to your flimsy heart. “You look great because you always look great, no matter what.”

“What about when you found me in the shower ?”

Jungkook hesitates then. He’s no liar and he had almost had a heart attack the first time it’d happened. He’d been minding his business, half-asleep and battling the need to piss, when he’d noticed you curled up in the bathroom. How he hadn’t realised you were missing from bed, he’s not sure. All he knew was that you’d terrified him, mentioning something about invading refrigerators when he was pulling his dick out of his boxers.

His scream was what had woken you up; yours was what had him bashing his head into the wall, foot slipping on the soft pink bathroom rug. You could laugh about it now but at the time, you’d thought he’d cracked his skull right open, shouting his name so loudly the neighbours had complained.

(Lucky for you two, they were a nice elderly couple who sometimes had you babysit their grandson. They’d laughed it off when you’d apologised with a loaf of fresh bread and a bandage wrapped around your boyfriend’s head.)

“Okay— that was scary. I thought you’d crawled out of the drain or something.” A shudder rolls through Jungkook’s body, shaking him from his shoulders all the way down to his knees. It’s a strangely adorable reaction from someone who looks like he could bench press you.

“You’re calling me the Grudge?” You’re deeply offended, gloved hands clasping over your chest as if to pull out the treacherous dagger he’s just lodged there. He only rolls his eyes, leaning forward to catch you in his arms; he’s relentless as he drags you to him, side of his face pressed to the bare skin of your thigh. His cheek’s searing but you’re not surprised; Jungkook ran hot, keeping you warm in winter and sweltering in summer. (Ah, the price you paid for love.)

“Yeah, you haunt me in my dreams.”

“That’s not the Grudge, Kook.” Your scoff earns you a pinch, right where the top of your stockings end. It blooms red beneath his fingers, a little reminder of his competitive I’m-never-wrong nature. You swat his hand away, not too bothered when it only finds a home elsewhere, hooked behind your knee. Jungkook had a habit of needing to be in constant contact. A little quirk of his you adored.

“I’m serious. You look—” You should clock the look on his face, the wiggle of mischief up his nose. A dead giveaway shining bright - a beacon. “—bewitching.”

If the book weren’t attached to your hip, you’d be clobbering him with it. Instead, you’re left to whack him with the equally intricate Caduceus staff, booping it over his shoulders. You feel like a certain shamanic mandrill, Jungkook the idiotic lion that’s asking for an earful.

“Shut up!” You’re laughing despite yourself and he is too, holding you so recklessly close it’s hard to hit him without hurting yourself. All part of his plan, you suppose. “You’re so freaking corny.”

“It’s because I’m a-maize-ing, ang—”

Another wap! to the head, shielded only by a tattooed hand that curls over his ear.

“Okay! Sorry!” Except he doesn’t look very sorry. More pleased that you’ve stopped the assault, dark hair pushed back from his forehead as he stares up at you. You hate how he’s so handsome - how you forget yourself when he smiles that smile, nearly yeeting your whole heart directly into the sun.

“Are you going to put on yours yet?”

It’s quarter past nine already and all you’ve done is rope him into eating some chapaguri - you’ve been obsessed with it since a few weeks ago - and play real life Witch Barbie. You have a feeling if you don’t get him into his own costume soon, you’re never going to leave the apartment. (Not that you really mind.)

Your boyfriend - bless his heart - pretends not to hear you, suddenly intently focused on an indiscernible spot past your hip. It’d be more believable if he was glued to his phone or doing anything remotely interesting. Instead, you stare down at him and count the seconds until he realises just how silly he looks. It usually comes around six, paired with a forced chuckle and that lisp you love.

Today, it comes after the fourth count.

“You’re gonna think it’s lame.” Well, of course you will. As his girlfriend - and one of his best friends, you’d like to think - it’s your relationship-given right to shame him for his more often than not absurd ideas. It’s what you deserve for suffering through all his bad jokes and 3 AM Instagram spams.

With a hand on his cheek, you squeeze the apple like you’ve seen a certain member do a million times. “So?”

He’s not really sure how to respond to that, mouth drawn into a pout that reminds you of children’s television show about penguins. It’s unfairly adorable. Still, you push. Jungkook’s bad at saying no to you - always has been, even before he really knew you. From “one more game!” to “bring me bingsu”, you always got what you wanted.

(Which wasn’t to say you asked for a lot. You were happy - more than that, ecstatic and over the moon - with the bare minimum. A selfie while on the plane, some shoddy cinematography during dance practice, a voicemail to wake up to. You didn’t love Jungkook for all the things he gave you; rather, you loved him for who he was, who he’d always been even before you knew who he really was.)

“Don’t laugh.” By the look on his face, you’re worried it’s something awful. The cheesiest thing in the world come to life to haunt you on your beloved spooky holiday.

It turns out to be the opposite: one of your favourite characters realised in the form of your achingly handsome boyfriend. He looks so good you’re not certain whether it’s your attraction to him or him in that particular guise that’s stronger. You figure it doesn’t matter one way or another. For tonight, they’re one and the same.

“Joker? Seriously?” You can’t hide the delight. It colours every syllable, sets them glowing like a neon sign.

Your boyfriend only rolls his eyes, as if he’d predicted this reaction. Dressed as he is, the movement is impossible to miss, brought into focus by the white domino mask. “Don’t sound so excited.” It’s an actual concern of his. He’s seen you sink upwards of ninety hours on the video game, playing it in the early hours when he’s fast asleep and you’re battling another night of insomnia.

Once, he’d asked whether you loved him or Joker more. He hadn’t liked the answer (joking as it was) and had spent the better part of the evening pouting.

This time, you’re sweet as pie, eyes so dark and twinkly he wonders whether he’s staring at the night sky. You wonder the same yourself almost every night, lost in the constellations of his irises. It’s the most intimate form of stargazing you can afford, a luxury you indulge in frequently. You’ve mapped the different formations, named them in honour of all the special moments you’ve shared; you think to label one for this night too.

“You look so good.” You don’t hesitate to brush his hair from his eyes. It’s still relaxing from the perm he’d gotten days ago, curling like classic calligraphy over his eyes. It’s surprisingly soft between your fingers, silk despite the constant heat styling. Bastard. “I can’t believe you’re going as Joker. You don’t even like Persona 5!”

By how Jungkook looks at you then - the same way he did the first time you met standing on the street corner in Dotonbori and a hundred more times since then - you realise it doesn’t matter. He’s dressed this way because you like the character.

“Oh,” you say, because there’s not much more to say. Nothing that needs to be said as he grins down at you, so heartbreakingly handsome you’ll never get used to it.

“Yeah,” he parrots back, a little smug.

Bangtan’s golden maknae is having the time of his life. He’s four cups deep into a game of beer pong that’s played like the Wimbledon classic, back hunched, jaw set. You’d think he was battling it out for the title of God of Beer Pong if you didn’t know better. (You suppose he is.)

“Angel, come here!” He’s giddy - slightly glazed in the eyes - as he waves you over, a red-gloved hand beckoning you to his side. Despite how good he looks in the costume - every weakness of yours encapsulated by the intricate dress shirt that hugs him like a second skin - the gesture is decidedly adorable, an eager puppy seeking unconditional love. There’s simply too much affection in his voice, so much sugar-spun love that you can’t deny him (even as you consider jumping his bones at a party full of people).

He’s shining as bright as the sun and you want nothing more than to live within his warmth.

With your fingers twined, he pulls you to him, drawing you tight against his side like he doesn’t need that same hand to throw another ball. You don’t mind. You know he’ll sink it even with his left hand.

“I’m winning,” he states, as if it weren’t wildly obvious by the fact all cups remain untouched on his side.

Across the table, Yugyeom’s eyes roll so far back you want to laugh. Jungkook’s competitive side is endearing at best and infuriating at worst. Luckily, his competition is enjoying himself too much to give him shit.

(He’s also probably too drunk to, given how badly he’s doing.)

“I see that.” You’re not a big drinker yourself but you like seeing Jungkook in his element. He thrives in this sort of setting, showing off all the talents he has and then some. It’s just another stage to him, somewhere he can prove himself (even if it’s over something as small as how good his bounce-shot is). “How many games have you won?” Because he’s been at this table for the last hour, dropping his competition like flies.

“All of them.” God, his ego. You know you shouldn’t stroke it but you can’t help it, brushing a hand through his tousled hair in the way he likes best. Fingers over his scalp, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the nape of his neck. He nearly melts then, tilting his head into the gentle caress.

“Good job, Kook.”

You’re so lost in your own little world that poor Yugyeom has to pull you both from it, launching a poorly-aimed white ping pong ball at the two of you. To no one’s surprise, it careens past your heads, hitting the wall behind you and disappearing off to god knows where.

“Can we play?” Again, that eye roll, visible just past the bandages that loosely wrap his cheeks. You know he’s only teasing, that he’s actually quite a fan of your and Jungkook’s dumb coupling (he’s told you), but you return his mockery with a raised hand, thumb and forefinger waving in salute.

“Losers don’t get to complain.”

The idol throws a hand to his chest, the gesture bordering on sloppy from the liquor that threads his limbs. Still, it’s cute, earning a sweet laugh from you and a witch’s cackle from your boyfriend. (How fitting.) “I’m hurt, Yoojin-ssi.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to tease, brattiness flipped on like a haywire lightswitch. “No, you’re just bad at games!” He’s a sniggering schoolgirl, lines wrapping the delicate skin of his nose, streaking joy into the wrinkles beneath his eyes. Slightly-too-big front teeth are on full display, his expression the embodiment of an “uwu” emote.

That riles Yugyeom up, powder puff of hair bounding over to you before you have time to blink. In the next moment, your boyfriend’s half-wrestling with him, their arms locked around each other like some sort of weird four-limbed octopus. (Video game protagonist vs. hot mummy— who will win?) You jump back just in time, avoiding a wayward fist and laughing merrily. Idiots, the both of them.

“You guys have fun.” And then you’re gone, off to busy yourself with people who won’t accidentally give you a black eye or knock over the nearest thing not bolted to the ground.

You can still hear them tussling when you latch yourself to the back of a certain blond. He’s dressed like one of your greatest nightmares - an actual clown, drawing inspiration from a certain 2017 blockbuster - and yet somehow still manages to look good. You don’t understand it and frankly, you’re a little envious, but such was life.

“Jimin-ssiiiii.”

“Ahhhhhh, stop!” It’s the same reaction he always has, paired with wiggling shoulders and sweet laughter that bounces around the room and stirs to life your own. Indisputable and lovely, the sound is brighter than the sun or the lights that currently swing through the chandelier lights above your heads. “You two are ridiculous.”

“He’s ridiculous, not me!” You know it isn’t true. Separately, you and Jungkook were idiotic enough, finding humour in the silliest things (funny threads on r/Relationship_Advice and four year old Vines). But together? It was a two-person circus, graduate professors at clown college.

You absolutely loved it.

“Sure, sure,” the dancer hums, delightfully disbelieving as he takes another shot. One of three lined up across the counter, clear in little orange cups made to look like pumpkins. A whiff tells you they’re strawberry soju - your least favourite flavour. You decline with a wrinkled nose and waving hand when he offers you one. Jimin shrugs and downs the next, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth when he misjudges the pour. “Aren’t you drinking?”

You wiggle the half-empty Cass bottle in your hand in response and receive a scoff, different bottle - green, unopened - thrust into your other.

“Drink this!”

“You want me to drink an entire bottle?” You’re incredulous. Jimin’s seen you on the edge of intoxication and more than a little sloppy, giggling like a schoolgirl. It’s not unbecoming - you know better than to get blackout - but laughable nonetheless. Something to record and post on Snapchat with a voice-altering filter.

“It’s Halloween!” The pumpkin shot glass makes you go cross-eyed before he’s knocking it back too. “Live a little!”

Who are you to say no to the recent birthday boy? It would simply be bad manners and you were nothing if polite (though, you’re sure some might beg to differ - Yoongi, maybe?).

The remnants of your beer are swallowed down in the next moment, so quickly you almost choke on it. Your life flashes before your eyes, Jimin’s hand on your shoulder as he beats breath into your body. “Don’t die!” He cries, despite the fact that it’s his fist that’s making it worse, doubling you over with hacking coughs.

“K-Kook’s g-going to kill you—”

“No, you’re fine.” He’s reassuring you just as much as himself, laughing too loudly as you straighten up. You wonder how red your face is when he takes your place, slapping his own knee as he shakes with amusement. “Your face, oh— Your face.”

It’s not meant to be offensive but your buzzed brain demands payment for each giggle.

The base of the green bottle collides with the back of his knee - gentle, gentle - just hard enough to have him properly toppling over, collapsing onto the carpet like a frail old grandpa without his cane. You can’t help the snicker that careens off your liquor-laden tongue.

That is, until he’s pulling you down with him and the two of you are a giggling, giddy mess, tucked beneath the edge of the bar as you laugh together. It’s a chorus of sound, unrelenting and building the longer you both sit on the floor. Jimin’s practically hunched over, head caught between his propped up arms. You imagine it’s a funny sight - two people in their twenties acting like college freshmen.

“Baby?” It’s your boyfriend, amused and confused as he stares down at your and Jimin’s prone bodies. He’s got that dent between his brows, the colour of his eyes all but swallowed up by the way his cheeks press wide with his smile. “What’re you doing down there?”

“Just hanging out,” you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. At your side, Jimin’s still trying to collect himself, parroting your words around his lungfuls of quieting laughter.

“Are you drunk?”

You’re not, but that doesn’t stop you from gasping, overdramatic and with your unopened bottle of soju held aloft. A modern day olive branch. “No?”

Jungkook snorts and then all at once, he’s close. Too close - smelling of beer and your favourite cologne of his, citrusy and woodsy and every other nice thing you like. It fills your senses just as his smile does, blindingly bright and bunny-like. Even behind the mask, his good looks take your breath away. You must be staring up at him idiotically, all one hundred and sixteen pounds of ooey gooey tenderness. “You sound drunk, angel,” he teases, warm red-covered palm coming to cradle your cheek. It sears heat everywhere it touches, guiding the same hue over your skin. It creeps up your chest and over your ears, standing in contrast to the material of his gloves. “Pretty.”

(He really is, you think.)

“Get a room,” comes Jimin from beside you. There’s no malice in his voice - just soft affection for a couple of lovesick idiots.

“That’s the plan,” Jungkook replies, as if he’d been waiting for the moment. It skips off his tongue and settles into your ears, tipping your head curiously as you stare at him. He’s never been very shy about wanting you - at least, not since you’d made things official, so many months ago - but you’re surprised by the insinuation. When he speaks again, you realise your brain has been rolling around in the gutter, fallen out of your ears like candy from a worn pillow case. “Want to head home?”

You do. You really, really do.

When you stumble into your apartment - the same one with the polka-dot welcome rug and crisp white paint - you realise you were perhaps wrong about how drunk you are. Everything’s coming at you quite quickly, the ground beneath your feet somehow suddenly rushing at you like Mach Five.

“Whoa—” There’s an impossibly solid warmth against your back, fingers locked around your wrists that feel more like flimsy chicken feet. “Careful.”

Your boyfriend’s keeping you upright while stepping out of his boots - impossibly expensive supple dark leather - and you’re giggling all the while, practically sinking against him as he does his best to shuffle his shoes away and get you further into the hallway. “Sorry,” you offer in a terrible stage whisper, smiling wide when you catch sight of his, small and endlessly amused. It slips across his face even as he tries to bite it back, warring with the patience he holds in spades.

“Let’s just get these off.” He means the boots - the intricate, vaguely absurd things that creep up almost the entirety of your leg, neatly wrapped and knotted midway up your thigh. Dexterous as he is, it’s a task to unravel the strings and thread buttons when you’re weighing on him like a bag of bricks.

You’re fumbling for the tops, haphazardly smacking his hands away. “Here, let me.”

Somehow, you manage to get them off in what feels like record time. (In reality, it takes a good five minutes of futility before they’re left on the ground and Jungkook’s swept you into his arms, seemingly over waiting for you to do much else.)

“Oh, my prince charming,” you tease, clinging to him like a koala. You’re locked around him, practically suffocating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s used to it when you’re this way, just a little too much liquid courage turning your level of affection to eleven. “Or are you the court jester? That’s what Joker is, right?” It’s a joke and a bad one at that. Still, your boyfriend indulges you, depositing a forced laugh against your shoulder as he navigates to your bedroom.

“You’re drunk.” He says it more kindly than you expect. Perhaps even more kindly than you deserve. You know he’s not exactly sober himself, his gaze verging on heavy-lidded. There’s sleepiness blending seamlessly with intoxication, softening the edge of his jaw, the narrow of his stare. It’s terribly tender, skipping your heart when you look at him dead on.

It comes without thought. You have to tell him. Your drunk brain and your puppy dog heart demand it. “I love you.”

Jungkook returns the confession with humour, eyes sparkling despite the haze of alcohol that dims them down. As always, he indulges you, giving you support in the form of his heart and his hands. (Literally, he’s still holding you even though you’ve reached your destination.) “Love you too.”

“Is it time for bed?” You’re surprisingly tired, despite the fact that you’d slept until late in the afternoon. You certainly wouldn’t mind falling face first into your mattress.

“You need a shower first.” It’s a simple statement of fact, you know that. You’ve got at least ten pounds of makeup on and your hair’s the furthest thing from soft and silky, carefully coiffed to mimic Mercy’s signature style. You still pretend like you’re just a bit offended, scowling into the face of your boyfriend even as he rolls his eyes, already somehow able to read the words written into your expression. “I meant we and no, I’m not calling you stinky.”

He’s stolen your thunder, as he so often does. You pout, as you so often do.

“Okay,” you relent, finally, moving to rest your head against his shoulder. You could get down - walk on your own two tired feet - but you’re enjoying the closeness, how warm and real he feels in comparison to the swimming surroundings. “Will you wash my hair?” You don’t really need to ask but do anyway, because you like the sound of his voice when it’s so close.

“You know I will.” Because he always does when you shower together (and it falls on a designated hair washing day - that was important).

You offer your thanks with a kiss, laid right over the jumping pulse in his neck. When Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, you feel the way the muscles constrict, his Adam’s apple jumping beneath your lips. You zero in on it with laser precision, mouthing over his throat. Somewhere above you - against the shell of your ear - he exhales a laugh, breath hot.

“We’re showering, baby.” As if that’s meant to stop you. He, more than anyone, should know how adamant you get, singularly focused on whatever’s got your attention. He’s been on the receiving end of it more than enough times, strung into playing another one, two, ten matches of Overwatch or hunting down the limited edition Funko Pops that now sit proudly on your white shelf (and behind your plants and on the ledge by the front door).

“We can shower and have fun,” you mumble into the expanse of his chest. He’s so pleasantly warm, unyielding and firm and so, so comfortable. You think you could live in the feeling of his arms. (You’re lucky you get to.) You don’t even mind the sudden cold of the counter or the space that forms between you when he sets you down, because he’s still caging you in where it matters most. “Right, JK?”

It’s a nickname you rarely use now - one that only comes out in times of desperation. You’ve never quite understood why it affects your boyfriend the way it does, stuttering the rhythmic beating of his heart, but you love it nonetheless. It makes you grin, high on power and giddy with nothing but sweetness.

He’d explained it to you once. Jay was how you’d met him, the version of himself you’d loved first. Jungkook was the side of himself he’d wanted to give you but couldn’t. JK was the in-between - the chaos and the calm. Hearing you say it brought back all the memories of year one and he liked that. You could only laugh at his sentimentality and tuck the piece of knowledge somewhere deep, to be pulled out in instances like this.

“Right, angel.” You don’t miss the colour on his cheeks - so pretty you reach your hands out to cup them, squishing them between your palms like an old grandmother testing a watermelon. You continue to hold him until he pulls your hands from his face, guiding them to the edge of the counter with gentle pressure. “Gotta get undressed to shower,” he chides, that twinkle in his eye that makes it hard to look away.

Really, how can he expect you to do anything when he’s got an entire unexplored galaxy hidden in his irises? It’s an absurd ask.

“Or I’ll help you.”

Your clothes fall away while you’re still staring up at him.

First, the gloves, peeled from your fingers with utmost care. Kisses fill the spaces between each finger, passed from knuckles to wrist, all the way up to your elbow. You squirm when his teeth graze the sensitive underside of your bicep. He stifles a snicker into the skin.

Next goes your cape and wings, hung on the door handle. His mouth warms the suddenly bare skin, pressing affection into the line of your shoulder, up over your neck. You don’t squirm this time, instead humming a noise of delight. You hardly notice when the corset goes next, undone by surprisingly nimble inked digits. There’s hardly a moment to savour the freedom - you can finally breathe - when his hands replace the cups, palms eager over your chest. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you, pinching your perked nipples with a sly grin.

“I thought we were going to shower.” The words are barely out before turning breathless, stolen by the way he easily palms your breast, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.

“We are, angel,” Jungkook teases, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, other hand moved to splay across the now-bare small of your back. It’s almost embarrassing how easily you fall into him, drawn against him like a moth to a flame. “Just need to get you warmed up first.”

“The shower’ll be warm,” you say - or think you say, anyway. It isn’t quite articulated, half your brain left somewhere at the party (or maybe caught dead centre in the coil that’s tightening in your stomach).

“Do you want me to stop?” It’s so quiet you almost miss it, too distracted by how he slips the rest of your costume off. Shorts, thong, stockings, silly witch’s hat. “Tell me if you want me to stop, baby.” Ever the gentleman, he’s patient, meeting your glazed stare with something close to concern. You almost laugh in his face then - stopping short only when you note just how serious he is, the tell-tale set of his jaw shining like a familiar beacon.

You return your hands to his face, palms cradling his chin like he might break otherwise. “I never want you to stop.”

That’s all Jungkook needs before he’s slotting himself between your legs, mirroring your motion with hands creeping up the side of your neck, fingers ascending into the roots of your hair. He holds you close and kisses you like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “I love you,” he breathes, speaks against the corner of your mouth.

You parrot the words back at him and he grins, stepping away in the next moment. He laughs when you pout, offering a kiss in apology as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, slipping the soft cotton off. You stop then, entranced by the revealed skin, how it shifts with each adjustment of muscle, sinew tight over his arms and shoulders. You wonder, not for the first time, how you’d managed to luck out so spectacularly.

“Start the shower.”

You hop down with the direction, slipping past him to do exactly that. You don’t miss the way he rotates, brings himself closer as you move away. The magnetism is undeniable - always has been.

“I love you,” he states, again, bare against your back as you hover by the edge of the glass door, one hand stuck past to test the slow-warming stream. He’s solid, familiar and comfortable, as he slinks his arms back around you, heat burning the shape of his hands over your ribs, the shape of your hip. You think he might mark himself there, just as neatly as the floral ink does. You wouldn’t mind.

The water is welcome, bathing the both of you in steam when you step inside. It’s an incredibly relaxing feeling, being caught between the spray and the hard body behind you. You hum a noise of pure delight, turning your face toward the one that nuzzles itself into your neck, and bring your hands to rest over his, fingers slotting between ink.

“Hair?” You’re not in a terrible rush but you like redirecting his attention (pretending to, at least) - the teasing that formed the base of your relationship presenting itself in the quiet reminder. It earns the laugh you expect, muffled into your hair, featherlight over the delicate shell of your jewelled ear.

“Patience, baby.” It’s something Jungkook tends to say a lot, whether waiting in queue in Overwatch or in bed, with you a complete mess. He repeats it easily, like he’s the poster boy for the virtue. (He isn’t.)

“What am I waiting—” The question dies, swallowed whole by the gasp he draws from you with a wandering hand. Fingers slip across your stomach, digits deftly seeking out warmth as if you weren’t already enveloped in it. It’s a touch that’s tantalisingly slow, unfairly light, but it still makes you keen when it drags over your lips. A single digit pushes past muscle - so shallow you’re not sure you’re not just imagining it - before retreating, dragging your slick back up to your clit. The moment the pad of his finger makes contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves, you almost jump. Would, if he weren’t caging you with his other arm.

You feel the cold of his teeth bared against your neck then, the throaty laugh that pulls out of his chest and deposits itself into your hair. “Patience,” he repeats, swirling his fingers over your clit, his mouth moving in tandem with the twist of his wrist. He peppers love and affection in the form of kisses, presses devotion with the edge of his teeth, soothes all your nerves with a sweep of his tongue.

“Kook,” you sigh, already well on your way to being a boneless mess. There’s tingling in your toes, fizzing in your stomach, butterflies in your chest. A whirlwind of emotion and sensation that he stirs to life effortlessly.

“Relax for me.” You do so because it’s easy, because he’s so devastatingly good to you.

The figure eights skating over your clit cease, fingers dropping further down to nestle against your cunt. He pauses there, almost experimentally flexing against the muscle that aches and clenches around nothing, eager for more. You think he’s smirking by the way his lips form with his kisses, a little lopsided and devilish. (You wish you could see him.)

A single digit enters you then, to the third knuckle as if your body was made for this, for him. (It was.) He coos against your neck when a garbled mess skips off your tongue and nearly laughs when another slips in alongside it, turning the mess into nonsense. Despite how badly you want it - need it, really - it’s a sensation that’s too much and not enough all at once, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

It was how Jungkook loved you - recklessly, shamelessly, in no half measures. With more love than you could ever hope for, giving you things you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“Relax, angel,” comes as he begins scissoring both fingers inside you, stretching you out with an otherworldly amount of care. Even your neglected clit is given some sort of relief - anything to ease the sting of two long fingers - his thumb gliding over it with each stretch of your walls. He knows exactly where to touch you, how much pressure to apply, and you’re melting, lost in the feeling.

When he’s had enough and he curls his fingers within you, seeking out that particular spot, you’re trembling, caught off guard. Heat builds quickly with the precision of which he taps against that spot; it starts low in your back, climbing each vertebrae of your spine until you’re quivering in his arms.

“K-Kook.” It’s both a plea and a demand, nonsensical as he guides you through your orgasm, keeping you upright against him when your knees feel like they might give out.

“I’ve got you.” And he does - hook, line, and sinker. He holds you steady as the pleasure crashes over your head, keeps you anchored to the here and now and the pleasure that rolls through you like a relentless wave. It sinks beneath your skin, settles heavy into every atom, and he never lets you go. He’s got you.

When sensation returns - slowly, so slowly it feels like you’re stuck in the Twilight Zone - you only want to turn. See him, hold him, whisper sweet nothings as you kiss him silly and thank him for his service. Instead, you’re held in place, two hands firm upon your hips even as you crane your neck to look over your shoulder at him. You should recognise the look on his face. “Kook?”

“My turn.” It’s a statement more than anything, a kind heads-up as he nudges you forward. There’s that same twinkle in his eye, the only source of light around the pupil that’s blown out, otherwise engulfing the constellations he so normally offers you. It’s a black hole and one you’d gladly get lost in. “Hands on the wall, baby.”

You’d never been one for shower sex - it’s too small a space, too much happening at once, a guaranteed freak accident waiting to happen - but you can’t deny him when he asks so nicely. (It really hadn’t been that nice but you were a certified sucker for one Jeon Jungkook.)

Hands find themselves on the wall, palms flat, fingers splayed. In the same instance you wiggle your hips, there’s a ghosting touch over your spine. It trails up and down, soothes the residual heat that lingers, and then slips higher, palm gentle over your throat. His thumb rubs reassuring circles over the nape of your neck, pressing gently into the sensitive spot behind your ear. It’s distracting and you realise much needed when he sinks into you with one fluid press of his hips, filling you so full you can’t help the gasp that bounds past your lips and bounces around the glass enclosure. “Oh fuck,” he sighs, his grip on your hip tightening incrementally.

He sounds like sin and feels like heaven.

“Always so good for me.” Another thing he says, often and without prompting. It still feels just as good the umpteenth time, sparking pride deep in your chest as he pulls out and drives himself back in, staring in rapt fascination at where your bodies meet. “Always so perfect for me.”

“Because I love you,” you quip, more than a little out of breath and jostled by the way he thrusts into you, measured and with enough force to shake your legs.

“Love you too, angel.” He doesn’t need to say it back - you know, can feel it by how he holds you, drives you to brink of insanity with his cock - but he does it anyway. He always says it back, no matter what, even if he’s half-asleep or distracted. He’ll never stop saying it.

The hand on your hip falls, slinks across your hip and between your legs, and you’re pushed further forward, his feet gently kicking yours further apart. Jungkook assaults your clit then, timing each pass with each thrust. An attempted glance back has fireworks going off before your eyes, specks of pleasure lighting up your vision; it’s a technicolour lightshow, framing the way his face scrunches, brow set and jaw hard. He’s determined, focused on bringing you to another orgasm before he hits his own high. You assist him as best you can, swiveling your hips and grinding back against him even as the coil pulls impossibly tight in your stomach, barely held together by threadbare strings.

“Kook,” you whine when the tension becomes too much, hands scrabbling across the wall of the shower. The same overwhelming tingle sparks beneath your skin, entire body trembling like a leaf when the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you at just the right angle.

He doesn’t relent, rhythm turning almost punishing as he drives you over the edge, launching you headlong into your second orgasm. You’re not sure how you stay upright, near sobbing when you crash into euphoric bliss, neither his fingers nor his thrusts ceasing. It’s almost too much and yet you know how close he is, so you push back, whimper words you know he wants to hear.

“P-please, Kook. Please.” You’re reaching a hand back, desperate to interlace your fingers with his. He gives in easily, catches your hand in his own and plants it on the swell of your hip as he chases his own release with desperation. “Come for me, Kook. Fill me up.”

Jungkook does just that, balls tight as he spills himself inside you, hand at your throat so tight you’re seeing stars. Somehow - with the feeling of him grinding into you, overcome with so much sensitivity - you come for the third time, crying very real tears as the sensation washes over you. It’s weaker than your first two but unravels you all the same, seeping the energy from your limbs. You’re grateful for how well he knows you and the fact he catches you before your arms collapse, pulling you to him with gentle movements.

“I love you,” he whispers against your temple, out of breath and sweat-slick despite the water that rains down upon you.

“I love you,” you answer, pressing a kiss to the hand that still twines with yours. “But I still need you to wash my hair.” It’s cheeky and you know it so you don’t even mind when he bites into the meat of your shoulder, leaving a pretty red mark that’ll bloom for the next few days. “Ow!”

“You’re a brat.” Said even as he’s reaching for your shampoo bar, teasing it through your roots with practiced movements. He’s careful despite his scathing tone, gentle despite how he glares at you from the corner of your periphery. Each tangle is neatly undone and not a single bubble gets in your eye, much to your joy.

“I thought I was an angel.” You’re taking a page out of his book, speaking in fluent pout.

He catches your lips with his own, pushing your lathered up head beneath the steady stream when he withdraws and speaks. Suds run across your cheeks, eyes shielded only by the hand he keeps steady along your hairline. Even so mean, your boyfriend is still terribly nice. “You’re my angel - but you’re still a brat.”

You can’t argue with that.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

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amelia · 3 years ago

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related to that last ask but now i actually have a question! what are your favourite episodes for amy as a character? (sorry if i’m pestering you btw you don’t have to answer right away ❣️)

it is absolutely never a bother for me to talk about amy pond!! gosh though this is a Question. okay. i did interpret this as episodes that are my favorite for the lens of My Understanding Of Amy instead of favorite pond era episodes as a whole if that makes sense? under the cut bc i got long as i tend to do

i think my number 1 has to be the big bang, because it really is just like. okay, pond era absolutely runs into the problem of frequently making stories/episodes that should be centered around amy's emotional journey actually about somebody else — but the big bang is all hers. it is all on her! she's leading the show SHE'S the one in the pandorica SHE'S the one who remembers the doctor into existence it is HER choice to say goodbye to leadworth and continue to travel completely without remorse SHE IS THE HERO. it goes from "time can be rewritten, he'll find a way" to AMY being the one who finds the way. rory and river and the doctor all of course get their Moments but it's unquestionably amy's spotlight moment the whole way through

i have also ALWAYSSS been obsessed with starless universe amelia and the way that she still believes in stars in a world where they DON'T EXIST the power of her mind and the conviction of her beliefs is a CORE TENET of amy's character, the doctor has NOTHING to do with it!!! it's just who she is !!! best character of all time <3

other things about the amy's writing in this episode i love: the line "the universe pouring into her dreams every night," space florida outfit <3, ok i obviously do not love this but i think so much about amy talking about the doctor at her wedding and her mother is still like "NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN… i thought the psychiatrists FIXED her" like once again !!! a UNIVERSAL CONSTANT that amy is the one who believes in things nobody else does and is LOUD about it and is RIGHT !!! (let's kill hitler tried to retcon this but it simply won't work on me ❤️ just like anything else about the let's kill hitler flashbacks ❤️❤️❤️), OKAY DOCTOR DID I SURPRISE YOU THIS TIME? <3

number 2, i think, is the eleventh hour itself? like it's just… i've rewatched it so many times and it's still the most captivating character introduction i have ever seen. i know i'm biased but i love it so much. her introduction as a clearly neglected seven year old girl (constantly think about the deleted line that has her talking to aunt sharon and saying "you're not supposed to leave me, i'm seven!" WOOF) who's not afraid of anything except for the crack in her wall… she has drawings up all over her house of burning houses, she draws smiley faces into her apples bc her mom used to do that, she can cook for herself way better than i could at seven, and she desperately just wants to leave. but when the doctor tells her he'll be back in five minutes, amy is already so used to adults leaving her and breaking their promises that she doesn't believe him. but he makes her believe anyway. and he doesn't come back.

and all of the rest of her character hinges on that introduction — of course she has to believe him, he was REAL, nobody can take his realness away from her even if she is the only one who believes. but he also left her all alone for so long, just like everyone else who was supposed to be there for her did, so what good does that to her? so yeah of course she grows up angry and bitter and hiding those layers of hurt deeply under the surface, scorning all attachment and serious relationships because she knows she can't trust them. she outwardly distances herself from her childhood self by changing her name but she IS still just such a child inside.

she's not ready to settle, to grow up, to become what everyone in her tiny village wants her to be, thinks that she should be — so when she gets the chance to GO, of course she takes it. but she's also not just going to let the doctor off the hook for [gestures] her entire life, you know? the exchanges "people always say that" "i'm not people, do i even look like people?" | "people always have a reason" "do i look like people?" "Yes." always just GUT ME. she may trust him but it's NOT a blind trust, it can't be.

number 3 has to be the beast below it just makes me SCREAM how good that episode is at really developing amy through her compassion for other people — right from the start she sees that kid crying and she thinks the doctor must ignore stuff like this all the time, and she says that she could never do that. she's learning and intuiting leaps and bounds about the doctor with everything he says to her — which is another one of my favorite amy character traits, the way she is SO quick to pick up on things about other people and analyze them. everything that she picks up about the doctor allows her to KNOW what to do to save the star whale, allows her to be confident in the fact that the star whale wanted to help the whole time. the choice is IN HER HANDS she IS THE HERO <3 as she always should be. you couldn't just stand there and watch people cry! all that pain and misery and loneliness and it MADE IT KIND. i don't care how overused that quote is it still HITS !!!

um. number 4 is the girl who waited but my very specific headcanon-ridden interpretation and cutting out all that garbage "rory's the most beautiful man i've ever met" "defying destiny causality the nexus of time itself for a boy" bullshit. idk there's so many terrible things about this episode but it also gave me so much to think about when it comes to amy it's on my mind a LOT. one thing i think about is the way it parallels amy's first abandonment by the doctor — not just in the obvious sense but in the way that she's actively fighting for her life in a hostile atmosphere, but nobody else SEES it as a hostile atmosphere. the two streams facility is leadworth like it really is. and what adds a more chilling component is the way the handbots signature line is "do not be alarmed, this is a kindness" — like all the people who were trying to convince amy she was crazy throughout her entire childhood really thought they were doing her a kindness. they thought they were helping her. but they were killing her. because she wasn't made for that environment.

beyond that i am just obsessed with 36-years-later amy she is an icon she is a legend she is the moment i don't care! every mean thing she said about the doctor and rory was absolutely deserved and in fact she should have been so much meaner! she is SO SMART she makes her own SONIC PROBES OUT OF CAMERA PHONES the fact that she even was able to SURVIVE THAT LONG and in COMPLETE isolation and still retain her own mental faculties is just insane to me it speaks so much about her insane mental strength oh my god it makes me sooo emotional i am tearing up a little typing this right now.

i just am always THINKING about the line "there he is, the voice of god. number one lesson: survive, because no one's coming for you. you taught me that" it says SO MUCH about her. oh my god older amy didn't want to die she'll be kicking and screaming and fighting til the end… i fucking hate this show and picking and choosing when paradoxes should apply OLDER AMY DESERVED TO LIVE

number 5 is probably the power of three but my own very headcanon infused interpretation of it. because it's like. the ultimate miscommunication/misunderstanding that exists between amy and the doctor coming to a head. where amy in 7.02 is like "i can't not wait for you, even now. (…) we think you're weaning us off you" (that line always makes me slow exhale … the phrasing of the doctor as a drug) and the doctor keeps insisting that's not true, "you'll be there until the end of me" "or vice versa" (and they have that loaded held stare and you know they're both thinking about what he said to her before he left in the god complex…)

but it's not until this episode where amy starts to actually believe he means it. at the same time she's spent so much TIME preparing for the inevitable moment where the doctor says goodbye and doesn't say hello ever again that she's not willing to fully hope that the doctor really means it when he says that he would never leave her permanently on purpose. and i love that this episode gives amy a lot of space to verbally communicate her emotions because the later pond episodes SORELY LACK THAT. and amy tells him, don't be nice to me, don't stop coming around just because you think that's the kind thing to do. even though she says herself that she doesn't know if she can have "both" — she knows that she can tell the doctor to stay, in her own way, and that he'll listen.

ideally they would have just gone off traveling together forever after that and the angels take manhattan did not happen but unlike what the doctor says about amy, i don't ever get what i want 🙃

also, this episode gave amy friends that weren't rory or the doctor or river so i love it for that on principal <3 i know amy had fun being the bridesmaid at laura's lesbian wedding. and kate!!

( i do hate that this episode ends with that conversation between brian and the doctor. i hate brian as a character and i will forever. won't get into this right now but OUGH )

honestly this list is kind of wobbly and might change if you asked me in a month so i'll just rattle off other favorite episodes / moments real quickly: the good night minisode (it counts!), RIVER SONG DIDN'T GET IT ALL FROM YOU SWEETIE (timeline frozen amy my beloved!), "i remember it so it happened so i did it," vincent and the doctor specifically when vincent tells amy that he hears the song of her sadness…. ow, i could write a whole other essay about amy's choice and how it is so much more complex than people give it credit for but this post is already so goddamn long

#i literally do apologize for how long this got but you have to understand i was holding myself back .#she is…. everything. to me. i could keep going for so long #amy pond #ask #jonismitchell

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storm-leviosa-fanfics · 3 years ago

Text

Leave the Ruins Where They Lie

We're back, baby! No promises on a consistent update schedule, but here's chapter 10.

Summary:

Steph gets to Ethiopia and immediately behaves like a tourist, which isn't not her job. Technically.

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Chapter 10

Airports suck, Steph decides. She gets off her plane into an actually air-conditioned international airport, but none of the signs are in English, security is a mess, and the queue for visas is less of a line and more of a tangled knot of confused, exhausted travelers with no help in sight. She gets a tourist visa. It costs her a whole $40 in cash, and the stamp in her passport is the most beautiful thing Steph has ever seen. She refuses to destroy this passport when it expires. That’s it, she’s keeping it forever. The lady behind the desk is about as frazzled as everyone else is, but she’s trying her hardest and travel documents are so goddamn confusing Steph doesn’t blame her in the slightest. She’s got her visa now, anyway. She’s now officially, legally, allowed to stay in Ethiopia for the next two weeks. So that’s pretty cool. The airport sucks, though. It’s not tourist season, but it’s crammed anyway. The lights are just this side of too bright, and flicker ominously because they’re fluorescent and that’s what fluorescents do. The main hall is pretty snazzy, but everything else is a liminal space, no time passes and yet all the time passes, everyone moving but with no end goal. It’s like being a lab rat trapped in a maze. And she only has to pass through to the taxi rank.

It’s raining outside, so that's unexpected. She feels the chill of it immediately, and she’s seriously underdressed for this kind of weather, so she runs for cover, and tugs her jacket out of her suitcase. It won’t do much for the cold, but at least it’ll keep her moderately dry while she waits for a taxi. Sitting under an overhang, she pulls out her hostel booking confirmation, and turns off airplane mode. Tim hasn’t texted, which isn’t surprising seeing as he knows how long the flight is. And it’s after midnight in Gotham. He’s probably asleep. Still, she shoots off a message, telling him she got here okay and she’s waiting for a taxi. He sends her a smiley face immediately, which is weird. Tim likes emojis as much as the next guy, but he normally uses at least one word in his messages. Before she can think about it anymore, she notices a taxi across the street, and scrambles to grab her bags and wave it down. Ethiopia awaits!

The taxi driver is chatty and smiley and sure, it’s probably because she’s paying him, but it’s also really nice to see a friendly face. He asks where she’s from, and when he hears ‘Gotham’, his eyes light up. “You have the heroes there!” he says excitedly, “Batwoman and Huntress and Batman and Robin.” She grins, even though she feels, just like any true Gothamite, a tinge of sadness when Batman and the boy wonder are mentioned. “Yeah!” she replies with a grin. “I mean, Batman retired a while ago, and there’s a load of other heroes now to pick up the slack, but having loads of heroes is super cool.” It really is, she realises. She loves her city, wouldn’t be out most nights protecting it if she didn’t, but sometimes it’s easy to forget that when the only side of it you ever see is the dark. “What is it like there?” the taxi driver asks, making eye contact with her in the mirror. “It’s the most dangerous city in America, yes? My nephew wants to go there one day, for school and for the heroes, but I tell him it’s too dangerous and he should stick around here instead.” Steph decides she likes this guy, likes his nephew with the big dream, and his uncle with the sturdy, practical mind that would most likely survive Gotham. The thing about Gotham is that most outsiders who would survive it are sensible enough to never move in. Which means all that’s left is the crazies who either don’t last long, or go completely cuckoo. But there’s no way she can say that to this guy. Hmmm. How to explain Gotham to someone who’s never been. She starts to speak, starts to describe the city and the heroes and the way they just go about their lives like seeing someone get rescued by a lady in armoured spandex is normal. She waves her hands as she speaks, filling the backseat with movement and sound, just the way she likes it, and the taxi driver listens to her every word, inputs his own opinions on it, how he’d fix things, how different it is from his home. She has found a kindred spirit, she thinks, and it hasn’t even been an hour.

They’d decided beforehand that Steph shouldn't go to the museum immediately. It’s just too suspicious if the museum gets an ‘anonymous donation’ of stolen goods just hours after a flight from Gotham gets in. Instead, she drops off her suitcase, locks up her valuables in the safe the hostel gave her, and goes to the local open air market for some warmer clothes. She has some cargo pants that unzip into shorts, and a lonely pair of jeans, but she’d kind of like a jumper, and if she has to pretend to be a tourist, the least she can do is buy some local goods.

There’s so many people, and all speaking different languages, and all waving stuff in her face, and the colours are so bright, and Steph loves it. She haggles with the stall owners, and gets a jumper to wear for a fraction of what it probably would’ve cost back home. She looks at the souvenirs, but doesn’t buy any. Every time someone approaches, she waves them off, and tells them she’ll be back another day, that today she’s just browsing - she’s only just arrived after all - and they smile and nod and try to persuade her anyway. They’re shameless about it in a way Steph can relate to. If she were trying to sell stuff to gullible tourists back home, she’d be pretty insistent too. It’s a good way to make a bit of cash. By the time she’s out of the crush of the market, it’s lunchtime, and she has to find something to eat before she starves.

Luckily for her, there’s a burger place right across from the market, if the massive burger shaped sign is anything to go by. It’s not the healthiest of meals, but she’s depressingly unprepared for this and doesn’t know what any of the signs for food actually mean, or what they are, so she doesn’t quite dare risk it until she’s had a chance to do some research. For now, a burger will do. She also buys herself another bottle of water, to tide her over until she gets to a supermarket. Addis Ababa might be better at running water than a lot of the country, but she still isn’t sure she trusts it, and besides, she’s from Gotham - if you don’t drink bottled water, you’re pretty much dead. The rain has stopped, and in the weak sunlight, the city sparkles. She kind of loves it.

Next stop is internet access. She could probably try and find a public library of some kind - that would be her first stop in Gotham - but it’s kinda suspicious for a foreign teen to use a library when they’re meant to be on holiday. Not so suspicious is a foreign teen trying to get a local SIM and data plan. And there are many many options. In Addis Ababa, capital city of Ethiopia, there are tons of tourists and therefore tons of people trying to sell tourists things. She found that out in the market. That includes phone plans. Steph, unfortunately, has done zero research on this, and kind of walks up and down the street three times peering at the stands, unconvinced by their legitimacy. Eventually, a guy takes pity on her, or recognizes her as a sucker, and shouts out his ‘best deal’. She gets a new SIM, a new data plan (with a whole 10GB of data) that will last her a month, and a promise that she can top it up anywhere. It’s pretty neat, all things considered, and while she may have been ripped off a bit, it’s not her money that she’s spending. Tim’s promised to pay her back for anything she spends on this trip. It makes her feel better about splurging a bit.

With internet access assured, she boots up her VPN and opens Firefox. Also Google maps. She’s yet to find a good alternative to Google maps, so she just has to deal with it and hope all the turned off tracking settings don’t magically turn back on (that’d happened once. It terrified the shit out of her). People like to complain about Apple, and manufactured obsolescence, and how the company is actually evil, but they tend to forget that android a) does the same thing, and b) has Google auto-installed on everything, hidden tracking software included, and you can’t get it off. She hates it. She hates Apple too, obviously, but yikes Google has changed since the days when it was just a magical search engine that could find all the answers to every question you could think of. Anyway, she opens Firefox, opens Google maps, and searches for something to do that isn’t the museum. There’s a park that’s relatively close, and the weather is clearing up enough that she fancies a walk.

She should probably case out the museum a little, see what it actually looks like, but she’s seen blueprints, and she kind of wants to enjoy her first ever trip out of Gotham before it inevitably goes pear-shaped. No plan ever survives first contact with the enemy, and while there are no real enemies here, she isn’t mad enough to think that means everything will go according to plan. It won’t. It’ll be terrible. She’s been in the vigilante game long enough to know that. So, she wants to see some stuff in this awesome city before she has to think about museum heists… reverse heists? Un-heists? Whatever it is they’re doing. Seeing the museum in person will be epic, she’s sure, but she wants to save it. She doesn’t even really want to see it as something she has to do for the mission, and her mind is such that she will. She’ll step foot in the museum and immediately start seeing entrances and exits and blindspots in security cameras. Because she has to. But she’ll hate every part of it. When the mission takes over, she can’t enjoy any of the really cool history that she’s witnessing, though she will - of course - play the role of awe-struck tourist perfectly, and it’s the part of being a vigilante that sucks the most. Amusement Mile is ruined for her now. Never again will she marvel at the art in the Gotham gallery. And now Ethiopia is going to be the same.

No. She refuses to let it. Onwards to Unity Park. Onwards to experiencing everything this city has to offer her. She’s going to have fun while it lasts.

#batfam fanfic #batfam big bang 2020 #stephanie brown #tim drake #leave the ruins where they lie #i recommend the ao3 version of this solely for the notes #i rant about the british museum it's great

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pettyprocrastination · 4 years ago

Note

i’m latching onto this i’m,,, so, so sorry. this most definitely gotta come to a head when there’s a neighborhood block party hosted by the york fam - the kids are all playin and carol and neighbor are both buzzed as all hell, and are now squished together in a seat in the backyard, carol sittin on your lap to “save space” ,,, dave is watching from where he’s at the grill, eyes a lil bit sharp with something that you can’t identify (horny. it’s horny vibes for his wife and his neighbor) as he tries to make it thru a boring ass convo with someone as carol just talks lowly in neighbors ear about something. as it gets darker the kids head to bed and only the adults are left,, slowly dwindling until it’s just neighbor, carol, and dave,,, shall we go on?? 👀

- buff bread anon

YES YES WE SHALL GO ON EXCUSE YOU

Dont you DARE APOLOGIZE FOR THIS IM LOVING THE YORK CONTENT

The moment carol sits on your lap you freeze. Hhaving that initial panic of what do you do?? Where do you put your hands??? But she smiles and takes a swig of her beer before waving st dave, whi smiles and waves back at you.

Shes married. They're both married. Dont be a homewrecker

That mantra is playing endless in your head as carol talks lowly in your ear in a way that makes you feels things you absolutely shouldn't feel about a married woman. Shes smiley and the girls are playing with their friends while dave flips burgers and nods at something the girls soccer coach is talking to him rather excitedly about. Unbeknownst to you hes gripping spatula in his hand so hard its leaving in intend on his skin because carolina york is a goddamn tease, the way shes cozied up to you and will glance over her shoulder at her husband with that impish smile, as if taunting him to join.

You're too busy stuck in your own head of anxiety and dangerous what ifs while carol picks out a figure in the crowd with a snicker.

"God, of course she'd come." She whispers lowly in your ear. You hope she doesnt see the way it makes you shudder. She gestures to a woman who loosk likes shed be anywhere else but here.

"Shes a mom from the girls soccer team. Class A bitch too." Carol sis her beer and curls closer to you. "You better not let her get to me because so help me god I'll start swinging."

You laugh and she feels her heart skip a beat.

You had no idea what you were doing to them, did you?

"I promise you Mrs.York." you wrap your arms around her waist and marvel at how soft the skirt of her dress is. "I wont leave you in the evil clutches of soccer moms."

Her lips graze your ear when she leans in, giddy and tipsy.

"My hero."

This block party was as much of a blessing as it was a fucking curse

#ask #asks #buff bread anon #the yorks #dave york #ITS A YORK NIGHT BABY LETS GO

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broken-clover · 4 years ago

Text

AU-gust Day 8- Superpowers/Superheroes

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

So apparently when I say ‘these are very long, maybe I should make them less long next time’ it apparently means ‘WRITE NEARLY 5000 WORDS AND SUFFER’ I’m having. A day. Not a bad one just. A Day. This more or less feels like a pilot episode for something honestly.

Please do not ask why I keep writing Sin because there is no answer.

Ky had left him in charge of the scanner. Again.

And Sin knew why he had done it, why he always left him sitting in the high-backed chair perched in front of an array of high-tech computers while he and his friends leapt into action. It wasn’t because Sin was any kind of tech genius. It was because it was the best way of keeping him out of the way.

They didn’t even pretend like it was a real task in need of doing. Sol had already rigged the scanner so that it would send notifications to the entire team as soon as it picked up anything suitably peculiar. Ky’s excuse was that they needed him to watch it and make sure the scanner didn’t malfunction, but it never did. It was just a good way to keep him from running around while Ky couldn’t keep an eye on him.

Well, he could have brought him along, but whenever he suggested, Ky just had to get all uppity about it, and say in so many words that he didn’t want his precious baby boy going on dangerous missions, except he’d say it in a way that made him sound completely reasonable and rational, even though he was a teenager now and he was tired of spending time in front of the monitors and doing nothing but sitting on his ass like a useless idiot.

He shifted to prop his chin up on his other arm. The scanner did another rotation around Illyria, but no notification popped up, just like the last thousand or so times. Ugh, he’d been here for hours, when were they going to come back? The distress call had come from the complete opposite side of town, but considering that half of them could fly, and Ky himself could turn into a goddamn lightning bolt, they were awfully slow. So much for ‘just a quick mission’ like he had promised.

Groaning, Sin abandoned the chair and left it to spin behind him. He left the completely empty computer room to head into the equally-empty kitchen, hoping to find something to munch on. In between Sol’s beer bottles, Testament’s vegan snacks and Chipp’s leftover Japanese takeout, there was a plastic-domed pastry box. His excited smile melted off as soon as he pulled it out and peered inside.

“Thank you for keeping our city safe!” Said the fancy frosting letters. Yeah, he knew where it was from. The local orphanage had sent it after Ky and his friends had stopped Judgement from blowing up half the city last week. Because they were a bunch of good-samaritan do-gooders so compassionate and helpful that they got fucking cake from orphans.

He still cut a big piece from it before shoving the thing back into the fridge. Hey, cake was cake. Plus, he could get a kick out of ruining the letters and part of the bright yellow smiley-face under it.

At least being stuck at the base meant nobody raised a stink over him sitting on the meeting table. Sin was careful not to leave any shoe tracks on it, though, after Ky had chewed him out for it the last time. Personally, he thought having a white table was stupid in the first place, but that was the design Ky liked. It was the same reason they had the big sweeping ceilings, elaborate carvings along the walls, and a special designated chair for each of their official members, individualized by their names and insignias (Because his dad really was that fucking cliche)

In between bites of cake, he toed at the fancy lightning bolt carved into Ky’s chair, with ’Thunderseal’ written out above it. Sin remembered when he used to chase his father around the house, pretending to be him with a construction-paper mask and towel cape. He had utterly idolized Thunderseal, and dreamed that someday he would be able to take up the mantle when he became a real hero. It wasn’t a dream he clung onto anymore. Just the shadow of being his son was big enough.

Sin tried to take his mind off things by pulling out his phone. Maybe May would be up for a chat.

‘Anything going on w/ u?’

May always had her phone on her, so it didn’t take long before his pinged with a message. ’Just finished a job! Hbu?’

‘Send pics?’ Just his luck he got her while she was out working. At least maybe he could get a few cool pictures out of it.

Just like last time, it barely took a minute before she responded back with a pile of photos. All of them had May smiling with her teammates in uniform, along with a very irritated-looking (and very wet) tied-up criminal. He’d hoped that the pictures would have cheered him up, but all it did was annoy him further. She was younger and smaller than him by a lot, but she was allowed to go out on dangerous jobs.

Mer-May, the absolute darling of the Jellyfish team of superheroes. Even though they weren’t from Illyria, he still saw stories and photos about them in the paper. They looked like a real team. They probably took all their team members out on missions, and when they didn’t, he bet they had a much better reason than needing someone to watch the scanners.

’Great job! :D’ he messaged back with stiff, trembling fingers, before an errant current made his screen crackle and explode in a burnt cloud.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Why did that always happen when he got frustrated, this was his twelfth phone in the last year! Like he needed one more thing to be annoyed about.

Sin was sick and tired of being inside. He abandoned his half-eaten cake at the table and headed for the entrance, swiping his jacket and a spare mask on the way out.

++++++

Nobody gave him much of a second look as he slid along the wires twenty feet off the ground. Anybody who even noticed the crackle of electricity in the first place regarded him with complete nonchalance. Superpowered individuals had become a lot more commonplace, especially with the formation of publicly-known groups like the Jellyfish and the Guardians of Illyria. It was practically a celebrity subculture. Just a fixture of daily life. People with powers no longer had much of a reason to hide anymore.

In his absentmindedness, he nearly fell off-balance and slipped from the wire he was on. He wondered if Ky ever did that on the job. He might’ve been the team’s shiny poster-boy, but he wasn’t as perfect as everyone always acted like he was. It didn’t stop the newspapers and nighttime TV reports from painting him as some flawless guardian angel. Even when he was little, they were always talking about Ky.’s exploits, how he made Illyria a safe place. For the longest time, all that praise had convinced him his father could do no wrong.

Sin remembered the times when he would hold his father’s hand as they skated across the powerlines, helping him keep his balance. Sin always kept his eyes peeled for trouble, and whenever they spotted a kitten stuck in a tree or someone struggling with groceries, Ky would let him take charge to ‘save’ the civilian in need. He used to love the slightly-exaggerated smiles from grateful people and congratulatory pats on the head from his father, but it all felt so infuriatingly patronizing now. He didn’t want to be stuck helping old ladies cross the street while his father and his friends fought the real villains and saved the day. It never felt like he was helping anyone in the long run, he was just doing errands for people and nothing more than that.

He skidded to a stop on an electronic billboard, slid down the maintenance ladder, and found a place to sit. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a tiny battered book and pen.

‘Sin the Superhero!’ was scrawled across the front in faded, childlike handwriting. He skipped past the scribbled-over and torn pages in the front half, all practically carbon-copies of Ky, until he reached the more complicated doodles and neater handwriting.

‘Hero Name Ideas.’ The list had gotten longer recently, but still none of them seemed to fit him right. He scratched off a couple of older ideas and jot down ‘Livewire’ and ‘Sparx’ at the bottom. Mmm, no, when he wrote them down on paper, that didn’t seem right, either.

“Ughh, why is this so hard!?” Sin groaned to himself, closing the book and smacking himself in the face with it. He wasn’t going to be Thunderseal. No matter what, he was not going to be Thunderseal.

He’d thought of skipping town and joining the Jellyfish, but May’s manager Johnny said that they only accepted female members. There were a few others scattered across the country, like the ones down in Kagutsuchi, Remnant, and Inaba, but they seemed so different from what he was used to, Sin wasn’t sure he’d fit in even if they let him join.

He spotted a convenience store half a block down. Maybe he just needed a snack to help him think. He hadn’t gotten to finish his cake, after all.

Sin slid back up onto the powerline and followed the sidewalk until he found a wall generator to jump into near ground-level. The light burst that followed him when he landed startled an older woman as she headed back to her car, but otherwise nobody paid attention.

The convenience store was awfully quiet for the afternoon, but all it meant was that he could scour the aisles for something to eat. They didn’t have anything meaty, so he settled for red licorice. It almost looked like meat.

“Would you like a bag?” The cashier asked, with the usual feigned-cheer that minimum wage barely afforded.

“Nah, I’m just gonna eat it now.” He replied, digging for a few spare bills in his back pocket.

When he found the money and went to turn back around, he spotted an ominous smear of crimson in his peripheral vision. Out through the front windows, a peculiar-looking girl was stumbling across the parking lot barefoot, stained in what appeared to be blood.

“The hell…?” Sin murmured. He realized he still had money in his hand. “Oh. Shit, uh, keep the change!” All but throwing the money at the poor woman, he grabbed his licorice and bolted out the door, taking a moment to swing his head around to find that girl again before running after her. “Hey! Hold on a second!”

Maybe he was too loud, because she immediately flinched and threw up her arms to cover her head. “I-I’m sorry!”

“You’re...what?” He skidded to a stop right in front of her. Yeah, that was definitely blood. The girl didn’t seem to be in a good condition, if the stumbling hadn’t already given it away. All the bloodstains appeared to be coming from the numerous wounds on her body, mixed together with a handful of ugly violet bruises. “Man, you look in bad shape. Did you get attacked?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” With her arms still covering her, she crouched down and began trembling.

Sin’s features softened. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He crouched down next to her, trying his best to sound harmless. “Okay? Not gonna hurt you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Y-you aren’t?” A single diamond-blue eye peeked between trembling fingers.

“No, I’m not. Are you in danger? Do you need someone to keep you safe?”

She gave him a slow, jerky nod. “Ok! I can do that. My house is really safe, my dad’s a superhero so you don't have to worry about people getting in unless you want them to! Why don’t we go there, and then I can get you some bandaids?”

Another little nod. “Sounds like a plan, then!” He took her hand, helped her back up, and turned in the direction of where he’d come from. “It’s over this way, so we can-”

“No!! No, no, we can’t!” She suddenly shrieked, trying to pull herself from his grip.

“Woah, woah!” Sin let her go in his shock. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t go! I can’t go!” She cried, tugging at her pale pink hair with both hands. “I can’t leave without my sister!”

“Your sister? Where is she?”

Her expression grew haunted. “Oh...oh no...I left her behind...I promised we wouldn’t be separated…”

Sin tried to quell the growing feeling of excitement unfurling in him. Yes, this girl was clearly in need of help. He was finally doing his first real job as a hero, without Ky getting in the way! And he’d found it all by himself! But he needed to keep serious.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get your sister.” He gave the girl a confident grin. “Can you show me where she is?”

Another nod. “Uh-huh. I can show you.”

“Think you can show me from the rooftops? It’ll be faster that way.” She didn’t pull away again when he started leading her towards the generator he had jumped out of.

“Huh? There’s no ladder, how would you- aaaah!”

Sin scooped her up before taking off up the wires to the roof. “I’m a hero, too! I can follow electric currents! So if you can point me in the direction of- oh.”

The sudden movement had apparently freaked her out, and both of her trembling arms were tightly wrapped around him for stability.

“Oops. Um, sorry about that. I forget the vertigo is really bad the first few times.” He tried giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “But I promise I won’t drop you, okay? I just need you to show me what direction you came from.”

It took her a moment to unbury herself from her place in his jacket, but she reached out to point towards the heart of Illyria. “That way. It's by the big building with a cow on the roof.”

His grin came back as Sin felt the sparks fly off his feet. “Say no more!”

++++++

Sin had never been to this part of town before, on the ground or otherwise. It seemed like a perfectly nice neighborhood, but for some reason, there was just something that felt...off.

He tried not to worry about it. “Hey, so you didn’t tell me your name. I’m Sin! What should I call you?”

The girl in his arms seemed to have finally gotten used to the harsh movements, only wincing when the harsh wind blew the hair in her eyes. “E-Elphelt.” She said. “My name is Elphelt.”

Weird name, but he didn’t say anything. Even if he wanted to, he was interrupted by her pointing him left. “R-right there! The big white building!”

“This one?” He asked, sliding up onto the roof of what he could only guess was a large warehouse. A few trucks were parked out in front, but he didn’t see any people, nor were any lights on inside. “Are you sure this is it?”

“Mmhm!” She nodded vigorously, though the fear had come back into her eyes. “Please! I can’t leave her behind!”

We’re gonna save your sister, don’t worry.” Sin put her down on the roof next to him, and began searching for some kind of way in. “How did you get out?”

She walked towards one of the building’s edges and peered down. “Stairs! There’s emergency stairs by the windows!”

“Stairs?” He headed off after her. Sure enough, a set of metal stairs snaked down the building’s side. “We can get in through one of those windows!”

The two of them ran down a few flights, only stopping when Elphelt pointed one out. “This one! I think it’s this one!”

“This one?” Sin repeated back. He crouched down to get a good look at it. “I don’t think it’s latched; it should probably just slide open from the bottom.”

“Okay, then let’s-”

“Wait-” He grabbed her hand a half-second before she could slide the window open. “There’s an alarm. It’ll trigger if you pull it open.”

Elphelt recoiled immediately. “How can you tell?”

“I told you I can ride currents, right? I can sense them, too.” He put a hand on the wall next to the window. “Feels like there’s a whole security system set up and wired to the same main hub.” Elphelt was tearing up again in the corner of his eye, and he raised his free hand to assure her. “Don’t worry. Each window has its own sensor alarm. If I can just overload it…”

Sin pressed his eyes shut and willed a bolt of electricity into existence. He slid it between his hands a few times before feeding it into the sensor. After a moment, he felt the current split off between the window and the rest of the system as the wires melted and the plastic exploded.

“Okay, just hold your breath…” He put his hands on the sill. In one motion, he jerked it open and...no alarm.

“Phew…” Elphelt shook her head in momentary relief, before tensing up again. “We have to hurry! We have to hurry!”

She squeezed herself inside before he could even think of doing it himself. Once she had gotten inside, he wormed in after her. “Yeah, of course. But why do we have to hurry? I don’t think anyone’s here.”

The building was as dark inside as it had looked outside. The room they had been dumped into had a high ceiling and a concrete floor, but was nearly empty aside from some storage crates. At least, they looked like storage crates, he couldn’t really tell. From another pocket, he pulled out a rechargeable flashlight, funneled a bit of electricity into it, and switched it on. A narrow slice of light cut through the empty room.

It fell on Elphelt’s horrified face. “El? What’s wrong?”

“We have to hurry.” She spoke in a trembling whisper. “We have to hurry before mother comes home.”

He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it seemed important to her. “Okay. We’ll go quickly. What room is your sister in? Can you show me?”

The hallway was slightly lighter, but no less empty. Had everyone gone home already? Then again, he had no idea what this building was for in the first place, maybe there never were people at all. He couldn’t see any security cameras on the ceilings, but even if they were there, he doubted they would be able to see much.

He followed Elphelt down a couple sets of stairs. They both kept their backs pressed to the wall, their footsteps light, and their guard up. Sin glanced over his shoulder every few seconds to be absolutely sure they weren’t being followed.

At one point, Elphelt stopped and held a hand out to him. “I think this is it.”

Compared to the rest of the building, he could sense a veritable feast of electricity coursing back and forth beyond the door they were staring at. It seemed logical that if she was anywhere, it would be in there.

The new room was a stark difference in just how blindingly white it was. Sin had to blink and cover his eyes for a minute while he convinced himself that he was not actually going blind. Elphelt seemed unconcerned with the sudden change, and walked deeper in without him.

“Elphelt! Wait!” He hissed, blinking to clear his vision. The blurry edges eventually smoothed out and sharpened. “Woah…”

Just from a wild guess, it had to be some kind of laboratory. All the glass, fancy equipment, and desks looked like something from the sci-fi shows Sol liked to watch. What kind of science exactly, he had no idea. But it didn’t matter. He had to help Elphelt. Where had she gone to?

“El?” He called out, still trying to keep himself from being too loud. It was a bright white room and she had bright pink hair, how could he not find her in two seconds?

Sin felt his stomach growl as he began to search. Absentmindedly, he pulled out his abandoned licorice and peeled a strand off to eat it. “El?”

He thought he had spotted a flash of pink, but when he approached it, he found a strange pile of pink mush in a large clear dish. He didn’t have the slightest idea of what it was, but it unnerved him. Sin put down his licorice on the tabletop and reached for a glass rod that had been left near it.

What did he think would happen if he prodded it? That was another question he couldn’t answer. It made an odd, gooey noise as the tip sank into its surface. It had looked solid, but the more he pushed into it, the more the glass vanished, even when he thought it would have gone all the way through and come out the other end.

“Sin!”

“Elphelt?” He looked up from his impromptu experiment. Why had he let himself get distracted? Sin pulled the stick back out and set it on the table, and reached for his-

“Where’d I put my licorice…?”

“Sin! Please!”

“Coming, El!” That was more important. He ran off towards her voice. The tables gave way to what he could only describe as giant stove burners built into the ground. “Where are you?”

“Over here!” He saw a hand in the air and headed towards it. It was actually Elphelt that time, instead of some weird arm-monster, thankfully.

“There you are. Jeez, you’re fast-” His eyes went wide.

There was...a girl, suspended in some sort of glassy prison. It hovered over one of the weird floor-burner things, spinning around and around as the room’s lights glinted off it. The girl inside didn’t seem especially bothered by the spinning, or the fact that the ball was barely big enough for her to fit inside. If he didn’t know any better, she looked completely unconscious.

“What the hell?” He looked at his companion. “El, is this her? Is this your sister?”

“Ram…” She said, more to the other girl than to him. Her eyes had gone wet with tears again.

There was an electrical current running under the burner. Without thinking, Sin shoved his hand into it and discharged a bolt of electricity.

He was pretty sure he felt the fluid splattering on his face before he even heard the glass break. The overload of energy had not only shut off whatever the burner was doing, but forced the ball to shatter. He heard Elphelt dive to the ground behind him. Any of the glass that exploded onto him was melted by the heat of his lightning. The smell of ozone and the backlash from overusing his powers was making him dizzy, but Sin tried to focus on what was around him.

Once the chaos had died down, Elphelt crawled back out from the table she’d hidden behind. “Sin?”

“El.” He sent her a dopey, tired smile. “I got it.”

“Ram!!” The girl hurried back over to kneel down by the unconscious body. A few glass shards had nicked their skin, but there was nothing especially worrying. Elphelt seemed to be far more concerned with Ram than she was about her own injuries, anyway. She scooped up the other girl and held her close, placing a hand on her chest as she began murmuring something incomprehensible. Sin watched a faint pink glow envelop her hand and flow into the other’s body.

“Elphelt?” He asked in quiet awe. “You have powers?”

Whatever she was trying to do, it seemed to have worked. As soon as the glow faded, Ram began to rouse.

“Mhh...Elphelt?”

“Ram!” El hugged her sister tightly as her shoulder began trembling. “Oh, you’re awake, you’re awake. I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”

“Elphelt…” She put a hand on her sister’s back and smiled gently. “I’m okay.”

“Th-this is Sin!” When she regained some of her composure, Elphelt pointed at him. “He helped me save you!”

“Yeah. But El, you said we had to hurry, right? We should leave.”

“Oh! We need to leave fast, you’re right.” Elphelt stood back up, but she appeared remarkably calm. In fact, she was smiling. “But we can go even faster with Ram!”

The girl nodded in silent agreement. She looped a hand around her sister’s waist, before beckoning Sin over.

“Faster?” He was confused, but he complied, stepping closer so Ram could grab him by the middle. “I’m not sure what you me-EEEEEAN- !”

The question was answered for him very quickly. His feet were off the ground before he could blink. Ram was shooting off towards the nearest wall, and he had absolutely no way of stopping her.

“Are you insane?!” They were going to fly headfirst into a metal wall! Sin absolutely couldn’t handle hitting something that solid that fast, but he didn’t have any electricity left to try and shock her into dropping him. All he could do was watch.

There was a horrific crunch, and everything went black.

And then blue, as they passed through to the other side without a scratch.

Sin hadn’t realized he was screaming in terror until he stopped. He saw a massive gaping hole in the metal when he turned to look back, but he couldn’t see a single scratch on him, or his questionably-deranged pilot.

“It’s okay, Sin!” Elphelt called. “Ram’s really strong!”

‘Strong’ didn’t seem like a very good explanation on how they hadn’t just smashed their collective heads open, but really, after everything he had been through, it seemed stupid to ask questions.

++++++

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU RAN OFF??”

Sin winced, pulling the receiver away from his ear. “I know, I know, dad, I messed up-”

“MESSED UP??” Ky’s voice shouted back. “You ran off without telling anyone! I thought you had been kidnapped!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He said. “But I promise I can explain everything. I need a ride back, do you think you can come pick me up over by Bishop Bakery? The place over at the corner of Hansen and 15th?”

“All the way out there?! Sin, what are you doing in the north district in the first place?”

“Uh, that’s a bit of a long story…” He turned to look at his two new companions. Elphelt kicked her bare feet under the bench as she watched the cars go by, and Ramlethal was sitting cross-legged and bobbing her head back and forth to a song coming out of a nearby radio. “A really long story. Why don’t I tell you all about it over leftover cake?”

++++++

A dark shadow slid along sterile white walls, pacing back and forth and back. Immaculately manicured nails drummed against a pale sleeve, the only giveaway against a perfect porcelain mask of calmness.

“So they both ran away…” A melodic voice echoed off the high walls. “I never would have expected such ingenuity from her.”

The room went quiet for a moment. “Still, nothing I can’t handle. A few steps to shuffle around, but in the end, those girls saved me quite a lot of effort. Brought back to the Guardians on a silver platter! What a stroke of luck.”

She paused. “Oh? The boy? Just another pawn, easy enough to handle. His powers are little more than parlor tricks. I’ll have no trouble disposing of him as soon as he becomes a nuisance."

Another pause. Slowly, the porcelain mask began to crack. “Is that so?

In the blink of an eye, she lashed out to grab one of the trailing tubes. It was squeezed in a white-knuckled grip until the flow was dammed. “Now, you aren’t getting all high and mighty on me, are you?” She asked in a sickly-sweet voice, putting the smiling mask back on. “Don’t forget who gave you all of your shiny new toys. If it weren’t for me, you would still be rotting away in that hospital bed, where nobody could hear you.”

She took a moment longer to grab onto the clear plastic, then let it go. “I’m glad you’ve decided to cooperate. I helped you for a reason, you know. I saw the potential you had...Ah, I ramble so much.” She shook her head. “I’ll leave you to your work. And don’t forget to get plenty of rest. We have so much work to do, and so little time…”

The shadow moved away, melting into all the others with the sound of clicking heels. Once it was far, far away, the faint hum of magic sounded. From another pool of darkness, a half-eaten package of red licorice floated into the faint light. A single braid was pulled out of it, and invisible fingers peeled a stand off to carry it into an awaiting mouth. Artificial strawberry, what a peculiar flavor.

“So…” A silent voice echoed in the darkness. “...Sin?”

#AU-gust #superhero au #writing #guilty gear #Sin Kiske #Elphelt Valentine #Ramlethal Valentine #I will now proceed to bury myself in my front yard

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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January 6, 2021: Last Action Hero (1993) (Part 1)

Let’s have some fun, shall we?

Comedy is my favorite genre, and I obviously also love action. So, when looking at the subgenres to cover this month, action-comedy most certainly was at the top of the list. But what exactly is action-comedy?

Exactly what it sounds like, funnily enough. Action-comedies rely on physical action sequences to further the plot, but also inject dialogue with humor and jokes throughout the script. Entertainment and amusement combined into one beautiful, succinct package. I’ll be judging the writing for these movies on how much they made me laugh while watching it. That said...

OK, so, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Last Action Hero. Schwarzenegger isn’t exactly the most emotionally expressive actor in the world, as you’ve probably noticed. And expressiveness is somewhat necessary to express humor. Look at Eddie Murphy up there, and see how expressive he is. Schwarzenegger...doesn’t have that. At all. But, this movie could still be funny! Shane Black wrote it, and he wrote one of my favorite guilty pleasure Halloween movies, The Monster Squad. So, I’m looking forward to this movie for that in and of itself. And with that...

Recap

We start with a sick guitar lick on Christmas Day, as a group of cops close in on a criminal known as the Ripper holding children hostage at an elementary school. But then...Jack Slater (played, naturally, by Arnold Schwarzenegger) arrives. And yes, this is a parody character and scene, meant to lambast all of the stereotypical renegade cop tropes that I’ve literally never seen in a movie. Like, I guess Lethal Weapon and Beverly Hills Cop have it, but I think this character concept has been Flanderized into...well...Jack Slater.

Slater kicks a cop through a window with a Schwarzenegger-esque action line, and CRUSHES A RADIO LIKE A NAPKIN. I appreciate Schwarzenegger making fun of himself like this, and we’ve only just begun. Jack goes through banter with the Ripper (Tom Noonan), who...is unironically terrifying. Holy shit, that guy is creepy as fuck, and his stylized ax is intimidating as hell. And as he holds Slater’s son hostage out of revenge, the two face off with some cool action beats, and...

...Shit, I think I want to watch this movie. And I don’t mean Last Action Hero, I mean the in-universe movie that our actual main character, Danny Madigan (Austin O’Brien) is watching. Danny’s a big Jack Slater fan, and one of the only patrons of a movie theater owned by Nick (Robert Prosky). Nick, a kind old man, invites Danny to see the next Slater film before anybody else. And honestly, I get it. I’d watch this movie series unironically if it existed, real talk. Mostly because it seems fun.

Danny’s skipped school just to see this movie, and he walks into his English class, where the teacher shows Lawrence Olivier as Hamlet. Fun fact! The English teacher showing it is played by Joanne Plowright, Olivier’s real life wife! Very sweet! Anyway, Danny, bored by a goddamn classic movie, conjures a different movie in his head.

Fuck yes. I need this movie to exist.

We learn from Danny’s mother (Mercedes Ruehl) that his father has recently died, and he spends far too much of his time watching movies at Nick’s theater. I look forward to this revelation never being explored. As he’s headed to the theater when he isn’t supposed to, he opens the door at the exact wrong time, and A ROBBER BREAKS INTO HIS PLACE, OH SHIT! Confronted with the type of real danger that he’d see in an action movie, and with no action hero to save him, the robber finds nothing of value and leaves the place. He gets rescued by the cops eventually, and they tell him to go home. But, no, he goes...to the movies.

Mom might have a point there, sport.

While he’s there, Nick brings him in, and begins to monologue to him about his past in the theater business. And that monologue introduces the MacGuffin of the film: the Golden Ticket, given to Nick by Houdini himself, and an alleged portal to another world.

So, is this gonna be more of a Pagemaster situation, or a The NeverEnding Story deal? The Golden Ticket is torn for admission, Danny sits down, and the movie-in-a-movie begins in earnest. In the film, Slater’s cousin Frank (Art Carney in his last film role) is being held hostage by the crime boss Vivaldi (Anthony Quinn), and his henchman...one of the most immediately visually interesting characters I’ve ever seen in a film...in a FILM.

Benedict (played by Charles Dance), is immediately a fascinating character, essentially a non-Marvel Bullseye, and a gunsman with flawless precision. And yeah...I dig it. Oh, how I dig it.

Jack Slater arrives in his snakeskin boots, and discovers Frank, who delivers a message in the cheesiest death sequence I’ve ever seen, followed by the cheesiest bomb compound I’ve ever seen, followed by a bigger explosion than anyone would’ve expected, FOLLOWED by...OK, look, the references to other action movies in this are already ridiculous and all over the place, and I refuse to spoil them all for those of you who’ve never seen this movie.

By the way, I gotta make a comment about Danny real quick. Watching this many action movies may have made him a little...detached...from reality. I say this because he expressed no shock or emotion during or after the robbery, then went immediately to the movie theater, and had no reaction whatsoever about the death of the two cops in the movie. Little budding sociopath, that Danny.

Although, that might change, now that the ticket’s getting all magic-y, and a stick of ACME dynamite (actually in the film, I swear) makes its way into the theater. It explodes, and Danny inexplicably (magically, even) finds himself in the movie. So, Pagemaster, then.

Danny’s complete lack of reaction and emotion in this situation confirms my theory on him being a liiiiiiiiiiittle detached from reality. But then...the most gloriously stupid thing I’ve seen this month happens.

Arnold proceeds to make a pun that is NOT “Nasty brainfreeze,” and I am disappointed forever. Who wrote this? Who wrote this?

We get a car chase fueled with jumps, gunfire, puns, a casual mention of premature ejaculation, and Coca Cola product placement, all accompanied by Danny finally showing a modicum of reaction to the fact that he is IN A FUCKING MOVIE. REACT MORE, DANNY. At his age, I would have soiled myself immediately. At MY age, I would soil myself if this happened to me! Anyway...

OK, I just have to say this now: this movie has some of the most insane shots and set-ups that I’ve ever seen, and by GOD, I am here for it. Like...Did you SEE the motorcycle dress girl panic while a man WAS ON FIRE IN THE BACKGROUND? Earlier, a car does an INSANE jump and crash and explodes in the BACKGROUND, and the movie just treats it like a pigeon flew on set! Nobody cares! THE SCENES IN THIS MOVIE MAKE INSANITY AN ART FORM.

Anyway...we get to the LAPD, and...HOLY SHIT. IS THAT…

Was that Sharon Stone as Catherine Trammel from Basic Instinct, and Robert Patrick as T1000 from Terminator 2? I...but...wait...if...how...I’m broken now. 404, blue screen, reboot, update needed, WHAT?!? I...just...SO many questions, and this movie better answer them.

We see some added insanity, including a man with a houndstooth suit which I DESPERATELY WANT but could not pull off. There’s literally a buddy cop generator, where we also see a rabbi cop, and an Amadeus reference is dropped as F. Murray goddamn Abraham (playing a cop named Practice) appears in this movie, and THEN...an animated cat cop sexually harasses a female cop. I am not joking.

Am...am I insane? Also, if I was in the theaters watching this movie-in-a-movie, I would be both angry and confused as to what in the FUCK was happening!!! WHY IS THERE AN ANIMATED CAT COP IN MY JACK SLATER MOVIE? WHO DIRECTED THIS BULLSHIT (in universe)?? Also that cat was recently suspended, and is also one of their best men.

And then, Danny uses his knowledge of the Jack Slater franchise to break down the barriers of repressed affection between the chief and Slater, and it’s briefly heartwarming for some reason. Anyway, they’re now suspicious of his knowledge of Slater’s life, and this leaves to the inevitable buddy cop pairing of Jack Slater and Danny Madigan. This art-deco something walks by…

...and I desperately need to know more about the art direction of this film. Because, wow, it is an absolute masterpiece of randomly exaggerated shit, damn.

To prove his point about being in a movie, Danny goes to a Blockbuster, which... man, does THAT bring me back! That’s right you young whippersnappers, I WAS THERE FOR BLOCKBUSTER IN THE ‘90s! We used to go to the store and look at the VHSs. I remember seeing The Lost World there, but my dad said I was too young for it. I was sad, but he got me some candy and a Really Wild Animals video, and we watched it that night after Carmen Sandiego. My God. It was paradise.

Anyway, Schwarzenegger doesn’t exist, and find out that Stallone has taken over his roles.

...I’d watch that. I’d watch the HELL out of that. Danny then uses some legitimately impressive math to dissect the “555” number thing in movies, as well as pointing out the lack of non-conventionally attractive women. Which, credit to you, kiddo, for addressing the overwrought emphasis on conventional attractiveness that permeated Hollywood at this time, and to this day. I mean, he’s not criticizing it, but he is pointing it out, and that’s better than nothing in the ‘90s.

Danny guides his way to Vivaldi’s house, where the butler is...Professor Toru Tanaki! He looks exactly like Odd Job from the James Bond series, but the actor is SubZero from The Running Man! You know, the hockey killer!

Anyway, after crack about Schwarzenegger’s “I’ll be back” line, a conversation with Benedict (who has a smiley face instead of a bullseye), and some terrible CGI dogs, Benedict becomes correctly convinced that something’s up with Danny. They arrive at his house, and his college-aged daughter Whitney (played by Bridgette Wilson, in her first film role in and out of the movie, in a neat little twist!) kisses Danny directly on the mouth, and I’m a liiiiiiittle uncomfortable with that. Anyway, we brush right past that, and realize that his son...died. Oh. Uh. Guess we didn’t see the end of that movie, huh? Yikes. Poor Jack.

Hey, Benedict and his gang arrive at Slater’s place! Fun! There’s a sort-of amusing play on “harming a hair on one’s head,” and the interrogation continues. Charles Dance is legitimately threatening as Benedict. And, while we’re at it, Bridgette Wilson has an entertaining action sequence all her own.

Anyway, Jack arrives, and makes a ridiculous jump off of the balcony to pursue Benedict. Benedict name drops getting a tank, which I’m assuming is named the Chekov (film trope reference there, have a good time). Danny realizes that he’s the comedy sidekick of the movie, and at this point, I need to mention something: in case you haven’t noticed, this film is delightfully meta. And I love that about it.

But it’s also...cluttered. You’ll see what I mean in a little bit, but real talk, I didn’t realize that Benedict had stolen the ticket until Danny mentioned it, because I was apparently quite distracted. And this is an important plot point, as Benedict soon realizes the true power of the ticket, cleverly overlaid by the opening to the Twilight Zone, with Rod Serling mentioning traveling to another dimension. Also...his eye was a bomb. What. Anyway, that explosion results in Slater officially getting fired from the department, and the chief...

Um. Yeah, this movie is also kind of a cartoon, not including the cartoon cat. And you have no idea how much I’m omitting from this movie. The digitization of Humphrey Bogart, the fact that Slater can’t say “fuck” in a PG-13 movie, the surprising character realization that Slater’s ex-wife is actually remarried, the clearly dominatrix cop clad in leather, the fact that there’s a plan to detonate a nerve gas-infused bomb stuffed into a dead man nicknamed Leo the Fart at his own funeral, a digitization of Humphrey Bogart. Yeah, I said that last one twice, because the effect actually holds up really well, like, seriously.

OK, let’s take a break, yeah? Part 2 later today!

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slaveofimagination · 5 years ago

Note

Yes! REC lists are about stories you've read and enjoyed, here I'm mostly asking for fanfictions but you can recommend books if you want too! Thanks for replying so quickly!

Nah, no need to thank me. I’m spending a week in bed, sick and dying, it’s fun to have people interacting with me, even if I don’t know who you are. Most of the fics are IT related because this is all I’ve been reading since 2017.

Stozier (Stanley Uris & Richie Tozier)

Roadtrips and Realizations by bellabee

With the summer winding to a close, it was time for the losers to go their separate ways. They were all going to different colleges (or in Bill’s case, backpacking around Europe), and they’d no longer be the 7 little kids riding their bikes around Derry. As a last ditch attempt to spend some final time with his best friends, Stan organized a road trip to drive Beverly and Richie across the country to drop them off at their respective schools. With multiple days of driving ahead of them, they somehow become closer than before.

distance makes the heart grow fonder by ell (amywaited)

He realises he’s in love with Richie now. After four days and two years and a whole lifetime of missing puzzle pieces, he realises he’s always been in love, in proper love. The kind of love that Bev dreams about and Eddie talks about and Stan couldn’t even picture it.

Now, lying in bed in a shitty motel after driving for ten hours straight because Richie hadn’t wanted to stop and he’d fallen asleep in the passenger seat, with Richie sprawled beside him and the TV playing crackly advertisements, he realises he’s in love. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be, not really. Nowhere except in a car, with his boyfriend who might be his boyfriend, who’s only sort of his boyfriend because they haven’t really talked about it yet, on the way to Los Angeles so he can get his name in lights.

untouched (need you so much) by breathplayed

Stan Uris could’ve gone his entire life without knowing what Richie Tozier’s dick looked like.(Or, Richie has a big dick and Stan the Man has a Big Crisis.)

(This one seems to be abandoned, so if you read it, leave comments so maybe the author gets motivated to write again. Believe me, it works).

Dog Days by littleboxofstars

Richie Tozier is twenty years old, over halfway through a Chemistry degree at the University of Maine, and in love with his best friend and roommate, Stanley Uris. And he figures that it’s fine, with no cause for change, until he finds an injured puppy near his apartment.

do you want fries with that? by gaypasta

Richie spends the best of times annoying the hell out of Stan in work, Stan just wants to do his Goddamn job. Richie starts annoying Stan a lot more frequently, and Stan remains oblivious to all of the not-so-subtle flirting Richie is sending his way.

Stan isn’t gay. Definitely not gay. The feeling he gets in his stomach when he sees Richie is 100% platonic, I swear.

The Body by touch

Going back to Derry stirred something in Richie’s memory he hadn’t known was there.

Or, Stanley Uris reunites with Richie Tozier instead of taking a bath.

Storis (Stanley Uris & Boris Pavlikovsky)

(My new babies, three people that are GENIUSES. If you feel like, leave them some reviews).

Sputnik by porcia_catonis

High school in Vegas and high school in Maine vary only in the coats that replace the tank tops he sees everywhere. The same kinds of burnouts, geniuses, children of important types, and the like run around, all with their groups, none of them of much interest to Boris. What differs, mostly, is what a spectacle a new kid is in a town so small.

Hold your hair in deep devotion (how deep?) by Evanaissante

There’s also this small fire Stan feels at his fingertips, this feeling of power coursing through him as he brings this creature of the night to his knees in front of him. It’s insane, really, but Stan doesn’t care much when Boris’ red lips start kissing his skin.

Stanley Uris gets a blowjob from his vampire boyfriend because he deserves it.

Birds of Maine by Ryomou

When he presents his hand, Stan doesn’t know what he’s looking at. Whatever they are, they seem perfectly innocent nestled in Boris’s palm, two tiny little paper squares stamped with a red smiley face.“Will change your life,” Boris swears. “I’ve done it many times.”orBoris and Stan drop acid.

Reddie (Richie Tozier & Eddie Kaspbrak)

I’m quite alright hiding today by remusjohn

Richie doesn’t know how to say, You kissed me to wake me up from the deadlights and I don’t know if you did it to save my life or if there’s something else too, but it’s kind of killing me, man.

So Richie doesn’t say anything at all.

My Husband is a Hitman?! by Writer_Markilyn

Eddie Kaspbrak was many things, but a fool was not one of them. He could admit that he was a fool when he had been younger, a fool to believe that he was constantly ill and needed “medication”, a fool to think that chocolate ice-cream was superior to Super-Man ice cream, a fool to think that his friend of many years, who was now his husband, was just a normal person.

Boy, was he wrong about the part regarding his husband, but it turns out, Eddie was ride or die for life.

Stupid Deep by anonymous author

“Rich, what the fuck.”

“What,” Richie says breathlessly, pushing up into Eddie’s grip with a weak sound.

Eddie stares, as he did five months ago, at the dick in his hand. Not that it was in his hand at the time. “I thought maybe I, like. Exaggerated it in my mind. But it’s really that fucking big.”

“Huh?” Richie blinks at him dumbly, jaw slack and abs tensing.

“Rich, I don’t even know what to do with all of this.”

—

or, Richie has a big dick, and Eddie is into it.

You can only go in pieces by anniebibananie

“I think I’m going fucking crazy.”“You’re not crazy,” Eddie said. “I’m a ghost.”

“He just told me he’s a ghost. I’m definitely fucking batshit, right?”When Richie finally arrives back to his apartment after killing the bastard clown once and for all, he finds an unexpected roommate in his recently… passed away (murdered? by a killer clown?) friend (slash love of his life or whatever… the labels don’t really matter. It’s all fucked).

Stucky (Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes)

(not IT related, but it’s REALLY GOOD)

Astronomy in Reverse by pansley

A year after the Winter Soldier failed his mission in DC, Bucky Barnes is doing his best to stay under the radar from both Hydra and Steve Rogers. His hope for a peaceful day-to-day life in limbo goes awry, however, when he meets Queens’ newest hero; a pure-hearted kid with a death wish and a ridiculous pair of red and blue pajamas.

The last thing Steve expects when he finally tracks Bucky down is that, not only has the man been living in Queens all this time, right under his nose, but also that, in the two years since they last saw each other, Bucky somehow acquired a kid.

Alternatively: How Peter Parker effectively fucks over Bucky Barnes, and also totally saves him.

#fic rec #fic recs #lots os men to stan the man #stozier #storis #reddie #stucky

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dietyprophet · 4 years ago

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Some more Painted Smiles AU

- … Okay I wanna talk about character relationships in this one!

- Okay first off Iida and Uraraka, these two are fairly simple! Izuku just outright didn’t like Iida at all when he first met him and thinks of Uraraka as a nice girl who he helps in return at the entrance exam.

- Iida himself thinks of Izuku as a very blunt person who says the most truthful of statements. Though he would say that the bluntness can be pretty darn rude at time, especially so back at the entrance exam.

- Uraraka meanwhile thinks of Izuku as a very smiley person who can say some pretty mean things but she always felt something slightly off about him and can’t figure out why.

- They’re still become friends after the quirk assessment test but Izuku isn’t as close to them as he is in canon. This is mostly due to Izuku’s nature to not let people get close to him.

- Here’s a brief one here but I wanna talk about it and it’s Tsuyu and Izuku! They’re both pretty blunt people though with Tsuyu you can tell she just says what’s on her mind while Izuku just goes straight up malicious when speaking.

- Izuku and Tsuyu aren’t really friends per say but Izuku will take the time to go and talk to her when he wants to.

- Aizawa is someone I’m debating on still cause he’s either gonna encourage the menace that is Izuku “blunt ass words” Midoirya or try to rein him back cause this child has such a goddamn mouth and needs to shut it.

- Okay here are one of the bigger ones so I’ll just talk about one in this for now. Todoroki and Izuku.

- Gonna be honest here and say that these two aren’t exactly friends as they are in canon. Well they are but not really.

- For you see, Todoroki is more or less legit bullied by Izuku cause I just see him as the Giyuu who Izuku teases relentlessly without fail anytime he gets.

- This starts right when Todoroki does his declaration of war speech and shit and right after he finishes Izuku then goes without missing a beat; “Ara ara!~ I can see why people don’t like you Todoroki.”

- And thus Todoroki just becomes Izuku’s main victim of teasing.

- Hero Secret! Izuku’s favorite people to tease are Bakugo and Todoroki, this is cause while one gives fun easy reactions the other needs more prodding which is also its own fun to do!

And that’s it for now, come yell at me if you’re interested in this and want to know more!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #deku #bnha deku #bnha izuku #todoroki shōto #bnha tsuyu #bnha shoto todoroki #iida tenya #ochako uraraka #bnha aizawa #bnha au #boku no hero academia au #my hero academia au #painted smiles au

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shokoraa · 4 years ago

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heartburn

By: bonnia

Summary: “This isn’t a painkiller,” she states simply, handing him back the slip, expression blank.

Katsuki snatches it, taking a look for himself. One Todoroki Shouto — take as many times as needed daily until symptoms disappear. The prescription is punctuated with a little smiley and everything.

Katsuki lets loose an explosion, crushing the ashes in his fist. That old hag. Is this a fucking joke to her?

(or: bakugou's heart is on fire, and his only reprieve seems to be todoroki shouto)

Status: Complete

Words: 9,093 Chapters: 1/1 Language: English

Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shouto, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Shuuzenji Chiyo | Recovery Girl

Relationship: Bakugou Katsuki/Todoroki Shouto

Additional Tag: Canon Compliant, Three Years Later, Soulmate-Identifying Quirks, Too Many Goddamn Metaphors, Fluff, Pining But Not Knowing It?

#ao3 #mha fanfic #todobaku

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fairytellerxo · 5 years ago

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Happy’s Old Lady

So, I was sent a lovely screenshot by @gardenofjustice. It was a blurb made by @mrsirishboru

I put my slight spin on it. Maybe it’ll turn into a series maybe I’ll just leave it like it is.

Happy looked over to see the brunette before he shook his head, hoping she would retreat back out and not try to be some type of hero. “Go.” He mouthed only to see her grab the gun he kept hidden underneath the side table. “Don’t be a hero.”

She released the safety as she moved closer to the man, her eyes scanning the place before she dropped to her knees and started to untie the rope. “Who did this?”

“Leave,” he said harshly before watching the two men walk out of the kitchen. “Don’t touch her.”

The brunette sprang up and fumbled a bit. “Angel, Ezekiel?”

“We’re here, why are you here?” Angel moved to the brunette and snatched her by her arm roughly. “Did you follow us?”

“No fool,” she pulled her arm away. “I fucking live here! Why do you have my old man tied up? Huh?”

“Old man!?” EZ looked at her before looking at Happy, whose face was set in a scowl. “Jesus.”

Angel grabbed her again. “You’re fucking a Son?”

“Fucking and dating.” She shoved him away from her. “Stop it Angel!”

Happy strained against the ropes before finally feeling them give way enough to slip his hands free. He stood up and moved in front of the brunette. “Don’t touch my old lady!”

“That’s my sister, I’ll do what the fuck I please!” Angel looked at the man. “Fucking hell.”

He looked at the brunette. “These are your brothers? You never told me that! Never once mentioned you were affiliated with the Mayans.”

“Unfortunately they are,” she crossed her arms over her chest and flared at the three men. “Anyone gonna clue me the fuck in on why my boyfriend was fucking tied up?”

“He killed our mom,” EZ looked at his sister. “We came here for answers.”

“Jesus,” she looked back at him before resting a hand on Happy’s side. “Fuck.”

Happy nodded his head slowly. “Fuck is right.” He kept his eyes on Angel. “On you how you wanna play this shit now. You got your answer.”

“She’s coming with us, fuck this shit. You’re not staying with him!” Angel growled. “He killed mom!”

“Which sucks!” She yelled. “She wasn’t my mom, I’m the red headed step kid. Marisol didn’t love me, I wasn’t her kid. I was just some product of Felipe being unfaithful.”

EZ moved to the young lady and pulled her to him. “Listen, we’re not going to force you out of here. We got the shit we came here for. He was just a hired gun.” He looked down at her. “We’ll talk about it, later.”

Happy once again placed himself in front of his girlfriend. “I don’t think you understand, she’s staying, she’ll give you a call when she wants to talk and both of you need to stop fucking putting your goddamn hands on her!” He looked at Angel and back at EZ. “Now, get the fuck out of our home.”

“You heard him,” She looked at her brothers. “I’ll talk to you later.” She nodded as she watched them leave the house before she looked up at Happy. “Are you good? Did they hurt you badly?”

“Nothing I can’t deal with, they cut your favorite smiley face off though.” He smirked. “Just need some stitches and I’ll be good.” He nodded. “So, we ain’t gotta talk about it now but we’ll end up talking this shit out. Your brothers being Mayans is something that should’ve been brought up.”

#sons of anarchy fanfics #mayans mc fanfiction #happy lowman #angel reyes #ez reyes #fairytellerxo

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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806

People say you learn something new every day, so what did you learn today? Welp, Descendants of the Sun got me curious about the mandatory military service in South Korea so I read all about that this morning. Apparently there’s a celebrity who tried getting out of his conscription by obtaining American citizenship shortly before he was due to be drafted, and the South Korean government wasn’t too pleased with what he did and banished him from the country permanently; to this day he lives in China, and he’s the only person in South Korean history to be given such a punishment. It’s both hilarious and sad. If you could get your own house with one friend, who would you pick? Gabie, duh. She’s my best friend so she counts too lol. Which is worse, too-tight clothes or much too-loose clothes? In terms of comfort? Too-tight clothing. But they look better on me than loose clothes, so I still prefer wearing tight ones. Which do you prefer: french toast, bagels, pancakes, waffles, or cereal? Pancakes. Waffles are nice too, but I prefer them paired with something savory. I can live without the other three. Do you think you are more of a good or bad influence? Good. I follow the rules way too much and the things I do that would make me a bad influence, like smoking, I only do with people who already do them.

Yes or no: eyebrow piercings? Not for me, but I don’t mind it if others get them. Yes or no: thongs for men? They can wear whatever they want. What is something that you are willing to fight for? Ousting the current government. If you jump, can you touch the ceiling of the room you're in? Definitely not. Do you know how to dance a waltz? No. I don’t even know what that dance looks like. When I say The Beatles, what is the first song that comes to mind? Hey Jude. If you had to be a teacher, what subject would you be able to teach best? History for sure. I’d have a lot of fun teaching it too. :) Which do you think is worse: ear aches or tooth aches? I’ve never had an ear ache so I can’t compare, but tooth aches suck ass. I had a series of them from October to December last year and there were plenty of times I’d wake up at 2 AM and cry just because it hurt a lot. How many different colors are you wearing right now? What are they? Brown and black. In your opinion, what is the very worst type of weather? Sunny and humid, which is – ever so conveniently – the usual weather where I live. It’s June now though thank goodness so I’m just waiting for the day the sun goes away for a while and for it to be replaced with thunderstorms. Do you look anything like your best friend(s)? I look nothing like either of them. You can only listen to one band for the rest of your life, who do you pick? Paramore. Are there any movies coming out that you're looking forward to? Which ones? I...don’t think anything will be coming out for a while, though I am excited for Happiest Season which has Kristen Stewart and Mackenzie Davis, as well as for Ammonite which stars Kate Winslet and Saoirse Ronan. Do you like big or small cars better? Idk man, as long as it can take me places I’ll be alright with it lol. What is your favorite made up animal? I don’t have a favorite of one of these. Yes or no: Hawaiian pizza? Not for me, but you do you. I hate it when people shame me for not liking Hawaiian pizza though, or when they force me to try it. Yes or no: Coffee Ice cream? Yummmmmmm. Mad Mark’s has a particularly good coffee flavor. Who is your all time favorite cartoon character? Spongebob. What store do you get the majority of your shoes from? Nike. What place, in your mind, is heaven on earth? How about hell on earth? Heaven on earth is any coffee shop with strong aircon, large selection of drinks, and acceptable pastries/cakes. Hell on earth is any government agency that I’ve had to line up for, such as the LTO. Do you think there is anything scary about midnight? Not at all. I’m usually very awake by then and I find that time of the day comforting. Can you snap with both of your hands? Nope, I can’t do it with my left hand. In your opinion what is the absolute worst house chore? I haven’t had to do it myself yet but I suppose I’d hate cleaning the bathroom. How young do you think is too young to get married? I don’t really like answering questions like these because it’s typically a sensitive topic and everyone has their own preferences...personally though, I think getting married before 25 or 26 is a little early for me. Who do you think is the dumbest superhero? And the coolest? I don’t know much about superheroes. I know I like Wonder Woman though lol. Would you rather be a hair stylist or a clothes designer? Both require creativity, and I suck at that.

What is something that you had to learn the hard way? Loss. If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you paint it? Baby blue or baby pink; either would be fine. I’m still a kid at heart, haha. If I had the modern house of my dreams, I’d have my room painted gray. What is something you're proud of yourself for? Getting over my horrific depressive slump back in 2017. Which smiley face do you like better: =] or :) :) I haven’t used the equal sign for a smiley since like 2009. If you could go to any amusement park right now, which would you go to? Universal Studios in Singapore. What is something that always gets you mad? Paid government trolls. Would you rather be 3 inches taller or shorter than you are now? Taller. If you could have any wild animal as a pet, what would you pick? I would really prefer they stay in their natural habitat. Which do you prefer: M&M's, Skittles, Milk Duds, or Reese's Pieces? REESE’S. Feel free to have the rest of these, reader. Are there any foods that you think smell good, but taste bad? Longganisa. Without a goddamn doubt. Would you ever stay overnight at any of your neighbors houses? Not unless there’s an absolute emergency that leaves me no choice but to ask them if I can stay the night even though I’ve never talked to them. Do you think it would be funner to play a hero or the villain in a movie? Villain, haha. What was the last new food you tried? Did you like it? I’ve had the food before but my mom bought pork buns from a new place a few days ago. I didn’t really like it; I’ve had better pork buns in other restaurants. If you had the last name of your favorite actor, what would your name be? Winslet, heheh.

#survey #surveys

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heartfulmind · 5 years ago

Note

Do you have any headcanons about Shinsou's classmates we've seen so far? Like the Gen Ed students we see cheering for him during the SportsFest, or the ones who criticized Class 1-A during the cultural festival then apologized.

Hello Anon, I just need to say, thank you for watering my crops and clearing out my acne with this ask, truly, it isn’t that often that people ask about the General Department students so I’m eager to answer this one ♡ If anything, I’m caught up with the main manga and anime so far, so I’ll be basing my response from those two sources (mostly manga). Additionally, I just read a small sample of the light novel so that it could help me bump this response a bit further.

I’ll be splitting this answer into 2 sections: headcanons built from what we can see aka theories and studies, and headcanons I like to imagine or have built from what we gathered aka the “fun” headcanons. With that said, let’s get this bread.

Let’s start with what we do know; Class 1-C, D, and E are all classes from the General Department, the department where UA puts the rest of the hero hopefuls that couldn’t make it to the Hero Department :^) I’m doing this smiley face :^) because I’m feeling salty about that my unnamed children from Gen Ed that deserved better :^) but also, it houses students who just sought out for its high education, it’s what the General Department is. I’m setting this note down because it’s important and relevant, helping us understand why we see the General Education students the way we do. Now seriously, I’ll take us to our first section.

Theories and Studies Time

Here’s what I’m going to do in this section:

Show a shot of the manga/anime.

Describe what’s going on / what we can see.

Then make assumptions.

Chapter 24 (btw, the source I use for the manga is this one: https://www.mangareader.net/boku-no-hero-academia/34/8 )

Here we have Present Mic introducing the Hero Department, enthusiastically announcing their debut in the arena, then plainly announcing the entrances from the following departments. In the left corner, we can see Shinsou looking at his classmates who voice their opinions about the way they are being introduced, evidently unsatisfied.

Here, I got a close shot of the recurring students of 1-c. Now I’ll talk about this panel and what I see. Shinsou, a serious student, shows interest in what his classmates talk about, peeking at them and hearing a conversation he wasn’t involved in. His expression is blank, not mad nor upset, just nonchalant. He isn’t that far from them and the fact he turned a bit at the sound of their voice means that he can hear it all. Not appearing upset and also being attentive at what his classmates are saying, Shinsou is observant of his peers, a trait that can be overlooked or never thought of because of his “lone-wolf” and “I’m not here to make friends” persona. Also, the fella who rants uses words like, “us” and “we”, grouping all of them in the same boat.

Our first study: Shinso is attentive to his classmates and his classmates consider them all equal and undeserving of the low-quality intro they got.

Still Chapter 24

Midnight announces Bakugou up to deliver a speech since he placed the highest in the entrance exam. His classmates, astonished, are given light by the girl from Class 1-C that it was because of the entrance exam results.

The shot in which we see the Gen Ed trio here we see them unsatisfied an unimpressed. Both of the fellas have their arms crossed and look at the hero dept. with narrowed eyes. A sigh bubble comes from the girl. By this point, Shinsou isn’t looking at them, just straight ahead, hands in pockets. But once again, he hasn’t strayed himself far away from them, so surely he hears what his class is saying.

Our second study: The Gen Ed students are tight-knitted; Shinsou doesn’t distance himself from those two and those two don’t keep the brainwasher at an arm’s length. They are comfy with each other’s presence. Shinsou doesn’t mind them acting sassy hehe.

Chapter 34

I’m just gonna combine the explanation for both pages into one paragraph. After Shinsou’s fight with Midoriya and not emerging victorious from it, Shinsou looks down, upset. However, hearing the first cheers from his classmates, he looks surprised and looks up at them. Multiple kiddos from his class and pro-heroes alike are in awe of Shinsou’s capabilities. Shinsou then vows to Midoriya that he won’t give up.

We can see the shadow that casts over Shinsou’s face, but the moment he is given admiration, he is clear of any shading. I think this represents how he became illuminated by their kind words, meaning that he holds them with high regard. And how one of them chimes, “Can you hear them Shinsou?” after the pro-heroes compliment signifies that they keep a note of other people’s opinions from the audience. So if any of them had the audacity to talk bad about him, then that means that the students would’ve kept track of it too. They were attentive about anyone that spoke about their classmate Shinsou.

Our third study: His classmates aren’t wary of Shinsou since they were the first ones to say admiration to Shinsou, almost prideful that they have someone like him in their class. They hold him highly with their praises like how he deeply takes in their words, shortly after their words as if he was inspired. Words carry much meaning in their class.

Chapter 121

Okay uh, I won’t focus much on dialogue since every manga scan translations are different depending on the sources and all that jazz. Anyways, Basically, the Hero Department disrupts the flow of the line and Iida tells them to calm tf down desperately after Shinsou speaks up about it. His classmates follow Shinsou from behind.

We see the 1-c girl peek from Shinsou. Her face doesn’t look blank, but I wouldn’t consider it entirely emotionless. I think it’s more astonished, especially at the fact that her otherwise quiet classmate spoke up. Asides from the Sports Festival, Shinsou is leading them the way again.

Our fourth study: Every since his display at the Sports Festival, Shinsou gained some sort of respect that allowed him to be in the front lines. As if they want him to be representing their class and see him fitting of their role, letting him tell the Hero Dept. to get their act together.

Chapter 171

So this panel introduces two new students from the General Department, Tsutsutaka Agoyamato and Chikuchi Togeike. (I find it interesting that these two have names, but not the other kiddos we’ve seen- Also, we don’t know if they’re from Class 1-C, or if they’re even first years. Although, I don’t think they are from Class 1-C since they were able to freely check out Class 1-A’s show instead of being present in the haunted house, but idk.) Moving on, they basically critique Class 1-A’s decision of making a concert for everyone. They glare at the Class 1-A. Bakugou notices this. They engage eye-contact with Bakugou himself.

Our fifth study: They aren’t intimidated despite Bakugou’s famous aggressive nature. Either that they haven’t witnessed the Sports Festival, or truly, aren’t afraid of him, and nobody from the first years of the Hero Department since they speak at their hearing range. They do not need their approval as they criticize about the fact that the Hero Dept is doing this for the rest of the departments.

Chapter 173

Just focus on the bottom portion of this page. It is Class 1-C preparing their exhibit for the Cultural Festival. We see more new faces. Fellas are carrying boxes and another fella is near a table. The girl we occasionally see from Class 1-C has a sort of tool that helps with cutting wood. She comes at Shinsou with it, but only to look astonished by his strength as this bithc tears up a whole piece of wood with his bare hands.

Our sixth study: Class 1-C girl is amazed at Shinsou’s prowess, and while most of his classmates seemed huddled up, Shinsou might’ve been by himself. Maybe she was with him the whole time and at some point either must’ve told him, “hold up imma be back with the goddamn axe” or walked up to him by maybe noticing him without any tools from afar. For the millionth time, they look out for each other.

Chapter 182

Let’s focus on those fellas that look down on the Hero Dept. Chikuchi says, “At the end of the day, you won’t be pleasing anyone but yourselves.” They remain disdainful at first, but as the show progresses, they turn a new leaf and find themselves moved by the display of the Hero Dept.

Our seventh study: These kiddos are moved easily, implying a soft heart.

Chapter 183

Chikuchi and Agoyamato burst out an apology to Class 1-A, admitting that they wanted to critique their performance. Then immediately they leave.

Now, you see how blushy they look and how nervous they got when they shuffled away?

Our eighth study: This department has soft students that look out for each other and follow one another’s lead. It’s as if their hearts are in sync since both apologized and felt the same way of what they did. They can’t bring themselves to outright hate the hero department. After all, they wanted to be in that department themselves.

Still Chapter 183

This page features the attractions of this event, in the bottom left corner we see Class 1-C’s Haunted House exhibit. Shinsou hangs from the ceiling, successfully scaring students from Class 1-A.

Notice the plain white long sleeve shirt that has handprints? I like to think that the entire class contributed a handprint on that shirt- But on a serious note, Shinsou’s expression is blank. Perhaps his classmates had trust in him that he’d do the right faces. Little do they know that their brainwasher is just, poker-faced.

Our ninth study: Either the entire Class 1-C class was in agreement to ask Shinsou to be their guy for this attraction or Shinsou nominated himself for this role. No matter how it went, it means that this class all cooperated and discussed their display. This signifies strong teamwork and no one was scared about sharing their ideas.

And boom. I’m done analyzing every possible panel of them from the manga. Thank you for sticking with me this far. Now let’s head into the Light Novel. I’ll be using this source: https://shimikonde.tumblr.com/post/184554154892/ua-school-festival-light-novel-pg-52-55-for-my

Y’all should read it if you want more depth but in summary, Shinsou helps his class out with the haunted house attraction and then muses as he takes a small walk on his lonesome. He questions his worth and what would transpire once he moves to the Hero Department.

Okay, now I’m going to extract the notable details from this page. And from the segment of the light novel, I will make a small analysis from the quote.

Watching his classmates laugh, alone, Shinsou picked up the unneeded wood. “I’ll pick up some paint while I’m throwing this away.”

He walked away in silence as the voices of his classmates thanked him from behind.

Shinsou keeps tabs with his peers even if he isn’t around them. He lets them know what he’s going to do and his classmates are grateful when he helps them out with the trash stuff. This might’ve been something new for his classmates since they were quiet at first, but afterward, they thank him! And multiple of them!

It was only after he sent in his application to transfer that he began to grow accustomed to the atmosphere of his class. When should he tell them? He wondered if it would be too late if he waited until the transfer was set in stone.

Shinsou hasn’t told him what he’s been up to. He kept this a secret from his class, which I don’t think that makes him a bad person. He’s just having a hard time wondering when he should break it down to his classmates.

Would he really be able to make it into the Hero Course? He was afraid that once he took that first step, he’d find that he didn’t have any place to place his feet. Unable to land, he’d become like a cloud in the sky, pulled along by the wind, never to be seen again. It was because of this lack of confidence that he’d been unable to tell his classmates about his transfer.

Realizing he’d become pessimistic, Shinsou rubbed the back of his neck a bit and started walking again.

Shinsou is feeling insecure about himself. And it is these negative thoughts that impeded him from telling his classmates about his decision to transfer. He wants to be his best for his class, so he cuts his sad musings in order to get the job done for his classmates.

As Shinsou took in the sights around him, a thought suddenly occurred to him. This might be the first and last Cultural Festival that he does with Class C.

Now this one is really heartbreaking for me- He thinks of Class 1-C, the class that will turn out to be just his freshman classmates, he won’t grow up beside them no more, but with the Hero Department. This is the last activity that he will ever do with this class and he thinks hard on that.

Oh look we’re done sIKE- Horikoshi’s Ultra Analysis Book gives us a whole fucking meal about the Class 1-C: Little does Shinsou know, Class 1-C plans on throwing him a party to congratulate his transfer :’)

I don’t even have to explain it that is already a whole gem.

Phew, now that I’m done analyzing the manga and light novel and the analysis book, we can now move on to building fun headcanons from the studies we’ve made! Let me take us to the second section of this post:

Fun Headcanons

Do you remember how the girl from Class 1-C is the one that often speaks up between her and her buddy and how Chikuchi is always a space bit ahead of Agoyamato? And how she’s been like that with every panel she is with her buddy? It’s like the females from this class play mother hen. They’re queens.

Talking shit about the Hero Department is a conversation that brings them all together-

Class 1-C lowkey wishes to tell Shinsou to brainwash people to do funny stuff with his quirk, but are shy about asking him.

Since Shinsou has a tendency of being by himself and hear convos from afar, the Class 1-C students raise their voices in conversations intentionally so that they can let Shinsou hear them as a way to include Shinsou in talks but not force him in the group.

Whenever Shinsou speaks during class, his classmates make sure that everyone shuts up at that moment. like, “SHSHSHSHSH EVERYONE STFU SHINSOU IS GOING TO SAY SOMETHING-” It doesn’t bother Shinsou since this is their way of giving him respect and he finds it cute-

All of the ladies and the fellas unanimously agree that Shinsou is the cute guy from the class. Only they call themselves plain-looking so that’s why they got mad at Present Mic when he basically labeled them as “fillers”. They acknowledge that Shinsou has a cool appearance.

One of the Class 1-C students said, “Shinsou should participate in the Beauty Contest of the Cultural Festival-” and then the entire class went fucking quiet because they were nervous they were going to set Shinsou off, but then Shinsou shyly replies that rather he looks like something from a horror movie. And then his classmates got inspired by his words to come up with the Haunted House attraction and that’s how it came to be. No, I don’t take criticism.

I headcanon my Shinsou to know sign language so- Anyways, his classmates were impressed to learn that from Shinsou so they only asked him to teach them the alphabet, just a small sample of it. So that when they have multiple-choice quizzes, they lowkey cheat by helping each other out and do the sign language alphabet under their desks to the right answers. When the entire class has obtained the answer, they let each other know by doing this 👌 before they proceed to the next question.

They’re really open-minded! Have y’all seen Agoyamato’s pompadour? Chikuchi’s ponytails? Shinsou? They don’t give a damn how you look like.

#im sorry this is long and i took a while answering this ask anon ;; i only hope i dont bore you with it haha #its so messy im sorry about that too aaa-#honestly? i had fun with the 'Fun Headcanons'#. THEY CAN'T BREAK ME AS LONG AS I KNOW WHO I AM ( HEADCANONS. )#. I AM MADE TO UNDERSTAND NOT TO BE UNDERSTOOD ( CHARACTER STUDY. )#. I AM A QUESTION TO THE WORLD ( ANSWERS. )

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