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headkiss · 1 year ago

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you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

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lucrativesoul · 1 year ago

Text

The Assistant

summary: you have been promoted within the police headquarters, and your new position is the assistant of none other than Leon S. Kennedy. the ever alluring man has you weak in the knees.

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

word count: 9.9k

warnings: smut, boss x employee, very brief mention of smoking, very vague drug mention.

a/n: yay i'm posting it :3 using this photo cause i couldn't stop thinking of noir leon while writing this (brainrot) i didn't originally intend for this to be so long but here we are... this was different than what i'm used to writing but it was so much fun! already in the process of a second fic! enjoy yall

“So… I’m not fired?”

Standing in front of your boss’ desk, you were genuinely surprised by the words out of her mouth. For some reason, for the last few weeks, you had a hunch that you were about to get sacked. The office had been slowly getting emptied out, of boxes full of documents, of equipment, hell, even of people, and you were positive you were next.

She had just called out into her office, a mere twenty steps away from your desk where you worked, or used to work, now, in the dingy yellow room with foggy windows and no working AC. You took a deep breath, thinking this was it, getting ready to add this to the list of ‘Previous Employment’ on your resume, when all she had simply told you was that you were going upstairs.

She laughed curtly. “No, you aren’t. They need you upstairs. You’ll be better off up there.”

You slowly nodded your head, trying to keep most of the confusion off of your face. “So, sorry to ask, but, what about down here?”

You had been here for just shy of a year at this point, and they placed you in one of the ground floor offices of the five story buildings sorting out random court documents, for whatever reason, they were always needed for something incomprehensible. You didn’t question it, you just did it, because you got paid to. Yes, the fluorescents gave you occasional migraines and stepping into the fresh air at the end of the day made you feel reborn, but it was just busy work, and there were much worse jobs to do.

“They’re cleaning us out. We’re all still here, just… relocated.” You nodded, at least relieved to know that your old deskmates weren’t ruthlessly fired. She handed a manila folder over to you, and when you flipped it open, there was only one piece of paper inside. You’ve learned to not be surprised by confusing things such as this. “Mr. Anderson of the top floor has recently been relieved of his position.” Ouch, you thought. Poor soul. “His position had been freed and with no new applicants, they were looking inward. I appreciate your work here and your employment history shows some experience in the assistance department, so I suggested you as a candidate. They want you up there.”

Your stomach sank, and your best friend’s voice rang out through your head. “You can’t lie about past employment, idiot! They can check!” Well, you held back a sigh, they definitely didn’t check.

“Wow, I… Thank you. But, sorry. That I’m leaving.”

She merely shook her head. “Still here. This office will be gone soon enough. Between us, I’ve been praying for this day.” With that, she dismissed you, and after swiping the few personal items off your desk and into your bag, you headed home.

This single paper had stumped you all night. You sat at your table after eating (barely, you were too nervous about starting a basically new job the next day), and decided to review the content of it before retiring for the night. It was quite simple: it listed the job description, ‘Executive Assistant’, it listed the location, ‘5F, 505’, and your new boss’ name, ‘Leon S. Kennedy, Exec. Agent’.

You had honestly not heard this name before. You should know everyone who works there, considering the nature of the police headquarters, but you were often forgotten down in the basement, no one too important worked down there, besides your boss, or old boss now, who had connections to all other departments. Everyone got there before you and left after you. Could be at the same time, but you often tuned it out, needing the sweet release of your home. You wondered why she volunteered you up for this. Maybe she was sympathetic about the setting you had to work in for someone your age.

You went to bed after deciding there was no hidden detail in the few lines of script on the sheet. You would just have to wait and see.

Figuring the gray dress pants and white, long sleeve mock neck that you threw on this morning were good enough, you left the house early enough to prepare by buying a coffee. Being stuffed into the basement had its perks, eventually everyone had caught on to the idea that they just needed you guys down there to do what they didn’t want upstairs, and you and your coworkers had found the thin cracks in which you could push the dress code a little. No, leggings weren’t permitted, but they were on the days your slacks were dirty and when you put a dress shirt and sweater on over it. You were sure your boss noticed, but said nothing anyway. Clearly, it didn't put a dent in what she thought of you.

You had to at least try today though, as you had no idea what it would be like to work on the top floor. You had no idea what kind of a person Agent Kennedy was, and you weren’t going to chance anything on the first day. You had played it safe when you first started here and it paid off, so fingers crossed it could pay off again.

After a few deep breaths, you popped the door open and headed into the building. Usually, you could park in the back and take the lower level entrance, which was essentially the one and only way into the basement that wasn’t from the service elevator, but you went in through the front today. You ignored the tightening of your stomach and climbed the stairs.

“Can I help you?” A man stood from the front desk at your arrival. You started reaching for the ID card you carried on a lanyard, stuffed into your pocket.

“Yes, I work here.” He reached out for your ID, not believing your truth.

He raised an eyebrow. “The basement entrance is in the back of the building.” He handed it back and went to sit down.

“Yes, I know, I was moved. I’m going upstairs.” You handed him the manila folder before he could ignore you further. He raised an eyebrow again after looking at the small paper.

“Alright, Anderson’s replacement. Fifth floor, to the right.” He motioned to his left to the elevator, and only then did you let him sit back down.

You took the walk to the elevator as a chance to survey the room. You hadn’t been over here very often. You made a few trips up here a few months ago, but you didn’t look around much, only headed to the confidential files room to move information. The floor was a sleek black tile, shiny as ever, and the room was lit well due to the large windows at the front of the building. It didn't look like a headquarters building. You told yourself it wasn’t to calm your nerves.

Swallowing the last of the anxiety, you stepped out onto the fifth floor. It was simply a hallway, all black, but the windows at the end made the space seem larger, and not so dark. To the right, you remember the man telling you. Your footsteps were reverberating off of the walls, matched with the pounding of your blood flow in your ears.

The corridor opened up to a wider room, inhabited by a handful of other people. One of them spotted your arrival, and walked over.

“Good morning, I’m–”

“Yes, right over here. Glad to see you.” You were taken aback for a moment, They already know me? You thought, as you followed the young man to a large desk on the left side of the wall, facing inward to the foyer. You were sitting in front of floor to ceiling windows, across the room was the same setup with a few smaller desks, people scuttling back and forth on their own side. You turned back to thank the man, when your heart fluttered in relief.

“Thank you,-- Oh, my gosh, Brett, you work up here now?” Brett was an old deskmate that had left the small office three months ago. You didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, but the last day that you saw him you remember eating lunch on his desk with another coworker who sat in front of you two. You were saddened by his loss, but now absolutely relieved to have a familiar face.

“I know, right? They said you were coming. I’m glad you got out next. It’s better up here.” He let you put your stuff down and get settled, before telling you what your next moves should be. “He’s in a meeting right now, but he wanted to meet you once you got here. Don’t be nervous, but brace yourself. He’s serious. Mostly. I’ve seen him smile once, but he’s nice to the rest of us. Hopefully more to you.”

After a few more minutes of small talk, he left you on your own, and you passed the time getting used to the surroundings while waiting for your new boss to be out of his meeting. Early for a meeting, you thought, but then again, it didn’t take a whole team for one person to make a conference call.

There was a momentary beep sound that came from Brett’s desk, and he picked up the phone. He said one thing into it before hanging up. He turned to you. “He’s ready.”

The nerves came back, but at the comforting thought that there was at least one person you knew out here, you tried your best to look forward to just sitting back down at your desk.

You were about to knock, but figured otherwise since he had directly asked for your presence. You walked up to the large double doors, and pulled them open.

His back was to you when you closed the door behind you. Walking closer, you stopped a few paces away, observing him for a brief second. He had a white dress shirt on and a gray vest. He looked quite large from where you stood, and you were sure that he was at least 6 feet tall, probably taller. He was messing with some papers on his desk, and you took a quick breath before speaking.

“Good morning, sir.” You stood tall, shoulders back, hands clasped behind yourself. Don’t cross your arms in front of you, you recall trying to retrain your habits, you look insecure. He turned around.

You swallowed hard. Jesus Christ, there were no tips on that blog on what to do when your boss is straight out of People Magazine’s sexiest men alive. His ash blonde hair was pushed back off of his forehead, showcasing his sturdy bone structure, a deep, furrowed brow that lacked any wrinkles, and high cheekbones with a sharp jawline. Straight nose, strong chin, and shoulders the size of, well, you. Maintaining eye contact was a challenge.

You saw him give you a quick once over, all the way down and back up your body again, so brief like it never happened at all. You were itching to pull your arms back in front of yourself.

“Good morning.” He took one step closer to you, held out his hand, and you gingerly took it. His hand was rough, yet the handshake was gentle. “Agent Leon Kennedy.” He lowered his hand and put it in his pocket. His other hand was holding a file. “I hope once you are comfortable here we will work well together.”

You gave a tight smile, forcing your face to make it look natural. You were sure it didn’t. “I look forward to working with you.” Your voice was a lot breathier than intended.

The corner of his mouth twitched in a hidden smirk. Leon could definitely tell you were nervous. It was a big part of his job, after all. He handed the file over to you. “Just run these for a while. Find me when you finish them.” You took the folder. He stood there momentarily, watching you. “You can relax a little. I’m not going to kill you.” He stalked back over to his desk and sat down, attention still on you.

You mumbled while flipping through the file. Attempting to lighten the mood, “I would, but smoking is not allowed in the building.”

“That will kill you, you know.” His voice was light. He took the joke well.

You closed it and looked back up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Would you prefer if I drank myself stupid, then?” He said nothing, and just smiled at you. Yours grew wider. “I’ll see you soon with this, sir.” You turned and left.

The day passed with ease. It was no difficult task to focus, now that the nerves were buried and you knew what it was that you had to be doing. Lunch with the others came and went, and it took you a fair chunk of your day to run the files he handed over. It was similar to what they had you doing in the basement, but the addition of sunlight unobstructed by dirty windows made it seem like a fun job.

You had attempted humor with Leon within the first few minutes of meeting him. You probably shouldn’t have, but no one in your life could force you to give up making jokes in serious situations. That’s just how you operated. Leon didn’t seem to care. He actually smiled. Brett had told you he rarely does that, and you made him after only a minute. It honestly had your heart racing all day.

With only an hour left in the day, you packed up the papers Leon had given you along with some new printed ones. You knocked on the door this time, and opened it when he beckoned you in.

“Sorry it took me so long. Little more labor intensive than I’m used to.” He took the file you were handing over, and put it on his desk without looking inside. He was sitting turned toward the computer on his desk, and though he told you to come in, you hoped you weren’t interrupting anything.

“Thank you. No more of that librarian sorting you were all doing down there.” So, he knows. It was no secret you were sure, but you were still surprised that he knew you worked in the building at all. Leon turned his attention back to his desk for a moment, and you stood there, head tilted slightly to view what he was looking at. He turned back to you, and your head snapped up to make eye contact. “I have nothing else for you right now. Boring day for you to start. You can go home. Tomorrow, if you don’t mind, I’m going to have you review some portfolios and slides I have, so you can become familiar with the content. I have some meetings coming up later in the week, or next, there's a good chance you’ll be coming with me.” he swiveled himself around and grabbed a stack of papers sitting on top of a file cabinet, held together with a paperclip. “Just put this on your desk for now, for the morning.” It was something along the lines of criminal justice and related business strategies. This would be a doozy.

“Of course, sir. As you wish.” You took a step back to leave. “Thanks for the early day.” You sent a halfhearted smile his way. He didn’t reflect it, but his eyes were soft.

After a few seconds of holding your stare, he said, “Already better than Anderson. I like you.”

Your stomach tightened, and you had to force yourself to breathe normally. “I hope I can continue to please, then.” You felt his stare hot on your back as you left, but you remained composed. Once, and only once, the doors were shut, you shakily exhaled, and quickly packed up to leave.

The week went by with a pace you were never used to with your job. You found yourself excited to come to work, excited to see Leon. If you had known you worked in the same building this whole time, you would have been begging your old boss to get moved.

It was a rather tame week, and you weren't sure if it was because there was no work, or this is just what the workload was always like here. It was now Friday, you sat at your desk going through a database page for the assignment you had to review before the meeting Leon had said you were attending. It definitely made you nervous, this was past your parameters and you hadn’t had any sort of experience with something this serious. At least, that’s what you thought it would be. You needed to be prepared for that so you didn’t look incompetent for this job that you only just got.

Resting your chin on your hand with the other slowly scrolling through the page with the mouse, you cocked your head and looked up when Leon suddenly appeared in front of you. You shot a smile at him.

“Were you in a meeting?” He stood so tall from this angle with you sitting down, and your neck almost hurt looking up at him.

“Yeah, light work though.” He held onto a file with his left hand. The right was in his pocket. He turned briefly to look behind him at the others who worked in the small lobby. “So, about that meeting next week,” you nodded, shifting your posture now. “It’s Monday morning. I just need you to be there to help with any outside communications like other appointments since it might be a while. I sent this to you–” He motioned to your computer, which was the PDF you had been reading from his email. “In case something happened to mine for whatever reason. God forbid...” He mumbled, partially rolling his eyes. You chuckled. “Good for you to know it though.”

“I figured. This is also light work.” You cocked a smile, and he repeated the action. “As long as I’m not being expected to execute the whole presentation, I think I can serve well to take calls for you.”

A quiet laugh rumbled out from him. “That’s all I need you for. It’s not here,” He leaned onto your desk with one arm, and you had to desperately peel your eyes away from the way his veins flexed in his forearm. The image was already burned into your brain. “It’s in the branch a couple cities over, so… If you would like to meet me somewhere over here,” You tried to swallow at the implication, but your throat was suddenly so dry. “You know, to make it easier.”

You drew in a breath. “Of course,” You put your hands into your lap so he wouldn't see you nervously wringing your fingers together. “How did you know about my minor driving anxiety?” You playfully quirked an eyebrow at him.

He smiled. “Intuition. Or my job training.” He stood up straight now. You found yourself wishing he wouldn't leave. “You can leave at three with the rest of them today. I’ll see you on Monday.” You only released the breath you were holding when he was safely behind the confines of his office doors.

The weekend allowed a little relaxing, but mostly anxiety the close it came to Monday. You were finding it increasingly difficult to stop thinking about Leon. This whole week felt like a dream. Your body felt hot anytime you were alone in his office, or anytime he merely stopped at your desk to drop something off. You felt so small next to him, and almost struggled to form coherent thoughts when you had to speak to him. Your eyes thoroughly raked his body up and down when he was turned, his broad expanse of back and shoulders nearly turned your brain to slush. He always smelled like crisp cologne, something expensive, it had to be.

You found yourself thinking too often about the way he looked at you. It was a stare that wasn't something you were used to receiving on a daily basis. There was something else… His gaze was dark and luring. Like he knew what you were thinking. Like when you two made eye contact, he knew he was the object of your fantasy.

Which, yes, it had only been a week, but you had to admit, you had never seen anyone this attractive before. And here you were, working for him. It only made your skin heat up more at the knowledge that it was forbidden. It heightened the experience every time you had to see him. That was your boss, and he sure did have that power over you. The conversations you had with him bordered on strictly work, but you were dying to see another side of him. The smirk he gave you when you made him laugh had your stomach twisting in a way that lasted long after the interaction was over. Every time you said something that gave him that reaction, you needed to make it happen again. It felt like a new addiction that developed way too fast. You wondered if he could tell. You at least tried to be subtle about it.

A shiver raked through your body as you stood outside of your car early that Monday morning. It wasn’t that cold, but you didn't think the weather was the reason you were shivering. You had arrived at headquarters to meet with Leon, as he offered to take you over to another city's department for his meeting. The aforementioned shiver happened immediately after turning and seeing Leon in the same outfit as you saw when you first met him.

His button down shirt strained on his biceps when he moved, and the gray vest sat perfectly on his waist, making you realize exactly how his frame would look underneath his clothes. You had to push this aside as he motioned you to come over to his car.

It was a sleek black sedan, which made sense for who he was. You felt shielded from the world as you closed the door, the tint locking you in next to your boss, who was insanely close to you, and you feared could hear your frantic heartbeat.

He placed a few files on your lap and you let them sit there for the time being. “I was going to get you coffee, but I didn't know how you would take it.”

You held back a smile at the thought of Leon thinking of you this morning. “It’s okay, but thanks. I already had some.” You saw Leon nod out of your peripheral, and you could only look forward, knowing you might stare if you turned your head.

“But you take…” Leon prompted. He’s curious anyway? Is he expecting to do it in the future? You could have exploded.

After rattling off the basics of what you drink, he replied, “Sounds very sweet.” You laughed and nodded. “I don't know about all that. Maybe I’ll try it out.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to be into sweet things.” You risked a look over, and when you did, he mirrored the action with a grin on his face.

“You’d be surprised.”

Thankfully, you were very relieved at the end of the day when the meeting went by with minimal interaction on your part. You were introduced to some of the other important players in the legal game that knew Leon, and sat off to the side with one of the files he handed you. Despite most of the information going over your head, you still paid attention, at least to make Leon look good and show that you were a competent assistant.

The sun was close to setting by the time you filed back out into the lot, trailing right behind Leon. Slipping into his passenger’s seat, he followed a second after, and you felt your body physically relax knowing the stressor of the week was now defeated.

“Not so bad, right?” He spoke without looking over, shifting gear and taking off.

“Are they always this long? Maybe I should plan ahead and bring multiple drinks with me.”

He chuckled. “Only sometimes. This one was important, that’s why. They usually aren’t outside the city either so… consider this an introduction to the team.”

You rolled your eyes and looked over. “Do you keep forgetting that I already worked here before this?” You heard the smile through your own voice, and saw one creep on his face as he kept his eyes on the road. Your heart felt light.

“No, absolutely not. The pace you work at is evident enough of that. It’s just a different type of job, I’m sure. I don’t really know what goes on down there.”

With the smile still on your face, you let your eyes linger on him for a moment more. His hair, which was pushed on top of his head, was starting to fall, and a strand fell onto his forehead. The past week, he had worn it down a couple of times, and you honestly didn't know which one you preferred.

You rolled your head over to the side, watching the passing cars go by. The radio was on, but at the lowest volume, merely for ambiance. Your hand brushed over the files on your lap, that you had taken back from Leon upon leaving so he could shake hands with whoever he needed to, and pried open one of them.

Before your eyes could even properly latch onto any words, Leon’s hand reached over and gently pushed the top of the file closed, and you looked over at him.

“That’s confidential, you know.” He looked over at you for a brief second, but you could see he wasn’t mad.

“Sorry. I was just sitting through that whole thing, though, in case you forgot.” You looked back down at your lap and noticed Leon’s hand was still on the file, the weight of it heavy on your thighs.

“No, I didn’t forget. I don’t know how much of it was digestible to you.” He barely lifted his hand off of the file folder, pulling it sideways, landing it on your thigh for a second. His hand was big enough to wrap around the side, and a split second later, he dragged it off, and your skin burned with the track it traced. Breathing became hard suddenly, and you had to turn your head to the window and focus on the outside world.

You arrived back at headquarters thirty minutes later, and the fresh air felt incredible on your flushed skin. It wasn’t even that warm in the car, but you couldn't stop thinking about the way Leon’s hand felt on your thigh. It was like he never lifted his hand at all, you could still feel the contact lingering, the way his fingers grazed your leg, the immediate warmth you felt, not only on your thigh, but in your stomach. You wished you could have taken your jacket off in the car.

Before you could get any words out, Leon said, “Come up to the office for a second. I left something up there.”

You said nothing, simply followed him up. The parking lot was nearly deserted, save for the few officers doing a detail whom you greeted when the both of you walked in. You fiddled with the edges of the files you were still holding, not trying to look in any of them in case Leon were to reprimand you for it again. You were almost tempted to, just to see his reaction. That thought made your knees weak.

You followed him out of the elevator into the office. As expected, the lobby was empty. Leon made his way over to his desk, pulling open a file cabinet, and started sifting around. You stood there, then walked over and dropped what you were holding onto his desk. You looked around the office, it was as wide as the lobby was, and large windows spanned the walls. It was simplistic. His desk was in the middle, file cabinets behind him, multiple monitors, a few chairs in front of his desk, some round black ottomans in front of a black leather couch to the left. There were more files open on top of one of the ottomans.

You stalked over to it, leaned down and picked one up. It looked like what he had given you the other day–

“You must be a glutton for punishment.” You jumped slightly when Leon spoke from directly behind you and grabbed the file from your hands. You spun around. “You shouldn’t be rifling through random documents, you know.”

You sighed, not wanting to make eye contact, but knowing not doing it would look bad. You kept your arms to your side despite wanting to cross them. His eyes were dark. You couldn't tell what type of reaction this was.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make a severe mental note of that.” He said nothing in return, simply looking down at you. The peaks of his bone structure highlighted by the distant street lamps and the glow of the moon outside the windows. It made the shadows look all that much darker. You felt a shiver crawl up your spine.

He hummed, a low, throaty sound. “My new assistant, just so nosy.” His voice was low, and you gulped, trying to blink through your emotions normally, but you knew it looked anything but.

“Dare I say it’s in my job description.” You mirrored his low tone, mentally relieved it wasn’t as weary as you expected it to sound. You tilted your head up to his, as a small gesture of challenge.

He nodded his head, as if to consider your words. “Dare you do.” He backed up, placed the file on his desk, then came right back to his spot in front of you. You didn’t know what to do, so you stayed still. It was most likely the better option anyway, who knows if your limbs could even move properly right now. You felt bare in this position, your cotton top feeling too warm where it overlapped with your jacket, and though your legs were on display under your skirt, they, too, were burning up. Your heart was hammering, but Leon kept talking. “What do you think about this job so far, hm? Does it live up to expectations?”

You had to take a steady breath before answering. “I think this surpasses any expectation I could have ever set.”

“Good answer.” You maintained eye contact with the man in front of you, surprising yourself with how well you were holding it. He seemed unfazed at all. He was probably reading you like a book right now. “You know, I love having new recruits start here. They’re so unaware of their surroundings. It almost makes a fun game for myself. They think they are so secretive, but after a while I can tell whatever it is they don't want anyone else to know.” You felt your breath catch in your throat. You had a feeling you knew where this was going. “I know Breanna across the lobby from you doesn’t like her desk mate despite buying her coffee three times a week.” Checks out, I can tell, too. “I know Brett does things to stay awake during his shifts that he shouldn’t be doing within a 50 foot radius of a cop.” Ouch. That’s also true, but he only told me during a hard come down. “And, I know how nervous you are to be around me, and you don’t know what to do with yourself whenever I’m in the room.”

You made no moves now. How did he know? Surely you weren’t that obvious with it. It had been one week, and yes Leon called you into his office quite a bit during those five days, but he had work to hand off to you every time. It’s not like he was doing it on purpose.

But now, standing under his hard gaze, nowhere to go, you weren’t so sure it was accidental.

Your jaw tightened. “How can you be so sure?” Now, you could hear the waviness in your voice. A smirk blossomed on his handsome face.

“I can see how you look at me. Usually these things take time to figure out, but you…” He took a step closer, and you took a half step back. It’s not like you didn’t want to be close to him, but now he was donning a persona that made you shrink into yourself. You knew you liked it by the heat spreading inside. “You, dear, are like looking through a window.”

“So… you tested it out earlier?” It felt like a pathetic question, but you needed an answer for why he put his hand on your thigh earlier. Compared to this current position, that seemed so tame.

He tilted his head slightly. “I’m pretty sure I was, but… I had to make sure I was gauging the situation correctly.” He looked you up and down, your hands had made their way to clasp behind your back, still fighting the habit to cross them across your chest. Your breathing felt erratic. “I would have left it there, but I couldn’t make too much of a scene. Not yet.”

You simply stared at each other. You could tell that he knew he had the upper hand, solely because he was correct. Everything he was saying was right. Damn that detective training, nothing was getting past him. The room was sweltering now, but maybe you were the only one that felt it.

One last burst of confidence had you muttering, “You do this to all your new assistants?”

In one swift action, he had a hand over your waist and pulled you close to him. Bodies touching, heat feeling like a fire between you, he lowered his face so it was centimeters away from yours. The glisten of his eyes were the only thing you could see, and if you weren’t running on pure adrenaline right now, you probably would have collapsed. You felt the vibrations from his chest when he spoke.

“Only the ones I intend to hang on to. And I can’t say I’ve had multiple of those.” You gulped, and when you didn't reply, he continued, “Did I gauge the situation correctly?”

“Yes,” You whispered, and his mouth was on yours.

His kiss was intense, and you felt now like your body might give out. Your hands found their way to make contact with him, one grasping the wrist that was holding your waist and the other to the side of Leon’s face, and you felt his other hand close in on your hips.

It was like nothing you had experienced before. The kiss was hot and messy, you let his tongue in easily, and you couldn't help the small sighs that escaped whenever he leaned in to deepen the exchange. You felt his nose press into your face, your foreheads pushed together and your bodies entirely too close you felt like one entity. The hand that was caressing his face snaked to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and your knees finally buckled when he gave a low growl in response to you tugging his locks.

The kiss broke for a second as you lost balance, but he was not thrown off course. Hands still grasping your body, he found the couch that you were only a step in front of, and he lowered you on it, still connecting your lips together fiercely. Both of your hands now in his hair as your back hit the cushions, and you felt the dips next to you where he was kneeling over you. One of his hands let go of you and supported himself next to your head, but you craved the contact again.

He took your chin in his thumb and index finger and tilted your head slightly to the right, and broke the kiss, but his lips stayed on your burning skin as they traced down your jaw bone, biting into the flesh, and his tongue marked a path down your neck, and it was insanely hard to breathe.

One of your hands found solace on his thick shoulder while he was still making work of the soft skin on your neck. The hand of his that wasn't on your chin still traced its way from your hip up to your chest, and he squeezed one of your breasts in sync with a bite to the neck. Your head pressed harder into the couch underneath you.

“Leon, please…” You gasped out, unsure if you even said it out loud, surprised you even had the energy to speak. You felt him lift his lips off of your skin a second later and his fingers moved your chin again to make you face him.

“What is it, hm? What do you need?” He dipped down to kiss you again, and you wished he would have stayed there so you wouldn't need to verbally answer him.

“I… I don’t…” I don’t know, I need you. You barely had the breath to speak anymore, and though you knew Leon knew exactly what you were trying to say, he feigned confusion, and looked at you from under his furrowed brow. It was so obnoxious, it ignited the flame inside you even more.

“Come on, baby, I can’t hear you.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and your vision went blurry with lust. You ground your jaw and swallowed your pride.

“I need you.” You gasped out finally, your lungs deflating. Your hand was fisting the material over his shoulder, and you noticed through your haze that he wasn’t wearing the vest anymore. When did he take it off? Before you came up to the office? While you had your back turned? It didn’t matter, it was now one less thing you needed to rip off of him.

“Is that so?” He went back to biting at your neck, and at this rate you didn’t care what state he was going to leave it in. You whined at his lack of response to your plea, feeling frustration and desire bounding up inside of you, needing an outlet to release it.

“Leon, fuck, please…” You weakly tried to push him back but he wouldn’t budge. He reconnected your lips again, and that you greatly accepted, pulling him closer now so he would continue kissing you with fervor. The hand that was on your chin finally left, and he replaced it on your wrist, and suddenly, he was hauling you up.

He pulled back from the kiss just as quickly as he was pulling you to sit upright, and he swiftly maneuvered you so that when he fell backwards to sit on the couch, you were pulled right on top of him, straddling his thick thighs. You couldn’t even imagine how you looked right now, it was out of your mind for now as you looked down at the man under you, his hands on your waist. His shirt was wrinkled and slowly being pulled out from where it was tucked into his pants. His tie was being loosened and the top two buttons had come undone, exposing the smooth expanse of skin over his collarbones and chest. As you let your weight settle onto your legs, and his, you lowered directly onto his growing erection, and he squeezed his hands over your torso and scrunched his face. With a heavy breath, he pulled his head forward and stared at you.

“Did you think I was just going to give it to you?” His voice was gravelly, and it almost made you whimper. His hands dropped to your thighs, which were now incredibly exposed due to the position of your skirt hiking up, and Leon probably had a view of the black panties you had on. You didn’t care. Let him see. You needed him to take them off.

You shook your head. “You can’t be nice to me?” Your hands came up to his chest, it was firm and sturdy, and you were dying to see it bare. You fumbled with the buttons, and Leon had been at least gracious enough to loosen the tie and throw it over his head onto the floor.

Leon laughed. You felt it under your palms. “Darling,” You looked up to make eye contact with him at the mention of the pet name. “This is me being nice to you.”

You barely had time to register his words, and the way it made your stomach turn before he had a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you forward to another intense kiss. You could barely breathe, your limbs were all pins and needles and your skin was alight with a burning ember, fueled only by Leon, but you loved it.

In the midst of the kiss, wet and slick and tongue heavy, your hands were needlessly prying the buttons open at the top of Leon’s shirt. His hands were traveling under your clothes, palms gripping your thighs, and you found yourself grinding down into Leon’s lap subconsciously, but kept going when it resulted in him groaning into the kiss.

You pulled back suddenly at the victory of pulling the last few buttons open, and Leon immediately caught your stare, but you dropped it to look down at the open expanse of skin and muscle that he had been hiding. A strong chest gave way to flexing ab muscles as he writhed under you, probably trying to gain your attention or to show off, and sturdy hip muscles abducted into V lines that disappeared under the waistline of his pants. You couldn’t help it, you reached out to drag your hands along the smooth skin, every second of contact adding to the pooling happening between your legs, where you were also very conscious of the fact that Leon’s hands were dangerously close to.

“Do you want this to happen today, or do you want to keep staring?” Leon prodded at you jokingly, and when you looked up, a grin was plastered on his face, and his eyes were still dark. You felt the tightness arise again at just the sight of his expression paired with his upper body on display for you.

“You’re sounding more eager than me, now…” You breathily replied, overwhelmed with all of the emotions coursing you at once.

Leon breathed a brief laugh before raising an eyebrow with his response. “I can show you eager.”

At once, his hand reached up in between your legs and you felt one of his fingers dance across the hem of your panties, and your grip tightened where your hand landed on his bicep. He gave you no warning when you felt him pull it aside, drag his finger downwards and raked his knuckle through your wetness, earning a sharp gasp from you in return, and you nearly fell forward onto his chest as the feeling sent sparks soaring through you.

“Calling me eager…” The sound of his voice paired with the feeling of his fingers on you was far too much to handle. “Yet it feels like you must have been wet all night…” He dragged his finger back up to the top where he maneuvered his hand so the pad of his thumb pressed heavily on your clit, and you nearly screamed, but all sound was trapped in your throat as you lost function of your body.

He ripped his hand out of your underwear and it moved around to find the zipper in the back of your skirt. “Take that shirt off,” He ordered, and you obeyed as best you could through your stiff limbs.

You peeled it off from the bottom, feeling the fabric stick to your moist skin, and Leon’s eyes heavy on you as you finally got it over your head and on the floor. Your lingerie choice was nothing phenomenal, for the expected business meeting at least, but you could tell by his gaze that it really didn't make a difference in what he was thinking right now. Seconds after you dropped your hands back to your sides, he flipped you once again, back on the couch and him hovering over you, pulling the skirt that he had unzipped down your legs, and into the pile of your shirt and his tie somewhere behind you.

Your breathing was erratic as you watched him intently, his lust-filled eyes on your body and his hand running lengths up and down your torso, legs, back up to your chest, and neck, and landing on your bra strap that he pulled down, and wasted no time in attaching his mouth your hot skin. Your hand gripped his elbow as he bit the tender flesh of your breast, he sucked on it harshly once, twice, before lifting and wrapping his lips over your nipple, which had your back arching and a string of soft moans pouring out.

You felt an aching cramp in your core, the pleasure was insurmountable and you needed him to do something about it, but you knew he was buying time to rile you up as much as possible before doing so. You knew he was straining with his own pleasure and you were desperate to tear apart his belt and pants and take his girth into your hands, to feel it, to taste it, you wanted to choke on it, but you knew he wouldn’t let you do that. If not in the span of a few minutes, maybe not tonight at all. You were submitting your control, and you had to let him do what he wanted.

He finally let go of your nipple, and the air felt cold with the layer of saliva he left behind, and even though you were basically naked save for undergarments, you still felt too covered. You reached up to pull at Leon’s shirt, fully unbuttoned and untucked, and he leaned back on his knees to pry it off of himself. You could see his skin glistening with sweat as he moved, and so badly you wanted to reach out and touch him, run your hands over his skin, all of his muscles, pull him close so you could feel his chest on your own.

Your eyes fell to his pants, and the tent that was present had your mouth watering, you needed him to pull it out, and now.

Of course, Leon being ever so sharp, didn’t miss this. “We’ll get there. Don’t worry.” Without looking up, you could hear the cockiness in his voice, but you didn’t care anymore, you couldn't move your eyes from where they landed, trying to imagine his cock in its glory, how long and thick, how he would use it and how it would feel. You felt like you were melting.

Unmoving from where he was propped up in front of you, his hands traveled down the expanse of your legs, dragging his fingers underneath your thighs where it was sensitive, making you jump with the contact. His hands came around to the top of your knees, where he pushed your legs apart and lowered himself in between them. Even just the sight of him doing so had you whimpering, and when he pressed his thumb into your clothed clit, you bucked up, but he was quick to hold you down.

Keeping his thumb centered on your clit, he continued to apply pressure, using his middle and index finger to stroke up and down on the outside of your panties, which you were sure were soaked by now. Throwing your head back into the couch, one hand gripping onto the wrist that was holding Leon up and the other was clawing into the cushion, you were dying for him to do something.

He was getting too used to teasing you now. He had you right where he wanted, half naked on the couch in his office after hours, so close to practically coming untouched at this point, and while you wanted to fight him on this, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The mixture of the pleasure and mental ecstasy you were feeling had you forfeiting any sense of control now, and you just watched him, as he watched you.

All at once, you felt the cold air hit your core as your underwear was peeled away from you, but the sensation didn't last long as a hot, wet tongue was pressed into your heat, and you nearly screamed at the sudden contact.

His mouth was all you could focus on in that moment, you could feel every movement his tongue made, and your body reacted viscerally to it. Your hand flew out and grabbed onto Leon’s hair, which incited him to only keep going, and to be ruthless. His hands were digging into your thighs where he was spreading them apart, fighting against you wanting to close them in reaction to pleasure he was sending shooting through your body.

One long, painfully slow lick from top to bottom ended at your clit where he latched on, tongue pressing in and teeth gently making an appearance, and your grip in his hair became even stronger when he pushed two fingers into you, your vision going blurry, and there was no filter left to stop any thoughts from pouring out over your lips.

“Oh my god… Leon…” You were whining now, moaning in between deep breaths and gasps, feeling his fingers pump in and out all while his tongue was relentless on you.

His mouth disappeared but his thumb took its place, and you felt him kissing, licking, sucking his way up your torso, chest, neck, until he was seated next to your ears, groaning into them as you dug your nails into his skin.

“Oh my god, what, huh? You like the way I make you feel?” All you could do was gasp out a ‘yes’ in response to his question, he wasn’t giving you any liberty to be coherent. “You probably thought about this all day…” A bite below your ear followed the sentence. “That pussy was so wet… you probably wanted this since the first day…”

And you did. How could you not have thought about this at the sight of your insanely attractive boss? Wouldn’t it be so hot to be banging your model-status boss, having to hide it from your coworkers, going in his office to sneak touches while no one outside those doors knew? Yes, of course you thought about it. It had your heart racing, and now you would stop at nothing to make those fantasies real.

“You feel so good, I can’t wait to be inside you.” With one last soft bite to the jaw, he pulled his fingers out of you, and involuntarily you whimpered, but he shut you up by pressing a kiss into your lips, which you greatly accepted. His kiss was harsh yet soft at the same time, you felt a passion behind it while also letting his tongue sweep over yours, tasting yourself on him, sighing into it, feeling like you could kiss him forever.

His hands left you, now feeling bare, you gripped his shoulders hard as you heard him undoing his own belt. As much as you wanted to do it yourself and be right in front when you pulled his hard cock out of his pants, you didn’t have it in you to attempt to move yourself, and with Leon on top of you, he was sure to stop any feeble move you made to do so.

HIs lips left yours once more and reattached to the side of your throat, biting down harder than before, but it only made you moan, arch harder into him, and sent a flurry of hot tingles into your pussy, aching for more action from him.

Leon pushed himself off of you, his warm mouth off of you and leaned back, staring at you panting, and of course, his dick in his hands was impossible to ignore. Just seeing it was almost bliss, and now you were desperate for him to use it as you lay there, being scrutinized under your boss’ gaze, and while you felt so tiny, just the sight of how hard he was made you feel so powerful.

He took a deep breath in, taking in the sight of you, before lowering himself again, lining up with your gaze so you looked him directly in the eye. You felt his forehead press into yours, his hand lingered around your underwear again, pushing it aside, and after just another moment of silence, another deep kiss, his bare chest met yours and you felt the tip of his dick push into you, past the entrance, into the warmth.

You sighed so loud, followed by a moan, hands still gripping his shoulders, listening to him groan in tandem with you as he slowly bottomed out. His pelvis pushed against you, your legs coming up to wrap around him, and you felt his hands pull your bra down so he could cup your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple, adding to the pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good… Fuck…” He was groaning, he hadn’t even started moving yet, and you were dying for him to start. He sat still in you, lapping at the skin between your jaw and neck, positive he could feel the vibrations on his lips of your moans.

“Please, Leon, move… Please,” Your nails were surely digging red streaks into the skin of his back by now, but he barely even seemed to notice, rather, you thought he might have loved the feeling of it instead. You felt the pressure of him lying on top of you, paired with the pressure building in between your legs, your thighs beginning to shake, having to hold onto Leon tighter to steady them.

Finally, he slowly started to pull out, and you could barely breathe at the sensation it left behind. He kept his face buried in your neck, you could feel his ragged, heavy breathing and you could hear his groaning which was only making you wetter.

His hips snapped forward, no regard to what pace you had wanted to set, not like it mattered, you probably would have told him quick and rough anyway if he asked. You almost screamed out at the feeling of him slamming into you, you could only throw your head back onto the couch cushion and rake your hands over his skin, into his hair. Leon licked a long stripe up your neck to your jaw, gently biting on your bottom lip before kissing you again.

You kept kissing him hard in between his thrusts, with him pulling away for only a second at a time, both of you breathing hard, your hands traveling down to grip his biceps, and you could feel them flexing with his movement.

“Shit,” He said over you, you could feel his breath on your lips. “So fucking tight,” One of his hands went down to grab onto one of your legs that you had thrown over him. “So fucking good.” He practically growled as he continued the assault on you, his hips showing no mercy, and his hand sure to leave a bruise on your thigh from his grip.

Leon pushed himself up, still inside of you, leaving you lying down. His skin was slick with his sweat, and maybe yours as well from being pressed against you. His hair was falling down over his forehead, and god he looked so good right now, if you weren’t already in the act of getting the shit fucked out of you, you would want to fuck him all over again. His hands adjusted their position to rest on your hips, pulling you up so he can fuck you from his kneeling position.

This new angle was hitting every spot perfectly, allowing him to go deeper than he was from just above you. The intense stretch his cock was delivering paired with the way he was holding onto your hips with such ferocity, all of it together was too much, and you were becoming unwound.

“Leon… Leon, fuck…” You gasped out, barely able to finish your sentence, but Leon understood well enough. He slowed his pace only a beat, but it was enough to have you straining, desperate for him to go faster to allow you to finish. He kept up with the slower pace, watching you as you whined under him, begging him to go faster.

“Please, Leon…” You looked up at him through half lidded eyes, barely able to keep them open. Through them, you could see him looking at you, brows furrowed in exertion, mouth open, chest rising and falling with rapid breathing.

“Please what?” Leon growled. You whined again, knowing he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. “Say it.”

You couldn’t breathe, but you had to give him what he wanted so he could give you what you wanted. “Leon, please, I’m going to cum… please…”

He leaned in again, still holding your hips up, his pace even slower now, and you could feel the heat bundling up, bringing tears to your eyes at the lack of relief. His face was inches away from yours. “Please, what?”

You choked out a sob, mixed with a groan at the slightest movement he made inside of you. “Please let me cum Leon, please,” You had no voice at this point, the words coming out in a whisper, loud enough for him to hear, but he probably would have anyway.

“That’s right.” He backed up now, and resumed his previous position. “Good girls get what they want when they ask.” Your eyes closed in bliss when he picked up his pace, the weight of his words hanging heavy in your head, adding to the ecstasy he was giving you right now. He was slamming into you again, steadying himself on your hips while also pulling them forward to meet his thrusts. You had no breath left to spare on words anymore, and fruitless moans spilled from your lips focusing the energy on bringing your orgasm to close.

You tried to call out his name as best as you could, but all you heard were moans as the heat inside you came to a roaring burst, and you felt your legs tighten around Leon, his grip steadying you, your hands clawing at the cushion, at his wrists where they held onto you.

Your heartbeat was crazy at this point, and you couldn't even hold your eyes open as you rode out your orgasm, his hands smoothing over your skin, and you used the sensation to come back to reality. He had momentarily stilled his movements again, and you felt his lips on your neck, none of the roughness there now. You rolled your head over to the side to face him, and when you did he attached his lips to yours, a passionate kiss, his hands feeling like heaven on your body.

You pulled away and stared at him for a moment. His eyes were soft, but his face was still contorted in concentration.

“I hope you don’t think we’re done here, darling.” You breathed out a sigh, collecting yourself, a smile creeping onto your face.

You kissed him, and whispered into his lips, “Show me what you got left, then.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy smut #fanfiction #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 fanfiction

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genericpuff · 1 year ago

Text

The Extended Mishandling of LO's S3 Midseason Finale Premiere

Alright, so I had mentioned leading up to the release of the newest LO episode that my feelings regarding LO returning were pretty "meh". Not hyped, but not completely back of mind either. Just sort of a weird calm before the storm type feeling that could go either way.

I'm glad I got to have that moment of calmness because good god, this episode was an absolute shitshow. And honestly, I'm not surprised, for several reasons:

Rachel has never been good at maintaining a buffer, even back at the start of the series she only ever had 2-3 episodes ready ahead of her schedule which is NOT an ideal buffer for an originals series.

Rachel has never been good at writing, she's very "draw first write later" and has stated as such in interviews that when she gets 'stuck' on what she's writing, she'll just start drawing and fit the pieces in later.

Four months is NOT enough time to both rest, attend massive conventions, and work on improving a project while also getting buffer episodes ready.

Because of the FP episodes remaining locked over the hiatus, technically Rachel only needed to have ONE episode ready upon return for the newest FP release, not multiple like she'd usually need like in the past during the S2 midseason hiatus or the season finale episodes which would unlock those FP releases like normal - so for all we know, she could have drawn this episode literally last week, especially when the promo material was so last minute. Frankly I think it was REALLY stupid for whoever it was who decided to keep these FP episodes locked (whether it was her or WT, it was more likely WT) but you can read all I have to say about that in my review of the midseason finale episodes.

All that's to say, no, there was never any guarantee Rachel was going to somehow "turn around" the ride we're currently on. I know that many of the critics were hoping for that to happen, but with the circumstances of the hiatus mixed with Rachel's bad habits of putting her best efforts into the procrastination projects that aren't her actual comic (ex. the few original pieces and LO sketches she put out during the hiatus) it just wasn't in the cards. This is where the comic is at and this is where it will remain until it's over.

I want to also point something out about this episode that was... really glaring to me.

As with all of these hiatus returns, LO got priority advertising in the first two banner slots and push notifications AND a popup ad within the app. This is unsurprising, Webtoons is still trying to milk this thing for what it's worth.

I know a lot of people are gonna focus on the art, or the fact that WT is continuing to shill LO, but I wanna point out the part that WT implemented specifically - "NEW SEASON".

This is literally just false. At best I'd like to think some intern just messed up and thought this was a new season, but it's literally not, the episode designation still says "S3". Note that the creators only design the banner art, the actual labels on top are put there by Webtoons.

But at worst, this feels like blatant lying to continue to hide the fact that LO is ending. Mind you, Rachel and Webtoons have still not put out official posts stating that this is the final arc. There is NOTHING from either of them to communicate to the audience that the comic is ending next year. It feels like they're trying to avoid the topic altogether out of fear of losing the fanbase they still have, rather than hyping up the comic's end for those who have stuck around to see how it all wraps up. And honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if this was the case, considering they're now trying to funnel the fanbase into Penguin/Inklore with new marketing deals and the whole Rachel Smythe Presents thing. They're trying to make this seem like the beginning of something "new" when it's really just a quiet shifting of management (Penguin House).

But all that aside, let's actually get into the episode. It's one episode after 4 months, which is not standard for LO's hiatuses, typically FP episodes release on schedule (meaning free readers start hiatuses 3 weeks after FP readers do), the only time this has been an exception has been with the 2 week breaks because the whole point of those was to build a buffer (which you can't do if you're going ahead and releasing the FP episodes anyways). For extended hiatuses like these, usually free readers still get their FP episodes, but that wasn't the case here. That means Rachel technically only needed one episode ready for the comic's return, and it shows. It really fucking shows.

FROM HERE ON OUT THERE WILL BE FASTPASS SPOILERS REGARDING EPISODE 254. DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED !!!

As per tradition, we get a title that means nothing at all. It just says what we already know.

Our collective husband Zeus is dying, no thanks to the poison cupcake fed to him by Apollo. For those who don't remember, Apollo had tricked Zeus into eating the cupcake by making him believe it was from Hebe. We are fully aware that it was Apollo who poisoned him. Remember that for later in this review.

Right off the bat we're off to a hilarious start, both with a cryptid appearance from Apollo in the background (lmao) who is, for some reason, ALREADY returning to the scene of the crime he just committed because... who knows at this point. Apollo and Psyche know it was Apollo at this point, I might add, but I have no clue why Apollo is actually returning to the scene of the crime when he has no idea Eros and Psyche know.

Moving on from that, can we talk about this hilarious dialogue?

"We have to call a doctor! Let's call Asclepius!"

"No, we can't trust him! Gosh darn it, why are we only bothering to think of ONE doctor in this universe where we've seen more than one doctor?? Guess Zeus is just gonna die! What a horribly contrived situation this is!"

And that's literally how I can best describe most of this episode. Contrived. There is a LOT of manufactured drama in this that makes ZERO sense even on a surface level.

And what do you mean exactly, Eros? "What a terrible system!" Is this supposed to be a joke? Lampshading? We've seen Persephone go to the gynecologist. There are non-god doctors who tend to gods all the time here.

Eros just doesn't seem to be that pressed over this, he sounds like Ned Flanders and that's NOT a good way to open up a scene like this... let alone an episode people have been waiting four months for.

Anyways, after a few pointless reaction panels (again remember I have to cut a lot of what I show here for Tumblr image limitations but I promise you, I'm keeping as much important stuff as I can in this, there's just THAT MUCH filler at this point), Eros and Psyche confront Apollo and he is... good god.

There is... so much to unpack here.

First of all, remember those theories about how Rachel was clearly trying to write Apollo as this "secret twist villain" the whole time but it doesn't work because Apollo is simultaneously written as both a 'conniving villain' and a massive dumbass at the same time?

Well, I finally have a more appropriate term for him. He's your average red pill redditor - someone who thinks he's smarter than everyone else when really all he does is sit on reddit all day using big words incorrectly in arguments he gets himself into with a bunch of equally-air-headed dumbasses.

"You can't possibly understand the nuances of the Olympian political system," Apollo said proudly, a man who had, ironically and obliviously, run for president in a monarchy. The union of kettle and pot is eternal.

He's the Slappable Jerk but instead of it being a painfully hilarious impression, it's just painful and hilarious for all the wrong reasons.

this is so stupid because it's 1.) Eros pointing out how obvious Apollo's plan was, despite Apollo acting smart two seconds ago with a goddess who, mind you, has been a goddess for ten years, and 2.) patricide isn't even intrinsically linked to politics, there's nothing 'political' about a guy trying to kill his dad except in, idk, a monarchy, which again, Apollo has spent ten years trying to rise to power in as a president which is a completely different form of government.

If I wanted to be really granular with this, I'd like to think Apollo is making some kind of point about the critics who call out LO's whack as fuck political system (especially in the trial arc) - as if he's saying "well you're just a stupid reader and this is fantasy where you don't understand exactly what political system we're using, so shut the fuck up you stupid twig" - but I don't think it's meant to be that deep. I think it's just Rachel trying to write a smart character and then failing at it because she, herself, is not a smart writer. And I'm really inclined to believe that more than the theory about this being some kind of meta-narrative about the critics because this entire plotline is contrived and stupid down to its core.

I did not cut anything out here, that's the pacing. Leto literally just appears out of nowhere and uh oh spaghettio's, she has Kassandra! Remember Leto? The character we were led to believe was truly "pulling the strings" until she disappeared from the story completely after she realized that Apollo and Persephone weren't a thing, even going so far as to call out her own son for being a fucking dumbass? Well, she's back and once again she's being involved as some kind of "double agent" in this whole thing, even though we literally haven't seen her since halfway through S2.

"Mm yes, you're so stupid, falling into my trap! Even though you had no reason to remember Kassandra anyways because she's literally a mortal woman you just met and you yourself have committed acts of violence against mortals without a shred of care! I'm so smart! My plan is all coming together!"

We've never seen Apollo do anything except cry and poop his pants, the closest he got to being "powerful" was his attempts to murder Daphne (who he seems to have forgotten about in this "master plan" of his) but ultimately he's literally just a piss ant baby and there's no reason to believe that he could somehow outmatch the God of Love who can literally manipulate people's emotions and states of mind with his arrows. But yeah sure go off, you're so powerful and smart.

The worst part is, I can't even buy this as the narrative trying to be like "see how manipulative and conniving he is?" because it's just silly. We've SEEN this man cry with his victim complex, we've seen him say and do the DUMBEST things that don't lend to any amount of "intelligence" he may have, it comes across less as him being "smart the whole time" and more as him trying to sound smart but ultimately sounding incredibly stupid. And I can't even immerse myself into it and buy that maybe that's the point, because it doesn't feel like the point, it just feels like inconsistent writing, he doesn't feel like a 'threat', he's just monologuing.

Bad art and Apollo literally just repeating what Leto already implied so this is a waste of the audience's time.

This is the funniest panel in the whole episode because I can't tell if Apollo is supposed to be in the background (for some reason, despite him literally being in front of Eros and Psyche two seconds ago) or if he's in the foreground and just REALLY small for some reason. This is so off-putting. And of course, it's just Apollo explaining what we're ALREADY SEEING ONSCREEN.

You see, in addition to this episode being contrived, it also talks down to its audience a LOT by explaining exactly what we're seeing onscreen. It's like Rachel saw the criticisms about her not including enough to depict what's actually going on in her head and so she thought the solution was to spoon feed information over pictures that are already doing the job of explaining what's going on. Rachel really doesn't know how to write and even when she tries to implement changes that reflect criticisms that have been made of her writing, she somehow makes things worse because she completely misses the point of what those criticisms are trying to get across.

Anyways, without even trying to resist (for some reason) Eros and Psyche get sentenced to horny jail.

They're now trapped in a basement that Leto somehow has in her home. How do we know that?

HAHAHA FUNNY LAMPSHADING SO FUNNNYYYYYYY

Leto claims that they shouldn't try to escape because the dungeon is "enchanted", but she doesn't even bother to explain what that means. So they literally don't bother trying. They don't try to call her bluff, they don't try to teleport out of there, they literally just go "well shoot", shrug their shoulders, and accept their fate. Just like with the whole "we can't trust the only doctor we bothered to think of" situation, Eros and Psyche are turning out to be some of the stupidest, lowest-effort characters in this comic who literally can't be bothered to try because that would require too much brain power.

Notice how much time we've spent on this and we haven't gotten back to where the cliffhanger of the last episode left off? Well buckle up because there's still more to cover.

So it turns out Hebe was still inside with her dad, in FULL VIEW of what was going on through glass which is somehow COMPLETELY soundproof, and when Apollo steps inside, she just has no idea what happened. She never bothered to even look outside to see what was going on with Eros and Psyche, she's just been sitting on the floor staring at Zeus' dead face for what was likely several minutes, unless Rachel is seriously trying to convince us that conversation and hostage negotiation from earlier only took 2 seconds. The timeline is such a mess at this point that characters basically freeze in place as soon as they're not the focus of the scene.

Apollo rushes inside, acting shocked over the situation, and when Hebe asks where Eros and Psyche are (again, she could have just looked out the window at any time), he's just like "dur idk they just left lol" which Hebe just... buys, I guess.

That's just Persephone but yellow. She's even missing her beauty mark.

See how Apollo put his hand on Zeus' chest/shoulder by the way?

Apparently, despite Mr. Smarter Than Everyone Else trying to pretend it wasn't him, he's able to discern that Zeus is dying from a toxic and rare poison just from touching him. He doesn't even really seem to use his powers, he just touches him and goes "welp he's dead i guess lol don't bother asking me how I know that".

But oh nooo remember that note from before? Well gasp Apollo's gonna use it to frame Hebe! In front of no one else at all!

Hebe of course says she didn't write it, but Apollo continues to try and frame her anyways, even though, again, there's no one else present here, and so it effectively just becomes the most absurd form of gaslighting I've ever seen.

Again, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE HERE IN THE SCENE. He's just trying to claim she did it to absolutely no one at all, in the hopes of... what exactly? That she'll just take the fall for something she knows she didn't do? That she'll somehow be convinced? It's not like Hebe has the same thing going on as Persephone where she has a 'wrathful dark side' he could pin it on, this is just a criminal who just robbed a building pointing at the first person they see and yelling "YOU DID IT!"

All I'm saying is that Apollo would be really bad at Among Us. He'd be the type of player to kill someone, hit the report button, then claim yellow did it which, even if he DID convince the rest of the team, would still get kicked anyways as soon as yellow was proven through the eject to not be the imp and everyone would go "okay cool so yellow wasn't the imp, that means obviously it's purple self-reporting." It's a trick that doesn't even work anymore because of how old it is. Hebe isn't a child here, she's an 18 year old woman who should be fully capable of raising an eyebrow and wondering why Apollo is this quick to accuse her - almost like he's trying to hide the fact that he did it.

But Hebe can't catch onto this, just like Eros and Psyche, she has to act stupid for the sake of the plot.

At first I thought maybe Rachel was trying to do some "whodunit" scenario, but that doesn't work here because we already know who did it. And while there are stories that exist like that that pull it off (ex. Knives Out) the problem with trying to do this the way Rachel did is that the person being framed has to have this thing called motive. The reason why Knives Out and Glass Onion work so well is because the person who was murdered (or conspired against) is someone who is being targeted by multiple people who could all be the murderer. It's quite literally called out in Glass Onion as a form of smart lampshading. "It's like putting a loaded gun on the table, and turning off the lights."

But it doesn't work here because Hebe does not have motive. If you're going to attempt to frame a murder on someone, it has to be someone who would have reasonable motive to commit that murder, even if they didn't actually commit it.

And who among Zeus' children has motive?

What about the war-mongering bloodthirsty god of war who has been regularly sentenced to time in the Mortal Realm to fight in wars in which he's been regularly injured?

What about the chaos-seeking wrathful goddess who would do it to get revenge on the parental figure who cast her aside, or even just for the fun of saying she did it?

Why try and pin it on Hebe, the doting daughter of Zeus who's only had a collective of maybe 20 panels in the entire comic?

But then I realized... it's not Knives Out, it's the fucking Lion King.

Which is just as contrived - if not more - than the assumption this was gonna be some attempt to frame Hebe. It's not. He's literally just trying to keep her from assuming it was him. He could have just as easily played dumb without calling attention to the note but he intentionally went out of his way to try and be Scar from The Lion King , while completely missing the point of why that scene worked in the original movie.

Scar wasn't trying to 'frame' Simba for Mufasa's murder. He was trying to hide the murder, while also attempting to get the only heir to the throne out of the picture, so he passed the guilt of the death onto Simba - a child who, unlike Hebe, wouldn't have the ability to rationalize or realize his uncle his a scumbag - who then ran away from home because he was too terrified to face his family for what happened, assuming that it was all his fault when it wasn't.

That's not how this is panning out here. Hebe is the now 18 year old daughter of Zeus, and not one of his only children. She doesn't even fit into the whole "sons overthrowing their fathers" prophecy like Aries would. Apollo is literally just being a big idiot here by saying "well I'm gonna give you a headstart to run away, because if you stay, I might hurt you" (which btw, should be MORE of a smoking gun that Apollo did it??)

And again, it's all so contrived so that the plot can move forward. "Well I'm going to frame you for this murder, but y'know, you should just leave, I'm not gonna try and press it further lmao"

Again, Apollo is a fucking idiot here, because he just attempted to frame someone who has NO MOTIVE to harm Zeus, to absolutely NO ONE at all who would side with him, only to let her go which would leave her to question why Apollo would try to accuse and harm her in the first place before considering other options. And through ALL this he claims he's the smart one, which I can't even be bothered to "love to hate" because it's written so poorly.

And really it all comes down to how everyone else behaves in relation to Apollo that makes it so stupid and unbelievable. Apollo, you're not smart just because all the characters around you are intentionally being written to be as stupid and non-confrontation as possible. If you can only write a smart villain by making everyone else stupid, you haven't written a smart villain, you've written a dumbass whose victory only happens due to contrived plot convenience. It's not even done well like in Glass Onion, it's just bad writing, full stop.

And who does he call to report this emergency? The satyr police? His son the doctor?

No.

The media. Literally just "hello, the media?? I need your best journalist here stat!"

I need you to understand, even if he were calling a tabloid magazine like The Weekly Nark, you don't just... call a journalist to report a murder. These are not the actions of someone who's trying to absolve himself of guilt, these are the actions of a complete dumbass trying to get news coverage of his trophy kill who would be better off just playing dumb instead of trying to play smart. Even Walter White wasn't this fucking stupid despite all the times he fell on his own sword, Apollo is literally just instigating suspicion towards himself for no reason at all. He's self-reporting so hard and worst of all, you can't even take any of this seriously because of how corny it is. There's no dramatic tension, no stakes, it's just a bunch of characters performing in a really bad stage play and reducing every conflict to "well I guess Zeus is just dead now because no one's bothering to make an effort to stop Apollo or ask questions lmao"

It's truly the epitome of "this plot wouldn't exist if characters would just talk to each other."

But finally, FINALLY we mention the thing this episode is named after, the transition point to Persephone.

Just like with the midseason finale episode, there's a lot to cover here, so I'm gonna get more into it in a part two post.

That said, you can see already this is the messiest, most contrived bullshit to ever wind up in LO. It's trying so hard to be smart and it just comes across as a bunch of toddlers in the world's worst stage play rendition of Clue. None of what was done here was in any way dramatic or tense, it's just a bunch of characters infodumping shit we already know, trying to set up new plot threads that don't make any sense, and allowing one another to get away with what they're doing because they don't bother to even try.

It's completely manufactured, contrived nonsense. It's not "smart", it's not "so dumb it's brilliant", it's just dumb.

youtube

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #this is the comic that bought two eisners #uh i mean *won* two eisners #... no wait i had it right the first time lmao

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askew-d · 8 months ago

Note

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "askew-d "?

hello, there! sorry for the long wait, i forgot to check my notifs :( i will do better next time. thank you for this question! i feel like i’ve waited ages for someone to ask me exactly that, lol. i could talk about well-written fanfics forever!! can i give you a hug? because this is wonderful, really.

let’s go for it! my range of fanfiction that i enjoy vary, but one thing remains: i will adore your fic, no matter the fandom, if it’s written with passion and if it contains good, poetic introspection. i love poetry. for me, if there’s melancholic tropes of any kind i’m into it. immortal character and reincarnation? give me now. supernatural elements or slice of life with doomed narrative? i’ll ignore sleep to read it. angst with happy ending? my endgame, for sure.

however, i also adore silly, comedic, cute pieces of domestic life or otherwise. i had a hard time choosing from my bookmarks for this, and i also reviewed some of my favorites, it was fun. before we continue, here are some of the tags that i don’t dive into for whatever reason: porn without plot (it personally just doesn’t interest me at all), non-con, gore, a/b/o dynamics, soulmates au. sorry if you were hoping for it! i’ll try classify them into an order of what i like most.

1. jellyfish, by mystery twin, for the haikyuu!! fandom — i read this when i was finishing high school and coincidentally the story talks about finishing high school! i have a personal attachment that makes me reread it every year. it’s some sort of tradition at this point. not to mention i love kagehina dearly.

2. teen project to change the world, by animeloverhomura, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — respectfully speaking, i would find this author and give them a big hug. their writing is spetacular! if you've never seen this one and you're into mdzs, know it's a story where the characters get to see every event from the novel and donghua, even the dead characters. they watch wei wuxian journey, can you believe it? so goddamn entertaining. promptly waiting for the next update!

3. a hundred or so hellos, by iwillstillopenthewindow, for the haikyuu!! fandom — remember i said i love melancholic stories? well, this one broke me so hard, i had to mention how i hold it with tenderness (we love things that breaks us, dont we?). this fandom manages to write the cutest, most unhinged things sometimes. even it's an anime about sports. i always get amazed by it.

4. no certainty of doors between us, by betts, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — certainly the most silly little fanfic i've ever seen, it's hilariously sweet. i want everyone to read this masterpiece because, seriously, whoever did this deserves only the best. so, so, cute. it had to be in my top 10!

5. their kindred encounters, by fireflavoredwhiskey, for the untamed rpf fandom (bjyx) — you know those kinds of shows, books, any piece of media, that tears up apart? well, this one was it for me. it's a very famous one that deserves all praise, certainly well-written and enjoyable to the core, with doses of angst, romance and beauty overall.

6. as the clouds part and clear, we finally meet again, by 12262325, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — aaaaa, i was truly torn between putting this in the third or fourth place, but i ended up putting it here. come on, i love an age difference kind of story, especially for wangxian, and this one was perfectly done. sweet and funny. the development? the yearning?? outstanding!! i read this many times already, i'll never get tired.

7. pursuit, by emleewrites, for the haikyuu!! fandom — mystery, romance, lawsuits, poker games, adventure, slice of life, AMAZING depictions and so, so goddamn well-written? that's what you're looking for in any fanfiction. the author dedicated herself entirely for this story, and, like i said, i love stories that are written with passion, you can see it pouring through every paragraph. besides, highly entertaining. i'm not very into long fics, but once i started it off, i couldn't stop. that's how addicting it is.

8. linger by the door (i’ve always been yours), by piecrust, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — epistolary?? have i mentioned how i love it?? some of the phrases in this are gold, in my bookmarks you can check some of them (i ought to make a list of my favorite fic quotes, btw, i will sure do it). through each letter i could comprehend more of wei wuxian's feelings and his internal conflict. i love feeling this connected to a character.

9. all the world is ours to take, by khrys, for the fugou keiji fandom — i have more than one favorite fanfiction for this couple. you know these kinds of developing relationship where the transition from (maybe enemies too) friends to lovers happens so smoothly that it feels like they've been soulmates first and foremost at the end? i don't even know how to explain. i just love how, when they finally are together, it's like they've been together for years. and they just... made it official? i like it. i love my mr. kambe haru.

10. he won’t tell you that he loves you, by hellshandbasket, for the house m.d fandom — i found this to be the most fitting, perfect story for this specific couple. they deserved more stories like this, but we dont see it anymore. i would hightlight the feelings realization in this one, that is so fucking real? haha in any case, it's a fanfic that i enjoyed a great deal.

that's it, i guess! i wanted to add link click fanfics also, however i barely started reading fanfictions from its fandom, i'm drowning in it lately but it's just a start. perhaps very sooon!

oh, i’m gonna finish explaining about the name! in my native language, i’ve heard someone tell me before that ‘life’s a little askew, nothing’s ever perfect’, and that quote remained in every biography of any english website i ever went to. then in literature class someday i had to write about historical women and came across this one named anne askew (i wanted to write about the mostly barely-spoken women). it was the second time i saw this word. i didn’t think of it as a proper name before, but then i had to create a nickname for my ao3 profile and thought, humn, why not just ‘askew’? the quote has been engraved in my heart anyway, so i went for it. we’re all flawed and askew. so, yeah, it just… fit? the ‘d’ here on tumblr it’s only because my surname has a ‘de morais’ in it. i also liked that it resembled ‘alaska’, the john green character i was kinda of obsessed with back in my teenager grunge phase. i don’t like these kinds of books anymore, but i guess some details stay with you. do you think it’s weird? never thought of changing.

thanks for this outstanding ask, it certainly entertained me. and hope you have a nice sleep today, big hugs coming your way! 🤍

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thecourtscorkboard · 2 months ago

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Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Review - A Flawed but Charming Masterpiece

As we finish up Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, we discuss this game's legacy: and how it stacks up in modern times.

I'm... not exactly sure where to start here.

It would be a bit spoiler-y to say how I think of PW:AA in relation to other games, but I guess there's nowhere else to put it. I think PW:AA is one of the best games in the series, and an incredibly strong starting point. It's my second favorite game in the overall series, and for quite a few very good reasons; it's one of the few games in the entire franchise that I don't think has a single bad case. In fact, it has two of my favorites back-to-back; 1-4 and 1-5.

Here's how we're gonna order this. I'm gonna go through an overall list of pros and cons, giving a few paragraphs explaining them. After that, I'm going to give some closing thoughts and an overall ranking of the cases and top 5 characters. Sounds good? Sounds good.

PROS

Pro One: Tone-Setting.

PW:AA knows how to set a tone. Each case has a very unique feel to it, from the frantic and almost manic speed and nerves of 1-1 to the depressing and bleak atmosphere of 1-4 to the downright oppressive and confounding nature of 1-5. Each case is very easy to distinguish from one another: they have different "vibes", I guess is the best way to put it.

Each case establishes these vibes in different ways. 1-1 puts you straight into the deep end; Mia's still holding your hand, but the case is relatively simple and the stakes aren't very high. 1-2's tone is unfamiliar but not depressingly so, still managing to be relatively lighthearted and fun. 1-3 is incredibly fun and filled to the brim with excitement; we get to see a movie studio! 1-4 and 1-5 take on very bleak tones, but it's different types of bleak; 1-4 is incredibly high-stakes and rather straightforward, setting its bleak atmosphere through the time of year and the overall aesthetic of the case surrounding it all (DL-6), while 1-5's tone is created over time as the corruption and rot at the center of SL-9 comes to light. For example, in 1-5, Gant starts off as a goofy and kind of lovable old codger. By the end, you want to punch him in the face.

This is all done through some of the strongest opening cutscenes in the mainline series. Each case has an incredibly unique and tone-setting opening, from 1-3's exciting showdown between the Steel Samurai and Evil Magistrate to 1-5 starting on an overview of the city during a thunderstorm and ending on a reminiscence theme; tones are made with opening cutscenes, and PW:AA does it nearly flawlessly.

Pro Two: Characterization.

PW:AA is one of those very rare AA games where there's not any characters I downright hate. Hell, the only character I dislike is Sal Manella for obvious reasons, but if you took that away I honestly wouldn't mind him that much. Even from the first case this game sets up its characters and keeps their core values intact; Phoenix believes in his clients no matter what, Edgeworth cares about bringing criminals to justice, Larry is awkward but well-meaning, Mia is a veteran who teaches Phoenix what she knows, Maya is experiencing new stuff and exploring, and so on. Even one-off characters stick around in your head!

One thing I really like about AA in general but PW:AA in particular is that, to some extent, every character we see has some sort of flaw. Phoenix acts first and thinks later. Maya does the same but with a far less mature outlook. Edgeworth gets tunnel-visioned and others, like Manfred, Gant, and even White, will take advantage of that. Even minor characters have flaws; the Bellboy is easy to embarass, Cody lies to protect his favorite hero, Angel has an incredibly personal vendetta, and so on. Even minor flaws exist; Vasquez smokes, Jake (implicitly) drinks, Gumshoe is forgetful, and so on. It all makes these characters feel like real people.

Every culprit has something about them that makes them stick out as their own unique character. Frank is a nervous wreck, Redd is rich and corrupt, Vasquez is aloof and deeply tragic, Yogi is a great actor, Manfred is hilariously aggressive, and Gant gets under your skin. Even the victims have levels of characterization! Hammond was corrupt, Goodman was diligent and liked by many, Hammer was vengeful, and so on. Even Sal is recognizable. No character in this entire game just fades into the background; they all stick.

While we're on the topic of characterization, I'd also like to point out the dialogue in this game. It can go from downright hilarious to deeply personal in just a few lines and the tone can change seamlessly. It's great.

Pro Three: Mystery

At its core, Ace Attorney is a mystery series: a mix of whodunnits and howcatchems. PW:AA has some of the strongest in the series in that regard. 1-3, 1-4, and 1-5 are all standouts: 1-3 is the purest howcatchem in the series while 1-5 is a brilliant example of a whodunnit turning into a howcatchem. Even 1-2 carries its own weight here. Its mystery is lackluster, sure, but it's still engaging!

Circling back to those opening cutscenes, 1-2's, 1-4's, and 1-5's all set up their mysteries within just a minute very well. 1-3's mystery is set up over the course of the first couple of minutes in the case, and they're all articulated well and feel, for lack of a better word, believable. These are things that could feasibly happen, but at the same time some of them are downright challenging (lookin' at you, 1-5!) in very good ways.

The clues provided to us, in most cases, are easy to piece together but not handholdingly so; this game trusts that the player can piece things together by themselves, including things that are seemingly unrelated or mentioned aaaaaaages ago like the parking stub in 1-5, the bent fencepost in 1-3, or the metal detector in 1-4. It's all a really neat and effective way of engaging the player in, generally, well-crafted mystery narratives.

Pro Four: Worldbuilding.

Yeah, bet you didn't expect that one.

PW:AA is a very grounded game. As such, it has pretty grounded worldbuilding; it all makes sense in its confines, which is the type I enjoy. Evidence Law makes sense for what we see, and at times the worldbuilding actively works its way into cases like 1-4's statute of limitations or 1-5's taking 30 minutes to go from the Prosecutor's Office to the Police Station. 1-3 makes the Steel Samurai feel alive, mostly thanks to its opening cutscene: even 1-2 expands on a wider outside world, with Redd White's role in the suicides and blackmailing of political and business figures.

Stuff that doesn't need to be explained, like prosecutor's badges or why trials can only take three days, are! There's also elements that exist behind the scenes, like guilty defendants having to face a higher court or the bureaucracy present in the Police Department. It's all meshed together into a believable world; which, speaking from experience, is not easy to do.

Pro Five: Aesthetic.

I know this is kind of lame to give to PW:AA given that all AA games have similar aesthetics, but I feel like PW:AA gets some leeway because it was the first game in the franchise and therefore set this game's aesthetic. I love it. Characters are portrayed realistically (more or less): nobody in this game feels cartoony at all, which I appreciate. In addition, this game's setpieces are very grounded: lakes, law enforcement buildings, offices, and of course the courtroom.

The courtroom itself is incredibly well introduced and designed; one of my favorite bits is how when Edgeworth points at von Karma he points to the side of the room von Karma is on instead of just forward. The defendant's lobby is probably my favorite setpiece; it's just... cozy.

Like, look at the courtroom! It's so grandiose yet so grounded at the same time. I could see myself in this room! It's a treat for the eyes; the clashing light browns of the desks and Judge's seat with the golden and white walls is awesome. PW:AA knows color theory and it shows. I particularly love the white pillars in the back.

Pro Six: Music.

PW:AA has the most memorable music in the series and for pretty good reason. The Pursuit theme is my second-favorite in the entire series, and it's instantly iconic. This is the Ace Attorney song to many people, including myself! That's not mentioning the Reminiscence themes, which all set and fit the tones of each case perfectly. DL-6 and SL-9's reminiscence themes are perfect for their cases, but I'd also like to point out Maya's own specific reminiscence theme; this plays after Manfred tases her and Phoenix in 1-4, and it fits the inner turmoil and the line where she says she wishes she'd never woken up perfectly. Speaking of DL-6 and SL-9's themes, they both do something very different that fit each case; DL-6's is somewhat hopeful, like there's still a mystery to be solved. SL-9 has come and gone. There's nothing left but despair.

This game plays with your emotions with its music in a very, very, very good way. There's the adrenaline-pumping octane energy of the Pursuit theme and the sadness of the reminiscence themes, but also the sense of relieved finality you get with the Victory music or the "let's get busy" feel to the Investigation theme: and we're not even mentioning character themes yet.

Every character theme has a sense of purpose. Jake Marshall's establishes his rough-and-tumble attitude: the song is wild, carefree, like if you told it to slow down it wouldn't listen. Gumshoe's is weathered and basic but still strong and good at heart; it fills your chest, y'know? I think overall, though, there are two standouts: Maya's, which is upbeat, cheery, and maybe a little scared to be on its own; and Gant's, which immediately makes itself known and takes over the room. Each theme has a purpose and a feeling; it's an incredible use of music.

CONS

Con One: Pacing.

PW:AA is not... the best paced game ever. Out of all the baseline cases, 1-2 is probably the best paced; 1-3 and 1-4's final days feel rushed, with 1-3 being the biggest offender. The DL-6 trial is criminally short for an already short game; 1-5 is nearly half of the game's length on its own! 1-3 is too long and 1-4 is too short, whereas 1-2 is perfectly passable; but I don't think I'd call it excellently paced by any means. 1-5, as much as it pains me to say it, is also a bit too long at times. There's only one excellently paced case (1-5), one case that's paced well (1-2), and three cases that have pacing that's a little all over the place.

One argument I've seen is that another case could easily fit between 1-1 and 1-2, and I'm honestly inclined to disagree. I just think that 1-3 could've been shorter and 1-4 could've been longer: like I said, the DL-6 trial is far too short for one of the most pivotal moments of the series! I get this was their first attempt, and it was a decent showing, but it's still lackluster.

This game just kind of feels a little bit all over the place. There's never really a great time to stop outside of days shifting over for a lot of these cases, which makes sense, but pausing in the middle of an investigation or trial to do something else feels awkward. It's not a satisfying game to put down, which is probably a good thing for some people; but it isn't for me.

Con Two: Original Pixel Art.

Oh, man. I know I just praised this game's aesthetics, and this still holds up, but good God some of the original pixel art sprites were ugly. Edgeworth's stands out the most: it looks like he's trying to see something from far away without his glasses on (which DD later shows is is probably what he's doing, but I digress).

It's not like Edgeworth is the only example, either. The contrast between 1-5's sprites and the rest of the game is painfully apparent on the original DS release, which makes sense—1-5 was released in 2006, 5 years after the first game and when AJ was being developed, so of course it matched that aesthetic—and the witness stand backdrop just... isn't great.

Con Three: Navigation.

Bear with me for not having a photo for this one. PW:AA's navigation system is very outdated; and it shows. I complimented it for setting up the general aesthetic, so I guess I can point out that it brought in my least favorite feature that would last until DD. The navigation system is occasionally pretty cool, but more often than not it's just a hassle. I get why it exists, and like I said it's occasionally cool, but on the whole... it gets in the way.

Having to go through two separate locations to get to another is annoying, and it's easy to lose track of the map in your head. It's not "you need to write it down on paper" bad like the first Zelda, but it's definitely not great.

We've still got one promised place to go; my top 5 favorite characters. We'll do this ascending, so let's start with #5!

Number Five: Damon Gant

I think Damon Gant is the best example AA has for "affably evil". He's a heartless piece of shit, sure, but he's also the kind of guy I'd go out and get a beer or watch a movie with. This alone speaks to the power of his character; he's a masterful manipulator, an open abuser, and a two-time murderer, but still a rather fun and swell guy to be around.

Over the course of 1-5, as Gant's mask slowly slips, so does the overall tone of the case; a double murder mystery becomes an incredibly thrilling conspiracy, all with this man behind it. He influences every little part of this case: there is nothing that his grimy hands do not touch.

And I love it. His shadow looms over the case, and once you go from "whodunnit?" to "howcatchem?" and finally piece together how you're going to take him down? Oh, man. Peak cinema.

And God, is it satisfying to take him down! Watching him slowly crumble into nothing is one of the most satisfying moments in the entire series, and us doing it nearly singlehandedly (with a little help here and there from Edgeworth and Ema, of course) is an absolute perfect way to cap off Phoenix's arc.

Let's talk about his design, too. Orange is his most prominent color; his suit is orange, his skin is orange, even the gold police badge on his tie looks orange, and it's on a red tie; red and yellow make orange. Orange is a color of happiness, enthusiasm, and youth, but it's also a color of spontaneity, superficiality, and in Confucianism is associated with transformation. It's a color that perfectly fits Gant's charming and goofy mask slowly transforming into the man that spontaneously killed Bruce Goodman and keeps up his charades through superficial charm and goodness.

Number Four: Maya Fey

I'll be the first to admit that she is way lower on this list than I expected: but this is not a diss at all. Maya is at her second-best in her debut appearance, and for good reason; this is just as much her game as it is Phoenix and Edgeworth's, making up the last part of this game's core three cast.

Maya is incredibly fun and plain enjoyable, but she also brings a very tragic and emotionally heavy element to this game. Throughout the game she's constantly battling feelings of inadequacy; this all comes to a head in 1-4, but it's hinted as early as 1-2. Maya's arc through this game is trying to find a place to fit in: Phoenix is a defense attorney, Miles is a prosecutor, even Larry is a bachelor... but Maya is just a "spirit medium in training". She's not even good at the one job she has yet.

The climax of her arc and the end of 1-4 tie into each other and it's an incredibly emotional moment; her relationship with Phoenix evolves from an employer-employee one to siblingesque very naturally. By the end of the game, you'd be hard-pressed to say they weren't related if you didn't know their surnames!

Let's go back to color theory. Maya's main colors are purple, black, and white: her robe is purple, her underrobe is a very light lilac, her hair is black, her pearls are white, and so on. It's a color of royalty and creativity: much like how Maya is the heir to the Kurain Channeling Technique through her mom, the heir to Mia's legacy, and the driving force behind some of Phoenix's big breakthroughs like drilling witnesses to get information in 1-2 and that von Karma killed Gregory Edgeworth in 1-4. Black is a strange color and hard to pin down to have a single meaning; it's a color of defiance, sadness, death and life, and so on. In Japan, it's a color of mystery and the unknown; much like how her psychic powers are never fully explained and are incredibly alien and out of place (but in a good way!) throughout the game.

White, meanwhile, is associated in China and Japan with grief: and hooh boy, does Maya carry a lot of it. Grief over her sister and mother, grief over not living up to anyone's (perceived) standards, the grief she gives Phoenix, and so on. White is a color of death: perfect for a spirit medium. Also: red and blue make purple and her pearls are white. Redd, White, Blue[Corp]...

Number Three: Phoenix Wright

Phoenix is at the top of his game: which makes sense, given that he literally is! This is some of his best characterization in the series and an incredibly strong first showing. Mia calls him a genius and it really shows; he pieces together some pretty complex theories by himself, like the entirety of 1-5 and the first half of 1-4. I like to equate him to a chainsaw; he needs time to rev up, but once he does he'll cut down anything in his path.

And boy does that show up here! His thought processes can easily match the player's, and his own arc does as well; over the course of the game he slowly comes into his own as an attorney and problem solver just like the player. By the end of the game he's experienced but not seasoned: again, just like the player.

He has incredibly solid relationships with the entire main cast, and his chemistry with every character is awesome; I particularly like his chemistry with Maya and Edgeworth of course, but he also has some incredibly strong dynamics with Ema, Gumshoe, Lana... even His Honor and Redd White of all people! He's a great bouncing off point for every other character as well as the player.

Talking about color theory a bit more, his main color is obviously blue. It's an old color, and people described it before they had a name for it. It's a color of business—which makes sense, given his role as CEO and owner of the Wright and Co. Law Offices—but it's also a color of authority and nobility: when people think of police officers, the color blue comes to mind, doesn't it? It's a color of the law! Blue is also associated with Heaven and immortality in some Asian cultures, giving Phoenix an almost divine presence; a gift to his clients, saving them from darkness.

Number Two: Miles Edgeworth

Edgeworth has my favorite arc in this game. I think this game really did a good job in making him fascinating: he's an incredibly tough nut to crack, but under his exterior he's very soft and sensitive. He's initially presented as this incredibly intimidating and corrupt conviction machine, but over the course of the game it becomes clear that he doesn't believe in convictions; he believes in justice.

This all stems from DL-6, the core lynchpin of the game. I'd actually argue that even more than Phoenix and Maya this is Edgeworth's game: I think that JFA and T&T fill Phoenix and Maya respectively. But PW:AA, despite being named after Phoenix, revolves around Edgeworth's trauma and beliefs. When those are shaken in 1-4 and 1-5, he becomes frazzled, dazed, incredibly irritable. His arc breaks down barriers he's kept up for years and doesn't know how to handle coming down. This is his story.

I think that his transition through 1-5 is one of the best parts of this game. To see him slowly realize he has absolutely nothing left to lose and just go full steam ahead on the person who has ruined his career, Damon Gant, is satisfying: it gives Edgeworth even more agency and coolness than he already had, which was already a lot!

His main color is red, obviously. Red is a color of passion and desire, but it's also one of blood and intimidation; it's complex and has two faces, just like Edgeworth. It's also a color of religious reverence, showing up frequently in Catholic art: Edgeworth himself almost looks like a pastor with his black undershirt and white collar. In that respect, there's the opportunity to view his arc through the lens of Christian themes of redemption: a dark and tortured soul brought to the light, finding a sort of peace through both the light and his struggle towards it. It's also a color of anger, which Edgeworth has no shortage of; anger at the world, anger at himself, anger at us.

Number One: Ema Skye

I'm admittedly very biased by her later appearances, but Ema is also an incredibly fascinating and amazing character in her first appearance. She is the heart and soul of 1-5, both as your assistant and the reason for the case's existence: it was Gant's fabrication of her murder of Neil, after all, that led Lana to forge evidence.

She has an incredibly active role throughout all of 1-5, as your assistant, suspect, and pseudo-charge: it's hard not to feel like you have to take care of her. Her personality is incredibly bubbly and endearing, creating adorable dynamics with Phoenix and Lana as well as an incredibly hilarious mini-crush on Edgeworth that she's so unsubtle about. Takumi really shows his maturity as a writer with 1-5 as a whole, but Ema is a great example of how he's become a better character writer over time.

As your assistant, she's spunky and fun; she's not even somewhat reserved like Maya is from time to time, but at the same time her spontaneity is far more mental than physical. A lot of people call her a Maya clone, but I disagree: she's a Maya mirror, just like how 1-5 is a mirror of 1-2. Whereas Maya is spiritual, Ema is scientific and materialist; Ema's main color is pink, in a similar spectrum to Maya's purple; her hair is brown, like Mia's, instead of black, and so on. The dynamic that she leads with Lana is incredibly captivating.

Let's finish this off with a discussion of her main color; pink. Yes, I know that most of her design is white, but her design is splattered with splotches of pink that stand out and are meant to be eye-catching, from her glasses to her necktie and undershirt to her watch and even her bag. Pink is her color and it's a color of soothing, love, and in Japan is a rather masculine color. She tries to soothe Lana's worries through her unconditional love, and it's that love that shines through the darkest parts of 1-5; be it Ema's love for Lana or vice-versa. In full honesty, I just decided to bring up pink being a masculine color in Japan because I wanted to share a headcanon I have that Ema is trans. Sue me. There's even an element of her relationship with Lana in the color alone; until the 1850s pink was seen as a masculine, immature and boyish shade of red; a color of young boys in contrast to the crimson worn by men and seen as a symbol of authority. Edgeworth's jacket? Lana's muffler? It's not hard to see the connection.

Overall Thoughts

PW:AA is a treat. It's my second favorite game in the franchise, and for good reason! It's a very very solid mix of mystery and character-driven storytelling, with a whole host of standout moments and an incredibly fun cast. The core cast is generally at their best here; not to degrade his latest appearances, but I think this game by far has Edgeworth's best characterization. I also think Gumshoe and His Honor are at his best here, and even with characters who have their weakest showings in this game still have standout moments that make them incredibly loveable.

My favorite thing from PW:AA isn't its characters, cases, or even its music, though. It's how it slowly builds up Phoenix alongside the player! We mimic his journey; we start off being handheld by Mia, and then we're thrust into a situation without her that we get through with her help. We also rely heavily on Maya but still get to shine on our own terms. In 1-3, we're finally on equal footing with Maya, solving the mystery with her. In 1-4, we take it on in a leading role; Maya takes an understandable backfoot for Phoenix's strong showing, but we still need her to finish the case and Mia still needs to intervene near the end. In 1-5, the core moments—the final trial especially—are nearly done entirely by Phoenix alone. It's an incredibly awesome buildup of development for both the player and Phoenix.

As a fic writer, I'd also like to point out some standout ships. While I don't ship it, Phoenix/Edgeworth ultimately finds its roots in this game; and it roots itself in very well! There's a reason it's the most popular. They have great chemistry. Some ships I do ship that also find their roots in this game are Lana/Mia, Ema/Maya, and some of my favorite non-romantic ships (be they platonic, adversarial, or something in-between): Phoenix and Ema, Gant and Ema, Edgeworth and Gumshoe, Phoenix and Maya, and Phoenix and Mia all shine through in my mind and find their roots in this game. It's a lynchpin for the fic-writing, shipping side of me!

PW:AA isn't a perfect game, but I think that's where a lot of its charm comes from. It's rough around the edges when you really look, but those rough edges make what shines really shine: the highs of 1-4 and 1-5, the dynamic between Maya and Mia in 1-2, the incredible way it sets up themes and vibes, and so on. It does a lot in its limitations and sets up an awesome format for the later games to follow.

Overall? It's fantastic. It's very understandably cemented itself as one of the greatest mystery games of all time! It's aged incredibly gracefully and is a perfect introduction to one of my favorite series of all time.

PW:AA holds a very special place in my heart as the second Ace Attorney game I've ever played and the first one I finished. It was a very fundamental part of my childhood; I started playing Ace Attorney in elementary school. It's incredibly nostalgic for me and this game is a massive reason why.

To wrap it all up, we'll give this one an overall rating and place its cases on our case tier list. See you for 2-1 and Justice for All!

Overall Rating: 8.5/10

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #review #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright: ace attorney #game review

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hedgehog-moss · 2 years ago

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Top 3 Annoying Translation Mistakes I’ve Read This Year (from least to most annoying):

Category I - lazy calques that let you feel the original text under the translation, not in a good way

(English -> French) In the French translation of Hugh Howey’s Sand (Outresable), the word “robe” at one point was mistranslated as... robe. Come on! In French that’s a dress, the English “robe” is what we call a robe de chambre. And it matters! The protagonist is knocking at his mother’s door and she opens it wearing a robe rather than clothes, which (in context) suggests that she was having sex; when you translate it as opening the door in a dress, the reader pictures her looking put together and wonders why her teenage son is feeling angrily embarrassed. Sure there will be more context clues in the rest of the paragraph, but your translation is not supposed to make it harder for the reader to form an accurate mental picture.

Category II - clunky sentences that make the text unpleasant or confusing to read

(I almost used the French translation of Julian Fellowes’ Past Imperfect as an example, but I suspect the original of being clunkily written as well. Still I gave a couple of examples of clumsy sentences at the end of my review that really should have been noticed and fixed.)

(Japanese -> French) Some sentences in the French translation of Masuji Ibuse’s 黒い雨 (Pluie noire) were so clumsy I had to re-read them several times, including the very first sentence. In English it is translated very neatly as: “For several years past, S. Shizuma had been aware of his niece Yasuko as a weight on his mind. What was worse, he had a presentiment that the weight was going to remain with him for still more years to come.”

In French we get this: “S. Shizuma avait depuis plusieurs années le cœur lourd au sujet de sa nièce Yasuko ; et pas seulement depuis plusieurs années, car il sentait bien que ce poids indicible doublerait, triplerait avec le temps.”

If the idea is that this past worry is likely to persist or worsen in the future, “et pas seulement depuis plusieurs années” is a confusing (and repetitive!) way of phrasing it. It suggests something that extends further into the past, not the future... In contrast, the Spanish translation uses the exact same “what was worse” phrasing as the English one: “Y, lo que era peor, tenía el presentimiento de que esta carga seguiría agobiándole indeciblemente aún durante muchos años.”

Another example (among many) where both the English and Spanish translations use the same simple phrasing while the French translator seems to get tangled up in her own syntax:

EN: “In the event, though, he proved to have shown more care than wisdom.”

SP: “Sea como sea, el caso es que demostró tener más prudencia que sabiduría.”

FR: “Or, ces doubles précautions avaient produit un effet en quelque sorte aussi stupide qu’elles avaient été avisées [...]” This character tried to do the wise / cautious thing and it resulted in something bad, I get it. But the English & Spanish translations are objectively neater and less syntactically muddled than “his double precautions produced an effect in some way as stupid as they had been wise.”

Category III (the worst) - mistranslations that actually influence the way the reader experiences the story or characters

(French -> English) The English translator of Valérie Perrin’s Trois (Three) seemed either confused by or not able to recognise a lot of French slang, which she translated literally. At one point the word “pisseuses”, a derogatory term for girls (yeah it comes from piss) is translated very literally as girls “who wet themselves.” It’s like if the English word “bitches” was translated as “female dogs” in another language where the term is neutral, instead of using a word with equivalent sexist connotations. The word ‘pisseuses’ here is part of a misogynistic character’s internal narration. He’s an adult man thinking of teenage girls as bitches; instead the inexplicable translation “girls who wet themselves” just leaves you baffled.

The same issue pops up again later on, when the same character thinks of an old woman as “la vieille bigote”—bigot means very religious in French, but here it’s not to be taken literally, it’s used as a generic derogatory term for an old woman. The English translation is “the pious old woman”—too literal ! It sounds almost respectful? Or at the very least neutral, when actually the male narrator is thinking of the woman as “this old hag.” Also their exchange had nothing at all to do with religion so you’re left confused as to how he came to think that she was pious.

It sounds like nitpicking but these are pretty big mistakes in that they not only make things confusing but also impact characterisation. You’re not supposed to turn a character’s negative thoughts into neutral ones. The translator does it again to a female character later on, this time with the opposite effect—making her less sympathetic. She is describing her life (married to a rich but controlling man) as “des vacances à perpétuité.” In English, her life becomes “a never-ending vacation”, thus erasing the very strong connotation of prison carried by the French phrase 'in perpetuity’. You could have found some phrasing around the idea of a “life sentence” maybe—we’re supposed to empathise with this character who consciously experiences her life as a gilded cage, and softening the phrase in the translation reduces the reader’s ability to do that by making it sound like this rich woman is just bored with her life of leisure. Sometimes even small mistranslations can end up having a significant impact on how the reader reacts to a story and its characters.

None of the above are awful translations if you take the book as a whole, but all four of these books are by best-selling authors so if they get so many poorly-translated words or sentences what hope is there for the rest...!

#the last examples impact characterisation or general comprehension but there were countless others (for the perrin book) that didn't #really matter but were still translation mistakes #like when ''plus qu'un an avant son diplôme'' became ''more than a year to go before his diploma''#when it should have been ''only one year left to go''#apparently the english translator mixed up ''plus qu'un an'' and ''plus d'un an''?#the ''plus'' in these two phrases have opposite meanings!#as in ''j'en ai plus'' can mean ''i've got more'' or ''i haven't got any left.'' you can hear the difference orally but not in writing #it's kind of an important nuance for a translator of french to be aware of...?

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merakiui · 1 year ago

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….do you ever think about academic rivals with jade?

YES. OTL academic rivals with Jade, but he's always the first one to have checked out the specific books you need from the library. Every time you ask if they have [insert mushroom textbook here], the librarian just frowns at you and tells you, "Sorry. Another student's already borrowed it. Should have it in by next week." But you need this specific textbook now. How else are you going to be able to write your report on various fungi species if that book is the only one that goes into detail on a very ancient species that you can't read about anywhere else?

It doesn't take you long to find out the current owner. All you needed to ask was, "Do you know who's using [insert mushroom textbook here]?" and everyone points you in his direction. Jade Leech. The two of you have a bit of a history. You're both academically intelligent, always within the top brackets for exam scores. He's abysmal in flight class, which is really the only hold you have over him when it comes to your unspoken competition. You absolutely tease him for this, but he teases back just as playfully when he catches you fumbling. <3

You met at the entrance ceremony in your first year. While Floyd was busy causing a commotion and getting his ass handed to him by Riddle, you were boasting to some friends about how you were certain you'd be sorted into [insert your dorm of choice here]. Jade had overheard and slinked over to wish you luck on your placement. You'd grinned at him and said, "I don't need luck when I know I'm right." You hit him right in his eel heart with that line..... oh, he's so intrigued.

Much to your chagrin, you're placed in Octavinelle LOL. So not only do you compete on an academic playing field with Jade, you compete as dorm members as well. Jade isn't nearly as competitive as Floyd, but when the mood strikes he's oh-so-willing to play. And you are by far his favorite plaything. He'll entertain silly competitions, if only because it gives him the opportunity to talk with you more. So he's immensely pleased when you storm into the botanical gardens to demand he relinquish the textbook for one day so you can use it. Jade pretends to consider it before smiling coyly and asking, "Shall we share it instead?"

And now you're standing side by side, shoulders nearly brushing, while reviewing the material. Jade could help you with your report, just so you know. :) he's the only other student writing about this topic for Professor Crewel's class. Why not review one another's work? Peer review is a very important part of the process, after all! You'd never willingly work with your rival, especially not when you're determined to submit the better paper on mushrooms and get a better grade than Jade, but somehow you agree. And somehow you're meeting Jade at his room to discuss papers. You're only here for academics and it's a one-time thing! Jade smiles like he doesn't believe you for a second, but he doesn't dignify your self-gaslighting with a response. He's just happy to be able to hang out with you.

Of course Floyd is also there to provide not-so-helpful commentary like: "Want me to get lost so you two can get to fuckin'?" or "Lame. When Jade said you were comin' over, I didn't think you'd be usin' studyin' for foreplay." T_T thank you for the input, Floyd.

And of course Jade flirts with you in that weird, coquettish Jade way. orz but you're certain this is just a sly tactic your rival's employing to distract you so that he can improve his paper!!! >:O from then on, any attempts at flirting are scrutinized heavily. You cannot imagine a world where Jade Leech loves you, but then that same Jade Leech is the first one at your table when you visit the lounge, always providing you with the best service. Azul and Floyd know it's favoritism, but to anyone else you're just seen as the poor soul Jade's taken a shine to. That same Jade Leech is meeting you after class when it’s dismissed to wish you luck on the upcoming exams and to offer a study session. That same Jade Leech is cultivating various fungi and flowers that remind him of you.

Most of all, that same Jade Leech, your academic rival since first year, is leaving little study baskets at your dorm door every time a big exam rolls around because he knows you neglect your health. But he's still just your rival! That's all he is! You're certain of this! (denial)

#twisted chit chat

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abuse-ken · 3 months ago

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Ito is not an evil murderer for no reason: a meta

I'm going to be breaking down the lyrics and PVs of three songs: Yellow Papa (x), Dear Suns (x), and Flower War. This is a chronological look at Ito's story. Feel free to look them over if you need a review :3 the song is linked in the first word, and the lyrics in the second. I left a second translation for Yellow Papa and Dear Suns because I like the second one better for readability. Flower War has lyrics in the captions of the PV

Before I start: As I understand things, this series of songs by Abuse is centered around a cult that primarily idolizes indulgence to any degree. Especially through Ito and Zoy, we see sex and cannibalism heavily intertwined. For this reason, I interpret cannibalism to be both literal and a metaphor for rape

Ito himself is the oldest of four siblings. He is fully man himself, but serves as a parallel to Ote in that his mind is that of a beast while his body isn't. His mom is a beastman, and his absent father is a man

Yellow Papa

*Please note that Ito is described as "only just learning how to read" during this song, making him around five

The general point of this song (which I assume most people don't know as this is a song that was initially supposed to be Dear Suns, but Abuse cut and put on Abuse Bundle instead) is to illustrate Ito's childhood. Both this and Dear Suns seem to serve similar purposes, both coming out after Flower War to further humanize Ito. This song follows a parentified Ito and his siblings as Ito begs for love from their parents. So fun and chill ty Abuse

We see a lot of talk of meat and being eaten, as is standard with Ito ofc:

Most notably, the line "'Love us, love us!', My mother's fangs gobbled me up, and I became raw meat". Obviously Ito was not literally eaten here, which leads us to the conclusion that Ito's mom is sexually abusive

This leads straight into "That sort of sensation was of falling from the top", tying back to the opening line of "I ate the raw meat that had fallen from the top", meaning one of two things. Either we are meant to take the first verse's lines as autocannibalism, a metaphor for how he is having to take care of his siblings with their father absent; or we are getting our first glimpse at why Ito might be a cannibal: need. If this isn't meant to be taken as an analogy and Ito is eating "raw meat" (presumably people), this paints a picture of him and his family being in a dog-eat-dog kind of world, having to cannibalize other vulnerable people around them in order to eat

We also see his mother ask if he is going to eat her, which he says he is. This is touched on more in Dear Suns, obviously. He cites his reason for eating her as because his father doesn't love her. With the final chorus showing Ito more desperate for his father's love than food, which he and his family are very clearly lacking, it gives us the general themes of Ito as a character:

Love, sex (and sexual abuse), and eating are all one and the same to him

Dear Suns

*Ito is older here, he seems to be at least a teenager based on the illustrations, but there is no lyrical acknowledgement of his age

As I'm sure most people know, this is more insight into Ito as a character rather than any particular event in his life, outside of the detailing of him eating mother and siblings

To begin with though, we get some elaboration on Ito's life before this song and how he came to be at the church. At about 1:43, the PV reads, "one thousand necks have been severed, so many bodies remain, sever the necks of one thousand [millionares?], blood stains remain even in the shower stalls, I'm in the middle of the street, I spend a year in the hospital, I don't know my name, I don't know where I live, 'you are a child, and this is your new family'." This implies that somewhere in between Yellow Papa and this song, while Ito was still young, he was eventually taken in off the street and to a hospital where he lived for a year, the church taking him in as him "new family" afterwards. This is over the line in the song that reads "you must protect your family, carve it into your DNA," which points to the church directing him into the role he takes on in Flower War to at least some extent

At 1:04, we also see a shot of text that reads, "for the first time in my life, I have a purpose" right as soon as the chorus starts detailing Ito killing and eating people, yet another implication that this is something he took on as more of a job than a crime of passion

There's also a shot of him wearing a collar with a chained lead at 1:26, which is obvious enough a sign of being controlled, especially when all the characters are dog-based. There is an inherent dehumanization to all of the characters in this plotline of Abuse's, but it applies to Ito too, not just the beastmen characters. Despite being fully aware of his actions, he is collared, compared to an animal, and dehumanized by the narrative itself

This song especially is full of evidence that Ito was brought up in the church for the sole purpose of protecting the people in their cult. With several lines about "having to protect his family" and especially "protect your family and their connection to you, it's carved into the spiral/(alternate translation above)", it really makes it seem like he's more of a child soldier for them than just the common interpretation of him being a yandere type. There's also the mention of "xochimiquiztli"* which ties in more with Flower War (obviously more explaination later), meaning not only in Flower War but this song too, he is canonically compared to an honored soldier going on what is basically a suicide mission for the sake of pride and protection of their religion

And of course, the song closes with Ito saying "this is wrong". He's aware that he is commiting horrible acts on some level, yet he keeps doing it because he loves his family

*Refers to a death on the battlefield in a flower war. From the Aztec Empire, roughly translates to "flowery death"

Flower War

*Still no age for Ito, and he is pictured as a fox, so it is hard to gauge

To begin with, I'll give a brief summary of what flower wars are. In the 1450s, the Aztecs were going through a famine, and determined that the gods were angry and needed human sacrifices. In order to obtain these, soldiers were sent out into small, pre-arranged battles to take prisoners. Any deaths (or xochimiquiztli as before mentioned) were considered honorable, and the dead would join the god of sun, fire, and war.

This is tied to Ito's character as a whole. He grew up in the church because of growing up on the streets without food, he is heavily tied to sun imagery in Dear Suns and Flower War (while Zoy is notably tied to fire), and Flower War tells the story of his noble flowery death. In my opinion, this is too much connection to brush off as just reading into things. Ito is almost canonically called a child soldier through this analogy alone

This song really only follows Ito's last kill and his own death, which is a mission he goes on in order to kill people who "made fun of father (Zoy)" and "tried to kill Ote". The whole way he goes on about loving his family and his victims (again, love=sex=hunger to Ito), degrading himself, and praising his family members. He also mentions several times (2:06, 3:26, 4:01) that he is not supposed to kill children, which seems to be his undoing. While reminding himself of this rule, which he seems to only follow because someone else set it for him, he is shot and killed

In the final shot of the song, we also see a carnation that is red and yellow, the red meaning love (or specifically love for your mother, bc he has mommy issues ig) and the yellow representing disappointment and contempt. Like Dear Suns, this final moment displays some level of regret for his actions, and a final callback to his mother, who has now been mentioned in all three of his songs

In conclusion: my blorbo did nothing wrong /j please stop pointing out that he is a cannibal every time I mention liking him

#ito #yellow papa #dear suns #flower war #this is probably not everything because I think about him constantly #but these are the main points I think

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itwoodbeprefect · 10 months ago

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Fic Writing Review 2023 🌈

i wanted to take a moment to reflect on the past year and bring it to a nice close, so i took to tumblr search and google to see if there was some sort of tag game going around. i frankensteined this list of questions from a few different versions of what was probably originally the same thing, but the nature of The Website of course makes it impossible to locate an original, so this is me just sort of, well, joining the fun by starting a parallel thread.

Words and Fics (on ao3) 📚

words posted: 73,947, but this is a little deceptive because all the words for A flip-flop state of mind currently get counted for 2023, so it's probably something closer to 45-50k

fics posted: 21, which will eventually go down to 19 when i update the two multi-chapter works and they get sorted into the new year

first fic: Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream Throuple [Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948)]

last fic: Bases loaded, do your dance [h50]

Ships and Fandoms ⚓

ao3 tells me the following:

Starsky & Hutch (8)

Hawaii Five-0 (2010) (7)

Ted Lasso (TV) (2)

Stargate Atlantis (1)

Hard Core Logo (1996) (1)

Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948) (1)

Top Gun (Movies) (1)

and for each of those it's probably the ship you most expect if you know the thing (and the way fandom works), except maybe ted lasso (both fics are keeley/roy/jamie) and sga (a gen team fic, no ships).

Top 5 Fics by Kudos 🏆

no big surprises here. ted lasso was easily the biggest fandom i've written for this year (not to mention that these two fics had the good fortune of being posted very soon after the finale), followed by h50 long before s&h comes on the scene:

How To Build A Triangle (or accidentally fall headlong into one, or whatever the fuck) [ted lasso]

Honey honey, how you thrill me (Honey honey, nearly kill me) [ted lasso]

A flip-flop state of mind [h50]

Oh, kiss me like the final meal (Yeah, kiss me like we die tonight) [h50]

Something old, something new [h50]

Top 5 Favorite Fics 💖

these are in no particular order!

3 AM, the time when most people die - this is a hard core logo (1996 canadian movie) fic which just kind of Happened, and it hung around on ao3 for a solid few days in a 0 kudos 10 hits sort of state, which had me giggling every time i thought about it. 2023 goal of writing for me, myself & i achieved (0 kudos on a fic)! ✅ (that said, it does also bring me great joy to see that the number is upwards of zero now. lovely to see an obscure thing find its audience. <3)

Your hands in my back pockets - a starsky/hutch fic, and in some ways the opposite to the previous one. i had a "this is alright" sort of feeling about it when i hit post, and the (lovely! very flattering!) way people responded to it surprised me somewhat. reading it back now, i don't know what bothered me about it at first - it's nice, it flows, it's all good! plus, i really like the title. it's a good s/h title.

POV: It’s a lovely day, you’re sipping a refreshing cold drink on your 70s apartment balcony, and the upstairs neighbor who always waters the sago palm outside your front door when you forget about it has that one friend over and his windows wide open. - this is a starsky/hutch all dialogue fic, and it was just plain fun! very easy to write, thankfully not hard to read, and the title is completely ridiculous in a way that still gives me a kick.

How To Build A Triangle (or accidentally fall headlong into one, or whatever the fuck) - can't not mention this one, i think. it's the roy/jamie/keeley ted lasso fic i wrote in record time (for me), and i had a blast doing that and i think that's palpable in the end result. i have warm memories of this!

Oh, kiss me like the final meal (Yeah, kiss me like we die tonight) - h50! steve/danny! they'd gotten swamped by all the starsky/hutch in 2022, but they made a minor comeback this past year. and again, this fic was just plain fun - a scene that really needed the mcdanno rewrite, and i'm glad it happened, and that it decided to flow so smoothly it grew twice as long as intended. the gag with the gun is still good, the banter works, and i like "it tastes like a laugh".

Fandom Fic Events 🤝

my knee-jerk first thought was none, which would have been a blatant lie for this year! i wrote a fic for the SHareCon (starsky/hutch con) zine, which is currently still zine-only but will appear on ao3 at some point in the future, and i also wrote something for this year's Starsky & Hutch Advent Calendar, which can be found here (which will also lead you to all the other lovely advent calendar gifts of 2023 and previous years!). neither of these things would have happened if starsky & hutch fandom hadn't been such a warm, welcoming, unbelievably well-organized space. <3

Projects for 2024 👀

oh god. oh god i have so many things on the grill.

the end of 2023 was a stretch of time where i did write some, and at times even a very decent amount, but nothing seemed to be getting finished - which was annoying for a bit, and then sort of petered out into oh well. it'll happen, eventually, when it wants to. which means that currently i have a whole bunch of nearly finished things for a whole bunch of fandoms:

bad buddy - should this be top of the list? who knows. but oh, i need to write something for this - i have to, i need to, you know. it's just that it's turning out to be more of a challenge than most new things i start writing for, because i do feel i have a reasonable grip on the characters, but the fact that it's a thai series which i'm only consuming through fan-generated subtitles is clashing with some of the fundamentals of how i usually write fic, as it turns out. usually i watch a thing and then mimic character voices to write a section of (probably mostly, maybe only) dialogue, which then gets filled out with descriptions and an actual setting later on. the problem with bad buddy is that i love, love subtitles, and i love, love the people who write them, but they do (understandably! naturally!) lead to some very clunky english at times, and i just can't write things like "are you chickened out, fierce eyes". i cannot. which means i need to half-invent the right english character voice (and how that blends with the little i know of thai speaking patterns and customs), which takes away the thing i usually lean on way more heavily than i previously realized i did, so. it's a journey! it's an experiment! i'm learning things! i'm making choices! and i'm pumped about it but it's also REALLY slowing down the bad buddy fic production.

starsky & hutch - many things are happening! many many! they're just happening slowly. there's one particular fic about starsky and hutch comfortably out at a party and hutch fielding questions about names which has been 98% done for a month or two, but i need one (1) more connective paragraph to wrap things up, and apparently i'm in no hurry. and i love that for me, at the same time as i'm tempted to flick my brain and go Do It. Just Do It. oh god, and then there's a much older comedy fic stuck in close to the same situation only there it's 95% and the missing part is the end, which is at least a little more serious, and there are. i think literally a dozen probably. things that are cooking, bubbling, making interesting little noises. it's yet to be seen which of those turn out tasty.

h50 - there are some shorter wips here that have great potential to go somewhere, but mostly i want to finally (finally!) wrap up a flip-flop state of mind, which only needs finishing touches (albeit a bunch of them) on the final chapter, and then maybe 200 more words for the short epilogue to round things out. i had somewhat hoped to get that done before the new year, but it didn't work out that way, and i'm at peace with it - the longer this fic takes, the more comical my initial estimate of "i can probably get this done within the month" becomes. and after that's done, i can refocus my energy on Sweet like a chic-a-cherry cola, another ill-fated plan which i Will see through (while also enjoying myself), dammit, but i think for that one i'll need to pre-write the whole thing before i start posting again or i'll just keep going in circles.

nashville - it's been a while since my rewatch, so i'm not sure it will ever really come together, but i have a fun little 5+1 will/gunnar thing which lives half in a google docs file and half in my heart. could be nice!

sga - there's One Fic that's near done and has a few turns of phrase in it that keep making me go "oh, this might be worth finishing, actually" every time i return to it, but i think i'll need to let that happen a few more times before we actually get there. there's also a light and comedy-ish aro/ace john fic (heavily featuring john&rodney and john&team) on a low boil. i think that one might need to wait for me to rewatch the show at some point so i'm correctly immersed in the Vibes of it all, but it's very dear to me, so it still gets a permanent In Progress label.

due south - there's one particular thing that i might get back to? maybe. it could happen. @redgoldblue's dedicated live reporting on their due south watch, as well as their ds fic, did stir something in my brain.

other - there's literally two paragraphs of hard core logo fic kicking around in my notes which might turn into something some day. (when i started writing 3AM those new words were intended to blend with the two existing paragraphs, but they never did.) there's some ted lasso that can still be considered wip, but my ted lasso fic moment burned bright and short, it seems, though it's nice to know the framework is there if i ever do a rewatch. oh man, and there's a weird homoerotic over the top (because that's what this canon is) tango & cash wip which i hope will make it across the finish line some day, but i wouldn't be surprised if in the end that's, like. coming to an ao3 page near you soon! in 2026.

Tagging ✨

tag any number of people you want as far as i'm concerned (which can be zero! that's a valid number), but i haven't spotted this going around in my fandom circles yet, so i'll shoot for some good coverage: @redgoldblue @luredin @actingcamplibrarian @stephmcx @pterawaters @the-arya-silvertongue @logicgunn @incognito-insomniac @dedkake @spaceradars @spurious @sparrowsarus @flownwrong @theroseandthebeast @jimmyandthegiraffes @soleadita @ivycross @murphyhatesme @bgharison @thekristen999 @cowandcalf @msbeeinmybonnet @ruztyryan and you, reading this. i fully tagged myself to do this, so please don't feel shy about doing the same! i really do want to read your answers, if you feel like giving them.

obviously there's no pressure, and also feel free to modify this any way you want! give different stats, list top 5 by hits instead of kudos, name just one favorite fic, add in fics you only posted to tumblr rather than ao3, skip a category or invent a new one or throw the whole thing out and only reflect on a single piece of writing in more detail - it's all fair game, as long as it suits you.

#biggest regret is probably that neither flip-flop OR any of the bad buddy fic got finished before dec 31st #but that's okay. there'll be another dec 31st. we've got time!#*#tag stuff

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