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aelaer · 5 years ago

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The Blood in My Veins (a serial)

Okay, so I will sometimes let prompts that interest me just sit for a bit and see if they remain in my head or not and yeah, Prompt #608 from @ironstrangeprompts (which I can't tag for some reason) wouldn't go away and I blame absolutely everyone who told me to do it for distracting me from the long multi-chapters I'm desperately trying to write this year. But in return you get Part One of a tumblr serial with absolutely no idea as to where it's going and no update schedule in mind. :P But it's supposed to get to the reveal in the prompt eventually. Promise. Speculation highly encouraged as that helps plot bunnies very much.

Prompt: Kidnapped to play doctor for a still unseen other prisoner; Stephen realizes there is only one person on the planet who would have palladium in their blood.

This is unbetaed; apologies for any errors.

Part 1 - How We Began

Stephen's thoughts were sluggish and his memory spotty as he began to wake up. Worse, he had a headache that was boring into his temples and made the idea of opening his eyes, never mind moving, sound like an absolutely terrible one.

Sound began to filter through the fog. Eventually he was able to distinguish some words within it.

"...waking up…"

"...pulse is still slow…"

"...considering what he was given…"

He recognized none of the voices. Through sheer stubbornness alone, Stephen ignored his pounding head and forced his heavy eyelids open, only to immediately close them again against the sharp brightness of the fluorescent lighting above him. He could not help but groan.

"Right, the lights," someone—female—said, and he felt a cloth placed over his eyes. "I'm afraid I can't do anything about the lights, but you'll adjust to them soon enough. I have some water for you when you're ready, too."

Some part of Stephen's brain registered that she had an English accent. The rest of the functioning part of his mind focused on speaking. "Who…" And that was all he could manage at the moment.

"My name's Doctor Summer Weston," she answered.

A doctor? Was he injured? He wet his lips and tried for more than one word. "My... injuries?" What had he been doing to get injured? How bad was it? How much morphine was running through his system?

He felt Doctor Weston's fingers on his radial pulse. (Why was she doing that? Where was the EKG?) "No injuries; your current headache and sensitivity to light are an after effect of the drug in your system. I think you're at the tail end of your symptoms, though."

That… made no sense in a number of ways. Stephen forced his eyes open once more, and the cloth over his eyes made the endeavor manageable this time. "What happened?"

He heard her exhale softly. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Stephen had to pause to think about it, which was both incredibly unusual and rather annoying. He frowned to himself as he concentrated. Was he at the hospital? No, he was off. He was… "Grocery shopping. I was at the store. I think I paid." Yes, he remembered paying. He had decided to walk the three blocks to and from the store and was heading back to his apartment. Beyond that point, his memory became fuzzy.

Doctor Weston didn't say anything about his answer and instead just said, "You need water. Do you think you can handle the light? If not, we can keep the towel on and I can help you up."

He didn't respond, but moved his arm up and pulled the cloth away from his eyes, squinting at the ugly rectangle panels above him. The other doctor helped him up into a sitting position and gave him a bottle of water, but Stephen was too busy staring at his surroundings. While he was on a medical bed, in front of him was a large room that could only be described as a biochemical lab. It had state-of-the-art equipment, much of it looking brand new, and working there was another man and two women all in lab coats. Against nearby walls away from the machinery were several other medical beds.

"Drink," Doctor Weston encouraged, and his parched throat more than anything had Stephen doing so.

"Where am I?" he asked, squinting at Doctor Summer Weston. She appeared somewhere between thirty and forty and currently wore her long brown hair in a messy bun. She was pale and looked tired, with dark bags under her grey eyes and thin lips bent downturned. She wasn't wearing any makeup, either, which was a look he knew on his female patients before surgery but usually not on female doctors (and a couple of non-women doctors, too).

"I don't know," she answered. "None of us do."

Stephen's confusion (and alarm, though he wouldn't admit that yet) grew. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

She gave him a rueful smile. "There's really no easy way to break this: you've been kidnapped, just like the rest of us."

He stared at her in disbelief, half-wondering if he heard her right. His head was still pounding with his heartbeat and that made his hearing less clear, after all. "What?" was what he managed.

"Yeah." The lackluster smile returned. "So, are you an orthopedic surgeon or a neurosurgeon?"

"Neurosurgeon," he automatically answered, then stared at her. "How did you know?"

"The X-rays," was Doctor Weston's inexplicable answer. "I'll show you in a bit," she said as Stephen went to retort. "We should get introductions out of the way. Drink more water."

Stephen frowned at her, but his head was still complaining and for that reason alone he drank instead of demanding further answers that moment. At least the light was becoming more bearable.

In the meantime, Doctor Weston called to the others, "He's fully awake now. Take a break for introductions and water."

One of the women, who was in her mid-forties, he guessed, with thick straight black hair pulled back, and a rich coppery brown skin that appeared in tight and worried lines across her face, shifted in discomfort. She adjusted her narrow-rimmed glasses then looked over to the wall, and Stephen followed her gaze to see a camera in the corner. "How long have we been working?" she asked; she also had an English accent.

"About five hours," Doctor Weston said after looking at her watch. "You should be okay for a few minutes."

"I think so. I have to wait for the centrifuge to finish, anyway," said the third woman, and the tallest of the three women (though maybe it was her natural curly hair giving her extra height). Her white lab coat contrasted sharply against her rich umber skin under the bright fluorescent lights, and just like the others, she looked stressed and tired. She appeared somewhere about his age and was definitely American, with the slightest hint of a southern twang in her voice.

The final one in the room, a balding man with salt-and-pepper hair and perhaps in his mid-forties or early fifties, stepped forward from his work station first. His complexion was a flushed pink and he wore thick lenses, but they did nothing to hide his bright green irises. "How are you feeling?" He spoke with a heavy German accent.

Stephen grimaced. "I've been better," he answered as he was surrounded by the four of them.

"We know what it feels like," the African-American woman replied. "I'm Doctor Jada Ferguson. Hematologist, University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center, Houston."

"Doctor Meera Mahajan," said the other unnamed woman. "Pathologist with a specialty in cytopathology, from St Bartholomew's Hospital in London."

"I'm from London, too," Doctor Weston added. "Though from St Thomas' Hospital. Cardiothoracic surgeon."

"And I'm Doctor Steffen Baar," said the man. "I work as a pharmaceutical chemist for Bayer in Wuppertal, in western Germany."

Stephen wrapped his mind around this new information as they introduced themselves and started trying to connect the pieces of this (terrifying) puzzle together. After they finished speaking, he cleared his throat and said, "Doctor Stephen Strange. Neurosurgeon, Metro-General, New York."

Doctor Ferguson made an affirmative noise. "I read your latest publication not that long ago. It was fascinating."

"I've read yours as well," Stephen said, then looked at the others. "I've read publication papers from all of you within the last three years." And there was a reason he remembered their names; they were all brilliant studies and clearly experts in their specialties. Why the fucking hell were they all here?

His face must have reflected his thoughts, because Doctor Mahajan said, "Whoever brought us here wants us to work." She glanced over her shoulder, then added, "Which is apparent." She then opened her mouth, paused, then shut it.

Stephen frowned. "Work on what, exactly?"

Doctor Weston also looked over towards the camera, then said, "Our job is to keep an unknown patient alive. And you've been drafted."

Tagging @walkin-in-the-cosmos (though it’s not tagging right) and @queenofalotofdifferentworlds as requested in the original prompt post.

Full disclosure: In terms of writing I concentrate more on plot and worldbuilding and not really the development of romance. Whenever this serial ends, it'll likely end on an ambiguous, open ending to interpret the relationship's route to the reader's pleasure (what we once labeled "gen or pre-slash" stories, not sure if that's used anymore). It'll definitely not explore anything remotely sexual beyond your usual PG-13 innuendo (if that). So if that's not what you're looking for in this prompt fill you can ignore the rest of the series :)

But if the serial does interest you and you want to be tagged in the next post, I'm starting the clean slate with this first one. Just leave a comment expressing interest in being notified/tagged for the serial, though I'm afraid I have no planned update schedule.

#stephen strange #tony stark #avengers fanfiction #doctor strange fanfic #doctor strange #my fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #prompt fill

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yespleasefandomtrash · 5 years ago

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no ordinary exchange

ch.1 of my self-indulgent rayllum college!au.

AO3. FFN.

xXxXxXx

“Katolis State University is proud to introduce its first Xadian exchange student in over one hundred years - everyone, please give a warm welcome to Rayla Moonshadow!”

Callum found himself cringing at the contrast between his stepfather’s genuine excitement and the student body’s... lackluster response.

“I feel bad for her,” Claudia murmured, resting her chin on her hand. “I understand why your dad is so happy, especially since he pushed so hard with the state to allow her to be here, but so many Katolians still don’t like Xadians. I mean, look at the poor girl’s face!”

Claudia had a point - the Xadian student did look extremely uncomfortable. Though Callum could clearly see that she was tall, she was standing in a manner that made her appear much smaller. Her white hair hung down to hide part of her face, the lavender streaks dancing through it almost washed away by the stage’s bright lights.

“Rayla will study here for the remainder of her sophomore year. If all goes well, one of you will attend the Xadian Academy next year,” Harrow continued. “But that is not something any of you need to worry yourselves over at the moment. I expect you all to make Rayla feel welcome here.”

“Maybe we should go talk to her afterwards,” Callum blurted out as his father continued to speak. He flushed when he realized what he’d suggested - apparently the words had left his mouth before they’d finished being processed in his brain.

Soren raised an eyebrow. “Where did that sudden eagerness come from?”

Callum shrugged, aware of how red his face had to be but ignoring it. “Like Claudia said. I feel kinda bad for her.”

Claudia popped her gum, shrugging. “I’m down. Since she’s a sophomore, I might even have a few classes with her. Based on the anti-Xadian attitudes of... of more than a few kids at this school, I have a feeling she’ll accept any company she can get. Even if it is from weirdos like us.”

Soren laughed as he jokingly elbowed his sister in the stomach. “Don’t lump me in with the two of you.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “Ugh. I have a class after this, so I can’t join you. But...” He put his phone away. “If you happen to hit it off, we can all go out one night and I can properly meet her.”

“Roger that,” Claudia said with a mock-salute, earning another elbow from Soren and laughter from Callum.

“Rayla, is there anything you want to say to your new classmates?” Harrow’s voice brought the attention of the three back to the stage.

The girl attempted to smile, though it was clearly more of a grimace. “Ah... I’m thankful for this opportunity.” Her accent was thick, but not enough for her to be misunderstood.

Harrow nodded, returning the mic to beneath his face. “And we are all grateful that you decided to take advantage of it.”

As his dad continued to drone on about the significance of the girl’s attendance at the school, Callum found his attention drifting down to his sketchbook. He was in the middle of working on a picture of his brother, Ezran, and Ezran’s leopard gecko, Bait. The jagged line that trailed to the edge of the page indicated the point at which he’d gotten distracted. He sighed and carefully erased it, doing his best to avoid smudging the graphite. He wanted to give the picture to Ezran for his fourteenth birthday, which wasn’t for another two and a half months, but his inspiration tended to wax and wane thus he decided to begin working on it early. He became so focused on his sketch that he didn’t notice the assembly had begun to disperse until Claudia snapped her fingers in front of his nose, startling him and causing him to drop his pencil and very nearly drop his sketchbook.

“Someone’s on edge,” Claudia said wryly as she returned his pencil to him. “Come on! My dad and yours are talking to the girl right now, but we have to hurry if we want to catch her before any classes she might have.”

Callum nodded, closing his sketchbook and shoving it into his satchel before following his friend out of the seats in the audience and down towards the stage.

“Again, I do apologize for the late notice,” Viren was saying. His voice oozed with a false pleasantry that sent chills down Callum’s spine. “But none of our available students were willing to room with a Xa...” He trailed off as Harrow sent him a warning glare. “No one wanted to room with someone they didn’t know.”

“I’ll room with her!” Claudia offered as she arrived at the foot of the stage, earning surprised looks from all. “You know that there’s more than enough room in my dorm, Dad.”

Viren offered his daughter a pained smile. “Are you certain about this, Claudia?”

She nodded, rolling her eyes. “Obviously, Dad, or else I wouldn’t have offered.”

The Xadian girl shook her head. “You don’t need to do that. Really. I have no problem with finding an apartment off campus if it’s more convenient -”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Claudia interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “The best way to find your niche at KSU is live smack in the middle of it. As the daughter of the dean” - she gestured to Viren - “I was blessed with a larger dorm, plus the luxury of no roommate.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I have space, you need a room - problem solved.” She offered her hand and a smile to the girl, though her being on the floor and the girl on the stage meant the girl knelt down to shake her hand. “I’m Claudia.”

“Rayla. Though I’m sure you know that already.”

“So it’s settled!” Harrow said, clapping his hands together. “Rayla and Claudia will room together. I’ll see what I can do about arranging it so the two of you also have at least one class together.”

“Harrow? Viren?”

Attention in the room shifted to a blonde woman standing at the auditorium’s door.

“Oh, crap,” Harrow muttered, glancing at his watch. “Are we late, Opeli?”

“Not yet,” was the woman’s brisk response. “But I wouldn’t push your luck.”

Viren headed to the exit immediately, pushing past Opeli and not bothering to say any goodbyes.

Harrow returned his attention back to the trio. “Claudia, thank you again. Rayla, if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to come to me. Callum -” He stopped. “Callum, have you been here the whole time?” At his stepson’s embarrassed nod, he sighed. “Right. Glad to know I’m a terrible father.”

“It was actually Callum who wanted to come talk to Rayla,” Claudia said, slinging her arm around Callum’s shoulders and causing him to stumble sideways. “But he’s a little shy, so he kind of became my silent cheerleader.”

Callum groaned at the description. “Thanks, Claudia.”

“Harrow, you need to leave now,” Opeli called from the doorway. “The council is pissed off enough already. Let’s not add to their list.”

Harrow sighed and said goodbye, pulling Callum into a hug before taking his leave.

Callum ended up being the one to break the silence - which, in all honesty, was not something he often did. “Hi,” he stammered, offering the new girl his hand to shake. “I’m Callum. Obviously you’ve already met my dad.”

“Rayla. And Harrow’s your dad?” She raised an eyebrow as she released his hand. “Forgive me if this is rude, but you don’t look much like him.”

Callum laughed as he pulled his hand away. “Stepdad, technically.”

“Ah. Makes more sense.”

“I don’t know about you guys,” Claudia began, “but I don’t have class for another hour and I’m feeling kinda peckish. Want to hit up that new café?”

Callum shrugged. “Sounds good to me.” He turned to Rayla, giving her a small smile. “Care to join us?”

Rayla hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her violet eyes. “Are you sure you want to be seen hanging around me? I know that I’m not exactly welcome here.”

“Trust me, most people really couldn’t care less,” Claudia reassured her. “And if anyone does say anything about it, I’ll just get them expelled.”

Rayla blinked. “You can do that?”

Claudia shrugged. “Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”

Rayla burst out laughing at her comment, and Callum found himself joining in. Her laughter was contagious, and the way her accent seemed to leak through was... endearing. “Well, as long as you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Of course we don’t!” Claudia exclaimed. “Believe me, we wouldn’t have offered if we did.”

“That’s very true,” Callum added as they began walking out of the auditorium. “Claudia is very selective about her company.”

“Callum, you make me sound like a prick!” Claudia protested. “I just have standards. That’s all.”

Callum continued to banter with his friend as they made their way to the café, and while Rayla didn’t join in, he was pleased to see that the smile on her face didn’t fade.

xXxXxXx

Over the course of half an hour, Callum learned that Rayla was studying literature and sociology, with a few women’s and gender studies’ courses thrown in here and there. She was from Silvergrove in Xadia, and no, not everyone’s accent was the same as hers. Or as thick as hers. Her parents had been security guards for a Xadian diplomat, and as a result hadn’t been around much, even before the plane crash that had taken their lives a few years ago. She lived with family friends, Runaan and Ethari, and she had no siblings, for which she was eternally grateful. She’d studied martial arts for as long as she could walk. A few years ago she’d started to learn how to incorporate blades into her fighting.

Claudia was impressed by this fact, and asked if Rayla would be willing to provide a demonstration for her at some point, to which the Xadian girl eagerly agreed.

Callum felt no need to ask for a demonstration; Rayla was currently wearing just a normal t-shirt, and based on the way her muscles flexed every time she moved her arm it was clear to him that she was telling the truth about her physical prowess.

“Aw, man,” Claudia complained as she checked the time on her phone. “I have bio in fifteen minutes. Guess that means I have to say my farewells.” She stood up, giving the two a mock bow. “A delightful conversation we shared, truly. See you at the dorm, Rayla!” With a wink and the swish of her black coat, she was gone.

An awkward silence fell. Callum wasn’t sure how to break it - until then, Claudia had been the one primarily pushing the conversation forward.

“I take it you don’t have a class to get to, then?” Rayla asked before taking a sip of her coffee.

Callum shook his head. “Nope. I don’t have physics until one.” And it was currently only twenty minutes before noon.

“Hm.” Rayla pulled a sheet of paper out of her backpack, which was hanging from her chair. “I have Shakespearean Literature at 12:45.” She glanced at him, an embarrassed expression falling upon her features. “I don’t suppose you could show me where Seton Hall is?”

Callum laughed. “I don’t mind showing you, no. Although I have to admit I only know where that’s located because of Claudia.”

Rayla gave him a knowing grin. “Ah. I see. So how long have you two been together?”

Callum stiffened as his face turned bright red. “I - she - we’re not together!” he stammered as he dropped and barely caught his pen, his voice an octave higher than he would have liked. “We’ve just known each other for a long time! Besides, Claudia is a sophomore and I’m just a freshman, which means she’s - she’s way out of my league.” He placed his pen down as the red slowly began to fade from his face. “Why do you - why do you ask? Did you... notice something?”

Rayla, though seemingly startled by his outburst, chuckled. “So it’s one-sided affection. Gotcha.” She lightly flicked his nose, which was an action Callum would have been embarrassed to receive from anyone else but for some reason didn’t mind when Rayla did it. “Don’t fret. One year isn’t a huge gap, you know. And I asked because I noticed you sketching her the entire time.”

Callum flushed and pulled his sketchbook closer to him, though he didn’t bother to hide the picture of Claudia. “There’s actually two years difference between us,” he admitted. “Both she and her brother missed a year of school when her parents got divorced.”

Rayla winced, nodding. “That sucks.”

Callum snorted at her blunt response. “Well, that’s one way to put it.”

“Precisely.” Rayla took a final sip of her coffee. “I don’t think you should give up hope, sad prince. You’re pretty cute. If you ever work up the courage to ask her, she’ll probably say yes.”

Callum raised an eyebrow at her comment, a near-pitiful attempt to regain his composure and pretend he wasn’t still blushing. “‘Prince’? What’s that about?”

Rayla shrugged. “Your dad is the head of the college. He’s kind of like a king. As such, you are kinda like a prince.”

Callum paused, then grinned. “All right. I can live with that.”

Their conversation shifted back to school, and Callum explained how he was majoring in physics and minoring in art, and that his favorite elective was Renaissance History. Rayla asked him about sports, and while she was disappointed to learn that there was no martial arts team, the idea of wrestling appeared to intrigue her.

“Do you know if they allow girls?” she said.

Callum shrugged. “No idea. Remember - I haven’t been here for a full semester yet. Plus...” He gestured to himself. “I don’t exactly scream ‘wrestler’, do I?”

Rayla snickered. “Well, you’ve got that right.”

Callum gasped in mock-offense at her comment. “How stereotyping of you.”

“You said it first!”

Before Callum knew it, it was already 12:30. Rayla was easy to talk to, even if she did bruise his ego, and so far time was flying by when he was around her. She was funny, quick-witted, and charming - at least in his opinion.

It saddened him to think that some people would never approach her simply because she was Xadian. While tensions had certainly lessened between Katolis and Xadia, the situation was nowhere near perfect, and he was keenly aware of the shocked and even disgusted looks that had been sent their way just from being in the café together.

“Are you okay with showing me where my class is now?” Rayla asked as she threw away her cup and the wrapper that had held her pastry. “I want to get there a little early, if I can.”

“Sure,” Callum replied, following her lead and disposing of his trash. He tucked his sketchbook and his pen into his satchel, but before he could get to the door, Rayla stepped forward to hold it open for him.

“Princes first,” she said with a smirk, snickering as he rolled his eyes.

“Seton Hall actually isn’t far from here,” Callum said as they headed further into campus. “It’s the same building the auditorium and most acting classes are in.”

Rayla frowned upon pulling her schedule out of her back pocket and examining it, straightening out a bend in the top right corner of the page. “Why aren’t my other literature classes in this building?”

“I always thought they put Shakespeare in the building with theatre classes because of the overlap between the courses,” Callum offered. “Maybe you get to see them perform some of the plays.”

Rayla shrugged, shoving her schedule back into her pocket. “I guess I’ll find out.”

They arrived at her classroom a few minutes later, with just under 10 minutes left before her class started.

“I suppose this is where we part ways,” Rayla said, shouldering her booksack and giving him a soft smile. “It was nice meeting you, Callum. I hope we find time to hang out again.”

Callum chuckled. “With Claudia as your roommate, I’m sure plenty of opportunities will arise.” He hesitated, then added, “I could give you a tour of campus. Someday. If you’re interested.”

Rayla’s smile widened. “I’d like that a lot.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out her receipt from the café before ripping it in half. “Can I use your pen?”

Callum fished his pen out of his satchel and handed it to her, their fingertips brushing as he did so. She proceeded to scribble something on one half of the receipt before handing it all back to him.

It was a phone number, he realized.

“The school provided me with a temporary phone and number to avoid international texting charges,” she explained, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Rather kind of them, now that I think about it.” When Callum didn’t respond, instead simply staring down at the slips of paper and the pen in his hands, she rolled her eyes and sighed in mock-exasperation. “Callum, the polite thing to do when someone gives you their number is to give them your own.”

Callum felt the blood rush to his face. “Right,” he stammered, tucking her number away in his pocket and writing his own onto the other half of the receipt before handing it to her.

Rayla winked at him as she accepted the paper. “See you later, Callum!” she said before disappearing into her classroom.

Callum remained there, frozen, for a few seconds more, his pen still clutched to his chest. Rayla was... an interesting person, to say the least. She seemed smart - certainly more clever than him.

Then Callum remembered that he, too, had a class starting soon. But his phone buzzed only a few minutes after he’d headed out of the building.

(330) 229-6868: I’m sure you’ve realized by now that typically only one person receives a phone number in an exchange between acquaintances

Callum, in fact, had not thought that deeply about it, but he wasn’t going to tell Rayla that. He added her as a contact before responding.

Callum: Yeah, I was wondering, lol

Rayla: I assure you that there is a method to my madness

Callum: Riiiight

Rayla: Look. I knew you wouldn’t have the guts to ask for my number

Rayla: Don’t deny it

Callum guiltily erased the beginning of That’s not true.

Callum: Maybe

Rayla: And I also knew that even if I gave you my number, you wouldn’t dare to text me first

Rayla: Now we both win!

Callum couldn’t stop himself from grinning at his phone at her response. So not only was she smart and funny, but she was also far more lighthearted than he’d originally given her credit for.

Callum: Seems so

Rayla: oh my god you sound like a pretentious douche over text

Rayla: Class is starting soon

Rayla: Give my number to Claudia pls

Callum: Ofc

She didn’t respond, so he assumed her class must have started. He tucked his phone into his satchel and continued his walk to physics, stepping up his pace to ensure he’d get there on time. And while he walked, he couldn’t keep the happy smile off his lips at the thought of his new friend.

Strange.

But he liked it.

xXxXxXx

#rayllum #the dragon prince #tdp rayllum #tdp rayla #tdp callum #tdp fanfic #tdp soren #tdp claudia #tdp harrow #tdp viren #rayla #callum #fanfiction #my writing #college!au

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i-am-extremely-mad · 4 years ago

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Discussion I have on YouTube under video 'A Mediocre Recap of Mediocre Alternate History Shows' from AlternateHistoryHub

Sir Reginald Meowington 1 month ago Uh-oh here comes the Korra Stans. Back to the topic, I feel that some of the people who worked on Fringe most likely worked on Man in the High Castle. It's too early similar or they are Fringe fans.

Extreme Madness 1 month ago (edited) Becase she wasn't Mary Sue... an argument that ignores the original meaning and is actually used against any female character that shows even hints of self-confidence or arrogance or is even better at something than male characters. Aang learned and became a master of all four elements in less than 9 months, almost constantly dominating his opponents, somehow people don't consider him Mary Sue, Korra who spent 13 YEARS! of intense training, and despite that still could not airbending, struggling in fighting opponents who have some superior abilities, ended up in a wheelchair, recovered for more than three years from mental and physical trauma ... somehow it makes her Mary Sue, if she was a male character no one would even thought of considering him a Mary Sue...

Sir Reginald Meowington 1 month ago @Extreme Madness I like how you automatically assume that I dislike Korra out of misogyny or a hidden agenda despite enjoying female characters like She-Hulk, Wonder Woman, Rogue, Big Barda, Phoenix, Zarya (Overwatch), and Noi (Dorohedoro). Basically, women who fight like men and have the muscles/powers to prove it. There is a reason why I dislike Goku, Wolverine, Batman, and similar characters. Nice try on attempting to find a non-existent bias. When it comes to a wheelchair recovery story I prefer Barbara Gordon's journey and triumph to become Batgirl again, over Korra's lackluster 10-minute portrayal. There was more emotional weight seeing Barbara doing normal mundane tasks like eating, showering, attempting to walk (after failing numerous times), and talking to a therapist about her trauma in the course of several issues than it was for Korra getting a quick fix in one episode. Korra isn't a well-written character and it shows. She never has to own up to her mistakes like the time she broke up with Mako by wrecking his desk and threatening him for doing the right thing. Does she apologize for her behavior in the police station? Never. Did she apologize when seducing Mako so he can cheat with Asami or apologizes to Bolin for using him as a way to get Mako? Never. Does she apologize to Tenzin for yelling at him for being a horrible teacher? The story forgets it. Do any characters tell Korra she is making the wrong decision or that her going in fists first will cause more damage and be proven right. Nope. Was Korra shown to be wrong when wanting to create a fictional Gulf of Tonkin incident to get the United Nations in a war with the Northern Watertribe as careless and harmful? No. The plots dictate that she can never be wrong even when it could potentially put people in danger. Korra is given fixes too quickly. She gets her bending taken away. That's interesting. We can see her work through her anger, hurt, and self-delusion, Oh nope sorry she gets it back 5 minutes later after crying about it. Oh no she lost the past Avatars. Why should Korra care? She never talked to them or formed a relationship with any of them similar to Aang and Roku. Oh wow, she is disabled are we going to get two or three episodes where she deals with her new life in a wheelchair including how mundane tasks are now a struggle? Sorry, we don't get time for that or life-long PTSD, we have to rush the plot because we can't understand how to tell a story in 12 episodes. You can also tell how much of a fetish they have for brutalizing Korra and show it in meticulous detail. Ah yes, this is what I asked for more man pain and people wonder why I hate Wolverine.

Extreme Madness 3 weeks ago (edited) @Sir Reginald Meowington Even if everything you said was true (it isn't), that's still argument against her being Mary Sue (character that supposed to be ridiculously perfect and not having flaws and weaknesses). Her being in wheelchair was just part of her slow recovery through entire season (she didn't recover immediately, she was in wheelchair for months, while trying to walk again, and after that she was still recovering for 3 years). How is she guilty for Mako cheating? He have his own agency. If he really loved Asami he could just said that he wasn't interested. Korra give up to be with Mako anyway when she became friend with Asami, she even ask Mako to go to Asami after they escape from her father. Everything after that was on him. She didn't use Bolin to get Mako, she just go out with him to have fun. Bolin was the one who mistakenly thought that they are on date. Mako was technically right when he stop Korra attend, but he still did that behind her back, she was right to be angry, especially when it was desperate attempt to save her tribe from occupation. Isn't she apologized to Tenzin when she come back after learning what her uncle trying to do.

Sir Reginald Meowington 3 weeks ago @Extreme Madness "Even if everything you said was true (it isn't)," Talk about denialism there. I don't like the evidence you presented to me therefore it is not true. That doesn't refute anything I have said or why it's problematic. That just tells me you don't like any argument presented to you therefore everything you don't like is false or a lie. Just a reminder Korra isn't right to create a Gulf of Tonkin situation and starting a war will cost the lives of citizens who are unaffiliated with the conflict. (Looks at Vietnam and Spanish American War) It is not right for a high ranking member (General Iroh) to create a situation that leads to justification for war. You know what happens with that right? Court Martial and possible execution. We have whistleblower laws for a reason. Apologizing isn't enough. The writers should known better and have everyone call her out for it. It's the biggest reason why Korra is problematic in the show. The writers have no understanding of writing Korra or any political ideologies (Everyone ranting how Amon is communist is using red-baiting arguments) present in the show that they flaunt to make them appear edgy and mature. It's why Korra comes out bad for forcing a kiss on Mako and telling him "Yeah, but when you're with her, your thinking about me, aren't you?", never apologizing to Bolin for cheating only Mako apologized, having her disabilities skipped because they don't know how to scope within 12 episodes (Barbara Gordon did it better and in less than 30 pages), Asami getting back with her dad was brought up last minute and then he is dead. Just because someone apologizes doesn't mean they deserve forgiveness. Especially not after destroying property damage over a fit. You do that and I get the restraining order.

Extreme Madness 1 week ago (edited) @Sir Reginald Meowington I actually started watch the show again and look at that, you are full of shit, Korra actually apologize to Tenzin for calling him terrible teacher in second episode of Book 1! Korra didn't use Bolin to get closer to Mako, that's what Mako accused Korra for, doesn't make it true, Korra was actually right about his feelings for her, and Korra literally apologize to Bolin while healing his arm in episode 5 for whole situation. About situation when she desperately trying to free southern water tribe from occupation, it's interesting how you blame entire situation on her and not at her uncle. She have every right to be frustrated. She make only few brash decisions, in most situations she listens and work with others like when she listen Mako how they should save Bolin from Amon, she was doing that for the rest of the show, especially after she returns after having vision of Avatar Wan and learning what her uncle actually planning, in book 3 she surrender to Red Lotus so others can save Airbenders. About her recovery, you don't see the forest for the trees, her being in wheelchair was just part of her slow recovery, it wasn't only important part of it. When did Barbara Gordon stopped being Oracle? It's another lazy retcon from DC? DC couldn't work with other batgirls so they took one of rear example of superheroes with disabilities and make her somehow magically recover from spine cord injury. Lazy writing I'd say. Bad example. I will stay with Korra.

Extreme Madness 5 days ago @Sir Reginald Meowington "Does she apologize for her behavior in the police station? Never." I know you ignored my previous answers but ... Just a few days ago I watched the finale of Book 2 and look at that, Korra actually APOLOGIZED to Mako for that before they broke up! When you actually watch the show you see how many arguments arose from people who didn’t actually watch the show or didn’t pay attention to such important details.

Sir Reginald Meowington 5 days ago @Extreme Madness You lost all credibility when you put Barbara Gordon and Gail Simone under the bus to make Korra look good when a 10-minute google search into the story arcs and fan discussions regarding disabilities and whether or not she should walk again were ignored. Not to mention the decades of critiques and discussions of the event in The Killing Joke and the input of various writers who talked about it for decades in several series starting Barbara. Then you go by using ad-hominem attacks towards me by claiming I am a liar and that I don't watch the show. I quoted the episodes and the scene in the last comment that mysteriously disappeared including why that was problematic and how the show does not do a good job at addressing her faults. As mentioned before, apologizing after enacting violence against your partner during a break up is not enough. As I said when I addressed it, "Just because someone apologizes doesn't mean they deserve forgiveness. Especially not after destroying property damage over a fit. You do that and I get the restraining order." and this is the problem of the writers not understanding how to write Korra or her archetype. It is obvious she was sacrificed in the altar of man pain for character growth and the most abysmal love triangle since the Jean Grey/Scott Summers/Wolverine ship. It's the only reason why I started shipping Asami and Korra as I do with Jean Grey and Emma Frost due to the levels of toxicity. Of course, that would require you to have basic reading comprehension or understanding of social/political issues when moving the goal post so you don't have to address those ugly truths when questioning the romance even fans addressed was badly handled. So now you are trying to grasp at anything in an attempt to make yourself look good after calling you out about supporting a toxic relationship with a female abuser. But of course, it ain't toxic or bad when it's female on male. It's just for laughs.

Extreme Madness 5 days ago @Sir Reginald Meowington "apologizing after enacting violence against your partner during a break up is not enough" Originally you only claimed that she never apologized, which is a notorious untruth, now you claim that her apology is not enough, who here moving the goal post actually. "supporting a toxic relationship with a female abuser" What the hell are you talking about ?! Korra, abuser ?! Go fuck off. I also don't care about the convoluted mess that DC and Marvel comics are for which no one knows which continuum they follow anymore. So no I don’t want to see them as an argument.

Sir Reginald Meowington 5 days ago @Extreme Madness Saying they don't count as an argument because it is not your preference is a lame excuse to dismiss evidence regarding a comparison between two similar story arcs between Korra and Barbara. As for the other point It would be good of you to stop time traveling between comments and look at the entire picture of why throwing your partner's desk while they are at work during an argument is problematic. As defined by several resources that talk about relationship and spousal abuse.

It is not okay for your significant other to throw or breaks things when angry in front of you even if they have no intention of physically hurting you.

That is a person who is purposefully threatening you and reestablishing the power dynamics of control/dominance when their partner does something they do not like. That is a person with massive anger issues who is one step away from physically hurting you someday. It's a big red flag that you need to get out and it's only going to escalate from there. There is no excuse for that kind of behavior, no excuse for your partner to throw items in front of you, no excuse for them intimidating you, and no excuse for creating a scene or atmosphere of violence. That is damaging to the psyche of the person that it is enacted upon. In any situation, get out and contact the authorities immediately don't wait, especially if you feel you are in danger. Grab your things, file a protection order, and don't look back. Nobody should vent or release their anger at someone like that.

Ugh...

How do I answer this, they first claimed that Korra never apologized to anyone and that her recovery is worse than some completely different character who has nothing to do with her and now claims that Korra was abusive in her relationship with Mako. I don't know what to say anymore...

#r/ant #personal r/ant #some people are just so... ugh #just ugh #personal post

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bestillmyslashyheart · 5 years ago

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the one left behind

In hindsight, it made sense. Roswell was home, for all of them, but that didn’t mean it was safe. At the time, of course, it felt like one hit after another and Maria wasn’t sure how she would survive.

Liz was first. Or, more accurately, Rosa was first. Waking up from a decade long coma to the realization that the world thought you were dead and hated you for it would be a shock for anyone. For Rosa, it was the last straw. She’d always been planning to leave, had been trying to leave when Noah-via-Isobel killed her. To her credit, she made it almost two weeks in 2019 before she split, stealing Liz’s car and leaving Roswell in her rearview mirror.

Maria had barely gotten over the shock of seeing Rosa alive (and learning that aliens were real and had both tried to kill her and revived her) before Liz was hugging her tightly and apologizing profusely. She’d lost her sister once, like hell was she going to do it again. Less than a day after Rosa left, Liz piled her stuff into Max’s car and took off after her.

The next one surprised her more than she’d thought possible. Rosa Ortecho, alive and well? She could (eventually) wrap her mind around that. Michael Guerin packing up his truck and his Airstream and leaving Roswell? That was somehow harder. Guerin had been her constant. While Liz and Alex had left, Guerin had always been there, ever present and utterly dependable in his own weird way. Maria wasn’t sure she’d ever forget the image of him driving his trailer past the Welcome to Roswell sign.

He didn’t plan on coming back. He hadn’t actually said those words when he told her was leaving but she didn’t need to be a psychic to see that. Roswell held too many painful memories and not enough good ones.

With Guerin gone, Maria supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that Isobel followed not long after. Of course, she said she wasn’t actually following him, something about them each needing to find their own paths, but she didn’t stick around town for long after he was gone. She packed up her house, setting a spectacular bonfire of all of Noah’s things in the process, and sold her house. She gave Maria her phone number and email address in case something alien happened and she needed to get in touch but she didn’t leave a forwarding mailing address. Maria suspected that was because Isobel had no idea where she was going. She was probably going to get in her car and drive until she didn’t see her abusive ex-husband or Max’s ghost around every corner.

It was a stressful month, to say the least. In 30 days, Maria went from maybe starting a relationship with her best friend’s ex to finding out aliens were real and one of her oldest friends in the world was alive and well after a decade, to losing the people she’d unexpectedly grown closest to. The only ones left in Roswell with her were Kyle Valenti and Alex. And she and Alex weren’t speaking.

It would have made sense in high school for her and Kyle to be friends. He dated her best friend for almost three years, after all, but they’d never been close. It was strange, being close to 30 and finally getting to see just what it was Liz had seen in that dick of a teenager Kyle had been. He was actually a pretty cool guy, Maria was happy to find out.

It made his departure a month after Isobel’s hurt all the worse. She knew the second he walked into the Pony that night that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. His aura was shrouded in guilt but also exquisite happiness. Between that and his face, she knew before he opened his mouth that he was leaving, too.

“Where to next, Dr. Valenti?” She plastered a smile on her face as she served him his usual without waiting for him to order.

He glanced at the drink and then her face and smiled crookedly. “Nigeria, first, I think.”

Maria arched an eyebrow in question.

“I was accepted to work with Doctors Without Borders. I need to leave within the week.” As he spoke, he couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face, his lips turning upwards almost against his will and Maria couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Kyle, that’s awesome.” She reached across the bar to squeeze his hand. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks, Maria.” His smile was bright against the slight gloom in the bar. “I’m sorry to leave you here-”

Maria waved him off. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Always am,” she added cheekily. His smile turned a little sad but she wouldn’t let it drop. “So. Tell me all about it. When did you hear about it?”

She let him prattle on happily about his new job and the next week she gave him a proper send off, on the house. He sent her a lovely worded text very early the next morning that told her he both appreciated and resented the night. In other words, it was perfect.

And then there were two.

It was strange to think that she and Alex had once been as close as siblings. She’d known that kissing Michael would be a mistake but she hadn’t fully understand the ramifications until she’d lost Alex. Oh, he was always friendly and polite when they crossed paths, but the warmth and close friendship they’d once shared was gone. Maria had hope that the one silver lining to finding out everyone had been lying to her for months and then losing them one by one would be that she and Alex could bond again but that hadn’t happened.

In the month following Isobel’s departure, Maria only ever saw him for more than a second when he was with Kyle. They’d come into the Pony some nights and he’d make friendly conversation but he always kept his distance, emotionally speaking. Even his aura was closed off to her. After Kyle left, it was like Alex became a ghost. He didn’t come into the Pony anymore and she never saw him in passing around town. If she hadn’t overheard someone mentioning seeing him in the grocery store, she might’ve thought he’d left to.

But he couldn’t. The one good part about his military service, Maria struggled to think, was that he was obligated to stay in Roswell until he was discharged.

It was almost two months after Kyle left, over three since Rosa came back to life and everyone fled Roswell like it was on fire, when Maria put on her big girl pants and drove out to Sheriff Valenti’s old hunting cabin. She’d had to ask Kyle where Alex lived and if that wasn’t an indication of how lackluster of an attempt they’d made to reconnect when Alex moved home, she didn’t know what was. Even before Michael came between them, they hadn’t been the friends they once were and Maria missed him.

The truck parked next to the cabin was standing with its doors flung open and the trunk half full of boxes when Maria drove up. She fingered the bottle of tequila in the passenger seat before leaving it there as she got out of the car.

The front door to the cabin was wide open and she could hear someone moving around inside. Grunts and curses filled the air as Alex came stumbling through the door, a large box in his hands. Maria waited as he shuffled over to his car and added the box to the load.

“Hey,” she greeted softly when his hands were free. Alex tensed but didn’t look to startled so she assumed he’d heard her pull up. “Going somewhere?”

Alex sighed and nodded, turning towards her with a blank expression. “New posting.”

Maria blinked in surprise. “What? You’re being relocated? I thought your service was up?”

“It was,” he admitted slowly. “And then I re-upped. Turns out they don’t need me in Roswell so I have a week to report to my new posting. Which is not in New Mexico.” He turned away and disappeared into the house. Maria followed before she could think better of it.

“You’re leaving?” Maria asked, needing him to say it again for some reason.

“Yes.”

Maria opened her mouth to say something then closed it again when she realized she didn’t have anything to say. Alex didn’t pause in his movements. He moved slowly but surely through the living room and kitchen, piling the last of his things into boxes and taping them up.

“Were you going to tell me?” Maria’s voice wavered and she cleared her throat. “Or was I going to find out you were gone too by coming out to an empty cabin?”

Alex chuckled. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Why would you be coming out here? I’ve been back over a year and you’ve never come by. Not once. I didn’t even think you knew where I was living, honestly.” Maria looked away, unwilling to admit she’d had to email Kyle for his address. Liz hadn’t known either when she’d asked her. “But yes, I was going to tell you. I was planning to stop by the Wild Pony on my way out of town.”

“Oh. That’s g-,” Maria cleared her throat. “Thank you. I guess.”

“Everyone else is gone,” Alex commented idly as he taped up another box. “Didn’t want to disappear without a word. Just in case you might-” He stopped.

“Might what?” Maria asked. “Worry?” She barked out a harsh laugh. “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t worry if you were gone? Hell, I’ve been worried about you since you left for Basic Training ten years ago. I thought we were coming up on the end of my having to worry about you. But no, you had to go sign up for more!” Alex didn’t turn around and it only stoked her anger. “Why the hell would you go back for more, Alex?”

“Why not?” He didn’t quite shrug. “Being in the military gives me access to the Project Shepherd files and the means to dig deeper.” Maria had to wrack her brain for a moment to remember what Project Shepherd was before remembering the massive government conspiracy into Michael and his family.

“You’re doing this for Michael.” Maria had meant for it to be a question but it came out a statement.

Alex paused in his movements. “Partly,” he agreed. “But I’m also doing it to undo every evil thing my family’s ever done. And because I didn’t have any particular reason not to do it.” He straightened up and turned to face her. “Look, why are you here Maria? Is there something you need?”

She stared at him for a beat before shaking her head and shrugging. “I miss you. I miss- I don’t know, I miss my friend. I know things got fucked up between us and I wanted to try and fix that.”

Alex nodded slowly. “Yeah. Things did get fucked. And- and I’d like to fix it too but I don’t think we can. At least not now.”

“So that’s it?” Maria swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. She’d had breakups hurt less than this.

Alex ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t know, Maria. If I was staying in Roswell I’d say no, of course not, we’d fix it. But I’m leaving. And I don’t know where I’ll be posted next but I can pretty much guarantee it won’t be here.”

Maria nodded. “And after? Where will you go when your service is up? Or will you keep re-upping?”

“I don’t know. You’re asking me something that I probably won’t think about for another four years, at least.”

“Right. Sorry, I guess I don’t know. I guess I’m wondering if this is the last time we’ll ever see each other.” Maria wrapped her arms around her stomach, hugging herself lightly. “I don’t- I don’t want this to be the end of us, Alex. How can- how can we just be out of each other’s lives like this?”

Alex sat down heavily on a chair. “I don’t know, Maria.” Maria was really getting sick of hearing him say that. “I don’t feel like this is something we can fix through a phone. Maybe it’s better to just let it go. Remember the good times we had growing up.”

Maria breathed out through her nose. “I’m really fucking sick of having memories and shit else. I get- I get that Liz had to leave because of Rosa. Hell, I get that Kyle got a job he couldn’t say no to. I get that the Air Force tells you where to go and you can’t argue with that. Hell, I even get why Isobel freaking Evans split town. But what about me? Everyone’s so desperate to leave this town and all its bad memories behind while I’m still here. I’m still here and I get lumped in with the bad memories. And now you want to- to just- pretend we stopped being friends after high school?!” Maria closed her eyes. “I’m really sick of people leaving, Alex.”

Alex didn’t say anything. Eventually, she heard a shuffling sound as he got to his feet and started walking. Maria pressed her eyes closer together so she wouldn’t have to watch him walk out the door and leave her to her tears.

The arms that wrapped around her shoulders were a surprise but Maria didn’t dwell on that. She just sank into Alex’s embrace and buried her face in his shoulder as he hugged her tight.

“Y’know,” Alex began quietly after a while. “You’re not the first to point out I have a history of leaving and not staying in touch.” He paused. “I’m trying this new thing I like to call not being a shitty friend. I’m not great at it, admittedly. But I’m willing to try. If you want to.”

She nodded into his shoulder. “I do. We’re probably going to suck at it. At least at first.”

“Probably,” he agreed. “But we’re quick learners, right?”

“Right.” Her voice sounded firmer than she felt.

Alex left not long after that. Turns out, she’d shown up on his literal last day in Roswell and he couldn’t stick around or he wouldn’t make it to his next posting in time. Maria broke out the tequila and they toasted farewell to the cabin and then she helped him load up the last of his boxes before watching him drive away.

#roswell fic #rnm #my fic #this will be continued #currently debating between one or two more parts #long post

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venus-says · 5 years ago

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Futari wa Precure Episodes 01-26

Am I rewatching precure? I can't believe this!

Yes, this is not a fever dream, I'm really rewatching precure, and not just Futari wa but THE WHOLE FRANCHISE. Am I crazy? Yes, because I'm already watching too much stuff at the same time and I barely have time for that as of right now, but I love screwing myself over so here we are!

I can't really remember the exact thing that sprung this desire of rewatching precure on me, but I've been thinking about it for quite some time now, at least since I wrapped up on the Aikatsu marathon before On Parade started, in fact, one of the reasons I started doing the old Kamen Rider reviews was because of this. I just didn't start it earlier because I'm the kind of crazy that picked a calendar, looked at the dates, and made the calcs, and realized I could watch pretty much everything in one year so I decided to keep this "project" for 2020 and start the new decade with a bang.

So this is how it'll go: I'll be dividing each season into quarters and pretty much covering one season per month with posts coming out weekly every Wednesday, the only exceptions for this rule are Futari wa and Yes! since these are the only seasons with sequels so instead of dividing into quarters I'll divide them in half and watch two seasons in a month rather than just one. Also, different from Kamen Rider's case, since I'm more familiar with the franchise and I know how the movies go I'll also be watching the movies and posting about them as I go along (All stars movies will come out usually in between the first and the second week, while solo movies will be in between the third and the forth). I really hope I don't go nuts and that this can go as smoothly as possible. XD In any case, it's precure time!

I promised myself I'd keep nostalgia out of these rewatches and do them like if it was my first time watching the series so that I can be less biased on certain aspects, but when it comes to the OGs is really difficult to not have my thoughts clouded by it. I may not have been around since Precure first aired, but Futari wa was effectively my first precure season too, I joined this bandwagon when Heartcatch was airing and I was so in love that I wanted to watch the past seasons and Futari was was my first choice and it holds a very special place in my heart because of that. I tried my best to keep those feelings out of this review and in some cases I was able to it effectively while on others not so much so, I apologize for that. XD

I usually try to separate these reviews on blocks of Plot, Characters, Designs, and commentary on specific episodes and I'm gonna try to apply this structure here more or less.

Talking about the plot... there's not a lot of it. XD

Like yeah, there's the whole Dark Kingdom attacking the Garden of Light thing, and the sort of scavenger hunt for the Prism Stones (not the Pretty Rhythm ones, just to be clear) and all of that, but there's not a whole lot going on beside it, is just Nagisa and Honoka goofing around while their friendship solidifies, they sometimes bump heads but that's pretty much it. And honestly, that's not bad, as while isn't a story about Nagisa and Fujipi the more slice-of-life portions are amazing.

The cure portion that is the problem, to start the action in these 26 episodes isn't the greatest, most of the time is just the cures being thrown away until they get fed up, say "I'll never forgive you!", hold hands, and they throw either a Marble Screw or, in rare occasions, a Rainbow Therapy. Of course, special fights with generals sometimes get a little more flare, but in general, they're pretty lackluster. Also, it feels like things weren't paced properly with the beginning and the end happening very fast and the middle being overly long in comparison. And of course, there's the element of defeating a villain or a set villains while there's still half a season ahead which means change of villains for people who we never knew existed before and apparently were a big deal, and if you read my Kamen Rider review you know how I feel about huge changes affecting the antagonists...

But oh well, I have lots of things to get through so I won't hammer on this for too long. MOVING ON.

Futari wa's biggest strength, at least for this first half, is CHARACTERS. The side cast has many hits or misses, but the protagonists Nagisa and Honoka more than compensate for it. One fun thing of this whole experience was kinda re-discovering them? Because I never watched the OG precure and Max Heart again after my first time watching like 10 years ago and I also don't have the best memory so I forgot a lot of minor things, like how Nagisa is such a downer in regards to their mission, and how positive and bright Honoka is and these are traits that are kinda opposites to their personalities with Nagisa being more outgoing and energetic and Honoka being more calm and polite, and this is so perfect and so much fun, I love it to that. Speaking of surprises I forgot how much of a savage Honoka was, like, the girl put a group of thieves on the line by just yelling at them. THAT'S THE DEFINITION OF POWER.

Unfortunately, they don't come alone. Their fairy partners, Mepple and Mipple, are... annoying. Mipple not so much, she has moments where I go "Really queen?" but for the most part she doesn't bother me, in fact, I'm sympathetic towards her who has to be partnered romantically with such a piece of crap of a male that Mepple is. I don't know why but I completely forgot the jerk that Mepple actually is and let me tell you, it wasn't fun seeing him being misogynist, selfish, and just plain rude, not just to Nagisa regularly but also with Mepple, it's actually very sad. I don't remember if he gets any better in the future, but for now, I'm hating him.

The side characters aren't very special, the girls in the Lacrosse Team and the Science Club are more or less just extensions and supporters or Nagisa and Honoka but I overall like them. The major highlights in terms of side characters are Akane and Fujipi. Akane is a huge positive because she has great energy, she's very fun, and he not only provides a meeting point for the girls but also has a mentor role, though its a very little one, that is great to see. Fujimura on the other hand... I admit, the dude is okay, he never really did anything relevant so there's nothing to hate on him per se, but he's a love interest and his situation with Nagisa never develops on any sort of way is just a very flat experience which makes his relevance even smaller so I can't help but think "what is he still doing here, just disappear with him already" every time he's up on the screen.

There's no other way to put this, the villains are plane as hell. Some of them have good designs but overall, they're very band. Pissard seems like it could've been a cool dude but we spent only 5 episodes with him, that's not enough time with him to make him interesting. Gekidrago is the boring and stereotypical "dumb villain", I think I don't need to write anything else after that. Irukubo is the stoic powerful villain, but much like in Pissard's case, we barely see him in action so it's not enough to make me care for him, and the Dark King is just a horrible CGI blob of darkness. The best villains of this first half are the siblings Poisony and Kiriya, Poisony is actually the best one of the generals seeing that she's a strategist and most of her plans were all pretty good so she was always able to get the cures corned in some way, she may have flunked her cover in that episode where she disguises as Honoka for not doing her research well before assuming the role, but overall she's amazing. Kiriya is the villain that never attacked the cures directly, as far as I remember he never summoned a Zakkenna, and putting it like this may sound like a bad thing, but trust me, it's not. He's the first precure villain to get a "redemption" and as rushed as it was his presence in the story and his arc as a character was also pretty well done so he deserves to share the podium with his sister as best villains.

Since we're talking about villains let's talk about the cures now. Black and White have a very simple design and that's not a bad thing, they're simple but they're still pretty different from each other and it's not a difference that screams to the eyes like id there was something wrong, they complement each other perfectly which only helps in making them this iconic duo that they are. The transformation items, as well as the Prism Hopeish and that notepad thingy, are very 2000's but they have their charm. I think the thing that didn't age very well were the effects for the transformations and the attacks, don't get me wrong I love their original transformation, there's a frame on it that is just marvelous, but watching with 2020's eyes there are parts that feel very wonky. Following the theme, the attacks have a very simple animation but in this case, it works because they can make some very interesting stuff with it, like launching a Marble Screw through Poisony's Umbra Witch hair.

Going into more detail on the episodes, these 26 ones feel like a normal seasonal anime, despite the pacing problems if these 26 episodes were a single season it would've worked well because there was no loose end lost in the mix, maybe the Fujipi stuff would be the only thing that would end with no proper closure, but then again that's not important so it would be a satisfying end. There were four major arcs inside this mini-season so I'll comment on them separately.

The first and shortest arc is the introductory arc that goes from Episodes 1 to 5. And there's not a lot to say here, they introduce the characters, the mission, and the character relations on a good way, there was nothing stellar but it's a good introduction to the series, the only let down is the fighting portion that is very lackluster, in special the final fight against Pissard that was supposed to be a big important moment but that in the end was just very not impressive at all.

The second arc goes from Episode 6 to 11. This is probably the most boring arc of all despite some interesting happening here, we have the introduction to the Prism Stones and the Prism Hopeish, they first use the Rainbow Therapy here, and we also have the famous arc where Nagisa and Honoka fight for the first time and tighten their bonds. These are all interesting points but the set-up for these things to happen weren't the best, like for example Nagisa and Honoka's fight, I always remembered this as a very important moment, AND IT IS, the lesson learned at the end is pretty good and it results on them calling each other for their first name which is a key moment, but all of that happened because of Nagisa's feelings for Fujipi and all that misunderstanding and ughhh that's such a boring reason to make them fight, it was really a letdown. I think after everything the thing that stroke me the most was Honoka's birthday episode and how badass she was for putting some sense into the head of three adult men, which was really magnificent. Also, the first proper fight happened in this arc in the final battle against Gekidrago, it was short but it was good nonetheless.

The biggest arc is the third one that goes from Episodes 12 to 21. This is my favorite arc and a big part of it is because Poisony and Kiriya start to get active here. I don't know how to explain but their addition to the cast made things more dynamic and interesting to watch. Poisony's plans always led to interesting situations like when she hypnotized their classmates that were playing dress-up as the cures, or when she trapped them inside that mirror dimension, or even her last moments in the show where she used that old trick of impersonating someone and making the protagonist having to choose who's the real and who's the fake one, you know even if the precure portions weren't the best, they were put in the most interesting situations in this arc. Together with that, we have Kiriya that goes through a very interesting arc, until now I don't really know why he infiltrated in the school since, as I mentioned, he never acted directly as a villain against the precure (not as far as I can remember) but his interactions with the crew and especially his relationship with Honoka was quite interesting to see it develop. My high points from this arc were episode 18, the one where a girl confesses her feelings for Kiriya - there's a lot of interesting stuff happening here, and episode 20, Poisony's defeat and one of the best fights of this portion of the season. My low point would be episode 19 more because Mepple is being a jerk here than anything else, but I didn't enjoy this episode as much as I did to the other in this arc.

The final arc of this portion is another small one, it covers episodes 22 to 26, and this one is very odd. We start with a filler centered around Honoka's dog of all things that are followed by two two-parters that wrap-up this first half. I'm gonna be honest I don't like this arc, one because it introduces Pollun and two because the "final" fight is very unimpressive, yeah Shining Star debuts here and is a big moment but overall isn't the best, which is understandable after all are two girls launching a beam at a giant dark blob of CGI and there's not a whole lot there, but its fun to see a preview of what will become the Extreme Luminario in the next season. I also don't like how they didn't let the episode finish on a downer note with both of the girls missing their partners and such. But oh well, at least we had Episodes 23 and 24 here there were very interesting, they had this mystery/horror film vibe to it and I loved it.

And that's pretty much all I had to say! Thank you for reading all of this mess, I really appreciate it, I'm very excited to be doing this and I hope I can count with your support through this year. What are your thoughts on Futari wa? Let me know in the comments. I'll see you, folks, on a next time, and don't forget, if you ever see a shooting star be careful with what you wish for, a cellphone thing may fall from the sky right on your head and unless if you're an anime girl you will be in risk of having a concussion. XD In any case, see you around. o/

#Futari wa Pretty Cure #Futari wa Precure #precure

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gffa · 5 years ago

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spectral-musette replied to your post: Scattered Star Wars Thoughts: - One of the things...

Hm, I did really enjoy Alliances, but at this point I feel like Treason might just be sticking with me more (I apparently really love Ar'alani???). I can definitely see your points about Alliances: my big complaint was that it didn’t have enough Anakin/Padme romance. I took it for Anakin being task-oriented, but now that you mention it, he probably SHOULD’ve been thinking about Obi-Wan more (I guess I was doing that enough for everyone?). (continue re: Alliances) - But I didn’t take the Padme POV stuff about Duja to mean that she was particularly closer to her than any of the other handmaidens, just that their friendship was prominent in her mind due to the circumstances.

shadowsong26x replied to your post: Scattered Star Wars Thoughts: - One of the things...

i was talking about this a while back–i overall liked alliances, but it did kind of fall flat for me, too; in part for the characterization issues you mention (though i have more issues with vader than anakin/padme, but i can def. see where you’re coming from); but also bc someone pointed out to me that thrawn is kind of a sherlock holmes expy? and in alliances there’s no real watson analogue, so that dynamic is missing. and holmes sans watson can be insufferable. (cont) whereas in treason, while it’s not quite the same as in other books, he has *way* more compatible people to bounce off of, so…idk, that’s part of it for me at least?

Oh, no, I apologize for this in advance. XD I just really have a lot of feelings about these books! I loved that first Thrawn book so much, even knowing that Zahn had a tendency to write his OC as the most special ever, I was feeling pretty charitable towards the character because he was obviously going to lose on Rebels and I loved Eli in the book, and it was a nicely balanced book re: everything that frustrated me about Alliances. The thing that got me about Alliances is that I don’t think it achieved a very good balance about how to use characters like Anakin and Padme. When Zahn writes more minor characters (like his OCs or like Arihnda Pryce) it works out because we’re not coming in with those characters having a huge established story already in place. But Anakin and Padme have these connections that should have been coming up--this was set not that long before ROTS, right? Why isn’t he thinking more about Ahsoka? Why does he literally only even think about Obi-Wan like twice in the entire story? I can buy that Padme’s thoughts were focused on Duja because she just died, but the way none of the other handmaidens ever seemed to be part of that tapestry just didn’t fit with how Padme handmaidens have always been a group. Even Sabe’s relationship with Padme is littered with the other handmaidens being in and around them! And the final insult came when the book tried to kind of imply that it was Thrawn who got Padme to start thinking about how the Republic was maybe actually kind of terrible, which was mean to be a lead-up into her line in ROTS, “What if the democracy we thought we were serving no longer exists and the Republic has become the very evil we've been fighting to destroy?” Thrawn’s supposed to be absolute shit at politics, that was well established in Thrawn (which takes place many years after this one!) but suddenly he’s canny enough during the Clone Wars to: "Maybe what really troubled here was his suggestion that the Republic and Separatists all played by those same rules." In theory, it’s a neat connection to the events of the movie, something I wanted more of! Connection to the rest of the established GFFA and the events in it! But it gave me this really sour taste of how Padme’s story, her entire arc, as a politician who has an arc across the entirety of the TV show that’s at least somewhat hers, is actually inspired by Thrawn instead. Thrawn, who’s supposed to be shit at politics. Add that together with how Zahn built up that Padme was a character who was about diplomacy, about talking to resolve issues, and in the end her big climactic scene was still shooting a droid with her blaster. Add all that together with how lackluster Anakin felt to me and I just was disappointed with Alliances. I think @shadowsong26x really put it into clarity for me with those comments (THANK YOU FOR HITTING THAT NAIL ON THE HEAD), that Thrawn works for me when he’s the Sherlock in a Holmes & Watson dynamic, but then that follows that you just cannot put ANAKIN SKYWALKER into the Watson role because that downplays the competency of his character. Like, yes, look, I make fun of Anakin and point out all the ways in which he is a dumbass (largely because this helps me forgive him for all the monstrous shit he’s done, but also because it endears him to me and makes him so relatable to me) but when you write a serious novel and have Thrawn explaining electronic stuff to Anakin Skywalker? No, get out of here with that. Not unless Anakin is either geeking out on exactly the same level (NO, MAKE HIM GEEKIER BECAUSE HE IS!!!) or is like, “Yes, we all spent a semester in comm tech class, I get how it works just from looking at it.” or Zahn went even harder on the authority kink. Because I do not believe, for one single second, that Thrawn knows more about machines than ANAKIN SKYWALKER. Thrawn works for me with Eli, because there’s a genuine sense of exasperation there, a genuine and justified sense of “what did you just fucking do?” when Thrawn gets him assigned to the Blood Crow, there’s an organic sense of growing affection between them, and Eli works as someone who is good with his own thing, but isn’t THE CENTRAL FIGURE OF THE SKYWALKER SAGA AND ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL JEDI EVER. I can see Eli being the Watson in that dynamic! I liked the hints of something really delightful going on there--that Anakin and Thrawn clashed with each other, that Anakin’s flying by the seat of his pants kind of style clashes with Thrawn’s need to control an entire situation to get the outcome he desires, that there were moments of hilarity when they snarked at each other (”Do you make a habit of getting captured?” “NO!!!” was hilarious) or when Anakin’s authority kink was on display, but there wasn’t enough of that to balance out the other problems I had with the novel. (As a side note this is why I’m hoping that Zahn isn’t the one to write “what happened after Rebels with Ezra and Thrawn?” story, because I’m not sure I trust him to not try to put Ezra in the Watson role, when I don’t think that would suit his character.) Whereas, in Treason, Thrawn is being put in situations where the people he’s pinging off him can take more of a second fiddle role, where I can take enjoyment out of Thrawn outplaying them (which, yes, Anakin is not a great political player, but he has enough sheer raw power and enough tactical brilliance and mechanical brilliance that I need that to be respected). That’s where Zahn’s Thrawn works best for me and why, when I went back to reread the first book, it still really worked for me even after I was crabby about Alliances.

#spectral-musette #shadowsong26x #anakin skywalker #thrawn #meta #novels #as always it's cool if others loved that book more than i did!#i hope there are people who did!#enjoy that book and flail happily about it and it'll make me feel better about it too!#nothing wins me over faster than someone just genuinely ENJOYING something they like #or seeing things in a kinder way than i did will pull me over far faster than anything #♥

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rayj4ck · 5 years ago

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Day 22, 8/25. Books/Stories

Not every adventure ends in a satisfactory way.

@weblenaweek

“So this book is what exactly?” Lena asked Webby.

“An ancient artifact! It’ll write anyone’s future, but only if they give it their blood. And if someone reads it, whatever the book wrote will come to pass!” Webby was practically bouncing up and down in her seat.

“That is pretty cool, even if it sounds like that dumb show. But I’m pretty sure this isn’t what people normally do on Girls Night Out.” Lena fought back the twitch in her mind that something was wrong. “Also, it’s really weirding me out that we’re not crashing but actually like. Landing.”

“Are you saying my flying is TOO good?” Della called back from the cockpit.

“No no! Or, well, yes? I don’t know, whichever one you want it to be!” Lena replied.

“Good answer.” Della unbuckled her seatbelt and strolled back over to them. “We got lucky ladies! It’s just a fifteen-minute walk from here if I’m reading this map right.”

As it turned out, she was reading the map right. Soon they were standing in front of a gaping cave down into the earth, and after a few frankly lackluster traps they were in the final room. At the end of the long stone hallway, a heavy tome sat open atop a stone dais.

“Well, that was actually pretty quick.” Della commented as they walked down the hallway. “Maybe we’ll have time to squeeze in anoth-”

Lena felt the stone beneath her foot give slightly, and time seemed to slow down. She watched, her mind crystal clear even as her body turned sluggishly, as Webby dove toward her. She heard a whistling noise piercing the air behind her…

“AAAAGGGHHH!”

“OH GODS LENA!” Webby cried as even as they landed on the floor, Lena hissing where the cold stone met the arrow shaft sticking out of her shoulder.

Della was beside her in an instant, pulling a small first aid kit out of a pocket. “It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright Lena. It looks like it missed any of the important veins and arteries, and anything it was coated with would have washed off long ago. You’re gonna be ok. But this is going to hurt.” Della carefully snapped the tail off the arrow and hooked her fingers right under the head. “Ready?”

Lena looked over to Webby, who looked back in concern. Picking up the broken arrow tail, she bit down on it before offering Webby her good hand, who took it without question. Turning back to Della, she nodded. Della nodded back and, in one swift motion, yanked the rest of the arrow out. Lena threw her head back and dug her teeth into the tail, that and Webby’s hand in hers the only things keeping her grounded. Her vision was swimming with black dots, and she felt like she was on the verge of collapsing. She didn’t even notice Della dressing the wound until the older woman leaned back on her heels letting out a deep breath.

“Before either of you makes some dumb apology for missing that trap.” Lena spat out the arrow tail and croaked out before the other two could even open their mouths. “It’s not your fault. Nobody is perfect, and in most people’s lives, that means coffee spilled down their shirt. In ours, it means arrows in the shoulder. I get it. Besides, you both just probably saved me. so someone help me up so we can get the book and get out of this temple.” Webby and Della nodded in silence, the former helping her to her feet, seemingly uncomfortable with letting her hand go just yet.

Della held up her hand with the broken arrowhead. “You want this?”

“Oh hell yeah. I think it’s legally mine now anyway.” Lena took it and carefully slipped it into her pocket.

“Uh, guys.” Webby’s voice drew their attention. She was looking at a trail of blood - my blood - that led right up to the book.

“Oh dammit,” Della muttered under her breath. “You have to go up there.”

“What? Why?” Lena looked at her alarmed.

“Because once it’s bound to someone, only they can hold it. Just look up toward the ceiling, and we’ll navigate you there.”

Lena clenched her teeth. “Damn arrow.” She muttered to herself, before squaring her shoulders and turning her head toward the sky.

“Ok, forward until we say stop,” Della said, and after one last squeeze of Webby’s hand, Lena started forward, making sure to lift her feet well into the air to avoid tripping on the uneven stones.

“Ok stop!” Della shouted to her, and Lena halted dead in her tracks, dropping her raised foot straight down onto the floor. “Hand out. Forward a bit. Bit more. Ok, now right. Too much, back a bit. Right there! Good, now straight down.” Lena felt something leathery under her fingers.

“Ok, now close it.” Lena gripped the cover in her fingers and shut the book. “Ok, you can look now.” Lena looked down and saw that she had her good hand on the back cover of the book. “Keep your hand on it. Unless someone is holding it closed, it will spring open.” Della rubbed her temples with a wince. “Oh, Scrooge is NOT going to be happy.”

“Ah, hello ladies!” Scrooge greeted them as they disembarked from the plane. “Did you retrieve the Book of Fate?”

“Well, yeah actually.” Dell pointed to Lena with her thumb, an arm wrapped tightly around the closed book and a faraway look in her eyes.

“Excellent! Let’s see it!” Scrooge reached out a hand for the book.

Della winced. “Yeah, about that….”

Scrooge’s face morphed into a frown as Lena shied away from him. Looking up to Lena, a dark expression came over his face. “What happened?” Lena shifted the book aside, revealing the hole in her sweatshirt, and bandage underneath. Grimacing, Scrooge stood up straight. “Well, there’s only one thing to do then.”

Lena and Scrooge stood in front of the door to one of the Other Bin vaults. Scrooge looked over his shoulder to make sure Lena wasn’t looking before typing in a code. The vault door swung open slowly, and Lena stepped across the threshold. She carefully laid the book down on a stand in the center of the room, turning her head up to the ceiling as she took her hand off it. She heard a rustle as the pages sprung back open, but she resisted the near-overpowering urge to look. Turning around, she carefully made her way back to the vault door. Scrooge shut the vault behind her, and then turned to face Lena with a grave look on his face. “You can never tell anyone about this vault. Ever.” Lena could only nod, still shellshocked that the object in that vault had her life by a string.

That night, Lena couldn’t stop shaking like she was locked in a freezer. When she knocked on Webby’s door, the young girl let her up into the bed without a word and held her tightly the rest of the night.

#Webby Vanderquack #lena de spell #weblena

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cartooncrazed · 7 years ago

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Under the Weather

Hello! I’m going through major Camp Camp withdrawals and so wrote some fic

It’s pretty much self-indulgent sickfic starring Max and Mom!Gwen because Mom!Gwen is an amazing concept

Also uh Gwen and David are expecting a kid and Max is a little older here (12 maybe? 13? idk)

Also I try not to swear (yet I watch Camp Camp, hmmm) in my writing so most stuff is censored, so to speak (sans a few words) Apologies in advance if that makes things clunky or hard to read!!

You can read it under the cut or here if you’d like

And as always:

(or any Adult/Child shippers for that matter...just stay away)

Gwen woke up suddenly to the sound of retching and was surprised that, for once, it wasn't her in the bathroom in the morning.

She sat up slowly on the couch, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Sitting up caused her blanket to slip off of her, and she forward to pick it up, mindful of her bulging belly.

She looked around the living room, blinking blearily. Can’t believe I fell asleep in the living room again…well, actually, I can, she thought. Even before she was pregnant, David would warn her that it wasn’t good for her to fall asleep on the couch so much, but now he was even more concerned.

She remembered their conversation last night; David pleading with her to come to bed with him, and she promising she would after just one more episode. By this point in their relationship, David knew that “one more episode” didn’t mean much when it came to reality TV. He had sighed, smiling at her then slipped a kiss on her cheek before going to bed at a reasonable hour.

Gwen really had planned to on getting to bed last night. She wanted to be close to David… Gwen had never been one for cuddling, but something about having a tiny human growing inside of her made her want to be just a little more affectionate. Weird.

Before she could get lost in her thoughts, Gwen heard someone retching again, the sound making her own stomach turn in sympathy. Whoever was in the bathroom was, apparently, having quite a rough morning.

She heard the toilet flush, a few rough sounding coughs, the sink running a few times, and then finally the door to the bathroom opened. From her position on the couch, she couldn’t see who had been in there. She’d have to investigate then.

“David?” She asked quietly, waiting for a response. All she heard was footsteps walking rapidly away from the direction of her and David’s room. That must mean…

“Max?” The footsteps stopped. Silence. “Max, is that you?” She asked again. Nothing for a few minutes, then she heard quiet curse. “Damn it” the voice mumbled from the darkness in the hallway.

“Max, could you come here for a second?” Gwen asked, her voice softening even more. She heard a sigh, then Max walked into the living room

If Gwen was going to be honest, the kid looked like hell. Max had always sported slight bags under his eyes, but this morning those bags looked even darker, and somehow more sunken in. His normally dark skin looked ashen, and his curls were a mess, some strands sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead. He refused to look at her, and instead looked down at the carpet. “What?” He asked curtly.

“Uhhh…you feeling okay, kid?” Gwen asked, sitting up straighter and looking more alert. She looked Max up and down, concern twisting its way through her chest.

Max shrugged, then let out a loud sniffle. “I’m fine”, He mumbled, still avoiding her gaze.

“You didn’t sound like you were fine. And you look like s--t” Gwen said, looking straight at him despite his refusal to meet her gaze. “Come here, sit down next to me.”

Max hesitated, too tired to snap back at her with a snide remark. Instead, he listened to her, sitting at the other end of the couch, arms crossed. “I said I’m okay.”

“Uh-huh…Sure…” Gwen said, leaning towards him to place the back of her hand to his forehead. Just as she thought; Max was burning up.

“Yikes, you feel like a freaking oven,” She commented, worry creasing her brow. Max was quiet, his arms remaining crossed and his body faced away from her. He usually has a comeback ready for her, and his silence was a testament to just how poorly he was feeling.

“Hold tight,” Gwen said as she slowly lifted herself off the couch. She walked (though she felt like she waddled nowadays) into the kitchen and grabbed a can of ginger ale from the fridge.

She handed the can to Max, who scrunched his nose at the familiar green and gold can. “Ugh, this s—t tastes disgusting.”

“Not true.” Gwen protested. “It’ll help your stomach. Trust me. Morning sickness is a b—tch, and this stuff is a godsend”, Max mumbled something under his breath, but decided to take a drink. He scrunched his face in disgust, but took a few more sips nonetheless.

Gwen slowly sat back down next to him. She glanced over at Max, who seemed to be staring off into space, the can resting absentmindedly in his hands. Then he turned to look at her, eyes brows raised. “Wait a minute…why are you even up this early, anyway?” He asked.

Gwen shrugged. “I fell behind on a season on a of Teen Prison Mom Wars, so I-“

“UGH, never mind. I think I got the idea.”

Gwen flashed a rather mischievous grin. “You can always watch it with me, you know. You’re missing out.”

“Hard pass.”

------

They sat in silence (except for Max’s sniffles and nose blowing) for a while, resting in comfortable silence. Gwen eventually reached for the remote, and turned the TV back on, volume low so as not to wake up David.

“If you even think about turning to one of your crappy reality shows…” Max threatened, glowering at her.

“Oh, Max. Come on. I know you wanna Keep up With the Kardashians just as much as I do.”

Max snorted, and finished off the remaining ginger ale in his can. “Yeah f----ing right.”

Gwen laughed, then turned to something they could both agree on. Some cheesy action movie. There was nothing else really on so early in the morning, anyway.

“Feeling any better?” Gwen asked.

“Mmm…I guess. A little.” Max replied, however, he looked off to the side and down at his feet rather than meeting her eyes.

“...It’s okay if you don’t feel okay, Max,” Gwen re-assured. “If you still feel sick, just let me know.”

“It’s not that,” Max said. “It’s just…you know…” He trailed off.

“I think I’d know a little bit more if you told me,” Gwen replied as gently as she could.

Max was silent again, his eyes attuned fixedly to the TV.

His silence caused Gwen to feel a little down. She and David had taken in Max around three years ago, once his parent’s utter neglect of him had really come to light during his time at Camp Campbell. She figured he probably still had a hard time opening up to people, although he was significantly less…prickly as he had been when she first met him. She would have a hard time opening up too, if the two people in life she thought would for sure would love her, instead resented her very existence and wished she wasn’t around, and showed their disdain by leaving her in a run-down summer camp every year just so they didn’t have to deal with her… So she didn’t push Max to say anymore. Instead, they kept watching TV.

Sunlight peeked through the blinds as the morning wore on. After a while, she noticed Max had fallen asleep. She thought maybe she should help him get back to bed, but he looked so comfortable curled up on the couch. The hardened pre-teen that she and David had come to love always looked so peaceful when he was asleep. She wished he could look this content all the time, if not for the wounds life had already inflicted on him. Instead, Gwen simply laid her blanket over him, letting him snooze where he was.

After a while, Gwen felt her own eyes get heavy, and she dozed off too.

——-

She woke for the second time, this time to a gentle tapping on her shoulder. Before she could look to see who it was, Gwen noticed a heaviness and warmth on her right side. At some point during their joint nap session, Max had shifted over towards her side of the couch. He lay against her side, breathing heavily.

She smiled, then glanced upwards to see David looking down at the two of them worriedly. Gwen shifted slightly, trying to be careful to not wake him up.

“What’s going on?” David whispered, looking between the two of them.

“Max isn’t feeling so hot,” She whispered back. Max stirred. “So, I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“Is he okay?” David asked worriedly

Gwen used her free hand to reach over and touch his forehead. “Mmm…he still has a fever.”

“Maybe I should stay home…” David replied.

“You don’t need to stay home, David. I’m not a baby. You can still go to work,” Max muttered drily, rubbing his eyes. “Also, you both f---king suck at whispering.”

David rubbed his neck, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, Max! But are you sure you’re okay?”

Max shrugged, and upon realizing he was leaning against Gwen moved slightly away from her. Gwen had to admit, that stung a little.

“He’ll be okay”, Gwen chimed in. “Besides, I’ll be here. Maternity leave has its perks, you know.” She said, ruffling Max’s hair. He futilely swatted at her hands, pouting.

“Oh, but maybe pick up some extra medicine on the way home. And ginger ale.” Gwen added.

David nodded, and wished them both a (very cheerful) goodbye before heading out the door.

Gwen stood up and stretched, loosening up stiff limbs, before heading into the kitchen.

“Well, I know it’s pretty early…but I’m starving,” Gwen announced. “How are you feeling, Max? Think you can handle breakfast?”

“…I’m good,” Max replied, seemingly sinking further into the couch. He felt better compared to earlier this morning, but food was still far from his mind.

Gwen decided on scrambled eggs and bacon, and while she was cooking she decided to give Max’s school a call to let them know he wouldn’t be coming in today. Before she headed back into the living room, she also grabbed a small bowl of cheerios, a piece of toast and glass of water for Max.

He looked his lackluster breakfast, eyebrows raised. “You can just pick at it if your stomach feels better later,” Gwen explained. “But you really do have to drink water; don’t want you getting dehydrated or anything.”

Max felt something flutter in his chest. Something that felt warm, and full. Even though he had been with David and Gwen for a while now, it still made him feel…weird, when they showed so much concern for him. He still wasn’t exactly used to this feeling…but at the same time, he couldn’t say he hated it either.

-----

The day went by slowly, and they spent most of the day in front of the TV. Gwen caught up on some reading, and Max slowly absorbed himself with movies most of the day, dozing on and off. Gwen woke him up every now and then for medicine (which he greeted with protest and grumbling each time).

“Being sick sucks ass” Max announced, suddenly.

“It sure does kid,” Gwen replied.

“And so do all these movies”

“Don’t see anything else you like?”

Max shrugged “Not really.”

“Weeeeelll,” Gwen started, a mischievous glint in her eye. “We could always-”

Max, who was lying down on the couch, gave her a playful kick on her thigh. “No. Way. No reality television.”

“Oh come on, Max, one episode of Dr. Phil won’t kill you.”

Max let out a very loud, very dramatic groan. “You know, trash tv isn’t probably good for that baby. The kid might come out sounding like one of those valley girls if you keep it up. Like the Flower Scouts or something.”

Gwen placed a hand on her stomach, letting out a laugh. “Oh God, no. That would kinda suck, to be honest. I like my valley girl accents behind the television screen, thank you very much, not coming from my children.”

“Like, moooom, I just, like, totaaaaally need like, you know, a new Louis Vuitton Purse to totaaaaaly match my new Silver Rolls Royce. Eveeerybody knows a girl needs a matching purse for her caaaar!” Max said, mockingly.

Gwen laughed harder. “Max, you do a very convincing accent you know that? You can’t tell me you aren’t secretly watching my shows when David and I aren’t here!”

“I am not!” Max huffed. Gwen laughed at the offended look on his face. She giggled for a few moments, before she realized that something Max had just said stuck out to her.

“It sounds like you’re hoping on having a baby sister, huh?” Gwen said, smiling softly.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Gwen shrugged. “I don’t know. When you talk, I just get the feeling you always refer to the baby as a girl. Like just now. And you have before too.” Gwen giggled, remembering something. “Like, when I first told you I was pregnant, didn’t you say we should name the baby Maxine so her name was ‘almost as awesome as yours’”?

Max shrugged, slightly embarrassed “Yeah, I guess.”

“Why’s that?”

“Hmmm…” Max thought for a moment. “I don’t know, just a feeling, I guess. Intuition.”

“Huh, so I bet you’re looking forward to a little sister to tease, huh?” Gwen said, but very suddenly started to regret her words.

Max seemed to deflate at her last sentence. Gwen realized he had pointedly avoiding her gaze since she had started talking more about the baby. He had scooted even farther away on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest. His shoulders slumped, and something uneasy seemed to be brewing beneath his eyes.

“Max, are you feeling okay?” Gwen asked worriedly. “Do you feel sick again?”

Max closed his eyes for a moment, then buried his face in his knees. “I’m okay,” He replied after a while, but it was bitingly clear to Gwen that something was wrong.

Upon sensing Gwen’s worry, Max looked up at her again briefly. “Really, I’m okay. Just...I guess I just felt kind of dizzy.”

Gwen reached over and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ll get you some more water, okay?” She said, getting up towards the kitchen.

That was…strange. Gwen thought. She knew his reaction had something to do with talking about the baby, and not just him feeling sick (although that probably hadn’t helped). She desperately wanted to dig deeper, but at the same time didn’t want to pressure Max. She sighed, pouring water into a glass absentmindedly while she tried to come up with a solution to helping him.

When she got back to the living room, Max was already falling asleep again, his head nestled into the crook of his elbow as he laid on the opposite arm of the couch. Poor kid, she thought to herself, settling back down on the couch. She was about to reach for the remote to turn the volume back down when her phone chimed, alerting her to a text message.

How is Max doing? David.

A little better. Gwen replied. Fever is down, but he still isn’t feeling great. His stomach still seems kinda upset too, he’s barely eaten anything.

Hmm…that’s not good. Maybe I should leave work early?

It’s fine. I mean he’s drinking water and all, so he’s not dehydrated. I’ll heat up some soup later and see if he can eat that.

Ok, let me know if anything changes!

Will do, she replied back. Her fingers hovered over her screen for a minute; she considered telling David what had happened between her and Max, but decided against it. Instead, she set her phone back in her pockets and went back to her book, keeping a close eye on Max.

-----

Sleep didn’t seem to do Max any good this time around. Gwen noticed that he definitely looked worse after waking up. The bags under his eyes had darkened, and he looked paler than he did in the morning. He stayed nestled into the opposite end of the couch, very quiet.

Gwen scooted towards him. “You okay?” She asked quietly. Max shook his head; no, then. Gwen sighed sadly, and gently ran her hands through his curls. When Max didn’t swat or scoot away, she rubbed his back, in an attempt at comforting him. Max couldn’t admit it, but he was grateful.

“I know this will sound like the worst idea ever,” Gwen said, still rubbing his back, “But you gotta eat something, kid. If you don’t, you could feel worse.”

“I’m not hungry,” Max grumbled quietly.

“I know…but try just eating a little bit, okay? It might help your stomach, a little.”

Max didn’t reply, so Gwen got up towards the kitchen. Before she could take a step, however, Max weakly grabbed on to the leg of her pajama pants.

“Max?” Gwen asked, concerned. His hand was trembling against her thigh.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked, slowly sitting back down. “Max, talk to me. What’s up?”

He stayed silent for a while, before speaking up. “I feel bad.” He suddenly blurted out, as if he had been holding in a breath he’d been waiting to exhale.

“I know, Max. I can only imagine. You’re pretty sick, buddy.”

“No! N-not because of that,” Max replied quickly.

Gwen raised her eyebrow. “Because of what?” She probed, hoping Max wouldn’t close himself off again.

Max paused for a long time before speaking again. “Because,” he started, and Gwen noticed that his voice was trembling. “Because all day, you’ve been…you know, you’ve been doing stuff for me.”

Gwen was stunned. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “What do you mean?” She asked, her own voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean…I’ve been here all day, just kind of lazing around,”

Because you’re sick, you goof, Gwen wanted to say, but didn’t want to interrupt.

“And you know, you’re the one who should be taken care of, right? I mean, you’re the one that’s knocked up, but you’ve been moving around all day, and I just feel like s--t because, I mean…you should be the one getting taken care of…”

“Max, I’m pregnant, but I can still move, you know,” Gwen couldn’t help herself. “It’s actually good for me to move around”

“But you’re sick too, right?” Max said. “Morning sickness, right? So you shouldn’t be taking care of me, I’m just…getting in the way…”

“Max-“

“And I don’t want to get in the way,” Max was speaking quickly, and the glassy glare of his fever flickered behind his eyes. “I don’t want to get in the way. You shouldn’t have to take care of me,” Max shivered, suddenly both cold and hot at once.

“Max, calm down,” Gwen said, but he couldn’t stop. F—k, what was wrong with him?

“You and David…you have the kid to take care of now,” He continued. “And I don’t want to be in the way of that. I don’t want…want you taking care of me when you have the baby…because, that’s your and David’s actual kid and I…I don’t want to mess up your guy’s family, okay? I don’t want you two to feel like you have to have me around, anymore, because now—"

“Max!” Gwen said, sharply, and a little bit angrier than intended.

Max looked at her then, suddenly snapped out of his reverie. After (semi) coming back to his senses, he couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes. He had never meant to say any of that. He would never admit it, but he’d been secretly insecure about the whole baby thing. He was scared; scared he’d be forgotten again, abandoned again. If his own parents didn’t want him as their only child, why would Gwen and David want him? Especially after all the s—t he’d put them through during camp.

Before he could register what was happening, Gwen had swept him up into a tight hug. Even though he felt gross, sick, and was probably sweaty, she hugged him.

“Max,” she started, her voice breaking. “Don’t you say that. Don’t you ever say that, again. You’re my kid as much as this child is. And David’s too. You are not a burden Max. and not in the way, okay? David loves you and…I love you, Max.”

For a while they sat there in silence, Gwen holding Max and him sitting there, uncomfortable and slightly stunned. After a while he slowly and weakly wrapped his arms around her as well, and began sniffling-which Gwen suspected wasn’t from him being sick. They held each other in silence for a while, until Max began to squirm a bit in her grasp.

“Ah, sorry kid.” She said while letting him go. “Didn’t mean to suffocate you or anything.”

Max shook his head. “No, it’s okay.” He said quietly. “Uh, thanks. For, you know…”

Gwen nodded. “Any time, buddy.”

“You know,” Max started, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “That kid is one hell of a kicker.”

Gwen took a moment to realize what he was talking about. “Heh,” she smirked. “You could feel that, huh? I guess she wanted to get in on our moment too. She was basically trying to kick herself to freedom for a moment there.”

“Ah,” Max said, smiling wider. “You said she.”

“Hm…I guess I did. Either you’re rubbing off on me, or it must be fate. I’ll tell David to pick up some pink paint and a crib on the way home.”

“Screw those lame-ass gender norms.” Max said, slight slightly while wiping the remaining tears from his eyes.” We’re gonna paint her room black with flames and so she grows up to be a badass.”

“Uh, not happening, kiddo.”

“Just you wait and see. I’ll call Nikki and Neil over to help paint!”

“Whateeeeever you say, Max.” Gwen replied teasingly.

Although still pale, Max had seemed to perk up. They went back and forth for a while, before Max admitted he was starting to get hungry. Visibly relieved, Gwen made Max and herself a pair of sandwiches before joining him in front of the TV again.

-----

David stepped inside the front door as quickly as he could, desperate to get away from the chill outside. He entered a dark and quiet living room, save for the blue white glow and sounds coming from the television.

He scanned the living room quickly, then quietly put his bags of groceries on the floor. He smiled up seeing Gwen and Max, fast asleep on the couch. Gwen was up against the end of the couch, and Max was right next to her, laying against her arm. David smiled as he heard their slow and even breathing-they were thoroughly asleep.

David gently placed the back of his hand against Max’s forehead, glad to feel that whatever fever he had seemed to have calmed down. Max stirred slightly, pressing in against Gwen and holding on to her arm. David suppressed the urge to take out his phone and snap a picture for his family scrapbook. Maybe when Max was feeling better… for the time being, David simply adjusted the blanket over the pair and let them sleep the rest of the evening away.

#camp camp #cc max #cc david #cc gwen #cc dadvid #cc momgwen #sickfic #do NOT under any circumstances tag this as an adult/child ship if you reblog

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thedefinitionofbts · 7 years ago

Text

Crossroads Hiding the Moon

Pairings: Min Yoongi x Reader | Min Yoongi x OC

Genre: Single Dad!Yoongi, Baby!Taehyung, Angst and Fluff

Words: 8K

Description: As requested by anon: “A single dad! yoongi with a toddler? Like super angst in a way that his wife suddenly left them so he turns cold. But then someone comes into their life and his son started calling her mommy, they try to work it out for the kid. Just when everything's better, the ex wife returns and things get complicated but ends up in fluff.”

A/N: My first request! Omg, I finished this super fast because I got way too excited to do a request lol. Well, I hope you enjoy this anonie :)

Present

If there is anything Min Yoongi hates more than being late for important events, it’s driving through the rain during rush hour. He’s on his way to pick up his four year old son, Taehyung, after a long day in the studio, and maybe if Jungkook was more vocally skilled at execution or if Namjoon wasn’t so nit picky about the lyrics, he wouldn’t feel as emotionally drained while the sun was still up. But no, the overly self-confident main vocalist was too arrogant to take constructive criticism seriously, and the popular boy group’s resident genius was too much of a perfectionist to let one “lackluster” chorus slide. So here he is, sitting in the his car listening to the unrelenting raindrops splatter against his windshield, and waiting for the vehicle in front of him to stop drunkenly swerving into his lane.

Truthfully, Yoongi had been feeling rather uneasy all day. He was reluctant to send Taehyung off to daycare, not knowing if the other children would make fun of the toddler for his second hand clothing that Yoongi barely had the money to afford or his eccentric personality that is often misunderstood. Yoongi’s new job didn’t allow children to run around the studio, and it was his first big break, finally being hired by a company as established in the music industry as BigHit just when rent was due in less than 2 weeks and his bank account had been sucked dry because he insisted on buying that expensive pair of shoes for the toddler’s birthday, even if it meant he had to skip lunch each day for the next month. He had barely been scraping by before his self-composed song was selected as the winner of the online competition BigHit had held for rising producers, and it was like the heaven’s was finally listening to his silent prayers.

It’s still pouring as the traffic continues to move at a snails pace, causing Yoongi to drown in his overly worried mind once again. He was afraid Taehyung would be the last kid picked up, having to watch all the other children leave with their parents causing him to start having thoughts of Yoongi abandoning him, just like his mother did. Yoongi swallows thickly and grips the steering wheel tighter, forcing himself not to think about something he’s been trying to forget for over two years now.

When he arrives at the daycare, Yoongi sees Taehyung sitting alone by the window, shoulder slightly slump and legs that were too short to touch the ground swinging carelessly as he stared at the pellets of water trickling down the glass, blurring the view of the grey world outside. He almost looks like he was deep in thought, and it makes Yoongi wonder if Taehyung’s young mind is actually thinking about something profound or if his head was just filled with his favorite cartoons on replay.

“Ah, Mr. Min! You’re finally here.” The friendly voice of the woman in charge snaps Yoongi out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the task at hand.

Yoongi clears his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, I’m here to pick up Taehyung.”

At the sound of his name, Taehyung’s little head perks up and a boxy smile appears on his face as he turns his head to see his father standing at the doorway. And before Yoongi can call him over, the four year old was already a step ahead and had ran over to jump into his arms.

“Daddy!” He laughs, nuzzling his head into the crook of Yoongi’s neck as the older male lifts him off the ground.

“He’s been waiting for quite a while.” The lady brings up the fact that Yoongi was nearly 45 minutes late, as if it hadn’t been obvious by the room void of children except Tae. She has a smile on her face, so Yoongi assumes she doesn’t say that with ill intent but rather concern for his son who had to watch all the other kids leave with their parents.

“Sorry, Tae, this won’t happen again.” Yoongi apologizes, bouncing the little boy in his arms to get in a more comfortable position.

Taehyung shakes his head. “It’s ok, I knew you’d come.”

Yoongi reaches up and ruffles Taehyung’s fluffy hair, smiling at the little boy because his heart felt too full to describe whatever emotion he was feeling into words. If Yoongi was being really honest, the kid was the only person filling that miserable numbness he wakes up to each morning, the only person that can actually bring out a genuine smile from the depths of his being, even if he has to force himself to ignore the other person that Taehyung reminds him of. He often wonders if Taehyung hides his sadness with a childish front, but maybe that was just Yoongi overthinking again or even an effect of projecting his own mindset on the toddler. On one hand, the kid was only four years old, and yet on the other, he had already gone through so much at such a young age.

Taehyung doesn’t want to get his new shoes wet, and honestly neither does Yoongi because Gucci for kids still cost the rising producer an arm and a leg, so Yoongi offers to carry him on the condition that he holds the umbrella–“because daddy doesn’t have three arms”. And of course Taehyung doesn’t object, and so the two of them walk to Yoongi’s car that is parked a block away because street parking was much cheaper than paying for a spot in the lot.

“Daddy look, that person doesn’t have an umbrella” Yoongi’s head turns in the direction that Taehyung’s stubby finger is pointed, and low and behold he see’s you using your wallet sized purse to cover your head in a feeble attempt to remain somewhat dry as you ran towards them waiting for the light to turn green at the crosswalk.

Yoongi stands still, head positioned straight, and gaze fixed at the passing cars on the street as you reached the spot where he was standing with Taehyung, pretending like there wasn’t someone being drenched in the rain while he remained sheltered under an umbrella large enough to fit an entire family.

“Aww, you’re so sweet, thank you.” Your comment makes Yoongi’s jerk his head around and realize just what had happened. Unbeknownst to him, Taehyung had moved the umbrella in a way so that it covered your head as well, and now the three of you were in a situation Yoongi would rather not have to address at a time like this.

“You’re pretty” Taehyung says, giggling a little as he continued to look at your with wide eyes and an impossibly friendly smile.

“Tae” Yoongi mildly scolds, wondering what had gotten into his son, questioning why in the world Taehyung would take part in such an unusual act of kindness towards a stranger on the street, and it wasn’t until Yoongi’s eyes meet directly with yours that the answer to that very question became as obvious as day.

You were almost a mirror image of her.

…

Past

When he was younger, Min Yoongi was a big fan of love that was like summer rain. The kind that hits you suddenly and bursts out of your soul like the scent of earthly elements coming back to life, filling the atmosphere when a seemingly never-ending drought finally comes to an end. Blame his artistic mind and tendency to describe emotion through song, a habit of his that manifested as an interest for the arts when he was young and caused him to spend most of his time listening to music rather than playing with other kids outside. And it was precisely for that reason that Min Yoongi knew he wanted to be a composer from the moment he entered college, opting to major in music the second he got the chance to meet with his university counselor.

He didn’t care what his parents thought of it, didn’t heed the advice from his older successful businessman brother-who was always the favorite in the family-about the risks of trying to make it big in the turbulent music industry. Yoongi was a big believer in passion being the key to success, of course not without hard work and discipline, which was why he found himself in the music theater, practicing classical pieces on the grand piano without an audience, every single day of the year. Because not only was it a place he came to associate with the undying love he harbored for music and the optimistic hope he had for the future, it was also where he met Kim Chaewon for the very first time.

“You’re Min Yoongi, right?”

The silvery voice floats over to Yoongi’s ear, cutting through the musical piece he had been so thoroughly absorbed in. It was almost too cliché because Chaewon exhibited a kind of beauty that made his jaw drop the moment he lifted his gaze off the black and white keys and spotted her walking down the steps to the empty stage. Even though the performance hall was only half lit, her skin still managed to glow smoothly under the dim artificial lighting, and her eyes were large and puppy-like, kind and gentle, like warm spring zephyr.

“Yeah, I am.” Yoongi answers, eyes still fixed on the girl who is smiling at him like winter snow had just melted away after months of turning to decaying slush.

“The one the professor kept raving about in class today, right?”

“Oh, that was…” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, reminded of how embarrassing it was for the music professor to brag about his project on sound layering. He didn’t like being the center of attention and had sunk lower in the seat when the man had mentioned his name, not that anyone could put a face to his name, or so he thought.

She giggles, light and airy, making Yoongi flush because he’s never met anyone who’s shown genuine interest in his novice work, well except for said professor who keeps praising him in front of the class.

“I forgot to mention, I’m Chaewon. You probably don’t me, but I’ve secretly been listening to you play for quite a while now and just summed up the guts to talk to you today.” Her gaze drops shyly, waiting for Yoongi to respond to her confession.

Yoongi’s at lost for words, not knowing how to respond to such a statement, especially when she’s making his heart beat a mile a minute. At the very least he’s poised enough to thank her for being a fan, which sounded really dumb stuttering out of his nervous mouth but manages to make her laugh, so it wasn’t all in vain he supposes.

Yoongi never thought about how it would feel to actually have someone support his dreams, he wasn’t looking for that kind of reassurance because he was used to being looked down upon. He was used to chasing after something that was unimaginably far away, one that makes him feel like he was running in place every day and that tomorrow would never truly arrive. It never really bothered him because his passion for music stayed true, and he was always confident that he would never stray from that path that would take him closer towards his dream, but Kim Chaewon came to him like summer rain. She was the first person to sincerely believe in him, and she did it when no one else bothered to give his music a chance, when the rest of the world was against his humble beginnings and rejected the potential of an underdog making it to the top.

“You’re going to be an amazing songwriter and producer one day.” Chaewon says to Yoongi as they walk under the cascading cherry blossoms on a warm April afternoon. The sun was warmer than normal today, and the scenery was hazy like an actual dream, only it was actually real and closer than anything else in Yoongi’s life at the time.

“I really hope so.” Yoongi sighs, reminded of all the obstacles that lie on the road ahead.

“I know you will because you’re Min Yoongi and the world deserves to be graced by your unparalleled art.”

Kim Chaewon was ethereal, because not only was her outer appearance angelic and otherworldly, her personality was just as lovely as Yoongi eventually learned over the years. And although Yoongi knew from the moment their minds clicked like that of soulmates that she was the one, it was because she stuck with him through the all-time lows, those periods when he lost the magic touch and would he hit a slump that barred him from coming up with anything good for months, that led Yoongi to love Chaewon more than that satisfying feeling of finally completing a song that conveyed exactly what he intended, more than the way rain cascades like diamond tears from the sky and ends in a passing sun shower that gives birth to a rainbow, and more than everything he thought was meaningful in life before she lit up his world.

Their love was a crystal clear story, one that wasn’t supposed to end.

…

Present

Grocery shopping is always a pain, and not entirely due to the fact that Yoongi was literally broke, but because he had to take time to consider healthy options for his growing boy. If it was just him, he would be fine shoving cheap junk down his esophagus or surviving on minimal food for most of the month, but because of Taehyung, he was forced to actually prepare meals with vegetables and make sure Tae always has his daily serving of fruits, which entailed a trip to the grocery store every weekend.

Luckily Taehyung isn’t all that picky for a four year old, but he was addicted to coke and Yoongi can do nothing but blame himself for allowing the kid to get his hands on the addictive soft drink. In his defense, he didn’t think one sip could have such a dramatic effect, but boy was he wrong.

“Coke!” Taehyung shouts, finger pointing at the 2-liter bottles of black liquid with their signature red label, lined on the shelves. His eyes were opened wide and sparkling like he just saw his first love.

“Not today, Tae” Yoongi mutters, ignoring the boy’s disappointed pout and quickly pushing the shopping cart past the soda section and heading straight towards the breakfast cereals and oatmeal.

He’s trying to decide if cereal is healthy or not. He’s heard of most types being just pure sugar, but there has to be some vitamins hidden in there, right? It was convenient that’s for sure, and Yoongi was definitely a fan of anything that required minimal preparation from box to mouth. Especially in the mornings when he would feel most groggy and not have any motivation to even think about food.

“Hi!” Yoongi hears Taehyung shout at someone walking down the isle, and at first he suspects it’s just some random person that caught his son’s attention, but as he tears his gaze away from the nutrition information printed on the cereal box, he sees someone who makes him do a double take.

The world was definitely fucking with him.

“Hey there little fella, so we meet again.” You smile at the little boy who shared his umbrella with you the other day, reaching over and patting his head as he sat in the shopping cart.

“I’m Y/N by the way, sorry I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself the other day.” You wait for the father of the little boy to look up at you.

“Min Yoongi” He responds, still avoiding eye contact.

“I see you’re taking good care of him” You hint at the box of cheerios that Yoongi was scrutinizing.

“I try” He exhales, throwing the box into the cart and preparing to walk off.

You trail after them, wanting to help out in some way because they had been so kind to you on that rainy day and the kid was the cutest little bun you had ever seen.

“Almond milk would be a good option to pair with that.” You suggest. “Calcium for strong bones.” Your voice is light and optimistic, a tone that Yoongi isn’t so happy to be met with because he’s used to being left alone and ignored.

“Are you some sort of expert?” Yoongi scoffs, mildly annoyed at the fact that you’re clearly not going away, but it’s not like he can just voice that directly.

“I’m not a certified nutritionist, but I know a few things.” You grin, flashing Yoongi a knowing look before taking them down each isle and explaining what foods are healthy as well as easy to prepare. “My sister has a son about the same age as yours, and I babysit for her the time.” You explain, trying to lighten the mood.

He’s more than reluctant at first, face remaining as stoic as ever, but Yoongi hates grocery shopping and he’s too tired to keep reading lists of nutrition information and trying to decipher the hoard of long words he doesn’t even know. So he looks at you momentarily before nodding and diverting his eyes, praying that this’ll be a one-time thing and that it ends as soon as he checks out of the store.

He didn’t welcome your friendly attitude towards him because he didn’t need another person in his life to smile at him like everything was ok, like there’s another chance for him to be happy again and have the courage to trust emotions he doesn’t think are real anymore. Not when you’re standing in front of him looking more breathtaking than anyone he’s seen in years, not when you give off such a soothing and caring aura that Yoongi wishes he hadn’t noticed, and certainly not when you remind him so much of the person he still loves no matter how hard he tries to forget.

It’s pathetic, but Yoongi wants to avoid complicated shit like the plague. He doesn’t need another love story that’ll ripe his heart into tiny pieces and leave him slowly bleeding out on an empty street. He doesn’t need light that makes him believe in lies that disguise themselves as promises, and he doesn’t want to open wounds that have not and will most certainly never heal, because he knows if history repeats itself, he won’t come out of it alive the second time.

“You need help with that?” You offer, gesturing to the arm full of plastic bags Yoongi was holding as the three of you walk out of the store.

“No” He says, detached and not even bothering to spare you a glance.

Yoongi feels Taehyung tug on his pant leg, and he knows exactly what the little boy wants.

“Daddy can’t carry you now, you have to walk like a big boy.”

Taehyung whimpers, a noise that makes the hair on Yoongi’s neck stand up because he knows what’s coming next. And Yoongi curses in his head because you were still walking next to them, which Yoongi is starting to question why you hadn’t left yet because he doesn’t want you to witness what his son’s about to do next.

Taehyung starts wailing, loudly. And it sounds so sad anyone who heard his cries would think his dog had just died or something because no four year old should be able to convey emotions so depressing with just ugly sobbing over something as trivial as having to walk when he wants to be carried, but Tae manages to excel in that area and Yoongi swears the kid could grow up to be an amazing actor-but that’s besides the point right now. The sound echoes throughout the neighborhood, ricocheting off the walls of the houses lining the streets, causing passerbys to cover their ears in annoyance and Yoongi’s face to flush hotly from the growing embarrassment.

“Tae” Yoongi scolds through gritted teeth, but his harsh attitude on makes the boy cry even more. Yoongi closes his eyes and curses again, but just as he was about to bend over and attempt to lift the boy up with seven shopping bags in hand, you’ve already beat him to the catch.

“Awww, don’t cry sweetie, I’ll carry you” You’ve already lifted the toddler up into your arms, wiping his tear stained cheeks with a handkerchief from your purse. “It’s tiring to walk isn’t it?”

Taehyung nods and looks at you with puffy red eyes, but just as soon as you beam at him, his boxy smiles makes a return and it was as if he hadn’t just been bawling just a minute ago.

Yoongi sighs, making a mental note that he needs to stop spoiling Taehyung before the kid starts thinking he can always get his way.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” The question slips out of Yoongi’s mouth after another fifteen minutes of walking, but he regrets it immediately because the pregnant pause that follows starts to suffocate him and he doesn’t even have the guts to look at the flustered expression on your face.

“I-I, ummm”

Yoongi almost regrets calling you out the way he did. He wasn’t purposefully trying to make you feel uncomfortable, but his query was valid. Why were you following them home?

“I know this probably sounds crazy, but I live in the same apartment complex as you. I’ve seen the two of you around, but I-I guess I probably shouldn’t have assumed you knew me since I’ve never officially introduced myself before.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to think. He’s now certain that the world was fucking with him because this is definitely fate throwing him some kind of curve ball that he can’t escape, or maybe it’s more like a boomerang that’s aimed towards his head.

He clears his throat. “Oh”

That’s all he says in response to your explanation. He doesn’t address the issue further, not when the rest of the walk remains shrouded in silence or when the tension between you and him is skyrocketing through the roof as Yoongi struggles with the door to the apartment complex and is unwilling to ask you to help him, only to grunt a muffled thanks when you rush to his aid with his son still in your arms, and not even when you put Taehyung back on the ground and wave good-bye to the toddler as you exit the elevator on the fifth floor.

…

Past

Chaewon informs Yoongi that she’s missed her period, and normally this wouldn’t alarm her if it weren’t for the added tenderness in her breasts and weird food cravings that she hasn’t experienced until recently or the fact that she and Yoongi had just made love for the first time right after the both of them successfully graduated from university. He had suggested using protection on that night, but Chaewon didn’t think anything unexpected would happen from one time.

Evidently, she was wrong.

“Yoongi, I’m pregnant.” Chaewon holds the pregnancy test up so Yoongi can examine the double lines that have appeared. There’s no joy in her face, no disappointment either, but rather a subtle hint of fear tainting her formerly cheerful eyes.

They weren’t married, and they didn’t have stable jobs or their lives put together. In such a situation, who wouldn’t be terrified to see those two tiny markings on such a life-altering day? Chaewon is thinking about what she’s going to say to her parents, running through all the options they have when it comes to dealing with this, and praying that maybe the test was wrong and that she was only experiencing such symptoms because of stress or a hormonal imbalance not due to the zygote now latched on to her uterine wall.

“Chaewon…” Yoongi gasps, rushing over and embracing her as if he had just been gifted all the stars in the universe, embracing the feeling of excitement mixed with apprehension saturating his senses like it was the most beautiful moment in his life.

“What do we do?” She utters, so softly Yoongi has to lean down and caress her cheek, lifting her chin so he can gaze sincerely into her eyes with the utmost resolve.

“We’ll welcome our beautiful child into this world.”

…

Present

“Yoongi!”

Ok, so now Yoongi is convinced that you’re just a stalker. Like how? He had just walked out of the apartment to take a walk and clear his head after getting Taehyung to take a nap. And just as he was running through all of these album concepts in his head, you happened to spot him strolling along the sidewalk towards the park next to the apartment complex.

Yoongi’s ready to sigh wearily as he sees you walk up to him.

“I was just about to ask if you wanted to have Taehyung meet my sister’s son, Park Jimin. I’m going to babysitting him all next week and if you’re busy with work and stuff, you can drop him off at my apartment.” You smile, waiting for some kind of response from Yoongi. He was so hard to read you begin to wonder if he’s just like that because of his natural personality or if he really didn’t want to see you because there was no sign of elation or even pretend politeness on his face.

“Sure.” Yoongi doesn’t think things through before answering, and he mentally scolds himself for not considering the aftermath of taking you up on your offer, because now he’s officially caught in a relationship more intimate that he promised he would ever allow himself to be with another person. Fuck.

But the thought of not having to rush out of the BigHit building and picking Taehyung up after daycare was just too tempting, and better yet, he didn’t even have to get up an hour early to drop Taehyung off at daycare because you literally lived two floors down, and Taehyung like you for reasons Yoongi is choosing to ignore at this point because that would just twist things up more than they already are.

“Great! I guess I’ll see you Monday then!” You chirp, waving and heading back to the apartment.

…

Taehyung and Jimin get along better than two peas in a pod. Any outsider would assume they had been friends for years or were brothers from another mother. They are in fact the exact same age, give or take a month or two, and they surprisingly shared more interests than Yoongi could’ve predicted.

“How was your day?” You ask as Yoongi enters your apartment to pick up his son.

“Nothing too special.” Yoongi has a minor flashback of Jungkook stuffing a pair of chopsticks up his nose and trying to sing. It was not pretty, but it made him laugh, which is quite a difficult feat so he let it slide.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where do you work?��

“BigHit Entertainment.”

“Whoa, you produce music for Beyond the Scene?” Your eyes widen. “Their music is always topping the charts!”

“I just started, so no, none of my songs have been chart toppers quite yet.”

“But still, you have to be good if they hired you.”

“I guess” He shrugs.

“I’m a huge fan of them.” You admit, face flushing a little. “I’ve been following them since debut.”

“They do have a lot of fans.” Yoongi comments. He looks around the room, rubbing his hands together and trying to figure out a way to thank you for taking care of Taehyung all day and leaving without it seeming like he was taking advantage of your services and didn’t give a fuck about camaraderie.

“So…uh-”

Yoongi isn’t allowed to finish his attempt at more small talk before Taehyung interrupts him. “Mommy, will Jimin come back tomorrow?” Taehyung’s little head momentarily turns away from the toys splayed out on the floor and looks at you and Yoongi sitting on the couch in the living room.

You’re surprised by the four year old’s choice of words because Taehying hadn’t called you by any name other than your own all day. You’re immediate reaction is of shock, but endearment soon replaces that initial astonishment as he beams at you like a blooming flower.

Yoongi grits his teeth, body stiffening at the sound of his son voicing those syllables to a woman that is not Kim Chaewon. He feels irritated, balling his hands into fists as he tries not to drown in this pool of opposing collisions that is making his head spin. She left. But she’s his real mom. She left. But I love her.

“You’re disgusting” He spits out, getting up from the couch.

“W-what?” You utter, shaking your head and trying to digest the situation.

“I trusted you and you brainwashed him. I knew you were a monster.” Yoongi walks over in a fit of rage and grabs Taehyung’s arm forcefully, dragging the kid out of your apartment before you’re brain could even register what was going on.

Yoongi doesn’t think twice about clearing things up. There’s nothing to clear up, it was obvious you had eyes for Taehyung, and you were this creepy woman taking advantage of a little boy who’s mother you resembled so uncannily.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?” Taehyung asks the moment Yoongi slams the door.

“Tae, that lady is not your mother.”

“I know,” He answers matter-of-factly. “But she’s nice and she takes care of me, and I really like her.” His bottom lip quivers as he looks at Yoongi with puppy-eyes, wondering why his father was so angry.

It’s not surprising that Taehyung doesn’t remember his real mother. Yoongi doesn't even know if the boy is even aware of what a mother is, what a mother should do, or even what a mother even represents because he’s never been brave enough to address the events that happened when his son was barely old enough to talk. He was convinced that it would go unnoticed; that Taehyung wouldn’t think his small family of two was strange or different from the societal norm. How fucking stupid for him to think that. Like the boy wouldn’t grow up to notice everyone else had two parents when he was only left with one, or he wouldn’t wonder why other children would call one of their parents “mommy” and the other one “daddy”. Or why Yoongi couldn’t look him in the eyes and tell him how he came into this world.

He’s a fool to think everything would just magically go away, and he would never have to face his problems head on.

…

Past

“You supported my dreams back then! What? Have you changed your mind because I’m not as successful as you had hoped???” Yoongi accuses, trying to keep his voice low so he wouldn’t wake up the baby sleeping in the next room. He was angry with himself more than anything, but Chaewon’s words had hit his most vulnerable spots for weeks now and he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“That’s when I thought you were actually going to do something with your life!”

“I am” Yoongi cries, desperately trying to stop this from turning into another full blown argument.

But Chaewon’s harsh words don’t impede. “My parents kicked me out of the house, and now you can’t even keep a roof over my head! How do you expect me to live the rest of my life like this?!”

“Chaewon” Yoongi begs, gripping onto her arm as if she was his lifeline. “I’m trying, I really am… please…” Yoongi is about to get down on his knees because he can’t let her throw him away like a piece of trash. She was the only person he had, and the past few months have been hell with him being stuck in the longest artistic slump he’s ever hit and Chaewon attempting to get any part-time job she can while still taking care of the baby after her long shifts. Yoongi knows it’s all his fault, and he knows Kim Chaewon deserves a better life, and that he has no one to blame but himself for dragging the love of his life down into this misfortunate hellhole with him because he was selfish and didn’t want to let her go.

“I was an idiot to believe an loser like you.”

And then she’s gone, leaving Yoongi in a place darker than hell.

…

Present

Yoongi doesn’t know why he’s standing outside your door, hesitating to knock and mulling over whether or not he should just run back to the elevator and pretend you never existed and hope that Taehyung forgets about you too, but his conscience is eating him alive, and his son obviously won’t let it go.

“Why can’t I go over to Y/N’s house?”

“Why can’t I play with Jimin anymore?”

“Why are you sad?”

It took him two days to weigh out his options, finally deciding that apologizing to you was easier than having to make up stupid answers for that endless string of questions that keep pouring out of Taehyung’s mouth like a faucet he can’t turn off and then constantly justifying them to not only the toddler but also to himself.

Yoongi takes a deep breath, pinches his nose bridge and lifts a finger to ring the doorbell.

“Y-Yoongi?”

“Y/N, uh, hi, ummm, so about those things I said the other day...” Yoongi takes another deep breath as you stare at him, waiting for him to finish. “I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

“It’s ok” You gently reply. “I’d react the same way if my kid did that.”

Yoongi finally has the guts to lift his eyes to trace over your calm features, and he feels like he’s foreign territory because for the first time he sees you for you and not someone else. “Do you mind if I come in?” What the hell was he saying? It’s like someone else was controlling his mouth.

“Of course.” You open the door wider, moving out of the way so the weary looking male can enter.

“She left us.” Yoongi says as you offer him a cup of freshly brewed tea. He doesn’t know why he’s being so open to you. He’s barely ever even been honest to himself, but he’s starting to convince himself that he’s willing to try sorting out a past he can’t hide from any longer because sooner or later, it’s bound to come back with a vengeance. “It was my fault for not providing her the life she deserved.”

“Min Taehyung’s mother?”

“Kim” Yoongi swallows. “Kim Taehyung.”

And maybe it’s also because you mysteriously make his exhausted heart feel like it had found light once again, beating with a kind of fervor that he was convinced had left forever.

“I can tell you loved her very much.” You whisper.

“With all my heart.”

“I’m sorry.” The words sound generic, and you honestly don’t know what else to say. You didn’t have all the details and you barely knew the man, but the shadow covering his eyes is something you desperately want to help him get rid of, and even if you can’t, you at least want to try.

…

When Yoongi’s first song for Beyond the Scene is finished and their album is finally released, BigHit decides to hold a showcase to promote their new concept, which also happens to be their transition into the next era.

“You got me tickets!?” You exclaim, eyes glittering at the yellow slip pinched between Yoongi’s fingers.

“You said you were a fan.” He shrugs.

You wrap your arms around him before your rational mind can weigh out the effects of such an action. You were clearly too excited to thank him in any other way, and you didn’t think he was the kind to oppose physical contact, that is, until you feel his body tense under your embrace. He doesn’t reciprocate the action and you suspect you’ve taken it too far too soon.

You slowly start unravel your arms. “S-sorry” But before you can take a step back; Yoongi grabs your arm and pulls you back into a tight hug.

“Why?” He smiles, patting you on the back and making you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

He even starts inviting you over for dinner on nights he was motivated enough to cook a special meal for Taehyung, claiming to “not want to have to deal with too many leftovers”. But you kind of knew he purposefully prepared a meal for three, because he always made three of everything, no more, no less.

“So who’s your favorite member?” He asks, picking up a piece of beef and putting it into Taehyung’s steaming rice bowl.

“Of Beyond the Scene?” Hm...” You ponder over the difficult answer. “I know there are only four of them, but this is the hardest question I’ve ever been asked.”

Yoongi chuckles. “They're not even similar. Why is it so hard?”

“Well, they’re all super talented and good looking!” You defend. “And each of them adds something new to the table.”

“True” He nods. “But if you knew what they were really like…”

“I know they’re complete dorks.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot about the million videos they’ve put up online of them doing nothing but messing around. Sometimes I question why they have so many fans.”

“It’s partially because of their music, and the fact that they’re so real.” You explain. “But back to your question, I think my bias has to be Hoseok. He’s literally a ball of sunshine. Or maybe Namjoon because he’s so smart.”

“Hoseok and Namjoon?” Yoongi cocks a brow. “I would’ve taken you to be more of a Seokjin fan.”

“Why’s that?”

“His face is attractive?” Yoongi makes an I-don’t-know gesture.

You shake your head. “Who’s your favorite then?”

“Jungkook” Yoongi replies. “I didn’t like him at first, but I’ve grown used to his playful antics.”

“That youngest? You clearly have a soft spot for the young ones.” You laugh, peering over at Taehyung who had no idea what you guys were talking about.

…

On the day of the showcase, you’re more anxious than you’ve ever been. Out of all the years you been a fan, you never imagined you would one day come across the opportunity to see your favorite idols live. It was the most amazing feeling ever, and it was all thanks to Min Yoongi.

The songs they performed were amazing, and although it was different from their usual sound, you could somehow tell Yoongi was the mastermind behind all of the pieces. There was just something about the emotions conveyed by the beat and lyrics that spoke to you on a deeper level than any of their previous songs. Maybe it was because you had caught a glimpse of the man behind the music on a personal level beforehand or maybe he was just a skilled enough artist to create such beautiful tunes.

“Daddy, I need to pee” Taehyung whines as the third song ends and the members had stopped to introduce themselves one by one.

“Ok, we’ll find you a bathroom.” Yoongi responds. He turns to you. “I’ll be right back.

You nod, eyes still fixed on the four idols on stage.

The quiet that hits Yoongi is a striking contrast to the raucous arena, as the large doors slam shut. He’s casually looking around to find a bathroom when his gaze lands on someone that makes his heart skip several beats. This can’t be real.

And Yoongi thinks it might be his imagination because there’s no way Kim Chaewon was standing ten feet in front of him just as he exits the auditorium with Taehyung following closely behind. His body freezes up, and his throat is constricting to the point where he can’t tell if he’s still breathing.

“Yoongi”

The voice is just as familiar as it sounded two years ago.

“Chaewon?”

“Congratulations on all of this” She gestures at the crowd of screaming fangirls and flashing stage lights across the heavy metal doors.

“H-How did you…? W-Why…?” He can’t even form a coherent question because his brain had stopped functioning normally.

“I can recognize your music from anywhere.” She says, flashing Yoongi a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Yoongi can feel Taehyung’s grip on the hem of his pant leg as he hides behind his father, looking at the women curiously. “I don’t doubt that, but…”

“Is that…?” She ignores his state of shock and bends over to wave at Taehyung. “Tae!” She beams.

“H-Hi” The little boy responds shyly, clearly not recognizing the women the way she expected him to.

“He’s grown up so well” She sighs, straightening up once again. “If you’re not busy, would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me? So we can, I don’t know, chat?”

Yoongi hesitates. He wants to reject her offer because he knows you’re still waiting for him in the crowd, but he can’t get himself to say no, not when he clearly still has feelings for the woman who left him years ago and is now suddenly back within reach.

…

“She came back.” Yoongi says. “I’m sorry I left without telling you.”

“Oh, Chaewon, right?” You swallow, trying not to make things awkward between the two of you. “It’s totally fine. She must’ve been really happy to see you and Tae.”

Yoongi nods, eyes still trained at the ground. He was standing outside your doorway late at night, wanting to make sure you got home safely after he had left the showcase so unexpectedly.

“Hey, no hard feelings.” You console him, despite your own voice cracking ever so slightly. You had waited for him for hours after the showcase, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You didn’t wait for me for too long did you?”

4 hours.

“No, of course not.” You pretend to make it sound absurd, shaking your head and waving it off like it was no big deal. “I figured something must have come up.”

Yoongi nods.

“So umm, good-night?” You speak after a long drawn out silence.

“Yeah. Good-night.”

…

Yoongi can’t fall asleep that night, and it’s not because he’s thinking about Kim Chaewon coming back into his life and throwing him in complicated shit again, surprisingly, he’s more concerned about you and what you are to him, because he already knows what Chaewon is, more or less. But you on the other hand, you were still shrouded in a misty veil, one created by life’s endless intersections and obstacles. And the universe wasn’t going to give him a break anytime soon, but maybe that’s exactly what he needed to find the right path.

His thoughts flash back to what Chaewon had said to him at the coffee shop.

“We do stupid things when we’re young, but that doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t love.”

Yoongi stares off into the distance, not knowing why her words were not affecting him the way he expected them to.

“Keyword, had”

“Yoongi, I made a mistake. I still have feelings for you, and I know you do too because otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now.”

He nods slowly, absorbing the honeyed words that were seeping out of the woman’s mouth, and making him really consider the exact thing she was saying.

It was nothing short of the truth, he loved Kim Chaewon and undoubtedly still does. But he has always loved her because he thought she loved him for him, plain and unadorned, when in reality, she was always more in love with his music than anything. And don’t get him wrong, he knows that anyone who has the capacity to love and appreciate his music has to have that special connection with his innermost self, but that holds true for any fan and the musician they look up to. And it took the event of her coming back after he had finally found success to make him realize she was only a crossroad and not the moon itself. Because what happens when Yoongi stops composing one day, what will transpire when he’s too old to produce songs and create the art that she loved him for, will she leave again?

Yoongi’s not about to find out.

…

You don’t see Yoongi for a couple of days, and you knew exactly why. It didn’t make you feel any better knowing the reason, but there was that annoying nagging feeling tugging at your heart that you’ve convinced yourself isn’t categorized as jealously, disappointment, or longing. Stop being absurd.

Yoongi is not yours, he never was and never will be. Was it really that hard to accept the fact that he couldn’t fall in love with you when he was still in love with another woman? Yes. No. Does it make it any more justifiable that he maybe would’ve given you a chance had that woman no returned? Yes. No.

“Wake up, Y/N.” You mutter to yourself as you take the elevator down to grab a package that had arrived.

“Looks like I beat you to the chase.” The familiar voice startles you, almost causing you to drop the house keys your were twirling in your fingers.

“Oh, Yoongi” You gasp, clutching your chest like he almost gave you a heart attack.

“I was just about to look for you.” He bites his lower lip, preparing to say something he’s been running through in his head for the past few days.

“Is something wrong?”

“Life is full of crossroads...” Yoongi swallows, wanting to make this whole speech poetic, but he’s too nervous to function for reasons he’s fully aware of but does not have control over. He hasn’t confessed to anyone in a long time, and even then, he’s only every done it once in his life, to that other woman he’s slowly started to place in another section of his heart to make room center stage for you. “Ah, fuck it.” He mutters. “I’ve made mistakes in the past because I used to be the kind of person to be consumed by people the same way I’m consumed by my passions. I tend to place people on the wrong pedestal, and I have a hard time letting go of first loves. But if you are willing, I want to try for us, because I think I’ve finally found the moon after passing many crossroads.”

There’s a long pause because your mind is blank and your heart is racing. You continue to stare at the man standing awkwardly in front of you, gripping onto the box that had just been delivered as if he was the mail carrier, and you don’t think anything can be more endearing than this.

“But umm, if you’re not down, it’s totally ok too. I know this is strange and sudden, and I’m totally just freaking you out right now because. Aw, fuck.” Yoongi’s eyes squeeze close and he tilts his head up.

Scratch that. Said man all choked up as he’s trying to confess despite his debilitating nerves is something even more endearing.

“I’m totally down.” You respond, trying to hold in a laugh as you take the box away from him. “So I’m your moon? Is this going to be Beyond the Scene’s next album concept? Or did you just run out of real ideas.” You playfully nudge him in the arm.

Yoongi smiles, gummy and jubilant, and the universe shimmering within his eyes at that moment is, without a doubt, even more breathtaking than his music.

...

#bts fanfic #bangtan bookclub #btswriters #sfwbangtan #armiesnet #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #i hope this is okay!#or at least close to what you had in mind #truthfully i suck at love triangles lol #thank you for the request!#requested

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delcat177 · 7 years ago

Text

My Dinner With Garfield: An AppVenture

Just because you’re smiling doesn’t mean you haven’t drowned --They Might Be Giants, Dark and Metric

There was a time in my life where I genuinely enjoyed Garfield. There has never NOT been a time in my life where I haven’t genuinely enjoyed free money. I consider myself a warrior of fortune--you can daily find me dutifully filling out surveys and watching ads in various services that will give you gift cards for being a cog in the capitalist machine, and I’ll put my hand in toward anything promising semi-paid semi-labor.

This is especially true with ground-floor terribly-planned enterprises, which is how I was able to legally flimflam Bing out of $15 worth of gift cards by searching for pictures of animals once a day. So of course after the initial wave of nausea and secondhand embarrassment over Garfield Go, I was installing it and ready to see how effectively I--and any other card-hunters--could grin and bear my way to some free Starbucks.

The Garfield emulation is so complete that you already know the punchline before reading it, but come along, won’t you?

WARNING: Yes I will be comparing it to Pokemon Go. To be fair, it knows EXACTLY what it’s doing.

WARNING THE SECOND: I batch-edited these and Tumblr doesn’t like the size, but in keeping with the true Garfield spirit, I’m too lazy to edit them again. You’re not missing anything.

The first thing I managed to do was break the app. I disallowed AR, thinking that it would have a stock background similar to PoGo, because that shit eats battery like...God, I don’t have it in me to make a lasagna joke, just let it be said that rather than issue a warning, it went to an entirely black screen. I fixed it manually and was greeted with Not Garfield on my coffee table, demanding food. Contrary to his nature, he refused to eat anything I didn’t curveball directly into his dish. My sister and warrior-in-apps commented on how I managed to land it in on my second try, and I realized I actually had an edge from never giving up on PoGo. Not a lot of edge, and not enough to get it more than one out of three times, but it set my spirits moderately high.

I did some checking around in the app, and wasn’t able to find much to do while stationary except bake food. I wasn’t sure what it was for, but when an app tells you to do a free time-based thing, you do it, and I threw a lasagna on. I was offered the option to bake it immediately for more in-game currency than it cost to buy one. I had a couple thousand free starter coins but also first-grade math skills, and declined.

The time was ripe. After trading comments on how janky the controls were (you have to use two fingers in a twisting motion to change the map view, which is one of the dirtiest sounding and looking mechanics I've seen since jerk-off jogging in Wii Fit), my sister and I parted ways and the experiment began.

My nightly walks tend to be heavy on the “nightly”. This led to the game’s first flaw disguised as a perk: While it’s true that it will gladly put its Pokestops anywhere (they’re Bistros here), “anywhere” includes “your neighbor’s apartment”. They’re also full minigames, which means instead of giving your phone a quick swipe, you stop dead and play a lackluster Simon expy, because there is nothing less awkward and likely to get security called on you than standing in front of someone’s house at 11:42 at night silently tapping away on your phone for an extended period of time. I threw the game, got some free food, and quickly moved on before I had to explain my motivations.

Things got dark fast. I mean that literally. One of the other reasons forced AR is a problem is that it isn’t built for nighttime play. Every time I tapped a hotspot, it gave me a “Waiting For GPS” screen before dropping Goblinfield in pitch black, enticing me to appease him with baked sacrifices. It’s a simple mechanic: If you successfully pitch food into his dish, Gerbfield will eat and then find a chest for you to open. It’s also a highly broken one. The food items are all made of lead that turns into rubber on the impact, requiring an unsatisfying Herculean toss to pitch a piece of cake that’ll most likely either miss or bounce back out again. You get three tries, which is somewhat generous, but the sheer frustration nullifies it. My frustration was amplified on the realization that GarGo does not allow you to throw high enough to even possibly hit Goobfield in the face.

"Hey kids, wanna see where I hid Lyman's body? Tap the box."

One of the things that is admittedly sort of clever is having a button to tap to refresh hotspots. One of the things that is not is not instructing the player that it's there. I was a third of the way through my usual route before I noticed it and could begin playing again. I stopped for a moment to relate the information to my sister. She replied that the app was claiming she was ten blocks from where she was and near an inexplicable horseshoe-shaped structure. I took a side-by-side of where I was to relate GerBo's...relaxed attitude toward geography and also the laws of physics.

Novelty was running low, but I got a boost in determination from getting my first gift card...fragment?

Well, that explained how the gift card scenario was going to shake down. I could guess how many first pieces of the promised $100 gift card were already being given out and how few of the next two would ever be found, much less that golden fourth, but that was fine. I play these for the little prizes, not the big ones, because expecting to win anything that isn't roughly 1/80,000th the value they squeeze out of you is a recipe for disappointment. I kept going.

The hotspots led me into the local Safeway, which happened to also house a Pokestop, and I ran flat against a new flaw: The game is NOT subtle. PoGo can be played with relative normalcy 80% of the time, since you can turn AR off and keep marching staunchly ahead as you catch. GerfCo requires either violently whipping around at 180 degrees or slowly turning the same distance with your phone up like a pod person, and I was quickly pressed to decide which was worse. I ended up buying a candy bar as a social apology for looking like a jerk in a public place and hopefully as an unspoken excuse for being there. Upon doing so, I realized I didn't have any cash on hand and was paying for a dollar candy bar at midnight in Safeway with a credit card, which made me look like a right pillock instead of a jerk, but now one hundred pennies deep into this venture, I soldiered on, chocolate in hand.

I had noticed by this point that the food system was tiered, so I switched to the one piece of lasagna starting the game had given me and stuck the landing. This gave me a "better chance" of finding the highest-tier chest, but I was unsurprised that it wasn't one. I was more surprised by what was inside.

I hope you weren't expecting "that $100 gift card". Ah, yes, Garfield's trademark white fedora, the one he's so known for wearing. Compelled to take every chance available to make this experience as viscerally unpleasant as possible, I equipped it immediately.

This is why I need meninism.

Things weren't getting better. The next refresh of the hotspots spawned absolutely every one on the other side of the street. I was now adding "crossing the road in the middle of the night" to the list of fun-filled family activities GlorpNo had to offer. I had run out of food and was now using the in-game currency to buy it fresh. My iPod, which has slowly developed sentience over the years, kept shuffling up Mountain Goats songs. I was starting to feel distinctly unnerved.

PoGo wasn't averse to getting its two cents in on the matter.

Standing outside of a dimly lit Pizza Hut where the cashier was closing out their drawer and probably wondering if the guy whipping around in half-circles outside the building was planning the world's illest-advised burglary, I won a comic strip panel. Not a comic strip. A single panel. Despite the ability to look up literally every Garfield strip ever made on multiple platforms with a casual Google search, I was being given a single panel of a single strip as a hallowed reward. I pictured a small child working for days for the RNG to let them read a three-panel strip in full, staring bleakly at the one they had in the meantime and wondering if it was the punchline or the setup.

I began redefining my understanding of the term "liminal space".

By this point, I was entirely out of food, nearly out of coins, and on my last percentage of patience. As if sent by Jim Davis’ automated humorbot itself begging me to reconsider, I got a notification that the lasagna I had started making an hour and a half ago was done. I hauled ass to the next hotspot and got ready to make good.

Yeah you all saw that coming. You know, Globeel, if I tossed a fiver toward a busker’s case and it landed behind it, they would just pick it up. I know it’s food but 1) you’re a cat 2) you are Garfield the Cat (question mark heavily implied) 3) at least the busker offers a return service.

I need to state that at this point I was actually going to stay with this game, despite my readily apparent feelings on it. It's not fun, it's not a mentally rewarding experience, but I am by nature a patient person, and I was willing to stick with it for the eventual gains. That's how you win at these things--being willing to put the time in for the gradual increments to stack up. I was actually looking forward to going home and checking in on food I was baking and slowly going after the gold.

Then I decided to check what I had earned so far, and the entire thing came to a screeching halt.

Here’s the grift, folks, here's how the carnival game works. Remember how the system is tiered? You have to have the highest-tier item to get a chance of seeing one of those diamond chests, and there's no guarantee the piece will be inside. Again, it takes an hour and a half to bake one piece of lasagna, or else 350 coins to buy one. You get a small handful of coins from chests and a slightly larger handful if you finish a "trinket" collection, but unless you are willing to devote your waking hours to the game, your recourse is buying your way there. And...how much are those coins?

Yyyyyeah. It's Vegas, baby. You pay to play and the house always wins.

So, friendly fast-buck-sters, this app definitely isn't worth it for money value. If it was a matter of staying inside and rolling the dice while I multitask, I might be on board for chasing the golden ticket, but GlerbGubler demands all of your attention in public spaces and turns out Sisyphean as a result, if Sisyphus was constantly aware of how awkward he looked pushing that damned boulder. Play Lucktastic, join e-rewards, get into the sites that actually reward you consistently for a reasonable amount of effort. Your time does have value, so make sure it's honored.

I uninstalled the app on the way home. Deleted all the data I had, torched it. Stood on the sidewalk laughing, watching it burn, all tabby cat orange and lasagna sauce red. Then I put on a top 40 station, got on the Hollywood Freeway, headed north.

Never could stand that cat.

#garfield go #garfield #apps #app review #e3 blogging #this is the nightmare bill watterson saw when he said no to merchandising calvin and hobbes #bless 'im for it #appventures #del's abuse of song lyrics #although i think mr. waits would understand #i spent too long on this #food tag

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rocknrollsalad-moved · 8 years ago

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Prompt: Laughter

I skipped day two. Sunshine just didn’t inspire me but perhaps later. So a few hours late I bring you another Science Boyfriends offering (and again from Tony’s POV which is so weird for me). Editing was slapdash at best. Apologies. Hopefully I’ll get today’s prompt out on time.

From time to time Tony had to play business man, most of his time he found wrapped up in being Iron Man. The Avengers were a full time press nightmare and much of Stark Industries left in the hands of others. Trustworthy as they may be, Tony still had to do his part.

This meant wining and dining. People who wanted to know that their contract with the company meant they were close to Tony Stark himself. Sometimes because he was Iron Man, other times because he was a Stark.

It was one such call Tony was stuck on as he spun mindlessly in his chair in the lab. Every few minutes he mimed various deaths across the room to Bruce. Each met with an eye roll and Bruce pretending to ignore it by turning his attention back to his work. He had no concern for the politics of business.

Which was a shame, in Tony’s eyes. Should Bruce be better at playing the game he’d be a millionaire as well. With at least three Nobel prizes. The term genius wasn’t enough but it didn’t get you as far one would think when you couldn’t work a room. Drum up that interest and, more importantly, that funding.

Unable to find entertainment with Bruce, Tony turned his attention to news feeds and mindless apps. Settling on old school arcade games as he listened to the fanboy on the other end of the line.

Of course, Tony was full of the expected charm. These skills ingrained in him, things he could do in his sleep. The easy jokes, the sarcastic comments, and the expected honesty all flowed without thought.

“A man once knocked on my door and asked for a small donation towards the local swimming pool. I gave him a glass of water.”

Telling a joke so many before him had, meant to bring a laugh but it made Tony think he sounded like his father. He’d prided himself on his charity but the truth of it didn’t matter. That wasn’t the point. The point was the laugh it earned.

Which was lackluster, the man on the other end of this call didn’t find the humor in it and Tony would have explained why it was funny had he not been caught off guard by the sound behind him.

A slight squeak of his chair echoed as Tony turned his chair around to look at his partner. Bruce had his head buried, looking too intently at some results. Also looking a little like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

If he didn’t know any better, Tony could have sworn Bruce laughed at the joke. Laughter wasn’t a sound that came from Bruce. There was the fake one, Tony seen through that on day one, but everyone had that laugh. Hell, his own was so perfected Tony couldn’t even tell the difference anymore.

A sincere laugh from Bruce was unheard of. It was small, likely stopped so Tony wouldn't hear but Tony heard it. Not doubt about that. He debated finding footage of it. There needed to be documentation of this rare moment.

The call was easier after that. Dig Dug wasn’t needed to entertain him (and Tony never was that good at the game). The free part of his mind the arcade classic was taking up now focused on making Bruce laugh again.

There was a little ego boosting too. All this time they’d known each other, the time spent alone and that with various people and no one had made Bruce laugh. No, that was something Tony did. And no matter what he’d be doing it again.

So as much as he wanted to comment on it, when the call ended Tony went back to talking about how there had to be 50 ways in arms length that would be a better, quicker death than that phone call. Bruce went back to that perfected annoyance and the night went on like normal.

A week and a half later Tony was being interviewed by a small town news program, commenting on the state of the Avengers and the rebuilding efforts. It was very light-hearted but Tony always did a decent job of keeping it that way. The subject matter was very heavy and there was never any disrespect but levity helped.

Bruce had sat himself in Tony’s office to watch the interview, lend moral support and the like. Tucked in the corner and reading a book to help ease the guilt that always came. The Hulk was usually the first name on the anchor people’s lips in these types of conversations.

Tony knew it wasn’t ideal but it meant a lot to him to have Bruce there. He always put some extra effort into things to make up for needing the support but Bruce never complained either.

Knowing all this, Tony had planned something special. Not as a reward to Bruce, no, this was all for Tony. When the anchorwoman asked if there was anything else he wanted to add, the sign things were going to wrap up, Tony grinned that award-winning smile of his and said, “I had a clever chemistry joke lined up but I figured it wouldn’t get a reaction.”

As casually as he could, Tony stole a glance at Bruce who’d pulled his book up a little more to block his face. There was too much commotion to hear the laugh, which was a shame, but Tony was sure it was there.

It was baffling. There sat a man with untold intelligence. Someone who was smarter than Tony though he’d never admit that out loud, and so reserved. Stoic and quiet. Worst of all, known for his anger.

For all of that, it was awful puns that made Bruce laugh. It defied logic. Which, of course, made it so much better. This was going to be endless fun. Tony enjoyed puns, they were cheap laughs and good with most crowds. Not to mention some were just downright funny.

In the weeks that followed Tony threw his best material at Bruce any way he could. Paying Barton to text a joke to Bruce, putting a tv show on in the lab knowing it’s sense of humor, and making the worst cracks possible when they were together.

Results varied but Tony wasn’t able to pull out a real laugh. Each and every time Bruce was able to control it, stop it before it was able to form. Bruce was a man built on emotional control. That wasn’t limited to his anger either. Which didn’t stop Tony, he wasn’t afraid to beat the best of them.

Enough time had passed since this discovery that Tony had slowed, interest fading. His brain was moving on to other things but it didn’t stop the awful jokes from fall out from time to time. It was a shame that he couldn’t get Bruce to let go, not once.

Tony was making dinner for them one night, Bruce perched on a stool at the island and playing on his tablet. The pair chatted back and forth, it was a mellow night in and exactly what they needed. Everything was nearing an end and Tony was rambling on about the timing. He needed to get everything done before the timer on the oven went off, having room temperature bread wasn’t allowed.

With his head stuck in a cupboard trying to find the salt and pepper shakers he liked better than the slick metal ones, the timer went off. Plates weren’t out, wine wasn’t ready, the timing was off. With a deflated sigh, pausing the rummaging long enough to say “Oh god, we’re out of time.”

Looking up from his tablet, Bruce let out a laugh. It wasn’t much but he didn’t stop after a half-chuckle either. The salt and pepper shakers didn’t matter anymore (that and bread could potentially be burning), Tony pulled his head to peek around the cupboard door to look at Bruce.

“Thyme,” he scoffed.

It took a second to click for Tony. Of all the great material he’d used it was a joke, he didn’t even make that caught Bruce. Of course, it was, what else would it have been. Tony shook his head and went to the oven. “Your sense of humor is horrible.”

#joey writes #science boyfriends #stanner

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sarahburness · 7 years ago

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Growing from Ghosting: 5 Things To Consider While Dealing with Silence

“The important thing to remember is that when someone ghosts you, it says nothing about you or your worthiness for love and everything about the person doing the ghosting. It shows he/she doesn’t have the courage to deal with the discomfort of their emotions or yours, and they either don’t understand the impact of their behavior or worse, don’t care.” ~Jennice Vilhauer

Let’s get this out of the way first: Ghosting is crappy etiquette. There’s no real, concrete excuse for it, except perhaps pure, unadulterated laziness with a touch of cruelty.

We take for granted how much technology has changed the way we interact with people. We are humans first, but it seems we may be conflict-avoiding robots second. Efficiency and avoidance reign supreme in this futuristic dating world of 2017, and because of how easy it is to disregard anything and everything, common courtesy has now become painfully underutilized.

To be frank: it is exceptionally easy to ghost someone who has no connection to your life previous to the one encounter. If you aren’t feeling it with this new person, and you don’t want to use the mental leaps it takes to articulate a rejection to a practical stranger, then more likely than not you won’t communicate at all.

Access to the ignore button has never been easier, and pressing “unmatch” on Tinder equates deleting the person from your headspace and your own personal universe. Here are five things to consider in the land of ghosts.

1. What do you really want from the person who’s ghosting you?

In the land where easy hookups are abundant, polyamory is normal, and ethical non-monogamy sounds like something you’d see at a farmers market, here we all are, trying to figure this new world of dating out. With each generation of dating (and dating apps), we are met with new terminology, new hats to try on for ourselves, and we’re re-focusing our energies on what we are really looking for.

I am a monogamous person. That doesn’t mean that in my fifty-plus first dates, I haven’t been able to recognize some of my own awful behavior (long, dramatic paragraphs of anxiety-ridden texts to a new potential date, anyone?), so I’ve had to reexamine myself a multitude of times, take a major chill pill, and reorganize my needs and desires.

That being said, asking myself, “What am I really looking for?” after I get painfully ghosted is seemingly the best question to ask.

Why exactly was this painful (beyond it being inhuman and previously nonexistent before modern day dating)? Did I just want acknowledgement of my humanity? Closure so I can focus on the next person? Did I even find this person particularly interesting? What other things are going on in my life that are causing me to react so strongly?

Yes, monogamy is important to me, but getting overly upset about a person who feels no attachment toward me is a new kind of character building experience. Ghosting is a reminder that life is unfair and often severe. Technology has made communicating with each other easier to access, and yet has created a strange isolating landscape in which we are all a part of.

This feeling of desertion still applies to people who have been ghosted after several dates, or friendships that have suddenly and painfully disappeared; it just becomes more painful and potent.

2. The sea of excuses don’t feel any better than being ghosted.

I got on my old OKCupid account a couple years after being off. In a cruel twist of fate, I saw a sea of all of the men that I dated previously. We were all in this together, apparently, like some sort of sad loner club no one signed up for.

Here we were, the men that ghosted me and the men that like to me too much, and I didn’t feel the same. Somehow, after years we were all still here, and all using the same tired profile pictures.

After a few days, a man messaged me a lackluster apology that he ghosted me as he was going through “some stuff” at the time. And with that, he walked back into the internet, never responding my follow-up questions. Gee, thanks, I’m glad I could be a vessel in which you exonerated yourself from your strange guilt.

Does it feel better that he weakly apologized and gave a vague excuse for his behavior three years later? Not particularly. So, expecting any explanation at a later time isn’t helpful in this ghosting journey that we are all on.

More common than ghosting, here are some boring/obvious excuses I have heard instead of being ghosted, and they feel about the same as the disappearing act itself. In no particular order:

“Sorry, I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.” (They say, fully aware that I was a monogamous person looking for something serious before meeting.)

“You lied on your profile. You said you were 5’8”, but you’re taller.” (He says, as he lied about his own height, weight, blah, blah, blah. For the record, I’ve been 5’8” since I was twelve, unless I had a spontaneous growth spurt at thirty.)

“I didn’t sense a connection.” (He says, as he talked at me the entire time, completely unaware that I actually possessed a personality that he didn’t want to take part in.)

“You’re too good for me.” (Yes, probably so.)

People are either desperate or not desperate enough. This ebb and flow of dating is equal parts predictable and surprising. Protect your heart, date whoever you want, but know that you will eventually get your feelings hurt. Whether it’s half-baked excuses, or radio silence forever. You know the saying though: better to buy a ticket to the lottery than never to have played, right? RIGHT?

3. Know that you may ghost someone yourself.

Even I, Queen of All Emotions, have accidentally ghosted someone before.

Have you ever met someone so unremarkable you just simply forgot about them? You sat there during your date shrugging your shoulders, stirring your iced tea, wondering if this person had a pulse.

He stared at me blankly, asked me what I did, and I felt as if I was in a weird, monotone interview for a job that I didn’t remember applying for. As careful as I am, I accidentally ghosted someone and they were sad about it. I couldn’t even bring myself to apologize in fear I would open up the strange waves of communication with this person again.

It happens. I get it. It’s a two-way street and I’m human enough to realize my shortcomings. I’m sorry, Kevin. Or was it Brian? James? Steven?

4. You cannot educate a ghost.

This may be the most important realization on my journey through ghost country: You simply cannot educate a ghost. There will always be people perpetuating this stereotype of non-consideration (maybe even you!).

These people are not in your control. Sending them a “wake up call” does not work. It’s not your job to educate them.

This idea has been the hardest thing for me to accept. I have sent paragraphs of texts to men who have ghosted me. This only solidifies the silence. Obviously the person is not texting you back if you’re going to badger him on his shortcomings.

Maybe they’re going through something, you’re not on their mind, they don’t care in the slightest, or their phone was eaten by an alligator. Whatever the case may be, they don’t care enough to contact you, so your novel of setting the balance right in the world will go to blind eyes. It will drive you insane if you allow it. Do not allow it.

As long as you’re honest with yourself about your needs, somewhat earnest in whatever you’re trying to accomplish datingwise, then you can overcome this. It’s all you can do. Getting ghosted means actively becoming a stronger, wiser person, because the alternative is bitterness and never ending frustration.

Technology is still the Wild West of communication. We know how to correctly formulate an email to our boss, a job prospect, your great aunt Mabel, but to someone who is virtually meaningless to us, it’s becomes considerably more of a gray area.

In general, people just don’t know how to socialize properly in a digital format, so we have created a culture where we simply don’t. And because this was a casual encounter, saying something at all could put us in a situation where the other person over-compensates with their hurricane of emotions if the feelings weren’t mutual.

I get it, you don’t want to deal with a hot mess and I don’t want to deal with your issues either, and thus perpetuates the ghosting cycle of life.

5. In other words, relax.

Know that you’re putting in the effort. Know that if things are supposed to work out they will work out. Find a mantra, yoga, meditation technique, eat a giant plate of pancakes, do whatever makes you feel better to get over the first few hurdles of the unavoidable ghosting epidemic.

No one ever promised us that dating was always going to be enjoyable. The funny anecdotes in romantic comedies make it look like a barrel of laughs, but sometimes it simply isn’t. Accepting this is an unfortunate part of the trade off of putting yourself out there is like learning a tedious aspect of your job. You’re going to hate it at first, but if you still want to date, this is part of the job description.

In other words, be brave, certainly put yourself out there, but also send only one follow-up text, otherwise you will drive yourself into certain madness.

About Sarah E. Miller

Sarah E. Miller is a freelance writer, dabbler, collaborator, and an occasionally funny lady. She spends her days writing for various blogs, dreaming up big ideas and trying to put those dreams into action. To learn more about Sarah, visit her website sarahdoesitanyway.wordpress.com.

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