#and anytime i read about his death no matter how shitty the book is i always get very sad

[mooodyblue]

i am definitely not crying in bed over how much i miss elvis ..... definitely not sobbing uncontrollably ... absolutely not

[kaytheday]

Dog Tags and Damnation

Soda steps through the door as quietly as he can. Unwilling to wake the boy on the couch. Ponyboy was so exhausted that he couldn’t even manage to make it upstairs so he’d simply dropped onto the couch, practically guaranteed to wake up tomorrow with a killer hangover. He twists over in sleep, groaning a little and revealing a silver chain that slips out of his shirt to pool on the cushion below him. 

Soda’s dog tags. 

Bile comes up his throat and tickles his taste buds as he sways. He puts a hand on the wall to avoid falling.

He didn’t take those tags off for nearly a year. He couldn’t. If he was killed they would need those same dog tags to identify his body. Those tags would be the one to tell his brothers he was never coming home. Those same tags that watched him defile his parents' memory of the sweet little boy they had raised. Those same tags that hung around his neck as he did horrendous things, things that he would never ever breathe a word of to his brothers. Even if it killed him. 

Those same tags that he had hurled at Ponyboy nearly five days ago out of anger and frustration. Why couldn’t Ponyboy just leave him alone about this? Growing up, Soda always knew when to push Pony or when to back off, why couldn’t Ponyboy just return the favor? 

Both Darry and Ponyboy knew he had come back different. Darry had noticed but never said anything about it, but Ponyboy had taken a crack at it a couple days ago. Accusing him of using drugs to escape himself or some bullshit like that. It was those damn psychology courses he was taking at his fancy university. 

Then Soda had just laughed at him. Trying to crack a joke and say he should become a psychologist instead of a writer. Ponyboy had only gotten more upset, the tips of his ears going red as he tried again to push the issue, all while Soda deflected. Instead jerking past him to grab the chocolate milk out of the fridge, taking a swig straight from the carton. He had just finished a shitty day of work, he didn’t want to have a conversation about how shitty he was at being a brother too. 

Obviously frustrated, Ponyboy trudged on, trying a different tactic than the blatant observation of how Soda was killing himself with drugs. 

“You can talk to me, you know Soda? About anything, you’ve always been able to talk to me, even when we were kids You can still talk to me, now isn’t any different.” Soda wanted to rip out his hair and scream and then maybe beat someone half to death because it was different. Of course it was different. 

Ponyboy was different from Soda. He was good. Despite everything that had happened in his life, Ponyboy still found time to look at the sunset and read books and even write poetry. Despite everything, Ponyboy was still the same smart, talented, sensitive kid he’d been all his life. Losing their parents hadn't changed that, losing their buddies hadn’t changed that, and Soda was sure that even if Ponyboy had to complete a tour in Vietnam, he’d still come out the same poetry-writing, sunset-watching kid he’d always been. And he would continue to be like that, no matter what happened. 

So no, it was different. It was completely different. 

Soda was different. Anytime something terrible had happened in their lives, Soda had changed. A piece of him was chipped away and a mottled scar was left in its place. His parents death made him into the family bawl baby. His buddies' death had made him into a manipulating bastard with a colder outside shell. His tour in Vietnam had made him into a lot of things. It had made him into a broken shattered mess of himself, unable to find the pieces of his personality scattered on the ground. But the biggest and ugliest thing it had made him into was a killer. 

So Soda had tried to become some semblance of the person he was before this ugly stain on his life. He tried to say it kindly, he really did. 

“Yes it is Ponyboy.” He started gently. “I thought you were smart with all those fancy college classes you’re takin’ but you can’t seem to see that everything is different now.” He couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I’m going to bed.” He decided with finality, having no desire to finish this conversation. Ponyboy gave a loud choked noise. 

“I don’t need those college classes to tell me something is wrong with my brother!” Pony shot back. “Why can’t you just tell us! Why didn’t you talk to me! Why didn’t you tell me you got shot!?” The last question comes out as a desperate hysterical scream. Pony is crying, but he’s trying so hard not to. Soda turned sharply from his spot on the stairs. 

“How’d you find that out?” He said quietly, almost dangerously. 

“I know when something is wrong with my brother Soda.” Ponyboy says simply before relenting the rest of the details. “I got your medical records pulled from the draft office. The officer there told me.” Before Soda can register what he is doing he is down the stairs eye to eye with Pony in some sort of stand off. 

“You had no right to do that you little son of a bitch!” Ponyboy doesn’t rise to the bait, insteading squaring his shoulders like he was expecting this sort of reaction. 

“Why didn’t you tell us Soda? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you. I still want to help you.” Pony asks, grabbing weakly at Soda’s wrist. Instead Soda jerks away, shoving his brother a little as he bites out a curse. 

“You couldn’t have done shit!” He snarls. 

“Is this what the drugs are for?” Pony asks. 

Soda doesn’t answer, instead biting out another curse while Pony keeps trying. They yell back and forth at each other for a while before Pony brings up their parents. How they wouldn’t have wanted their little war hero turning to pot and heroin and god knows what else. Soda blanches, his fists faltering a little bit. Bringing up their parents was a low blow. Finally Soda does the only thing he can think of. He rips off his dog tags that had been hanging around his neck. 

“If you and mom and dad up there think I’m such a war hero then you can wear them!” He hurls the dog tags at Ponyboy and before he can see the aftermath, he’s trudging outside to the car and storming off. 

Now he’s still standing at the door. His eyes on Ponyboy's ungreased hair, flopping a little over closed eyes. This fight was five days ago, they had since made up. Soda didn’t know he was actually going to wear those dog tags. 

The same ones he’d rubbed while shooting at kids younger than Ponyboy. The same ones he stared at during the long rainy nights, nothing in his stomach, thinking of his middle name. Patrick, like his grandfather. His grandfather was buried at home. The same home he longed to be. 

Those dog tags had been with him through so much pain and misery. They had sat on his chest while he watched unspeakable horrors unfold, stories of destruction, blood, violence, and death. He hadn’t realized what those dog tags meant to him until he watched them tangle around Ponyboy's neck. 

Because he was glad.

He was glad Ponyboy would never have dog tags of his own. He was so thankful that Ponyboy would never have dog tags sit on his chest as he witnessed destruction and death. And though he knew it would never change the kid, he was glad it didn’t have to happen nonetheless. He was glad Ponyboy could go on reading poetry and looking at sunsets and writing books instead of sitting in an early grave. Or worse, coming back like him. Soda was so glad that the dog tags around Ponyboy’s neck read Sodapop Patrick Curtis instead of Ponyboy Micheal Curtis.

A second submission for day 3 of @outsidersweek

[maxwell-grant]

Any thoughts on Sandman Mystery Theatre and Wesley Doods?

I'll probably write more in-depth about Wesley in particular once I'm more acquainted with his history, because I've discovered recently there is much, much more to the JSA's characters than I had initially presumed, and some pretty massive bits of Wes's own history that I can't overlook in a more in-depth post. But regarding Sandman Mystery Theatre, I gotta talk about my history with it specifically.

I picked up the first volume of Sandman Mystery Theatre by complete accident when I was very young. At the time I was specifically looking for Sandman comics because I wanted to do a school project on Neil Gaiman's Sandman, which I knew very little about, and so I picked up at a store Endless Nights and a comic called Sandman Mystery Theatre that, as you can see in the cropped image above, had his name on the cover, so I figured it had to be in the same series (which it kinda is but not really).

While there's older stuff that's tied up in my appreciation of them, this was my first encounter with Pulp Heroes, even when I didn't know what they were, before I discovered The Shadow for real. Ground Zero, as we call it. And it all starts specifically with this page:

The comic had already started off completely unlike anything I'd picked up before from Marvel and DC. It was an urban story with no superheroes or cartoons in sight, instead there were all these regular, wrinkled middle-aged people with warts and sweaters and pudgy noses at the center of it, people that you don't find in superhero stories where the imperfections of humanity are ever shaved off. It was more akin to what I had only experienced through film, but in a comic, and at the time, that was new to me.

And when it was time for the story's big reveal of it's hero, the big wide shot reserved for a Superman power stance or Batman hunched in the rain, it was with this scene: A weird little creep in a trenchcoat and fedora, with a gas mask barely concealing his startled eyes, shocked by the intrusion of the light that ever so blesses The Superhero Moment, squatting in a dirty bathroom with a hand stretched out menacingly towards the horrified woman, stretching towards you, stretching past the panel borders that should lock this ugly little thing in it's place.

I still think of this image as one of the main signifiers as to what I think sets superheroes and pulp heroes apart. Because at the time, this was a revelation. This costume was a revelation in general.

I was never going to find Spider-Man or Wolverine like this, even their dirtier and less dignified moments were still mired in some form of glory. Even in Spider-Man's lowest points he's still expect to rise above them dramatically or at least suffer them dramatically, when Wolverine prowls in the sewers he does so gleaming with power and ferocity and ripped shirts and immortality. And of course, I was never going to look like, or be like, Spider-Man or Wolverine no matter how hard I worked at it.

But this guy? This is a shitty little bug man caught with it's pants down somewhere it was not supposed to be, as terrified of being caught as we would be to find it prowling around. Painfully humanized, despite it's best efforts. He's dressed in a drab suit with a dorky tie, a disheveled coat, and a gas mask and hat. But the thing about “coolness” is that often the best way to make something genuinely cool is to try to make it uncool to begin with. There's nothing super about this guy, but there's something effortlessly cool about him nonetheless, something that doesn't require a bodybuilder's physique or a model's face, something unlike a superhero but just as cool visually if not more so. Anyone could look like this guy.

I could look like this guy.

And not just visually, the other thing that hooked me into Mystery Theatre was it's characterization. Much like the art, it was different than what I was used to from other comics I read. It dealt with it's drama differently, it's deaths had weight and so did the character's reactions to them. It had gangsters and torturers and serial killers and pedophiles and crooked police officers and none of them were going to get chopped to bits by Wolverine or tied up in streetlights by Batman anytime soon. It didn't have supervillains, it had a mother and son as masked murderers and torturers hiding in plain sight even while mutilating their own families. It had grueling torture scenes and it's female protagonist forcing herself to stare at the mutilated corpse of her best friend just so she can spare her family the pain of doing so. 

Diane Belmont is great and, again, I had never seen a comic book with this kind of story with a female protagonist so strongly at the forefront of it, and with all these other characters getting their side stories in. It was not about the guy in a costume being the center of everything awesome to happen, because there was hardly anything of the sort happening. "Understated" is the key word here for what made Sandman Mystery Theatre special to me at the time.

Wesley Dodds himself is a schlubby, quiet guy in glasses with a pudgy nose and a round face who makes origami and writes poems, who only really has his gun and mask and wits to tackle problems he is not even particularly well-equipped to handle, but goes out there and does anyway. He moves around quietly but still has to escape desperate situations by the skin of his teeth. He doesn't interrogate people in costume by dangling them off rooftops, he threatens to poison their dog if they don't tell him what he needs to know. He sets up little traps with cans and wire to let him know if a cop is approaching his investigation, and he doesn't take down the Tarantula at the end without assistance nor does he linger around to receive any credit for it.

He is not at all an action hero, nothing about this guy even really indicates he's cut out for this life, but he's determined and compelled and tormented by nightmares that don't allow him to refuse the call, so he makes it happen, and throught that, he makes enough of a difference to shift the scales of life and death to those that cannot rely on others to protect them. Those that can't rely on police or family or superheroes to save them. That's when the eerie little nobody in a fedora and gas mask comes in, inadequate as he may be, still desperately trying to do the right thing.

While I did read some of his Golden Age adventures for context's sake, I don't know much of anything about Wesley's other adventures outside of Mystery Theatre or his costumed superhero phase or history with the JSA and DCU and whatnot, and frankly that stuff is so far removed from my enjoyment of Mystery Theatre that it might as well just be a different character (although I will be checking out out of curiosity).

So yes, Mystery Theatre is great, I sing the praises of Matt Wagner often enough and I definitely should look into the rest of Guy Davis's work, but the main thing about it to me is that it was my first contact with pulp in any of it's forms. Sandman was my first Pulp Hero. If nothing else I'll always appreciate the character for that.

[seyaryminamoto]

my school works are piled up this past few weeks (graduating tingz) and i just started reading the deadlock novel it feels like i'm reading a sokkla fic every time Mcashe has a scene because they just give off the vibes skskskskksksks. BTW, what's your top5 fav scenes from the novel? PS: I'm smiling like an idiot while reading the novel ughh i hate myself

I KNOW, RIIIIIGHT?! *-* and don't hate yourself, my anon friend, I spent the whole novel smiling and laughing and losing my goddamn mind because I was having the time of my life xD enjoy this beautiful content as best you can!

I mean, frankly, Reunion already had all the Sokkla vibes I could've wanted/needed to ship these two like FedEx and I always knew I wasn't getting off this ride anytime soon. But gosh, this book... it gave me everything I wanted and MORE! Their dynamics are soooo similar to Sokkla team-up dynamics, two power couples kicking ass and taking names... oh, I just love it so much. I probably will end up reading the book a third time soon x'D

As for my favorite scenes, damn, this is tricky xD

KEYCHAIN! HE MADE HER KEYCHAIN!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! God, it's just amazing how the book explains the "vintage" look for Ashe's hoverbike the way it does, and that they literally built it together *screams!!!*, but then he gives her that keychain for her birthday present, and the implications!! THE IMPLICATIONS!!! He gave her a keychain she's held onto for TWENTY YEARS?!?!?! Ships in the OW fandom have sailed far and wide with less than breadcrumbs: we literally have been granted a boon from the GODS with all this extra context for the little things in Reunion xD

Ashe going to hell and back to save her kidnapped BFF-for-whom-she-totally-doesn't-have-feelings-yeah-yeah-sure-Jan. I love the fact that McCree is, in a way, Ashe's damsel in distress and not the other way around xD Of course, it's what you'd expect from an Ashe-centric story, but it's still an amazing sequence, all around. Gotta highlight how she loves the way he smiles like a madman when they have that shootout at the end, and how he worries so much over Ashe's injury when he took an even worse one than she did (the Sokkla vibes in that particular situation were SO STRONG! I SWEAR!).

"Jesse McCree, are you trying to make me say you're handsome?" "Am I?" ... do I need to say more. That FLIRTING. These two were on fire already and they'd only known each other for like... weeks, at this point? x'D He has no sense of moderation, he's soooo into her and doesn't hide it at all. Ashe is so busy trying to plot all the crime and Jesse's practically like a shojo heroine, "oh I can feel it, this is how my love story begins!", basically xD

Finally I pick a not-McAshe scene... to bring up the one where Ashe picks up the Viper on her last moment in Lead Rose Manor. That moment was just... POWERFUL. The feeling of epicness in that scene just overwhelmed me when I was reading it xD

The ending of the book :'D the fully formed Deadlock Gang ready for business, down to the explanation for the Est. 1976 in the logo... *sobs* the fact that so much about the character design choices in these two characters is a shoutout to the past they share is just... *gross sobbing* oh, I just love it to pieces, I'm not even sorry.

Ashe's bike race to save B.O.B. x'D that whole situation was bonkers but I looooved how fierce she was about protecting her one and only buddy while growing up (AND THAT JESSE BLUSHED WHEN SHE TAUNTED HIM WAS JUST THE CHERRY ON TOP!). I appreciated learning more about the Omnic War and its consequences, how Ashe reflects on having escaped it practically untouched in virtue of her money and societal privilege while her new friends all faced many hardships to survive. But I can't help but also love that, however uneasy others could have been about the Best Omnic Butler, Ashe was so fiercely loyal to B.O.B. that she nearly broke Julian's nose herself over his ridiculousness x'D That's HER big omnic buddy and she's not about to lose him to anyone, not her shitty parents, not a bet in a race, NOTHING! (and it's so cute that B.O.B. is just as loyal to her, too *sobs*)

Ashe grabbing McCree's arm to explain things to him on their first heist and him being all "you gonna leave that there?" and only then does she realize her hand's still on him x'D what a McCree line, and he was absolutely enjoying the attention, he doesn't even pretend otherwise.

Everything poetic McCree says or does... meanwhile Ashe's like "um yeah I don't care about poetry I want money", right until his poet soul totally smashes her square in the heart with the KEYCHAIN!!! But damn, I swear I thought McCree would hold back a lot more, and yet there he was, saying things like Calamity was brilliant and mysterious... you could practically hear B.O.B., Julian and Frankie going "I can see what's happening..." in the background xD

The conversation about what they wanted to do once they were loaded with all the cash they could possibly want. That one was a real number on my heartstrings. It ties up to what I said earlier with Ashe finally being in touch with people who are completely removed from the ridiculous social circles of her parents and her school, people who really lost a lot in the war. But where Julian and Frankie seem to look at the past a lot, I loved that Jesse is basically just thinking about the future. The fact that he says he wants to chill out in a farm and that this is what he wants in life... many, MANY, shippy wheels have turned in my head since I read that <.< maaaany...

WHEN JESSE NEARLY FALLS AND ASHE CATCHES HIM!!! UNDERRRATED AS HECK!!! The fact that he's taunting her about fear of heights, then he nearly plummets to his death because ironies are beautiful xD and Ashe pulls him back to safety only to say that she's not afraid of heights but afraid of ~FALLING~??? I mean, okay, sure, maybe I'm reading too much into that line... or maybe I'm not <.< either way, the truth is I just love how absolutely broad of interpretation that scene and that DIALOGUE are :> ehehehe.

Oh, their first encounter. The fact that it's so cute and fun, and that it's this low in the list tells you how GOOD this book was x'D "You've got an awful lot of grit for a rich girl," first words he spoke to the love of his life xD then how they talked and laughed together about the crazy stories he shared (she was crying of laughter for the first time in her life! precious girl!), and then how she sat in the car thinking about the strange feeling she was left with after meeting him... they seriously had a meetcute in prison, how can a ship get any better? xD

WHEN HE COMES BACK TO HER WHEN THEIR FIRST HEIST GOES WRONG!!! That Ashe expects him to just leave after she falls off their getaway vehicle, but Jesse saves her and goes "pfft that's just not my style", basically... *sobs* without realizing it she ends up picking up that particular philosophy of his, saving her friends no matter the cost...! Honestly, though, the fact that every time something like this happens it hits Ashe like a truck racing downhill with no brakes because she's NEVER been cared about by anyone but B.O.B. and she's completely new to friendships and bonding with people... and in the mean time, Jesse immediately is "ride or die" with her because that's how he rolls... beautiful relationship dynamics between characters who influence each other for the better are just beautiful :')

A silly one here: Jesse enjoying the good life in Lead Rose. That description of him looking like a marshmallow in the CHAISE LOUNGEEEEE!!! (the one he references in their in-game interactions *CRYING SO MANY TEARS*), was just too cute to bear x'D Ashe just jumping back into work mode... while he was just thrilled to be a marshmallow in a towel xD

... So, um, I went overboard because I love this book a little too much for my own good :> what can I say? When things I love are good, I go wild xD There's probably more scenes I loved, but these... thirteen? XD are the ones that came to mind.

I think one of my favorite things now is reexamining Reunion with all this extra context in mind. The first time I watched that cinematic I, of course, fell in love with these two outlaws because how could I not? But while subsequent rewatches revealed a lot of things I didn't pay enough attention to the first time around, the book has done even more than I could imagine possible for a short that was already as shippy as could be xD

Ooookay so, shippy ramblings about Reunion, coming up! (simply because I have to put these down SOMEWHERE XD and your ask was a good idea for that, anon!)

First off, Jesse very much staged the whole rodeo in Reunion. He sent the tip to Ashe, he wanted Echo's crate specifically. He thought they could work together, basically, despite knowing it was entirely possible that those hopes wouldn't pay off. This train, according to the wikia, was a government train, so Jesse is very much telling Ashe to give a finger to the government for all he cares, all he wants is one (1) crate.

Ergo, Jesse, for all his "nice guy bountyhunter" deal, doesn't disapprove of Deadlock's actions. If anything, he counts on them to be exactly what he needs in order to get what he wants. He practically trusts Ashe to pull off the train heist disaster perfectly and only steps up when it's time to collect Echo.

Then the wacky shoot-out happens, it's veeeery charged (the UST is so thick, I swear...), and Jesse wins. He ties up Ashe, floats her off on the payload with the rest of the gang, and he sets Echo free. He's helping her out very nicely and everything, but the context in question is... he received the recall notification thingy XD Winston called him back to Overwatch, and Jesse...

... Jesse doesn't want to go back.

Jesse says "they want me", and the displeased tone of his voice, paired with the look on his face when he says that line, speak for themselves.

That, in my humble opinion, isn't the sequence of expressions you'd expect from someone who intends to return to the group where he thrived, had the time of his life and found his true calling. To me, he actually looks irritated about the recall (the sequence of expressions during that line is much better when you watch the full thing x'D), as though he REALLY doesn't want to return. He's not against Overwatch, I'm not quite saying that, otherwise he wouldn't have set Echo free and told her to go back at all... but this isn't remorse. It's not "Oh, I'm not good enough for Overwatch anymore". Nope... this is "My time with them is over and I don't plan on going back unless I have no choice", as far as I can tell.

If OW2 does bring him back into the fold and he's a perfectly chill and happy guy about it, I'll seriously be surprised. I mean, he could have set Echo free and, once his business is over, returned to Overwatch with her, he could have been in the Paris cinematic if he'd done that...

But he's not there.

Which outright says he didn't do that :> oops.

Basically, I think Jesse's reaction in Retribution (where he's markedly the most morally correct one of the bunch, and he's the former outlaw :'D) tells you his displeasure with Overwatch ran very, very deep. And someone can very easily say he felt the same way about Deadlock and that's why he left them for Overwatch... but that's conjecture. His displeasure with Blackwatch (and, in consequence, Overwatch), however, is FACT. And the previous conjecture falls flat pretty quickly considering he's perfectly fine with Ashe's train heist, even sets it up himself, from what the story suggests, so... how ~appalled~ was he over her choices and actions? Not appalled at all, if you ask me, and after you read Deadlock Rebels, you actually understand why: Jesse trusts Ashe.

From the first moment she enters the same prison block he's in, he's drawn to her. He wants to impress her, he absolutely enjoys her company and making her laugh (just as much as she enjoyed laughing at his wacky stories), and he's plain thrilled that she comes back for him when she does. Ashe manages the gang with inexperience but she's always willing to improve, and you see Jesse sticking with her through thick and thin, supporting her at the best and worst times alike, always putting his faith on her and constantly watching out for her (he protected and shielded her from attacks with his own body sooooo many times *sobs*). Ashe starts out intending to keep most profits for herself, and Jesse doesn't care much at first... but then she starts to share profit equally between their team. She works on her own bike herself, her own ride, and she plans and solves problems as best she can, to a point of even going overboard with planning too much. She's wild, reckless and takes insane risks... and this guy loves every second of it. The matter of morality regarding the actions of a criminal gang is, of course, something to think about... but as far as the book goes, Ashe mainly targets her own family, their specific brand of bullshit, and in the process she ends up helping lots of people and even saving lives that might not have been saved otherwise. I'm not going to put my hand on the fire here and say Deadlock never ever did anything absolutely wrong to people who didn't deserve it... but for a criminal gang? They're honestly the most wholesome one the OW team could have come up with, if you ask me.

So where you see Jesse is very much antagonistic with Reaper/Reyes, where he loses his temper with the guy's choices, he doesn't ever do that with Ashe. Overwatch ARE supposed to be the good guys... so how weird that Jesse McCree, reformed outlaw, ends up so disappointed with these guys when he was actually thrilled with Ashe's managing of their gang, as far as we saw. So much so that, when it came down to it, Jesse McCree, 20 years later, still counts on Ashe to give him a hand (without her full awareness) with a little operation to help out an old friend of his. Also worth pointing out: he doesn't want to fight at all, while Ashe, of course, does. Deadlock for life, is what Jesse said... and he's not Deadlock anymore, hasn't been for who knows how long. Worse yet... his tattooed arm is gone. It's like all his ties to Deadlock have been severed.

And even so, he came to Ashe and hoped she wouldn't want a shootout with him. Even when he knows she might be beyond unforgiving because of the betrayal (he has seen directly how outraged she was about a certain someone betraying her in the book...), Jesse goes back anyway and hopes it won't come to this.

THE IMPLICATIONS, MAN!!!

Carrying on: Echo is surprised that Jesse shows no intentions of going back to Overwatch. She asks him what he's going to do... and what does Jesse say?

He puts his cowboy hat back on (the symbolism in this short, I swear...), and when she asks him what he's going to do, he tells her "I've got some business to attend to."

THE MUSIC PICKS UP.

AND THEN HE CLIMBS ON THE BIKE HE BUILT WITH ASHE.

YOU GET A DELIBERATE CLOSE-UP TO THE KEYCHAIN.

THEN THE CAMERA PANS UP TO FOCUS ON THE PICTURE, TORN AND TAPED BACK TOGETHER, THAT ASHE CARRIES ON THIS BIKE, A BIKE WHICH, LET'S BE REAL, IS BASICALLY A MCASHE BABY CHOPPER/HOVERBIKE HYBRID, AND AS SHE PUTS IT LATER, IS...

HER

BIKE!!!

When Jesse says he has business to attend to, he could pick up any bike he wants (since it'd stand to reason that the other guys Ashe came in with would have bikes of their own). He could escape on horseback for all we know xD so there are lots of options... but no. He takes HERS. Right after saying he has "business to attend to".

Look, I could be wrong. I could be dead wrong. I can absolutely be digging around and going INSANE because nothing I ship EVER gets this much content.

But we literally get a guy saying he has "business" to take care of, and the cinematic focuses exclusively on elements that, even BEFORE Deadlock Rebels, all point towards Ashe?! You could easily say that taking her bike is just the final nail on the coffin, his last trolling idea to mess with his one true love... but that picture is right there. That picture, with them in their youth. The picture, btw, was bigger than just them: B.O.B.'s hand is there. The top of the picture is uneven, suggesting Ashe probably tore it to shreds in a fit of rage... and then specifically put together THEIR PART. And then she taped that to her bike's dashboard. Meaning, she carries the goddamn memory of Jesse with her EVERYWHERE SHE GOES. And she does it WILLINGLY.

Which, in turn, answers why Jesse expects MAYBE Ashe wouldn't go full-on hostile when they meet: this trolling cowboy knows exactly what he means to Ashe. He's not surprised when he sees that picture on the bike. He doesn't toss it away, which he could have, if he were saying "we are history now, forget it gurl" (and let's be honest, what a dick move that would have been @_@), he doesn't flinch after noticing and then goes "yeah, no, I'm picking another bike".

NOPE. The familiarity with which they talk, the way he hopes she'll just let him walk away, the fact that she DIDN'T change the keychain and bike in all those years and he's not even SURPRISED...

Jesse knows how much she loves him, point-blank. He's completely aware of it... and he's very much okay with it.

So much so... that I'm something of a 90% sure that the business he intends to deal with is ASHE HERSELF.

And no, I don't mean he's going to go on another shootout with her... I mean, evidently, that Jesse wants to come home. That he's tried the life of Overwatch, and he's decided to leave it behind. He's turned bountyhunter now, vigilante, pretty much... but he comes back to Ashe all the same. He's come back for the first time in who knows how long (going by Ashe's expressions and sarcasm with the "you promised you'd write" line, it miiiiiiight be they haven't seen each other since he got recruited into Blackwatch), and he expected a peaceful encounter, no less.

A good question to ask here is... what did Jesse hope would happen, if the encounter HAD been peaceful? He would've released Echo, sent her away to her business, and stayed behind anyway because he had business to deal with. Which business? :'D why... the business that would've been standing right in front of him.

There's no other, logical reason why this cinematic would put Ashe and McCree's picture into focus right when McCree says what he does to Echo. There's no other reasonable choice why McCree would turn his back on Overwatch quite so firmly. We know he had two important ties in his life: Overwatch and Deadlock. And Overwatch stole him away from Deadlock for a VERY long time. Well over half the time Deadlock has been in operations, as far as I can tell. He picked Overwatch over Deadlock once before... and now, it seems he's picking Deadlock over Overwatch instead :')

The follow-up short, Roadtrip, doesn't do anything to change my mind. The trolling jerk, Jesse McCree, hovers past Ashe's payload, where she's just... complaining, as she hovers xD going by what I know of the game and that map, the payload may just be en route to the gang's hideout, so that, I'd say, could explain why she hasn't climbed off it or escaped in any way (which she reasonably would have, if Jesse was trying to, I don't know, send her and her people to the authorities).

My point here is, however, that Jesse is headed the same way the payload is. If his destination is the same one, he'll beat it there for sure. Maybe, yes, he'll go away and drive well past the hideout... but maybe that's exactly where he intended to go.

Maybe, in the end, Reunion is about a man who's finally coming home :D

In addition, goes without saying, Ashe's rant about how everyone falls to pieces over Jesse showing his "stupid mug" (uh-huh, stupid, ANGELIC mug, we know what you really think, girl xD) ends with her saying she should have "put a bullet in him the minute he showed up".

Which begs the question of why didn't she.

Then, of course, she says she hates McCree when he drives past her while listening to some really ridiculous honky-tonky-sounding music x'D I cannot even help but imagine him deliberately picking that radio station or whatever it was just to annoy Ashe when he drove beside her, and so that she can get extra pissed when she retrieves her beloved bike, turns on the music and it's just more honky-tonky stuff x'D but anyway, the thing is she shouts after him, tells him that's her bike and says she hates him. B.O.B. wordlessly speaks for us McAshe shippers by giving Ashe the most "sure, Jan" side-eye in the history of side-eyes, and Ashe notices and is outraged enough to knock B.O.B.'s little hat right off his head again.

Again... this is renowned outlaw Elizabeth Caledonia "Calamity" Ashe, sitting on a payload, groaning about the guy she once very much had feelings for (and that doesn't even begin to cut it, if you ask me x'D) and for whom she tooooootally doesn't anymore, that picture on her bike doesn't MEAN that, OBVIOUSLYYYY!!, and so, she sits up, complains and doesn't do much of anything to get out of her current situation, right? :>

So, summing up my current understanding of EVERYTHING, thanks to Deadlock Rebels and my obsessive rewatches of Reunion + Roadtrip:

Jesse deliberately sought out Ashe so she would indirectly, unknowingly, help him set Echo free from the government's clutches.

Jesse hoped for a peaceful encounter despite knowing he might not get one.

Jesse has no intentions of returning to Overwatch but was willing to perform one final act of service for them by releasing Echo so she'd go give Winston and co. a hand.

Jesse is NOT surprised to see that Ashe: 1. Didn't change bikes at some point in the twenty years since they built it. 2. Didn't swap the ignition key for a button, the way she says she thought to do it in the novel until he gives her the keychain. 3. KEPT THE POETIC AF KEYCHAIN, despite resenting Jesse for his betrayal. 4. KEEPS A PICTURE OF THEM IN THEIR YOUNGER YEARS PASTED ON HER BIKE'S DASHBOARD.

Jesse claims he has business to deal with: he doesn't clarify said business verbally, but every shot after he says those words focuses on elements related to Ashe... and then, along with the novel's context, it's elements related to their BOND. Everything in that shot, EVERYTHING, is connected to the two of them. Elements that weren't shown before or during their shootout, and that are only introduced in that final moment when McCree is off to deal with his "business".

Ashe doesn't climb off the payload or stops it (which, going by how McCree simply pressed a button, and Ashe isn't immobilized in the least, she easily could have done it too if she had wanted to). Suggesting that, wherever the payload is heading, it isn't anywhere dangerous for Ashe and her crew, ergo, she is 100% sure McCree isn't trying to screw her over by turning her in to the authorities or so (or, at worst, she's completely confident that, even if he is going to do this, she'll be able to get out of it easily).

Jesse drives in the same direction the payload is headed. Another hint that suggests he might intend to head to the Deadlock hideout and that, whatever business he has left to deal with, it involves them.

If his intent ISN'T to go to the hideout... Jesse is still guaranteeing that Ashe will come after him by stealing her bike, the 18th birthday gift he gave her, and the picture she keeps of them. That he takes that very bike practically serves as painting a target on his back for her to hunt down, and he KNOWS IT.

In short: Jesse will have plenty of business with the Deadlock Gang in his future, and going by how pleased he seems to be when riding the bike, he's perfectly happy to handle that business on his terms, whenever he wants to handle it.

Extra tidbit: there's nothing in Deadlock Rebels about Jesse's smoking habit, something he definitely did pick up at some point while in the gang because, hahaha, he IS smoking in the picture Ashe keeps of him :> Which makes me wonder why, of all pictures Ashe chooses to keep on her bike's dashboard, she picks one where he's smoking.

Then, it makes me wonder about the fact that Jesse deliberately starts smoking when he's standing right in front of her (and then he winks at her!). He tosses that cigar after things get kind of dangerous for him because B.O.B. does something, and then... then he goes back to smoking.

RIGHT WHEN HE'S CLIMBING ON THE BIKE.

Like... seriously...

*unintelligible fangirl screaming*

I could be looking too deeply into this. I know I could be. Maybe Blizzard just wants me to go CRAZY with little symbolism and hints charged with SO MUCH MEANING that maybe don't have as much meaning as I thought it did...

... But man, I've sailed into the depths of the shippiest oceans for many ships that have gotten actual breadcrumbs from canon. I've gone wild over ships that have zero opportunity to become a thing in canon continuity. I've written a nearly 3M words story based on a ship that is just UNEXPLORED AMAZING POTENTIAL and ngl, I love exploring it myself, so I don't even begrudge canon that much for not giving it to me anymore.

But the fact is, no ship in OW, as far as I've seen, has remotely as much content, hints and strong ties as McAshe does -- at least, no ships between heroes. We had a cinematic that was CHARGED with significance, with little gestures, with even the smallest facial expressions that carried soooo much more meaning than whole episodes or even seasons in TV shows. And then? We got a novel. A full novel depicting their origins and exploring their dynamics, how tight their friendship was, and how some strong feelings were certainly brewing there, even if neither one was ready to act on them yet (as far as we saw...).

Finally... I'll say I did start working on a Sokkla Western AU ages ago because the idea I had for one was pretty amusing. Then Reunion dropped, and I said "Why would I need to finish that story anymore when the Sokkla Western AU is RIGHT HERE?!"

And that's it, I will stop rambling now because this got insanely long x'D but thank you very very much for giving me this chance to go WILD on everything I can see, within all those canon hints, with these two *-*

[notfairestwriting]

today i bring you ray lore

aka, how he met idia, and his motivation to have that “assistant” role uvu

1.4k words ish, beware of portrayal of shitty mom

“You haven’t gotten a haircut yet. The carriage should be getting here anytime this week, and you’re going to Night Raven like this?”

Having just left his room that morning, Ray shrinks before he even truly steps into the black tile floor of the kitchen -- His mother’s contralto fills the room that looked so vacant, lacking in any true decoration, as she looks up from the newspaper.

“It doesn’t look that bad.” He mutters. Gray eyes too similar to his glare at him through her glasses.

“It’s unprofessional for a man to have long hair like this, and not do anything with it.” She sighs. “It’s too short to be tied up properly, but too long to be kept neat. You can’t expect to get an internship looking like this.”

“I’m just a first year…”

Head shaking, she sighs once more. “It doesn’t matter. What if any corporations go there to scout? You already stand out enough with that eyepatch.”

Ray’s lips press into a thin line, turning his back to get a cup and a teabag from the cupboard. She looks back down onto the newspaper, no good morning, as usual, and he watches hot water spill out of the kettle she left on the counter into the white cup.

She’s not supposed to be here, or at least he thought so. Ray wishes she had a good reason for it, but judging by the sharp remark being the very first thing he heard, maybe her morning meeting was just cancelled.

Mrs. Máire is an intimidating woman who looks too much like her son.

The intimidation is a subjective one. She isn’t tall or particularly strong looking -- The Máire lineage being one of gathered health issues, a handful of which had been passed to Ray -- but there’s something on her light, silvery gray eyes, framed by the metallic rectangles of her glasses, that just made one painfully aware that they were being judged. Her long, pure white hair always done up pristinely, wavy locks around a slender, surprisingly youthful face, she’d rarely be seen out of her workwear, all black like a lady in mourning. She looked more like a ghost than a woman, and Ray supposes that had been passed down to him too.

He feels awkward, standing in his baggy sweater, hair in disarray. Even though it’s a weekend, even though he lived in that house.

The tea is ready, but it doesn’t warm his hands much. He sits by the table in tense silence, nursing the cup as he watches the bag carefully, the way it sank into the water.

“Have you heard about that Shroud boy?”

About to lift the cup to his lips, Ray sets it down again instead. It’s rare for her to make any conversation at all--

“That Shroud?” He asks. There’s a pause as she flips through the paper.

“Which other would it be?” She asks, and sets the paper down too. The name, Shroud, hangs heavily in the air. Ray doesn’t reply. “They haven’t appeared in public for a while, but the boy is going to Night Raven too. He’s apparently in your year.”

He stays quiet, and takes a sip of tea.

“You’ll have to work an internship in your fourth year.” She states, like she hadn’t done that a billion times before. “The Shroud family could use a good lawyer. If you get in that boy’s favor, you can make something out of yourself. It’s an opportunity.”

Setting cup down slowly, like he was in any risk of handling it too roughly at all, Ray continues to stare at the table’s white surface.

“I guess it is.” He mutters. The uncertainty in his voice doesn’t seem to faze her, and she checks her wristwatch.

“Get a haircut today. I’ll leave money on the counter, I need to leave for my meeting now.” She gets up, the small heels of her shoe clacking quietly against the floor as she begins to leave. “Don’t forget to talk to that boy. You know you won’t be a kid forever.”

No goodbye, either. In the cold house, Ray leeches off the warmth of his steadily emptying teacup, not even near to being enough to cure the freezing feeling that seemed to stick to him.

. . .

He stands in the corner of the room, blue flaming hair glowing even though most of Ignihyde was that color, shrinking into himself--

Ray has books and a folder in hands, just coming back with a conversation with staff regarding his extracurriculars. He’d signed up for the Science Club -- That should be fine, he knew how to work his way around potions decently, it’s a death he’d rather subject himself to than something like Track and Field.

The thought of a sports-focused club gives him chills. He doesn’t need to use String to know that would entail running straight into trees and fainting in the summer heat. If he wanted to give off any good impression at all, he couldn’t put himself through that.

Shroud taps away at his phone anxiously and Ray tries to figure out how to talk to him, staring. String tugs at his energy a bit miserably, he can’t quite find the moment he’d walk up to him yet, he’d take that long to do it, apparently.

But he doesn’t want to be harsh on himself for that. When was it the last time he spoke to a classmate? He’d spent all of middle school gladly fading into the background, so much that he’d been hoping he’d get into Ignihyde when he read up on the dorms online, before getting there.

Making friends isn’t something he does, or has ever felt the necessity to do. People wouldn’t… understand his condition, he never expected them to. The flower that Prunella boy gave him sat on his nighstand nicely now, but, that wasn’t exactly friendship. There’s a gap between that and friendliness, he’s sure.

...he shouldn’t be. It’s not like he’d know.

His finger pulls and releases the strap of his eyepatch until he can see himself walking up to Shroud and saying anything. He sees a displeased, anxious face, suspicious who are you stuttered after amber eyes look up from the phone. Well, that’s not surprising either.

Ray wonders what draws the line between friendship and networking, and that’s something he doesn’t understand at all either. At least he’d come to know the latter, soon enough…

The small heels of his loafers -- The nicest one he could get, without his mother poking any holes into the pricey purchase -- clack quietly against the floor as he makes his way to Shroud.

“Excuse me.” He speaks up, and the blue-haired boy jumps. Ray gives him a bit of a stare, sizing him up in a way.

They’re not that different looking, are they? Maybe the blue lips set them apart. But Shroud wasn’t strong, wasn’t too tall.

“W-What do you want?” He stutters out the question. Rude, Ray narrows his eye at him, but he lets it go.

“I wanted to introduce myself.” He pushes out the line like he’d been reading a script. “I’m Ray Máire. Since we’re in the same year, we may have to work together in the near future, so do feel free to rely on me.”

Ray bows his head slightly. He’s a bit out of breath when he’s done talking. He can’t tell if it’s because he’s unused to it, or he just spoke too fast.

“...right.” Shroud mutters. “Uh. It’s Idia.”

“Shroud, yes. I know you.” He nods. “I’m from the Isle too.”

His expression twists further, an extra dose of displeasure trickling.

“Um. Sure.” He says, again in that muttery voice. “I-I’m busy now, so…”

Ah. So he really is rude, isn’t he? He supposes it’s to be expected too. Shroud was from a rich family, he probably wasn’t used to being around… all those different people.

“Of course. I’ll leave you to it.”

He steps away. For some reason, he tastes something bitter on his tongue, like that had gone poorly.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to do it at all.

But, well, does it even matter, what he wants to do?

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Older and Far Away || Alain and Kaden

TIMING: Not long after Tommy’s death LOCATION: Hospital PARTIES: @carbrakes-and-stakes and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Alain confronts Kaden after his run in with Tommy in the woods.

Kaden hated hospitals. He hated staying in them. He hated being in them. He hated them more when he felt like he put someone else in them. It meant he was trapped there, feeling guilty and waiting and he didn’t have to be there. Which was a lie. He had to be there. Even if this wasn’t his fault, Kaden had to be there. It was just what he had to do for his friend. If the situation was reversed, he was sure Alain would feel the same. So he sat there and waited outside the room, watching as doctors and nurses went in and out. He wondered when he should go in and wait inside but he didn’t feel ready yet. He wasn’t sure Alain was either. But he was going to be there and he was going to wait. Maybe he should have grabbed a book or something to keep his mind occupied while he waited. Of course, it probably wouldn’t have made a difference one way or the other. He couldn’t keep his mind off of what happened, couldn’t focus on anything else. When the doctor came out of the room again, Kaden figured it was now or never. He was likely awake. And it had been long enough since he checked in. Maybe his friend would actually want to see his face. Wouldn't blame him if he didn’t, though. “Hey,” he said softly as he tapped on the door before walking in. “I, uh, there’s food here. That I brought. If you want. The dogs are fed and walked. Um…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t even know where to begin. Asking if he was okay was pointless. “How are you feeling? You know, other than shitty.”

Alain also hated hospitals. He hated them so much he usually left during the night, when he knew no one was going to bother stopping him. In White Crest, the hospital staff was easily overwhelmed, and he often wondered how worse it would be, if it weren’t for hunters. He would never be able to hunt ever again, this much he knew. Aside from the pain, or the obvious absence of his limb, Alain’s thoughts went to his duty, that he no longer would be able to fulfill. 47 years old and good for the scrap yard. Heh, for a hunter, this was quite good. Most of them did not live this long, and now that he was injured, he’d probably live long enough to outlive much younger hunters.

Putain. Would he outlive Kaden? Lost in his thoughts, he responded mechanically to the doctor and the nurse’s questions and demands. How are you doing this morning? How do you feel? Is the medicine strong enough? Any side effects? Then the doctor left, the nurse helped him clean up without touching the bandages, helped him change, helped him get back in bed, and made sure he had everything he needed. Then she left. She had left his reading glasses in the bathroom. Well great. Pinching at the bridge of his nose, he picked up the book on the bedside table and started to have a look at it. That’s when he heard the knock on the door. Was it the nurse coming back? Non. “Hi,” alright, he could do this. He did not want food, he barely had managed to finish the soup provided by the hospital. His appetite just wasn’t there. “Maybe later,” he replied, forcing himself to smile politely briefly, turning his head to put down the book and get rid of that fake expression on his face. An air of melancholy started to appear on his features, one that he got rid of almost immediately. “Thanks for walking them. I hope they aren’t too worried,” he frowned, scratching at his cheek. This was another thing he had been thinking of lately. He had had a lot of time to think, but that did not mean that all his thoughts made sense. Not even close. “I’m okay,” he assured him. The obvious absence of one leg under the covers told a different story, as did the IV, or the even more obvious : he was in a damn hospital.

Kaden knew damn well he wasn’t going to eat the food he brought. He sat the tupperware and utensils on the bedside table anyway before settling down into the chair. “Maybe later,” he echoed. What he couldn’t manage to echo was the traces of smiles and politeness that Alain was pulling onto his face. He leaned forward in his seat, forearms crossed and leaning against his leg. “Don’t mention it,” he said quickly. Maybe too quickly. He was fairly certain he wasn’t going to stop feeling like shit over this whole mess anytime soon. “They’re fine, they’re good boys. I’m sure they’d rather have seen you than me, but, uh, yeah.” Shit. Walking them in general was out for a bit with him, wasn’t it? No, he needed to stop thinking about what Alain’s life would be like now. He didn’t know. Neither of them did. It would surely be different and hard for a while, maybe a long while, but it wasn’t like this was the middle ages. And he wasn’t dead. He still had plenty he could do. Maybe he even got to be normal. Shit. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he said, voice tight, smaller than he wanted it to be. He couldn’t command mastery of these sorts of conversations like Morgan could. But he could try. “If you’re not okay. Or want me to go you can say so.” I’d deserve that, he thought.

Alain nodded. It was not much, and he did not expect anyone to buy that he was fine, but when you had spent your whole life with the belief that you had to be brave, no matter what, it was hard to shake it off, when the last thing you were feeling, was bravery. He felt broken, damaged, incomplete, lost, and even though he had had a few people manifest themselves, offering help in many forms, he felt abandoned too. This was something that he hoped he’d never ever have to feel again, after his father’s passing. But in the past few months, he had felt it twice. Right now, and when Evelyn and he went on different roads. Of course, he had had time to think about her these last days, wondering if things would have gone better or worse, had he never had to face a mara in his life. Who knew? Certainly not him.

The conflict laid in the fact that on the one hand, Alain had every right to be angry about what had happened, to be angry at Kaden, or at that stupid bear, at the whole world, and on the other hand, he knew that if there was someone to be furious at, it was him, for putting himself in this position, for following the code when he had so many opportunities to leave town and build a life, a much simpler life somewhere else. He had always known that this could not end well, but stupidly, he always had thought that things would be different for him, that he was special, that things like that only happened to others. How foolish. This was something he would have to live with, his own stupidity, and his ego, as broken as it might have been now.

“Mmmh?” Well, pretending to be fine would prove hard, if he kept getting carried away by his stream of thoughts, Alain told himself. “That’s fine. I’m just not sure my place is going to be suitable for a wheelchair, to be honest” he was not sure yet whether a prosthetic leg could be possible or not. Either way, living in the middle of nowhere would be out of the question anyway. Driving would be too, for a while. Driving stick would be impossible for sure. There were too many incertain things now for Alain to feel comfortable about his future. “If you know anyone in real estate, let me know, alright?” Heh, having easy access to everything would be a nice change, at least. The turn that the conversation was taking, however, was not. Alain resented Kaden for what had happened, but he refused to tell him that, and so he had assured anyone who asked that no, he was not holding a grudge against the other hunter. Lies. He hated those, but he would hate even more for Kaden to be hurt, as he had so obviously shown in the clearing. “Kaden, look,” he rubbed at his face, exhaled and pulled the covers from his leg to reveal the bandaged stump. The other hunter had not seen it (at least a cleaned up version of it) yet, and while there was nothing that could scare an expert hunter here, the absence of a leg was not a sight for everyone. This was his reality now, and if Kaden wanted to get real, he would have to see this. “No, I’m not okay, and yes, you have your part of responsibility, but you already know that, and there’s no point in me adding more to your guilt, is there?” He doubted that Kaden wanted more guilt, but maybe lying to him was not a solution either. “Either way, I would have never ever left you there, in front of that bugbear, alone. I don’t know what happened, I don't know why you froze, and if you want to discuss it, we can, but only if it helps,” it needed to be addressed but Alain doubted that this would be easy. And maybe this would not help, but they had to talk about this.

Kaden awkwardly rubbed his palm against the crook of his elbow, mouth pulling into a thin line. “Right but odds are you won’t need one forever. They talked to you about prosthetics, right? And crutches are probably an option in the meantime, too.” Was he being too hopeful? He wasn’t sure. Funny, he never considered himself an optimist of any sort, not with his life. But more and more he found himself putting more and more hope into things. That they’d get better, that they’d be better, that tomorrow would be different. He had no reason to believe it, either. He supposed some of his friends were rubbing off on him. Whether that was setting him up for disappointment later he wasn’t sure. Probably. His stupid heart didn’t stop hoping, though. There was no denying that the hunter’s life was going to change one way or another. How much was the question now, not if. “You’re going to move?” He shook his head. That seemed like too much, too impulsive. A bad idea. But he didn’t know how to articulate it any more than he did when trying to tell Regan not to live in a shed. Practically speaking, it made sense. It still felt wrong. There was no logic to it, and he hated that, but it didn’t change the matter.

As Alain pulled the sheet of his leg, Kaden kept his eyes trained forward, barely blinking. He wanted to look away, not out of disgust, he’d had more than enough training to be desensitized to gore and injuries, his parents made sure of that. No, he wanted to turn away out of shame and guilt. He didn’t. He clenched his jaw and kept his eyes fixed at his friend instead. For a while, he stood there silently, still unsure of what to say. Apologies seemed both necessary and hollow all at the same time. “I know you wouldn’t have left me.” The words hung in the air for a few moments more. “You shouldn’t have had to make that choice. I failed.” The word hit his stomach like a punch to the gut, but he didn’t let it show on his face. For whatever reason, he felt like he was just a teenager again, reporting his efforts on a hunt to his parents, having to own up to all his mistakes and take the critique. He wasn’t sure why, it’s not like Alain was much like his mother or father on the whole. And yet he fell back in step into the role anyway. “It won’t happen again. I’m not going to let it.” Not that he would be out there with him any time soon, if ever again. Shit. “I made a mistake. If you blame me you should do it. There’s no reason not to. But it won’t happen again.” Maybe if he said it he could mean it. To mean it, he’d have to examine why it happened and it was something he hardly wanted to touch, like a bomb waiting to go off or floodgates about to open up and release the dam.

Both Alain and Kaden came from extremely exigent families, with their ancient guidelines, their codes, and a special set of skills that they had both memorized. Kaden’s abilities as a hunter were not to be questioned, as far as the slayer was concerned. The beast hunter was capable, and he knew werewolves possibly more than any other hunter in this town. But, just like many hunters, both had parents who tried to mold them to their psychological image to the point where learning to think for yourself could take a while. Alain, who had not seen any of his family members for over 20 years still had moments where he caught himself feeling like he was possessed by his own father. This was not something that Alain had ever shared with anyone. Right now, he wondered how his family would feel about this, and it was a relief for him to realize that he had absolutely no idea of how. Would they be proud or disappointed? Who knew. A time would come where he would stop to care about their hypothetical opinion, but today was not that day.

“Crutches are an option. The surgeon was positive about the possibility of a prosthetic leg, but the physiotherapist… well, he’s chatty, and…” What he had to say was not as enthusiastic… Without naming anyone, he still had managed to make Alain very concerned and so, his grimace finished his sentence. Either way, things would be different for Alain. No more hunting either way, although if it all went for the best, he could hope to go back to work. His main problem then would be being able to afford the prosthetic leg. “I would stay in town,” he supposed that this was Kaden’s concern. Where else would he be going anyway? Everyone he knew lived here. “I just don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere, in a two floor house,” he cleared his throat. Clearly, the man was not thrilled about the idea. He liked his house, and he liked his garden even more. Finding a place with one floor, with a garden, in the city center, would be a feat.

A few seconds passed before Alain realized that Kaden would stubbornly keep looking at the damn remains of his legs. Putain de chasseurs. There were all the same, weren’t they. Well, almost the same. Some unpredictability remained, much to Alain’s disservice. The sheets fell back on the stump, and Alain felt the same way he felt each time he did something concerning his leg, he felt like it was still there.

Still, he did not get lost in his thoughts this time. Whether it was the tone or the words, he did not know, but hearing fail had Alain stop what he was doing to look at Kaden directly, which was not something he had done since the moment the man had entered the room. He wished that he had replied right ahead, but there was no point correcting him. Yeah, he did fail, and someone had to pay the price. Still, looking at Kaden say that he would not do it again, he felt like he was looking at a child, or like he had stepped once again into his father’s shoes. “I do blame you, but that does not mean I won’t forgive you,” he could not lie to his face, not when he was looking so vulnerable. Forgiveness was not for today. His heart felt heavy in his chest, yet he could not look away from Kaden, studying his reaction. If he had been capable of that, he would have gotten up, and put a hand on his shoulder, given him a slap on the arm, anything to comfort him. But he could not, and so, he asked him: “Come here, you’re gonna make me cry, andouille.”

Kaden’s face remained blank. As best he could. He tried to keep his expression serious, stoic, something like that. He didn’t want this to be about him. He didn’t need to betray his emotions or beg for pity. That’s what his mother would say. Tears were useless and if he was going to cry he could save it for his pillow. Even though deep down, he knew Alain would never think like that, would never say that, all his training from years past decided now was the time to resurface. Good. He needed the reminder. He put someone in the hospital. He put his friend in the hospital because he was rusty or unprepared or whatever they wanted to call it. The point was he had let his training slide, he let the code slide, and it cost people.

Kaden stood there and braced himself for what was next, the yelling or scorn or anger, perhaps disappointment, whatever was set to boil over from across the way from the man currently bed bound. He waited, ready for something akin to punishment. It was what he deserved. He’d take it, accept it. Only it didn't come. His stoic face shifted to confusion. Kaden tried to tuck it away, erase his emotions, keep them from betraying him and causing more trouble. It grew harder, though, when he was forgiven. “No,” he said reflexively. “No, you shouldn’t--” Kaden didn’t deserve a pass. Of any kind. The guilt sinking deep into his bones told him that he didn’t earn it. He wanted anger or ire or even disappointment, it would be easier. Easier to keep it all inside and push forward. He bit the inside of his mouth and nodded, walking forward. “I’m sorry,” he offered, biting harder on the lining of his lips after he spoke. If he focused on the pain, maybe the rest would subside. The tears could wait for his pillow. He was going to make them.

Alain’s eyebrows furrowed, and he did not even try to hide his confusion. Was it something he said that might have … “I said I will forgive you, I didn’t say that I already have,” that would have been simply inadequate. Alain was not ready for forgiveness. He was furious, even if he tried not to show it. He wanted to scream his anger and his pain at Kaden’s face, and yet, he could not seem to find the words or the energy to do so. He had been lacking energy lately. First he put that on the account of the lack of sleep, the nightmares, but while that certainly made it worse, he was simply tired, torn between his duties as a hunter, his career as a mechanic, his social life, and last but not least, himself. Finding a balance between all four of these things was a near impossible task that he had tried to achieve his whole life. And once in a while, one of those things crumbled. He felt like he was not competent enough, or he watched his social circle crumble with each death of a fellow hunter, or each person who found out who he was. It was like trying to keep your balance while standing on marbles. It crumbled. And inexorably, Alain always fell down. “I’ll never be able to hunt, ever again,” he observed. Not the best thing to say to someone who was apologizing to him perhaps, but this was what he had to say. The words came out colder than he imagined they would have. Maybe this would be how he would express his anger. “Those days are gone, forever,” there was a quiver that tugged at the corners of his mouth,  and the trembling of his voice suggested something else than anger. He was not angry, was he? No, this was wrong. He was simply devastated. Losing this was too much of a price to pay. What would he do if he could not fulfil his mission anymore? He was good for the scrap yard. The thought was like an echo. This was not his first time thinking this. No, that thought came back to him. It had come back to him several times already, these past couple of days.

“I don’t forgive you,” and he might never forgive. Why should he? Did he have to? Was it the right thing to do? Or did he have a right to be furious, to be infuriated that he had to pay for the mistakes of someone else? He had made a choice, he had decided that he would protect him. It was his own fault. His thoughts spiraled again and again as he tried, yet another time, to figure out who’s fault it was.

Kaden stood still and took his comeuppance. He didn’t feel the need to reiterate what he said before. Alain shouldn’t forgive him. If he couldn't forgive himself, why should the man missing a leg? His face remained stoic as Alain made his confession, his jaw clenched as he listened. His first thoughts went to denial, hope, but then he was struck by a question. The very question that kept plaguing him more and more often recently. It kept nagging at him, tugging at his shirt tails. It didn’t help that Regan kept asking it, too. It didn’t help that Oscar assumed the answer for him. But this wasn’t a question for him. It was for Alain. “Do you want to hunt again?” What should have had an easy answer, something that used to be black and white, felt uncertain. He had to ask. No amounts of platitudes or solutions would be right unless he knew that much. There were enough times Kaden didn’t know the answer for himself. But Alain looked broken, in more ways than one. Would Kaden feel the same if he couldn’t hunt again? He used to know. Now he wasn’t sure in the slightest.

“Do I want to hunt again?” Alain repeated the question, but his tone was different as he said those words, as if this was such a foolish thing to ask. Force of habit. This was a question that he had asked himself each time he had ever ended up needing stitches, a cast, or with head trauma. But each time he got back on his feet, and he kept going. Something had changed. Was it years and years of hunting that had ended up breaking something inside, or had this been the last straw? After all, there was no getting back on his feet now. The symbolism of it might have not been the most poetic, but it meant something. “I can’t,” he covered his mouth, his thumb resting on the cheekbone as he thought about it. “I thought that he was going to kill me,” half the sentence was lost in his hand. His chest lifted up even though his heart felt heavy. While the hunter almost never cried, his voice kept on breaking and trembling and the humidity of his eyes betrayed him. He was not sure why he bothered hiding his sorrow, his anger or his pain, in front of one of the few people who could understand it. Once again, he might have been trying to preserve others before taking care of himself. Even when he was not hunting, he always had this urge to protect others, didn’t he. Most of the time, he was incredibly clumsy about it too, but he still tried. “No, I don’t want to hunt again. I don’t want to keep on sacrificing myself for…” For nothing. All his life he had done this, and it never stopped, it was never getting better. You just couldn’t win against a species that could hide and live forever, and also contaminate the rest of the population like a plague. Things would be worse if they weren’t there, but when was the last time someone had been thankful for hunters. He was tired. “I’m so tired Kaden, you will be too, if you live long enough,” he paused. This was the one thing he wanted to discuss. “I don’t know what happened over there, and I don’t understand either what happened but if you can’t fix this, then you should not be out there,” getting himself killed would be all that he would gain.

“I’ve seen hunters in the field with multiple missing limbs, Alain. Can’t might not be the right word.” Kaden tore his gaze from him and wished there was a window, anything to look out of. There was nothing but the soft hum of fluorescent lighting and he didn’t want to sear his eyes looking at those. Floor would have to do for a moment. “We’re some of the most resilient people out there,” he said, looking back at his friend. He didn’t have to say what he meant by we. Hunters knew. They knew better than anyone how many times they got knocked down and got back up, how many times they faced death and lived to fight another day. If anyone could do what felt or seemed impossible, it was them. They did it all the time. This could easily be one of them if he wanted it. But he’d have to want it. And he didn’t. Kaden didn’t know what to make of it, to have that question answered so easily after everything. He’d been wrestling with it himself for months and, hell, maybe longer if he really thought about it. “Okay,” was all he could manage to say. “You might… just. Think about it.” Maybe it was just a knee jerk reaction to everything. Considering. There was no way he could mean that so surely right now. And for as much as he hated thinking about that gnawing, biting question nipping at his heels, he hated the one that came next more. “I-- I’m not sure.” He kept his face stark and blank as he could manage. “I just thought… I’m not sure.” He did have an inkling of why. When he’d looked at the bear back there, he’d seen a person. And he hated himself for it. “It won’t happen again, though. I’ll make sure. I’ll train harder. I’ll-- It’s not going to happen again.”

“It’s not about the damn fucking leg,” Alain had switched to French without even noticing. This change happened whenever the man hurt himself, was struggling to do something, or in this case, letting the anger take over. Sitting straighter in his bed, he breathed in heavily, as an attempt to calm himself down. A failed attempt. He breathed out just as heavily. His blood was pounding so much he could hear it. He wanted to get away from here, just change the subject, and for a second, he contemplated it, his eyes travelling from Kaden to the wheelchair in the corner. Why the fuck was it so far away? Fucking doctors. Fucking hospital. He took a deep breath again. This is fine, he could explain why he had said that. He did not want to, was not used to, he could not. He did not want to complain, he did not want people to have to listen to this crap, think that he was just over reacting, or that this was his fault, which it was really. No one wanted to listen to a grown man complaining. His breathing eventually paced down, growing more silent, as Alain kept on staring blankly at that damn wheelchair, thinking about all that sorrow he had inside of him, that he couldn’t seem to shake off. “You must think I’m a bloody coward,” he finally said.  Maybe he was. There was something cowardly about doing this. Kaden was right, Alain knew plenty of hunters with a prosthetic limb, and he could just get back on his feet, once again, but did he want to? He did not want to. He wanted to retire and pretend to be normal and maybe, if he were lucky, pretending would lead to actually being normal. One could hope. But he did not have much of that these days.

Was it so wrong to want what he had always been denied ? Was it so wrong to get rid of the thing that had cost him so much, ever since he was born ? How many times as a child did he wish he could just go to school, get back home, go to soccer practice and at the end of the day have his mother read him a bedtime story. Or did this only belong in fiction?

“Kaden, this had nothing to do with training. You froze, and then you killed the bear on your own, I did not help,” this had nothing to do with training. “I might be full of shit sometimes, but I also know when someone’s lying to my face,” his eyes finally strayed away from the wheelchair, and he looked at his friend with confusion, and worry. “Sort this out. Talk to me about it, or talk to whoever you want about it, but sort this out. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Kaden bit his tongue, held back his instinct to latch onto the anger, to attach himself to it, and throw it back. He didn’t deserve to be angry, he didn’t deserve to lash out. He did deserve the ire and the contempt and whatever else Alain wanted to throw his way. His gaze started to drop down the floor, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard his mother’s voice sniping at him to look at her when she spoke to him, when she scolded him and corrected him. Though she never lashed out, he always worried that every time could be the one that it changed. “I never called you a coward,” he said, voice as even as he could manage, the words nearly biting, the anger brimming beneath the surface. It wasn’t even directed at the man in front of him. If anything, it was turned inward, burning himself from the inside. He held Alain’s gaze, steady and unwavering, even as the man looked past him. Kaden barely blinked, “Of course this has to do with training,” he snapped back. “If I hadn’t let it-- If I hadn’t let everything slip, then I wouldn’t have frozen.” If he hadn’t second guessed, let his thoughts cloud his judgment, let his life take precedent over his duty. It had everything to do with his training. All his parents had worked for and built him up to be was coming undone. He knew that. He could feel it. And he wouldn’t accept some other explanation, not from a hunter of all people. “I’ll be better. I’ll get better.” All he could hear ringing in the back of his mind was his mother’s words. I don’t need better, I need the best.

“You don’t have to say it,” Alain retorded, once again looking away. Maybe it was the remnants of being the ugly duckling of the family, but Alain periodically had those moments of doubts during which he questioned everything and everyone. It was in those times that he should have been looking out for himself, and try to find out what made him feel so insecure, what made him doubt himself, but it was much easier to tell yourself that others thought that he was this or that. “Sure, it has nothing to do with the question you just asked me,” or with the fact that he seemed to disapprove of Alain’s answer. The older hunter shook his head, his eyebrows low. He did not have a kind look in his eyes, it was closer to a glare of disapproval. Whatever was troubling Kaden, he could not tell, and he felt like he would not get an answer other than this broken record : It’s the training. Tu parles, Charles. “Do you want to stop hunting, Kaden? Is it because of Regan?” Perhaps Kaden wanted to keep her safe, who would he be to judge? If things with Evelyn had been different, he would have done the same for her. “What is going on?”

“If I wanted to say it I would have!” Kaden’s anger got the best of him, boiling over, spilling out. He clenched down on his jaw, trying to swallow it back. He inhaled and pulled it all back inside, tried to put it back in its bottle, save it for later, perhaps. He didn’t need it now. He hadn’t earned it now. Even now that the questions were being turned on him. He bit down harder if it was at all possible, frozen again, just like he was when face to face with that bugbear. “That doesn’t matter. And this has nothing to do with Regan.” His words were harsh and biting. If he had the answer to that, he wouldn't fucking be here, would he? If he had the answer his life might make sense, things wouldn’t have changed and he wouldn’t be wrestling with guilt and shame every fucking day. ‘We’re not talking about me. Not about that. And it doesn’t matter what I want.” It never had. His parents had made that clear from the time he was born. If he wanted to be normal, it wouldn’t ever happen. If he wanted to remain ignorant of the supernatural, it was too late. If he wanted to live a life with less pain it was out of reach. It didn’t matter. What he wanted didn’t change what he was. It wouldn’t undo his life or reset.

Alain’s jaw clenched, but this time he remained silent. There was no point in replying. What good would that do? And so he kept his mouth shut, rested his back against the front of the bed and waited. Perhaps he would calm down, perhaps he would leave. After a while, however, tugging at the corner of the slayer’s lips, there was a small smile. How many times had he been the one with the short temper, yelling all that he had on his heart at someone (who did not deserve that)’s face ? Enough to know that there was no point arguing now. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he looked away from Kaden, sighing. “Ask me that same question in a couple of months,” maybe the other man was right, and he was just over reacting, or maybe this was something he had been troubled with for God knew how long. “Can we talk about literally anything else now, please? I don’t want to argue with you,” maybe it was best to talk as friends, and not hunters. After all, this was where the trouble always came from.

Kaden almost wanted more anger back, felt like he deserved it. But that wasn’t fair to push, to beg for it out of some selfish reason to be proven right, to stack on his own guilt. Instead, he nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t give Alain an invitation to ask it back because he wasn’t sure he wanted that, wasn’t sure he could handle knowing what his answer might be in a few months. Whatever the answer, he was sure it meant losing something. So the easiest thing was to continue walking along a tightrope, knowing full well he’d fall one way or another. For now, it didn’t matter. As long as he didn’t look down. “Sure,” he said, leaning back in the chair, his voice growing softer, almost distant. “We can… We can turn on the tv. I was stuck here with Cece and Grace for a while each. There’s this dumb show about girls who gossip. It’s awful. But I can frighten you with how much I’ve learned about what's-her-face and the other blonde one.” It seemed hollow and stupid, but sometimes that’s all anyone could handle. And it was a decent place to start.

“...” Alain, who could not help it, had opened his mouth to make a comment regarding Kaden’s life choices, but instead he just gave him an openly mocking smile. It was not much, but it might have been the first genuine smile he had given Kaden since he had entered the room. “That sounds perfect, sure,” his hand reached for the remote, which he handed at the other man. “Please tell me all there is to know about what’s-her-face and the other blonde one,” what followed reminded Alain of why he had not been watching a lot of television in the past few years, but if that could appease Kaden, he could suffer through the adventures of rich people whining about the trouble they got themselves into, and there was something almost cathartic about complaining and criticizing those shallow people. “Well, this was terrible.”

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Pissed

A little Au-ish in where Lisa also joined the Legends. Might be OC like but then again they are in private...? Idk but I felt like some Snart siblings fluff is needed so here it is.

It had been two months since Lisa had join the Legends and admittedly Leonard had been rather pleased to have his sister by his side again.

He would never tell anyone but he had worried about her back in Central while he was traveling around and he was more than relieved that the ever hanging threat of the villain of the week threatening her was gone.

Now, he was remembering how hard it was working with her. For whatever reason, she woke up in a bad mood and when she was in a bad mood, she showed it. And brought it to everyone around her.

Now with Rouges it had been okay because let's face it after a fist fight it was generally over and during heists it wasn't like anything would go exactly as planned so her bad mood didn't affect them.

But during this mission with the Legends, Lisa was just uncooperative, talked back to Rip, didn't listen to anyone and did her own thing, stealing the Hope Diamond with Mick.

Rip had been furious, sure no one got killed (that they knew of), but he didn't like things going so off kilter especially since Mick was getting a partner in crime and hell knows how much energy it took making sure he didn't torch the Empire State Building's Lobby, he didn't want to deal with the Statue of Liberty having a gold crown.

Rip had been about to go to the training room to lecture her but he had stopped him, and offered to talk to her instead.

He knew after years of dealing with her awful temper that she was looking for a fight and if Rip lectured her, she would yell or more likely punch him, there would be a fight, punishment and her mood would get even worse and she would make things happened. Things that Leonard would rather forget.

As Leonard walked into the training room he encountered Lisa beating up a punching bag. "Hey," Leonard announced his arrival and Lisa stopped and scowled "What do you want?" Lisa hissed.

"Rip wanted to grill you about your attitude today."

"If he didn't like it, he should deal with it," Lisa replied with a roundhouse kick.

Leonard tried to go over the situation with his mind, he wasn't used to these kinds of "We must work as a team" pep talks.

"Well, Lisa it.. It's just that this matters, it's important to follow the plan in order to succeed."

"The plan should be more flexible." "You still should cooperate." "I'll decide on that."

Leonard rolled his eyes. These moods were really annoying and worse, she didn't listen to reason until she got over them. She didn't usually listen to reason in a good mood but during these time she was all out deaf.

"No, you work at the mission and then you can get your little pissed child routine to your room."

"You cannot be serious Leonard. Why don't you go read Kafka or something old man." She hit his shoulder hard.

"Once you actually start acting like an adult I might," Leonard growled back. Leonard had a strange sense of déjà vu. The whole thing reminded him of when he used to take care of her. When she was a eleven or nine, she would come to his apartment angry and hit him whenever she got annoyed by him. He just had to make her smile at something, anything and then it would be gone.

He looked at her, a thirty something woman, glaring at him like he was Hitler or Lewis. She was more or less the same, definitely had the same course vocabulary. Leonard shook his head. How did he make her smile, he wasn't one to carry around 5001 Snart jokes book.

Then he remembered. It was stupid and incredible childish but damn the results would be hilarious and bodily harm, guaranteed.

"Shut up," Lisa tried to hit him again. Leonard caught her arm and put her in a lock.

"Remember what you use to get if you tried hitting me?” Leonard smirked.

"I don't remember what I got, but YOU got your ass kicked," Lisa flipped him over.

"Like you could beat me after all your my baby sister." Leonard teased.

She charged at him and he used her anger to his advantage. A few swift moves later, she was pinned and he straddled her legs.

"Get off of me,” she grunted. "Make me," Leonard challenged. "You have a heavy beer gut." That was a low blow even for her.

"Enough with the piss, smile it will make you feel better." Leonard commanded.

"Says who?" "Says science," Leonard shot back. "I'm not in the fucking mood."

"I figured." He trailed his fingers down her legs "Now do you remember what would happen when you tried to hit me?" She glared.

"You get a visit from the you-know-who." He squeezed her knee caps to no success. She rolled her eyes.

"You got to be kidding me," she mumbled, "This is stupid and childish. I'm too old for this crap. You are way too ancient for this crap. And Len I'm not some kid anymore, I freeze people in gold and seduce speedster's engineer. We're serious people, Lenny. We are hardened criminals. Besides I'm not even..." Lisa stopped her rant and squirmed as his hand shot into her armpit.

"What was that? I think you still are" he smirked as he lightly traced circles. "Just smile and I'll stop.”

Lisa squirmed, pushed, bucked to no avail "No. I'm not ticklish." She stammered as she used her one free hand to futile pull his hand away from her.

"I think you are. You can't hold it in forever." He could tell that she wanted to break, it was laughingly obvious. Her grinding her teeth and biting her lip was almost akin to constipation.

"Smile Lisa. As your big brother I just want to make you happy and not in such a shitty mood all day" Leonard taunted as he used his left hand to squeeze her stomach.

She was being stubborn about it. He could just see it, her mouth was twitched up but she wouldn't break out into a smirk or half-smile.

She just squirmed and hid her face in her hair or against the floor. "I didn't think you would be this difficult. Fine you wanna play, we're gonna play."

Lisa eyes widened as she felt his fingers tap up her ribcage, "If I remember correctly, your ribs were your worst spot. Hmm?"

"Len, no I'm no..t" She stopped. "If you're so not, you can finish the sentence." Silence.

"I'm giving you one chance. Smile voluntarily and I'll let you go" He waited a couple of seconds before deciding the silence was a definite no. And he proceeded to emit the most surprising sounds out of the younger Snart.

Leonard almost started laughing himself. The girly, bubbly, giggly laugh didn't fit at all with the image of a villainous, leather clad woman who thought nothing of killing a man for the money. He swore that if he closed his eyes he would have thought it was coming from some vapid model especially as it went higher a few pitches when he climbed up her ribs like a piano.

Though the squeals were followed by more Lisa-like obscenities on how he would die a horrible death by fire.

She was spending way too much time with Mick.

What Leonard was most surprised was how much fun he was having. He felt like some dumb kid, and the whole situation felt normal. Nothing of Lewis' abuse or juvie or the next big heist sorta like a normal childhood activity in a regular family.

He stopped every once and awhile to allow her to breath in air and a chance for mercy.

"Are you done with your attitude?" He asked as she gulped a breath of air.

"No." Then with a battle cry she tackled him, pinned him down and dug her fingers into his shirt. He blinked.

"Stupid parka!" She cursed and tried to take it off.

Ohhh. He realized she was trying to turn on the tables on him. He calmly pushed her down and resumed position. "Sorry sis, but I'm not ticklish. There's more than one reason why my name's Cold."

He bend down to blow on her ribs and her laugh went up almost three octaves. Honestly, he thought Lisa looked adorable right now.

She looked so carefree and happy, and there were freakin dimples coming out. The laugh was just icing on the cake. Too often he just saw her as the little girl in the hospital getting stitches, refusing to talk about Lewis or a girl having nothing going on in life except the next big thrill. No dreams. No big ambitions.

"Lisa, if you want me to stop you have to start fighting." Leonard drawled as Lisa tried to squirm and bang her fists against him.

"LENHEHaNo!" Lisa screeched when he managed to get his hand under her shirt, scratching at her ribs with his nails.

"This is the third rib right? Or is it the fourth? I should count them don't you think?"

"NOHAHANOFUCHAHADON'THAHATHE TEASING MAKES IT WORSE!" She managed to screech out.

It went on like that for awhile. But eventually she bended over into curled ball, banging the ground.

"YOU WIAHAHAHAHAN YOUHIHAIHAHAHAHIAHAHIHIHAHAH" "And you'll stop your shitty mood?" Leonard asked as she unfurled herself, panting heavily.

"Yes, for the love of whatever God, yes" Lisa answered, nodding her head eagerly.

"Good," Leonard scrambled off her legs and helped her up.

"So we're good" Leonard asked cautiously. He knew it would work but he didn't think she would be so so calm afterwards. Maybe she didn't take enough air in.

"I guess. But know this" Lisa placed a hand firmly on his shoulder "I will get you back. You're not the only one with a good memory. And anytime as soon as you take off your shoes and parka. I will get my revenge. In public, in private, in front of the team it doesn't matter. I will do it.”

Leonard would have laugh if he didn't know how serious that threat was.

"So, any reason why you were pissed?" Leonard asked.

Lisa froze and then frowned "I heard Mick and Jax talking. How you took me because you were worried that some villain was going to hurt me.”

"Yeah so?"

"I don't want to be chosen just because I need protection. I can do stuff, Lenny. I don't want to follow the Team around so you could keep an eye on me. Like how you and Mick were a package deal. What am I? The back order?” "Lisa, if we had only chosen you so we could protect you Stein's wife would be here. Sara's dad would be here. Jax's dad would be here. Rip's family would be here. We chose you not just because of that but because you would actually be useful to the mission. You know how to work a crime scene, you know how to plan a mission, you know how to fight. You can do something with the Team, you can help. That's why you're here."

Lisa stared at him, disbelievingly "No bullshit?" "No bullshit."

A few nights later, Leonard was in the kitchen putting away his late night drink when he got tackled with a vicious screech.

The rest of the Legends woke up and ran to the room to see the two Snart siblings rolling around the floor, laughing, growling and almost knocking over the table.

"What the hell?" Sara asked.

"Just walk away slowly and maybe they'll stop" Jax muttered.

They took his advice, slightly worried for the next day and still wondering what the hell was going on.

"Admit it!" Lisa yelled. "NOAHA" Leonard croaked.

[hungline]

my memories still go to that cafe

pairings: yoonkook, side vmon and care bear line, past namkook  genre: fluff, light angst, coffee shop au, post-break-up au, rated pg13  warnings: alcohol, jeongguk being thirsty  a/n: my fourth commission for marigold! words: 12000 

summary:  "Holy shit," Blondie whispers under his breath — almost quiet enough that Jeongguk could pretend he never even heard him — as his face slowly flushes a darker red by the second. 

Jeongguk has quickly learned that you can tell a lot about a person from their coffee order. Or their tea order, or whatever it is they order from the coffeehouse Jeongguk has been working at for two months now.

He isn't really a barista because Seokjin does not trust him as far as he can throw him with the expensive coffee machines yet, but Jeongguk does not mind being an over glorified waiter either. People are sometimes really mean to him for no other reason than that they are having a shit day and one of the baristas somehow managed to get their order wrong when Jeongguk knows that the order is perfectly correct, but Mingyu and Minghao always make it up to him with a meal anyway even if he wasn't the one responsible for the “wrong” order so it's all okay. Plus he is not the only waiter and that helps too.

A couple months ago, it might have wrecked him — the shitty customers with their shitty attitudes — but after he and Namjoon cut off all ties, nothing can really hurt him as much as that did.

Namjoon was older than him and he wanted something Jeongguk knew he could never give him so he had decided to end their relationship, but still hoped that they could be friends. Jeongguk knew that Namjoon was heartbroken and while there was enough guilt for him to end things altogether, he wanted their friendship to work again. And it had for a short while until Namjoon somehow got it into his head that Jeongguk was already dating again and then, well, the article on Namjoon's blog was all that Jeongguk needed to realize they could never really be friends again. It hurt like hell because Jeongguk was still a bit tender from the deaths of his grandfather and uncle and having to help his mom get through them back to back, but he couldn't fathom any more hurt on either of their ends. It would have turned into something even more ugly and awful and Jeongguk didn't want to end up hating Namjoon when all was said and done.

Of course, he had still loved Namjoon then, but now, it does not feel like that at all anymore.

Yugyeom keeps telling him he should just go and let his inner hoe wreak havoc across mankind, but sex is something that Jeongguk does not take lightly and he really doesn't want to somehow end up running into Namjoon at a club or something. One drink would be all that it takes to get Jeongguk back into his bed, except Jeongguk doesn't love him anymore and he does not want to start loving him again either. Sex isn’t going to solve anything for him and would only make matters worse.

Still, even without the sting of his last relationship, Jeongguk would find it hard to find just about anybody attractive enough to sleep with. Plenty of attractive people come into the coffeehouse, some even supermodel status with looks that could rival that of Seokjin's, but they do not capture his attention.

Not the way that one blonde man who comes in every Thursday and Friday evenings to order an iced Americano does anyway.

Mingyu and Seokjin both make fun of him for how he tenses and bumbles around every time Blondie comes in, but can they really blame him? Blondie has eyes that could pin just about anybody in place and hands that could carry the world. Jeongguk doesn't know anything else about him but from watching him, he thinks he has a pretty good idea about what kind of person he is at least. Seokjin says he doesn't get how Jeongguk finds him and not Seokjin attractive instead, but Jeongguk does not want to jump into bed with his boss for a large number of reasons that do not necessarily have anything to do with Seokjin being his boss.

(Besides, Seokjin can talk himself blue in the face, but it will never be enough to convince Jeongguk that his boss isn't seeing both of the cute dancers who drop by frequently to flirt with Seokjin like it's nobody's business.)

But, again, Jeongguk does not even know Blondie's actual name. And even if he did, he has no idea what he would do with the information anyway. It isn't like Jeongguk would just look him up on Facebook or something and add him as a friend. That's absurd.

Although, it isn't like Jeongguk also would not try looking him up on Facebook and stalking him if Blondie happens to keep his profile public either. That is if Jeongguk is lucky anyway and Jeongguk has the worst luck anyone could ever have so he feels confident in betting on the fact that things could never go that smoothly for him.

Right now, he is content with just this. Admiring from afar, from very far away.

And then, suddenly, one day, Jeongguk is much too close for comfort and he has no idea how to get back to where he was before. Or if he even wants to.

  It starts out like any other day.

Autumn has finally fallen away to reveal Winter's cold touch lingering in the air. Jeongguk has wrapped himself up in his favorite sweater and scarf and gone to the library after Yugyeom had sexiled him again. He left their apartment in his usual work pants since he figured that he could just walk to work once he is done at the library because it is not that far away.

It is quiet here in between the stacks of books and sounds of keyboards clacking away, as quiet as a library should be and when Jeongguk goes to check his Facebook, he finds a surprise he wouldn't have expected in years.

Namjoon has left him two new messages.

Jeongguk only blinks, quickly exiting out of the tab to avoid doing something stupid like reading and answering his messages. If he is going to read what Namjoon has to say after so many months, Jeongguk will wait until he is in the privacy of his own room in case he starts crying again. Yugyeom won't like it, but Yugyeom never liked Namjoon anyway so that is to be expected at least.

Mostly, Jeongguk just wonders when Namjoon decided it was time to unblock Jeongguk because after checking twitter, tumblr, and his blog site, Jeongguk can see all of Namjoon's posts now. He wants to dig and be nosy, see what his ex-boyfriend has been up to these past few months, but Jeongguk does not want to do this right now. He quickly checks to make sure that Namjoon is still blocked on all his accounts and then blocks him on Facebook before he closes his laptop.

Now he feels itchy and raw all over and his mind just won’t stop thinking. The quiet that had comforted him before is now suffocating and Jeongguk needs out. He packs up and decides to walk to work with his headphones blaring a new anime soundtrack in his ears to help muffle the beats of his own erratic heart. He knows he is going to arrive too early for Seokjin’s liking, but Seokjin will still let him clock in anyways. His boss is nice like that sometimes.

Jeongguk gets to work quickly and changes into the rest of his uniform in the bathroom when Seokjin side-eyes him for being so early. He won't ask about it yet, but the elder has known Jeongguk long enough to know when he is being bothered by something so he nudges Jeongguk in the side when he emerges from the bathroom and hands him a lemon muffin.

"I bet you haven't eaten anything yet," Seokjin murmurs, pulling them towards an empty table while Mingyu takes a customer's order at the counter. "Eat this before your shift. It's your favorite and Gyu's making a hot chocolate for you, too. You came in really early today, Gukkie."

"Hyung, you didn't have to do that," Jeongguk says in response, still not used to how Seokjin can turn from a childish flirt to a thoughtful hyung in a mere matter of seconds. "But thank you."

Seokjin only grins, pushing Jeongguk into his seat and leaving the muffin in front of him on the table as he heads back to the counter where Mingyu is setting down a cup. "Anytime."

Jeongguk shifts in his seat as he waits for Seokjin to return, pulling his sweater from his bag to put back on over the top half of his uniform. He has tons of white button-ups at home and an extra one kept here in his locker for when someone spills their coffee on him, but Jeongguk hates doing laundry so he would rather avoid any and all spills when he can. He feels warmer now with his sweater back on and when Seokjin returns with the hot chocolate and slides into the seat across from him, Jeongguk already knows that Seokjin is going to prod into his private life whether he wants him to or not.

"So," Seokjin starts with when Jeongguk has started unwrapping the muffin. "Wanna talk about it?"

A shrug is what greets the elder's question and Jeongguk knows he should feel weird about his boss wanting to know about his life, but Jeongguk has never been an hour and a half early to work before. Seokjin was bound to ask questions.

Seokjin sighs, tapping his fingertips on the table. "Gukkie, you know that I don't mind you coming in early, but it has never happened before and I just want to make sure you're okay. You looked out of it when you walked through the door and I was worried."

Now Jeongguk feels bad, but once he takes a bite of his muffin and watches the way the tense line of Seokjin's shoulders goes loose, he feels better. "I didn't mean to worry you, hyung. I'm sorry."

Seokjin brushes his apology away, obviously waiting for what Jeongguk is going to say next so Jeongguk lets out a breath and takes a sip of his hot chocolate before he says, "I was at the library before and I didn't realize until I had logged into Facebook that I had never blocked my ex. I kind of, just, panicked and left. I didn’t realize how early I would be. Sorry."

"Jeongguk, kid, you don't need to apologize for any of that," Seokjin shakes his head, reaching out to clap a hand on Jeongguk's shoulder. "Shit happens and I am not one to judge somebody else's life."

Jeongguk wrinkles his nose, brows scrunched together as he takes another bite of his muffin. "That's a lie, hyung. You bitch about the customers and their orders all the time."

A laughs bursts out of Seokjin in response, his face flushing a delicate pink that stirs something in Jeongguk's chest he thought might have died with Namjoon. "Shut up and eat. I'll let you start your shift a half hour early so you get the rest of this hour to finish eating, brat. Minghao is behind the counter with Gyu right now, but Seokmin will be clocking out halfway through your shift and Junhui should be coming in soon after that. 

"Okay, hyung. Thanks," Jeongguk murmurs, ducking his head so he won't have to see just how pretty his boss is.

Seokjin smiles and claps his shoulder again, standing up to go check on Mingyu. "Anytime."

Jeongguk resists watching him walk away, feeling something uncurl in his chest when he finally realizes that maybe he is capable of finding someone easily attractive again. Maybe not enough to have him romantically inclined, but Seokjin is handsome. Probably more handsome than any man alive actually.

(Possibly more handsome than Taehyung even, Namjoon's boyfriend and Jeongguk's old metamour.)

The lemon muffin and hot chocolate are calling to him, so Jeongguk pushes those thoughts aside as he finishes eating, glad when he has not spilled a single thing on him. Seokjin rolls his eyes at him from the back room and Jeongguk goes to join him, taking his sweater off and leaving his things in his locker.

"Done already?" Seokjin asks, brow raised in question.

Jeongguk nods, beaming when Seokjin only shakes his head at him and waves him back towards the front. "Have at it. Clock-in now and I'll let you off half an hour early if you want."

"I'll stay until closing," Jeongguk says back, already heading towards the computer in the back to clock into work. "If that's okay."

Seokjin waves his hands again, chuckling under his breath. "It's fine, Gukkie-yah. Go on and get to work, Gyu-yah expects there to be a rush soon."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Jeongguk responds as he finishes up on the computer, lifting one hand in a salute for Seokjin.

Seokjin rolls his eyes and shoos him out of the backroom, leaving Jeongguk to the frenzy that is the coffeehouse. He avoids spills as often as he can, but almost all his white button-ups have faint coffee stains along the cuffs and no matter the amount of bleach Jeongguk uses, they will probably always be there.

Mingyu was right about the rush and Jeongguk loses himself in it, almost forgetting that it is Friday until Blondie steps into the coffeehouse and Jeongguk feels the air rush out of him in a loud whoosh that startles the nearest customer. He flushes and apologizes, avoiding the counter until Blondie has finished ordering and has sat down at a table before he approaches it again and tries to act normal. Mingyu snickers, blowing kisses at him as he picks up a latte and takes it to the correct table.

He returns a few minutes later, finding a glass of their mineral water waiting for him and raises a brow at Mingyu.

"Table seven," Mingyu says without really looking at the counter, too focused on the machines behind him. "Minghao's taking his break and I still need to get three other orders out first, so give them the water and tell them it's an apology for their drink taking so long."

Jeongguk nods, wincing internally at how good of a barista Mingyu must be if he has never given an order late before, not even during one of their rushes, but is now. Mingyu presses a button on one of the machines and Jeongguk takes that as his cue to go convince table seven not to murder him.

It's only when he looks around for a table with the number seven on it does he realize that Blondie is sitting at table seven.

Blondie is typing away on his laptop, legs crossed one over the other and his black earphones in as he focuses on the screen before him. He is wearing all black today, but no sweater or jacket is in sight and Jeongguk finds himself frowning at that before he takes a deep breath and slowly approaches the table. He can do this, he assures himself. Just put the water down, explain about the wait and back away. Easy peasy.

Except it isn't that easy because nothing is ever that easy in Jeongguk's life.

Just as he has stepped up towards the table, Blondie looks up and meets his gaze, the first time he has ever done that before and Jeongguk knows he is blushing, but what is even more surprising is that Blondie is blushing right back as they continue to stare at one another. Jeongguk almost stumbles, the glass of water still held securely on his tray as he tries to think about why the hell he approached the table in the first place.

"Holy shit," Blondie whispers under his breath — almost quiet enough that Jeongguk could pretend he never even heard him — as his face slowly flushes a darker red by the second.

Jeongguk swallows and slowly puts the glass down, sweating when he realizes he can't keep his eyes away from Blondie's. "Um."

They stand there staring at one another for a few moments that feel like centuries until one of the machines starts whirring loudly and Jeongguk startles, stepping back and ducking his head quickly. "Sorry for the wait. Your order should be up soon, but please enjoy this free mineral water on the house."

Before any more can be said, Jeongguk presses his tray to his chest as he rushes away, feeling like he is hyperventilating when he can still feel Blondie's eyes on his back. "Oh, my god. Oh, my god!"

Mingyu laughs at him when he makes it back to the counter and presses Blondie's usual order of an iced Americano towards him. Jeongguk freezes when he realizes that Mingyu set him up, the asshole.

"Dude!" Jeongguk hisses at him. "What the hell!"

"You were never going to make a move so I thought we should do something to make him notice you," Mingyu grins back, still laughing even as he turns back to the machines again. "Go bring him his drink, Gukk-ah. Yell at me for it later when there are no customers around to hear you."

Jeongguk should be angry, but nerves are strangling him, so he wordlessly takes the cold drink and walks back to Blondie's table. He flushes again when he realizes that Blondie is still looking at him, still flushed red, and has now completely abandoned whatever he was doing on his laptop. His walk falters for a split second and then Blondie turns an even darker shade of red and forcibly pushes his attention back on his laptop in front of him while Jeongguk approaches his table.

"Iced Americano," Jeongguk says as he puts it down beside the untouched glass of water. "Hope you enjoy it."

Jeongguk turns to go before anything more can be said and practically runs back to the counter to grab the new drinks Mingyu is setting out. "Table four. Two more coming up for table six."

"I hate you," Jeongguk mutters at him as he takes the drinks.

Mingyu smiles after him, pitching his voice loud enough for the whole coffeehouse to hear. "Feeling's mutual, Jeon Jeongguk!"

"Oh, my god," Jeongguk whines under his breath when he sees Blondie's head whip around in Mingyu's direction, unabashedly taking notice of Jeongguk's name.

Someone needs to help Jeongguk get through the rest of this day or Mingyu is going to end up in a body bag and Seokjin is going to have to help him bury it by the end of his shift.

  "Your lover boy came in yesterday," is what first greets Jeongguk when he comes into work on Sunday.

"What are you talking about?" Jeongguk asks, pausing in his stride towards the back room.

Mingyu grins at him mockingly before he looks back towards the machines even though Jeongguk knows he should be hustling to the back room to drop his bag off in his locker since he's cutting it too close for the start of his shift. Jeongguk heaves a heavy sigh and levels a glare at the back of Mingyu's head before he continues towards his locker after another moment has passed.

It isn't mentioned so explicitly again during the day, but when they are cleaning and closing up, Jeongguk has to endure an earful of Mingyu's retelling of how Blondie came in the day before and asked about Jeongguk then left without ordering anything when Mingyu told him he wasn't working that day. Seokjin chimes in as he locks up that Blondie actually looks familiar to him now that he's paying attention and Jeongguk spends his entire walk home ignoring the ache in his gut that wants him to ask his co-workers to spill everything they might know about Blondie.

Jeongguk texts Seokjin when he gets home and receives a good night in return, but stays up until two contemplating whether he should finally open Namjoon's messages or not.

He doesn't and by mid-morning on Monday, he has forgotten all about it in favor of helping Yugyeom get rid of his latest one-night stand who won't leave their apartment.

  Apart from on Wednesday when the dancers come in again and flaunt themselves at Seokjin for almost two whole hours, the level of gay panic in the coffeehouse is pretty null.

(Of course, Jeongguk will not deny that his boss is an idiot if he really thinks he isn't dating the two dancers, but not his circus and not his monkey, so it definitely is not his problem.)

Seokjin hires a new hand Thursday morning and blows up Jeongguk's phone by lunchtime to get him to come in early. When Jeongguk does show up, almost everybody working at the moment looks beyond relieved to see him and he does not know if that is a good thing or not.

"Kid, I need you to clock-in as of yesterday. The new hire is a disaster and keeps spilling everything. I'm losing business fast," Seokjin corners him in the back room to say, his eyes wide and frantic. "Tell Yerim she can go home early."

Jeongguk shrugs and unlocks his locker to put his bag away. "Alright, hyung. Finally, you hired a girl, you sexist."

Seokjin dodges the punch Jeongguk aims at his shoulder and grins back at him, albeit weakly. "Only guys have applied to work here, not my doing or my fault, kid. Now go."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Jeongguk mocks a salute and clocks in afterward, wincing as soon as he steps out of the back room.

Yerim has dropped two glasses and the sound of glass breaking scares Jeongguk but it is also enough incentive for him to grab the broom and dustpan leaning on the wall behind the counter before immediately pushing the new hire away and cleaning it up himself. She walks away and comes back with a bag for him to drop the broken pieces of glass into and soon enough the floor is clear again and Seokjin has settled the customers down again.

"Follow me," Jeongguk says as soon as he has stood up again, motioning Yerim towards him as he walks to the back room once more.

Once there, he hands her the bag and crosses his arms over his chest, regarding her. "Throw that in the dumpster out back then clock out. Seokjin-hyung said you can leave early today."

She is young, probably around his age and pretty, but girls have never interested him. She's flushing a pale pink from what he hopes is embarrassment and wears a black pencil skirt with black tights underneath. Her white-button up is sporting three different stains and Jeongguk fights back another wince at her appearance.

"Because I'm so bad at this, right?" She asks, nodding her head before he even gets the chance to open his mouth. "Yeah, I'll leave early. Did he tell you what time I need to come in tomorrow... if he still wants me to come in tomorrow?"

Jeongguk uncrosses his arms and sighs, shaking his head for more his benefit than hers. "He hasn't said anything, but I'll ask while you're doing that and then come tell you. Alright?"

She nods and walks towards the back door, leaving Jeongguk to run a hand through his hair. He shakes his head again and walks toward the counter, picking up his tray before locating Seokjin near the bathrooms.

"Hyung," Jeongguk calls out, walking briskly over to his boss. "Yerim wants to know if you still want her to come in tomorrow. She seems pretty upset so maybe you should talk to her instead."

Seokjin sighs and lets his head bang against the wall with a dull thump that makes Jeongguk wince in sympathy. "Yeah, yeah. She's still in the back room, right?"

Jeongguk shrugs. "She should be. I told her to throw away the bag of broken glass first before she clocked out, but you can wait for her in there."

"Cool, kid. I got this, you go wait on these tables. Please, don't break any more of my glasses, I can't afford that."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

Seokjin manages another weak grin at that and shoos him away before he walks to the back room himself.

After that, Jeongguk does not really pay much attention to anything else except working and distracting everyone from how awful Yerim was on her first day. Not to say that Jeongguk wasn't bad on his first day or that Seokmin wasn't either, but Jeongguk has never managed to break a glass before — not even on accident. He does not know on what basis Seokjin hired Yerim on, but he does know that it is not any of his business so he focuses on his work, on greeting and bidding the customers a farewell and is already halfway through his shift when he remembers that today is Thursday.

Because the bell over the door jingles and Jeongguk looks up to find Blondie standing there, staring right at him.

They both flush at the same time and Jeongguk immediately turns away, grabbing the order from the counter and getting the table number from Minghao before he shuffles away and Blondie approaches the counter as soon as he is done.

Jeongguk focuses on his work again, or at least tries to, but finds it hard to focus when he can feel Blondie's gaze burning holes into his back. Minghao doesn't rib him for it the same way Mingyu would if he was working today, but Seokjin is glaring at him and Jeongguk remembers why he should be on his top performance after the one Yerim put on. He winces internally and picks up Blondie's order from the counter, depositing it on his table with no problem and a polite "Enjoy your drink!" before he runs off again.

Seokjin's glare only seems to intensify then and Jeongguk gulps as he remembers how he laughed in Seokjin's face the day before when the dancers came around. Seokjin grins at him maliciously and Jeongguk feels his heartbeat spike in fear of what the elder might do.

"Jeonggukkie! Take your break!" Seokjin yells from behind the counter.

Jeongguk winces and turns his puppy eyes on him. "Let me work through it, hyung."

"No," Seokjin says with a grin that is much too happy for Jeongguk's liking. "You did that yesterday and you know I only let you do that once a week. Tough luck, kid."

"But hyung!" Jeongguk whines as he approaches the counter, pouting when Seokjin swipes the tray from him. "Hyung!"

"No buts! Take your break, kid. Minghao-yah already made your hot chocolate and I'll buy you another one of those lemon muffins you like so much," Seokjin says, already ringing up the muffin and passing the hot chocolate over to Jeongguk.

Employees never have to pay for their drinks when they are working, but Jeongguk could have bought himself the muffin just fine. He wants to argue about this, yet he finds himself taking it as Seokjin pays and levels him with a steady gaze that means he is about to say something Jeongguk will hate.

"Thirty minutes, kid. Go crazy."

"Thirty—!"

Seokjin puts a hand up to cut him off. "You worked through your break yesterday and you came in two hours early today, Gukk-ah. Take your thirty minutes and eat something, kid."

From a childish flirt to a thoughtful hyung. Jeongguk really wishes he could hate that Seokjin is his boss of all people, but he cannot deny that he appreciates his kindness anyway.

"Alright, thirty minutes," Jeongguk bites out, spinning on the spot with a pout on his lips as he ignores everyone else in the coffeehouse and marches his way over to an empty table in the corner.

He has just unwrapped his muffin when a shadow passes over his table and he looks up, meeting warm, brown eyes he is quickly becoming familiar with.

"Hi, do you mind if I sit with you?" Blondie asks in a rush like if he says it fast enough, Jeongguk will be less likely to say no.

Jeongguk shakes his head and quickly jabs an arm out to the seat across him. "I don't mind."

Blondie smiles at him and sits down, his usual laptop missing but the smell of his iced Americano is unmistakable. Jeongguk takes a sip of his hot chocolate when silence settles around them and tries not to focus on how awkward things just became.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Seokjin smirking over at them, but Jeongguk ignores that and takes a bite out of his muffin. Blondie clears his throat and Jeongguk wonders if he is going to say something to break the awkward silence, but Blondie only ends up taking a drag on the straw of his drink instead.

Jeongguk almost wants to roll his eyes at the entire situation, but refrains and decides he'll be the one to start the conversation.

"I'm Jeon Jeongguk. What's your name?"

Blondie blinks at him as if he never expected Jeongguk to speak up first. He recovers quickly though and smiles, knocking the breath right out of Jeongguk's lungs once more. His smile is that pretty. Somebody up there wants Jeongguk dead, don’t they?

"Yoongi. Min Yoongi."

"Cool," Jeongguk nods, picking at his muffin now. "What is it that you do? I've usually only seen you with your laptop every time you come in here. Why don't you have it with you today?"

Maybe Jeongguk should not have said that much because most of it makes him look like some kind of stalker, but Blon— Yoongi only smiles wider and takes another sip of his drink, looking pleased about Jeongguk noticing him.

(Honestly, who wouldn't notice Min Yoongi? He's so breathtaking and stunning and demands all of Jeongguk's attention whenever he comes into the coffeehouse. The man looks like Autumn and Winter had a demigod baby and he was the end result.)

"I'm a producer. I usually come here to work on some of my newer tracks, but I generally just do it all from home or at the studio," Yoongi says in a rush again, flushing all the way down to his collarbones when Jeongguk only blinks owlishly back at him.

"Oh, that's cool," Jeongguk offers him an encouraging smile. "Any songs I might know?"

"Depends on your music taste," Yoongi says with a shrug, still smiling and flushing a brilliant red. "I think my most popular last year was Wine."

Jeongguk slams his hands down on the table, shocking everyone within a ten-foot radius. "You work with Suran!"

Yoongi recovers quickly from his shock and offers another tentative smile that makes Jeongguk feel a bunch of fuzzy things he cannot even begin to explain. "Yeah. You a fan of hers?"

"Definitely. So, I guess, that makes me a fan of you, right?"

"Sure," Yoongi stutters out, his smile wide and bright and leaving Jeongguk's heart racing. "You could say that, yeah."

Jeongguk laughs, taking a bigger bite of his muffin and groaning when a chunk falls on his shirt. He would probably feel embarrassed if it had not resulted in Yoongi giggling at him and Jeongguk's blood sizzling through his veins.

After that, the conversation is easy. Yoongi grows more and more confident with each passing second and soon enough he's explaining the very basics of how to produce a song while Jeongguk listens with rapt attention as he eats the rest of his muffin and drinks his hot chocolate which has now gone cold. Yoongi uses his hands a lot as he speaks and Jeongguk finds himself tracking them, only stopping when he catches the tiny smirk on Yoongi's mouth and flushes at being caught.

Jeongguk has honestly forgotten how to do it from being out of practice for so long, but somehow, he's flirting with Min Yoongi. A usual shy waiter is now flirting and laughing with a very hot and serious music producer who Jeongguk is sure has hundreds of people wanting to be with him and he is the lucky one that Min Yoongi has decided to pay attention to.

He pinches himself a few times just to make sure this is not a dream and sighs with relief each time. Yoongi keeps talking for the rest of their conversation and once Jeongguk's break is over, he goes red again and stutters as he asks for Jeongguk's number.

Jeongguk feels his heart do black flips in complete and utter joy and enters his number into Yoongi's phone, winking at him before he stands up and takes his tray back from a very smug-looking Seokjin.

Later, Jeongguk will be mad about this probably, but for right now, he is much too happy to care.

  "So he asked for your number and that was it?" Yugyeom asks for what feels like the nth time.

Jeongguk sighs and checks his hair in the mirror. "Yep."

"Dude."

"I know, Yuggie. Trust me, I know," Jeongguk says in response, having heard Yugyeom's commentary on this too many times to count by now.

Yugyeom shakes his head and Jeongguk grins at him in the mirror. "Let's just forget about this for now and have fun at the club. Bet you'll have guys drooling all over themselves trying to get into your pants when we show up."

Jeongguk laughs, not sure whether to take Yugyeom's words at heart or not. "No one is getting into my pants tonight, Yuggie."

Yugyeom only shrugs and offers him a suspiciously innocent smile. "Never say never, my guy."

  The club is hot and crowded.

Jeongguk feels he would be more inclined to dance if three people hadn't already hit on him. If he were to join the throngs of people grinding against one another, there is no doubt that some creeper would try whipping their dick out on him right in the middle of the dancefloor. Jeongguk would very much like to avoid that at all costs tonight.

He sticks close to the bar and watches Yugyeom navigate his way through the club. He loses sight of him a few times, but Yugyeom's bright blue hair is hard to miss. Plenty of people have bought him drinks, but Jeongguk had sent them right back without even pausing to think about it. Automatically denying advances from anybody is habit by this point for him.

Before, it was because Jeongguk was taken and now it is simply because Jeongguk isn't sure he would like to be dating anyone at all. It is confusing being him.

What is even more confusing is when Jeongguk's phone vibrates and he pulls it out to find a text from Yoongi greeting him.

  i didn't peg this club as your sort of scene

 Jeongguk blinks at his phone, unsure of how to react. His thumbs are moving of their own accord though and there is not much Jeongguk can do to stop them.

  you're here???

 He frowns down at his phone, taking a sip of his drink as he waits for a reply. He has just set his drink back down on the bar when someone steps up beside him, invading all of his personal space rules and that seriously will not do.

Jeongguk opens his mouth to cuss out the motherfucker who dares bother him when he looks up and finds a familiar pair of brown eyes that peek at him behind a long set of bangs.

"Hyung?" Jeongguk manages to choke out, his arms flailing as he tries to grab onto Taehyung's own. "Holy shit. Please never do that again."

Taehyung grins at him, the boxy, squarish one that Jeongguk had not realized he had missed to this massive of a degree until now. "Sup, Gukkie-yah? How have you been? I miss you."

Just like a punch to the gut Jeongguk is flailing about again, trying to come up with something that will get that sad note out of Taehyung's voice. Maybe it is the tiny bit of alcohol in his system or maybe it is the longing Jeongguk has been harboring ever since his break up with Namjoon, but he doesn't want to let go of Taehyung just yet.

"Oh, god, hyung. You don't know how many times I wanted to call. How many times I—" Jeongguk sputters, falling short when Taehyung merely throws his arms around him and hugs him so tightly Jeongguk can barely breathe.

"Dude, you don't have to apologize to me. I get it. You were both hurting, but Joonie-hyung asked me to give you space and I thought that was what you wanted, but now I realize I should have just bugged you anyway," Taehyung says, his voice still as soothing as Jeongguk once confessed it to be. "Now you're stuck with me. Hyung can deal."

Jeongguk feels on the verge of tears if he is being honest, but he isn't going to be honest enough to admit that so he clamps down on the emotions trying to choke him and murmurs, "But he's your other half, hyung."

As much as that fact used to hurt him, it was true. Namjoon and Taehyung had been made for one another. Even if Taehyung was okay with Namjoon dating other people — okay with Namjoon dating Jeongguk of all people —  and supported him through it all, Jeongguk had always known that he was never going to be as important as Taehyung. He knew that and had eventually accepted it because Taehyung was too good of a person to hate. He smiled almost all the time, ran up to random dogs on the street just to pet them, and he had welcomed Jeongguk with open arms once Namjoon finally introduced them. Jeongguk couldn't hate Taehyung even if he tried. (And he had and that had failed spectacularly.)

Taehyung shrugs, the motion feeling strange when Jeongguk can feel it with them being pressed together so tightly. "But he isn't everything I value in this world. You were my friend while you two dated and you'll be my friend after, too. As long as you're okay with that, I mean. I wouldn't want to force you to do something you don't want to do."

"Hyung, you have no idea how much I want that," Jeongguk laughs, pulling back from their embrace to look Taehyung in the eye. "I've really missed you."

"Of course, you have. Hard not to miss me," Taehyung grins back at him, letting his arms fall back to his sides.

Jeongguk slaps his arm, his amusement falling away when he thinks of the unread messages Namjoon sent him. "Hyung?"

Taehyung leans toward him again to hear him better over the new song that has just started playing. "Yes?"

"Do you know why Namjoon-ssi messaged me?" Jeongguk says all in one breath, loud enough that he is certain the girl beside them had heard him even over the loud, thumping music.

"Wait, what?" Taehyung asks, his eyes blown wide in confusion.

Now Jeongguk feels confused. "He didn't tell you? He messaged me on Facebook a while ago... I hadn't even realized he'd unblocked me until then."

Taehyung scratches the back of his neck, still looking unsure when he says. "Well, I didn’t know he unblocked you and he never told me anything about messaging you either. Did you read it?"

"No, I was too scared to open it. Still am really. I don't want to get sucked back into things with him," Jeongguk tries his best to keep his tone polite, all too aware of the fact that he's talking to Namjoon's boyfriend. "Sorry, maybe you wouldn't get it since you two are together right now."

"Nah, Namjoon-hyung can be a pain in the ass and I know that first hand. Don't worry about how I feel though, I'm your friend and that means I'm here to let you complain about any dumb guy you want to talk about whenever. We should get lunch sometime and talk shit about Joonie-hyung. I bet it'll be good for you," Taehyung says with a grin that could blind the sun.

Jeongguk feels a knot loosen in his chest with Taehyung's words and he smiles back, nodding his head and raising his voice so Taehyung can hear him over the new song playing. "Sure! I'd love that. Thank you, hyung."

Taehyung pats his back. "Anything for you, Gukkie-yah. I have to go now though, but it was great running into you again. I was already on my way out when I spotted you and I had to come and say hi. I'll text you about lunch soon?"

"Sure," Jeongguk replies. "That'd be great. Get home safe."

Taehyung gives him another hug and walks off towards the club exit where he joins a tall man Jeongguk would probably be able to recognize anywhere.

Namjoon.

Of course, Jeongguk thinks to himself, Taehyung would never come to a club by himself no matter how outgoing he is. Of course, he and Namjoon came here together and spotted him together.

And yet, when Namjoon looks up and their eyes meet, Jeongguk doesn't feel like he just got run over by a truck. He doesn't feel anything.

Huh.

Taehyung and Namjoon walk out and Jeongguk turns back to the bar, taking another sip of his drink. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out again, studying the screen closely.

  yeah, i'm friends with the dj, it's her first big gig. who was that you were talking to?

 Jeongguk blinks, looking past the crowd of people on the dance floor and squints at the person behind the turntables. He can’t really make much of the DJ except for their short bob of hair swishing as they move. To the side, Jeongguk recognizes Yoongi’s blonde hair and wide shoulders almost immediately.

He waves and smiles when Yoongi immediately waves back at him.

  do you know everybody who happens to be in the music business?

 Jeongguk keeps his eyes on Yoongi, watching him lean towards the DJ before he quickly edges along the sidelines of the dancefloor.

  i wish. if i knew iu, then my life would be complete and i could die happy

 Jeongguk puts his phone back into his pocket and orders another drink when he realizes his is empty, waiting for Yoongi to step up beside him at the bar. He can feel butterflies fluttering about in his stomach and his hands are sweating, but his nerves are steady and when he feels the press of Yoongi's hip against his upper thigh, a grin spreads wide across his face.

"So you're a fan of IU, too?" Jeongguk says as he turns to face Yoongi.

Yoongi smiles back at him, leaning closer so Jeongguk can hear him. "Who isn't?"

Jeongguk shrugs. "Don't know. Can't think I've ever met someone who genuinely didn't like her."

"Actually, I think I can say the same," Yoongi admits easily, his shoulder bumping into Jeongguk's arm.

His new drink arrives and Jeongguk shoots it back, ignoring the burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat. Nothing like a little bit of liquid courage to keep Jeongguk on his toes around a guy he finds himself extremely attracted to. Yoongi gets himself a club soda and sips appropriately from it as they talk some more.

Jeongguk finds himself leaning into Yoongi's personal space, Yoongi's hand warm on the small of his back as he orders another drink. He is on his fourth by now, at least, and he feels a bit dizzy but for right now, he’s okay.

His phone buzzes again and Jeongguk lets Yoongi pull it out of his pocket and read it to him.

  hot guy alert! going home with him and if i don't get back tomorrow by 1pm, call the cops. i'll share my location with you when i get to his place so you can storm the castle

 Yoongi is laughing halfway through the text and Jeongguk has to swat at him three times before he gets through the entirety of it without snorting. Jeongguk had not expected for Yugyeom to go back to the apartment with him tonight anyway so the text doesn't come as much of a surprise to him. But, still.

"Now I have to take a cab home by myself. I'm too broke for that," Jeongguk groans, taking his phone back to send Yugyeom some eggplant emojis.

Yoongi laughs at him, pressing in closer when he says, "Then let me take you home. I came in my car."

Jeongguk pauses, his mind going a million places in a second. Did Yoongi just proposition him? Is Jeongguk actually considering it?

Aw, hell.

"Sure," Jeongguk leans in as well, taking care to make sure his voice is husky when he speaks directly into Yoongi's ear. "I'd appreciate that."

  Jeongguk doesn't know anything about cars, but Yoongi's is nice and shiny and probably a make that was released this year.

The last time Jeongguk was in a newish car was back when he was six and his father had just bought another car. His father has had the same car since and living in the city meant that Jeongguk walked, took a cab, or rode the bus to get wherever he needed to go.

Yoongi's car is like a dream and Jeongguk's mind wanders as he watches Yoongi's hands on the wheel.

God, his hands are beautiful. Jeongguk could write poetry about them and poetry has never been a part of his many talents.

"Take a left here."

Jeongguk settles back further into his seat, murmuring directions to Yoongi as the streets pass by. Yoongi's stereo is playing music, but the volume has been turned down so Yoongi can hear him and it feels ambient. Is that how the word is even supposed to be used? Jeongguk doesn't know.

The car ride is quiet though and Jeongguk can feel the butterflies in his stomach fluttering about again. He's nervous, but also excited. It shouldn't make any sense, but it does because he's going to get into bed with Yoongi.

Yugyeom was right. Jeongguk should never say never.

They arrive quickly enough and Yoongi parks a few spaces away from the entrance of Jeongguk's apartment complex, turning to face him as he kills the engine. Yoongi hasn't been making flirtatious comments since they left the club and as soon as they were back out in the fresh air, there had been at least five feet between them at all times since then. Maybe he needs a sign from Jeongguk to know that he wants this too. Jeongguk feels jittery, but in a good way and he isn't going to let this opportunity pass by.

Sex isn't easy for him, not by a long shot, and yeah, he might be disappointed by the fact that Yoongi wants to get into bed with him first, but Jeongguk wants it. He hasn't wanted that in a long while. Maybe this is what he needs to finally put Namjoon and his old heartbreak that he never feels anymore in the past for good.

Or maybe it isn't what he needs and is instead just a trainwreck waiting to happen, but Jeongguk wants it anyway.

"Do you want to come up?" Jeongguk asks, hoping that Yoongi doesn't notice how breathless he sounds.

He must though if his raised eyebrow is anything to go off of. "Your roommate won't mind?"

Jeongguk shakes his head, vibrating with his excitement now that Yoongi has expressed more interest. "He sent me his location a while ago and it's clear across town. Trust me, he won't mind."

Yoongi smiles at that. "I might fall asleep here, just as a fair warning. Loud places like clubs always tire me out."

"That's fine by me. My bed is big enough for us both as long as you don't mind sharing," Jeongguk responds with a grin.

His hands are sweaty and his smile is probably a bit too wide, but Yoongi just nods and undoes his seatbelt. "Sure, kid. I'll spend the night."

Maybe Jeongguk should be worried about the fact that he really doesn't know Yoongi enough to be extending this offer, but he did it and Yoongi accepted so there's no going back now. What's done is done.

Jeongguk nods back, his seatbelt already undone as he opens the car door and steps out onto the sidewalk. Yoongi climbs out of his car and joins him, pressing a button on his car keys so the shiny vehicle chirps as it locks. Jeongguk takes the lead and punches in his code for the front door before holding it open and letting Yoongi in first. They take the elevator up to the third floor and Jeongguk slides his key in easily, holding the door open for Yoongi again.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Jeongguk jokes, grinning from ear-to-ear as Yoongi steps inside and immediately slips his shoes off.

"Can't see anything, but I'm sure it's nice," Yoongi murmurs, his voice but a mere rumble until Jeongguk flicks on a light switch and the living room is suddenly bathed in warm light. "Oh, never mind. It is nice."

Jeongguk makes sure that the door is locked before he kicks his shoes off as well and herds Yoongi towards the couch. "Thanks. You want anything to drink?"

Yoongi perches on the couch, inclining his head as Jeongguk wanders into the kitchen. "What do you have?"

"Water, soda, sweet iced tea, beer, some vodka if you want that," Jeongguk says after opening the fridge.

"Water's fine then," Yoongi responds and Jeongguk nods, grabbing a water bottle and a can of Sprite for himself.

He walks back to the couch after and sits down on the other end, placing his drink on the coffee table Yugyeom insisted would make their apartment look like two struggling college-aged students weren't letting their lives be a complete mess. He grabs the remote as an afterthought then hands Yoongi his water, Jeongguk's smile full of nerves.

"Wanna watch something?" Jeongguk asks, waving the remote control in his hand around.

Yoongi smiles and nods. "Sure. I don't watch much TV anyway, so put on whatever you like."

The TV flickers on soon after and Jeongguk flips through the channels, trying to find something he thinks Yoongi would like. Yoongi only opens his water bottle and takes a sip before placing it on the coffee table beside the soda can while Jeongguk continues his search.

His search yields no results and Jeongguk decides his night is going to be awful until his eyes catch sight of a very familiar face on the screen.

"Do you mind if we watch this? My friend actually plays a minor role in this drama and I haven't had the chance to check it out yet," Jeongguk asks, looking to Yoongi for his reaction.

"You're friends with an actor?" Yoongi asks.

Jeongguk shrugs. "I met him before he his acting career started to take off, but yeah."

Yoongi grins, nodding his head again. "Then let's watch."

Jeongguk smiles and grabs his soda before he settles into the couch, eyes on the TV screen. Yoongi reaches out for his water bottle and finally relaxes into the cushions while he watches the TV. Jeongguk wants to reach out and touch him, but even he knows that you can't just jump into bed with someone. You have to work up to it, set the mood, and make sure all parties are willing before you do.

So he drinks his Sprite and keeps watching the drama, smiling and pointing at the screen when Taehyung shows up again. Yoongi smiles back at him, commenting on his lack of lines and his expressions while Jeongguk waits with bated breath.

He has no idea when Yoongi is going to make his move and it's making him a lot more than nervous. Maybe anxious would be the best word, perhaps? Although, Jeongguk doesn't quite feel anxious. He feels nervous and expectant, sure, but not anxious.

Excited, too, in more ways than one, but he can keep his hands to himself until the time is right.

So he waits, eyes trained on the screen while his hands sweat again. He sips on his soda and tries to concentrate on the episode, on following the plot, but finds that he cannot.

Yoongi isn't even doing anything, but he is distracting as hell.

Jeongguk can be patient when it comes to the important things though, so he focuses on the drama playing and waits.

And waits.

...And waits.

"Do you—?" Jeongguk's question dies when he turns and faces Yoongi.

Yoongi is curled up on his end of the couch, asleep. His mouth is parted open slightly and the water bottle is in his lap but in danger of falling. Jeongguk lets out a breath he had not known he was holding and reaches over to grab Yoongi's water bottle, placing it back on the coffee table.

He leans back into his own end of the couch and studies the older man, his nerves dissipating gradually. He thinks of everything that happened tonight and slaps his forehead, grumbling to himself for being so stupid.

When Yoongi had asked to take him home, he had really meant taking Jeongguk home and that was it.

Jeongguk is disappointed, but he also isn't. He is kind of relieved about being wrong because it means that whatever they are working up to, it won't be something as baseless as friends with benefits. Maybe Yoongi even intends to actually date him.

(And maybe Jeongguk would be okay with that.)

He turns off the TV and stands, stretching his arms up over his head until he hears bones crack. He still has his club outfit and makeup on, but Yoongi hadn't even bothered dressing up for the club. He's in joggers and a hoodie that makes Yoongi look softer than usual and has Jeongguk's pulse thrumming in his ears.

He picks Yoongi up then, carrying him bridal style to his bedroom. He promised Yoongi a bed, after all, and the couch would be an uncomfortable place to sleep even if Yoongi is quite shorter than him. He lays Yoongi down on his bed and fixes the sheets around him, resisting the urge to smooth down Yoongi's blonde hair. How attractive can one man possibly be?

Jeongguk shakes his head and rummages in his drawers, looking for something suitable to sleep in. He doesn't really have a pair of pajamas like Yugyeom does, but he finds one of his white T-shirts that are on the softer side and a pair of gym shorts he usually never wears to the actual gym and disappears into the bathroom he and Yugyeom share.

He washes his face and changes, leaving his dirty clothes in the hamper hidden in his closet when he walks back into his room. Yoongi hasn't moved one inch, but Jeongguk makes sure to step carefully and remain quiet as he plugs his charger into his phone. He walks back into the living room and finds his spare charger for the phone Yoongi left on the coffee table while they were watching the drama and turns off all of the lights. Once that is done, Jeongguk goes back to his room and slides into the other side of the bed, turning so he is facing Yoongi.

There is ample enough space between them, yet Yoongi is so close that it is hard for Jeongguk not to reach out and touch him. He isn’t wearing any cologne, but Jeongguk finds that Yoongi’s natural scent is heady enough to make him lean closer and take a deep inhale before he returns to his side of the bed with a content sigh.

It is dark in Jeongguk's room, but Yoongi is pale and stands out enough for Jeongguk to focus on him as his eyes adjust. It is late and Jeongguk should sleep even if tomorrow is his day off from work and he intends to sleep in anyway. As long as he is up by noon to make sure Yugyeom makes it back alright, he will be okay.

He wants to keep studying Yoongi's face and carefully committing his features to memory to draw later, but sleep is calling and so Jeongguk answers.

  In the morning, Jeongguk wakes up to an empty bed that is still warm.

He grunts as he remembers the night before and sighs, thinking it was all just a dream, then starfishes in the middle of his bed and buries his face in the pillow that holds Yoongi's scent the most. There is rustling and murmurs that Jeongguk can vaguely hear but it doesn't grab his attention enough to pull him completely away from unconsciousness. Someone pats his head and whispers something he can't make out, but he's asleep before they can even finish their sentence.

He wakes up later at around ten-thirty and sighs at his empty bed once again.

Maybe it was all just a dream after all.

Jeongguk grabs his phone to check the time and finds he has three new messages from Yoongi.

  work emergency, sorry!

 And then,

  sorry for leaving without a proper goodbye

  last night was great. thank you for giving me an excuse to leave the club early and for letting me fall asleep. i needed it. i can order you some breakfast to make up for leaving if you'd like?

 Jeongguk feels like a schoolgirl with his cheeks flushing pink and his heart hammering away in his chest as he types out his response and sits up once he has hit send.

  ubereats me some mcdonalds. i love those sausage egg mcmuffins with cheese and hashbrowns and my mother hates me for it lol

 Yoongi responds twenty minutes later after Jeongguk has showered and gotten ready for the day.

  your food is outside, you'll either have to buzz them in or go down yourself to get it

 Jeongguk shakes his head but puts on his slippers and takes the elevators down to the ground level and quickly spots the UberEats delivery woman. She hands him his food and he smiles at her, thanking her, then disappears back into his apartment complex as he takes the stairs up to his floor this time.

  i owe you my life, my savior. thank you for the food!

 He eats and cleans up the kitchen, checking the time again. It is almost eleven and he shoots a text to Yugyeom, asking if he is awake yet. His phone chimes with an incoming message and he swipes his fingers across his screen, reading the new text from Yoongi.

  it’s no problem. has your roommate gotten back yet or will you have to storm the castle soon?

 Jeongguk grins, already knowing that he is about to spend the entire day texting Yoongi and lazing about the apartment. His chest feels the lightest it has ever felt in a long time once he realizes it.

  no, but i would make a great knight in shining armor, wouldn't i?

 He laughs when Yoongi's new message lights up his phone.

  without a doubt

  The next day before work, Jeongguk gathers up his courage and opens up Facebook on his laptop.

He unblocks Namjoon quickly before he can think better of it and clicks on the unread message notification.

And then he stares at his laptop for a while, trying to register the words that should make sense to his brain but do not.

Suddenly, he starts laughing so hard he's gasping for breath curled into a ball on the floor and clutching at his stomach desperately by the time Yugyeom comes into his room to check on him.

"Bro, have you gone insane or something? It would suck having to find a new roommate because I had to put you in an asylum," Yugyeom asks, tickling Jeongguk's sides and stepping out of the way of the foot that Jeongguk kicks his way.

"The—!" Jeongguk tries, pointing at his laptop when it becomes clear that words are not going to be his friend right now.

Yugyeom rolls his eyes but sits down at Jeongguk's desk and reads what is on the screen of his laptop anyway. "Oh, dude. This whole time it was just spam? Are you joking?"

"I wish!" Jeongguk manages to get out past his breathless chuckles, his fit of laughter starting to die down.

"Well," Yugyeom says as he stands and walks towards the door. "At least you know that chapter of your life is done and over with now. If it wasn't, you would be in tears for a very different reason. It's good to see you happy again, man."

Yugyeom walks out then and Jeongguk hears him banging around in the kitchen a few seconds later. He hadn't realized he was over Namjoon until now, not until two nights ago actually, but now he is one hundred percent sure.

He sits up and sighs in relief, feeling steady and sure of himself again.

He really is over Namjoon after all.

Jeongguk deletes the messages and unblocks Namjoon on everything else. He grabs his phone and drafts a text, looking it over for a few minutes before he decides that it will do and presses send.

  i'm free to do lunch next tuesday if that's an okay day for you, hyung. and i checked out the messages from namjoon-ssi. they were spam. i'm okay and i think i've finally gotten past all that, but i'd still like to talk some shit about your boyfriend. just to make sure it's all out of my system, of course.

 Taehyung's response is immediate and delights Jeongguk a lot more than it should.

  next tuesday works! of course. let the shit talking commence!

  Next Thursday finds Jeongguk at the coffeehouse again on his day off.

It has been a slow day and there is only one customer in the place at the moment waiting for their to-go order. Mingyu hands it to them and Jeongguk watches them walk out while Seokjin is flushing a bright pink in a corner of the coffeehouse as the two dancers croon at him, trying to woo him with a summer love song Jeongguk can't quite place. But he is smiling and holding their hands while they do it so Jeongguk figures that now would be the best time to act like a little shit.

"Hyung, why do you get to make goo-goo eyes at your boyfriends during work and I don't even get to flirt with any of the customers without you threatening to cut my paycheck in half?"

"Because they're my boyfriends and I'm your boss, you brat!" Seokjin yells back at him, face going from pink to red in a flash. "I'm allowed to."

"Aw, sweetheart, you know just what to say to make a guy swoon," one of the dancers says while rubbing his brown hair into Seokjin's cheek.

The pink-haired man nuzzles his face into Seokjin's neck and laughs when Seokjin sputters. "Babe, are you ever going to introduce us?"

Seokjin grumbles, glaring at Jeongguk then at Mingyu who is smirking and making faces at him from the counter. "That shithead over there is Jeongguk-ah who is so dedicated to being a server that he comes in even on his days off."

Jeongguk smirks at him, shooting finger guns at Seokjin's boyfriends when they wave at him. "Pleasure to meet you both."

"That asshole behind the counter is Mingyu-yah who is the greatest barista this world has ever seen. He never gets an order out late. Ever. Not even during a rush. I have no idea how he does it," Seokjin says as he points at Mingyu, his tone of voice changing from annoyed to amazed. "He has to be an undercover god. That is the only explanation."

"Hi! Not a god, but it's great to finally be introduced to you both. You've been coming in here for months trying to flirt with Seokjin-hyung and I almost thought it wouldn't work," Mingyu laughs, laughing louder when Seokjin glares at him and flips him the finger. "I'm glad to see that it did. Finally."

"Asshole," Seokjin huffs out, his ears and neck now as red as his face.

He points to the pink-haired man with a smile that makes Jeongguk want to gag. "This is Jimin." Then to the taller man on his other side. "This is Hoseok. They are my boyfriends."

Jimin giggles and pokes Seokjin in the side, giggling even harder when Seokjin makes a squawking sound and tries to hide behind Hoseok, only to be poked by him as well. Jeongguk laughs at his boss, walking over to the counter where Mingyu is snickering and orders a hot chocolate and lemon muffin.

"So, when is Lover Boy coming in?" Mingyu asks once Jeongguk has paid and gotten his change back. "You wouldn't be here on your day off unless he asked you to meet him here or something."

Jeongguk only shrugs, laughing when Seokjin squawks again and starts yelling about how inconvenient dating is. "In a few minutes probably. I got here earlier than I thought."

"Ah, so it is a date! I knew it!" Mingyu shouts, reaching over the counter to shake Jeongguk by his shoulders. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"Because it isn't a date?" Jeongguk tries, pushing his thumbs into Mingyu's wrists so he will let him go. "He just asked me to meet him here because he wanted to talk about something. I don't think that counts as asking me on a date."

Mingyu rolls his eyes and tries shaking him again, laughing when Jeongguk steps back and swats his hands away. "It's a date, shut up."

"You shut up!"

"You!"

"Give me my hot chocolate already! You don't want this to be the first time you get an order out late," Jeongguk gripes, reaching over the counter to shake Mingyu instead. "I'm not worth your perfect record."

Mingyu grins, pushing him away as he steps back towards the machines Seokjin still won't let Jeongguk touch. "Shut up. Your hot chocolate is almost done, I'm waiting on the milk to finish heating up right now, asshole."

Jeongguk laughs at him. "Thanks, Gyu-yah."

"Yeah, yeah," Mingyu throws over his shoulder as a machine beeps and he focuses on making Jeongguk's hot chocolate instead. "Just take it and claim a table for you and your date because it is definitely a date."

His hot chocolate is done so Jeongguk takes it along with his muffin and sticks his tongue out at Mingyu, turning to pick out a table Yoongi would probably like best. He's debating on a corner table or one by the front windows when the bell rings over the door and Seokjin stops squawking in light of the new customer. Jeongguk looks up to find Yoongi walking in, smiling at him like he's the best thing Yoongi has seen all day and flushes a bright pink as his heart tries to beat its way out of his chest.

"You're so gone, it's not even funny," Mingyu whispers behind him, laughing when Jeongguk turns his head to shoot him with a glare he is sure Seokjin would be proud of.

Jeongguk turns back to face Yoongi though, smiling again until he realizes Yoongi is staring at Hoseok and Jimin. Yoongi shakes his head and comes to the counter, bumping his hip into Jeongguk's leg as he orders and pays then squeezes Jeongguk's hand before turning to face Seokjin and his two boyfriends.

"So this is why you two recommended this place to me, isn't it? Because your boyfriend is the owner," Yoongi grunts, walking over to where the trio is standing by the corner of the long counter that is directly facing the back room. "Assholes."

Hoseok grins at him, motioning towards Seokjin's face. "Can you blame us? We want everyone to see just how pretty our new boyfriend is."

"He's the prettiest," Jimin adds on, poking Seokjin's side to make him squawk again. "And the jumpiest. Don't you agree?"

"Whatever you two say," Yoongi rolls his eyes and sticks his hand out for Seokjin to shake. "I'm Min Yoongi and I wish you good luck with these two. They're a menace."

Seokjin shakes his hand, dropping it when Hoseok pokes his other side. "I'm Kim Seokjin and please take care of our Jeonggukkie or I will gut you. He's my best server!"

"I'm the only one you like!" Jeongguk shouts at him, stepping forward when Mingyu shoves him towards the others.

"Untrue! I like Seokmin-ah more than I do you, you brat!"

"False!" Jeongguk yells, sticking a finger in Seokjin's face. "You like me best! Admit it already."

Seokjin shakes his head and points toward one of the corner tables on the other side of the coffeehouse. "Go start your date and leave me alone or I'll fire you."

"Hyung! You wouldn't!" Jeongguk shoots back, grinning when Yoongi rolls his eyes at them both and stalks off towards the counter for his drink and then the table Seokjin had pointed to.

"I wouldn't, but I would cut your paycheck," Seokjin says easily, smirking when Jeongguk steps back in false shock. "Go to your date, brat. Leave me and mine alone."

Jeongguk shoots him finger guns and walks backward, months spent swerving through the tables letting him do it without knocking things over. "Gotcha!"

Seokjin huffs and squawks, running behind the counter when both his boyfriends poke him at the same time for being a mean boss. Jeongguk laughs at him, grinning at Mingyu when he turns and then lets his smile soften once he catches Yoongi's eye.

"Things always like this when your boss is around?" Yoongi starts with, brow raised in question.

"Not a chance. We'd be out of business if it was," Jeongguk chuckles as he unwraps his muffin. "So, what's up? You said you wanted to talk about something."

Yoongi nods, setting his drink down on the table then steeples his fingers together. "I actually wanted to ask you something. It's kind of important and I didn't really know a better place to ask than here."

Jeongguk nods, taking a bite out of his muffin and quickly chewing it before he swallows. "Then shoot. I'm all ears."

He blows onto his hot chocolate and takes a tiny sip, setting it down on the table as well before he grants Yoongi his full and undivided attention. Yoongi is starting to flush, his cheeks turning pinker by the second. He takes a deep breath and Jeongguk almost wants to reach out touch him, reassure him that he can ask whatever it is he wants to, but something tells him not to so he keeps his own hands in plain view on the tabletop.

"Do you want to go on a date with me this weekend? We could do dinner and a movie or play some mini-golf. Whatever you'd like to do," Yoongi says slowly, his cheeks a bright pink and the shift of his gaze nervous.

Jeongguk blinks at him, his heart picking up speed as he continues to stare. He honestly never thought this was going to ever happen to him again — not after Namjoon — but he's past that now. He knows that he is and Yoongi is a really great guy, who is kind and wants to date him. Forreal date him and it isn't even a question whether or not Jeongguk wants to date Yoongi. He has been ready to start dating again, he is sure of that as he is sure of anything else, but Yoongi is sitting in front of him, nervously waiting for an answer and Jeongguk almost feels bad for letting him get the chance to doubt anything between them.

Jeongguk finds that the right answer to Yoongi's question is already on the tip of his tongue so he smiles and reaches out, taking one of Yoongi's hands in his own.

"I'd love to."

[radiant-flutterbun]

Pixel and the Shapeshifter Part 2

Previously

The next portal took Pixel to a bright land full of pine trees and wind that brought the taste of salt water with it. Just a short walk away was a huge stone tower.

Pixel attempted to take a step forward but immediately fell. Something didn’t feel right. They looked down at themself and screamed. Their body had transformed into a bird-like dragon.

Inkdrop snorted and transformed into a bat-like dragon “Oh! You’re a skydancer! Those dragons are pretty neat.”

“Uh, you didn’t say anything about my body transforming when I got here.”

“Oh didn’t I?” Inkdrop tilted her head “Sorry it must've slipped my mind! Anyway you’re a dragon now congrats! It may take some getting used to, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out! Everyone else did!”

“Great. Cool,” Pixel struggled to their feet “Would be really cool if I didn’t have to relearn how to walk. And how the fuck am I supposed to hold anything?” Pixel nudged their phone that had fallen to the ground with their nose.

“Oh you can walk around on your hindlegs and grab it with your front. It’s easy for a skydancer to do that!” She shapeshifted into a skydancer to demonstrate and picked up the phone.

Pixel stood on three legs and took it from her “Thanks.” The phone disappeared “Ok cool. Good to know that I can still summon my weapon at will here, and also make it disappear when I don’t need it.”

Inkdrop allowed Pixel to adjust to their new dragon form before leading them to the clan’s entrance. The doors were much bigger than Pixel had thought once they were up close.

A panel on the door flipped open and Pixel was greeted with a huge grey eye peering through.

“Inkdrop. You brought a guest?” A booming voice asked.

“Yes Obsidian, and don’t worry I vetted them. They’re not dangerous!”

“Very well. You may enter.” The doors opened and behind them was a huge black dragon with blue gemstones coating his scales.

As Pixel stepped inside they were at awe with how big the place was. Dragons or all shapes and sizes were walking about, they barely paid Pixel any attention.

“So, where’s Sagacious?” Pixel asked Inkdrop.

“Oh her? She hasn’t moved from the history section of the library since she got here,” The shapeshifter snorted “Why do you want to see her, anyway?”

“I have something I need to settle with her.”

“Ok but please don’t mess anything up. I promised Nike not to bring anyone in who will mess things up!”

“Me? Mess things up? Never! Now where's Saga?”

***

Sagacious was enthralled by the history and creatures of the dragon planet. On her world she already knew everything. But here she knew nothing, and that simply would not do.

So she found a nice spot in the clan’s library (which was the majority of the tower), and curled up with a pile of history books. For months she read book after book and only took brief breaks. The clan’s main librarians Lakra and Masika adored her. It had been awhile since the library had seen some use by the newcomers.

Now for the first time since her arrival, Sagacious’s reading was interrupted. 

A metallic skydancer with dreadlocks approached her, their teeth showing as they snarled.

“HEY BITCH!”

Sagacious snapped her book shut “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me!” The skydancer pulled out a smartphone. Wait no a knife. An electric knife and pointed it at Saga “I’m Pixel Pronoia and you killed my friends! Now I’m here to return the favor!”

Sagacious sighed “Oh it’s you,” She stared at their knife, unamused “Did you really think that’d be threatening?” She was an imperial. They were merely a little skydancer.

“Hey I can cause permanent damage to you here! One stab and you’re scarred for life!”

Sagacious placed a claw on Pixel’s arm and forced them to lowered the knife to the ground.

“And I can squish you like a bug.”

The commotion attracted the attention of two other imperials, Lakra and Masika.

“Saga, is something the matter?” Masika asked.

“Is that skydancer bothering you?” Lakra added.

“Yes, they interrupted my reading to threaten me.”

Lakra gasped “How dare they!”

“I’m getting Nike,” Masika said “This is unacceptable.”

Pixel growled and thrashed, but Saga had their arm pinned good.

“Fuck you! Fuck you so much! I fucking hate you! You’re a fucking murderer!”

“No matter how many times you say ‘fuck’, the situation will not change,” Saga said with a smirk “You really just should have stayed home.”

A bright blue and green Plague mirror arrived “Sagacious, what is going on?” She asked.

“Nike, this skydancer just threatened me with a knife.”

The mirror, Nike approached Pixel and sniffed them “You’re the one Inkdrop just let in. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“She’s a murderer!” Pixel screamed “She killed my friends and then locked me up in my own home!”

Nike’s antenna flicked toward Sagacious “Is this true?”

“Of course not.” Sagacious answered.

“YOU LYING BITCH!” Pixel’s voice cracked.

Lakra scoffed “Sagacious is one of the sweetest, kindest, dragons I’ve ever met. All she’s done is read since she got here. I cannot believe some nobody dragon would enter our clan just to threaten her and accuse her of such horrible things!”

“Hmm,” Nike circled Pixel “I’d really rather this not become another ‘Naperone Situation’. Obsidian! Could you come over here?”

At her command the guardian that allowed Pixel to enter arrived.

“Move this skydancer to the prison. They threatened a clan member.”

“Yes. Of course Nike,” Obsidian plucked Pixel up by their chest and scruffed them like a cat. Sagacious let go of their arm, and they dropped the knife. A cracked smartphone now lay beside Sagacious’s feet.

Pixel struggled and screamed as Obsidian carried them up to the very top of the tower, where he then threw them into a dark, damp cell.

“Wait! But I wasn’t lying! She really is a murderer! And give me back my fucking phone!”

Obsidian didn’t say a word as he left Pixel in the dark.

“Sucks when no one believes you, doesn’t it?” A voice echoed in the dark.

Across from Pixel’s cell was a black and white skydancer with bright yellow eyes.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“I am the true God of Death, Match Solstice. And I know who you are, Pixel Pronoia.” 

“Oh gross, a Solstice.”

Match snarled, showing his bloodstained fangs.

“So what the fuck are you in here for, vampire boy?”

Matched frowned “Eh. It actually sounds pretty bad now that I think about it.”

Pixel lifted an eyebrow “Oh well now you gotta tell me. I’m invested.”

“... I killed my brother.”

“Holy fuck. The winged one? Spirits you’re a bigger asshole than I thought.”

“Hey. hey before you paint me as the bad guy you got to understand that he was a weak god that was never meant to exist. He was a failure to the Solstice name and-”

“Fucking hell. I hope whatever brain rot you’re suffering from isn’t contagious.”

“You’re an annoying little bastard aren't you?”

“Yeah well at least i’m not ugly.”

“Wow i’m so hurt by your creative insult.”

“You’re right I can do better than that,” Pixel grinned “I wonder what your parents would think if they saw you right now. Would they be disappointed? Angry? It must be pretty embarrassing to be the son of two of the most powerful gods and to end up in another world, in prison, sick and alone. I bet they won’t ever want to call you a Solstice if they knew how weak you were right now. If they knew you were mortal right now.”

Match growled, but mid growl he began to cough. As he coughed blood splattered all over the ground. Crimson red instead of the indigo blood that normally flowed through the Selcouth gods’ veins. 

“Oh did I hit a nerve?” Pixel’s grin was wicked and their pupils narrowed “You’re exactly what you think your brother was. Is that why you killed him? Did he remind you too much of yourself?”

“Shut,” Match’s voice was only a whisper but it cut accross the silent air of the prison like a knife “Your fucking mouth.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe that was a bit much. Hey I know! Why don’t we be friends instead? I think you’re a piece of shit but hey a shitty friend is better than no friends!”

“I’m not going to be your fucking friend you freak.”

“Well too late cause i’ve already decided you’re my friend! In fact I’ll promote you to my BEST friend because I ain’t got no one else! Because my last batch of friends were fucking MURDERED. But hey! It’s fine! I can move on!”

“Sounds like you’ve got some problems, and I don’t want anything to do with them.”

“Yeah well, you’ve got problems too! You killed your fucking brother! You’re an entitled piece of shit! This’ll be a great friendship! Just two pieces of shit trapped in dark lonely cells cause no one else in the entire world gives a shit about either of them!”

“You can stop talking anytime now.”

“Do you think if either of us died here anyone would notice? Are we just going to be trapped here forever until one of us starts rotting away?”

“Dragons come up here multiple times a day. I think they’ll notice if one of us died.”

“Yeah but like would they care? I wonder what they’d do to our worthless corpses? Neither of us would get a funeral that’s for sure!” Pixel clawed and kicked at the walls of their cell, tears falling from their eyes “This sucks! This fucking sucks! I hate this! Trapped in one shitty place to the next! I fucking… hate this…” 

Pixel slumped to the floor, silent for once.

“Done with your little temper tantrum?” Match growled. 

“For now,” Pixel sighed and took a deep breath. They just needed some rest and then they’d figure a way out. So they shut their eyes and drifted off.

[airlock]

airlock grades the Punchable archetype

so far, a majority of the Fire Emblem villains I’ve covered in this series are the sort who are meant to be liked, forgiven, sympathized with... these here are not those ones. these are the ones whose singular purpose in the narrative is to piss you the hell off. so, which of them played that role to excellence?

(do note: under cut are spoilers for… everything, and also a significant amount of me criticizing or blamming characters that you might- okay, yeah, no, you probably don’t like anybody on this list, but you may still strongly disagree with my opinions of them. you’ve been warned! ha, no way these fools would set about reading the whole post now... what!? impossible!)

a foreword

so, to be very specific, I’m not rating every flatly irritating miniboss here; the definitive aspect here is that the character has to be a recurring one, whose extended screentime never quite ends up giving them a chance to be something other than vile. but more important than the hair-splitting here is giving some consideration to how exactly I’ll be doing the rating; after all, I’m not supposed to like any of these people, but there’s still better and worse ways to be despicable as a character.

I’m running pretty much on two central critteria: is this character entertaining, and is that character satisfying to take down. it’s more important to hit one than to hit both; a character who hits neither is significantly more likely to be a pure waste of bile, however.

without further ado, let’s start gritting those teeth!

fuck this guy

(9/10)

directly enabling the single most badass scene in all of Book II obviously lands you on the upper echelons of this here character type. but that’s just the effect; we should peer into the cause of what makes him work so well!

of the critteria I mentioned, Lang goes for the latter: he’s not only quite satisfying to defeat, it’s also great anytime someone finally talks back to him and puts him in his place. that’s because he’s not the sort of character for whom this sort of thing is a given. a lot of the ones we’ll see ahead of him are incompetent toadies on top of being amoral, but not this guy; he knows exactly what he’s doing, relying on the backing of the most powerful nation in the continent to plunder, raze, and oppress to his heart’s content. the business of doing something about this dipshit gets severely delayed by the dire consequences of crossing him -- until Marth finally decides that enough is enough.

and THEN Jagen tells him to meet him 9 PM at the Grustian denny’s parking lot for an old man brawl-

fuck this chin

(3/10)

I struggle to understand ol’ Kaga’s obssession with jealousy as a villainous character motivation, I really do. it’s one entirely realistic thing to envy someone for having riches, fame, status, influence, the attention of one’s crush, or other such things that are more or less objective and palpable. it’s also entirely a thing to have an inferiority complex and fear or spite people one perceives as being more talented, better looking, stronger, smarter than oneself. but the way these characters are written tends to come across like they’re furious because they’re underwritten gonk and not everyone else is.

... which hey, would be a pretty upsetting thing if it happened to a real person, but I don’t think meta-commentary is the point here, is it? I sincerely hope it isn’t...

fuck this lady

(7/10)

the second leg of Genealogy of the Holy War finds you facing the same sorts of enemies most of the time: half of them are Satanists, and the other half are unfortunate innocents trapped in the crossfire of courtly intrigue. it’s exactly because of this that the arc desperately needs a villain like Hilda.

Hilda is just someone who doesn’t particularly mind if the most effective path up the social ladder involves destroying her relatives, daughter included, or capturing children and forcing them into murder tournaments. how is the imperial machinery of tragedy and death supposed to run without someone like her cranking a couple of the levers? er, I mean, you don’t really crank levers unless you’re doing something weird, but... okay, moving on

amidst all of the battles you might struggle to feel were worth fighting, Hilda here serves as a reminder, as a face of every reason why the Empire is the enemy and must be defeated.

and yes, making Tinny kill her rocks

fuck this guy IN AMERICA

(2.5/10)

not too long ago I would have dropped him a straight zero, but I’ve recently been reading through the Project Exile text dumps for a new Thracia 776 fanslation and what can I say, they put good work into making him tick properly and I essentially have no choice but to keep that sort of thing in consideration when making the ratings, being that all of the other villains are also characters I only have indirect contact with through a translation that may have improved or worsened things.

but the good work is no miracle -- although given much-needed entertainment value, this guy is still who he is: practically a standard-fare asshole miniboss who ends up getting three whole chapters to chirp into. and to make matters worse, you only actually get the payoff to him in one of two possible routes!

I am strong, I am clever, I am handsome, and most importantly, fuck me

(4/10)

I can’t possibly deny that his antics are some of the most hilarious on this list; the ridiculous speeches, the facial expressions from the manga, the fact that he gets demoted on screen... and I mean, they got Kaiji Tang to put voice to his high drama on Heroes, on top of it all!

alas, it just really spoils the fun to a significant extent that his very introduction in Binding Blade sees him macking on a captive prepubescent girl. however entertaining it may be that she snatches his wig on that occasion anyway.

fuck this morph

(5/10)

yeah, some people wish. notably including Brendan Reed-

the thing with Sonia is that she’s a little less believable than most folks in this archetype -- specifically because she’s not, like, working within the structures of power that would let her get away with being as much of a dip as she wants to; she’s earned her influential position by seducing the boss, which is hard to buy when, however attractive she may be, she never has a single positive interaction with anyone and nobody trusts her (barring Ursula on both counts, but she’s not the one who needs to be brought on board anyway). I realize what a phenomenon it is to think with one’s dick, but come on; surely, you don’t let your new friend with benefits tell you how to do your job just because she’s that good in bed or something.

that said, although her overall spot on the plot feels weakly implemented, she still makes for a tremendous bulwark to overcome specifically within Nino’s subplot. what a powerful confrontation against a lifelong abuser she provides in the end!

do not fuck this guy what is wrong with you

(3/10)

Valter is just uncomfortable as a character, which is limbo as far as emotion-inducing goes; it’s not particularly entertaining, and nor is it artfully terrifying in the way that Orson is. furthermore, I normally praise Sacred Stones’s antagonists for averting the way of behaving like a plot device, but this guy is the exception; he seems to primarily show up to cause trouble because trouble needs to be caused.

I feel like he’d have made for a far stronger character concept if his backstory had been handled differently, being more specific in what part of his mind broke when he held the cursed lance, instead of just being “now he does bad things and talks like he’s vaguely horny throughout”.

at least he’s quite a bit entertaining in Heroes where he gets voiced lines and no particular characters or plots to interact with -- but if that’s what it takes to make the character shine, it doesn’t really say good things about him.

fuck beauty

(5.5/10)

so, the truth come out: does this guy is deserve becoming the absolute teacher’s pet he’s been since Radiant Dawn? my verdict on the matter is: not really.

I mean, Path of Radiance actually writes him into a solid niche; for all the big words he emits about being a patron of beauty, he’s ultimately just the same kind of petty, ostentatious garbage that poisons the governance of Begnion, and finally taking him down for good and all makes for an excellent dive after all the work it takes to set the light of justice on him -- not just in Day Breaks (oh gooooooooddd) but over the course of the several chapters it takes.

it’s all downhill from there, though. his appareance in Radiant Dawn is not only unecessary, but also a deviation from the established writing to focus on pallid, ineffective jokes, like someone invented Heroes writing before the thing itself happened. he fights on your side because now he genuinely cares about beauty and art to the point he’ll fight a goddess over it? yeah, that’s not who he was.

and seriously, one strongly gets the impression that, in that appearance onwards, the punchline is just supposed to be that he’s fat, bald, wordy, and has a shitty mustache -- which, besides being blatant fatphobia, is seriously stale; “it’s funny because he’s ugly” is, like, at least two random minibosses per game, usually more.

fuck the senate

(2/10)

although he jabs a lot of the buttons that should make for an entertaining and stalwart hate sink, it ends up not really working.

his narcisism lacks the performatic grandeur of the likes of Narcian; it lands as pastiche at best, and common annoying smugness at worst. and although he’s powerful and influential enough to cause a bunch of problems, he’s introduced at a weird time that fails to make his specfic capabilties relevant to opposing the protagonists, and he ends up not doing a lot more than severely inconveniencing Zelgius (who is on his team) a couple times.

at least, the battle dialogue against him in Part 4 still provides some of the most fierce drags in Radiant Dawn

fuck the valm arc

(0/10)

seriously, fuck it

but ahem, onto the guy in question: he’s an annoying waste of writing space that doesn’t seem to be intended for any reason other than making the rest of Team Bad Guy look good, plain and simple.

you might be thinking, airlock, this is the third Awakening villain you blammed in four posts, are you just biased? the answer is: yes, but even if I were being perfectly fair, let’s be real, antagonists are just not one of that game’s strengths, overall. that just happens sometimes; I can really say the same thing of like Thracia 776, y’know?

fuck playing f- yeah, okay, that’s just low-hanging fruit

(??/10)

honestly, from this distance, none of Fates’s fixed antagonists bar Anankos really give me the impression of not just being despicable pastiche, but I’m guessing he’s supposed to be the one who actually intended to take it as a niche?

so, I’m just going to assume you hated this, but how was it? are you glad it’s over, or do you regret having read it at all? we’re probably not going to be spared from one of these characters on Three Houses, but specifically how much would you like to hate the one that comes along? to be honest, your thoughts aren’t remotely as good as mine, so I wouldn’t bother replying or reblogging to share them, worm. what? you’ll do it anyway!? how dare you! do you know what I’m capable of!?

[flameontheotherside]

What You Need To Know When You Are "On The Path".

Starting your spiritual journey can come at anytime. Some of us are born skeptics, some of us are intuitives. It doesn't matter what you believe in. Your path can land on you when you least expect it. I fought against this my whole life bouncing between skepticism and accepting the fact I'm psychic when I don't want to be. Yall don't know the bullshit that comets with being "gifted". We have to work harder to appear and be as "normal" as we can. For someone like me who thinks a lot, there's a danger to that. I make things confusing and harder when I think too much. It getting better now. Kind of.

Toss what you once believed in and start from scratch. Yes, start over and give yourself a clean slate.

You have to accept the information you receive but don't jump the gun just yet . Think about the information: is it useful, is it positive, and does it make sense. Some people forget to think.

Eat better. I'm still working on this but you need to try yourself to stay hydrated and as healthy as you can get. This heightens your vibrations thus prevents lower vibrating spirits or demons from fucking with you.

Stop being arrogant in that you are a good soul. What I mean is, if you believe in reincarnation (and you should, it makes sense) you must also accept the fact you weren't always a good person. For christ sake I was a slave driver and my mom was one of then. Kind of why she's a shitty parent.

Accept that there are challenges. Again don't be arrogant or self-centered and think shit can't happen to you. This is a cold reality. Tragic things happen. While you might think it's not fair, believe in it or not, these challenges help you evolve. How the fuck can you learn if you cheat on a test? Stop that. Accept it for what it is. Learn and heal from these traumas. If I have to do it, so do you. Put on your big girl pants and toughen up.

Don't blindly accept information from others. Again, think: is it useful, is it positive and does it make sense. Everyone's path will be different. You can't watch some YouTube video or read my blog and adapt your entire path around one person's experience or OPPINIONS because at the end of the day, that's all they are these are just opinions and speculations. I don't expect anyone to take my blog seriously and neither should you. Only you will know what you need to know. No one can tell you anything again, it's like cheating on a test.

DO NOT follow the signs and symptoms of anything of any kind. These lists are actually pretty toxic. Need I explain? Yes... Because everyone's journey will be different these lists are not a catch-all. They should not be taken seriously. It's like cheating on a test. You need to discover these thinks on your own. For the third time: is it useful, is positive, and does it make sense to you? You don't need that garbage. This isn't a race or matter of life or death.

Keep your spiritual circle small. What I realized is that yes, you need a few people in your life and on your spiritual team. However joining spiritual groups sometimes they are toxic. Why? Because a lot of the times, people can be pushy or ignorant or something along those lines. Also drama being part of a big group is breading grounds for trouble. If you need to join a group, keep in mind that you are risking your emotional health. Especially twin flame groups. Just don't do it. There's enough negative stigma around it. Don't be another statistic.

*Read books. Yes read and I suggest Brian Weis, Erich Von Daniken and Delores Cannon. Again do not accept this information as 💯 until you have more information based on your experience alone the information they give can be useful. Sometimes the information is farfetched or too much to wrap your head around. Read and re-read later on while on the path. It will be helpful I promise you.

*If you're like me and hate reading, you can download a book for free just by searching for the book title and add "pdf" in it. Then get a text to speach app like Moon Reader. It's a program that reads for you if you are on a budget but you really should buy hard copies of them if you can afford it. It can mis read a little bit so it requires some attention to understand. Sometimes instead of saying a word, it can spell it and it sounds robotic. So it's like an audio book.

😘 💞 💕 ❤️ Get started, and think for yourselves!

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧Don’t forget to take a look at Erik’s blog ran by his amazing mom Dr Elisa Medhus. Lots of stuff about his afterlife and shit. channelingerik.com.

Submit a Twin Flame reading for free at TwinFlameMedium.Com and I provide detailed and lengthy readings starting at $5 per question at Store.TwinFlameMedium.Com

(◕‿◕)♡ Social: Twitter Tumblr Instagram  YouTube

[distant-rose]

Seal of Fate Epilogue (8/8)

Notes: Did I actually finish a story? Yes, internet, I did. And if you’re reading Once and Future and Playing Off Foul, I promise I will get back to it soon before I post my law school au. Anyway, this has been a wild ride and I have honestly loved all the responses I’ve gotten on this, particularly all of the panic and questioning of whether this last bit would be as angsty as the last bits. I’m going to say....you can be relax. This isn’t angsty at all. In fact, I think you’ll quite like it. Anyway, a special thank you to @katie-dub and @shireness-says for being so supportive. A thanks to @cssns and @drowned-dreamer whose gorgeous art will feature at the bottom of this epilogue. And as always, a huge thank you to @aerica13, my amazing beta. I couldn’t have done it without you babe! Word Count: 4,100+ AO3: [LINK] Chapters: Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Epilogue Rating: T+

The Vineyard Sound was calm, the surface of the water almost as smooth as glass as Emma Swan sat down on the front porch of the yellow beach house. There wasn’t a single soul on the beach across the road, but it was only May and she could only imagine how crowded it got once the vacationers arrived. She knew from what Granny Lucas had told her that the beach was a private one and meant only for the residents of the neighborhood but Emma assumed the majority of the houses here were rental properties and soon the street would be crowded with strangers.

Emma hadn’t expected to remain on the Vineyard past October but something had felt wrong about returning to Maine, especially with Killian in tow. Nothing was waiting for her there while Memensha was full of ghosts, full of history that she had yet to uncover. So, she had given up her shitty loft apartment and decided to stay. She had appealed to the Lucases to remain in the house, offering to pay extra in rent. Ruby and Granny were more than willing to let them stay in the house but had refused their money, claiming that the property should have been hers in the first place because it had been Ruth Nolan’s before it had fallen into their possession. Granny had even forced Ruby to return the rental money, something that Emma was certain had more to do with her guilt than the debatable ownership of the beach house. Feeling awkward about the situation, she had insisted on paying utilities which they relented on.

Emma had taken to working shifts at the diner over the winter on top of working as a freelancer investigator alongside Killian. The majority of their work was on the mainland but Emma sensed that he enjoyed their near daily-ride over to Hyannis, his eyes glued to the ocean. He had yet to go near the water since he had lost his hand. More than once she had caught him looking out over the Atlantic with a mixture of longing and anxiety.

Two fur pelts were waiting in the top dresser, dark and sleek next to white and fluffy; one much larger than the other. They never talked about it but Emma knew it was only a matter of time.

Killian placed a whiskered kiss on her cheek as he placed her hot chocolate down on the table and sat down in the chair beside her, knee bumping into hers. Emma gave him a soft smile, mug in one hand and placing the other on top of his truncated wrist. She had taken to touching his injury in hopes of helping him become more accepting of it. In the first few weeks since the incident, he had taken to hiding it from view. If he had been a normal person with an actual driver’s license and health insurance, Emma was certain he would have been in therapy for it. Since none of those things were available, it was up to her to help him heal from his injuries and trauma. All the websites had recommended she treat his injury as it were normal and that she didn’t see him as less for it. It had been a long and rough road over the winter, yet they were both getting there slowly but surely. Rather than shake her off, as he had done in previous months, today Killian just stiffened briefly at the contact. He relaxed when he turned his attention on the water. Emma took this as a small victory.

“It’s calm out there today,” he said quietly as he drank from his own mug.

“I was just thinking that. And how it won’t be long before it’s swarmed with people.”

“Aye,” he placed his mug down, jaw tightening. “Which is why I think now is the time.”

“Time?” She looked at him uncertainty.

“Time,” he repeated. “Time for us to take a swim.”

“Now? In May? Are you serious? The water is probably freezing!”

“Perhaps to a human, but not to us,” he said quietly. “The ocean is a part of us, love. It’s our home.”

Emma hesitated, placing her hot chocolate on the table and straightening her shoulders. This is a conversation she had played over and over in her head during the past months. They should have talked about this sooner but she had been so happy to have him in her life and so desperate to keep him after everything that had happened, she had allowed them to play house while keeping her fears trapped in the back of her mind.

“It is your home,” she said, looking him in the eye. “But I’m not sure it’s mine.”

“What do you mean, love?” He was looking at her with such concern that it almost hurt.

“I was born a selkie but I’ve lived the last thirty years of my life as a human being. The only time I’ve really spent around the ocean has been when I came here. I don’t even know how to swim, Killian, that wasn’t necessarily a priority for kids in foster care, you know?” She took in a deep breath. “And my pelt...you’ve seen it...it belongs to a baby…what if my connection to it is broken? What if I can’t connect like you can?” Her voice wavered slightly on the last question.

Killian met her gaze steadily, taking her hand off her mug and entwining it with his hand, interlocking their fingers and giving them a small squeeze.

“Been thinking about this for awhile now, have you?”

She bit her lip, not wanting to tell him that she had been thinking about it since October. When she didn’t answer his question, he sighed and spoke again.

“Emma, what happened to you...was unprecedented to say the least. I understand why Granny did what she did even though I don’t and could never agree with it...I don’t know what will happen if you tried to slip into your sealskin but what I do know is that no matter what happens, I’m not leaving.”

“I can’t keep you from the ocean, Killian,” she whispered.

“I can’t promise that the tide won’t call to me - I will need to leave at times, but there is something that I can promise and that promise is that I will always, always come back to you. You are as much part of me as the ocean is, love, and I don’t think I could bear being separated from you any more than I could being separated from it.”

He squeezed her hand again before bringing it up to his lips and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

“Well okay then, you’re certainly no Mr. Darcy,” she responded with an uneasy laugh. She expected him to give her his patented curious look but much to her surprise, he gave her a small smirk and quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, love, he was quite a wretched orator. I would have been insulted by that proposal as well and would have hit him for good measure. Much better writer.”

Emma blinked, not expecting this response. “You know who Mr. Darcy is?”

He gave her a slightly condescending look, as if she had dribbled on her shirt.

“I’ve been on dry land for nearly eight months now, love. I know how to read and have plenty of spare time to catch up on all the delightful references you seem to make…” he paused for a moment, smirk growing on his lips. “So, if I’m not Darcy, then who am I?”

“Mr. Collins,” she drawled.

“Hey!” He pushed her shoulder lightly. “That’s not nice! I’m Mr. Bingley at worst.”

“So you would rather to be the guy who can’t make his own decisions and is easily persuaded by his sisters and best friend?”

He frowned at that. “Perhaps not. I’m more of a Mr. Knightley kind of man anyway.”

Emma’s eyebrows knitted in confusion as she tried to recall a Mr. Knightley character in Pride and Prejudice. When she came up short, she frowned at him.

“There isn’t a Mr. Knightley in Pride and Prejudice.”

“No, there isn’t. I’m afraid he’s in character in another one of Jane Austen’s works. The novel he’s in is probably my favorite of her books. I think we both have a lot in common, particularly in regard to women.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he happens to be in love with the titular character, a woman who is headstrong and a complete force of nature. Her name fits her perfectly.”

“Oh, what’s her name?”

He gave her a fond smile. “Emma.”

She almost hated how much her heart leapt in her chest when he said that. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he had expressed his feelings to her, every time felt new and sent a jolt through her system. It didn’t seem like a reaction that was going away anytime soon.

She leaned forward, giving him a brief kiss before pulling away and bumping his nose with hers.

“You’re a sap.”

“Perhaps, but I’m your sap,” he replied, squeezing her hand again. “And I think we’ve drifted dreadfully off course with our conversation in regards to swimming.”

She shook her head.

“It’s way too cold. It’s practically still ice. We had frost on the ground last week for Christ’s sake.”

“And as I said before, it’s too cold for a human but not for us.”

“And as I said before, we don’t know if I’m selkie enough for it.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

She studied him for a moment, taking in the earnest expression on his face before sighing and getting up from her chair. She stretched out her limbs, raising her arms and rolling her shoulders.

“Alright, fine, but if I freeze to death, I’m going to kill you.”

“Don’t worry, love, if you get too cold, I know more than a few ways to warm you up,” he replied with a leer, eyebrows dancing.

Emma gave him a whack on the shoulder in response, but the reproach in her actions was negated slightly by the small smile that was tugging at her lips.

It was while she was rummaging through the dresser that Emma realized that not once in her life had she owned a bathing suit. The revelation heightened her anxiety, another reminder that Emma had been completely separated from the ocean, from Killian’s world. She pulled on a sports bra and a pair of running shorts, hoping that they would suffice.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened the top drawer, revealing the pelts that had been left untouched since October. She ran her fingers through the fluffy white fur, relishing in the calm feeling it always seem to provide her whenever she felt stressed. She pulled it out, staring at it with mixture of fondness and dread. It would barely suffice as a shawl, let alone cover her entire body. She didn’t have a lot of optimism in that department. She sighed as she placed it in the beach bag she had pulled out of the closet. At least she would finally have answers.

She was worried about touching Killian’s pelt, remembering how he had reacted the last time he had caught her with it. Though it had been eight months since that incident, the look on his face when she had hesitated in returning it was still fresh in her mind.

“You gonna pack it up or what?” He called over her shoulder, causing her to jump.

She turned, fixing him with a glare.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Apologies, love, but you seemed to be taking a while to get ready,” he responded with a frown.

His eyes darted between the pelt in the drawer and the fear on her face. Emma watched as understanding seemed to dawn on him. He stepped forth, placing his hand and wrist on her shoulders, smoothing them down her arms.

“You can touch it,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed,” she responded. “I’m still kinda new at this.”

“You’re more than allowed...it’s as much yours as it is mine.”

“I don’t want your pelt, Killian. It’s yours. I don’t know how to make it more clear that I don’t want to trap you.”

“And I don’t know how times I have to tell you that I love you and I’m not leaving you. You’re not trapping me. It’s just a gesture of trust. I trust you.”

“I don’t need it, okay?”

“Okay,”  he sighed, kissing her forehead. “Now, grab the damn pelt and let’s hit the water.”

They walked across the street, fingers interlocked and hands swinging between them. Emma paused as they got nearer to the shoreline, her eyes darting up the coast and towards the Gold house which still stood imperiously on the hill overlooking the street. There was no one there but she couldn’t help but shiver every time she saw it, thinking of the horror show basement and the jar of teeth on the mantle. The house technically now belonged to Gold’s estranged son but no one had heard anything from him since he had left the Vineyard and the radio silence had continued even after his father’s death.

She still had nightmares about the incident. Her dreams were plagued with shrill laughter and red ocean water. Even the discovery of Gold’s mangled body fifteen minutes away on South Beach near Katama had done little to assuage her fears. Only Killian’s presence beside her at night seemed to help - though still, every once in a while, she woke up screaming and they would both sit outside with hot chocolate and stare at the water.

Killian seemed to follow her line of thought, loosening her hold on his hand so that he could wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her close. He placed a kiss on her temple.

“Hey, he’s gone. He can’t hurt us, you know that.”

“I know,” she replied quietly. “I just want to burn the place to the ground though. I can’t look at it...without thinking of my parents...of Milah...of all the people he’s murdered and the selkies he’s skinned...He deserved a lot worse than he got.”

Killian flinched slightly at her words. He was still coming to grips with everything Gold had done in the past, as she was herself. They had spent more hours than they could count talking about the gravity of what he had done to them, to the people they loved. There was still a lot of anger and pain buried in them that they needed to work out but Emma hoped it would lessen with time.

“I don’t know, Swan, getting mauled to death by a shark is a selkie’s worst fear. I can’t think of a more fitting death aside from it being at one of our hands - well, in my case, hand.”

She was silent for a moment, choosing her words carefully.

“I’m glad.”

“About what?”

“I’m glad that it wasn’t us. I’m glad that we didn’t kill him because then his blood would be on our hands and we would have stooped to his level.”

“I think I’m going to disagree with you on that, love, and table it there. It’s not worth the argument. That man isn’t worth any more of our time than he’s already taken. Now, I’m going to teach you to swim.”

Emma reached to grab the pelts from her bag but Killian stopped her, placing his hand gently on her arm.

“I was thinking I would teach you the human way first. There’s no need to rush into this head on. Shifting form can be uncomfortable and I want you more comfortable in the water before we add to that…”

She nodded, dropping the beach bag on the sand and shifting around the beach towels to cover up the pelts. There wasn’t anyone on the beach but Emma felt more comfortable covering them, hidden from view should anyone walk by.

It was Killian who hesitated this time, just short of where the waves were gently lapping at the shore. His shoulders were tense and squared up, as if he was facing the enemy rather than the place he called home.  

“You okay?” she placed a hand between his shoulder blades.

“I…” he paused, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “I haven’t been in the water since it happened.”

Her heart clenched in sympathy and it was then that she realized that she wasn’t the only one anxious about this. Killian had frequently mentioned that getting caught by a shark was a nightmare scenario for a selkie and it was a nightmare he had barely survived. Emma had always figured that his reluctance in the past months to return to the ocean had been about his missing limb but now she realized it was only a part of it.

“Hey,” she murmured, smoothing her hand down his back. “I got you and you got me. We’re going to be okay.”

He laughed at this but Emma could hear some strain in it.

“Aye, I’ve seen your shark fighting skills up close and personal, Swan. If anyone’s going to save me from the finned devils, it’s you.”

“Exactly,” she grinned. “So what are you waiting for?”

The water was cold but not nearly as bad as she had been expecting and the longer she waded in the water, the more she got used to it. Killian gave her a smug grin as she followed him farther into the waves.

“Not too cold for you?”

“Yeah. It’s not too bad. What is it, like, 70 degrees?”

“I don’t know how your garbage American temperature systems works but it’s like 13 or 14 degrees celsius.”

Emma did the math quickly in her head, eyes widening in realization. She looked down at the water then back at his face in astonishment.

“Jesus Christ, so this is like 45-50 degree water we’re in! How are we not freezing?”

He laughed. “How many times do I have to tell you that selkies don’t work the same way humans do? Our bodies are designed for this. I’ve happily stayed in these waters during the winter when it’s much colder than this.”

“I guess I just didn’t expect it would be the same for me…”

“Hey,” he said softly. “What happened to you doesn’t make you any less, okay? You might have been out of the water for a long time but you were born one of us. You were always one of us...Now, want to see something else we can do that they can’t?”

“Ummm...sure?”

He laughed, head disappearing under the waves. She stared in confusion, not comprehending what he was doing. A few moments passed and nothing happened. His head broke the surface of the water and he gave her a frown.

“You were supposed to follow me…”

“Killian, I’m barely swimming as is, I don’t need to go under.”

“You’re fine and yes, you do.”

“Why?”

He gave an annoyed look. “Can you just trust me please?”

“Fine, fine,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

She closed her eyes, dunking her head under the waves. With her head submerged, it felt slightly warmer and she waited for something to happen. When something touched her face, she opened her eyes without meaning to.

Clear vision.

Emma had never stepped foot in a pond, lake, pool or any body of water to speak of but she was very much familiar with the fact that normal people generally couldn’t see that well in water and that old filmmakers had used wax paper to show that effect. She found no difference in vision between land and sea.

Killian smiled at her, pulling his hand away from her cheek and holding up three fingers. Slightly confused, she copied him. His smile widened as he brought up his pinkie and spread his middle and ring finger to make a Vulcan salute. Again, she followed suit. He did a few series of hand motions, each more complex than the last, changing it up every time she finally did each one. When she copied the last one, which was a simple cross of fingers, he moved forth to kiss her.

It wasn’t nearly as romantic as the movies made it seem, nose banging into hers, lips sliding awkwardly and teeth clacking when he pushed forth with a little too much effort. It was how Emma imagined kissing in space would be like - a cute idea but hard to maneuver in reality. It got better when he anchored his hand in her hair. It didn’t last long however, as Emma’s lungs practically screamed for air. She couldn’t help but laugh as she broke the surface.

“That...that was something!” She chuckled.

Killian tugged her closer, bringing her in for another kiss that was more successful than the last one and had more heat to it. She was constantly falling in love with the soft sound he made when she would nip at his bottom lip.

“You could see,” he murmured, smiling at her and resting his forehead against hers.

“I could,” she grinned.

“That’s good sign. Are you ready to try the pelt?”

“Honestly no but it’s better to do this now rather than speculate on it any further.”

It wasn’t until they reached that shore that Emma felt her nerves kick into overdrive, heart hammering in her chest and adrenaline coursing through her veins. Killian grabbed both of their pelts and handed hers over with a soft smile.

“Whatever happens, we are going to be okay,” he reminded her gently.

They dived back into the surf, swimming further out than where they had been last time. Killian spread his pelt in front until the head was facing in his direction. Emma followed suit, her pelt looking slightly larger in the water than it did on land.

“You’re going to want to press your foot in,” he said quietly, demonstrating.

Dubiously, Emma copied the motion, slipping her foot into her sealskin. She had expected resistance, as it was only the fraction of her size but amazingly enough it stretched to envelope her entire leg. She looked back at Killian in amazement. He merely chuckled in response but pushing his other leg in. She followed his demonstration, lifting the stretching skin over her  shoulders and finally her head.

A strange sensation to hold of her, bones shifting and clicking. It wasn’t painful so much as uncomfortable, shifting without her conscious thought. Her skin stung and she let out a small whimper, feeling like a thousand little needles were biting into her skin and sewing the pelt to her. Something wrapped itself around her, making comforting noises. She opened her eyes. A large seal was pressing its face against her, rubbing affectionately. She moved what she thought was her hand, only to realise her arm motion was limited. It took her a few seconds to realise she no longer had an arm but a flipper.

A flipper.

She was a seal.

Killian continued to circle her, nuzzling his head against her body and making small noises which she instinctively knew meant love and affection. As much as she returned his feelings, his constant circling was getting in the way of her learning to use her new limbs properly and she made an impatient nip at him. He seemed to get the message but only just barely, practically vibrating with excitement.

Moving in the water somehow was freer than walking on land and she revelled in maneuvering so effortless, letting out small trills of happiness. Never before in her life had she felt so free. Killian followed her, copying her movements and moving soft noises that were affectionate but different than his original message. It took Emma a few moments to figure out what he was communicating to her.

Welcome home.

[this-ginger-has-no-soul]

Widows child

(A/N): this is so shitty, I'm so sorry

Request: Angsty request here! In an AU would where women can get other women pregnant, fem!reader discovers she's pregnant and is really excited to tell Natasha. But Nat does not take it well and they get into a serious fight. Nat walks out to go have a chat with Clint who makes her realise that this baby is a blessing and she comes home to find the reader gone. A few years later, HYDRA kidnaps reader and the kid to mess with Nat and it's up to Nat to find and save the love of her life and their daughter

Warnings: angst, blood, injury to reader, swearing 

  (Y/N) was over the moon with excitement. How could she not be? She was pregnant with her girlfriend's child, what else could make her so happy? She was honestly rather shocked when she had found out she was pregnant. Natasha was infertile and (Y/N) had never even thought if her uterus was compatible enough for another human being.

    For thousands of years women had been getting other women pregnant but under strict conditions. One of the women had to have the perfect internal everything. If even a single, tiny thing was out of place it wouldn't work. That's why (Y/N) was so shocked when she one day took a pregnancy test and it came back as positive. She even went to Tony and had him do a far more refined and accurate test and that came back as positive as well. (Y/N) was actually pregnant. 

   She knew Nat once dreamed of having a family and now she could give it to her, so Nat should have been excited when (Y/N) dropped the news right? Wrong. (Y/N) was so completely and utterly wrong.

    "Are you fucking serious?" Nat asks, her voice seeping with anger.

    "Yes?" (Y/N) replied, her brow furrowed in confusion.

   "We can't have a kid, do you know what that'll do to us? To our jobs? To our statuses? We can't be agents and have a kid, we'd be suspended from shield for months, we'd be putting a life at risk by bringing it into this world, god, did you not think this through?" 

   "I thought you'd be excited! You told me you wanted kids-"

   "I was young and foolish back then," 

   "So, you're telling me that you don't want kids anymore?"

   "Yeah," Nat whispers bitterly, nodding her head. "Yeah I am..." 

   "I can't- I can't believe this," (Y/N) whispers, tears welling in her eyes.

    "Well you better start," Nat nearly spits, the venom in her voice slicing (Y/N) deep. She glared at (Y/N) for a few moments, gritting her teeth as she held back every word she wanted to say but didn't. Instead she turned on her heel, grabbed her shoes and marched out the door. She was just about to close the door when she stuck her head back in, that same disgusted, angry look upon her face. "I suggest you call a clinic, there's no way in hell you're having our child," and with that Nat slammed the door shut and marched out the door. 

   (Y/N) stood there in complete and utter shock. Had nat just told her to go get an abortion? Was she really that cruel to suggest that? This was their child for fuck's sake, a human being that they had created together and Nat didn't want it? Tears burns at (Y/N)'s eyes as she rests a hand on her stomach, her maternal instincts already kicking in. There was no way she was getting rid of HER baby, no matter what Nat wanted. If she didn't want the baby then so be it, she was just going to have to deal with the consequences. 

   Nat sighed as she walked beside Clint, a cup of coffee clutched in her hand as Clint nearly screamed her ear off.

    "I can't believe you'd say something like that Nat, you know how sensitive (Y/N) can be," 

   "I know," Nat sighs, running her fingertips along the rim of her cup absentmindedly as she spoke. "I just freaked out, I didn't know what to say or do," 

   "Do you realize what a miracle baby this is? You're infertile and yet somehow your body was strong enough to get (Y/N) pregnant. Her uterus has to be 100% perfect for a child- do you know how slim those chances are?" 

   "No-"

    "one in one fuckin million Nat and that's without your infertility, with that it should be physically impossible for (Y/N) to get pregnant," Nat sighs, realizing just how irrational she'd been at home. 

   "Fuck...I really fucked up,"

    "Im not even going to deny you this time Nat, yeah, you fucked up big time," 

   "What am I supposed to do?" Nat nearly pleads, her voice nearly cracking with emotion. 

   "Go home, make sure (Y/N) knows you want this child, and you convince her that to love her more than anything in this world, understand?" Nat smiles softly despite the circumstances and nods, her spirits a bit brighter than before. 

   "Thank you Clint,"

    "Anything for you Nat, now go talk to her before its too late," Oh, if only Nat had been given that piece of advice earlier. 

   She was planning on following Clint's directions perfectly and yet when she got home (Y/N) was nowhere in sight. She noticed the apartment seemed eerily empty, almost as though it were lacking quite a few things. Nat flicked a light on as she made her way into the kitchen, throwing her coat over the kitchen table as she walked in.

   "(Y/N)?" She called out loud, hoping for an answer "(Y/N), are you here-" Nat's words die in her throat as her eyes catch something on the fridge, a letter that hadnt been there when she left. Nat bit her lip as she plucked the note of the fridge, her eyes scanning over each word meticulously. 

         'Nat, I'm sorry about this but I'm not getting rid of our child. I get that you don't want children anymore, that's fine, but what's not fine is telling me, someone who's been wanting children for years, to go get an abortion just because you're unhappy. I understand where you're coming from with the danger and all that shit but luckily for you that's not going to be a problem anymore, I'm leaving shield behind, I'm leaving New York behind, I'm leaving everything behind. I'm moving away, starting fresh, who knows, maybe I'll find someone who'd be proud to support me and my child. I'm sorry it had to come to this but I'm not coming back Natasha, Im having Steve and Bucky come collect my things tomorrow and then the next day I'm leaving. I hope you have a great life, your dearest (Y/N).' 

   Nat felt as though she couldn't breathe, she physically couldn't breathe as she read the note. (Y/N) was gone, she was gone and she was taking their child with her. 

   Nats hands shook as she gripped the letter, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Oh god, she'd fucked up, she'd fucked up so bad, how could she have been so foolish and selfish? How could she have let this happen? 

   The hurt wells within nat, bubbling and bubbling until she physically couldn't take it anymore. A loud sob pushes it's way last her lips as she collapses to the floor, clutching the letter to her chest. It hurt so bad, her entire chest stung in pain as she sobbed on the floor. Her heart hurt, her throat hurt, everything hurt as she cried and cried and cried until there was nothing left, she was physically dried of all her tears. 

   She curled up on the floor, note still clutched to her chest as she sniffled and dry heaved, her entire body trembling in pain.

    "Hey guys-" Clint trails off as he walks into the cold, silent apartment. "Nat- (Y/N)- you guys here?" Clint rounds the corner to the kitchen, immediately flinching in shock when he found Nat curled up on the floor. 

   "She left Clint," Nat sobs once again, this time dry and more painful than before. "She's gone." 

    It had been five years since (Y/N) left Nat, five years since she'd given birth to her sweet little girl; Alexandria. She had flaming red hair like her mother, those stunning eyes. She was practically a mini version of her. Anytime (Y/N) so much as looked at her, her heart would ache in pain. She reminded her so much of Nat, even her personality was the spunky, spitfire kind Nat once sported. But (Y/N) loved her more than life itself, more than anything she had ever loved in this world.

    (Y/N) smiles softly as she watches Alex play on the playground with all the other kids, screaming and laughing just as all five year old kids do. Everything was cheery, perfect even when suddenly something caught (Y/N)'s gaze from their corner of her eye. Just a few feet away, on a bench right next to hers sat a man, and not just any man, one of Hydra's best trained assassins. (Y/N) remembered time and and time again trying to take him out but he always found a way to avoid death, unfortunately for her. And now he was sitting not even five feet away from her. She could immediately see the small handgun he had strapped to his waist, a gun (Y/N) had been at the end of one too many times. 

   "Alex!" (Y/N) calls out to her child, desperate to get as far away from the man as possible. "Alex come on honey we've got to go home," (Y/N) stands up, motioning for Alex to follow along. The bouncy redhead came bounding along, immediately taking her mothers hand as she approached her.

    "Mommy, can we go get icecream?"

    "Sure honey," (Y/N) picked Alex up, holding her tightly as she began to walk to her car. 

   "Mommy?" 

   "Yeah honey?" 

   "Who's that scary man following us?" (Y/N) looked over her shoulder to find the same assassin following her, one hand glued to the gun at his waist.

    "Oh my god," (Y/N) whispers as she immediately books it, completely avoiding her car, knowing it would take too long to strap Alex and herself in. Instead she ran through the park, trying as hard as she could to get away but it'd been awhile she had to run for her life, not to mention this man was a million times faster and before (Y/N) even knew it he had caught up to her. 

   Before (Y/N) had any time to react the man smacked her with the end of his gun, knocking her out immediately. The world was slowly turning black as blood pooled from a wound in (Y/N)'s head, she could vaguely hear the sounds of her daughter screaming but she couldn't do anything about it now, not when the world was fading away.

    Nat punched the punching bag as hard as she could, her fists still aching despite the gloves she wore. Five years had passed since (Y/N) left her, not a single day went by when Nat wouldn't think about her, about their child. She wondered if her chid was a boy or girl, if he or she looked more like her or (Y/N), she wondered if (Y/N) had fallen in love again, maybe had more kids. As much as it hurt Nat to say it she hope she had, she hoped she was happily married to someone who would love and cherish her the way Nat never did- 

   "Nat!" The doors to the training room suddenly burst open and in comes Steve, coming to a skidding halt beside Nat. "We've got a situation,"

    "Yeah?" Nat asks as she punches the bag again. "What is it?" 

   "It's (Y/N), we've found her," Immediately Nat's punches stop as she looks up at Steve, a dangerous look in her eyes. 

   "You better not be playing some sick joke on me Steven-" 

   "She's been captured by hydra, her and your daughter." 

    (Y/N) awoke to a splitting headache towards the back of her head. Her mouth felt dry, her eyes hurt and her entire body felt stiff.

   (Y/N) slowly opened her eyes, taking in the scenery around her. 

   "Ahh, you're waking up, good, I thought I had hit you too hard," (Y/N)'s head aches at the noise, causing a groan to spill past her lips. "Sorry about the whole head thing, you're still quite the runner I will admit, guess motherhood has caught up to you though," 

   "Where's- where's my baby?" The man chuckles as he casually flips a knife up and down in the air, catching it gracefully everytime it fell.

    "She's safe, don't you worry your pretty little face off-" "Where's my child you fucking piece of shit?" Suddenly the man springs forward, the knife pressed into (Y/N)'s throat rtght enough to draw rivulets of blood. 

   "If you're quiet I won't hurt ya too bad," he sneers, sending shivers of fright down (Y/N)'s spine. "I wouldn't want to cut that pretty face up too bad," The man slides his knife along (Y/N)'s cheek, slowly slicing it open. (Y/N) whimpered and flinched away, but not enough to the man's liking. He hummed in distaste as he slid the knife down her cheek once more, slowly and ever so painfully slicing the skin wide open. (Y/N) squirmed and moaned in pain, trying with all their night to get the pain to stop. Finally satisfied with his work the man sat back, admiring the way (Y/N)'s cheek parted and dribbled with blood. 

   "Ooh, that's a shame, my hand slipped," He chuckles darkly, his entire face contorting with wicked amusement. God- (Y/N) could only pray Alex was okay, even despite the way she was in excruciating pain she just wanted her sweet baby girl to be okay.

    (Y/N) slams her head against the pole behind her, the pole her arms were tied around painfully. Tears burned at her eyes but she wouldn't let her captor have the satisfaction of seeing her cry. 

   "Aww, are you gonna cry? Did I hurt your feelings? Does your face hurt just a bit? Want me to kiss it better-" The man's sentence ends rather suddenly with a rather bubbly cough, the same cough (Y/N) had heard a thousand times while she was on missions; it was the sound a man dying. (Y/N) cracked her eyes open to see the man fall onto his face, blood pooling from a knife wound in his back. 

   Well- that was a rather sudden death, not that (Y/N) was complaining. 

   (Y/N) looks up to see exactly who her savior was but she wasn't expecting to see Nat, the woman she had left behind five years ago. (Y/N)'s brows furrow in confusion as Nat drops to her side, immediately untying her bonds.

    "Oh my god (Y/N)," Tears burn at Nat's eyes as she cups (Y/N)'s face in her hands, her thumb smoothing circles into her good cheek. "Oh my god you're alive. Steve told me what had happened and I was convinced that you were dead- oh my god (Y/N), I was so fucking scared." Scared? Nat was scared? No, (Y/N) was the one who deserved to be scared, not her. (Y/N) was the one who just had her face mutilated, she was the one who had been tied to a pole, she was the one who had been hit upside the head with a gun, she was the one who nearly lost her daughter to some hydra scum.

    "Alex," (Y/N) manages the word despite her dizzying pain. "Alex." She repeats again, her eyes growing wide with fear. "Alex, Alex." (Y/N) tried to stand up but the pain takes over and she falls back down, nearly smacking her head against the pole.

    "Take it easy," Nat whispers as she smooths her hands over (Y/N)'s sore cheek, an action she once found comforting but now it was far from that. Nothing could comfort (Y/N) except her baby girl at her side.

    "I think I found what you were looking for," Another voice suddenly chimes in, this one much deeper and yet softer. (Y/N) would recognize that voice anywhere, it belonged to Steve Rogers.

    Not a moment after his words he appears I'm the doorway, a small, red headed girl in his clutches. 

   "Mommy!" Alex cries as she squirms out of Steve's embrace, instead rushing over to (Y/N) to hug her tightly. "I was so scared mommy, I couldn't find you and the scary men wouldn't tell me where you were," Alex cries against her loudly, no doubt rubbing her snot and tears all over her shirt. 

   " 's okay Alex," (Y/N) pets his hair, soothing her softly. " 'm okay," 

   "No you're not mommy, you're bleeding everywhere, mommy- did they hurt you?" Alex cries harder, her beautiful eyes shrouded in tears. 

   (Y/N) can't say or do much other than hold Alex close and pet her hair, soothing her slowly. (Y/N) looked at Nat, at her tear filled eyes as she watched (Y/N) and Alex. (Y/N) knew it was wrong to want her affection, especially after what she said to her all those years ago but what (Y/N) needed right now was Nat, she needs her more than she ever had before.

    (Y/N) slowly scoots forward until she's right next to Nat, close enough that she could lean her head against her shoulder like the good old days. It felt so good to finally be back with nat, she'd been deprived of her affection for far too long. She needed the support right now, she needed Nat, her girlfriend, the mother of her child, she needed her like she needed air to breathe.

    Nat didn't waste any time wrapping her arms around (Y/N), pulling her a little closer. Her lips pressed a kiss to (Y/N)'s sweaty hairline, a gesture that (Y/N) once was used to, now it was a novelty coming for anyone, especially Nat. 

   "We should probably get back home, stitch you up," Nat whispers to (Y/N), her arm running up and down (Y/N)'s soothingly. Even knowing how painful It would be to go back to the tower (Y/N) found herself agreeing, nodding immediately. 

    The tower was familiar and unfamiliar at once, almost like a déjà vu kind of feeling. Bruce had long since stitched (Y/N)'s cheek back together, telling her that it was going to leave some pretty nasty scars behind. But now she was parked on Nat's couch as Alex curled up in her lap, watching some princess show. Nat was beside them, though sitting away by quite a few feet. Her eyes remained glued on Alex the entire time, as though she were studying her like some lab specimen. 

   "You can hold her if you'd like...she's really affectionate," (Y/N) mumbles finally turning to look at Nat. Nat shakes her head, shying away from the two further. 

   "No...I couldn't...not after what I said to you..." (Y/N) sighs gently as she brushes some hair away from Alex's eyes. 

   "You were shocked, it's okay, plus, I think you made up for it today," Nat bites her lip as she looks at (Y/N) and Alex hesitantly.

    "Are you sure it's okay?" (Y/N) tries to smile but stops when she feels her cheek aching in pain.

    "Yeah, luckily for you she's asleep too, makes her even easier to work with," (Y/N) hands Alex over to Nat, settling back down into her seat when she was done. Immediately Alex curls into nat, smacking her lips tiredly as she buries her face in Nat's neck.

    "I came back that day, after you left that note," Nat bites her lip as she pets Alex's hair gently. "I was going to tell you I was already looking for cribs and strollers but when I got back-" Nat chokes up, tears blurring her eyes once again. "When I got back you weren't here. I didn't know where you had gone or if you were safe. For five years I wondered about you, obsessed about you. I couldn't help but imagine what would have happened if I hadn't stormed out that day. Maybe we'd be living in some small home in the country, raising our child together, maybe a couple of dogs too," Nat sighs shakily, biting back her tears as she holds Alex gently, slowly swaying her back and forth.

    "So you- you really did want to have our baby?"

    "Yes," Nat nods, sniffling softly, "I've been thinking about it- about her- ever since you left. I really did want to have our baby together, I wanted to help you be a mother, feed our baby, play with her, watch her grow..."

    "It's never too late," (Y/N) whispers timidly, hanging her head in embarrassment. "I'm sure Alex would love to have an extra mommy, plus...I realized how much I missed you- how much I need you. We can't just go back to our normal lives after this, we have to do something," 

   "Maybe we could start over? Let me prove to you that I want this? I can take you on dates, I can help with Alex, I'll do anything," (Y/N) nods, giving Nat her small, broken smile once again. 

   "Lets take things slow, not rush them. A first date would be a good start..." Nat smiles softly as she looks at Alex, sniffling once again. 

   "First date it is then," Nat looks to (Y/N), smiling a bit brighter than before. 

   They were nowhere near the intimacy and trust they had previously, and (Y/N) doubted she could ever truly forgive Nat for what she said and did but they were trying, and trying was a pretty damn good start.

[bishicat]

It’s TAG TIME!!

Rules: Tag people you want to know more about!

Tagged by: @nordickzz :D thank you my dude

Were you named after anyone?

Well, my dad named me “Justine” because one, my parents wanted my sister and I to match (J & J), and two, because he wanted to name me after the virtue Justice

When was the last time you cried?

Lol it’s weird because the last time was when my sister and I were talking about Coraline’s The Other Mother and I got so freaked out I teared up a bit! IT’S A SCARY AF MOVIE OK

Do you like your handwriting?

I don’t love my handwriting, but I like it enough. It’s pretty clean and small and easily readable when I write normally. I also find my cursive writing quite nice too (^_^). But then again, my handwriting can go downhill really fast when my hand tires, or when I write in-class essays

What’s your favorite lunch meat?

SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAAAAAAAAAM

Do you have kids?

Though kids love me like flies loOoOoove sugar water, I don’t plan on having any anytime soon (I’m only 17 y’all!! I’m basically a child myself)

If you were a different person, would you be friends with you?

Hell yeah. We would bond over our shared solavellan love and various fandom stuff. Also, I think we would cook meals together, idk just a thought. Our chats would mostly consist of gifs and vague meme references and inside jokes we don’t know the origin to anymore.

Do you use sarcasm?

HA. OF COURSE NOT~~~ :)

Do you still have your tonsils?

Yuppers

Would you bungee jump?

No. Heights + a cloth contraption being the only thing to hold me = death

What’s your favorite cereal?

I don’t often eat cereal, but I really really like Cocoa Pops—the one with the monkey in a baseball hat. The thing is tho, is that I like eating the cereal when it gets really soggy and almost like mush but with the slightest bit of cronch.

Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It depends on how easily I can slip them back on

Do you think you are a strong person?

To quote the sad chocolate man: “I was born with glass bones and paper skin. Every morning I break my legs, and every afternoon I break my arms. At night, I lie awake in agony until my heart attacks put me to sleep.”

What’s your favorite ice cream?

Green. Tea. Is. The. Shit.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their eyes and clothing choices. Afterwards, I observe how they treat my and the others around them. If they have a shitty personality, I tend to steer away from them

What’s your least favorite physical thing about yourself?

I think I would say…. My natural eyebrows that haven’t been filled in yet. The hairs are just too sparse and light that without makeup, I don’t look as good as I could have if only my brows were thicker. Another thing would be my little tummy pooch. I get a bit self-conscious every time I wear something tight-fitting and I eat, or I haven’t gone to the washroom in a while.

What color pants and shoes are you wearing right now?

Since I’m at home I’m wearing my 4 day old light blue Snoopy jammies (that are stained with a bit of soy sauce)  and bright pink Hello Kitty socks with purple and yellow stripes. I am a fashion goddess.

What are you listening to right now?

Dandelion Wine by Gregory Alan Isakov 💜 He makes such wonderful relaxing music

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?

A shade of blue, maybe powder blue?

Favorite smell?

Mkay, so my favorite smells are pretty strange, so be prepared. I LOVE the smell of plaster (the kind where it’s a powder and you have to mix in water, it smells divine), the smell of a freshly painted room, a storage room that’s been closed off for a couple of months (so it’s dark and musty mmmm), fresh laundry, hell even the washing machine! I also love the smell of freshly baked bread, cooked rice, and clean cold air.

Who was the last person you talked on the phone with?

….my mother

Favorite sport to watch?

You’re kidding me right

Hair color?

Naturally, my hair is the black-brown shade that is typical of us Asians. Last Christmas I dyed 90% of it purple though, so now I fluctuate between different shades such as Amethyst or Indigo. I plan on dyeing the whole thing again to a lighter color, maybe blue (or even silver?? :0) this time!

Eye color?

Black, like my tea

Do you wear contacts?

Sadly, my eyesight is so very bad. I wear glasses though because I can’t imagine my face without them (I’ve been wearing glasses since I was 6)

Favorite food?

Hmmmm I love the bread that I bake weekly, be it pita, focaccia, rolls, or whatever. I… honestly don’t know what my favorite dish is, I love everything!

Scary movie or comedy?

Gimme a scary movie to watch with my sisters and we will make it a comedy, no matter what.

Last movie you watched?

Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron ♡♡ I love that movie so much, BE FREE SPIRIT BE FREEEEE

What color shirt are you wearing?

This ratty ass yellow t-shirt I got when I was in grade 8 for free (hell yes). It has the school logo emblazoned on the front, 2 poorly-mended holes near the right armpit area, and a tiny little puncture around the boob area from when I bathed my cat and he held onto my shirt for dear life... I should probably trash this shirt

Summer or winter?

Why isn’t Fall an option?? If I had to choose, I would pick the mildest of winters, because screw u summer and your bugs and your oppressive heat

Hugs or kisses?

I’m not very comfortable with body touches (whenever someone touches my face I blush really fast), but I would prefer hugs over kisses because believe it or not, I’ve never been kissed (romantically) before, and my family and friends were never really touchy-feely with their lips 😘

Book you’re currently reading?

Well, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is a required read for school right now, and I do not like it. At all. In my personal time, I’m thinking of reading The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula Le Guinn cause why tf not amiright

Who do you miss right now?

Julian Devorak :_: come back to me bby….

What’s on your mouse pad?

I don’t use a mouse pad, I use one of those trackball mouse things (mice? What’s the plural of computer mouse/mice????)

What’s the last TV program you watched?

Big Mouth. I binge watched the show and surprisingly, I need more

What’s the best sound?

My cat scratching his scratch post <3

Rolling Stones or The Beatles?

If I were alive in the 60’s, I’m pretty sure I’d be a hippie and a fan of The Beatles

What’s the furthest you ever traveled?

Does the migration from Southeast Asia to Canada count?

Do you have a special talent?

Well, I draw pretty well if I do say so myself. I also bake and cook too, like everyday (I’m in charge of dinner all the time). Otherwise, I’m pretty average at everything else

Where were you born?

The Pearl of the Orient, the Philippines!! A lot of people find it confusing when I tell them I’m Chinese but I was born in the Philippines. I just don’t understand what is so confusing about it. Just like how there are multiple races in the USA or hell, even Canada, there is more than one race in the Philippines too.

I tag: @niklisson @wardans @eiventu @jacob-fryes-cooking @theverygayfanboy @feiju @hellofadingsoul @jodu312 and as always, everyone is welcome to tag themselves!

[stowawayproductions-blog]

A Ghost Story

Human connection is a tricky thing. So many of us as artists think about humanity every day, desperate to glean as much meaning as we can out of small actions and silent expression, but many of us tend to withdraw from those subjects that we're so determined to understand. It's a strange mix of loving humanity and hating the humans. I think a lot of our introverted tendencies stem from fear. At least in my case, I'm terrified of losing that love of humanity that fuels my work. If I wake up one day and truly have no more wonder about the world around me, what do I have to film? As unlikely as that scenario is, every time a get a shitty customer, or my neighbor plays his music too loud and wakes me up, or even anytime I just don't understand someone, I can feel a piece of that wonder decaying. And with my boiling anger at my neighbor's indifference to my sleep schedule, I evaporate away that wonder about his sleep schedule, his life, his desires, his joys; all that is buried under a powerful wish to throw his stereo off the balcony.

A Ghost Story, very much like American Honey, forced me to sit through an uncomfortable exploration of my own defensive nature when it comes to contemplating pieces of humanity that I don't understand.

I couldn't wait for this film. My boyfriend warned me that it probably wouldn't be my thing (too artsy, too visual, not enough narrative), which I found slightly condescending and therefore was determined to enjoy and understand every minute. A friend of mine at the local indie theater described it as a life changing experience, leading to her staying up all night having existential conversations. Though that much hype is always worrisome, I brushed it aside, going with my old standby of "a great movie can withstand any amount of hype".

A large piece of our lives is rooted in sentimentality. People like me place their emotions everywhere all the time. I don't have a special spot, or a special notebook, or a special song. If I'm feeling sentimental, that spot that I'm in becomes sentimental, that song that's playing becomes the most important in the world just for that moment. It's powerful, it's creatively useful, but it's exhausting, transient and forgettable. I can't remember the last spot I sat in that felt very important, or the last object I held that made me feel at home. My sentimental feelings are like the rungs of monkey bars; I swing from one to the next just trying to stay up in the air, but once I'm finished having fun, they're just metal bars.

Anyone who connected with A Ghost Story, I suspect, is the opposite of me. It's a story stuck in the sentimentality of specific things, in this case a house. A house seemingly so meaningful that this man can literally never move on; and the word "never" is used in the extreme.

Coming down off my teetering tower of mixed metaphors for a moment: the first third of this film was perfect. I really really want to re-cut this down to 30 minutes and turn it into the greatest short film in the world. Rooney Mara is stunning. Her portrayal of grief is beautifully heartbreaking and real, exuding the complexities of missing a dark and sad relationship. David Lowery’s cinematic choices in this first act are subtle, thoughtful, mature, and graceful. Not to mention incredibly brave. A tear jerking still shot of Mara eating a pie for three minutes straight is perhaps one of the greatest moments in film history. Also, if Casey Affleck could always play a silent character hidden under a sheet, that would be great with me.

In the second act the film takes a turn for the uncomfortable. Jumping awkwardly from era to era, it's hard to grasp hold of what the writers are trying to say. Every time I would come up with a metaphor that made sense, the next scene would discredit it. New characters jump in and out as quickly as themes. I ached for that beautiful first act, a comfortable and simple story of loss and love. The film just can't quite find where it's supposed to be. It was painful, it was alienating - the film itself was everything that Casey Affleck's ghost was feeling. We were brought into his heart by being made to feel as uncomfortable as he was with how fast this world was changing. He misses his partner; we don't only sympathize with his pain, WE also miss his partner and her perfect world and story that she's wrapped in. He's desperately trying to attach meaning to everything that's happening, but that meaning doesn't make sense, it can't take hold, because not everything is meaningful, not everything is sentimental in the way that he thinks it should be, and focusing so intensely on making everything matter blinds him to the joy he had every day of his normal, often meaningless life.

Now, I'm not one for giving credit where I'm not sure that it's due, but IF the film was intending this kind of meta emotional experience, it's ingenious. If it wasn't it's a messy, directionless story that's too big for its britches. Whichever way I ultimately decide to look at this film, no piece of art has made me feel more alone.

My boyfriend was profoundly moved by A Ghost Story. The critical reviews that I had read at the time hailed it as an emotional masterpiece. I wasn't feeling moved, or existential, or even that emotional, and that led to panic. If I don't understand a song or a book, whatever, I can write it off as "not being for me" and move on to something else. But I am an indie drama film maker...I can't just not understand an indie drama and have it be okay. This passion defines everything about who I am. It's the only interest I have. Every book on my shelf is about film. Every picture on my wall is about film. Every plan for my life is centered around my intense love of film. Why couldn't I grasp this? Clearly I'm not superior to everyone around me; I don't know more than my favorite critics or my similarly-film-loving boyfriend, so why did this supposedly perfect film hit me so wrong? Am I a child still, only able to appreciate plots and themes that are spoon fed to me through a three-act hero arc? And if so what the hell am I doing trying to write complex, nuanced, emotional films? Failing, probably. It was a bizarre and unpleasant mixture of my inner middle schooler and my inner old lady fighting it out between feeling like no one understands me and like I don't understand anyone else (and accepting that perhaps that's just life). Is that life as an artist? The slow and painful discovery that no one will ever understand your work, and you'll never understand theirs?

It's interesting trying to break into the film industry from a small town in Oregon. There's this constant feeling of both literal and emotional distance. No matter how much I learn about film it's all theoretical. Even when I physically have a camera in my hand there's still a feeling of disconnect, I don't really feel in it yet, because I'm in it alone. My last crew consisted of a biology student, a grocery store clerk, and waiter. I wouldn't have it any other way, I love the people in my life, but there is a certain feeling of playing dress up that leads to my own disrespect of my work. I keep thinking that getting to a big city, or going to school, or just meeting more film people will bridge that gap between theory and reality, but now I'm starting to think that loneliness is just part of the job; and maybe that's okay. Maybe it's okay that A Ghost Story exists in this moment in my life, troubles me and makes me question everything I know, then slowly fades away. Maybe it's okay that Lowery will never really be understood even by those of us who spend every waking moment thinking about film. This isn't world politics, people understanding an agreeing with our work isn't life or death.

Our films are like small conversations on a park bench. Who knows what that conversation will mean to anyone else, and who cares? It's a transient, sentimental moment, seething with life at the second when it's happening, then quickly fades and is forgotten to make room for new moments, new films, new  thoughts, and new misunderstandings.

Huh, look at that...A Ghost Story made me feel existential after all. Go figure.

[glove23]

REASONS I HATE SEVERUS SNAPE AND ALBUS DUMBLEDORE- A Rant

@nooowestayandgetcaught made me post this

Disclaimer 1: this is very long so only read it if you've got some time

Disclaimer 2: if you think the friendzone is a thing stop reading now because you won't like what's in this and I don't want your comments because they'll just piss me off.

-Severus "Friendzone" Snape

We begin at the youngest we know Severus Snape, he's around nine. 

He meets Lily Evans and immediately insults Petunia, her sister, while trying to befriend Lily. 

Snape then goes on to tell Lily all about the wizarding world and when she asks if her being muggleborn will effect how people see and treat her, he lies to her face by saying "no". (I hate the entire chapter The Prince's Tale it's awful what is it chapter 33? Avoid at all costs) 

He drops a large tree branch on Petunia's head when she insults his shirt (petunia is another post) and then again lies to Lilly's face about it. 

When Lily is clearly distressed about Petunia saying she hates her Snapes first reaction is "so what she's only a-" and cuts himself off before Lily hears what he thinks of her sister. 

Snape doesn't take Lily's concerns about the people he hangs out with seriously even though they both know the people he hangs out with despise muggleborns like Lily. "I thought we were friends, best friends?" You manipulative piece of shit. 

He tries to change the subject from the dark magic they did on Mary Macdonald to James Potter and the Marauders bc he just doesn't like them (they did bully him at this point but he gave as good as he got and didn't go to anyone about it but that didn't have a place in this conversation) 

Says he "won't let her" think of James Potter in a positive light for SAVING HIS LIFE and only backtracks when Lily gets angry. 

Stops listening to Lily once she says James is an arrogant toerag and doesn't hear her say that his friends are EVIL. 

Do I need to describe this one? "I don't need help from a filthy little mudblood!" 

Tries to apologize and all he can think of to say is "sorry" and "it just slipped out" and "I didn't mean it" Lily tears him a new one and I love her.

 -Now we're on adult Snape woo if none of that convinced you bc he's still a child get a load of this.

 Joins The Death Eaters knowing that they attack and Kill muggleborns like he Supposed Love of His Life Lily 

Continues to pine for Lily even though she's MARRIED with a CHILD (OH NO SHE FRIENDZONED ME SHE MADE ME THINK I HAD A CHANCE no asshat the friendzone doesn't exist just bc a woman is nice to you doesn't mean she has to date you newsflash some people are just genuinely KIND and that's how they treat everybody it doesn't mean the girl owes you sex or a relationship a girl owes you NOTHING for being nice to you that is her choice that she's nice to you and she is allowed to change her opinion at anytime and she does not OWE YOU ANYTHING FOR HER KINDNESS if anything you owe her to be kind back and not demand sex and a Relationship from her just bc she is kind to you)

 Overhears a prophecy that could be about Lily and her family (bc he only hears the born as the seventh month dies he will have power the dark lord knows not) he has to know Lily is pregnant and he can count and figure out when she's going to have the baby and tells Voldemort anyways. 

Begs Dumbledore to spare Lily's life to protect her and says nothing about her husband and son.

 ONLY SAYS ANYTHING ABOUT JAMES AND HARRY after Dumbledore calls him out for it and even then its grudgingly bc he knows Dumbledore won't listen unless he includes them as well. 

Once James and Lily are dead (my loves I miss them) he goes to their house, steps of James' body, ignores their bleeding and crying son, and hugs and cries over Lily'a lifeless body even though she said she never wanted to see him again and didn't care about her own life as long as her son is safe and he's sitting there ignoring her son to care about her life because he doesn't give two shits about what she actually thinks only that he lost the potential to steal her away from her family.

 Doesn't do anything for the infant who is bleeding and sobbing 

DOESNT DO ANYTHING FOR THE INFANT WHO IS BLEEDING AND SOBBING

 Goes to Dumbledore upset bc he "let Lily die" (I'll get back to that) and only after persuasion agrees to "protect" Harry 

Snape gets a job as Potions Master and is a GIANT DICK to a bunch of CHILDREN who are there bc they have to be and they want to learn. 

Harry comes to Hogwarts (side note: if Snape really wanted to protect Harry bc it's what Lily would have wanted wouldn't he have at least sneakily checked up on Harry while he lived with the Dursleys? No one knew where that was it's not like other death eaters would see him.....) and Snape calls him out with questions that you don't actually learn about until sixth year at Hogwarts and verbally abuses him.

 I'm not going to write ever instance of Snape being a dick to students bc JK Rowling already published that and I don't feel like writing out the complete Harry Potter series.

 Snape is Neville Longbottom's WORST FEAR in the ENTIRE WORLD and Neville was dropped out of a WINDOW as a child what does that say abt Snape it says he's a dick

 "Potters been crossing lines ever since he got to this school he should be expelled" I mean just bc you were completely incompetent and couldn't get rid of Quirrell doesn't mean you can shout at a 12 yr old that he should be expelled for finding a way to get to school when he couldn't get to the train. (Wait the crossing lines bit is in goblet of fire isn't it he says something along those lines during COS tho whatever)

 Calls Hermione, a 14 year old girl, an insufferable know-it-all bc she knows the answer to his question when NO ONE ELSE DID Like how much more of a jackass can you be

 AFTER DRACO CURSED HERMIONES TEETH SNAPE LOOKS AT HER WITH HER FRONT TEETH DOWN TO HER COLLAR AND SAYS "I see no difference" I swear to god I would've decked him right then and there consequences be damned.

 Just. Gives Umbridge Veriteserum to use on CHILDREN WHICH IS ILLEGAL (not doing anything abt umbridge using the blood quills is mostly dumbledores fault but it can also be put on the whole rest of the staff who should've noticed)

 Not saying anything to Harry when he says Voldy has Sirius in the DOM and checking himself and then still not telling Harry so they go to the DOM and Sirius dies Snape is Responsible for Sirius' death (also Dumbledore but later)

 Just like. The entire sixth book.

 Book Seven he's headmaster of hogwarts and just fucking. Lets children be tortured. What a Good Guy am I right. I don't give a SHIT abt his cover as a "spy" he could've done something abt the kids under his care being tortured without giving himself away.

 Asks Harry to look at him when he dies so he can look into Harry's green eyes and pretend they're Lily's bc he is obsessed with her.

 Honestly I'm disgusted by this man. He was obsessed with who he thought Lily was and didn't care what she actually thought or felt. That isn't love. You can't tell me that Severus Snape was in love with Lily Potter because it simply isn't true.

 He was obsessed with the image of her that he had painted in his mind. He didn't love Lily Potter, he loved the IDEA of a girl sort of like Lily who he could control and who wouldn't care that he hates everything she stands for. Snape had this glorified image of Lily in his mind that no matter what he did, who he killed, hurt, or tortured, still loved him despite him being a dirty piece of shitty bigoted garbage.

I hate Severus Snape because he's the actual worst.

-Albus Pathetic Wanker Bullshitty Dumbledore

I would like to preface this part by saying Albus Dumbledore is a glorified piece of shit.

 ANYWAYS

 I'm going to just start at Harry's life because I'm too lazy to do Dumbledick's entire 150 years of life. 

If you want me to do it the rest of it message me and I'll do it later but rn you get the affects of his actions on an innocent child! Wooo!! 

So. Dumbledore had to have known Peter Pettigrew was the spy bc he also had his Spy (who will from now on be referred to as Friendzone) in the death eaters INNER CIRCLE so he would've known a majority of the people who are death eaters so he would've known who the spy is in the order and subsequently would tell Dumbledore. So. The only way he wouldn't have is if Dumbledore didn't even ask.

 Once the Potters are dead he???

 Okay wait. So that whole day before Dumbledore showed up at Privet Drive, McGonagall was watching the Dursleys. Was that November First? Did Dumbledore not drop Harry off until the end of the day November first? It had to have been bc Vernon Dursley saw the wizards talking abt voldies downfall. So??? Where was Harry that entire day???? Why couldn't Dumbledore have brought him??? Why did hagrid have to use Sirius' motorbike that he had gotten??? The night before??? Why couldn't Dumbledore have floo'd somewhere close? Or portkeyed? Why? The next day? This is a hole in information I would like filled.

 OKAY ANYWAY So the Potters are dead and Dumbledore decides "hey! You know what's a great idea!! I'm going to bring the one year old child to live with people who I know very well hate magic and who numerous people have told me are unfit to take care of this child but hey! Sounds like a blast! Let's do it!" Like what? What kind of person are you? I thought you learned that the Greater Good nonsense was exactly that. Nonsense.

 Keeps this child in aforementioned Abusive Home for TEN YEARS without checking up on him, without so much as a visit to see if he's still alive. Nope. Just ten years later "oh look a letter for me"

 Forcing Harry to return to the dursleys year after year STILL NOT CHECKING UP ON HIM HARRY RUNS AWAY IN THIRD YEAR AND DOES DUMBLEDORE CARE? NOPE.

 For a child he supposedly cares so much about he certainly does little to ensure he's okay.

 HARRYS FIRST YEAR- Dumbledore thought it was a great idea to bring the one thing at the time that can bring Voldemort back to life into hogwarts the year Harry gets there. Yeah. Suspicious? Wait. There's more.

 Dumbledore gives Harry the invisibility cloak for Christmas which allowed him to break the rules all the time. (It's literally Harry's property like James would probably have given it to Harry before he left for hogwarts. Why did Dumbledore keep it for so long? Why not put it in the Potter vault where Harry can get it when he comes of ages and has access to it? Why give it to him then?)

 Dumbledore puts the mirror of erised in a random classroom that the only other thing in it is some desks so it's not like that room is being used for storage. Where Harry conveniently finds it! While using his invisibility cloak to sneak out after curfew! For trying to protect someone he sure does give him a lot of opportunity to get into dangerous situations.

 The trials before the stone! Yeah! These will totally stop a wizard who is possessed by the dark lord! They're so hard three first year students can get through! What do you mean that doesn't mean they're difficult?

 I believe with all of my heart when he was asking people to put protections in front of the stone they all gave him REALLY DIFFICULT THINGS like that no one could get through without previous knowledge of how or being the one who created it (meaning they would all have to go down and disable their own trap before retrieving the stone which is the SMART COURSE OF ACTION) and Dumbledore was just like. Naaah. I think yours should be a plant that every first year class learns about. Yours should be some keys that fly around like a bunch of snitches with some brooms (fool proof amiright) yours should be a giant chess set bc NO ONE IN THE WIZARDING WORLD PLAYS CHESS ANYMORE. You can do whatever u want oh a troll? Cool cool. You should do some potions with a riddle telling you what's what that's a good idea yes yes and I'll do a mirror this is FOOL PROOF.

 I hate this man.

 He lets himself be manipulated into leaving the school so the trio can go try to DIE AGAINST VOLDEMORT yeah great idea

 Second year (I'm not doing every year this is getting long ) he KNEW it was Voldemort opening the chamber of secrets the easiest way for him to be doing that is through possession why didn't he search students belongings for the object that could be possessing them or the students for signs nope let's just let myself get kicked out of the school.

 Fourth year bc of him NOT WANTING TO CHEAT IN A GAME EVERYONE CHEATS AT Harry almost dies numerous times.

 Harry comes out of the maze clutching Cedric's body and Dumbledore tells Harry to stay near him when??? Harry very obviously was just TORTURED? He's beaten and bloody and can barely stand on his own and you expect him to be able to stay where you tell him to when there are a million people around who can take him away? Which happens? Barty Crouch takes him? 

And Dumbledore doesn't arrive on the scene UNTIL CROUCH IS DONE MONOLOGUING AND IS ABT TO KILL HARRY LIKE WTF 

"I suspected something like this would happen" IF YOU SUSPECTED IT WHY DIDNT YOU DO ANYTHING ABIUT IT UUUGGHHHHH

 Makes Harry's only source of familial comfort leave to go find some people when Dumbledore very well could have owled them himself? Sirius didn't have to leave lbr he could've been there a little while longer while Harry recovered.

 FIFTH YEAR. WHAT A SHIT SHOW.

 Dumbledore doesn't find a dada prof in time so the ministry sends umbitch and she tortures children and Dumbledore??? Never notices??? Umm? That sounds fake but okay. How does he not notice??

 DUMBLEDORE TELLS HARRY REPEATEDLY HES NOT READY TO HEAR THE PROPHECY BUT YEAH RIGHT AFTER YOUR ONLY PARENTAL FIGURE DIES THAT IS THE PERFECT TIME TO TELL HIM THAT HES THE REASON VOLDEMORT WENT AFTER AND KILLED HIS PARENTS GOOD JOB DUMBLEDOUCHE 

The entirety of the sixth book again.

 Dumbledore is grooming Harry to sacrifice himself and making Harry think of him as a grandfather-type figure, when he knows he going to die by the end of the year. You're a great person. I love ripping people's parental figures away from them REPEATEDLY ITS JUST GREAT FUN.

 The seventh book is just. All of the shit Dumbledore beat into Harry's head making him not trust anyone "Dumbledore gave me this job and I can't tell anybody about it sorry I can't ask for help Dumbledore said I can't and you know Dumbledore rules over my life even after he's dead bc that's a Good Thing I know I'm doing what Dumbledore wanted I'm gonna go fuckin DIE bc Dumbledore said that it is the ONLY WAY ITS THE ONLY WAY GOTTA DIE"

 The thing is. Dumbledore conditioned Harry so that he took his word as gospel and didn't even question it. And he conditioned him to think that he is not as important as everyone else, that his life doesn't matter as much as the lives of everyone else. Like??? Can you fucking not??? Every life is just as important as the next??? There are no NECESSARY SACRIFICES no one needs to be sacrificed. A lot of people died in the battle of hogwarts that didn't need to die who's deaths could've been avoided. People who died throughout the series who didn't need to die. A lot of the deaths in this series can be attributed to Dumbledore's careless attitude towards the lives of others.

 He threw children into a war when he should've let them be children. There were plenty of adults who could've done the job Harry Ron and Hermione did. Dumbledore himself could've spent the time he was conditioning Harry to be a sacrificial lamb LOOKING FOR HORCRUXES he knew existed at the latest by the time the end of the second book rolls around. Get With It Dumbledore.

I hate Albus Dumbledore because he's actual garbage.

The End