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nazyalenskyism · 3 years ago

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Alone Together

Summary: After observing the same mysterious stranger from afar at party after party, Zoya finds herself swept into a familiar sort of dance, but for the first time in her life she finds herself faced with an equally capable partner. A/N: This fic is based on song, if you send me an ask with a prompt and your guess, I'll write a short fic for whoever gets it right first! This has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, I really hope you like it! Ao3: Alone Together There he was again, a flash of gold on the edge of the dance floor, a smile as bright as his hair illuminating the room. Keeping an eye on him over the rim of her glass she pondered for a moment, she had been coming to Morozova Foundation events since she was a child, at one point she’d been the belle of the ball, a prodigy touted around by the great entrepreneur himself. ‘ My talented pupil,’ was what he used to boast, well as much as his stoicism would allow. Zoya had once let herself be examined by a ballroom full of strangers, all clamoring for a look at her, trying to see what set her apart. At least until someone shinier had come along, that was. Then she’d been discarded as easily as yesterday’s paper and slowly she’d begun to see what he really was. A master manipulator, he’d played her for the fool she was, taking the only things she ever truly loved.

This stranger had begun making appearances at not just Morozova Foundation events, but at every event with even the slightest connection to the man. Usually this wouldn’t set off her alarm bells, many familiar faces would make the rounds at multiple parties but they were all Morozova’s mother’s age, usually none were as young as her and if they were then they belonged to a big name family. This man had no name she knew of, yet, and the way he worked the room, charmed the guests left and right was in a way not unlike her own. Zoya was entranced by the way he worked each table he sat down at, turning the grumpiest people she had ever encountered into putty in his hands. As intrigued as she was, she wasn’t going to let a pretty boy in a fancy jacket distract her from the task at hand. The man she had been conversing with all night, Mr.Kirigin had come back from a phone call and said nothing as she smiled sweetly, leading him to the quiet hall just outside the main ballroom. Kirigin was supposed to have information as to why Morozova had cancelled his appearance tonight at the last second, and lucky for her, from the second she stepped foot into the ballroom, the fool’s eyes had been transfixed on her.

Zoya pulled him towards an alcove in the wall between two ornate paintings, the gold of their frames reminding her just how gaudy this place was, how rich Kirigin was, he was throwing this party for Morozova’s foundation and money was clearly not an object. Yes, she was here to get information, but she wasn’t opposed to leaving with a little bit of financial compensation for her time either. She leaned back against the wall, watching Kirigin move towards her, fully enthralled by her and she nearly laughed, all men were really the same.

“What a beautiful time tonight has been, Mr.Kirigin.”

“Thank you, it took many endless nights of planning, or so my assistants tell me,” Zoya resisted the urge to smash his toes under her heel, what an ass.

“I would really like to thank whoever made it possible,” she slipped closer to him batting her eyelashes demurely, “I was looking forward to meeting the legendary Morozova too, why wasn’t he in attendance?”

“He said he had urgent business,” Kirigin moved as if to touch her hair, but Zoya grabbed his wrist instinctively.

“Where did he go?” she said abruptly, forgetting herself for a split second, just as someone coughed nearby. This hallway was supposed to be empty.

“I-- I don’t…” Kirigin took a step back, the trance quickly washing away. Shit, she couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” She made her voice honey sweet but the man still shook his head, taking another dazed step back from her when his phone buzzed, as if it fully snapped him out of it. He vanished back into the main ballroom as Zoya cursed to herself, how could she have let him get away so easily, she had been so close.

“Get it together,” she hissed. “Stop making rookie mistakes.”

“Talking to ourselves, are we now?” She whirled on her heel, she’d recognize that lilting voice anywhere, that bastard.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, I’m just admiring the view.”

“That’s the best line you can come up with? How do you get the ladies to fall for that?”

“It works just fine, it doesn’t hurt when it comes from a mouth as pretty as this.”

“Trust me, it’s not pretty.”

“How long did you spend staring at my lips before arriving at that incorrect conclusion?”

Zoya scowled, “I don’t need to stare, I just assume every part of you is as insufferable as your personality.”

“How would you know my personality if I’ve never had the pleasure of talking to you?” He was next to her now, perfectly polished and dashing except for one stubborn strand of curled hair that only added to his boyish looks. She refused to think about how it made him all the more endearing, instantly understanding why all the rich women fawned over him. He was young, handsome, charming, witty and handed out compliments and praise in a way that was so sincere, no one could ever doubt his intentions. She had been watching him, not that she’d admit it but she was no fool, she couldn’t let some stranger waltz in under her nose and steal what she’d worked so hard for.

“I can sense inanities from miles away, and it seems your head is full of them.”

He pulled a face and she thought she’d finally wounded him into leaving her alone but the next thing she knew he was offering her his elbow with a gallant smile, “shall we take a walk?”

The estate was decorated lavishly for the party, not a single thing looked out of place. The gardens were strung with lights, even the tennis courts hadn’t been spared, with large outdoor tents concealing them from the French doors of the ballroom. Neither of them spoke as they made their way to the dancefloor, the guests had all moved back inside, the night being too chilly for their expensive fashions. Zoya let her mind wander as she kept up with the stranger's long strides— she’d refused to take his arm, she didn’t get that intimate until a man was giving her something worth more than a law school’s semester’s tuition. Then of course in the days following, he would never hear from her again. This man was clearly wealthy, though he spent time catering his attention to rich folk he evidently didn’t need it. You could often tell someone’s status based on the way they handled themselves. Most people didn’t practice as much as she had, from age 9 learning to carry herself as a queen would so that no one would ever doubt that she was anything less. The stranger had the posture and pose of a rich man’s son but there was something more to it— a light swagger-- as if he knew something no one else did, but he was perfectly fine being alone in that knowledge. A type of confidence she saw the partygoers try to emulate but something that they never could quite live up to. It was the ease of a man who had learned how to be free but a bird who was trapped in a cage again, desperately trying to get back to the skies.

“Can I have this dance?” The hall was packed, but most people were seated at the moment, only a few couples hurrying to the dancefloor before the next song started. She really didn’t want to dance with him, but she had lost her best chances tonight due to her own impatience and there was nothing left for her here. A woman the stranger had been chattering away with earlier in the night waved them over from a nearby table before she had a chance to respond, however.

“Mr.Lantsov, why haven’t I seen you on the dance floor yet, you said you were an excellent dancer, yet…” she trailed off as she finally noticed Zoya standing next to her precious, Mr.Lantsov, now where did she remember that name from?

“Yes ma’am my partner and I were just on our way there, as long as she agrees to dance?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” The woman glared at Zoya in a way that communicated that this man was the most desirable person at the party and she’d be a fool to turn him down. As stubborn as she was, she did not want to come across as a fool tonight.

“Dancing is a dangerous game, Mr. Lantsov,” she said, her eyes flicking to him to make sure he understood what she was saying. All he did was wink coyly at her before nodding to the woman and leading Zoya to the dancefloor. Fantastic.

“So, Miss…?” he began, taking her hand in his while the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her in close. She tried to repress the slight shudder as his fingers brushed against her exposed back. If she had planned on dancing today she definitely wouldn't have worn a backless dress. Although she couldn’t deny that he was handsome, at least she was dancing with the best looking person in the room… well, second best . She was showstopping and that was why all eyes were on them as she slipped her free hand onto his shoulder, curling against the smooth material of his jacket. Saints, his suit was at least three thousand dollars, his watch at least two thousand, and she didn’t even want to look at his shoes but she knew they probably cost more than her car.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Well, Miss ‘None of my Business’, what brings you here tonight?”

“Ooh, none of your business.”

“Are you having fun?”

“None of your business.”

“Intriguing! Is there anything that is my business?”

“No. Aren’t you tired yet?”

“No,” he grinned roguishly, “I don’t tire that easily.” Zoya turned her face quickly so he didn’t catch the blush colouring her cheeks. Thankfully he just kept talking. “Since you insist on being so mysterious, why don’t you ask me about myself?”

“Okay,” she looked up at him, how was he so tall? Even in her heels she had to look up into his eyes, eyes that were a brilliant emerald green with flecks of bronze. Before she forgot herself, she managed to grind out, “why are you here?”

“My family is expected to attend functions like this.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He let out a laugh as he spun her, gracefully catching her against him before they resumed their steps. They were nearly flush now, she could feel the heat radiating from him as he leaned in, “ let’s say, an old friend usually attends these sorts of things and I’m hoping to run into him.”

Zoya tried to bite back her surprise, could she be thinking of the same person? “And what did the old friend do to you to earn your visits? I’ve seen you at every event I’ve been to this month.”

He paused for a second as if weighing just how much he wanted to reveal to her. Good, at least he seemed to have a brain in that big head of his. “ I’ve been at university for the past few years and I came back once I heard he was planning on taking something of mine.”

“Oh, so not so much a friend, more like an enemy?”

“I don’t have enemies, Miss None of My—“

“Nazyalensky,” she supplied absentmindedly, she wanted to hear more of his story.

“ Nazyalensky… I don’t recall hearing that name before.”

“You probably forgot,” she said hurriedly, “I’m at every party and you’ve only just come back to town.” He didn’t need to know that she had only started using her last name again after her aunt died, hearing people associate her with her aunt’s maiden name had hurt too much. It helped that Morozova had only ever known her with that surname, it helped her disappear into crowds that had once marvelled at her and her skills. She’d stayed away from the social scene for a few years, watching from the outside, learning and perfecting her craft so that she would one day be ready to take him down.

“I remember most names and faces,” he mused, “and I would definitely remember someone as beautiful as you.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, she wasn’t that easy to woo. “I’ve been away from the scene for a while too, I’m also looking for an old friend, but he’s never here.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“You wouldn’t—“

“Trust me, he interrupted, “I would.”

“Morozova,” she blurted out, biting her tongue at how easily she’d let him uncover her secret. She needed to know if that’s who he meant too, and there was something about him that made him seem so sincere.

A shadow passed over his face and Zoya realized he hadn’t been expecting her to say that name. “Funny, he’s my ‘friend’ too.”

“Oh,” she mouthed softly, trying to step back as the music ended, but Mr. Lantsov kept a firm hand on her waist, his other hand slipping up to brush a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

“Perhaps we could speak outside?”

Zoya shook out her head, he may have dazed her for a second but she needed to call the shots again. She took his elbow as he released her tentatively, “lead the way, Mr. Lantsov.”

They had found their way back outside and Nazyalensky had yet to let go of him, her warm fingers pressed into his arm. He was fully aware of what she was doing, she had realized that since they had the same enemy, she could put on an act like she did with the people inside and get the information she needed from him. He admired her skill, most others didn’t get this far on tricks alone which meant that she had to hide something else as well. He also knew that as adept as she was, she hadn’t quite pinned him down yet. For one, he had seen her assess his worth, scanning him and figuring out the price tag of each item, but unfortunately for her, at the moment he was only worth a little more than the clothes on his back. From observing her at the last few events and staying at her side this night he found that he quite enjoyed being in her company. She was quick and clever, not unlike himself, and she knew just how to move, just what to say to get people to give her what she wanted, but as they conversed he found himself believing that she wasn’t putting up as much of a front with him. Perhaps it was a tactic to lower his guard, or maybe he only wanted to think she was being truthful for his own sake. He’d been at this game for a very, very long time and he was beginning to wonder what it would be like to not have to run alone for once.

“What did you think of tonight’s party? Even if you didn’t get exactly what you came for?”

“Maybe I didn’t get what I came for,” she said slowly, turning to face him, “but maybe I found what I needed.” Nikolai had to admit that she was very good at that, and had he been anyone but himself he would’ve gladly thrown himself into the grand fountains if she asked. Unfortunately for her, well maybe both of them, that’s not what he was looking for tonight. He simply smiled at her, taking the second before Nazyalensky spoke again to admire the way the silver moonlight illuminated her dress, creating a shimmering aura around her. She did look even more ethereal in the moonlight and even he was beginning to question his own ability to resist her.

“Well,” she drawled, finger running down his chest, “what do you think?” She looked up at him through thick lashes, the endless blue of her eyes threatening to drown him if he didn’t pull himself away.

Instead, he leaned in further, “I think,” he breathed, “that you’re playing a game I’m used to winning.” A genuine gasp flew from her lips as he grasped her wrist pulling it out from behind his back to reveal his wallet between her fingers.

“Nice try,” he smiled, “but I’m not that easy.”

“Oh yeah?” she scoffed, pulling at his lapel unceremoniously, her ornate sapphire hairpin tumbling into her awaiting palm. “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve.”

“I figured,” he pulled a large ruby tie pin from her inside her sleeve, each of them pulled out hidden treasures from the other, stumbling a step back when they realized they were both equally good at their game of choice.

“Have you ever considered a partnership, Nazyalensky?”

“In your dreams, Lantsov,” she leaned in, “you couldn’t keep up with me.” Her lips brushed against his skin with each word, slowly trailing down to the corner of his mouth, “even if you tried.” Turning on her heel, she was gone in a flash of silver leaving him alone in the tennis court, with nothing but the feeling of her lips grazing his skin.

“Hello?” The phone calls had begun a few weeks ago, the morning after he had been marked with red lipstick over his cheeks and a truth stamped over his heart. Nazyalensky’s calls had only been a minute long and every other day at first but now they were sporadic, more than five times a day at all hours of the night. Nikolai tried to ask what she was up to, all he ever wanted was to know more about the alluring woman who wouldn’t leave his mind. But to his dismay, every time he surrendered a story of his own she repaid him with a sentence or two at most, and it was usually about what she’d eaten for breakfast. As much as he enjoyed hearing himself talk he was captivated by the images the calls planted in his head, Nazyalensky soaring down a coastal highway in her convertible, the top down and her hair caught in the everpresent wind that seemed to cocoon her every movement. All he could think about was himself in the passenger seat, her sharp words cutting him before her soft lips healed them with a kiss. He was a mess.

“Are you going tonight?”

“I RSVP’ed but I’m not sure, I heard Morozova won’t be attending.”

“Get your suit pressed,” she snapped, “you’re picking me up at 7 and you better not be late.”

“I’m picking you up, oh however did I get so lucky? But he’s not going to be there tonight, we should spend the evening strategizing instead.”

“First off, there is no, ‘we,’ Lantsov, get that through your big head. Secondly, he will be there tonight.”

“My sources are never wrong, Nazyalensky, if they say he’s not coming--”

“He’ll be there,” she jutted in. “He’ll be there because I’ll be there.”

He froze, an uncomfortable weight setting in his chest. What was that supposed to mean?

“ Seven, Lantsov.”

“Seven,” Nikolai agreed.

The glimmer of streetlights danced against her hair, illuminating the shimmer of Nazyalensky’s vibrant orange dress, the fabric catching her every movement and he swore his heart had stopped when she first stepped out to get into his car. She had been quiet the entire car ride until now, “are you done staring yet?”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure you weren’t, and I don’t look magnificent tonight,” she replied, tossing her hair over her shoulder, the tension easing between them as they fell into the easy back and forth that had become nearly natural. “Your car isn’t what I was expecting.”

Nikolai raised a brow, “what were you expecting?”

“Something flashy and obnoxious, I don’t know, a Bugatti?”

“If I had a Bugatti do you really think you would’ve found me with your hairpins up my sleeve?”

She cut him a disbelieving glance, “I don’t know what to make of you. You say so much about yourself and yet I feel like I hardly know a thing about you.”

He let out a measured breath, she already knew more than anyone else did, she was wrong about that, yet this tale stuck in his throat unlike all others. “I wanted something with as much character as me,” he began, “after my issues with Morozova, this was one of the few possessions I still owned.”

“What do you mean?”

Nikolai drew in a breath, if he had any hope of understanding what she’d meant on the phone earlier, he had to be willing to show her his hand, as much as the stubborn, lonely part of him protested, he knew he wanted to do this. “My family is wealthy. They have traditional values like the rest of their friends, ideas about passing their dynasty down to their eldest son, that type of thing. Or it was. I’ve always known that the people who rely on my family’s services deserve more than them, they don’t care about helping them, not really. I’ve spent years, since I was a boy trying to be better, trying to make myself into someone who could take care of the legacy properly. It was working, I thought they were going to agree. I went away to university for a few years, tried to help in new ways, from a distance, but when I came back, there was nothing left.” He glanced at Nazyalensky and she only cocked her head at him, waiting for him to continue. He’d never told anyone this story before, and he still wasn’t sure why he was telling her, someone whose name he didn’t even know.

“Morozova, an old consultant slithered his way back into their lives the moment that I left. He knew my older brother wasn’t clever, was easily manipulated, and so that’s what he did. He and my brother turned the favour his way, cheated me out of everything I had fought to earn, and convinced the board that Vasily should get to take over, with Morozova pulling all the strings of course. When I heard word of it, I came back immediately, but it was too late, they had written me out of almost everything. I was left with no money, no power, nothing. All the plans I had came crashing down and now, I know that if I can get rid of Morozova’s influence, my family might see sense.”

They sat in silence until Nazyalensky spoke again, “that’s more… noble than I was expecting.”

“I might look like a feckless rogue but I’d like to think that I possess an endearing quality or two.”

“You seem like you’re anything but feckless, a rogue, however? That seems much more likely.”

He winked, “for you, Nazyalensky, I could be as roguish as they come.”

She turned away quickly but Nikolai didn’t miss the pink flush in her cheeks at his words, grinning to himself. Although he had just revealed his biggest secret, he didn’t find himself particularly regretting it.

They continued in a comfortable silence until a loud ring cut through, a few blocks from their destination. “What’s up, Tamar?” he asked, accepting his friend’s call on the car’s display. Yes it was an old car with character, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t spruced up the technology to his liking.

“He’s not here,” she replied, Nazyalensky’s head snapping towards him at this, her eyes darkening.

“What do you mean? I thought he was supposed to be there?”

“He’s in Italy, he’s not coming.”

Nikolai let out a sigh as his partner’s head fell back against her seat, her fingers curled tightly into her palms. “Thanks, Tamar, I’ll talk to you later.” Another wasted opportunity, and he had believed Nazyalensky when she had insisted on Morozova being there. He knew there would be other chances, but it felt like he was running out of time, that if he didn’t hurry Morozova would find him out and try to finish him for good.

A sharp hiss from Nazyalensky drew his focus to her, and he saw that her unfurling palms were scored with crescent shaped indentations, the result of her nails pressing into skin. As she began to curl her fingers inwards again, his hand shot out, stopping her with the press of his palm against hers. The red light before them allowed him the briefest second to realize what he’d done, pulling his hand back to the wheel. “I—” he began, only to be cut off before he could apologize.

“Morozova, he had this school that he started when he was young, barely older than the students himself. He cultivated talent. Pitted students against one another and chose the best ones-- the ones most useful to him, and would take them under his wing.” She was staring straight out the windshield, her gaze distant, her eyes hollow. “Can you guess what I was?” She let out a humourless laugh. “I was talented and would do anything he asked without hesitation. He used that and when someone who suited his needs better came along, I was thrown aside, as if I’d never mattered. Not just me, it happened to us all. I don’t want to ruin him for my own hurt, but for theirs too.”

Her eyes met his in the front mirror and he nodded at her to continue. They had been driving in circles as they’d shared their stories, and he wasn’t going to stop until he heard the rest of hers.

“The reason I stopped being his favourite was because a new student came along. And whenever she called, he would come. Maybe a small part of me thought that since my name was on the list, he would come tonight. Is that foolish?”

“No,” Nikolai returned with quiet honesty. “It’s not.”

Her eyes seemed troubled as they met his again, but her tone was cool when she spoke. “Zoya. Zoya Nazyalensky.”

“Nikolai. Nikolai Lantsov.”

“Nikolai,” she hummed, pulling out the syllables, as if testing the feeling of his name against her tongue. “ Nikolai .” Saints, he didn’t think that his own name had ever sounded sweeter. “What do we do now, Nikolai?”

“We wait, and we try again. Now that we’re working together we can come up with a better plan and make this work.”

“Okay,” she nodded slowly, “but what about tonight?”

“I could drop you back off at home? There’s not much use going if Morozova isn’t there.”

“I share a too-small apartment with a couple who is disgustingly in love and it’s date night, I think I’d rather not.”

“And I share a too-small houseboat with a set of twins who wake up at 4am to do combat training in the living room.”

“We could keep driving,” she suggested, her voice low, fingers dancing over the dashboard as she awaited his reply.

“We could keep driving,” he agreed, trying to keep his focus on the road as Zoya’s head came to rest gently against his shoulder. Nikolai knew this particular luxury would cost him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

“Zoya Nazyalensky and Nikolai Lantsov.” His voice was filled with a quality she’d never heard before but found that she quite liked. It was a mixture of indolent arrogance and jauntyness, a rare combination, but she supposed nothing was too out there for Nikolai, the last few months had been filled with him surprising her daily. Whether it was stories of his past, or his friendships or exploits, she found herself listening raptly, as if she couldn’t turn away. And she didn’t want to. His stories painted the world in a way that made her hunger for more. In a way that made her believe, for a few silly seconds, that she could get on his boat and sail away from it all. And then he would drop her off at her apartment and the second she walked through the door, the magic was shattered and she remembered that she existed, not in the textured fantasy world spun by Nikolai’s silver tongue.

With a quick glance at their invitations and a wave, they were making their way to table 2 as instructed. Zoya’s arm was looped lazily through Nikolai’s, but they were both on high alert tonight. They had received personal invites to tonight’s function, and while they were planning a much longer game than springing on Morozova today, they had ultimately decided that their strategy would be to convince Morozova that they didn’t want to strangle him on the spot. Easier said than done, her fingers were itching to wrap around his greasy throat, and they’d only just gotten here.

Whether he would buy it or not was a whole other question, but their plan relied on him being cocky enough to underestimate them or to want to keep his enemies close. Drifting through the crowd, Zoya was able to pick up more than a few of the whispers at tables, each one making her want to roll her eyes a little bit more than the last.

"She’s the girl who locked Nikolai Lantsov down.”

"I heard she blackmailed him into taking her to parties.”

“I heard her parents are forigen millionaires and the Lantsovs who are in crushing debt want to be bailed out.”

“I heard she’s the lost twin to the princess of some country or the other and they need his money to keep up their lifestyle.

“I heard that she knows black magic and seduced him into being devoted to her, that he spends his weekends feeding her grapes like she’s a queen.

Zoya leaned up, her lips brushing his ear, “that’s my favourite one.”

She watched him hold back a laugh, “if you wanted me to feed you grapes, you could’ve just asked.”

“Who cares about grapes, are you or are you not going to fund my jewelry-hungry long-lost twin sister?”

He gave her an incredulous look, “with what money?”

Biting back a smile of her own, they settled at their table, Nikolai’s knee brushing hers as it jounced underneath the table, more whispers flooding over them now.

“Nikolai Lantsov used to ask every single lady to dance with him before the party was over, even the old ones.”

“Nikolai Lantsov used to come over and sit at our table for hours and listen to our stories.”

“Nikolai Lantsov used to be the most eligible bachelor in town before she came around and locked it down.”

“Did you hear that, Lantsov?” she mused, leaning over to adjust his crooked bow tie. “Apparently I’ve locked it down.”

He let out a huff, “apparently?”

Zoya rolled her eyes, tilting his mouth down to hers, smiling at the glint in his eyes as she murmured, “definitely.” Definitely locked it down.”

Nikolai awoke to a hand flopping against his abdomen halfheartedly, what on Earth?

“Come closer,” a tired voice groaned, “what good are you if you can’t warm the bed.”

He shuffled closer, “you’re sure there’s no other reason I’m here?” he questioned.

“No.”

“An interesting way of getting me into bed but who am I to question your methods?” Nikolai teased, grinning at Zoya’s look of annoyance. It was first thing in the morning and he considered himself nothing if not a man of routine, and a part of that sacred routine involved annoying Zoya into affection as soon as she woke up.

“As if I’d ever let you into my bed,” she growled, flipping her back towards him.

“That’s interesting considering how I’m in your bed right now.”

“Oh that can be easily fixed,” she nudged him off the edge of the bed, relishing the groan of impact as he hit the floor.

Nikolai sighed, figuring that he very well couldn’t spend the day lazing in bed with Zoya anyways, as much as he wanted to. He found his clothes flung in opposite sides of the room, putting on a piece at a time until it came to his shoes.

“Have you seen my loafers?”

“You’re so annoying,” Zoya replied, her voice muffled from the pillow she’d thrown over her head in an attempt to drown him out.

“Does that mean you haven’t seen them?”

“Your shoes sound as pretentious as you.”

“That’s not helping,” he muttered, spotting a wagging tail with a familiar looking shoe in his mouth. Nikolai couldn’t believe that this was his life now, half dressed , trying to extract his ridiculously expensive shoes from his girlfriends’ dog’s mouth while she laughed from above.

“Give it back.” The puppy refused to relent, disappearing back under Zoya’s bed, undoubtedly gnawing on Nikolai’s leather shoes even more now that he’d dissented. “Well, I guess I can’t leave now that the dog’s got my shoes.”

“Goodbye Nikolai.”

“Zoya, your dog has fully destroyed my shoes.”

“Oh no,” she groaned, “his taste is as shit as yours.”

“Good thing I keep another pair here,” he sighed, glaring at the dog. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he murmured, kissing a chaste kiss to her hair. This was their routine now, nights spent planning and talking, falling asleep on the sofa, waking up to the cold, Zoya back in her bed, with Nikolai’s arms wrapped around her.

He had already reached the doorway when he heard her speak. “Or,” Zoya’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “You don’t have to leave.”

Nikolai paused, “what are you asking?”

“I’m asking you to stay.”

The words were sweet music to his ears, but he wanted to check she was certain. “Are you sure, Nazyalensky?”

Zoya turned onto her side to face him, her midnight waves cascading over her shoulder, her bronze skin glowing in the lazy late morning light. Nikolai was sure that he must have died and been taken to paradise. How else would he be fortunate enough to have woken up entangled with the sight before him?

“Stop staring and get in,” she grumbled, “before I change my mind.”

Nikolai slipped back into bed, letting out a sigh as the covers enveloped him again. He would much rather spend the day here, like this.

“Get your frozen toes off of mine!” Zoya hissed, cutting through his moment of quiet.

“They’re not that cold,” he groaned, pressing his nose to her cheek as she tried to squirm out of his grip.

“Why is your nose cold too?”

“That’s what you get for hogging the covers.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously, “I don't hog the covers!”

“Of course you don’t,” Nikolai soothed, pulling her to him as she rested her head against his chest. “You’re an equitable bedmate.”

“Damn right.” she huffed, her eyes starting to sink closed already. “I’m the best.”

“How long am I allowed to stay this time?” Nikolai murmured against her hair, unsure if the response would be the same as always, the usual until the morning. Something had changed, and he didn’t want to shatter the precarious nature of today’s agreement, but he had to know.

“How about forever?” Zoya mumbled, half asleep. “Forever.”

Nikolai’s heart had likely come to the conclusion months ago, but it was then that his head caught up. This was it for him, he didn’t think he would ever love again, not after this. Forever sounded like the perfect amount of time.

“Forever,” he agreed, slipping into sleep after her.

#zoyalai #zoyalai fic #my writings #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #kos #king of scars #tgt fic #kos fic

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capcarolsdanver · 4 years ago

Text

Why Her? (Part 3)

Summary: This fic is based off a request from an anon after some speculations that have been made on my blog. Brie enlists the help of the reader to get a date with a girl that reader knows from class, only for unexpected feelings to be caught. Drama/angst/fluff to come! Pairing: Brie x Reader

A/N: Part 3 is here! Apologies for the slight delay! The next and final part should be out soon! As usual, any feedback is much appreciated, so I look forward to hearing what you think! Enjoy!

Please do not repost my writing anywhere without my permission.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4

“Wait, you’ve never seen Star Wars?!”

Brie has to literally shout for you to hear her over the loud thumping of the music that fills the room around you, though her apparent outrage at your new admission is evident. You shake your head and laugh as she continues to look at you incredulously.

“None of them?”

You take a brief glance around to see if anyone else is paying attention to the outburst you’re being subjected to, though none of your fellow partygoers seem to pay you or Brie any mind.

“Nope,” you confirm again. Brie stares at you in disbelief for a few more seconds, almost as if she is personally offended by your revelation. In fact, the longer she stares at you, the more you’re convinced that she does feel personally offended.

“Well, we’re gonna have to fix that, then,” she says with such determination that you’re actually a little worried what she would do if you tried to disagree with her.

Since you had first introduced Brie to Sarah about two weeks ago, you both have attended another two parties together, this being the second. During those two weeks, you and Brie have grown a lot closer, texting each other constantly and even hanging out every couple of days. Of course, you’re still helping her with Sarah, and you have to remind yourself of that every now and again.

It’s hard for you to admit to yourself that Brie is probably the person you are the closest to now when you are highly aware that the reason for that is because you’re trying to help her get another girl. Who knows how Brie views your relationship, and who knows what will happen between the two of you when she does inevitably get that date with Sarah.

You’re pulled from the rabbit hole your thoughts had managed to take you down when Sarah herself suddenly appears in front of you and Brie.

“Oh my god, I’m running into you guys again?!” She exclaims instead of a more formal greeting, a large grin on her face.

“Small world,” you reply, and return the warm hug that Sarah envelops you in, a greeting that you’ve grown used to from Sarah. You watch her then turn to Brie and crush her in a hug too. You would laugh at the sudden shock and panic evident on Brie’s face if it weren’t for the uncomfortable feeling that hits your entire body at that very moment.

Brie is late to wrap her own arms around Sarah, who seems entirely unfazed by Brie’s awkwardness as she steps back again to regard you both. You notice that her skin is flushed, the expression on her face perhaps a little too laidback, and she takes a large sip from the cup that you only now realise she’s holding.

Sarah is drunk. Very drunk, if the slight sway of her body despite her standing in one spot is any indication.

She surveys the space around her, her body dramatically twisting around with the movement, and she looks back at you and Brie with excitement in her eyes.

“Let’s dance!” She proclaims eagerly. You and Brie share a quick look while Sarah downs the rest of her drink and unceremoniously drops her plastic cup to the ground. She grabs you both and drags you towards the overcrowded group of people who appear to be attempting to move in sync to the beat. Although, it looks like most are too drunk, or just simply have no sense of rhythm whatsoever.

Sarah doesn’t give you a chance to protest before she joins the flock of people and starts moving her body to the music. You hazard a glance at Brie, who still looks shell-shocked at the sudden turn of events. You also can’t help but notice the distinct direction of Brie’s gaze, her eyes obviously landing on Sarah’s ass as she dances in front of you, seemingly in her own world. That same uncomfortable feeling washes over you again and you frown at whatever reaction your body seems to be having without your permission.

You purposefully advert your gaze from the scene unfolding in front of you. Suddenly feeling like a major third wheel, you decide that maybe it’s a good time to leave Sarah and Brie on their own. You can’t be a buffer between them forever after all.

Without another glance at either of the two girls, you turn away from them and begin pushing through the thick crowd of people towards a more open space. You noticed earlier that the house has a wrap-around porch. Maybe you can go there for some fresh air now.

On your way, your arm catches on something, or more accurately, someone. You’re pulled to a stop a you let out a deep sigh, getting ready to ward off any unwanted to advances from some drunk frat boy that you expect to find attached to you.

You turn around in a flash, your deep scowl quickly fading from your face when you realise that it’s Brie who has a hold of your arm. You freeze, watching her. Her eyes move over you, her features laced with concern and she tightens her grip on you, leaning her body towards you. She stops once her face is practically right next to your ear so you can hear her.

“Are you okay?” She asks. Despite having to somewhat raise her voice still, her tone is surprisingly gentle. You realise you aren’t actually sure how to answer her question. It’s obvious you’re going through some kind of emotional reaction, though you aren’t quite sure what to make of it just yet.

Brie waits a long beat, and when you don’t answer she leans back so she can look at you again. She observes you for another few moments before she seems to make up her mind about something, her hand dropping from your forearm to your hand.

“Come on,” she says and tugs you to walk with her towards the porch you originally were headed towards.

She pushes the sliding door open and shuts it again when you have both made it outside and you’re surprised by how much the door drowns out the sound of the ridiculously loud music. Suddenly in a much more open, quiet space, you feel like you can actually breathe again.

“What’s wrong?” She asks. She’s still watching you carefully, and you begin to wonder just how fragile you must look given her reaction. Damn your stupid emotions. “Did something happen?”

“No,” you breathe out, shaking your head, willing this rogue feeling inside of you to go away. “I’m fine.” You lock eyes with her in an attempt to convince her. Judging from the expression on her face, you don’t do a great job of that.

It’s silent for another minute when something suddenly crosses your mind. “Wait, why did you come after me? You had Sarah dancing basically on top of you.” This time it’s her turn to drop eye contact and she shrugs lightly.

“I was worried about you.” You’re taken aback by how sincerely she speaks. “I mean, you just up and left.”

In truth, you hadn’t even expected her to notice your absence after you saw the way she was watching Sarah. The fact that she immediately realised you’d left and then followed you to make sure you were okay is actually remarkable to you, considering the circumstances.

“Well I’m okay,” you assure her, squeezing the hand that’s still clasped in your own before letting go and dropping your own hand back to your side. “You wanna go find her again?” You nod behind you towards the door and Brie’s eyes follow, glancing passed your shoulder.

She considers it for a second before shaking her head. “No, it’s okay.” You blink at her, not expecting that. She notices your surprise and jumps back in to explain herself further. “It’s getting pretty late now so I think it’s a good time to go. Besides, she’s drunk. She probably still hasn’t realised we’ve left her on the dance floor yet.”

You laugh at that, figuring that she could actually be right. Sarah did seem pretty out of it. You doubt she’ll remember much of tonight.

You agree with Brie, eager to leave the party as well. Brie walks with you back to your dorm, which is thankfully only a short walk, before you bid her farewell and watch her walk in the direction of her own apartment.

————————

The following Friday, you’re trying to force your brain to pay attention in your morning class when you phone vibrates on your desk, easily pulling your attention away from your professor.

You see a new text from Brie waiting for you.

“Are you free tonight?”

You sigh, expecting yet another invite to a party to help Brie out with Sarah. You personally haven’t heard anything about any parties she’d be attending that night, but maybe Brie had.

“I don’t have any grand plans if that’s what you’re asking”

You don’t even bother to put your phone back down. You’ve learnt by now that Brie is a quick replier.

“Okay great!! Movie night??”

You stare down at your phone for far too long. It definitely had not been the text you were expecting from her. You of course consider Brie at least a close friend at this point, but you weren’t sure Brie considered anything similar about you.

“Where?”

“How about my apartment?”

Again, you’re slightly surprised. Over the admittedly short few weeks of friendship you and Brie share together, Brie had only seen your dorm room once when you had to run back up there after forgetting something before one of the parties you’d gone to. You still haven’t even seen the building that Brie lives in.

You consider your answer for a moment. It briefly occurs to you that this might just end up being another planning session, but the prospect of spending more time with Brie has you agreeing before you really even give yourself time to think too much about it.

“Sure”

————————

You stare at the apartment door, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. Though, it seems to be a more and more common feeling the longer whatever you have with Brie goes on. You step forward to knock on the door and then step back, surveying the hallway while you wait.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary, and you find yourself feeling glad that Brie is living in what seems to be a clean, safe apartment building. You had admittedly been worried when you first arrived, as the building itself doesn’t seem to have any lock or security feature to stop strangers from waltzing into the building whenever they please. Those fears seem to dissipate slightly, though, when you see no reason to worry by the state of the interior of the building thus far.

An older woman steps out of her own apartment a few doors over and notices you, offering you a smile before heading in the opposite direction down the hall. The people here seem nice, too.

The door in front of you swings open and Brie is greeting you with a wide smile.

“Hey!” She pulls you into a hug. You’re not quite expecting it but you happily return the hug. “Come in,” she says and steps back to give you room to walk through the doorway and into her apartment.

It’s not the greatest apartment you’ve ever seen, but it’s a major improvement over the tiny shoebox you call a dorm room. The apartment is mostly one big open space, the kitchen to the left of the entrance and the living area to the right. It looks like there’s a small hallway straight ahead that must lead to the bedroom and bathroom.

“It’s not much,” she says, watching you take in the new space around you.

“I love it!” You reply, shooting a reassuring smile her way before you continue scanning the apartment. You can see that her living room area to the far right is perfectly set up for movie-watching, with a ridiculously comfortable looking couch, a couple of bean bags and some plush throw blankets neatly folded over the back of the couch.

She also has a couple of gaming consoles and their respective games all stacked neatly within the TV cabinet underneath her large television. You smile at the insane amount of Nintendo games you see.

What an absolute dork you’ve managed to make friends with.

“Did you bring popcorn?” She excitedly asks, noticing the bag of microwave popcorn in your hand that you’d bought on your way to her place. She grabs it from you and looks at the bag to confirm what it is.

“Of course,” you nod. “What would a movie night be without popcorn?”

“I like the way you think,” she laughs, dropping the bag on the kitchen counter. “I’ve ordered some pizza too, so once that gets here we can officially start the night!”

You silently thank whatever higher power is out there when you realise that Brie appears to be planning on taking the night off of the whole Sarah thing too.

She walks over to the couch and drops down onto it and you join her, sitting towards the other side of the couch. You’re unsure of the appropriate distance you should sit from her so decide on a relatively safe distance. Not too far but not too close. The couch is just as comfortable as it looks and you practically melt into it.

“So what are we watching?” You ask and Brie hits you with an expectant look, as if you should know the answer already.

“Star Wars, obviously. Duh,” she says matter-of-factly. “I told you I’d make you watch them.” You snort at her how serious she turns at the mention of Star Wars, and raise your hands defensively in front of you.

“Okay, okay. Star Wars it is. I’m too scared to try to make you put something else on.”

Her serious look suddenly brightens and she smirks at you. “That’s what I thought,” she says in a playfully menacing kind of way and you chuckle at her.

Yep, an absolute dork.

There’s a knock on at the door that grabs your attention and Brie jumps up to her feet again.

“Must be the pizza! Gimme one sec.”

Brie hurries off to the door and answers it, chatting politely to the delivery guy on the other side of the door, and a moment later she closes the door again and walks back over to the couch, looking all kinds of pleased with herself over the pizza in her hands.

She throws open the pizza box and eagerly grabs a slice, taking a bite. You grab your own slice as well, just as eager as Brie. While she continues munching on her pizza, she grabs her TV remote and gets the movie ready.

“Are you ready for the most incredible cinematic experience of your life?”

You roll your eyes at her playfully and hold back a laugh at the intense look on her face. “Just play the damn thing, would you?” You say, which does earn you a glare from Brie, but she decides not to retaliate in favour of playing the movie. She puts on A New Hope.

To your surprise, you actually do enjoy the film. Although, you do have to ask a lot of questions throughout the entire thing to understand everything that’s going on. To Brie’s credit, though, she doesn’t seem at all annoyed by your non-stop questions. She seems more happy that you’re actually trying to pay attention and understand it than anything.

“So?! What did you think?” Brie asks when the credits start rolling, turning to you and expectantly awaiting your response.

“I liked it,” you confirm, smiling when Brie grins at you. “But where was the little green guy? Isn’t he, like, one of the main characters?”

Brie’s grin drops so quickly that you almost flinch. “The little green guy?!” She exclaims. “You mean Yoda?”

“Yeah, him!” You light up with recognition of his name. Brie looks completely dumbfounded.

“I can’t believe you forgot Yoda’s name. Everyone knows who Yoda is.” She shakes her head at you, truly looking speechless. “Luckily for you, he’s in Empire Strikes Back.” You blink at her, a completely blank look on your face, and she narrows her eyes at you. “It’s the next movie in the series,” she explains.

You nod your head in understanding, quietly enjoying how frustrated she seems to be getting by your complete lack of knowledge of all things Star Wars.

“Let me go get some popcorn ready and then we’ll put it on,” she says and stands from the couch again. “Do you want anything else?”

“No thanks, I’m good,” you smile and watch her head to the kitchen.

Your attention is pulled away when you hear your phone vibrate on the couch beside you. You pick it up and check your new notification, frowning at the screen.

It’s an invite to some last minute party one of your peers has decided to throw tonight. You do get these kinds of invites a lot, and you know practically the entire student body usually gets sent the same invite, so you quickly click on the link to take you to the event page for the party.

You click on the list of people who have confirmed their attendance and you feel your frown deepen when you see Sarah on that list.

Brie returns to the couch where you’re still staring at your phone and notices the frown on your face before she even sits back down.

“Is everything okay?” She asks.

“Hm?” You look up at her, snapping yourself back into reality. “Oh. Yeah.” You sigh before aiming the phone screen in her general direction. “Turns out someone’s throwing a party tonight.” You try to add some kind of lilt to your voice but you know it falls flat.

“Oh,” Brie says, barely paying any mind to your phone screen before flopping back down onto the couch, closer to you now than she was before. She looks remarkably unbothered by the event page open on your phone.

“Looks like Sarah is gonna be there,” you say, studying her face. All she does is nod vaguely at your words, and then she’s picking up her TV remote again like she doesn’t even register what you’ve said.

“Okay, are you ready for Episode V?” You blink at her for a moment, watching for any kind of rogue emotion on her face, but seeing no signs of any.

“You don’t want to go to the party?”

“Not really,” she shrugs with one shoulder. “I’d honestly rather we just stay here tonight.” Her eyes flick over to you, showing the first signs of emotion you’ve seen since you brought up the party. “Did you want to go?”

“No,” you easily answer, and you mentally scold yourself for answering so quickly, but your answer seems to please Brie. You notice the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips and she looks back at the TV.

“Good,” she mutters. She presses play on the movie and leans back into the couch, offering the bowl of popcorn out to you. You grab some and find yourself leaning back and making yourself more comfortable, too.

You let yourself forget about the party, at least for now. If Brie would really rather stay here watching movies with you instead of dragging you along to yet another party so you can help her talk to another girl, then by all means you’re thrilled to go along with it.

You still have more questions to ask throughout the movie so you can follow along, but you do at times find yourself a little distracted by the gap between yours and Brie’s bodies that seems to be growing smaller and smaller as the movie goes on.

By the time you’re halfway through watching Return of the Jedi, your thigh is pressed against Brie’s and her head is resting on your shoulder, tucked slightly into your neck. You realise she’s asleep somewhere towards the end of the movie, and it’s not long after that you find yourself drifting to sleep too.

————————

You wake up the next morning to sunlight filtering in through the windows, pleasantly warming your skin as it reaches you. You let out a content sigh, stretching your arms out and snuggling further into the throw blanket that’s been draped over you.

Your eyes suddenly open the second you remember where you are. You’re alone on the couch now, lying down, no longer in the seated position you remember being in last night. You sit up, glancing around Brie’s apartment from your spot on the couch.

Everything seems very still, and you wait for any signs of someone else in the apartment, only to be met with complete silence. You stand up from the couch, dropping the blanket back down and take careful steps through the apartment, almost too scared to disrupt the quiet of the morning.

You don’t exactly feel comfortable making yourself at home by walking through Brie’s apartment wherever you like, but you do glance down the hallway, looking through the open bedroom door to find no signs of Brie.

You make your way back to the kitchen counter, hoping for some kind of clue as to where Brie could have gone to. Luckily, you find it; a piece of paper with a handwritten letter that you assume is meant for you.

“Morning Sleepy Head,

Was in need of some coffee so I’m heading to the diner down the street. Come meet me there once you’re awake. I’ll order us some pancakes!

xx Brie”

You assume she’s referring to the diner you and her had previously met up at to discuss the Sarah plan. Now that you think about it, you do realise that the diner is incredibly close to Brie’s apartment. That certainly explains why she likes to go there so frequently.

You smile to yourself as you read over the letter again. Your feelings towards Brie had grown confusing, but they were starting to become more and more clearer. So you can’t help but wonder if the fact that Brie wants to spend even more time with you means anything significant or if you’re just reading into things.

You move quickly, trying to make yourself at least somewhat presentable given that you’re still in the clothes you showed up in last night, and leave Brie’s apartment to head to the diner.

It’s only a short walk, and you don’t even allow yourself to overthink anything before you walk into the diner and start scanning for Brie. You spot her standing near the same table in the far corner that she was at the last time you were here. Only, you abruptly realise, she isn’t alone.

Standing opposite her is Sarah. The two of them are chatting animatedly, laughing among themselves. At one point Sarah reaches out and touches Brie’s forearm mid-laugh, and you can do nothing but watch their interaction from a distance.

The smile that you don’t even realise is on your face drops and you only watch them for another couple of seconds, but that short time makes you second-guess everything. Your heart sinks in such an indescribable way that you almost start worrying that you can’t breathe for a moment.

Without even thinking about it, you’re already turning to leave, just at the same moment that Brie looks your way and notices you. She goes to wave at you but instead her brows furrow as she watches you turn and hurry towards the door you had only just entered through.

In the back of your mind you register her shouting your name, but there’s only one thought that demands every ounce of your attention, repeating itself over and over again.

Why her?

#brie larson imagine #brie larson x reader #brie larson fic #captain marvel #captain marvel imagine #brie larson #fic #mine

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star-six7 · 4 years ago

Text

And You’re Someone Who Knows Someone (Who Was Someone I Once Knew)

Mikey Way x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word Count: 1909

Request: Could I request anything with Mikey? Thanks :)

A/N: I am so sorry about the delay on this one! I’ve been drowning in school and work at the moment, but I’m still thinking of you guys, I promise! Also, catch that title reference ;)

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction. No part of this story is meant to be libel, slander, or in any way derogatory towards any character’s real life counterpart. I’m not delusional; I know that these characters are simply based off of a public persona and may not actually resemble the people behind those personas. Any additional characters that you do not recognize are entirely fictional, unless otherwise stated. And finally, if you got here by Googling yourself, whatever happens next is 100% on you.

You rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet anxiously as you stood in front of the chain-link fence. Finally, a large guy with a security shirt came into your view, calling out your name.

“Hey,” he grinned when you nodded. “It’s good to finally meet you in person; Gerard’s been chattering nonstop about you for the past few days. I’m Worm, I’m in charge of most of the security for the band; I’ll take you back now.”

“Okay,” you nodded, putting away the backstage pass that Gerard had mailed to you. You were slightly taken aback by the professional quality of the whole set-up; the last time you had been to a My Chem show, it had been in a much less… respectable venue, and there wasn’t even the faintest idea of guards and backstage passes. Something told you that the security probably wasn’t the only thing that had changed over the last few years...

While you were lost in your thoughts, Worm had led you through a back parking lot filled with big box trucks and busy stage crews right to the band’s bus. He punched in a key-code, and grandly guided you up the steps.

“Gerard, your esteemed guest has arrived!” He winked good-naturedly at you, and then turned to leave. “Soundcheck at four, please attempt to think about being there in some semblance of a timely manner.” He rolled his eyes as he exited the bus.

Gerard, of course, didn’t hear him because he was too busy leaping off the couch so he could tackle you. “You’re here!”

“Yes,” you grinned, attempting to pat his back and keep your balance at the same time. “It’s been so long, Gerard, how are you?”

He let go and returned your smile. “I’ve been great, really great. A lot better than I was the last time we met. Um,” he ran a hand through his close-cropped white hair, and glanced sideways at Mikey. “You remember Ray and Mikey, right?”

“Of course,” you grinned at them. “How could I not? I did go to all of your shows for a year.”

“Well, uh, Otter ended up leaving after we finished recording Three Cheers, so that’s Bob- say hi, Bob- oh! And you remember Pencey, right? Well, Frankie’s with us now, and I think that about covers it.”

You waved at them. You remembered Frank’s wild nature, not surprised that he fit in so well with My Chem, and Bob seemed nice enough. All of the guys seemed genuinely excited about your presence, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that there were some conspiratorial glances and nudges being thrown around by everyone except Mikey. In fact, the bassist in question was doing his best to look artfully bored from his place on the couch and ignore Frank’s not-so-subtle shoving. Still, you felt a certain tug towards him, even after all these years.

“C’mon!” Gerard said brightly, snapping you out of your observations. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a whirlwind of wandering the bus park and venue with Gerard, watching the guys soundcheck from the nosebleeds, and dining on pizza in the green room. You were so glad you had been able to make it to a show; Gerard was one of your closest friends, and it had been a couple of years since you had last met.

Your friendship had started during your senior year of college- you had both had an internship in the same building, albeit for different companies and lines of work. Since then, you had bonded over several of your shared interests and kept in touch, leading you to go to several of the first My Chem shows, and by extension, meet Ray, Frank, and Mikey. Though your busy work life and their crazy tour schedule had caused you to drift apart, it felt like no time had passed at all as you watched Ray swat Frank for stealing his pizza while Gerard and Mikey laughed uncontrollably at Ray’s exasperated expression.

Soon enough, it was time for them to go onstage, which became evident when the venue’s stage manager knocked on the door to lead them to the curtain. Worm reappeared and guided you to the seat marked on your ticket from Gerard- a center stage view from the very first row of actual seats behind the pit. Clearly, Gerard had wanted to make sure you didn’t miss a single part of the show.

The lights dimmed, and you watched two crewmembers dressed as doctors and nurses wheel out a covered gurney while the sound of a heartbeat monitor played over the sound system. You were unsurprised when Gerard leapt out of the gurney moments later, kicking off the show.

You already knew the guys were awe-inspiring onstage- you had known it from the way you felt the first time you saw them live- but it was clear to see that over the past few years, they had taken it to a whole new level. They had each grown into their stage personas and their identity as a band, but your eyes kept drifting to one member in particular...

You had noticed it earlier today, but Mikey had definitely evolved since the last time you had met. He seemed much more sure of himself onstage; instead of retreating to the space almost directly behind Gerard, he often came up to the edge of the stage or interacted with his bandmates. He also seemed more relaxed off stage, easily interacting with fans outside of the venue and joking before the show with the rest of the band and crew. You couldn’t deny that he was a far cry from Gerard’s shy, slightly awkward, little brother you had met all those years ago.

Before you knew it, the show was over, and Frank was insisting on heading to a nearby diner for several plates of french fries and milkshakes. You glanced at your watch and balked. “Shit… I’m sorry guys, it’s almost 1am and I didn’t get a hotel. I think I’m going to start the drive home.”

Frank and Gerard glanced at each other, and then they rushed to stop you. “Don’t be ridiculous, come with us and you can just stay on the bus!”

“I don’t want to take up anyone’s space…” You hemmed.

“It’s fine!” Ray insisted. “Don’t even worry about it, you can sleep in the back lounge, it’s honestly very nice.”

Though you were suspicious of their enthusiasm, you accepted their offer with a shrug and followed the rest of the group in their search for a 24 hour diner.

…

You sighed as you took off your shoes and settled into the bed in the back lounge. You were exhausted; the long day of walking, dancing, and socializing was starting to catch up to you. However, just as soon as you had stretched out across the soft surface and closed you, you were startled upright by the sound of yelling coming from the bunk area just behind the lounge door. Confused, you opened it to see Mikey, looking irate, and Frank looking guilty yet slightly pleased with himself.

“What the actual fuck, Frank?” Mikey glared accusingly at him.

“I’m really sorry Mikey, it was-”

“An accident? Frank, we all know you’re clumsy as fuck, but there’s absolutely no way someone pours an entire liter of soda directly on my bunk on accident!”

“Oh shit,” you said, stepping out of the doorway to assess the damage.

Mikey glanced at you. “Sorry if I woke you up, Frank’s just being ridiculous.”

“Mikey, I don’t think you’re gonna be able to sleep here tonight,” Ray said, gently prodding Mikey’s mattress. “It’s pretty soaked.”

“Oh, well, of course,” Mikey sighed irritably. “Well, couch it is, then.”

“Actually,” Gerard piped up, oh-so-helpfully, “there’s plenty of space in the back lounge.” He turned to you. “If you’re okay with sharing, that is.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out his plan here. You were pretty sure that if he could bat his eyelashes right now, he would. Ignoring your suddenly accelerating heart rate, you turned back to Mikey.

“I don’t mind sharing, it is your bus after all,” you shrugged, glancing at Mikey. “Gerard’s right, there’s plenty of room.”

The other three looked extremely pleased with themselves.

“Thank you,” he told you, before turning to glare at Frank and head into the bathroom to change.

A few minutes later, you were in the back lounge again, somewhat awkwardly laying on one half of the double bed as you waited for Mikey to turn off the lights and get settled.

He looked abashed as he stretched out on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m sorry for snapping back there,” he said. “It’s just… the guys have been making fun of me for the past few days and it gets old fast.”

“I understand, it's okay,” you nodded, as you watched his silhouette shift closer to you in the dark.

He gave you a considering look. “It’s just… I told them something personal and they couldn’t just leave it alone. Honestly, this whole weekend has been sort of a set up.”

You rolled over to look at him properly as everything began to fall into place. Frank and Gerard’s insistence that you should stay the night, Frank’s “clumsiness,” Gerard’s helpful suggestions, the general feeling that something was going on behind the scenes…

“Oh,” you said, hoping he would confirm your suspicions, “what do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that,” for a moment, it seemed like the endearing shyness of the Mikey you had met in Gerard’s basement was back. “Okay, like.” He took a steadying breath. “I’m working on building my confidence, so I’m gonna tell you this and hope for this best. I’ve… had a thing for you for a while, if it wasn’t already obvious. I mean, at first, it was just a crush… but as the years went on, and I- we grew up, I’ve realized it’s more than that. I know I’m still working on being stable, but I want to take that chance with you. I mean, if you feel the same way of course.” He paused. “Wow, that was a weight off my chest.”

You stared at him, opening your mouth to speak and then closing it as you parsed your thoughts. You had always felt a certain fondness for Mikey, and the past day had shown you that, over the course of a few years, it had grown into something more than friendship. You couldn’t deny that you also had feelings towards Mikey, and that seeing his new-found confidence and sense of self had only solidified them.

“Um, you’re not like, pissed, are you?”

His timid question snapped you out of your reverie.

“No, of course not!” you rushed to assure him. “I… I feel the same way, Mikey. I think I always have.”

“Oh!” He couldn’t keep the small grin off of his face. “So then I guess you don’t mind if I do this then, right?” He moved in closer to you and wrapped his free arm around your waist, effectively pulling you into his chest.

You smiled, warm with the feeling that things had finally fallen into place. “Good guess,” you sighed, already beginning to fall asleep.

“One more thing,” Mikey paused.

“Hm?”

“Under no circumstances can the others know that their evil plan worked.” “Deal.”

#mikey way #mikey way imagine #mikey way x reader #mcr imagine #mcr x reader #mcr #my chemical romance #my chem #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance x reader #bandom #bandom imagine #imagine #x reader #reader insert

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kinktae · 6 years ago

Text

bitchin’ || pt. 2 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 4.4k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: multiple smut scenes, science talk, banter, jealousy, alcohol & LOTS of colorful 80s slang lmao

A/N: Bitchin’ is a multichapter fic, surprise!! This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness and helping me with Yara’s character overall. Hope you appreciate the easter egg based on her!

OFFICIAL PLAYLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

PART TWO

"Yara!"

The eyes belonging to the girl in question, flashed your way, widening in alarm.

"Oh, yikes." Was her automatic response, her bag of cool ranch Doritos falling onto her lap.

You were angry, that much was evident to her. Yara was sat in your shared dorm's living room, a thick blanket engulfing her small frame. You briefly glanced towards the TV, it was tuned into MTV, the familiar music video of Every Breath You Take by The Police playing, before directing your glare back onto the copper-haired girl.

"Before you say anything," Yara began, swallowing down whatever remaining food was in her mouth, "you should know they were having a rerun of the VMAs – which I missed last night – at the same time as the lab."

"You left me alone! You said you would go to the lab yesterday!" You griped, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Yes, yes that is true but I would also like to point out the fact that Madonna performed, so it wasn't like I even had a choice when you really think about it." She countered, tone pitching comically.

"You absolutely had a choice!" You laughed, shaking your head.

"Mm... I could argue that it is a subjective opinion."

You walked over to your best friend, sighing as you slumped down beside her, placing your backpack onto the floor.

You offered Yara a sideways glance.

"Did Duran Duran at least win something?" You asked begrudgingly.

"Nothing. They were robbed!" She squinted, shaking a fist in the air angrily.

A small chuckle escaped you despite yourself.

"You really should have gone to the lab, you know." You reasoned, reaching into the bag of chips.

"And smell like frog insides for the rest of the day? Grody to the max." She responded, before flashing you a look. "No offense."

"None taken." You grumbled, her observation fully noted though.

"Besides the makeup lab is next week. What could I have possibly missed this class?" Yara dismissed you absentmindedly, turning back towards the television as she reached for another chip.

"Well." You chuckled nervously. "For one, I have a boyfriend now."

At your words, Yara froze, a chip still in her hand as she paused mid-bite.

"You what?!" She all but shrieked, causing you to jump.

"Who? How? When? Tell me everything!" Her hands found your shoulders, shaking you slightly. You shoved her off with a laugh.

"Uh, well, his name is Jungkook–"

"The Jeon Jungkook?! From our lab?" Yara interrupted, eyes wide and shining with interest.

"Um... yes?" You responded cautiously.

Yara let out a scoff, leaning back further into the couch.

"Unbelievable. I leave you alone for one day and you get a boyfriend! And a fine one at that. This is so bogus."

"Mine and Jungkook's whole relationship is bogus, Yara." You rolled your eyes.

At your words, your best friend raised an eyebrow and you took that as an invitation to continue speaking.

"I'm only pretending to date him to make his ex-girlfriend jealous."

A sharp laugh from Yara caused you to pause, watching the way her amusement was short-lived, her smile fell as she took in your serious expression.

"Oh, you're serious." She deadpanned.

You nodded, "When you didn't show up Jungkook ended up being my partner and... well, I'm still not sure how it happened but he basically offered to fund my STEM event in exchange for helping him making his girlfriend jealous."

"They are the weirdest couple." You breathed out, shoving another chip in your mouth.

"Wait... he's gonna fund your event?! Y/N, you've been planning that thing since we got to university!"

A smile found your face, your excitement once again seeing you.

"I know! I wouldn't usually get involved in someone's love life like this but was too good of an opportunity to turn down."

"Man, I'm so happy for you! Still kind of disappointed but happy nonetheless." Yara smiled, causing you to frown.

"Disappointed? Why are you disappointed?" You pressed.

Yara clicked her tongue at you, looking at you as if the reason should be obvious.

"What do you mean why am I disappointed? Here I was ecstatic to hear that my best friend has gotten a boyfriend only to find that it's got a contract behind it!"

You giggled, nudging your knee into hers. "Think of this as a smart business venture I'm embarking on."

Yara stared at you for a moment, something clearly weighing on her mind as her lips fell into a subtle pout.

"What?" You mused.

She fluttered her eyelashes, "Does this mean you aren't going to fuck him?"

Your eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yara!" You gaped.

"Because, if you want to get technical, you kind of have to so I can live vicariously through you. It's girl code." She continued, reaching over and popping another chip into her mouth.

You frowned. "That is gross and also not a thing."

"I'm serious, I'm not accepting anything less than, like, third base." Yara pressed with a wag of a finger.

"Why don't you worry about your own sexual escapades instead of worrying about mine." You paused before continuing. "Which won't be happening, for your information."

The snacking girl let out a deep groan, throwing her blanket off of her as she stood up, taking the bag of chips with her much to your dismay.

"Well, it's not my fault I'm not getting any, okay! So do us both a favor and freak his shit." She called out, walking over to the kitchen.

"Can you stop emphasizing your lack of dick for one second?" You chuckled. "If you're that desperate for dick go back to Eunwoo."

Eunwoo was a boy Yara messed around with last semester. The relationship was short-lived, Yara quick to cut things off as soon as she realized Eunwoo was looking for something more than just a brief fling. Because ironically, despite how Yara crowed about being lonely, there was nothing that sent that girl running faster than actual feelings.

"Sweetie, I'm desperate for good dick." Yara scoffed, having had emerged back into the room, her auburn hair now let down, her trusty scrunchy back around her wrist.

"Was Eunwoo really that bad in bed?" You wondered, eyeing your best friend curiously as she moved to turn off the TV that had gone neglected the moment you stepped into the room.

Yara shrugged. "No, he was fine."

"So...?"

An enthusiastic pound against the poor television box rang out, the soft side of Yara's fist having had slammed down dramatically.

"I don't want just fine, Y/N! I want dick so totally tubular that I feel it in my guts." She declared.

A sputtering cough fell from your lips as you choked on your inhale of air.

Yara looked at you with mild concern, suppressing her laughter as she walked over and began to pat your back.

"I seriously question how you wiggled your way into being my best friend." You breathed through your coughs,.

"Eat my shorts, Y/N. You love me and you know it." She dismissed easily.

You merely grinned, unable to dispute your best friend's claim.

"Now go shower." Yara ordered, using one hand to point in the direction of the bathroom, and the other to pinch her nose shut dramatically.

Sighing, you heaved yourself off the couch. You doubted you smelled as bad as Yara made you out to, but you couldn't deny that a shower sounded terrific right now.

"Yes, sir." You sent her a salute cheekily before turning to head to the bathroom, shaking your head as she called out after you.

"And when you come out I need to know every single word you and Jungkook exchanged. If you're dating him then so am I, bitch!"

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The weekend had breezed by quickly, homework and the newest Cyndi Lauper album occupying all your free time. You hardly had time to contemplate your new role as Jeon Jungkook's new girlfriend.

You and Yara had been in the midst of a conversation about what exactly she should get her little sister for her 13th birthday when you first spoke to Jungkook again.

"Cabbage patch kid?" Yara offered, causing your nose to scrunch up.

"How old do you think your sister is?"

"Hey, don't sass me. For your information, Lyanna still has all her Care Bear tapes. She threw a hissy fit when my mom tried to give them away last Christmas." Yara recalled.

"Still, she's becoming a teenager. I vote no on the cabbage patch kid."

"I'm with you, babe." Jungkook spoke up suddenly, lips pressed together as if in contemplative thought.

You hadn't even noticed him enter the classroom, much less approach and listen in onto your conversation.

"Jungkook!" You breathed out in surprise, stomach fluttering slightly as you realized what he had just called you.

"Why don't you get her a pair of roller skates?" He ignored you, placing a hand on the table and leaning onto it. You tried your hardest to ignore the way the muscles in his arm flexed with the movement.

You cleared your throat, "Roller skates?"

"Yeah. Every kid has to get a pair of roller skates. It's like a rite of passage."

"I never got roller skates…" You muttered.

"And you were robbed of a childhood." Jungkook informed you solemnly, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Sup." He said suddenly, eyes flickering to Yara as he offered her a casual nod.

You watched in amusement as a pink hue made its way onto your best friend's face, nodding back at him.

Seeing as Yara had remained silent this entire time, you realized it was probably best you introduce the two.

"Uh, Jungkook this is Yara, my best friend. Yara this is Jungkook, my... "

Business partner?

Temporary acquaintance?

"Her boyfriend." Jungkook finished for you cheekily, sending you a wink.

"Fake boyfriend." You reminded, causing Jungkook's eyes to widen.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He stated bluntly, eyes gesturing to Yara forcibly.

Oh. He thought you wouldn't tell your best friend about him? Hah.

"She already knows we're not actually dating–"

An angry shush came from the messy-haired boy, preventing you from talking further.

He hunched closer, eyes flickering across the classroom, "Keep it down, would ya? There are eyes everywhere."

"Sorry, jeez." You apologized dryly, raising a brow as you mimicked his motions.

"Bold of you to assume I won't be guiding Y/N throughout this entire arrangement." Yara spoke finally, her nose turned up slightly.

"Is that so?" Jungkook looked at her in surprise.

"Yep. In fact, I've self-appointed myself manager of your entire relationship." She replied smoothly.

Jungkook grinned, clearly finding humor in her words, "Well, then. With that kind of assertiveness, I'm sure we're in good hands. Nice to meet you, Yara."

"Likewise."

You frowned as your best friend and Jungkook shook hands.

"Anyway, as your manager, my first bit of advice for really selling this whole fake relationship thing is for the two of you to sit together. So if you'll just excuse me..."

At the sight of Yara reaching for her notebook and pen, alarm ran through you.

"Wha– Excuse me, what are you doing?" You protested immediately.

Jungkook, on the other hand, simply grinned. "Great advice!"

"Why thank you, I accept payment in cash and Annie Lennox cassette tapes."

"Yara, where are you even going?" You whined, watching as your best friend chucked her things into her bag.

"To sit at another table. Who am I to keep people in love apart? Jungkook you can take my seat."

Your shoulders slumped miserably as you watched as the smirking boy replaced Yara's spot on the stool beside you.

"Have fun, kids." She teased, waving the two of you off with a hand as she walked over to another table.

"I like her." Jungkook smiled cheesily.

"She's not kidding, you know." You warned. "If she says she's our manager then you better believe it. Whether you like it or not, she's gonna accomplish what she's set out to do."

"Reminds me of you." He replied with a hum.

You blinked in surprise.

"Was that... a compliment?"

"Was it?" His eyes went wide, voice pitched in feigned surprise.

A small laugh escaped you and before you could retort with your own sarcastic comment, your professor began to speak.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I hope you all had a good weekend." Mr. Kim greeted, his usual coffee mug in hand. He looked somewhat worse for wear, you noted. "I did. And as I sat here and reflected the choices I made Sunday night, I came to the conclusion that I will be sparing you the boring lecture this class and putting on a movie.

Widespread chatter of relief fell over the class, everyone elated to hear that this specific class would require minimal effort.

Mr. Kim had just sunk into the chair by his desk when a hand of a student shot up.

"Yes?" He answered.

The owner of the hand spoke up, "Should we take notes?"

Mr. Kim stared at the student with subtle bewilderment.

"I mean if you want? Guys, I'm gonna be honest with you all, I'm hungover as all hell. As long as you watch quietly and keep the lights off, I don't care what you do."

And with that, all the students turned back to chat amongst themselves.

It was funny, Jungkook thought, how easy you were to read when you thought no one was looking. He had been watching you through the corner of his eye, watching the way you hung onto the professor's every word and how disappointment washed over you when you realized there was no learning to be done today.

"Cute." He muttered to himself.

"What was that?" You replied absentmindedly, reaching for a sheet of paper.

Jungkook straightened in his seat, unaware he had said that out loud.

"Nothing."

You paid his reply no mind, however, pencil in hand as you began to write something onto a sheet of loose-leaf paper. Jungkook's head tilted in mild curiosity as he watched, wondering what it was you were doing.

To his surprise, the very paper of interest was then thrust his way, a soft sound ringing out as it rubbed against the cold surface of the lab table.

"What am I looking at?" Jungkook deadpanned. You shifted in your seat before responding.

"I think it's about time we talked seriously about this... relationship of ours. We need to establish rules."

Jungkook glanced back down at the paper.

"I see."

Suddenly, Jungkook's hand reached out for the zipper of his bag. You watched in silence as he pulled out the first writing utensil he could find – a blue marker – and jotted something down quickly.

You frowned, scooting your stool cautiously closer to him to get a proper look at the paper he had just written on.

"What is this?" You frowned.

"I believe it referred to legally as an amendment." He informed, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Jungkook, I'm not going to kiss you."

Despite your seriousness, a smile nearly escape your lips at the sight of Jungkook's mouth falling into a pout.

"Why not?" He asked.

You raised a brow, "Um, we're not actually dating? Did you forget that?"

Jungkook let out a small noise of what you could only assume was indignation.

"Not to sound like a total douchebag but the fact that you don't want to kiss me is, like, totally insulting."

"I agreed to be your girlfriend, not some disposable pair of lips you're allowed to use whenever you need your ego stroked. Do I need to remind you that I hardly even know you?" You hissed lowly in case someone was listening in on your conversation.

For a moment it was just you and Jungkook glaring at each other. Neither of you was going to budge, he realized. He let out a sigh.

"Look, I see your point and what this is looking like but I promise you I'm not being creepy here. No one is gonna believe we're together if we don't kiss each other. To anyone that looks, you could just be my friend if we don't show some kind of affection towards each other."

Your arms crossed over your chest, your hard expression not letting up.

"One kiss. That's all I'm asking for. Just a peck, if that's all your comfortable with." He continued, causing you to hum.

He was certainly going to a lot of trouble just for one peck.

Maybe he did have a point. One kiss wouldn't kill you, would it?

"When?" Was your response, taking him by surprise.

"Uh... whenever? Preferably somewhere people will see. Maybe at the Halloween party this weekend?"

You frowned, a thought crossing your mind.

"You want me to kiss you at a party? In front of a bunch of people?"

"Well... not if you really don't want to..." Jungkook replied, suddenly feeling bad that you might really not be all that comfortable with this whole thing.

You shook your head, "No, it's not that."

Kissing Jungkook wasn't as daunting as the idea of doing it in front of a lot of people. It wasn't that you were socially awkward, per se, but the possibility of stage fright was undoubtedly a real one.

You let your thoughts run for a while before you finally came upon a slightly annoying solution. An audible sigh left you as you grabbed your pencil and reached for the paper.

"I don't want to embarrass myself." You told Jungkook bluntly as he read the contract's newest addition, your eyes fixated on the sheet as you couldn't find the courage to meet his eyes.

"So I want our first kiss to be somewhere private where I can make sure I know what I'm doing. Familiarize with... how you kiss... and stuff..." You trailed off, the warmth in your face suddenly too distracting to let you think intelligent thoughts.

Jungkook's eyes were as wide as saucers, glued to the side of your face as if trying to decipher whether or not you were being serious. He assumed you must be as the tone in your voice wasn't mocking in the slightest.

"Oh. Yeah, sure." He nodded quickly, still noticing the way you couldn't look him in the face.

A shit-eating grin found his face, "Y/N, are you embarrassed right now?"

"No." You stressed quickly, looking over at him defensively. Your eyes fell onto his lips against your better judgment and once again you turned away from his stare, heat rocketing through you. "I just don't want you thinking anything weird like this is me wanting to kiss you."

The dark-haired boy pressed his lips together.

"Trust me, you've made your opposition against kissing me abundantly clear." He told you pointedly before reaching for the contract. You watched him gratefully, thankful for the shift in interest.

"I'm serious about there being eyes everywhere. If Kiri finds out the truth, it's game over. I'd look like a total wastoid. Not to mention I'll never hear the end of it from my brothers." Jungkook told you, pushing the paper over for you to read. Tapping the end of your pencil against the table, you pondered something before scribbling else onto the rules.

"Fair." Jungkook expressed. "As long as you can guarantee she won't tell anyone."

"Yara is lonelier than Henry David Thoreau, you have nothing to worry about." You shrugged easily.

"I... have no idea who that is."

"He's a transcendentalist writer who spent two years in isolation–"

"Oh, so you're not just a science freak. You're a well-rounded nerd." Jungkook teased, causing you to scowl.

You grabbed your pencil. You could feel Jungkook lean to peer over your shoulder, laughing lightly as he took in what you wrote. No sooner had you finished, the paper was yanked from underneath your palm, your pretend lover quick to scribble back a response.

And that was how the two of you spent the next twenty minutes, discussing rules and filling the rest of the page, muffled exchanges of giggles catching the attention of students near you as they began to wonder could possibly be on that sheet of paper that had the two of you blushing and whispering like that.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Can I put my hand in your pocket?"

The request came seemingly out of nowhere. The class had just finished and Yara had passed by your table briefly only to insist that Jungkook walked you to your dorm, promptly informing you that she and you would not be walking back together as usual, before she left the room altogether.

You sent Jungkook a pointed look as the two of you exited the classroom and walked out into the hallway.

"What like in Sixteen Candles?" You presumed, throwing your bag over your shoulder. "Nice try scumbag, I'm not letting you cop a feel of my ass."

"Why do you assume everything I say has some sort of hidden motive behind it?" Jungkook scoffed. "I was trying to be romantic."

"Oh, really?" You asked, sounding skeptical.

"I mean, sure, getting to touch your ass would've been a nice perk..."

A pleasant laugh escaped you and Jungkook felt something in his chest tightened, and before he could think to warn you, his hand found yours.

You glanced down at the gesture, a shy expression finding you suddenly as you look back up Jungkook, eyes wide and face warm as he offered you a small smile.

"It's no hand in your back pocket but... this should still get the message across to everyone." Jungkook's fingers laced between yours and you tried your hardest to appear nonchalant as if your heart wasn't in your throat right now.

You simply nodded, continuing to walk alongside him as the two of you began your journey towards your dorm building.

It wasn't entirely awful, you found.

Jungkook's hand felt nice in yours. It was warm and soft– your ex wasn't one for PDA so you had always wondered what it might be like to walk around with someone you liked like this.

Shame your first time had to be with your fake boyfriend.

You hadn't realized how social Jungkook was until just now, however. It hadn't been more than a seven-minute walk but more than a handful of people had called out to Jungkook, offering him a greeting and a wave as they went about their days.

You had brought up his apparent popularity to Jungkook but he merely laughed the statement off, saying that it just came with the territory of being in a fraternity.

"Yara's gonna be so proud when she finds out we thought to hold hands all on our own." You brought up on the elevator ride up to your dorm.

The romantic embrace had been severed the moment the metal doors had closed on you two, no longer having an audience to perform for.

"She's quite the character that Yara girl." He noted.

You shrugged, "She's not too bad once you get used to her."

Jungkook shook his head as if you had miss understood him.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing. You're a lot like her, you know."

"Am I?" You raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Headstrong... passionate... won't take no for an answer... seems like the only person you two would listen to is each other."

You were surprised. Once again, it was a seemingly genuine compliment that had come out of nowhere and you weren't entirely sure how to respond. You clasped your hands behind your back, a grin washing onto you.

"Pretty sure you've got bigger balls than I do." He finished his thought, causing you to snort.

"Sorry if we challenge your manhood." You joked, nudging your shoulder into his just as the elevator door open. You slipped out onto the floor, Jungkook following behind you.

"Oh don't worry about that, babe. You two can test my manhood whenever you want." He told you greasily, a suggestive smirk on his face.

"If I weren't contractually obligated to be nice to you, I would smack you."

You reached the door of your dorm a few moments later, turning to Jungkook awkwardly.

"Well, thanks for walking me." You said.

Jungkook tucked his hand into the pocket of his jacket, shrugging coolly.

"I'll see you in class on Wednesday then."

As if on cue, the door of your dorm unlocked, swinging open enthusiastically, revealing a smiling Yara.

"Wrong. You'll be seeing her tomorrow." She stated matter-of-factly.

"I will?"

"He will?"

You and Jungkook both expressed your confusion in unison. An amused expression fell over Yara.

"I did some thinking on the walk back from class and decided that Jungkook is taking you out on a date tomorrow." She explained before turning towards the man in question. "When do you finish class tomorrow?"

"Uh... three o'clock?" He answered slowly, eyes flickering to yours to see if you had any idea what your best friend was talking about. You didn't, of course.

Yara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Perfect, Y/N's last class is at two. Come pick her up here around four."

"Oh, uh, sure." Jungkook nodded, looking somewhat scared of the small but authoritative girl standing before him.

As if snapping back into reality, you shook your head. "Hold on, I didn't agree to this. Don't I get a say in this?"

Yara's eyes flickered towards yours dully, "No."

She clapped her hands together suddenly, directing her attention back to your pretend lover.

"Thanks for walking her over. We'll see you tomorrow at four. Don't be late, bye!" Yara sang sweetly, hand reaching out to wrap around your forearm.

You let out a yelp as you were tugged into the dorm, door slamming shut as you left behind a perplexed looking Jungkook.

"What the hell was that?! Why am I going on a date with him?"

Jungkook could hear your voice through the closed door, pitched angrily and clearly directed at Yara.

"Third base, Y/N. Don't make me say it again."

"I literally can't stand you."

A small laugh fell from the boy as he stood in his place in the hallway, eyebrows furrowing in amused bewilderment as he wondered how he ended up with not just one but two stubborn fake girlfriends.

5K notes · View notes

tiramisiyu · 4 years ago

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 6-24 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 6 – Tiger’s Accomplice Ghost (Parts 1, 2): 6-1 / 6-3 / 6-5 / 6-7 / 6-9 / 6-11 / 6-13 / 6-15 ♦️ ♦️ 6-16 / 6-18 / 6-20 / 6-22 / 6-24 / 6-26 / 6-27 / 6-28 / 6-29

Information on the Chapter title (helpful to know): Wikipedia | My notes

Zuo Ran’s Office

After Fu Qiao arrived at the north district, he headed straight for a large, abandoned building near the big ginkgo road. For these few days, aside from going out, he lived there entirely.

When Fu Qiao wasn’t there, the police took the opportunity to go inside and inspect it, noticing that there was a very simple chemistry laboratory there. Though they didn’t notice any new types of illegal drugs at the location, the particular scent of the drugs lingered in the air of the laboratory.

It might have been just as Zuo Ran speculated – after Chen Hanzhang noticed that Fu Qiao was a chemistry student, she demanded that Fu Qiao help her analyze and figure out the formula of the drugs.

MC: How could the formula behind illegal drugs be that easily figured out? It really is ridiculous to think that Chen Hanzhang would look for a chemistry student that hasn’t even graduated yet.

Zuo Ran: Chen Hanzhang is probably just giving it a try. After all, she holds onto the blackmail leverage, so to her, it’s a waste to not use Fu Qiao.

MC: Though now, we can confirm that Zhou Nan’s death happened at the hands of Fu Qiao. Should we tell Zhao Fei about these results first?

The concrete evidence that could prove that Fu Qiao committed the crime was his and Zhou Nan’s couples’ ring. This was an unexpected gain.

[Flashback]

City Police Station

The day before yesterday, or last Saturday, Yan Wei suddenly called, having us come to the police station.

Yan Wei: Good news. We’ve found concrete evidence that can directly prove that Fu Qiao committed the crime.

MC: That’s great. What evidence is it?

Yan Wei: Speaking of which, it was you who was sharp, MC. Do you still remember that groove mark on the syringe?

MC: Could it be that the groove came from… Fu Qiao’s ring?

Qing Zhian said before that Fu Qiao and Zhou Nan had a pair of couples’ rings. When the two fought, Zhou Nan had even thrown away the ring.

Yan Wei: That’s right – it’s precisely the ring.

Yan Wei took out an evidence bag. Placed inside it was a silver ring, and the surface of the ring had protruding diamond patterns. Aside from the ring, there was also a red string and a wrinkled sheet of paper in the bag.

MC: This is… Fu Qiao’s talisman?

Yan Wei: Yes, Fu Qiao placed this ring in the amulet, and he’s always worn it close to his body.

Yan Wei: Last night, Fu Qiao bought food from a convenience store and then returned to the laboratory. On his way, he got robbed by hooligans.

Yan Wei: The police following him pretended to be patrollers and caught those hooligans, and noticed the talisman that Fu Qiao left behind on the scene.

Yan Wei: It was probably pulled off while Fu Qiao was fighting.

Yan Wei: The physical evidence department has identified it – the patterns on this ring matches up perfectly with the groove on the syringe.

Zuo Ran: Based on the position of the groove, Fu Qiao probably was wearing the ring on his index finger, holding the syringe backwards with the needlepoint facing Zhou Nan when he stabbed it in.

MC: The bottom part of Fu Qiao’s index finger is somewhat thinner than the upper part – it was probably left from wearing the ring for a long time!

Zuo Ran: The force exerted was so large that he could leave a groove on the syringe – it’s evident that Fu Qiao was in a very agitated mood during the time.

At that time, what kind of mood would he have been in?

Was it resentment and stress, or… excitement?

[Got Fu Qiao’s Ring!]

[Got Fu Qiao’s Talisman!]

Yan Wei: We’ve got the murder weapon. We just need to also confirm the source of the high-purity drugs to completely solve Zhou Nan’s murder case.

[Flashback end]

Zuo Ran: I made a trip to Zhao Fei’s place yesterday, and I’ve already told him about the situation.

Zuo Ran: He still wants to wait until the proof is completely revealed before he gives us Xu Ping’s package.

MC: He really is something… refusing to discharge the eagle without seeing the rabbit.

MC: Although, Lawyer Zuo, why didn’t you have me come with you when you went to Zhao Fei’s house yesterday?

Zuo Ran: I was just updating him on the case, so there was no need to have you make a trip down.

Zuo Ran: Last week, you ran around investigating the whole time. I hoped you could relax well on the weekend.

>Work is number one >Being with you is relaxation

MC: No matter what, work is the most important. I don’t feel tired at all.

Zuo Ran: The only reason why you don’t feel tired is because the case progress has been smooth and your mind is too excited.

Zuo Ran: Your body got tired early on, but you yourself didn’t notice.

Zuo Ran: Only with work-rest balance, with tension and relaxation, can you maintain high efficiency for long periods of time.

Zuo Ran: So, when it’s time to rest, you must rest well.

MC: Then… after the case is done, I will rest and relax well!

>Work is number one >Being with you is relaxation

MC: Actually, being with Lawyer Zuo is both work and relaxing.

Zuo Ran: …

Zuo Ran: Why do you say so?

MC: When we go out for work, you’re always driving, work meals are always prepared by you, and after work, there might also be time to watch movies…

MC: Isn’t this the best way to relax?

Zuo Ran: Then… after the case is finished, how about we go see a movie?

MC: Okay!

With a vacation day to look forward to, I ignited with the drive to solve the case quickly in an instant.

MC: Fu Qiao’s movement range from these few days have already been marked onto the electronic map.

MC: The police monitoring him reported that the places Fu Qiao went to were all nearby abandoned buildings, or those with no people for the moment.

MC: The approximate range is… within three kilometres of the laboratory.

Zuo Ran: Chen Hanzhang converted a laboratory for Fu Qiao to do his experiments. Thus, the place where she keeps the drugs probably won’t be too far away.

Zuo Ran: Otherwise, it’s very easy get intercepted by police doing routine spot checks as he takes the drugs through the city.

Zuo Ran: Especially with these drugs, which have a scent to them.

Zuo Ran: This probably is also the basis on which Fu Qiao inferred that the drugs is stored with the blackmail criminal evidence.

MC: But there are too many old buildings in the north district. Not only has Fu QIao not found the location, but even the police who are secretly investigating haven’t found it.

Aside from using Fu Qiao, the police had also dispatched more people to secretly search in Fu Qiao’s movement areas and nearby, but they still came up with nothing.

Zuo Ran: Last week, when we were interrogating Chen Hanzhang, we revealed to her that Fu Qiao was under the control of the police.

Zuo Ran: Today, Chen Hanzhang is released from custody. With Fu Qiao loitering in the north district, this can increase Chen Hanzhang’s suspicions…

Zuo Ran: Making her think that Fu Qiao wants to find the blackmail material that she holds to lessen his sentence, or even to control the Ghosts and confront the police.

Zuo Ran: Let’s observe for two more days. If there still aren’t developments, we’ll talk with Leader Yan about catching him.

MC: Mm, okay!

Home

During the day, I took a picture of Fu Qiao’s talisman and sent it to Mo Yi, wanting to make exactly what it was that Fu Qiao had been wearing clear.

Mo Yi replied, saying that he wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about Eastern occultism, and would respond to me after consulting with a professional.

I returned home at night and had just reclined on my bed when I received Mo Yi’s phone call.

MC: Dr. Mo, what exactly is that talisman in prayer for?

Mo Yi: It can be considered a talisman for peace. Aside from praying for peace, it has nightmare-suppressing uses.

Mo Yi: Typically speaking, the person who draws the charm will recommend the wearer to place something that they wear close to themselves with the charm for the power to be stronger.

MC: …

For Fu Qiao to wear this thing, he probably often dreams of the scenes when he murdered Zhou Nan.

MC: Can these charms really get rid of nightmares? It probably only has psychological uses.

Mo Yi: There are many suggestions for the causes of nightmares in the science world.

Mo Yi: You probably have heard of the few that are most famous among them, such as Freud’s “Dream Interpretation”.

Mo Yi: In the cultures of some places, it is also said that dreams are the way that people communicate with gods, and nightmares are due to the interference of demons.

Mo Yi: But how can that which is terrifying about the human heart be compared to incorporeal demons?

Mo Yi: Then charms used to suppress demons are merely stage props used to deceive others and oneself.

MC: If he knew earlier of today, he would not have done as he did at the beginning…

Mo Yi: Has investigation been smooth? Your voice sounds very exhausted.

MC: Work is fine; it’s just that recently, my sleep quality hasn’t been that great. It might be because I’m always thinking about the cases, so I can’t sleep peacefully at night.

Mo Yi: I’ll come see you when it’s convenient for you.

Mo Yi: Perhaps simple psychological counselling will resolve your troubles and let you sleep well.

MC: Sure, then I’ll get in touch with you when I make time.

Mo Yi: Okay, I look forward to your call.

After hanging up, I couldn’t resist pondering again about the places that Fu Qiao was searching through.

Rather than passively waiting, if we could find that place one step ahead of him, we would undoubtedly be more proactive, and we could close the net in advance.

But… I kept feeling like I had missed some important information…

MC: Where would Chen Hanzhang put the Ghosts’ blackmail leverage and the drugs?

MC: The Ghosts’ blackmail leverage might be all sorts of things, such as Qing Zhian’s bloodied clothes…

For Fu Qiao… what could Fu Qiao’s blackmail leverage be?

Fu Qiao’s personal possessions that Zhou Nan’s DNA was stuck on?

That can’t be it – with Zhou Nan and Fu Qiao’s relations, these kinds of evidence wouldn’t be strong enough.

MC: It can’t be that Chen Hanzhang recorded it when Fu Qiao murdered, right, that’s too…

MC: …

If this really were the case, the difference between electronic products and bloodied clothes was too large. There was no way to put them together to consider the characteristics of where they were kept.

Changing thought processes…

MC: Then what places are suitable for storing drugs?

MC: Ah!

MC: Before, I saw on the police’s report that the new type of drugs solidified due to dampness very easily…

Stellis City’s climate is rather moist. Storing things like this might need specialized devices to maintain temperature and moisture levels!

I rushed to open my phone map and found the laboratory Fu Qiao was at.

MC: Bakery, wax museum, vacant old Western houses, abandoned private archive library…

An art gallery, an archive library – both might have temperature and moisture controlling devices to protect the collected paper items.

It just so happened that there was an archive library 500 metres away from Fu Qiao’s laboratory. But because it was from a long time ago, the police and Fu Qiao had only circled around in the yard and then left.

MC: I’ll call Lawyer Zuo now, so we can decide…

Before I was able to call Zuo Ran, Zuo Ran’s call came in first.

#tears of themis #tears of themis translations #未定事件簿 #zuo ran #weiding shijian bu #tot translation #anyways the next few parts are all hella wild #time to buckle up

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

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RWBY Recaps: “Spark”

What’s the current mood? I would sell all future RWBY seasons for one episode of The Mandalorian.

Okay, I exaggerate. Overall this episode had some really great moments, just (per usual) tied up in a lot of awful implications. Which frankly is a step up from last week’s more overt nonsense, so I’ll take it. I’ve just got Space Dad Fever like the rest of the internet so whenever RWBY does something stupid my brain goes, “Why can’t you be more like Baby Yoda? With non-forced cuteness and consistent writing?”

Okay, okay I’m focused on the correct fandom. I swear.

This episode opens with Penny waking the group up extra early. Yang wants to know what time it is. “Time to be huntresses, of course!” Really, the contrast between, ‘I love my job’ and ‘But my job makes me get up at an ungodly hour’ is easily the most relatable thing RWBY has done this season. I was also just greatly amused by the animation choices with in-world implications. Like that Weiss sleeps with her giant braid in. Or that the group owns nothing except for the new clothes on their backs. I wondered after the Volume Six’s train scene if most of their luggage had been up front with JNR, or if they’d lost it all during the crash itself. We only see three bags as they make their way to the farm.

Did Oscar re-pack everything before they had to hightail it out of that burning, grimm-infested place? I don’t remember and I’m way too lazy to go check. Yang then loses her motorcycle. Who knows, if they did have stuff, whether it got onto the stolen airship. Doubtful. I mean, Weiss showed up with a massive amount of luggage, but that’s for hiding grandmas. Basically, what I’m saying is that I think the group showed up in Atlas, exhausted, and had to tell Penny they don’t have PJs anymore. Cue standard issue t-shirts and strange thermal-ish pants.

We then begin a montage of their different work. It starts out not with the missions they signed up for last episode but anything and everything connected to Amity Arena. Keep clearing out the mines. Protect resource transports. Fill in for the missing soldiers in Mantle, etc. On the whole I legitimately loved these moments showing the various relationships and life as a huntress in Atlas, with the exception of two scenes. The first is during the section where we see Blake and Yang working with Marrow, who makes the mistake of saying a) that they should consider partnering with other people sometime and b) pointing out that he’s not sure their styles are complimentary.

Look, I get it. A few hours after the episode dropped and tumblr is already exploding with GIF-sets of this scene, celebrating how Blake and Yang are so in love they can’t even stand Marrow suggesting that they might spend some time apart. From a shipping perspective it looks like gold and as someone who also ships them I’d normally be inclined to celebrate too. Except that this is a really unhealthy pattern of behavior. Marrow is right. The group should practice partnering with other people for the simple reason that this is a job and they may not always get to decide who they’re going to work with. It’s a job with endless risks and they may not always be able to control who they end up fighting beside, because when was the last time a plan actually worked right? The advice of ‘Hey. Don’t stagnant by only fighting with the same person 24/7’ is sound, especially in an episode already focused on training and progress. As is the innocent observation that their styles don’t seem to compliment each other. Marrow isn’t being cruel here. He’s not trying to insist he knows better and separate them based on that. He’s just making casual conversation---and gets this in response.

This scene would read completely differently if Blake and Yang were playfully smug after that attack combo. Then it becomes a moment of bonding where they’re correcting Marrow through a bit of teasing. Instead they’re legitimately mad. Mad enough that Yang’s semblance briefly activates. I’ve mentioned before that Yang has a tendency to think the worst of people and act violently towards them on instinct (Ozpin, bot in the street) and that Blake has a tendency to go wherever she leads, even when that makes no sense for her own characterization (siding with Yang’s anger over her own experiences as an abuse survivor). This is another example of that. Marrow gives them good advice and makes a casual comment? Immediate fury from Yang. Yang’s pissed off? Well I’m gonna be pissed off too. I try not to bring shipping too much into these recaps, but I do think it’s worth mentioning here. Big Blake/Yang fans have a tendency to paint everything they do as the most Romantic Thing Ever ™; anti-Blake/Yang fans have a tendency to make blanket statements about how their relationship is inherently unhealthy. But as usual the truth lies somewhere in between. They’re fantastic together, I think Rooster Teeth is setting up a relationship, and there are also aspects that are unhealthy. Not because it’s queer (which is the basis for most antis’ anger), but because the writing has them enabling their flaws in the name of “support.” Sorry, but if you can’t deal with someone making a comment as innocent as Marrow’s without beating up a grimm in fury about it... then you either need to work out that relationship insecurity or work on general anger management. Because Marrow didn’t deserve those cold looks and these two weren’t justified in receiving his panicked backpedaling. It’s one of those little things that presumably means nothing on its own, but combined with Blake and Yang’s entire development speaks volumes. Let them talk through Adam. Let someone call Yang out on her judgments. It’s ‘fine’ in situations like this; not fine in situations like Volumes 5-6.

The other part of the montage that didn’t sit well was another ‘joke.’ Just like I’m not inclined to view Yang and Blake’s anger as cutesy romance stuff here, I’m not comfortable brushing off Jaune’s interaction with the kids’ moms as a bit of humor. Yeah, maybe I’m “sensitive,” but was no one else creeped out by that? Jaune might technically be an adult, but he’s, what? Nineteen? So a junior in college. Maybe a sophomore. A young adult is what I’m saying. Is it possible all these women are also eighteen to early twenties (it’s so hard to tell ages with RWBY) and they just had their kids early? Sure. It is possible that these women all decided to become single moms, or divorced their partners, or are open to polyamory? Also sure. But let’s be real here, that’s not the joke. The joke is that a group of older, presumably married women are thirsting over the young, hot huntsmen. People would be more willing to admit that it’s not a great humor choice if RWBY had done that to one of the girls, but when a guy is the target it’s seen as a funny victory. Look at Jaune getting all that older, adulterous attention! As Nora herself says, “It’s totally the haircut.” (Even though that haircut remains atrocious, sorry.) The message is basically that if a guy is hot enough it doesn’t matter that he��s just trying to do his job, that he’s probably far younger than you, that you’re probably married... go gawk at him and give him gifts that clearly make him uncomfortable.

Again, I realize I’m being “sensitive.” It’s just a web series, just a stupid scene meant to generate a laugh, etc. But I’ve reached a point in my life where I simply don’t find that sort of stuff humorous. As a woman who has had much older men hit on me while I’m trying to do my job, I look at the same thing happening to Jaune and ask, “Why was this supposed to be funny again?”

But anyway, enough about all that. Other moments in the montage include Ruby and Yang fighting grimm together (presumably in their downtime. Nerds), Winter pretending to be unimpressed with Weiss’ summoning, and Ironwood telling Oscar that maybe they can “jog [Ozpin] loose” with a bit of training.

Yeah, remember how excited we all were that, based on the Volume’s opening, we would at least see Oscar training with Ironwood? Remember how we all thought that this would provide him with some much needed character development? That maybe this would be the moment when he struggled with and potentially decided to come clean about their lies? Or he tries to talk to Ozpin while sparing with an incredibly difficult opponent? You know, since Ironwood himself brought up jogging Ozpin loose, we might actually get some interaction with Ozpin?

Boy were we optimistic! What we actually get is them charging each other for one hit before we cut back to others training. Namely Jaune. And this right here is the problem with this entire episode: for however cute and wonderful these moments might seem, they’re all flat out ignoring the primary conflicts of the show. The ones the writing keeps refusing to grapple with. Who knows how much time this montage is supposed to cover, but it’s substantial. We get multiple flashes of different days, see the group working on different missions, a couple different moments taking place in the early morning, so I’d wager at least another week has passed. Combine that with however long it took Pietro to make their weapons and you’ve got the group fully entrenched in their lies. No one is questioning Ruby. Ruby isn’t making headway towards trusting Ironwood. Everyone is just kicking their heels, happy with the status quo until something forces them to finally make a decision. They now, officially, have no right to judge Ozpin for the time he took to trust people. We see them doing the exact same thing here and they’re all happy about it. With the exception of those two quick flashbacks in “Ace Operatives,” we’ve seen no evidence that the rest of the group is struggling with their own hypocrisy. I---like many---had hoped that Oscar’s training session would finally acknowledge and expand on the rest of the team’s initial hesitation. But no.

(In which Jaune’s expression is me.)

Jumping ahead just a bit, we see this same issue when Ruby, Penny, Qrow, and Ironwood are out driving the supplies. Ruby and Penny finally have some time to themselves! Will they discuss her murder and resurrection? Nope. Ruby vaguely references it with, “You know...” but there’s no actual depth to their conversation (and if you can’t even say ‘When you died’ that implies that maybe there are some lingering feelings about all this). Instead Ruby is interested in whether Penny has made new friends and she says that Ironwood claims she has no time for friends. Slot that in next to the Ace Ops’ ridiculous, “We’re not friends.”

Second, we have this moment between Qrow and Clover where they reiterate the huge gap between age and experience here. Clover is hoping that “another generation” will do right by Remnant after we’re gone. Namely Ruby and the others. Continuing with that age theme, he reassures Qrow that “those kids wouldn’t be where they are without you” which is all well and good, but is anyone going to tell THEM that? The adults don’t need to know that they’re doing good work---even if it is nice for Qrow to get some validation for once---rather, the whole “we don’t need adults” fiasco came about because the teens refused to acknowledge that work. We don’t need someone telling Qrow that he’s helped keep them safe. Overlooking some insecurities (which RWBY isn’t tackling anyway), he knows that. We as the audience don’t need to hear it because we saw it all happen on screen. Rather, Clover should be put into a position where he reminds Ruby of all that her uncle has done for her. Just like Qrow talking to Ruby about her motivations for moving forward against Salem doesn’t accomplish anything, Clover telling Qrow, as one adult to another, that they’re worth something doesn’t accomplish anything either. These parties know all this already.

As a side note, this is why you should mix things up. Not just so that Blake and Yang can practice fighting beside other people, but so that people who don’t already agree can be challenged for once. Put Yang with Qrow and have him comment on her anger, continuing Tai’s work. Put Ruby with Clover and let him talk to her about what adults have done to get her here. All these moments of potential development are lost by maintaining the expectation that the original partners have to be the priority. Rooster Teeth had an easy way of throwing new people together by assigning them various missions and they didn’t take it. Yang is still with Blake. Ren is still with Nora. Of course Qrow is with the one other guy his age who we have to pair him with. Reinforcing these relationships is great, but so is pausing them too.

And then there’s the drinking.

Hold up one second. I need to grab a bit of writing from my Volume 6 finale recap. Think back to Qrow and Ruby’s interaction in the airship:

And then Qrow lowers his bottle which… what? Alcoholism doesn’t work like that. Much more importantly, no one has tackled his drinking this season. Or the reasons he was drinking in the first place. Literally, Qrow’s semblance, his place in the war, Ozpin’s secret, none of it has been addressed. He has no reason to suddenly put aside his flask like he’s actually learned something. Does RT think we’re going to just imagine scenes that never actually happened?

After I posted this a couple of people pointed out that it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. We’ve seen other times where Qrow goes to take a drink and then thinks better of it, so it’s a reach to assume he’s magically given up drinking now. Which, fair. Now though it looks like that’s precisely what we got. Sometime between being found passed out on the front steps of the Argus house and reaching Atlas, Qrow just decided he was done with drinking and thus far we’ve seen no evidence that he’s struggling with that. Meaning, it’s not a conflict he’s working through. That doesn’t seem to be his arc this volume.

Yet he’s an alcoholic. Qrow’s drinking may have functioned as a joke for most of Volumes 1-3, but Volume 6 made it abundantly clear that this problem is incapacitating for him, especially after learning about Ozpin and Salem. So what happened? What changed? Even if I choose to overlook Qrow just deciding not to engage with his addiction anymore without help or backslides that we know of (doesn’t work like that...), I can’t ignore the fact that there was no catalyst for this. If the show wanted us to work under the assumption that Qrow stopped drinking because it endangered his family then they should have had him stop after the farm. You know, when he was almost killed by Apathy and had to be dragged out by his nieces. As it is, his drinking continues on throughout their whole time at Argus. He’s not picking up his scroll. He’s passed out on the steps. He’s brushing past Ruby to go get a drink instead of helping them figure out a way past Cordovin. Then a day later they make it to Atlas. So what precisely in that 24 hour period happened to change one of Qrow’s defining characteristics? Or, if this is supposed to be an arc wherein Qrow attempts to get sober and struggles with it, why haven’t we seen that? Again, they’ve been in Atlas for weeks now. This isn’t a one day sober Qrow with a naively optimistic outlook. He’s apparently been managing this for a while now with no downsides, no difficulties, no regrets.

Blake and Yang getting mad at Marrow instead of acknowledging their trauma. Oscar taking one hit at Ironwood instead of grappling with their secrets. Ruby talking about new friends instead of the relationship she already has with Penny. Clover telling Qrow adults are important instead of anyone telling the teens that. Qrow revealing that he’s just not drinking anymore. For reasons. It’s amazing just how much space this episode provides for the characters to start working through their conflicts and we bypass every opportunity. This is RWBY’s primary problem. Beyond the pro-protagonist perspective is the issue that, especially since Volume 5, the show has made a habit of introducing intriguing problems and then either twisting them so they have simplistic ‘solutions’ (we don’t need to tackle Ruby’s hypocrisy. She’s just “different” from Ozpin) or ignores them completely. We don’t need a new friendship vs. professional relationship conflict. We don’t need a new luck vs. bad luck semblance conflict. Not yet anyway. Not until we work through the conflicts that have already been introduced. Let Ruby talk to Penny about their own relationship. Let Clover help Qrow get sober. RWBY is like me when I’m writing fic. Why would I finish the thing I started when there’s this shiny new idea over here? Except I’m engaging in a low-key hobby whereas they’re writing for their livelihood. For the love of everything, please solve the problems we already have before chucking in new ones. You can give us all the same moments and relationships, just tailor them so they acknowledge the things the viewers have been waiting for you to tackle. I don’t need to know why Ruby and her team are Super Special because they’re BFFs when everyone else in Atlas apparently rejects friendship like the plague. I do need to know why a guy who was introduced downing a glass of whiskey apparently got over his alcoholism off screen.

Ugh. You know what we need? Penguins. Everyone look at the penguins for at least five seconds and allow them to cleanse your soul.

Heading backwards, before the transport scene we get a training fight between JNR + Oscar and Neon’s group. I honestly wonder how a team like theirs feels about them getting their licenses. After all, they fought at the Battle of Beacon too. The only reason why RWBYJNR got into extra, life-threatening situations is because they stupidly went off on their own. I realize that duh, as a story we can’t just have our protagonists twiddling their thumbs, but from an in-world perspective Ruby snuck out of the house to hunt down a woman who would absolutely have killed her and 100% would have been kidnapped if Qrow hadn’t followed to keep her safe. Everything else stems out of that. So not exactly a classically heroic basis for special treatment. All of which Neon and Flynt presumably don’t even know about because it touches on all those secrets. I suppose they just heard something along the lines of, “I, Ironwood, am giving two Beacon teams early licenses because they survived a horrendous battle. You, my actual students, don’t get them even though you did the same work.” It could have been really interesting to have some tension over this and for the group to see another complication of their secret keeping. Here they have to keep Cinder, the Maidens, the Relic, etc. quiet... but because of that it leads to some pretty awful miscommunication between friends. There are repercussions to your secrets and not all of them are things you can plan for or fix.

We don’t have anything like that though. Obviously. Instead we just get a generic fight with a side of weird Nora/Ren stuff. Meaning, Neon calls him Nora’s boyfriend and asks, “Where’s that energy when he’s around you?” Later Nora asks if they’ll still get sandwiches before work and Ren heaves out an annoyed sigh.

That moment struck me simply because it doesn’t come across like one of his normal, happily indulgent sighs. Ren seemed legitimately annoyed. Which is even stranger when we consider that Nora isn’t being over the top here. Sure, she pops up behind him in a sort of silly manner, but really all she’s doing is expressing that she’s hungry after an intense battle. Can we please make sure we grab something before heading off to work? That’s a more than reasonable request.

Ren shutting her down over his hair. Seeming to ignore her when she fiddles with it while on patrol. Neon’s comment about his lack of energy around her. Nora getting mad enough about it to give her a black eye (RWBY so rarely shows injuries). Ren seemingly put out by her theatrics. They’re all little things that only seem to paint a picture when put together, but of what exactly? It’s like I said last time, if the show wants to introduce some sort of arc for Nora and Ren this volume it had better do it soon. Really soon. Details that may or may not be setup can only take you so far.

During this battle Ironwood smiles down at all their progress, which could be endearing or creepy, depending on whether you think he’s hiding something (more on that in a bit). Neon actually acknowledges Oscar’s existence and draws a blush out of him, so thank you for that, Neon.

I thought for just a moment that Jaune might compliment Oscar too, but he just compliments the other team instead. At least they’re letting him train with him. After last week’s episode I’ll take this small step forward.

Back past the talk between Qrow and Clover, we finally get to meet the infamous Robyn Hill. She blocks the road to Amity Arena with one of her Happy Huntresses, the same faunus who was spying on the project last episode. And who I forgot to mention in my recap. Whoops. I love Hill already though precisely because she’s able to do what our protagonists couldn’t last Volume: stand down when a plan fails.

Hill takes her shot by putting up the roadblock and asking Clover to be straight with her, but when that doesn’t work and it looks like they’re about to come to blows, she admits defeat and lets them through. That’s how you handle a tenuous ally. Keep the peace and regroup with a different idea. Show them basic respect so that they might help you in the future. Clover’s “good luck” regarding the election speaks volumes about how everyone does want to help each other, they just need to figure out a way to do it. Hill could have attacked the group and stood her ground purely because she believes she’s right---just as Ruby did with Cordovin---but she demonstrates her maturity instead. She didn’t risk lives for the sake of getting what she wanted right here, right now. Despite the fact that what she wants likewise involves the safety of the people. Take note, Ruby.

Speaking of, everyone catch that guilty look when Ruby learns that Ironwood’s project is taking resources directly from the city that most needs it? Yeah, what did you think was going to happen? At the very least the group saw that they were taking manpower away. Ironwood needs them to help protect Mantle because most of his men are off in the middle of nowhere, so the group is well aware that their actions are causing a negative impact. I highly doubt that the eight of them (including Qrow) can make up for however many people Ironwood is pulling out, to say nothing of the fact that many of them (like Ruby here) are also on Amity duty. They’re allowing Ironwood to put people, money, supplies, and time towards an endeavor that they know is bound to fail. Sure, it would be nice to have communication across Remnant without fear of losing that to the grimm again, but we all know Ironwood is primarily doing this because of the Salem situation. If he knew about her immortality he’d probably go, “Hmm. Well, the first part of the idea is still nice, but I probably shouldn’t pour this much into just a regular communications tower. Defeating Salem potentially justifies me hurting the people to get this done. But not anything else.” I’ll say it again: Ozpin’s secrets didn’t endanger anyone. Everyone from Pyrrha to Yang agreed to put their lives on the line for reasons entirely separate from Salem. Their lives were in danger from the start and, given their choices, always would be in danger. Ruby is the one whose secret is not just threatening all of Remnant in the future, but actively hurting people now too. She has the ability to stop this and she chooses not to.

Or rather, she chooses to keep putting off the decision. We’ll tell Ironwood when we’re ready. Yeah right. I still want someone to challenge Ruby on what this magical ‘He’s trustworthy!’ moment looks like. They’ve spent weeks with this man, fighting for him, training with him, accepting gifts in the form of weaponry, armor, facilities... so what exactly is it going to take, Ruby? I’m not saying Ironwood is trustworthy, I’m saying you can never know until the day they betray you. If that day comes. So when is Ruby going to acknowledge that? That she will never get that magical moment and that she’s just like Ozpin, putting off telling someone because the information weighs so heavily and there’s just too much to risk?

Hill thematically acknowledges the last two Volumes with, “It doesn’t have to be difficult. Just tell me,” while we all know it’s not that simple. Even if people would like it to be. Clover refuses, Penny spots two invisible huntresses closing in (nice), and as said, Robyn backs down.

We then end this episode with a long bonding session between Winter and Weiss. We see them fighting with their summonings and Winter comments about how, “You’ve grown up a bit, haven’t you?” We get it. You’re not subtle. Weiss has grown up. “Make no mistake. School is over.” They’re adults now! If only we saw that more than we heard it. Weiss at least is a character who has had legitimate, excellent development over the last couple of volumes. I’m admittedly a bit confused though regarding how that development aligns with the old Weiss. Meaning, we learned early on that she wanted to become a huntress to redeem the Schnee name. Now Winter is talking about how separating herself from the Schnees was the best thing to happen to her and Weiss seems to agree. So is that it now? Is Weiss just concerned with being her own person, or is she still invested in being a Schnee? Just a Schnee who embodies what her family used to stand for? It’s unclear based on the conversation.

Then. Ugh. They discuss Ironwood’s choices and Weiss snidely comments that, “Everyone thinks what they’re doing is right, but really they’re just looking out for themselves... and their secrets.” Yeah, Weiss. INCLUDING YOU. Are they really so dense that they don’t see how lying about how Ozpin disappeared was looking out for themselves, namely by making sure that Ironwood continued to embrace them with open arms instead of getting pissed? After all, it’s less likely that the group would have gotten a nice place to live, awesome weaponry, high-tech places to train, and early licenses if they’d admitted to their sins last volume. They’re also protecting their own secrets by spending these weeks nice and quiet, just ignoring the Ironwood problem completely. Weiss is protecting their secrets right now by encouraging Winter to question Ironwood’s intentions---subtly casting him and Ozpin in a bad light---while she herself is keeping secrets from Winter. I mentioned before that Ironwood’s smile could potentially be a bad omen if we follow the writing rule of, “If a character insists someone isn’t keeping anything from them... they’re definitely keeping something from them.” Winter’s belief that Ironwood doesn’t keep secrets from her sets up the expectation for the audience that he probably is. But we don’t actually know that yet. Weiss thinks Ironwood might be keeping secrets. Weiss knows for sure she and the rest of her friends are keeping secrets. Only one party is definitively guilty here, so I’m not sure why she feels entitled to act like she still has the high ground.

With Ironwood’s honor in question, Winter takes Weiss to see the Winter Maiden. We really don’t get to learn much about her except that she still looks young-ish (again: RWBY ages are hard) and seems to like to paint.

No one else can visit her---and thus we don’t hear the conversation---because Ironwood wants Winter to inherit the power. Okay. So that leaves us with a couple options now:

Older woman can inherit and Ozpin made a very iffy call in trying to foster that responsibility off on a First Year. Which is probably down to more writing concerns than Ozpin’s characterization. Meaning, you want to keep the conflict among the main cast, not bring in a random new character to do the volume’s Important Thing. So you set up Pyrrha as the Fall Maiden, even though in-world that looks like a sketchy decision. To say nothing of the fact that Rooster Teeth isn’t very good at setting down hard rules. What functioned as a limitation during Volume 3 can easily be wiped away in Volume 7. In the same way that we went from Qrow’s semblance being totally passive and range-based to “sometimes I can’t control it.”

Ironwood and Winter are assuming that Winter can inherit, but she’s actually too old now. They’ll be blindsided by this when the power unexpectedly goes to someone else.

Ironwood has convinced Winter that she can inherit but actually has some sort of other plan up his sleeve.

Really, my biggest takeaway is Winter’s speech about how she is choosing this. Regardless of whether fate forced her into a situation with only bad options. Regardless of whether others also want her to make this decision. It’s still her choice. 95% of the fandom needs to listen to that speech and then chuck Pyrrha into Winter’s place. Having only tough choices isn’t the same thing as having no choice. The fact that your choice coincides with what others want doesn’t lessen it. They both chose to take on this power and it’s wrong for others to trivialize that by claiming that the men in their life---Ozpin and Ironwood---manipulated them. It’s implying that they can’t make their own decisions. That making this terribly difficult choice doesn’t come down to their own strength. They know it’s dangerous, regardless of whether they understand every detail of that danger, and actively choose to take on that responsibility anyway. Because they want to do some good in the world. The fandom has worked its butt off to take that away from Pyrrha and I really hope they don’t do the same to Winter.

Although... the death flags. Yeesh but Winter looks like a particularly enticing target for the end of this Volume. What with talk of destiny and all... I really hope the series doesn’t go the route of giving every Team RWBY member one of the Maiden powers, what with Winter in a position to think about Weiss if she dies with the power, Raven in a position to think about Yang, and Cinder obsessed with Ruby literally all the time... yeah. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m personally more invested in ‘normal’ people managing the impossible through hard work, belief in themselves and each other, all that jazz. Not already overpowered people (at least in Ruby’s case) getting literal magic to solve their problems with. There’s so much more you can do with that.

Finally, Jacques comes online to spew a bunch of BS about how everything ever is Ironwood’s fault and he’s totally suffering just like everyone in Mantle.

Right.

As Winter says though, the lies are just enough of a “spark” to ignite an already pissed off populace. We close on an angry mob beginning to tear the streets apart. Guess we’ll find out next week how the group tackles that nasty problem.

Until then! 💜

Minor Things of Note

What was that sandwich gag? RWBY is really pushing the humor in iffy directions this volume.

I enjoyed Qrow and Clover playing cards though. What a mess with their semblances.

Also, I made us a poster:

#rwby #rwby volume 7 #rwby volume 7 spoilers #mymetas #rwby recaps

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sunnyrollins · 5 years ago

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Hello there lovely! Firstly, I LOVE your writing. You're just so GOOD. It literally lights up my day when I see you've posted a Rollisi prompt. Much love! Secondly, I was wondering if there was any chance of you doing a song prompt. I adore "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur for Rollisis and would love to see some sort of fic based on it. No pressure if it's not your style. Take it or leave it. Love your work! You're the hero us Rollisi fans need!

[anon, this literally made me cry ilysm ! i’m so sorry this took me so long to get to ! i hope you saw the post i made shortly after you sent this saying i was doing it so you don’t think i just totally ignored you especially after all your kindness !]

The precinct felt particularly quiet that night. It usually did after a particularly difficult case. And, even after years of working at SVU, nothing was more difficult for Amanda than working cases involving children.

She sat at her desk, looking intently at the pictures of her daughters that were proudly displayed, unable to stop the familiar, intrusive thoughts from encroaching into her consciousness. She’d seen the worst of what the world had to offer working in the field that she chose. If anything were to ever happen to either of her girls…

She had enough restraint to flip the switch before the thought could fully manifest. Jesse and Billie were okay. They were fine…probably warm and comfortable in their pajamas, unwinding before bed. The thought was comforting, but also brought on a wave of almost guilt. Her kids were happy and safe and loved. The kids who’d been victimized by that animal…

“Rollins,” Amanda blinked back the tears that had threatened to spill at the corners of her eyes and turned to face Olivia at the sound of her voice. “Go home. Be with the girls.”

Amanda shook her head, as if to jostle the dark thoughts from her mind, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. “Yeah,” she agreed. Her eyes flickered to the framed photographs of her daughters one last time before she finally stood up from her desk. “These cases make you wanna go home and hug the people you love a little tighter.”

“I know Noah and I will be watching an extra hour of TV together tonight,” Olivia agreed with a small, sad smile.

Amanda returned the sentiment, but thought twice before offering a response on how her own night would transpire. Keeping things in her personal life under wraps had been getting inexplicably more difficult as time went on, and she’d found that she had almost slipped up on quite a few occasions within the past month.

Keeping secrets from Olivia and Fin was discernibly not her favorite thing to do, but it was necessary…for the sake of the job as well as for the sake of preserving what was hers and only hers for as long as possible. She loved them like they were family, but they — if nothing else — were opinionated. And it had admittedly been nice not having an outside opinion on her life outside of work since she’d been pregnant with Billie.

When it was clear that a nod was all the response that her detective was going to give, Olivia pulled her bag up a little higher onto her shoulder, fastening the final button on her coat. “Give the girls an extra kiss for me,” she said.

Amanda nodded again, her smile a little less melancholic this time. “See you in the morning, Captain.”

When she arrived back home, Amanda stopped outside of her apartment to fish her keys out of her coat pocket. From the other side of the door, she could hear a familiar voice, and a small smile touched her lips, as she paused to listen to the sound of the thick, Staten Island accent reading the words to one of Jesse’s favorite books that she had all but memorized by that point.

“The witch had a cat and a hat that was black, and long ginger hair in a braid down her-”

“Back!” Jesse finished excitedly.

Amanda smiled to herself before finally unlocking and opening the door, and the sight in front of her — with Billie sleeping soundly against Carisi’s shoulder and Jesse curled up against his side to look at the pictures in the book — was enough to send every fearful and negative thought about the recently closed case back into the furthest corners of her consciousness.

“Mommy!” Jesse exclaimed with a wave in her direction once she closed the door behind her.

The small smile that Amanda previously wore grew as she exchanged glances between all of the familiar faces. “You three havin’ fun without me?”

Jesse climbed into Carisi’s lap to take the book out of his hands and turn it to show the pictures to her mother. “We’re reading Room on the Broom!”

“Again?” Amanda asked with mock surprise. As if by second nature, she unclasped her necklace to remove the diamond ring that had been tucked into her shirt all day before slipping it back into its rightful place on her left hand. “One more reading and Uncle Sonny might start asking for a lobotomy.”

Carisi chuckled, but Jesse simply looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “What’s a bononomy?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her. “How about before we finish me and Mom get Billie settled for the night and you can show her the picture you drew before, alright?”

“Okay!” Jesse agreed easily and with a jovial smile. She clambered out of his lap and set the book down on the coffee table, taking off down the hallway nearly as soon as her slippers hit the floor.

Amanda took the sleeping toddler from Carisi’s arms, kissing her head and holding her just a little bit closer than usual, and he followed behind her as they made their way into Billie’s dimly lit bedroom to put her to bed. After tucking her in and whispering a gentle goodnight, she turned to the man behind her, winding her arms tightly around his waist, and resting her head against the crook of his neck.

It seemed contrived, but she couldn’t help but notice that all of the darkness that had tainted her world throughout the years had become a little bit lighter since she’d finally allowed herself to fully let him in. From childhood, life had been anything but easy.. It all lingered in the back of her consciousness in a seemingly endless cycle. Maybe it always would. But sometimes in the simplest moments…when she’d watch him tuck the girls into bed, or she’d wake up to a gentle kiss before he’d get up to put on a pot of coffee…it all seemed to fade away for a little while.

She breathed out nearly all of the tension of the day in a soft sigh, her eyes squeezing closed as if to help her to memorize everything about him in that moment — the warmth of his skin, the smell of the cologne on the collar of his shirt, the soft whisper of his voice when he finally spoke.

“You alright?”

Her hand smoothed absentmindedly down his back, and she pulled away from the hug just enough to tilt her head up to look at him. “Better now,” she responded.

Now that I’m with my family.

She’d completed the thought exclusively in her mind, but the way he quirked a curious eyebrow and the corners of his lips turned up in amusement let her know that he’d recognized the implication. “Gettin’ domestic on me, Rollins?” He teased.

She rolled her eyes playfully, and when he leaned down to kiss her, she aptly dodged it with a laugh. “If I ever get domestic you’ll know it,” she assured him.

The truth was, she had gotten more domestically sentimental throughout the year and a half they’d been together romantically. She had, admittedly, rolled her eyes at the “marry your best friend” sentiment in the past. It seemed too cliche…childish even. Maybe that was because — before now — the vast majority of men she’d dated in the past hadn’t actually been her friends at all, she wondered.

“I thought you might be headin’ in that direction when you actually agreed to marry me,” he finally said with a chuckle.

“Well if it’s any consolation I’ve still got time to change my mind.” Her smile indicated that she was only joking without her having to say it, and this time when he leaned down to peck her lips, she graciously accepted. “Hopefully we’re both still employed by the time we actually get to the part where we tie the knot.”

For as much as she wanted to blame the detective skills of Manhattan SVU for the fact that it had been getting more and more difficult to hide the nature of their relationship from the squad — and for as much as that was partially to blame — she knew she hadn’t been doing herself any favors either. Half the time she’d go out of her way to avoid him when he’d come into the precinct, and the other half she’d be so tense that she could feel it in her shoulders.

It hadn’t exactly dawned on her until Olivia had pulled her aside one day to ask if they were okay…if they’d had some kind of falling out because — according to the Captain — they’d been standoffish around one another. She could only hope her own shock in response to the observation wasn’t evident enough to seem suspicious.

“You’re borrowin’ trouble again,” he pointed out in response to the offhanded comment.

“So I take it you’re ready to convince Hadid that marrying one of the detectives you work with somehow doesn’t present a conflict of interest?”

“I’m a lawyer, Rollins. Convincing is kinda what I do.” He paused, cupping her face gently between his hands to look her in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it, alright? We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. And either way…it’s all gonna work out.”

She knew he had absolutely no way of knowing that for sure, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the sincerity in his eyes made her want to believe it.

“You’re right. Gettin’ fired doesn’t sound too bad,” she finally said with a teasing smile, and when he chuckled with a roll of his eyes she nudged him playfully with her elbow. “I could use a vacation.”

When the floor outside of Billie’s bedroom creaked just slightly, Amanda instinctively unwrapped her arms from around him and turned to find Jesse standing in the doorway with a piece of paper in her hands. With a proud smile, the little girl thrust the drawing out to show her mother, and Amanda regarded the crayon-drawn figure with a bright smile.

“It’s Frannie!” The little girl declared, but she seemed to easily lose her focus on the task at hand as she turned her attention to Carisi. “Can we finish the story now?”

“Yeah, of course. C’mon.”

He grunted dramatically when he picked her up, offering a playful comment about how fast she’d been growing, and Amanda couldn’t help but smile at the way her daughter glowed excitedly in response.

The three of them quickly settled back onto the couch. Jesse sat attentively in Carisi’s lap, her eyes glued to the pages of the picture book as he picked up where he had left off, and Amanda leaned against him, nestled affectionately against his side. As he read, she slowly but surely fazed out the words and allowed herself to simply drift into the comfortable familiarity of his voice.

After all of the men who had burned her in the past — those who had left her high and dry or slept around behind her back — she had almost started to believe that there was no point in trying to build a romantic relationship as it would only end in heartbreak. But as she rested her head against the shoulder of the man she was going to marry…her former partner…her best friend…she let herself embrace the fact that she hadn’t let it get that far.

She thought back to the night that he’d asked her to marry him. When Al had proposed, it was out of perceived necessity. He’d wanted to make an “honest woman” out of her. With Carisi, it was different. He didn’t have to marry her. He wanted to.

“I want us to spend the rest of our lives like this, Amanda.”

A small, subconscious smile touched her lips in response to the memory, and when her eyes shifted up to him, watching his eyes skim over the children’s book as Jesse listened and leaned against his shoulder with sleepy eyes, she knew she wanted the same.

She wanted him to be there through everything that life would come to throw at her. She wanted to grow old with him by her side.

She wanted forever with him. And the ring around her finger assured her that he was never going to let her go.

#rollisi #rollisi prompts #svu #i'm genuinely soft over this ask again i don't deserve this kinda kindness <3 #also sorry for the delay this week there's genuinely no excuse #for me i was just being lazy

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justimajin · 6 years ago

Text

Catching a Case of the Doctor Blues ⌠Part 2⌡

⇢ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

⇢ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ (2.8k) Doctor/Surgeon AU, Enemies to Lovers AU

⇢ Summary: When asked about Dr. Kim, a string of beautifully aligned words are ready spew from your lips. You could possibly go on and on about how his wonderful stubbornness wasn’t similar to talking to a brick wall, or how his observation skills were especially great in preparing your blood vessels for a drastic rupture or even how one gracious stare of his nearly had you on the verge of ripping your essential documents in half. But it seems that, perhaps, there was a lot more to Dr. Kim then what meets the eye…

⇢ Warnings: some swearing

⇢ A/N: Surprise, surprise an update! I pushed the release date up ahead because friday has been reserved for screaming about persona :D

⇢ Moodboard Prologue Part 1

⇢ Next Update: Tuesday, April 16

The flipping of pages echoes through the room as you rummage through the hoard of new patient names that had just recently arrived at the hospital; the severity of the cases greatly ranging. You raise an eye at a particular case that didn’t sit very well with you – the boy was involved in a dancing accident that caused a bad sprain on his ankle but was now showcasing alarming symptoms that needed further interpretation.

You decide its best to first make your rounds with your current patients but visiting the boy once you receive more documentation about his symptoms.

“Jin.” His head jerks up when you briefly stop by your shared office and you hand over the file, “I need to check on my patients but see if you can find more information about him.”

Jin quickly skims through the pages before he looks up to you and nods, “Will do.” He gives you a thumbs up and you try to ignore the hoard of chips lying in his bottom drawer with a roll of your eyes.

The check-ups go by smoothly with the occasional requests from nurses about changing patient diets or if IV’s should be refilled. You dismiss majority of them based on your own logical reasoning with each situation and swiftly decide to head back to your office to see what Jin was able to come up with after eyeing the time on the clock.

“E-excuse me?” A small voice asks you and you promptly turn around at the young girl patiently waiting for your attention. You recognize her sitting next to one of the patient beds where a women, appearing near her late 40s, resides.

“Yes?” She fumbles with her hands when your scrutinizing stare lands on her, but your gaze softens when she meekly requests.

“I-Is my mom going to be okay?” She asks, hopeful and young eyes boring into your solid ones and you take a short glance at the woman again, re-forming the association.

“She seems to be doing progressively better than when she first arrived here. But we continue to monitor her in case of any complications.”

The girl nods and she lets out a deeply relieved exhale; to which you don’t fail to notice how much her scrunched shoulders finally drop down or how the fumbling of her hands becomes slower until they completely stall. A small smile tugs at your lips when she thanks you for giving her a quick update and she trails back to her mother’s side, attentively attending and organizing her food for her.

Your eyes latch onto the two, not wanting to quite look away when the mother wakes up with a tired smile at her bright daughter being eager to feed her. It’s a warming gesture, one that seems to pull at your own heart strings, before you eventually break the lingering stare to get back to work.

It was clear in circumstances like this though, where the fine line of being professional and being a human being were drawn in your field of work. It’s a very delicate line that you must uphold, but you are greatly aware that the strict line does not separate the two topics in any form, but rather that there needs to be a steady blend of them within your occupation.

However, this moral was definitely not upheld by a certain individual.

“You will need to find a donor soon for his failing kidney.” Dr. Kim states, briefly scribbling down notes on his plastic clipboard. He remains stoic to the woman in front of him, who seems to be in a frenzy with her dishevelled appearance.

“A-a donor? But he’s in pain! Can we just bring him home already?” She desperately asks, but Dr. Kim’s eyes narrow and suddenly you want to look away from the situation.

“He needs to find a donor. Both his kidneys are failing and there’s no way telling how much longer we can keep him sustained without them.” The words come out as stern and direct but you can already see his dwindling patience.

“Please.” The woman begs, reaching out to faintly touch Dr. Kim’s arm but the action doesn’t disrupt his heavy gaze in the least, “I-I don’t want to keep him here much longer…”

“That doesn’t change the situation. He needs a donor, find one or he’ll suffer the consequences.” Dr. Kim swiftly removes his arm from her, his loud footsteps distantly echoing when the woman is left in distraught.

It takes every one of the composed cells in your body to watch the situation unfold in front of your eyes and you shake your head when the suspicion in your mind does receive conformation.

The woman paces back and forth, the constant chewing abuse on her bottom lip not disappearing alongside the trembling of her hands. You carefully watch when she makes a couple of quick phone calls and they end abruptly with an even more distressed expression on her face. She eventually places the phone away, before wracking through the torn wallet of hers in desperation. After a couple minutes of repeatedly digging into it, sparks of water accumulate in her eyes and soon she buries them in the palm of her hands, silently hoping for some sort of miracle.

The faint whisper escapes her lips but it draws a conclusion that was so utterly evident to you the moment she decided to take the misfortunate chance in attempting to converse with Dr. Kim about the matter, “H-How are we going afford a donor…”

You take a deep exhale, very well aware that the obvious fact had completely slipped over the stubborn man’s head when you turn to follow in the direction he left in. He hadn’t gone too far by the time that did pass, so you rush to plant yourself right in his pathway.

“Are you blind?” You question, the pent-up frustration beginning to unwillingly surface when you automatically clench your fists.

“You’ll need to double check your own eyesight Dr. L/N.” He taps the dark frame of his glasses, “I wear glasses.”

“Are you sure you do? Because you couldn’t even see that woman wasn’t going to be able to afford a donor.” You know he isn’t one to overlook something like that, especially when he was so good in announcing his observational skills diligently about your work.

“I am aware of that.” He states, the blanked expression still being plastered to his features.

“You could have said something! She was crying when you left.” It’s almost like you’re talking to a brick wall, the fact nowhere being neatly drilled into his mind. It’s hopeless, thanks to previous tedious encounters with him, you know that Dr. Kim didn’t contain a single ounce of compassion in his body for his patients. He deals with them as they go and any of there concerns are considered simply irrelevant to him.

But you cannot easily brush away the aftermath that his mind-set leaves behind, not when they are forced to hide themselves with tears due to his own lack of basic morality.

He doesn’t answer you back, but you place yourself right in his direction of view and you can see the growing irritation blazing in his eyes when he abruptly stops his elongated strides.

“Dr. L/N.” He states with gritted teeth, “This is a hospital. And I am a doctor, not some kind of magician.”

“And what people need in this hospital,” He raises a brow, leaning closer to you, “Is the truth. Not an illusion of hope.”

His typical answer doesn’t faze you, not even when he moves around you in order to leave and you turn around, staring at his fading figure. You do know that there is a certain level in the depth of his words that you can comprehend, but you still cannot bypass the harm that can come with even a single potential burst of sympathy that he fails to demonstrate.

This wasn’t about being a magician per say with his own words, it was about being a doctor who is able to understand their own patient accordingly – both logically and emotionally.

You remain standing in the void hallway, the infuriating thoughts racing in your mind at an alarming rate until you decide to move and are welcomed to the familiar black tousled hair paired with an intrigued gaze.

“So…what just happened here?” You hadn’t realized you were standing outside of Jimin’s office when the scene ensured and he gives you a curious look as your aggravated expression.

“Nothing happened.”

“Were you guys fighting? Like again?” You exhale and he nods understandingly.

“What was it this time? Did he say something stupid to you?” Jimin questions when you slowly walk back to your office alongside him.

“He wasn’t being considerate to patients.”

“Ahh of course,” He clicks his tongue, “Dr. Kim isn’t so bad though Y/N.” You immediately glare at him and he hesitantly cowers at the stare, suddenly regretting his words.

“I-I mean like, maybe he’s not as bad once you get to know him…” He squeaks but you narrow your eyes.

“Where is this new profound love for Dr. Kim coming from?” You suspiciously lean forward but Jimin furiously shakes his head.

“Well, we are the same age and it probably wouldn’t hurt to talk to the guy…” He simply shrugs but it doesn’t wave off your suspicion.

“Are you sure its only for that reason?” You wiggle a suggestive eyebrow and Jimin’s eyes widen.

“Hey!! It isn’t like that! You know I like girls, okay?”

“Is that why your recent intern is a guy?”

“What?! Of course not, I took Jungkookie under my wing because his adorableness makes me want to adopt him in the future! I’m sure he even looks up to me as a role model!”

“Are you so sure about that?” You arrive back at your office to find the implied person conversing alongside a man whose laughter ironically sounds similar to windshield wiper against a car window. A snicker escapes you when you see the horrified expression morph onto Jimin’s features when he hurriedly steps in between them, dragging Jungkook back to his side.

“W-what’s going on here?!” Jimin frustrating says, to which you roll your eyes.

Ignoring him, you walk over to Jin, “Did you get anything on him?”

He nods, handing you a file and you begin inspecting it while Jin argues with Jimin about being ridiculous with his doting on Jungkook. You drown out their voices when you carefully observe the now detailed symptoms and you shake your head at them once again, their appearance only seeming to further increase the concern dwindling inside of you. They had consisted of descriptions of a lack of appetite and mucus-filled coughs – both symptoms that would never be associated with something minor like a sprained ankle.

However, your eyes land on the particular ward the patient would be moving into when they skim over the words: immediate care.

You’re glad that they were being transferred over before you issued in a request so you decide it’s best to discuss the concern over with Yoongi who specializes within the department.

Closing the file, your eyes flicker over the raging dispute still continuing to ensure in front of your eyes before you promptly reach out and grab the coat of your dear intern, whose face was the colour of strawberries because of his over bearing yelling.

“We need to get going. Jungkook, take care and be careful of Jimin. Apparently he likes Dr. Kim.” And with that you exit the room, to which Jungkook turns to Jimin with widely confused eyes and Jimin is cursing under his breath at the broadcast he gets for trying to convince you otherwise.

“Why did you need information on the patient?” Jin asks, rushing to keep up with your quickened pace when you try to locate the ruffled blonde hair with your scanning eyes.

“His symptoms are not matching up with his case. Usually that implies that either the patient has been misdiagnosed or that they perhaps developed something from there time spent here.” Jin cocks his head to the right, a little alarmed with the information but you simply shrug.

“We’re doctors but we’re only human beings. That means that sometimes even we can make mistakes.” You explain, “It’s not preferred to do so, but if it happens then it needs to be dealt with immediately.” You rack a frustrated hand through your locks, not seeing Yoongi around anywhere. Luckily that means he’ll most likely be doing his rounds and not preoccupied with one of his frequent office naps he likes to take.

You enter into the immediate care wards and thread through the abundance of patients before your eyes finally land on him. The white bed is located inside a separate individual room and your eyebrows furrow when you catch Yoongi adjusting the IV for the patient; eyes crinkling when he lets out a small laugh.

You cautiously stroll over, still bewildered by the display, but your eyes move upward to the room number and widen when they realize it was the exact patient that had been recently transferred over. You linger at the door, carefully tapping against it and Yoongi’s smile instantly disappears, surprise replacing it instead at your abrupt appearance.

“Dr. L/N.” He states, always uttering your professional name in front of patients.

“Dr. Min, I see you’ve met the new transfer.” You give the boy a small smile and he instantly beams at you, pure light radiating the room.

Yoongi nods, ”He’s been put in my care from now on.”

“Hello!” The boy eagerly says, “Thank you for looking after me Dr. L/N.” A giant heart-shaped smile crosses his face and it catches you off guard that he already knew who you were despite only ever coming across his files. Jin soon enters through the room and joins you before the boy greets him as well.

“Hi! Are you a doctor too?” He points to Jin’s coat but he shakes his head.

“Not yet, but hopefully one day I will be.” Jin shrugs and the boy pats him on the back.

“You can do it.” He clenches his hand into a fist and firmly nods, small dimples creasing the edges of his mouth. Both you and Yoongi simultaneously let out a small laugh from the gesture, suddenly exchanging a glance.

“Hoseok I need to talk to Dr. L/N, but I’ll be back soon.” Yoongi states, gently putting a hand on the boy’s orange head and he nods with a smile. Jin remains with Hoseok when the two of you exit and its strange to you that Yoongi would even consider re-visiting a patient like that. The man thankfully did not lack the compassion that was required for him for the line of work, but Yoongi had always found his rounds to be quite exhausting to go through none the less, so purposely coming back arises questions from you.

“You seem happy.” You comment when Yoongi walks into a corner with you, away from any ease dropping ears.

“He’s a nice kid…” Yoongi says, gaze concentrated on the white tiled floor beneath him. It’s amusing in the least because you know Yoongi to always be completely honest and forward with you, so seeing him lose that composure suddenly was a nice change.

“He is. But a sprained ankle…?” You tilt your head and Yoongi’s gaze suddenly moves to you, acknowledging your questioning with a brief nod.

“I have my suspicions already, I’ve run some tests on him and I’m waiting for the results to come in.” He states, pausing for a second, “But this doesn’t seem to be something he recently developed…”

A surprised look adorns your features, “A persistent problem? But why hasn’t he received treatment then?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “That’s what I’m not sure of yet. It doesn’t make sense to me.” Yoongi waves a hand, “We can’t tell until I get his results in, but I definitely do think it’s a lot serious than he says.”

You nod, from what you could already tell, Hoseok seemed to be a patient which looks towards the bright side of things. It isn’t a bad quality at all, but potentially ignoring severe symptoms until a visit to the hospital is not the ideal situation a person would want to be involved in.

Yoongi smiles again, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Usually it’s the most hopeful people, that go through the roughest of times.”

#taehyung fanfic #bts taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #kwritersworldnet #btsguild #taehyung angst #taehyung doctor au #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #bts taehyung #bts v #bts v fanfic #bts v doctor au #bts doctor au #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts imagines

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funkymbtifiction · 6 years ago

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I’m definitely an IxTJ, but I’ve been having a bit of trouble pinpointing the dominant function. My instinct would be to default to ISTJ because of probability and also a semi-subconscious desire not to be linked to the largely immature online INTJ community...

It’s natural not to relate to “INTJs” online, because almost all online INTJs are mistyped feelers and IXTPs.

However, while I do usually compare things to past experiences (well, who doesn’t to some degree?) and often slip back to “tried and true” methods under stress, I’m very future-minded and not at all detail oriented. My memory isn’t great either, since I don’t really retain anything that I don’t find interesting or important to my goals. Also, I find conversations with intuitives to typically be much more stimulating than conversations with sensors, although this is pretty variable. Judging on this alone, I’m leaning towards INTJ.

Yes, that sounds like an INTJ, possibly with an Enneagram 3 fix/center.

I wouldn’t be writing this ask if it were just the above, although any insight you might have about that would be very much appreciated. The more interesting thing is that I’ve noticed that when I’m around xNTPs (at least the really nerdy, very stereotypically xNTP ones), I start showing a lot of Ne and Ti. And I do mean a lot; if I were an outside observer, I would immediately pin myself as an xNTP. But then I leave them and I’m back to my usual self. I’ve considered the possibility that I’m subconsciously imitating them, but dismissed this because I don’t do that with anyone else to a noticeable degree and because it just comes so naturally.

I’m definitely not actually an xNTP (you can probably tell that much just from the style of this ask). My question is, would an ISTJ or an INTJ be able to access Ne and Ti this easily? Could I be an ISTJ with a Ne grip and 6th slot Ti coming out of nowhere? Or might I be an INTJ lapsing into shadow functions?

Without providing any information on what you mean by Ti and Ne, I can’t assess whether you are actually using it or not. A lot of people who do not have a function lack a deeper understanding of it, and are basing the function off superficial assessments of what it does, rather than what it’s like to use it. If you think of Ne as simply being playful, funny, or a scattered focus, then you are not understanding pure Ne. Ne is like double-sided tape -- it can instantly pick up new ideas and run with them, considering them as equal to other new ideas; it can make up / bullshit things on the fly and process ideas “on the go” without needing Ni’s time to pick apart the idea and internally process it.

Anyone can be playful around their friends, but if your friends are actively changing your mind on the go with their ideas and causing you to run with them, you may have Ne. If not, and you are just indulging them or having a good time, you don’t. Same thing goes for Ti. Everyone possesses superficial Ti, in that most people want the “why” of something. But while a Te would indulge nitpicking for a short time, anything that becomes too internalized in forming an inner framework will inevitably cause a Te to go “WHO CARES? THIS IS NOT GOING ANYWHERE AND IT’S IRRITATING”!

My INTJ friend says she can keep up with and use Ti “fine, but it is not my preferred method and it soon becomes boring and pointless to me.” She also can keep up okay with my Ne, but is well aware of me processing things much faster than she does, and she does not like to rush to a conclusion, unlike me.

Te: easiest explanation is usually right.

You: are intuitive, therefore INTJ is more likely than ISTJ. Shadow functions are a fringe theory which should not factor into your self evaluations. Go with “the most evidence proves the case.”

- ENFP Mod

#question #intj #istj #mbti #submission

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fiircbird-archive-blog · 8 years ago

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Because we all need a retcon that elaborates on that 7 year gap ;) and makes Phoenora canon amirite ~ <3

It just didn’t feel right. That entire trial, the evidence shared, the knowledge of the prosecution… Lenora turned it over in her mind a thousand times and everything she saw threw up red flags.

She had never personally met Phoenix Wright, but she had run plenty of toxicology and forensics tests for him. She, like the rest of the LAPD, knew of his ridiculous accomplishments and infamous turnabout cases. He had exposed corruption in the legal system plenty of times before, had sent plenty of crooks before –

So why? Why would he of all people use forged evidence in court? It didn’t make sense. It was wrong. To see someone so well-respected crash and burn at the drop of a hat – or in this case, a diary page – just didn’t sit well with her. She had to speak with him herself.

When he emerged from his office, she could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t slept in days; he had been harassed, she knew. The media had caught wind of the whole debacle and now people were questioning every case he had ever won, every defendant he had ever gotten acquitted. God, was it not enough that he had been disbarred? The look in his eyes assured her he was innocent.

She spoke plainly, but with careful consideration of all that he felt. Introduced herself and informed him of her observations, her opinions He still seemed weary – but he invited her in. They sat and spoke for about an hour. Near the conversation’s end, she mentioned off-hand how she worried for the defendant’s daughter; he seemed to perk up at that.

“Would you happen to know how I could get in contact with her?”

It was a strange request, but she provided the information necessary. She even escorted Trucy Gramarye to his office herself, although she allowed them privacy and waited in the main room while they spoke. Phoenix had offered to find her relatives to stay, but apparently there were none. Lenora was shocked to learn that, upon hearing that, he offered to adopt Trucy as his own. Just what sort of man was he?

She would keep an eye on the two regardless, as well as offer to help in investigating what had really happened. Phoenix took to the streets, she remained in the LAPD, keeping an ear to the ground for suspicious activity. As cases came in and out, there certainly was a harsher demeanor when it came to the court system. Full acquittals became rare; it sounded like the LAPD was simply great at its job, but…no. No, she knew who she worked with: idiots.

Although a bit skeptical at the start, Lenora had become completely committed to seeking out the stray thread that would lead to the unraveling of this conspiracy. If she wasn’t working late nights at the lab, she was looking into suspicious individuals at Phoenix’s request, or even going out on investigations with him herself. Either way, there was plenty of time to get to know each other.

Developing feelings hadn’t been her intent – nor his. They both just wanted to get to the bottom of things and to right the wrongs of the legal system. That was it. That was all.

But things took a turn when the MASON System came into play. It was a terrifyingly brilliant piece of technology that allowed users to access, review, and replay scenes from their memories – something out of a science fiction novel. It wasn’t, though. Sayoko Robbins was the top neurologist/memory specialist in her field, and her husband Richard an impeccable software developer; Lenora had met Dr. Robbins while working at a military base, and it didn’t take much convincing to get her to help with their endeavors.

The minor dilemma, however, was that the first iteration of the system required two people to use it. This meant the source of the memories had to be hooked up to the system, while the other reviewed them and chose what memories to search for and save; and that meant taking a very intimate look at Phoenix’s life.

“Phoenix. Are you really sure you trust me with this?”

“Yeah, I do.” He glanced up at her from the chair. Over the years, he had grown bolder – a development that was necessary for the potentially dangerous work he had done – and changed how he carried himself. But now, in this moment, he was looking at her with the same clear expression he had when he practiced law. Careful, comforting, observant. “I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else, Lenora. Go ahead.”

It also couldn’t be anyone else, as only they knew the information shared between them. But… still, how he had said it made her look away to hide the flush of her cheeks. Murmuring a promise that she would be careful and respectful as possible, she turned the machine on as she had been instructed, and started the search.

It wasn’t easy. She ended up seeing a lot through his eyes, even though she did her best to skip what wasn’t in the correct timeframe. Terrifying, heartbreaking experiences – both in and out of court. She had to step away from the screen a few times. It was more intense than she had anticipated.

But they got the job done eventually. It took a solid two weeks to sort through everything, and to package it up and send it back to the Robbins for further development into the system. Between then and later, Lenora couldn’t help but talk with Phoenix over what she had seen. Some of it was really…well, nobody had a perfect life. But some of it would be stuck with her – the encounters with that redhead, specifically. He had been abused.

“Lenora – sweetheart, I’m fine,” It wasn’t the first time he had called her that, but it was the first time he had done so with such alarm. Probably because she was crying. He pulled her into his arms and pet her hair, murmuring apologies that she had to experience that – but no! No, she protested, why was he sorry? He wasn’t at fault! And she short of talked in circles about it for a bit, clearly distressed, and he nodded along, assuring her he was okay. At some point she kissed him. He kissed back. It sort of went on from there.

It didn’t affect their investigations. If anything, it gave them the strength to power through it even more. Trucy was happy, too, once she realized the reasons for Lenora’s frequent visits. They had developed quite the bond as well. Together, they felt like an unstoppable force.

But they weren’t. Lenora knew that. The more she dug and uncovered, the higher that corruption ladder grew: every rung reached revealed two more, and suddenly the forging of evidence was the least of their problems. This was insane.

Lenora kept it to herself for months, debating on whether or not to share her findings. She needed Phoenix’s help, certainly, but this was the sort of thing people disappeared for. She couldn’t do that to him. Couldn’t put him or Trucy at risk.

So she decided to leave.

“Lenora—“

This is the only way, Phoenix. “ She shook her head, steeling her tears still. “if I tell you what I know, you’ll be a target. You have an investigation to complete and a daughter to raise. I…I can’t put a target on your head.”

“So you’ll put one on yours?”

“No. That was accidental.” She smiled weakly. “But now I have to see it through. Otherwise, we’ll never be safe. And…at this point, Phoenix. That’s all I want.” She moved forward, taking his face in her hands. “I love you. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t.” Her forehead pressed to his. “When…when I come back. Let’s get married, okay? When I’m back, it’ll mean we’re safe. And then we can finally start the life together we’ve talked about. Okay?” Despite her best efforts, she started crying. God, she wept so easily when it came to him. “I’ll contact you whenever I can. But… but that doesn’t mean you have to wait. If you find some—“

“Stop.” He curled his arms around her. “Don’t even imply that. There won’t be anyone else, Lenora. Never. It’s you or no one else.” His voice was starting to break, too. “I know you have to do what you have to do. I trust you. Just come back safe.”

“I will. I promise.”

Years slipped by, more than she had hoped would. Her communication with Phoenix was as frequent and secure as possible. She never spoke about what she was doing or where she was, or who she was meeting with. The forensics chemist had somehow turned into a private investigator with a specialization in whistleblowing along the way. That was all he had to know. That and how much she loved him and his – their daughter.

For a few weeks, there was no communication. There couldn’t be, even though she knew he was worried. She was wrapping it up – snipping loose ends, cutting ties, fading back into obscurity. She couldn’t leave a trace. It had to be that way, so for nearly two months it was nothing but radio silence.

Then she flew back into California. His office was closed, so she could only imagine he was in court. Once this was confirmed, she slipped into the defense lobby and waited.

To her surprise, Trucy was with him. She wasn’t sure of the details as to why, but she certainly wasn’t opposed to seeing her all grown up. They hadn’t been able to send pictures, after all, and yet she was even more beautiful than she had envisioned. And Phoenix… he was… he was a lawyer again, and the pride he took in that position and how it helped others was evident on his face. His client thanked him enthusiastically before running off to enjoy her freedom – rushing right past her, which finally drew the father-daughter pair to the stranger in the room.

“—Daddy? Who’s that?”

Of course they wouldn’t know. She looked awfully suspicious, all covered up in a trench coat and sunglasses, hair cut significantly shorter than he had last seen. Yet somehow, even before she turned to face them and remove said sunglasses, she could see in Phoenix’s expression that he had an idea.

“Hey, stranger,” Tucking her hair behind her ear, she smiled and took a few steps closer; her trenchcoat, parted to reveal a short, white little cocktail dress beneath. Trucy immediately started to squeal, understanding. “You feel like getting married today?”

#//AHHH I LOVE THIS!!#//so well written!#//and could slot nicely into canon #&; stashed in a memory box ( SAVED )#submission #&; worth the wait ( PHOENIX AND LENORA )

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anautisticdragon-blog · 7 years ago

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Dermatology of a Tyrannosaur

I remember back when I pointed out -- oh, about a year ago -- that life on Titan wouldn't require the same building blocks we have on earth for DNA or a DNA-like structure that would give rise to life. It's fairly obvious when you think about it.

You could use ether compounds to get there, or any other number of substances or means we hadn't considered. I was, as is usually the case, harshly mocked for this theory. Hooray! That's my life, I'm used to it. Ten months later? There was a study that came to exactly the same conclusion. It was cathartic, I'll tell you that much. Still, I am used to this.

A lot of scientific realisations seem obvious to me. I think it's because science has become an extraverted field. Extraverts are more reliant on socialising, believing the word of charismatic sociopaths as fact, cognitive biases, and what they believe they know over observable evidence. This is easy to see with the "Chasing God Dark Matter" that's going on with dark matter.

Pro-Tip: Dark matter probably doesn't exist. We’ve found no evidence of it. Gravity is most likely emergent, it ties into the holographic principle which -- no, kids -- isn't about Star Trek holograms. The conversations I've had with some self-proclaimed, extraverted STEM students leaves me worried for the future. I have belaboured that topic at length, though. That the more contemporary impression is that STEM's for dum-dums.

Extraverts should be banned from doing any kind of science, really. They're the reason we're in the sorry state we're in right now. Too many Edisons and Stan Lees; Not enough Teslas and Kirbys. Introverts are too depressed by it to bother, opting instead for the soft science.

It's like why a lot of women aren't into video games unless you introduce them to the right ones, because of the not entirely incorrect public perception that gaming is for misogynists, misanthropes, and sociopaths.

See GamerGate. SRSly.

Heh.

Point is? Too many extraverts sticking to cognitive dissonance, what they think they know, and cuddling up to regressive, traditionalist sociopaths who give them attention.

And again. If that wasn't the case, we wouldn't be spending so much time, energy, and money chasing God dark matter right now.

All we have to do to solve the "DERK MATTUH PRUBLUM" is consider that maybe our assumptions of the mass of galaxies (our own and of others) are completely off. Then we can free ourselves from the dark matter insanity and do real science.

Sigh.

So, dermatology of a tyrannosaur, then.

Extravert camp A (Progressives): IT HAS FEATHERS. Extravert camp B (Regressives): IT HAS SCALES. Introvert camp: Actually, looking at the evidence? It might have had both.

Gasp. What a revelation!

It's that simple. The humble tyrannosaur most likely had scaly parts of its hide, and others which had a coat of downy protofeathers. That fits all the evidence and is the most likely solution. However, in this age of charismatic sociopaths, it's more about who can make the most pretty, crowd-pleasing argument based upon popular assumptions rather than looking at and considering the evidence.

Give 'em a year or two, they'll catch up. Hopefully. Or a decade...

If you want to do the research though and consider all of the evidence we've collected thus far? Feel free. You'll possibly arrive at the same conclusion. If not, and you really have considered all the angles? Please do share. The thing is, though? Evidence doesn't lie. This is evidence that others have discovered, painstakingly, that’s ignored in favour of those beautiful narratives for the narcissistic extraverts who think they know everything. Precious babies.

And no, I’m not one of them. I'm hardly a charismatic sociopath trying to woo you into believing my perspective, am I? No, I just read a lot, and I’m hardly charismatic. I've got less charisma than a bloody sea sponge. Not even superficial charisma. I'm very unlikeable. And that’s fine. I’m completely okay with that. Mostly.

See, I just choose to not ignore the evidence. I’m not into narcissistic narratives that prove me right. I was all for the tyrannosaur being entirely feathered, but it turns out that they have feathers and scales. I’m completely okay with that. It’s what the evidence we have dictates. Not the assumptions, the evidence. There’s a difference. We have assumptions about the mass of galaxies; We have evidence of scales and feathers on tyrannosaur fossils.

It's just really easy to see. Similar to the situation with life on Titan, dark matter, or anything else you might imagine. All you have to do is look at the evidence, then look at how extraverts are spinning it. I mean, with dark matter, it's all marketing brain rot. There's no science there, no evidence; it's all hip, pop faux scientists who simply love being on telly.

It's the same with the tyrannosaur thing, and so many other topics in contemporary science. This is the Zeitgeist, and I think this is the biggest enemy contemporary science faces. Too many extraverts, easily swayed by sociopaths, resulting in a toxic, uninviting environment for introverts who hate that.

Science needs far, far less extraverts. Less Lees, less Edisons.

Let's not forget the kind of creatures extraverts usually are. Basically, the Alt-Right might as well be known as the Hyper-Extraverted, since that’s pretty much what they all are. Narcissistic fuckers.

TL;DR: T-Rexes most likely had feathers and scales. Eureka. You'll please note the lack of an exclamation mark there, thank you.

#tyrannosaurus #dinosaur #theories #tired #rant

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kindzlurvetop-blog · 8 years ago

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Cheat Unturned

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