#and they're so grainy and far away

[flowersandspacestuff]

Yahoo locked me out of my account bc I can't prove I'm not a robot 😑

[ddejavvu]

just read the fancam fic and it was so good!!! now i’m just imagining tyler finding a fancam someone made of the reader using the like three grainy clips of her that are available,,, like just how flustered she’d be

part one / please send me tyler owens requests!

Tyler is typically very considerate about letting you sleep in- just because he was raised to wake with the sun doesn't mean you don't enjoy sleeping until ten. But today you're awoken by a sharp jostling of the bed that makes you reconsider whether your regional natural disaster is tornadoes and not earthquakes.

"Baby! Baby, look at this," Tyler's phone is shoved unceremoniously into your face, music and movement on the screen combining to send your sleep-addled brain into overdrive, "Someone made one of you!"

The song plays through three times before you realize what you're looking at.

They're clips of you, grainy and far away, but it's you set to the tune of a honey-sweet love song that Tyler's definitely serenaded you with before to bring heat to your cheeks. There's clips of Tyler as well, lifting you into his raised truck or pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek while he straps your seatbelt into its buckle.

"What-" You mumble, brows furrowed as you realize that this is posted, publicly, and it's already got a good amount of engagement, "Someone made that?"

"One of my fans. Or- your fans, I think. Caption says you don't get enough love from 'em." Tyler hums, bending down awkwardly and nestling his nose against your sleepy face.

You can't find the words to respond, but perhaps it's not because you're sleepy. You continue to watch the video loop, videos of yourself waving shyly at fans strung together with shots of you ducking behind Tyler interspersed between.

"Some of 'em are us together," Tyler settles in bed beside you, on top of your blankets which means that you're trapped beneath them due to his weight, "But that's just 'cause you're not on camera all that much, so they had to use what they could get. But still, look at that! That's you, darlin'." He croons, kissing at your flaming cheeks while equal parts mortification and delight roil in your belly, "The prettiest girl on the internet."

[allieslittlewritings]

*not my gif <3

Baby Girl

Summary: Spencer getting a baby daughter

Set in: Season 13-14

Warnings: Spoilers for seasons 8-13 of Criminal Minds, vague mention of abortion, bad writing, an oc!mom

Word count: 900-1k

A/n: I've never posted a fic before so if this sucks and nobody sees it I'm sorry <3

★

Spencer always thought in an ideal world, he would have children.

He never bothered to think of how many, knowing that would be more up to his future wife than to him.

He'd always just assumed he'd get married before having children one day.

After everything that had happened to him, Maeve dying, going to prison, the shit Cat had pulled, finding out his mom had Altzheimer's, and everything else that was certainly less than ideal, he'd started to think more and more that he simply wasn't meant to be a dad.

When a girl he'd only gone on a few dates with, months ago, told him she needed to talk to him, he was confused.

Emma was a nice girl, they just didn't fit well together so their relationship didn't last long.

She'd asked him to meet her at a random coffee shop.

He had the idea of her being pregnant for one second before he convinced himself that was ridiculous.

He entered the coffee shop Emma had chosen and went to sit accross from her.

Some boring small talk followed about how their careers and lives were going.

"Spencer, I'm pregnant." Emma finaally blurted out, clearly nervous.

Spencer had heard a lot of radicalizing things in his life.

A lot of unexpected things had happened to him.

In his line of work, a lot of things altered his perspective and way of thinking.

This one was different.

"You're..." He trailed off in shock.

"Look, I'm gonna be honest, I don't want the baby, but I'm too far along now to get an abortion. I'm about to start looking for potential adoptive parents, but I thought maybe you'd want input on who it goes to, too."

As muddled and confused as Spencer's brain felt, he immediately replied, "No. I'll take it. I mean, I'll take care of it. Of the baby."

"Are you sure you want to do that? You've already got a lot on your plate..." She pointed out.

"I'm sure." He said softly, without an ounce of hesitation.

★

Spencer was in an odd haze everytime he remembered he was about to become a parent.

He knew it wouldn't be easy, taking care of a child and having such a demanding job.

But he also knew he could never live with the knowledge that he had a child somewhere and they're not with them.

If they're with him, he can keep them safe.

He could make sure his child didn't grow up alone, like he did.

★

Spencer and his baby's mother sat quietly in a waiting room.

Spencer was attending his first ultrasound.

He sat, in thought.

A nearly empty cup of coffee in his right hand.

His lip was being lightly picked at with his left.

He took one last sip of his coffee and went to throw the now empty cup away.

His sweaty hands were starting to annoy him.

The restless feeling wouldn't go away.

Emma's name was called and the pair went into the ultrasound room.

Spencer picked at his fingers as he watched Emma and the ultrasound tech set everything up.

Lost in thought, he didn't hear any of the little things the women talked about.

Everything in him froze when he heard it.

A heartbeat.

His baby's heartbeat.

"So, would you like to know the baby's gender?" The doctor asked.

The women looked at Spencer, waiting for an answer.

He stood dumbfoundedly, staring at the grainy image of his baby on the moniter.

Their heartbeat still the loudest, best thing he'd ever heard.

"Spencer?" Emma gently nudged him.

Spencer finally snapped out of his haze and quickly wiped away a stray tear rolling down his face.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Would you like to know the sex of the baby?" The doctor asked again.

"Uh, no. No, I want it to be a surprise." His eyes remained on the moniter, he couldn't pull his eyes away from it.

★

Spencer prepared for the day Emma gave birth as best he could.

He was actually grateful for his sabbaticals now, it gave him a lot more prep time.

He read about a hundred books on labor and childbirth.

And give or take twice as many on actual parenting and child care.

He did as much research as humanly possible.

But one thing he'd learned over the years, is no matter how much research you do or how many books you read, the actual topic you're researching and preparing for is never quite the same.

★

His anxiety in the last few weeks before the baby came skyrocketed.

Worry overtook him nearly every minute of the day.

What if he hasn't done enough?

What if there's something important that slipped his mind?

What if he'll actually be a terrible father and he'll mess up the best thing to ever happen to him?

What if he-

"It's a girl!" The doctor announced.

Much like when he heard his daughter's heartbeat for the first time, he froze.

A girl.

He had a daughter.

She was here.

He watched as the doctors and nurses scurried around doing things, to make sure his baby was well and healthy.

His baby.

He had a baby.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

Covered in blood and vernix, his daughter.

Her loud, very infant-like cries filled the room.

Not a new sound to the doctors, they continued with their routine work.

It was the most grounded Spencer had felt in months.

She was here.

His baby was here and she needed him almost as much he needed her.

★

Spencer tiredly rubbed his eyes, the wide range of emotions from the day catching up to him.

He walked tiredly to the room where Y/N was, a hint of confusion on his face.

The exhaustion was evident in his posture and his droopy eyes.

But now was not the time to sleep, he was walking to go be with his daughter.

He entered the room she was in and sat down in a chair next to the basin his baby lay in.

"Hi," He whispered to her, gently resting his hand on her tiny stomach.

His baby gurgled and looked up at him with big eyes.

A tired smile graced his face as he gently stroked his daughter's head.

He could stay there forever.

Just him and his daughter.

She was the most the beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"We're gonna be okay, aren't we?" He quietly asked her.

His baby gripped his finger with her hand, continuing to quietly make baby noises.

"Yeah. We're gonna be okay."

fin. ♡

[billlydear]

LIKE WE'LL NEVER HAVE SEX - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE)

word count: 1277 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: Billy's not used to getting less attention than the movie playing on the theater screen.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of sex, mentions of making out, light kissing

A/N: i'm sorry i've been MIA for a bit! school and work are very busy lately </3 but i hope you enjoy this! not me posting another part one with two outgoing series already... but this isn't a chapter of anything, it's a one-shot, and the other parts will be their own completed stories as well. it's a collection of stories, not a series, so you're welcome to read any of them without the others, it won't matter.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

The first time Billy realizes you're not using him for sex is during your first date. Movie theaters are prime date locations, at least on Billy's list, because it gets entertainment and a makeout session knocked out in the same two-hour window. He doesn't have to make small talk before fingering a girl if he's supposed to be silent watching the movie.

It's a pretty well-worn routine by now; the lights dim, and they're done with each other by the time the credits roll. It's efficient, he likes to think, it's easy.

When you'd expressed your enthusiasm about a sci-fi thriller playing in the little theater he frequented, he'd taken his shot. Five minutes later and your address was scrawled on his notebook paper, a smiley face beside it.

He picks you up at eight, and he even pays for popcorn.

You're resting back against the seat behind you, munching on M&Ms. He's neglected to kiss you thus far because the usher is prowling the aisles, on the lookout for anyone behaving... well, how Billy behaves every time.

When the guy stops flashing his torch at suspicious moviegoers and finally leaves the theater, Billy's eager to get on with his routine. He's sure the chocolate on your tongue will taste better than the popcorn dust on his own, but he's curious to see how they mix.

He reaches over to squeeze your hand first, and you tear your eyes away from the screen to shoot him an easy grin. Then you're back to the movie, eyes tracking the characters intently.

He leans over to butt his nose against your jaw, and you startle. You peer over at him with wide doe eyes, shining softly with the light from the screen. He grins and moves into a lazy kiss, one that he feels you sigh softly against his mouth for. It's sweet, but it's short.

"Wait!" You whisper, eyes wide as you tear yourself away from him to glance at the screen, "They're gonna-!"

An explosion rattles the sound system, and one of the characters gets slammed up against a cluster of rocks from the impact. She's dead on impact, and your mouth hang open.

When you settle back into your seat, a fresh candy in your mouth, he decides to steal it off of your tongue. He grips your cheek this time, tugging your face so that you're turned towards him, and pressing his lips to yours a little more firmly this time.

He manages to crack the melted candy on your tongue, spilling gooey chocolate into your spit. There's leftover popcorn butter residue on his lips, grainy and salty, but you don't seem to mind, sliding your hands against his chest.

But then you push against him, the same hands he'd thought were feeling him up nudging him away instead, and you shoot him a bashful smile.

"Sorry," You whisper, warm-cheeked and plump-lipped, "I... really wanna see this movie."

He sits back against his seat, eyes glazed over at the screen for five minutes. You're choosing to watch this shit movie instead of pay him attention? Shit, he could have rented a flick for you for seventy-five cents. Why did he pay for a ticket?

But then a new character steps on screen, and the theater goes up in cheers. He looks bewilderedly around, peering concernedly at you where you're clapping excitedly. You catch his confused stare, and lean in with chocolate-stained lips to whisper-shout, "He's from the original series! He was captain, and everyone was kind of speculating that they'd bring him back for the movie, but no one was really sure, and-!"

He watches your eyes sparkle with excitement as you fill him in on the series' lore, while also trying to keep up with the dialogue the characters have going. He realizes now that you're interested in the movie, you're not disinterested in him. He even laughs at a particularly clever quip, not that he'll ever admit it. The movie is clearly something more to you than it is to him, and he takes solace in the fact that he's not losing his game, you're just not playing it at the moment.

He fully intends to tongue you in the backseat of his camaro before driving you home, though. A man has needs, after all.

Instead, he nods along to the plot of the third episode of the sixth season of the show that the movie was based on, boots crunching against the gravel of the parking lot as he listens to you ramble. Apparently, that episode set up a villain for the movie, but he can't say he was paying attention enough to even remember what they'd looked like.

"-so they find out these guys are just taking it, but obviously they know they're not gonna stop until someone stops them. So they gear up and prepare for battle, but then they realize that there's a colony not too far from the planet they're trying to target, and they don't want them to think they're being hostile to them, so they have to run a team down to the colony to let them know they mean no harm. But it gives their enemies time to escape, and that's why it was such a big deal in the movie, because they were so close and never got to finish the job. But-"

Billy drives you home in silence, adding a few hums of acknowledgement here and there. He can't say he's interested in what you're talking about, but he likes the way you're saying it. Gushy, like the words have to get out now or you'll explode.

He lets you yammer his ear off all the way to your house, and there's lights on inside, which means he won't get away with a makeout session idling in the driveway. Parents don't like that, he knows.

There's disappointment lingering in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of going home without a proper kiss. One with wandering hands, muffled whimpers, maybe a quickie in the backseat. But when you realize he's not going to walk you to the front door, you rush around to the driver's side, ducking down to pop your face in his window.

He stares amusedly at you, surprised when you lean in to push your lips softly against his.

"Thank you," You hum, cheeks heated, "I had a good time tonight.I'm sorry I kind of talked a lot."

"It's fine," He chuckles, leaning in again to milk another kiss out of your waning time together, "You know a lot about that show."

"I do," Your laugh is bashful, and your hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you take a deep breath before speaking again, "I was wondering if... you'd want to come over sometime and watch a few episodes? The first ones are a bit shaky but they're totally worth it once you get to the good stuff."

'No' Is on the tip of Billy's tongue. He is not the kind of guy that sits in a girl's living room to watch nerd shit with her. But your eyes are shining at him just like they'd been shining at the movie screen earlier, and the word 'Sure' tumbles from his lips before he knows it's even there.

"Awesome," You gush, your laugh bright and bubbly, "Does five o'clock next Friday work? We can order a pizza."

"Friday at five," He repeats, leaning in to steal one last kiss, "See you then, honey."

The smile you give him as he drives off is just as sweet and sticky as the pet name he'd coined you.

[steviewashere]

Always Need You

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Vague Suicidal Thoughts Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, Hand Holding, Eddie Munson Overthinks A LOT, Reference to Hamlet, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Smart Steve Harrington (Because He IS), Perceptive Steve Harrington, Water Imagery, They Go to The Beach, They're Going to Plot Against Steve's Parents For @steddieangstyaugust Day 7 Prompt: Moonlight Though, I will say, I went more with moon rather than moonlight, but there's still a little bit in here about the actual moonlight.

🌕—————🌊 The sand is wet, squishy, and sort of grainy under his toes. At the edge of the water, there’s not enough of it to come rushing between his toes, but he knows he’ll walk back from here with soles painted brown. Little bits and bobs of gritty sand in the fine wrinkles of his feet. Probably catch some of the drier stuff, too. The ocean roars again; a big, cold, eye-catching wave crashing into his shins. Thank god I rolled up my sweats, he thinks.

It wasn’t his idea to come out here. Not out here as in right now, but out here to the beach in general. He’s never been. Doesn’t think he could survive if swept away into the ocean—though, maybe he’s alright with that thought. Passively and not, he’s okay with it.

Steve’s idea came one late night when his parents told him it would be good for him to get out of Hawkins for a while. Neither in an act of kindness nor grace, the Harringtons don’t do that. Him and Steve think it’s one big notion to follow through with the motion of selling the house—the estate he had joked once, empty silence following it that still haunts him to this day.

That alone had to be reason…18, he thinks, of all the reasons to come contemplating out here.

Out here. Out here.

Only thirty yards away from the beach house they rented for the foreseeable week. He’s having a good time, at least he believes so anyway. Hanging out with his boyfriend—which, shit, that’s the least plausible thing he’s ever heard in his short life—making s’mores around a screen-perfect campfire, holding each other close under a heavy and hot comforter while the cold breeze outside comes flittering through a cracked window, having sex for the love and no longer the thrill. There’s no thrill if they can’t be caught and there’s no thrill if they aren’t dancing around each other anymore. There’s a thrill to it, though, that makes him excited just to get his shoulder touched, but that comes from the lonely years that prehistorically predated all that he has now.

Thirty yards away from the safety zone. Or is it a buffering zone, he asks himself. It doesn’t matter. Steve’ll probably correct him on it for the fiftieth time and they’ll giggle like it’s funny, but sometimes he thinks he gets on Steve’s nerves after a while. Can’t even get your stupid brain to remember what he loves. What kind of boyfriend are you?

Out here, he doesn’t have to worry about Steve stroking his forehead and complimenting him all soft like. Because he can’t be read on the face in the dark. He can’t be picked apart in that silent, persistent, perceptive way that Steve knows how. Sometimes he wonders if the roles are actually reversed—maybe Steve is the freak, maybe he’s been stalking the entire time. Because how in the hell does he just know most days? The self loathing and the wandering thoughts and the kick to his own ribs…he’s picked up and carried by Steve’s hands after it all. It won’t be the last time, he knows that, but maybe the last time won’t be so far away.

The ocean waves crash into him again. This time, he staggers with the force. Hands plucking on the sides of his pants, trying to get them to stay rolled up. Toes clenching for purpose in the wet sand. 

He wonders if, when and how he falls, if he’ll survive the ocean. If it’ll be like surviving his brain the last few years. Bobbing and weaving and then getting caught on something and then drowning in that pocket for a while. He wonders what drowning feels like. 

Steve told him it burned. Steve told him that it was like an icy fire was making home in his lungs. Steve told him he’d never been more afraid of anything else in his life. Steve told him to stop asking, teary eyed and frightened. So he dropped it. He listened like an obeying dog.

Though, he wonders if, how and long he continued to ask, if Steve would’ve told him what it felt like to be heavy in the cold. If the imminent death that seemed closer and closer was easy to come to terms with, or if he wanted to kick his legs harder to propel away.

He shakes himself and rights where he stands. The wave recedes. Low tide soon, maybe—that’s more something that Steve would know, not him. Sometimes when he gets too big, he needs to feel small for a long while. He thinks the low tide is going to be soon. Sooner, if he continues to stay out here.

Now that the waters have lessened their work, a mercy cry, he hears more of the world. The cars driving by late night on the road just beyond the beach houses. Clicks of lighters and that first slow inhale. A far away boat, one long horn.

A stride of heavyset feet on dry to wet ground. The struggle, he thinks, of them trying not to eat it on the sand dunes. But the stampede gets closer, closer, closer still as he continues to stand. Eyes out on the vacant, abyss horizon. Water kissing the insides of his ankles. A calm, deep nothingness around him—he wonders if it would be easy to slip into it, or maybe he’s already there. I could live out here, he thinks.

“Hey,” a familiar voice pants on his right, “hey, Eds. Found you.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of the water. Doesn’t blink. “Didn’t know we were playing a game of hide & seek,” he murmurs, but it’s more of a croak. It sort of hurts. Maybe it’ll stay this way, for his sake. But he doesn’t get what he wants, even when the mere thought manifests. He knows he won’t get it because he’s already melting with Steve’s warmth around him.

Steve chuckles deep from his chest. Shoulder bumping Eddie. Bare skin from elbow down on Eddie’s own. He’s warm. “I came out of the shower to an empty bed,” he murmurs, too. 

“Sorry,” he responds on reflex.

“Don’t need to be,” Steve brushes off—that perceptive way of his. “I saw you from the window. Thought I’d come join. Maybe the breeze will help dry my hair.”

Eddie gives a noncommittal grunt.

Almost in his ear, Steve copies him. “You’ve got that look on your face,” he whispers, “what’re you thinkin’ about, Eds?”

You’ve caught me, he wants to exclaim, you know me! How the hell do you know me?!

A million things, he then wants to say, a million pointless, probably concerning things.

He thinks about that Hamlet speech:

“To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep, No more.”

The Hamlet speech that made him pass theater class. The Hamlet speech that he clung onto years after because it just made sense. For once, with this skillset and his wandering imagination, he could focus his brain front and center on Shakespeare’s words. It was the first time that Shakespeare ever made sense. Even as there’s a million interpretations, much like his thoughts, there was a certain way he read it that could only cover how he felt. A passive question he always asked himself. And yet, it was a non-passive question—he knew what it meant for him.

He’s thinking of the time he saw a murder of crows protect the limp, sodden corpse of a stray cat he once fed, now turned to roadkill. Of how he wandered close to them. Of how they didn’t ignore him, but rather let him pick the cat up and bury her in the soft dirt across the street. How they watched him pick weeds that resembled flowers enough to count as something. Like he did for his mom whenever he visited her grave, too young to have a job and couldn’t afford the big, fragrant bouquets that he saw others wander by with. He’s wondering if they both appreciated it, or if they pitied him like the fool he is—maybe they saw that he was trying too hard to make things right, as if it was his whole responsibility to mend the holes.

He’s thinking about the first time he had Steve’s hands on his body. Applying pressure to wounds that weren’t superficial in the slightest. But Steve had believed he would survive. He was the only one to believe it. He wonders if the rest of their crew looked at Steve the way Eddie’s mother probably looked at him when he visited. Pity, like he was a fool, too. Maybe love makes fools of all of them, pity or no—even in the good relationships, like he has now.

He’s thinking about how, even though he has a lot of good things, all of it doesn’t outweigh the terrible he experiences back home. It’s safer by the cold, crashing ocean than it is walking through the back ways of Hawkins. That says something, not poetic, he thinks.

“I don’t know,” he eventually says, “probably too much for what’s supposed to be a vacation.” Eddie swallows. There’s nothing in his mouth but words and teeth and his own tongue. 

He wants to be honest.

A moment later, he admits softer, “Thinking about dying. About…about if I’d survive being swept into the ocean. Probability points to a zero percent chance because I don’t swim that good.”

It’s quiet again. The way it was before Steve got here. Cars beyond and clicking lighters and small crashes of tiny ocean waves. So quiet, he thinks he hears the squelch of his feet in the sand. The squelch of him grabbing onto something before he drifts too far away.

“I used to think that, too,” Steve breathes. “Used to wonder about it all the time. If I’d survive the impossible. A car crash from any side, the drop over the quarry, Lover’s Lake and the ocean.”

Eddie looks away from the water, finally. Not a side glance at Steve, but something contemplative at his own feet. “What made you stop?” He asks quietly.

Steve shrugs, feels his shoulder brush. “I don’t think I stopped until Vecna fucking ate it,” he confesses in a low murmur. “Until I knew I was safe.” His hand, cold and slightly damp reaches out for Eddie’s wrist. Fingers wrapping around, not clenching or squeezing, just loosely grasping for purchase.

“I wish I felt like that,” Eddie sighs. “Maybe it’s just not in the cards for me.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, so clearly thinking. Probably mapping out all kinds of routes in that wonderful brain of his. His whole arm slips through the gap of Eddie’s, linking them together. “Did you know that the ocean wouldn’t be what it is without the moon?”

He looks to Steve at that. Questioning eyes and words bubbling inside. Can’t help himself, he laughs. “What?” He gets out between fits, “where did that come from?”

A smile adorns Steve’s face. A soft, thoughtful one. “It’s true, though,” he speaks, quiet and traversing, “the…uh…there’s gravitational pulls that come from both the Moon and the Earth. And these forces kind of work together. The pull on the Moon makes these bulges in the ocean, both where the closest side is to it and the farthest side. These make the tides go high, those big beautiful waves. And when the bulges are low, low tides are created.

“Without these forces, without the Moon, the Earth’s ocean would be only low tide. That means a lot of the smaller animals that survive off of these tides would cease to exist, the ecosystems would be absolutely destroyed. The ocean kind of carries the things these animals need to survive. And, well, without them and the Moon…poof…no more.” Steve’s smile doesn’t leave his face, but it’s stronger now that it’s pointed directly at Eddie. All of his teeth a muted white in the light reflecting off of the water. And his eyes glistening, dark in an abyssal way. His skin a dusty white-blue.

For once, he doesn’t know what to think. Or how to think. It’s as if the currents that activated all those burbling worries just ceased to exist. He’s a lot thankful for it, but he won’t say that yet. Steve’s got this look to him that reads more. More in the best way.

“How do you”—

“Science class. It was, outside of gym, the subject I was best at.”

Eddie probably could’ve figured. Steve’s always had this way to him that reads: diamond in the rough. Things waiting to be excavated. So he’ll go with it. “And…where is this”—

“You’re the moon to me,” Steve says easily, “you do this really wonderful thing to me, y’know? Make my heart race every time I look at you or touch you, even when I just hear about you. And makes my day sort of…worth it? Think it would destroy me if you weren’t here. If, after all this wonderful time with you, we got nothing together in the end.

“I don’t know…I don’t know where your brain is tonight or what you’ve been thinking exactly, but I can assure you right now you’re much needed. Not just for me, you know? Dustin looks to you for guidance all the time. All the time. He’ll come bug me at work, say something about Hellfire, and is usually saying: ‘I bet Eddie would know. He always knows.’ And it’s the same with the other members, I can tell you right now.

“Wayne would be…I don’t want to even imagine what Wayne would be like.” Steve’s eyes glisten impossibly more. Swallowing hard—probably consuming all that flickers through him, what those things are, Eddie knows better than to ask about them. “I don’t know what I’d be,” he whispers, “if I had to only wonder what you’d think or what you’d say when something happens. If I had to wonder because you weren’t…” His fingers are still wrapped around Eddie’s wrist, but now they tighten. Hard enough Eddie begins to feel the bite of his nails. Another swallow. Clarity. “My point is is that you’re a much needed presence in everybody’s lives and all those shitheads from Hawkins who don’t like you, because they can’t see the person you actually are, they can go suck a fat fucking egg.”

All the air in Eddie’s lungs leaves him, wheezing out of his mouth as he laughs something so loud and unexpected, he thinks it could rival the sound of crashing waves. “Wow,” he marvels, “you have such a way with words.” He squeezes the hand in his, fingers tight to Steve’s. “And for the record, sweetheart,” he says when he can fully catch his breath, “I wouldn’t actually do anything, y’know. It’s just…I wander, I guess. Especially out here. When it’s like only quiet and pretty and…The best part about this beach not even being close to Hawkins is that nobody here knows me. And I can just be. Though, I guess just being makes me think too hard. About life back home.”

Steve hums. Smile still stretching across his face. And with him, Eddie knows he’s safe. In their hold they have, in the light they share, in the warmth they’ve created. He can admit anything out here and Steve won’t stare at him strangely.

“Maybe we should find somewhere else to go,” Steve quietly suggests a moment later. “Now that the world isn’t ending. And we know that it’s all done for for good. We should go find a reclusive place to be. I’ve heard that Oregon’s got some great beaches. Washington and California, too.”

Eddie snorts. “I don’t want to laugh at your idea, but how on Earth are we going to be able to afford that?”

“Easy,” Steve says, “we goad my parents into giving me money. Maybe I…I’ll come up with some lie that I heard that they’re selling the house without giving me notice. Because I know that’s exactly what they’re doing. And I’ll threaten to like…I’ll expose them, that’s it! Ruin their reputation if they don’t agree.”

“It’s alarming that you’ve got a mastermind plan already building in that head of yours,” Eddie states. “But I shouldn’t be surprised. You always know how to get things done. What to say.”

A flattered expression washes over Steve’s face. But he doesn’t acknowledge Eddie’s words. A discussion for another time, then. Instead, he goes on, “I’ll get Nancy in on it, Eds. She’s been waiting since high school to take my parents down a notch. This is her chance. And this is going to be our chance to get away.”

“I’m with you so far, but I’m hung up on what I’ll do without Wayne.”

“Bring Wayne,” he says immediately, “he’ll have his own room and everything. We’ll figure it out.” And Steve’s eyes are squinted with his smile, his body lax and easy. He knows, in his own perceptive way, that they will.

“Okay,” Eddie gives in, “we’ll figure this out.”

Steve swings their arms back and forth for a moment. “Let’s go to bed, baby. I want to show you all the ways I love you.”

He can’t stop himself from letting out a giddy giggle. “Okay,” he agrees, “let’s do that.”

“And the ways I need you. Because I’ll always need you, Eds. Even when your brain goes elsewhere, I’ll need you.”

“I need you, too, Stevie.”

And as Steve pulls him along the dunes, sand sticky to the soles of his feet, Eddie takes in the roaring quiet again. Wondering, the only thing he can wonder, what it feels like to live in Steve’s heart the way he does in Eddie’s. He’s warm. He’s excited. And he knows, perpetually and no matter where they are in the world, they’re safe with each other.

Much like the moon will always be with the ocean.

🌕—————🌊

[run2yoongi]

a reunion - chapter one | myg + knj x reader

while you were an obedient, average, faceless student, everyone knew who min yoongi was. a fire-starting, troublemaking bully. when he was inevitably expelled from your school, your whole community decided he was nothing more than an outcast, destined to end up in a life of crime. unfortunately, ten years later, it became clear they weren’t wrong. 

compared to him, you were a success story. a career woman, the breadwinner of the family. so, when an encounter with an old ex-boyfriend classmate, kim namjoon brings the three of you back together, you fail to realise how much of your comfortable life is on the line.

↳ pairing: ex bf!namjoon x reader, gangster!yoongi

↳ setting: kinda mafia!au, they're more like gangsters idk

↳ warning: harsh language, yoongi threatens reader, consumption of alcohol

↳ word count: 5.1k

navigation: prologue | chapter one

chapter one.

Exhausted. 

That was the only word to describe how you felt. For so long, all you wanted was the be right where you are, a good job, coworkers to each lunch with, a home of your own, and both of your parent’s taken care of in their retirement. It was a quiet, comfortable life. By all accounts, you were a successful person. You were even looking forward to your upcoming school reunion, taking it as an opportunity to talk about how far you’ve come from your days as a nameless face in the school hallways. 

So you felt nothing but guilt plague you when you reached the end of your day to find yourself feeling completely empty. 

‘This is life on the straight and narrow.’ you thought to yourself nearly every day. Then, your mind would wander back to him. Min Yoongi. Where was he? Was he happy? Did he have it right the whole time? 

You didn’t know why he was still so present in your mind nearly ten years on, but you didn’t question it. You were too far in, too committed to making your parents proud to venture off the path. Your life, like your apartment, was clean and organised. Everything was in its right place. The way it’s supposed to be. 

You were shocked when his name came up on a community blog site. Surveillance footage from a bar fight had leaked and spread, being shared amongst your high school contacts. 

@mimichu: ‘That’s brutal. Does anyone know what happened?’

@kzine01: ‘@mimichu ppl are saying its gang related’

@minhoooo: ‘isnt that the min kid?’

@mimichu: ‘It totally is omg he really hasnt changed lol’

You couldn’t help but rewatch the video. It sure looked like him. A much taller, buffer version in dire need of a haircut, but it was him. You watched it another five times to be certain. Even from the grainy footage, you could tell. That lop-sided grin was a stone-cold giveaway. 

Yoongi wandered outside the bar, lighting a cigarette as he scanned his surroundings. He stood still for a moment, gaze locked on to a group of men standing on the street. It looked like he shouted something, tearing the cigarette away from his lips and pointing it at one of the men. You could see the man stiffen up, clearly not anticipating the confrontation. Yoongi took a few steps towards the group who looked on, their expressions obfuscated by the poor video quality. The man appeared to apologise, quickly bowing to Yoongi who took another drag of his cigarette before pausing, then pressing the burning tip to the man’s neck. 

He folded over in pain, the group around him rushing to his side. Yoongi didn’t hesitate to extend an unrestrained kick into the man’s ribs, sending him to the floor and hidden from the camera’s view. The crowd watched on, some attempting to pull Yoongi away from the man as he continued to kick, stepping on him as if he were nothing but scum on the bottom of his shoe. Blood splattered across Yoongi’s cheek, a sadistic grin contorting his features. 

You couldn’t help but wince as the violence continued. Onlookers gathered, reaching for their phones to make calls and record the situation. After two minutes, Yoongi withdrew, glancing up at the street camera with an incredulous glare before stepping into the back of a dark car that had pulled up alongside the crowd. 

@kzine01: ‘in my opinion the police should just let these types of degenerates k*** each other and the rest of the world can get on with life…’

@minhoooo: ‘@kzine01 won’t he be at the reunion?’

@kzine01: ‘@minhoooo i thought it was for graduated students only ㅋㅋㅋ’

You quickly locked your phone and let out a sigh. How could that be the same person you had spent most of your school-aged years sharing classrooms with? You recalled him sleeping peacefully through your shared classes and in your mind, he was harmless. He was a troublemaker, sure, but you never expected him to become a violent person- despite what others had said. 

- - - 

As it turned out, the reunion was not only for graduated students. About two hours into the event, you were catching up with one of the teachers when they muttered under their breath, eyes glued to the door. The room erupted into a chorus of whispers and from the corner of your eye, you saw a pair enter, sauntering into the venue with hands in their pockets. 

“I didn’t expect to see those two” you heard your former teachers whisper to each other. You followed the gaze of their eyes to find two daunting figures consuming everyone’s attention. They nodded as they passed your former classmates, making their way to greet the former gym teacher on the other side of the room.   

It was Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon, of course. 

None other than a criminal and your first and only ex-boyfriend, entering the hall together. Your eyes fell back to the empty glass in your hand and suddenly excused yourself from the conversation. You didn’t know what overcame you, but you headed directly to the bar. You didn’t normally drink, especially straight spirits, however as the atmosphere of the event began to change, you needed something to steel your nerves. 

“Whisky, please.” you spoke to the bartender, who nodded and went to pour you a fresh glass. You tapped the bar mindlessly, pretending to be busy by scrolling through your phone. The younger bartender set the glass down in front of you with a smile before slipping away to serve someone else. Standing there, you felt a set of eyes linger on you as a new wave of anxiety began to swell. 

“Y/n,” you heard a deep voice call out for you. You instantly recognised Namjoon’s voice. “Oh wow, I could barely tell it was you.” he chuckled to himself.

You nodded at him politely as you turned on your heel to face him. “Ah, Namjoon. You’ve gotten even taller.”.

Looking at him, you were overcome by how grown up he looked. His face was defined with a sharp jaw and a sharpness to his eyes that you never noticed when you were in school. 

“Tends to happen,” his features softened as he laughed. “What have you got there?” he gestured to the glass in your trembling hand, too kind to point out how nervous you seemed to be.

You raised the glass slightly, taking a moment to register its alluring colour. “The menu said a fine, single-malt whisky.” you took a sip, hoping that the liquor would have an immediate effect. 

“You always had good taste.” he smiled, raising his eyebrow slightly at you. “I didn’t take you for a drinker, though.”. 

Before you could come up with a response, Namjoon had taken a step towards you. His hand rested on the small of your back as he called out to the bartender for the same drink. Behind him, Yoongi stood watching as your face became flushed. Your eyes met for a moment as he cocked his eyebrow at you, a lazy grin spreading across his plush lips. 

You cast your gaze down to the floor, attempting to control your composure. You had dated Namjoon for about three months in your final year of high school. You had asked him not to tell anyone and he had complied, despite not understanding your reasoning. When you broke it off, it was as if nothing had ever happened. He still smiled at you in the hall, slipped snacks in your bag when you weren’t looking, he even helped you with your work whenever you were struggling. 

So, you didn’t know why you felt so overwhelmed by the feeling of Namjoon’s palm on your back. You’d felt far more intimate gestures from others before, but the longer his palm lingered, the more your chest began to tighten. The cold absence of his touch lingered as soon as he withdrew his hand. As Namjoon began to ask about the not-so-recent developments in your life, you noticed Yoongi make his way to the bar, taking a seat as the bartender poured him his drink.

“Oh, I’m not sure if you ever met…” he glanced over to Yoongi who was sitting comfortably behind you on a stool. You looked over your shoulder to find him watching you, sending a shiver down your spine as you recalled the video from the bar fight. 

“I don’t believe so.” Yoongi replied, maintaining eye contact as you tried to calm yourself down. You wanted to correct him. Although you never exchanged words, you had met. The memory was crystal clear to you but his confidence made you question yourself, so you stayed quiet. You’re school year was huge, if the giant venue was anything to judge by. It was possible he never took note of you, but you were still taken aback.

“Y/n, this is Min Yoongi-” Namjoon began, “Yoongi, this is my friend y/n.”.

In tandem, Yoongi and yourself raised an eyebrow at the word choice. You couldn’t have spoken to Namjoon more than twice in the last ten years. The first time was a drunk dial you received one year after graduation, the last was when you bumped into him at a club you’d been invited to for a ‘date’. ‘Friend’ was a strange word to pick, but you figured it was intentional by the way Namjoon eyed Yoongi as he spoke. 

“A pleasure,” Yoongi spoke, insincerely, you assumed. You smiled in return, before glancing up to Namjoon for comfort. Old habits die hard, you thought. 

Eventually, Namjoon was whisked away by another group that he happily obliged to entertain. You made your way back to a table, sitting with some girls you had elective classes with as they chatted amongst themselves. You had achieved what you wanted to achieve, spoken with all your favourite teachers and you were debating calling it a night when you felt the chair next to you be pulled out from under the table. 

“Do you mind?”

You cast your eyes up to the tall figure, an intimidating presence that had caused the girls you were with to go silent. “Feel free.” you replied to Yoongi with a curt smile. 

He sat down with a gruff sigh, as if he was a dad who had been dragged out to supervise their child at a birthday party. 

“How do you know Namjoon?” you asked quietly, too eager to break the growing silence. Yoongi tilted his head, as if he was weighing up his options for a response. After a brief moment, his sharp, feline eyes met your own. 

“Well, we went to school together.” he began. You nodded, feeling stupid for asking. “I’m more of a family friend, though.” 

You nodded a bit too enthusiastically, to which Yoongi caught on quickly. The corner of his lips began to quirk up at your agreeableness. He tended to have that effect on people. 

“Which is why I was so surprised to find out he had a ‘friend’ that I hadn’t met.” he continued, leaning in closer as he set his glass down on the table.

“We have met.” you corrected him before you could stop yourself. He smiled into his glass before taking a slow slip. He’s trying to remember, you thought. The girls next to you cleared their throat, clearly becoming uncomfortable. No doubt, they had seen the video. 

“I’d like to think I’d remember meeting you.” he spoke quietly, almost in a whisper as he leaned even closer. You suppressed a shiver that crept down your body as his knee knocked into yours. It was difficult to imagine the man in front of you kicking someone within an inch of their life. You wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes. The contrast of his soft-spoken nature and the brutality you knew he was capable of terrified you. Excited you. 

“Well, we went to school together.” you echoed him, eyes glued to the half-empty glass of whisky that sat before you. The sound of his soft laughter made you snap your eyes back onto him. A beautiful laugh to match his face; joy bubbled up in your stomach at the sight. “So, what do you do for work?” you asked tentatively, trying to wipe the smile off your face.

“I work with Joon.” he replied as his laughter trailed off. It occurred to you that you didn’t know what Namjoon did for work either. You had assumed he would inherit his father's oil company, but neither of them seemed to present themselves as rich oil tycoons.  

Before you could press further, three glasses of champagne were set down on your table in an impressive manoeuvre by Namjoon. Yoongi pulled out a seat for his friend, for which Namjoon quietly thanked him for. It was an odd dynamic, to say the least. You tried to recall a time where the two had ever interacted at school, but you were drawing a blank. It sent your mind reeling. 

Family friends? Business partners? Partners? 

“I’m surprised you wanted to come, Yoongi,” Namjoon spoke casually, passing out the flutes as he did.

“Couldn’t pass up a chance to see how pathetic some of these people had become.” Yoongi replied, his eyes landing on Kim Jihun, the pig. 

You scoffed, hardly able to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. It seemed like Yoongi wasn’t the type to let grudges go, whatever they may be. Yoongi’s eyes snapped to you with a suspicious glare. 

The girls next to you excused themselves, leaving you alone with the two people a sane person would want to explicitly avoid. You nearly excused yourself too, except the whisky had started to do its job, sending a comforting warmth through your veins. You watched carefully as Namjoon and Yoongi bickered, scolding each other like brothers. 

A sharp screech of feedback stole your attention as your senior year’s student body president tapped the microphone. “If everyone could please give their attention to the screen, we have prepared a slide show of some of the Class of 19XX’s greatest moments,” he spoke as a projector screen behind him became illuminated with an EPSON logo. 

You caught Yoongi rolling his eyes, letting out another disgruntled sigh as he crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. You didn’t realise how close he had managed to get to you until he moved. 

You watched intently as familiar, young faces popped up on the screen. Laughter and shouting erupted in the room as the projector filed through the photos. Spirit Day, Sports Festival Day, the swimming carnival- they were all presented through grainy, faded photos. You smiled remembering finding an extra bottle of water or juice box in your bag as you sat in the shade on days like those. 

Namjoon reached over the table and tapped you, pointing at the screen. A photo of the two of you from when you were in the Audio Visual club together. Only for a moment, you noticed Yoongi just slightly out of the frame, hunched over a table, dozing off. Small and harmless. 

“I remember that, you only took AV with me because of the field trip- and it ended up getting cancelled anyway.” Namjoon laughed as the photos continued to flip through. You remembered that too, however, you hadn’t remembered Yoongi being a part of the club at all. As pictures of Kim Jihun illuminated the screen, you heard Yoongi snicker under his breath. Namjoon shot him a glare and gave him a kick under the table.

After the slide show, you had more than enough of your fill of nostalgia and were preparing to leave, deciding to stop by the bathroom before you called yourself a taxi. The music was blaring inside the venue, and you took a moment in the hallway to sober yourself up. 

“You’re a fucking idiot. I leave you in charge for one fucking night and now I’m getting messages saying two of the girls are passed out. What the fuck did you do?” 

You peaked around the hallway corner, holding your breath. Yoongi was spitting over the phone with his back to you. Likely not a phone call he’d want to be overheard. 

“I don’t fucking care who insisted on what, they’re not supposed to be drinking on the clock. You need me to drill it into your thick skull? You want to end up back on the street where I found you?” 

“I’m gonna have to tell Joon about this.” he paused. “You think you’ll survive that? Huh?”

You began to back yourself behind the corner, but the clicking of your heels had Yoongi turning to meet your scared eyes within a second. You could hear his footsteps approaching as you tried to compose yourself. 

“Get Hoseok to take them home and fix it, I have to go.” he ended the call quickly, placing the phone into the pocket of his pants. He rounded the corner, your eyes finally meeting as your breath hitched in your throat. 

“Sorry-” you began, backing up until you felt a doorframe press against your back. 

“Aren’t you sneaky?” Yoongi questioned, taking a slow step towards you. He paused for a moment, eyes scanning the scared expression on your face. You watched as something clicked in his mind.

“You know, I remember you now.” he continued as he took another step. “Do you have a habit of catching people red-handed?” You didn’t say anything then, and you wouldn’t say anything now. "You had the same terrified expression back then, too.".

“I think I know why Namjoon wanted me to know you were his friend now.” he was only inches away as he extended his hand to collect a lock of your hair between his fingers. His chest was almost pressed up against yours. You could barely breathe, but the smell of cigarettes and cologne still filled your nostrils. The back of his hand brushed against your cheek, causing a knot to coil in your throat. 

He tilted his head, his lips nearly making contact with your neck as his hand fell from your face. “Namjoon doesn’t like when I touch his things.” he said somberly. 

“I’m not his thing.” you replied, unable to stop your voice from faltering as your heart pounded. Yoongi grinned at your defiance, a cruel, terrifying smile. He looked you up and down sending another shiver down your spine. “Oh, you’re not? Strange, you’re just his type.” he replied, amused. “I guess we’ll see.”

Your mind was reeling. Was he going to hurt you for overhearing his phone call? You could barely process your thoughts when he suddenly took a step back, allowing you space to breathe. 

“Heading home?” he asked, an innocent, placid expression suddenly marking his features. You nodded slowly and silently, still confused and slightly tipsy as he gently slipped his hand behind your back and guided you out of the dim hallway. This man was giving you whiplash. As you made your way back to the table, Namjoon’s eyes flickered to Yoongi’s subtle hold on your waist with a strained look in his eye. 

“We’re both heading out.” Yoongi spoke, his face hidden from you. Namjoon’s eyebrow arched in surprise as he took another slow sip from his drink. “Together?” he asked after swallowing hard, you could see the gears ticking over in his mind. You began shaking your head, raising your hand to clarify, to dismiss the implication. “See, what did I tell you?” Yoongi whispered to you, his plush lips brushing the shell of your ear. You were stunned at the contact. You tried your best to ignore the flame that was set alight between your thighs, the heat spreading through your body. Was this some sort of game between them? If so, you wanted no part of it. As if he could hear your thoughts, Yoongi’s arm fell from your side. Until you saw Namjoon’s worried face, you hadn’t realised that you were swaying on the spot, and without Yoongi’s support, your lightweight alcohol tolerance was on full display.

“Did you drive?” Namjoon asked you, concern lacing his tone. 

“No, I was going to call a taxi…” you mumbled, trying to settle yourself. Yoongi and Namjoon exchanged glances as the taller one stood from his seat. “My driver’s outside, I can drop you home.” he said as he gathered his things, before pausing to look at his friend. “Is Hoseok outside?” he asked. The name felt familiar somehow, but you couldn’t place it. 

“He had to go.” Yoongi answered cryptically. You glanced at him, trying to read his expression, but it was stone-cold. Namjoon responded with a nod. “I guess I’m looking after both of you tonight, then.” he sighed. 

“Hoseok…” you mumbled under your breath, the memory behind the name on the tip of your tongue.

Yoongi stared at you in confusion but before he could question it, Namjoon stepped in between you and began guiding you out of the hall, curtly nodding to his former classmates and teachers as the three of you left. “This should be fun,” he whispered to you. You noticed the hoards eyes that followed you, or more specifically, Yoongi and Namjoon, as you left. “They were going to whisper anyway.” he sighed to himself as the table you were sitting with earlier looked on. 

“You’d think they never left high school.” Yoongi added, pulling a lighter out of his pocket. 

You registered Namjoon’s firm grasp on your arm as the cold night-time air greeted you. His hold on you was tight, almost painful. “Watch your step,” Namjoon instructed as he led you down the stairs and to a familiar dark car waiting outside the lot. You didn’t bother trying to fight his grip, lest you start swaying again.

Despite that, the fresh air was a welcome and sobering feeling. It was quiet outside the venue, everybody else seemed to be inside. You tried to enjoy the moment, and you did until you inhaled a breath of Yoongi’s second-hand smoke. You glanced over at him as he stood, lit cigarette held delicately between his fingers. In the moonlight, he appeared to shine, his skin so pale and radiant that it stood out amidst the darkness surrounding all of you. “Is he coming with us?” you quietly asked Namjoon. Yoongi’s eyes flickered over to you, evidently, you hadn’t spoken quietly enough. 

Namjoon looked down to examine your face and was met with concern. “He’s harmless.” he tried to assure you, but you weren’t even remotely convinced. You’d been witness to his violence, after all. Yoongi rolled his eyes, taking another deep drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and putting it out with the heel of his shoe. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Yoongi added as he smothered the smoke. 

“Tell the driver your address.” Namjoon instructed when you reached the parked car, opening the door for you as you slipped into the back seat. You quietly spoke to the driver, who inputted your address without any questions asked. He didn’t even seem phased that a stranger had just gotten into the back of his car. The interior was fresh, almost brand new. 

He waited for Namjoon to slip into the passenger seat and greeted him with a curt nod. Yoongi slid into the seat next to you, followed by the scent of freshly sprayed cologne. At least he was considerate, you thought. He shut the door behind him and immediately rested his head on the window as if he had been forcing himself to stay awake this whole time. 

“He hasn’t changed much,” you noted, unintentionally speaking your thought out loud. Namjoon smiled at you in the rear-view mirror as the car pulled into the street. Truthfully, it was a long drive ahead. The navigation estimated a 50-minute drive, which Namjoon didn’t seem to mind at all. He insisted on asking you questions about your life, your work, your mother, and anything that had happened in the last 10 years that he wasn’t privy to. It began to feel like an interrogation, and you realised how quickly at ease Namjoon had managed to make you feel despite the precarious situation. Each of your answers was met with interest, a soft smile and a natural follow-up question. As you grew weary, a comfortable silence fell in the car. 

“I’m sorry for having you drive so far out, I forgot how far the city has stretched over the last few years…” you mumbled your apology as you fought the urge to drift off. 

“It’s not a problem. Always nice to catch up with old friends, right Yoongi?” Namjoon responded. 

“Mhmm.” Yoongi replied, who to your surprise, was still awake.

As the car stopped at a red light, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes, tired from the drinking, the festivities and Namjoon’s rigorous questioning. Your dreariness was encouraged by the smooth driving through the dark streets. 

It’s so quiet,

I’ll just close my eyes for a moment,

I’ll be home soon…

- - -

Curious, dark eyes peered over you as you were roused from your sleep with a gentle shake. Your heart beat hard as you registered the face across from you, staring like a hungry cat at a mouse. A gust of cold wind hit your side as your eyes fixed on Yoongi, who was watching intently with his head resting against the window as you stirred. The stretched hand over your shoulder gave you a gentle squeeze on your other side as you snapped your neck around to see who was touching you. “Good morning,” Namjoon grinned, smile transforming his eyes into crescents. 

As you woke up, you realised you were thankfully still sat in the back seat of Namjoon’s car and behind him stood your apartment complex. “Oh,” you gasped, suddenly embarrassed that you’d let your defences down so easily. “We’re here. Sorry.” you mumbled as you hastily tried to unbuckle yourself. 

“I didn’t realise we were such boring company,” Yoongi yawned, settling back into his position against the window with a coy smile. 

You felt guilt pang in your chest, looking back up to Namjoon to apologise. “He’s joking.” he clarified before you could speak. “And, he’s also a dick.” 

You suppressed a giggle to avoid getting another ‘if-looks-could-kill’ glare from Yoongi and slid out of the car. Being so close to Namjoon, you realised that even in your heels, you were still just below his shoulder height. He was always tall, but it was then that you realise how much he had really grown.

“You want me to walk you up?” Namjoon offered with a polite smile. You raised your hands to refuse, dismissing him as kindly as you could in your half-awake state. “I’m fine but, thank you for taking me home.” 

Namjoon seemed slightly disgruntled but accepted your refusal with a smile, as always. “I’d love to catch up again though,” you babbled, unable to cope with the hurt that flickered across his eyes despite not really owing him anything.

“Me too,” he beamed, his mood suddenly changing. “give me your phone.” Complying, you handed over your phone as he typed in his number and let it ring, ending the call when the screen of his phone lit up in his pocket with a buzz. 

Before saying goodbye, you glanced over to Yoongi who was back to fake-sleeping, or meditating, whatever it was. “I’ll see you soon then.” you spoke to Namjoon when your eyes met again. 

“Definitely,” he replied, his eyes fixed on your own intently. It felt all too familiar. Too intimate. It scared you.

Suddenly, you ducked to lean into the car. “Goodnight Yoongi.” you crouched to meet his level in the car and waved, hoping to break the tension that Namjoon had incidentally built. 

Namjoon understood your reaction, though you hadn’t particularly helped by bending down to his waist level while being so close, he thought as he looked down at you. 

“Mhmm,” Yoongi replied, his arms crossed and eyes closed as he slumped against the window.

You quickly stood up, turning on your heel to enter your complex when Namjoon called your name. You glanced over your shoulder to see him smiling, his hands nested in his jacket pockets. “Sleep well,” he called out as he ducked his head to slip into the back seat of the car. 

Your heart was beating so fast that you doubted you’d sleep at all. 

- - -

“She’s gone, you can stop pretending to sleep.” Namjoon sighed as he slipped into the back of the car. 

Yoongi sat up, stretching his back in the process. Usually, he was fine sitting still for upwards of an hour, but his bones had started to ache about twenty minutes in due to the uncomfortable ‘lean against the door’ approach he’d taken. 

“She seemed a bit terrified of me, Joon.” Yoongi replied, twisting his core as the car began to speed off. “Can’t blame her.” Namjoon replied, opening his phone to save your number to his contacts. 

“Guess she doesn’t know you very well.” Yoongi teased, rubbing his temple as the streetlights flew by. “Otherwise she’d be more scared of you.”

Namjoon stifled a laugh, staring at your name in his contacts. “I’m harmless,” he replied, tucking his phone back in his pocket. 

“Yeah, yeah. You say that, but I haven’t told you about the call I got tonight.” Yoongi replied, his face becoming serious. Namjoon raised his brow and steeled himself. He had truly enjoyed the night, but business was business and it waited for no one. His older friend didn’t allow a good mood to get in the way either. 

“Two girls of the girls were found passed out at the club.” he paused, “They wouldn’t wake up. I sent Hoseok to go pick them up.” 

Namjoon fell silent, playing the words over in his head. He was relieved that they were in Hoseok’s care, but it was still unnerving. Just a week after Yoongi had straightened out a regular, some sleazebag who put his hands where they didn’t belong, two girls end up unresponsive. 

“Which club?” he eventually replied.

“Chateau.” 

Namjoon tapped his driver’s seat. “You hear that?” 

The driver nodded, immediately switching course back into the city, back to the Chateau. 

“You think it’s retaliatory?” Yoongi questioned, his eyes trained on the road ahead. He had already made his mind up about the incident and wasn’t going to hesitate to point fingers. 

“If it is, we’re about to find out.” Namjoon sighed, laying his head against the headrest behind him. 

The truth was, neither of them were harmless. Neither hesitated to inflict pain on people who couldn’t do their job properly, who threatened their business, their things. Luckily, you never had to know about that. From the moment Namjoon laid his eyes on you, in his mind, you were his. 

Though, he didn’t know that Yoongi already had plans of his own when it came to you. 

 - end of chapter one - 

thank you for reading! it’s been a while since i’ve put anything out, but the haegeum mv definitely stirred up some inspiration in me. please let me know your thoughts on this chapter & series concept!

[twopoppies]

I'm not totally convinced OD is or isn't next stunt.. what raised my suspicious is the fact that everyone who's filming him knows who she is and what she's doing at the moment and how they're highlighting it. The video of "them" leaving is clear, the camera is on Harry and turns specifically to her to show she was supposedly leaving too (but was far behind and hugging someone else). Also these bits released by each day curiously showing them closer.. is a bit familiar yeah.

Yeah, that’s what I mean by it’s starting to have that vibe. When we got that grainy photo of him and TR at the gallery and somehow right away anons knew who she was. Please. No one could tell who she was from so far away. The same thing happened with OD, we got anons recognizing her from the back of her head. Ok. Sure.

Whatever. We’ll see what comes of it all.

[izzysillyhandsy]

What do these 2 (grainy) pictures have in common?

"Can't believe I was living like this", "I feel like a million bucks actually" - great! A step in the right direction. He's on the way to healing - it's a new day!

Except he's not.

These manic phases are so over the top they're a little creepy. They're also extremely short-lived. Both times it seems to be Izzy who snaps Ed out of it and takes him to new levels of cruelty and desperation.

"No more booze, no more drugs, and more importantly, no more Izzy!" - Ed said it himself: "I got all the poison out of my system".

So what is Izzy to Ed? Poison? A reminder of his worst traits? An anchor chaining him to a past he feels no longer a part of? A mirror of his self-hatred to pull him down off any shaky ledge he's climbed? Or a constant reminder of Ed's perceived inability to love (and be loved)?

I am struggling to define their relationship, there are so many conflicting emotions there. This strong bond of trust and loyalty, of mutual love (I've said it before season 2, and I'll definitely say it now. I don't even want to qualify it as "toxic" or "unhealthy", there is real love there). On the other hand, Izzy's refusal to acknowledge Ed's desperation and sadness, and Ed's yearning for a new start and getting rid of all the ballast (including Izzy, maybe especially Izzy). Knowing the other one so well, and at the same time misunderstanding each other constantly. Being tired of each other.

Both are restricting the other from growth or change. Both, I think, kind of always expected to die together. Both feel, deep down, that they can't live without the other. Both would like to cut this tangled connection, but they're always being drawn back in.

One line I found very interesting was Ed's "We could have worked this out!" after the duel. How??? How do you break that chain?

I think it had to be like it ultimately played out - both of them cutting themselves free by almost dying, going as far as they could and, finally, being reborn. Ed, by the love of another. Izzy, by being an indestructible fucker (and protector of the crew of course).

We will see how their relationship evolves, or if it's just over (who am I kidding, of course it's not over. But it's a new start for both of them, and about time!).

Tl;dr: if was a crewmember on the Revenge and walked in on Ed looking chipper with a basket of bottles under his arm I'd run away as fast as I could.

[viscerax]

How to never stop being sad

(Repeat to yourself that they're not really gone)

Tim opens the door to his home, practically throwing his jacket to the floor. He calls out, announcing his arrival. For just a moment he thinks he hears a response. A call from another room. Jay greeting him. Brian welcoming him home. He doesn't really hear it. He knows its not real. But it doesn't matter.

(Time has proven

That fooling yourself into believing a lie

Is the most effective way

To deal with things you have no control over)

__________________________________________

(Keep listening to the mixtapes they made you)

Tim pops the tape into the radio of his shitty car. A compilation of all the songs he and Jay listened to on their 'road trip'. Sometimes it made him sad to listen to them, to think about the bittersweet memories of the man sitting next to him and dumbly singing along, or when they would yell at eachother as the music filled the background.

__________________________________________

(Stay up every single night staring at your phone, Either attempting to gather up the courage, To turn these demons, these constant reminders, Of your loneliness into nothing more than a bad dream)

Tim clutches his phone with conviction. He plays the voice-mails over an over again, as if hearing their voices would bring them back. He listens to Jay's grainy voice asking for a call back, and he let's out a shuddering breath. He knew the man for such a short amount of time, most of which was spent at eachothers necks in an argument. And yet, he felt closer to him than he had with anybody since Brian.

__________________________________________

(Or praying just for one second you could feel

The warmth of equally returned love)

Tim remembers the feeling of Jay's hand slotting into his as he drove. He remembered that look that Jay had in his eyes whenever he was staring at Tim. That look that made Tim feel like he was the most beautiful thing in the whole world. It filled him with a bitter weight. How could he have ever punched this man, this man that looked at him like he was a precious jewel?

Tim remembers the feeling of Brian pressed against him as the two sat on his sofa, away from the publics watchful eye. He remembers Brian's arm around his waist, and his lips on his. He remembers how Brian looked at him the same way that Jay did. He remembers that sweet smile and that adorable tooth gap, and he remembers the feeling of Brian's mustache rubbing against his upper lip as they kissed.

Sometimes he can still feel it, for a fleeting moment he feels a hand in his, or an arm around his waist. And for a moment he thinks 'this is nice.' And then he remembers. And its not nice anymore.

__________________________________________

(Go out for coffee four times a week by yourself)

The baristas have got to think he's the weirdest guy ever. He sits there for hours on end on his days off. The shop is so far away from his home, but he pretends like it isn't. Tells himself he was going to come down here soon anyways, so he might as well. The coffee isn't even good. But he drinks it anyways. He thinks back to when him and Brian were filming that god-forsaken film. He remembers the shoddy dialogue they exchanged out on the wooden steps.

He stays there until closing sometimes. He doesn't even do much. Sits there, spaces out, tries to imagine he's there with Brian, or with Jay, or perhaps both. And the illusion lasts for a bit before its broken by the sound of the bell ringing over the door. He always looks back, always thinks for a moment that he's going to see them standing there. It never happens, but that doesn't stop him from hoping.

__________________________________________

(Talk down on yourself whenever possible

My life is shit because I deserve it, right?)

Your fault. He hears whispers in the night. He knows its his own brain. He knows its himself. He thinks its funny how the human mind betrays itself. He thinks, it must be true, though. To hear it so often.

Tim tried to distance himself from anything to do with the channel. But on particularly lonely nights, he would visit the Twitter page, see the tons of people who made comments, who were trying to solve the whole thing along with them like it was a game.

"I think Tim is responsible for Jay's death. If he hadn't left Jay, he still would've been alive." He read that comment and let out a laugh. At least he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"That was cold of Tim to let Brian fall like that." That one hit Tim. He knew it wasn't true. He knew there was no way to catch him, and he didn't even know it was Brian then. Still. It hurt.

(You must have done something real bad

Its nearly impossible for you to cry now)

__________________________________________

(Avoid your friends for weeks even though

They're the only sense of consistency you have)

He let's the phone ring a few times before finally picking up.

"Hello?" He answers, sounding not-so enthusiastic to be talking to whoever was on the other line.

"Hey, Tim!" Oh great. One of Tim's work friends, Eric's, voice came out of the phone. "You still down to watch the game tonight?" Tim was invited to some football watch party. Tim didn't like football, but the concept of being invited to hang out was nice enough. He said yes at the time, but here he was, sitting on his floor, tears still remnant in his eyes.

"Oh, uhm, no thanks. Got caught up with something. Maybe next time?" There won't be a next time. He knows he can only cancel on so many plans before they get tired of him. But he hears Eric hum in agreement and the two part ways.

__________________________________________

(Allow yourself to lose interest in the things you love)

Tim sets the ukulele down with a discontented sigh. The instrument no longer rested neatly in his hands. He could no longer play the chords so fluidly like he used to. Now, whenever he picks it up, it feels more like a chore. He plucks the strings a bit, but nothing more. He thinks about Jay, and how when he found out that Tim could play the ukulele, he told him that it was "basically a guitar but gayer".

__________________________________________

(Watch as you begin to take a backseat

To the world around you, don't fight it

Become a secondary character in your own motion picture)

His days go by in a blur. Every single moment passing by him like he's watching a film. Every day at work feeling like nothing but a mundane task that he's forced to watch someone else do. At this point, he's not sure he even wants to fix things. He stops seeing his counselor after a few months. She wasn't any help, bless her soul. It's not like it was her fault. You can't fix someone who keeps breaking themselves down.

__________________________________________

(But most importantly

Drown every single one of your feelings

In old stolen rum)

If Tim were at a bar, he surely would have been cut off by now. He was almost done with the bottle. He could barely see straight, and he knew he was going to have one hell of a hangover tommorow.

(Learn to love the taste of it dripping down your throat)

It burns. And it tastes gross. Tim is reminded why he never drinks everytime he takes a shot. But it doesn't matter. The burn is good, right? It makes him feel good, his brain fuzzy. It clouds his mind and yet makes him feel so much at the same time.

(Find comfort in the warmth coming from your stomach

You're drinking bottled love now)

__________________________________________

(You don't need other people to drive away your loneliness

You just needed to find a way to talk to it)

[jetaloen]

oooh not sure if this has been asked but does rohan have a pkmn team if any? does any one of them stand out as a partner pkmn to him the most?

OOOOH and how would they act with volo’s team (either just battling or like resting with them)

idk why this image is so grainy lol hopefully u can still read it. rohan's team!

yanmega (timmy) is his partner pkmn that rohan has had since childhood. they're best friends.

scolipede and centiskorch are the next two staples of his team, which he raised from eggs. they are both girls and very close. they're hardy pkmn that assisted rohan (so did timmy) during campaigns for his daimyo. i imagine scolipede as a steed and centiskorch using its fire attacks to destroy battlements/fight enemies and shit. and timmy just bites ppls heads off

kingambit is his next mon, which was prob a gift from his daimyo. kingambits name is brother calm lol

rohan meets flygon as a vibrava while he and his father are traveling between regions to escape the enemy forces pursuing them in kanto, and meets golisopod as a wimpod on the boat traveling to hisui.

rohan loves the challenge of training violent-tempered pokemon, and favors bug types. he liked studying pkmn in his home region, which is what leads him to be put on the survey team when he comes to jubilife.

as far as how they get along w volo's mons, i don't think their two teams actually come into contact much. this will prob turn into a somewhat unrelated ramble lol:

rohan does not mind sharing his space w his pkmn bc they are like family to him. especially when he is living at the temple and has more space, his pokemon are all kept out of the ball and have different areas around the temple/wide area around it where they like to chill, sometimes coming inside if its like rainy or storming etc.

that is very different from volo's philosophy. volo's team is either in the ball 24/7 or somewhere extremely far away and like summoned by his mental batman signal lmfao. he forces his pokemon to stay away from him, because lonely as he is, if anything stays around volo long enough it threatens the untouchable, focused front he's honed all these years and stands to distract him from his goal. he's very, very lonely. of course, he never admits this to himself or anyone else, but some of his pokemon can sense it.

while rohan is a really impressive trainer, volo is a true pokemon master. that's not to say volo can truly bond with them. he's emotionally stunted and incapable of that. he is, however, incredibly intelligent and well-read on what pokemon need for growth and evolution, and capable of faking his way through friendship evos bc his INTEREST is powerful enough to convince even his most emotionally sensitive pokemon. though volo feels indifferent, pokemon really like him and are drawn to him. in my canon, the togepi volo uses at the beginning is not the same as the togekiss he uses in the end, but mayb ill share more on that later lol ^^" bc this is hella long

[animehouse-moe]

Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2 Episode 3: Hidden Inventory 3

I'll be the first to say it, this episode is markedly better than the prior two. It's better in quite a few different ways, though is still peppered with quite a few complaints. Would I say that things are looking up? Probably not, no. Would I say there's a chance at this adaptation getting better as we go on? Quite possibly, yes. It's a very weird spot, but this episode does well almost because it doesn't try to be Jujutsu Kaisen, rather it tries to move as far away from it as it can, and it's in the pieces that are central to JJK that you understand something is wrong. Confusing yes, but hopefully I can break down my thoughts into more detail with this post.

I like to call what I've just described the "Tanya The Evil Effect". It's an aspect where the depiction of a story and its events ends up so far deviated in tone and experience, that when under good direction and work you can still value and appreciate it as something disparate from the source material.

The episode director isn't in over their head this episode, Gosso isn't hamfisting excessive and incoherent direction into the content at large, there's just a lot of stuff that greatly divorces this episode from Gosso's vision at large, and is part of why it remains successful.

I still think there's things that are silly and pointless changes for the sake of cutting corners, like this sequence of Kuroi and Geto talking where they're static in the anime vs in motion in the manga. It's just one of those simple things that provides context and agency to the situation. Why would Geto and Kuroi be standing still if Amanai is in danger?

If you take a closer look at the episode, it's actually quite odd. There's a lot of direction that's bog standard, just characters in frame standing still. But then you get random bursts of direction that are surprisingly solid, like this piece of Amanai behind the fence/bars, symbolizing her isolation and feeling of being prisoner to her role as the Star Plasma Vessel. Arguably one of the only scenes that makes proper use of the change of scenery from the rooftop rendezvous of the manga.

Anyways, onto Okinawa. I'm disappointed, but also surprised. Incredibly sad to not see Gojo's summer hairstyle on display, but I also feel like with a lot of these scenes, this is the closest we'll manage to S1/manga humor parity.

Alright, back into disappointment mode. Very sad that they didn't include this pose/panel for Haibara and Nanami. Why don't we just continue to strip the characterization and style of this cast more, MAPPA? Also, poor Haibara man. Nanami's already a lost cause sadly, but I at least had a bit of hope for Haibara in spite of the early showings of their character design. Even worse than I was expecting to be honest. The energy and slightly goofy nature just does not exist within him in the anime.

Have to shout out my boy Asta/Tadano though. Love seeing Gakuto Kajiawara getting more and more VA roles.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Okinawa. This is now a drama anime, plain and simple. The framing/layouts/etc are all very much drama leaning, and it's well done. It's just that compared to what the manga offers.... it's, well, decidedly not it. Also, unsure why, but random scenes in the episode are very low-res? I know Tumblr compression does not help at all, but this scene in particular is incredibly grainy and odd. There's also something wrong here in how dull Gojo and Geto's colors are in the shade compared to how vibrant the scene is in the light. I wouldn't call it bad compositing, but the color design doesn't feel quite right. I mean, the second image is of them in the exact same spot under the shade, but it looks so much better? The environment art is sharper in their vicinity, the character designs are more detailed, there's proper shading, and the colors seem way more accurate/realistic.

Maybe I've just gotten used to the poor compositing/coloring of the series to be honest, because at first glance I didn't actually think it was as inconsistent as I'm finding it to be.

Also, shoutout MAPPA hating on Geto again man. This dude is just stepped all over through these episodes and it hurts me so much. His expressiveness is totally stripped away from him and replaced with some hollow smile that I'm sure anime onlies can even tell carries no weight. Like please tell me, who are these two people in the anime??? It just hurts, and it's the tip of the iceberg for the issues with faces and expressions.

Personally speaking, I think this one is the biggest failure from MAPPA. They literally did this exact defeated smile Geto loves to wear in JJK 0, and they can't repeat it for S2? It's just so painful to see them totally mismanage the characters despite having simpler designs so they can "be more expressive".

That's enough bemoaning what's happened to poor Geto, allow me to return to why this episode is actually better (though it only really borders on good) than the prior ones: that drama feel. They extend what's displayed in the manga of Amanai and co's Okinawa trip, and it's pretty well done. I'd say as a manga reader though? I don't really care, and I don't think it adds a great deal to the experience in the first place with how they chose to add things. The scenes are pretty and some of the best displayed in the episode though, of course. The good old MAPPA special of placing insane effort into original pieces while giving the source material the cold shoulder.

Okay, one little piece of criticism (though it's actually sorta big). MAPPA just can't keep their little paws off of messing up characters for some reason. It's a simple thing, I know, but it's also why I'm complaining about it. There was no need. No need to have Amanai place her hands behind her back, to do something that her character never did even once in the manga. But they do, and it changes the tone of Amanai simply walking through an aquarium, to Amanai placing more thought in the experience. A very frustrating and needless change that weighs down the actual potential displayed in the sequence at large.

Anyways, what makes this piece of the original adaptation good? Well, the use of the symbolism of fish was already strong in the manga thanks to Gege, as its used to further show Amanai's isolation and the lack of a group that she can exist alongside/be with. That part remains clear in the anime thankfully. The piece that adds to it though is the parallel between the aquarium and its customers. They place the idea of Amanai's isolation compared to the fish on top of the people visiting the aquarium. Sounds a little odd maybe but I'm bad at explaining, but the point is to show the isolation Amanai feels from seeing the fish (and whales) in the aquarium as a palpable and noticeable thing that she actively experiences.

Of course, I'm not without complaints, but I feel like it's easier to let it slide if you don't look deeply at this sequence. If you see it as something untethered to Amanai's character, the weird extra cuts of the fish swimming freely in the aquarium is fine, but putting it alongside the context of Amanai's character it's pretty confusing and excessive. Why spend all that time fixating on the movements of the fish trapped in an aquarium, relegated to their current fate? Feels like a tone deaf movement for some odd pursuit of artistry that neglects the function of the sequence.

Alright, on to the next butchered character/sequence! Toji and Gojo. Man, I knew what to expect considering they showed viewers as much of the "good" stuff as they could, but I didn't think it was going to get this weak.

I knew Toji was going to suffer, but I mean, how different can you really get and still call it the same character? What a weird shit-eating grin in the anime versus the far more creepy and naturally twisted smirk that rests on Toji's face. It's just incredibly bothersome to see them fail so miserably with reactions that are so important to characters.

And I mean, they do it again, and again, and again. The whole flashback sequence is meant to be played off like horror, and up until the reveal is well done. It's got tension, a cheesy horror soundtrack. It's got the potential to actually do something with the appeal it's aiming for, but it ultimately fails because what is Toji's reaction here? It's supposed to be the thing that he fears/despises/disgusts, but all that shows on his face is plain surprise? Compare that to the manga, and you see how flat and lifeless this reaction is.

Okay okay last one before I move on. What kind of pose is this? He's so relaxed and standing like he's already superior to Gojo, like he knows he could win effortlessly. It is absolutely not the pose and expression of a man set to go up against arguably the most feared sorcerer of his time.

Anyways, action and stuff. I don't think it's terrible. As I'd already established though it's not JJK action. It takes well done choreography and layouts, and reduces it to flashy cuts that viewers can barely piece together in time. What's more worth talking about is how dim and over processed the sequences are. They just end up looking so out of place no matter what MAPPA tries to do. Also man, the S2 OST really does stink. Even in a tense action sequence there's just zero heart in it. Such a massive flop compared to the electric work on S1 and 0.

Okay, yes, Keiichirou Watanabe's animation for Gojo's Blue is well done. But, if the camera wasn't having a seizure I'm sure it would be better received. Of course, same issues in regards to the prior statement about action with the dimming and over processing too. Wastes a lot of potential that the cut had to be a genuinely great piece of animation in the context of JJK. It still undeniably is, beneath all of the additional oddities that bury it, but it's pretty far removed from JJK.

If you want to understand what I'm saying, take a look at Hanami vs Yuji and Todo (Watanabe did the cut of Hanami's massive branch attack). Yes, the compositing is better for Gojo's blue, but take a look at the camera work. How much effort it places into keeping the duo in frame, how hard it tries to keep things cohesive and easy to follow. It's a night and day difference that shows the importance of a director in delivering the best version of someone's animation.

Anyways, here's Gojo's Blue sequence, as a video. Too long to make into a reasonable quality gif, and also insanely flashy and all over the place so nicer than having seizure material auto-play in two places at once.

Alright, so uh, Gojo dies, Toji pulls up with the gat and domes Amanai right in front of Geto, following it up by announcing that he killed Gojo. And then the episode ends. Honestly? I loved the ending just cause I know it'll cause so much chaos for viewers.

The episode overall though? It's weird that I think it noticeably better than the prior two when I've complained about so much, but maybe it's one of those things where the closer you get to being correct, the more faults you find in the thing being examined. Regardless, it feels like Toji's been incredibly nerfed from a viewer's perspective compared to the manga (alongside Geto and plenty of others), and honestly I had next to no hype for their actual sequence because it all felt so disjointed. The pacing of it felt off, and the action just didn't grab me with it's super flashy, highly processed, up close and personal so you can't quite tell what's going on combat. I'd say it's still a flop compared to what S1 would offer in comparison for big moments, but it's also done better on average when compared to the prior two episodes.

Pacing is of massive concern now though. We're three episodes in, with a total of five. It took us three episodes to make 8 chapters total, and we've got 6 though more likely 7 chapters of content left to cover for this arc, with only 2 episodes remaining. "Oh that's not too bad", except for the fact that there's the massive upcoming fight alongside us still having to get through Toji vs Geto. Even with the 6 instead of 7 chapters, even if they don't add any original content, they're speed-running at a minimum of 3 chapters for the last two episodes, which is pretty damn bold.

Is Hidden Inventory/Gojo's Past going to hold on and make it to the end in its current state, or will it rush itself to an early grave? Next episode will certainly be the deciding factor, but whatever it is, I'm not exactly hopeful of where we're going to be left.

[julieverne]

No body, no crime

---

The men Jane dated had a habit of disappearing.

Casey went missing in action, Agent Dean went undercover and no one knew where he was.

Jane didn't date that many men, actually. But then Maura's exes started going missing too. Ian was never really in the map but his last known whereabouts was Antarctica. Maura received an annulment from a marriage she hardly remembered. Jack moved to a different state. The rest were dead at Jane's (or someone else's) hand, or in jail. Jane was starting to get suspicious.

---

Paddy Doyle stood when Jane came in.

"How is she?" he asked, always his first question. Jane showed him her lock screen - Maura holding a plaque with an enormous smile. "Good," he said, sitting when Jane did.

"Do you know why I'm here?" Jane asked.

"Do I ever know why you're here?" Paddy countered and Jane grit her teeth.

"Agent Dean is missing. So is Casey."

"Are those names supposed to mean anything to me?"

"Agent Dean. You shot him. I.. may have been involved with him. Likewise with Casey."

"You're saying I shot two of your boyfriend's?" Paddy asked incredulously. Jane sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"I'm saying they're both missing, and I dated them both. Along with Ian Faulkner, Maura's former flame, and her current one moved multiple miles away suddenly. Don't act coy with me, Paddy. This is your machination. What are you playing at?"

"I didn't kill your precious boyfriends, Detective Rizzoli, if only because I know it would make Maura sad, and you get very angry when she's sad."

"Then where are they, and why are you doing this?"

Paddy leaned back in his chair and looked over at Jane.

"I knew who you were. Before we met, officially. Had Intel that Maura was sleeping over, and that you lived in a one bedroom. Heard you were staying over at hers too, that your mom moved in." Paddy paused, nodded. "I like your mother. She doesn't know who I am, of course, but I like how happy she makes Maura." He fixed his gaze on Jane again. "I like how happy you make her. I like the way you protect her. The men she dates are weak and insignificant, but you - you're a challenge, even to my men. She's in a lot of danger because of her connection to me, and I can't have her shacking up with someone I can't work with."

"I don't work for you, Paddy," Jane informed him, her jaw set.

"Work with. We have a common goal. It's for the health and happiness of one Doctor Maura Isles. You make her happy, and so far you've protected her adequately. Would have preferred you didn't shoot me to do it, but I'll take it." He met Jane's eyes, and she nodded. If Paddy had shot Jane to keep Maura safe, she'd have taken it too; he knew that somehow. Jane would never let her defenses down around Paddy, but he was right. They did have a common goal.

"Get to the point. Visiting hour's almost over." They both knew this was outside visiting hours, that Jane could come and go as she wished, but he nodded anyway.

"You didn't ask for it, but I give you my blessing." Paddy leaned back in his chair, watching Jane's face fill with confusion, then a deep blush at what he was implying.

"We're not like that," Jane said uselessly, her hard front finally dropping a little. "She doesn't - I don't..."

"She does," Paddy said, sliding a packet of photos from his jumpsuit and across the table. They were a series taken over months, years, of Maura smiling up at Jane, of Jane's hand touching Maura, of Jane opening doors and buttoning coats, of Jane at Maura's bedroom window. There was one from the precinct, Jane shielding Maura with her body in a hostage situation. Another from the prison infirmary, Jane's face feral as she lifted a scalpel, the image grainy from the security feed. It should have felt invasive, but in most of those photos Maura looked content and loved. Jane exhaled slowly.

"She's the most valuable thing in my life. The only good thing I ever did. I have my men on her, but I have to be able to trust the ones closest to her. And, for a given value of trust, as it pertains to Maura, I trust you. So, you have my blessing." Jane looked back at a photo of Maura laughing at something Jane had said, her thumb rubbing over Maura's smile. She'd kill for Maura; she had already, multiple times. She'd die for Maura if she had to. Her first instinct in any situation was to get Maura to safety. She sighed. She'd been kidding herself for too long. It was there in the photos, in the way Jane looked at Maura. It was obvious when it was captured like that, laid out in sequence. She looked up at Paddy, tearing her eyes away from the photos.

"Where are the bodies?" Jane asked. "You killed them because they were getting between us. Or had them killed. You just want to tighten your payroll by taking your men off Maura, and if she's with me you'd be satisfied she was protected, wouldn't you? So where are the bodies?"

"You think I did it but you just can't prove it," Paddy chuckled. "Well, no body, no crime."

Jane snorted out a laugh. Paddy rolled his eyes.

"They blast music an hour a day. They don't care what we listen to. You have my word, they're alive and well compensated for their distance."

Jane eyed Paddy. He wasn't always honourable, but when it came to Maura he always tried to do the right thing. Maura would be upset if he'd killed them, and he had enough money and reach to get them out of Jane's way. So that Jane could date Maura.

From a business - Paddy's business - point of view, it made sense. Get the strongest person from the dating pool to protect what he needed protecting.

"She can take care of herself," Jane said cautiously, not wanting to admit that dating Maura would have multiple merits.

"Not from the sort of people who come after her," Paddy reminded Jane, who hesitated before she nodded. "So, we have an accord?"

"She doesn't even..." Jane voice dropped. "I'm not... a candidate."

Paddy just gave Jane an irritating smile and got to his feet, ready to return to his cell. "Give her my regards, won't you?" he said, and Jane dropped her head in her hands at the table. He'd left the photos for her. He probably had more. Jane bundled them up and went home for the day.

---

"I have such bad luck with men," Maura said, fidgeting with a ring. She looked shyly over at Jane. "At least I have you," she added.

Jane thought back to the phone call a frantic she'd answered with "Anything you want, I'll get it," not even trying to bargain for Maura's life. She'd have sold her soul to the mob for Maura's safety; in some ways she already had.

"You'll always have me," Jane promised. "And if you wanted to see if you have better luck with women..." Jane shrugged and sipped her beer, turning back to the baseball as though what she'd said had been of no consequence.

"Did you... all the men in our lives are missing, did you...?"

"Clear the way so I had a shot? Not me."

Maura shot Jane a look, but Jane shrugged.

"You think I did it but you just can't prove it," she echoed Paddy, knowing the reference would go over Maura's head. Instead Maura's eyes lit up with understanding.

"No body, no crime," Maura said nodding. "Paddy?" she asked, and Jane shrugged.

"He says they're alive. He also says I'm the only person he trusts with you."

"I won't have my biological mob boss father dictate who I can and cannot date," Maura said indignantly, then looked over at Jane's deflated face. "But in this case, he might be right," Maura admitted. "Okay."

"Okay?" Jane asked, confused.

"Okay. I can't get luckier than you, if I were to date women."

"Oh, you're going to get lucky alright," Jane said, closing the minute gap between them on the couch in one quick pounce.

---

Paddy didn't exactly walk Maura down the aisle, but one of the songs at the wedding was, for no reason fathomable to anyone but Jane and Maura, No Body No Crime. It played for their first dance.

"We should send Paddy some wedding cake," Jane said.

"As long as it doesn't have a file in it," Maura joked as her wife spun her around on the dance floor.

[lunar-cerulean]

I have yet another text post cause I been thinking about Hermit Purple in my AU. I feel like it was very under-utilized on Dio's end, especially considering it was the stand he had for years before The World. Dio was very clever with his vampirism and (I don't remember who) it was commented that he was pushing and inventing new abilities. In fact, Dio is always pushing his limits and trying to discover new powers (sometimes to his own detriment), so I don't see why he wouldn't do that with his HP. Currently it seems Hermit Purple can produce ideographs (from what Joseph said in the manga) which are like spirit photos. I was thinking though, what if range of whatever is the target HP is projecting affects "quality". For example, if Dio wanted to spy on one of his lackeys which is within his mansion, HP would just project it as a live stream. But if he was trying to spy on Jotaro and gang while they're not within his immediate vicinity, it would just be a photo. And depending on how far away the target is, the grainier the photo. Just a thought, since range is something the majority of stands are bound to. Now as I said before, it seems Hermit Purple can view past events, as when it was projecting J. Geil (I believe after he killed Polnareff's sister) onto the crystal ball during the Dio and Pol encounter scene. So if we're taking past projection into this, I'm not too sure how range would work with that. Polnareff's sister's murder seemingly took place in France. Perhaps the older an event is, the more clearly it can be projected. For example, if he wanted to see Jotaro and gang's whereabouts from a week ago, it would probably be just as grainy if he were trying to view in live time. But if he wanted to use HP to watch Kakyoin's childhood to better understand his pysche and manipulate him, Dio's projection would be much clearer and could possibly be viewed as a video. Anyways these are just thoughts and I really want to utilize Dio using Hermit Purple more considering most of what I have thought out for my AU happens before the start of SDC, therefore, before Dio has The World. . . .

[minty-playhouse]

Alright, I promised a post with my favorite John + Roger photos and I'm a creature of my word (mostly)!

So sit back and let me take you on a journey through Daltwistle hyperfixation hah!

I'll try not to say anting too overtly nsfw about them, but I can't guarantee this post won't be suggestive free, so be advised!

This is one of the OG photos that I like! I dunno what it is about it, I just like the very casual energy it evokes. And I'm also a big sucker for John wearing big coats so that's a huge bonus! But be careful of charming guys that make you laugh, girls 👀

SLEAZY! LEWD!!! I dunno what is it about this photo that wakes something really feral and primal in me lol Maybe it's because the photo is super grainy so it makes everything look far "dirtier" than it really is. Also their faces, specially John's, makes me think that they know something we don't (aka the fact they are 100% banging when they're finally alone). But yeah they're dirty and disgusting and I love this photo too much.

=consumes this photo= Where do I even begin? Roger is so Girl and John is so cool. I love Roger’s looks during the mod era, he's so soft and dainty. And this photo is a perfect example of that. Metal sheet worker my butt, he's a princess. And John is just the type of bad boy his type craves (but refuses to accept fufufu)

Uuuuuuugh this gives me the same feral vibes of that other one, BUT the difference in that this one REALLY emphasises their size difference like John is just so fucking big and thick, the size of his hips is insane. And that makes me think very evil thoughts when I think about Roger's short legs and how they can barely wrap around it fully 👀💦

All their mid 70's photos scream SEX but this one is ugh, it makes my brain go "brrrrrr" real good, like why is he just lying there next to John, and they're clearly in a house but whose house is this?? I dunno but I think the moment the photographers walk away John needs to get on top of Roger and kiss him good ❤️

THEM THEM THEM The toxic couple itself! I dunno why is it that my brain has very bad thoughts about these two specifically, and it's this photo that's on my brain whenever I think about the more, hm, "controversial" mod era ship thoughts for them. Also I know Roger is even shorter due to the photos perspective but, insane height dif. Gotta love it!

So hello this is the MOST POWERFUL DALTWISTLE IMAGE EVER?? I know this is cheating a bit because these are separate photos but it doesn't change the fact these were side by side on the getty image site, and that they're from the Tara photoshoot, AND that this feels like they are seeing each other from opposite sides of the backyard, with John spotting Roger as he smiles, not only for the photo but at him. And by God, Roger is just so gorgeous, he's hoping this photoshoot ends soon~

And this is it guys, a journey through thick and thin! Hope you guys enjoyed these crazy ramblings!

[thealogie]

--> Romeo anon, the finale. OK, your call :)) Last wise words from that redditor, just had to share and that's it: "most of the productions recorded during that time weren't produced with quality in mind. Theatre was (and still is) expensive to produce, and until recently recordings made during a production's run were usually made only for archival/preservation purposes to document a production's existence. They were not quality copies - most were shot from very far away and with usually one but maybe two fixed cameras. The result is predictable and difficult to watch or enjoy - clarity is awful and focus isn't stable, you can't see much, actors may walk in and out of frame, the audio is questionable - you name it.

I've seen Romeo and Juliet (as well as Loves Labours Lost, What The Butler Saw, The Pillowman, The Comedy Of Errors, The Herbal Bed, and Look Back In Anger) and all of these - with the possible exception of Look Back In Anger - suffer from most or all the above. If you want to see them, you can go to where they're archived and do so, but it's painfully clear why these have not, and will not, be commercially released"

Oh trust me I KNOW it’s not gonna be good and I know back then plays were only recorded for archival purposes but I also think it would be so funny to go to these archives and watch my little guy do some mid Shakespeare on a grainy VHS

[chriskhou]

[14]

I wish I could transcribe my feelings It would make all this so much easier I cannot sustain the production of indicative anecdote forever

I want to scream on paper to pour out my bile and hunger and regret my angers and reservations and embarrassments I want to rip it from myself Patch it onto the paper I write on Lest all my work becomes collections of letter clusters, nonsensical to myself though I'd know their implications

I want to tear out the way I felt when I saw the video taken of our first kiss How ham-fisted I looked, how stiff Nothing of me moved with nature as you snapped at me for complimenting you A mockery, you thought - What I was pointing out was the opposite of what you had I still feel the shame I want to make you feel it, too

Those pictures of yourself you gifted me Vain, but endearing How I gave them away When we first separated She wanted to burn them I just wanted them gone I'd been long perplexed by them Perhaps I was far too self-conscious Enthralled by the attention she was giving me Lying to myself, clearly

She would apologize Return them, head slightly bowed Voice apologetically inflected Now they serve no purpose They're here, somewhere Pockets of my old bag Grainy and dark Haven't looked at them in a long while

When you cried, tipsy Having made a mess of my hoodie Crying again, when I told you things should end You didn't cry, though, the second time around Not to my face, at least

Now, you still smile when you greet me I'd rather a violent outburst or direct insult but I'd prefer nothing Have you no shame?