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satnin-darling · 4 years ago

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Still friends? (m) | I. | Two Shot | Kim Namjoon, 10.6k

Pairing(s): Namjoon x Reader, mentions of Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You hadn’t seen Namjoon much ever since you took his virginity but things have definitely changed. With you being back in each other’s lives, you sleep together again as friends. You both enjoy it, it works, it's added fun. You also talk - a lot. You talk in between those moments, you build a rapport, you see each other in between the lines. So much so that you begin to wonder if the lines of separation were ever there at all.

Warnings/Tags: RATED M (18+) for language; smut (fem-reader; penetrative sex; rough sex (against the window); doggy; cowgirl/riding; multiple orgasms); discussions involving politics, sexual harassment, religion, feminism, art, beauty, privilege; mentions of suicide; mutual pining blocked by mutual stubbornness; appearance of Yoongi as your former *ahem* buddy; coffee, lots and lots of it; fluff; non-idol!AU - University/ friends with benefits to lovers

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I recommend reading Just Friends since there are references from that across this two-shot and it's also good for context :)

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Semester break meant that you were back home, spending daylight by yourself in the town and dinner with your parents in the early evening. At the bare minimum, you tried to decrease the frequency of your visits but then came the well-intentioned messages from them asking how you were. There was an irrational fear of them coming to your place while you were away in class and that haunted you. So, you booked the train tickets and retrace your steps to what you left behind.

You tug your sweater down and fuss over your woollen skirt and tights that scratched your legs. Your parents had sent them to you, but they remained in the bottom of your closet until this occasion.

The train was pulling up and you watched as the waiting passengers rose to invisible markers that would result in double doors. The multiple carriages grind to a halt, the beeping noises ringing against the air until the doors juddered open. Several pauses occurred before you get on, you let those who wanted to disembark first to leave and then you made your way to your designated seat. The windows were large, letting all the light in. No one booked the seat next to yours so you set your bag down. You didn't plan to stay for the entire weekend. It was better like that.

The time between the city and your stop enabled you to prepare yourself for stepping back into the person you maintained in front of your parents. You file through the things you were meant to say, the experiences that you'd exaggerate or mute, you went through everything with a fine-tooth comb. You hoped that when they saw you, they'd see what you wanted them to see.

Outside, the structure of the city falls away and opens to greenery, rolling hills, then the silver rivers that cut through them. The sun sinks on the horizon, an orange ball so bright that couldn't look at it for more than a few seconds. With each kilometre covered, you familiarise yourself with the prayers that are said over the table, the names of saints, the pleasantries that you undertake whenever at home. You mould the shapes of your mother and father, their kindness, their piety, their lack of frivolity and extravagance. They come alive in your consciousness, they become three-dimensional. They are no longer strangers but those who gave you life.

By the time you reach your stop, it’s raining heavily and the night had cloaked everything in dark ink. Your mother waves at you but you don’t embrace, you don’t even greet each other. Instead, you slide into the front passenger seat whilst shoving your bag at the back through the small space. When she enters, you avoid her gaze, basking in the sounds of raindrops drumming against the glass.

“How was your journey?” She asked. The sound of the indicator sounded like ticking seconds.

“It was good. There weren’t many people heading back,” you said. The wool of your tights scratched you again to you remind yourself not to move so much. Silence ensued, much to your relief.

“I found your first Bible when I was clearing out the attic,” she said, slowing down due to a speed hump. You grasp at your seatbelt despite the undulation hardly making any difference.

“Thanks,” you said, already far away.

“You’re welcome.”

There was a restaurant ten minutes away from where you lived. It was special because it was your first job but more so because it was where you met Yoongi, who was the person who showed you the ropes. Then, it developed into something else soon after, something that suited you both. Prior to dinner, you head over, walking along the streets, taking the same steps as you did before. Ahead, you see Yoongi, who was the only one who seemed to stay unchanged. He waved at you as you approached him.

“You on a break?” He asked, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah. You?”

He smiled as he cocked his head. He cut his hair, an undercut that was freshly shorn. It suited him. When you drew close, the sides of your arms touched, your gaze on the brick wall of the next establishment. You noticed how he was massaging his shoulder in even movements, from the inside to the outside.

“They’re still working you hard?” You asked.

“Yeah. My body's breaking already,” he replied, bringing his hand down. You feel it brush against yours.

“I'll be the judge of that,” you said, earning a small laugh from him.

There was still time before you had dinner, so you found yourself in Yoongi’s bed. The sheets were soft to the touch, a deep navy that almost resembled black in the dim lighting. You laid together, side by side. The view was of a television mounted to the wall; it was playing a documentary about fungi.

“How long since your last visit?” He asked, handing you the remote. You pressed the volume button down and clicked on the subtitles.

“About a month?”

You weren’t sure yourself.

“Do you have anyone taking care of you?” He asked, leaning towards you so that his head touched yours. The screen showed a time lapse of mushrooms growing, their phallic shapes spearing through the moss-covered ground. They reminded you of dicks, which made you laugh to yourself.

“I’m not a kid,” you said, albeit distracted.

“I know you’re not,” he replied, taking the remote back and increasing the volume so that the narration flooded the speakers. You both watched as the scene changed to a rendered image of root growth. Something about mycelium, how they stretched as white filaments beneath the surface of the earth.

“The closest thing I have to that is you anyway,” you added, much like an afterthought. Yoongi shifted next to you, pressing his head more firmly against yours to the point of you changing your position to get away from him.

“I won't be as around as much,” he said, turning to his side so you did the same.

“Why?”

“I'm working through some things,” he said cryptically. You made a face, your mouth pulling down, your brows knitting together.

“Like what?”

Yoongi looks at you for a prolonged period, his expression unreadable. Instead of speaking, he picks at the loose strands of hair that framed your face, pinching the ends with his index and thumb, his pinkie curling. He could never get it to straighten.

“Did you get a new job? A new girlfriend?” You asked, helping him tease out an answer. At the word ‘girlfriend’ you pursed your lips to purposefully irritate him. It worked as he drew away from you, his face forming a grimace to show that you were far from it.

“No and no.”

On the screen was another time lapse, but this time it was about the subsequent effects of magic mushrooms, you lowered the volume and tossed the remote where Yoongi couldn’t reach it. He sighed, giving you an exasperated look.

“We could have had a shot if you didn't swerve me that time,” you said, reading the subtitles so you wouldn’t have to look at his reaction. He bumped his shoulder against yours.

“We're too alike. You need someone more romantic, and someone’s who’s or a dork or a nerd,” he replied, his eyes on the TV too.

You suddenly thought of Namjoon’s cactus sheets, his clumsy demeanour, the endless stream of thoughts that tumbled out of his lips. You shake them off and look at Yoongi, who reached over with his long arms and pinched the remote where you wedged it between your thigh and the bed. After much resistance, you relented, and the channel changed to a program about maintaining a greenhouse. You shrugged, turning on your side, you saw his profile, the way his eyes blinked rapidly because they were tired.

"You're both,” you said, your tone light and teasing. He glanced at you, the beginnings of a smirk on his lips.

“You know I don't like you in that way,” he replied, meeting you with equal jest. You hold your hands up in mock surrender, the sheet falls away revealing your bare chest and midriff.

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m kidding,” you sighed dramatically, “this,” you said, sweeping your index finger from your tits and general genital region to his hidden dick under the duvet, “is strictly business.”

Yoongi nods, satisfied with your assessment. There was no need to force something that wasn’t working. You and Yoongi had great physical and sexual chemistry, but he was right, beyond that was nothing particularly compelling. This worked. The scattered meetings under the cover of darkness. It worked so there was no need to fix it.

“I’m thinking of moving to Seoul,” he said, dragging the sheet so it could cover you. His statement sends a spike of excitement through you.

“You should - it’s tough but you should,” you replied, seeing him spread his wings in a bigger environment.

“You think so?” He asked, sounding hopeful. You nodded, watching the TV as the fertiliser was being tipped onto a hole, then a spade came down repeatedly to smooth it over.

“You’re too big for this town Yoongi,” you said. He laughed this time, which caused his shoulders to shake. You joined in because it sounded overly sentimental.

“I guess I am.”

“Are you leaving after this?” Your father asked, slicing through his food in precise movements. You nodded, chewing slowly. You had to bear another two hours before they drop you off at the station.

“Are you praying regularly and attending the services in that church near your campus?” He added, forcing you to meet him in the eye. If you wait any longer, they would both stop eating so you nod.

“I have. The community is very nice,” you replied, looking at your mother in the eye.

She smiles at you, beaming in fact. She’s seeing who you want her to see and that gives you some comfort. The conversation wanes as you make your way through the dishes that they prepared. It was modest and tasted bland, reflecting their natures. You scooped some rice porridge into your bowl and helped yourself to some of the garnish.

“I saw that girl you went to high school with when I was shopping at the grocery store. She’s pregnant now,” your father said, his tone veering off to judgment. You pushed the food down, pressing your tongue on the roof of your mouth.

“Honestly, girls like her, if they’re not careful - look where they end up - astray,” your mother added, sipping her soup quietly. You gripped your utensils and kept your eyes on your food. Your father’s utensils scraped the bottom of the white china in quick movements, the grating sound making you fidget.

“Their parents are probably so disappointed. She was at the church every Sunday but the rest of the time… who knows what she was doing. The father isn’t even around,” your mother said after replacing her water. You tried not to roll your eyes or sigh loudly.

“Were you close to her?” Your father asked, placing the spotlight on you. Immediately, you shake your head.

“No,” you replied, wanting to leave your life in high school behind. They turned to you, unconvinced.

You went to a small high school; everyone’s daughters went there. If you tried hard enough, you could still remember their faces and their names. The girl your parents talked about was someone you shared physics class with. She wore matching hairpins with the ribbon she used to tie her ponytail. Your parents resumed eating while you got up to get some juice from the fridge. When they thought you were out of earshot, your father spoke once again.

“I’m glad she’s not like that. Some of the girls she went to school with were so promiscuous, but she’s always been good.”

At Seoul Central Station you unhooked your bag and slipped the straps on your shoulders with difficulty. The reason was that you had tightened them without thinking when you were on the train. You exited the cubicle and stood in front of the sink. Everyone around you appeared younger but wearier. You left behind a quiet, suburban existence for the enormity of the city. The vastness helped anonymise you, allowing you to blend in with the sea of faces that pulsed through the streets.

You look at yourself in the mirror, you see yourself staring back. The fluorescent lights seemed to wash you out, your features appearing gaunter and more exaggerated. There was one word simple enough to summarise your current state: tired. Tired of fashioning yourself and tired of the guilt that descended upon you without warning.

At the last moment, you recalled your father handing you money before you left. He was looking at the person you wanted him to see which is why the kind gesture only served to turn your stomach. On the surface of his palm was enough to subsist on for two weeks. He smiled at you stating that it was for the alms. You took it as your mother slipped your childhood Bible in your bag. After that, you felt heavier as you sat on your seat. In the end, you smiled, taking it and folding the notes so it could fit your pocket.

Now, you felt the worn paper between your fingers, some were creased and dog-eared. As you exited the bathroom, you abandoned the intention of giving them as alms, thinking about the nearest student bar when you reach campus.

You drop your items in your room and get changed to go straight out. The winter air was sharp against your bare legs, your boots, though sturdy, did little to ward off the bitter chill that snaked all the way up to your spine. You walked quickly, perusing the narrowed paths which glowed in different neon lights, its names familiar and welcoming.

At the end of the street was a small bar that had a restricted walkway leading down. The door wasn’t really a door but two shutters that swung in both directions, giving the impression of a saloon. But once inside, there was another door that acted as a plug for when it got too cold. Today it was shut so you shouldered your way through. Hidden in booths were groups of friends struggling to hear each other over their laughter whilst those without companions perched at the bar. There was one stool left next to someone who wore a light brown coat with a black turtleneck peeking from the collar.

You said your drink to the bartender and looked straight ahead, your body automatically folding onto the bar. Your drink appears and you take a sip, feeling the cool liquid coat your throat. It forces the sigh you had been holding back to escape you, forming as condensation on the varnished surface. The word ‘promiscuous’ flashed in your mind, alongside the remnants of your hometown and your parent’s being completely oblivious. You shuddered, like a fish out of water as you lift your glass but before you could take another sip, your name was said by a familiar voice.

The alcohol hadn’t reached your system yet after one gulp, so you were sure that it was him. When you turned, Namjoon was smiling at you, the black turtleneck he wore was drawn tight against the muscles of his neck, if that was even possible. Through the space of his coat, you could see his chest, well-defined and firm. Oh, and he cut his hair too, short and close to his scalp. You took that sip, averting your gaze.

Of all people to bump into when I’m feeling sorry for myself.

Your silence affected him as he said your name again, this time it sounded like a question.

“Namjoon!” You said, turning to him, giving him a close-lipped smile.

At your response, he relaxed, his bright eyes blinking rapidly as he drank his beer. When he adjusted himself on his seat, he used his arms to drag his body closer to the bar. You noted how his biceps bulged the arms of his coat. You swallowed more of your drink, letting it absorb into your blood stream quicker. He was looking at you with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“How are you?” He asked, drawing closer. You cleared your throat, rifling for an answer.

“Good,” you replied, looking at the diminishing liquid in your glass.

You called for a new one, preferably stronger. You heard him make a sound of approval, and from Namjoon it was ‘Ah.’ As you decided on whether he was satisfied based on that reaction, he had leaned towards you, touching the side of his (rather larger) arm with yours.

“I know we said we’d hang out more, but we keep missing each other,” he said, to which you nodded.

It wasn’t intentional. He was right. At first, you both made it a point to keep in touch, to have coffee with each other, to go the gallery, or even mundane things that friends did, like do the daily groceries. But they never transpired since he operated as a morning person, whilst you made the most of the evenings, well until dawn. There was no point in messing with your scheduled classes as they could affect your average, so you orbited each other’s lives but never overlapped. The last and proper meeting you had was when you took his virginity and said no to him ‘courting’ you in the ice cream parlour. Now, it's been months of half waves across campus but mostly nothing.

As you downed your drink, Namjoon waved for another. You gave him a smile, a proper one this time.

“Thanks.”

If you had anticipated coming back to Namjoon’s room after seeing your parents over the weekend, you would have had an easier time. There was the saying that there is light at the end of the tunnel, well, that light manifested as the white walls of his studio apartment and the numerous floor lamps that littered the space, providing soft, orange hues.

You both stumbled inside, the door slamming open then swiftly being kicked shut, causing a ruckus.Then again, this was student housing, his neighbours should be sympathetic. You kissed as if starved, your tongues slipping against each other, your moans coalescing, his deep groans sending undeniable tremors through you. One thing to note as his lips found yours after you slip out of your top was that Namjoon was bigger since the last time you saw him.

“How are you?” He asked, tugging the turtleneck off him.

It falls to the floor as you gaped at the sight of tanned skin, firm muscles, large pecs, and equally strong arms, flexing and releasing from his movements. Questions enter you mind, the ones that you would bookmark for after because they weren’t the priority:

How is he so big?

When did he workout?

Why did it take this long for us to reunite?

Your baser instincts wanted you to salivate but instead, you unclasp your bra, freeing you of your fabric constraints. He looks at you as you yanked your underwear down, tossing it elsewhere. Oh, he asked you a question.

“Busy,” you replied, walking towards him, pushing him down on the bed to straddle him, your pussy grazing the ridges of his jeans.

A groan escapes his lips, his head meeting the mattress in wilful surrender. There were no cactuses but speckled grey sheets. His bed was large enough to accommodate his towering stature with plenty of room to move around. His hands plant themselves on your hips while you hurriedly rid him of his jeans, dragging the stubborn material down along with his briefs, down till you see his hard cock. Your eyes widen, there was a pause for you to remember, to comprehend that you were his first. The only sound were your breaths escalating while you brought your hand down, familiarising yourself with his cock, the stiff length pulsing and throbbing in your hand.

“Fuck! Your hands are so cold!” He gasped, squirming away from your touch. The abrupt action caused you to lift as he twisted under you, making you see the potential of his strength.

HolyfuckHolyfuckHolyfuck.

“Okay. We're doing this. Really doing this,” you said, feeling how his fingers sank onto your soft flesh, his nails pressing slightly, a reminder that you were really doing this and with Namjoon.

“I'm drunk. You're drunk,” you rambled, leaning forward to capture his lips, your tongue swiping against his, teasing and chaste.

“We’re not that drunk,” he murmured. Your pussy was already so wet that it coated his cock, and you pulsed against each other with growing anticipation.

“True,” you said, your hands, now warmed up, coming up to his head, your fingers finding the short strands, tugging, pulling, your nails against his scalp.

Your reward was a low groan reverberating from his chest, going straight to your core. Then, his arms wound around your waist, squeezing you closer only to flip you over. On your back, your jaw drops. The change in position was not the thing that fazed you, but it was his strength. He literally treated you like a rag doll and some part of you loved it. A smile finds itself on his face, but it was sheepish, like he wanted to apologize for not asking for permission first.

“You’re not the only one who’s been busy.”

I can tell!

You wanted to ask in what ways, curious to see if he was busy beyond working out. But he doesn’t tell you anything further because he was too busy showing you.

At once, he hooks his arm behind your knee while the other arm bends so that he was close, his breath hovering over yours and you moaned at the contact. You couldn’t even shut your legs if you tried. He kisses you deeply, and you feel his want, it comes with the slip of his tongue against yours, escalating into a messy and slippery tangle, your lips swelling, marred, and sensitive.

“Condoms?” You asked, coming up for air.

He looks down at you, confused until you began to look around. He groaned, lifting himself off you to the lone nightstand while your tried to settle your heartbeat. There was a sudden crash, and you see that the entire drawer flew out of its confines, sending random pens and notebooks onto the floor. You laughed because it was just like Namjoon to do in moments of haste. He locates them instantly while you caught the front of the box. Ultra-thin feel. He comes up in front of you, the foil packet rips, the condom sliding onto his cock like muscle memory. Finally.

“What?” He asked, making in time to catch your smirk.

“Nothing!”

His narrowed his eyes at you momentarily, then placed his large hands on your thighs, pressing down, bending and spreading you open. Your hips jut upwards, your pussy offered up to him, your breath hitched, your attention on how his cock aligned itself, pushing down slowly, stretching you out.

“Oh shit,” you sighed, the welcomed intrusion making your head spin.

His hands grip your thighs, nails impressing grooves, the feeling of holding back. Once he bottomed out, he leans forward, he captures your moans in his mouth, your breaths forming into gasps, your bodies remembering each other.

“Shit, you feel so good,” he groaned, beginning to thrust into you, each time he settled made your toes curl at the feel of his cock, hot and throbbing against your wet walls. You wrap your arms around his neck, you bury him in your embrace because you couldn’t wait, you wanted him to go faster, you wanted to feel the power that you missed.

“N-namjoon, fuck,” you moaned, right by his ear, a telling whine that prompted him because you couldn’t think of anything else.

“It’s Joon,” he said.

What?

“It’s Joo - oh shit,” he moaned, his voice hoarse as you clenched around him involuntarily.

Oh.

“Oka - ah,” you all but managed since he finally found his rhythm, the rough thrusts that you sought appearing within seconds. Your tongue gave kitten licks against his earlobe, earning a shiver, the weight of him settling on you briefly. You remembered the last time, well, his first time, so you brought your lips to his ear.

“Fuck me any way you like,” you murmured, your hands sweeping up his broad back, relishing in how the muscles rippled, the surface becoming taut.

Namjoon suddenly raised himself from you, his eyes ablaze with something you couldn’t comprehend but you didn’t have time to since he rammed his hips down, stealing a gasp from your lips as you lifted your legs higher, your pussy so wet that your juices manifested into an audible squelch, so lurid that you moaned. This was certainly different from the last time, there was a surprise adeptness and strength in how he fucked you. His movements were timed, and he handled you with a strange familiarity that you couldn’t grasp, possibly because you were too busy being fucked, hard.

“J-joon!” You cried, holding onto his shoulders, his thrusts echoing in the walls of his room, the bed shuddering from the force, your legs spread wide open, clit swelling and exposed.

Gone was the innocent gaze he held the last time, replaced by this determination, this confidence that matched his actions, the way he slammed his hips down, his cock fitting inside you so good that you whimpered at the harsh slaps, skin on skin, the heat overtaking you.

“Ah fuck,” he grunted, coming down, his shoulders against the backs of your knees, trapping you between him and the bed, your moans snatched from your throat as he thrusted inside your pussy relentlessly, his cock slick with your wetness, the condom providing that ultra-thin barrier, enabling you to feel the illusion of him and his cock, the way it plunged inside you in unsparing thrusts that displayed his strength. His lips find yours, you moaned as he grunted, his teeth sinking against your bottom lip, a slight tug that wrenches a cry, a pleasure spike assaulting your body, your swollen clit absorbing the shock and force of it all.

“Joon! Hgnh!”

All at once, you’re floating, as if up in the air, your orgasm crashing down on you with such immediacy that your legs shake, your words leaving you in favour of loud moans that tore your lips from his as your arms stretch upwards, your tits pressing against his chest as your hips twisted from the sensitivity. Your name forms from his lips, his head snug against your neck, the scent of him finding its way into your senses. Your body bows from the bed, it lifts to him as he carried on fucking you harder, faster, rougher, that your eyes snapped shut, your vision in darkness as you were enveloped in pleasure, your pussy splattering your juices all over him, your walls constricting around his cock, your moans unrestrained.

“Fuck!” He gasped, and you feel him as he came, his cum pumping the latex, his hips stilling, his cock so deep inside you that you swore you’d go crazy. He’s over you, his body so warm that you bring your hands over his shoulders, feeling his muscles flickering under your touch. He comes up, he looks at you, his eyes hazy, pleasure riddled, much like yours as you lay spent under him, marvelling at his cock, how it fit inside your perfectly. Your heart hammered in your ribcage thunderously. Flanked by his strong arms, you slid your hands down, squeezing your pussy around him, making him pitch forward, back into your embrace, his small groans against your ear.

Then you come down as his lips plant soft kisses along your neck, you move so he can carry on, you wait, you feel his heart against yours, you see the ceiling, the lone bulb that he never used. You had a feeling that you’d see it more often.

“How was going home?”

“Fine. I had dinner with my parents, and I met with my friends,” you replied.

Namjoon was lying on his bed, propped up on pillows while he watched you walk along the bookshelf on his wall with only your top on. The smallest of movements caused you to reveal your bottom half, so he directed his attention elsewhere. With your back turned, he couldn’t see your face, so he tried to gauge your expression through your body. You weren’t saying anything, preferring to thumb the spines of the numerous books he had read or planned to read.

In these moments, he liked to imagine you years from now. He imagined you on vacation together somewhere warm yet otherworldly. There, you would be prepared dinner whilst complaining to Namjoon about your husband, who would be reading to your children or telling them not to run around. He imagined you with someone older and academic, but someone you’ll eventually find boring. Then, unafraid, you would say to him, why didn’t I marry you instead?

Namjoon could see you with immediate clarity in this scenario, he can see your face and he gets the feeling that you worked as a human rights lawyer or journalist. He would only say a simple answer, because we’re friends. Then you would laugh, moving swiftly to tend to the salad that you were mixing and refill your husband’s wine.

“What pulls you back to something?” You asked suddenly, making him blink rapidly from the memory.

“What?”

“You know, what’s your favourite place or book?” You explained, turning your head so he could see your face in profile, it was enough for him to gauge that you had examined his collection. Namjoon adjusted himself before he answered, sitting with his legs crossed and upright. He was stumped. He didn’t think that he had a favourite book or place. Since his silence was longer than anticipated, he watched as you sat back on his bed, perched at the edge, leaning forward with slightly raised eyebrows, waiting.

“I like framing the question this way because the answers that follow sound more honest,” you said.

Namjoon nodded slowly, biting him bottom lip as his mind tried to reach for an honest answer. You laid on the bed now, with your back on the mattress, your eyes not on him but the ceiling of his room. Namjoon felt more comfortable now that your attention was split.

“I don’t have a favourite book or place specifically, but I like those things that bring a sense of nostalgia to me. I can be as loyal to a place or a thing as you can be to a person or people,” he said, finally gathering his thoughts.

You shifted so you were on your side with your back against him. He saw how your arm had outstretched beneath your head as you splayed your fingers. He saw the curve of your body, the lines where it rose at your hip and dipped at your waist. The bare skin of your thighs, he remembers how they felt underneath his grasp.

“Which one do you have more of?” You asked, your voice sounding further away than normal.

Namjoon ruminated, prolonging the silence. He scanned the shelves and then the rest of his room. There were items from his home and items that he had collected from just being at university. There were books, plants, miscellaneous items like a bike helmet and a water spritzer. Then there were utilitarian things like kitchen items, furniture, a chair, his bed. None of these things he envisioned to be having the power to pull him back. He thought about the places he’d been to by himself or with his parents, the endless summers abroad or elsewhere is South Korea. Where he lived a simple existence, walking without any destination in mind. Even those didn’t have a distinct pull.

You were on your back again and he saw your face in profile once more, your eyes blinking slowly, as deep in thought as he was.

“I think I gravitate towards people. There’s something about being around others that bring me nostalgia,” he said, looking at where you were looking. He had a lone bulb on the ceiling that he never used, preferring lamps for the softer glow. You turned your head, looking at him for the first time in a while.

“Me too.”

Namjoon appeared to respect your request to keep things causal and in exchange, you carried on seeing each other. That included sleeping together. Besides that, you knew that he preferred to be called ‘Joon’ (inside and outside the bedroom) and he learned that when you’re focused on something, everything zones out and it would be hard to get your attention. Not with sex, though. Instead, you were attentive and receptive with his cock in your pussy, and you knew that he knew, that the sex between you was something he couldn’t replicate with anyone else. There were several triggers: boredom, stress, general horniness. Sometimes, it was an elixir of all three and both of you would go through an entire box of condoms in a blink. Which is why you split the cost between you, something about living in an egalitarian society.

“Joon, people could literally see everything,” you complained, albeit rather weakly since the feeling of his cock in your pussy was distracting.

The current position that you found yourself in was Namjoon holding you, or rather, pinning you between the wall of his body and the frosted window of his studio apartment. Granted that you managed to switch all the lights off, the moonlight could still outline you adequately.

“What could they see?” He asked, another thrust, a moan drawn out from your lips, your legs shaking from being held up, your pussy stretched and wet. His arms hooked behind your knees, you, barely perched on the window ledge, the hard surface digging into your ass.

“My ass? My naked back?” You replied, ending in a moan as he thrusted back into you.

“Even better,” he said, silencing any further complaints from you by tugging you upwards, his hands against the solid glass while yours curled at the sides of the ledge. At that position, your breath leaves you entirely, the way that you were at his mercy, his thrusts coming in faster and harder, your pussy sopping.

“Ah fuck,” you moaned, feeling him pull all the way out only to push into your pussy, doing the same movements, again and again, harsh yet precise, bringing out the moans that you wanted to withhold, if not for him being so good at making you feel good. He fucks you using the strength in him, hard, rough thrusts that drove his cock into your pussy in a punishing pace. You hold on as the hard surfaces melt away, the flimsy window clattering in its frame. You relent, you succumb to the pleasure that rips through you unannounced, your body almost seizing as you came, your moans meeting his skin, your arm curling around his neck as you held him close.

"Shit, that’s it,” he snarled, his deep voice doing wonders, your pussy pulsing rapidly around him, trapping his cock in your velvet walls, the strain in your muscles melting as you whined, moving your hips to meet him halfway.

All inhibitions out of the window, literally.

"Keep going… mmh, fuck,” you moaned, your lips against the base of his neck, your tongue snaking out, licking and then sucking the exposed skin, relishing in how a deep rose coloured the tanned surface. Namjoon grunted, his words hardly forming, his cock pistoning inside you with alarming speed and force that you swore the window rattled against your back. He keeps going until you cum again, your scream unfurls from your throat, eventually muffled by his lips as he comes down to kiss you, his own orgasm coursing through him that he practically lifts you from the ledge as he drove his cock up into you, as deep as it could go, the feeling of being filled so intoxicating that you cling onto him as your pussy gushes, wet, sticky juices dripping down in a lewd mess.

“Shit,” he gasped, catching you as your body relaxed, your eyes shut, reeling from the euphoria. Everything is still for a moment, your hearts battering against your ribcage, your muscles straining from your position. Namjoon looks down, checking if you’re okay, and you see his hazy expression, the way pleasure painted his features, the matted hair that framed his face, his parted lips, and laboured breaths. You laughed, still high.

“What?” He asked, and you feel him softening inside you.

“I can hear clapping,” you replied.

You weren’t lying. There was a small crack from the bottom of the window, and below, right on the road, were the sounds of applause and now, cheers. They were likely from a gaggle of drunk students fortunate enough to witness all of this. A scarlet flush makes its way onto Namjoon’s cheeks as he hid his face against your neck. Your arms wrapped around him so that you didn’t slip further, and he joined you as you laughed even more.

The winter months brought about a different kind of exhaustion aided by the chill that seeped through the layers of clothing you wore. It seemed that you were hibernating, your mind and body in disharmony. Outside were people wrapped up in insulation to ward off the cold that felt like frostbite, their breaths like plumes of smoke finding their way up as they conversed. You walked through the grey concrete, your footsteps absorbed by the thin layer of snow which crunched beneath each step, compacted and tainted with dirt.

Through the revolving doors, the air becomes warmer. It fans over your face, bringing with it the familiar smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries. Nearly all the booths that lined the floor to ceiling windows were occupied save for the last one. The one shoved in the corner, away from prying eyes, was Namjoon, his pensive expression directed towards his phone.

You sit across him and find a cup of coffee in front of you, he raised his eyebrows to acknowledge your presence. You lift the cup to your lips; you taste the hot liquid and the buzz goes straight to your nerves. It was hard to smile in these conditions, your external body was still cold. The moment the coffee hits your lips, you wake up, spurred by stimulants. Sitting up straighter, you finally pay attention to Namjoon’s silence.

“What are you reading?” You asked, wanting to pry. He shrugged, locking his phone.

“About the upcoming elections,” he replied, reaching for a pastry that was half eaten on a paper napkin.

You nodded, the campaigns were rife and bled into student life. Opinions were always divided, the subject being a sensitive point which can unearth another layer. Politics was never one to be brought up in any conversation voluntarily. Knowing who supports who could inform you of the person. Simply, you’re as good as the party or leader you support. You become their policies, you rouse suspicion or gather support even without voicing your own opinions. You were still deciding if that was a more beneficial thing than not.

“Anyone good?” You asked, gulping more coffee, waking up more.

Namjoon looked at the ceiling, often he did that to signal that he was thinking, you saw his eyes which were still puffy from sleep.

“No one yet. I was catching up on the news… did you see the mayor that resigned?” He asked, waking up due to the prospect of discussion.

You went through what occupied your mind, past the mundane tasks that lay ahead, you thought about the news that you listened to whilst you got ready to leave. Sexual harassment. Namjoon left out the subsequent suicide. He was in his sixties. It rode along with the wave of allegations that encroached powerful figures from all over the world. You nodded and Namjoon finished his food. Next to him was a cup of coffee, he sips it quietly, his eyes on the table where the crumbs flecked its surface.

“Can you separate the person from their work?” He asked, drawing away from the topic but you knew that he was asking for himself.

His worry of becoming tainted was not unfounded. After university, after the security and pretence of it all, he will land that civil servant job which could launch a career in the same field. There is the potential to change lives, to enact policies. There is also potential to dirty your hands, to submerge your arms elbow deep in tar. Life becomes the toss of a coin. You either get what you want or what you deserve. The line is never clear, only in hindsight. You bring the cup near your mouth, both hands on the heated surface. You sip your coffee, you let it warm your insides and you shake your head.

“Not in this instance,” you replied, choosing to steer the conversation away from him to the initial point of discussion.

Broadly, you didn’t think that the separation could exist. Politics was a different animal, it thrived on performance. You work for the people so it was inevitable that you sell yourself. You reduce yourself to recognisable caricatures that appeal. Then you can penetrate and garner support. Or criticism.

Namjoon nodded, appearing careful and considered. He was already slipping into the role, he was pensive when needed, animated when prompted. He set his cup down, he looked at you, his eyes serious. The puffiness is gone, drained from the weariness that descended over him. Under the table, your legs become intertwined, the proximity giving you no choice.

“Do you think that there’s more to like in a person than to hate?” He asked. The discussion moved to somewhere more malleable, where you could slot your opinion efficiently.

“Depends on the person,” you began, stretching your legs as he folded his.

“Look, we’re all capable of doing good and or bad,” you said, taking the baton from him.

Around you, the morning crowd revealed itself, with the students wrapped up and organising themselves in a contained line that wound around like space like a serpent. Orders were being delivered, the sound of the coffee machines working mixed with the conversations that grew more prominent, punctuated by unapologetic yawns.

“You see the good, you see what they could become. People are so capable of rising… rising above whatever can pull them down,” Namjoon said, though he sounded dejected.

“That is true, people can rise, well above materialism, wealth, even exploitation. People do better because they can. But there’s the other side of it. They can be dull, petty, they can be corrupt,” you said, watching as Namjoon’s face became pinched at your words.

“They can accept things easily, things that can… make them easy to hate,” you said. Namjoon sighed, a long exhale that suggested an internal struggle.

“It’s the same person though,” he replied. You nodded, finishing your coffee. The line of people only lengthened as you spent time talking, hands were covered in mitts, the faces hidden by raised collars.

“Which makes it even more interesting. I just think that not everything can be black and white,” you said, guiding your cup and up down, controlling the soft scrape of paper against the vinyl surface. Namjoon had taken to fold the paper napkin where his pastry was, hiding the spots where the grease seeped through. Your legs were once against intertwined.

“Yes, but I’d like to think that they are. Makes things easier to understand,” he said.

“You can’t box people in, they’re more than what you see. Those things that usually matter, the things that are the most telling of the person, is what they hide,” you replied.

You envision the grey where your thoughts lived, the murky colours that sheltered your opinions. Nothing is ever as it seems; a first impression can only ever be one of many. Namjoon chuckled, the first sound that wasn’t a cough or the voices that surrounded you. When you looked at him to understand, he just shook his head.

“I realised that you think of the worst in people,” he said.

You grinned.

“It gets worse before it gets better.”

You looked at the time of your phone and determined that you still had to wait for another twenty minutes before your first lecture. The crowd had thinned but the conversations remained animated. You heard the usual chatter complaints and catch ups of the previous evening. Namjoon lifted his head from his phone and set it face down.

“I was reading some comments left on the article - you know, the case is going to be closed after what happened,” he said, bringing you back to the topic of the mayor. You titled your head to you could rest it on your knuckles.

“I feel sorry, but they should’ve had a clearer explanation of the sexual harassment allegations, they should still carry out an investigation,” you replied, thinking about the women who came forward. Namjoon turned his phone over and pushed it to you. On the screen was a mind map that had many branches, the middle circle was labelled ‘Suffering.’ You stared back at him, prompting him to explain.

“It’s a project for this extra credit module, we have to have debates about the topic of suffering,” he said. You pinched your fingers to zoom in and found that the branches didn’t contain anything yet.

“Why is it so morbid? Is it philosophical?” You asked, thinking about your own extra credit modules that involved group work about the history of the university, nothing too taxing. Namjoon sighed, pressing his back onto the booth.

“What do you think?” He asked, his eyes on how you were zooming in and out absentmindedly.

“You could say that suffering is absolute to the individual experiencing it,” you said, pushing his phone back towards him. Taking it, he began to type what you said.

“Aren’t you going to add anything?” You asked, noting how he took it all down, word for word. He shook his head, content at your reply.

“What about examples?” You added, looking at the singular line on the branch, how sparse his contribution was, well, yours. Namjoon shrugged.

“My brain’s feeling sluggish, we can talk more about it later?” He asked, opening the possibility of meeting up in latter half of the day.

“Sure.”

Like you, Namjoon considered the bed sacred and kept it relatively clean. He had a king-sized bed, courtesy of his parents, and out of necessity, due to his towering height. He mentioned, while you were tangled up in each other that for most of his life, he had to sleep curled up and never had the luxury of sleeping splayed, like a star fish. You teased him, oh poor you, that must had been so hard, with your en-suite bathroom, bi-annual vacations, and latest gadgets. To which he responded with a purposeful thrust mid-explanation, quietening you as your mind spun from the sensation.

Now, you were on the said bed, with a full view of beige whilst he had a full view of your spread thighs. With your cheek pressed against the mattress, you wound your hands back, parting your pussy even more, flexing it to tease him. You felt him touch the back of your thighs. He was always like that, he touched you lightly, which belied just how hard he could fuck. He whispers your name, almost sounding pained, and you wiggled your hips, your knees slipping outwards. You knew how wet you were, all for him. You were placated by his large hand as it traced its way up your back, you feel his warmth and the way the bed dipped as he positioned himself behind you. The head of cock sweeps against your sodden folds, up then down, gathering then spreading the wetness, your body trembling from the anticipation.

“Joon, please,” you begged, not wanting to waste any more time, as much as you loved being admired by him.

You hear a sharp intake of breath, his hands finding themselves on your hips, his fingers clamping down to distract you from the fact that he thrusted inside you so abruptly that you pressed your face against the sheets so that your scream was muffled. Your arms splay against the bed, your hands fisting the sheets, wrinkling the surface, lifting it off from its tidied appearance. He pounds into you, and you unfold under him, his cock driving down then up, again and again at a dizzying pace.

“Don’t stop, fuck!” You gasped; your strangled cries indistinct due to being absorbed by the bed. You feel the power in his thighs, the hard muscles working overtime to pleasure you, and you hardly knew anything else, your back arching, your ass bouncing from how hard he was going, his balls slapping against your clit.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he growled, his lips right by your ear, the ragged breaths bringing out a satisfied hum from you as your brows furrowed from the pleasure, your teeth cutting your lower lip.

With his weight, he holds you against the bed firmly, his thrusts were powerful, your name against his mouth like it was the only word he knew. You couldn’t get over the fact that he was so strong, it was as if you weighed like nothing. You gasped as his lips find your earlobe, catching the flesh between his lips, his words, though strained, murmuring praise, Fuck, you’re pussy’s so tight, you’re fucking amazing, you feel like heaven. And that did it. You came around him, your pussy massaging his length in involuntary tremors that it shocks you at first but then your moans escalate, they find their way into the fibres of the sheets because you didn’t even sound like yourself, instead replaced by a carnal version, succumbing to everything good that Namjoon gave you.

“Joon, oh fuck!” You gasped, a sharp sound that pierced the air, competing with the harsh slap of his thighs against yours. He carries on giving it to you until you shudder from the overstimulation.

You didn’t know how he managed it, but he lifts your hips, creating a gap for his hand to snake down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing with such fury that you squeal, a second orgasm reigning over your body that juices burst past your velvet walls, onto him, between your thighs, everywhere. It takes him over, his grunts becoming loud, his breath leaving him as he pushes into you, the final time, moaning your name once more. The surface of your skin is balmy, your scents coalescing with the smell of sex, the roar against your ears not letting up as your hearts thumped in your chests. And you lay still together for a moment, connected, your bodies practically floating and drowning in each other simultaneously.

“You’re very cerebral, you know.”

You were sat across him on the small table and you stopped typing mid-sentence. It was another essay, and you were just starting to flesh out your argument.

“And?” You said, resuming typing. Namjoon adjusted himself on the seat and it creaked beneath his weight. He was reading a book on pruning bonsais.

“You like thinking about things, you’re not a feeler,” he replied.

“You’re the same,” you said, purposefully sliding your foot up his leg.

He was wearing shorts and you traced the exposed skin of his leg with your foot. It was cramped so you had to push your chair back to create space. His book was placed on the table and you shut your laptop. You felt him circle his hand around your ankle just as you grazed his crotch. Nothing more was said between you as you fought against his hold, and he eventually let you go, letting you resume your ministrations. You did so until his breath hitched and his hands gripped the sides of the table, making it shake. You felt how hard he was but when he was basically humping your foot, you drew it away, opening your laptop and resuming your typing, as if nothing had happened. Namjoon looked at you, unable to hide his frustration. His mouth fell open and his brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m being cerebral right now,” you said, tapping your temple with your index finger. To which he rolled his eyes and stood up making his way to the bathroom, the tent in his shorts evident. Moments later, he comes back, sans erection but with a determined look in his eye. You carried on type as you cast a quick glance at him.

“What?” You asked, though you really wanted to know how he achieved flaccidity in mere minutes. He stretched, locking his elbows and retrieved his phone from his pocket.

“There’s an exhibition at the small gallery, wanna go?”

That’s how you find yourself attending the visiting exhibition in the small gallery near the campus called “Forms of Beauty.” The works are modern and abstract and the descriptions that accompanied them were trite. Once inside, the musty smell greets you like welcomed embrace. Past the permanent collection and past A Boy Praying, was the wing that was specifically for temporary exhibition. You wind your scarf around your neck, adjusting it so that covered your lips. The vents were still blowing out cold air, the lights were sterile and cast a ghostly hue against the works.

Namjoon handed you a spare leaflet that was a slim trifold. The gloss reflected the overhead lights, concealing the words in a bright haze. You both stop at a corner which wasn’t sectioned off by metal wires. It appeared that there was no demarcation of what is art and what isn’t. You see the work straight away; the pile of different coloured pebbles shuttled to the corner in a heap that creeps up forming a colourful debris. Next to it was a simple plaque that read:

“take what resonates, leave what doesn’t.”

1981.

Pebbles painted in acrylic.

Visitor instructions:

Please take as many as you like and deposit into the bin next to you.

Namjoon paused as he read the leaflet. You did the same and searched for explanation of the artwork in question.

… the physical form of “take what resonates, leave what doesn’t” will change depending on its installation. The weight resembles the weight of what the artist deems as ‘beauty,’ which can shift in the eye of the beholder. Therefore, the more pebbles that visitors choose to take, the weight will decrease and change the overall shape.

The installation represents a wider discussion that permeates the artist’s work: whether beauty is permanent or not. Whether it is the ultimate measure of worth. Whether it holds even when it is ravaged or used as means to an end.

You stared at the words and then at the work. The pile was still high since it was the beginning of the day, the visitors have yet to flock to it. Namjoon had folded the leaflet and shoved it in his back pocket, he takes a photo before he touches it, the angle was high rather than from straight ahead. You waited until he examined the picture before stepping forward and taking a handful, feeling the cool hardness against your soft palm.

The bin next to you had a single layer of pebbles, all different sizes, mostly smooth. You dropped yours in a ceremonious clatter, prompting Namjoon to reach into the pile. Though he clasped it with more force, causing the top to fall apart into colourful rubble. The security by the door looks up from his crossword puzzle. You tug your scarf down an extend an apologetic smile, he gives you the benefit of the doubt. Namjoon resumes his hoard, dropping the pebbles gently this time by reaching into the bin to cover the distance to not make more noise. You saw that he only took three: red, yellow, and blue, all of which were different sizes, obviously misshapen and likely buried within if not for him digging into the pile. When you walked away to go to the next work, you nudge his elbow.

“Why did you only take three?”

He looked at you, lost for a second until you point to the pile behind him with your gaze. He makes that ‘Ah’ sound, shows that he’s present and not in his thoughts.

“I went with the title. I took what resonated and left what didn’t.”

Not a lot of visitors know about the basement caf�� of the gallery which served the best muffins in the whole of the vicinity. Namjoon stood by the cashier, his card in one hand and his student ID in the other. You’d miss the discounts when you eventually graduate. You leaned against the chair, pressing your back against the flexible wood, pushing till it pushed back. It was practically empty, the marbled walls were a muted yellow, like vanilla ice cream complete with its minute speckles. The spotlights were turned outwards and caused your surroundings to be dim. Nearby, there was someone mopping the floor in quick zigzags, their headphones in and their eyes downcast as they bobbed their head to the rhythm of the music.

“I got you the raspberry muffin and a cappuccino,” Namjoon said as you draped your scarf on the back of your chair. He placed the tray between you with the drinks and food. You saw that he had a flat white and a brownie.

“Thanks,” you said, lifting your plate and cup to have them in front of you.

Namjoon nodded, checking his phone before pocketing it again, his legs outstretching and tangling over yours. That quickly became a shared habit which you chose to ignore and let in simultaneously.

“What did you think about the exhibition?" He asked, biting into the brownie. You watched as the darkened crumbs fell from the side of his mouth, you reach for the napkin instead of brushing it off with your own fingers.

“I thought it was fine, but it was too… abstract. I prefer older works,” you said, remembering a particular canvas that was all white. It was a critique of something that you forgot about, so you’d probably consult the leaflet later. You liked more grandiose paintings, the kind that were from the era of Baroque. The voluminous bodies of women and the rouge complexion of men. Their bright poses composed seamlessly in allegorical scenes. They had stories that were easier to digest, of which stood despite the passage of time. Namjoon sipped his coffee, nodding slightly, his mouth twisting to suggest that he respected your opinion.

“Don’t you think it spoke well about beauty?” He asked.

You reach into the grey area of your thoughts; you wade through its depths for an answer that would suffice. You see the pile of pebbles to see what resonates and see what doesn’t.

“It was kind of suggesting that everyone has beauty at some point in their lives. Like, it can fade, so you can have it when you’re younger and then lose it over time, or vice versa,” you said.

“But if someone, say, has beauty that was on trend for their time, and time moves on, years go by, they still keep the same look and take care of themselves, then they’ll still be beautiful,” he explained.

You lifted the muffin your mouth, your teeth sinking into the dewy surface, biting down till you tasted the tangy sweetness embedded in the sponge. You chewed as you think of your parents, your mother in particular. Stuck in time, the same severe parting complimented by a morose expression.

“So, taking care of yourself as in being well-groomed?” You finished, sipping your cappuccino. Namjoon also nodded.

“I guess…yeah. Even a person who’s also plain can be beautiful if they take care of themselves and are well-groomed,” he conceded. You tip your head back, letting the froth past your lips, its bubbles making the inside of your mouth tingle.

“What about the kind of beauty that makes you feel small when you’re next to it? Like a bug?” You asked, setting your cup down, hearing the soft clink of the base against the plate. Namjoon’s brows knitted, you see the grooves in his skin, the way his expression disturbed its smooth planes.

“There’s a park near where I live, it has this huge lake. When I walk near it, I feel so small. It’s endless, like, that kind of nature is bigger than life,” he said, stepping into the memory.

You imagined Namjoon in the summer, the slow walks, the meandering conversations he would have with his friend that matched the pattern of the water. You imagined his wonderment at the way nature shifts every season, as if he hadn’t seen anything like it before. You smiled at the images that you conjured then promptly hid it behind the remnants of your muffin.

“There’s a cathedral next to my high school. It’s the biggest in the town. And it’s also one of the oldest too. When you go inside, the pillars that support the structure each have a religious saint. The scale is massive, and they look down at you,” you said.

You recalled the mandatory church service from school, the hallowed halls that made footsteps echo, no matter what shoe you were wearing. When you passed the stone statues, they appeared to scrutinise, their carved eyes unmoving yet intimidating, as if they could foresee your fate. You didn’t have an easy relationship with religion, and while the aesthetic schools that emerged from it drew you, its dogma also made you feel unsettled. It hardly matched the lifestyle you lived currently, and you had no room nor patience for the additional guilt.

“What did you think about the work that had the religious iconography?” Namjoon asked, jolting you from your own thoughts. You remembered that it was one of the last works you saw, a three-dimensional work of the Virgin Mary, her entire figure almost hidden beneath jewels. But the figure itself was rather plain.

“I didn’t think that the jewellery itself made the Virgin Mary more beautiful, but I can see the effect that the artist was trying to convey,” you said, scraping your nail against the paper that encased the muffin. The surface flattened and dulled. “Like, jewellery and fancy clothes can make someone feel more beautiful.”

“On the flip side of that, you can make someone less beautiful,” he said, taking your folded paper away from you.

“How so?” You asked, curious as to this take. You saw how he unfolded the paper, shaking the trapped crumbs, the grease spots were darker than the rest.

“Take a beautiful person and putting them in rags can make them ugly,” he said, making you scoff in laughter.

“But everyone’s sense of beauty is different,” you countered. You take the paper back, fold it the way you did before.

“That’s why when I see some people dressed in the worst possible combination of clothing and it looks wrong on them, I try to take myself to the moment where they’re buying them and they’re like “Wow, this is great. It looks great. I love it.” Imagine what goes through their heads when they pick out a bright red coat with grey fur collars or anything in vinyl,” he said, painting a picture right before you.

“If that’s the case, you wonder what they rejected. What they didn’t see as not beautiful,” you said, crushing the paper in the end, watching as it unfurled in your fist. Namjoon shrugged, finishing his drink.

“To each is to their own, I guess.”

Just Friends | Still Friends (II)

masterlist.

#namjoon x you #kim namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #kim namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #kim namjoon two shot #bts rm #bts smut

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tastyykpop · 5 years ago

Text

𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑢𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

•pairings: enemy, barista and student!jaemin x student and barista!reader

♡𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡♡

<next>

•warnings: dom!jaemin, brat!reader, brat taming, crying kink, hair pulling, choking, small praising, small size kink, degradation (slut, whore), dumbification (sexual and non sexual use) nanas kinda mean :( but gets a lil nicer :), jaemin refers to himself as nana a lot mostly when they do the dirty, bulging kink, pet names (princess, baby, baby girl, little girl, pretty girl), unprotected sex (please be safe), slight face slapping (he slaps her once), rough sex clearly, some sexual tension, I hope i got everything

You were fuming!

The boy in front of you not even batting an eyelash, just laughing at the mess dripping down your face.

You smelt like an iced americano.

People around you held their hands to their mouths in shock and others tried to hold back their laughter. Some even pointed at you or gave sympathetic looks.

It wasnt like people were surprised anymore. Jaemin always had something up his sleeve for you. But he never went as far as pouring his coffee on you.

"Aw poor baby. Do you need a napkin?" He faked sympathy with a pout and his friends began laughing. You just got up and walk by them, making sure to bump into jaemins shoulder on your way through.

It was almost everyday that Jaemin would do something so uncalled for. It was like he was made to push your buttons. Even as you're walking out of the college building, you can still hear the boy laughing at you. Or maybe it was the other students. Either way, you wanted to kill him.

As you trudged towards your car, a sense of relief washed over you. A great happiness that only comes when you finished your classes and could go home. Only this happiness stayed for a good 2 hours until you have to go to your part time job at the cafe with your favorite person of course. But its not like you can quit. You need the money so you can live and get the education you need, no matter how hard it is being with him.

It was then when you sat in your car and the squishing in the seat made your face curl into a scowl, only made you think of ways to get away with murder. It was gross really. The seats were sticky, plus your hair and clothes were sticking to you like lip gloss. A shower would be perfect right about now.

"Hi y- oh..." Your roommate, jimin, stared at your messy state. Giving you a good up and down before shrugging his shoulders, "jaemin?"

You sighed, walking over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, "Who else? Its always him."

Jimin gave you a small smile and came closer as if ready to hug you but didn't because he didn't want to get sticky. "You know, maybe you should quit that job."

"No."

He groaned and snatched the water that you were about to sip, "Why? You'd only see jaemin in school. And you wouldnt have to stick with his bickering in work." He huffed, shaking his head, "Girls are so difficult sometimes."

You tried leaping up to grab the bottle from jimin, but all he did was hold it above his head. You stomped on his foot in return. Jimin huddled over and you snatched the bottle, smirking with victory as you put it to your lips.

"You fucking snake." Jimin hissed in pain.

A laugh fell from your lips as you walked by him, completely ignoring his words and his pain, "Im gonna take a shower."

Once you got to your room, the first thing you did was grab your work clothes, a towel, and underwear and got ready for the warm shower.

After you switched on the water and let it heat up, you stepped in and immediately felt at peace as the water cascaded over your body, cleaning off the almost dried coffee. Your hair felt lighter, like a feather and your fingers could now slip through the strands easily without an issue. The scent of your body wash overpowered the coffee smell and you felt much better. Water, soap, and coffee were beginning to fill the drain as you finished washing up. You rolled your eyes at the sight of the murky water. What a bastard.

For once you were actually happy to wear your work clothes after what had happened earlier. The clothes actually felt comfortable and jimin was becoming more and more confused as to why you were hugging yourself with a huge smile on the couch.

"No one should be that happy after a shower." He started flipping through channels on the t.v.

"Dont tell me how to feel, I dont smell like jaemins coffee anymore." You gushed overdramtically. Jimin could only role his eyes.

"Please...you act like he's a demon of some sort."

You squinted your eyes at jimin and flared your nostrils, "he is. Hes a nasty, dumb, annoying, self centered-"

"Okay okay I get it! You hate jaemin! The funny thing is you can never get his name out of your mouth." Everything stopped and your head snapped in jimins directions.

"What are you saying?" A frown found itself on your face, jimin leaned closer.

"Im saying that maybe you might like him."

You shrieked in disgust, blocking your ears with your hands. Jimin laughed at your reaction. Almost falling off the couch in the process. "Ew! Gross! Why would you even think that!"

"Like I said, you can never get his name out of your mouth. I think its pretty obvious you like him." He was still giggling at you except your face was anything but happy, more grossed out at how he thought you could like such a person

"I can't stand you. I'm leaving for work." You stood up and jimin did nothing to stop you from going. Even though you still had about 15 minutes until you normally leave. "Ill be back at 9." The door slammed behind you, leaving jimin alone with another laughing fit.

You got in the car and drove off to your work, still trying to come up with a reason as to why jimin is saying all this. Sure maybe you talk about jaemin a little lot but that doesn't mean you like him. Its very much the opposite and jimin should know that. It only frustrates you the more you think about it. Liking someone like jaemin? Please. That would be your nightmare.

As you pulled up to the cafe, there were only a few other cars parked. Few were from other workers but the majority were most like customers or people just trying to get a free parking space. Lucky for you, there were many open spaces, unlike when you come later and they're filled. Maybe leaving earlier wasnt such a bad idea. It saved you the 3 minute walk.

"Y/n! You're just on time!" One of your coworkers, irene, called out as you stepped inside the shop. "We need help back here!" You had no time to even begin to say your shift hasn't started yet when irene took you by the hand and dragged you to where the coffee was being made. "We have a bunch of online orders coming in so can you please help us with the coffee and food?" She tossed you a brown apron for you to put on and you nodded, trying to get your brain to speed up with everything in the world.

It was so quiet when you walked in that you never even realized that the back was busy. Coffee cups were filled and put into trays for orders, food was being heated or baked. It was a chaotic place right now and all you could do was help. So as fast as you could, you began with the first order on the screen. A large mocha with extra extra sugar, whipped cream, and chocolate curls. Easy enough you thought as you reached for a cup but a hand beat you to it.

Your eyes looked up at the person in front of you and just when you thought everything was going fine, it wasn't, "What are you doing here so early?" You asked bitterly.

"I always come in early. What are you doing here so early?" Jaemin asked whilst holding a death grip on the cup.

"Just felt like coming early." You muttered, watching as jaemin turned away with a scoff, quickly cutting the conversation short. "Bastard."

Jaemin was busy making what you were originally going to do, so you looked for another order to get ready. It was just two cake pops and a small strawberry banana smoothie. Something you've been craving recently from the lack of sweetness and fruit in your day to day life.

The cake pops and smoothie were quick to make and were soon sent off to the customer. You happily beamed and wished them good day once they left.

After then there was a familiar face with a friend right next to him, he was quite handsome you must say. He was indeed so handsome that he just looked unreal. "Hey jimin. Whose this?" You nodded towards the bright black haired man.

"This is taemin! He wanted some coffee so I brought him- hey stop staring at him!" Jimin snapped you out of your trance and taemin chuckled.

"Its okay shes cute." He eye smiled, showing off his perfectly white teeth. He's definitely not real.

Jimin tsk'd, "Until you get to know her."

"Yeah yeah... whatever." You smiled at him, completely oblivious to what he just said.

They both ordered and took a seat next to the window. You were still staring at taemin with your head in your hand until someone tapped your shoulder, "Who are they?" Jaemins voice rang in your ears, making you stand up straight.

"Thats my roommate, jimin, and his friend taemin." You glanced back at the boys, mainly at taemin and just stared like he was your first crush.

"Quit staring your gonna scare him away." Jaemin said earning himself a chuckle from you.

You stuck your tongue out, "He called me cute."

The boy smirked from ear to ear and leaned in close to your face, "He was lying." You grumbled and pushed him away from you, getting annoyed by his presence very quickly.

"Jaemin and y/n, get back to work we have orders to do!" Irene called out. Both of you quickly returning to your stations and getting things ready.

"Look at him. Hes basically waiting for me to come over to him." Seulgi, another person in this school you dispise, said as she looked at jaemin in the back of the room. She wasn't very quiet either considering you were only a few seats away from him. So it only meant that jaemin could hear her, but chose to ignore it. Typical boy.

"Honestly. He looks so good today too." Sana, her best friend, commented.

"Oh and did you hear what he was planning on doing today to y/n? Apparently he's gonna-"

"Class get back in your seats, we have much to discuss." The professor stood in the front of the class. Everyone shifted and moved to their appropriate places and waited for the teacher to begin. Unlike you, who was wondering what seulgi was going to say next. If its something worse than coffee being poured on your head, you may just have to bury yourself six feet under after this.

As you were taking notes something flung towards your head and hit you on the side, looking over was jaemin with a smirk was he held his fingers in a sling shot shape. A rubber band was laying on your lap. Then another one. One even hit your cheek creating a small smack sound as you winced in pain. Oh you desperately wanted to get out of this seat and punch the boy in the face.

"Excuse me sir!" You called out, raising your head. The whole class looked at you and your cheeks began to heat up. "May i go to the restroom?" The professor nodded and you headed out. Not until you stopped in your tracks from a loud smack to your butt, causing the whole class to turn around again.

Jaemin was enjoying this, the way you stared at him with wide eyes and open mouth, made him just want to do it again. He never thought this reaction from you would be so entertaining and he tried his best not show it, with only a small smirk covering his face.

You rushed out of the room, faster than ever and leaned against the nearest surface you could find. Not only were you questioning reality, but also why jaemin just did that.

"That little bitch." You said to yourself as you paced back and forth in the hallway, staring at the ground.

"Excuse me?" Jaemin voice rang in your ears as you looked up with a angry red face. Steam was even coming out of your ears and nose. "Did you just call nana a bitch?" He put his hands to his chest and pouted, "Little girl you need to learn some manners." Jaemin tilted his head to the side and began walking forward.

"Shut up." You had nothing else to say as you grit your teeth, looking at the ground.

Jaemin didnt like that and grabbed the back of your neck to make you look at him, "What? Did your stupid head stop thinking? Your normally so chatty for nana what happened?"

"Jaemin i-" you cut yourself off as you felt jaemin grip the back of your neck tighter causing you to moan in pain.

"Stupid girl." Jaemin whispered, forcefully pushing you away. It was not strong enough to make you fall but at least stumble.

You glowered, earning yourself a chuckle from him. "What will it take for you to leave me alone!?"

"Bring this to table 15 please! Thanks!" Irene smiled as she handed you a small cup of iced coffee and you took it, taking it to its designated place. What you didn't except was to see taemin again, gleaming up at you.

"Hi y/n." He smiled and you tried to remain calm.

God how is someone so beautiful?

"Hey, I didnt except you to come back." You returned the warm smile and started to play with the apron around your waist.

Taemin giggled, "I actually quite like this place, its cozy." He began to take a sip from the straw, eyes still trained on you. If only you weren't so awkward with him, you wouldve found something to say other than staring at him and indulging in the beauty before you. But lucky for you someone behind the counter called for you, quickly averting your attention back to work.

The next order was a shake, so you grabbed the correct ingredients and began using the blendor, when someone came next to you, doing the same thing "You seem like your having fun flirting around." The unwanted conversation with jaemin began, "makes nana kind of jealous."

"Hm funny." You ignored him and continued blending the ice cream.

Jaemin casually rolled his eyes and glanced down at your nonchalant face before returning back to the blender, "you know you really do piss me off."

You sneered and snickered to yourself, "what are you gonna do about it?"

"I was thinking of fucking you dumb or until you know your place but maybe thats a bit too rewarding."

The cup was removed and set aside from the blender with your hands placed on your hips, "Im sorry what?"

"Did I stutter?" Jaemin raised an eyebrow and also put the cup down. You went silent, not knowing whether or not to just laugh it off or quickly run away. "And I'm still waiting on my apology."

"One, I am not going to apologize to your bitchy ass. Two, even if I did let you, you could never 'fuck me dumb', it just wouldn't happen. Now stop trying to get in my pants."

Jaemin opened then closed his mouth about to say something, but didn't and just put on a sweet smile, "Go take these to table 7 for nana." He said like he was testing yoj.

"Why? You made them."

"Nana told you to do something little girl, now do it." Jaemins sweet smile was still plastered on his face yet it intimidated you enough to do as he said.

Taemin was long gone when you walked out and you were kind of sad as you weren't able to say goodbye before he left. You placed the shake down on the table and was ready to walk away when you heard your name being called.

"Y/n? You work here?" Seulgis voice spoke as you turned around. Both her and sana were looking at you with shit eating grins.

"Doesn't jaemin also work here seulgi?" Sana asked the girl in front of her and seulgi looked as if she got the brightest idea.

"Oh yeah! Y/n can you get jaemin over here? Pretty please?" She asked sweetly yet with a hint of sourness and you listened, not feeling like ignoring her at the moment.

You told jaemin that seulgi and sana were out front looking for him and he nonchalantly went out without question. Leaving you to do some of the work alone, which you didn't mind considering its jaemin, the annoying bastard who won't leave you alone, but he does help you whenever you need it. And right now, it was a bit busy, and you needed it.

After doing 4 more online orders and sending them off through the driveway, jaemin finally came back with a scowl on his face looking ready to beat someone up. "What the hell is wrong with you!?" He raised his voice only loud enough for you to hear. But you were quite confused on what was happening.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

Jaemin groaned, "I knew you were fucking dumb but come on y/n! Why is seulgi covered in the shake i gave you?"

You paused for a moment, unable to answer that. Is he assuming you spilt her shake on her? Why would you even do that in the first place. Yeah you don't like her, but you're not going to stoop to her or his level. "I dont know."

He slammed his hand on the wall near your head, startling you a bit, "You dont know huh?" You shook your head slowly. "Seulgi and sana both said you purposefully spilt the shake on seulgi. Now answer me honestly. Is that true?" You shook your head again, feeling really small and helpless under his strong gaze.

"I-i didnt spill t-the skake." You muttered quietly.

He inhaled sharply, "Then who did huh? Or maybe you don't know because you're so dumb."

"S-stop..." you frowned, looking down at floor, but jaemin had other plans and made you look up at him. A single tear slide down your cheek and you swear you saw a small grin appear on his face.

"Tell nana what happened." His voice became softer as he swiped away the stray tear on your face.

You huffed, still afraid that he'd do something to you although you knew he wouldnt purposely cause you pain. "W-well she asked me to go get you, which I did, a-and her shake was perfectly fine when I left."

"Are you saying she purposely spilt the shake on herself to make me angry at you?"

"Y-yes."

"Ill believe my little girl for now, but if I find out you are lying, you will be in big trouble got that?" Jaemin lifted his hand off the wall and proceeded to walk back out of the room. Leaving you shocked at his words and still frightened by an angry jaemin.

You went to the cash register once jaemin left to get ready to count the bills until you heard jaemin and seulgi arguing. Lucky for them, no one but you and him were working right now. Irene went home earlier and the normal crew always leave around 6:30, leaving just you and jaemin.

"It was only a prank nana. No need to get so worked up. And besides you didn't even prank her today, be glad I did for you." Seulgi said smiling at the boy in front of her.

Jaemin physically cringed when he heard his nickname roll off her tongue, "you didn't have to do that."

You stood there watching, astonished how jaemin was standing up for you. Hes supposed to hate you. Jaemin didn't even bother going with the girls when they offered him a ride, instead he stayed with you and even helped close. Something he normally doesn't do because he leaves before you and gives you all the hard things to do.

"Hurry up and finish." Jaemin spoke. A little bit of anger still laced in his voice.

"Whats your rush?"

He sighed, "I wanna go home. Plus I can't stand this place right now. I'm pissed."

You finished wiping down that last table and walked over to him, "Just go home then."

"Not without you."

You gave him a dirty look, "im not going home with you."

Jaemin leaned down, his face only inches from yours and whispered, "Remember what I said earlier hm? I wanna fuck you dumb." He then grabbed your waist bringing you closer to him, if that was possible, "Can I do that pretty girl? Can nana fuck you so hard you won't even remember anything but my cock?" You were so lost in your mind that everything became a blur. Jaemins words sounded so sweet but were so lewd. And you were so close to kissing him until he put his finger on your lips, "But you have to wait." You frowned and were only getting more angry by the second. You went from not wanting anything to do with jaemin to just about ready to beg him to kiss you. Was it that easy for him to get in your head? Or were you so sex deprived that now jaemin seemed somewhat interesting?

You laid on jaemins bed getting bored with the constant teasing. He never did anything but that. Jaemin would get close to your lips and back away as you chased him. Hed chuckle and coo at you for being so desperate. But that wasn't the point of all the teasing. He really just wanted you to beg him to kiss you. No words will come out of his mouth telling you to beg, he just excepted it to happen sooner or later. But youre too stubborn to do so, so you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss him, catching him by surprise.

Jaemins hands gripped your wrists and pulled them off his face, pinning them to the bed, "You didnt even ask to kiss me." Jaemin pulled away, raising his eyebrow high, "Dont you think thats a bit mean."

"So was teasing me, but I let you continue." You huffed, trying to free your wrists from his death grip but it was no use.

"You dont have a say on whether i continue or not. I'm in charge here and you take what I give you, understand?" You rolled your eyes. It was your intention to make jaemin angry. You wanted to push his buttons.

What you didnt know was that not answering jaemin correctly would earn you a slap to the face. And jaemin was not even fazed by it.

"Dont roll your eyes and answer nana." Jaemin smiled. "Can you say 'yes nana'?"

"Y-yes nana."

"Good girl." Jaemin muttered and began slowly kissing your jawline down to your neck, sucking here and there creating shades of purple and red marks. Oh how he loved the marks he was leaving.

You so desperately wanted to grip onto jaemins hair and pull it but he never budged his hands, only tightening his grasps. As he continued attacking your neck, you began to lift your hips up to get some sort friction. Jaemin noticed and shifted so that his thigh was in between your legs and rubbing against your clothed core. A spew of quiet moans left your lips but you wanted more. Jaemin was going to soft and slow for your liking.

"I thought you were going to fuck me dumb?" You said and jaemin lifted his head to give you a quick kiss on the lips.

"Patience baby. You aren't ready yet." He let go of your wrists and took your shirt off. The cold air made you shiver and jaemin chuckled. "I wanna make you cum at least 2 times before I fuck you."

"Then stop talking and do it." You replied, pushing your hips up to rub against his thigh, but they were pushed back down on the bed.

"Didnt I say to take what I give you?" Your head slowly moved up and down and jaemin smiled, "so why arent you happy with what nana gives you?"

"I want more..." you sighed as he started to slide your pants and panties off, discarding them somewhere in the room. His mouth slowly started kissing your inner thighs and you could feel your heat dripping with anticipation. You whined for more but only got a slap to the thigh telling you to be quiet. Needless to say you didn't listen and continued to try to get him closer to where you needed him most but pulling his hair.

Jaemin groaned grabbing your wrist again and pushed it away roughly. His patience was wearing out. You were more stubborn than he thought, but that doesn't mean he can't still break you. "Next time you do that, I'll flip you over and beat your ass till its purple." Your breath hitched and as much as you were tempted, you wanted to be able to sit for a few days so you stayed put and kept your hands to yourself.

But the desperation was getting to you and you wanted relief which jaemin wasnt giving you until you felt his two fingers circling around your clit. "P-please jaemin." You moaned as he flicked your clit with his middle finger. Then soon enough he stuck two fingers inside you. Your pussy automatically clenching around his digits as he moved at a steady in and out pace.

It felt so good. His fingers felt so good. They made your body twist in pleasure as more moans left your mouth. Jaemin was watching your face closely as it contorted with pleasure. He loved seeing your eyebrows bunched together, so focused on the way his fingers worked inside you.

"My pretty slut. Taking nanas fingers so well." He gushed, still watching your face. Jaemin could feel himself get even more painfully hard but he didn't want to fuck you just yet. He meant it when he said he wanted you to cum 2 times. So he picked up the speed with his fingers, your hands landing on his forearm that was resting on near your hip. "Are you gonna cum for nana princess?"

You frantically nodded your head as a wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel your cum leak out of you as jaemin leaned down and began eating away at your cunt.

"J-jaemin! So...go-good!" Your head flew back as his tongue sucked on your clit and a loud moan filled the room.

Jaemin smirked against your heat, "I haven't even fucked you yet and your already sounding like a dumb whore. Its so easy to break you princess."

"N-no its j-ju-...." you whimpered as your brain wasnt even trying to help you function right. His tongue was extraordinary. "Mmmm."

"Aw my dumb little princess is so cute." He muttered diving back into lapping at your soaked cunt. It was almost as if on cue and without warning, you were cumming again. Jaemins hasty tongue took it all. Groaning at the taste of you in his mouth.

He sat up over you, grabbing your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue. Deepening the kiss by grabbing the back of his hair, jaemin couldnt help but moan a bit as his cock brushed against your thigh. He felt big. Bigger than the few guys you've been with and you were ecstatic.

You tugged on jaemins pants and shirt as a way to tell him to take them off and he did after getting off of you and sitting on the edge of the bed. His abs were more defined than you thought and when his cock sprung free, your mouth started watering. Jaemins smirk only grew watching you stare. He was starting to get cocky

"What? You wanna suck my cock?" Jaemin asked sweetly.

"Yes please." You reached over to try and touch him but he didn't allow you. And smacked your hand away. It was a way for him to tease you and you hated it.

"So kind for nana now. Ealier you were so cock hungry that you decided to be a brat. Did nana finally break you?" Jaemin whispered as he moved a piece of hair out of your face, looking at you with fill admiration.

"No you didn't break me. But I wanna suck you off." You whined as jaemin picked you up and sat you just above his cock, the tip teasing at your entrance.

"Too bad. Now I want you to sit." Jaemin said looking into your eyes. You obeyed with a little hesitation. His cock was surely going to hurt you so you took it slowly and started lowering your hips. "Fuck...thats a good girl." Jaemin praised, watching his cock dissappear between your legs and your tummy get full with his cock. "My baby's so tiny you can see my cock in your belly." He said, pushing down on the area where he was imprinted in you.

Slowly you started moving, lifting your hips up and down. You were wet enough that he could easily slide in and out with no problem.

Jaemins head fell back as he sighed with relief, grunting as you picked up the pace, "So tight for nana." He whispered and you moaned back loudly. His cock stretched every inch of you to the point where it felt like you'd split.

"More more more." You whined against jaemins neck, gripping his shoulders tightly. Carefully jaemin flipped you both over so he was on top and continued pounding into your destroyed cunt. He kept a hand around your neck squeezing it every so often as a choked out moan left your throat.

His cock was so deep and fast that you couldn't think straight. You kept blabbering about his cock. Only thing on your mind was how nice he felt inside you. Jaemin bit his lip as he smirked at you, grabbing your hair and bringing your face close to his, "Now will you admit that I fucked you dumb and say your nanas dumb slut?"

"Y-yes, I'm na-nanas dumb sl-slut." You cried, tears falling down your face from how good he felt inside and if you thought jaemin couldn't go any faster, he did. His thrusts were hard and rough, sure enough to hurt your thighs tomorrow as he pounded relentlessly. "So close." Your voice came out choked as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You held on to jaemins hand that was on your neck as he helped you with your orgasm.

Jaemin wasnt far behind you with his and groaned loudly, "fuck, where do you want it princess?"

"I-inside." You moaned as the feeling of hot cum was shot inside you. Jaemins hips kept moving him through his orgasm until he slowly came to a stop. Both of you panted loudly, there were even a few tears falling down your cheek here and there.

Jaemin slowly pulled out, making sure not to hurt you, and he laid beside you. "You did so well." He kissed your forehead. "Cmon ill carry you to bathroom so we can take a bath." He said picking up your worn out naked figure with so much care. Making you forget he was your enemy.

#nct smut #nct #na jaemin #na jaemin smut #kpop #kpop smut #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct u #jaemin #jaemin nct dream #jaemin nct #nct dream smut #wayv smut #nct 127 smut

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shelby-love · 4 years ago

Text

HARGREEVES SIBLINGS

What Brings us Together: Funerals

Requested: yes [x]

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Word count: 3.5K

Author’s note: I hope this is what you wanted. You didn't specify what kind of interaction we should have w our siblings so I just went off what was most realistic. Luther is a b of course, that's just how he is at the beginning lol. Don’t think I hate him though! p.s. so is diego we know he wasn’t really nice to vanya in the beginning :(

You sighed heavily through your nose, gathering your brows in distaste at the building standing tall in front of you. The Umbrella Academy looks as imposing as ever, making you remember just how much it once scared you when you were a kid.

Time went by and you became an adult. Someone with common sense, living an ordinary life far away from your once bright future that suggested money and luxury. Of course, when you’re informed of your father’s passing through a TV screen, it’s mandatory to show up and pay your respects.

You snorted at the rogue thought. “Bastard.”

Seeing your siblings after so many years of being apart made you feel anxious. Your father and his ashes weren’t the cause of your sweaty hands. It felt weird. Too weird.

But you ignored the feeling and called out your inner adult, placing one foot in front of the other and walking straight through the two-winged doors.

Your eyes fell on every surface of the academy, sweeping over every object while doing so. The number of memories, good and bad, that this place held was uncountable. But life, alas, is too short.

Your father a true example.

You gazed at the portrait with no emotion, looking at the picture of your father and siblings with a crooked smile of sadness. The tips of your bare fingers flickered with energy, and you fought the urge to curl them into a fist and punch a wall.

But your father's voice rung through your head, what you've been taught all your life bucking into instinctive actions. "You must know self-control Number Eight. You lack of it will be your downfall. Now put your gloves back on!"

You were 4 when those words big words started to leave his mouth, and you never heard the end of it. Not until he died.

You uncurled your fists, took a deep breath and felt the energy cave in.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

The sudden sweetness of a voice that belonged to your sister travelled into your ears, so quietly you almost didn't hear her. Your eyes widened slightly, and when you turned around – for a moment you didn't know what to do. The girl had turned into a celebrity, and you wondered if that had changed her in any way.

"Allison?"

She took a few sharp steps your way and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in a bone-crushing hug you returned immediately.

"You're not wearing your gloves," she took note, looking tentative to touch you for a second after pulling away.

"I don't need them anymore," you stated proudly.

Your father graced you with leather gloves at the age of 4, telling you to never take them off. That in a way, you and the powers you possessed were a danger to your siblings. The dark leather gloves weren't comfortable, in fact, they felt suffocating every time you wore them. Because that's how silencing your powers feels like. Suffocating. For a second too short, you had wondered what Allison felt like. Not being able to use her voice for what it was made for.

"Well, I'm happy for you," said Allison, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You never really liked them."

"No," you agreed with a mumble. "No, I didn't."

The two of you walked out of the hall and into the living area, legs paired with pace.

"Where is everyone?" You asked her quietly, your eyes inspecting an antique you knocked over as a kid more times than you could count.

"Diego is here, somewhere," she mused, and you raised your brows ever so slightly in surprise. "He has this weird hero complex, so he's out saving the world, I guess. Apart from us three, no one’s here yet."

"Do you know when he'll be coming back?" You wondered out loud, watching her give you an odd look a second later. "I haven't seen him in years, Allison. He's my brother."

A part of you wanted to tease her about Luther by saying that not everyone is into what they were, but you withheld it and instead locked your eyes onto your other brother.

Number Five.

"I missed you Y/N."

You smiled at her quiet voice, "Missed you too Ally."

***

"You know if I was murdered, and if one of my sons...adopted sons... happened to be able to commune with the dead, I might think about, I don't know, I don't know...manifesting!"

You attempted to stifle your laughter as you watched Klaus prance around your father's ashes in an attempt to talk to him. He wasn't sober, so you doubted it would work.

But it was pleasantly nice to see him try at least.

"I don't think he wants to talk," you interrupted him mid-vent.

You watched as his pacing stopped, his demeanor switching from crazy to collected in the seconds it took your voice to be heard. Klaus turned around slowly, beaming from one ear to another. "It's you! You're alive!"

His scream of joy brought a wide smile to your lips, and you rushed to his arms. Both of you screamed like little kids, telling how much you missed each other and how tragic life has been without one another. Making jokes on your dead father's account was overly present too.

"And you're high!" You squealed in delight, ruffling his crazy looking hair.

Klaus pulled away at that, swaying in a matter that looked like he was stretching before a run. He pointed his thumb at the ashes, "Dad's too stubborn. He won't talk to me."

"Did you try begging?" You asked amused.

"I-I guess…" He mumbled before groaning. "I'm too sober for this!"

Then his eyes snapped to you and a pout drew on his face. Klaus went to stand in front of you, grabbing your hands in his and placing them on his chest. "Y/N…"

You rolled your eyes but didn't remove them, "Yes, Klaus?"

"I was just wondering if you," He said gingerly. "You know…"

This time you did pull your hands away but placed them on his face. Teasingly you squished his cheeks like you used to when you were kids. "You want me to give you money, so you can go get high because your childhood trauma of being locked in a mausoleum catches up to you every time you're sober? Of course, I will. How much do you need?"

It took him a second to process your words. "Oh my God really?" Klaus whispered, almost as if he didn't believe that was happening.

"I tried it your way when I left -" you explained, pulling out your wallet and glancing at his stunned expression. "- to suppress my powers. It didn't work, and I continued to suffer. If that's what it takes for you to not suffer from them, I'll gladly help."

You handed him a wad of money but when he tried to take them you pulled away, "Just…be careful Klaus."

"Yeah of course I will," he replied absentmindedly before he turned his head to the side. "Shut up."

You furrowed your brows, "Did you say something Klaus?"

"Oh no, no, no, no, no," said Klaus quickly, a little too quickly. "I didn't say anything."

You hummed but swore you had caught him swing his leg at something too.

"Well, if that’s all…" you murmured, "I'll leave you to it then, I gotta go see Mom. Don't say hi to dad from me, okay? Don't you dare Klaus."

The sibling only saluted, turning around to get back to trying to reach your dad, securing the money into a pocket in his skirt.

"Hey! Wait!"

You stopped and turned back around. Klaus waved his hands at the big lone fireplace. "Can you do that thing, please?"

By that thing, he meant to say start the fire. You shrugged and walked back to the fireplace. The amount of time you lit it up for your siblings was infinite. It felt weird to do it now even though you light your fire at home with your powers all the time.

Fire comes out of your hands quickly and with ease in the shape of a golden ball, igniting the lone fireplace within seconds. You watched the inferno you created in a daze, only breaking out of it when Klaus came to stand in front of the fire to warm up.

"Love you Klaus."

"Awww I love you too sis."

You shook your head, turned and left the room.

***

"Heard you came from the moon." You mused, "Thought I'd stop by and see for myself."

When word spread that Luther was on the moon, you didn't quite believe it. Then you found out that he too came back to send your father off to the lands of the dead, and you just had to see him and ask for yourself.

It was no surprise to find him in your dad's office of all places, although at first glance he did look like an intruder. You felt yourself stiffen at the sight of a big man in a coat, looming over your father's desk imposingly. Power surged through your veins, and it took everything in you to stop it from overflowing in fear.

When your brother met your face, you exhaled in relief and a single candle lit in the room as a result.

Luther seized it, looking impressed. "You've gotten better."

"Cut the crap Number One," you snapped suddenly, the tone mainly coming from the fact that your powers activated because of the fear that came from seeing a completely new version of your brother. "First of all, what happened to you? I thought Diego would turn out like that, not you."

He shrugged his massive shoulders.

"Second of all," you began. "What are you doing in dad's office?"

"Nothing," he said quickly.

Luther might look big and dangerous but the creases in his face give you all the answers you need. "You haven't changed a bit," you mused, leaning against the door. A part of you still felt young and that made you respect your father's words a little more by staying put. "Save for the…" You pointed to your torso for reference.

Luther noticed the way you eerily stood at the doorstep, contemplating whether to enter and break his word. "He's dead you know."

You shot him a look, "I know that."

"So, why don't you come in?"

You contemplated to come in, but in all honesty - nothing was of interest. You would much rather like to interrogate Luther and his whims.

"Is Allison really the only person you care about?" You asked him instead, the bubbled feelings you've been holding inside threatening to spill. It was rather hostile, the way you two met after years of not seeing each other. A big part of you felt angry at him for not calling you when things obviously went wrong somewhere. His body wasn’t a result of something natural, and you knew it. "I mean this as a sibling. Let's ignore the weird thing you two have for each other."

"We don-" he started, your seizing eyes stopping him mid-sentence. "Is it that obvious?"

You sighed, "Look Luther, I'm just trying to say…"

"No, you're accusing me."

"Of what?"

"You left. All of you."

You snorted, "You really want to do this right now?"

"I don't see why not."

"You're looking for something," you said instead, completely ignoring his words. "I won't help you find it nor will I try to lie if you ask me if I have it."

His ears perked, "Dad's monocle."

You chuckled, "That lame thing he always wore?"

Luther nodded.

"Why do you need it?"

"You said you wouldn't lie."

"I'm not lying Luther, I just asked you a question!" You told him. A thought washed over you when his eyes pinned you in, and you could barely even grasp it. "You think I killed him, don't you?"

"I didn't say that." He tried to reason, although he didn't move from around the desk to try and soothe you.

"You didn't have to," you said quietly, feeling tears gather in your eyes. "I see the way you look at me, brother. Ever since I hurt her-"

"Don't talk about her," he stopped you.

"Why the hell not?!" You exclaimed, "She's my sister you know. Our sister. You keep forgetting that."

Luther stayed silent after your outburst, probably contemplating whether to apologize, but you cut him from speaking before he could even start. "We were 7 Luther. I didn't know what I was doing. You think I wanted to take the air out of her lungs? She was going to rumor me Luther. I was scared."

It didn't really matter how much you repeated it to him, he never understood. His love for her goes beyond siblingship, as weird and disturbing as it was. Whoever hurt Allison became a monster in his eyes. "But anyway. I didn't steal that ugly thing. You can cross me off your list."

You looked around the office, ignoring the way Luther stood silently. The lack of light was obviously making it difficult for him to sniff around. You raised your hands in the air, watching as the tips of your fingers turned into flames. A satisfying sight, but a sight you didn't want to look at currently. With a swipe of your hand, you controlled the small blazes until they broke apart and landed at the candles, lighting up the room, so Luther can see. "Hopefully this helps."

You walked away from the office after that, not daring to look behind yourself in fear of breaking down.

***

You stomped across the academy, anger flowing off you in waves. Having your emotions tied to your feelings was never fun. The chandelier above you swayed under the wind that came from your anger and candles burnt out, the fire that came within them disappearing into your body.

"Y/N?"

Suddenly, the wind stopped, but your lip started to tremble instead. "Vanya?"

When you turned around, she stood awkwardly at the door. With hands in her pockets she glanced between the shaking chandelier and you.

It was obvious that she was uncomfortable, at least until she saw your relieved smile. "Is that really you?"

She smiled, "I-I guess."

You outright laughed, the outcome of Luther and yours argument disappearing from your mind completely when you hugged her. "I missed you so much."

"You did?" She asked surprised.

"Why wouldn't I?" You asked her, confusion crossing your features. "You're my sister. Come here."

You brought her into the hug again, feeling her hug you tighter this time.

"You're not mad at me?"

Remembering what she was talking about had you cringing ever so slightly in discomfort. You scratched the back of your neck, "I mean… I was. But not anymore, Vanya. I'm all passed that now."

"You are?" She asked, hopeful.

"I am," you nodded in confirmation. "We're here to say our goodbyes to Dad. You have every right to be here, no one can tell you otherwise."

Vanya stayed silent, so you quickly added, "And the book was good. Exposing, but good. I like your way with words."

She snorted, "Yeah I thought you would."

Beaming, you slung an arm around her shoulders just like Allison did when you first came. Unfortunately, in your dysfunctional family, no one has peace for long. Diego came striding down the stairs in his black spandex suit, looking as he just came out of an action movie.

Seeing you had his smile growing by a mile, but upon glancing at Vanya the easy smile vanished and was instead replaced by a scowl. "You're still here? I thought I already told you. You don't belong –"

"Diego," your hand raised in the air to halt his mouth. "Now's not the time."

He let out a humorous laugh, walking up to you to give you a kiss on the cheek. You didn't fight it, instead letting him kiss your cheek and squeeze your shoulder as a greeting after not seeing each other for years. "Good to have you back sis."

"Enjoy it while you can," you said. "Because I'm leaving the moment dad's ashes are spread."

"Oh, I bet," he mused. "I'm leaving too. You should go now Vanya, save us the trouble."

"Okay Diego that's enough," you interrupted, standing closer to Vanya this time round, hoping she sees your support through mere change of standing. "Why don't you run along and go save lives? I heard that's your life's call."

He rolled his eyes before glancing at your outfit. "That's an awfully bold color for a funeral."

"That's because I'm not dressed yet," you rolled your eyes. "Now, if you don't have anything nice to say, I suggest you leave before I boil you."

Knowing you don't give out empty threats, Diego nodded grimly and disappeared upstairs, not giving Vanya a glance of acknowledgement. "You know, maybe he's right… I should just go."

You shook your head immediately, "Absolutely not. Look Vanya, your book might've not been the best thing that's happened to us, but it certainly isn't the worst. He's just being snappish. That's Diego's factory setting."

She laughed, this time giving you a smile. Not a fake smile, but a real one.

You felt victorious as you wrapped your arm around her again, leading her into the living area for a catch-up.

***

"Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?"

You and Klaus held to each other like little kids, not believing what, or who, stood in front of you. The little carbon copy of your long-lost brother swore under his breath, shocking you to the bones with the word ‘shit’. "I'm not high, am I?"

"I-I don't know," said Klaus awkwardly, "Do you feel high?"

"Klaus she's not high," Diego interrupted, standing in front of the group with Luther.

"You never know with her," Klaus tried to explain.

"Five is that really you?" You asked, ignoring the bickering that went all around you.

"Of course, it's me!"

"Oh God Klaus they even sound the same," you whispered, clutching Klaus' hand tighter.

"Look I don't have time to explain this all to you," the boy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like an old man.

"The hell you do," Diego mumbled, eyeing him with menace.

Number Five (if that was even him) rolled his eyes and tried to push through and walk right past you. No 30-year-old - despite how shocked and curious they were - tried to stop him.

Save for you of course.

A lone vine flew from the wall under your command, wrapping itself around your brother's wrist in a vice-grip. Five eyed it nonchalantly, as if the sight amused him rather than intimidated him. "You do know I can walk right through that?"

You dared him with your eyes and mocked him with your mouth, "You do know that you've been gone for 17 years? I've evolved little man."

He bunched his brows together, almost as if he didn't believe you. To test his theory out, he urged his body to travel through space. You all watched as he walked straight through the air, coming out on the other end in a different part of the yard, not being able to move due to the vine's grip despite having travelled through literal space.

"Cute!" Five called out, walking back toward you using his power. "Now let me go."

"And why would she do that?" Luther asked, the inner Number One in him surfacing.

"Because I've got work to do."

"Five you're a kid literally," Allison objected, gazing over your brother's tiny body.

"You don't understand…"

"Maybe he needs a nap," Klaus mumbled next to you.

"I don’t-"

By not literal smoke was almost coming out of his little ears, his face reddened from anger, and he looked annoyed beyond understanding. "They're too young… I knew it."

You creased your brows, not understanding why Five was mumbling weird things into his chin. "You alright Five?"

He glared at you, "I will be… Once you get this thing off me."

You shrugged with a sigh, mumbling an okay and hauling the vine away from Five who shook his head in irritation. He wrapped a hand around his sore wrist, massaging it with his thumb to get read of the soreness. "Can't say I missed you and your crazy plants. Although you would've been a great addition to my adventures."

"What adventures?" You asked confused. "You’re 13."

Five sighed, brushing you all off with a sway of his hand.

Klaus was the first one to dash back into the house mumbling something about not being able to handle the weather, Allison following behind him carefully. Luther, who looked like a lost puppy, followed after your sister until it was just Vanya, Diego, Five and you left.

"I'm going to head inside," said Vanya awkwardly, disappearing inside quickly.

Diego gave Five a sideward glance but shook his head and left too.

"Elemental manipulation is exactly what we need to fight it."

You rolled your eyes, not quite believing that he forgot how elemental manipulation isn't your favorite thing. "Fight what Five?"

"The apocalypse."

"I'm glad you're back bro, seriously I mean it," You told him sincerely, "But you're crazy. I'd say get some help but…"

MASTERLIST

Here is the link to my tag list masterpost! If you want to be added to one of my existing tag lists (or perhaps new ones) let me know! :)

✭ GENERAL TAGS (all WIPs):

@fofisstilinski @short-potato @miranda0102��@httphiddlestan @caromichaela @xx-missunicorn-xx @jemmakates @theravenclawmarauder @tclaerh @chefdoeuvre @just-arather-veryconfused-being @crazy0lu @thirstykpophoe @abimoon @sofiasamps @princxss-fia @theletterhart

✭ THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY: /

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raviotherabbit · 4 years ago

Text

royal pain in the ass - chapter 1

Chapter 1: Era of the Wilds Queen Zelda rebuilds her palace.

[first] - [next] read it on ao3!

△ ▲△

Three months ago, Link started this time travelling journey. Before he left through that portal, with eight heroes waiting behind him expectantly, he held onto Zelda’s hand and promised he’d tell her everything.

They were a good bunch, by Zelda’s judgement. She was relieved knowing that the Hero of Twilight was looking out for her former knight. And the Hero of Time and Hero of Warriors seemed to have good heads on their shoulders, so she certainly shouldn’t be worried there. And Link was even friendly with the others, like the Hero of Hyrule and the Hero of Winds! She was glad there were at least some people there to indulge him, once in a while.

One of their visits landed on a beautiful day, right on the edge of summer. As a bit of a treat, Zelda let the Hero of the Four Sword and Hero of Legend loose on what remains of her library. She idly watched as her Link—Wild, the others called him—disappeared into Castle Town with Wind in tow, both of them giggling.

“We should probably follow them,” Twilight grimaced.

Zelda startled, caught off guard by Twilight’s suggestion. They were sitting against the wall below the castle’s observation room, comparing and contrasting their respective monarchies when he’d abruptly changed the topic.

“What for?” she questioned. “There’s not much trouble for them to get into. Let them have their fun.”

He sighed. “Wild’s idea of fun usually involves explosives.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re exaggerating. He can be very responsible.”

“You were there when he launched himself halfway across Hyrule, right?”

Zelda paused for a moment, glancing back to the palace gates Wild had disappeared past. Their last visit, he had wanted to show off to Hyrule just how far he could launch himself with his bombs, and, somehow, he’d made it all the way to Hateno.

“Perhaps I’m a bit lenient with him,” she relented. “I suppose I just like seeing him happy.”

Twilight said nothing, but he arched an eyebrow at her. Something about his scrutiny made her heart drop, and for a split second, she wondered how much he knew about her and Wild’s shared past. What happened to him, how she couldn't save him before-

“I mean, he deserves as much, doesn’t he?” she hastily explained. “He’s got a second chance, now.”

△ ▲△

Queen Zelda Sarya Hyrule awakens for the day, leaning her hands on the balcony as she looks over her kingdom’s sunrise. It’s a bright, fresh morning, the smell of last night’s rain still in the air. This morning marks three months, officially, since Link's last visit.

Zelda sighs. She supposes she ought to be used to this. She’s got a hundred years’ worth of experience waiting for Link, she can survive however long it takes him to finish this mission. She could spend her time worrying over her friend’s safety, but really, eight other heroes from eras past? He couldn’t be in safer hands.

It’s only a shame they had to halt their weapons training, for the time being. Zelda’s getting tired of sparring with dummies.

She steps away from the balcony, stretching her arms out. She’s been using the observation room as her temporary quarters. And it’s not that she wouldn’t rather stay in her old room, if it weren’t for the broken bridge and collapsed roof, it’s just…

Well, Link always referred to his life as a new beginning. Maybe this can be one for her, too.

First thing to do, get dressed. Yesterday was laundry day, so her clothes are nice and clean.

Second, get some breakfast. What she wouldn’t do for some coffee-

Splash!!

“Oh shit!”

“No! The pallets!”

Upon further analysis, it appears Zelda won’t have any time to get dressed before her day begins.

She shows up to the moat wearing an old, plain shirt and shorts, her pajamas since she’s woken up. Her hair is messy and tangled, and she’s still having trouble keeping her eyes open. But when Bolson and Karson notice Zelda, the latter bows to her as though she were the picture of beauty.

She has to resist rolling her eyes. What would her father think of this?

“What’s the issue?” she asks them as Karson rises. “I heard something about palettes?”

“Ah, well-” Karson stammers. “You see, your majesty-”

“Our horses,” Bolson explains, mercifully cutting Karson off. “They were carting pallets of material for our work today, when something spooked ‘em. Knocked the pallets into the water, ‘n Karson and me were trying to figure out how to fish ‘em up.”

Zelda raises an eyebrow, glancing at each side of the bridge. Aside from the rushing water and the slight breeze, all is still.

“What could have possibly scared your horses? There’s nothing up here, and-” She peeks down at the river. “The Zora aren’t supposed to arrive for a few more hours.”

Karson speaks. “I’m sorry, your majesty, I don’t know-”

She holds up a hand. “I’m not blaming you, Karson. I’m simply confused.” She sighs. “Don’t worry about your supplies. Do whatever else you can for now. When Prince Sidon and his guard report to the palace, I’m sure I can convince some of them to scavenge your belongings.”

“Thank you, Queen Zelda,” Bolson responds before Karson can make a fool of himself again. “Hudson went after the horses. Karson, we should see if he needs any help.”

Zelda watches as the two of them leave. Link had personally attested to the quality of work Bolson Construction could do, and truth be told, she’d hired them on his recommendation alone —though the fact that one of their members had built an entire town by hand had been particularly alluring. Her father would have thrown a fit at Bolson’s “manners”, or lack thereof, but that very trait was the reason she enjoyed working with him so much. He understood that she was in the same boat as the rest of them.

But that story about the horses had her worried. On such a calm morning, when most of the kingdom had yet to stir, she couldn’t help but fear that whatever had spooked them so bad had been malicious.

She looks back over the bridge, trying to peer down into the dark water. It wasn’t so long ago that the castle had been teeming with monsters, after all. Sure, they aren’t quiet, but is it possible some of them were missed?

Well, whatever it is, it could at least wait until she’s dressed.

△ ▲△

“I’m worried about excavating the Great Hall.”

Zelda is enjoying her breakfast (buttered bread, Hylia, how she misses Link’s cooking), when Yunobo approaches her. He, along with several other young Gorons, volunteered to help clear the debris from Hyrule Castle and its adjoining town.

At first, Zelda had been a bit concerned about having not only Vah Rudania’s new pilot, but Daruk’s direct descendant working so closely with her. Daruk had been a dear friend of hers, after all, and she wasn’t sure she could bear having a reminder of him walking around her home.

But right away it had become apparent that Yunobo is nothing like his grandfather. He’s innocent where Daruk had been optimistic, hesitant where Daruk had been a leader. It was easy enough for Zelda to pretend that there was no relation at all.

Wordlessly, she motions for Yunobo to sit beside her, which he does.

“Link got your slate to you, correct?” she asks, pulling out her own.

Zelda had been quite shocked when Purah had presented her with a brand new slate, a replacement for the one she’d given to Link. Apparently one hundred years of research and a now-peaceful world meant technological advancements could happen fast. And with the correct payment, she was willing to make a few more for the rest of the new Champions.

Yunobo nods, shyly taking his slate out. His is much larger than the ones provided to the rest of the Champions, on account of his larger hands.

“Perfect.” Zelda pulls up a file, a diagram of the castle’s interior, and taps their slates together. “Did that transfer work? You should have a copy of the castle’s blueprints now.”

“Oh wow!” Yunobo holds his slate to his face, marvelling at his screen. “This is amazing, your majesty!”

Zelda can’t help but smile along with him. “I thought the same thing when I first started playing with the first one,” she admits. “You can use this to show me what’s troubling you.”

“Right.” He points to the main entryway to the Great Hall. “See, we’re focusing on this part here, because it’s easier for us Gorons to move around. But I’ve been noticing a lot of rocks in the rubble from further up the castle.” He sighs. “It’s unstable. If we keep going as we are now there’s going to be a hole in the rock right up to the Sanctum.”

Zelda frowns, eyes fixed on the blueprints. So far, they haven’t had any issues like this. Most of the ruins have been from the stone lining the hallways, not the mountain itself. And, despite being a researcher, she’s not exactly an engineer. Can something like this even be fixed?

“Well, first of all, we’re stopping construction on that area immediately,” she instructs. “Make sure the rest of the Gorons know that. Then, go to Bolson with your concerns. His work has been temporarily delayed, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you figure out this problem.” She tucks her slate at her side. “Does that work for you?”

“Thank you!” Yunobo beams, and isn’t that a sight? Link told her he used to be very anxious a while ago. “I’ll get on that right away, your majesty.”

What she wants to say is ‘No need for that. Call me Zelda.’ But something about it gets caught in her throat.

“If there are any other issues, let me know,” Queen Zelda says.

△ ▲△

There have been talks, lately, of turning Castle Town into a trading hub for the rest of Hyrule, and Zelda thought it was a wonderful idea. It was, after all, how the capital had been established many years ago, and returning to its roots would be a good way to build it back up again. She’s already gotten the word from several villages that they’d be willing to send merchants. The only thing left to do is to strike up a deal with the Gerudo.

Lady Riju is wise beyond her years, and Zelda can’t help but see herself in the girl. Forced into a role of importance at such a young age, carrying the burdens of loss and leadership on her shoulders…

“Using Castle Town as an in-between for your trades with the Gorons would make for shorter journeys in the long run.” Zelda and Riju are seated at a table in the dining hall, which the Queen has converted into an office of sorts. Both are flanked by several guards, yet their attention is focused on the slates in their hands, displaying a map of the kingdom.

“We would get our gemstones faster,” Riju reasons.

“Exactly,” Zelda says. “Not to mention, this would also open up opportunities for you with Zora’s Domain. I’m not sure whether you would appreciate their fish, but one of their other major exports is Luminous Stones.”

Hearing this, Riju raises her eyebrows. “Now that is interesting.”

The Gerudo are lucky to have Riju, Zelda decides. She knows there’s only one jeweler in Gerudo Town—aside from a few hobbyists—and yet, the chieftain was clearly interested on her behalf. Now that the Calamity is gone, the Gerudo may as well expand their horizons a bit.

Urbosa would be proud.

Zelda immediately shakes that thought off like a dog out of the water. “Of course, you’ll have to work the details out with the Zora themselves, I’m just offering the venue. But Prince Sidon is supposed to come by later today.”

Riju hums to herself. “Buliara,” she says, turning to the guard by her side. “Make sure we get a meeting with him before either of us leave.”

“Yes, Lady Riju.”

With that assurance, Riju faces Zelda once again, standing. “Well, Queen Zelda, it looks like we have a deal, then.” She offers Zelda a hand.

“Thank you, Lady Riju.” Zelda takes her hand, and the two shake. And that’s where Zelda assumed it would end.

“Actually,” Riju clears her throat, and suddenly it isn’t Riju, Chieftain of the Gerudo standing in front of her. It’s Riju, the thirteen year-old child, eyes wide and pleading, awkwardly holding onto one of her arms. “I was wondering, if you’re not doing anything for a while…”

Zelda winces, and in that instant she sees Riju avert her gaze. “Oh, Riju,” she says. “I’d love to, but…”

Riju holds up her hand. “It’s no matter, your highness,” she claims, displaying strength as if Zelda didn’t just see her put a wall up. “I should discuss the changes to our trade routes with the Gorons, anyway.”

Some other time, Zelda promises herself. She’ll make time for Riju soon. But as Riju beckons her guards and leaves, she can’t find it within herself to say it out loud.

△ ▲△

Zelda really thought she could do it this time.

Ever since she’d gone through the process of selecting new Champions, new pilots for the Divine Beasts, Zelda has spent quite a bit of time with them. Training, maintenance, everything to help them move along as smoothly as possible. And it’s been fine with all of them!

Well, with the exception of one.

Riju and Yunobo are both generations removed from their ancestors, and if Zelda doesn’t remind herself, she can almost pretend there’s no connection at all. And Teba isn’t even related to any of the former champions. But Sidon…

Zelda storms into the makeshift infirmary, a large tent just outside the castle, to find Sidon having a wound wrapped by a nurse. Noticing her arrival, the nurse offers a bow before sliding out of the tent past the Queen.

“Prince Sidon,” she fights to keep her tone diplomatic. “Please tell me Captain Bazz lied to me.”

Sidon is so Mipha.

“Queen Zelda-”

“Stop,” she commands, and some part of her mind recognizes it as one her father took often. “You-” She points a finger at him. “-the crown prince of the Zora, a race known for their weakness to electricity, decided to take on a Lynel, of all things. Is that correct?”

Somehow, in all her five-foot four-inches worth of glory, Zelda has successfully gotten Prince Sidon, a fish towering over ten feet, to cower under her glare.

“Yes, Queen Zelda.”

Of course, Mipha wouldn’t have been nearly as brash as her brother. She knew her limits, knew the risks of facing a Lynel head on, especially a Silver one. She knew she wasn’t the one to take on that task.

Sidon, for some reason, didn’t.

“Okay,” Zelda sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why?”

“Why?” Sidon echoes back at her. He finally meets her eyes, matching her own harsh gaze. “Your highness, that Lynel was too close to Helmhead Bridge! If I hadn’t stopped it, it could have gone on a rampage throughout Castle Town!”

But he had her passion, that’s for sure. Where Mipha had been drawn to healing the injured, Sidon found himself drawn to battle away every danger that could befall the innocent. In that sense, the two of them were the same.

Sidon, like his sister, is a protector.

“You were under orders to clear out the Military Training Grounds! That’s it!” Zelda counters. “That Lynel was not your responsibility!”

“Hyrule is my responsibility! You made it my responsibility when you gave me Vah Ruta!”

Sidon is Mipha in every way that Mipha wasn’t. And how dare he come to her castle, acting the brasher, braver Mipha?

How dare he, Mipha’s most precious brother, risk himself for her?

“I’ve already led one set of Champions to their deaths, Sidon!” Zelda shouts, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “I’m not going to let you die as well!”

Sidon reels back, looking at Zelda with wide eyes.

Zelda covers her mouth, and her spine goes rigid, like ice. She turns on her heel, making a beeline out of the tent.

“Your highness!” Sidon calls after her. “Zelda! Wait!”

But Zelda ignores him. She pushes the flap out of the way, and once she’s finally outside the tent, she runs.

△ ▲△

Of course it’s her old room. Zelda hadn’t even realized it was her destination until she arrived there, eyes blurry with tears. She slams her door shut behind her and sinks to the floor, finally letting herself cry. Sobs rake through her body, and she’s reminded of the times a hundred years ago, when she would lock herself in this same room after yet another day of failing to unlock her powers.

It’s been a century since then, and she’s right back where she started.

The Champions, all of them, deserve this future much more than Zelda does. She failed them all.

She’s not sure how long she sits there, curled in on herself, crying like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Seriously, what’s wrong with her?

Suddenly, there’s the sound of wings flapping from the literal hole in the room, rattling Zelda out of her sorrow enough to look up.

It’s Teba, because of course it is. Who else would fly all the way up here? His expression is difficult to read, but he’s focused on her.

“There you are,” he says, landing on the ruins of her wall. He hops down. “You scared Sidon, back there.”

Zelda looks back to the floor, head turned away from Teba. Her face and chest burn with shame.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

There’s warmth next to her, Teba sitting by her side. “Now, why are you saying that?” He drapes one of his wings over her shoulders.

It’s disgustingly casual, certainly not the image a distinguished queen should be projecting. But Teba is concerned for her, and Zelda can’t remember the last time she let someone do that. Even Link, her closest friend, she’s kept at a distance. He’s been struggling so much, how was she supposed to burden him with her own issues?

“I keep ruining everything,” she admits, choking back a sob. “His sister is gone because of me. I let Hyrule fall.”

“Zelda-” and how great it is to hear her name. Not your majesty, your highness, the great and wonderful queen who could do no wrong. Just Zelda, the person. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

If only it were that easy.

“I should have,” she retorts. “How stupid were we to believe that pig would fall for the same trick twice?”

“You’re a kid.”

Zelda can’t help but laugh at that, though it isn’t particularly funny. Some of her loose hairs fly away from her face as she does so.

Teba, unamused, sighs. “What are you doing here?”

She rolls her eyes. “I came to my room to cry, obviously.”

“No, I mean-” Teba tries again. “Why are you at the castle?”

“To rebuild Hyrule,” Zelda answers automatically. “To lead my people.”

“Who told you to do that?”

Zelda blinks, and she realizes she doesn’t have an answer for that. Rarely does she ever find herself in this situation.

“Well, no one, but…” she struggles. “It’s what my father would want.”

Teba points at her. “There’s your issue,” he says. “You’re putting yourself in this box, trying to be the person you think everyone wants you to be. And in the process, you’re ignoring yourself.”

“Teba-”

“The reconstruction effort doesn’t necessarily need you, Zelda,” he tells her. “We’re glad to have you, but if you need to go off somewhere on your own, we’d get along just fine.”

Zelda scoffs. “Where would I even go?”

“I don’t know.” Teba shrugs. “Maybe you could check out what Link’s been up to?”

△ ▲△

Teba’s suggestion rings in Zelda’s mind. She tries to sleep, truly, she does. But she ends up kicking her way out of her bedroll in frustration.

So, just as her day began, Zelda finds herself standing on her balcony, staring out at Hyrule. The night is cloudless, the vast sky full of twinkling stars. Hyrule Field is still, save for the breeze that passes through it. It catches her hair, long and golden, bringing it to sway.

Maybe she should cut it.

Hyrule is large. She’s heard from Link of his journey and saw much of it herself. Their initial tour had been half a year ago, when the Calamity had finally been defeated. Sadly, they’d been limited to the main settlements, focusing on making peace with their leaders and spreading the news that, yes, it was over. They hadn’t had much time to divert from the path, to see the little wonders Link spoke so fondly of.

Zelda knows Link would want to show her these wonders himself, but perhaps she could find some of her own to show him? Do something nice for him, for once.

If he ever comes back, that is.

Once upon a time, Zelda told the Hero of Twilight that she was happy for Link, happy for his second chance. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a second chance of her own.

Behind her, she hears it. The sound of reality tearing, ripping at its seams. It’s a sound she’s heard before, everytime Link and the other heroes dropped in unexpectedly. She turns around, and there it is, the oval portal glowing a soft, golden light.

She leans against her balcony and waits, patiently, for Link. It’s rude of them to show up so late, especially when she’s so underdressed, but she can make an exception for the heroes.

But nothing happens. Instead, Zelda feels a tug in her own chest, an instinctual pull that says ‘Hop in’. And she’s reminded of what Link told her about how the group finds their portals:

They’re drawn to them.

△ ▲△

When Zelda doesn’t show her face the next morning, they go looking for her. They find the observation room scarce of most of Zelda’s belongings, her bedroll and clothes all missing. The queen herself is also gone, and in her place is a note.

Dear all,

I went to go see Link. Keep up the work without me. I will return sometime soon.

Your friend, Zelda

#linked universe #lu flora #fanfic #rpita #rav's writing

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calientecoochie · 4 years ago

Text

It Happened So Fast-

•2•

“AHH”

The red giant backed up and put his hands up in the air and waved them frantically. “<Wha-hooooahh! Calm down. Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you! That’s wasn’t very manly was it. Gah, bad first impression, I guess, ha.” The redhead rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“<You’re Red Riot. The~huh~ the Red Riot>” Yes, yes you were gaping like a fish in a desert. How could a man be so tall?! He is literally towering over everybody here. What is he like 7’?! Does his bones hurt? What the hell is a Bakugo... Oh, he staring at me. How long have I been staring!

“<Uhmm>” Red Riot waves his hands in front of your face, “Helloooo, anybody, homeeeee?” His voice sounds so velvety and heroic. “<I should really work on my introductions...this happens way more often then it should. Let me write that down so I don’t forget.>” The Pro Hero stares down at you, “<I’ll give you a lift, Y/N, since you’re like in a trance. LET’S GO TO MY OFFICE! I CAN SHOW YOU PICTURES FROM MY UA DAYS AND SOME COOL AWARDS. SO MANLY!>” With that your new boss lifted you up and threw you over his broad shoulders.

He continued to talk Y/N’s ear off with you not understanding much of what Red was saying but, appreciating it either way seeing as it was helping you unwind from the earlier shock. As the pair walked through the agency, Y/N took in the place. Even though, the place is a big on inside as it was on the outside, it wasn’t as daunting as you thought it would be. The people and heroes around here are smiling and waving towards you. You were handed a balloon with a crudely drawn face (it was meant to resemble you) with a many , “おめでとう” thrown your way as you and your boss entered the elevator.

“<Here we go! Can you stand?>” Red sets you down on your feet with ease as he presses the button to his floor. He drums his fingers across the steel doors then turn towards you with one of his award winning smiles. You swear it melt the steel in these elevators, it’s so bright. “<Not going to freak out on my again are you? Y/N>” He tested your name on his tongue, “<Am I saying that right? Ah, I forgot to ask, would you prefer Japanese> or English?” He look at you thoughtfully.

“That’s right. I have not been responding have I?”

“Nope! You have not but, that’s cool. I have a great feeling about you so, I know you’ll be a strong backbone to this company!”

All you could do was stare back in a dream-like state. Look at you! Shame! Getting all star-struck and dumb even being in this man’s presence. Tsk tsk. Better keep this conversation rolling so it doesn’t get awkward. “You were right..”

“Huh, right about what?

“My name. You said it correctly. Ha, pretty funny too, I’m used to people pronouncing it wrong.”

“Well, that’s not very fair to you. It’s your name and it’s a manly name!” Red puffed through his nostrils and smirked.

You bowed you head to hide your blush, “ Thank you, Red Riot.” Why are you acting like this it is so NOT professional at. All.

Red Riot let out a boisterous laugh that you swore shook the elevator, “You don’t have to refer to me by my hero name you know? Just call me Kirishima or even Kiri. Honestly, anything is cool as long as I don’t get called sir. That makes me feel old. Red Riot is reserved for field work though.” With that he winked at you.

“Oh, then, thank you Kir-!”

D I N G

“We’re here!!” He yoinks you from the elevator into his suave office, “ Hasa De Lo Eiji!!”

You heard Sero’s voice speak up, “Casa De La, Ei, casa de la...” He sitting upside down in one of Kirishima’s office chairs surfing his phone looking through Twatter. You thought he was ignoring you until he started waving and kicking his lanky legs excitedly.

Denki was just spinning in Kirishima’s main seat, “<YOU FOUND THEM, MAN?!>”

“<Well, they wasn’t exactly hiding and don’t think there’s many people of their skin tone here in Japan, Denk...>” You only caught a bits and pieces of their conversation, making you giggle a bit.

Denki looked over to you, “Oohoo, you like that, huh? Say how about we get to know each other better? One on one? There’s this really cool place in Shinjuku I’ve been dying to try. Would love to have someone to try it with. Being alone is such a bummer~” While Denki was distracted, Kirishima took his chance and sat in his friend’s lap causing Denki to sputter and attempt to push his taller, “built like a German, concrete home” friend off of him. Shame, you were actually about to take Denki up on his offer. You did want to see what Japan had to offer and it did suck to be alone sometimes.

The day continued as you four began to talk about you, their hero work, the past and, what was in store for the upcoming week. Soon, Denki and Sero left to attended to their own business (they went to Shinjuku), which just left you and Kirishima. You though it would it be awkward, however, it strangely felt like home. This was different from what your country’s media always portrayed of him: Hardy, cold and relentless. Even though that’s what drew you to him, this Kirishima was a nice change of pace as well.

“Hey, hey, Y/N you’re staring again.” The redhead smiled.

“Didn’t mean to, Kirishima. It’s just that you’re so different in real life! I hope you don’t mind me saying but, though you were this boulder of destruction.”

“Not too disappointing, I hope.” He leans his head in his hand, laughing a tiny bit.

“No! Of course not!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking!”

You both just laugh and it dies downs leaving a comfortable silence betwixt you again.

“Well, you got the job for sure!”

“Really t—that’s it?!”

“Yup”

“No strenuous questions?”

“Nope”

“No previous references or written letters from previous employers?”

“Nnurp” he audibly pop his lips to add emphasis to his negatory.

“No-“

“Do you want the job?”

“Of course! It’s just that yo-“

“Then you have it. I have a good feeling about you! I learned to trust my instincts. Obviously, yours brought here to freaking Japan-“

“Well, my friend sent me the email...”

“YOU put in for it and YOU got it. Enjoy it :)”

You rubbed your chin in thought. Starting to overthink the situation and your new way too laidback boss. Was this a mistake? Did I make a good call? As if he could read you mind, Kiri laid his firm hand upon your shoulder, “Let’s get some grub! I can take you home afterwards!”

With that, you’re new life began and with each day you grew more confident in your choices. You learned so many new tips and tricks, learned about and met new people (some more despicable then others), it was like a dream come true. First, you needed Kiri told hold your hand at the beginning, which made you doubt yourself from time to time. However, you got better and faster, already your talent to the max.

The only thing you hated doing the most were the public conferences. They always asked the same questions hoping for different answers or asked about way too personal questions about the heroes within Kirishima’s agency. Questions that would make the man on moon blush. However, you always seemed to Beyoncé your way out of their scandalous questions and steer it right back to where you wanted it.

Of course, your work never went unnoticed or unappreciated. The agency always made sure to make feel wanted and needed. Hah, Bakugo even came in and tried to recruit you for his own agency, in front of your boss. It’s all just been so crazy. It’s almost insane to think it’s almost been a year here. You even remember your old life. To think, you thought the email was a joke. What would I be doing if I never answered it... No point on dwelling on it you guess.

You hear heavy footsteps coming toward your door.

*Clink Click*

“Hmm, I thought these lights shut off automatically... strange” It was your boss! “Let me flu-Oh! Oh, you’re still here?! Y/N , it’s practically morning right now. Why are you still working?”

“You wouldn’t know I was still here if you weren’t here yourself so, Red, what’s your excuse?” You looked up at him playfully smug.

You don’t remember if he’s been flushed from rushing into the office or for his new nickname but, he looked away and swore he tripped on his words when he spoke. “Other than it being my agency, Y/N so, MY responsibility, I like to go for early morning runs. You could probs just call it conditioning from school days. It helps keep my mind from overthinking I guess.

“Overthinking? About what?”

“Heh, what not about” There was a strange unplaceable tone in his voice. He said that sentence barely above a whisper but, you caught it. Kirishima look back towards you and beams. Is he- is he putting up a mask?! Not wanting to strain your work relationship you choose not to press him on the matter. Turning back to your desktop to continue your work until Kiri blocked it. Damn his thick man body!

“Could you please move,Kirishima.”

“Nuh-uh, not until you tell me why you’re still up here working at this ungodly hour.”

You leaned into your seat giving up on trying to move him, you sigh and then smile to yourself not sure if he could see it or not, “ Fine, I’ll spill. I work this late because I love this job. Nowhere else has given me this opportunity and I’m so thankful. I’ve felt so lost for the longest and about gave up on myself. I work this late because I love my friend, they were the ones who even let this opportunity land in my lap even though, they could have easily taken this job. They had more experience. I love my coworkers. Ha, I’ve never been so overwhelmed by support by so many strangers. It’s really emotional and I would hate to let them down. I do all of this because I love and appreciate you, Red... you’ve always stayed by my side and gave encouragement when I needed. Lacking in my work would be like spitting in your face and I would hate for that to happen...”

You keep your eyes shut for a few more seconds soaking in what you just said. It’s been eating at you forever. You’ve long forgotten about how Kiri was like a barnacle stuck to screen and I guess he did as well, seeing as was standing up straight, mouth opening and closing and fiddling with his hands. You look up at him, “That’s why I’m here. You don’t have to worry over me. I’m not a child. Plus, I got YOU and your HERO amigos/amigas on speed dial.” Sero’s been trying to teach you Spanish 💀, it is not working.

“...Do you mean that? You love me?”

“Of course I do, Red.” Kirishima drawn closer to Y/N, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just thought it would be too soon to make a call..”

“I love you , Kirishima...”

“Y-you could call me, Eij-“

“As much as I love Sero and Denki! You all mean so much to me!”

You noted that Kirishima seemed to deflate at your next sentence and even took a step back, “Red, you okay? Need water?”

Kiri shook his head, “N-No I guess I’m just coming down from my runners high! Ha, it always makes me a bit woozy y’know.”

“Oh~”

“Yeahhhh. Welp! Just dont Forget it’s your day off tomorrow okay. No coming in! No matter how much you //luhhhh// us.” That was weird. Luh? ,”Oh I also have a question. The hero gala is coming up soon and we have to bring a +1. Would you like to come with me? I’ll cover your clothes~!”

“The Hero Gala?? Are you sure wouldn’t you want to bring another, I don’t know, hero?”

“Well, I could but, I asked you. You were my first choice either way. If it’ll help you could think about it like good PR.”

As you always do, you think about it. Unlike the other times, your mind was already made up.

“Yes, Red, I would love to go.”

#bnha x black!reader #y/n x bnha #y/n x mha #y/n x kirishima #y/n #fanfic #reader x kirishima #mha x black!reader #mha kirishima #pro hero kirishima #mha #bnha

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kronecker-delta · 4 years ago

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Farscape Nier crossover and ideas

Snippet (from 2017) Farscape/Nier: Automata --- Her room was a mess. Scattered parts of her uniform and other clothes piled along along the sides, kicked there when she came and went. Her personal books disarrayed, off the shelf and toppled over by her bed. She'd been putting off cleaning again and with the recent arrivals none of the operators could be spared to make up for her bad habits. None of that mattered at the moment. White sat in her chair, staring out into the void. A souvenir of her old days in the ground based resistance held in her hands. The framed picture of pair of androids seated on the still smoldering bulk of the ruined machine behemoth a memory of a simpler, happier time. A knock on her door brought her attention away from melancholy remembrance. Before she could compose herself and more sternly tell whoever had interrupted her what she had meant by 'Only bother me if there's an emergency' another knock issued forth. Followed by a voice. "Hey White? You in there?" She froze. She had so desperately hoped that it wouldn't be him. *** "I've never been here before," White said apologetically as their transport ship came down beside the small lunar outpost. A tiny thing, compared to the bunker. Even given the greater volume underground for secured data storage and backup generators. "No problem. First time I've been on the moon," he said, giving her a reassuring smile that didn't quite manage to look entirely honest. His frown returning as they stepped out of the transport, the boots of his pressured suit crunching into the light dusting of lunar sand that had covered part of the landing pad. "Feels like I should say something... 'Great leap for mankind and all that' you know. Hey, is the Apollo site still around?" "It is. If you want we could visit there Commander Crichton." "Just John... or Crichton. Being called Commander all the time feels weird," John Crichton said. "I know I'm the last human but..." "I-I understand," White answered. Keeping her own emotions deeply locked down as they passed into the fortified complex of the moon server. Past the scant few technicians and guards and into a dark room, nearly empty save for a single console located in the center. A black void engulfed the walls, impenetrable shadows, as the terminals and screens had long laid dormant. "So now what?" His voice echoed in the room, which must have been far larger than they had at first thought. Low clicks and whirs came from the bulk of the machine, the long slumbering physical access port awakening. Lights flashed along the walls and beyond them, racks upon racks of computer systems networked together awakening. A great screen before them coming on and displaying a stylized picture of a tree, long dark roots stretching out from its base. OVERSIGHT AND RECORDING SYSTEM VER. 2.01 SLEEPING BEAUTY ONLINE. CONFIRM USER PERMISSIONS NOW. "Commander White, YoRHa access S-Class security," White said. Looking to her side and adding, "As well as a guest." CONFIRM GUEST'S IDENTITY. "John Crichton, Commander in the IASA," John said. "Born... 1969. June 6th. If that helps any." The computer sat in silence for a long moment, not responding, the screen frozen as the loading bar seemed stuck in time. They shared a look of confusion, both android and human wondering if the ancient archive might have crashed and who was going to have to go out and ask the few technicians to help reboot it. Then the room came alight, a dozen more monitors online, the totality of it awake for the first time in forever. HUMAN IDENTITY CONFIRMED BASED ON HISTORICAL RECORDS. YoRHA S-CLASS SECURITY CLEARANCE SUBSTITUTED FOR UNRESTRICTED SYSTEM ACCESS. S-CLASS, SS-CLASS, AND HAMELIN ORGANIZATION FILES NOW UNLOCKED. GREETINGS COMMANDER JOHN CRICHTON. HOW MAY THIS SYSTEM AID YOU TODAY? "What... what's 'SS-Class?' There shouldn't be a level of security above mine." NEGATIVE. THERE ARE TWO. SS-CLASS, CONTAINING SENSITIVE FILES DEEMED TOO DANGEROUS TO BE KNOWN OUTSIDE OF THE ADMINISTRATIVE COUNCIL. AS WELL AS FILES REGARDING THE HAMELIN ORGANIZATION, WHICH WERE TO BE SEALED UNTIL SUCH A TIME AS A HUMAN USER ACCESSED THIS SYSTEM. "We do this so that the future generations will have the opportunity to judge us for our sins." "Who the hell was that?" John asked, shocked by the computer suddenly vocalizing. Producing the sound of some long dead man. Old and ill, his voice straining to make the words clear into the recording. DR. EUGENE ADLER, HAMELIN RESEARCHER IN DEMONIC ELEMENT MANIPULATION EXPERIMENTS. BY HIS RECOMMENDATION AND THE UN SPECIAL SECURITY COUNCIL'S AUTHORITY IT WAS FELT THAT KNOWLEDGE OF THE HAMELIN ORGANIZATION'S INVESTIGATIONS INTO THE DEMONIC ELEMENT AND THE 6-12 INCIDENT COULD NOT BE PUBLICLY REVEALED UNTIL THE CRISIS HAD PASSED. John looked to White, hoping she might be able to explain something, anything of what the computer had just told them. But she looked just as confused as he did. "Ah... Computer?" YES JOHN CRICHTON? "Define 'demonic element' please." DEMONIC ELEMENT: QUANTUM OBSERVATION REACTING PARTICLES BROUGHT OVER BY THE ENTITIES INVOLVED IN THE 6-12 INCIDENT. TWO VARIETIES WERE DETERMINED UPON FURTHER RESEARCH. TYPE I, WHICH CAME FROM THE ENTITY CLASSIFIED 'QUEEN OF THE GROTESQUE' AMONG NUMEROUS OTHER NAMES ACQUIRED FROM OBSERVATION DATA OF LEGION FORCES AND PRE-SUBLIMATION MEMETIC CORRUPTION OF WHITE CHLORINATION SYNDROME PATIENTS. TYPE I MATERIAL HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THIS UNIVERSE FOR THE LAST EIGHT THOUSAND YEARS FOLLOWING THE COMPLETE PURGING OF IT FROM THE EARTH'S ENVIRONMENT. TYPE II CAME FROM THE OTHER ENTITY, CLASSIFIED AS 'A DRAGON' NO OTHER NAME OR IDENTITY DETERMINED. WHILE HIGHLY REACTIVE AND DANGEROUS IN LARGE DOSES IT WAS FOUND TO BE STABLE IN SMALL AMOUNTS AND TO LACK THE MALEVOLENT EFFECT ON INTELLIGENT LIFE THAT TYPE I MATERIAL EXHIBITED. EVENTUAL CONTROLLED EXPOSURE AND SYNTHESIS EXPERIMENTS LED TO THE CREATION OF FOCUSED MAGIC ENERGY EFFECTS AND SUBSEQUENT DEVELOPMENTS IN FIELDS OF NEUROLOGY AND META-COGNITION AS WELL AS NUMEROUS OTHERS. PROJECT GESTALT AND ANDROID CONSCIOUSNESS ARE BOTH LONG TERM SUCCESSES OF THIS RESEARCH. HIGH ENERGY MAGIC WEAPONS WERE ALSO ATTEMPTED BUT LATER SHELVED FOR BEING UNRELIABLE. AS OF THIS DATE THE AMOUNT OF TYPE II MATERIAL PRESENT IN THIS UNIVERSE IS ESTIMATED TO BE 63 METRIC TONS, OVER A HUNDRED FOLD INCREASE IN MASS FROM THAT OF THE ORIGINAL ENTITY BROUGHT ABOUT BY CONTINUAL SYNTHESIS AND ITS NECESSITY IN THE CREATION OF NEW ANDROIDS AND ALL CURRENT GENERATION MAGICAL DEVICES. THE ANDROID WHITE HAS 6 GRAMS OF IT AS PART OF THEIR INTERNAL SYSTEMS, MOSTLY RELEGATED TO META-COGNITIVE PROCESSES. "Wait... wait!" John yelled out, grabbing onto the unused console as he stared at the enormous amount of text that had just been displayed. More and more appearing on other monitors, going into greater detail about all sorts of absurd things. "What do you mean by magic? And dragons? What the hell happened to Earth?" THE 6-12 INCIDENT. PLAYING ARCHIVED DATA NOW... *** Crichton sat on the edge of her bed. Looking down at his hands, fingers intertwined. He hadn't spoken since White had stepped aside and ushered him in. Neither had she. She had wanted to be alone, and had hoped that Crichton would choose to spend some time with his alien friends. Or his semi-human lover... "You know, it's kind of funny," he said at last, a low chuckle that surprised White. He truly did sound amused by the dark comedy of his situation. "What?" "Well, when I first realized you were lying about something... after I got over the whole 'android' deal anyway," Crichton said, looking up from his hands to look into White's eyes. "I was so certain that the deep dark secret you were keeping from me was that you all went Terminator on the humans and than got ashamed about it." White found herself smiling despite it all. "I guess I can imagine why you would think that. Even if we don't all look like Central European bodybuilders from the Old World." His expression collapsed, going from amusement to a shock so profound it looked like a stiff breeze would have knocked him over. White found herself confused and then very worried. Had she said something wrong? Then he started to laugh, slow at first, but building into something that bordered on mania. Rolling onto his back and shaking in the hysterics. "Haha... oh god... you have no idea, no goddamn idea how long I've wanted someone to get one of my dumb references," Crichton sat up looking far happier than he had a moment ago, the levity of their absurd connection dispelling the melancholy cloud that had hung over them since their return from the lunar server. "Like I love those idiots on Moya, but being around aliens on the other side of the galaxy for a few years really makes you long for some normal human conversation." "I... I think I can understand. Somewhat. It must have been very lonely out there." "Lonely, terrifying, insane... beautiful too. Space is crazy like that. Full of contrasts so sharp it's stunning. I-I wanted to bring that back you know? Not just to get home, but to show what I had found out there," he said, pointing to the stars outside White's window. "I guess it's too late for that now." "I'm sorry," White said. Noting the strange look that Crichton was giving her now she hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry we failed." "Failed? Failed at what? Stopping a magic apocalypse that had already started before the first androids came online? Which reminds me, we're going to need to do something about them later. Those twin models that someone had the bright idea to shoulder with some fucked up version of android collective punishment." Crichton leaned forward, massaging his forehead as he did so. "That's probably only the tip of the bullshit you're dealing with and here I come with a whole new mess of problems. Maybe it would have been better if I had never found Earth." "No! Crichton you-we can fix things. I know we can. Not just your presence here or for getting access to sealed archives in the server. The technology you brought with you. It very well might represent a turning point in the war with the machines." "And what about the Sebaceans... the Peacekeepers? The Scarren Empire? Or hell, even the Nebari Establishment? Better gravity control systems and two hundred year old ship scale energy shields won't stop a fleet if it comes knocking at our door." "We'll do what we always have. Try and protect Earth and mankind's legacy from any aggressor. Whether distant cousins that no longer remember their home-world like the Sebaceans... or these Scarrens you've mentioned so much. We won't- we cannot retreat from this fight. Not now." White clenched her fist tightly, the glove creaking as she set a firm expression on her face. "I promise you Crichton, even if the past is lost, we will make a future worth fighting for." Ideas: I've been thinking over the ideas of a Farscape/Nier crossover some more, coming up with elements, themes, and specific scenes that would be fun to explore and write. These are some of the ideas I've had in no particular order. 1. Androids in relation to the Last Human (Crichton). Crichton is a self-admitted sci-fi geek, not surprising for a second generation astronaut that grew up wanting to explore the stars. He straight up makes comparisons to how he attempts to handle alien encounters to be inspired from watching Star Trek. Given that I think his relation to the androids would develop in a certain direction. Once the initial shock of a) the amount of time passed and b) that these people he thought were human aren't passes, he wouldn't feel comfortable having an intelligent race acting subordinate to him. I can see multiple incidents where some variety of complex philosophical quandary or just plain relationship question from 6O results in him telling them that humans really didn't have a better answer. Long term this would likely take the form of a very serious conversation where he points out that Earth, and what of its culture and history still lives, isn't in just human, whether the dead ones or genetically altered human descended Sebaceans. Or even in any hypothetical offspring that he might have. Basically, 'Mankind' includes them, as they're what's keeping the memory of it all alive. Aside from some bonding scenes between various androids and Crichton as they go over bits of alien tech, one idea I have in particular is that he takes a tour of moon landing sites, including the one his father visited. Effectively the only place he will ever see any lasting evidence of that man in particular. And the reaction of his android guide (White perhaps?) as well as the Apollo 11 plaque cements his decision to change the way the androids view their relation with humans, at least in so much as he can. 2. 2B and 9S (and others perhaps). I think there's a lot of fun to be had in placing the androids into weird situations with the aliens, and even more so if for some reason they have to head off away from Earth for a period of time. Since I can easily see the plan being for them to lie constantly. Lie about being human, lie about the 'Glorious Terran Federation' which is totally a military power that we didn't just make up, lie about what they're capable of, lies upon lies as they try and deceive the Scarrens and the Peacekeepers and keep Earth safe from either side those aggressive powers. In general I think 'Androids pretend to be human to deceive aliens' is a good plot for lots of stories, and could easily be turned into a rather long plot. Since the androids wouldn't want to let Crichton head off to parley with these alien aggressors on his own. And he could really use all the help he can get for whatever crazy ass plot he comes up with next. 3. Aliens would want Android tech. Probably just Scorpius, but others too if they find out more about Earth. I hadn't realized it at the time, but there was a period of the show where the hybrid Scarren-Sebacean was working with Crichton, and that would be the perfect opportunity for him to learn something about the androids and Earth history. And being him, he would look at all this extra-dimensional BS and android super soldiers and see potential weapons. He'd probably be disappointed that the Queen's Maso wasn't around anymore and that Hamelin Organization stopped human testing after Emil, since it would mean he'd be working from scratch if he could just get back into the good graces of the Peacekeepers and do so with enough of the demonic element to set up another research base. Hell, he'd probably try to directly convince Crichton get the androids to agree to serve the Peacekeepers, since that would technically put them back into contact with 'humans' if genetically engineered ones. Arguing that he could get the entire remaining population of Earth a ticket off world (to a nice Peacekeeper controlled colony where the can serve their new military overlords) if destroying the machine lifefroms proved to difficult even with a few starships to blast them from orbit. 4. The Terminals. The central intelligence of the machine lifeforms would likely reconsider its direction of evolution far earlier with a living human to observe, especially one that tries so hard to avoid aggressive resolutions. Even if that doesn't work, Crichton's crew and allies proves that he has managed to connect and form lasting bonds with entirely alien beings over and over. A direct repudiation of what the machine network had thus far found to be the fastest way to accelerate its own growth. Whether this would lead to a quicker conclusion that it needs to escape Earth and find its own destiny, likely expedited by FTL tech it took from the androids once Crichton revealed it to them, or an attempt at some kind of allegiance against the various hostile powers of the greater galaxy is unknown. While I can easily see Pascal and various pacifistic or non-hostile machine lifeforms being taken into account as potential allies the actions of the terminals past and potentially present would form a barrier to attempted cooperation. 5. Allying with the Worm Hole Ancients. The aliens that gave John Crichton knowledge about worm holes in the first place did so because they were running from an unstated catastrophe that had destroyed their home world. They originally decided against direct contact with Earth because it was likely to be divided and hostile. 21st century Earth that doesn't exist outside of Crichton's memories. It would be very interesting to see how they might react to finding out the new status quo. I've got a couple ideas that might be fun with them. One being that their dimension/time traveling tech lead to them accidentally creating their own personal Watcher related incident and the subsequent self-inflicted annihilation of their home world to stop it from spreading to the greater portion of the galaxy. Creating a situation where despite their far greater technological adeptness they find a reason to deeply respect humans/androids for facing down and defeating what they truthfully could not, reclaiming their world instead of burning it and running. (Though I'm iffy on that alteration/crossover expansion as it sort of makes them more like the Stargate's Asgard.)

#farscape #nier automata #fanfic idea

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foxydangerfluff · 5 years ago

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Glitch in the System

The first time, it was an accident. Phaedra didn't mean to perform an act of outright villainy. All she wanted was to break into the vault, just to prove that she could. But two things happened that day: she discovered how much fun villainy was, and she saw the Azure Vixen in action. Vixen was the city's local superhero, a fact of which Phaedra had been superficially aware. It hadn't really mattered before, but now? Well, now it mattered a lot. Seeing Vixen up close and personal had been an... interesting experience. Phaedra, thief and hacker extraordinaire, bit her lip, a flush creeping up her neck. She'd gotten away, but for a moment, she hadn't wanted to. So she devised a plan.

The second time she went face to face with Vixen, it was months later and she'd pulled off quite a few heists in the meantime. She'd finished before the superhero could arrive, and with some amount of frustration had retreated to her headquarters without seeing the fox. This time, however, she'd taken a calculated risk. The job would take a while, and she'd be exposed for a good deal of it.

As if on cue, Vixen arrived to take her down. Phaedra (or Glitch, as the papers were calling her) had to blow the system. "That's a lovely tail you've got, Vixen!" she called even as she fled the scene. When she returned home, free of her alter identity, Phaedra congratulated herself on being able to say anything at all, even if it wasn't as witty as she would have liked. --- The next few months were cat and mouse games between the two of them. Vixen would say something dutifully clever and sly, and Phaedra would sometimes respond in kind, and other times would sputter something out. The media at least was in her favor; they only ever published the witticisms that passed between the two of them, heroine and villainess. Phaedra knew that a subculture of the city had started to ‘ship’ them, and she was young enough to know what that meant, and infatuated enough to be embarrassed. (She would never admit that she'd submitted a 'fan' theory or two.) There were other villains in the city, of course, and other heroes, all of varying degrees of dastardly or heroic. Phaedra never killed; she was a thief, not a murderer. And the media eventually discovered that she really only stole from corrupt organizations. Phaedra was, well... not a hero, exactly, but not the pure villain that others were. She'd seen the term 'anti-hero' bandied about a few times, but never paid much attention to it. She got better at laying traps, both real and digital. Other heroes would get ensnared, and she'd be long gone before they could reach her. She even tripped up Vixen a few times, but true to her name, the heroine was elusive. Phaedra was convinced the other woman never made mistakes. When Vixen got tripped up by one of the more vicious villains, it came as quite a shock. Phaedra had long ago found out where Vixen's headquarters were, even if her actual identity was locked down tight. After seeing the news and finding out how badly Vixen had been injured, she decided a visit was in order. --- Phaedra knocked politely on the door of the house. It was out in the suburbs, at the edge of "city" and "rural". Plenty of space for a hero to train and recuperate away from their identity. The house itself was listed as belonging to Sylvia Wilde, though she suspected that was just another identity, used to give Vixen some amount of privacy. She tried not to fidget on the doorstep, keeping herself relaxed. Just as she was about to knock again, the door opened, just a sliver. "May I help you?" came the husky voice that could only belong to Vixen. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, miss, but I have a delivery here for someone at this address." Phaedra held out the bouquet of multicolored daisies. She'd arranged it herself, and had even included a card (carefully devoid of any evidence). The door widened, and Vixen frowned down at her, calculation flickering in her eyes. She took out the card, her eyes narrowing briefly before she gave a small shake of her head, chuckling softly. "Thank you for the delivery. Do you need me to sign for anything?" For a brief moment, Phaedra wondered what Vixen's signature would look like. Would it be sharp and angular? Loopy, flowery, feminine? Some combination? One could tell a lot about someone from their handwriting, after all. But the moment passed, and she beamed, shaking her head. "Not at all, miss. You have a pleasant day!" She retreated from the steps and to the (borrowed) floral van, giving Vixen a brief wave before the door closed. Once she had driven out of sight, Phaedra gave a silent cheer. She'd made progress, even if it was under somewhat false pretenses. --- While Vixen was out of commission, Glitch laid low a while. Internet speculation either had her out of the country, plotting something truly extraordinary, or simply bored while her favorite superhero was recuperating. Phaedra did not go to the home of one Sylvia Wilde again, though she sent two more bouquets, each with personalized cards. "To the foxiest lady I know, Get well soon. You are missed. - MissingNo"

It wasn't a real encryption by any means, but she wasn't about to use either of their alter egos on the cards. There was no telling who might take a peek. (Though she thought the reference to the glitch Pokémon had been a stroke of mild genius on her part.) Still, the time was not spent idling around. Phaedra did, in fact, come up with a delightful scheme that involved taking down the villain who'd hurt Vixen in the first place. She even had a follow-up plan, with a specific goal in mind. --- It wasn't easy, but she dealt with Snare, and even kept it reasonably quiet. The media made no comments on it, no one assigned her name to it. It really was as if he had just... disappeared. That he was in prison escaped notice entirely. Well... almost entirely. Vixen had figured out a little, herself, while she was out of action. A simple vase with a few flowers was in front of her headquarters that evening, with a simple, typed note attached. "Missy, Thanks for today. Sylvia"

Phaedra went to sleep with a smile on her face that night. Maybe things weren't so bad, after all. --- It took several weeks for her other plan to take root. Phaedra did very little in public. In fact, the Internet was oddly concerned at the lack of any Glitch action. She was touched, if somewhat confused. Apparently people liked a villain with morals. She spent a lot of time at her computer, long hours poured into hacking this system or that one. While this was not meant to be her grand finale, it would be a masterpiece... and she really hoped it would pay off. Finally, it was time. Armed with her traps and a small bit of liquid courage, Glitch stepped out into the night. The smartphone she used for her heists was in hand, and once she was in position, she used it to remote start the dozens of programs she'd installed across the city. All but the most important lights went out, district by district, until only a soft glow remained where there were smatterings of traffic lights. (So sue her; she had morals, after all.) Glitch had an excellent vantage point from a nearby skyrise, and watched with pleasure as the city stadium lit up, its giant screen coming to life with the message she'd told it to display. "VIXEN, ARE YOU READY?"

The letters flashed, bold and bright and obvious against the dark backdrop of the city. "I AM WAITING."

Glitch tightened the harness around her waist, testing the line. This was a theft she'd been dying to pull off since the moment she'd laid eyes on Vixen. "COME AND GET ME."

She dove off the building's roof, following the line down, down, down. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see movement. The pale blue glow that was part of Vixen's natural abilities (what had led her to be a hero? Phaedra wondered, not for the first time) glimmered to the side, following her descent with ease. As if on cue, several of her more harmless traps and diversions went off, slowing the heroine down, tripping her up. (It was all a ruse.) The end of the line was near; the ground was growing closer, and she wondered what would happen when she reached it. The villainess never really found out. Vixen pounced from the shadows, tackling her and rolling them both along the ground. Surely they would both have bruises by the end. Before she could struggle to her feet, Vixen had her pinned down, golden eyes staring out of the kitsune mask she wore. "Show's over, Glitch. It's time to admit defeat." Phaedra smiled as if she were playing a marvelous joke. "Ah, but you see, I have one last weapon." She gripped a (harmless) bit of tech between her teeth before withdrawing it, careful not to swallow. "You must get it from me. Creatively." Vixen paused, her head tilting at the woman beneath her, before she slowly lifted her mask up to reveal an amused grin. "You know... if you'd wanted a date, all you had to do was ask. You didn't have to take over the city."

#writing #short story #original work #idk #superhero #villain #or maybe anti-hero?

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that-shamrock-vibe · 6 years ago

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Movie Review: Frozen II (Spoilers)

Spoiler Warning: I am posting this review a couple of days after it first airs in the U.K, so if you haven’t yet seen the movie, and I strongly recommend you do, then don’t read on until you have.

LGBT Representation:

Alright so I’ll get into character analyses shortly but first of all I just want to talk about the LGBT representation in this movie, because my takeaway from it in this movie is completely different to what seems to be everyone else’s takeaway from it. LGBT representation is very important to me particularly in an all-age property so I wanted to spotlight it.

Now the main issue I see is that people are still insisting that the LGBT representation is that of Elsa being a member of the LGBT community. This is something that emerged after the first movie with Elsa being one of few “Disney Princesses” (despite the fact she is a Queen and neither she nor Anna are official members of said brand) not to have a love interest in the first movie or even this movie, outwardly.

Yes, while no one is openly depicted as an LGBT character in this movie, good old Disney, Elsa is still being shown in that LGBT light to some fans because of two or three character traits.

Firstly there’s the theory that her not feeling like she belongs in Arendelle is because she is, sorry for this, the only gay in the village and not knowing how to handle it. Secondly there’s her new outfit which she acquires at the start of the third act in the movie which is white with rainbow accents...fans believe this is a clear nod to the rainbow flag but to be fair it could just simply be to represent the Aurora Borealis aka the Northern Lights.

Thirdly, despite the first teaser trailer giving fans the completely wrong idea about Elsa’s potential love interest in this movie, who turned about to be a young version of her mother, Elsa does get close with new very minor girl Honeymaren. There is no evidence that either Honeymaren is an LGBT character but people have suggested that their cosy chats border on the flirtatious.

However, I personally do not think the LGBT representation is on Elsa or Honeymaren. I think the LGBT representation in this movie is in fact Honeymaren’s brother Ryder voiced by Jason Ritter. I swear he flirts with Kristoff at least three times in this movie for the brief time he is in it.

Of course all of this is just speculation, but the theory of Elsa, Honeymaren and/or Ryder being potential members of the LGBT community is a major plus both for Disney and for this movie.

Characters:

Elsa:

It can’t be not true that Elsa is the best character not only in this movie but also this franchise as a whole. Not only is she the first real instance of the combination between Disney Princess and Superhero, but also there is no denying the journey and the transformation Elsa goes on from care free child to fearful teenager to in-control young woman.

This character development alone is not only relatable and representative for many if not all young girls coming of age, but also she is both stylish, humble and flawed in a realistic sense...as realistic as someone with ice powers can be I mean.

Now by flaws, I am mainly referring to her inept ability at ruling Arendelle, three times now she has effectively abdicated her throne either for her own reasoning or to actually protect the kingdom, I am more annoyed with Anna for these decisions which I’ll get into when talking about her, but it was quite clear from the first movie alone that Elsa never wanted to be queen. She runs away when her powers are discovered by the people, she then goes off to find out the mystery of her past, she finally abdicates completely and makes Anna queen so she can go off and live in the Enchanted Forest amongst the Northuldra people while not exactly joining them.

Having said that, she absolutely does the right thing by her because, not only is it important to both understand and be completely comfortable with yourself, but also this was where she was always meant to be.

Elsa’s fashion in this movie steps up from the first movie not only in colour but also in style. Gone are those heavy, coverall gowns and now we have light, bright and flowing gowns. Also leggings, Elsa is really only the second “Disney Princess” to wear leggings after Jasmine and it is really good to see someone in that “Disney Princess” role be versatile in fashion.

My favourite three outfits of Elsa’s are her vivid pink nightgown, her travelling outfit and her last outfit when she embraces her role as the fifth spirit. Something about Elsa with her hair down and flowing that really added another layer of power to that transformation “Show Yourself” scene.

Her powers are also plused here, the lady gets a freekin’ water horse which she could freeze to ride on water! Seeing Elsa riding her new steed across the water to stop the tidal wave from flooding Arendelle is the most fiercely stunning sequence I have seen in any movie animated or live-action.

Also her crystal manifestation, which emulated the elemental runes, bursting out from her like an outcry after she sings about wanting to know what it all means and then having them all fall to the ground effectively like hail. I thought her creating the ice palace in the first movie couldn’t be topped but her powers are kicked up here.

She even has a sort of attack move with her powers as she was shown to briefly create an ice snowflake to combat the water spirit who later becomes her steed.

When she finally finds Ahtohallan and discovers she is the fifth element and starts seeing all those memories of her past and singing “Show Yourself” with her mother, just watching her literally walk through memory lane with all those frozen versions of her memories and reacting different to different ones, like with the Duke of Wesselton where she laughed and Hans who she instantly crumbled and even her singing “Let It Go” which she reacted awkwardly to, all of this was just splender and made me particularly well up.

Then you have her discovering the truth of the past where her grandfather was revealed to have villainous tendencies, I’m not going to say he’s an outright villain but he did kill the Northundra leader and start the war which hid the Enchanted Forest from the world, the fact she literally went to far down and froze to death just like the opening song foreshadowed was also very emotional.

But on that note of finding out there is that darkness in her family, it did remind me a lot of the Once Upon a Time Frozen arc when they introduced the Snow Queen Ingrid as Elsa and Anna’s aunt who had the same powers as Elsa and who was villainous for being misunderstood. They could have copped out and done a similar story but the fact it was routed into Elsa and Anna’s own history in terms of their family was a nice touch.

However, it did give me possibly my favourite line of the movie which is “Fear is the true enemy” in retaliation to hearing her grandfather say that magic is evil. This line can be true of any type of prejudice, I’m thinking of Homophobia but it can also be racism and even sexism, that for an animated Disney movie rated U to accomplish this level of thought is outstanding.

Idina Menzel may not be the most emotive actress but I love her, and what she may lack in her speech she more than makes up for in her singing. Also the fact that Elsa has such emotive facial expressions and the animation and character designs here are so fluid, that it makes Elsa almost seem like a real person.

Olaf:

Josh Gad as Olaf was definitely something I’ve been looking forward to revisiting especially after Olaf’s Frozen Adventure received a very icy reception. I didn’t really care for it, much like any of the Frozen shorts that have come but I’m really happy with him here.

I really liked the idea of exploring Olaf being a child because, I think with this movie taking place a couple years after the first one, Olaf is really only a toddler, so he acts like a toddler.

The fact Olaf sees the world in such innocence and beauty really resonates with little kids watching this movie and hopefully allows them to get out of it what Olaf gets out of it which is not understanding the world as a child but having to grow up and face reality.

I wasn’t crazy about his song, again like the first movie I feel it wasn’t as grand as the rest of the songs but I did like the message behind it of things not making sense to Olaf now but will make sense when he grows up.

By far the funniest moments of this movie are when Olaf reenacts the events of the first movie for the people trapped in the Enchanted Forest and also at the very end after the credits when he reenacts the events of this movie for Marshmallow and the Snowgies. I just loved again that child-like interpretation and bluntness of events. “Anna and Elsa separated but it’s okay because at least they still have their parents! Their parents are dead!” My screening could not stop laughing at that point.

Speaking of death, there is death in this movie, both what you see and what is open to interpretation. Elsa effectively dies as she is frozen solid much like how Anna is in the first movie, but Olaf’s death came as a consequence of Elsa’s death due to him being enchanted by Elsa. Possibly because this whole thing takes place after the “Show Yourself” scene and Elsa finally being true to who she is and of course because Olaf is the innocent dying, it really made me sad.

I was thrilled he came back, of course I knew he was going to come back. However, I did hear that early scripts had him staying dead but I don’t think that would have gone down very well with audiences and particularly merchandising because after Anna and Elsa merch I know Olaf is up there, although I think he may have competition after this movie...we’ll get to Bruni.

Also in keeping with the idea of Olaf being a child, I found it fascinating that he was experiencing new emotions in this movie such as anger, without actually getting angry he just felt it and didn’t know how to handle it. A little bit like with Groot in the MCU, I do hope we maybe see Olaf age or mature and experience the emotions that everyone experiences growing up. I know snow can’t really age in that way but it would be very interesting to see.

Speaking of the properties of snow, I also found the concept of water having memory interesting. It does play into the Disney/Fantastical element of the almost absurd but in a sense you want it to be true, like Aladdin’s flying carpet or even how woodland animals can help clean.

I’m not so certain about the cop-out of no longer giving Olaf his own flurry, yes they explained it as rather than it being a cloud simply being a kind of coat which was beautiful to see lit-up and everything, but it just seemed like the animators not wanting to animate a snow cloud constantly, even using the excuse that it only appears in hot weather was proven false because it was sunny numerous times in this movie and nothing appeared.

Olaf is still one of my favourite characters both in this movie and in Disney in general, I think he’s fun, I love his innocence and a lot of that is down to Josh Gad’s vocal performance. I can no longer think of Josh Gad without thinking of Olaf but in a way that’s not a bad thing.

Anna:

There was a massive opportunity missed from this movie which was not spotlighting the fact that Anna almost had PTSD from the events of the first movie. She wanted the status quo to remain how it was in the moment at the start of the movie and was desperate to keep her loved ones safe.

I don’t particularly know what purpose Anna served in this movie outside of living in denial of everything going on. Yes it is a noble deed to want to keep your loved ones safe, however, Anna should have known that not only Elsa discovering her origins but also the two sisters finding out about their mother’s history was not only important but I feel necessary. Finding out what happened to their parents, why they went off, even how they met.

But instead we have Anna constantly wanting to be the mother of the group and look after everyone, except for Kristoff. I will talk about Kristoff in his section but seriously these two went from being the ideal couple in the first movie to “Why the heck are you to together?” in this movie.

All of this is why what made her hitting rock bottom after both Elsa and Olaf had “died” so important and her realising that and building herself back up. Again, like Olaf, I didn’t really like her song but I appreciated the meaning behind it.

It was from this point that Anna showed true signs of not only being a leader but also actual competency. I mean once again both Elsa and Anna abandon Arendelle, yes Anna has done it twice in the hopes of saving it which is noble, but she goes from leaving a man she just met and got engaged to in charge without knowing him for more than five minutes, to leaving Rock Trolls in charge. Yes Grand Pabbie is at least responsible for an entire tribe but seriously?

However, after she realises what has to be done to right the wrongs of the past, her selfless decision to destroy the dam and flood Arendelle to free the Enchanted Forest was impressive because obviously the kingdom can be rebuilt and the people were safe in the Rock Troll Valley.

Now of course, everything turned out fine because Anna unknowingly revived Elsa by getting the dam broken down and she stopped the tidal wave from destroying Arendelle, but Anna didn’t know that when she decided to do it and she still chose to it, and made the old Arendelle guard listen to her.

This is how she proved herself as queen, so that when Elsa made her queen so she herself could go and live in the Enchanted Forest, she earned it. She’s queen, she has Kristoff as a fiancé and obviously she and Elsa will keep a strong bond between Arendelle and the Enchanted Forest.

Kristen Bell is Kristen Bell, you know she was born for this type of role and this type of world. Having said that, again she was almost pushed to the background or was making me want to push her to the background because of her constant complaining. But she was still very good and the main core four cast continue to be a big selling point for this franchise.

Kristoff:

I find it ironic that the title of this franchise is Frozen and that he is an ice seller because they effectively fridged Kristoff in this movie.

Kristoff’s role in this movie is pretty much the one-note version of Bernard’s from The Rescuers Down Under, in that his story throughout this movie was trying to propose to Anna and yet constantly failing. Now granted, he goes to greater extravagance to do so than the mouse did but it takes them both the length of their movies to simply learn it’s now how you say it it’s just saying it.

On that note, I felt no chemistry between Anna and Kristoff in this movie. They both think the other one abandoned them part way through this movie and Anna particularly doesn’t really seem to care.

As I said before, when Kristoff and Ryder had their scenes together, I felt more chemistry between them than I did from Kristoff for Anna. Also Kristoff and Ryder are more suited. They both love reindeer, they both talk for their reindeer, and also I got the sense that maybe Ryder actually liked Kristoff in that way, as he seemed upset that Kristoff didn’t ride off with him.

Kristoff did give me one of the best moments of the movie though which was his song in the form of an 80s/90 pop balled video. It was one of the most bizarre choices this movie could have made, but considering you have Jonathan Groff and didn’t let him do what Jonathan Groff is known for doing in the first movie it more than makes up for that.

Once again I don’t feel like he contributed much to the actual story and genuinely felt like he could have been cut and nothing would change, but it is good having a male presence in this movie who is human so I give him credit for that.

Northundra:

I really enjoyed this tribe, the native-american qualities they had really helped separate them from the citizens of Arendelle. Both Native-American and Australian Aborigines I feel were portrayed rather well in the tribe.

Yelena, Ryder and Honeymaren were really the only three spotlighted in the tribe and I felt that is all they really needed.

However, we also know from this movie that Elsa and Anna’s mother, Queen Iduna, was Northundra...which kind of makes sense as a child because she has some colouring, but as an adult she’s Caucasian...and Anna and Elsa are clearly Caucasian.

I mean it’s slightly obvious the Northundra weren’t on the cards in the first movie, however simply having Iduna being of that race would have made more sense.

Speaking of the first movie. The Northundra here have a chant they perform when Elsa and Anna realise they have Northundra heritage, but this sounds like the same chant from the opening of the first movie which leads into “Frozen Heart”. So maybe they were foreshadowed?

Spirits:

Alright so I didn’t know how much there was to talk about the four spirits that seemingly guard the Enchanted Forest and whom Elsa awakened and apparently made angry towards the start of this movie so I thought I would talk about them collectively here in the order they appear in Elsa’s vision during “Into the Unknown”.

Fire:

Two things I love about the fire spirit, the first is that it’s fire form is this very vibrant pink colour and I’m always a fan of fire having different colours, I prefer green but pink works well here I guess.

The second thing I love about it is Bruni, who is the actual fire spirit and I don’t think named ever in this movie by name. However, I have loved Bruni since his one main shot in the trailer, I love how cute he is, I love the fact he’s another reptilian being a salamander, after Pascal from Tangled being a chameleon.

Also, Bruni may have about as much screen time here as Pua the pig from Moana but he is just one of Elsa’s new animal sidekicks and unlike most of the Disney Princesses, this queen has two magical creatures as animal sidekicks. I think the only princess in that category is Mulan with Mushu.

As I mentioned before with Olaf’s merch, I do feel that Bruni is a potential competitor for beating him in merch sales. I think Olaf, Sven and Bruni all have plush toy qualities, but Bruni has that added cuteness and he’s new.

Water:

Elsa’s other magical animal sidekick is the water spirit known as The Nøkk, who is a mythological Scandinavian water spirit in the shape of a horse...with a waterfall mane.

Not only is this a cool pet anyway the fact Elsa can freeze and ride it is just epic. Who wouldn’t want a water spirit horse.

Earth:

Alright so I can’t remember when the Earth Giants first appear, whether or not they emerge during the earthquake that took over Arendelle or if they appeared in the Enchanted Forest but I did enjoy them.

I don’t exactly know when Elsa tamed them, it did seem that if anyone did Anna did by getting the dam broken.

Air:

I enjoyed Gail, I thought giving what is essentially a tornado that turns into a light breeze a name also gives it character.

But once again, while Elsa broke free of the tornado, Olaf was the one who named it and as such wasn’t he the one to tame it?

I did like how Gail became the messenger for the two kingdoms also.

Songs:

Alright so like always, I’ll be talking about these songs in order of my favourites.

Into the Unknown:

While not as groundbreaking as “Let It Go” but it is powerful, moving and delivered beautifully by both Idina Menzel and AURORA who is credited as “The Voice” that do that “Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah” sound that I want as an alarm tone.

I loved how Idina managed to match AURORA and almost harmonise with it, I love the message of being scared of the unknown but pushing yourself into it, the presentation of the performance was beautiful particularly when she went into that black space with the production going on around her.

It’s my favourite song in the movie and everything about it was just brilliant.

I do also enjoy the Panic! At the Disco version that plays over the end credits, it’s definitely a better pop version of a movie song to Demi Lovato’s version and I feel has a better mainstream future than it too.

Show Yourself:

This song made me emotional, and not many songs do that. I feel maybe it was the build-up to Elsa finally discovering who she was meant to be, the duet with her mother, or the fact she had that walk through her history in ice sculptures, but something welled up inside me and I love it.

The song is about realising who you are and being true to who you are. It’s something I feel anyone can relate to and the fact it’s in a duet with her deceased mother is just the icing, pardon the pun.

Also, this is where Elsa gets her new look, starting off with her taking her hair down and then her updated ice-blue dress transforming into her final white dress with rainbow accents.

Idina Menzel once again dominates with her vocals here but also Evan Rachel Wood matches her quite well.

Lost in the Woods:

I loved Jonathan Groff’s singing in Glee, from “Highway to Hell” and “Bohemian Rhapsody” to “Rolling in the Deep” he had such a range vocally that, despite hating the character, I loved him singing.

This is why it was criminal that the only “singing” Kristoff did in the first Frozen was that “Reindeer are better than people” lullaby song which made a comeback here at the start of this song and made me almost give up on Kristoff completely.

However, when you get passed that and Sven actually singing, you have a rather good song in the style of an 80s/90s pop ballad music video. Instantly I thought of “Everything I Do” by Bryan Adams and, despite not liking that particular song, I loved this and the arrangement of the performance.

Having Kristoff lean up against a tree as a wide shot while having his full face fade in to the side of him was so cheesy, so cringy and yet so good. I couldn’t help but enjoy it.

The Next Right Thing:

Now again, I didn’t particularly enjoy this song but I did enjoy and appreciate the message behind it.

When Anna is at her lowest edge having lost Elsa, Olaf and potentially Kristoff...again she doesn’t really give him a second thought at this point, she remembers advice that both her mother gave her and that Sterling K. Brown’s character enforced and builds up the strength to get herself out of the cave.

It’s a song about reaching rock bottom and figuring out where to go from there, it’s something I can definitely relate to and I am sure others can to, whether or not that’s in school, college/university, work or personal lives.

Kristen Bell is a good singer but for some reason something didn’t click here for me.

When I Am Older:

I love Olaf and thought his song was a very nice and fun sidetrack to the movie, however in terms of it being memorable...”In Summer” was a lot better and had the funny beats of irony to it.

As I said when talking about his character, the song did help define Olaf’s story through the movie of being young and immature.

Also the funny beats to this song of ending it in complete denial of “This is fine” before being crushed by a boulder were great.

Some Things Never Change:

This was possibly the most cringe-worthy few minutes of the entire movie. This happens right near the start originally between Anna and Olaf before become an ensemble piece.

Again, I understand the message behind the song of how people don’t like change but it just came out of nowhere and had no real tie-in to the rest of the movie other than Anna’s unrealised story arc of wanting things to remain how they are.

All Is Found:

As a lullaby this was an okay song, however I don’t think it did much to progress the story despite being the start of the movie. “Frozen Heart” had more of a beginning quality to it rather than this.

Overall I rate the movie a 9.5/10, it’s a near perfect movie but there is still room for improvement as always. I loved the characters, the songs, the animation. It all just felt very Disney.

So that’s my review of Frozen II, what did you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Movie Reviews as well as other posts.

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 6 years ago

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Hard to be a Stark

I’ve learned that some of these are going to be mini series things within the overall world. I’m thinking Steve’s will have one more part. I have songs for Loki, and Bucky around the corner so keep a look out for those! And the sequels to Sam’s and Steve’s. :)

Also shout out to my beta, @songforherma. They are awesome and handle my crazy very well. XD

Summary: Various Avenger x Reader one-shots with songs from musicals. In this one — Tony Stark has been doing the Ironman for a while now. Kissing babies, shaking hands, still flirting all the live long day, but it’s getting harder and harder to put up the facade. So what happens when his new assistant, you, see him having a drunken heart to heart? Song is “Hard to be the Bard” from Something Rotten!

Honestly - this one is a bit more platonic. If I write a sequel, the romance stuff will show up there.

Warnings: Angst, Drunk Tony, bit of fluff, confessions, cussing, reference to violence

Word Count: 3477 words

Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my permission. :)

Stark. The name in itself held…

Power.

Money.

Authority.

Respect.

But with all those things came…

Assumptions.

Expectations.

Anxiety.

Mockery.

Hostility.

Ignorance.

And understandable sorts of coping mechanisms.

Then came the day he declared himself the Ironman - a superhero meant to protect civilians when no one else could. Gone were the weapons of probable mass destruction his company had become so well known for. Now they were replaced by one. A suit of armor in the hands of one man who could only do his best to protect his country. He wanted to believe he was doing the right thing, taking the suit, doing something with it that helped create peace.

Then New York happened. The Avengers.

Everything shifted. Assumptions and expectations skyrocketed. Anxiety twisted its gnarly claws around his heart, opening the door and introducing a new friend — Post-traumatic stress disorder. He could act like it wasn’t there and that it didn’t exist, but then came the outside opinions. It was easier to ignore them when he was just a Stark. He could put up a facade, act like it didn’t bother him because no one knew what was going on underneath.

You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.

Steve had cut him deep with that one. Mister Cap-sicle over here acting as he knew him. So what did he do?

I think I would just cut the wire.

Of course, after Tony risked his life with that stupid nuke, Steve realized he wasn’t as correct in his assumptions as he first thought. Tony snorted, taking a swig of Scotch before setting it on the counter. “You know what they say,” he spoke to himself. “Just makes an ass of you and me.”

But he couldn’t hold it against the old man after all Steve was dealing with a level of ignorance that came from being under the ice. His defense mechanism was mockery and hostility. Sitting in a chair, Tony stared stoically at the ironsuits across the room. They all looked like tin cans really, something made as a means for survival and turned into something greater. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms. There was always some new hostile just around the corner. That didn’t go away with the suits. If anything, he and the Avengers were greeted by more of them every day which included all of the superhuman threats that the world suddenly kept on facing.

And that was where the coping mechanisms took a turn from understandable to downright unhealthy. Pepper had told him that, commented on it and voiced her concerns like Pepper always does. She needed to work on her timing. That night he’d been black-out drunk and didn’t remember anything. JARVIS had to show him the footage the next day. Guilt wracked his body because he didn’t remember. He didn’t remember screaming at her or throwing the bottle. He didn’t remember telling her to get the fuck out or the fact that he fired her. No, he didn’t remember. And when he watched the video, watched his drunken self shoot a repulser blast to shatter the glass next to her? It was like he felt his heart shatter with it because he knew he didn’t remember that. He knew if he had been any soberer he wouldn’t have done it. He would’ve called Rhodey or Happy to get her out of there before he did something stupid.

However, that was a couple of months ago and now he had a new assistant. Some girl named Y/F/N Y/L/N. She was good at her job and Pepper made sure to find someone that could handle his narcissism and ridiculous schedule, somehow someone of that nature managed to fit the bill. Still - she wasn’t Pepper. He appreciated that she acknowledged that. She never tried to be anything other than herself and it quickly earned his respect.

Ding!

Tony shifted his gaze to the computer when the email popped up. Y/N had sent him his schedule for tomorrow. Brushing it with his pinky, he watched as it popped out of the tiny screen and presented itself as a hologram before him. He couldn’t hide the annoyed huff that escaped his lungs even if he wanted to. “My days are too busy for this,” he muttered, knowing everything was back to back with barely a moment to breathe. It wasn’t Y/N’s fault. She was trying to catch him up on the reality outside. “It’s making me dizzy, there’s so much I gotta do.” Standing up, he walked closer to the schedule and his face scrunched in distaste. “JARVIS, there’s lunches and meetings and poetry readings and great, more interviews.”

“Sir, it’s about learning to combine your roles as a Stark and Avenger in a more efficient manner.”

Tony grimaced. “Traitor,” he told the AI before seeing the photoshoot he had to get up far too early for. If he even went to bed for that matter. “Gotta pose for some photos and how I deplore sitting there for eternity. Then it’s off to the bar where my bartender friend wants to name another drink after me?”

“Would you like for me to call Y/N, sir?”

At this point, Tony had stopped listening to the AI. No, his mind was far too focused on this schedule. “Then it’s back to my room, where I resume my attempt to fix this shit.” At least she knew to give him time in the shop so he could work on the suits.

“Just you and your beer?”

Of course, JARVIS would have a witty retort for that. He always did. Sitting on the edge of his desk, he felt a cold wash over him as he admitted, “And the terrible fear that I might be losing it.” Staring at the bright hologram, the grim reminders, he shook his head and swiped it away. He could think about that later. I mean, it’s not that important.

—

Hiss…

The sound was what woke him from his uncomfortable slumber. He stretched, his spine and shoulders cracking from the effort before he realized he’d fallen asleep with an iron arm in his lap. No wonder his legs were tingly. A lack of blood flow did that. Shaking his head in a futile attempt to rouse himself further, his bleary eyes and yawn signaled that he wasn’t quite there yet. His gaze ran along the lab floor, making sure he hadn’t left a random weapon lying around and it was there his gaze found your little black heels on the floor, tapping patiently. Or was it impatiently? Eh, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he stood and set the arm on the counter, sending one of his infamous “Stark smiles” your way.

It was met with the most patient look he had ever seen.

You weren’t irritated?

Tony wholeheartedly meant that today’s events weren’t important. However, that was when we initially thought it. Seeing your face? Seeing the way your brow furrowed not in annoyance, but concern? Yeah, maybe he should’ve put a little more effort into going to sleep.

“Coffee?”

His gaze shifted to the steaming cup that was outstretched in your hand. He took it, mumbling a barely coherent ‘thanks’ before taking in your appearance. Pepper always wore skirts. You wore pants. She always wore blouses. You were what looked to be a simple tank top or t-shirt underneath a blazer. It reminded him of his look. Maybe Pep warned you that the skirts and fancy clothes wouldn’t survive around an Avenger?

“Did Jarvis let you down here?”

“Nope.”

Now he was confused. “Then how —“

“Ms. Potts thought it’d be beneficial to your habits if you had someone capable of hacking.”

“Wait,” Tony gaped, eyeing you with more interest than a curiosity now. “You-You're a —“ You smile and it knocks the wind out of him. Grumbling to himself, he takes a sip of coffee. Tony didn’t really like being bested. “I want to say I’m impressed, but also that means you hacked into advanced tech when you could have knocked.”

“Would you have opened the door?”

“She has a point, sir.”

Tony looked up at the ceiling, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t get an opinion.” He knew they were both right, but did that mean he had to admit it? Really? Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tony walked back to the bottle that had been carelessly left behind on the table. He poured some of it into his coffee before drinking most of the hot, bitter, and now strong liquid. “Seriously, you’re a hacker?”

“Just for fun.” You shrugged and he snickered. You reminded him of when he first got into tech and making new things. It was just for fun then. His gaze shifted to the lab and he knew that wasn’t the case anymore. Meanwhile, you had turned to the iPad tucked into your arm, scrolling through it. “So first on the agenda —“

“Nothing.” You looked up, the puzzled expression enough to make him feel satisfied. He missed being able to stoop an assistant, confuse them and leave them floundering. If that was how it was going to be, he was sure you wouldn’t last long.

Recovering from your confusion, you tucked your hair behind your ear and shook your head. “No, Mr. Stark, there won’t be any cancellations today. You need to get back into the world. Everyone wants to hear from —“

“I don’t care what everyone wants. I’m Tony fuckin’ Stark. When have I ever cared about what other people want?”

“When your mother asked you to say goodbye to her and your father for a holiday, but you didn’t.” There was a brief moment of silence as the matter-of-fact tone shifted to a much softer one and you added, “They passed away that weekend in a car accident.”

Tony froze, his back to you. He would’ve expected some assumption that he cared when he cut off weapons production for Stark Industries. He would’ve expected some ignorant comment that he cared when he took that nuke into space. Apparently, between the two of you, he had been the one to slip up. He’d been the one to assume. Trying to recover, a wry smile curved his lips as he asked, “Figure that out in your time hacking my software?”

“No, sir. Happy told me. After…After the incident with Ms. Potts, he felt that I needed a little preparation as to the job I was being hired for.”

Happy. Yeah, Tony would remember to talk with the man at a later time. Turning to face you, he downed the rest of his coffee before dropping it in the bin next to his desk. “You know, it’s hard. It’s really hard.”

Confusion. Again. “I don’t understand.”

He grinned and gestured to everything, a perfected swagger in his step as he told you, “I make it look easy, but honey, believe me. It’s hard.”

“Yes, I gathered that from the hangover and the crutch you’ve developed for alcohol in the morning.”

Ah, you had bit more bite than he expected. Looping an arm around your shoulder, he was surprised that you refused to tense under his touch. They did prepare you for the mess that was Tony Stark. Waving his hand, holograms of videos on youtube, news articles, and various photographs appeared to surround you two. You took it all in, more curious than confused now that you started piecing together what he was getting at. “It’s so incredibly hard, so inconceivably, unbelievably hard.”

He was whining, throwing a tantrum because he wanted his way. You both knew it, but he didn’t know the assistant he had. “It’s hard to be a Stark?” you asked, a hint of sympathy in your voice as you stepped out from under his touch. Your eyes studied everything. These weren’t just something randomly picked. He had these saved. He studied everything that was said about him and, judging by the negative articles, he believed more of the bad than the good.

“Honestly? I don’t know how I do it.” You looked at him, but he no longer studied you. Instead, he was staring at the images just above. His voice was soft as he admitted, “There’s only so much of me to go around.” Seeing him like this, open and vulnerable, you weren’t sure what to expect. Perhaps it was the booze that made him act like this? No, you’d seen the footage. Pepper was completely open about Tony’s faults and wanted you to be prepared. On booze, he was angry. He wasn’t vulnerable, but far from it. But as soon as you blinked, just once, just a brief moment, that vulnerability was gone. It was replaced by that Stark smile that graced all the tabloids and interviews. “I’ve got so many fans with so many demands.” He looked at you, smirking. “I can hardly go take a piss.”

“Can’t even pee? I can schedule a bathroom break if you’d like.”

Tony snorted. Alright, he knew he was going to like you. “Be it a hero-freak or another autograph seeker, they all want a piece of this.”

“It happens when one is in the spotlight as much as you are,” you told him honestly. Walking to the desk, you took a seat and looked over the schedule, deleting a couple of things here and there. He spun around, distracted and looking at everything. Tony was doing everything he could to look like he was okay, but just watching him showed you that he was fragile. Instead of a whole man, he’d had pieces of himself chipped away over the years and it seemed his kidnapping had taken out a huge piece. Now he was struggling to glue together what was left.

“It’s a cross that I bear,” he agreed. “I’m like Jesus, I swear!” You rolled your eyes and he pointed at you, reminding you that, “It’s a burden, but I suffer through it.”

“He is suffering,” came JARVIS’s voice, a somehow mocking tone preprogrammed into the AI.

It made you laugh, but the sound died on your lips when Tony sat on the edge of the desk, his leg bumping your knee. “It’s all part of the game, the trappings of fame, but somebody’s gotta do it.” You looked up from your schedule, tucking it into your chest as you eyed him cautiously. He seemed to be tipping on an edge of sorts. Wasn’t this the sort of thing someone discussed with a therapist? Not their newest assistant? “And I know,” he mumbled, shifting his gaze from the floor to you. He leaned forward, nodding to himself as if he were trying to convince his brain. “I know I gotta go and get back to the fans and fame.”

“Yeah, you do.”

He rubbed his temples, huffing as he pleaded, “Don’t make me do it. Don’t make me go through it.”

“Mr. Stark —“

“Oh, I need to get me a drink.” He rose, moving faster than you could have anticipated. Colliding with the chair, he sent you rolling a few feet as he grabbed the bottle he’d been nursing. Taking a few good swigs of the burning liquid, he exhaled slowly. “It’s hard.”

“You’ve said that a few times, Mr. Stark.”

“Well, it’s true!” His shout made you jump though he didn’t seem to notice. No, he was long gone in his drunken stupor. Part of you was starting to wonder if he was even sober when he first woke. Sitting on the floor, he stretched his legs out and rest his head against the desk. He looked spent. “I know being a Stark made me famous,” he whispered. “But being famous is just so not fun.” Waving his hand again, the images of Ironman vanished. Instead, it was replaced by trashy tabloids and photos of himself and news articles with various women, at random parties, creating an image that he’d forced himself to maintain. The hologram divided you two, creating a wall it felt you had to break through if you had any hope of surviving this job. Picking up the bottle, he pointed to one of the older photos before taking another swig. “What people just don’t understand is that fame is demanding. It’s mentally challenging and it’s a bore, jeez, it’s such a chore.”

“To sit in a room full of people?”

To prove yourself to a room full of people

He shifted his gaze, meeting your eyes. There was a fog over the welcoming brown of his irises. Tony was drunk. Truthfully, he admitted, “I hate it.” He exhaled, his shoulders slumping. Would he continue? You weren’t sure.

“You know, you’re trying to find some short line or an innovative idea and you’re pacing the floor and hoping for…Hell, maybe just a bit of divine intervention?”

“Is that what happened with the suit?” You were curious, your tech-savvy brain aching to understand how he created something so brilliant. You were a hacker, sure, but that was nothing like being an inventor.

Upon mentioning the suit, he offered the faintest of smiles. It seemed it might be one of the better topics for him to discuss. “That was the one little nugget. That one little spark. I was ready to die and then eureka, I found it and I was ready to start.”

Silence fell between you two and you allowed yourself to smile, to feel at ease. If he remembered this, it might help him adjust to working with you. There’d be a level of trust. If not, then you could work with the information you’ve learned and slowly gain some level of traction with him. Everything took time and patience and the man sitting across from you was no different.

Not even close.

“It’s hard,” you finally agreed, earning his concentration once more.

“Wouldn’t it be hard to do something as good as the last thing you did?”

“It was already great.”

Tony shook his head and you felt like you took two steps back. He didn’t see it that way. He didn’t see himself or any of his accomplishments that way. “It’s totally hard. I’ve got fortune and fame. Everyone knows my name.”

“Can’t help it.”

“But it’s still freakin�� hard.”

You watched him carefully. He was so fragile at the moment, unlike you’d ever seen. You never would have thought of an Avenger as frail. That was your mistake. That was everyone’s mistake. The world had come to put these guys on pedestals with no concern for the fact that they were still human and broken. They all had scars and emotions to process so that they could form some semblance of a less than shattered individual. It hurt having to see it first hand, but you knew that if you hadn’t, you’d never believe it.

“You’ve taught me a lot, Mr. Stark,” you whispered, looking down at the tablet and clearing the schedule. There was always tomorrow, but today… You looked back at him. Today wasn’t the day. “I’ve cleared your schedule and will leave you to the rest of your day.” The surprise on his face made you smile. You had been a couple of steps ahead of the genius. “On two conditions.”

“Name them.”

“One, no more alcohol. Spend the day tinkering on something.” You shrugged as you stood up, waving one hand through the air to clear away the mess of history between you two. “Maybe create something new or go for a drive — something you want to do. And two, get some sleep tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow morning and we’ll try again.”

His eyes studied you as if trying to find the sneaky detail you were hiding from him. All his friends did that. Instead of being upfront, they hid a detail that would later be used to help him in some sort of way. That wasn’t the case with you. No, you were nothing but honest. No secrets. No ploys. “No alcohol and get some sleep.” Tony chuckled, holding up the bottle to you before dropping it in the bin to his right. “You got a deal.”

Progress. That was what you felt when you saw him willingly take you up on your offer. There was hope for a structured, professional relationship. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Stark.”

Turning on your heel, you made your way to the door to give the man some peace and quiet.

“Tony.”

You paused, looking at him over your shoulder. “Sir?”

“Call me Tony.”

All you could do was nod before you left, closing the door behind you. Looking down at the schedule, you clicked on the title and slowly backspaced on the name “Mr. Stark”, replacing it with “Tony”. Well, surely it’d be a mostly professional relationship.

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gaming-rabbot · 8 years ago

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Rabbot Reviews: Night in the Woods

Painfully relatable, wonderfully colorful, delightfully charming, and exasperatingly existential.

Imagine a much tamer BoJack Horseman, with a colorful flourish and sense of nostalgia reminiscent of Hotline Miami, mixed with the millennial Scooby-Doo gang vibe of Oxenfree. Also imagine if Life is Strange felt less artificial with its blatant farce of an attempt at understanding hip kid lingo, and that Firewatch actually bothered going somewhere with its thriller esque setup and plot hooks.

That’s a jumbled mess of words, but also a perfect descriptor for the subject of this review: Night in the Woods.

Night in the Woods stars the unassuming Mae Borrowski, a 20 year old college dropout who has returned to her podunk, middle-of-nowhere, boring town, where nothing good ever happened to anybody, least of all Mae.

Upon return, she’s met with passive-aggression spiced concern from parents who honestly just want to know what their only child is going through, and friends who all either already have or are in the process of growing up and moving on in life. Thus, her return meant to ease her back into the comforts of nostalgia and something resembling normalcy only seem to cause her more anxiety and strife.

Also the crushingly slow and depressing realization that life has no meaning and nothing we do in the universe actually matters. But hey, one thing at a time, right guys?

Last call for a (mild) spoiler warning.

The very first thing to note is that Night in the Woods is a certain type of game. And if you grit your teeth and practically feel your blood boil at the very thought of this type of game, first I might suggest seeing a doctor, but second and more importantly, NitW more than likely will not change your mind about this type of game.

I am referring, of course, to the ever-fun and totally-never-controversial-topic, the walking simulator. Where things like failure states scarcely show their faces, and gameplay mostly takes a backseat to narrative.

And by backseat, this sometimes means a bus. A very long bus.

I’ve talked about it before, but nobody reads my reviews, so I’ll say it again: I personally have absolutely no qualm nor quibble with the existence of this new and befuddling genre of video game. At least, not at face value. When the only thing a game is properly offering is a narrative, then I won’t hold that against the game, so long as said narrative can deliver. Not like Firewatch or Life is Strange, where the lack of an actual game further hampers the lack of a good or wholly competent story.

Besides, variety is the spice of life, my friend, despite what certain YouTube personalities will tell you. And a diverse offering of games means a diverse offering of self-proclaimed “gamers,” which goes on to mean the industry can only grow and get better as a whole with market expansion. You know, the only good part of capitalism; more media getting produced to the point where that incredibly niche thing you always wanted to see get made, well, finally getting made.

You know the one.

More to the point, I ask that narrative heavy games deliver. And deliver Night in the Woods did, with a fairly agreeable amount of competence.

It is at this point in the review, where the review has yet to actually begin, that I’d like to announce that I had been looking forward to this game for three years, ever since I first laid eyes on the Kickstarter trailer.

(Which, by the way, this game was funded via Kickstarter, so take that extra tidbit for what you will. I know it’s a touchy subject after things like Mighty No. 9.)

After which point, however, the game experienced something like three or four release delays, which speaks to me of a dev team possibly severely underestimating how long it takes to actually make a game. Or overestimating their own capabilities? Who knows.

Part of me worries that I can’t be objective, though. The game seemed to have won my heart long before I’d ever get to see a finished product. Could I have been blinded by my bias?

No. The answer is no.

Almost entirely for those aforementioned, nigh-constant release delays. Couple that with Infinite Falls putting out not one, but two mini games set in universe, instead of, oh I don’t know, the game people paid them to make? In an ounce of fairness, I’ve come to retroactively appreciate said mini games, as they do add to the lore.

And I’m a sucker for lore.

Perhaps I’m being petty, and somehow retroactively less petty, but my bias and unconditional love and goodwill slowly faded in direct relation to every year after the originally announced release date I had to wait. And as I sat down to start, and even as I completed the game, I asked myself: was it worth the wait?

Mm. Yeah, pretty much.

Okay, I should probably slow down. Maybe give some kind of buildup before spilling the final thoughts all out like that.

One of the first things you notice about Evening in the Forest, aside from how humorously long it takes to actually see all the characters in the woods at night time, is the screen constantly saturated with lots of orange, red, and brown. The fall colors are heavily emphasized, not merely because that’s the season the story takes place in, but the colors are exaggeratedly warm, so to match the cozy comforts the protagonist, Mae (remember Mae?), is seeking to feel deep down in her guts again.

But rather than that being the case, Mae’s hometown immediately feels cold and unfamiliar, which the game emphasizes by instead starting you off on the outskirts in the dead of night mostly by yourself. And the game world is introduced with lots of dark colors, mainly blues.

It’s easy to tell that color-play was set to be a key design aesthetic early in development.

This is matched and mirrored as even the primary cast are color coded in much the same way. Mae’s parents who forgot about her first night back are both dark, ash gray; cold. Gregg gives Mae the most excited welcome back of the crew, and he’s a ruddy orange; warm. Bea is distant at first, making undercutting jabs at Mae’s character, and she’s a muted teal; cold. Finally, Angus is friendly enough, if a tad mellow, and he’s the brown bear (who’s also a bear, ha (bam, super funny, original joke)); yeah, pretty warm.

The next to overkill levels of clear-cut color-play give the game a sort of story book vibe, which is further highlighted by the simple shapes that make up the models and the cartoonish proportions all the characters have; e.g., eyes make up a third of the real estate on any given face, which can sometimes be as tall or wide as the body it’s sitting on.

The bright, saturated, vivid colors of any given background, the color coding of warm and cold characters, the toony looks; it all drives home to evoke that very same feeling of familiarity and nostalgia Mae is seeking at the start of the game. As though to remind the player of simpler, more innocent times. It’s waking up on a Saturday morning at a young age to watch cartoons, that sort of thing. It’s the charming bait that demands your attention first. And the player, much like Mae, finds the hook a lot less charming with the panged stings of being proverbially stabbed by a cold and indifferent reality.

Reality tends to set in on this game like a sack of bricks. I found myself saying “that got a little too real there for a sec” so often, I figure it may as well be on the box.

(Well. You know. If the game had a box.)

It’s around this point, after the main cast is thoroughly introduced, that the game starts to really pick up. The pacing is solid enough; I never felt complacent, like I was waiting for the next bit of plot to happen. It’s slow exactly when and where it needs to feel slow. And for the rest of the time, the game is throwing sudden Guitar Hero segments at you.

When chatting with a friend about this, he admitted he found Mae’s movement speed plodding and felt it dragged the pacing down too much. It’s not something that bothered me, but I can see where there’s a case for it.

Here’s where the more “gamey,” for lack of a better term, side of the game comes in. At various intervals, the game will introduce a brand new mini game with its own self-contained set of mechanics. There’s a lot of variety here, and for the most part, they never outstay their welcome.

The only properly recurring one is the bass-playing segment. And though it’s possible to fail these (very possible in the case of the Pumpkin Head Guy song), the game will carry on regardless. In a way, Night in the Woods does actually have failure states, but the player doesn’t lose any progress when it happens.

Then the gang finds a severed arm!

Around that part, though, the game introduces a game within the game, in the form of a game on Mae’s laptop by the name of Demontower. And what a pleasant surprise, it’s a decent all around top down slash and dash, action affair. The amount of effort that went into it is shocking, considering it could’ve easily just been a cute little one-off gag. But no, it’s a completely legitimate game, with a full tale, its own set of mechanics, and several decently challenging boss fights punctuating each randomized level.

It’s the kind of thing I’d pay maybe ten bucks for (usd), but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the value of my purchase with NitW go up a bit, considering there’s basically two games for the price of one here. Plus it might just placate one who finds dialogue heavy games dull. Who knows, but it’s a stellar addition either way.

I also adore that the developers wasted no opportunity to try and enhance their story, as they even worked symbolism relevant to the story at hand into the miniature side game on Mae’s laptop. The very first boss of any Demontower run looks remarkably like a certain muted teal gothic gator girl.

But, and here’s the kicker: this boss doesn’t do anything, and dies in one hit.

Surely it’s a reference to Bea’s semi-combative nature toward Mae at the start, and how easily that folds away when she remembers their shared history. It’s a really unnecessary metaphor they didn’t have to include, but it stuck with me that they even did. Although, in the interest of fairness, I feel I must admit it’s not exactly subtle.

In fact, it’s about as subtle as that severed arm I mentioned earlier, then stopped talking about.

I did this to draw comparison the somewhat noticeable lull between traumatic and supernatural events. Because while I said the story beats in of themselves never felt too far apart, I have to admit, again in fairness, that it seems to take a good while for the payoff of things like this. I will say though, payoff does come in due time, and NitW more or less sticks the landing well enough.

Take the backstory of Mae beating a kid’s face in with a metal bat during her little league game, for example.

To be perfectly frank, I figured the game would never have any kind of payoff for this at all. This or the actual reason why Mae came home from college. The cynic in me is alive and well, and I fully believed the writers would take the easy route and leave it all up to the imagination. But no, they actually explain it all, and explain it fairly well.

Mae has a mental thing where she rarely loses touch with reality, seeing only basic shapes where actual things and people are supposed to be. And a statue at college made up of basic shapes caused a mental relapse in her psyche, sending her spiraling into extremely self-destructive habits she couldn’t break herself out of. I’m certain there’s a proper term for this, but I’m not well read enough to know what it might be.

Effort like that put into creating a solid trunk for the rest of the story to branch off of is grand. And a relief, after dealing with games like Firewatch, where the backstory is so inconsequential, it’s picked out of a seemingly random assortment of vague synopses so as to snugly slot in any old referential dialogue between the bread of real plot.

In that regard, Dusk in the Trees fits nicely on the same shelf of Oxenfree.

Now that I think of it, both games are on that same shelf for a lot of similarities; the gaggle of young adults having complex relationships filled with strife and friction, the overt metaphor of them struggling to deal with supernatural elements where said supernature stands in for the responsible adulthood they’re on the precipice of, branching dialogue options used to explore character relations, the heavy and pervasive sense of nostalgia on the air like so many flitting dust particles in an old abandoned barn at sunset, etc.

Not that I mind having a couple eerily similar games, though. They’re a couple of the only games I’ve ever been able to relate to on such a deeply emotional and personal level. And I feel like that’s kind of the big foundation at the bottom of it all; relatability and realness to keep you grounded amidst all the severed arms, and ghost stories, and murder cults.

Whenever I watched Mae talk to her mom, I felt twinges of chills. Because I could almost swear I’d had those exact conversations with my own mother. We snark at each other in much of the same sarcastic way Mae and her mom do. I’ve even felt similar pressure Mae has about her education and how she’s going to handle the entire rest of her life.

It… hurts. It actually sort of hurts just how relatable this all is.

When walking down the main drag through Possum Springs (the ingame town), deja vu washed over me time and again. The urban decay of old businesses that never seem to last, the new franchised ones that seemingly cropped up from nowhere, the random animal people walking by who remarkably resemble random human people I’ve walked by in my own small, nothing special hometown; it all felt entirely too familiar.

It’s truly astounding how a game where the main character dreams about meeting god, and it’s not absolutely clear whether it actually happened, somehow managed to feel this real to life.

I’ve often commented on how relatability is not the end-all, be-all of good storytelling, let alone good character building. Though it does help, it’s better when the characters are this fun, charming, and sincere. And I feel like the writers really nailed that aspect, instead of relying on all the chest clutching of players like me who felt they’ve been there before.

Whatever smaller qualms I have with the story at large, I can’t deny how hard Infinite Falls got me to fall madly in love with this cast.

This game found me at I feel the perfect time in my life. It’s the angsty teen to young adult adventure I always wanted to see in a video game. This is my “that incredibly niche thing you always wanted to see get made, finally getting made.” And if you’re anything like me, then the story will resonate with you too.

Honestly, I can’t recommend this game enough. It’s not as perfect as I make it sound; there are a few grammar mistakes and a couple graphical issues. But if you can look past that, and gameplay ultimately not being the point, you’ll find a pretty solid, genuine-feeling story.

#rabbot reviews #video games #review #Night in the Woods #mild spoilers #long post

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theuniversalrecord · 5 years ago

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ADVANCE: Nebula Labs (part 1)

Author: L. A. Lanquist

Content Warnings: References to ableist language, imposter syndrome

Advance: Nebula Labs (part 1)

Nebula Labs: “The place where the future becomes realized.” It’s a bit of an over-the-top motto, but people don’t really think about that because, well, Nebula Labs is an over-the-top experience. When people go to the talks and the demonstrations and the expositions that show off the fancy new gadgets Quinn “Q” Foster and their people came up with, they see flashy new ideas with research to back it up. They see charismatic speakers telling everyone how this new invention will change the world. And everyone believes it once they hear Q talk--when they think about how far Human technology has come since back on Earth. They think about the Brain-drive readers and the autoflyers and all of the other things Q themself came up with. And everyone believes that we can “leap into the future” as Q always says.

I believe that too--I guess if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here, at the Bayside District branch of Nebula Labs, ready for my first day. But I’m not one of those impressive people who give talks and make ground-breaking developments in science and tech. I just got lucky.

Just under a month ago, Nebula Labs hosted the Youth Advancement Competition and Fair, and I was one of the 100 winners. As a winner, I get to be a part of one of the Advance teams of Nebula Labs and learn alongside some other people my age from actual staff members of the Labs. So technically, I’m officially a part of the famous Nebula Labs. But I’m not a formally educated professional or a young visionary or an ambitious upstart. I’m just Leo. I just wanted to make an automated drone carrier to help my Mom when her chronic pain gets too bad. I honestly don’t know why they chose me as one of the winners. I was just hoping for a little grant money so I could build one that actually worked instead of a prototype.

Don’t get me wrong, though! I’m super excited! I get to actually work at a place as awesome as Nebula Labs! I’ll get to learn a lot, and I can maybe get a good reference to do some other interesting things in the future. Maybe I can also make some more friends while I’m at it.

But right now, as I’m standing outside the Bayside District branch of Nebula Labs, staring at the motto engraved on a stone plaque just ahead of the big glass doors, I can’t help but feel nervous. I mean--I saw some of the projects people were working on at the Competition. There were people working with enzymes and with quantum physics and with brain drive adaptation devices. Mine by comparison is nothing major--we’ve had drones and automation since the Earth days. I’m not exactly doing anything new.

Someone with bright purple hair tears past me towards the entrance doors. For a fraction of a second I almost think it’s Q in the flesh what with the bright hair color, but this is definitely not them. This person has a thinner build, white skin, and their hair is straight. They’re so different it’s hard for me to understand why I mixed them up.

Once I figure out they’re not Q, the dread hits me: I know who they are. I never got their name, but they were one of the most talked-about participants at the Competition. They’re doing something with Wormhole Mapping that’s really promising. There were even a few local papers that ran stories about them. They’re also someone I accidentally bumped into (literally) during the Competition. I was reading a text from one of my hometown friends wishing me luck and wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around me and then--wham. Neither of us fell down or anything, but it was definitely a heavy jostle. I apologized, but they were pissed. I only managed to get out of it because they were too busy to stick around to chew me out, but from their tongue click, glare, and angry shout of “Watch where you’re fucking going, asshole!” I can tell they probably wanted to shout some more.

Of all of the branches they would go to--why did it have to be this one? Thankfully they didn’t recognize me from behind, but there’s no way I’ll be able to avoid them forever.

“You going in, kid?”

I jump, just a little bit. It’s an adult, with long brown hair that falls off to the left, exposing a shaved side of their head and a heavily pierced ear. Their style clashes with the bored look their face has--big eyes and a slightly open mouth.

“Yeah--” I manage to squeak out--“just taking it all in.” Wow, Leo. Taking it all in? Well, not the worst thing I’ve said under pressure.

They take a long look at me, then glance down at their watch. It’s one of those vintage silicone watches with the grey tinted screen and the weird, segmented lettering. “Well, suit yourself, kid. Don’t be late.” And they proceed to walk inside.

It can’t be that late, though. I got here at 8:30. I check my phone.

8:45.

Oh jeez--I am gonna be late. I still need to check in and find room 420!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I make it to the room at 8:54 only because I ran (I really did think the room was going to be farther away), and I walk in at 8:55 after waiting for my face to stop feeling so hot.

The room is small, four rolling chairs: three facing forward to the screen and the white boards, and one facing the other chairs off to the side next to the screen. Two of the three forward-facing chairs are filled. Seated in the middle of the three chairs is a girl who also looks like she’s about fourteen, tall with blonde braided hair, staring straight at her phone. Next to her on the chair farthest from the door is--by my own lack of luck--the angry purple-haired person from before, facing away from the girl. I guess I could look at the situation optimistically and think about how it’s lucky that the angry person’s not next to the empty seat, but that’s a bit of a stretch.

But hey! That girl might be nice. I went into this hoping that I could maybe find a friend, so let’s try our best!

So I sit down and ask the girl, “Why are you here?”

Fuck. She slowly looks up from her phone looking like… well… like I was a weirdo, which isn’t far off from the truth at this point.

“Wait--no--I meant--uhh like what was your project on?” Fuck. There’s no salvaging this.

She says simply, “Extreme distance laser perception.”

Long distance laser perception. I don’t have the slightest clue how you would study that. Or what the use of that could be.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your name?”

“Emily. She/her.”

“Cool. I’m Leo. He/him.”

“Nice to meet you.”

I really don’t know what else to say. Do I ask about her research? But what if the question I ask is so stupid that--

“What did you do?” she asks.

“Automated flying drones based off of Cephalo ships.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit different from what you did,” I say.

“Yeah.”

I get the feeling that she’s just not a very talkative person, maybe?

“That’s all you two could come up with?” the angry person sneers from the side.

Emily and I both turn to look--her, still composed; me, uncomfortable. Neither of us says anything.

“There was a whole year of time before the competition and all you could come up with were some long range lights and a drone that flies itself? I mean, the first one could be useful for reading the distance of a planet, but we’ve had drones for fifty years. What a joke. How did you even get selected? No one cares about drones that can pilot themselves these days!”

“Shut up!” I force out.

Look--it’s true that I don’t really deserve to be here, especially compared to someone who’s doing something so important as Wormhole Mapping, but that last part makes me mad. I’ve seen so many people say things like that to my dad--about how he should just go to the store himself and how he does it on some days but not others so why make his kid go to the store instead of focusing on being a kid. They don’t know anything, and they’ve never cared enough to learn.

“What did you just say?” They cock their head to the side and their purple hair sweeps ever so slightly over their face. Their chin is forward in a challenge.

“Just because you don’t know anything about it doesn’t mean people don’t care about it, so shut up.” I’m glaring past Emily, now, who’s slowly rolling backward in her chair away from the two of us.

“Oh I remember you now--you’re the fucker that bumped into me!” They stand. “Is that how you got in? You try to take someone else out of the game with stunts like that?”

I stand up, too. No way am I going to just take this without a fight. But as I’m thinking of what to say back, the door opens.

In walks the person who spoke to me out front with the piercings and the old-school watch, but their bored expression is now gone. In its place is a tight smile with their big eyes now squinting with a sharp stare.

“Glad to see you’re all getting along, because fighting isn’t allowed, and I’d hate for you to lose this opportunity to work at Nebula Labs.”

No one moves.

“Please take your seats,” they say. “We have a video for you to watch, and then we’ll make our introductions.” The two of us sit, Emily scoots her way back forward, and the video starts. It’s a brief, one-size-fits-all video of Q that talks about Nebula Labs and its mission. Q’s narration voices over images of the main branch in The Capital and of this one in the Bayside District, as well as a few photos of smiling staff members. It ends, dramatically, with the same motto that was on the placard outside: The place where the future becomes realized. The screen transitions to white and the music fades out.

“Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way--” the pierced person from before starts--“My name is Robin Graham. They/them or she/her. I study delayed imaging, which I believe is going to be most familiar to you,” they say to Emily. “For you two, delayed imaging relies on multiple cameras, so to speak, placed at various extreme distances imaging the same place to get photographs of that place at different times. That’s the bare minimum, but you’ll be learning plenty about it over the next year or so.”

I almost expect the purple-haired angry person from before to roll their eyes or make some comment about how they already knew what delayed imaging is, but when I glance over, they’re staring at Mx. Graham in something akin to awe. It’s a weird shift, if I’m being honest.

“So long as you all follow the rules,” Mx. Graham continues with a pointed stare to both me and the purple-haired person, “you’ll be guaranteed to be able to learn from experts for the next year before the Winter Tech Summit in The Capital. You’ll also be allowed to participate in the Winter Tech Summit in some capacity, though what you do will be determined by an in-house competition in the Fall.

“At that competition, each submission will be judged by Q, themself, as well as a panel of experts within Nebula Labs each with their own specialty. Those that do well will end up presenting. Those that do poorly will end up doing support work to ensure things go smoothly and can try again in a future year.”

This sounds amazing! I know I don’t have a chance of doing something like presenting at the conference, but I might be able to meet some people who’d be interested in making production actually possible.

Mx. Graham continues, “As you all know, there were a total of 100 chosen winners of the Youth Advancement Competition. It’s likely, however, that some of them have already chosen not to continue on and that some will drop out as time goes on for various reasons. In that regard, I can’t prepare you just yet for who will be on the teams going up against you three--”

“What?” The purple-haired person says.

“Is there a problem, Kiran?” Mx. Graham asks, acting innocently.

All the purple-haired person--no--all that Kiran says is: “Teams?”

“Oh yes, you three will be working on a team together.”

“What?” Kiran is looking more and more irate as the seconds pass.

“If that’s a problem for you, you can always leave,” Mx. Graham says with a smile. “Each of the teams were compiled by Q, themself, so it’s a take-it-or-leave-it kind of situation. It would be a shame to have you go, but if teamwork isn’t something you can do, Nebula labs isn’t right for you.”

Kiran stays with their shoulders tense and their teeth gritted, but does not say another word.

“Good. Glad to see you’ll all be continuing on. I look forward to working with you all as your team leader.”

And that was that. Maybe I should leave after all.

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