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split-n-splice · 4 years ago

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Did I ever mention my undying question, Why do they always call Kim Possible by her full name? It's almost as if there was a "Kim" before... That's my excuse anyway. Read and enjoy!

[Chapter Guide | FFn | Ao3]

38. Whose Side – 1

Shego sat on one end of the couch, nearest the exit and braced to cut off Priscilla, who now slouched at the far end. Meanwhile Drakken wore a deep scowl of displeasure as he paced anxiously with his hands behind his back, as he had been for several minutes now.

“You’re positive she is not a spy?” he snapped for the umpteenth time, shooting a quick glare back at Shego. She wasn’t particularly fond of the trace of distrust in his gaze.

She rolled her eyes. “If she was, backup would be here by now.” There wasn’t much she could do to convince him when she could barely convince herself.

“You’ll vouch for her?” asked Drakken, sounding almost incredulous.

She really didn’t want to. “Yeah,” she muttered. It was all she could do to reassure him.

The blue man was back to pacing, practically stomping. He grumbled something about a memory modifier that was still only theoretical, but she was sure he whipped out his notebook to jot something down because he only now thought of it on the spot.

When he snapped the notebook shut and tucked it away in his coat pocket, his scowl settled on the bored intruder with her foot bouncing and a cheek rested on her fist. His face flushed and he looked away from the prankster who’d given him quite the scare the past two days, and he frowned instead to Shego. “You’re positive—?”

Shego stood and took a long step over the coffee table to grab him by the sleeve and tow him toward the door. “Let’s just get her out of here already, alright?”

He mulishly planted his feet, but inevitably stumbled after her. “Shego,” he hissed, prying her fingers away. “I know she’s your friend and all, but—”

“She is not my friend,” she tersely corrected.

Drakken stopped dead in his tracks again, studying both Shego and the intruder. After a pause he harrumphed and lowered his voice. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I…?” He gestured to his throat in no subtle manner.

She cringed but shook a finger in his face. Ghost or no ghost, she had to wonder again if someone had been killed in the lair. Murder was a wicked deed and he claimed to be evil after all, but that was a concern to confront him about some other time. “Yes, I do mind, actually. If she goes missing, someone might actually come looking for her,” she reminded in a whisper.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Drakken grumbled darkly.

Attempting again to tug him toward the door, she sunk her nails into the back of his hand until he whimpered just slightly. “If she is with them, then they will bust us,” she warned, and tried to be optimistic. “Even if she is, I don’t think she has any evidence yet or they would’ve stormed the place. I don’t think she even knows where we are.” Priscilla had already filled them in, admitting to stowing away in the van yesterday and being stuck in the lair ever since – supposedly. Not that she could be trusted. The idea of being spied on for two days was an unsettling one, though not one Shego was unfamiliar with. It still gave her the heebie-jeebies.

Drakken took a couple clumsy steps after her, frowning back unhappily at the intruder. It was a relief – briefly – when he yielded to Shego’s persistence and stepped forward on his own accord, leaning close as he passed by to hiss through his teeth, “If she blows it for me…”

Shego scoffed after him. “Are you threatening me?” she shot. It wasn’t a threat. Was it?

The startled look in his eye reassured her it wasn’t. He curled his lip and shook his head. “I’ll explain Plan B later. When we’re alone,” he said above a whisper, and added even louder as he headed for the door, “Come, Shego. And… guest.”

She was almost frozen in place at the bitterness in his tone, but Priscilla jabbing a finger into her back then made her jerk away and start moving again. “So, what are you?” wondered Prissy, following her uncomfortably close and lowering her voice. “His chick or his sidekick?”

Shego’s face heated and her hands crackled. She clenched her fists and forced back the urge to take another swing at the girl, though the temptation to outright blast the smirk off her face instead took more effort to resist than she was proud of. “Accomplice,” she ground out dryly.

“So you’re the sidekick,” said Prissy with an understanding nod. When Shego’s scowl deepened, she guessed again. “Henchlady?”

It felt like an insult. She wasn’t on the level of the average henchman, though technically she was still obligated to take orders and follow like one. “If you don’t zip it, you’re going to need that nose job you always wanted,” she warned.

Priscilla didn’t stay quiet long enough. As they stepped out into the garage, she opened her big mouth again. “Oh, so that’s where that went!” she piped up. The finger pointing practically over Shego’s shoulder made it hard to mistake the object in question. “Did those clowns give it to you as a parting gift? Sheesh, Shi, I thought you knew how to fly. Looks like you crashed it.”

There was no denying the stolen Go Jet was looking more like scrap metal every day. “It’s undergoing some remodeling,” she bluffed, knowing full well the intruder could see through it.

“Think you could take me for a joyride sometime?”

Shego was inclined to deny her on the spot, but instead her eyes narrowed on the back of Drakken’s head. “Yeah, maybe,” she said bitterly, loud enough for him to hear. “When it’s finished.” The rogue doctor’s confident stride was hitched with a wince.

As Drakken gestured to the van for them to climb in, he flashed a phony crooked smile at Shego. “It’ll be done before you know it,” he promised with a wink.

“You can keep talking, but I wanna see results,” Shego hissed back in passing.

He sidestepped around her, patting her shoulder and adding confidently, “We’ll get there.”

From shotgun, Shego kept watch on the intruder settling in for the ride behind Drakken’s seat. Priscilla didn’t have to be told to keep her head down as they left the lair to prevent her from knowing its exact whereabouts, but Drakken reminded Shego several times to keep a sharp eye on the sneaky girl. It wasn’t until they were in town did Priscilla move from her spot to lean between the seats and survey the surroundings, against Shego’s order no less.

“Hey, Mr. Dragon. You guys got a Bueno Nacho around here?”

Drakken’s already-creased brow furrowed deeper. “It’s Doctor. Drakken,” he enunciated crossly. “And no, there isn’t. Sit down.”

The intruder dropped back down and folded her legs. Ignoring Dr. Drakken within earshot, she leaned over toward Shego and wondered, “Does this guy always have a stick up his ass?”

A small laugh escaped. She wasn’t sure if she was nervous or actually found it funny, but one glance to Drakken’s frown, and Shego silenced the chuckle. “Yeah. You get used to it.”

“I do not,” objected Drakken in a grumpy little grumble. He sank down a tiny bit, his scowl at risk of turning into a pout.

Priscilla blew a raspberry and leaned an elbow on Shego’s knee. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

Drakken hit the brakes hard enough for Priscilla to fall over. “Alright, she can get out now.”

“But we’re in the middle of traffic,” Shego blurted, taken aback by the spur-of-the-moment decision.

A horn beeped impatiently behind them. Drakken rubbed his temple. “I am aware.”

“Alright, I get it,” said Priscilla in exasperation, throwing her hands up and rising to her feet. “You two wanna be alone. I’m out. See ya, Shi.”

Shego couldn’t duck away fast enough before sticky lips pressed to her cheek with a wet smack, and she wiped the cherry lip gloss away as Priscilla hopped out the side door before she could utter a word of disgust. She settled for flipping her the bird as they drove away, but the girl only beamed and raised both middle fingers right back as if it were merely a show of affection between them.

“Who is she? What is she?” pressed Drakken, his hands tightening around the wheel as they started off again. “I don’t like this, Shego. Your friends—”

“Ex-friends.”

“Ex-friends are too…suspicious.”

Shego sighed miserably and crossed her arms. “Hey, this is new to me too.” Sort of. Mickey had always had a knack for calming her down, particularly in recent years, and Prissy had always been good at giving people the slip. A grunt from Drakken prompted her to give a brief explanation, “They’re just old neighbors. We drifted apart. I really don’t think they’re working for anyone—”

“Yes, the best spies give that impression.”

She couldn’t help snorting on a laugh. Had he forgotten she’d worked alongside a spy organization? Of course she knew that. “Trust me, if they were on my brothers’ side, they’d be on us like flies on shit. We wouldn’t have known what hit us.” Her effort to reassure him must have had little effect, because he was still tense and frowning. “Relax, Doc. You took me in and you knew I actually was a hero.”

“Exactly!” he practically shouted, almost throwing his hands up from the wheel. “And I had reason to believe you’d given it up and I had something to gain. Who couldn’t use a superhuman on their side? But this woman I know nothing about!”

She was an asset at his disposal – that was nothing new – but somehow being reminded still stung like Priscilla’s henchlady comment. “You’ll just have to take my word for it,” she said carefully. “You trust me, right?”

Drakken opened his mouth as if to fire off some retort but closed it again. He was practically huffing and puffing for a minute before calming down flicking a glance in her direction. “I do trust you,” he said somberly. “But I’ve been tricked before.”

“I’m not gonna—”

“I’m not worried about you tricking me,” he clarified. He was frowning back out the windshield again. “Right. Plan B. If things go south, I vacate the lair and go north. Ship everything to Alaska and start over there.” The notion clearly didn’t thrill him.

She almost opened her mouth, almost informed the man that her younger brother already knew he had a backup hideout in the northernmost state. She kept her silence instead, unsure if it was any better than risking another act of treason from the friend who’d disowned her years ago. Priscilla had been looking out for herself back then, so choosing to work for big brother to rat her out now was simply too hard to believe.

Hopeful to divert the conversation and forget about the possibility of resorting to a Plan B, she managed a wry smile. “I thought you were joking about the Alaskan lair thing?” she said in jest.

“No,” he grunted. “It’s not much of a lair, but it’s somewhere to go in case I need to skip down.”

“What about me?” she ventured.

Drakken’s glance was almost nervous. “What about you?” His second glance lingered, and he bit his lip. A faint purple hue spread across his face. “You’ll have to stay. Keep up the charades with your brothers.”

“If you have to skip town because they bust us, there will be no charades to keep up,” she noted.

“Then we’ll – I’ll – arrangements will have to be made,” he sputtered. “We’ll worry about it if the time comes.”

“It’s some crappy little cabin, isn’t it?” she teased. She knew by his deepening blush that she couldn’t be far off the mark. It wouldn’t surprise her if the Alaskan hideout was on the cheapest parcel of land he could get.

Drakken grunted irritably. “Enough,” he carped. “I have a job for you.”

Interest piqued, she arched an eyebrow his way. “I’m listening.”

++X++

Drakken cut the wheel, turning a corner and pulling haphazardly to the curb. “Follow her,” he ground out. “Make sure she’s not running off to rat us out.” If the strange interloper was a rat, the contingency plan would have to be set in motion immediately, as much as he hated to consider it. It took all his resolve not to panic – but he took a deep breath and reminded himself that he’d survived his accomplice’s superhero family coming to town just last week. Still, it was too soon to be dealing with suspicious superhumans again.

Apprehension played across Shego’s face for a fleeting moment as she tugged at her specialized gloves. Drakken had the sneaking suspicion she was hesitant to step out in public in her trademark uniform, but before he could ask if she had a problem following his order, she was popping open her door. The look in her eyes had hardened in an instant, and just like that, she looked more like the mercenary he’d hoped he’d hired and not just some girl in a costume who hung around to give him headache after headache. He hoped those headaches – and this one too – wouldn’t be for nothing.

“I’ll phone you if there’s anything fishy,” she assured before climbing out.

Drakken didn’t have a chance to wish her luck. She turned on her heel and in the blink of an eye she bolted toward the nearest building and took a running leap at the wall like a panther – half jumping, half climbing up it – and vanished onto the roof. Drakken leaned as far over as his seatbelt allowed, eyes wide as he gawped out the passenger window in time to catch a glimpse of the shadowy green figure leap from one rooftop to another, backtracking to locate her target.

He sat back and scratched at his scalp, muttering to himself that he could have driven her back to the dropoff location. “Showoff,” he grunted, and turned back for the lair to let his accomplice track down the suspect as discreetly as possible.

The temptation to try to keep up with her definitely had him itching to turn the van around, but he had more important business to attend to than trying to compete with her and consequently getting in the way. It just wasn’t in his best interest.

Back at the lair, he practically paced a rut in the earthen floor, wringing his hands to rub away the itch he had to jump the gun and pack up the place. He tried deep breaths to calm himself – he even tried tea for his nerves – but the fear still lingered. Someone had snuck in, someone with the gift of invisibility. There was truly no telling how long the woman had been creeping around his lair, how much intel she’d gathered, who she could be running back to. Though the ghostly occurrences and appearance of Shego’s old friends aligned, he was hesitant to trust the strange young lady from Go City with connections to superheroes. How could Shego be so sure the girl wasn’t a threat? She couldn’t possibly be that naive. He wished it was just a ghost haunting his lair.

Delving into the coding of the Bebes’ hivemind did little to take his thoughts off the potential of being busted. Busted for what though? For having destructive ideas he hadn’t yet acted on? For having devices capable of vaporizing a man? As long as the spy hadn’t made it beyond the henchmens’ level, he was in the clear – unless the woman recognized any of the odds and ends that had been stolen here and there. Shego was an adult, and a few nights ago she’d happily shared her recent experience reminding her family so and standing up to them. If she wanted to be with him – work for him – whatever – that was her choice. He hadn’t kidnapped her, and he wasn’t the one who’d stolen the jet from Team Go’s bay base. He’d made a few shady deals and his ethics were questionable at best, but he hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing that could be proven, anyway.

He still wasn’t any good at convincing himself he could get off scot-free. In fact, he was worse at it than he was at revising and improving the scrawling expanse of coding that stung his eyes just looking at.

By the time he was finally absorbed in the task he’d given himself, the distant trill of a telephone fell on deaf ears until he at last recognized the sound cutting into his concentration.

He nearly fell out of the chair in his rush to sprint across the tech lab and into his quarters, gasping for air as he yanked the phone off the hook.

He was met with an apathetic, “I’m bored.”

Drawing one more gulp of air into his lungs, Drakken slumped over the counter and let it out in a huge huff. “Report?”

“Well, I’m freezing my ass off,” Shego informed with a lilt. “It drizzled for a bit. I followed them around town all day, but all they did was touristy bullcrap. As if this town is even worth touring.” Her frustrated groan right in his ear shouldn’t have sent a shiver down his spine. “Mostly they windowshopped all afternoon. Now I’m in a tree across the street from their motel room watching her do some gentle stretching over here near the Westinger. I can hear the karaoke from here.”

His brow furrowed. “Karaoke? What time is it?” he muttered.

“I’unno. Why don’t you tell me?”

A glance to the clock and he bit his cheek. It had been barely noon when he’d sent Shego off to keep an eye on the suspicious woman. It was nearly nine o’clock now. “Stay put. I’ll come get you.” He tried to sound more commanding than guilty, but he wasn’t sure he’d pulled it off.

“Sure thing, Doc,” droned Shego in lieu of a goodbye before hanging up.

He grabbed his coat off the back of the couch and within minutes was coasting into town in a van sputtering and threatening to die on him. Beating the dash, berating the automobile, and cursing the henchmen from afar for mechanic skills that left something to be desired certainly didn’t help anything, but he had to let out steam somehow before he faced the accomplice he’d given a task he’d nearly forgotten about. Would she have staked out the interloper all night if she hadn’t called?

He flicked off the headlights as he approached the sole motel just in sight of the Westinger, searching the barren trees for anything perching in them that didn’t belong there. Pulling over, he waited a moment for his accomplice to jump in out of nowhere, but impatience had him cutting the engine and stepping out to take a short walk across a lawn toward the row of elms.

She was better at hiding than he’d expected, because it took something striking the back of his head for him to whirl around and scan the branches above him for a long moment before he caught a glimpse of her. It helped that she moved, popping another milk dud in her mouth. Either she’d gone for a snack or she’d been prepared to wait a while in that tree. She didn’t look like she was ready to come down just yet.

Drakken eyeballed the branches, and after a long moment of squinting into the darkness and shadows, considered he might be able to reach one if he jumped as high as he could.

He probably should have thought twice about trying. He probably shouldn’t have thought of trying at all. He didn’t even stop to consider the point. If copying Shego’s maneuver from earlier was the idea, his execution of mimicry failed – he realized that much the moment his feet left the ground. He did not possess the agility nor the feline grace she did, though he wanted to believe his fingertips at least grazed the branch he aimed for before he crashed back to earth on his back.

He bit back the yelp with a choked, “Gak!” At least he wasn’t winded and wheezing this time. A bruised ego and a little dazed maybe, but not so much so to not notice the soft thump beside him as Shego landed lightly in the wet grass soaking his entire backside now.

When he didn’t take her offered hand, she pulled him forcefully to his feet by the arm before he could get up himself.

Back in the privacy of the van, she let out a long groan and kicked her feet up on the dashboard. “They were thinking about finding a place to rent out here. Here! She even got Mickey to apply for a job at a few places,” she groused. “I think they’re serious. They’re talking about checking out a trailer park tomorrow – the one where Gail and Chester live. This blows.”

Drakken’s lip curled. The idea of someone who could infiltrate so effortlessly living in his oasis didn’t sit well with him, but by the distraught frown his companion wore, she was taking it worse. Her friendships had gone sour and here they were, rearing their heads and brandishing promises of reconciliation while posing an imminent threat. He only suffered the imminent threat part this Priscilla Kimbley woman brought to the oasis.

#Drakken #Shego #Kim Possible #Drakgo #The Company You Keep fic

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vastly-fixated-devotee-667 · 5 years ago

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come to me

i’ve never actually posted any of my writing on tumblr because i’ve never been into it enough to want to share it but i did this for fun and though it’d be fun to share. it's based off come to me by the goo goo dolls, and was technically written to be ben x my mc, but i made it mc-neutral (aside from the fact that it’s a female slytherin, but) for fun. i hope this is well-received, ahahah

(for clarification, anything in green is in mc’s pov, and anything in red is in ben’s. this is a slight au where it kind of takes place later than actual hphm does, and mc isnt the actual mc from the game.)

i’ll be kind if you’ll be faithful; you be sweet and i’ll be grateful. cover me with kisses, dear; lighten up the atmosphere. keep me warm inside our bed; i got dreams of you all through my head. fortune teller said i’d be free, and that’s the day you came to me.

i laid back in my chair, contemplating my life choices and why i ever thought taking this class was a good idea. divination was a bullshit concept and professor trelawney was a complete phony. at least it was an easy o, as you could basically make up any „prophecy” and trelawney would accept it.

i swirled the tea in my cup, wanting so badly to drink it. but trelawney drained it so she could help me „read the tea leaves” — whatever that means. i assumed it would mean someone was going to die, whether it was me, one of my friends, or just some random person i’d never met. whatever she was in the mood for, i guessed.

„ah, miss [l/n], how fortunate you are,” she said. “the shape — it is a bird. meaning, you will soon find freedom. be on the lookout for any good omen that might free you.”

free me from what? boredom? i guessed the future that was predicted was to be in — i checked my watch — approximately ten minutes. lucky me.

when the aforementioned ten minutes passed, i eagerly threw my books into my bag and left the stuffy, perfume-filled tower. my next class was history of magic, and that was the one class where i was always able to slip into the background and stay unnoticed. a rare instance of happiness for me.

as i stepped off the bottom rung of the ladder and turned around, i immediately ran into someone, dropping my bag and causing its contents to strew across the corridor. the both of us hastily apologized and dropped to the floor to gather my books and quills. he handed me my charms and potions textbooks, and after the commotion, it was the first time i truly looked at him. gryffindor in my year, blond, brown eyes, pale. the one who was known through gossip as the „cowardly gryffindor”. ben copper. an oxymoron personified.

„thanks,” i said. „and sorry, again. i should’ve been watching where i was going.”

„no, i’m sorry; i’m the one who wasn’t paying attention,” he said, his face flushed pink. he scratched the back of his neck. „er, i’m ben, by the way.”

„yeah, i know,” i said. „i’m [m/c], but i’m guessing you already knew that.”

„er... i probably should have known that, considering we’re in the same year. i guess i just try not to interact with slytherins much.”

i snorted. “well, yeah, we’re in the same year, but i meant you probably just recognize me because of my dad.”

he tilted his head. „your dad?”

i raised an eyebrow. „[dad’s name]? retired seeker for the pride of portree?”

he scrunched his eyebrows, then a look of realization washed over his face. „oh, that’s quidditch; isn’t it? i don’t really know anything about quidditch. muggle-born.” he flinched, obviously hesitant to reveal that information as if i were going to berate him for such a fact.

„oh. that makes a lot of sense. but you’ve not even, like, heard of me through gossip? i’m sure your friends know who i am.”

he shrugged coyly. „i don’t really have any friends.”

my eyebrows shot up. „oh. well, uh, i’d be your friend, if you’d like.”

„really? a star quidditch player’s slytherin daughter friends with the cowardly gryffindor mudblood?”

„hey, don’t call yourself that! you seem really wonderful, despite what people say. you don’t appear to be half as fearful as people seem to think. i mean, you’ve been talking to me for this long, so that’s something. besides, it’d be refreshing to be friends with someone who doesn’t want to get acquainted with me because of my dad.”

his face lit up. „then, i’d love to be your friend.”

i gave him what i hoped was a warm smile. „great! see you later, then, new friend.”

i got to history of magic class before i could be accounted for being late. maybe, just maybe, trelawney’s prophecy was right this time around.

the months flew by, and ben and i grew closer and closer each passing week within. he was the first friendship i’d made in my three years at hogwarts that didn’t end in wanting to meet my dad or anything of the like. in fact, it was steering toward ending in a whole new, completely pleasant manner.

as days passed, we seemed to get more comfortable with being not just emotionally closer, but physically closer as well. time was often spent in the tranquility of the library or the solitude of the artifact room, huddled up close to each other, sharing warmth. on numerous occasions, we’d even fall asleep in either room, slipping into nonsensical twists on our pleasant reality. while i had no way of telling the contents of his, my own dreams were filled with notions of the two of us being something more than simple friends. while at the time i never would’ve said it aloud, they weren’t exactly the kind of dreams i’d consider nightmares. far from it, actually. they could’ve even been considered prayers. prayers to the metaphorical god that was my own bravery, asking me to work up the courage to make any sort of move. yet, all i could muster was a few stolen kisses on his cheeks, nose, forehead. nothing serious. nothing that could’ve been mistaken for anything more than an exchange between close friends.

come to me, my sweetest friend. can you feel my heart again? i’ll take you back where you belong, and this’ll be our favorite song. come to me with secrets bare. i love you more, so don’t be scared. and when we’re old and near the end, we’ll go home and start again.

„lumos.” the tip of my wand lit up the face of the watch on my wrist. „nox.” 11:37. no hope in falling asleep any time soon.

i sat up and tore off a piece of parchment from the scroll nearest me. „lumos.” by the dim wandlight, i found my pen and wrote the one word „awake” in the center of the parchment, followed by a question mark. at the bottom right, i wrote a dash and a capital „[first initial]”. i strapped the note to the leg of my dad’s old owl, millie, and gave her directions to send it to ben. she complied and flew out of my dormitory.

no longer than five minutes later, she returned with another piece of parchment on her leg — a different one from the one i gave her. i unstrapped it from her and read it.

i never sleep; don’t you know? —b

i chuckled and shook my head. i tore off a new piece of parchment and scribbled down another note.

come to me. —[first initial]

millie obediently delivered the note again and returned shortly with another.

to your common room? you know i can’t get in. and i’d rather not try. not with felix rosier on duty. —b

i rolled my eyes and composed another note.

i’ll wait for you outside to let you in. please? i’m a lonely insomniac. —[first initial]

millie delivered and returned one last time.

fine. heading down now. —b

„nox.” my wandlight went out and i crept into my common room and quietly pushed open the door. hardly a minute later, ben arrived, moving swiftly so as to avoid getting caught. i impulsively hugged him to thank him for coming. we sat on the couch in the lounge, snuggled up close to each other. it was a comfortable silence, but i still felt glad when he broke it.

„why can’t you sleep?” he asked.

i shrugged. „got a lot on my mind, i guess. hard to shut my mind down when there’s so much running through it.”

„like what?”

„i dunno. things. unimportant things that still manage to worm their way into my brain. what about you? what fuels your insomnia?”

„fear, mostly. when you’re afraid of everything, it’s hard to not think of something that scares you.”

„i never really wondered until now, but why are you afraid of everything? i mean, sorry if that sounds rude, but— yeah. you know what i mean.”

„it’s mostly the entire aspect of magic. my whole life, i grew up pretty sheltered and all, but when i heard magic exists, it basically... turned my life upside down. i was already a generally anxious kid, but then this whole new, dangerous concept was introduced to me as real even though i went my whole life believing it was a fictional thing...” he cleared his throat. „sorry. i know it’s stupid.”

„no, no, it’s not stupid. i know what it’s like to be afraid.” i hesitated. „the reason my dad doesn’t play quidditch anymore is — well, for one, he’s too old, but — because he had a really bad injury during his last game. he got hit by a bludger and knocked to the ground from fifty meters in the air. he was in st. mungo’s for a few days. but it was just the amount of pain he was in... it made me extremely cautious. i avoided any situation that could potentially end in any sort of physical pain. it was bad. i’m still sort of that way, but i always felt like a coward for being so fearful. i never really realized cowardice wasn’t define by a person’s fears... but i know that now. and it might do you some good to be aware of it, too.”

it was dark and hard to see, but i could hear the smile on his lips as he spoke. „thanks, [m/c].”

i burrowed my head into his chest. „no problem, ben.”

an hour passed, and my eyelids threatened to fall like boulders on the edge of a cliff, but i willed myself to stay awake. if i fell asleep, that would almost guarantee ben getting caught being in another house’s common room.

as the time neared 2:00 ᴀ.ᴍ., i shook ben to make sure he wasn’t asleep. „hey. you probably should get back to your own common room.”

he rubbed his eyes. „what time is it?”

„1:57.”

we reluctantly stood and i walked him to the door. after saying goodnight, we wound up in a hug that lasted nearly two minutes before we came to our senses.

„ben?” i stopped him before he walked out of sight.

he turned back to me. „yeah?”

i took a shaky breath. „i love you.”

there was a pause, and my heart pounded loudly into the silence.

„i love you, too,” he said finally, and i’d never heard any sweeter poetry.

i caught you burning photographs, like that could save you from your past. history is like gravity: it holds you down away from me. you and me, we’ve both got sins; i don’t care about where you’ve been. don’t be sad and don’t explain; this is where we start again.

i tore out of the potions classroom as soon as professor snape dismissed the class. i couldn’t believe how klutzy i was, spilling my entire potion and all right onto snape’s robes. i was to have detention for two weeks, and i’d never hear the end of it from my dorm mates.

i sought out the artifact room for an escape, only to find it already in use. the crumpled figure of [m/c] sat on the floor, surrounded by photographs, some scorched around the edges. she picked up another with a shaky hand, oblivious to my presence. „incendio.” the photograph caught fire and she watched it be swallowed by the flames, flames that combated the streaks of watery tears that ran down her cheeks.

„[m/c]?” i said, causing her to jump. „what’s going on?”

she quickly wiped her cheeks on her sleeve and kicked the photographs behind her. „nothing; it’s— it’s nothing. just some old photographs i wanted to get rid of.”

i knelt down and picked up a photograph, myself. it pictured what seemed to be a young trista and an older boy who looked quite similar to her. „who is this?”

she swallowed, realizing there was probably no way out of this. „my brother.”

i sifted through the other images. they all showed the same two faces throughout the years. she never even told me she had a brother. „why are you burning pictures of you and your brother?”

„because.”

i looked her in the eye, attempting to show how dead serious i was. she’d always do this for me when something was bothering me, so it was about time i returned the favor. „because why?”

„i just... don’t want to look at them anymore.”

„why?”

„because it... it hurts to be reminded of him in such a way.”

„why?”

the tears she was holding back began to fall. „because he’s dead, ben. this was what it was like back when we were kids, and... i just don’t want to think about that. not knowing that we’ll never be able to relive the memories.”

„and you really think this is the best way to cope? you’re going to regret doing this in the future. besides, your brother would want you to remember him like this; wouldn’t he? i’m so sorry for your loss, [m/c], but, please, be rational.”

she let out a soft sob and dropped the photograph in her hand. she hid her face in her hands and i put an arm around her shoulders. it was a little bit before she spoke again. „i just wanted to be like him. but i’ve already blown it. i’ve made friends with people i shouldn’t have, and that led to saying and doing things i shouldn’t have, and—”

„[m/c],” i stopped her. „anything you’ve done in the past is irrelevant now. i’ve known you for a while now, and you’re one of — no, the nicest person i’ve met at this school. and that’s what matters right now.”

she looked me in the eye for the first time since i found her in there and whispered a small „thanks.” her eyes fell back onto the photographs that laid on the floor.

i took a breath, hoping talking about her brother might make here feel better. „what was his name?”

„jacob.”

i nodded and paused, thinking of the best way to continue. „what did he do? for a job? or was he still in school?”

„he was an auror. that’s... that’s how he died. this summer. he was dueling a powerful dark wizard when he... struck a nerve, i guess. wizard fired the killing curse, and... that was that.”

„i’m sorry.”

she shrugged with a small shake of her head. „i want to be an auror like him, though. he helped put a lot of bad people away. i want to do that, too.”

i smiled in what i wanted to come off as a supportive way. „i’m sure you will. you’ll make your brother proud.”

a smile washed across her forlorn face. „thanks.”

„[m/c]?” i said. „could you come here?”

„what’s up?” she stood.

„just, uh... just come with me.”

i led her out of the great hall where she was eating lunch and to the artifact room. i pointed out the big, black spider that rested on the chalkboard.

she looked at me, amused. „that’s what you needed me for?”

i flushed. „you don’t have any problem getting rid of them, and, well...”

she rolled her eyes. „is that why i’m your girlfriend? because i can get rid of spiders for you?”

i rubbed the back of my neck. „it’s one of the many benefits.”

she chuckled and planted a kiss on my cheek. then, she turned to the spider. „all right, you; it’s time to stop tormenting ben. wingardium leviosa.” the spider hovered to the will of her wand and she led it out to the courtyard, dropping it onto the grass. „there. you’re free to relax in your hopefully-spider-free-for-now hideout.”

„thanks.” i grinned shyly. how did i get so lucky to earn her love? „i love you.”

„i love you, too.”

today’s the day i make you mine, so get me to the church on time. take my hand in this empty room. you’re my girl and i’m your groom. come to me, my sweetest friend; this is where we start again.

i gazed at myself in the mirror, adjusting my tie for the umpteenth time. i was determined to make sure everything was perfect for such a perfect day. it was hard to believe i was actually to be marrying the one i had loved since my third year.

a knock on the door drew me out of my trance. „ben? can i come in?” it was [m/c].

i walked to the door and laid my hand on the handle, but i hesitated. „isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?”

i heard her laugh. „muggles have such ridiculous superstitions. come on; just let me in.”

i drew in a breath and opened the door. the breath i took was knocked out of me when i saw how she was dressed. a flower crown composed of our collective favorite flowers rested on her head. her pastel green dress fell to her knees and she wore her usual black ankle boots. she insisted on not having too fancy nor traditional of a wedding, and i was set on doing whatever made her happy.

„what’s up?” i said.

her face fell as she remembered the reason she had come. „i miss him. i wish he were here.”

i tilted my head, wondering who she meant. then, i realized. her brother. „oh. i’m sorry.”

she stayed silent a moment, her eyes on the floor. „he was engaged before his death. the wedding never happened. and now... he’s not here for mine.” her eyes finally met mine. „this is all everything i’d imagined it to be, except for that one aspect.”

„i’m sorry, [m/c]; i really wish i could—”

she took me by surprise when she flung her arms around me. „don’t apologize. i’m thanking you.”

„thanking me?”

„my brother was never going to be able to attend. that was inevitable. i realize that. but everything else... everything else is just as i wanted. and i owe that all to you.”

i smiled modestly. „well, we had some help from penny...”

„but it’s you who’ll be standing opposite me at the alter. and that’s all i could ask for.” she released me from her grasp and took my hand. „now, what do you say we get out there and seal the deal?”

the music that played was a perfect mix of wizard and muggle music, shaped to fit ben’s and my taste. we danced amongst the other partners to come to me by the muggle band the goo goo dolls. as the rest of the world fell away and it was just him and me on the dance floor, it easily became my favorite song — our favorite song. another chapter in our history had come to a close that day, but the whole of our book wouldn’t end for a long time.

#hogwarts mystery #harry potter #ben copper #ben copper x reader #ben copper x mc #ben copper x jacob’s sibling #jacob’s sibling #hphm mc #hphm

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tomeandflickcorner · 5 years ago

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Episode Review- The Real Ghostbusters: Venkman’s Ghost Repellers

Well. That was certainly different.

It starts off with a prologue scene, with a tanker ship of some kind sailing through the open ocean. A member of the crew nervously informs the ship’s captain that they’re starting to get dangerously close to the New Jersey Parallelogram. Which, the show explains, is like a smaller version of the Bermuda Triangle. If you’ve never heard of the New Jersey Parallelogram, don’t worry; it appears to have been something they made up exclusively for this episode, considering I can’t seem to find any information beyond its appearance here. Anyway, mere seconds after they mention the New Jersey Parallelogram, a strange grid-like pattern in the shape of a dome appears before them, and the tanker vanishes into thin air upon colliding with the grid dome.

We then cut to the Firehouse, where Egon is tinkering with his PKE Meter and Ray is doing some stretch exercises. They’re both currently listening to a report on the radio, which is discussing the missing tanker. As the news report winds up, Peter begins to walk down the stairs. Judging by the fact that Peter is only wearing sweatpants and has a towel draped over his shoulders, I can only guess he just got out of the shower. That or they have a weight machine upstairs and Peter was working out. Though it really doesn’t matter either way. Ray begins to tell Peter about how another ship disappeared in the New Jersey Parallelogram and suggests that perhaps they should head out to try and investigate the strange location, in the hopes of cleaning it up. But Peter is quick to reject the idea, since the New Jersey Parallelogram is out in the middle of the ocean, so there would be nobody to pay them for the work. While this does fit in with Peter’s character, considering we’ve already established that his favorite part of Ghostbusting is writing out the bill for their services, does he really not think there wouldn’t be some monetary reward involved should they find and manage to return the ships that had gone missing?

Anyway, Janine walks in at this point, sporting a pretty sweet looking red poncho. And Peter, for some reason, decides to be a bit snooty in greeting her. Though I suppose his over-the-top sarcasm was because she was showing up late, as Janine apologizes for such. She explains that she couldn’t resist buying the poncho she’s currently wearing. Of course, right when you start to think the show is making some sexist joke about women and their shopping habits, it’s subtly revealed that Janine was actually informing the Ghostbusters about something in a roundabout manner when she tosses Peter the poncho and tells him to read the label. Upon doing so, Peter sees the poncho is being marketed as ‘Venkman’s Ghost Repellers.’ It turns out that Peter’s father, who was previously mentioned in X-Mas Marks the Spot, is trying to cash in on his son’s success as a Ghostbuster and is selling these ‘ghost repellers.’ Peter, upon learning about his father’s latest business venture, is nothing short of horrified and frustrated, as this is apparently not the first time Jim Venkman did something like this. Egon voices his concern that Jim selling these ponchos and claiming they can repel ghosts would be considered fraud. Especially when Peter, in order to determine their effectiveness, gets Slimer to assist him in putting the poncho to the test. In doing so, it’s proven that the so-called ‘ghost repellers’ are completely useless.

Out of nowhere, Jim Venkman appears at the entrance of the Firehouse. (Talk about impeccable timing.) Peter immediately begins to reprimand his father for the ponchos, but Jim doesn’t see what the problem is, considering he doesn’t think he’s hurting anyone by distributing the ponchos under false advertising. Strange thing is, there’s apparently some serious concern that Jim’s dishonesty could come back around and land the Ghostbusters into major legal trouble. Especially when Peter begins yelling at Jim about having lawyers hounding him for the rest of his life. Admittedly, I’m not a lawyer and have little knowledge in regards to the legal technicalities that would probably be at play here. But why exactly would anyone be held responsible for the actions of their parent? Of course, perhaps the problem is that Jim actually stated that he was the father of one of the Ghostbusters on the labels of his ‘ghost repellers’ Which I guess would give people the impression that the Ghostbusters themselves are endorsing the product. But if that’s the case, couldn’t the Ghostbusters sue Jim for copyright infringement or something? Again, I’m no lawyer, so I don’t have the legal know-how to properly judge this situation. In any event, Jim does agree to stop selling his ‘ghost repeller’ ponchos, if that’s what Peter wants him to do, and he makes his leave. After Jim leaves, Peter kinda sighs, stating his father isn’t a bad guy, but is still a con man who can’t make an honest buck. Ray replies by commenting that it’s not surprising, since that sort of behavior is clearly in Peter’s blood. Which is possibly a callback to how the movie clearly illustrated that Peter wasn’t a completely honest person in regards to the experiments he conducted. Peter responds to the jab by blowing a raspberry at Ray, but in a good-natured way.

Of course, it’s then shown that Jim didn’t honor his word and is still distributing the fake ‘ghost repeller’ ponchos. After the Ghostbusters wrap up a nighttime bust down at the pier, they notice a ship is preparing to depart to the location of the New Jersey Parallelogram in order to study it or something. And we see that, unbeknownst to the Ghostbusters, Jim has ended up giving the crew of this ship some of the phony ponchos, which leads to the crew of this ship believing that they’ll be protected from whatever is causing the ships to disappear within the New Jersey Parallelogram. Of course, because the ponchos don’t work, this ship ends up disappearing as well.

Three days later, Peter receives a visit from a Coast Guard official, who informs him that the ship they’d seen leaving for the Parallelogram, the MS Applegon, has vanished, and that he’s expecting the Ghostbusters to help locate it and rescue the missing crew. Even though the official offers to pay them for their assistance, Peter tries to come up with an excuse by claiming they were booked up. Until the Coast Guard Official mentions the ‘ghost repellers.’ Upon realizing his father was involved, Peter quickly changes his tune and pretends to be very eager to head out.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in town, Jim is watching TV from his hotel room. When he learns the MS Applegon went missing, he seems to be filled by guilt, realizing that he’s to blame for this. (Seriously though, guy. What did you THINK was going to happen when you gave fake ghost repellers to a group of people you knew were going into a place noted for paranormal disturbances?) To try and make up for his mistake, he heads down to the docks and rents a speedboat in order to go off and find the missing MS Applegon himself.

Eventually, the Ghostbusters make it out to the site where the Coast Guard lost contact with the MS Applegon. Like all the other ships that have appeared in the episode so far, they witness the dome-shaped grid appearing before them. The Coast Guard tries to avoid colliding with the lines in the grid, as per Egon’s instructions, but to no avail. And they end up vanishing as well. Though we do get a rather funny moment here:

Peter: Egon, what now?

Egon: As long as we don’t disappear, we’ll be alright!

(They disappear)

Egon: Aw, nuts.

What follows is a rather trippy sequence when the ship they’re on seems to fly through the Tron version of light speed. When they come out on the other side, they find themselves in a surreal dimension where the ship they’re on seems to be floating through mid-air. Of course, now that they’ve made it inside the New Jersey Parallelogram, there’s still the question of how they’re supposed to locate the MS Applegon. Fortunately, Egon is already way ahead of everyone. He managed to rewire the PKE Meter somewhat, so instead of it detecting paranormal entities, it will go off around people and objects from the physical plane. Such as the missing ship. (Huh, the PKE Meter can do that?)

They begin to try to locate the missing ship with the altered PKE Meter. Briefly, Ray notes that they’re detecting a signal, but it’s only at a strength of 0.04. Egon announces the signal they’re picking up is too small to be coming from the MS Applegon, and that they should focus on finding a signal that’s at least 6 or 7. Winston points out that the weak signal could be a lifeboat, but Egon is rather quick to dismiss this possibility, insisting it’s probably just a malfunction. Okay, no offense to Egon, of course, but it is a bit thoughtless of him to not even bother checking on this before dismissing it as a malfuntion. Because Winston does have a legit point. After all, the start of the episode stated clearly that 7 ships had disappeared around the New Jersey Parallelogram. So seeing Egon’s sudden hubris here is a bit bothersome. Particularly when it’s then revealed to the audience that the weak signal is coming from the speedboat Jim rented. Because he ended up here, too. Though he’s not having much luck in finding the MS Applegon, either. He’s currently being chased by a pair of ghosts that almost remind me of those geometric shape puzzles. And while I can’t be sure, I’m fairly certain they recycled the audio sound file of the Banshee from Darby O’Gill and the Little People, because the ghostly wails of these geometric ghosts bear a strong resemblance to the wails of the Banshee. Anyway, Jim does soon find the MS Applegon, but because he’s still being chased after by ghosts, he can’t really do anything.

As this is going on, The Ghostbusters run into a bit of trouble themselves, as a torpedo appears out of nowhere. Fortunately for them, the torpedo misses them, but they’re a bit confused by the fact that the torpedo actually changed course before it could collide with them. Egon once again is able to explain things by stating that, in this dimension, reality is all crumpled up, and no two lines can intersect with each other. Which explains why everything is so topsy-turvy.

It’s at this point that they locate the MS Applegon. Because of what was just established, it’s determined that they have to physically tether the MS Applegon to the Coast Guard’s ship, to ensure that they’ll stay together. Once the two ships are secured to one another, they use the altered PKE Meter in order to locate the entrance to this dimension within the New Jersey Parallelogram. Which they manage to do relatively easily.

Of course, things aren’t quite wrapped up yet. Especially since there’s still 5 minutes left. They end up noticing the speedboat that Jim had rented floating nearby. Except now, it’s empty. Which means that Jim is still inside that other dimension somewhere. So Peter and the others have little choice other than to go back inside and locate the man, even though Peter states that Jim probably deserves to be left where he is. After returning to the warped dimension inside the New Jersey Parallelogram, the Ghostbusters end up entering this weird area that was covered by a dome. Inside the dome, they manage to locate Jim, who is trying to ward off the ghosts swarming around him with an oar. The Ghostbusters come to his aid, driving the ghosts away with their Proton Packs.

But it turns out the Ghostbusters firing off their Proton Packs weakened the structure of the dome they were in. Which apparently results in the New Jersey Parallelogram getting destroyed as well. I’m not exactly sure how this was achieved, but there we are. And at least, with the dimension inside the New Jersey Parallelogram closed off, they’re all able to make it back in one piece. Though Egon laments that he never got the opportunity to study it. So Ray tries to put a silver lining on things by stating that they’re probably the first guys to successfully destroy a wonder of the unnatural world.

As the Ghostbusters make their way back to shore, Jim gives Peter his word that he now intends to go straight. But that promise apparently didn’t last long, as the next scene shows Peter receiving a postcard from his father. The postcard states that Jim got a job in northern Alaska- selling iceboxes to Eskimos. (A statement I find slightly problematic, since not only is the term Eskimo considered offensive by some, but also because iceboxes actually CAN be useful to people living in arctic areas, as the alternative is storing food outside in the natural artic freeze, which could often lead to the food getting severely damaged by the subzero temperatures. So iceboxes can help keep that food cold enough to prevent spoilage and warm enough to avoid the damaging freeze. But still, I get what they were trying to say here.) Ray jokingly states that perhaps they should ask Jim to come work with them, seeing as how persistent he is. In response to this joke, Peter apparently threatens to throw something at Ray (we have to guess as to what, since we can only hear Ray’s voice over an exterior shot of the Firehouse), but Ray soon realizes he’s only teasing.

While the overall premise of this episode was certainly interesting, and the dimension they wound up in was pretty cool, I still think the ending was a bit weak. Not only am I still not sure how the warped dimension got destroyed, they never actually indicate what happened to the other ships that were lost within the New Jersey Parallelogram. Although, seeing as how the mentioned disappearances began in 1980 and this episode supposedly takes place around 1987, the crews of the other missing ships may have ended up starving to death, since I’m sure their food stores could only last them so long. But what about that tanker from the start of the episode? I suppose it’s possible they were also freed when the dimension got destroyed, but some confirmation would have been appreciated. It’s also interesting to meet Peter’s father, Jim. We’d already established that he was always working when Peter was a boy. Now we got an idea of exactly what kind of work he was involved in. Still, it’s clear that, while Peter still has major issues with his father (and for good reason), he still cares about him. Which is arguably a good character trait for Peter, as it suggests that he doesn’t give up on people easily.

(Click here for more Ghostbusters reviews)

#the real ghostbusters #rgb episode review #ghostbusters franchise

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quentinsquill · 5 years ago

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Fic: “It’s a Wonderful Pride” (The Magicians)

It’s a Wonderful Pride

Author: Lexalicious70

Fandom: The Magicians

Rating: R (language, brief descriptions of violence)

Word Count: 4,272

Genre: Canon divergent, crossover, (Good Omens) fic challenge entry

Summary: It’s pride month but Eliot, still grieving for Mike, can see little to celebrate about his sexuality. Can a fussy-yet-benevolent angel reignite Eliot’s flame and show him the light before he sinks into depression, booze and drugs?

A/N: This is for the @whitespiresarmory’s Armory Challenge, week two: “Pride.” I don’t own The Magicians or Good Omens; this is just for fun. Comments and kudos are magic, and as always, enjoy!

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19358269

It’s a Wonderful Pride

By Lexalicious70 (all_hale_Eliot)

“You really aren’t going? El, come on!”

Eliot looked up from his third glass of wine in 40 minutes to find Margo standing over him, her hands planted on her slim hips in a way that told him, (if he cared,) that she was annoyed with him.

“I’m really not going.”

“We haven’t missed New York City Pride in the three years we’ve known each other! It’s a bigger deal than our trip to Ibiza!”

Eliot closed his eyes and Margo hesitated before she sat down on the arm of the couch.

“I’m sorry. But El . . . I feel like getting away from Brakebills, even if it’s just for the parade, would be good for you!”

“Because I should celebrate.”

“It couldn’t hurt!”

“And what exactly am I supposed to celebrate?” Eliot drained his glass. “The sound of Mike’s neck snapping? His body rolling to the floor like some fucking marionette with its strings cut? My complete naivety about our relationship?”

Margo’s upper lip thinned out and she nodded.

“Okay. I get that you’re mourning, and maybe I even get your necessity to literally turn into a living wine decanter. But I’ve told you already, El, that what happened wasn’t your fault! How long are you going to torture yourself over this?”

Eliot swung to his feet, picked up his glass, and took refuge behind the cottage bar.

“I’ll get back to you on that.”

Margo threw her hands in the air.

“Fine. Skip Pride, start denying who you are, marry a nice girl from Yonkers! I’ll be in the city if you change your mind.” She turned and swept up the steps and Eliot poured himself another glass of Chardonnay before returning to his prone position on the couch. Some wine slopped out of the glass and stained his paisley shirtsleeve and he frowned at the affront before taking a long draw on the glass.

“Maybe I will marry a nice girl from Yonkers,” Eliot muttered as people began to filter out of the cottage, leaving it silent. His hand tightened around the glass and he resisted the urge to hurl it against the nearest wall. “Fuck knows it’d be simpler than—” He made a vague gesture to the empty air and drained the glass. His stomach clenched in protest and he frowned at it. “Oh, nut up. I’ve put you through worse.” He set the glass aside and threw an arm over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the cottage windows. His pulse pounded in his ears, but the sound of his abused body was infinitely more preferable to the sound Mike’s neck made when Eliot had twisted his head around, like stepping on a dry tree branch on a November hiking trail. Eliot heard it all the time, as if the echo had imprinted itself on his brain synapses and played constantly on a hesitant loop that ground out the sound, a faceless something that cranked a distorted hurdy-gurdy of loss in Eliot’s ear each time silence ruled his senses.

“Oh my,” a voice said in Eliot’s ear, “have I been sent to Clutter Cottage? But Druridge Bay is so damp!”

“Fucking—!” Eliot yelped, sitting up, his sock-clad feet drumming on the couch cushions. He turned, the room slightly out of focus, to find a slight, and rather fussy-looking man staring around the common room. He wore his curly pale blond hair short and stood before Eliot in tan slacks, a blue button down and a brown vest, a cream-colored waistcoat, and a wide plaid bowtie that might have looked silly on anyone else, but this man wore it as if it were as much a part of him as his skin. It was impossible to guess his age. He didn’t seem to notice that Eliot had spoken.

“It’s so glaringly bohemian,” the little man continued. “Rather too much so for Northumberland!”

Eliot blinked to assure himself he wasn’t sliding into the hallucinatory stages of acute alcohol poisoning.

“I’m sorry? I wasn’t—who are you, exactly?” He asked, and the man gave him a benevolent smile.

“I do apologize for not introducing myself. I was just rather surprised to be called here so suddenly.”

“Called? Who called you? Was it Margo?” Eliot asked, wondering in a dazed sort of way if she had called some sort of AA wingman or grief counselor before leaving for the city. The man shook his head.

“My supervisors. You may call me Aziraphale, and you, dear boy, would be Eliot Waugh, correct?”

“Yes,” Eliot nodded, the man’s correct way of speaking and upper-class British accent cutting through some of his drunkenness. It reminded him of the way some of the professors at Brakebills spoke, as if they wanted to be British and constructed their sentences so instead of affecting a phony accent. This man, though, seemed to be the genuine article.

“Excellent. Well! Let’s be off then.”

“Off? To where?”

“To correct some misconceptions you have about your life, Eliot.”

“Miscon—I’m sorry, who are you again?”

“Aziraphale,” the man said with what seemed like endless patience. “Come along now!” He held out a hand and Eliot took a step back with a flat chuckle.

“Recent events would warn me not to go anywhere with strangers who might be disguised as the Beast.”

“The Beast!” This Aziraphale huffed. “Well! That’s—how rude!”

“Is it? Because I—wait, what?” Eliot frowned. “You know about the Beast?”

“I know of him because of my line of work, but to suggest that I go around disguised as him?” The man eyed him. “Despicable!”

“I’m sorry?” Eliot’s wariness made it a question. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I only meant . . .” Eliot blinked and lost his trail of thought as this odd little man caught his gaze and held it. The blue eyes held no trace of obvious wicked intent and Eliot realized they were kind—extremely kind, and in a way that threatened to slam through every alcohol-soaked brick of the multiple emotional walls he’d built since Mike died.

“I do apologize,” Aziraphale said after a moment. “There was a bit of a mix up, but now I understand. I am not your Beast, my boy, but you are as in just as much danger now from your own thoughts as you were from it when it attacked.” The man held out his hand again. “Now do come along, it’s getting late.”

Eliot reached out his hand and slid his fingers between Aziraphale’s, and the little man paused.

“Whoops! Can’t have you inebriated for this venture—” He touched Eliot’s forehead and a peculiar sensation filled his body, as if someone had discovered and flipped a reverse switch somewhere in his abdomen. The wine bottles he’d left near the bar began to fill and the drunken fog he’d been in for nearly three days began to lift. “There we are!”

“What—how did you—”

“Your magic and my miracles are somewhat related. Like cousins, almost. I believe that’s why they sent me. You feel as if you are to blame for Michael McCormick’s death—”

“How do you know about Mike? And I am responsible! I broke his neck! He was in thrall by the Beast and I—I murdered him!” Eliot wanted to shout, but it seemed the brazen, bitter attitude he’d given Margo had deserted him along with the alcohol.

“I saw it when I looked into your soul.”

Eliot tugged on the little man’s hand. His skin was pale and soft, with no evidence of calluses or the particular muscle tone most magicians had in their fingers and arms. No, this Aziraphale wasn’t a magician. He—

“Wait.” Eliot gasped out a breath that was tinged with jagged amusement. “Did you say ‘my miracles?’”

“I did.”

“So you’re . . . uh . . .” Eliot gestured with his free hand, and Aziraphale nodded.

“An angel.” He smiled and touched Eliot’s cheek. “You believe that the world you know would be a better place if you weren’t the person you’ve become, that your sexuality has been a blight on the people around you . . .that believing in Pride makes no difference to the future because you are contemplating cutting that short. But you’re mistaken on all fronts, and I’m here to show you why. Shall we?” Aziraphale made a slight motion with one hand and in a rapid swirl of color, Eliot found himself standing outside of Dean Fogg’s office.

“What are we doing here?” He asked, and Aziraphale nodded toward the door.

“You think your influence on others causes negative effects? Look there.”

The door to the office slammed open and Margo marched out, her expression set, thunderclouds and damnation in her dark eyes. Eliot took a step forward.

“Bambi? Hey, what—”

Margo never slowed. She walked through him as if he were made of mist, and Aziraphale watched.

“We don’t exist to them, Eliot. This is a universe where you never came to Brakebills, never had the courage to become who you are meant to be.”

“Your expulsion and mindwipe will take place immediately, Miss Hanson,” Dean Fogg snapped as he followed on her heels. “We do not tolerate theft of Brakebills property from anyone, least of all a first-year student who decides to practice forbidden magic!”

“You can kiss my ass!” Margo shouted, turning on the dean, her expression a mask of hatred and fury. “I don’t need this! I don’t need any of it! Mindwipe me? Wipe your ass, you pompous nobody!”

“Jesus,” Eliot muttered as Fogg called security and they hauled Margo away even as she continued to hurl insults at him. “What happened?”

“This is what would have happened to Margo if you two had never met during your first year. She arrived here brimming with fury and forging an emotional suit of armor no one would have ever broken through. But then she met you . . . your obvious flair, your refusal to settle into the background, it turned her away from all that anger, softened her edges. Because you would not accept a minor role in the Brakebills community, it caused her to become protective of you. And in that, she learned to curb the anger that would have otherwise shut her out of the magical community forever.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the scenery morphed; they stood outside a grimy building, its brick surface painted a fading urine yellow.

“Where are we now?”

“New Jersey,” the angel replied, “twenty years in the future.” He took Eliot’s hand and they walked through the aging wall. Inside, about half a dozen girls tended to what looked like a failing clothing store geared toward tween and teenage girls. Circular metal racks of clothing, their bases tarnished, littered the floor like elderly soldiers. The beige walls carried the distinct stain of nicotine, and a few customers poked through the merchandise, most of them being the kind of thirtysomething Jersey Shore-loving mothers convinced they could wear their daughter’s clothing. An office door banged open somewhere in the back and Eliot swallowed a gasp as Margo emerged. Her dark hair wasn’t so much pulled back as it was being forcibly strangled, and deep frown lines cut into her complexion. A cigarette smoldered in her right hand, and Eliot noticed that her fingernails, which she’d always kept filed and lacquered, were brittle, broken and gnawed to the quicks. Her dark eyes, ensconced between gaudy green eyeshadow and deep bags that cast bruise-colored shadows beneath them, darted around the room, unblinking.

“Rene!” She bawled, her voice lined with a rough edge of years of tobacco use. “Why the fuck isn’t that order out on the floor yet? Are you stupid and slow? Huh?” She cut through the store like a torpedo, the cigarette trailing out smoke behind her. The young salesgirl flinched.

“No Mz. Hanson, I’ll unpack it now, I was just helping a customer—”

“What you were helping was your useless ass out of my shop! Go on! Beat it!” Margo brandished the clipboard she carried and the shopgirl fled as she burst into tears. “Yeah, go on, cry about it on the unemployment line, honey!” She then turned her baleful stare on the other girls. “And what the fuck are you dizzy cunts looking at, huh? Get back to work!”

“That’s what Margo turned into without me?” Eliot asked, watching her slam back into her office, where they could hear objects being hurled around.

“Without you, she never learned kindness or trusted anyone enough to soften her edges,” Aziraphale said. “It was your bond that helped mold her into the Margo you know now.”

Eliot pushed a hand through his dark curls.

“That seems awfully cut and dried,” he argued. “Besides, even if I did influence her for the good, that’s only one instance out of many where it didn’t fuck up someone’s life! And—and then later, we . . . I mean, she and I, and Q . . .” Eliot felt his ears flush with heat. “I can’t say this to an angel! And anyway, isn’t God a homophobe?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and sparked with humor as he chuckled.

“Oh, my dear boy, no! Whatever gave you that idea?”

“About 90 percent of Christians I’ve met.”

“Ah. Well that’s the fault of those who wrote the Bible, you see. Many of our admirers believe it’s the direct word of God. But it’s the desires of men, Eliot, men who want to control and erase much of what the lord has created, especially those like yourself. It’s something we never quite expected once Adam and Eve were sent out into the world to raise humankind. Now. Tell me about this Q.”

“Quentin,” Eliot sighed. “We’re—well—I don’t know what we are now, since he says I ruined his life. And he’s probably right.”

“Well. Let’s go have a look, shall we?” The angel flicked his wrist and transported them into Margo’s bedroom, where she and he and Eliot had all shared a dalliance just a few days before. Margo was applying a vicious smoky eye as Quentin sat with his hands clasped between his knees.

“And it took me awhile to realize what I was so pissed about,” Quentin was saying, and Margo flicked a glance at him.

“I could have told you why, Q.”

“I know you could have, but I had convinced myself that Eliot fucked up my life that night because—because, uhm, well . . .”

Margo waited, busying herself with her compact, and then Quentin blurted it out in that stammering way that Eliot found both frustrating and adorable at the same time.

“Because I wasn’t upset about what Eliot and I had done! It—it was Alice, it was how she looked at me, the way she called me a whore, it—because I felt like one, waking up and seeing her sitting there! But before that, when I woke up and felt Eliot’s arm around my waist and his body up against mine, it—it felt right, Margo! The way our legs tangled together, the way he looked when he was asleep.” Quentin ran a hand over his face. “It let me know what I’ve been questioning about myself for years, ever since I went through puberty and developed a serious crush on my best friend James—and then one on Julia.”

Margo nodded.

“Congratulations, Q, you’ve figured out you’re bisexual.” Her full lips twisted up into a smug yet affectionate smile. “Welcome to the club.”

“What? You mean you—”

“Bi, pan, girls, guys . . . hot asses that go bump in the night.” She shrugged. “Call it what you want, Q. But El is your sexual lightning rod. Without him, you might never have figured it out and ended up with some frigid, narcissistic bitch because you thought it was supposed to happen that way. Or kept on thinking you were meant to be with Alice which, by the way, I think you’ve both figured out was the result of Mayakovsky’s fox spell, the bastard.”

“And what if El and I were just emotion magic and booze?”

Margo set her compact down and pinned Quentin with her gaze.

“Do you seriously believe that?”

Quentin scowled and tucked his feet up under his thighs.

“No,” He sighed. Margo brightened and ruffled his floppy hair.

“Good! And don’t sweat our sex, Q . . . I really don’t remember it and was out of the game for good once El came around and found you willing.” She rose from the bed and looked over her shoulder. “Want to come to Pride with me?”

Quentin lifted his head and the frown lines on his forehead smoothed.

“Yeah!” He nodded, and Margo rolled her eyes at him even as a smile curved across her painted lips.

“Then get your bi ass in gear, Coldwater!”

Eliot watched them leave the room together before he turned to his guardian angel.

“Is this something that could have happened, like the other thing you showed me?”

“Oh no, not at all. We’re looking at the present, dear boy.”

Eliot closed his eyes a moment as that night came back to him in flashes that burned with a halo of booze; Quentin climbing into his lap, his naked skin filling Eliot’s field of vision, their mouths meeting, the way the back of Quentin’s neck, slender and fragile, fit in his hand as he gripped it to claim Quentin’s mouth once, twice, who knew how many times. He glanced at Aziraphale and then away, and the angel smiled and touched his arm.

“I’m an angel, not a priest. You needn’t confess anything to me.”

“The way he reacted the next day, I thought I’d forced him. That I’d ruined his life because of my own selfishness.”

“No. He was embarrassed and guilty because Alice found him out. And if not for you helping him discover his true nature, he might have never found a path to happiness.”

Eliot nibbled on his thumbnail as he gathered his thoughts. They were more lucid than they’d been in days, but that sound, like the snap of a dried branch, weaved its way through them.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to show me,” he said at last. “But it’s because of who and what I am that Mike died. There’s no way around that—” He groped for the name and the angel gave a sigh borne of patience.

“Aziraphale.”

“Right! Aziraphale. Unless you’re going to tell me that Mike was the reincarnation of Hitler or the next mass serial killer, he didn’t deserve to die because I loved him.” Eliot felt the tremble on that last word and clenched his jaw. “And that’s what they want me to go out there and celebrate? That me being attracted to men got an innocent person enslaved to the point where I had to—” Eliot wrung an open palm over his mouth.

“Oh, my dear boy. You sweet child,” The angel almost sighed it, and his tone caused a crack in Eliot’s walls. The cracks began to leak and then they burst open slowly, like a decrepit dam giving way to the onslaught of a flood. The emotional impact caused Eliot’s knees to buckle and he slapped both hands over his face in one last attempt to stem the tide, but it roared forth anyway. He began to sob, rocking back and forth, all his personal wards and defenses blasted away. A rustling noise registered in his consciousness and then smell of something sweet and warm, like the return of a childhood blanket, filled his nose before it seemed to enfold him. A wall of white, its touch like the sweep of his mother’s chenille housecoat, drew him into it. Eliot found the strength to raise his head and found himself cradled in Aziraphale’s left wing. It was enormous and he welcomed it, burying his face in feathers that were at least each a foot long. He groaned softly, his sinuses clogged, an acrid taste in his mouth, like rotten cloves.

“I didn’t want to kill him!” Eliot cried into the soft recesses of the angel’s feathers. “I only wanted to stop him but then I saw what he really was and how the Beast had fooled me and all the pain, it was like it rolled out of me and . . . oh God, Aziraphale, I didn’t mean to kill him!”

“No, child. What you wanted to kill was the agony of what you felt when you realized your lover was held in thrall. But, listen to me now . . .” The wing tip dipped under his chin and raised it so Eliot was looking into the angel’s eyes, so infinitely kind. “Mike isn’t dead because of who you are. He’s dead because of what the Beast is. He is an evil thing, twisted beyond all comprehension. It was he who put the poor boy in thrall, and it was he who sent him into your path. Yes, perhaps he understood your desires, as many evil things do, and he likely understood the temptation a handsome gentleman with your interests and tastes would represent.”

“I should have seen through it!” Eliot cried, and Aziraphale smiled.

“Many people say such things after the fact. But that doesn’t make it true. I believe the Beast chose you because you’re strong, and yet you have a great capacity for love. However, you must remember, Eliot, that he could have sent a thrall to Margo, or Quentin, or any other person on campus who might have fallen for a person of another gender. Your sexual preference isn’t the reason that boy is dead, Eliot.” Aziraphale reached out and brushed a few tears away from his damp, chapped cheeks. “He’s dead because evil works in ways that are just as surprising and mysterious as the Lord’s. You cannot deny who you fought so hard to become. You cannot throw away your pride. And something at Brakebills is waiting for you. Something real, a someone who loves you. One you will have several lifetimes to know and explore—but oh, dear, I can’t give away too much.” The angel helped Eliot to his feet and then the wings were gone, tucked away wherever they were kept. Eliot considered his words.

“You mean Quentin—wait, did you say several lifetimes?”

“Did I?” The little man cocked his head and gestured the question away with a careless motion of one hand. “Well! Never mind. It’s time for me to shove on, now, I have other people to see.” He touched Eliot’s cheek with the gentle manner of a loving father, a touch the magician had never known before. “Go find your friends, Eliot Waugh, and remember that you must always fight to remain the person you worked so hard to become.”

Aziraphale was gone before Eliot could reply, but that phantom touch remained on his cheek. Eliot put his fingers to it and smiled before he left Margo’s room and headed for his own.

***

“So this is Pride? It’s, uh—it’s crowded!” Quentin shouted to make himself heard above the joyful noise of the parade passing him and Margo. She whooped and hollered as she caught a set of beads thrown by some passing drag queens, and Quentin blinked. “Are those men?”

“Yes, duh!”

“They’re so pretty!”

“That’s the idea! You’re such a dork!” Margo grinned and looped one of the shiny sets of beads over his head. Quentin rolled his eyes and then jumped as a long arm dropped onto his shoulder and a voice spoke in his ear.

“Anal beads? I hope they’ve been cleaned!”

Margo turned, her dark eyes wide as another equally long arm slung itself over her shoulders. Eliot grinned down at them, resplendent in black drainpipe jeans and a tight white tank top that spelled out I YNY. The heart gleamed with rainbow colors. Reflective Ray Bans covered his eyes and his dark curls spilled over his forehead in a way that was artfully careless.

“El!” Margo threw her arms around him. “You shit! You came!”

“What made you change your mind?” Quentin asked, leaning close so Eliot could hear him. It was as simple as turning his head, and his mouth met Quentin’s. The younger man’s dark eyes widened in shock and then slipped halfway closed as Eliot pulled back slowly.

“The thought of doing exactly that!” He grinned, and Quentin blinked.

“You mean you—”

“Yeah, Q. It’s more than booze and emotion bottles this time.” He took Quentin’s hand, entwining their fingers, and Margo turned away so Eliot wouldn’t see the glee in her expression. Eliot pulled them both close, kissing each of their cheeks in turn before turning his face up toward the sun. Long rays of sunlight were breaking through the clouds and leaving smeary wisps behind.

To Eliot, they looked like angel’s wings.

FIN

#Whitespire's Armory #fic #The Magicians #my fic #Good Omens

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angstchim · 6 years ago

Text

Maintenance | jjk

➻ Bunny Hybrid Jungkook x Reader

➻!!: Degrading names, Inferiority Complex (hinted), Some jealousy, Scenting, Smut, Heats, My first time wring smut bear with me ;^;

➻ Rating: M

➻ Words: 7599

I. Settling In | Epilogue

II. Equals

Jungkook was currently in the middle of one of his daily man spreading sessions on your couch . An Iron Man movie hogging his attention . The clanking of dishes in the sink could be heard as you stood there washing them. Jungkook's ears twitching a bit as knocks on the front door were overpowering the sounds of his Iron Man movie that was playing. “Kookie, could you get the door please ?" You called out to the bunny hybrid as you continued to wash dishes . "Alright ." He called back. Lazing his way off the couch he rearranged himself in his sweatpants and fixed his rather tight fitting white T-shirt before making his way to the front door. You never really had anyone come over before . You didn't have much company around in general.

Jungkook swung the front door open to reveal the very man he dreaded seeing. Jung Hoseok. He just left a bad taste in Jungkook's mouth. What pissed Jungkook off even more about Hoseok was the fact that Jungkook had no good reason to despise him. He just did. Jungkook did his best to throw a phony smile on his face as he saw Hoseok standing here.

"Hello Jungkook, it's nice to see you in a better state than the last time I visited ." Hoseok greeted with a phony smile on his face.

Jungkook ignored the subtle jab Hoseok made about his heat. “Hello Hoseok Hyung."Jungkook replied back bluntly. Stepping aside to let the brunette male enter . Jungkook closed the door behind him , heading back to his white couch to resume his previous man spreading . However this time his focus wasn't on the Iron Man movie in front of him. His eyes now trailed the brunette male who was kicking off his shoes in the entry way.

"Hoseok is that you?" You called out from the kitchen . “It sure is !" He called back. His brown hair bouncing as he walked to the kitchen . Jungkook never took his eyes off of the human male for a second. Jungkook watched as the brunette slung himself over your back as you washed the dishes .

Watching this made Jungkook feel like puking. By now, you surely stunk of Hoseok . Not only that but Hoseok has the gall to drape himself over you like you were his or something. Hoseok has another thing coming, because you belonged to Jungkook not him. Even though Jungkook felt like he had claim over you, he was painfully aware that he didn't . He was just your hybrid after all . A pet . Of course he knew you didn't see him that way. You viewed him as an equal . He knew others didn't view him that way. He wasn't your mate or "boyfriend" as humans called it . He has no say in what you did with your love life . So all he could do was watch from afar and his lay his claim on you by doing small things likes scenting you.

He used to frown upon the females whom he caught trying to scent him in the past . But now he understood why they did it . He scented you without you realizing. His random hugs and cuddles weren't just for the hell of it , he was marking you. Of course, if was sort of redundant as you were a human and scents didn't have any affect on you, with your piss poor sense of smell. He knew it didn't have any affect on Hoseok either, since Hoseok was a human male . However it gave Jungkook a sense of ease to know that he had at least some sort of way to lay his claim on you. Jungkook's eyes narrowed as he glared daggers at the human male whom still had his form draped over yours as you washed dishes.

"Do you know who's back in town ?" Hoseok mused . You let out an irritated sigh . "My bastard of an ex Jimin, is back in town isn't he ?"

Jungkook's ears perked up. Jimin? He's never heard this name before . Jimin used to date you. He used to have claim over you? Listening to this made Jungkook realize just little he knew about you. Just how close were you and Hoseok? How come you've never told him this things ? “Ding! You guessed correct !" Hoseok chuckled as he finally stopped draping himself over you. Now leaning against the marble countertop. "Hear he's going to the club tonight . Wanna go make him jealous ?" Hoseok teased "Why would he get jealous over a girl he cheated on ?" You rolled your eyes as you dried your hands on your apron.

Jungkook sat there shocked . Someone had the audacity to cheat on a woman as beautiful as you? You gave him everything and he was just a hybrid. Lord knows, how giving you'd be in a relationship. “Men are strange creatures." Was Hoseok's only reply as he walked over and parked himself on the couch next to Jungkook. Jungkook shifted away from Hoseok . He hated the way Hoseok smelled . He didn't stink, the only way he could describe the way Hoseok smelled it'd be a bag of testosterone if that made sense .

“That they are ." You tipped off to Hoseok, as you tossed your apron onto the marble countertops that adorned the kitchen. You walk over to the living room , sitting down in the last open seat on the couch which was in between Kookie and Hoseok . As soon as you sat down Kookie plopped his head on your lap. Just hinting at you that he wanted his hair to be played with . Giggling, you gave into your bunny hybrid . Jungkook fought the urge to wrinkle his nose as you wreaked of Hoseok. “He seems to have taken quite the liking to you ." Hoseok smirked .

Jungkook twitched his ear. You didn't seem to catch Hoseok's innuendo but he did . Hoseok knew more about Jungkook's feeling towards you than he let on. Which made since sense he did make the mistake of letting himself moan your name when he released himself on Hoseok's bunny hybrid . The only way Hoseok would know anything would be because of his hybrid telling him. "I know , but I love him he's such a sweetheart." You said as you combed your fingers through Jungkook's hair . You loved him. Hearing that made Jungkook's heart flutter.He knew it wasn't in the way he wanted you to love him , but just hearing you say it gave him a sense euphoria.

"I'm sure he loves you too ." Hoseok retorted a bit harshly with a smack of his lip, as he turned his attention to Iron Man movie that was just background music . “I mean, I'd like to think he loves me too." You muttered . Hoseok just rolled his eyes . Jungkook was a little surprised . He knew you were a very intelligent business woman, but how could you be so ...oblivious? It's obvious, Hoseok was hinting something , even Jungkook could pick up on it . Yet it just blew over your head . Jungkook shifted a bit in your lap.

"Anyways y/n, about the club idea...?" Hoseok began. Jungkook's ears twitched . Club? He didn't exactly know what a club was . He knew it was somewhere humans went to have a 'good time.' Whatever that meant. “You really want to do it ?" You turned your head to look at the brunette. Surprise laced in your voice .

"I mean why not ? I wasn't never quite fond of the bastard and finding out he cheated on you gives me more reason not to like him." Hoseok stated matter of factly. “I understand that , but Hoseok ..." You were about to push the idea away completely. Dispose of it . Yet a little part of you wanted to dress up, go out have a good time in front of Jimin, show him what he was missing. "I guess we can go out for a little while." You caved .

Jungkook didn't like were this conversation was going. The thought of Hoseok taking you somewhere where you'd make your ex jealous left a pit in his stomach. He knew you were an adult . You could make your own decisions , but he didn't like this. “That's the answer I was looking for!" Hoseok chuckled, giving your hair a good ruffling.

Jungkook had to fight the urge to jump on the brunette . Jungkook wanted nothing more than to take you and lock you away somewhere away from the grasps of Hoseok and Jimin. However he knew he couldn't . Jungkook buried his face into your lap. You had on a pair of shorts . He could feel the soft, supple skin of your thighs against his face . He wanted nothing more than to wallow in this forever. He nosed your thighs , your scent filling his nostrils. You smelled heavenly. He knew you weren't aware of how your scent had an effect on him. He continued to nose your thighs.

You stopped petting Jungkook when you felt his nose against the flesh of your thighs . It tickled , a blush appearing on your face. In context, what Jungkook was doing was innocent yet it felt rather intimate . You couldn't explain how, but just the feeling of Jungkook's nose against your thighs felt way better than it should . You rubbed your thighs together slightly. Jungkook's nostrils flared as he could sense a faint smell of arousal coming from you. Your scent filling his nose . The smell going straight to his dick. Jungkook couldn't afford to go into rut even though he was on suppressants . He stopped nosing your thighs and settled for leaning his head against the couch.You felt odd at the loss of contact. You didn't know why , but you didn't want Jungkook to stop.

"Times ticking , go get ready ." Hoseok sighed as he checked his watch. You looked over at the brunette. "You're going like that?" You asked . He was dressed in a thin, loose white button up. Paired with a pair of light wash ripped jeans and black leather Doc Martins . "Yeah why not , besides I'm not dressing to impress anyone , nor make anyone jealous . You are hun ." He shrugged . "I know the owner he's a buddy of mine from college , Jin , he'll let me in ."

“I guess, if you say so ." You said while getting up from the couch . "I'll go get dressed ." You hummed before making your way to your bedroom. "Make sure you wear something sexy!" Hoseok called out.

Jungkook scoffed . He didn't like were this was going at all. However, it's not like he could say anything to stop you. Jungkook just sat there nibbling on his lip. Eyebrows furrowed as he felt the pit in his stomach grow in size each minute he sat there on that couch with Hoseok. "So..." Hoseok began "Yuki told me something a little interesting about her encounter with you." Hoseok sniggered , a scowl adorned the brunette's features.

Jungkook perked his ears as he looked at the brunette. His expression stone cold as he stared back into the brunette's mischievous orbs. "What would that be?" He chastised, his tongue dragging the inside of his gums. Hoseok sneered, "Don't act daft." Clicking his tongue he continued . His aura calming a bit as he spoke again. "Best you drop your little affections for y/n. I saw the way you were nosing her earlier . Scenting her. Just because I'm a human and your little territorial hybrid warning signs have no effect on me, doesn't mean I can't recognize them. Remember you're a hybrid , you don't stand a chance ." Hoseok warned .

Jungkook bit his lip harsh enough to draw the metallic taste of blood from his lips. “If you knew anything about hybrids then you'd know it's normal for me to scent her ." Jungkook spat . His self control doing its best to keep the bunny hybrid from launching at the brunette. Hoseok let out a chuckle. "That'd be the case if you didn't have feelings for her . Honestly Yuki told me how you were moaning y/n's name the whole time you two were together ." Jungkook's throat ran dry . He suspected Hoseok of knowing about that, but suspecting and confirming it were two entirely different things. Just as Jungkook was about to retort you came out from your room.

"How about this outfit?" You asked. Completely oblivious to the heavy tension that filled the room. Jungkook watched as Hoseok's aura did a complete 180. He went from having a menacing aura to now being the most bubbly soul Jungkook laid eyes on.

"Looks wonderful!!" Hoseok clapped. Jungkook looked up at you. His breath hitched as he took in your appearance. You stood in the living room doorway, a tight black dress caressing every nook and cranny of your body. It was sheer on the upper half , your bralette clad breasts completely visible. You arms covered by the sheer black sleeves of the dress. Your supple thighs on display partially , only for the rest of your legs to he hidden by thigh high leather boots. Your face had dark eye makeup , with a bold red lip. Your long locks pulled into loose curls that framed your face and upper body.

You did a turn , to show off your whole outfit. Jungkook bit down on his tongue harshly as his eyes traveled your body. His body screaming to go and scent you. Seeing you dressed this way made his hybrid senses go haywire. His body yearning to mark you. Make you his. However he knew he couldn't .

“What do you think Kookie?" You asked gleefully. You looked at your hybrid only to see a conflicted look on his face . "You look g-great." He mumbled , his brows furrowed as he didn't look at you. Your smile wavered as Kookie didn't even look at you. A small frown tugging at your features , however you still sported a wide toothy smile . Hoseok threw a glare a Jungkook . "Anyways y/n , lets get going ." Hoseok voiced , slinging his arm around you as he always did , however he kept full eye contact with the bunny hybrid that sat on the white couch.

“Yeah , sure ." You chimed as you made your way to the door . Hoseok tailing behind you. His eyes raking over your ass in the tight dress you wore. Jungkook felt like throwing up. He couldn't do anything but watch as Hoseok dangled you in front of him like a prize, that he could never have. Jungkook's eyes left your form and wondered over to the coffee table in front of you where your bag sat . Letting out a sigh Jungkook grabbed your bag off the table and trotted to the front door where Hoseok and you were slipping on your shoes and jackets. "Don't forget your bag.." Jungkook spoke awkwardly. As he held out your bag for you to grab.

You pursed your lips as Jungkook wasn't even looking at you. You grabbed the bag. Your eyes lingering on the form of your bunny hybrid . “Thanks Kookie ." You smiled at him. “Don't go." Jungkook mumbled a barely audible plea. You didn't quite catch what Jungkook mumbled to you. "What was that Kookie ?" Jungkook perked up and threw a painfully phony smile across his attractive features . "I said go out and have a good time ."

Your shoulders dropped as you had a gut feeling that, that wasn't what he said . "Will do Kookie." You said as you gave him a kiss on his forehead before you walked out of your apartment, Hoseok following behind you. “Tsk.. stupid rabbit." Hoseok muttered , throwing one last glare at Jungkook before walking out. Jungkook winced a bit . He watched as Hoseok closed the door leaving him standing in the entry way. The ending credits of the Iron Man movie rolling in the background . The pit in his stomach making itself more known now than ever before . A sense of dejection and jealousy filling his entire being. He wanted nothing more than to run out of this apartment and drag Hoseok by the collar of his white button up and beat the living hell out of him. He knew he couldn't . He knew hybrids were allowed to leave the house without their owners consent , and much less without a collar.

His collar got tucked away once you brought him home . You rambled on and on about how you didn't like the idea of the collar . About how he'd be treated as an equal, so you took his collar and tucked it away. Jungkook could literally do nothing. Except wait and be a 'good little hybrid.'

Now more than ever he hated being a hybrid .

Music blared as you and Hoseok walked into the raunchiest club you've ever been to. Honestly, you never pegged Jimin to be the type of man to take pleasure in some obscene club like this . You wore a practically half see through dress , yet compared to the people here, you looked classy.

“You sure this is a club and not a rave, Hoseok?" You hissed to the male next to you. “It's not normally this trashy I swear ! Maybe Jin doesn't own this place anymore ." He defensively replied . “Whatever." You muttered . Trudging along, pushing your way through the sea of dancing bodies that hardly had any fabric covering them. “You spot the bastard yet?" Hoseok mused as he began to sway to the music that blared throughout the club. You looked around , squinting your eyes from the flashing multi colored lights that hung overhead .

“Not yet ." You replied . You could feel Hoseok start to push himself against you as he started to dance to the upbeat music that played . “Found him." Hoseok whispered into your ears and he continued dancing against you. His body taking the lead as he nodded off into the direction of the bar. You began swaying against Hoseok as you nodded, turning your head into the direction of the bar. And there , over the sea of dancing bodies sitting on a bar stool , was a man with a head filled of orange hair that you were all too familiar with. Park Jimin. Your breath hitched as you looked at the male sitting a good distance away from you. His elbows perched on the countertop of the bar. His sharp jawline , his delicate brown eyes , his plump lips that tugged into a sweet smile as he stared out into the dancing crowd . He hadn't noticed you.

He wore a black shirt and jeans . Paired with his leather combat boots that you used to complain to him about . Those fucking boots used to always be dirty as hell. But here they were spotless , and shined. His black shirt did nothing to hide his muscular torso that you were so used to writhing under. His hands still adorned with plain silver rings that he never took off . You remembered having to pry them off his fingers just so you could get a good look at them. In his hands was a scotch glass . You recognized the liquid immediately as Highland Park . His favorite brand of scotch.

However,the smile the orange haired male wore dropped as he made eye contact with you. It was as if everyone in the club disappeared, as if the music had stopped blaring . Everything seemed to stop as you made eye contact with Jimin. Suddenly a harsh jab to your ribs , brought you back from your limbo. “Remember what we came here to do Princess ." Hoseok growled in your ear as you felt a harsh grind against your ass. You didn't need to told twice. You began moving to the beat of the music . Your body movements matching Hoseok's as he grinded against you. His face tucked against your neck , where you could hear his rugged breathes .

You swayed your hips into Hoseok . You could feel his toned thighs and pelvis against you. Hoseok was one hell of a guy. Your eyes remained on Jimin the whole time . You watched as Jimin's eyes narrowed as he took a sip of his scotch. The scowl on his face evident . He looked freighting . A bit of disbelief stamped on his face as he watch this play out before him. You continued your ministrations against Hoseok this time facing Hoseok as you let your thighs encase one of Hoseok's muscular thighs. If you were going to get back at Jimin , might as well do it in the dirtiest way you could. Once you were able to straddle Hoseok's thigh , you began to mimic riding Hoseok . Grinding on him doing your best not to rub yourself on him. You watched as Hoseok's eyes widen at your sudden raunchy behavior but the surprise in his eyes was short lived as he caught on quickly. As you continued your "thigh riding" , Hoseok's hands found their way onto your hips as his mouth found its way to your neck as he peppered light kisses across it.

Your eyes met with Jimin's once more . You knew you were throwing a low blow. You knew Jimin had the biggest kink for thigh riding. You watched as a scowl etched its way onto the orange male's face. His hand gripping his scotch glass, his knuckles white . You threw one last blow Jimin's way. You knew this wasn't the best move to make but your mind was beyond clouded at the moment. Grabbing a fistful of Hoseok's brown locks you slammed your lips into his. Hoseok eagerly responded to your advances . A sloppy mess of teeth and tongues clashed as you kissed Hoseok. However your eyes never left Jimin's form. You watched as Jimin , flipped you off before storming out of the club. As he did so you closed your eyes letting Hoseok slip his tongue into your mouth. You didn't even put up a fight , letting him have full control as his hands roamed your body. However the whole time your eyes were closed all you could see was the dejected look on Jungkook's face as you left earlier. Sudden guilt filling your entire being.

You pushed Hoseok away with a bit more force than you expected to. Hoseok furrowed his brows at you. "Why'd you stop?" He said with a raspy voice . His hands massaging your hips. "I was too caught up in the moment , sorry." You muttered . The feeling of guilt looming over you. You didn't understand why you felt guilty. It sure as hell wasn't for what you did to Jimin. Just Kookie's face was etched into your mind. You were full grown woman who did nothing wrong. Yet you couldn't shake this guilt. You needed to go home. “That's okay I didn't mind. Want to maybe, ... come to my place ? I mean, I can be a rebound for you ... I don't mind ." The brunette looked up at you. His brown eyes sincere as he cupped your face.

The loud music that blared throughout the club was blacked out by you. "N-no I shouldn't Hoseok. I'm sorry , I should just head home ." You stuttered. The brunette's face faltered a bit . "Was it something I did ?" His brows furrowed . A concerned expression on his face. “No , you did nothing wrong Hoseok." You said as you cupped his face. "It's just tonight's been a little overwhelming for me . Thanks for showing me such a good time though. You're one hell of a dancer." You lamented , a soft smile on your face . Hoseok has a bit of doubt in his eyes . "Alright , head on home then." He sighed as he gave your hair a good ruffling . You gave Hoseok a look of gratitude as you made your way out of the club.

You smashed the PIN code of your apartment , once you heard the click of the door unlocking you made your way inside . All the lights were turned off . Your heart thudded in its rib encased prison. Flipping on the lights you called out. "Kookie?!" You set down your bag, taking off your jacket kicking your shoes off in the entry way. You made your way to Kookie's room. "Kookie I'm coming in." You call out once more as you pushed his door open. The lights were off , except for his lamp that illuminated his dark room. He laid down on his bed. His phone sat of his chest , soft music playing through the phones speakers .

"Kookie ?" You said in a light voice . Jungkook just looked at you. He took in your appearance . Your hair ruffled , your makeup smeared , especially your red lipstick that was more like a red lip stain now . You eyeliner smudged a bit. Your dress a bit wrinkled and most notably the overwhelming smell of Hoseok that practically oozed off of you. Jungkook scrunched his face. "Yeah?" He said dejectedly . He couldn't stop the pain from showing on his face. You trotted over to his bed. Sitting down next him as he was still laid down . His phone blaring a really mellow song. That you recognized as "Cha Cha" by Sik-k. Your heart raced as you knew exactly what this song was about . You took deep breaths as you tried to calm your racing heart . Listening to Sik-k's soft rapping about another man eyeing his woman as he just sat by and watched as he couldn't do anything.

“Kookie, you okay ?" You mumbled as you reached out to stroke his cheek. Jungkook looked away and pulled back when you touched him. “I'm fine . Did you have a good time ?" He replied bitterly, his lips pursed , eyes focused on the floor. You gave up on trying to touch him. "It was okay , not the greatest." You sighed . “You should go get cleaned up , you wreak of Hoseok." He said so bluntly , while his face had nothing but a scowl on it. You flinched a bit of his words . Of course , he'd be sensitive to the smells of other males . Yet, your obliviousness still brought Hoseok around .

"Kookie if I did something to upset you , I'm sorry ." You croaked . You looked at your lap. Jungkook's facial features softened as he saw you sitting there . He was such a dick. He knew he shouldn't be taking his frustrations with Hoseok out on you. Sitting up, he set his phone onto the side of the bed . The music softly echoing throughout the room. The hybrid encased you in his arms , burring his face into the crook of your neck that stunk of Hoseok. Jungkook's face dropped a bit. Just where did Hoseok touch you? "I'm sorry , I shouldn't be taking this out on you." He sighed into your neck.

You leaned into Jungkook. Unlike with Hoseok, it just felt so right to be here with Jungkook. His naturally musky scent hitting you. You never realized how strong of a scent he hand . He didn't stink. He just smelled like him. His raw scent . You loved it .

“What's frustrating you?" You mumbled as you leaned into his chest, his toned torso made the best pillow . You could hear his heart beat bellowing wildly in his chest. “Things about myself ." He replied shakily. His eyes avoiding you. His black bunny ears , flaccid. “Like what?" You pressed on . "Just realizing that now matter how equal you treat me , I'll never really be your equal . I'll always be a hybrid . A pet." He chuckled forcefully as he tried to not let his bitterness show . However he failed as you saw right through him.

A frown pulled at your delicate features. "By no means are you a pet! Jungkook we discussed this the day I brought you home , I brought your home for companionship, you're a friend , someone special special , someone who I care for ! Never will I ever think or discriminate against you for being a hybrid." You bursted out, in a slightly raised voice as you cupped his face in your hands . His eyes weakly looked at you. "How do you expect me to believe that when I know nothing about you?! You make me put everything on the table, you know everything about me ! Yet , what do I know about you? What influence do I have on you? I have no say in what you do , I know that , but do you know how it feels to watch as another person dangle the person they love in front of them like a fucking prize? I can't do anything about it . I'm a fucking hybrid I don't have the right nor reason to feel the way I do about you! But I do and it fucking hurts !" He yelled , his voice filled with so much pain.

Your heart hammered in your chest at Jungkook's sudden confession. A weight felt as if it was suddenly lifted off your shoulders . Face flushed . "You , you love m-me?" You croaked out.

Jungkook smacked his lips , a look of disbelief on his face. "If I didn't would I be such a mess?" He agonized . "I don't expect you to love me back , you're better off suited to Hoseok..." He croaked . You looked up at the shaken male before you. His normally proud bunny ears now flaccid and torpid looking. His normally cocky smirk was no where to be found , instead his plump lips were quivering as they rested in an almost permanent looking frown. His cheeks flushed , his brown eyes that were always so lovely and full of life now lackluster. His proud mannerism of sitting up straight letting his presence be know was swapped for a dejected slouch . You cupped his face as you gave into your urges . Your lips quivered a bit . Your heart vibrated fiercely in your chest as you connected your lips to Jungkook's.

Jungkook's eyes widened , his heart palpitated in his chest . His lips quivering as he felt your plush lips against his. A sense of pain shooting through him, his large hands rested against you softly as he pushed you away . He let out a doleful sigh. "Don't do this out of pity ." You froze up. "I would never do this out of pity ! I'm doing this because I feel the same!" You cried out . Honestly , did Jungkook really take you for the type of person who would act on pity? Jungkook cupped your face in his large hands . "Then, are you ready to commit? Hybrids are different from humans . If you accept my feelings you're gonna be my mate and that can't be undone . You'll be bound to me . There won't be any breakups, like humans have . You'll be stuck with me." He confided , a hopeful glint in his eager eyes . His heart thundering in his chest.

Your heart haywire . Your palms clammy. Your lips quivering . "I wouldn't want it any differently." You voiced as confidently as you could. That was all Jungkook needed to hear before he slammed his lips onto yours . His lips skillfully moved against yours . He nibbled on your bottom lip for entry, which you willing gave . His tongue wasted no time as he claimed your mouth. A deep guttural growl emitted from his throat as he adventured further inside of your wet cavern . His hands dug into your hips as he trapped you in his grasps, you perched perfectly on his lap. “Why do I taste Hoseok?" He growled , biting your bottom lip harshly yet, not with enough force to draw blood. But most definitely enough to bruise . You mewled, writhing in his tight grasp. This was just a kiss , yet Jungkook is making you wallow in euphoric bliss. Jungkook's grasp on your hips tightened as he steered your clothed womanhood over his sweatpants clad thigh. His brawny thigh forcefully rubbing against your skimpily covered heat. “Answer me." He demanded as he gave your ass a rough squeeze . You panted in his grasp. "I.."

You stuttered as Jungkook began trailing kisses down your jaw, making his way to your neck. Planting harsh nips on your jawline. Your mind clouding as you felt his wet muscle trailing over the supple flesh of your neck that he was previously nipping. “You what?" He growled, while mercilessly attacking your neck with his mouth. Abusing the sensitive skin he latched his lips onto. “I kissed him.." You whimpered . An animalistic growl left Jungkook's lips as he harshly bit down on your neck. "You wreak of him baby. Did it feel good? Having his drag his lips across your neck? Having his tongue down your throat?" He hissed . His large hands trailing to your back as slowly he pulled the zipper of your skimpy dress down.

“Not as good as you're making me feel." You huffed . Your chest heaving . Jungkook let out a deep chuckle."Damn right baby." Once he pulled your zipper down completely, he gave your ass a harsh slap. "Up."

You mewled out loudly as his hand made contact with your ass. You got up with haste. Standing before him as he sat on the edge of the bed. You took in the sight before you. His ear stood erect atop his head. His black hair a mess, his brown eyes filled with nothing but pure lust. His plump lips pulled into a smirk. His veins bulging down his arms. His torso very visible in the measly white shirt he wore. His chest heaving up and down as he took rugged breaths . His grey sweatpants did little to hide his raging erection. You could make out the thick length as it twitched against the fabric of his sweatpants. His thighs spread open enough so that you'd be able to sit on them. "Take off your dress, leave your slutty panties and bra on." He demanded .

Your throat ran dry . You hastily took off your raunchy dress. Standing in your black lingerie. Jungkook growled as he took in the sight before him. You stood in front of him, your chest heaving. Your hair a fucking mess, your makeup smeared. Your lips plump and abused. His kiss marks littered your jawline and neck. Your ass red from his groping and slaps. His handy work. His senses going wild as he smelled your heavy arousal. Jungkook gave his thigh a pat. You wobbled over to him , lowering yourself onto his thigh. Jungkook claimed your lips once more, you reciprocated his advances. Kissing him back just as eagerly. Moaning into him. Hearing your moans pushed him over edge. He kissed you more aggressively , his hand clawing at the flimsy fabric that covered your breasts.

A squeal leaving your lips as your breasts were harshly cupped into Jungkook's hands. His thumbs wasted no time as they started circling your sensitive nubs. His lips detaching themselves from yours, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. You panted heavily as he took one of your breasts into his mouth. His tongue attacking your delicate nipple. Your hands wasted no time as they latched themselves onto his black locks , encouraging his head further into your chest. Not forgetting about your other breast , Jungkook kneaded , pinched and flicked the nipple his mouth wasn't violating. You whined as his mouth left your nipples . He began feathering kisses over you chest , leaving a few hickies were he pleased . “Patience ." He hissed while giving your breast a harsh nip. You moaned loudly. You felt as if your body was on fire . Your arousal aching . You gave futile attempts to rub your self against his thigh. However, he saw through you and gripped your hips keeping you in place.

"Such a needy bitch." He growled as he picked you up , tossing you onto the bed. Your body quivering as you watched Jungkook pull his white shirt over his head . His muscular torso on full display. His tanned skin , his abs , his v line leading down to his length . You bit your lip as you looked up at the man whom was about to claim you . "Be a good little bitch and turn around for me ." He huffed in a low voice.

You couldn't be more happy to comply. You didn't mind the names he called you. You had a kink for such language in the bedroom. Hastily you got on all fours , arching your back for him. Your arousal making a mess of your flimsy panties . Jungkook's cock twitched as you turned around . You arched your back , your long locks cascading down your form. Your panties giving a futile a attempt to maintain your decency as they lewdly clung to your wet taint. Drops of arousal dripping down your thighs. He did this. It was him who made you this way. It was him who your body craved for . You were his bitch. His mate . His. Not Jimin's. Not Hoseok's. His . Jungkook growled as he thought of the brunette male ever getting the chance of seeing you this vulnerable. Jungkook peeled your panties off. As he did so you let out an eager hum of approval.

Jungkook felt the precum drip out of his angry tip as he saw your pink pussy oozing out arousal . The smell hitting him straight in the face. He growled as he watched you clench around nothing . You were so eager so his cock. Jungkook thought back to how Hoseok tried to lay him claim on you earlier . How you wreaked of the other male. “Such a pretty pussy ." Jungkook grunted as his spread your ass apart to get a good look at your eager core . You mewled under his touch . You harshly bit your lip as you felt Jungkook slip two fingers into you. Your voice echoing throughout the room as he did so . You whined as he didn't move . He just left his fingers in you."Ah, only good bitches get relief . You came home wreaking of that bastard." He growled as he did something you would've never dreamt of Jungkook doing.

With his two fingers knuckles deep inside your hungry taint he took his other hand and gave your ass a harsh smack. You cried out as you clenched around his fingers . He smacked your ass once again this time ,a bit harsher as you clenched your walls around his fingers . You could hear his rugged breaths as he let out a pleased grunt. Giving your ass a loving rub as he massages the spot he just smacked. “Tell me if I'm being too rough ." He whispered as he lovingly kissed the shell of your ear. You nodded as you let out harsh breaths. You eagerly pushed yourself against his fingers , your previously futile attempts of relief finally worked as Jungkook gave you exactly what you wanted. He pulled his fingers out of your core , marveling at how they were coated with your slick.

Bringing them up to his lips, he licked your juices off his fingers , before he bought them back down to your core. Plunging them back inside you , crying out in pure bliss. Your cries encouraging him as he pistioned his fingers into you. Not forgetting to curl them as he looked for that special spot inside of you. Jungkook watched with awe as his fingers disappeared inside of you. He loved the way your walls clenched around him. He loved the way you writhed under his touch. The way your body had goose bumps when he ghosted his fingers over them. The way you mewled out his name . Honestly your body was like an instrument to him. He would touch just the right places and you made such cute little noises.

You let out screams as you felt Jungkook lick your slick. His fingers plunging into you at a fast pace as he licked up the mess you were making of your thighs . Jungkook was in a sensory overload as you tasted heavenly on his tongue . His dick twitching each minute he spent licking your core. Making sure to feather kisses and lick the bundle of nerves that made you cry out for mercy. Jungkook mercilessly attacked your clit as he plunged his fingers in and out of your taint. Your hands grasping onto the bed sheets for dear life. Your knuckles white , your face flushed , as you let out euphoric cries . Eyes closed shut as you felt a pit in your stomach . Your climax was near. You clenched around Jungkook's fingers tightly as he continues his ministrations on the lower half of your body. He must've sensed your climax nearing because just as you were about to relieve yourself he pulled away. His mouth and fingers both . Leaving you clenching around nothing. Frustration filled your being as you groaned. "Why'd you stop?!"

Jungkook chuckled . "You're cumming with me inside you baby." Jungkook pushed the waist band of his sweatpants and boxers down , as his length stood tall. His tip red and angry as it leaked with precum. Veins running along the shaft . Jungkook gave it a few pumps with his hand before he guided it to your entrance . “Do I need any sort of protection?" He asked lovingly as he feathered kisses down your back.The tip of his member sliding against the entrance of your core. “N-no, I'm on the pill , just put it it !!" You cried out as your tried pushing yourself against his tip. “Such an eager bitch." He praised as he slid into you slowly . He let out pleased groans as you clenched around him. You were such a tight fit even after he ravaged you with his fingers only moments prior .

Your eyes closed tightly as you felt Jungkook slip into you. His large size stretching you as he was finally fully inside . Moans of pleasure leaving your lips. Your walls clenching around his shaft . His tip so far into you. “My little bitch ready to be fucked ?" He growled as he began with slow strokes . You were amazed that Jungkook had such a mouth on him. You would've never imagined such filthy words spewing out of his mouth when you saw him sitting there timidly at the hybrid center.

You hummed in reply . That small hum was all the confirmation Jungkook needed. Pulling completely out of you , he slammed his shaft back into you. Your cries echoing throughout the room as he did so. Jungkook's self control tossed out the window . His hybrid side showing through as he gripped your waist.Plunging himself into you at such speed had you a mewling mess as you writhed under him. Your throat becoming sore from how vocal you've been and he had just started . Your hands clawing the bedsheets underneath you. The sound of the bed creaking under you , rivaled the sound of your cries.

Jungkook was wallowing in pleasure as he pistoned into you. The way your walls hugged his length , the way your body bounced as he slammed into . The squelching sounds your pussy made when he thrusted into you. All of it set him off . You were in complete bliss , even more so when Jungkook gathered your hair and began to pull it as he thrusted his cock into you. Jungkook loved the sight in front of him. Your long locks gathered in his hands as your body bounced off his dick. Awestruck as he watched his dick disappear into your aching pussy. What a woman you were, honestly.

Jungkook's thrusts got harsher as your cries got louder . He was sure he was hitting the spot that wound you up. “Don't stop." You cried out "God, You better not fucking stop!" You cried , clawing at the bedsheets even more than before . Jungkook grunted in response . He thrusted into you faster,and harder, your cries echoing throughout the room , letting him know he's doing a good job. He could feel his own climax stirring . The more you clenched around him ,the more you were pushing him over the edge.

Hearing these whines of encouragement Jungkook hastily slammed himself into you. His own climax building up as your walls clenched around his dick mercilessly. You saw white as you came around Jungkook's throbbing cock. Jungkook gave you a few more thrusts into your overstimulated pussy, before he let out a moan. Coming inside of your core. "God y/n!" He grunted . He pulled out of you to see your cunt dripping with his seed. What a sight . He marveled at it . A sense of warmth filling him. He gave your ass a loving tap, as he tucked himself back into his sweatpants . Carefully, he picked you up tucking you under the covers of his bed. He looked at you. Your flushed face . A dopey smile on your face as you lovingly gazed back at him. Your makeup smeared , your lips sore , hickies trailed along your jaw and neck. Your hair the worst he's ever seen it . You looked entirely fucked out. Yet to him this was the most beautiful he's ever seen you. You glowed . He leaned in, giving your lips a loving peck. His head resting on your chest. Your hands tangling themselves in his black tresses .

"God, I love you so much." He sighed happily . This was the happiest he had ever felt . Here in your arms , your hands tangled in his hair. It wasn't the sex he loved the most about you. It was moments like these where you touched him as if he was the most precious thing in the world . However, the sex was a close second . You let a giggle rumble from your chest. Your voice sore as your buried your hands into Jungkook's black locks. “I love you too Kookie." You whispered as you planted a kiss on his head. This bunny was high maintenance and you couldn't be any happier .

#possessive jungkook #jealous jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #smut #jungkook x reader #jhope x reader #bunny hybrid #bunny jungkook #bts jungguk #kpop #kpop fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bunny jungkook x reader #kpop icons #bts scenarios #writing #first smut

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linernotesandseasons · 6 years ago

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My 18 Favorite Albums of 2018

Well...Here it is again! 2018 was a...YEAR. One of the toughest I’ve had so far. But full of hard work, growth, challenges, & little victories. Here are some of the albums that soundtracked it. 18 releases that I loved & supported. Songs that helped me make it through. For the seventh year in a row...My favorite albums. Listed here in no particular order (unless you know/enjoy the english alphabet). Top 5 are probably Monae, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Field Report, McEntire, & Liza Anne, in that order. Music marks time & space. These are the ones for this year. Enjoy!

AMERICAN TRAPPIST / Tentanda Via

We start our 2018 journey in a comfortingly familiar place with the second official full length album from Toms River, New Jersey’s American Trappist. His self-titled debut made my 2016 favs list and his old band River City Extension (top 5 reunion tour wish list for sure!) were second to Fun. on my list way back in 2012. Safe to say Joe Michelini is one my favorite songwriters of the last 10 years. Lucky for us, 2018 found Michelini writing equal parts depressing & uplifting boardwalk rock & roll for/from the underdog/underground. Tentanda Via (Latin for “the way must be tried”) is a blast of an album; full of horns, drums (both jazzy & rock & roll-y!), inspired piano, & Michelini at the helm sounding altogether confident in his existential breakdowns. To me this reads like a coming-of-age album at heart (the way must be tried!), but a deeper, wiser sort of unraveling. A mid-30′s rock opus about learning to live with yourself. Learning how to make yourself better. These songs are inspiring and mix more than a little Springsteen ethos (maybe it’s the horns?!) with some late 90′s/early 2000′s emo/indie/alternative etc...

The straightforward rockers “Death Wish” & “Nobody’s Gonna Get My Soul” bookend the nine track album with surprisingly nimble & crunchy electric riffs and off-the-charts energy! In between, the mid tempo drive of “Getting Even” & “Don’t Get In” lets Michelini’s emotional writing really shine. The words jump out of the songs, full of passion, desperation, & an urgency that makes me glad people are still making records like this. There’s also a unholy, weird interlude that you have to hear to believe called “Unfresh Dirtwolf.” American Trappist is a band that came from the ashes of another band. A band that seems reluctant to tour West of...Ohio. A band that stays under the radar. Michelini has been writing some of my favorite songs for awhile & it feels good growing older together. Here’s hoping for a new one of these every other (or just every?!) year for me to belt along to with the windows down in my Subaru. Joe, if you’re listening out East, don’t stop. This is why I love music.

“Driving through my hometown I feel the peace of the Lord / Ride up behind me on a blind dream from my childhood / Looking back again, it’s hard to understand / Getting older, I guess I do / Waiting on some waking dream like it might find you...”

BLACK BELT EAGLE SCOUT / Mother of My Children

I bought Black Belt Eagle Scout’s debut album at Twist & Shout Records the day it came out. I think I loved the cover art and the idea of Katherine Paul’s solemnly solo rock album, recorded in the dead of Winter in rural Washington, sounding like just what I wanted in my headphones to face the Fall. Then (as so often happens) I got a text a month later from my partner at 12:27am that read simply...

“I’m okay. Going to bed meow. Listen to Black Belt Eagle Scout.”

From there we took Mother of My Children on a snowy road trip to Durango, Colorado. Crisscrossing mountain passes through snowstorms, & visiting Mesa Verde National Park, we let Paul’s earnest, determined, & emotional songs, sweep us into the gray. All this to say that this album has already marked some pretty specific time & place for me. There is a starkness to these songs, a simplicity that makes the songwriting stand alone. Where lesser lyricists would be revealed as phonies (or simply bad) Katherine Paul’s stark, powerful words are illuminated by her minimalist production. With a rhythmically mournful 80′s/90′s emo touch (for more modern emo fans I might even hear a little Manchester Orchestra) Paul doesn’t pull any punches. The guitar gets delightfully heavy on the outro to six minute epic opener “Soft Stud” and then twirls & spirals with the drums in the entrancingly sad “I Don’t Have You in My Life.” This is an important album for Paul to have written and there is a great power in her words. Oh also... she plays every instrument on the album!?! Guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, keyboard, organ, various percussion, & all vocals. Very Vagabon. Very Caroline Rose (spoiler alert!)! With our world on fire, and full of threats (from our own government) to native lands & native people, it’s increasingly important to listen to and hear/heed the words and writings of people like Paul; a radical, indigenous, queer, feminist from Oregon. Thanks for speaking out KP. Listen to Black Belt Eagle Scout.

“Do you ever notice what surrounds you? When it’s all bright & tucked under / Do you ever notice what’s around you? When it’s all right under our skin...”

CAMP COPE / How To Socialise & Make Friends

Camp Cope is a GREAT band name. Camp Cope is a REALLY GREAT band. Camp Cope has a wit & an attitude that is so punk rock, so genuine, & How To Socialise & Make Friends is a powerful album. Hailing from Melbourne, Australia, Camp Cope rides a practiced garage-y sound and lead singer & lyricist Georgia Mac’s passionate howl and impressive writing. As someone who grew up on early 2000′s pop-punk, emo, & alternative (something I guess I probably regret more often than celebrate. Because toxic masculinity & white male fragility) there is something so bittersweetly nostalgic in these chord progressions, the earnest electric strums, the yell-sing vocals, that takes me back to high school. Georgia Mac has a way with words, sliding them in & out, over cascading, steady strums, & then sometimes building them up to a frantic yelling. These are songs that sound as if they had to come out, had to be sung this way, like no one else could write or sing them. With an equally muscular rhythm section, “The Opener” attacks music industry sexism head on (if you haven’t seen Camp Cope live, it is chill inducing hearing a whole room belt along to every word) with a bass riff that could fly a jetliner. The three members interact so well together musically and everything from the driving “UFO Lighter” to the lilting “Sagan, Indiana” sounds tightly rehearsed. Equally passionate in their social media presence and their willingness to engage and fight for social justice issues, Camp Cope represents the future. Bands like this are changing the game right now and it’s exciting to hear it in real time.

When I close my eyes for a second, as the title tracks rings out and the gorgeously, lightly sad “The Face of God” ambles in, I’m 17 again. I’m driving for the first time, crying at the moon by myself or laughing with my friends. I’m a freshman in college, skipping my Friday classes (and braving mountain passes!) headed west, headed home. Then I snap awake and I’m 32, it’s Winter here and Georgia bellows “Just get it all out, put it in a song. Just get it all out, write another song!” Thanks Camp Cope. This album is special.

“It’s another all-male tour preaching equality / It’s another straight, cis man who knows more about this than me / It’s another man telling us we’re missing a frequency / SHOW ‘EM KELLY / It’s another man telling us we can’t fill up the room / It’s another man telling us to book a smaller venue / Nah, hey, cmon girls we’re only thinking about you / Well, see how far we’ve come not listening to you / ‘Yeah just get a female opener, that’ll fill the quota’...”

CAROLINE ROSE / Loner

It took Caroline Rose four years from her weirdly rootsy-riffy debut album to find her true self, but Loner sounds every bit like an artist comfortable in their own skin & confident in their craft. Dialing up the synths, fuzz, and brilliantly tongue-in-cheek lyrics, Rose touches on all the big topics: drugs, death, sex (ism), and money! with a casual, conversational songwriting maturity that belies her 28 year old sophomore-ness. Favorites include “Jeannie Becomes a Mom” (check out that bouncy organ!), the steady build & twisty, head-turning songwriting of “Getting To Me,” & the electro warp & wend of “To Die Today.” I was finally convinced into falling for this album when my partner played it three times (or was it six?) back-to-back-to-back on a rainy Summer Sunday afternoon drive from Granby, CO back into Denver. Something about the pacing; the complex, yet immediate song structures that leave you wanting more. These are songs of tested confidence. But shining through it all, Rose is a wild card. A red clad rockstar with a palpable spirit, not afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve & laugh a little along the way. Loner is full of dance jams for the cool kids & the loners. At its core it preaches acceptance, and teaches us to love ourselves & love each other for who we are. Go Caroline! See you in a month in LA!

“Waitress sets the tables, two & four & six / Laying placemats, knife, fork, spoon, upon napkin / All the counter people, she knows us all by name / A counter people fission, everywhere we are the same... / & so you line ‘em up, a single cell, another one gone / Ostracon vase with your name on the line...”

FIELD REPORT / Summertime Songs

At some point during this year I begin to realize how important beloved songwriters releasing new works is always going to be to me, I was falling (& re-falling) for new works from long time favs Calexico, Gregory Alan Isakov, Florence & The Machine, & of course Phosphorescent. But somehow it was Field Report’s third release Summertime Songs that stuck and became perhaps the most meaningful of all. I fell in love with Field Report in the midst of a hard, hard winter (2012 I think). Their sophomore album Marigolden has been a constant companion since 2014. I first heard this set of songs (the ones that comprise Summertime) in the June of 2017, sweating in the familiar Eau Claire, Wisconsin heat. Hearing a set of 100% new, unreleased material is exciting and also kind of a risk. After the set I wrote that the new tunes “Sound like June. Like wet cement & flash floods. Like swollen rivers & mosquitos full of hard fought human blood. Like growing older & having kids. Intimate details stretched over skittery, percussive thunderclouds. Like grabbing an electric fence. Digging in &...replanting.” I was 100% in it. On a high in Wisconsin & falling deeper in love with music. Then Field Report went mostly silent & we had to wait till early 2018 to get the recorded versions. Adding even more drums (Shane Leonard deserves a shout-out here as a killer pocket player!) some electronic effects, and ramping up on the arm-out-the-rolled-down-window singalongs definitely serves Chris Porterfield (did you know the name Field Report is just an anagram of his last name?!) well. Whoever it was who asked him “why don’t you try Summertime songs” was on the right track. His songwriting is as electric as always on this set of heartbreakers & as usual he follows a lot the same threads. His lyrics here are visceral, wordy, & wise, & i can feel the songs growing up with me. Sometimes I lead, sometimes they lead me, but we always seem to find each other exactly when we need to.

“Time is a bird with a mean, hooked beak / & he’s just waiting around to work on you & on me... / Shotgun wedding, black on blue / The river’s swelling like a bruise...”

H.C. McENTIRE / Lionheart

Heather McEntire has been carving out a name for herself in the North Carolina music scene for years fronting old-school punk band Bellefea & more recently, the much loved Mount Moriah. But way way back in January, Lionheart roared in under her own name; all ferocious & tender, confident & wild. A true southern record, Lionheart is vocal & lyric forward. From the Sunday morning hymn swell of opener “A Lamb, A Dove,” to the driving swing of “Baby’s Got the Blues,” & the late night, red wine country of “When You Come For Me.” McEntire enlists all her talented musical friends on this effort. There are co-writes with the legendary Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill (whom McEntire credits with helping her find her individual voice), bgvs from Amy Ray (Indigo Girls), Angel Olsen, & Tift Merrit, & inspired guitar work from William Tyler & Durham favorite Phil Cook!

Through it all, McEntire stays true to the thread that made Mount Moriah’s “How To Dance” one of my 2016 favs. Lionheart exudes the smells & scenery of North Carolina and reads like a map at times, referencing points from Stoney Creek to the Green River Gorge. Some of my favorite songs written over the last five years (or ever) have a very strong (& often specific) idea of place. If country music is going to representative of the country that I want to live in, it’s going to be sung by people like Heather McEntire. A powerful queer southern woman; vulnerable & brave, a true Lionheart.

“You’ll find me in the hollow, dosing anything that might / Make the map look any smaller, give me a dog in the fight / So call it off or call it God, call it anything you like / Do you see it in my eyes? / A levee on the rise, do you see it? / The tellin’ ain’t told gently, so pay your tab & pay your dues / The dogwood & the chicory & a silent wood stove flue / Your baby’s got the blues just like you...”

iZCALLi / IV

I was late to the party on Izcalli (a band from my own city!) and when I found them, it was magical, I think they were playing an opening set for Jessica Hernandez & The Deltas at Lost Lake and I probably stumbled in late from PS Lounge or Tommy’s Thai to shredding electric guitar & ska, latin funk, & pure Led Zepplin Rock & Roll. Frontman Miguel Avina was howling & stomping in Freddy Mercury-meets-Mariachi white pants, his long curly hair everywhere, all energy. I was immediately hooked. Calling them my favorite local band and finally getting to put them on this end of the year list. Izcalli joins some pretty good “local band” company here on linernotes&seasons. From Nina De Freitas’ EP last year; Yawpers, Covenhoven, & Rateliff in 2015, to Isakov & Covenhoven in 2013 & The Lumineers all the way back in 2012! Izcalli has been playing around Denver for 13 years and have slowly built up enough of a following to headline the Bluebird Theater last year. Their fourth album (aptly titled IV) comes out swinging and showcases plenty of heavy power chord riffs, violin, horn, & songs in both English & Spanish. Their heavier, more classic rock influenced songs (”Lightning Red” & “Eso Velocidad”) absolutely explode with fiery lead guitar and inspired drumming. When they dial it back and let their Mexican influences show through, like on the eerily crunchy, violin led “Quite de Mas” and the woozy saxophone breakdown of “Solo Se Morir,” they showcase depth and a real songwriting ability. There is an almost Muse-like thunder to the monstrous organ riff of “A New Lie” and closer “Si Estoy Contigo” sends everybody out dancing. With influences from all over (most notably their homeland Mexico City) & a live show that’s not to be missed, Izcalli embodies everything I think of when I think of a true Denver band.

“A frozen heart in me turned out to be my one way home / I swear I’ll leave, I’ll drive myself down to Mexico...”

JANELLE MONAE / Dirty Computer

Dirty Computer is my favorite album of 2018. Much like my favorite album last year (Lorde’s Melodrama) no one was as simultaneously honest & excavating in their personal songwriting; while still writing such absolutely shredding club bangers, as Janelle Monae. Dirty Computer acts as a coming out party of sorts for the 32 year Kansas City-ian, although, to be fair, her first two albums had already scored her Grammy nominations and the stamp of approval from Prince, Eryakah Badu, & Michelle Obama. Her debut The ArchAndroid and her followup The Electric Lady, found her creating elaborate alter egos, protest songs, and complex, critically acclaimed song cycles about life as a black woman in America. With Dirty Computer she is able to hold multiple titles at once. Schizophrenically on top of her game, tying all her alter egos together with stellar production, monster vocals, and some of the best, most interesting pop songs since...well...maybe since Prince. From the Brian Wilson assisted eerie sci-fi sweetness of stage setting opener “Dirty Computer,” she lets loose on some of her most fun, live-a-little anthems “Crazy, Classic Life,” and “Take a Byte.” Deeply personal, political, & inspiring “Django Jane” is stunning, & sets the stage for mega back-to-back singles “Pynk” & “Make You Feel.” Songs of my (and everybody else’s) Summer for sure. “I Got The Juice,” is light & bouncy, & personal favorite “I Like That” is rebellious & rides an immediately memorable instrumental into one helluva vocal take from Monae. She makes a political statement in closing with the anthem “Americans,” (anybody else think this one especially sounds like a lost Prince track?) but her strength is her ability to be both personal & political; a true diva with a purpose. These songs are Janelle creating and sounding exactly how she wants, pushing the limits of what a superstar can do, Her show at the Paramount in July was a highlight for me, and Dirty Computer is hands down my album of the year.

“Box office numbers & they doin’ outstanding, running out of space in my damn bandwagon / Remember when they use to said I look too mannish? / Black girl magic yall can’t stand it...”

LIZA ANNE / Fine But Dying

In a year where I seemed to gravitate to albums & songs about living in, and growing through, mental health issues; Liza Anne’s blistering (and epically titled!) Fine But Dying was definitely a top five album for me. A gifted songwriter, Dying finds Anne finally letting it out with a heavy band, a light touch, & a deep dive into the insecurities & struggles that seemed to be (gulp) some of the same ones I was going through this year. Songs about conversations, relationships (both romantic & platonic), and most importantly, about examining & improving yourself. No one on this list unpacks, observes, and mines their own heart & mind as well or as deeply as Anne does across these 11 tracks. When she really cuts loose, like in the ballistic breakdown of “Kid Gloves,” the fuzzy crunch of “Get By,” or the spiraling, swirling (& also epically titled!) “I Love You, But I Need Another Year” she shines. Fine But Dying is wise beyond its years and a no-holds-barred, place-in-time look at mental health & how we should all be addressing our issues & working things out. Her show at Globe Hall here in Denver back in April was cathartic, thoughtful, & one of my favorite of this year for sure. Yay for fearless songwriters, Yay for rock & roll. Fuck yeah Liza Anne!

“I ran once, took my flight across the ocean / I thought if I could make my way across the sea I’d find a place / Now I’m swallowed up by a city that doesn’t give a fuck / To whether I am up on time / Or whether if I am, well...alive / & I’m so good - getting too good at hiding / Too good at keeping to myself that I’m spiraling...”

MESHELL NDEGEOCELLO / Ventriloquism

I think it was “Atomic Dog 2017″ that first caught my ear at some point last year. I didn’t know Meshell Ndegeocello, but I knew that what I was hearing was classic. The off-kilter guitar strums slithering into that bass drop, finally settling into a steady groove, that melody appearing (seemingly out of nowhere) into a rolling, & instantly recognizable chorus. Next thing I know I’m googling George Clinton and off into an 80′s funk youtube rabbit hole. A covers album to stand up to any other covers album, Ndegeocello has a masterpiece on her hands in both song selection & creativity. In a year where she turned 50, the sneakily titled Ventriloquism is her 12th studio album, Inspired by listening to oldies radio on car rides to her childhood home, influenced by Prince & Neil Young; Ventriloquism is a super smooth revamp of 80s & 90s R&B. What Ndegeocello does so seamlessly on Ventriloquism is take these songs and make them flow as a part of a whole. There is light in the darkness here. There are threads of continuation here. An appreciation for those who came before, those who paved the way. Ndegeocello is a true artist and these reinterpretations not only nod to classic songs & artists, but dig out their own little important niche in 2019.

“Sometimes it snows in April / Sometimes I feel so bad, so bad / Sometimes I wish life was never ending / & all the good things they say, never last / Springtime was always my favorite time of year / A time for lovers holding hands in the rain...”

MIYA FOLICK / Premonitions

Every year I wait till the last minute (and beyond!) to finish this list. I write it up in November & December, agonizing & filling out what I think are my favorite albums (18 this time!) of the year. I enjoy whittling the list down to a manageable number, but I also enjoy reading everyone else’s lists; finding new finds & hearing what other people liked. Then, sometime in the middle of December, I am knocked out by something I missed over all the year of listening & reading. This year it is MIYA FOLICK! I was given a wintry new year’s mix of goodbye 2018 (and F*** you!) tunes from my partner (which I will probably post & write about sometime as soon as I finish posting this because it is goooood), and track 9 of that spotify mix. Bouncy horns, a killer beat, & lyrics that cut right to me but leave me smiling. Rhyming “self home” with “cellphone”?! Singing about leaving the party?! Yesssss!. This is for me! On deeper listens, Premonitions is a goddamn masterpiece. Starting slowly & melodically, openers “Thingamajig” and the title track are captivating, then it unexpectedly explodes into 80′s dance bangers about half way through. Most of the album is deeply personal and self examining, finding Folick digging into to her own weaknesses & fears, without always settling on answers. She is vulnerable yet grand; part Lorde, part Florence, part Stevie NIcks, part Regina Spektor...All Miya. At its core, Premonitions celebrates life, celebrates the little victories. If you want to know/hear what that sounds like, maybe I should let you read from Miya’s bandcamp page...

“Premonitions begins with ‘Thingamajig’ -- something you can't quite recall the name of, but you know exactly what it means and what it feels like. Like the pull of desire that comes with not quite remembering fully. The magnetism of something just on the tip of your tongue. I wanted the album to feel like that thing.

I think a lot about about memory-making as an act of creation, the words we use to describe a memory give shape to and sometimes mutate the memory itself. I believe that the way we choose to describe the events of our lives is not only a means of creative fulfillment, but an absolutely vital part of creating the world we want to live in. When we are dishonest in the present, we create a dishonest future. When we are honest in the present, we create a more honest future. I wanted this album to be the vehicle for a hopeful, truthful, generous, and loving world. I tried not to posture or pretend. I wrote about my life as I've seen it and how I'd like to see it, as both memory and premonition.

The producers, Justin Raisen and Yves Rothman, and I spent months collecting organic sounds to fill the world of this record. We threw away everything that felt false and tried to keep the soul of each song alive. I hope Premonitions gives you comfort and joy. I hope it feels like all the mysterious details of your lives, all your massive and mundane glories. I hope it reminds you that there is beauty in the details. Rainbows in your sprinklers. Drinking water from a hose. The way it felt to make a friend for the first time. Locking yourself in a bathroom to avoid everyone. Dancing until your shins burn. Leaving your phone in an Uber and making your best friend drive you an hour away to knock on a stranger's door after locating it on Find My Phone. Losing a friend. Losing yourself. Remembering...”

MT. JOY / Mt. Joy

I had almost finished making this list and nearly forgot about an album that marked a month-plus in the Spring when I listened to almost nothing else! Philly by way of LA’s Mt. Joy debut with an album that blends sunny California folk & smoothed out east coast pop-emo, into easy listening, easy singing indie rock. Named after a mountain in Valley Forge National Park (SE Pennsylvania); Mt. Joy’s songs similarly find geographic touch points across the US, making this a true road trip record. Multiple California references (San Fran, Mulholland, Hollywood, the ocean), make their way down to New Orleans, and end up on the east coast (”blood on the streets in Baltimore” & “the beaches of Chincoteague”). Without breaking any new musical ground, Mt. Joy sounds comfortable & confident, and their songs play bigger & stickier than your average radio friendly pop-saturated-folk. When the title track hits its festival ready build (”you can’t stop us, feel like Ziggy Stardust”) you’ll have a hard time not rolling down your window and singing along. “Way up over Mt, Joy. Where everyone’s free now. To move how they feel now.”

“Your life will change straight out of the blue / The clouds in your mind just passing through / Image the horses when you set ‘em free / Go tear down the beaches of Chincoteague...”

NONAME / Room 25 (& Song 31)

Room 25 kicks in innocently enough: smoothly humming wordless voices, steady drums, & jazzy piano flourishes. Like a lazy Sunday morning. Noname (Chicago’s 27 year old Fatimah Warner) introduces herself with a laid back, matter-of-fact, stream of consciousness “maybe this is the album you listen to in your car when you’re driving home late at night, really questioning every god, religion...” But then she says something that should make you pay attention.

“Nah. Actually this is for me.”

That creative confidence. That freedom, defines the rest of her album. No matter how much critical acclaim Room 25 racks up (I saw this album on a ton of end of the year lists!), no matter how downright fun & laugh out loud funny her breakneck rhymes are, this one is for Noname. I mean, you can still download (aka OWN...like for your ipod!) the whole album on bandcamp FOR FREE! Following in Chance’s footsteps, it’s free mp3s for people like meeee! Raised in Chicago’s slam poetry scene, she dabbles here in downtempo, smoothed out, futuristic jazz & soul. All the while she is unapologetically herself. Her words tripping over each other, too many thoughts, too much energy, too much passion to hold in. A clear blockbuster talent. One of my favorite new finds from last year’s Eaux Claires festival, her late afternoon set up on the hill was radiant & joyful. The artwork I used here is from her early 2019 single “Song 31,” as she has pledged to change the official Room 25 cover art, due to assault charges leveled in October against the artist who did the original cover. “I do not and will not support abusers, and I will always stand up for victims & believe their stories.” Noname said, and she has been proven to be as vocal in her personal life as she is on tape. As she says in the uplifting “Ace...”

“Globalization is scary, and fuckin’ is fantastic” And yall still thought a bitch couldn’t rap huh?...

“When labels ask me to sign, say ‘my name don’t exist’ / So many names don’t exist / Moved into Inglewood & the trauma came with the rent / Only worldly possession I have is life / Only room that I died in was 25...

Medicine’s overtaxed, no name look like you / No name for private corporations to send emails to / Cuz when we walk into heaven, nobody’s name gonna’ exist / Just boundless movement for joy, nakedness, radiance...”

RAINBOW KITTEN SURPRISE / How To: Friend, Love, Freefall

Rainbow Kitten Surprise made one of my five favorite albums this year (and probably the one that I sang along to in the car more than any other!) Imagine Modest Mouse growing up in North Carolina, in the 2010′s, writing smart, anti-lumineers-imagine dragons tunes, and going on to play arenas & rock clubs alike. This Boone, NC (pop. 17,000) five piece crank out catchy pop rock tunes; equal parts funky basslines, ooohs & ahhhs, and deceptively clever lyrics about religion, the south, and relationships both platonic & romantic. Huge single “Fever Pitch” rides rolling drums, background whoops, and finds charismatic frontman Sam Melo languidly recounting his religious upbringing and sing-rapping about getting to know you better. Other standouts include the acoustic blues (and Aha-Shake-era-Kings of Leon reminiscent!) “Painkillers,” the “Moon & Antarctica” rattletrap sing-song of “Possum Queen,” and the laugh-out-loud funny breakneck alternative pace of “Matchbox.” But it is song of the year contender “Hide” where Melo lays bare his feelings about growing up gay in a deeply religious south, when you get a peek at what Surprises these Rainbow Kittens are capable of. What starts as a bouncy love number takes a turn into some deep songwriting with “I’m running from a place where they don’t make people like me, I keep the car running, I keep my bags packed. I don’t wanna’ leave, just don’t wanna’ leave last.” This is Fruit Bats’ “Soon-to-be Ghost Town” written by someone who’s lived it. RKS packages it all up as emotional anthems, dancey-catchy choruse that stick, & an album that-while serious, is so damn fun to sing along to. They’ll be at Red Rocks next Summer so come hop on the bandwagon and get to know your new favorite band!

“You’re a master of passive-aggressive magic tricks like “that’s not the card that I would’ve picked, but it’s your life to live like how you’d like to live...’”

SUN JUNE / Years

Sun June’s debut record Years is an album that I never expected to be on this list, but one that pushed its way into my heart, ears, and mind a lot over the early Summer. I kept comparing it to Leif Vollebekk’s gorgeously haunting 2017 release Twin Solitude that made it on last year's list in that it managed to be rhythmically funky & interesting while being mostly SO quiet. Even the more “upbeat” numbers; from the gorgeously, golden swing of “Young,” to the steady backbeat of “Baby Blue” keep their composure meticulously. The writing is transfixing on Years and the band is so tight, with every member adding just the right amount of soft sound. I tried to explain it to somebody as music you have to “squint to hear.” It sounds good in the background, all sweet & rolling. But better up close, turned up in headphones. All together & bright. This is an album I would listen to sleepily, on my way home from work, driving Colfax in the first light of dawn at 5 in the morning. Sun June’s lack of an internet presence is refreshing (is there ANYWHERE I can find the lyrics for this album??!!), I think they’re from Texas, and I don’t think they’ve even played a show in Colorado yet! Regardless, Years is tied together with a quietly tight rhythm section, and Laura Colwell’s wispy vocals, grabbing at the edges of my brain, calmy insisting “Four in the morning, I could get used to this...”

“I was almost always leaving / Looking for the reason / Bedside hospital daylight / I go with the Southern mountains / Down the 405, I’m coming tell me you don’t deserve this / I was young...”

TIERRA WHACK / Whack World

I love me a good concept album, but even I would’ve thought that the idea of 15 one minute songs(complete with video accompaniment) making up an entire album, would be a tough sell. Whack World makes good on an innovative concept, delivering something breezy, catchy, & lasting, and making Tierra Whack one of my favorite new finds of 2018! My little sister showed her to me on a “Get-your-ass-to-the-gym” playlist and “Fruit Salad” was immediately stuck in my head for weeks. Mostly down-tempo, Whack is clearly a witty lyricist and creative mind, and at 23, a game changer in the music scene. Also an effortlessly cool, musical, badass. With almost no choruses, this is an album you can listen to over and over (and throw any tracks in mixes) without any clear singles. The bouncy gospel-tinged “Pet Cemetery” has hand claps & dog barks, and is followed immediately by the laugh-out-loud vocals of “Fuck Off.” Whack never takes herself too seriously (so many off the wall and laugh out loud funny vocals!) and the Philly native shows that one minute songs can turn a lot of heads and end up on a lot of end of the year best album lists! Whack World!

“Crispy clean and crisp & clean / For the dough I go nuts like Krispy Kreme / Music is in my Billie genes / Can’t no one ever come between yeah / Don’t worry about me I’m doing good, I’m doing great, alright...”

TYPHOON / Offerings

It seemed like a lifetime since Typhoon released their sophomore knockout, masterpiece album White Lighter back in 2013. I’ve grown a lifetime since, experienced everything since. In the first few weeks of January 2018, out of the darkness, out of the silence: came something darker, weirder, but still magical and at its core, celebratory. Typhoon is one of my all-time favorite bands, one of my favorite live shows, and frontman Kyle Morton writes about memory & loss, life & death, better than anybody in the game. With Offerings they have dropped the peppy horns, slimmed down to (only!) seven members, and zeroed in on the heavy, spiraling folk-rock that hearkens back a little to Bright Eyes or The Decemberists, Broken Social Scene or Arcade Fire. As a loose concept album, Offerings explores in four movements (Floodplans, Flood, Reckoning, & Afterparty) what happens to a mind stripped of memory. Or (side quest/plot/twist) a world willfully forgetting its history. From the hushed chanting that explodes into huge string swells, drums, and shouts of opener “Wake” to the rhythmic, glowing build of the 8 minute “Empricist,” to the mystical picking and ruminating of “Algernon” the first movement could almost stand as an album of its own. The rest of the album unravels at equal parts slow reflection (”Mansion” & “Beachtowel”) and sweeping indie rock (”Remember” & “Darker”). Although a lengthy (and at times not easy) listen, I think Offerings will go down as one of the most ambitious rock records of the last few years.

“& so the light fades / It’s still your birthday / So blow out your past lives like they’re candles on a cake...”

VALLEY MAKER / Rhododendron

There is a mysticism buried somewhere in the emotive vocals & break-in-the-clouds writing of North Carolina by way of Washington State’s Valley Maker. Austin Crane is the singular voice behind the Valley Maker project, painting time & space on a dark, slippery canvas, and hiding complex truths in the rhythmic tides of Rhododendron. This ground has been tread before; by countless folk singers & prophets, wailing of death, dark magic, & the myriad mysteries of time, but Valley Maker understand their place in the linear and bring a modern take to ancient stories. Part War on Drugs-highway-drone (check the double yellow rattle of “Light on the Ground”), part Ben Howard’s-foggy-British-countryside (”Beautiful Birds Flying”), Crane writes songs that stick. They claw and seep their way into skin, into veins, and haunt in a way that echoes of the past. This is songwriting as a conduit. These stories are Crane’s, but they are older; tales told since religion begin. From the first lines of the roiling, dark sky opener (”time is just a game I play / it’s written on the ocean’s waves / circling beyond my brain / something I could not contain.”) to the uncertain give & take of the earthy “Seven Signs” (”I’m cutting in line but I haven’t decided...”) the writing is equal to the musicianship Crane and his backing band clearly have in spades. With Chaz Bear (Toro Y Moi) providing stellar percussion and Amy FItchette (who I was lucky enough to see sing with VM at the Doug Fir in Portland) lending absolutely haunting, otherworldly harmonies, Crane has depth beyond his strange tunings and bleep & bloop electric forests. Through it all there is a steady rhythm to the darkness and like in “Baby, In Your Kingdom” when he tops a wonderfully simple, acoustic walk-down with “Baby are you satisfied? Take a decade, take a lifetime, I know we’re always on a one way street...” there is a timeless beauty even in the mystery. Oh, and saxophone. Rhododendron has some great saxophone.

“Baby in the next life / I can touch you, I can ride the light / Goddamn I wan’t where I thought I’d be / 29. Burn the world around me & I hide / Baby in your kingdom / Sink my roots in, I’m a tall tree / I know, wind is gonna blow again / I know, when I am with you...I am known...”

#black belt eagle scout #camp cope #caroline rose #field report #janelle monae #liza anne #meshell ndegeocello #miya folick #mt joy #noname #rainbow kitten surprise #sun june #tierra whack #typhoon #valley maker #izcalli #american trappist #h.c. mcentire

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journeysintowebcomics · 6 years ago

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Worm Liveblog #86

UPDATE 86: She Got Fooled

Last time the miasma Bonesaw engineered covered the city. This miasma causes agnosia, making everyone not recognize each other and be generally paranoid, and Skitter is most likely with Bonesaw and someone else from the Slaughterhouse Nine. I want you to picture for a moment that Skitter may have recently been hugged by the Siberian’s creator. Creepy. So let’s continue, hopefully with 100% less hugs.

It makes sense people would forget about powers too. If they could distinguish people by their powers, it wouldn’t make much sense to make them forget, they could easily prove their identities through that. I thiiiiink there’s a bit of an instinctive remain in the agnosia because Skitter didn’t question that “Tattletale” was using her power to orientate herself. Bonesaw would know better than anyone what her miasma does, but even if she slips and says something incriminatory, she can just saw it was thanks to her power. I think the only hope there is of Skitter realizing what’s up is if the real Tattletale comes by.

It’s a bit of a questionnaire, asking Skitter of the extent of her powers, and unknowingly giving the Slaughterhouse Nine more information. Oh boy, this is going to be useful for them.

“Your short-term recollection is still good, at least. That would be why you can retain the information Grue and I have shared over the past few minutes. That big beetle of yours, you named it?”

I glanced at Atlas, who was crawling a short distance away. “Atlas.”

Tattletale nodded. “That would be the short-term memory, again. Your power probably gives you enough contact with it that you don’t lose track of who and what it is.”

“Right.”

“So long as that keeps working, we don’t need to worry about you and Grue forgetting who we are in the middle of a conversation. But for us, we might lose track of each other if we split up, so let’s stay close, okay?”

Kind of glad the miasma doesn’t cause short-term memory loss too. That’d be disastrous. I’m surprised Bonesaw had that bit of restraint.

Skitter is encouraged to use her bugs to scout the surroundings, in case there’s someone around, and also because the miasma is limiting visibility.

The weight of the gun in my hand was both a reassurance and a burden. It would be so easy to do something I would regret for the rest of my life.

I wonder if she’ll dare to pull the trigger, with enough egging or reason to do it. If the miasma really heightens paranoia, I think it’d be natural if it happened, kind of makes me hope it does.

Turns out there’s someone following them. Skitter’s companions’ first reaction is ‘tie them up’, which is the correct reaction, I think. Begrudgingly conceding a point for staying in character. Boy am I going to have egg on my face if these turn out to really be Grue and Tattletale.

Still, her bugs can’t tell her who it is, so she sets a trap. Some decoys are assembled, and she hides, while Grue hurries her to tie up that person already and gives compliments that make Skitter be uncomfortable. Part of the constant feeling of danger she has right now, I imagine. She instinctively feels Grue is acting strange, I wager.

“Is paranoia a side effect of this mist?”

Tattletale nodded. “Could be. As the symptoms progress, you could have fits of anger, paranoia, hallucinations…”

Oh boy. I wonder how long it takes for the symptoms to progress. It sounded to me like Vista was already having fits of anger and paranoia. It could be matter of time before Skitter goes through the same symptoms, and once she does, she’s going to reject everyone else. Getting her away from the people with her will be difficult.

“Or it could progress in another direction. A broader agnosia, with the inability to recognize anything, not just people.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Oh, it definitely will. Bonesaw’s saying that, therefore it will. I sure hope they’ll get a cure for this before things get to that point, because once it does, there’s nothing to be done. I’m convinced all this will end in death.

The three act natural, walking and letting Skitter do her preparations for tying this person up. Insects gather on the person, silk is extended, and I think this is turning into a regular asset in Skitter’s repertoire. How many times has she used the silk for a lot of things lately? Several times. I bet it’ll happen once every arc from now on.

“We should investigate,” Grue said. “Make sure she isn’t a threat, and deal with her if she is.”

Knowing to what group this person most likely belongs to, it sure is ominous when he says ‘deal with’. I’m pretty sure that means ‘kill’. Skitter points out that they can’t know if a person is a threat or not, and Grue isn’t too worried about that, because they have Tattletale. She’ll know. And by ‘know’ it’s more like Bonesaw isn’t affected and will know for sure.

If I had to guess...I don’t think it’s anyone in the Undersiders. Heckpuppy is in the dome with the real Grue, most likely, and I hope the real Tattletale is still with Trickster on top of that building. I trust they’d both be smart enough to stay up there, where it’s...kind of safe. They know each other isn’t a danger – until the paranoia kicks in, in which case they’ll push each other off the building and it’ll be a disaster.

“We have Tattletale. She can tell us if this person’s a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine.”

“Tattletale’s not-”

I stopped. Where had that come from?

Ohohoho! That’s juicy. Was she going to say ‘Tattletale’s not here’? That would be a good one. That would be a sign her subconscious is trying to warn her.

Turns out I was wrong, Skitter was going to say Tattletale’s not always right, and can’t say why she remembers that. I’ll be optimistic and hope that means the agnosia hasn’t settled well into Skitter. There’s hope!

They stopped a few hundred feet away from the person Skitter just captured. Grue draws out a knife and wooooah okay, any tiny, tiny doubt this could at least be the real Grue is now gone. Not Grue at all. He’s not the kind to jump to stabbing right away. Maybe he would with some preparation and stuff, but not right away, geez.

“Hey,” I said. I grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”

“She’s obviously a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine,” Tattletale said.

“Fill me in? Because I must have missed something. Doesn’t seem that clear to me.”

Not clear at all to anyone! There’s aaaall this miasma, and this person is lying down without moving, and there’s no sign a power is being used, and if I’m converting feet to meters correctly a few hundred feet would be like ninety meters (using 300 feet as reference), and all I can say is that I call shenanigans.

“Think about it. Why is she wearing a mask like that, if not to filter out the miasma? She knew about it in advance.”

I kind of think the Slaughterhouse Nine would make themselves immune instead of using gas masks around, and what’s more, I’m convinced they would make the miasma so gas masks would be ineffective. If I had to guess, this is a Protectorate member. This is one of the protective suits. No wonder these two phonies are jumping at the chance of killing this person. I bet the moment Skitter turns her back on her and walks away, a mechanical spider’s going to jump and kill this person.

Skitter, bless her, isn’t really willing to go ahead and kill without a complete confirmation this person is a Slaughterhouse Nine member, much to “Tattletale”’s impatience. She wants to go and kill now. Skitter refuses to let them, especially when there’s no confirmation.

“With my power, I’m five hundred percent sure. Trust me,” she said, grinning. She started toward the heroine.

Toward the heroine, you say. Sounds to me like Skitter has distinguished what alignment the person on the ground has.

There’s a lot of pressure on Skitter right now. I hope she holds her ground, even if it comes from people she currently thinks are on her side.

Tattletale scowled, “Have you forgotten how aggressively we’ve been going after the Slaughterhouse Nine? The attacks, the harassment, capturing Cherish and Shatterbird. And now you want to leave one of them there? We don’t have to get close to her to take her out. You have the gun.”

And they’re trying to make her do the coup d’ grace! Of course they are. Killing someone is a limit a lot of people have. Skitter is willing to do it, but only if she’s certain she’s getting rid of someone as bad as the Slaughterhouse Nine, she isn’t taking it lightly.

“Trust me,” she said.

“No.”

Both Tattletale and Grue turned to look at me.

Good for her.

“No?” Grue asked. “We’re a team, Skitter. We’re supposed to trust one another when the chips are down, have each other’s backs.”

I didn’t like the implications of that. Like I was failing them.

Not so good for her. They know what buttons to press. I really hope Skitter keeps being stubborn all she can. I really hope that.

“Explain?” he asked. He looked calm, but I could see the irritation in his posture. Was the mist getting to him?

I sure hope he’s irritated, and I kind of dread that at the same time, because who knows what he’ll do if he’s irritated. Is this Jack? If so, then maybe that’s good. Jack doesn’t seem to me like the type to act guided by his emotions.

More resisting what they’re telling her to do! She’s holding steadfast.

This kind of social pressure wasn’t the sort of thing I was good at coping with. Just going by my recollection of how we’d planned many of our capers, I could usually trust some of the others to have my back when I was arguing a point. Or I’d had some other motive or reason to go along with them.

Her bullying can’t help, really. So much peer pressure on her right now, this is so...high school-y. I wonder if the person on the floor can hear them right now. How far away are they, again? A few hundred feet? Doesn’t sound like they have moved any closer.

“Did you forget what they did to me?” Grue asked, his voice cold.

...is that a trick question? Because...agnosia miasma, pal. I’m pretty sure she forgot.

Skitter doesn’t say yes, because even though she did forget the details, she didn’t forget the emotions. That must be what these two phonies are aiming for, they want her to yield to her emotions instead of the rational choices that are leading her to not kill this mystery heroine.

Grue must have seen something in my posture, because he shook his head and turned away. “Give me the gun, then.”

“Just use your power,” Tattletale told him.

“I want Skitter to acknowledge that she doesn’t care enough about this team or about me to do what’s necessary. She can do that by admitting she doesn’t have the courage to shoot and allow me to do it.”

Even though Skitter forgot about everything, she should at least be able to feel something’s off, right? Also, way to call for him to use his long-range power to kill this person, Bonesaw. Doesn’t narrow down if this is Jack or the Siberian’s creator, though.

Since appealing to her emotions about what happened to Grue didn’t work, now he aims towards her feelings about being called a traitor. That’s what getting more effect right now, Skitter tells him that’s enough. This phony changes directions quite fast now.

“I know you like me. I can read it on your face, I could see the way your eyes widened when you heard my name. You’re an open book in some ways. And I’ll tell you right now, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

Wow, this really is like high school.

This, and the word ‘traitor’, keep hammering onto Skitter, insisting she takes the gun and kills the heroine on the floor. She still refuses. Skitter’s finally realizing something’s off, and holsters the gun. There’s silence until this guy decides they should leave, he’s all smiles, like this wasn’t no big deal. Well then!

“Tattletale, can you use your power to make sure the lady from the Nine doesn’t pose a danger?”

Tattletale nodded, smiling.

That heroine is so dead.

Now that this was settled, the three walk away, the fake Tattletale clinging onto Skitter’s arm in a way that doesn’t resemble Tattletale at all. If Skitter had even a bit of memory of her friends left she wouldn’t be fooled at all.

I felt like I was back in school, in a situation where I couldn’t say anything without saying the wrong thing. Strange, to recall being around the bullies rather than in the company of my team.

Even now she knows something’s very weird here. It’s like all her instincts are screaming to her she’s in danger, but she doesn’t act on those instincts. Well, not that it’d be easy to act if she wanted. What’s she supposed to do? Run away, fight, do anything? Playing along and waiting for a good chance seems like the best course of action, in my opinion, but the miasma won’t help when it’s about taking good decisions. Welp.

Okay, this chapter has been rather heavy-handed about Skitter feeling like she’s in danger despite being with Tattletale and Grue. Is there really any way anyone thought those two were the real deal? I doubt it!

“She’s out of my range,” I said. “Tattletale?”

“I’ll keep an eye out!” She grinned.

Skitter is lying. She’s going to notice once the mechanical spiders or whatever come to kill that heroine. Unless she remembers someone in the Slaughterhouse Nine has those, all she’ll know is that the woman was killed by those things. I wonder what heroine it is...maybe Miss Militia?

There’s signal to call Coil, and that bothers Skitter for a reason I’m not sure about right now. I must have forgotten something. Oh well. The phonies tell her to call Coil because they have to find out where Cherish is. In the meanwhile, the woman got rid of the silk as if it was no big deal, she really may have been waiting for a chance to attack if they approached too much. Bonesaw doesn’t react when Skitter asks her if there’s any trouble incoming. Once another indication for Skitter something’s off.

It doesn’t seem like Coil was affected by the mist. Huh. Curious, I thought the miasma would be more pervasive than this. Okay then. That means there won’t be any trouble to get in contact with Cherish, as long as Skitter can provide the password that identifies her. She can’t, so instead they agree to keep Coil on the line. So he can cut communication whenever he feels like it or when something dangerous is revealed. That should be of help, I hope he’ll be sharp and ready to cut off if things get dicey.

As expected, Cherish isn’t willing to make things easy or nice. She tries to manipulate Coil for her own amusement, but there’s something about what she’s saying that gets my attention. If we think the people with Skitter are Bonesaw and either Jack or the Siberian’s creator, then statements like these ones are quite suspicious:

“Revenge? Not my interest in the slightest. I’ve learned my lesson and I’ve become the poster child for team loyalty.”

More like ‘hey. Hey guys, don’t pay attention to Coil. I’d never betray you guys. We cool?’

There’s also these ones...

“Some headphones and music would be nice,” she said. “The sound of the waves banging on the hull is driving me crazy.”

Pretty normal, yeah? But then she changes her mind immediately, like she was doing that only to mess with Coil. Wouldn’t be that noticeable if it wasn’t for this:

“Just trying to see if I can provoke a reaction from you. There’s only so many times I can read the labels of the shipping containers before I lose my mind. Have to amuse myself somehow.”

If it had been by itself it’d be natural, honestly. But after this one, I have a suspicion Cherish is trying to hint her location to the Slaughterhouse Nine. Her power would let her know who exactly is with Skitter, and since she’s a member of that group, I think it wouldn’t be a stretch to think she’s immune to the miasma.

There were too many things that seemed off. Cherish’s tone among them.

And also there was this, in case the rest weren’t noticeable enough. Gotta have something very straightforward for us readers.

That aside, Cherish is ready to offer something for everyone, just to get in their goodwill. Hah! On whose goodwill, I wonder.

“Oh, it’s simple. Going by what I’ve been able to observe around the city, there seems to be a major concern. Si Jack effugit civitatem, mundus terminabitur.”

Give me a moment to open the translator. I have a suspicion what this says because Latin is similar to Spanish in many ways, but I’m not going to take this for granted until I see what this means for sure.

Thought so. I didn’t know what ‘effugit’ meant, and I was kind of dubious about ‘civitatem’, but from context and what I know of Worm’s events I had a general idea. Now that Cherish delivered her message in a very suspicious manner to anyone paying attention to the conversation, the call ends. Oh boy, what a time for the Slaughterhouse Nine to know about this. I wonder if Jack will go running to the boundaries of Brockton Bay a soon as he finds out, just to see if the world really ends.

If only I could have blamed the miasma for my idiocy. Everything clicked into place.

Aaaaaand there it is. She caught up. Now she realizes she’s in trouble, and with some luck, she’s not going to get a beaker of bug-killing smoke to the face, courtesy of Bonesaw.

Skitter thinks her only hope is that the woman she refused to kill will catch up to them and be of help. The woman is in trouble, just like I thought, fighting mechanical spiders and trying not to die. There’s a brief description of her powers.

She went from fighting like an ordinary individual to moving at high speeds and throwing crushing punches, then back again. I couldn’t think of how to help her, and she was obviously unable to help me.

Hmmmmm...Battery? She’s the first person that comes to mind, at least. Sounds like she gathers energy and then fights again. Battery’s powers are close enough to that considering how she needs to gather energy to hit hard.

Cherish had been engaging in double-speak, saying one thing to us, while addressing the two people with me the entire time. She’d told them about where she was being held captive, and she’d offered the most valuable information she had to avoid getting tortured to death after they’d freed her. From the way she’d talked about the message being received, one of the people with me had to be Jack.

Well ain’t that swell.

The Cherish competence score is now 5-7, her incompetence still has the edge.

So...you’re telling me that was Jack. Jack was hugging and messing around with Skitter earlier. Well, to be honest, I thought so, but I didn’t outright say so. Jack’s the one who is interested in manipulation and stuff, everything the fake Grue said is the kind of stuff Jack would say. Still, didn’t call it because I wanted to leave things open, in case it turns out the Siberian’s creator turned out to be some weird master manipulator too, for one reason or another.

Skitter regrets putting the gun in a place where she can’t get to it easily, and I say that wouldn’t have changed much. Bonesaw made sure they couldn’t be killed by their throat getting slit or getting stabbed in the eye, I can only imagine she made some adjustments so a bullet isn’t going to kill them, or even impede them for long, especially against Jack and his long-ranged power.

If Jack or the girl killed Amy, just about everyone in the city would die violently from the miasma’s effects.

I wondeeeeer how Panacea is doing right now. She must have protected herself against the microorganisms that cause the agnosia, right? I’d like to think she’d take the initiative to start doing something about it, and that taking care of Glory Girl won’t distract her from saving literally everyone else in Brockton Bay.

Here’s when Jack speaks, Skitter turnsaround without wasting time, grabs Bonesaw to her side, and uses her as a human shield, most of the cut Jack just made hitting Bonesaw more than Skitter. Good thing Skitter’s costume can resist blades and stabs.

Bonesaw isn’t wasting any time, she’s already preparing a concoction while she’s being shoved towards Jack, which she then throws to the floor to make some sort of black smoke. To get rid of bugs, I bet. Skitter aims with the gun, it gets slapped out of her hand with a swipe of Jack’s knife.

Like a good villain, Jack takes the chance to brag and monologue, saying he’d have liked to break Skitter and corrupt her. Hah! It’d have been kind of interesting. But alas, he nominated someone else. Besides, he has other things to be interested about right now, such as, you know, being the cause for the end of the world.

He wants to see if it happens. I knew he’d be like this. Bonesaw even pipes up to say she’d make sure Jack has the chance to see if the world ends. Naturally. Some large mechanical spiders are coming through the swarm, going in her direction, Jack tries to cut her unprotected face to kill her, she protects herself with her arms, chance the bad guys use to run away towards Arcadia, where it’s said Panacea is currently hiding.

The problem right now is that she has no way to fight them. Everything she has is vulnerable to them, to both Bonesaw’s smoke and Jack’s knife, and the heroine she was hoping would help is currently unconscious—wait what?! When the heck did that happen? Oh, geez, Skitter is all by herself.

With the big mechanical spiders coming and the risk of Jack attacking her if she tries to fly away on the giant beetle, she has to decide which course of action take. Eh...if we take into account last time she fought the spiders she lost – according to her, I admit I don’t remember when that was but I don’t doubt it happened – then going for what has a chance of working may be for the best. Time to fly! And hope Jack doesn’t slash her down immediately. Not that she’s going to flee, she will pursue them and try to stop them.

I wasn’t thinking about winning anymore. I was thinking in terms of minimizing the damage when we lost.

Honestly it’d be great if she managed to win against them. There are three Slaughterhouse Nine member left, and if the streak continues, things are going to be narrowed down more and more. I don’t doubt Jack will be the last one to be dealt with, so...hm. Maybe if Skitter is lucky, she’ll be able to defeat Bonesaw. I sure hope so!

But that’s for next time. Have to stop for now!

Next time: in two updates

#worm #worm liveblog #webserial #webserial liveblog #liveblog

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

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Cupid’s Blind Arrow (Group Fic) Chapter 5 ~ Ginger Nut

A/N: schools been stressing me the fuck out recently and prelims are coming up so sorry if I don’t update as frequently

Since Miss raja had handed out the assignment, most of the pairs had only met once. Some, like Willam and Sharon, had not met at all. Unsurprisingly, Willam has been giving her a cold shoulder of some sort, favouring Alaska in the ongoing feud between the two. There hadn’t been any big blow outs since, but nothing had been resolved either. Sharon still kept her head down in classes, engraving doodles into her desk; Alaska threw herself into her work continuing to ace every single one of her classes. Bianca and Adore had nearly finished their assignment two weeks early. This was unheard of for Adore, but something about her partner motivated her, lit a fire inside of her. Usually, Adore went to Bianca’s after school. Bianca rarely went to Adores – not because she didn’t want to be there, but because she couldn’t work well while sitting in a sunken bean bag in a room decorated with leftovers. Trixie and Katya were making slow progress; they met in the library every Tuesday after school but got sidetracked and listened to the ironic librarian telling story after story about her personal life. Violet and Pearl hadn’t met outside of school, but they’d met in the library over a couple of lunchtimes. They both had such busy schedules, with Pearl staying most nights after school for art study and Violet juggling media study and aerial classes. They talked over text a lot though and had gotten quite close. They were now each other’s top best friend on snapchat. “This filter looks like your face” Violet captioned one day, as the filter gave her the face of a sloth. “At least I don’t look like this” Pearl snapped back, now with her faced comedically stretched out. The pair went on like this all day, every day. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Willam walked across her kitchen counter, it was 22:30 and she’d only finished structuring her plan for the assignment. You’re going to have to see that bitch some time, better be prepared so there’s no awkward silence while I try to keep my hands off of her throat she thought as she made herself coffee. She stood in an oversized t shirt that was some guys she hooked up with once, but never gave it back. Meh, he’ll have other shirts Willam shrugged. Seating herself at the island in the middle of the room, she put down her coffee and logged onto her laptop. Her phone buzzed. It was Sharon. “Hey listen, we really should get started on this whole assignment. When suits?” The sound of fresh acrylics tapping on a screen emerged as Willam typed out a reply while her laptop loaded. “I’m good to do any days after school apart from Fridays, not lunch times though. Can’t leave Lask on her own.” Willam re-read that final sentence before thinking fuck it and hit send. “Probably shouldn’t have gone there but hey,” she said to herself “I’m not the one who fucked up.” As one hand raked through her naturally curly mane and another scrolled through Facebook updates, Willams face lit up at the sight of a certain notification.

Caught in the act would like to FaceTime

After clicking accept, Willam saw Courtney’s glowing smile appear on the screen. “Wills! Hi! I’ve missed your face!” She exclaimed. Willam felt a warmth grow inside of her in response to her comment. “Hey girl. How’s life back in the dunny?” she asked, giving her best Courtney impression. Courtney chuckled, “it’s okay but it would be so much better if you were here too. I’ve got no one to tutor now!” “Yeah that’s because you go to a private school where everyone is crazy fucking smart.” Willam leaned onto the counter of the island, cupping her face with her hands. Courtney rolled her eyes as she giggled, the position of the camera slightly moving, giving Willam a clear view of a familiar shirt covering Courtney’s chest. “Is that my motherfucking Gucci?” She screamed, “I’ve been looking for thaaaaaaat” Willam drawled out the last word, feigning sadness. Well, she was partly annoyed but there was something about seeing Courtney, on the other side of the world, still with her that overpowered any annoyance. “How do you even have that?” Courtney hugged herself and smiled. “I thiiiiink, it was the night I stayed over last minute.” She explained a huge grin appearing. “And I just, never gave it back I guess.” Willam shook her head. She spun around on her stool purely to hide the ever growing blush on her cheeks. “What?” The aussie questioned, suddenly intrigued as to why the girl on the screen had spun around more than 5 times. Willam stopped and gazed at Courtney. Her eyes contained a whole galaxy. An ever changing colour, they framed the girl’s face so perfectly. Willam never wanted to look away, never wanted the picture in front of her to leave. Willam found her heart fluttering in a way it never did. People didn’t phase Willam, so why did Courtney still have so much power over her? Especially when she wasn’t even here with Willam. Courtney tapped the screen, making a clicking sound come over Willam’s laptop speakers, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Hellooo, are you still there?” “I…I just…” Willam stuttered. She looked down to meet Courtney’s eyes again. Willam picked at her nails and traced her hands, remembering where Courtney’s used to fit. “I really miss you. That’s all.” “Really?” Courtney raised an eyebrow. “You miss the 4 hour English lessons?” “You used to bring chocolates,” Willam smiled at the memory. Courtney mirrored her. “You miss me singing quotes to you at midnight?” “We would be home alone,” she glanced over to the mass of her tiled floor, remembering the blonde girl performing musical acts of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and To kill a Mockingbird. “You miss answering paper after paper of textual analysis?” Courtney cocked her head to the side, twirling her hair which was in a high ponytail. Her voice was sweet, like candy. “Okay bitch,” Willam gave in, “you got me there. I HATED those.” The pair broke out in laughter thinking back to numerous nights when Willams profanity over past papers got so extreme they had to take a break. “I don’t fucking know why they used the word emancipation, why should I? They’re the dicks who wrote it. I shit you not Miss Act, I’m seriously never gonna need this. Like, not one Tom, Dick or Harry in the goddamn street is gonna come up and be like; what did you think of the word choice in paragraph 4?” Courtney and Willam talked until their hearts were content. They missed each other terribly, but times like these they treasured greatly and no one could take those hours away from them. Their conversation would change from friends, to tv shows, to memories they had, to…. well, anything. “Nah I just don’t see it Wills” “Why the fuck not? Me, you, and Alaska; walking down the runway in Chachki’s fashion line” “Wait, I still don’t get how Violet got a fashion line” Courtney was tired, rubbing her eyes before cursing as she remembered putting mascara and eyeliner on this morning. Willam sighed, “It’s not a real one her class is doing it as part of their exam. They have to create stuff.” She stood up from her barstool and positioned herself far away from the camera. “Me, you and lask,” she pointed to two other points each side of her, placing herself in the middle. “We walk down,” She strutted across her kitchen floor, “we pose like there’s no tomorrow.” She placed her hands on her hips and threw her hair, striking different poses for Courtney. Wolf whistles came from the laptop, encouraging the model. “We wave to the crowd,” Willam gave a sly, over the shoulder smile. “See it’s that simple.” Courtney yawned. The sky was starting to become dark outside her window and she glanced at the time, 19:41. She hadn’t even eaten dinner, still had to shower and had a mountain of work to do. But none of that mattered, a girl in the computer was pretending to be a model in her kitchen while wearing a faded Oasis t shirt and Victoria secret satin shorts. What a dork she thought to herself, smiling wholeheartedly. “One problem” Courtney interrupted Willam’s make believe fashion show. “I’m kinda in another continent” “We have planes bitch. Hop on one and come over.” “Willlllllls, I can’t just hop on a plane that quickly.” “Well you hopped on me pretty fast.” Willam crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, “What’s stopping you?” As nonchalant as ever, Courtney thought. “Exams, my family, graduation, my 18th! Did I mention exams?” Willam didn’t see the big deal, scrunching up her face at Court’s phony problems. “The flight’s long - study then. You’ve literally seen your family since birth, trust me they can last a couple months without you. You’ll be back in time for exams. I’ll throw you a mad party, I know a guy who’s got a wicked venue. And yeah, you did mention that.” Courtney’s face didn’t change, she didn’t see a logical reason to go to America again so soon aside from seeing her Wills. “At least say you’ll think about it, pleeeeease?” Clutching her hands together Willam plastered her face with the biggest, cheesiest, full teeth smile she could muster. “Willam Belli? Are you begging?” With a serious humour Willam leaned forward and spoke straight into the webcam; “You want me on my knees? All you gotta do is ask.” The girls held each other in their eyes, shutting out everything. A special bond flickered between them, replenishing the passionate feelings they shared. Courtney’s voice was barely audible, her lips parting only slightly “I’ll talk to you later Wills, I gotta go.” Her voice was low and somewhat husky, igniting a fire in Willam. “Bye.” Willam’s laptop returned to Facebook where she could see her aunts latest update; Selling a Tiffany’s ring. $250. Hardly worn. Message me for any more details “Shit” Willam thought to herself, “Well that engagement didn’t last long did it Jackie?” As she scrolled down her feed she looked through some of Bianca’s photos she’d just uploaded, Willam couldn’t help but notice how many of them contained Adore. Just then her phone buzzed with a new message from Sharon. Wednesday? Library? Willam whined to herself and frowned looking at the message. The last thing she wanted right now was to be spending time with the girl who broke her best friends heart. Fine I’ll be there

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Violet had been working on the assignment; it wasn’t necessary but she felt the need to perfect a few things. She’d highlighted a couple of lines and felt the need to tell her partner. She whipped out her phone and found Pearl in her contacts. V: Found a couple of quotes from act 4 that we should prob use, they’re really versatile so we can talk about them from both sides Almost instantly Violet saw the three dots appear and waited for a reply. P: versatile eh?

V: you just can’t help yourself can you

P: guess not Vi :))

V: you’re going to hell I hope you know that

Pearl sat on her unmade bed in her room with her phone LED as the only light source. She had been sketching for the past hour or so but had no inspiration. The only person on her mind was Violet. P: And I hope you realise that you’re working on a Saturday night The three dots appeared on Pearls phone before disappearing shortly after with no text to replace it. that shut her up. P: Could I be of any help???

V: don’t try and sweet talk me now Pearly

P: I have no idea what you’re talking about

V: well, since you’re such a studious pupil feel free to come over and help me with our assignment

P: is that a serious invitation?

V: only if you want it to be…

Pearl sat up and contemplated the invite before changing into a nicer top and out of her joggers. She briefly brushed her hair and slapped on powder and a subtle lipstick. As she tied her converse and threw on her denim jacket, Pearl typed out one more message for Violet. P: Okay loser, where do you live?

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Bianca had rung the doorbell twice already and the weighty bag of takeaway in her hand felt like it was going to give away any second. Come on chola she muttered, growing impatient at the closed door in front of her. She tried the doorbell again and finally heard footsteps and a disgruntled moan behind the door. Adore opened the door, revealing a dimly lit mess of a room. Her face soon turned to confusion at the sight of a fresh faced Bianca in her doorway. she stepped to the side as an invite for the girl to come in. Bianca rolled her eyes, “Someone’s hungover” she smiled half-heartedly and raised the lukewarm bag in her hand. “I brought dinner.” Adore smiled at the gesture and walked into the kitchen to get plates. Bianca followed and reached into the top left cupboard to get glasses. She’d become acquainted with Adore’s house in the very few times she’d been. It was pretty self explanatory apart from the fact that she kept glasses on the other end of the kitchen from all the other dining things. “So, how’ve you been?” Adore asked, her voice monotone and groggy. “Better than you it sounds like,” the brunette jokingly replied, “Water or coffee?” Adore surveyed her options. “Water.” Bianca nodded. “Slice of cucumber,” both girls added at the same time. As Adore laid out the food, Bianca came up behind her and ruffled a hand through her hair. “What deranged party were you at last night?” “None actually.” “So why do you sound half asleep?” Defensively Adore crossed her arms before rubbing her eyes. “Because I was napping until you came.” Bianca chuckled before walking over to the sleepy being and pulling her into a hug. “Aww,” she said in a baby voice, “is Delano a little sleepy?” “I actually am because I was working on this stupid ass assignment” They both sat at the table and proceeded to eat the food Bianca brought. After a couple moments of comfortable silence Adore leaned forward and furrowed her brow. “Wait B,” she asked. The other girl looked up from her plate and waited for Adore to continue. “Why are you here? Not that I’m unhappy about it but… you don’t like it here.” Both laughed at the bold but true statement Adore just made. Bianca shrugged and fished around her plate with her fork. “I was home alone and Violet was busy.” Adore nodded. She looked back down at her food and smiled, knowing Bianca voluntarily wanted to hang out with Adore. They weren’t working, it had nothing to do with school. She wanted to see her. That’s real cute Adore thought. Real cute.

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