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lurkingshan · 1 year ago

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Wedding Plan and the Evolution of MAME

I have a bit of a love/hate thing going on with MAME, one of the most notorious writers in the bl genre. Her shows have traditionally been a mixed bag of incredible chemistry, high heat, dubious consent, and pushy semes transgressing every boundary laid out for them, all of it built atop a foundation of heteronormativity and homophobic tropes. In the early years of bl, her shows were one of the only places you could go to see mature depictions of intimacy in relationships, but they also necessitated dodging through a landmine of problematic content. So my long standing policy has been to never watch her shows live and instead binge them when they’re done so that I can go in with some idea of what to expect. As someone who liked Love By Chance and TharnType for what they did well despite their problematic aspects, and actually kinda loved Love in the Air, I figured I would watch Wedding Plan at some point, but it wasn’t that high on my priority list.

So imagine my surprise when people I trusted started telling me: hey wait, this is actually really good? Like, not good for MAME, but genuinely, legitimately a quality show. @bengiyo wrote a great post on the queer read of the story that was very intriguing indeed. @ginnymoonbeam wrote about seeing an authentic representation of her own experiences in the show. When I asked for others to weigh in, @negrowhat, @slayerkitty, @thegalwhorants, @nieves-de-sugui, @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle, and @magpie24601 all said they were enjoying it to various degrees and that it felt different from MAME’s previous works. So this weekend, I sat down to watch it, and as soon as I finished, I pinged @waitmyturtles, who had previously said she did not intend to watch any additional MAME shows, to tell her she had to add it to her project tracking the evolution of Thai bl.

Because y’all, this show! This show is stunning, in more ways than one. The people and settings are gorgeous (shoutout to that McDonald’s money), the characters are compelling and sympathetic even when they behave in frustrating ways, the romance is properly swoony, the friendships are deep and touching, the family relationships are complex, and the ending is triumphant. I enjoyed it immensely, and I was taken aback by how genuinely rooted in queer experience and celebratory of queer love it felt. It was kind of a revelation, and I felt compelled to get down some thoughts about it. I’m going to break this down by narrative themes and characters so that I can dig into some of the tropes at play and what makes their deployment feel different here than it has in MAME’s previous shows.

The Core Premise

When I say this story feels authentically queer, this premise is the foundation of that. A lavender marriage is something that can only occur between queer characters. Right away, we are kicking MAME’s typical use of heteronormative tropes right out the door, because Lom already has a wife. Yiwa is his stand-in for the female partner his parents and society expect him to have, so Nuea cannot and will not fulfill that role. Instead, Lom’s pursuit of Nuea is explicitly about his desire to break away from those constraints and pursue the authentic queer life he has never been allowed to live, even if he has to do it undercover of this facade. Lom is gay, and he is pursuing a relationship with a gay man, and there is no coding here to make a heterosexual audience feel like what he wants with Nuea is the same as what he’d have with a woman. The difference, and the way one fulfills Lom while the other doesn’t, is the point.

Nuea

At first glance, our POV character, Nuea, feels like a stock MAME uke character. He is cute, he is a romantic, he is emotionally reactive, and he has a massive crush on Lom pretty much from jump. But pretty quickly, we start to notice some important differences between Nuea and those who came before him, starting with his competence and confidence. Nuea is the ace at his company and excellent at his work, and he’s financially comfortable. He is an out and confident gay man with a strong community of coworkers, friends, and family who will support him through anything and close ranks to protect him when needed. He does not share the standard characteristic of typical MAME ukes: uncertainty about who he is and/or low self-esteem. There’s simply not a whiff of that anywhere on Nuea. He knows who he is, and he knows what he wants. And as the story unfolds and Nuea gets deeper entangled with Lom, we recognize another crucial aspect of him: he is experienced, both emotionally and sexually. Nuea has been in relationships before, he knows how to say no, he knows how to draw a boundary, and he knows when he is deciding to cross one. In short, Nuea has something crucial that a lot of MAME ukes are lacking: power and agency.

We see this throughout his relationship with Lom, as Nuea begins their flirtation eyes wide open about his own feelings and the fire he’s playing with, and alternately pulls back and pushes forward as his conscience wars with his desires. Nuea wants Lom. Their attraction is extremely mutual. No one is wearing anyone down or inspiring a sexuality crisis in this dynamic. Instead, Nuea’s struggle is rooted in his own morality and desire to be a good person, because he thinks Lom is taken, and he wants him anyway. Which is why we see him waffling so much and sending Lom all kinds of mixed signals, pushing him away with one hand while grabbing him back with the other, drawing boundaries only to step right back over them at the next opportunity. And when he finally crosses a boundary that he can’t rationalize (sex with Lom), he retreats back home to try to get his head together. It’s not an accident that despite Lom being in the active pursuer role, we see Nuea make a conscious decision to move forward and even be the one to initiate a relationship progression at several crucial points in the story. Nuea is making his own decisions here, and he has his own power over Lom that he exercises consistently. He’s warring with himself, not with Lom.

Lom

Lom is also, on the surface, a fairly standard MAME seme character. He wants Nuea, and he’s comfortable being pushy about it. He pursues Nuea fairly relentlessly, showing up in front of him even when he’s told not to, and leverages his role as Nuea’s client to see him as often as possible. He obsessively pines for Nuea in a way that also feels familiar. But for me, there is something that makes Lom stand out and feel markedly different from his predecessors in his romantic pursuit: sincerity and frank honesty.

From the start, Lom is genuine in his interest in Nuea and sincere about how much he likes and admires him. He tells him in a very straightforward manner that he likes him and wants to spend time with him. He tells him he knows he doesn’t have the right, but he wants to kiss him and be near him anyway. He tells him exactly what he intends to do to stay close to him, and then he does it. He tells him honestly that he loves Yiwa, but not in the way Nuea thinks, and that he is not marrying her because he’s being forced. “But Shan,” I hear you yelling, “he did not tell him the most important truth!” And you’re right, he didn’t, at least not until he was forced to do so. Which brings me to the other thing that makes Lom so compelling: the constraints of the closet and his loyalty to Yiwa.

Lom, unlike Nuea, does not have a supportive family or the freedom to live as an out gay man. What he does have is a best friend whom he loves deeply and completely, to the extent that he would sacrifice his own life and chance at happiness to protect hers. He has no choice but to hold some things back, because to lay it all bare would expose not only him, but her. The decision to tell a boy he likes the truth about the nature of their relationship is not just about him; anyone knowing is also a risk to Yiwa and the life she is building with Marine. And he takes his duty to protect that very seriously. On top of that, Lom has been in the closet since he was a teenager. We know that Lom and Yiwa connected over their queerness and their mothers’ bigotry when they were only 15 and 13, respectively. They grew up Knowing. That self-protective mindset is not something you can easily shake off, and not something you risk for any given person you develop a crush on. He is trying to walk a line in his pursuit of Nuea to snatch whatever happiness he can without blowing up his entire life.

And to Lom’s credit, the moment he realizes how serious he is about Nuea, he goes after him (with Yiwa and Marine’s support), dutifully pays his penance and earns the respect of Nuea’s family, and finally unburdens himself, looking at Nuea with complete and total honesty and saying to him “This is who I am, this is my situation, can you deal with it? Do you still want me?” And by the way he sobs when Nuea says “YES” and asks to be part of his arrangement with Yiwa and Marine, he never expected for someone like Nuea to accept him and all the complications of his life. He was absolutely overcome by gratitude and relief, and you could see the burdens he’s been living under start to lighten.

Yiwa and Marine

I don’t have anyone to compare Yiwa and Marine to, because to my recollection, they are the first significant female characters in any MAME story. And significant is an understatement. Yiwa is the engine that drives this entire story. The lavender marriage is her idea, because it’s the only way she can think to give herself the freedom to be with Marine under her mother’s watchful eye. She is the one who goes to her best friend and begs him to do this for her, because she trusts him absolutely and the devotion between them is complete enough that she knows he will sacrifice in such a monumental way for her. She is the one who encourages Lom to pursue his own happiness with Nuea within the constraints of their arrangement, hoping that he will find his own Marine that can hang in for this half life they’ve constructed to meet the tenets of filial piety. She is the one who ultimately decides to come clean when she sees how the lie is hurting Nuea. And she is the one who makes the final decision to prioritize her love over her obligations to her parents, and in doing so frees them all.

The fact that a character like Yiwa exists in the bl genre at all, let alone in a MAME show, is mind-blowing to me. A female character with this much depth and narrative importance, who is not just here to play a cheerleader to men but instead to be a fully realized character with her own narrative? A female character who matters? In my Thai bl??

And Marine gets to matter, too. Marine, whose experience of coming into this relationship and accepting the limitations of the life Yiwa can offer her is treated with the utmost seriousness. Marine, who we see in joy and in struggle, who is kind and compassionate with Lom, who offers solace and guidance to Nuea, and who ultimately crumbles under the weight of Yiwa’s mother’s cruelty and reaches her breaking point. As minor as her role is, she feels like a real person, not a generic side character. The relationship between her and Yiwa is developed enough to make us feel invested in their happiness, to understand the choices they make, and to ultimately feel joy at them breaking free and living a more authentic life, even if it comes at the expense of Yiwa’s family bonds.

The Ending

Which brings me to the way this show ended its story, and how glorious it was. Yiwa and Marine run away to live on their own, freeing Lom from their agreement in the process. Yiwa takes full blame for the broken engagement, a parting gift to Lom that saves face for his parents and gives him cover to publicly dodge any further expectations for marriage to a woman. Lom’s mother, who is just as bigoted but not quite as stubborn and short-sighted as Yiwa’s mother, understands exactly what has happened, and reaches out to her son to assure him that she will no longer try to force the issue, and to ask him plainly not to run away from his family like Yiwa did. It’s not the support and love of Nuea’s family, but a kind of resigned acceptance that she offers. She knows who Nuea is to her son and she knows if she tries to intervene any further she will lose him for good. It was reminiscent for me of the dynamics between Shiro and his parents in Kinou nani tabeta—it still hurts, but it's a detente everyone can live with.

And Lom and Nuea? Have the freedom to love each other more openly. To flirt in a restaurant and hold hands in public. To live together and call themselves partners to the people who matter. We end on a message from Nuea about the beauty and joy of queer love, the simple nature of two people deciding to marry regardless of their gender, and a promise that someday soon he and Lom will be the ones to make that commitment. Just, perfection, and an earned resolution so rooted in a genuine queer experience. It’s not something I could have imagined seeing in a Thai bl even a few short years ago, and I am stunned that MAME is the one who delivered it. Her storytelling is clearly evolving with the culture around her, and I will be going into her future works with an open mind.

#wedding plan #wedding plan the series #thai bl #thai gl #shan shouts into the void

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grawlix-ness · 4 months ago

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The Big Sleet and Dingo Headcanon Post V2!

Bear in mind this is largely a collection of subconscious Notes app ramblings I’ve patched together so I may have made a few grammatical boo-boos or repeated myself here and there. It’s almost 4AM, I’m sure I’ve missed things. I’ll continue to add and edit this post should more ideas come to mind. Questions encouraged!

Cw: light implications of child neglect, mentions of drinking and mutant body horror

🔫 Sleet 🔪

Sleet was raised in the gutter. He knows a fair bit more than the average Lower Mobotropolis street urchin because his mom was an aristocrat until she was slandered by her peers and booted from high society. She taught him the essentials, and he learned everything else from scavenging library books. Presently, his education has all but fallen through the cracks. He tries to avoid reading most of the time. What will Dingo think if he learns he’s not the uber-genius he makes himself out to be? Why does he care what Dingo thinks? When such thoughts arise, they are pushed away and buried.

He has cybernetic implants to aid with frequent aches and muscle strain. In the winter, he struggles due to a lower cold threshold, the result of a fur and skin condition. Dingo knits sweaters for him. They’re oversized and kind of a mess. On particularly glacial nights, Sleet isn't averse to sharing warmth, willing to cuddle up and be the little spoon, so long as Dingo promises not to tell anyone.

He had no friends growing up and was often picked on. His ailments and interest in science made him an easy target. Some of his peers disliked him on the very principle of him having an ex-aristocrat mother. This made him prickly and distant. While others played kickball or tag, he was tinkering with junkyard machinery or eavesdropping around spacer hangouts, dreaming of someday getting off planet and flying to a world that’d understand him.

He’s quite good with a needle and thread and tailors his and Dingo’s ball outfits himself. Sleet gets his sewing skills from his mother. She was the personal outfitter and trusted right hand of an important noblewoman. As a pup, he adored listening to his mother’s stories of galas and masquerades. During such fleeting moments of peace, she’d also make costumes for him. He still heavily enjoys fashion, having a closet dedicated to fancy capes.

Sometime in his tumultuous childhood, Sleet discovered there was an Honor Guard. He admired their outfits and swordsmanship. Most of all he wanted to join so he and his mother could live in the warmth and safety of a castle. He even fashioned a costume out of his mother’s fabric scraps, complete with a sword made from a rusted metal pipe. She was quick to dash those dreams and didn’t take kindly to him borrowing her things, especially not for such a “ridiculous” project. During lonesome, existential nights he wonders how differently things could have turned out if he had become a member of the guard after all.

When his mother was absent or too volatile to be around, Sleet found company in local mechanics. He learned how to swindle and cheat with the best of them. One shop owner actually took him under her wing, viewing his perceived weaknesses as strengths.

Sleet first developed the transmogrifier as a kid. He used it not only to defend himself against the local rabble rousers and humiliate them. It wasn’t a complete success, only partially transforming targets, giving them wings or eyestalks and other unwieldy appendages. Transformations were temporary. No less horrifying however.

He calls himself a jack of all trades. This title is dubious. Thanks to an enriching education from the school of hard knocks, he does have an approximate knowledge regarding a variety of things, though it’s usually limited to topics relating to self-preservation and chicanery.

Animals don’t like Sleet and aren’t afraid to let him know. It’s become a standing joke. Dingo teases him for it, despite the fact that, because of his stature, toothy countenance, and tendency to squeeze or pet too hard, he isn’t the best with animals either.

Sleet is a skilled marksman. He prefers distance, specializing in both handguns and long guns. If the weight class is right and the odds are in his favor, he can hold his own in close quarters using an array of hidden fighting knives and some rudimentary martial arts. Sleet simply won’t hear that his cape is a hindrance, even when this has been proven multiple times. All that being said, Sleet is more of a fleer than a fighter. He is an unabashed coward, not opposed to unning away screaming with his tail between his legs.

While preferring motorcycles, he’s not half bad at riding animal mounts, thanks to the teachings of cowboy bounty hunter and old flame Fleabyte. It is serendipitous that he’s acquired this ability, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to stay on as well after zapping Dingo into a beast of burden. The poor brute has heard a lifetime’s worth of ass jokes from his rider.

He enjoys strategizing and has free time stored away solely for scheming purposes. These lovingly-crafted plans generally go awry due to Dingo’s haphazard, devil-may-care nature and forgetfulness. That’s not to say Sleet would do better in the bounty hunting business on his own. He has the upper body strength of a wet noodle and a predilection for monologues and theatrics. He needs someone to shake him out of these ego trances.

Sleet uses his hands often when talking. Lots of flourishes and waves, tapping his chin as he feigns uncertainty, balling his fists and involuntarily shaking them when incensed. Little itchy, twitchy movements. Dingo finds it most endearing.

Though tech-savvy and clever, his anger and pride sometimes get the best of him, leading him to make less than wise decisions, such as forcing machines past their breaking points or abandoning plans the moment his buttons are pushed.

Sleet is not good at maintaining his hygiene, hence the hedgehogs’ odor-themed jabs. He'll polish and shine his armor until it glistens, yet giving the suit an interior deep clean is far from his mind. He's become so dependent on the power high and protection the suit gives him that he rarely takes it off. Dingo found this strange and a little concerning at first, but Sleet has convinced him that a good bounty hunter is always prepared in case of ambush. The thick polluted air of Robotropolis doesn't do any favors for his mangy fur coat either. So if anyone's a flea hotel, it's Sleet, though you’d be hard-pressed to find any fleas that’d give his scrawny hide the time of day.

Underneath that armor, he wears a black one-piece bodysuit made of a silky, breathable material, more resilient than it appears. Sleet is skin and bones. It’s why he prefers working with a partner. He went through—or rather left for dead—dozens of other partners before finding a suitable match. Dingo’s hardy. Sturdy. Loyal. Revoltingly sweet. He’s an intriguing oddity to him. Dingo could easily kill him and yet he doesn’t. For a time Sleet wondered if he was just too dim to ever consider betrayal.

He’s not big on displays of affection or people entering his personal bubble. However, when traversing through big crowds, he always presses close to Dingo, sometimes even reaches for his hand.

Considers himself sophisticated. He’ll generally greet with a low bow and flourish, allies and enemies alike. Has neat freak tendencies, despite the fact he’s a hot mess himself. In short, rules for thee, but not for me. There’s often a mental tug of war between his debonair self and the mouth-frothing sewer rat that lies deeper beneath.

Sleet has a bad habit of late night tinkering. He isn’t actively trying to be a night owl, time gets away from him. If Dingo doesn’t carry him off to bed beforehand, he ends up hunched over and asleep at his study. It does no favors for his already poor posture and eye bags.

His reputation precedes him. When he freelanced, many bounty hunters steered clear of him because he was a noted cheat that backstabbed his partners. Despite these unsavory exploits, he manages to reel in even the most disconcerting of clients via ingratiation, boasting a nigh supernatural silver tongue. Those who’ve been tricked by him before cite his wordsmithing as being almost hypnotic.

He tries his damndest not to acknowledge Dingo’s gaga eyes and honey glow cheeks. More times than one would deem platonic, he’s gotten distracted by Dingo’s chest. Though, to his credit, it’s hard not to when your co-pilot’s almost always shirtless and idly flexing his muscles. Even harder when you’re pinned beneath his chest—Dingo could make tripping over his feet a professional sport.

💪 Dingo 🧬

Dingo has a sizable extended family, a horde of siblings and cousins back home. His destructive tendencies came as no shock to his aunts who raised him, since the family business used to be organized crime. The syndicate disintegrated long before Dingo was born, other groups like the Toad Warriors and Bear Pack Bikers quickly outcompeting them.

Has no memory of his mother or father and holds no ill-will towards them. He has plenty of wild theories about their disappearance though. Everything from being lost at sea to being flattened by an asteroid. Whatever it was, he’s convinced it must have been legendary.

Of his litter he is the eldest brother. Barring fur color, none of his family look quite like him. His spots and flopped ear are noted recessive traits. His more dramatic features are the result of an understudied mutant gene. Nobody’s sure where in the family tree it came from. So far as Sleet can glean, it’s one in a billion, a title Dingo wears proudly. He isn’t interested in making connections with any long lost relatives, fearing there could be someone out there better than him at all things mutant.

Dingo grew up in the outback of Trailius, quite some distance away from the hustle and bustle of Mobotropolis. He was a rambunctious, often rude and aggressive child. A typical schoolyard bully. Sometimes he would lament over his appearance and wish other kids invited him to play, but those moments were short-lived. Fortunately for his peers he could be easily tricked or bribed with sweets.

Whereas Sleet took up inventing and sewing, Dingo loved throwing his weight around and exploring the great outdoors, wrestling every beast he came across and scaring vacationing campers late at night by pretending to be a Mobian-eating monster.

In pursuit on foot, Dingo is bad at maneuvering sharp turns. His topheaviness and clumsy feet have cost a number of hunts.

He has a sweet tooth. One thing he appreciates about the aristocracy is their love of extravagant desserts.

He is very naïve and trusting. It was worse when Sleet wasn’t in the picture to talk him out of things. A country boy in the big city, Dingo was scammed out of a lot of his Mobium when he first arrived in Lower Mobotropolis. The shell game was just too alluring.

Dingo is not so oblivious that he can’t rebuke Sleet’s gratuitous blaming. He can be sassy. Those who’ve had the displeasure of working with them can attest that, when tensions are high, they have the propensity to bicker like an old married couple.

For someone who was raised in Trailius, he is unusually afraid of spiders and other crawly arachnids. He doesn’t enjoy turning into insects either, finding the overall sensation, in his words, icky.

Transformation is typically painless. He tends to be sore after taking on the more abstract forms. If the strain is really bad, he will go to Sleet and ask to be massaged. Sleet used to refuse, but he has since humored him, asserting that he’s only doing it to check for signs of molecular decay.

Dingo can morph without the assistance of the transmogrifier, though the process is slower. It depends on how distant taxonomically-speaking the chosen form is from his mammalian base. These transformations are not too pleasant visually or audially, so the remote is preferred.

Dingo’s mutant abilities have some drawbacks. Because of his rapid healing, his body will try to stop him from getting tipsy and keep him on his A-game. He has to drink by the barrel to feel even the slightest buzz. Additionally, being stuck in one form for too long can leave him achy and disoriented, and if he changes too frequently his molecules buckle and unravel. It’s not a pretty sight. Sleet even theorizes that if he’s in a form for over two hours, he will get stuck that way. They have had close calls before, where after finally being turned back from a Mobini, some behavioral traits of the animal lingered.

Before meeting Sleet, Dingo could only morph if he remained focused, and those transformations were generally simple, such as limb multiplication or extension. The transmogrifier effectively glues his molecules together, meaning he doesn’t have to exert his concentration anymore. Colors are still somewhat of a challenge, tinted with his default orange. Nevertheless, he fools the untrained eye. When tasked with disguising as another Mobian, Sleet coaches him and will always supply him with a hidden microphone.

After an especially big transformation, Dingo becomes so drowsy he can hardly stand. All that molecular stretching and rearranging, it’s draining. When he wakes, he is insatiably hungry. Which is saying a lot because Dingo already packs food away like it’s nothing due to his bulking regime.

His accelerated metabolism often manifests in odd cravings, such as tuna and peanut butter sandwiches or pickle and pineapple ice cream sundaes. Sleet wishes he’d partake in his experimental cuisine somewhere else. Preferably out of the Red Whiptail’s cockpit—he gets crumbs everywhere. Despite being an extreme omnivore, Dingo cannot handle spicy food.

When he’s not making unusual combinations, and in turn making Sleet’s stomach churn, Dingo’s a decent chef. Messy, but decent. He’s the more culinarily adept of the two and makes dinner when time allows.

He likes scrapbooking. Dingo has more stationary and cute pens than he knows what to do with. Unfortunately he’s heavy-handed, so many of his supplies are worn with love. He keeps mementos of every successful hunt. Little knick knacks and trinkets, maybe the occasional tooth from a beaten adversary.

Not necessarily a couch potato, though does spend most of his downtime lounging in front of the TV. He enjoys playing video games, although he’s not very good at them on account of his itchy trigger finger skipping past tutorial levels. As long as he can shoot or smash things or toss chubby penguins off cliffs, he’s happy. He watches mainly big loud action movies, corny rom-coms, and slapstick cartoons. Sleet believes his screen time will rot the little left of his brain, though he has shown some interest in the historical Delmontian dramas Dingo skips past while channel surfing.

Has been known to boast quite the sailor mouth. It doesn’t happen often, the most foul only invoked for particularly painful offenses like stubbing a toe. Sleet doesn’t know what half the Trailian swears mean and at this point he’s afraid to ask.

Dingo does not like shirts. He especially hates the tuxedos and dresses Sleet makes him wear whenever there’s a bounty on an aristocrat. He tries to keep his grumbling to a minimum because dressing up makes Sleet happy. In casual settings, if more than his shorts is outright necessary, he’ll wear a quippy graphic tank top.

When they go out of town, Dingo always hits up a tourist trap or two, no matter how blatantly overpriced or mind-numbing. He’s a big fan of carnivals and amusement parks. Dingo’s demolished many strength tester games and would most assuredly be banned if he wasn't one of Robotnik's hirelings.

Not the sharpest tool in the shed, true, but he is definitely the more emotionally aware of the duo. When it comes to personal matters, he’s a good listener.

He has a twinge of separation anxiety. It’s not super debilitating, he just gets restless if Sleet is away for long. He can be possessive. This proves a problem whenever Sleet goes Casanova Mode to retrieve information from targets. It’s worth noting Sleet has moments of jealousy too when Dingo manages to hit it off with others, though he’d never admit it.

The hedgehog triplets are aware of Dingo’s crush on Sleet. To catch him off guard, they’ll sometimes slyly allude to it, much to a flustered Dingo’s chagrin.

Finds Sleet’s voice very soothing. It’s so soft and muted. He could listen to it all day. Often he does since, while certainly less exuberant than Dingo, Sleet can be a chatterbox when it comes to aristocratic gossip and comparing blaster models.

Despite being certifiably canine, Dingo makes all manner of noises. He snorts and huffs like a bull when upset and can unleash fearsome, leonine roars. When happy, he rumbles.

Excitable. Liable to break the nearest object in vicinity from pure exuberation.

Dingo can’t see well without his glasses. Despite the swanky look, they are in fact prescription. If they’re misplaced or knocked off by a meddlesome hedgehog, his clumsiness is increased tenfold. He is gentle when handling them.

Dingo wears a bracer on his right leg. In a comedy of errors, he injured his leg as a pup while playing with a slingshot. For reasons unknown, his healing factor neglected to kick in. His knee aches at times. Dingo mostly wears it because he finds it cool and fashionable.

His fighting knowledge is limited to the concept of hitting, hitting hard, and hitting dirty. He has no formal training, relying on instinct and what he’s seen on television to best enemies. His moves are sloppy and unrefined, but no less formidable. As a mutant shapeshifter, he’s also granted a number of potential forms. Even without Sleet’s transmogrifier, his elasticity allows him to grow in size and turn his arms into whipping tentacles or his hands into mallets. He could finish fights before they even start with this power, however Dingo prefers to milk his battles for all their worth. Some Freedom Fighters have reported seeing him actually play with the battered and unconscious like they’re dolls.

He is actually well-kempt all things considered. Dingo enjoys bubble baths and singing—or caterwauling, as Sleet calls it—in the shower. His fur coat is soft and surprisingly dense, especially in the winter when it grows out. He sheds and has to brush himself fairly often. If he’s in a good mood, Sleet will help. The mastiff-like skin folds around his neck also have to be cleaned regularly. His mane is naturally bristly, akin to that of a wild boar. It softens somewhat after a good shampoo.

Dingo makes the first moves. He is usually the one who initiates. Trouble is, if it doesn’t involve flexing his guns or pulling a smoldering expression, Dingo’s bad at flirting. His word choice is . . . unique. Lummox that he is, his compliments come across more like threats. Turns out Sleet does not in fact appreciate being called small, fragile, and edible among other things. He’s since tried to alleviate this by writing down pick-up lines on his hand.

Dingo’s definitely the more doggish of the two. He wags his tail, something seen as uncouth in aristocratic social circles and immature in most other places. He’s wounded himself on occasions by wagging so hard. Dingo also barks when he gets too excited or surprised and, due to his muzzle structure, is predisposed to drooling. If Dingo is proving particularly stubborn about going into a death trap or being used as bait, Sleet can convince him with a scritch between the ears.

Additional Information

Their partnership was bumpy at first. Their differing personalities clashed and sometimes led to physical altercations. Nothing too dramatic of course, they are still cartoon animals after all. Dingo pulled his punches. Sleet might have been a nag, but he didn’t want to see him hurt.

Sleet and Dingo are both bisexual. Dingo has a slight preference towards men and masc folks. Sleet is trans. He performed his top surgery himself. Despite the quality of the tools he had at the time, his scars have healed remarkably well.

The two are very competitive. Before being hired by Robotnik, on particularly uneventful nights they played board games. They’re both cheaters so they went around in circles for hours. Lots of yelling, finger pointing, and eventually falling into a heap on the floor because they stayed awake all night trying to psyche each other out.

When they manage to squeeze any free time out of their schedule, they enjoy going to arcades and stealing prizes from kids. They also like to take potshots at the irradiated wildlife on the outskirts of Robotropolis and do prank calls—the Robotnik Intelligence Agency being a favorite victim.

Dingo believes that Sleet’s love language is mockery. That might not be too far from the truth. Sleet genuinely doesn’t know how to express himself. He doesn’t altogether know if he wants to. Sleet’s trained himself to think the worst of everyone so he’s not disappointed or hurt in the long run. In truth, Sleet appreciates acts of service. Dingo’s love language is considerably more simple, as things regarding Dingo so often are. Dingo’s huggy, nuzzly, altogether physically affectionate.

Sleet snores terribly. It’s not so much the volume as it is the whistling his nose makes. He’ll never admit to it, and gets flustered whenever Dingo tells him. Fortunately the walls of Robotnik’s fortress are thicker than those of their previous abodes, giving Dingo the chance to rest easy.

Dingo doesn’t understand mirrors. Sleet, egotist that he is, rather likes mirrors. He hasn’t owned any since the incident. It’d be a hassle to clean up glass and find a replacement everytime Dingo popped his head into Sleet’s quarters. Sleet has explained how reflections work to him several times before, yet it never seems to stick.

In his default state, Dingo has a strongman build. Sleet is a beanpole. Without his boots and shoulderpads, he’s slightly shorter than Dingo.

As far as affairs of the heart go, their relationship is unspoken. Dingo’s doing all he can, Sleet pretends he doesn’t see it, as on principle he believes love is for fools. There may or may not have been some wild nights where he had too much wine and slurred a few things suggesting otherwise however. He’s softening up to the idea, even if he doesn’t know it yet. In essence, he’s perpetually stuck in a “I Won’t Say (I’m In Love)” loop, because he’s a shitty little tsundere.

#sonic headcanons #sonic underground #sleet sonic underground #dingo sonic underground #sleengo #slingo

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stellagibs0ns · 7 months ago

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please let us see ur morally questionable bedannibal stuff pleaseeeeeeeeee let them come to light

this is simply my most recent word vomit

TW: extremely dubious consent, somno & implied drugging!

if it’s not your cup of tea do continue scrolling. but some of us like a bit of questionable content

Bedelia feels his hands on her waist before she registers exactly who it is. In her Ambien-hazy state, she makes no attempts to fight back or turn him down. She wonders, briefly, which of the two it would be. Is she steady enough to turn him down? Or would she have to fight?

Would she want to fight?

Bedelia makes a quiet sound. In return, she’s lulled by a quiet whisper beside her ear.

“Go back to sleep, Bedelia.”

It’s tempting. But the best she can do now is remain dazed and not entirely conscious.

His fingers reach down between her thighs, caressing her cunt. She isn’t wet — she has no reason to be. That does not sway him. He strokes over her folds with practiced fingers. She doesn’t stir. She simply slips back into her medicated daze, despite a quiet whine escaping her.

Her body, traitorous and twisted, gives him what he wants. The familiar warmth of wetness seeping out between her thighs. Still, no real reaction. A blurry outline of her predicament with no concrete plan to get out of it.

His fingers probe at her, before he slips two into her tight heat. Bedelia makes a muffled sound, her cheek pressed against the pillow as she tries to sharpen the world around her. Everything is vague and fuzzy, her limbs heavy with sleep.

She feels his cock through what she assumes is his pyjama pants, grinding against her hip as he works his fingers into her. She attempts to slur her protests, to no avail. Protests? Perhaps inquiries. She’s in no state to discern between the two.

She’s beginning to think that the pill she took was not Ambien at all, but rather something to keep her docile and pliant. His fingers are quick, and she’s grown careless after nights of sleeplessness.

She’s acutely aware of the heaviness of his breath in her ear and the sound of his fingers pumping into her slickness. Her hips subconsciously grind down against his fingers, seeking friction on her aching clit. If she were more aware of her surroundings, she would hate herself for this. Would she?

Bedelia makes another sound akin to a protest when he curls two fingers and leads her body to the edge of orgasm.

“Mmh—“

“Shhh,” she hears, but the voice sounds distant and disconnected. “Rest.”

She feels shuffling behind her, and her thigh is lifted by a strong hand. He wastes no time in pushing his cock into her, hissing at the way her body tightens subconsciously around him. The best she can do now is make quiet little whimpers, vague murmurings.

His fingers brush the blonde hair at the back of her neck aside, and he kisses her skin, greedy and slow. Her head lolls against the pillow each time she attempts to lift.

She feels his cock thrust into her, stretching her out with each movement. She rarely even masturbates anymore. She’s tight, probably painfully so. For who, she doesn’t know.

He thrusts into her relentlessly as she lies there placid and limp. His hand snakes around to settle over her lower stomach, almost threatening. His palm rests over her womb.

“I’m sorry to do it this way,” he murmurs against her ear. “But you cannot be trusted. Perhaps a baby will change your mind about trying to run.”

Somewhere inside, she’s shocked with fear, but it’s too deep and too far away to respond to in her state. Another whine of protest.

“Shhh,” he coos between thrusts. “You’ll make a beautiful mother.”

After another minute or so, she feels his body tighten, and he spills himself deep inside of her. Sleep threatens to pull her back under. Distantly, she feels him pull himself from her and tuck himself back into his pyjamas. His seed spills out of her and onto the bedsheets. Two fingers push it back in, almost clinically, before he kisses her hairline gently.

“Sleep,” he instructs quietly, almost lovingly. “I need your body in the best condition possible.”

She makes another incoherent moan, but soon succumbs to sleep.

“Goodnight, Bedelia.”

She doubts this will be the last time.

#tw dubcon #tw drugging #tw somno #sorry. SORRY.#bedelia du maurier #bedannibal #hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannidelia #hannibal x bedelia #my fics

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letstrythisout4 · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 10: Blaise Zabini and the Wolf

Series Masterlist

Isabella convinced Blaise not to tell any of the adults about her testing out the Glow. Which was quite easy because Blaise was unresponsive for multiple hours afterwards, just silently nodding, shaking his head and completing tasks.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded.

“You sure?”

He nodded again.

“Promise?”

Another nod.

Isabella didn’t seem convinced. She walked out of his room, coming back with a blanket and pillow, laying them out on his carpet. “I’m going to sleep here tonight.”

Blaise just nodded. He had enough sense coming back to him to realize letting her sleep on the floor while he slept on his bed was kind of rude, so he pulled off a blanket and pillow from his own bed and set himself up next to her. She smiled at him, wrapping herself up in her blanket. And they fell asleep with soft expressions on their face, Isabella glad that she shared the Glow with him before the adults, while Blaise re-ran his memory of the spectacle in his mind, proud that she trusted him. Even though he rational knew that the moment was a decision made by her desire to act out, she allowed him to be there for it and chose to spend the night in his room despite his silence, something that would have thrown anyone else off. He found himself once again grateful for her brash friendship and relentless choice to be near him.

Everyone in the Manor slept in late, recuperating from the celebrations in the case of the adults and the extensive magic they experienced the night before in the case of the children. Eventually brunch was held, the Zabini’s and Isabella joined by the elf staff, who chatted about the events they wished to host in the new year. Blasie’s mother seemed to notice the uncharacteristically quiet children, “How did you two spend the evening?” she questioned turning all the attention to them.

Blaise floundering to find an answer as he was busy trying to logic an explanation for what he had witnessed, thankfully Isabella was far more present than he was, “Oh we just talked about how we thought Professor McGonagall will react to the Glow. Since she’s always talking about the rules of magic in class.”

His mother and the elves accepted this answer with dubious looks, seemingly deciding to give them the benefit of the doubt. Blaise and Isabella chose to spend the rest of the day in the Zabini library, researching types of magic across the globe. All that they found is that there was Magic (just basic standard magic like what they learned in school) and The Dark Arts (which Isabella summed up as, “Our magic but with a sadistic twist.” in reference to the sacrifices necessary to practice the Dark Arts). Feeling a bit defeated, the two dragged their feet to dinner and back to their rooms to ponder individually on the lack of information on anything that even barely resembled the Glow.

Blaise awoke to his mother and Isabella knocking on this door to say their goodbyes as they left to meet his professors. He wished them both luck, and made Isabella promise to tell him everything when she got home. All day he was restless, pacing around the Manor, the two hours that they were away seemingly more like two days. When the two came back Blaise quickly greeted his mother and rushed Isabella up the stairs to his room, where she gave him a full breakdown of the conversation. Apparently, the professors were less compliant than his mother had suspected, they urged his mother to reconsider telling Dumbledore. “We all know that he can be ruthless, do you really want to open her up to that?” she asked. That seemed to shut the women up (Isabella’s words- not his) as they agreed to his mothers plans after.

“Your mom gave them a quill and a contract to sign once they agreed. She said it was “just in case” that while she trusted them she wanted it in writing that they wouldn’t tell anyone about the Glow. They signed but McGonagall didn’t look happy about it.” Isabella whispered to Blaise with a conspiratorial tone.

“Well everyone knows that McGonagall is like Dumbledore’s right hand woman. She worked with him in both wars and has been employed at Hogwarts with him forever.” Blaise thought out loud.

Isabella lightly hit him upside the head, “I didn’t! That would have been nice to know before I went to talk to her.”

Blaise gave a noncommittal shrug, “Sorry.” he offered, not sounding sorry at all.

“Anyway. They agreed. I’m going to floo here every other day to meet with Smith and Wright.”

“Sounds nice.”

Isabella looked at him weirdly, “...you do know, you're coming with me right?”

“...what?”

“Of course you are. Just for moral support, you won’t be doing anything but I want you there so your mom set it up so you could be with me.”

Blaise leaned back with a stretch, doing his best to sound nonchalant and not over the moon, he responded, “Cool.”

Isabella hit him in his stomach, “Can’t believe you thought I was going to leave you behind.”

Blaise shrugged. He had expected to be left behind. He wasn’t the one with world changing magic. He wasn’t someone who could train her or make sure she was healthy like Smith and Wright. He wasn’t an adult who could advocate and harass people for her like his mother. He was just her friend. But like always, that seemed to be enough for Isabella..

“The plan is for both of us to be having, “advanced lessons” with McGonagall.”

“Checks out since we’re the best in that class.” he contributed with a cocky tone.

Isabella couldn’t resist the urge to burst his ego, “Nope, that's Hermione.”

“Shut up Reyes.” That prompted a wave of laughter from Isabella. “Have you…?”

“Have I…” she mocked

“Have you messed with the Glow since New Years Eve?”

She paused, “A little. Just stuff like this.” she raised her hand wiggling her fingers in his face and he watched as the Glow swam in between her fingers like a fine thread. Wisps of the Glow floated around her hand, surrounding it in faint light. Blaise could feel the magic pulsing off her hand.

“Not to doubt you Reyes, but back up with that.” She laughed at him, pulling away from his face.

“Isn’t it pretty?” she asked, the same way someone would ask if their puppy was adorable.

But Blaise couldn’t lie, “Yes. Yes it is.”

They took in the beauty of the Glow. “Did you show the professors?”

She shook her head, “I want your mom to be the next person to see it. Alone. I feel that's only fair, you know, since she’s done all of this for me.” she told him quietly.

“You know you don’t owe her right? She’s doing this because she wants to.”

“Yeah but I just want to. She’s…nice.”

Isabella pulled at the thread rolling it into a ball, cradling it in her hands as if it were something precious. It looked like a star plucked straight from the sky. She got up and nodded at Blaise to follow her. Together they walked to his mothers quarters, Blaise knocked, since Isabella’s hands were filled. His mother called for them to come in and they waited on the couch for her as she exited her wardrobe. She eyed the two of them and Isabella’s hands which encased the Glow star.

“Please tell me you’re not holding a creature.”

Blaise scoffed, to his mothers annoyance, “Of course not.”

“Watch your tone.” she warned.

“Sorry, Ma.”

Isabella interrupted the exchange, “I wanted to show you my Glow. Do you want to see it?”

His mothers face softened, “If you’d like to show me.”

“I’d like to.” Isabella opened her hands and the Glow floated just above her palms.

His mother looked on in fascination, approaching them asking, “Is this all you can do?”

Blaise and Isabella shared a look. “No not really, I can make it bigger and brighter.” Isabella did just that with ease. “I can do more but it's a bit..much so I won’t do it now. I’ll show you during the training tomorrow.”

“This is very impressive Isabella. I’m glad that you avoiding the Glow hasn’t diminished it.” his mother complimented.

“Thank you Ms. Zabini.” Isabella thanked, avoiding eye contact with her.

Sensing Isabella was flustered Blaise excused them both and they hid in the nearest library. “That went really well.”

“Well it wasn’t nearly as large as what you saw so I guess it’s easier for her. I’m sure she’ll be surprised during tomorrow's training.” She looked around the room before looking back at him, “I think your plan was right.”

Blaise had offered the idea earlier during their research that Isabella should let loose during the first training session like she did in his room, to make sure the adults knew what they were dealing with.

“But I want to do more than just a display. I can do some intense transfiguration and charm work using the Glow...” She trailed off, “at least I used to. I guess we’ll see tomorrow.” She finished flippantly.

The training session arrived and Isabella was practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation. She barely ate breakfast, claiming she wasn’t hungry. Blaise and his mother quickly finished their food, taking pity on Isabella.

“Alright we are going to Wright’s Institution. Make sure not to slur your words. Isabella you go first.”

Isabella grabbed a handful of powder and hopped into the fireplace exclaiming, “Wright’s Institution!”

Once she disappeared his mother turned to him with a smirk, “I think she’s excited.”

Blaise chuckled, “I’ll go make sure she doesn’t send herself into a fit of anxiety.”

Wright Institution was a large marble building, it was the perfect combination of modern muggle architecture and magic. With cars charmed to fly in place of elevators and magical beings of all species mingling with each other. He spotted Isabella ranting to Smith and Wright and decided to go save them. “Hello Trainer Wright, Healer Smith.”

“Hi Blaise.” “Hey Blaise.”

His mother joined them a second later greeting the adults. “Let's get going?’ Wright asked, noticing Isabella rocking back and forth on her heels. She led them into a car which flew them to what Blaise counted was the tenth floor. “This is where we are going to train.” She opened the doors to the floor and it was one massive room. It was entirely empty except for benches lining the walls. The main wall was glass overlooking the muggle city that the building was hidden from. The floor had a slight bounce to it, he imagined to take the impact of should someone fall.

“The walls are soundproof and the glass is one sided so you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing or hearing anything.” Wright assured.

Isabella just gaped at the room, “This is nice.”

“Want to start?”

“Yes!”

“Stay against the walls, it's for the best.” Blaise advised. The adults looked confused but complied. Isaeblla sat in the middle of the floor just as she did in his room. This time it was quicker, the glow immediately formed rings around her as she levitated off the floor. A large spiral formed above and below her. The walls and floor began to ripple, jerking the adults and Blaise around, going from marble to wood to glass to concrete and back to marble. The Glow brightened, lighting up the entire room, vibrating everything and flecks of gold fell around the room.

The Glow died down, everything settled and Isaeblla sat back down. “That was-”

“Amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it.” Smith blurted. “How do you feel?”

“I feel unstoppable.”

“Fascinating.” He breathed out, “Here, come sit. I’ll take your vitals.” Isabella sat down on the bench with them as Smith started tapping her with his wand, a report of her vitals appearing in the air before them. “Everything looks normal.”

Wright and his mother stared at Isabella as if they’d never seen her before. Wright started, “Did you transfigure my building?”

“...just a little.” Isabella muttered.

Wright used both of her hands to rub her face aggressively before asking, “What else can you do?”

“Well I used to act out scenarios using the glow.”

“What do you-” before Wright could finish her question Isabella flicked her wrist and a clump of Glow, this time taking the texture of sand, formed in the center of the room. It separated and turned into a large wolf and a little girl wearing a hood. The girl walked around seemingly unaware of the wolf stalking behind her. The sand-Glow creations kept moving in this loop.

“They aren't finished yet. At this stage they won’t do anything different until I tell them to. When they are officially done being made they can think on their own.” Isabella contributed as if her sand creatures were normal. The girl disappeared and the wolf changed its course, bounding towards the humans huddled in the corner. Smith and Wright ducked covering their heads, while Blaises mother wrapped her arms around him pulling him out of the way. But it was all pointless as the wolf jumped right over them, landing next to Isabella who lifted her hand to pet its gold snout.

The others, despite seeing that the wolf had no immediate intention of eating them, began to back a good distance away from Isabella and her wolf. Blaise tried to wriggle out of his mothers hold but she just tightened her grip. “If you think I’m letting you near that thing, you have gone mental.” she whispered to him, keeping her eye on the wolf whose tail began to wag, enjoying the attention of its creator. While conjuring animals wasn't impossible, it was N.E.W.T level. But there was something different about this wolf. When conjuring animals they tend to be... alive yes but not quite sentient. But Blaise looked at this wolf, looked at its eyes, and he could see it thinking, taking in its surroundings. It wasn't just alive, it was living.

“He won’t harm you.” Isabella promised, noticing how far away the group had gone. They heard her murmur in the wolves ear and watched as it laid down, resting its head in her lap. “He’s a good boy, I swear. You don’t have to believe me now, but he’ll prove he’s trustworthy, just wait.”

Blaise wondered for the millionth time how she survived for so long.

“Can you, by any chance, be able to make him…go away?” Smith asked, sounding as if he may faint.

“Yeah. I figured out I could put them away and bring them back with the same memories and personalities. I sobbed for hours when I was little, thinking I couldn’t bring them back before I finally figured it out.” She put her hand in front of the wolf, “I’ll bring you back out later.” He touched his nose to her hand and disappeared in a flash.

Everyone else let out a tight breath and Isabella giggled at their stress. Blaise rushed to her side, whispering in her ear, “You have to introduce him to me later.” She nodded several times with a smile brighter than her glow. Blaise felt his face warm at the sight.

No. Stop that. He scolded himself internally, he refused to even acknowledge his flush.

The adults fretted over Isabella checking her vitals, asking if she was hungry, thirsty, in pain.

“I’m a little tired, I want to take a nap.” she admitted quietly.

The adults were quick to agree that they should call it a day, in order to get Isabella back to the Manor to rest. “We’ll pick it back up next session. Starting with more about those creatures of yours.” Wright established flying them back down to the fireplaces in the lobby. They said their goodbyes and the Zabini’s and Isabella floo’d back home.

Authors notes: thanks for reading

#blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini x oc #slytherin #harry potter #draco malfoy #slytherin boys #pansy parkinson #theodore nott #isabella reyes

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empyrangel · 6 months ago

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what’s your opinion on the raiden shogun/raiden ei, girl i gotta know

See, that one’s pretty complicated.

When I first played the Inazuma archon quest, I didn’t think much of her at first. Which makes sense considering we don’t hardly see her until the end. Then came the reveal about how the loss of her sister caused her to retreat into her headspace and leave the mortal plane behind. As someone with MaDD who spends most of my time in my own headspace to hide from life and problems, she really resonated with me. So after that I had a pretty positive view of her for a while, but then I started to notice how her character was handled post-archon quest, as well as the criticisms from the many people who dislike her.

They’d talk about how Ei had allowed her grief to consume her and abandoned Inazuma with a puppet for a leader. How she said that she knew about the vision hunt decree, and the fatui to starting the civil war and trying to give people delusions. She let all of that happen because it didn’t conflict with her pursuit of eternity. I realized that these were valid criticisms and agreed with them despite liking Ei. I don’t have a problem with morally dubious characters, as long as they are handled properly, but Ei was not.

I was hoping to enjoy seeing how her character would change after the end of the archon quest. Yes, she was grieving, yes, she suddenly had the burden of being the archon and ruler thrust upon her shoulders immediately after everything with the cataclysm, but that doesn’t excuse what she did. I was hoping to see Ei regain her belief in humanity by interacting with the people of modern day Inazuma, and see her people gradually regain their hope in her. I wanted to see her regret her past and put in the work to make up for it for the sake of her people. I wanted to see her apologize to them, to become an active ruler and participant in Inazuma society. I wanted to see her face the consequences of her actions with people rightfully angry at her for abandoning them, and see Ei determined to win back their trust because she cares about her subjects. I wanted to see her struggle to not fall back into her old mindset or to become disappointed and angry at how Inazuma has changed, and to persevere despite all that. That would have been a well written character, but that’s not what happened.

Instead, she got a hasty redemption arc, after which all her teeth and claws were immediately removed for the sake of making her more marketable. She was never confronted with her actions, no one was ever allowed to feel angry at her for what she did. We pretty much just moved on immediately from everything that happened. We see in certain limited time events that the people of Inazuma are still scared of Ei, but it’s played off like a joke.

I mean, I suppose Ei did have to fight the shogun (who symbolically represented her past self and ideals) for 500 years in that pocket dimension in her second sq, but we (the player/traveler) only saw the very beginning and very end of that, and the people of Inazuma never knew about any of that. I don’t want her to suffer just for the sake of suffering, so that didn’t really mean anything to me.

Some hardcore Ei stans have the counter argument that since Ei is both a totalitarian dictator and a god there isn’t anyone who can hold her accountable for anything, so expecting Ei to make change or make up for what she’s done is unrealistic. But I believe that her being unable to be held accountable is exactly what would make her having a real character arc so good. Since nobody can make Ei do anything, she’d have to hold herself accountable. She’d have to display the will to want to change without any punishment or incentive driving that. And I think that would just add to her character.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love Ei in concept, but not the execution. I love her potential, I love what she could have been, but not who she turned out to be.

As for the Raiden Shogun, since she’s a different person than Ei, I guess I just feel sorry for her. I don’t think about her very much, but I like how you can see the differences in personality between her and when Ei is controlling her, with Ei being more casual, soft-spoken, and friendly, and the Shogun being more cold, withdrawn, and serious. I mean she was created by Ei and then immediately left to rule Inazuma herself as Ei had disappeared into her headspace. And she doesn’t have autonomy, she can only follow whatever parameters Ei has coded into her. That sounds like a sad life.

#i’m just here for immoral support ✨#traveler from another world ✨#anon #genshin #genshin impact #genshin ei #raiden ei #raiden shogun #genshin raiden

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lu-is-not-ok · 1 year ago

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hmm if we’re still discussing E.G.O can i ask for your thoughts on Ardor Blossom Star? I know you already talked about Ishmael’s Roseate Desire so I won’t ask for that but I’m interested in the way that it’s a wrath E.G.O despite her non-corroded line being rather passive.

by the way, how do your interpretations of gluttony and lust differ? Is it the way that the motivator of greed (or desire) is expressed?

I'm gonna answer the second question before the cut, so that people don't have to scroll past another whole analysis if they're curious.

To me, the main difference between Lust and Gluttony is whether one's actions are towards an Actual End Goal.

Lust represents actions done to indulge one's desires or for the sake of personal fulfillment. By such definition, the End Goal is already stated, that being either reaching that fulfillment, or satisfying one's desires.

Gluttony represents actions done out of hunger, which Limbus gives us two interpretations of. The starving hunger of Survival, and the endless hunger for More. Notably, neither of those types of hunger have an End Goal, they are all a kind of process that would go on and on without stopping.

In the case of Hunger of Survival, there is no clear Stopping Point to trying to survive. You either struggle to survive endlessly, or you eventually fail and die. Likewise, there is no clear End to the Hunger for More. It is, by its nature, endless, constantly reaching higher and higher, towards a better and bigger More than one already has, with no set Goal beyond constant progress.

Hope that helps make my interpretations a bit clearer!

Now then, onto the analysis you asked for.

As always, we're starting with the abnormality. Ardor Blossom Moth only exists as a Mirror Dungeon Event, and it's not as explicit in its themes as some of the other event-only abnos, but I think there is something to be read into here.

The main idea Ardor Blossom Moth carries with it is that of warmth that is as beautiful and enticing as it is dangerous. The balls of light the moth is found among are described as dancing, enchanting, tempting.

At the same time, the Moth is described as burning to death. It scorches whoever it touches, and its warmth is described as dubious if one decides to resist the urge to reach out.

I think there's an easy way to interpret how that translates to Ishmael. On the surface, she's calm, collected, and reasonable. She's the type of person one would be tempted to listen to and follow after in lieu of a leader figure.

However, that's all just a facade. Internally, Ishmael is a mess who's controlled by her emotions and obsession. Trying to reach out and learn about that part of her is bound to burn someone, regardless of whether she means to or not.

There's something else about the Ardor Blossom Moth I want to point out that seems to parallel Ishmael quite closely if you think about it.

When reached out to, the Moth quite literally attaches itself to the person who did so, the burning lights clinging to their body and engulfing it in light and flames. On the other hand, if the Moth is rejected, the person feels coldness crawling up their spine in an instant. The inviting yet dangerous warmth is immediately snuffed out.

I think this serves as a good parallel to how Ishmael acts in general. She clings to reason and to people that seem to follow reason like she does. However, it is extremely easy to lose her trust and for her to start holding a grudge, just like how the Moth withdraws its warmth the moment it's slighted.

Now onto the fun part, the Sin analysis!

Ardor Blossom Star's Sin damage is Wrath. In my interpretation, Wrath as a sin represents actions done out of self-rightousness or defiance, the belief that something should be different just because you wish it so. While it does often correlate with the feelings of anger, it's not a requirement.

In Ardor Blossom Star's case, I think this is very much the kind of Wrath that does not necessitate anger. Specifically, I think the usage of Wrath here is meant to symbolize Ishmael acting in defiance of herself.

Just like the Moth tries to defy its own nature of hurting people by seeking to be touched, Ishmael is defying her own nature with the way she acts. Though she can't guide with pure logic, as emotions and obsession paint her thoughts, she's still trying to embrace reason and offer it to others.

To quickly touch upon her Corroded dialogue line, this interpretation gives it an interesting hidden meaning. Her trying to act with reason and logic is a struggle, and she hopes that the world around her is as reasonable and logical as she is trying to be.

Onto the Sin requirements. Ardor Blossom Star requires Wrath, Lust, and Envy.

Wrath, as mentioned above, represents Ishmael's defiance of her own nature. It's a reality she doesn't accept, and so she does what she can to act in a way that doesn't align with it.

Lust as a Sin represents actions done for the sake of indulgence or personal fulfillment. There's a few ways one could interpret this E.G.O requiring Lust, in my opinion.

One way to interpret it is that Ishmael refusing her emotional nature and acting calm and reasonable is fulfilling to her. It makes her feel better about herself than if she were to let her emotions take charge.

However, there is another way to interpret Lust here, one that is unique to Ishmael. In the case of Ishmael's E.G.Os, Lust can also represent her indulging in her compulsions. Perhaps, despite wishing to act in spite of her obsessions, those very same obsessions are a part of what drives her to act that way.

This, in my opinion, would be very fitting with Ardor Blossom Moth's themes. Though the Moth is trying to act in spite of its flames, their warmth is the main way it tempts people to touch it. Likewise, though Ishmael wants to act in spite of her emotions and obessions, those compulsions are in fact partially driving her to act with only reason and logic.

Last requirement here is Envy, which represents actions done as a reaction to other people's actions. I think this means that a small but significant part of why Ishmael acts the way she does is due to how other people acted on her voyage. After all, some of her dialogue lines imply that she has more than enough knowledge of what happens if someone makes a mistake on board.

Having been around people who make bad decisions due to emotions (Ahab likely included), she decided that it's better to follow logic and reason at all cost.

...I guess we'll find out how much of that I got correctly in like, what, a few months? Kinda wild to think that Ishmael's Canto isn't that far into the future.

#limbus company #limbus company project moon #ishmael #ishmael lcb #ardor blossom star ego #lcb analysis #ask #anon #lu speaketh #this one felt a bit tricky #but i think i got something that makes sense?

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tomezatos · 2 years ago

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LAST EPISODE Thoughts in No Particular Order,

(and from memory because I had one thousand million bajillion thoughts while watching the episode and I 100% guarantee I have forgotten half of them)

when Tome appeared on screen in her new uniform I screamed her name at 100 decibels in the highest pitch I have ever heard my voice reach I feel so fucking insane my GIRLLL does she even know what she’s done for my LIFEEEEE but also jesus christ I’m sorry to my parents for breaking the sound barrier and also their eardrums god forgive me

similarly high pitched was my scream of “SERIZAWA CAN ANSWER THE PHONE!” when. serizawa could answer the phone. bcause like. yeah. woaaagh

“Tome? Serizawa? Anyone home?” bro those are this man’s husband and daughter......

also speaking of Serizawa I am so proud of him for embracing his role as protector and guardian. he has come so far from his days of morally dubious self-loathing terrorism and I would place my life in his hands so willingly

THE FADE FROM SHOUJO TSUBOMI TO REAL TSUBOMIIIII the symbolization of the shift from the one dimensional framework of stereotypical main-and-love-interest relationship between her and shigeo to the truth of a connection based on honesty and acceptance!!! they are literally the blorbos of ALL TIME of all time........

tsubomi symbolizes shining acceptance for him tsubomi symbolizes a world where you can be your true self and not have to hide god god god god their friendship has so much meaning despite only realizing post-canon tsubomi takane I would readily die for you

just as it was so important that reigen see shigeo and not just mob it was important that reigen purposefully let his true self be seen. the healthiest love and care between humans necessitates that you let yourself be known as your worst, as your most destructive, as your most flawed and messiest self. and then you have to trust that you’ll be loved anyway. both shigeo and mob were already fully aware that reigen had no true powers but he needed to admit it himself; he needed to say it out loud so they knew that he would be honest with them. it’s a level of vulnerability that has always been dangerous for him, but just as shigeo had left himself vulnerable by taking over, reigen had to reciprocate that vulnerability to maintain their friendship. with no walls between them they could finally have true trust and connection and that is the most terrifying but also the most important and most wonderful thing in the world

it’s just them standing messy and torn and sharp and covered in dirt in the middle of a ruined city of their own making and it’s just them it’s just reigen and mob and shigeo, in the end. but they’re friends and they’re friends and they’re there for each other. they’re still friends and they’re there for each other. I am going to cry

the parallel frame of the two of them standing looking at each other where the background is gold and it mimics the sequence from the season three intro where shigeo is growing up but this time it is their real selves and not just the easy, idealized view of their relationship argahgrhgj. wahdhrvjf. waghf. agrh. a

ALSO the incredible fluidity but also the harshness and brutality and VIOLENCE above all the violence of the way studio bones animated the scene where reigen is trying so hard to reach shigeo and he just gets FUCKED he gets completely annihilated and smashed into everything and it’s hard to watch? that’s so so brilliant it is the messiness and violence of shigeo that mob and the viewer didn’t want to acknowledge but you have to see it. you have to see it and reigen has to see it and he is going to have to love it anyway. the show ever wtf

ALSO THE LOVE AND ATTENTION IN HOW THEY ANIMATED SHIGEO CRYING you can really see how much the animators respected and loved the manga there’s so much care put into it and the lineart and the coloring and the fluidity it’s so human it’s so real shigeo I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you so mcuj

speaking of shigeo he’s justt an angry teenage boy he’s an angry messy teenage boy and he can be selfish and destructive and hurt and pained but he’s not evil the show won’t treat him like he’s evil you know he’s not evil he’s just angry and he’s allowed to be angry and he’s so real I love him i love him I LOOOOVE You shigeo . god

like the choice to outline him in red which is so clearly a violent and destructive color but also he’s just shigeo it’s shigeo it’s your boy you’ve known him all along and it’s still him. he’s worried about his crush rejecting him

ALSO MY FAVORITE PANEL GOT ANIMATED FINALLY. *fist-pumping in the air* RITSU AND TSUBOMI FLOATING IN THE AIR <3333 thank you thank you thank you. the two most important characters in the world and in the story I WILL appreciate them. kisses them both on the forehead thanks for the whole narrative. #girl

speaking of. ritsu I LOVE him pointing and laughing at shigeo on the telephone pole so good it’s so good. ritsu kageyama is the number one character MOST objectively entitled to do literally anything to whoever he wants however he wants however much he wants forever. ritsu deserves to do anything. anything he wants. im bso proiud of him

ALSO THE RANDOM SCENE OF THE HAYSTACK WIG FLASHBACK WJAT WAS THAT. WHAT was that why did bones add that what was. am I forgetting that was that in the manga w. damn no matter what happens ritsu is too real to forget how much of a loser his friend was huh. honestly. fair! but RIP though

he’s not even mean about it he doesnt even say anything u should be thankful terOH YEAH WAIT TERU

TERU’S HERE HE’S BACK!! MY funny rich little capitalism mathboy. mine. and I like his hair actually!

REI UNIFROM REI UNIFORM REI UNIFORM REI UNIFORM REI UNIFORM REI UNIFORM REI UNIFORM!!!!!!

THANKS SO MUCH FOR FEEDING THE AWAKENING KIDS FANS OUR SCRAPS WE R STARVING

alsooo the fact that teru is positioned with his awakening lab kids in the ending sequence CRIES my god FRIENDSHIP IS THE POINT OF IT ALL...

RITSU SMILE!!!!!!!! EVERYONE SHUT UP

also ritsu and tome both making fun of reigen crying oh my god they r so right so cool so true 10/10 I support them bully him harder

also im still crying about tome graduation

heck what else?

OH SHOU yes yes okay SHOU AND SERIZAWA man. it’s so complex. them going from cornered child and neglectful adult (and shou canonically hating serizawa at that point) to genuinely healing and being able to sympathize and befriend each other. just a quiet background detail but such a meaningful quiet background detail I feel like I’m melting

tsubomi’s post-canon phone call outfit is so cute. the giant plushie is v cute. she is so cute. and also I love her did I say that btw have I mentioned that i love tsubomi takane did I say that. have I said that yet. I love tsubomi takane so much

lastly............... shigeo expressing himself. sincerely this series means so much to me and shigeo means so much to me. god.

excuse me to cry forever please

#OKOKOK had to get that out had to get that out. sorry. sorry #and also sorry to all the thoughts I forgot ill dig u up eventually...... maybe #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #mine #long post #tome #serizawa #shigeo #reigen #ritsu #tsubomi #teru #awakening lab kids #shou #mp100 spoilers #mob psycho 100 spoilers

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madamebaggio · 1 year ago

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Notes: Previously...

***

Chapter 4

“In my defense…” Arthur started, but Kay cut him off.

“Oh, I’m sure this is going to be great.”

He gave her a flat look. “I wasn’t just gallivanting around the continent, you know? I was at war.”

Kay scoffed. “Oh I can imagine it.” She said dryly. “All those long years of never-ending war. Never stopping for a second, no long periods of waiting when you could have written one single letter to your wife.”

“I…” He sighed. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“So why even bother trying, right?”

Arthur groaned. “Kay. You are not helping.”

“I cannot help you.” She pointed out. “You need to help yourself, my lord. I know you were not out there looking for fortune, glory and women. However, your wife was here, taking care of a lot of things as well. She kept this place running, even when things got bad. Even when thousands came from the North.”

“I know.” He hissed. “I have heard all about what she has done.”

“My point is: this is not a competition of who had it worse during the war.” Kay told him. “You two were married too fast and too young, then you didn’t even have time to get to know each other. Of course this is going to be hard.”

Arthur sighed.

“Also, I am not saying you are the only one responsible for this situation. Lady Sansa also has a part in it, she should work on this marriage too.” Kay conceded.

Arthur arched an eyebrow. “But?”

Kay grimaced. “By the Seven, Arthur, what did you do to that girl on her wedding night?”

“Why?” He asked, a deep frown on his face. “I did not hurt her.” He hadn’t… Had he?

The woman crossed her arms. “I didn’t think you did.”

“You told me to be gentle!” He threw his hands up.

Kay scoffed. “How did you interpret me saying ‘be gentle to your virginal, sheltered young wife’ as ‘botch it up so badly she can’t see how people would enjoy it at all’?”

“Oh Gods.” He groaned in pain. This was… Humbling.

He did have a notion that he hadn’t actually been great that night, but… This was worse than he thought it might be.

“Lady Sansa is…” Kay seemed to think hard about what to say, before coming to a decision. “She is guarded. After her mother and brother died it was as if she just locked up inside herself.”

Yes, that had been cruel. Arthur hadn’t been at the wedding, because he didn’t trust the Freys and the Boltons, and he was a bit pissed at Robb for what he’d done throughout the whole mess.

He could understand falling in love, but Robb had been stupid to think it’d be that easy. The man who’d preached to him about promises and honor, had thrown his away and almost cost them the rebellion.

If Jon hadn’t come along…

He could only imagine how Sansa felt about it. He felt immensely guilty for not being there for Robb, despite their difference in opinions. Sansa had been alone at the time, in Camelot. She’d received the news from Bedivere, because once again Arthur hadn’t been capable of just writing her one fucking letter.

He was a shitty husband.

“Listen, Arthur.” Kay put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I am not blaming you. Or her. What I want you to see is that it was not easy for both of you. You did not have the time to get used to each other, to know each other. You did not get the chance to court her properly, and woo with your dubious charms.”

Arthur gave her a weak smile at that.

“You two have to start from the very beginning after all this time and everything that happened in between. Of course it won’t be easy, but it doesn’t mean it is hopeless.”

He took a deep breath in. “You are right.” He decided. “I have done stupider things with worse odds.”

Kay frowned. “That was not actually encouraging, but fine.”

“I want to make this work, Kay.”

“That I am happy to hear.”

“Any suggestions on how I should start?”

“You could always actually please your wife in bed.”

***

Logically Arthur wasn’t about to tup his wife in the middle of the morning -she hardly seemed interested in it during the night. However, what Kay had said did make him think about what he could do.

He knew very little about Sansa, even after three years of marriage. The only things he knew were related to him by other people, including Jon and Arya, who’d told him she liked songs and lemon cakes -respectively.

That didn’t seem like a solid base for anything.

Therefore, he chose to start with what he requested the night before: for them to meet so they could talk about Londinium.

He met her at her solar and she was polite and distant as they talked.

It was clear to him how competent she was. Sansa had been raised to be the lady of a keep and it showed when she was working.

Whatever she didn’t know, she’d learned and mastered. She knew about the business, the trading routes and needs of the people.

“I suppose we will need to re-negotiate trade now that the Dragon Queen has taken over.” She mused.

“Yes.” Arthur sighed. “But I am not sure how fast that will happen, since she has her own problems for now.”

“I am glad Jon did not surrender the North to her.”

“I like being independent from the South.” He agreed. “Bunch of wankers.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, and he cleared his throat.

“This is just an overview.” She continued. “I can send you all the papers so you can see for yourself…”

“I trust you, Sansa.” He told her simply. “I will familiarize myself better with it, but I know I left Londinium in good hands.”

She didn’t comment and just looked at him.

“Do you know what I think is more relevant now?”

Sansa arched an eyebrow. “I can barely wait to hear it.”

“Our marriage.”

Arthur was pretty sure she was holding in a snort. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” He pressed on. “We should work on that.”

“Why?”

“Because, love, you are not getting rid of me. It will be easier if you just accept that and fall in love with me.”

She narrowed her eyes and Arthur grinned. There she was.

#madame baggio #crackship #crossover #gifs not mine #crossover pairings #fanfiction #posted on ao3 #game of thrones #king arthur legend of the sword #sansa stark #arthur pendragon #sansa x arthur #lady of all she touches

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the-bar-sinister · 7 months ago

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Lucifer Was an Angel As Well (8940 words) by thesavagesabretooth Additional Tags: Ambiguous Relationships, Dubious Morality, Post-Canon, Inappropriate Behavior, vera has a crush on the man who almost killed her, not ship not not ship but a secret third thing, Extremely toxic

Summary: Miles Edgeworth has been looking out for Vera Misham since her father's death, but he's not the one she considers her guardian angel.

The letters had started almost immediately after the devil was locked away from the sunlight, and she keeps them hidden from everyone despite their influence on her.

Meanwhile in jail, Kristoph tries to weave another spell, and regain some measure of control. Will he be able to secure a deal that allows him his freedom, or anything like it? And what will happen if he does.

August 20, 2028– 2:05 pm

"I appreciate your assistance with this, Ms. Cykes," Miles said as he led her through the bowels of the prison. "Your perspective has been invaluable lately."

Athena walked alongside him, flushing with a grin as she tugged her long ponytail with her hands.

“Aww…Mr. Edgeworth, you know I’m doing my best.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “And you know I have a particular talent with exactly this sort of case.”

She’d taken to wearing a kimono, like her mother once wore, ever since the Lovelace trial. She lowered her hands to adjust the pale yellow haori with a thoughtful smile.

It was true. The evaluation for rehabilitation of those most would write off as ‘hopeless’ or ‘evil’ was something she had intimate experience in, given her much deepened relationships with the former death row inmate Simon Blackquill and the detective once known as the Phantom.

“But would you mind refreshing me on the situation?”

"Of course," Edgeworth nodded as they walked down the sterile hallway. "The subject in question today is Kristoph Gavin. You may be familiar with the name, given your association with the Wright Anything Agency."

Edgeworth smiled thinly at her, like he thought he was funny for referring to people they were both so entwined with in such a clinical way. From the pulse of amusement she got from him– he did think he was funny.

Athena covered her mouth with a quiet laugh, before she folded her arms with a nod.

“I am…Kristoph Gavin was Apollo’s former mentor, right? And Mr. Wright’s friend who turned out not so friendly when he killed one ‘Shadi Smith’-- and was implicated in the poisoning death of Drew Misham.”

"So he was," Edgeworth nodded. "And he was convicted for both killings. Though, admittedly, the details are… ambiguous in some ways. He hasn't made any specific denials, but– hmm.."

The chief prosecutor frowned for a moment and shook his head. "In any case, he was a popular man before his conviction, and that hasn't entirely changed afterward. He's expressed an interest in being 'of use' during his sentence, and people I trust have spoken for him. Though people I trust have spoken against him as well."

The sideways glance and flutter of anxiety told Athena exactly who had spoken against him. Her own boss– Phoenix Wright. Athena hissed softly through her teeth.

“Ah…that makes sense. So he’s divisive…but potentially a good candidate for the sort of work release program you’ve been running. And you want me to figure out which way the scales tip?”

Athena always cared about her boss, he was a good man and an impressive force in the courtroom– but they had clashed on multiple cases before, especially over things like this.

“I’m willing to give him a chance. I’ll give him a proper evaluation, Mr. Edgeworth."

"I know that you will, Athena," he said, nodding. They paused outside the final guard station before the special cell area, and Edgeworth quietly checked them in with the guard. "I'll leave you to your work. I'm looking forward to your report."

Athena gave him one last salute before she took a deep breath. “I promise it’ll be…enlightening, one way or the other.”

Athena passed beyond the final gate by herself, and into the clinical hallway that led to Kristoph Gavin's cell. She heard the security camera above orient to follow her.

So much security, constant observation– almost as much as there’d been when she’d visited Robert for the very first time in the ‘secret wing’ of the hospital.

It made her wonder just what sort of man this Kristoph Gavin was under the rumors and the masks.

Near the end of the hallway, the solid wall ended and the bars began, and there was the cell proper. It was barren for a room, but lavish, perhaps, for a prison cell. There was a large bookshelf, and a small antique style table beside which there was a high backed chair. The little bed looked relatively comfortable, and there was a canvas painting hung above it

Sitting in the high backed chair with a book in his lap was the prisoner.

He looked more like a literature teacher– or perhaps, a defense attorney.

"Ms. Cykes, I presume." His voice was smooth, cheerful and cultured, and he favored her with a smile on his angelic seeming face.

Athena bowed her head in greeting, folding her arms before herself with a bright and cheerful smile as she came to a stop in front of the bars.

“Mr. Kristoph Gavin. That’s right…my name’s Athena Cykes. I’m a defense attorney and licensed court psychologist for the state of California.”

He snapped his book shut and set it on the table next to him, folding his hands in his lap. "It's nice to meet you, Athena. I was told that you'd be coming. There's a chair behind you– if you'd like to sit down."

Athena looked behind her and tugged the chair a little closer to the bars before she took a seat.

“Thank you! I’m glad my visit’s not a surprise– Mr. Edgeworth tells me you’ve shown some interest in doing some good in the new age of the law.”

Kristoph smiled wider still, and leaned on his hand. "That's very true. I was telling my friend Lana Skye about my feelings, and she said she'd talk to Edgeworth. It seems word travels fast."

“Miss Skye and Edgeworth are old friends. At least that’s what I’ve heard! It wouldn’t take her long to get his ear.” She leaned on her hands. “So…I’ve read all about your cases, you know.”

"You have me at an advantage then," he purred. "I'm afraid I don't know very much about you, Athena."

Athena flashed a bright smile “I’m fairly new to the legal scene…or at least, probably new to you, Mr. Gavin. I’ve started taking cases after studying psychology abroad…and was involved in the case of the Cosmos center murder and sabotage…and a handful of interpol cases.”

She tapped her nose with a grin. “Just in case you were thinking of underestimating me ‘cause I’m new!”

"I would never," he purred. "I think it is important to get new blood into the legal system, rather than sticking with the old and entrenched."

It was hard for her to get a read on his emotions. He was one of the more guarded people that she'd spoken to– outside of the so-called Phantom and his fellow espionage assets. But where their emotions had been pruned and repressed to almost nothing, here, Kristoph's true emotions were hidden behind a calm and genteel mask. It would take effort to peel it away.

“I’d certainly say.” Athena said brightly as she folded her hands “I work with the Wright Anything Agency, and strive to bring my fresh perspective to everything I do!”

She watched his reaction carefully to the boss’ name.

"Ah, one of Phoenix's flock," Kristoph chuckled. "You said you had been studying abroad. I imagine you met while he was galavanting around Europe, then?"

He cocked his head, a few strands of his hair falling across his face as he watched her.

“Wow! You’re pretty well informed! That's right, we met while I was finishing up with my psychology degree and offered to hire me once I finished my law studies!” She clapped her hands together. “and it worked out just fine ever since! You and he were once pretty close, right?”

"Guilty as charged," he admitted, holding his hands up. "We had dinner together once a week for seven years– except on those times when he was gallivanting off in Europe, and I had to work. Come to think of it, he might have mentioned you once or twice…"

There was a flicker of something dark beyond the clear mask for just a moment, when talking about Phoenix. But whether it was anger, regret, or something else entirely, Athena couldn't tell.

Athena quietly tugged on her AR glove with a smile.

“Oh, he did? Only good things I hope!” Curiously, she peered into his eyes “Once a week for seven years is a consistent relationship…and yet..”

She tapped her finger on her chin. “You beat a man to death after one of those dinners, and tried to frame your dinner partner, yeah?”

Kristoph smiled, and tucked his chin down into his neck as he crossed his arms. The glint of the light on his glasses obscured her view of his clear blue eyes.

"I suppose I may have done something like that. And it's the rude sort of thing that means you don't get invited back. Yes, our last supper ended in blood, as these things do sometimes."

Athena chuckled.

“Dramatic. It's also the sort of thing that means you don’t exactly have his vote of confidence that you’ll behave yourself if brought out of solitary and into the courtroom.” She leaned on her hand. “But I think there’s more to the story here, Mr. Gavin. I think there’s more to you than the mask you’ve put up. It’s my job to convince the others that what I see makes you a good fit for a second chance.”

"Well, I'd certainly like to help you with that, Athena," he said, pushing his glasses up again, and smiling. That much, at least, was completely sincere, she was sure. "If it helps, I promise never to club any future mysterious strangers over the head with wine bottles."

Athena laughed.

“I’d like to believe you on that, honestly. It’s not every day a shadow of the past comes up, right?” She folded her fingers “given the ‘mysterious stranger’ was actually Zak Gramarye, a man you’d met years before outside the court.”

"So it turned out to be, yes." He was still guarded, heavily guarded, but she could see the tension in his posture. The slight stiffness at the edge of his gentle smile. "I imagine you, like others, conjecture that I knew this."

Athena hit Widget, and the screen illuminated between them.

“I don’t know if I’d call it conjecture, Mr. Gavin.” She said evenly, “as much as I think it’s a source of inner conflict. And my job is to help ease and soothe those spiritual wounds.”

"Ease my spiritual wounds?" he cocked his head. "Well, it's a pretty sentiment, miss Athena. Thank you."

As the screen illuminated, Athena saw widget's hidden power– the Mood Matrix, laid out before her. The technology amplified and clarified her own talent for understanding emotions, letting her see and process the feelings of her subject on the screen as data.

Kristoph Gavin's emotional landscape was laid bare before her. For the moment, there was a genuine, persistent burble of happiness, or pleasure, and an insistent, slow and heavy pulse of anxiety.

“You’re welcome. It's my job. And honestly, I’ve got a lot of sympathy for people in situations like yours. So I promise I’ll work extra hard!” She pumped her fist before looking up at his gentle smile “But what’s got you so anxious?”

He cocked his head, and that very same anxiety flickered up. "Anxious? I'm not sure what you mean."

Athena smiled and tapped near her ear.

“...I was born a little different than most people, Mr. Gavin. I hear people’s emotions in their voices and unconscious actions…I can’t help it, I’m afraid…and I’m picking up a strong note of anxiety in you. One that reacted to me pointing it out.”

He tucked his chin into his neck for a moment again, and brushed his fingers through the strands of his hair. "Very perceptive, Athena. I suppose I am anxious. Wouldn't you be? My fate lies in the balance of this conversation."

“I’d be terrified.” Athena smiled. “I was terrified when my, and my partner’s lives both hung in the balance of one trial.”

She tapped on the mood matrix “but let’s dig into that. Mr. Gavin. You’re anxious. iI it simply because you want to make a good impression on the court psychologist?” ”

Kristoph leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees and smiled. "I suppose not just. Does talking about murder make you anxious, Athena? I'll be happy to admit it makes me a little anxious. The last thing you asked me was about Zak Gramarye."

“Sometimes…” Athena’s eyes flicked down to the matrix. “but that’s true– the man you claim to have killed as a ‘mysterious stranger’ on a whim. Right?”

"I've maintained that, yes," he nodded. "I doubt that it reflects well on me."

He was still smiling, but it was little more than a hollow mask. The pulse of pleasure was gone, and the screen showed only the strong pulse of anxiety, and the faint, slow, steady beat of anger.

Athena highlighted the anger and anxiety “the memory makes you angry, Mr. Gavin.” She flicked her eyes up to him. “that implies to me that there’s more to it than a whim.”

Gavin chuckled, and leaned his chin on his hand, watching her from behind his shiny spectacles. "You must be a very useful young woman to have in the office, Athena. Yes. It makes me angry. You're quite right."

Athena chuckled softly.

“I’m told that. Maybe you can tell Mr. Wright so I can get off toilet duty more often.” She smiled at her own joke, before she nodded “Let’s focus in on that anger. Was it at the situation? The man? The repercussions?”

Kristoph thoughtfully rubbed his fingernails with the tips of his fingers, looking down at them.

"I think the repercussions make me frustrated, more than angry." He sighed and put his hands together. "You're here to evaluate if I'm fit company for man or beast. So I won't make you tease it out of me. I'll tell you the secret I've kept from everyone else, Miss Athena Cykes– and hope that here and now it reflects better on me than the lie does."

On the mood matrix his anxiety spiked, pinging and fluttering.

Athena leaned a little forward. “Thank you, Mr. Gavin…it’ll help me make a fair judgment…and I’ll confide that I would like you to get your second chance. So please be honest with me.”

"I overheard the conversation that Phoenix Wright and Zak Gramarye had that night," he said, his fingers tight together. "That much is known. Do you know, Athena, what they talked about?"

Athena shook her head. “Not very much, no. A little, what I was able to get out of the mason system files…it should be enough to verify that what you tell me’s the truth.”

He sighed. "Alright. Well, you work with Mr. Wright. So you know that he has a daughter. Almost grown now. An adorable, bright little girl with a big smile. Zak Gramarye's daughter."

Athena nodded with a slight widening of her eyes “Trucy. I know her really well…she’s been a great friend to me since I’ve started working for her agency…”

"I can imagine," he said, with a little smile. A ping of sadness joined the anger on the screen. "I watched her grow up, you know. Being so close with Phoenix. I saw her often."

Athena nodded slowly, brushing her hair away from her face to look at him in the eyes again

“That makes sense…he’d been raising her since that first trial, after all. It makes sense you’d see her grow…” She tilted her head. “you came to care about her, I imagine?”

"I'd be some kind of monster, if I didn't." He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. The sadness on the mood matrix pinged instead. "She's very charming. You know– on the day I spoke to Zak Gramarye with the hopes to represent him he said something to me. He said 'today I am praying my daughter won't grow up without her father'."

“....” Athena’s fingers hovered over the screen. “He said that, huh? But in the end she still did, didn’t she?”

"She did," he said. HIs fingers were laced very, very tightly together. He smiled, brightly, almost like an angel, but now the anger was pinging higher, and higher. "And do you know what he said to Phoenix Wright in that fateful conversation, Miss Athena Cykes? He told him that he had always intended to disappear. That abandoning his daughter had always been the plan. And that he would do the same that night, without a word."

Kristoph's smiling lips had gone pale, and the mood matrix was pinging one of the highest outputs of anger that she'd seen it register. He put his hands on his knees.

"I consider it a personal moral failing of a dear friend that Mr. Phoenix Wright was going to just let him walk out of that room."

August 21, 2028– 3:15 pm

Vera wasn't sure who had come through for her, her manager Mr. Edgeworth, or the devil, Kristoph Gavin. But someone had, clearly. When she got the final paperwork for her entry into the academy, her roommate was listed as Pearl Fey. And soon after that, she'd gotten an excited text from her new roommate, wanting to meet up and discuss their new situation.

She had nearly crumpled the paper hugging it to her chest when she’d first read the words. She was getting better– socially speaking– but it didn’t make dealings with strangers any easier. With a fluttering joy in her chest she’d responded back that she’d meet with Pearl whenever she’d wanted to meet to talk and celebrate.

And that was how Vera had ended up on the quiet hour long bus ride to the little apartment just on the other side of the famous and secluded Kurain village. Pearl, she knew, had lived most of her young life in the village proper. But apparently once she'd started high school she and her guardian had moved a little bit closer to civilization.

It had seemed like a quiet place to live, just like the quiet home in the woods her father had owned– one that , once upon a time, would have inspired her to paint the vistas and scenes much to her father’s quiet frustration with the time that could have been spent on another forgery.

But now she watched the mountainside town roll past the window with a quiet smile on her face and her notepad firmly folded on her lap. She wondered if Pearl liked the quiet, or if she was dying to get to the Academy set more firmly in the hustle and bustle of LA.

She wondered if her guardian would move there too.

Pearl had a bright smile across her face when she met Vera at the bus stop, smiling and waving as she got off the bus, though Vera did a double take when she saw her.

The few times that Vera and Pearl had met in person before, the short girl had been ensconced in flowing and traditional robes, her hair tightly wound in a complicated, and elegant–if antiquated– hairstyle. But today, she looked completely different in a pair of black slacks, with a white button up shirt and a pea green vest. Her long, complicated coiffure was gone, her hair cut short in a fluffy style around her ears.

"Vera! You made it!"

“Pearl!” Vera put her hand to her lips with a smile, “you look great! You cut your hair? W-wow!”

Vera had thought she’d be the one to surprise the other with a change in look. She’d tied her blue-black hair in a braid, and finally put on one of her newer outfits– a pale lilac dress and jean jacket combo she’d bought on an outing with Mr. Edgeworth when he was encouraging her to break out of her shell. But her own hadn’t nearly been as drastic as Pearl’s.

Pearl blushed and covered her face with her hands, smiling widely. "Do you like it? I know it's a big change! I love your dress!!"

“T-thank you.” Vera murmured with a subtle smile “I really do…I love how soft your hair looks, a-and that’s a very handsome vest. Honestly, it’s very ‘future detective’. So I’d say it’s an appropriate change!”

She laughed a little self-consciously and shrugged. "Well, you know what they say, right? Dress for the job you want? And I want detective, not medium!"

Pearl beckoned Vera with her as she headed from the bus stop across the street to a small apartment block.

Vera followed with her notebook clutched tight to her chest, shuffling as fast as her kitten heels could follow.

“Ye-yeah, much better. Medium doesn’t really sound like t-th at fun of a job,” she murmured quietly “honestly…I’m kind of excited to be a detective too, Pearl.”

Pearl walked shoulder to shoulder with her as they headed up the walkway to the stairs. "I'm really glad. I know you're a great artist, Vera, but I bet you'll make a fantastic detective."

She paused and opened the door for Vera, giving a teasing little bow.

Vera flushed and gave Pearl a timid grin before bowing back.

“Thanks Pearl…I…I’m going to do my best. We both are, right? That way we can work together..” She straightened up with a quiet laugh and stepped inside on Pearl’s lead “thank you, d-detective.”

Pearl grinned and followed her in, and up the stairs. "You're welcome, detective!"

Up the stairs, she opened another door and called inside. "Iris! Vera's here!"

Vera peeked inside over Pearl’s shoulder just in time to see a woman exit the bedroom and turn towards them with a smile and a half wave.

Iris Fey was Pearl’s guardian, and had been for some time– longer than Vera had known Pearl, at the very least. From what she understood, she was a half sister, and the subject of one of the most infamous of Mr. Phoenix Wright’s cases. One that she’d studied along with the rest extensively during his disbarment.

California Vs. Iris Fey had been the case to legally prove the existence of ghosts and the legitimacy of spirit mediums in LA law, and its meek and soft spoken defendant had been sent to prison for evidence tampering and accessory to murder.

She’d come out of it a lot different than the photographs Vera once drew reproductions of scenes from. From shrine maiden’s robes to an army surplus uniform shirt and dark, secondhand jeans; from ornate and traditional hair to a short and messy bob–it seemed it wasn’t an uncommon thing for ex-mediums to change out of the robes at the soonest opportunity. The woman had even gotten a floral tattoo that crawled up over one arm and up her neck.

Vera couldn’t blame them one bit.

“Hey, long time, no see.” Iris bowed her head. “Need me to grab something out of the kitchen for you? I know it’s kind of a long bus ride.”

"I was thinking we might have some tea, but I can put it on if you're busy," Pearl chirped as she slipped out of her shoes at the door.

Vera slipped out of her shoes and nudged them into an orderly line next to Pearl’s with a nod “tea actually sounds lovely…”

Iris saluted quietly before she gestured towards the kitchen. “You two settle in. I’ll put on the water, alright? Diego gave me the day off, so it’s not like I got anything to do.”

"Aww, thanks, Iris! If you're sure." Pearl gave her a thumbs up, and headed over to the couch. She patted the cushions and gestured to the other comfortable looking chairs around the room, offering Vera her choice in place to sit. "Let's get comfy since Iris has the tea covered."

Vera looked around before she settled quietly on one end of the couch, folding her hands over her pad on her lap. “She’s looking well…is the practice with Mr. Armando going well?” she asked quietly.

"It is!" Pearl nodded, settling in on the opposite side of the couch. "Honestly it's been really nice. Iris finally got to resign at the cafe. It's a long drive to the prosecutor's office though, so we've been talking about moving closer to the city… especially with me starting academy too."

“I’d been wondering on the ride in if she was going to,” Vera brushed a stray lock of hair back over her ear. “between the long drive and the fact that you’ll be living in the barracks with me for a while…I wouldn’t be surprised if you guys moved into LA.. Honestly… I-I imagine, even at the base of them, that the mountain air gets kind of stale after a while.”

She chuckled softly into her hand, and Pearl laughed with her.

"Honestly," she said, tucking her legs up under her on the couch. "It does get to be a little stale in a way. I'm excited to live in the smoggy city, but at the same time, Mystic Maya just got back from being abroad for two years, so it'll be a shame to be away from her…"

Pearl looked thoughtful. Maybe a little far away for a moment, and then she shook it off. "What about you, though? How are you feeling about the move to the barracks? That's gonna be a huge change for you too, right?"

Vera’s new apartment was, admittedly, already a big change from the isolated and mostly forgotten house in the forested outskirts of LA. Even the relatively quiet suburb was far more active than she’d ever been used to…but the barracks were in the heart of LA, and were full of hopefuls just like her and Pearl, all tightly packed in two-person rooms.

“Y-yeah.” she said with a shaky grin. “It's gonna be kind of a big change. A-admittedly I’m a little nervous? I’ve been getting better…but I’m still not great with people, Pearl.”

"Yeah, you're really going into the deep end with me with this, huh?" Pearl mused. "You took some catch up classes right? I'm guessing the class sizes weren't huge."

Vera nervously tugged the escaped lock of her curling hair.

“It was a combination of correspondence classes and a classroom, y-yeah. But it wasn’t that packed. It was mostly me and a couple of older men and women. The academy’s kind of like diving into the ocean, y-yeah? For you too, I’d bet.”

"Well, not as much as you cause I did go to high school," she mused, chewing on her thumb. "But it's still going to be a huge difference. Like, the first time living on my own. You've got way more practice than me on that."

Vera leaned on her hand, and opened her sketchpad with a thoughtful hum. She began sketching out the start of a doodle of Pearl as she nodded.

“I do, because when papa died it wasn’t like I had anyone to move in with,” She put her pencil to her lips. “Meaning I’ve got experience living alone, and you’ve got the experience of going to a r-real school. ...if we put our skills together, we’ll almost be a complete trainee!”

She smiled over at Pearl as she continued to sketch.

"It's true! Honestly that's why I'm super glad we lucked out and got put together. We can help each other out with this stuff."

“Me too.” Vera nodded. “I mean, a-aside from you being a great friend, Pearl. I think having someone who can help us through is going to do wonders…Mr. Edgeworth seemed to think so, at least.”

She blew away the graphite and took a look before turning the picture of Pearl…in her new haircut…towards her with a smile. “I’ve got your back, Pearl Fey. I kn-know I’m a little weak, but I’m not going to give up until you and I get that badge in hand in hand…my guardian angel’s watching over us, a-after all.”

Pearl put her hand over her mouth, looking at the picture with surprise and delight. "Oh, you drew that so fast! I love it so much!!" She swooned there, fawning over the picture for a moment, before she leaned toward Vera. "Guardian angel, huh?"

“You can k-keep it if you want.” Vera started to pull it out of her notebook. She felt her face heat up, as she realized just what she’d said out loud. “Uhm. Y-yes. Guardian angel. Does the Kurain technique have anything l-like that?”

Pearl chewed on her thumb. "Like, the spirits of our ancestors, I guess. We have great great grandma Ami watching out for us."

“T-that makes a lot of sense. Miss Ami watches over you...” Vera began to sketch again as she worked to divert the subject, the lines forming fingers on the page as she glanced at Pearl. “a guardian angel is someone who watches over you and p-protects you…gives you advice, after all. Mine isn’t…related. To me, I mean.”

"Oh?" Pearl cocked her head, and her new short, fluffy hair covered her eyes briefly before she pushed it away. "Can I ask?"

Vera hesitated in her sketching to look at Pearl with a tenuous smile “It’s not something I tell a lot of people, Pearl…but it’s someone I met a long time ago…It’s…”

“Tea time.” Iris Fey’s quiet voice called from the kitchen. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Pearl's eyes widened, and she smiled in apparent understanding of some kind, putting her finger to her lips and nodding. "Thanks, Iris!" she said aloud, hopping up. "I'll be right back with the tea, Vera. Milk and sugar?"

Vera nodded, watching Pearl with her deer-in-the-headlight eyes. “Y-yes please!”

Pearl hustled away with a rather cute little trot, disappearing into the kitchen and leaving Vera alone in the unfamiliar room for a moment.

She looked back down to her sketch pad, the rough sketch of an idle hand study laid out on the page. She closed it, tucking the pencil away and leaned back on the couch to think.

Pearl looked great. She’d changed so much since Vera had met her, but she seemed happier all the same– even if she was still just as nervous and excited about the wider world as Vera herself. She’d come so far, and Vera couldn’t help but be impressed.

She liked Pearl, trusted her even, which was one of the reasons she and Trucy were the first people Vera told about her new aspirations. So surely she could trust Pearl with the identity of her guardian angel?

She was trusting her to have her back in the terrifying ‘deep end’ of the Police Academy, after all.

Pearl bustled back into the room with a pair of mugs on a tray and slid it onto the table by the couch. There was a box of cookies on the tray as well.

"There! Now we can talk about the future and snack at the same time." She clapped her hands together. "Multitasking!"

Vera smiled and crooked her arm to make a muscle. “Multitasking! It'll be an important skill in the academy for sure.” She leaned over to delicately pick up one of the mugs. “Thank you, and…” with difficulty she raised her voice “Thank you for the tea, Miss Iris!”

“No problem, Vera!” Iris called over from inside the kitchen as the sound of the microwave started up.

"Now," Pearl said with a sly, rather teasing grin. "I think we were talking about our new living arrangements, right? We should probably talk about what we need to bring."

They talked about many things. Preparations. How to live together. Pearl never brought up Vera's guardian angel again– but Vera could tell as they chatted that she hadn't forgotten.

#kristoph gavin #vera misham #athena cykes #ace attorney #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #darkfic #dark fic #fic: lucifer was an angel as well

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seikyoko · 2 years ago

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NOW.. ONTO THE FINAL PART

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

Scar (FullMetal Alchemist 2003)

Imagine not stanning this man. I am not done with FMA 2003 and would not like spoilers, but I love it so far and love even more the Ishvalian screen time. I like his interactions with Al, the plot handling the Ishval thing much more thoughtfully. I like that when in lab 5, despite having every reason not to, he decide to give Ed a chance, wait and see what he’s gonna do, and you can see that faith pay off. I like his interactions with other Ishvalians, I like how much he’s confused about the whole thing, about the markings in his arm, and wtf his brother was up to.

Actually Satan ( Fate Stay Night : Unlimited Blade Works Abridged)

Can’t believe I’m asked such an obvious question. Next

Clone Sakura (Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle)

QUEEN. UTTER QUEEN. I can’t believe that with a premise as misogynistic as “Soul get divided into parts so the heroine is weak and barely conscious most of the time and the Hero go on an adventure to collect them and save her” and missing most of her damn Self and with a Big Bad so actively messing with the protagonists’ agency she managed to rock the show so hard. She’s very kind, sincere, courageous, ressourceful, thoughtful, perceptive and love her found family very much. She’s also extremely ruthless when she wants to be and is shockingly one hell of a liar and played us the audience and in-universe characters like fiddles, honestly wouldn’t want to be in her way when she’s determined to do something, she’s also a hilarous drunk and all her screen-time is very enjoyable.

Gokudera Hayato (Katekyo Hitman Reborn)

Utter nerd. His passion for UMAs, details like the fact that he created his own script. He’s very dedicated to his duties, he’s very methodical in what he does (even teaching to swim lmao). He has trust issues the size of the titanic, he was insecure, has low self-esteem and little preservation instincts, and he had phenomenal character development and I am extremely proud of him.

Takigawa Yoshino (Zetsuen no Tempest)

A very adaptable boy. I could list all the traits that makes him great, but the reason he’s my fave is because he’s an utter mess, he fully belongs to the “-crush feelings with bare hands- as I was saying” category, it’s hard to describe exactly what makes him so compelling but there’s honestly too many to list. I love a lot of things about him, I like that he’s very in love with Aika, I love how good he’s at deceit and manipulation and hiding his feelings, I like that he’s a very supportive friends, I like that he said in the middle of apocalypse after everyone turned into stone and a creepy gigantic fruit with eyes and chains emerged that he wouldn’t get a drink from the distributor without paying. I like that in the middle of their things he decided to switch side and attack Mahiro for the ownership of that magic gun just before Mahiro could seemingly attain his goal and Mahiro treat it like a temper tanthrum which says a lot of things about how he is off-screen.

Ogata Hyakunosuke (Golden Kamuy)

The blorbo to end all blorbos, canonical catboy, chronic backstabbing syndrome, like to cause problems, I should have put him in the top 10 and it is a crime that I didn’t do that but at this point it’s very clear this top 30 is not in the right order.

Tulip Olsen (Infinity Train)

I love pretty much every Infinity Train protagonist except, like, Simon, but Tulip hold a special place in my heart. I loved her development, I am utterly obsessed with the Mirror World bit, I love how she makes dubious hypothesis about what makes a number go down and keep a notebook about it, I love how at the end, despite her gate being available, she turns her back on it because she needs to help Atticus. She’s a character whose journey I definitely enjoyed

Senshi (Dungeon Meshi)

I deeply admire how devoted to his craft he is and his desire to try out monsters and methods of cooking. I like that he has a screw loose and that I worry for his self-preservation instincts but he’s canonically in the “we have food at home” part of the Mcdonalds! Pull out and order black coffee and leave - We have food at home spectrum. But honestly it looks like Laios will dethrone him as far as my fave goes

Kez (Infinity Train)

I love how most of her screentime can be summed up as :

also loved her interactions (off-screen) with Jeremy and (on-screen) Min-gi and Ryan. I love how most of her dialogue sounds like she’s utterly stoned, I love how she asks the creepy one-true-truth eyes who wants to kill her if she can eat gum and what flavor she should take, very entertaining character.

Teruhashi Kokomi (Saiki Kusuo no Sai nan)

Queen, perfection, utterly full of herself (and also everything she’s proud of is basically true lmao), she’s right when she says she might as well be the center of the universe and that nobody stands a chance against her and that her mere presence brightens everyone’s day but I didn’t expect her narration to state it so straightforwardly shamelessly, I love how she tries so hard at being liked and all the various efforts she put in, I just, love her

honorary mentions : Shirogane Le Bel Sakuya (Hatoful Boyfriend) Donkey (Shrek) Yugi Amane (TBHK) Yugi Tsukasa (TBHK) Bihyung (ORV) Haruhi (Ouran High) Sensei (Shoulder the coffin Kuro) Vincent Fennel (Hello Charlotte) Maevia Morgana (Rather than the son I’ll take the father ) Sakurajima Mai

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aflyingcontradiction · 1 year ago

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The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 199 - Seeing It Through

Martin: Anyone want another cup of tea?

Oh, don't be a parody of yourself, Martin!

Georgie: Let’s try to lay this out properly. What are our actual options here? As far as I can see there are three.

Maybe this is a bit clumsy but I do actually really appreciate having it all laid out clearly.

Georgie: One. We follow Annabelle’s plan. We destroy the Panopticon, kill Elias – Jon: Jonah Georgie: Whatever Jon: Magnus

This interchange is so enjoyable when you actually listen to it, just the way Georgie never once breaks her stride there makes it really funny in a way that just does not come through in text.

Martin: Would you stop just putting everything on him?

HOW? I mean, seriously, "not putting everything on Jon" isn't really an option at this point!

Martin: If it’s just a matter of guilt, then I’ll take it right now. I’d rather live the rest of my life lying awake wondering if I made the right choice, over lying awake listening to the screams of everyone on Earth being tortured! Jon: What? So it’s better for a thousand times more people to scream as long as we can’t hear them?

I think Jon has a really good point here and is probably right, but I'm kinda with Martin - not only would I choose to save the people I actually know over a greater number of strangers, I would also have a hard time fully trusting someone who wouldn't. They might be admirable under certain circumstances, but I would still find it hard to fully open myself up to them. I mean, I don't fancy being sacrificed for the greater good, so I'd like my nearest and dearest to have my back if push ever comes to shove (even if it's, morally speaking, a bit dubious and probably makes me sound awful).

Martin: And you can’t just arbitrarily decide it isn’t because you want a better reason to martyr yourself!

And Martin does have a good point here. Jon may or may not be right, morally speaking (I'm leaning toward "yes, probably"), but he's also extremely biased because he WANTS to sacrifice himself to assuage his guilt. It's kind of on Jon's loved ones to take that into account for their decision.

Georgie: Can I have a cigarette?

Ooooh, callback to the very first episode!

Jon: Sometimes… I imagine if none of this had happened. If we had just… met. Been together, without… all of this. Martin: Me, too. But we wouldn’t have, would we? Been together, I mean.

When Jon said that first line, I immediately thought "But then you'd never have gotten together, would you?" and was very surprised to find Martin, matter-of-factly, if with a slightly bitter tone, making that exact point.

Jon: I’m the one whose whole life has been nothing but one long setup to this.

I keep saying Jon is a tragic character, but - like - Jon is a Tragic Character!

Melanie: Make sure it hurts. Martin: Oh, I will.

I'm enjoying straight-forwardly vindictive Martin here! No scheming, no cleverness, just "Oh, I'll make it hurt!".

My impression of this episode

This is actually a really interesting episode, despite nothing much happening, just from a "discussion of ethics" perspective. And then there's Jon failing utterly to cope with his feelings of guilt and Martin being Martin, but both of them so quietly and with so much exhaustion ... that nearly made me tear up. And yeah. This is it. It's all about to end!

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

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belovedgamers · 3 years ago

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There was something so touching about the Cod Alliance. Genuinely it was one of if not the most stable alliance in Empires. They didn’t once fall apart, not truly

And people tried to tear them apart! Part of the WRA’s strategy against Jimmy was to attempt to chip away at his alliances. fWhip tried a couple times to get Joel on their side, to no avail. He tried to paint the Cod Empire and Pixandria as the dangerous bad guys and Joel’s response amounted to “oh nooo I will definitely watch out (I’m already allied with them tho)”. fWhip tried to get on Lizzie’s good side and she tricked him, her and Jimmy killed all his salmon later. He tried to create tension between Pix and Jimmy by altering their communication and promising Pix a stack of diamonds on Jimmy’s behalf and when the truth came out Pix literally went “no my spies told me about that”.

Even the one time that they Did end up on opposing sides, with Lizzie helping fWhip and the others to try and save the dragon, or right before that when Jimmy considered leaving the End instead of fighting, no one held a grudge. They put that aside and returned to their usual dynamic pretty much immediately after. When the emperors confronted each other at the end of that fight, the Cod Alliance (sans Katherine) all stood together.

They’d go to each other often, and they didn’t begrudge choices that maybe others would have. When Joel decided he wanted to make peace with fWhip despite the Cod Empire/Grimlands relationship still being… dubious, Jimmy supported him. When Jimmy couldn’t help Joel kill Scott due to the recent alliance with Rivendell, Joel let it go. When Pix found out Jimmy and Sausage were on good terms, he didn’t seem angered by this despite the slights of Sausage against Pixandria during the corruption era. Even Katherine, arguably the most “tenuous” member of the alliance because of her relationship with their enemies and her “betrayal” during the End fight, was still considered an ally by Jimmy and a close ally by Lizzie in the end.

They trusted each other. They respected each other. They followed along with Jimmy’s distaste for salmon even if they didn’t initially understand it.

For the longest time, they held on.

#people really tried to destabilize it but it didn’t work #especially with the northern emperors who stuck to each other and did Not let go #empires smp #catrina analysis #ldshadowlady #solidaritygaming #joel smallishbeans #pixlriffs #cod alliance

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jungkxook · 4 years ago

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—make it right. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut

⟶ words: 11,528

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

You swear you’re over Jungkook.

In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad.

As it turns out, it hardly works.

Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.

You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.

And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.

“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.

You hear his voice first.

It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.

At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.

Now, you hate it.

It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.

“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.

“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”

“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah━”

As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.

“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”

“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.

“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.

“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”

Suddenly, you feel sick.

It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.

You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.

You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.

The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?

“So, what are you trying to say?”

You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.

It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.

You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.

“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.

“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”

He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”

You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”

“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”

“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”

This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?”

He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.

“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”

His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”

“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”

His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.

“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”

“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”

“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”

“That’s not true,” You admonished.

“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”

Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.

“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…

The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.

Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.

You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.

The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.

“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”

“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”

He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.

“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”

“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”

And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━

“Y/N?”

There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.

This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.

As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.

“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.

Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”

You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”

His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”

You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.

“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”

“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”

“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”

His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.

“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”

“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.

“Promise?”

You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”

His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”

“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.

“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”

You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?

So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.

The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.

But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.

Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.

You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.

You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.

“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”

The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”

Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.

Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”

“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”

Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”

But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?

Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.

But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.

As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”

He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.

“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”

You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”

It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”

You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”

A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”

When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.

“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”

“Jungkook…”

“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”

Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”

As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”

But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”

“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”

His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”

Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.

“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”

But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.

“Y/N…”

“Good luck out there.”

Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.

He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.

After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.

“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”

Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.

“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”

Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.

“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”

“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”

Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.

“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.

Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.

Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.

When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.

“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”

You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.

“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”

Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”

“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”

“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”

“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”

“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”

Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”

Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.

“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”

He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.

“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”

There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.

Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”

His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.

Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.

“It’s been so long,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.

“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”

Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.

“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”

“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. “Care to explain?”

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”

You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.

As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”

“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.

He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”

“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”

“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”

He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.

Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”

Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”

He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.

“Ooh, Jungkook━”

The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.

His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”

You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.

“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”

“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.

“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”

“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay━”

He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts.

He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.

“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”

Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.

At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”

You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.

It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.

He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.

Then, the room falls silent.

Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.

It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."

“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly.

“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”

“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”

You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you.

“Do you really mean all that?”

“With my whole heart.”

And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.

You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.

While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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laheysdork · 3 years ago

Text

last night - stiles stilinski (college!au)

request: (x)

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mentions of sex, drinking and that’s it i think

a/n: anon did not request a college au but i think it fits so well with the plot sooo…. (if you cant tell i LOVE college aus) anyways i’m sorry this took me so long to write i’m pretty busy lately :(( but i hope you like it!!

masterlist

Grumbling from the throbbing ache pounding your head, you slowly become conscious from the slumber you were in. Your eyes are still glued shut, the pain not letting you do much. Knitting your eyebrows, you try to recall the prior events despite your hazy state.

But before you could come up with a lucid scenario of what actually happened, you are broken out by something shifting beside you. Like a jolt of electricity, a glimpse of memory from last night’s events come rushing back. You snap your eyes open and shoot your head to your side, too shocked to care about your worsening headache.

There he is, Stiles Stilinski, your best friend, shirtless and wrapped in the same blankets you are under, purring quietly, deeply asleep.

Wait, shirtless?!

Instantly, you slightly lift the blanket covering you, peeking underneath to see that you are also as bare as your best friend, confirming your assumptions. To your horror, you jumped out of the bed while cursing under your breath, not wanting to wake him up and confront him immediately. You stumble all over his dorm, trying to collect your clothes that are messily scattered from last night’s not-so-subtle steamy encounter. Zipping up the blue skirt that was wrinkled from all the drinking and partying from the night before, you zoom out of his dorm room, not even bothering to leave him any messages.

Shutting the door to your dorm, you let out a long huff from the very eventful morning, and night. Slumping on your bed, you rest your elbows on your knees before burying your head on your palms.

What the hell happened last night? No, no, no, you did not just fucked your best friend drunk.

Shaking your head, you keep on nagging yourself mentally, denying last night’s course of actions.

This is why you shouldn’t drink too much, Y/N. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

Your internal ramble is interrupted by the sound of your blaring alarm from your phone.

Oh fuck, you totally forgot about school.

Recalling you have a lecture in about 30 minutes, you rush over to the bathroom to freshen up and look at least a little bit decent instead of looking like a girl who had just been freshly fucked by her best friend.

────── ˋ*✧₊��

“I’ll see you next week.” Sounds of paper rustlings and shoes shuffling fill the vast hall, students dreading to get out and spend their well-deserved weekend.

Unlike the rest of them, you take your time, not having anything to look forward to. Instead, you do have someone to steer clear of. You know it is impossible to avoid him for the rest of the year, but as of right now, you are mentally incapable of facing him, especially after knowing what happened.

But why did it even happen in the first place? You swear your friendship is platonic. There are no hidden meanings, right?

A hint of doubt starts to surface within you, your certain notion become dubious. Currently, you can’t trust your subconscious, last night’s events proving your beliefs to be wrong.

Do you see him that way? Romantically?

The thought of that made you scrunch in disgust. Not that you think Stiles is unattractive, rather the opposite actually, but it has been a long while since you’ve had a romantic interest, the unforeseen attraction feeling very foreign for you.

And if that is not bad enough, this is Stiles you’re talking about. The person you geek out with about your Star Wars obsession, the person who always irks you with his jitters, the person you shamelessly lash out to when you’re having a shitty day, your best friend, Stiles.

Mentally slapping your forehead with your palm, you think of the worst-case scenario.

What if he doesn’t see you that way? But if he doesn’t feel the same way, he wouldn’t have slept with you. But he was drunk too, right? It might have just been the alcohol.

Concluding your spiraling thoughts, you are even more determined to avoid him, saving yourself from more heartbreak and embarrassment. After intentionally extending your time in the lecture hall, you finally run out of things to clean up. Swinging your tote bag over your shoulders, you exit the now quiet hall, absent of students.

“Y/N!” As you are walking to the on-campus café, you hear Allison’s call, turning around to meet her figure approaching you. You halt in your tracks, letting her catch up to you.

“Hey! I’m gonna go grab some coffee. You wanna come?” you invite her as she beams, linking her arms with yours gleefully.

“Sure!”

Pushing the glass doors open, the little bell on top of the door ring, subtly declaring your presence to the rest of the café. The aroma of freshly-brewed coffee with a hint of vanilla gushes over your senses. Light chatters and cutleries clanking together can be heard around the room, the café being more crowded than usual, taking notice that today is Friday.

After ordering yourself an americano, needing a stronger caffeine instead of your usual macchiato, and a latte for Allison, you scoot over to the waiting counter.

“Since it’s finally Friday, Lydia’s throwing another party. We’re going,” she insists.

The thought of having to attend another party where the probability of you getting drunk and do something stupid is not zero haunts you.

“I’m sorry, Allie.” Your little smile drop to a frown which do not go unnoticed by Allison.

“Oh my, did something happened last night?” Before you can answer her query, the barista call your name, handing you your respective orders. Picking some straws, you head to one of the empty tables with Allison, settling yourself down.

Stabbing the straw on the cup, she sips her latte while looking up at you with doe-eyes, anticipating the explanation to your refusal.

“I woke up on Stiles’ bed this morning,” you blurt out which causes her to slightly choke on her coffee. Her mouth is agape, coming up with a reasonable interpretation of the situation.

“Well, you guys did sleepovers sometimes right-“

“Naked,” you deadpan.

“Okay.” Her lips form a line as she continues to fumble with the cup in her hand. “But do you like him?”

And there it is, the million-dollar question.

“That’s the thing, Al. I don’t know what I’m feeling.” You tell her the truth, not really seeing the point in lying to your best friend as you begin slurp your coffee. “I mean, he’s Stiles. He’s fidgety and awkward and sarcastic and mean sometimes,” you trail off, a little lost in your head as you dig up memories of him.

“But sometimes he can also be warm and caring, like last semester when we went to that carnival and a little kid got separated from his parents. He bought him a lollipop to cheer him up and refused to leave his side until his parents came to pick him up.” You chuckle lightly at the recollection of Stiles holding the boy’s hand as he entertained him, showing him around the booths and going on rides with him.

“Or that time we stayed at Lydia’s lake house and I was freezing because I forgot to bring my sweater. Stiles lent me his one and only hoodie despite also feeling cold himself.” You don’t realize you were smiling like a fool before Allison broke you from your little bubble with an cunning giggle.

“Y/N, I’m sorry to break it to you but, you are into him, deep,” she sneers.

“Really?”

“God, you are so oblivious!” she retorts jokingly.

“Shit. Do you think he feels the same way?” you question rhetorically, feeling a little more worried after finally acknowledging your feelings.

“Y/N, that is a known fact and I was never wrong, right?” You laugh at her jest, knowing that she is almost always right.

“Let’s just go to the party and get your head off him for tonight, okay?” she negotiates.

“But Stiles-“

“I heard he has a group meeting later. So I can guarantee you the party tonight will be a Stiles-free zone.”

Okay, you have to admit that now her suggestion sounds very appealing.

“Fine,” you give in as she squeals, still inexplicably enthusiastic for a girl's night out despite having one not more than 24 hours ago.

Dropping your bag on your chair, you drag your feet to your bed, lying lifelessly on top of it while you think about the long night ahead of you. To distract your active mind, you occupy yourself with your productive tasks, organizing your untidy room and reviewing your notes from earlier.

Hours have passed by the time you notice it’s starting to get dark. You look at the clock, 6.30 P.M. Remembering that Allison will be picking you up in an hour, you start to get ready.

First on the list, you curl your hair in an attempt to tone down your frizzy and messy locks from the day. Then you put on a light make-up and some eyeliner to look the occasion. Finishing up, you slip on your white sleeveless preppy dress, pairing it with a cropped denim jacket, expecting the night to get a little chilly.

Checking the time one last time, you grab your purse before exiting your dorm, heading downstairs. As expected, you spot Allison’s black sedan waiting for you, the windows rolled down revealing the driver.

The moment you step out of the building, her face light up, waving at you to which you returned. You have no idea how she manages to be a ray of sunshine all the time. Right as you slam the door of her car shut, she take off with a grin, looking forward to the thrilling night to come.

The car pulls up in front of the familiar lake house, the usually serene and vacant building you’ve visited a few times now filled with students who are trying to free themselves from the dread of the week.

As you push the door open, overlapped conversations which are dampened by the loud blaring music deafen your ears. The party is more packed than yesterday, students crowding every section of the house. You notice most of them are holding a red cup in their hand as they travel around the house. Some are clustered together in a corner playing spin the bottle, some are jumping eagerly playing beer pong, some are out near the pool enjoying the fresh air, all of them looking like they’re having a wonderful time.

The familiar setting engulfing you force glimpses of yesterday’s party to pop up in your head causing you to feel giddy. Aware of your unnerved state, Allison rests her palms on your shoulder.

“It’ll be okay, Y/N.” She gives you a reassuring smile.

“Let’s go grab some drinks. Non-alcoholic this time.” You giggle at her ironic reference as she clutches on your wrist, guiding you through the crowds to find the counter where they’re serving the drinks.

About ten minutes have passed, both you and Allison roam around the house, meeting some classmates and having small talks. Midway, you notice Allison eyeing Scott who is chatting across the room.

“Why don’t you make a move on him?” You nudge her sides which startles her.

“I don’t know, Y/N..,” she trails off, feeling discouraged.

“Al, I swear you better stop playing dumb, get your ass over there, and win him over,” you aggressively demand as she chuckles.

“You sure? Will you be okay alone?” she questions, wanting to make sure you are completely fine especially knowing your current stance.

“It’s okay. I’ll probably meet Lydia somewhere.” You shrug her concern off despite being quite reluctant.

She hesitates for a second before complying, leaving you alone as she approaches the Hispanic boy.

After the departure of your companion, you decide to refill the empty cup in your hand, not having anything on your agenda. But as you pass the hall near the front of the house, the door swings open, revealing the brunette you have been evading all day long.

The sight of Stiles immediately causes you to freeze, his unexpected presence catching you off guard. He is wearing a burgundy knitted sweater with blue jeans which fit his body perfectly. Having seen what’s under, you’re now finally able to fully pinpoint and appreciate all the muscles you had overlooked these past years. If you weren’t so scared of your unreciprocated feelings, you would have asked him to fuck you again-

Wait, what? You did not just drool over him, Y/N.

Shaking yourself from your audacious explicit thoughts, you swiftly spin on your heels, fleeting away as far as possible.

Not gonna lie, you are pretty proud at how quickly you took action, fleeing the scene before he can notice you, or so you thought.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees you leaving, his heart sinking from the thought that you are avoiding him. He wants to give you some space to process what happened the previous night, but he doesn’t expect you to be this dismissive.

He follows you a few meters behind, keeping the distance so you won’t feel pressured. He stops the moment you reach the poolside, sitting on one of the chaise lounges. With furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes, you are scanning for Lydia, but even more for Stiles, being extra alert as to not bump into him.

For now, you’re pretty positive you’re in the clear as you let out a relieved sigh.

Stiles-free zone your ass. Allison owes you one for this.

Just as you think you can have a second of unbothered tranquility, you feel the seat beside you sank, causing you to flinch a little.

Turning your head, your eyes met the intoxicating honey orbs you know too well. Once again, you go completely rigid, unable to process the sudden encounter.

“Hey,” he greets softly, picking up your uneasy state.

“Hi,” you reply shortly, your brain not really cooperating with you right now.

Your short reply only prompts an awkward silence, none of you dare to speak a word. You are not sure what to do, fumbling with your hands while looking away to the crowd. All you can think about is coming up with a quick and fool-proof escape plan.

“Y/N-“ Just as he starts, a promising idea pops into your head.

“Sorry, I have to go refill my drink. I’m thirsty.” You lift and shake the light cup you forget you’re holding, indicating that it’s empty.

“I can do it for you,” he volunteers but you quickly stand up, straightening the wrinkled fabric of your white dress.

“No thanks. I’ll see you around.” Feeling you are being a bit too pushy, you decide to slip in a small smile as you proceed inside without waiting for his reply.

Finish pouring the beer into your cup, needing some liquid courage to continue the night after your previous confrontation, you secure the bottle on the counter before turning around with your cup full in your right hand. You are too caught up with your mind, thinking about Stiles that you don’t realize he was behind you.

Your right elbow crashes into his accidentally causing the cup in your hand to be knocked over, the golden alcoholic drink spills all over your white dress and the floor. At the cold feeling of the liquid drenching the material on your body, you curse under your breath.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry-“ Eyes wide, Stiles instantly step over to help you. But what he doesn’t expect is his intentions only caused more trouble. Stepping on the puddle of beer, he slips and topple you down with him to the floor. You feel your backside come into harsh contact with the greasy and sticky tiles as you scrunch your face in both disgust and pain.

But your sour expression is soon erased as you realize your current position. Stiles is on top of you, his face only inches away from yours, which could have been way closer if it weren’t for his arms that are holding his body up.

For the nth time of the night, you’re paralyzed once again, your body stiffening under him. You hold your breath back and do not move a single muscle like a corpse.

Thankfully, or not, Stiles shuffles on his feet and swiftly got up as you let out a breath of relief before doing the same.

Pulling your scrunched-up dress down, you gaze away from Stiles.

“I have to clean up,” you whisper, unsure whether Stiles heard it or not but you couldn’t care less as you rush upstairs where the bathroom is.

As you reach the second floor of the house where it’s quieter, fewer students roaming around the place, you can finally hear Stiles calling you from behind. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to-“ He apologize but you turn to him, cutting him off.

“Stop. Just, stop talking. Let me clean myself up first,” you snap. “Okay,” he breathes, feeling intimidated like a little puppy who just got scolded as you enter the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it.

Staring at the mirror, you let out a long exhausted puff. You agreed to go to the party to forget about your feelings for Stiles but the universe seems to be purposely doing the opposite, throwing you under the bus instead.

Turning the tap, clean water run down your finger as you clean them from the icky grime that is sticking on your skin. You also wet some tissues to clean up the mess on your dress. But after trying to rub it off for quite a while, you give up since it doesn’t seem to budge.

Swinging the door open, Stiles figure leaning on the wall opposite the bathroom come into your view. Noticing your presence, he shifts his weight back on his feet, standing steadily as you approach him, tired of running away from him and stalling the inevitable.

“Would you maybe like to go home instead? I can take you,” he mumbles, both of his hands tuck in his jeans’ pocket. Hearing his offer, the thought of being back in the comfort of your dorm seems too favorable to reject.

“Sure, okay. That sounds good actually,” you nod, observing that his little pout turns into a small smile from your agreement.

────── ˋ*✧₊∘

The drive back overall was awfully quiet, Stiles usual talkative self was somehow silenced. Pulling up in your dorm’s parking lot which is emptier than most days due to the party, you can only sit still, wanting to both leave and stay at the same time.

“Stiles, about last night-“

“Y/N, about last night-“

The two of you broke into light chuckles from the overlap.

“Sorry, you go first,” you apologize and let him do the talking first since he had been trying to the whole day.

“Well, I’m just- I don’t know what’s going to happen to us after last night,” he stammers, darting his eyes down while scratching the back of his head.

His statement gives you an ambivalent feeling, uncertain if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. But for your poor heart’s sake, you go with the worst. Hope just costs too much and you can’t afford it.

“Oh, it’s okay. I mean you were drunk, you made a mistake and you regret it-”

“Wait, what? No. I don’t regret it, Y/N.” His eyes that were away from you immediately stare into yours deeply.

“You don’t?”

“I like you, Y/N. A lot. It’s weird but I think I have liked you for a long time, I was just too scared to admit it.”

“Oh,” you mutter, his confession making you go speechless. Even though you’ve heard Allison’s prediction which turns out to be right, it is still a lot to process your best friend confessing his feelings to you.

“Really, Y/N? I confessed my feelings out loud and that’s all you’re gonna give me?” he retorts jokingly to lighten the mood which succeeds since you are laughing.

“I like you too. I guess I just didn’t really realize it until yesterday and I kind of freaked out a little,” you finally admit the one fact you have been shoving away all day. “So does this mean we’re dating?” he questions.

“Ask me out properly first you asshole,” you snark as he snickers.

“Okay then. Y/N Y/L/N. Would you go out with me?”

“No,” you answer, holding back a grin that’s starting to creep up your face.

“Shut up, I know you do.”

With his newfound confidence and cockiness, which you totally dig, he brings his palm to the side of your face, cupping it as he leaned in. His lips press onto yours perfectly and you swear your stomach flipped. Almost immediately, you melt under him as he takes control, guiding you through the kiss. As he tilts his head to gain more access, his other hand rested on your thigh, caressing it soothingly but also sensually. At first, the kiss was passionate, gentle and intimate, but the longer your lips touch, the more hungry you two become. The innocent kiss that was full of love quickly shifted into a hot and steamy make-out session, overflowing with lust. Knowing where this is going and also needing to catch some breath, you pull away from Stiles, heaving heavily.

“Why don’t we continue inside?” you suggest through your pants causing Stiles to smirk.

“Oh God, you’re perfect.”

Seems like last night’s about to repeat itself again.

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