#in case you were wondering about the awkward angle in the first photo its because ryoma is literally shaking him

[dirt-str1der]

I appreciate how rgg studios tried very hard to develop ryoma and izous relationship in the last 30 seconds of his life and zoomed in onto izous bloody hand lying limp in ryomas not just once

but twice

[ohpretty-baby]

6,690 miles

⇥ pairing: kim taehyung x reader ; soulmate au

⇥ genre: kind of fluff, mostly angst

⇥ synopsis: meeting your soulmate during vacation wasn’t ideal. especially when he lived on the other side of the world

⇥ warnings: cursing once i think

⇥ word count: 4.6k

this was a request by an anon! thank you for requesting this :) also i know it was supposed to be fluffy but i kind of got carried away with the concept of your request and i added the soulmate aspect to it i made it kind of sad :,) i hope you still enjoy though (if not, feel free to request again!)

i think i’ve just been in kind of a funk so it translated into this aha, i love you guys ! <3

“Excuse me, sir?” You gently tapped on a broad shoulder of the man that had his back turned to you as you spoke, “Would you be able to take a picture of me?”

He turned around, his stature towering over you. The cold Parisian night air flowed through your skirt, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. You pressed it down with your hands, making the long black skirt return to its shape. You tucked a few loose strands behind your ear as you waited for the man’s response eagerly. He stood over you, glass eyes piercing through yours, examining you from head to toe. Pure confusion was painted on his face.

You gulped as you took in his appearance.

His soft brown hair fell slightly over his hooded eyes and they pierced intensely into yours. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his brown trench coat, and he was somewhat slouched in a calm, composed manner. He stood poised and collected and had an elegant air about him. A decorative red scarf was tied neatly around his neck and a pair of black rimmed glasses seemed to sharpen his features even more.

The lights of the Eiffel Tower glossed over his smooth skin, highlighting his handsome face perfectly. His soft lips curved upwards and he nodded in response to your question. You flashed a bright smile as you handed him your phone and backed away from him, getting ready to pose. You fixed yourself, attempting to get rid of the random folds and wrinkles on your clothes so they could accentuate your body nicely.

He crouched down in an attempt to get the best angles possible for the photos. It was a relief that you had chosen a good photographer.

The only thing was that he wasn’t much of a talker.

The silence, save for the chatter of other people, was dense, making you feel awkward under his gaze. It weirded you out, having a silent photoshoot. He payed no attention to it, however, continuing to take what you had hoped were pleasing pictures of you. He was deep in focus, squinting at you and pointing at different spots for you to stand at. You would simply nod in response, complying to his requests.

It was times like these where you wished language barriers didn’t exist.

The man was silent until you unconsciously started looking down at the ground. Behind the camera, he could tell that you were uncomfortable and he frowned slightly.

“Look at me, darling.”

His voice had a soothing, deep timbre that colored every word he spoke. There was a slight gravel to it, catching anyone’s attention quickly. You felt your ears perk up at his words, shivers running down your back.

What was most notable was the strange feeling spreading through your hand.

You gawked up at him when you felt a bright, tingling sensation in your wrist. It then slowly started to burn as you tried to ignore it. Your lips were parted, your arms falling limp to your sides, and you were stiff in your posture.

You couldn’t tell if you were more shocked because of the fact that he could speak English this whole time or the fact that he was your soulmate. Not daring to even try to see what it looked like, your hand was glued to your side.

Right when you were about to ask if you could see his wrist, the man interrupted your thoughts.

“You alright?” He lowered the phone to see your face, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost...”

You decided not to address the tattoo burning on your wrist.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you remembered hearing about some people having a soulmate tattoo with someone that didn’t want anything to do with them. In those cases, the other person didn’t even have a tattoo with their words. Maybe this was the case with you. There was no chance that you were his soulmate, even if he was yours. He lived on the other side of the world. Neither of you had enough time to genuinely learn about each other and fall in love.

Not to mention that you were returning home to America the next day.

You cursed yourself, wishing that you could have met him earlier in your trip. Maybe if you had gone to the Eiffel Tower the first night, this wouldn’t be that big of an issue.

You felt a twinge of pain in your heart. This was nothing like what you expected it to be.

“Oh,” You chuckled awkwardly, running a hand through your hair, “I zoned out for a bit, sorry.”

He clicked a few more photos as you had been smiling naturally. He examined at the photos with a satisfied look on his face, and handed you your phone. You thanked him, gratitude spilling out of your lips.

“Of course,” His hands returned to his pockets, “But I do have to mention one thing.”

“Hm?”

Your heart started beating rapidly, and you tried to hide the fact that your breathing was getting shallower by the minute. You attempted to keep your composure but the curious gleam in your eyes hid nothing.

Time seemed to reach a standstill.

This was it, wasn’t it?

Maybe he got something on his wrist too. Maybe he’d show you and you’d run into his arms. Maybe then the two of you could figure out a way to be together.

You held your breath as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I remember hearing something about it being illegal to take photos of the Eiffel Tower at night.”

With just those few words, you felt your mood drop immensely. Your shoulders drooped down, and you realized that you had been clutching the fabric of your skirt so tightly that your knuckles turned bright white. Your hands relaxed and you opted for fidgeting with the folds of the fabric instead.

“Ah, really?” You kept your eyes on your sneakers as you kicked at pieces of dirt and debris around, “I didn’t know that.”

“I suppose it can’t be helped, though,” He shrugged and rubbed his nose, “It is a tourist attraction after all.”

He stood next to you, and the two of you faced the Eiffel Tower. You stared at the night lights, dread and woe filling your heart. Trying to focus on sightseeing, you averted eye contact with him and you tried to block him out. You also tried to ignore the fact that you were standing next to your soulmate, helpless, as the two of you stare at a famous tourist attraction.

There went your soulmate, right out of your hands.

“I’m Taehyung, by the way,” He whispered, careful as to not disturb the peacefulness of the scenery, “It’s a pleasure to take your photos.”

“I’m Y/N,” You responded just as cautious, eyes fixed on the yellow lights beaming back on you, “It was nice meeting you.”

“Have you been to Paris before?”

“You tell me,” You quipped, earning a rich laugh from Taehyung. You smiled to yourself in satisfaction, your face heating up.

His laughter rang through your ears, muffling any other noise around you, but it was obvious that you didn’t mind. Even though the night was pitch black, save for the bright yellow lights, your world seemed to be colored pink as you found yourself laughing along with him.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes would crinkle up and how his eyes twinkled even more now. Or how his nose and cheeks were dusted a soft red because of the cold air. It was almost as if the world moved in slow motion. You forgot about the rest of the people as you completely soaked in Taehyung’s presence.

“So...” The world resumed as he spoke, your ears perking up at his words, “What’s a pretty girl like you doing at Paris all by herself?”

You giggled at his question.

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, “Just needed a vacation, I guess.”

Before Taehyung could speak, you felt a harsh shove at your side. You yelped as you landed in Taehyung’s arms and you spun around to figure out who had pushed you. Two kids were running around, one of them bumping into you with their elbow rather roughly. Taehyung held you close to him and steadied you, helping you get back on your feet.

Everything was a blur, but all you knew was that you felt safe in his arms. A warmth spread throughout your chest. He smelt of citrus and lemongrass, his scent drowning out the rest of your senses and flooding your nose.

It hurt a little more when he let you out of his grasp, the cold air hitting your skin once again.

Apologies spilled out of your lips every second, almost as if you were in a trance. Taehyung put his hands on your shoulders, bringing you back to earth. He gave a soft smile before reassuring you that you were okay. He asked you if you were alright and you nodded, smiling back at him.

A silence fell over you once more, making you feel stuffy and suffocated even if you were out in public. You checked your phone to see the time, and realized how late it had gotten.

“Ah, well,” You placed your phone in your purse, “I’m quite far away from my hotel. I should be going. Thank you for everything.”

It was like your mouth was speaking for you, your words foreign on your tongue as you heard yourself speak. You wanted nothing more than to show him your wrist, but Taehyung had shown no signs of him having your words on his own wrist. Even now he was so poised, so elegantly relaxed. Like nothing had affected him.

Like nothing had happened.

You imagined what it would be like to see him in his pajamas, what it would be like to wake up next to him. You wondered how he’d look in the morning, how his skin would glow as the sun would filter in through the window and shine on him. You thought about what it would be like to have breakfast with him, how you would crack jokes with him over morning coffee and how he would roll his eyes at you and continue eating.

Your curiosity had gotten the best of you, making you fall in love in seconds with a man you had just met.

And here you were walking away from him and making your way to a taxi.

You felt dumb, becoming heartbroken over someone who had only said one or two sentences to you. Only a few words from him and you were already head over heels. You sighed, getting upset with yourself as you felt tears prick your eyes.

That was when you felt a tug on your hand, making you turn around. You were met with Taehyung’s eyes once more. They looked a little softer, slight desperation peering through. You stared at him, your heart beating rapidly as you waited for him to speak.

His hand was rough and dry against you, the coarse skin surprising you slightly. Your hand fit perfectly in his. Images of you and him holding hands as you walked through the city flashed through your mind and you wanted to curse yourself. Your brain was already coming up instantly with unrealistic scenarios.

But that didn’t matter as you felt Taehyung’s gaze on you, your eyes getting lost in his.

Once he realized what he had just done, he let go of your hand immediately.

“There’s um,” He shoved his hands in his pockets, “There’s quite a bit of pickpockets here...”

Your head cocked to the side as you patiently waited for his next response.

“And my hotel is probably closer than yours...” He scratched the nape of his neck, his voice lowering, “Even then, I still get pickpocketed sometimes.”

“Ah, really?” You frowned, bottom lip jutting out in a small pout, “I should probably be careful on my way back then, right?”

“How about I take you to my room?” Taehyung blinked, face heating up at what he had just said. You stayed quiet, a bit shocked by his boldness.

“I mean, not like... that,” He ran a hand through his hair, averting eye contact with you, “Like, you can stay for the night. Unless you don’t want to. But I’d advise it- Not because I want to get into your pants, but because it’s really not safe! I promise-“

You burst out laughing, making Taehyung shut up rather quickly. He awkwardly chuckled, smiling sheepishly at you. You wheezed, clutching your chest in an attempt to catch your breath.

“Why not?” You responded quietly, and Taehyung perked up at your words.

And that’s how you found yourself in a stranger’s bed, aimlessly clicking through the different channels on the hotel tv. Your hair was slightly damp and you were clad in a soft white robe, waiting for Taehyung, who was in the shower. You felt your heart melt when you heard his lovely singing as he cleaned himself. The sound of water rushing in the bathroom seemed to accentuate his melodies, calming you as you listened to him.

You took the chance to take a look at your wrist, seeing the pretty black ink on written on your skin. You bit your lip, tapping your fingers on the words.

“Look at me, darling.”

You laughed through your nose, air blowing out of your nostrils quietly. Thank goodness his words were pretty. It was a blessing and a curse that his words looked so beautiful on your skin. Even if you were never going to see him after this trip, at least your tattoo was cool.

It would be an interesting story to tell your friends. At least, that’s what you told yourself in order to comfort the fact that you really had no chance of seeing him after this night.

Your heart sank as you realized that the night would soon come to an end.

“You doing alright there, Y/N? Are you comfortable?”

You quickly shoved your hand under the sheets and refocused your attention to the television.

“Yeah,” You said nervously, “I’m good. Great. Wonderful, really.”

Your vision landed on Taehyung’s figure. Your face flushed up and you suddenly wished you hadn’t taken your eyes of the show you were “watching”.

He was clad only in a towel, water droplets covering his whole chest. His whole skin was tanned and his whole body was tone, displaying just how fit he was. You decided not to focus on his chest as you realized that he could probably see you peeping at him. Water dripped from different strands of his hair and fell onto his face.

You tried to keep your cool although your wide eyes and red face showed otherwise. It was obvious that Taehyung could notice this, but you kept up your futile front.

“I ordered champagne,” He said calmly, ignoring that he was half naked in front of a complete stranger, “Let me get changed and I’ll be there with you, yeah?”

You nodded, hands fidgeting with the fabric of your robe. You tried to keep up with the show playing on the screen, but you soon gave up since it was all in French. Your head fell onto the bed post as you stared up at the ceiling. Your hand flew to the thin, dainty chain on your neck, and you rolled it in between your thumb and index finger. You let out a sigh, feeling some of the tension leave your body while Taehyung was changing in the bathroom.

A loud knock was on his door, and Taehyung, now clad in sweatpants and a grey hoodie, quickly ran to answer it. He thanked room service, politely grabbing the bottle and glasses and shutting the door. He walked over to you triumphantly, showing of the champagne to you rather proudly. You giggled, feeling the bed shift under his weight. He handed you a glass and placed his own on the nightstand next to the bed.

You felt yourself jump as the cork flew off the bottle with a loud pop!, making Taehyung chuckle at your response. He poured the drink into your hands and then placed some of it into his own.

“Cheers!”

He clinked his glass with yours before taking a large gulp of the champagne. You took a small sip, feeling it bubble down your throat. You licked your lips, savoring the first taste of the drink.

“Who knew I’d be spending my night in Paris with a man I met an hour ago?” You joked, examining the bubbly drink.

“Who knew you’d be drinking with him in his bed?”

“Yeah,” You murmured, “Who knew...”

The two of you spent the night sipping on champagne, the drink making you feel light and giggly. The next few hours were filled with shameless, drunken flirting, but neither of you cared nor were flustered by each other’s words. It’s not like either of you would remember the next day.

In your intoxicated state, you learned that Taehyung was a touchy person. He had his arm wrapped around you snugly as you laid on his chest. He’d often run a hand through your hair, brushing it gently through his fingers. He would drunkenly place soft kisses on your head as the two of you talked, the television playing quietly in the background.

You also learned that he was quite the talker.

From his numerous stories, you discovered that Taehyung was born in Korea. He told countless anecdotes of growing up there, making you laugh at his goofy antics and the problems he got into when he was younger. He complained about how hard it was to learn English and how he envied how you were so fluent, since it took him so long to be able to have a simple conversation with someone.

You imagined what a younger Taehyung looked like, imagined what it would have been like to go to high school with him. While he was talking, you yearned to grow old with him, falling deeper and deeper in love with him as the more time passed with him.

He told you of his friend Jimin, who he had been friends with since high school. He mentioned all the trouble the two of them they got in, and how they still get into trouble now. He said that the two of you would probably get along, but Jimin would get upset at the fact that Taehyung took you to his hotel room after meeting you in one day. As he spoke, you wondered what it would be like to meet his family and to meet his friends. They must all be wonderful if they’re deemed right by Taehyung. You wished for nothing more than to be seen as worthy in Taehyung’s eyes.

“So, what’re your stories?” His words cutely slurred together, “Who exactly is Y/N?”

Once you spoke about yourself, it turned out he was a pretty good listener after all. He listened to everything you said intently, nodding when you said something, laughing when you laughed, and adding little comments or snickers here and there in order to make you laugh or tease you.

That night the two of you shared and confessed many things with each other. You found out that Taehyung used to play the saxophone, and he learned that you couldn’t hold a note for shit. He learned that you had a fear of heights, and you discovered that he had a terrible habit of biting his nails when he was younger. He told you how his mother would yell at him because his habit would make his hands look ugly. You took the time to examine his pretty hands and you told him to thank his mother.

Everything was light and happy in Taehyung’s hotel room. It was apparent that this was the happiest the both of you had felt in a while. To you, everything felt incredibly real. You concluded that Taehyung must have been your soulmate, because you’d never felt such a strong connection with anyone before.

Especially with someone you had just met that night!

So with the champagne giving you sudden courage, you sat up so you could be face to face with Taehyung and prepared to show him your wrist. You had to confirm with him that you were his soulmate first, though.

“Tae,” Your words drawled out slightly, “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“What do you mean?” His head drooped to the side, staring at you, “Of course I do.”

“Do you have one?” You giggled, not noticing how close your face was to his. His breath hitched slightly, but he shook it off quickly.

“I don’t know,” He shrugged, words spoken in a teasing lilt, “Do you?”

“Well, I don’t know either!” You looked at him with curious eyes, giggling once more, “Do you want one?”

“Not really.”

His words sobered you up, almost like you were getting his with freezing cold water. You laid back into the bed, dejectedly staring at the open air. Taehyung noticed this shift in mood, and he nudged you gently, trying to figure out what had changed. When you wouldn’t budge, he wrapped his arm around you again, pulling you close to him. You wanted to punch him as your eyes went blurry with tears.

“...Why don’t you?” Your voice was quiet, trembling. You clutched onto the material of his hoodie tightly, your head pressed against his chest.

If he knew something was strange with your sudden, quite random, questions, he didn’t say anything.

“I guess I’m scared,” His eyes were shut was he rested his head on yours, “What if I’m not good enough for my soulmate?”

“Well, that can’t be true.”

“I guess I’ll know when I find them.”

“I guess so,” You whispered, voice shaky.

It was as if a dagger pierced your heart. You bit your lip, holding back sobs.

Taehyung didn’t respond to your words, opting to place another kiss on your head. You wanted to disappear. Your predictions had come true.

He was your soulmate but you weren’t his.

“I wanna go to bed, Taehyung,” You murmured, words vibrating against his chest.

He nodded, letting you out of his embrace. Your turned your back to him, covering yourself in the sheets. Taehyung stared at your figure, trying to decide whether or not he should hold you again or not. You couldn’t tell if you wanted him to.

All you knew was that he was too good to be true. You fit well in his arms, but you didn’t think he realized that. It was as if you could only acknowledge the fact that your body felt perfect against his.

“Y/N, Can-“

“If you want to,” You responded, already knowing what he was going to say.

Soon enough his arms were around your waist, and you were engulfed by his citrus scent once more. A few moments later you heard soft snores coming from him. Your body felt heavy, like you were going to sink in his bed. Tears quietly rolled down your eyes and onto the pillow, your body slightly trembling. The television was shut off, only your soft cries heard in the silence of the hotel room.

What you hated the most was that Taehyung’s body felt warm and his embrace felt safe. He felt right. You couldn’t describe it enough. Just being in his arms felt right. Even if you felt uncomfortable in his room, being in his arms was enough for you. And you hated that.

You felt your eyelids droop down, and soon enough you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Taehyung woke up alone. The sunlight burned into his eyes, slightly blinding him and waking him up instantly. He rubbed the sleep crusted away in his eyes, and he felt his heart sank when he realized the absence of you.

Memories of the night before flashed into his mind. You resting on his chest, you giggling at his dumb jokes, you cutely turning red from drinking too much alcohol. All he could think of was you. You with your soft eyes and kind smile. Your soft hair and your small figure. He thought about how you felt in his arms, how your body slotted perfectly in his embrace.

Then dread filled his heart as another memory played in his mind.

“Do you want a soulmate, Taehyung?”

“Not really.”

Taehyung wanted to slap himself at his words. Sure, he did truly feel like he wasn’t enough for his soulmate, but your reaction made his own heart break. He realized that he truly wasn’t enough for you. He let his stupid fears get into the way of you being with him.

You left behind nothing. There was no note on his night stand that had your number on it, no note telling him that you had to go, no note telling him that you enjoyed your time with him. You were just gone, without a trace, without a hint of you ever being there, save for your vanilla scent stuck on the sheets and the image of you burned in Taehyung’s mind.

Taehyung grabbed his phone, quickly going to his camera roll. He swiped through numerous photos of you that he had taken on his own phone without you noticing. He smiled sadly, eyes fixated on his screen.

You looked so happy in the pictures, your smile showing how absorbed you were in staring at the lights of the Eiffel Tower. He admired the wonder and twinkle in your eyes as you watched the crowds around the famous tourist attraction. He came across a photo of your back facing him as you kept your focus on the Eiffel Tower. The wind was shifting around your hair and moving it gracefully in the photo. You looked like you came straight out of a movie. He wished for nothing more than to be able rewind and restart everything with you.

He wanted the ending where you ended up with him. Not the one where the two of you never speak again.

Dropping his phone on the bed, he pulled strands at his hair in response to his own stupidity. Why didn’t he show you his tattoo? Why was he so dumb? What was holding him back?

He was terrified. You were so perfect to him, and he couldn’t see himself being enough for you. He was afraid that if you got to know him more, you’d end up losing feelings for him. He wanted nothing more than to have a home with you and see you every single day.

He yearned to have you with him again, falling apart as the seconds passed. He wished he could’ve had the chance to grow up with you, to get married, to take you to all of the places you wanted to go to. He wanted to have kids with you, see what they’d look like and how they’d act. He yearned to feel the happiness he felt when you were around him.

Now the only thing in his mind was the feeling of regret.

You were right in his hands and now you had slipped away from his reach in mere seconds.

Taehyung rolled up his sleeve to look at his wrist. He tapped his fingers onto the black words as smiled sadly, imagining your calming voice in his ears. He imagined that you were in front of him, handing him your phone as you waited expectantly for his response.

“Excuse me, sir? Would you be able to take a picture of me?”

[mildredisabella]

Assignment 2: Storytime!

A Remote Stand-Off 

Starting the assignment 

In this assignment, we were tasked to create a storyboard. Firstly, it started conceptualising the simple narrative that I wanted to tell using the 3 act structure (Setup, Confrontation and Resolution). Afterwards, I went ahead to sketch these stories out to make sure that they represented the vision that I had and then took the photos to bring it to life. Hence, the gist of the story that I was trying to tell was about 2 friends who were bored in quarantine and just turned on the TV and having a debate about what to watch on Disney+. Heavily inspired by some of the conventions and cinematography of the Spaghetti Westerns i.e. the duel scene and the ECU shots of the eyes etc, I decided to have these 2 girls (my friend and I) fight over the remote to see who gets to decide the show they will be watching: High School Musical or Lemonade Mouth. If you’re wondering if this was inspired by a true story, it was but don’t worry we were still friends after this as you can guess from the selfie we took midway because we decided to give ourselves a 5 minute break in between shooting scenes.

Storyboarding  

Fig.1: Storyboard Part 1 (Drawing) 

Fig.2: Storyboard Part 2 (Drawing) 

The storyboard first starts off with a wide shot (WS) or establishing shot (ES) of Disney+ being featured on a TV screen. The scene then cuts to 2 girls, Layla and Isabella, on the couch looking bored and figuring out what’s good to watch. This is the set-up of the scene which leads onto the rising action when both of them spy the remote on the table and reach forward to grab it. These 2 scenes are being shot in close up (CU) and mid-shots (MS) respectively. That’s when both girls grab onto the remote at the same time (shot in CU) which leads to the stakes getting a little tense as it cuts back and forth to an extreme close up of Layla’s eyes first and then Isabella’s, both of them refusing to let go of the remote. This action results in the biggest crisis or confrontation, the duel for the remote and its shot in a MS. In this scene, it is also when the girls started screaming High School Musical and Lemonade Mouth respectively. This then brings us to to the resolution and last shot of the storyboard which is Isabella managing to triumph over Layla and manages to get ahold of the remote as Layla rolls her eyes in defeat. This is shot in an MS so that you can see Isabella raising her hand with the remote in it so she can pick the movie. 

Below is the storyboard but in picture form. 

Fig.3: Storyboard Part 1 using pictures

Fig.4: Storyboard Part 2 using pictures 

Pre-Critique 

To further prepare for the assignment, I attempted to make my narrative foolproof and cutting out the unnecessary scenes I may not have needed. I also went a step further to try and edit some pictures using Photoshop by playing around with the settings that it had to offer. For the first picture, I decided to make the TV stand out a bit more from the background and to do that, I went ahead and selected a new curve layer and using the brush tool, I masked it with another layer where I inverted the masks and modified the layer again. This effect overall did help as the TV is now slightly brighter than the rest of the objects in the background (Fig.5). For the rest of the shots, I mainly played with brightness/contrast to get achieve the desired effect that i wanted as the light source was to my right in the picture (as you can see from the windows), I wanted to make sure everything was brought up to ensure the white balance is there. I also cropped some images like Shot 7 as I wanted to bring out the ECU and the MS shot as I felt it was better in that size than a WS. Moreover in Shots 6 and 7 (Fig.6 and 7), I also played around with the spot healing brush tool to get rid of the pimples that plagued our faces which we were not excited for the world to see although we are still coming into adulthood. After all these pictures have been edited, I layered them all out on InDesign (Fig.12) and used a western background to further bring out the mood of what I was trying to go for which was a story inspired by Spaghetti Western conventions. 

Fig.5: PS work area for Shot 1. 

Fig.6: PS work area for Shot 6

Fig.7: PS work area for Shot 7

Fig.8: PS work area for Shot 3

Fig.9: PS work area for Shot 5 

Fig.10: PS work area for Shot 8

Fig.11: PS work area for Shot 9

Fig.12: InDesign workspace for storyboards (drawn or photos) 

I left shots 2 and 4 unedited as I thought they perfectly captured the essence of the story I am trying to portray on their own. 

To sum up the shots in the assignment: 

Shot 1: WS of the television featuring Disney+ 

Shot 2: MS of 2 girls staring at the TV pondering what to watch

Shot 3: CU of the TV remote 

Shot 4: MS of 2 girls reaching for the remote at the same time

Shot 5: CU of the 2 girls grabbing the remote at the same time and refusing to let go

Shot 6: ECU of Girl 1 (Layla) staring at Girl 2 (Isabella) intensely

Shot 7: ECU of Girl 2 (Isabella) staring at Girl 1 (Layla) intensely

Shot 8: MS of fight for the remote

Shot 9: MS of Girl 1 smirking happily as she emerged triumphant while Girl 2 is rolling her eyes

Pre-Curation

Before achieving the images that I needed to place in my storyboard, I did have some shots that I was not as satisfied with such as these 4 examples below. 

Fig.13: Shot 5 of the remote that did not make the cut

In Fig.13, this was meant to be for the 5th shot and I personally thought was not suitable. This is because according to the rule of thirds the remote is off centre and towards the centre right of the photo which is very uneasy on the eyes and puts the remote not as the focus of the photo as in the left third, Layla’s leg is showing which brings in a lot of elements and the viewer would not be sure as to what to focus on if this image was presented instead of the final one that’s being shown. 

Fig.14: Attempted CU of the remote 

For this shot, I wanted it to be used for the 3rd photo where the remote is in focus which was why I attempted to try for a CU shot. Even though the remote is placed in the foreground of the photo, it is not as sharp as the people in the background. As our eyes are naturally more drawn to the object that stands out, the remote in the foreground which is not in focus would lead audiences to think that the focus is the person in the background when that is not the case. Hence, this shot was a complete fail and did not make the storyboard for its shot size and depth of field. 

Fig.15: Attempted Shot 4 (reaching for the remote scene) 

This shot though emphasising the point that I was trying to make about the 2 girls going for the remote at the exact same time is very uncomfortable to look at as there is no headroom for the girls and even cuts out some of the features of the girl on the right. Therefore, this does not make for a good scene as there is no room for your subject to breathe (cropped head) and the framing is just very awkward and aesthetically unpleasant. 

Fig.16: Attempted Shot 8 (duelling for the remote) 

This shot was one of the many outtakes that did not make the cut as it was very obvious that Isabella has already gotten hold of the remote. Hence, this was a fail on the misc-en-scene and character behaviour where Shot 8 was meant to be the 2 girls struggling for the remote. A challenge while shooting this shot was actually getting the timing right as we needed to time it perfectly so that it showed the struggle of the 2 girls grappling to see who gets hold of the remote. Therefore, to overcome this obstacle, I decided to film us doing the action instead and then revisiting a few frames to get the shot that I needed so that it was timed perfectly which is being shown in the final submission. 

Critiques and Edits 

During the critique session earlier, I breathed a sigh of relief when I found out I did not have to reshoot any of the scenes and that my narrative was easy to comprehend (thank you film school for making me a film school brat) i.e. Shot 1 of the TV was good at establishing the setting and the rest of the events to follow. However, I do realise that I could have experimented with the angles a little more if I did have a tripod but I made do at my friend’s apartment. 

Hence the main feedback I got was to work on the formatting of the storyboard. For example, I should not include the captions that I had previously as this is meant to be a photographic storytelling not a storyboard that I was used to in film classes and to also put the shots that I had into 1 page so that it was easier to see the flow. 

Final Versions 

After listening to the critiques, I made the adjustments accordingly so that my photos and sketches in my InDesign layout (refer to Page 3-5) are put in the 3,3,3 format. I have also removed the text from the bottom and decided to feature it in the blogpost instead. I have also added in the pre-curated images that did not make the final cut. 

Fig.17: InDesign layout 

Overall, this assignment really tested my creativity and allowed me to incorporate some of the film conventions I already know and put it into modern day context. This was a fun assignment that I got to do with friends as I felt that it made the story more realistic and it is a first world problem that we face today as well. 

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #113

UPDATE 113: Takeover

Last time Skitter had reunited with Grue, Heckpuppy and Imp, and a brief fight ensued because they thought she had betrayed them again. Thankfully, the record has been set straight, so now they can talk and decide their course of action. Let’s continue.

So, the first part of this chapter is Skitter explaining what happened, Grue being the only one who seems to be listening without any hesitation. The other two are still full of doubts. Can’t blame them, really. This is also where we find out how the switcheroo happened. The moment the highbeams were turned on, the strong lighting was the cover they used to bring in the fake Skitter. Nobody noticed anything. So yeah, as if everything so far hadn’t indicated it, this is another proof Calvert planned this betrayal carefully. I wonder since when he had been arranging all this – it must have been at least a few days, to give his hired tinker the time to make that swarm box.

Grue nodded slowly.  “Looked like you, sounded like you.”

“I don’t know how.  Genesis?”

“Didn’t strike me as much of an actor.”

On the other hand, the place was teleported to was Genesis’ territory. Coincidence? Maybe, maybe not. But that’s something to keep in mind.

Apparently Skitter isn’t a hundred percent Calvert was trying to kill her, and although I understand that’s Skitter trying to be cautious, just in case things turn out to be strange and unexpected, there’s really no room for doubt Calvert was trying to kill her. Just because he didn’t have a guaranteed method right away doesn’t mean he wasn’t attempting to get her out of his way. I thought you yourself had said using grenades would lessen the odds he could get away with a convenient explanation for what happened, Skitter, why do you think a bomb would be any better?

I agree that Calvert hadn’t planned for Skitter to escape and come be framed, he most likely intended the fake Skitter to vanish into the ether. Why else would he have soldiers ready to make them explode, unless he was trying to avoid her coming in contact with them? No, he intended to kill Skitter in that house, and then make things look like she betrayed them and...just vanished with Dinah to parts unknown.

Heckpuppy still doesn’t seem very sure about all this, and judging by her snappy responses, she doesn’t want to talk about it anyway. Even when Skitter tries to convince her to be at the ready in case of betrayal – if she wasn’t convinced by the explanation, I mean – she just refuses to listen for long. She just wants to focus on the present and make her dog bite whoever is responsible for this mess.

Bitch made a low, grunting noise in her throat that fell somewhere between a huff of anger, a belch and a grunt. “The way you acted before, the way that person acted when she shot me and the way you’re acting now, none of it makes sense, and maybe that’s ’cause I’m stupid.  But I’m going to handle this my way.  Next time someone shoots at me, I kill them.  Or I have Bastard eat their hands and feet.”

I mean, it’s not too bad of a response, as long as she makes sure whoever’s shooting isn’t one of the Undersiders! Then she should stop and listen. Thankfully, I doubt any of the Undersiders will be shooting around anytime soon.

“You shouldn’t maim people,” I said.

“Says the person who just emptied a gun clip at us,” Imp said.  When Grue and I turned her way, she raised her hands, “Kidding.  I’m just kidding.”

...I’m pretty sure it’ll be a couple weeks, at the very least, before Imp decides Skitter was telling the truth.

So, since there isn’t really anything else to be said about the false Skitter and the mess that ensued ten minutes ago, they have to focus on what’s immediately important: rescue Tattletale, Regent, and also Dinah, who undoubtedly still is in Calvert’s clutches. Oh boy, this is going to be difficult. Something like that can easily fill one arc. If it wasn’t because otherwise it’d be a really short chapter, I’d think the chapter is going to end in like three paragraphs.

The big obstacle is that Calvert knows way too much about how their powers work and what they can do, but it’s not an unsurmountable obstacle. Skitter herself proved that by using her wits and information Calvert didn’t have to escape the burning house. What doesn’t he know of everyone, hmm...

...strategies, mostly. You can’t know for sure what your enemy’s strategies are. Those are mutable, can change.

What they decide to do isn’t a strategy, but they did realize Calvert has no way to know how this all turned out. The soldiers retreated, the fake Skitter left. Maybe they can use that to their advantage? Pretend Skitter died, and shunt her into hiding? I mean, I’m pretty certain she won’t be able to approach Calvert in any manner. He’s way too clever and careful, he’ll have a way to know Skitter is nearby.

Just telling Calvert Skitter is dead isn’t going to be enough, and knowing him, the act of destroying the box may have sent a signal of some sort that informed of its destruction. Grue is mulling a few things, asking for information such as what exactly happened, how did the fake Skitter teleport, how much does Calvert know. Hm, this is great! Grue gets to be the one thinking of the plan, instead of Skitter. I know it isn’t the time to be thinking or saying such things, but if he had concerns about Skitter taking over the team, this should help calm them down.

Looks like he got an idea. He’s calling Calvert now, everyone else has to stay silent. As soon as Calvert answers, Grue is already demanding explanations and growling, demanding to know what’s going on and why Skitter attacked them by using Calvert’s technology.

“Grue,” Calvert’s voice was hard, firm, “Slow down.  It doesn’t make sense that I’d arrange things that way.  Why go through the motions of giving my pet to Skitter, only to… you haven’t fully explained what happened.  You said she attacked you?  Are you sure?”

“Pretty fucking sure, Coil.  She shot Rachel and then turned on me.  Imp disarmed her.  Then she teleported away using the same device you described to us an hour ago.”

Aha, nice! That seems to fit what I read. I’m not sure if Imp disarmed the fake Skitter, but that’s a minor detail. So far, so good. Gotta make that outrage believable. Calvert expresses some concern for everyone – as if he’s really concerned, the snake – and Grue drops the big bomb: Skitter is dead. Oh, great! Guess they really will make her be in the low down while they think of a good plan to rescue their teammates.

Of course Coil demands proof Skitter really is dead, he wants a photo. Skitter was already getting ready, preparing herself for playing dead.

I shifted position so I lay in the depression that Bastard’s front paws had made in the swarm box.  It was a scene I had to stage in seconds, using dragonflies and wasps to carry hairs across my mask, moving my hand so my wrist bent at an awkward angle where the metal folded.  The final touch was bringing all the bugs from around the swarm box to carpet me and the floor.

Not a half second after I finished, I heard the digitized camera sound.

...okay, so, um...personally I have never been crushed by a giant dog while I’m fiddling with a box covered with bugs, and I haven’t witnessed such a thing happening in front of me either, but I imagine if Skitter had been slammed against the box by a giant dog, she’d be kind of...

...

...broken. Let’s put it that way. I don’t think that’s going to be very easy to fake. If only they had a little more time to arrange the scene, but then again, if they had taken their sweet time, Calvert would suspect something was wrong. The longer this call came through, the more suspicious it’d be.

I’m not sure if Calvert believed it or not, let’s hope he did. He asks where Dinah is because he has to keep appearances, and Grue brushes that aside because Skitter was the one who cared a lot about Dinah, not him. To make things a bit more troublesome for Calvert, Grue fibs about how light and darkness don’t affect him the same way everyone else is affected, and that’s how he saw Skitter presumably teleporting away with Calvert’s technology.

Calvert says he’ll check how Skitter may have access to the controls, and hangs up, much to Grue’s chagrin. He tries to call again, but is stopped by Skitter. Grue wants to pressure him, give him less time to think by constantly battering him with accusations. That’s much easier when you’re face to face, the problem is that Calvert can hang up whenever he wants instead of listening to Grue. Hmmmm...maybe they can demand a meeting. Make a big show, spit in rage, perhaps make a few threats...make this look authentic.

The only problem I can think of right now is that they don’t have a place to meet Calvert at. I imagine he’ll want to meet them right where everyone is at right now – to see Skitter’s body in person, and he’ll arrive in three seconds flat thanks to the teleportation, no? And they can’t just go to one of Calvert’s lair or the PRT, those being the only other options I imagine could be good for a meeting. If you enter your enemy’s turf, you’re automatically at a disadvantage.

...let’s just hope Calvert won’t want a meeting. Go on, Grue, yell at him through the phone, call again.

I frowned.  I was thinking back to the meeting I’d had with the school, when my dad had been with me and we’d accused the trio of bullying.  Both Emma’s dad and the school had played their little power games.

“It’s a tactic,” I said.  “He regains control of the situation by being the one who can call back, and it helps establish the idea of him being an authority figure.”

“Damn,” he said.  “Sorry.  It made sense in my head, but I didn’t think it through, I’m tired.  Didn’t sleep last night.  I figured it was better to call sooner than later.”

I’ll reiterate for the record: I don’t think Grue was in the wrong on calling him as soon as possible. Either way, I really don’t think Calvert needed to go check anything, since he knows what happened with the fake Skitter. I bet right now he’s sitting wherever he is, using his power to make the two timelines and deciding to use a different argument in each one, increasing the odds everything will go nice and neat in one of the timelines.

Just like Skitter said, Calvert seems to be making himself look like an authority, by calling back. Here we go!

I heard the beep as he switched it to speaker phone.  Calvert was already talking.  “- have sequestered Regent in my custody, out of concern that he controlled Victor to have the young man hack into my systems.”

Wow. I don’t think keeping one of the Undersiders captive without even talking to the others before doing so is a bright move, but it sure makes him look imposing. Grue has some objections, like for example that they didn’t know about the teleporting technology until an hour ago, and Calvert replies he fears Skitter found out beforehand. Hm...wait, is he preparing everything for keeping Tattletale captive as well? By arguing she was the one who told Skitter about the technology, perhaps? Even if Skitter was really dead and this call was authentic, I’m sure the rest of the Undersiders would be very suspicious if Regent and Tattletale were kept in who knows where and Skitter was dead.

Calvert invites the Undersiders to his headquarters, and Grue demands they meet somewhere else, somewhere open where he can’t set any traps or make things get real bad as soon as they arrive. Skitter’s the one who gives an idea, a closed market at the north of the city. Grue demands Calvert comes only with a small squad of soldiers, Tattletale, and Regent, and hangs up to show Coil it ain’t nice when you do that to someone. Well then! Meeting set. Now what?

“I’ll wait in the wings.  In the meantime, we should see if we can get our hands on something that we could have Bastard maul to the point that it looks like my mutilated remains.”

“There a butcher still in service anywhere?” Grue asked.

“We’ll figure something out,” I replied.

Hmmmm...I’m not very sure about that. Calvert saw a photo of Skitter intact and without any blood, if he’s presented with a mutilated facsimile he’s going to ask questions, no? Then again, it’s not like they can just make Skitter play dead in front of Calvert, he’s going to want to find out right then and there if she truly is dead, and I doubt there’s a conveniently similar lookalike dead body nearby to dress as Skitter. Fooling Calvert is going to be real difficult...

Well it won’t be for lack of trying, that’s for sure. They’re trying something. Skitter sacrificed her costume to disguise a mannequin they caked with entrails and blood from a raccoon. Hm. I suppose they’re going to use the dogs as an excuse? Like, they were coming with the dead body, but the dogs are dogs and their teeth caused quite the mess? In the meantime, Skitter hides in the grass with a small legion of bugs. Now it’s waiting time.

Adrenaline kept me awake, despite the fatigue that I was experiencing.  It had been an intense few days, an intense few weeks, with minimal chance to rest.  My body was probably struggling to heal, and draining what little reserves I had remaining.

Sssssoooo...business as usual. There hasn’t been 24 hours of rest in a loooong while. I’m pretty sure it has happened, like, once. It has been sixteen arcs.

Calvert arrives with only four soldiers, and sees the fake dead body right away. He seems to be convinced, not even trying to get one of the soldiers to take a look. Alright, maybe pretending it was torn apart was a good idea after all!

...nevermind, the gig is up. The gig didn’t last not even one minute. Well, they tried.

To show he’s the one who has the upper hand here, Calvert summons pretty much everything shady he has. A whole lot of soldiers, the supervillains in his payroll...everyone is here, and there’s dozens of guns pointing at everyone. Skitter is found, and also has many guns trained on her. Whoooops. I had a feeling things would go badly, because this is Calvert and surely he had a plan, but I didn’t think it’d happen this quickly!

So, Regent and Tattletale are locked up, presumably not in the same place Dinah is at. Calvert laments the loss of the Undersiders, as that sets him back in his plans for a while. Really? Well I thought it’d make the plans easier, but if he says so! At least if they die, they can know they were inconvenient for Calvert one last time.

Before Calvert can give the final order, Skitter claims there’s a dead man’s switch. Oh, golly, this is going to be good. Not having any other option, there’ll be a conversation now!

Calvert sighed.  “Ah.  You are irritating, you know?  On more than one occasion, I know, you’ve argued for the sake of the greater good. I’ve viewed the recordings the PRT has of your appearances at major events and I’ve come to know you fairly well. It’s rather hypocritical that you’re now working so hard to fight against the greater good.”

That’s a tad...hypocritical. I cannot believe what he has planned is the greater good. If he was really interested in the greater good, he really would have found another way of fulfilling his goals without keeping Dinah chained to him. Not that there was any doubts at any point he had any motives that weren’t selfish. I don’t know, ever since it was revealed Coil is Calvert I keep thinking back to that interlude with Piggot. I already knew Coil was a nasty piece of work, but boy does that interlude in hindsight color my opinion of him even more.

“Essentially so.  If you simply would have died quietly, the Undersiders wouldn’t have been stirred to rebellion, I could have established a peace we haven’t seen since the day Scion arrived and everyone involved here could have walked away happier and healthier.  Your friends included.”

“Tattletale excepted,” I responded.

“Tattletale excepted, I admit. Too dangerous to be left unchecked. A shame.  Now, you were saying?”

Ah, so he was planning to get rid of Tattletale too. How did he plan to cover up her death? It’s not like she had any betrayal attempts in the past, and although she’s largely a shady person with a shady past, it’s not like the rest don’t know some of that. Hmmm...maybe he planned to get rid of her once the Undersiders were told to leave the city and go settle somewhere else. Once everyone was separated, it’d be much easier to catch her, and since he already proved he can kind of be in a blind spot of Tattletale’s power...yeah, maybe he’d get away with this.

“I arranged a dead man’s switch. Kind of.  Unless one of my subordinates receives a message from me every twenty minutes, she’ll mass-send emails to everyone important and even a few unimportant people.”

“Detailing the true nature of Thomas Calvert, I suspect?”

“Yeah.”

“I hate to break it to you, dear Skitter, but this isn’t enough leverage for me to let you walk away.”

I can imagine Calvert feels confident about burying this imaginary dead man’s switch because, well, any email with information like this isn’t going to get taken as gospel right away. Before any important and damaging information gets out to the public, it may be a few days, maybe a few weeks. Plenty of time for Calvert to deal with it. I’m surprised he’ll listen to a couple of requests, though. Guess he doesn’t want the hassle of having to stamp out PR fires. Once again PR gets in the PRT’s way, haha!

First request is to let Dinah go once he’s done with her and his plans. That’s not happening. She’s so dead once he’s done, I’m growing sure of that. Second request is not to bother Dad Hebert, and he says he won’t. That I’m a little more inclined to believe, with Skitter dead he wouldn’t have a reason to hurt her family. Third request is to take care of Heckpuppy’s dogs. Not happening, they’re so dead too, or he’ll let an underling do whatever they want to them. Why’d Calvert agree to take care of the dogs? At this point he’s just humoring Skitter, really.

“You do what you can to stop Jack from doing what he can to end the world.  If you have capes at your disposal, you give them some job related to that.  To stopping it.”

Alright, that’s reasonable. Although I don’t think he commands Dragon directly or anything, he does have maaaany ties to her thanks to his new position. He can make her focus completely on that, and doing that he’ll have one opponent less. I’m sure given some time Dragon would realize Calvert is a dangerous villain masquerading as the director of the PRT, though, so it’s matter of time before she does something about it.

The last of Skitter’s many demands is to let Tattletale live, and Calvert agrees. Not believing that. Honestly, none of Calvert’s reassurances are to be taken at face value. He already proved to be untrustworthy, his word is worth jack.

Thankfully, Skitter isn’t taking this at face value, she demands to see Tattletale and confirm she’s okay, which he agrees to, making Chariot transport her. Not satisfied at just seeing her, Skitter reasons it could be a fake Tattletale. Hey, if it’s a fake Tattletale then Calvert saw this particular demand coming. He really can be a few steps ahead, haha. But yeah, since he knows how the Undersiders’ code works, any fake Undersider would be able to use it. That’s not going to prove it really is Tattletale – and part of me is wondering if Calvert would manage to replicate Tattletale’s power somehow. I’m curious!

I’m not sure I understand what Skitter is trying to do. She’s trying to get to talk to Tattletale and says something about how if this Tattletale doesn’t know the code, then he can shoot them all. Uh, no, that doesn’t sound right, I’m sure I missed something.

“I could kill your liaison, you realize. She’s a loose end.”

I thought of Charlotte, hoped I wouldn’t regret getting her involved.

Ah, yeah, about that: you may want to never mention this to Charlotte. She’ll never forgive you. She sure didn’t sign up to possibly be a person of interest for Coil.

Skitter mentions how betraying them will make Calvert look a little worse in the eyes of those who work for him, and nobody seems to particularly care about that. Whooops.

“As Skitter knows about my power and ever so kindly revealed the broad strokes of it to everyone in earshot, I suppose there’s no loss in explaining.  I tortured one member of the Undersiders for information, in another world, days ago.  They revealed that you were plotting to turn on me if I refused to release Dinah.  I cannot afford to release her, so my hand was forced.”

“So it’s our fault?” Imp asked.

“Ultimately, yes.”

Oho, now that’s something I didn’t see coming. Alright, let’s take a moment and go one for one to try to narrow this down. So, Skitter is out of the picture because she’d never reveal this to Calvert’s face and she sure would be dead already if she had said a word. Grue...hm. Would Calvert risk Grue taking his power? Unless he had a way of countering Grue’s power, that’s a no. Tattletale...that’s a tad trickier. She’d undoubtedly be able to be subdued, it’s just that I can’t imagine her betraying Skitter’s plans after being Skitter’s main ally even in the hardest times. Heckpuppy is a no, I don’t think she’d say something that’d put everyone else in danger, not even Skitter nowadays – unless she doesn’t realize it’s dangerous. Also, I can imagine her being very defiant even in the face of torture. Regent...knowing what he can do, would Calvert risk being in the same room than him for a while? Risk being controlled, or having his movements played with during a torture session? I don’t think he’s particularly prone to betrayal, since he seems to have some degree of appreciation for everyone despite everything, so even if he doesn’t care for Dinah or Skitter’s plan, I don’t think he’d betray.

That only leaves Imp. Easy to catch and keep restrained as long as you’re aware she’s there, and I really, really doubt she’s interested in saving Dinah. If Calvert threatened to hurt Grue, that’d be another incentive to get her to talk. So yeah, in my opinion, there’s only one option of who’d be the one who was tortured.

Then again, the other possibility is that nobody was tortured and Calvert is just lying about it to make himself look better and try to sow some discord into the Undersiders’ last moments. So yeah, I lean towards thinking Imp was the unfortunate victim, or that he’s lying.

Turns out the fake Skitter is a child soldier instead of a clone, thank goodness. Hey, clones are a perfectly reasonable possibility, given this canon! Anything can happen when all sorts of powers exist.

Calvert has been gathering information to use against Skitter when she betrays, he admits, straight from when they assaulted the PRT offices to get information. During the home invasion where they intimidated the mayor, Trickster had devices that recorded how her power works. So yeah, that pretty much tells the Travelers knew from days ago Skitter, at the very least, was being targeted.

“Why didn’t you drop me on top of a bomb?”

“An unfortunate side effect of Leet’s power.  Leet believes it was the proximity to the bomb or the particular signature of the vat of acid that made it so likely to occur, but with my power I observed that it wasn’t merely a chance that the teleportation would fail and your well-trained body double would be caught instead, but a surety.  No less than twelve tries with the variables changed slightly.  Leet’s power sabotages him, it seems.”

Ah, there really was a reason to not use grenades nor a more certain way of killing Skitter. The author was interfering with Leet’s power, hahaha! But yeah, it had to be this way or else Skitter would 100% survive. Alright, I see.

Skitter keeps insisting she wants to talk to Tattletale, confirm the girl in front of her is really Tattletale, and Calvert keeps refusing. Yeeeah, then that’s not Tattletale. He’s even willing to let the dead man’s switch activate. Welp! Now what? He even tries to say he has no reason to arrange a body double, and Skitter points out that yeah, he sure has! He even admitted Tattletale is a huge threat and he planned to get her out of the way.

Calvert shook his head and touched fingers to his forehead, as if exasperated.  “Your underling and Tattletale can live.  That’s all I’m willing to offer.  You’ll have to take my word on both points”

“Your word is worth nothing,” Bitch spat the words.

Calvert reacted as if he’d been slapped.

He reels because he knows it’s true and didn’t expect somebody to outright say it. See, this is why I don’t think Heckpuppy would cave under torture. Maaaaaybe if the dogs are threatened, I suppose, but yeah.

Apparently Heckpuppy’s rebuttals get under Calvert’s skin, as he orders her to shut up and threatens to get her dogs shot if she keeps going on.

Proving they were right, Calvert orders the real Tattletale to be teleported, and makes her be able to hear and respond to Skitter’s code, gagging her immediately. This still doesn’t prove it’s the real Tattletale, in my opinion. Calvert already said he’s familiar with the Undersiders’ codes, he could train a fake to use them too. But the condition Skitter had is now fulfilled, she has to do the same.

“It’s amusing,” Calvert said, “That you keep asking me for things I was already prepared to do.  You wanted me to improve the city, to restore it to a working state.  Already planned.  And this? Killing Tattletale was never in the cards.  I intend to keep her like I do my pet.  Her power will be invaluable.  Rest assured, I will offer every bit of assistance I can when the end of the world approaches.”

“I suppose it was too much to expect that you’d let her go,” I said.

Ah, so she’s going to be drugged and stashed away for when Calvert needs her. I have the impression having Tattletale’s power to his beck and call will be harder if she’s captive, since she’d need as much information as possible to be accurate, and it seems to me she’d work better if she’s right then and there when she’s needed. But her power really can come useful, that’s for sure.

Since she can’t stall for any longer, Skitter talks about her underling, even mentioning her name. Somewhere else in the city, Charlotte feels very upset and doesn’t know why.

Having obtained the information, Calvert orders them to get shot, and the bullets fly. Grue is hit, the dog is hit, Skitter herself is hit – as if she hadn’t suffered enough injuries and bruises in the last hour and half, she’s going to be so sore during the next crisis – but nobody seems to be dying. When they have a moment to look around, they notice half of the soldiers was holding the other half hostage. Oh, golly! That was unexpected.

The Travelers almost move, Grue tells them to not, and asks someone to remove the bindings from Tattletale.

“Glad to see the stringbean plan worked out in the end,” she said.  “Those of you I haven’t been in contact with, please hear me out.  I’m paying twice what Calvert is for a year’s salary, and I’m paying it all upfront.  Look to the other team captains if you don’t believe me.  Fish, Minor, Richards, Meck, I’ve talked to them, and they’ve agreed.”

Ah, so that’s why Skitter was so insistent in making Tattletale speak. She needed to say ‘stringbean’, I suppose. It doesn’t seem like any of the Undersiders is surprised, so this was something they arranged earlier, without the readers being privy to it. Good thing this also wasn’t something whatever Undersider was tortured – if any – talked about. Excellent! Calvert isn’t going to get away with what he just tried to do.

Turns out Tattletale is richer than Calvert is, and by a lot. During the jobs she has managed to get small fortunes every time, without anyone noticing, thanks to her power letting her know what she can get away with, and I suppose it also told her how to do it without Calvert noticing she was slowly getting ridiculously wealthy. Soon she was able to pay the soldiers the amount she mentioned, and when Calvert tries to make a bigger offer, she says he can’t do such a thing. Well, I’m sure given some time he could, but mercenaries don’t work with 60 days receipts.

Seems to me like Tattletale intentionally made Calvert spend a tad too much money buying information from the Dragonslayers. Good! I wonder if that made the difference or not. I don’t remember it being mentioned it had been a terribly exorbitant sum of money. Six million, if I recall correctly. Given the amount of soldiers he has – I always had the impression he had quite the squad – six million isn’t bound to be that much, no?

So yeah, the gist of this all is that Tattletale is the one with the full wallet. They’re safe from the soldiers, but what about the other parahumans? I’m concerned they’ll act soon, even though Grue told them not to.

“Undersiders,” Trickster said. “This goes no further.  Call it a stalemate, but we need his assistance.”

You know, if he hadn’t been such a big jerkass I’d feel bad for him, but no. He made sure to say very well how indifferent he was about the Undersiders and actively cooperated to lead to the betrayal. Can’t say I feel bad for him. Noelle, though...for her I do feel bad. What’s going to happen to her if Calvert is defeated and taken away?

Tattletale informs them Calvert has been lying all along, that nothing he can do can help Noelle and that he just wanted someone with a lot of firepower. So he planned to send the Travelers away and keep Noelle? Is she drugged too, perhaps? And what exactly is her power, what’s so important he’d want to keep her around and be equal to all the supervillains he has? And then they tell the Travelers to stop, and join them if they’re tired of wandering around and all.

A long pause stretched out, then Ballistic stepped forward.

“Hey, man,” Trickster said.  “No.”

“I’m done.  This was a doomed quest from the start,” Ballistic said. He stopped at Grue’s side, turned around to face his teammates.

Ah, Ballistic is here! Are you joining the Undersiders officially? He had mentioned he wanted to stay and work for Calvert, and although that work opportunity is now impossible, maybe he’ll find something to do with the Undersiders. Great. Nobody else from the Travelers defects, though. I had expected Sundancer too – and seems to me Taylor did too – but she didn’t. I guess she’s more attached to the group than Ballistic was.

Genesis doesn’t want to leave the group either.

She was in the form of a girl, but wore a simple mask.  “Someone’s got to stay and be a real leader to this team.  No.  I’m standing by Trickster.”

I’m fairly convinced she’s throwing shade at Trickster. Sucks to be him.

Since it’s pretty clear nobody else is going to join them, the Travelers are taken out of commission by joint effort by Imp and Ballistic, and the rest of the villains are forced to do nothing. Say, I notice there’s no mention of Circus. I suppose Circus left the town.

Tattletale will take over Coil’s operations, spearhead the rebuilding of the city, make a truce with the heroes...overall make things go smoothly. I doubt she’ll position herself as a benevolent ruler or even make the heroes know she’s the big leader, but I imagine she’ll tell them Coil is a threat no more. I’m not sure how she’ll handle this, but hey, if the city is rebuilt, then it’ll be all worth it. He’s so cornered he yells he’ll give a million dollars to whoever shoots any of the Undersiders, and nothing happens. I suppose the double year salary is far more than one million dollars, then.

Apparently this all had been planned since long ago, back when Skitter was still in bad terms with everyone, and Tattletale had done some minor annoyances that piled up and made Calvert more stressed and more likely to screw up. Kind of impressive she managed to do that to a man who can make two timelines. If he really tortured someone then I’m sure the stress made it even worse for the unfortunate victim, then.

“Then send me to the Birdcage and be done with it,” Calvert said.

Does he think the Undersiders will reveal to everybody he’s Coil, and then make the heroes drag him to the Birdcage? It’s not like the Undersiders have any authority to send people to jail. No, something else will happen: Calvert will die.

Say, if Piggot was ineffective because a villain went and stabbed her in the middle of a town hall, where does Calvert rank in the ineffectiveness range by getting killed by villains less than 24 hours after he was hired?

Skitter wants to be the one making the killing shot, she even will use her gun. Slowly, she walks forward, thinking of all the lives she put in danger directly or indirectly. Hmmm...personally I think the moments like the ABB destroying the city don’t fit here, but you do you, Skitter.

“You’re not a killer,” Calvert said.

“No…” I replied.  I couldn’t see, so I screwed my eyes closed, felt the moisture of tears threatening to spill forth.  I took in a deep breath.

“…But I suppose, in a roundabout way, you made me into one,” I finished.  I aimed the gun and fired.

Well then! Here it is. This is the moment where Skitter has crossed the boundary she had refused to cross. Iiiii’m not sure I like this move, for a couple reasons.

So, the first one is that we already have a character who crossed self-imposed boundaries and ended pretty badly. I know it was partly due to Panacea’s personality, but I fear the same thing happening to Skitter. One boundary is crossed, then another, and another, and another. It’d be quite the pity if that happened.

The other reason – and far more important for myself, honestly – is that I’m not sure where Skitter’s development will go now that this happened. Part of the reason why I thought Skitter is an interesting character was that she tried her best to keep a certain modicum of morality, thanks to her self-imposed rules. Now that what may have been the biggest one has been broken, who knows what else will happen. What other self-imposed rules will she break? What other self-imposed rules does she even have? Honestly, I feel Skitter has lost part of what made her an interesting character.

Still, I can see how things led to this point, and how slowly Skitter escalated more and more until she reached the capacity of killing someone, so I can’t say it came out of the blue. So...now what? Where will Skitter’s character development go? I thought she breaking so much she’d kill somebody would be the very end of her character development, but we have reached this point by halfway into Worm.

I fear she’s going to slip more and more into stuff the Taylor Hebert from a few arcs ago would disapprove. There’s still plenty of Worm left...plenty of time for Skitter to do more and more unsavory stuff. I don’t want her turning out that way, I don’t feel that kind of character would work for what the story’s trying to convey. A protagonist that’s villainous cannot be too villainous, as rooting for them would require a degree of justification from the reader. ‘Villain Protagonist may do bad things, but it’s all for X reason!’, and the such. At some point, the weight and consequences of such actions can reach such a point you just can’t root for that protagonist anymore. That’s what I fear may happen with Skitter, now that such a significant boundary has been crossed. I hope my concerns are unfounded, and that this is as bad as it’ll get. I like Skitter a lot, I hope my liking of her won’t fade.

So yeah, Skitter has killed Coil. This arc sure had a lot! It had both Coil’s success, and then his defeat. That was pretty good!

“The Travelers will be pissed.  I can’t- we can’t kill them,” I said.

“We won’t.  They’ll move on.  They have no more reason to stay.”

So, that means the Travelers except Ballistic will now leave the story? Go somewhere else? Hmmmm...well, Ballistic is staying in Brockton Bay, that’s for sure, but what about Noelle? Will she leave alongside everyone else? Or will she stay? Well, what’s for sure is that I don’t think everything related to Noelle is done. This has received so much build-up and focus I think it’s impossible this will stop here.

Now they leave the scene of the crime. Heckpuppy is the one who sits beside Skitter and even holds her hand fiercely. Ah, excellent! There we go, Heckpuppy showing support. She must know this can’t have been easy for Skitter. I appreciate she’s taking the time to do this.

Since they now have taken over the city takeover successfully, the first thing they do is go to Calvert’s underground base – say, where’s Regent? Where did Calvert stash him? Don’t forget about him, guys.

“You okay?” Grue asked.

“More bothered by the fact that I’m not bothered,” I said.  I knew how little sense I was making, but I didn’t feel like elaborating.

Hmmm...that’s kind of dangerous. This could be a slippery slope, I don’t want to see Skitter slide down it. At least she still can recognize not feeling anything about what she did – understandable as it is, really – is something to be bothered about, so things aren’t as bad as they could be.

Since Dinah is here in the underground base, I suppose Regent may be as well, and Tattletale does seem to think that. While she goes to get him, Skitter finally gets to talk to Dinah, who says she has been waiting for the moment of her freedom for so very long. Not surprised there, this must have been hell. I wonder if the knowledge there was a chance she’d be rescued was the only thing keeping her sane all this time. Dinah has gone through so much at such a young age, seriously...

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “I’m sorry it took so long.”

She shook her head, “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were trying hard and I set you up, so you’d go the way where your friends tried to kill you.  I shouldn’t have-“

“Hey, it’s okay.  It offered us the best chances in the end, right?”

She bobbed her head in a nod.

I’m so curious how good those chances were. So curious...

Now that things are over and maybe they’ll get an hour or two of respite, they’re planning to go get Skitter and Dinah some medical attention. They all step to the walkway, where they find Regent but Tattletale isn’t with him. Instead she’s hurrying towards the depths of the base, to where Noelle is sealed. Was sealed. The vaults are wide open and broken.

Whooops.

Things may not be pretty. I’m surprised this is the only thing that’s destroyed. If Noelle managed to bend one of the vault door, I’m kind of surprised she didn’t wreck more things along the way. What if...she’s still here in the base? What if she’s going to attack before the chapter ends? I’m worried, this already looks like they’ll need strength to deal with Noelle, and right now Skitter is not in a state to really do much fighting.

Tattletale says Calvert made sure Noelle heard the conversation somehow. So...Noelle must be rather upset Calvert never knew how to help her, and was just stringing the Travelers along. This doesn’t have to be bad for the Undersiders. It depends on what Noelle heard, pretty much, but if she heard from the start, then she should be aware Calvert wasn’t going to help her.

“On a scale of one to ten,” I asked, “Just how bad is this?”

“Let me answer your question with another question,” Tattletale said.  “You think we could convince the PRT to turn on the air raid sirens?”

Oh. That bad.

...

Brockton Bay doesn’t ever get a break, does it. Living in that city must be hell.

So that’s the end of the chapter. Doesn’t seem like the arc is ending yet, I wouldn’t be surprised if the next chapter is them starting to deal with the situation and trying to find out if the city will get obliterated again. Too bad talking with the Travelers to find out what’s wrong with Noelle isn’t an option. Either way, this update is getting longer than usual, so may as well end here!

Next time: in two updates

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

Worm 1.6 - In which we meet futuristic techno Dredd

II heard the cape arrive on his souped up motorcycle.  I didn’t want to be seen fleeing the scene of a fight, and risk being labeled one of the bad guys by yet another person, but I wasn’t about to get closer to the street either, in case Lung was feeling better.  Since there was nowhere to go, I just stayed put.  Just resting felt good.

Yeah it’s better you stay and try to explain what went down. Fleeing after all this..wouldn’t be a good look. And let’s try to stay far away from  the knocked-out fire demon while we’re at it.

If you’d asked me just a few hours ago about how I thought I would feel meeting a big name superhero, I would have used words like excited and giddy.  The reality was that I was almost too exhausted to care.

You have experienced a loooot of things just today girl. It’s not everyday you get into a life or death fight and then meet some people of dubious character, all in the span of like 20 minutes. Shame your first encounter with a bona-fide superhero is in a situation like this.

It looked as though he flew up onto the roof, but the six-foot long weapon the man held kind of jerked as he landed.  I was pretty sure I saw the tines of a grappling hook retreating back into the end of the weapon.  So this was what Armsmaster looked like in person, I thought.

Armsmaster! So...master of weapons? He seems to have a pretty badass one in one arm, which seems to have multiple uses. Good old Grappling Hooks! The way for grounded super heroes to keep up with flight-types!

The largest superhero organization in the world was the Protectorate, spanning Canada and the States, with ongoing talks about including Mexico in the deal.  It was a government sponsored league of superheroes with a base in each ‘cape city’.  That is, they had a team set up in each city with a sizable population of heroes and villains.  Brockton Bay’s team was officially ‘The Protectorate East-North-East’, and were headquartered in the floating, forcefield-shrouded island that you could see from the Boardwalk.  This guy, Armsmaster, was the guy in charge of the local team.  When the core group of the top Protectorate members from around Canada and the States assembled in that classic ‘v’ formation for the photo shoots, Armsmaster was one of the guys in the wings.  This was a guy who had his own action figures.  Poseable Armsmaster with interchangeable Halberd parts.

Wooaaah. So he’s a really big shot! Leader of the local Protectorate which seems to be this universe’s version of the Avengers/Justice League/big main hero organization. He lives in that badass flying fortess! And seems to be pretty marketable as well. Meeting him in the flesh like this in your first day, woah .

He really did look like a superhero, not like some guy in a costume.  It was an important distinction.  He wore body armor, dark blue with silver highlights, had a sharply angled v-shaped visor covering his eyes and nose.  With only the lower half of his face exposed, I could see a beard trimmed to trace the edges of his jaw.  If I had to judge, with only the lower half of his face to go by, I’d guess he was in his late twenties or early thirties.

High-tech superhero armor and professional gear! Sweet!

He’s giving me a mix of iron man and judge dredd vibes with that costume. Either way he seems to exude “veteran and skilled super” a lot.

His trademark and weapon was his Halberd, which was basically a spear with an axe head on the end, souped up with gadgets and the kind of technology you generally only saw in science fiction.  He was the kind of guy who appeared on magazine covers and did interviews on TV, so you could find almost anything about Armsmaster through various media, short of his secret identity.  I knew his weapon could cut through steel as though it was butter, that it had plasma injectors for stuff that the blade alone couldn’t cut and that he could fire off directed electromagnetic pulses to shut down forcefields and mechanical devices.

HE HAS A MASTER WEAPON WHICH CAN ACT AS ALL OF THE WEAPONS AT THE SAME TIME. THAT’S SO AWESOME

I knew he was gonna be technologically-focused, with that badass floating island and all!

A spear-axe hybrid strong enough to cut through steel, with plasma injectors and EMP blasts?? Fucking sweet.

“You gonna fight me?” He called out.

“I’m a good guy,” I said.

Stepping closer to me, he tilted his head, “You don’t look like one.”

Oof. That’s true. Miss looking-like-a-living-bug with dark colors and yellow lenses doesn’t seem very heroic at... all

Also I really like how that line was delivered for some reason. You don’t look like one

That stung, especially coming from him.  It was like Michael Jordan saying you sucked at basketball.  “That’s… not intentional,” I responded, not a little defensively, “I was more than halfway done putting the costume together when I realized it was already looking more edgy than I’d intended, and I couldn’t do anything about it by then.”

Your power is very hard to use in a kid-friendly way! You command a swarm of biting, stinging, maybe-venomous, maybe-flesh eating bugs! That grimdark look is actually apropiate

I wonder if this work will explore heroes who want to do good things but have characteristically “evil powers”. Taylor could easily be one!

There was a long pause.  Nervously, I turned my eyes from that opaque visor.  I glanced at his chest emblem, a silhouette of his visor in blue against a silver background, and was struck with the ridiculous thought that I had once owned a pair of underpants with his emblem on the front.

Pfft! Taylor your young fangirl self is adorable

Also gave me Deku flashbacks, as with the hero journals

“You’re telling the truth,” he said.  It was a definitive statement, which startled me.  I wanted to ask how he knew, but I wasn’t about to do or say anything that might change his mind. 

Lie-detector?? God his suit just has everything

I love technology based powers by the way. When a hero stacks himself up to the teeth in sweet tech it’s a sight to behold

He approached closer, looking me over as I sat there with my arms around my knees, he asked, “You need a hospital?”

“No,” I said. “Don’t think so.  I’m as surprised as you are.”

“You’re a new face,” he said.

“I haven’t even come up with a name yet.  You know how hard it is to come up with a bug-themed name that doesn’t make me sound like a supervillain or a complete dork?”

Hmm that’s true! Swarm sounds villanous, same with Plague, Sting, Hivemind, Pestilence...

Bug is probably too simple. (Insect) Queen maybe? Eh Queen is so general that it’s probably taken already. Control? Probably taken  and sounds villanous.

He chuckled, and it sounded warm, very normal, “I wouldn’t know.  I got into the game early enough that I didn’t have to worry about missing out on all of the good names.”

There was a pause in the conversation.  I suddenly felt awkward.  I don’t know why, but I admitted to him, “I almost died.”

“That’s why we have the Ward program,” he said.  There was no judgement in his tone, no pressure.  Just a statement.

Hmm, what is that? Some sort of superhero training?

I nodded, more to give a response than out of any agreement with the answer.  The Wards were the under-eighteen subdivision of the Protectorate, and Brockton Bay did have its own team of Wards, with the same naming convention as the Protectorate; The Wards East-North-East.  I had considered applying to join, but the notion of escaping the stresses of high school by flinging myself into a mess of teenage drama, adult oversight and schedules seemed self-defeating.

Oooh so it’s like the Teen Titans, and other young superhero groups! Young teenage superheroes! Nice!

Also yeah, that would probably be similar to school, and you wanted escapism with this. I don’t think you would get bullied though, but I understand your reticence.

“You get Lung?” I asked, to change the subject from the Wards.  I was pretty sure that he was obligated to try and induct new heroes into either the Protectorate or the Wards, depending on their age, to promote the whole agenda of organized heroes who are accountable for their actions, and I really didn’t want him to get on my case about joining.

He probably is obligated to ask, yeah. I suppose they don’t condone vigilantism. So changing the subject to the dragon man is probably a good idea!

“Lung was unconscious, beaten and battered when I arrived.  I pumped him full of tranquilizers to be safe and temporarily restrained him under a steel cage I welded to the sidewalk.  I’ll pick him up on my way back.”

“Good,” I said, “With him in jail, I’ll feel like I accomplished something today.  Only reason I started the fight was because I overheard him telling his men to shoot some kids.  Only realized later that he was talking about some other villains.”

Armsmaster turned to look at me.  So I told him, walking him through the fight in general, the arrival of the teenage bad guys, and their general descriptions.  Before I finished, he was pacing back and forth on the roof.

“These guys.  They knew I was coming?”

Yeeah that was a pretty epic misunderstanding there.

Also they probably knew you were coming thanks to the kinda-omniscient know-it-all in their team soooo yeah.

I nodded, once.  As much respect as I had for Armsmaster, I wasn’t in much of a mood to repeat myself.

“That explains a lot,” he said, staring off into the distance.  After a few moments, he went on to explain, “They’re slippery.  On those few occasions we do manage to get in a toe to toe fight with them, they either win, or they get away more or less unscathed, or both.  We know so little about them.  Grue and Hellhound were working on their own before they joined the group, so there’s some information there, but the other two?  They’re nonentities.  If the girl Tattletale has some way of detecting or tracking us, it would go a long way towards explaining why they’re doing as well as they are.”

Insteresting! So Regent and Tattletale are very well hidden! I imagine it must be easy for Tattletale to do so, but I still don’t know what Regent does... He’s definitely the most misterious of them all at the moment.

Heh, and he uses Hellhound for Bitch, he’s a hero so of course

It kind of surprised me to hear one of the top level heroes admitting to being anything less than perfectly on top of things.

“It’s funny,” I said, after a few moment’s thought, “They didn’t seem that hardcore.  Grue said they were kind of panicking when they heard Lung was coming after them, and they were casually joking around while the fight was going on.  Grue was making fun of Regent.”

“They said all this in front of you?” he asked.

I shrugged, “I think they thought I was helping them out.  The way Tattletale talked, I think she thought I was a bad guy too or something.”  With a touch of bitterness, I said, “Dunno, I guess it was the costume that led them to that assumption.”

“Could you have taken them in a fight?” Armsmaster asked me.

I started to shrug, and winced a little.  I was feeling a little sore in the shoulder, where I’d tumbled on the roof after being blasted by Lung’s flames.  I said, “Like you said, we don’t know a lot about them, but I think that girl with the dogs-”

“Hellhound,” Armsmaster said.

“I think she could have kicked my ass on her own, so no.  I probably couldn’t have fought them.”

Yeah they didn’t really seem evil per se, they were pretty nice to us! Maybe because they confused us for a villain...

And yeah I don’t think you could have beaten them. Of the two powers I sorta know of them, hellbeasts and kinda-omniscience beat bugs, I’m pretty sure. So yeah.

“Then count it as a good thing that they got the wrong impression,” Armsmaster said.

“I’ll try to look at it that way,” I said, struck by how he easily he was able to employ the whole ‘take a negative and turn it into a positive’ mindset I’d been trying to maintain.  I envied that.

Heroes tends to be more optimistic than most.

“That a girl,” he said, “And while we’re looking forward, we need to decide where we go from here.”

My heart sank.  I knew he was going to bring up the Wards again.

Yeaah and he’ll put you in an awkward spot again...

What do you want to do Taylor? Start as a standalone hero and then work your way up through your acts and deeds? Could you even do that and still be well-regarded by the Protectorate?

“Who gets the credit for Lung?”

Caught off guard, I looked up at him.  I started to speak, but he held up his hand.

“Hear me out.  What you’ve done tonight is spectacular.  You played a part in getting a major villain into custody.  You just need to consider the consequences.”

“Consequences,” I muttered, even as the word spectacular rang in my ears.

Oh, so he wants to talk about who gets the credit? Huh, didn’t expect that. It could be a good first step for her hero career, but it could also be dangerous to let villains know about her existence, especially if she’s going solo

“Lung has an extensive gang throughout Brockton Bay and neighboring cities.  More than that, he has two superpowered flunkies.  Oni Lee and Bakuda.”

I shook my head, “I know about Oni Lee, and Grue mentioned fighting him.  I’ve never heard of Bakuda.”

So he has two liutenants with powers! Oni Lee was mentioned before and now... Bakuda. Baku- makes me think explosions from Bakuha, so it could be explosions-based?

Seems to be a new member, anyways.

Armsmaster nodded, “Not surprising.  She’s new.  What we know about her is limited.  She made her first appearance and demonstration of her powers by way of a drawn out terrorism campaign against Cornell University.  Lung apparently recruited her and brought her to Brockton Bay after her plans were foiled by the New York Protectorate.  This is… something of a concern.”

Damn, terrorism against a University and a conforntation with the New York Protectorate? She seems to have some infamy even before joining

“What are her powers?”

“Are you aware of the Tinker classification?”

I started to shrug, but remembered my sore shoulder and nodded instead.  It was probably more polite, too.  I said, “Covers anyone with powers that give them an advanced grasp of science.  Lets them make technology years ahead of its time.  Ray guns, ice blasters, mechanized suits of armor, advanced computers.”

Oh sweet

So tinkers are the inventors, the tech-based superheroes who use futuristic technology and all kinds of high-specs gear, and that is their superpower?

Oh I love technology-based powers so much.

“Close enough,” Armsmaster said.  It struck me he would be a Tinker, if his Halberd and armor were any indication.  That, or he got his stuff from someone else.  He elaborated,  “Well, most Tinkers have a specialty or a special trick.  Something they’re particualrly good at or something that they can do, which other Tinkers can’t.  Bakuda’s specialty is bombs.”

I stared at him.  A woman with a power that let her make bombs that were technologically decades ahead of their time.  No wonder he saw it as a concern.

So Armsmaster is a tinker! Makes sense with his impossibly-amazing plasma spear-axe, lie detector and super armor. I suppose a tinker’s threat can vary a lot depending on prep time and current gear. I like them!

Super-advanced explosives? Oh boy, that sounds like potencially a fucking nightmare

“Now I want you to consider the danger involved in taking the credit for Lung’s capture.  Without a doubt, Oni Lee and Bakuda will be looking to accomplish two goals.  Freeing their boss and getting vengeance on the one responsible.  I suspect you’re now aware… these are scary people.  Scarier in some ways than their boss.”

“You’re saying I shouldn’t take the credit,” I said.

“I’m saying you have two options.  Option one is to join the Wards, where you’ll have support and protection in the event of an altercation.  Option two is to keep your head down.  Don’t take the credit.  Fly under the radar.”

Yeah I could see how Taylor could become the target of these two underlings, which would probably be more than she can handle.

So Armsmaster is offering her the possibilities of

a) Joining the teenage super-squad and take the credit for Lung or

b)Keep going solo but maintain your involvment in this a secret

I wasn’t prepared to make a decision like that.  Usually, I went to sleep at eleven or so, waking up at six thirty to get ready for my morning run.  At my best guess, it was somewhere between one and two in the morning.  I was emotionally exhausted from the highs and lows of the evening, and I could barely wrap my head around the complications and headaches that would come from joining the Wards, let alone having two insanely dangerous sociopaths coming after me. 

Aand one of those options is already giving Taylor a headache

On top of that, I wasn’t so ignorant as to miss Armsmaster’s motives. If I opted to not take the credit for Lung’s capture, Armsmaster would, I was sure.  I didn’t want to get on the bad side of a major player.

....True, politics could be at play here

Athough I don’t know if Taylor has just a bad view of power structures in general, considering she thought that autobiographical book she read was probably all propaganda

...Which could be true, and the whole system could be corrupt at least a little, and Armsmaster is offering her two options where he hopes he gets the credit and the glory

“Please keep my involvement in Lung’s capture secret,” I told him, painfully disappointed to have to say it, even as I knew it made the most sense.

He smiled, which I hadn’t expected.  He had a nice smile.  It made me think that he could win the hearts of a lot of women, whatever the top two-thirds of his face looked like.  “I think you’ll look back and see this was a smart decision,” Armsmaster said, turning to walk to the other end of the roof, “Call me at the PHQ if you’re ever in a pinch.” He stepped off the edge of the roof and dropped out of sight.

He seems very pleased at her decision, which reinforces my belief that he did want to get the credit after all. Or he’s happy she doesn’t get in trouble. Or both.

Armsmaster seems like an ok guy, probably a little vain, or glory-seeking, but in a way, all superheroes are a bit like that. I have defintely seen much worse examples.

You get a thumbs-up, cool plasma-spear man

Call me if you’re ever in a pinch.  He’d been saying, without openly admitting, that he owed me one.  He would take the lion’s share of the credit for Lung’s capture, but he owed me one.

Before I was all the way down the fire escape, I heard the thrum of his motorcycle, presumably carrying Lung towards a life of confinement. I could hope.

Oh true! Nice, you can call in a favour of a team leader of the superhero mega-alliance! Good start to your superhero career, Taylor!

And he just took away Lung so it seems she was indeed the push the situation needed to get him into custody! Yes!

It would take me a half hour to get home.  On the way, I would stop and pull on the sweatshirt and jeans I had hidden.  I knew my dad went to sleep even earlier than I did, and he slept like a log, so I had nothing to worry about as far as wrapping up the night.

It could have gone worse.  Strange as it sounds, those words were a security blanket I wrapped around myself to keep myself from dwelling on the fact that tomorrow was a school day.

It could have gone worse is a good mentality to have!

Let’s hope the three bitches aren’t too insufferable tomorrow.

[unavenged-robin]

Juxtaposition - 3

Part 1 + Part 2

Tim hadn’t meant anything by it, honestly. He just happened to stumble into the kid while having a camera in his hands, and that was all. It hadn’t been his fault if Damian was too busy drawing and didn't notice him: the brat was supposed to be a baby ninja, after all. Another thing he was not responsible for was Damian being... photogenic. He would never use the word cute, not even to save his own life.

Point is, the kid was sitting there, under a tree, surrounded by his pets - Titus' big head on his leg, Alfred the cat curled up by his feet - his head bent over an old sketchbook, and a look of total focus on his face, and Tim didn’t even think about it, he raised the camera to his eye and took the photo.

Click.

Damian lifted his head, looking annoyed but not surprised. So maybe he had known about Tim being there. Maybe he just hadn’t care enough.

“Taking photos of people without their explicit consent is a felony, Drake”, he said, narrowing his eyes at Tim. “I could report you and have you arrested.”

Tim snorted and plopped down on the grass in front of the kid.

It was such a beautiful day. The sun was warm over the skin and the wind was like a gentle caress on the face. Even the colors looked like they were happy to exist; they were so intense they seemed to vibrate under his stare: the blue was so blue the sky could’ve very well been the ocean, the green was so green the whole garden could’ve been just one, giant new leaf of a young tree.

And Damian, Damian was a spot of red and black in all that green, like a tiny ladybug resting in the grass, and his eyes were also the greenest green Tim had seen for a while. He had smiled at the kid with a contented heart.

“You happen to be a minor, brat”, he reminded him with a bit of teasing in his voice. “And I'm listed as one of your legal guardians. That means that, until you're eighteen, I can pretty much do whatever I want with you.”

Damian looked up from his sketchbook to squint at him. His cheeks were sun-kissed and his nose was getting too red under the warm light of the afternoon, and Tim remembers how in that moment he had the sudden, shattering realization that he felt a not insignificant amount of affection for his brother. And that had not been the only time he’s ever felt that way, but it had perhaps been the first one.

Damian had dismissed him without a second thought.

“You are not my legal guardian.”

“I am too.”

The words stayed there for a moment, lingering between them, then Damian had frowned at him, out of curiosity more than outrage, Tim thought, as he choose to believe him.

“Why?”, he asked.

Tim turned his eyes away, lifting his face to observe the branches of the tree above them swaying slowly in the wind. He didn’t want to ruin the quiet.

“Because this family is a mess and Bruce wants to be sure that, if he decides to go take another stroll in the past again, you won't be left on your own”, he explained anyway. It was both a surreal and a serious affair, and they both knew it.

Damian had considered it for a moment, gnawing pensively at the tip of his pencil.

“I won't be left with you anyway”, he decided with a shrug. “You would have to go through Grayson's body to get me.”

Tim remembers how he had laughed at that.

“Yeah, that's true”, he had said. “Neither of us need to worry about it.”

*

Tim stares at the ceiling of his own bedroom like he expects some kind of answer coming down from there, along with a few friendly spiders he’s never had the time to chase away.

That afternoon used to be a good memory, once upon a time. Now it comes at him at night, haunting him with its bitter taste of unforeseen omen, and Tim wonders if Damian ever thinks about it, if he remembers it as clearly as he does.

He hopes not. He hopes that, at least for the kid, it’s not ruined.

There’s still some good stuff attached to that memory, though. Damian had wanted that photo, marched down to this very apartment to get it. And Tim had developed the film just for him, showed him how to do it and pretended not to notice how invested Damian was. That had been nice too: teaching the kid something new, something harmless they both enjoyed. Damian had let Tim guide his hands through the various proceedings, he had even obeyed every instruction with a minimum amount of huffs and scoffs. That had been another good day.

Fast forward, Tim hadn’t been there for Damian’s eleventh birthday, but he had bought him a camera and asked Alfred to pack it up in the most childish, colourful wrapping paper he could find, and to give it to the brat when he looked less willingly to throw it away without even bothering to unwrap it. And of course he hadn’t expected much in return, but to his surprise Damian had actually texted him a short and very formal thank you. That meant the little gremlin had loved the gift. Tim had been happy about it.

Those memories still makes him smile, even if now they leave a bitter aftertaste on his lips. Nice moments like those had been a rare thing, little pearls lost in the sand of the constant fights, the misunderstandings, and the mutual disinterest.

And now the world was all chaos and fragile things, and none of them really know what to do. Not Damian, freshly deprived of the only two father figures he had ever known; not Tim, who had found himself responsible for him; and sure enough not Jason, who had just got himself trapped in the whole mess.

Tim sighs and gets out of bed. The clock radio on the nightstand marks four o'clock in the morning, but there's no way he’s going back to sleep tonight, he's sure of that. Better to make some tea and keep working on tomorrow’s case. At least that’s the plan when he gets into the kitchen.

He goes as far as to put some water on the heat, then the memories of that afternoon comes back to needle him. There must be a box somewhere, filled with the photos from the first film he had developed for Damian, the first photos the kid had ever took in his life, as far as Tim knows. And e hadn't told Damian this - of course he hadn’t - but he'd made copies for himself. At the time he hadn't even ask himself why: he had just wanted to do it, so he had gone and done it.

He finds the box tucked away on the highest shelf of his library, covered by a thin layer of dust. Housekeeping’s never been his strongest suit.

A faint gurgling from the kitchen reminds him of the tea he was making. Tim retrieves it, pushes some jasmine leaves into the hot cup, then goes and sits on the couch. He shoots a quick look at Damian's room, but the door is closed and no light seeps from under it, no noise comes from the other side. The boy should be asleep.

For some reason he can’t explain, Tim feels a pang of guilt as he opens the box.

Damian’s photos are all there and Tim picks them up with a smile. It's funny looking at his family through the kid's eyes: everyone looks a lot taller, everything seems bigger. It's a bit of a déjà-vu, because Tim remembers well enough how the world looks like on a child scale.

The first bunch of photos are reserved to Damian's pet, of course. Here’s Titus, sleeping on the library’s rug or sitting at Damian’s feet, and Alfred the cat curled up on the windowsill. There’s Batcow eating some grass in the back of their courtyard, Goliath with its wings spread out, getting ready to fly. Tim knows Damian misses them. He wish he could at least give them back to him but he has no space for pets in his apartment, and they can’t go home anyway.

He puts those photos aside, and the next one hits him like a fist in the stomach. Here, in front of him, there’s Dick. He's smiling down, his lips upturned, the affection so clear in his eyes. Tim tries to imagine whatever absurd excuse Damian had tried to made up to justify his wish to have a picture of him, and he can’t think of anything, but it’s pretty obvious that Dick had seen right through the kid.

Damian is the subject of the next photo. Even if it hadn't came up right after Dick's one, Tim would've known anyway that Dick was the one who took it. It's the expression on Damian's face to give it away, that little not-really-annoyed-but-pretending-to-be-anyway scowl that holds the same affection of Dick's smile. He can see that moment so clearly in his mind. How Dick would’ve said something like you can take a picture of me only if I can take a picture of you, and Damian would’ve rolled his eyes and then indulge the blackmail with a secret happiness.

He laughs heartily at the following four photos. They are a set of unfocused, very awkward selfies of Damian and Stephanie, with her being the head of the operation, since Damian's arms would be too short to even attempt it. Damian’s glaring in the first photo and openly laughing in the last one, and Stephanie had been quick, albeit a little imprecise, at capturing that moment. The result is a blurry picture with a very strange angle, but it’s still one of Tim’s favorite.

There are a lot of pictures of Bruce. At first they were taken from a distance, and they portray him from behind, or busy doing something else: bending over his desk to write a letter, sitting in the armchair reading a book, standing in the kitchen with Alfred sipping a tea. They all give the idea of stolen moments, even if Bruce had probably known what the kid was doing. Tim could see him playing along, waiting for Damian to decide what worked best for him.

And of course Damian had eventually decided to make Bruce a part of the new hobby. The other shots still have a formal setting, very different from the spontaneity of the photos of Dick and Stephanie, but Bruce smiles in almost all of them and there’s a complicity and a quiet happiness that makes Tim’s heart ache. He misses Bruce. And he can only imagine how much Damian’s missing him too, how all this time apart is affecting him, his memories, his relationship with Bruce.

Tim brushes a cold fingertip over the pictures and wishes he could fix, if not everything, at least some of it. They can’t have Dick back, but Bruce is still there, still alive, and breathing, and living a life that doesn’t include them anymore, and if anything, it hurts almost as much as believing him to be dead.

He takes a quick look at all the photos again and he wonders how it is possible that none of them ever realized how important those moments were, how much they would have missed them once they were gone. For all the unspoken things and the cruel past, for all the miscommunications and the fights and the bickering, the truth of what there used to be between them as a family it’s just there in his hands: it was love, love and nothing else.

He hopes that Damian can see it too.

He flips through the pictures one last time, and this time he’s forced to notice how there are no photos of himself, or of Jason, for that matter. It shouldn't have been unexpected, but it stings anyway, even if only a little bit.

Tim’s considering what to do with the photos, if put them in their box and hide it again, or leave everything here on the coffee table for Damian to find, when he hears soft footsteps behind his back and the decision is taken out of his hands.

“Hey”, he says when the kid circumnavigates the couch to come standing in front of him.

“Want some tea?”, Tim offers, lifting his own cup.

Damian shakes his head no and curls up next to Tim, tucking his bare feet under him. He looks still half asleep, which is kind of a blessing right now. Tim has a good feeling about how Damian will take the news of the existence of those illegitimate copies of his pictures, but you never know.

“Mine are still in my room back at home, I believe”, Damian whispers, as he reaches out for the box. Tim lets him have it, and watches him closely as the boy collects all the pictures in his hands.

“Alfred would never let anyone touch your room while you’re away”, he reassures him, and since Damian’s just got to the picture of Dick, he slings an arm around the boy’s shoulders and pulls him closer.

“We’re going to need an album for them”, he says gently. “Like one of those Alfred has back home. We can make a new family album or something. Show it to him once everything goes back to normal, you know?”

Damian nods as he leans against Tim’s chest. He’s still warm from the bed, and his hair is a mess, but also soft under Tim’s chin. He’s wearing one of Jason’s old shirt because for the second week in a row Tim forgot to do the laundry, and he smells like Dick’s aftershave because that’s what Jason’s using now.

Tim holds Damian a bit closer. They are all trying to pick up the pieces as best as they can. It’s not easy.

“We could go to the park tomorrow”, he adds, because why not. “Bring Jason with us. Take some new photos for your album. What do you say?”

Damian moves closer to him, eyes still transfixed on Dick’s face.

“Yes”, he answers softly. “I would like that.”

[wwounu]

To be honest… You were really against the idea of going out.

Things weren’t the same: Colours faded, smiles turned into blank images, conversations were like blank polaroids — you have no idea what the outcome will be — it seemed upside down. But maybe Seokmin was doing the right thing, he was never the type to leave someone alone at a rough time.

You huffed, re-reading each text with the male hoping what you were wearing was nice enough for him. Once the conversation got to the topic about your camera, you felt the weight of the world on top of you again.

Right, your camera.

One minute, you leave it aside to do a favour for a fellow student, and the next some asshole took it. Frankly, you wouldn’t mind to pick a ‘small’ fight with the said asshole, but that said, you didn’t know who this asshole was.

But with things being the way they were, almost a month coming and passing, there was a definite sign your camera wasn’t going to come back in your possession. You feel your lips tug at how pitiful the thought was; Even if those memories were still in that camera, you weren’t at complete peace with the absence of your camera.

Deep in your head, your mind finally alarms you that you arrived at the destination Seokmin wanted to meet you at. It was a nice place — you initially thought — cosy, radiating warmth and tender tones, the way the lamp light glowed on the building and the hanging lights on the leaves would make a great angle to take a picture—

“Oh.” A gasp left your lips. Discarding your train of thought, you slowly enter the home-like place, spotting the staircase to the rooftop. Although you hummed, you choose to ask the staff if it was fine to go up there, just in case Seokmin wasn’t doing anything else illegal.

To a greater extent, the staff were incredibly kind too. ‘Why haven’t I found this place ages ago? Seokmin never fails to surprise me…’ By the time that crossed you, a young male was gesturing you to the rooftop, allowing your leave. You thank the people and slowly make your way up the steel staircase, enjoying the deep clang ring each time you take a step.

Something within you began to bubble; It was the happiest feeling you felt in a long, long while. You had a good vibe about this, you could touch it. Grasping the cold metal of the door handle, you warily, but excitedly, open the entrance to the rooftop.

Except, it wasn’t what you had in mind. It was far off what you thought.

But oh, it was so much better.

A rooftop during a calm night, suitable decorations in darkened wood and painted whites to fill the space, the tables and chairs neatly set up that you could see the faint outline of the customers that had been here hours prior. The pretty vines hung off the arbors and crosshatched fences as tiny flowers were at the start of their bloom, and all around shades of green filled your sights among the white and browns.

The dangling fairy lights next to the vines blurred out from your vision, which was a perfect bokeh effect to take pictures, golds and yellows and creams gleaming like a galaxy within your reach. When the wind lightly blew, leaves followed its flow left to right, almost swaying around the floor which attracted you to watch.

And that, was where the heart of the surprise revealed itself to you. Parallel, was where he stood — He who wasn’t Seokmin, he who’s the asshole holding your camera, he who was the sick boy that hid behind a sicker smile, he who was practically killing himself dong what he loves. He who was, and is, Xu Minghao.

His lips moved, curving up as his brought the camera up to your face, welcoming you with that gentle voice.

“Surprise.”

Click.

When the flash died down, you stood there, breath-taken, as you try to understand what just happened. But before you ask, Minghao holds out his pointed finger and slightly jerks his head forward before it ran through his hair. “You might wanna turn around.”

As you turn around, another flash whitens your vision, temporarily blinding you before you see the wall behind you, stringing with photos and polaroids, telling different events and stories through pictures of you.

Astonished, you take one step back and shakily move your eyes one place to another as ghosts of memories cloud your memory — to good times, to bad times, the memorable ones to the throwback ones — you could also have familiar déjà vu looking at some of the photos somewhere… However your mind couldn’t pinpoint a specific time and place.

Repeating your steps (literally), you take another tiny step back and feel a figure behind you, wheezing out a tiny ‘oof’ before an earthy chuckle is followed after.

Without a thought, you turned to hug the male. You hugged him tight, hoping he would never slip through your grasp ever again. He returned the favour and held onto you longingly, nuzzling his cheek into your head like child to a teddybear.

Still, there was awkward tension when the both of you decided to let go of each other, hints of emptiness as you let loose.

“Y/N-“

“‘Hao-“

In unison, you both say. Another laugh passes, less awkward and more easier than the last, easing its way to the conversation.

“I have some things to say.” Minghao confesses. You do the same.

“Yeah. I do too. I’ll go first.” You clear your throat, now sat down next to Minghao on one of the benches as you fiddle with the plants. “I was too careless. It was hard for me as well because I was so self-centred and naggy to get the right shots that I never stopped to think about you. It’s toxic to look back at those photos and wonder how much pain you were in, how much burden you’d have to carry and execute it so well… I promised… I promised myself to get rid of those pictures… But I could never let myself do it, or anyone, but I feel so horrible knowing the true worth of these photos…” You were stuttering your words, “I’m sorry, Minghao, for everything I put you in—“

“Hey…” Minghao pulls you in by the waist, arms soon locking you in as stares at your downcast expression. “Hey, what are you apologising for? You have nothing to be sorry about, you were only trying to do what you needed to, nothing more. I’m the one at fault for not telling you, and now thinking about it, my fear of showing my face only made me seem arrogant and stupid. The more time I spent with you, the more my worries went away. The more I didn’t have to listen to that arrogant voice in my head and have your voice replace that was more than amazing. Every moment with you, I would always find small happiness — even behind a fake smile, that spark of joy could change everything. I love doing showcases, but I used to hate them because of the pain I’ll get the day after… But with you — when you came that night — everything felt less tense, I felt at peace, like the world wanted me to be happy that night.”

You believed his words, but you didn’t know how to say it. So you buried your head deeper under his coat and stayed in that position until you felt ready to talk again. It was as if Minghao could read your thoughts and would instantly respect that.

“How did you get the pictures?”

“I have my sources. One was through your friends, who were a bit annoying because they kept teasing me... They’re worse than the art students, honestly. Your camera, because I’d always take pictures of you whenever I got my hands on it… My phone and my camera, because when you aren’t looking during photoshoots I like to take secret shots, but I guess they aren’t secret anymore…”

“… Does that mean you’re the asshole who stole my camera?”

“Asshole? That’s a bit strong, Seok’ would never.”

“Seokmin stole it?!”

“Yeah, he was part of this plan too. Well, I kind of pressured him to get the camera but he had the choice not to, you know how he is though. I needed the camera to get the last pictures and voila! The wall is complete.”

“You’re so mean.”

“But Seokmin’s a hero, you have to admit.”

“Like I said, he never fails to surprise me…” You sigh, smiling sadly.

The wind blows between the both of you again and a chills send up your spine, bringing Minghao close to you as possible to avoid getting cold. You realise your actions not long after, letting go of Minghao and staring up at him with slight fear in your eyes, quick to apologise to him.

But even the subtle warm glow of faces could calm you down in a second — Maybe not faces, but Minghao’s everything was captivating, and you were taken away by the sight.

“Hey.” He laughs, raising his eyes and eyebrows before a smile crosses his face when he stares at you.

“Hey.”

Perhaps, all you had to do to see that genuine smile was to simply put the camera down.

OPPOSITES ATTRACT PART FIFTEEN — Model!Minghao x Photographer!Reader

hm... the teaser might be out tomorrow... or tonight (sigh what did i write i wrote it a 2:14am)

one • two • three • four • five • six • seven • eight • nine • nine ½ • ten • ten ½ • eleven • twelve • thirteen • fourteen • fifteen • sixteen

masterlist

[not-a-perfect-metaphor]

J2: body language (kissing/mouths)

So, I’ve been meaning to write this up for FAR too long in response to (well, no...inspired by) a comment from a dear friend of mine that was about a kiss between Jensen and Daneel posted on Instagram in late April.

First things first, though. I’m tagging this with the anti-wives tags, although really I’m going to do my best to stay generally positive and as objective as possible and stick to just outlining some facts (this post won’t contain a whole lot of my personal opinions is what I mean, besides the big obvious ones).

It’s also gonna be a long one...so heads up about that.

**********

Body language is such a fascinating topic, guys, it truly is, and yes we all know by now that I’m a bit obsessed with it. I admit it.

In the process of pursuing my psych. major, I studied body language + body psychotherapy pretty extensively, and it played a HUGE role in bringing me aboard ye olde J2 tinhat train.

In fact, my accidental (at first) body language observations of Jared & Jensen both together, separately, with friends/acquaintances/family/SPN-cast & crew/etc., and with their wives were singlehandedly responsible for convincing me to dig deeper into all of it in the first place.

So, basically put, the vast majority of us are well aware of body language cues, but not just the more obvious ones that we can consciously process through in our heads. We’re designed to intuitively understand/react to even the smallest of body language cues that can be as swift and subtle as a minuscule lift and lower of the eyebrows in a certain situation, although we often aren’t aware of WHY we’re experiencing the reactions we’re experiencing or even exactly WHAT we’re feeling some of the time.

So, take a thorough look at the following three pictures (really look at them, focus on the details).

Now, what you may or may not have just discovered is that the three pictures above contain so many negative body language cues that the result of examining them closely for longer than just a quick moment is a sensation of discomfort and ‘unpleasantness,’ to be kinda vague, despite there not being many blatant cues that are obvious enough to jump right out at everyone from the get-go.

But the emotional/sense-knowledge of the negative body language is much more widely accessible, especially since we’re talking a double whammy, here: the faces of all four specifically, faces being a huge part of how we all read people, and an act that’s associated with intimacy (kissing).

Let’s break down what we’re looking at, but first, here’s this picture:

It’s a textbook image used as a visual aid to depict positive facial body language specifically during a kiss.

Okay, but back to the first three pictures. That one is just a reference for compare & contrast purposes.

What’s going on in the J2 + Gen. and Dan. photos firstly is something called “tense mouth,” in all three photos actually although particularly in Jensen’s case (in both of the Jen. + Dan. pics). The pushed-together lips, the tightened jaw, these are both signs of emotional tension, anxiety/frustration, and the big one: emotional self-restraint (holding back one’s true feelings and/or thoughts). I don’t even need to explain, of course, how very very significant that is, and what’s popping into my head actually right now is the way one of my professors described this exact thing, which was a metaphor of the lips as a dam holding back the flood of truth.

Now, the pucker in and of itself.

I’m just going to toss in this screenshot which summarizes it perfectly, and that’s less writing for me :p.

And ask yourself this: outside of maybe those first few awkward teenage kisses and perhaps some from adulthood with either a brand new lover or with someone you maybe just didn’t feel super comfortable kissing, do you actually do the close-mouthed pucker with your significant other (or have you with a past S.O)? Nahh. No. Nope.

^^ excluding that “hello/goodbye” peck, of course.

The pucker is often part of “tense mouth” and holds a lot of the same meaning, but I’ll add that it can also signify indecision.

Okay, now the cheek kiss (that Jared + Gen. photo).

Cheek kisses can mean so many many different things, and I won’t overly discuss it simply because it’s less of a pattern for Jared to kiss Gen. on the cheek and more just something I’m using as an interesting example, whereas “tense mouth” absolutely is a pattern for Jensen when he’s kissing Daneel. Absolutely, 100%, undeniably so.

But the reason I chose this picture of Jared and Gen. is because it could quite literally be the textbook photo for “strictly platonic cheek kiss.” In every...single...way.

Middle of the cheek as opposed to close to the mouth or, even more indicative of sexuality/romance, the ear if you can believe it, completely puckered and pressed-together lips, and lastly, notice the angle of Jared’s neck. See that sharp lean? All that space?

I know this seems like more than any sane person could possibly have to say about three pictures *chuckles* and I’m actually having to reign myself in, which is just ridiculous, but I’ll try to wrap things up.

The following things are definitely important to consider when discussing/examining body language, so this will be a good way to conclude everything.

1. Patterns, like I mentioned above, & circumstances (whenever circumstances can be determined) are very significant for as-accurate-as-possible interpretations.

2. Negative body language between two people does not always mean that they hate or even dislike each other (it can mean that, yes, but certainly not always). I’m not stating any of my personal opinions here, either. I’m just pointing it out because the word “negative” has its connotations, but it can just as often mean that whoever is displaying the N.B.L cues is simply uncomfortable in the specific WAY they’re coexisting with another person, like for example: kissing someone they’re not sexually and/or romantically attracted to.

3. I’ve said it time and time again, and I’m saying it here too. Body language can be faked. Of course. Absolutely. And there isn’t a human being alive on this planet over the age of two who doesn’t know that to be 100% true from personal experience. However, that being said, there also isn’t a human being on this planet who’s capable of faking body language without slip-ups, and some kinds of body language really can’t be faked, for all intents and purposes anyway, mainly because we’re rarely (if ever) even aware that we’re doing it. How well we can mask our truths, the little ones and the big ones, can depend on something as seemingly small as whether or not we’re well-rested, and even under a perfect set of conditions, false body language cannot be maintained without fairly regular tells.

I obviously can’t ramble on forever, and I promised myself I’d keep this post strictly to the kisses, but I’ll have to write up a few more of these (and space ‘em out) that cover some SUPER significant J2 body language thoughts/observations/facts/etc., because seriously...when you start really seeing these things, it’s just...I don’t even know...It adds a WHOLE lot of dimension to just about everything.

Like microexpressions. That’s gonna be my next long body language post.

Here’s a great way to finish this that just hit me: remember what I said about the whole ‘mouth to ear’ thing? Well...we could create an entire tumblr just devoted to the Js constantly doing their amazing full-body-closeness, mouth right at the ear, private little laughy-lovey whispers *grins*.

Just sayin...

Edit: let me also add, because I’m realizing it might not have been clear, that I’m not making the above observations based only on these photos or only on photos in general *smiles*. I’m just using them (the particular photos in the post) as visual aids. And I don’t create posts like this lightly or without having put a lot of thought and time into what I’m writing about (usually topics I’ve been looking into and adding to bit by bit for a long while), because being accurate and thorough is very important to me when it comes to this kind of thing. Please feel free to message me with absolutely anything you’re wondering about (if you want more info on something or if you don’t understand something I said or if you have something to add...anything at all). Thanks, guys! All the love!!

[kpopfanfictrash]

Binary Star (Epilogue: Jaebum POV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jaebum / Mark

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2,131

Summary: “In some cases, these close binary systems can exchange mass, which may bring their evolution to stages that single stars cannot attain.”

You and Jaebum have been dating forever when Mark Tuan shows up in your classroom. You’ve always been against change - a bit debilitating, being a writer - but for some reason this new kid has you thinking there might be an upside to chaos.

Previous to this: [ Binary Star ]

Jaebum exhales, just to himself. Fiddling with his headphones, he flicks next on his playlist and starts to walk. He’s careful to keep his head low, hood up to mostly cover his face. Jaebum remembers when he used to think things like this were stupid. Wearing sunglasses at the airport, covering his hair – it’s not something anyone normal does. You might as well have a big, neon sign saying, ‘I’M FAMOUS.’ Jaebum is certain right now he sticks out like a sore thumb.

Pausing, Jaebum turns his volume lower. Where does that phrase come from, anyways? To stick out like a sore thumb. Opening a note in his phone, Jaebum jots this down – it might come in handy later, for a lyric. When he looks back up, no one is looking at him. Since becoming famous, Jaebum has learned the truth of the whole glasses and shades combo. If he dresses like this yes, people will look – but most of the time, they won’t identify him as Jaebum. They’ll just think him another punk kid, wandering through the airport.

After crossing security, Jaebum stops again. The most logical thing, would be for him to head straight towards the gate. This, or head for the airport lounge. It’s still early and while people might stare in the lounge, at least they won’t bother him. These thoughts are sidetracked, as Jaebum passes a bookstore. His footsteps slow, scanning the displays and Jaebum can’t stop himself from wandering in. It’s unavoidable, since airport book shops are his favorites. It’s so interesting to watch what people read when they’re waiting.

Jaebum wanders towards the back, pulling a book from the wall and reading its spine. He’s midway through the shelf when he hears giggling, loud behind him. Body freezing, Jaebum slowly turns his head. Over the spine of the book, he sees two women – both of them staring his way. One ducks immediately, giggling louder and Jaebum stops himself from rolling his eyes.

They’re fans, he reminds himself, sliding the book back on the shelf. Just fans – but then he pauses, because on second look, he recognizes them. Jaebum has seen their faces before, in other airports and upon realizing this, he quickly turns around. Fuck that. He can download the book on his phone, Jaebum reasons – no way is he getting stalked again.

Exiting the shop, Jaebum looks both ways and melts into the crowd. He tries not to run because if he does, the girls will spot him faster. From the sounds of their laughter, it sounds as though they’re not far behind. Jaebum closes his eyes, turning down another corridor. It’s annoying to him now – and thinking this, his heart sinks to his stomach. It’s always disheartening, to see yourself turn into someone else.

As he walks, Jaebum can’t help but think of you. Okay, not you, but a conversation you once had. It was a long time ago, lying on his bed in his parents’ house. Jaebum’s heart quickens, remembering the weight of your head in his lap, strands of your hair between his fingers. Fuck, it’s been a long time. It’s a bit ridiculous, he still remembers the touch of you.

It wasn’t so much that day, as the conversation you had. Jaebum was complaining about something – nothing new about that – and you were lying there, letting him vent.

“These people are so ungrateful,” Jaebum griped, scrolling down an article.

“Hm?” you exhaled, not looking up. You were reading – of course you were – and Jaebum had yet to prove himself worthy of your attention. “Who are ungrateful, where?”

“This band,” Jaebum huffed. The article was on a guitar player he loved, one who’d just posted to Twitter he’d no longer be taking photos in public with fans. “I mean, these people love him – they buy his music, put food on his table. They give him stupid amounts of money and he doesn’t want to hug a few, awkward teenagers? I don’t know.”

Lifting a brow, you set down your book. “Well,” you mused. “Think about it from his perspective, babe. Do you like it when people you don’t know come up and touch you on the street? He’s still a person, even if his job means a lot of people know him.”

Jaebum blinked, taken aback. He disliked PDA, even with people he knew – a fact you knew, and were using against him. “I,” he paused. “Well, no.”

“See?” you laughed. “It’s not that simple. We pay an artist for their art, for the joy that it brings. Anything more, I consider extra. Having a job doesn’t mean you sell yourself as a person,” you reminded him, words gentle. “Remember that, when you’re big and famous.”

Jaebum rolled his eyes then, but now he takes your words to heart. It’s okay to be himself, it’s okay to keep certain things to himself. It’s hard though, to identify the man he is now with the boy he used to be. It’s silly to think about you at all, Jaebum knows this. You’ve been gone to him for so long, and last he heard you were dating Mark. Jaebum can’t pretend he was happy, when he found that out. Still, though – he exhales, nodding once. Jaebum wants you to be happy, even if it can’t be with him.

Stopping before the lounge, Jaebum slides on his sunglasses. He pulls buds from his ears, shaking you from mind to push open the doors. The woman at the front looks up to greet him – freezing, when she sees his face. Jaebum’s stomach drops, since it’s clear that she recognizes him. She wears the same look they always do – surprise, followed by forced neutrality.

Jaebum merely smiles, handing over his passport. “Thank you,” he nods, when it’s handed back. Bowing slightly, Jaebum walks towards the elevators. He waits in the lobby, staring down at his phone – though he nearly drops this, when the doors open behind him. It’s them, the two girls from the bookstore and Jaebum ducks quickly inside the emergency stairwell. Better to arrive tired, then harassed and angry.

Taking the steps two at a time, Jaebum gets to the lounge breathless – just in time to see the elevator doors slide open, revealing the same two girls. One of their mouths drops, revealing too-bright teeth – and Jaebum makes a hard left turn. Scanning the room, he searches for a seat, preferably one far away from those girls. He’s looking around, fingers fumbling with his bag, when he sees you.

Everything freezes. There’s a pause, a long moment where the world seems to take a collective breath. Jaebum can’t help but think of song lyrics, at times like this. The one playing right now is Hozier – Cherry Wine, one of his favorites.

I’m all but washed / in the tide of her breathing.

He feels washed, drowned just looking at you. It’s only when you breathe, chest rising and falling, that his does, too. You move first – or maybe that’s him – but somehow or other, you end up before him. Jaebum stares at you and, faced with your presence, it’s suddenly impossible to speak.

He’s thought about this moment a million times before. Jaebum has revised the words so often, thought about you for so long that to have you here, it all seems suddenly wrong. Everything he did for you, everything he wrote for you – Jaebum wants to tell you that. The first album, when he was heartbroken. The second album, when he was angry. The third album, when he was healing and now – Jaebum pauses. Now, he’s writing the fourth album and doesn’t know where to go.

“Hi,” you say, managing to speak first.

Jaebum smiles, a shaky gesture. “Hi.”

You don’t meet his gaze for too long, glancing over his shoulder. “Your fan club?” you ask.

Fuck. “No,” he snorts. Angling his body, he moves so you no longer see them. “Never seen them before,” Jaebum states – a lie, but a white one. “How are you?”

Lifting a brow, it’s clear you don’t believe him. “I’m great.”

Stomach dropping, Jaebum nods. That’s good – you should be happy, you have every right to be. Jaebum isn’t happy, though. Jaebum isn’t doing great. He forces himself to smile in return though, to nod when you attempt to walk past. This is it, this is the end of your conversation. Thinking this, causes Jaebum to choke – it can’t end like this, it just can’t.

He turns around, to find you already staring. “I’m actually on my way to New York City,” you blurt. “I’m meeting a publisher about a book proposal I have.”

“Really?” Jaebum smiles, astonished. You’ve wanted this for so long. To hear you getting this, dreams finally coming true – it makes Jaebum happy, happier than he’s been in a long time. “That’s fantastic, Y/N. Expected, of course,” he laughs, looking down, “but fantastic. You did it – I always knew you could. That you would,” he corrects himself.

“It kinds of feels like a dream,” you admit, soft.

“Hm.” Jaebum doesn’t say more, since he agrees. This feels like a dream, you feel like a dream – but of course, he can’t say that. You wouldn’t want to hear it, for one, and then there’s the small matter of Mark. Mark, your boyfriend, the man who won your heart fair and square.

No. Jaebum stops himself. Mark didn’t win anything – the two of you didn’t work out, that’s all.

“What?” you ask, squinting suspiciously. “What do you want to ask?”

Jaebum bites his lip to keep from laughing. “I guess you still know me,” he murmurs, then frowns. “Is Mark here, too?”

There – he’s said it. Said that name, his name, out loud. Mark’s name used to swim in his thoughts, chase Jaebum’s when he tried to fall asleep. Thoughts about you, about him, together – it used to drive Jaebum crazy.

“Ah,” you respond, uncertain. “You know about Mark?”

Jaebum is having difficulty deciphering your expression. You didn’t used to be this closed off. He wonders if you look guilty, nervous – then his stomach sinks, realizing you must know about him. Jaebum’s relationship are front page news, of course you would know. He stares silently, thinking about all the girls he’s led on. The girls he’s hurt, trying to find out what he wanted. Jaebum has a reputation now, and not a very good one. He wonders if you believe it, wonders if you care.

Jaebum tilts his head, then nods. “Jackson told me when you two started dating,” he informs, remembering it well. “Where do you think our sophomore album came from?”

Now you’re the one staring, and Jaebum wonders why. Perhaps he’s said too much, been too honest. You’re looking at him like he’s grown three heads, and Jaebum feels his cheeks start to flush.

“I didn’t realize,” you swallow, then blink. “I – that’s a lot. But to answer your question, no – Mark isn’t here. He lives in New York. We’ll probably get lunch while I’m there.”

A strange sort of buzzing fills Jaebum’s ears. “Just lunch?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Lunch. That’s what friends do.”

It’s the second time today, Jaebum’s world has stopped turning. “Just friends?” he repeats, an attempt at confirmation. This can’t be – it can’t, because if it’s true… Jaebum stops himself, before that thought runs free.

“Just friends,” you agree, gaze curious. “Mark and I broke up after college. He went to medical school and I started writing. Somehow, we just made more sense as friends than boyfriend and girlfriend.”

There’s a pause, while Jaebum can think of nothing to say. Or rather – he can think of too many things, and they all choke his thoughts. His sentences make no sense, crammed with words that mean nothing and force him silent.

“Anyways,” you blush, looking down at your phone. “I should probably go.”

You’re leaving. The shock of this spurs Jaebum to action, barely a moment before he grabs hold of your elbow. “Wait,” he blurts, somewhat breathless. “If you… I mean, do you have time before your flight?”

He can’t watch you walk away – not again. Not now. The next moment is the longest of his life. Jaebum stares, and sees that you’re older. Older, yet also the same. In every way that matters, he still knows you. In the ways he doesn’t, he’d like to. You’re still staring at his hand, until you lift gaze to his. “Why?” you ask, slight tremor to your voice. “What do you have in mind?”

Jaebum smiles, hardly daring to breathe. “Everything. Anything.”

[ Master List ]

Author’s Note: happy birthday, Jaebum <3

[penelopelovesalvez]

A Lucky Night- Chapter 2

Here is my multi-chapter pic featuring characters I do not own from Criminal Minds, Alvez x Garcia, in a story of my own creation. It picks up at the end of 13.5.

Warning: Some chapters contain smut. While many do not, the ones that do are definitely 18+, NSFW.

Please feel free to re-blog and review! Please ask for permission before posting on any other platform.

Chapter 2

Luke chuckled, shaking his head as he closed her door and rounded the truck. It never failed to cause his heart rate to speed up a bit when she got her fiery side up. The Chica might have some hot Latina blood in her after all, Swedish blonde looks aside. And what he wouldn’t give to have her call him Daddy, or Papi rather, in another context.

Luke leveraged the heavy steel door, and pulled himself up into the cab next to her. “So, it’s back to Newbie, is it Chica? I thought we were past that, Penelope?” Luke asked, half teasing, half serious. He turned the key in the ignition, and the truck rumbled to life. His gaze slid back over to her as he fastened his own seatbelt. The sound of her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine. She secretly loved when he called her Chica, but there was something intrinsically sensual- some hidden erotic promise- in the way her first name sounded on the rare occasion he used it. Perhaps it was partially because he seemed to only ever call her Penelope when they were alone. With the rest of the team it was usually Garcia, or Chica when he was being playful.

Turning towards him, she rolled her eyes and retorted, “Yeah, well, that was when you had earned your way into my good graces, mister! However, your charming chivalry just crossed a line into condescending. Even my natural generosity and magnanimity has limits,” Penelope said with a flick of her head that sent her blonde curls bouncing.

Penelope defiantly bit her lip and saw to her own seatbelt, unaware that Luke watched intently as she pulled on it, drawing it across her body and slid the fastener into the buckle. She sighed in frustration when she slid it into the slot, but it wouldn’t catch. She stiffened as his long, tan fingers curled around her slender ones, helping her tilt the fastener to the proper angle and setting it into the buckle so it caught this time.

Luke watched Penelope’s cheeks turn red again. He wondered: had he made her angry? Or was she perhaps blushing, affected by the brush of their hands as he was?

Luke flicked the radio on, as he turned the wheel and pulled the truck out of the parking garage and onto the road, headed towards his house, and her apartment beyond that. He responded to the statement she’d just made. “Well, hermosa, if taking care of you keeps me out of your good graces I suppose I’ll just have to get used to hearing Newbie,” he said with a heavy sigh. Even though he loved the way “Luke” sounded on her lips, he grumbled to himself. He wouldn’t take chances with her life, and he couldn’t seem to reign in his natural inclination to be protective and care for this woman.

The urge had only grown over time, not subsided, especially after their time in the field, and after hearing about what she’d gone through ten years ago. Just thinking again of her being shot… of the way just the reminder of the incident had sent her fleeing from the room and caused any trace of her normal brilliant smile to vanish… caused his hands to tighten on the steering well until his knuckles went entirely white. Some part of his brain registered that the radio was now playing a fairly suggestive song.. “Sweat dripping down our dirty laundry… No, no chance that I'm leaving here without you on me..I, I know, yeah, I already know that there ain't no stopping your plans and those slow hands…” He realized the suggestiveness of the lyrics just at the moment that he realized that he was unconsciously singing along in his low, gravelly baritone. He fell silent abruptly, his head snapping to look at Garcia’s face in time to see her biting on her full, lower lip… her cheeks flushing to match her crimson lipstick as she peered at him from under her eyelashes out of the corner of her eyes.

Penelope couldn’t believe that she was sitting next to Luke “Living Breathing Sex God” Alvez, and he was literally singing some of the most arousing lyrics currently gracing the Billboard charts. And not only was he singing, but his voice literally made her ovaries hurt. He was an excellent singer, and the low voice mixed with that touch of raspy texture could bring any woman age 18 to 80 to their needs to thank God for making such a man and ask His forgiveness for the lusty things they wanted to do to him.

Luke drove in awkward silence, feeling the heat rise up the back of his neck. Before he could think of some way to divert her attention from the awkwardness of the moment, he realized he was about to drive right past the turn for his house. Slamming on the brakes and throwing out a hand in front of her chest to keep her from being thrown forward, he turned the steering wheel hard right, sending the truck around the corner… still going 10 or so miles an hour too fast. He heard Penelope gasp as he felt her breasts press firmly against his outstretched hand. He drew his arm back to his side of the truck as he slowed and pulled into his driveway, once again forcing both the vehicle and his wandering thoughts back under control.

Garcia drew in a sharp breath, shocked that her sinful thoughts had literally been interrupted by the man inadvertently groping her as he tried to keep her from flying forward into the dash. “What in the Sam Hill newbie??! This isn’t the Fast and the Furious, Toretto,” she barked at him, her hand belatedly flying up to grip the dash even though she was entirely secure in her seat.

Luke mumbled, “I’m sorry about that, I almost forgot we were stopping. I didn’t mean to get so distracted…. It was… a long case, that’s it,“ Luke said, hoping she would accept his excuse, and let it drop there. And praying, for Christ’s sake, that she wouldn’t mention his baby-making music serenade…

The truck now firmly parked in the driveway, Luke jumped out and skirted around to the passenger side just in time to help Penelope out. Letting go of her hand quickly, afraid she might read the longing on his face, he closed her door behind her and led the way to his front door.

Penelope stood behind Luke, watching as he pulled his house key from the back pockets of his tight jeans that gave her a rather perfect view of his derriere…. “Focus Garcia! Snap out of it!” she thought to herself. Returning her attention to Luke’s movements as he unlocked his front door and stepped inside, flicking on the porch light as he held the door open, she followed him into his home for the first time.

Luke headed towards the bedroom. “Just let me grab a few things for Roxy and change into something more comfortable, and we can be on our way to your house before any of the other’s show up or the food is delivered,” Luke said over his shoulder. “Make yourself at home. Mi casa is yours, Chica.”

Roxy bounded in, and Penelope crouched down to pet her and give her kisses. Glancing up, she watched Luke disappear into his room, pushing the door behind him. It didn’t close quite all the way, and in the two-inch opening that remained, Penelope caught a glimpse of smooth, tan muscles rippling across Alvez’s back as he pulled off his shirt. “Now THAT is a sight that would give a corpse a heartbeat,” she thought to herself. Realizing she was staring, and practically drooling, Garcia straightened to her feet and strode quickly into the next room. Looking around the living room she found herself in, Penelope took advantage of her first glimpse at where Luke lived.

Reaching out, she flicked the light on and glanced around the room. It was a large room, and in one glance she could tell it suited him. It was spacious, not too cluttered. A large brown leather sofa dominated the wall across from the flat screen TV that hung above the mantle of the brick fireplace. The walls were a muted shade of the brick red color he favored. In the corner, between the fireplace and the French double doors that led to the backyard, lay a humongous denim dog bed, covered and surrounded by a variety of rope chews and dog toys. “He sure does know how to spoil that sweet dog,” she mused to herself.

Penelope strode over to the mantle above the fireplace, her platform heels echoing as she crossed the gorgeous hardware floor. Picking up a frame, she looked down at the lovely, smiling face of the elderly Hispanic woman she assumed to be his mother. She noticed the other woman was lovely, with such kind eyes. She glanced at the other photos arranged in frames: Luke holding Roxy as a puppy, Luke in his dress Army uniform, standing next to his mother at what was either his boot-camp graduation or some recognition ceremony, and lastly a pretty Hispanic woman next to a dashing blonde man, with two brunette girls in matching dresses- his nieces? Penelope set the frame down and spun away from the mantle quickly as she heard footsteps approach, lest he think she was snooping.

Luke stepped into the room, still wearing the dark jeans he’d sported at work but now wearing a tight-fitting cotton v-neck in the same reddish, brick color as the wall. “Hey Chica, I’ve got some stuff for Roxy. If you don’t mind I will feed her dinner at your place so we aren’t further delayed. Anything we need before we head over to your apartment?” Luke asked, pausing just inside the room.

Penelope walked towards him. “Of course! You can bring whatever Roxy needs for a night at my place. I think I have everything we might need before morning- there’s plenty of food on its way, I’ve got a well-stocked liquor cabinet, plenty of comfy seating. All that’s missing is us… I mean, all of us… the team.” Blushing at the intimate wording she’d accidentally slipped into, she continued, “Shall we go now, or are you not done primping yet pretty boy?” Garcia winced as she heard the harsh tone in her own voice. It wasn’t fair that she took out her frustration on Luke. It wasn’t his fault she got flustered, but after that slip of the tongue she needed to distance herself. She watched Luke shake his head, grinning, and sighed in relief. He didn’t seem offended at her sarcastic teasing.

Luke grinned, shaking his head at how easy it was to read her sometimes. Didn’t even take a trained profiler to see she was embarrassed. Taking advantage of her shameful inability to understand Spanish for one whose last name was Garcia, he dared to say what he wished were true. “Allright Chica, vámanos a su casa por nuestro primero noche a juntos.”

Luke shrugged into his leather jacket, grabbed the bag of items for Roxy and led the way to the front door, whistling for Roxy to follow. At the last second, he impulsively grabbed his go bag. He probably wouldn’t need it -not much chance of him making a move, especially with the whole team around. “Who knows if the blonde vixen would even go for me. But maybe with us all drinking I can use that as an excuse to crash on the couch and take Penelope to breakfast in the morning. In the off chance I get an opening, I might appreciate the extra change of clothes, toothbrush and cologne,” he reasoned internally. Following Garcia out the front door, Roxy on her heels, het set the alarm and locked the deadbolt. Reaching the truck, he set the bags in the bed of the truck. He turned to Penelope and asked, “Shall I put Roxy in the back? I don’t want her getting hair all over your pretty dress…” He watched as her eyes widened in surprise a little at the compliment.

Penelope could hardly believe he was flirting with her, or at least complimenting her fashion sense. “Oh no, I don’t mind Roxy riding up with us. I mean, I’m sure that’s what she’s used to and a little dog hair won’t matter anyway. This dress isn’t all that nice. I mean, I was going to change into something more comfortable when we get home. I mean, when we get to my place,” she rambled. Luke couldn’t help but smirk at her awkward, nervous babbling. “What had gotten into her? Could she maybe be interested in him, as he is in her?” he dared to wonder.

Luke opened the truck door and patted the seat. Roxy jumped in, and then Luke once again helped Penelope into the car. Leaning down he placed his mouth close to her ear and half spoke, half growled, “I’d love to see you in something more comfortable when we get to your place.” Having revealed as much of his true desires as he dared, he closed the door and made his way back around to the driver’s side.

Garcia intentionally ignored him as he started the Toyota and backed out of the driveway and turned back onto the road towards her apartment. His words tumbled around inside her head, igniting desires and hopes she’d tried to suppress ever since the man had told her about “his girl Roxy who adored him” in the elevator on his first day in Quantico. She occupied herself petting and talking to Roxy, telling her what a good dog she was and nuzzling her neck. Luke watched her out of the corner of his ere as he drove, thinking wistfully that he’d like to trade places with his dog –that he was the recipient of her affectionate praises, the object of her gaze… that his neck was the one she nuzzled into contentedly. Luke rubbed his hand across his jaw, trying to regain his focus.

End Note: Spanish Translations.

Hermosa- Beautiful. 

Vámanos a su casa por nuestro primero noche a juntos- Let’s go to your place for our first night together. 

[do-u-ever-just]

All I Want For Christmas

Rated G.  2.6k words.  Sheith.  Mentioned Allurance.

Read on AO3

It had been a joke.  A funny, ironic, painfully cheesy joke. That’s all.  So, how did it turn out this way?

Shiro had seen it at the mall.  It was just one of those things he had spotted and had immediately done a double take because, seriously, could such a thing even exist?  Which, to someone who had battled in an intergalactic war and seen much, was really saying something.  

The colour, for one thing (mustard yellow and bright green?  Really?) was bad enough but the design was a whole different story.  The white stitching around the collar?  The disgusting little balls of fluff sewn in a string around the sleeves?  Was that really necessary, Shiro had to wonder.  The deformed sheep (not reindeer, sheep) dancing across the slogan wearing, what he had to assume, were Santa hats, but only looked more like odd horns coming off their heads.  Then there was the slogan, scrawled in cursive, stitched in hazardously (a design choice or the tailor was just uncoordinated, he’ll never know), reading across the chest at a most awkward angle.

“Fleece Navidad,” Shiro reads, holding the sleeve of the sweater between a thumb and forefinger, as if the sweater so ugly it might burst into flames any second, hoping to burn itself out of existence.

Shiro wouldn’t blame it.

“Wow.  That’s…bad,” Lance mutters, also staring at the sweater in wonderment, but not the usual kind of wonderment found on people’s faces this time of year.  This was stale wonderment.  A look of horror and unguided disgust.  “Coming from someone who lives for bad jokes and puns this is…this is the work of Krampus.”

Shiro laughs.

“You laugh, but it’s true!” Lance continues, now also holding the opposing sleeve of the offending sweater.  “This was obviously knit from the fur on Krampus’ back!  That’s the only explanation as to how this hellish object of the holiday exists!”

Shiro continues to laugh.

“Hang on, I gotta show this to Allura!” Lance whips out his smart phone, snapping a few photos from different angles, sending it off to his fiancé.  

Shiro adjusts the shopping bags in his hands while they wait on Allura’s response, trying to find a way to carry all of Lance’s bags, as well as the few of his own, in a way so they wouldn’t be hitting him in the calves with every step.  He couldn’t find one, so opted for just suffering in silence instead.  

Lance’s phone chimes, and he laughs at the message on screen, turning it around to show Shiro the animated vomiting cat sticker Allura had sent.  An appropriate choice.

“Haha, okay, okay,” Shiro starts to turn, rolling his shoulders.  They had been back on Earth for a few years now, yet he still found Christmas shopping to be far more strenuous than any of the training exercises Allura had put them through in the Castle of Lions.  “Are we ready to head home?”

“Yeah, yeah! Just one more stop!” Lance snaps out of his temporary state of rest, as he usually does, suddenly remembering their original task and speed-walks into the neighbouring jewellery store.  “I have a few necklaces on hold I gotta check out!”

“Are these for your sisters?”

“No, they have the cinema gift vouchers! These are for Allura!”

“Didn’t you already buy her the couch cushions? And the crystal vase? And I saw you sneaking out of a pet store before.”

Lance doesn’t hear him, however, already at the counter.  Shiro rolls his eyes, though smiles fondly as his friend looks over his options.  He can’t really blame Lance for wanting to take advantage of the festive season and shower his beloved in expensive gifts, especially when they’re so much more used to worrying about other more pressing matters than how many wrapped boxes should sit under the Christmas tree.

As Shiro waits outside, various bags at his feet, that horrible sweater manages to catch his eye again.  It seems so harmless from across the walkway, but Shiro can still remember how daring it had looked up close and how Allura had reacted to the garment.  So, with significant others in mind, he had to wonder, how would Keith react?

Keith was slow on social cues.  That hadn’t changed in the years they had grown and developed together.  He didn’t get jokes unless they were blatantly obvious, blunt and bad.  He never laughed at the more, well-crafted jokes, but give him a simple one-liner and he’d be giggling about it for weeks.  It was one of his more endearing qualities.

Yet, Shiro felt Keith would appreciate this little turn of phrase.  He liked Christmas carols after all, so was no stranger to the lyrics of the well-known folk song.  He’d hate the colours though.  Keith was a man of total habit, and black and red were still the only colours he had in his wardrobe to this day (aside from the white tux that hung carefully from a hook at the end of their closet, next to Shiro’s own).  

The little decorations would drive him over the edge the most, however.  The fluffy cotton balls would irritate him like dust irritates a cat. The fabric would itch around his neck and he would constantly complain about the impractical fit.  

In short, Keith would hate it.  He’d think Shiro an idiot for gifting it to him.  Still, Shiro knows Keith would laugh at the pun, poke fun at the design, torment over the contrasting colours, and do it all with a smile on his face. He’d grin and laugh and take the joke in stride.  

Now Shiro can’t get the image of Keith, happy and bubbling laughter pouring from his lips, out of his head.

Lance walks out twenty minutes later with not one, not two, but three jewellery cases.

“I couldn’t decide which one she’d look more beautiful in, as she’d look beautiful in them all, so I just got all three and oh my God you didn’t…” Lance trails off in utter horror as he eyes the bag Shiro is adding to the pile.  The shop’s logo plain and clean on the white paper bag.  The logo belonging to that horrible Christmas sweater’s home.

“It’s a gag gift for Keith,” Shiro explains.  Of all the people willing to see Keith suffer even for a moment, he figured Lance would be top of the list.  Their one-sided rivalry had never really faulted, merely put on the back-burner until light and benign moments like these.

“I will pay you all the money I have if you record his face when he opens that!”

“I’m sure Allura will be so pleased with her empty bank account.”

“I mean, she might be a little disappointed at first, but she’ll understand!”

Shiro hums in mild agreement as they make their way back to the car.

---

There’s no smell of gingerbread or candy canes when Shiro walks through the door, but he can see the glow of the fire from the foyer, and hears the faint chime of the piano music Keith has playing on their record player.  There’s no fairy lights strung up through the hallway, or tinsel over the banisters, but Shiro gives their small and modest Christmas tree a fond look as he makes his way into the living room.

Keith is lounging on the couch, tapping his foot to the music, a glass of red in one hand and a book in the other.  He looks so at peace, the fire light making his skin glow, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he blinks tiredly.  His hair braided down his scalp and ending in a little tuft at the back of his neck. He’s beautiful, and Shiro wants to kiss him.

So, he does.

“Back already?” Keith asks when their lips part, though leans in for another before Shiro can reply. Shiro smiles against his husband’s lips.

“Lance is an exhausting person to shop with,” Shiro says, straightening up and dumping his few bags on the adjacent arm chair, though makes sure to take a certain one with him to the couch.  “How do I forget that every year?”

“I have a feeling it’s something to do with his constant whining that he doesn’t know what to get Allura when, in fact, he does know.  He just can’t decide-“

“-and then ends up buying everything he picked for her anyway,” Shiro finishes.  

Keith smiles, marking his place in his book and gently placing it on the floor, his nearly empty glass with it.  “Was your own shopping trip successful?”

“I got presents for Hunk, picked up our cake for dinner with the Holts.  I managed to sneak away and get that new video game while Lance wasn’t looking.  Allura’s shoes are being back ordered but they should be here by Christmas.”

Keith nods at all this, a pinch forming between his brows.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you,” he begins.

Shiro hushes him with another peck to the lips before Keith can bury himself too deep under his own self-doubt.

“I told you, it doesn’t matter!  I know you don’t like crowds,” Shiro takes hold of Keith’s hands, silently marvelling at how small they are in comparison to his own.  “You do more than your fair share of Christmas preparation.  Shopping in a mall is a very small part of the holiday season.”

“But to leave you alone with Lance of all people?” Keith cocks his head, worry still imminent in his features, though an amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Shiro smiles back.

“I’ll admit, it’s hard. I fought valiantly.  Blood was shed.  Old wounds, re-opened.  I thought I might never see you again!”

Keith laughs as Shiro places a hand over his heart, faking deep battle wounds.  Lord knows, they’ve had enough first-hand experience.

“I’m so proud you came back to me,” Keith plays along.  He leans forward to gently cup Shiro’s face in his hands.  “Would my victor like his spoils now, or later?”

“How about both?” Shiro practically purrs as he leans in close.  

Their lips meet, and its sweet and soft and deep.  They’re both smiling wildly, their teeth clacking at awkward intervals, but as Shiro places his hands lightly on Keith’s waist and shuffles closer, he finds he doesn’t mind when Keith giggles against him and clutches his face even tighter.

When they’re done making out on the couch like teenagers, when Shiro has poured his own glass of red and settled back next to his partner, arm around Keith’s shoulders and the fire warming his socked toes, Keith takes notice of the bag sitting beside them so inconspicuously.

“What’s that?” he asks, sliding ever close to Shiro, despite being so close to him already.  Keith does that.  Again, creature of habit.

“Oh, right!  I got you something!”

Keith only looks confused as Shiro offers the bag over.  Keith is not familiar with apparel stores and what they might hold, beyond knowing the common department stores like Target or Walmart, so the logo is no giveaway to him as to what it could be.

“Do I open it now?” Keith takes the bag anyway.

Shiro had considered leaving it until Christmas day and placing the sweater under the tree alongside the rest of their gifts for each other, but figured this was too good of an opportunity to pass.

“Yeah!  It’s just something small I thought you’d like.  It made me think of you, so figured, why not?” Shiro doesn’t miss the way Keith’s fingers inexplicably tighten around the paper, crumpling it in his hold.

Keith is careful as he pulls apart the tissue paper, reaching in and pulling out the sweater. He places the bag on the ground, and unravels the travesty of clothing slowly, holding it up so he can look at the full thing in all of its horribly-designed glory.  Shiro waits with bated breath as Keith looks over the sweater, reads the writing on the front, notices everything from the scratchy wool it’s knitted out of to the fluff surrounding the sleeves and the bottom.  It feels like he could hear a pin drop in the room, even over the record still playing its soft tune in the background and the fire crackling in front of them.

Finally, Keith looks to Shiro, and grants him the largest grin ever seen.

“I love it!  Thank you!”

A record scratch echoes in Shiro’s ears, like something out of a cartoon.

“Shit, hang on,” Keith takes the sweater with him, carefully folded over his arm, as he walks over to the record player and flips the vinyl.  He takes his time placing the needle back at the beginning, so the music can continue to play.  

Keith returns hurriedly, sitting so close to Shiro he may as well have crawled into his lap.

“Shiro, you really didn’t have to!” Keith gushes again, still clutching the sweater, holding it up so he can look over it again.

Shiro is dumbfounded, left speechless, unsure of how to handle this turn of events.

“You don’t have to lie for my sake, Keith,” Shiro tries, nervously looking over Keith’s expression as his husband continues to study the absurd piece of clothing.

Keith turns to Shiro so their eyes lock.

“I’m not lying!  Why would I lie to you?  I love it, Takashi!  You said you thought of me when you saw this, that you’d think I’d like it, then went out of your way to get it for me.  How could I hate something like that?”

And Shiro can see that Keith is genuine.  It’s in the call of ‘Takashi’ that left his lips, in the light in his eyes that has nothing to do with the roaring fire.  It’s in the quirk of his smile and the hold of his shoulders.  Shiro is beginning to see how, to Keith, this is more than just a mere gift, and more a physical reminder that Shiro thinks of Keith when he’s not around.

Shiro thought he had all of Keith’s habits pinned down to the letter.  From his preferred sleeping position (spooning, Shiro the little spoon, pressed tightly against Keith’s chest all night long) to how he takes his tea (white, no sugar).  From how Keith dances when he’s sure no one is looking, to how he keeps his books, clothes and knives organised.  

Then something like this will happen, and Shiro has to relearn his husband all over again.

It’s never a bad thing, just another reminder that no matter how complacent Shiro is, Keith will continue to surprise him in the best of ways.  Even after the war has ended and peace has reined throughout the universe, even after years of therapy and finally allowing himself to settle down with the love of his life, Keith serves as a constant reminder that his life will never be boring.

“Really?  You love the sweater?” Shiro has to be sure.  Has to be certain this is not Keith playing his own prank.

“Yes!” Keith nods almost violently, his bangs bobbing and probably hitting him in the eyes as he does, but he remains steadfast in his decision of how amazing this sweater apparently is.

“Well, I’m glad.”

Because what else is he supposed to say?  ‘Haha you genuinely love a gift I was giving to you as a joke’?  He could never torment his husband that way, and besides, why would he ever want to take away the joy Keith has found in a gift Shiro gave, even if his intentions weren’t exactly pure?

Keith is standing now, pulling on the sweater over his shirt, despite it already being warm in the house.  He stands proudly there for Shiro when he’s done and has it settled over his collar, predictably already scratching at his neck.  Shiro grins, pulls Keith down next to him again, and slides their lips together again.  Keith kisses him warmly, sweetly, and when he reaches up to stroke Shiro’s jaw, the balls of fluff tickle and the wool irritates his skin, but Keith is happy, and that’s all Shiro could ever want for Christmas.

[regrettablewritings]

Dios Meme-o! (Rafael Barba Mini-Series, Pt. 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Rafael’s poisons of choice (coffee and scotch) could be divided up between day and night respectively. The coffee was for obvious reasons: To keep him awake and alert, to keep him going even when his work day was driving him to the brink of insanity (as it did all too often). The use of the scotch was also typically obvious: To drown out the stresses of the day, its trials hardly ever actually being over in the grand scheme of things. A cool down of sorts to balance out the caffeinated upper.

This evening, however? Rafael wasn’t sure exactly what the scotch was trying to boot off: the stress of the workday, or the revelation that he now appeared to have a small following? He decided the answer to be both as he took another sip of his drink. He wanted to believe that it was more so the former option but there was just something about the latter that made it stand so firmly in his mind.

Probably had something to do with the fact that even after the messages sent to him about his occupation and . . . tum (Rafael fought off the desire to shudder at the word), Carisi and Rollins continued to send him two more posts of a similar vein.

Where were they even specifically even getting all these? Rafael wondered. His eyes landed on his laptop.

Words and pictures travel fast, Rollins’ voice echoed. But just how fast was what Rafael wondered.

Against his better judgement, he committed a dangerous act born of morbid curiosity, enhanced by the slow but certain influx of bourbon into his system: He typed his own name into Google.

The first few results were what he expected: References to his past cases, articles on his most recent feats of interest, a handful of articles on his words at the most recent press conference.  

. . . Then there was what came after.

Rafael had heard about Tumblr, but not much if he had to be honest. Sites like Twitter or Facebook or other niche sites tended to be more of what he faced on a regular basis. But a site specifically platformed for blogging surprisingly did not cross his path as often as one might think. It therefore posed within him a sense of worry that the first time he would approach Tumblr would be because his name had become a tag on the site.

He was right to worry.

The deep blue background was offset by an assault on the eyes: text posts here, pictures there, gif sets of his past quotes to cameras before or after a court case, but mostly of him during his speech at the press conference.

His eyes weren’t sure where to look first, where to escape from first but no matter where he went, he’d always end up somewhere just as bizarre.

Some posts were weird –

“God those hands – like fricken’ face-huggers! I want them to smother me!!!” Without thinking, Rafael looked at his hands. He never really noted them as being big, per se. And despite the copious amounts of likes and reblogs featured in the notes section, and that nobody could even see them as they were now in real life, he couldn’t help but want to hide them.

At least three more Tum™ posts in either text or picture form with quadruple the notes and responses. In that moment, he began to strongly consider dieting and nearly opened up a new tab to research for that specific consideration.

“Lookit them veins in his hand. I wanna suck a hickey on them. Just slurp ‘em up like noodles.” . . . What?

Some were surprisingly nice, if not composed in a more bombastic way than what he felt was necessary or was used to –

“Oh, look at his tie!! I love that pattern!!” He had to admit, he himself was quite fond that the pink paisley tie they spoke of.

“Holy crap, you guys, he has green eyes! GREEN FREAKING EYES!!!” A little excited over something he’d considered uninteresting, but Rafael couldn’t stop the faint flutter of pride bubbling within him.

“His hair looks so smooth. He needs to be allowed to grow his hair out, he’d have beautiful long hair!” That made his lips purse. His hair hadn’t been long since high school, and even then it barely reached his shoulders. Frankly, his hair tended to get a little fluffy the longer it grew anyway.

“Handsome, dresses nicely, works hard, is a feminist – guys, I think I’m in love.” Yet another huge jump over something he didn’t consider to be too big of a deal. (But at least this person appeared to have decent standards.)

“Ok but it should be illegal to work a suit like that.” The self-importance fluttered a bit harder, both for the suggestion that he not only looked good, but for the fact that the ensembles he prided himself on were actually appreciated by complete strangers.

“Steal his look”, complete with clothes and accessories very similar to his own but for a fraction of the cost (how economic of them).

– Before dipping right back into weirdness . . .

“D.A. stands for ‘Dat Azz’” proclaimed Foodlemynoodle, who was ever so kind as to include a photo taken by the press of Rafael’s retreating form with a second picture edited to focus specifically on his ass.

“Barba looks like the type of guy who’s a stern lawyer in the streets but a spicy papi in the sheets <3.” There was so much wrong with that suggestion that Rafael didn’t know where to start.

“don’t you just wanna use his tie to tug him down and make out w/him?” The multiple notes responded all agreed. This worried Rafael, as tugging on someone’s tie could be very uncomfortable.

“I’d rather snap those suspenders tbqh,” came the response. Rafael grimaced, the memory of pain from previous accidental snappings becoming vivid for a brief moment.

“i want dat sloppy papi dick™,” announced one user, adding a gif of Spongebob Squarepants fervently licking a picture of Rafael that had been photoshopped into the original image.

It went on like this, growing increasingly more awkward and disconcerting by the scroll. It was only out of curiosity that Rafael kept going. That sick, masochistic curiosity and intrigue that compels someone to watch a train wreck or a distressingly bad YouTube video that gives you secondhand embarrassment. He’d just moved beyond what felt like the twentieth post about his “splendid tummy” when he’d come upon a post that wasn’t quite like the others in terms of text. It wasn’t crude or even necessarily complimentary per se but –

           “Get you a man who looks at you the way ADA Barba looks at his coffee ❤ lol jk   nobody’ll look like you like that just get ADA Barba.”

Included was the image of him at a coffee shop, receiving a cup of his favorite day drink, a rare smile gracing his features. Well. That was unnerving. Sure, he went to get coffee at an embarrassing and even likely unhealthy rate but for someone to have taken a picture of him at all while doing so was just . . . wrong.

One person called Ballr00mbombshell responded with, “Stale cinnamon roll, too jaded by this world.” This made Rafael’s brows pressed downward. Cinnamon roll? What did cinnamon rolls have to do with anything? As if his subconscious had directed him there, his sights landed on the tag section of the post:

#He was buying a cinnamon roll too!!, #such a cinnamon roll, #he probably needs something sweet if his job is dealing with such awful situations, #eat and drink on my sweet cinnamon roll son.

Okay, he thought as he moved his laptop further down his lap. Maybe I was better off not knowing . . . Wait. Cinnamon rolls. While never one to fully discriminate against foods, cinnamon rolls weren’t a thing Rafael normally got. Wait! He recognized that outfit! It was . . . It was the same damn one from the press conference! A trembling hand reached for his replenished glass of scotch and directed it to his lips, taking as hefty of a gulp as he possibly could without warranting a coughing fit.

Did he have a stalker? Already? Granted, after all his years in his field, he shouldn’t be so surprised by how fast fanaticism can rise and to what lengths. Should he tell Liv? She was so pissed the last time he avoided telling her about a threatening presence in his life . . .

As the burning liquid trickled down his throat, Rafael nearly paused it in its tracks. He realized one more thing: The angle of the photo. It was taken at the back of the shop, by the window judging by the looks of it. From the corner, he could just make out a barrel containing chips.

The girl with the Hello Kitty watercolor phone case!

An agitated grunt rumbled from Rafael’s chest and out of his mouth as the revelation became clear. He knew he wasn’t imagining things! Never before had the soft suggestion of watercolor and the innocent cuteness of a beloved children’s character worked together to produce such malcontent.

As tempting as it was to continue, the minor brush with the idea of being stalked mingled terribly with the alcohol in his disgruntled system. Rafael called it a night and tried to sleep decently.

The heavy presence of rounded stomachs and hand veins in his dreams made this out to be a difficult task.

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

Chatrooms (spencer reid x reader)

An: sooooooooooooooooo like heres the thing, Spencer is Daddy as fuck, and I am a whore for it, so enjoy this shitty smut about Spencer and an online dating chat room, and......yes.

DRRQ: does the raven really quoth  WUIV: waking up in Vegas  these are the screen names, because I am a whore for Edgar Allen poe, and I mean Spencer did wake up in Vegas for like...most of his life so..

Warnings: Smutt, Kink, internet sex, DD/LG 

tagging: @reid-my-fortune @dontshootmespence @bookofreid @reidbyers @reidoneshots

Groaning Spencer opened his eyes, sleep escaping him, it was rare after a case he could sleep for the first few nights, time zone changes did that to you, but tonight it seemed to be worse then ever. Sighing he opened his phone, seeing the time, he wondered if she would be on. Spencer was never one for online dating sites, but Garcia had simply installed the app on his phone as a way for him to meet friends, and if it became more then good, if he wanted to chat about smart science stuff then he had a way to, he had made a profile and had bumped into Garcia a few times, she would message a simple “Hello my pretty boy genius!” And that was fine, he wasn’t wholly embarrassed by his friends knowing he was on the app, Morgan would often poke fun at times nothing serious but he was an adult and it was harder to meet people in real life thanks to his job, so why not. His profile was simple, just a photo Garcia had taken of him that he found very well shot, he liked that you couldn’t really see his features, the sunset helping with that, his bio was simple, saying he was a Dr. The PH.D kind not the hospital kind, and he worked for the FBI, though many people seemed to on this site, being an app that went by location, it wasn’t a surprise people would lie and say they worked in the FBI or CIA, some he had seen claiming to be in the secrete service for the president, what ever worked for people he guessed. Sighing he scrolled through the photos of people on his homepage time line, no one had been on in hours, the last post from Garcia was her and Emily at post case drinks, shaking his head he smiled, scrolling he stopped on the name he had originally been searching for, the small green bubble indicating she was online, so she had the same insomnia type sleep schedule, clicking her name he smiled opening there messages. She had peeked his interest when she opened her first message with a science pick up line “are you made of Copper and Tellurium? Because you are CuTe” he had to admit that is was funny and very clever. After that the conversation seemed to just flow, he liked her humor and she often sent him photos that made him laugh, all of which never had her full face in them, she said her job was a dangerous one so he understood.

DTRRQ: Hey, shouldn’t you be asleep? He smiled typing back quickly WUIV: I should but sleep has run from me, and I should say the same to you, shouldn’t you be asleep? Healthy adults need about 7-8 hours every night…

DTRRQ: so are you not a healthy adult? Well you did tell me you take coffee with your sugar so… He snorted slightly, WUIV: Hey in theory that is one of the better bad habits to have.

DTRRQ: You know science says masturbation helps you sleep and can releases the good brain chemicals so you feel good too… Spencer felt his face flush as he looked at her message, she was correct but it caught him off guard at her forwardness WUIV: true, sex has the same effect… Man he was awkward…what would Morgan do when a girl would say that… DTRRQ: -sent photo- Spencer felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion, clicking the photo his eyes widened, it was her from an impressive photo angle her shirt pulled up enough to show the undersides of her breasts, she was on her knees, legs apart, her underwear on display DTRRQ: we could help each other out, because sleep sounds nice but also forgetting the bad from work sounds even better…. DTRRQ: if this is too forward I’m sorry, we can just go back to talking about other stuff… Spencer bit his lip, he felt his boxers tighten at the image, fuck it why not, they would never really meet, so why not. WUIV: no..no its…god its more then fine…I’ve never actually sexted before so…I don’t really It was true Spencer was never a fan of technology, DTRRQ: its easy, so if you were here, what would you do? Spencer bit his bottom lip thinking, if it was all anon then he had nothing to lose letting his own personal kink out WUIV: well, first I’d drag my fingers up your thighs, slowly, so very slowly, lean into your ear whispering “How bad do you want, daddies cock? Do you think kitten deserves it?” Spencer sighed, no one knew about his…well kink, he liked the DD/LG relationship, he had found that out on accident, a girl he had been with called him it during sex and he had never cum harder in his life, slowly he learned he fucking loved to have his partners call him daddy, he loved caring for them and fucking them senseless when the broke the rules, DTRRQ: -sent photo- Spencer opened it quick groaning at the sight, her hand was in her panties now discolored with her very obvious arousal. He set himself free gripping his shaft stroking himself slowly DTRRQ: fuck, please I’m so wet daddy, I want your cock. Spencer groaned his head going back slightly he wished he could hear her say that, WUIV: you want daddies cock, fucking you deeper each thrust, fuck,

DTRRQ: -sent a video- Spencers eyebrows shot up at that clicking play he almost came at the sight “Fuck daddy, please…please I want you to fuck me….fuck me till I can’t walk….fuck please can I cum…I need to cum” Spencer stroked his cock faster at her whimpers that finished the video, her hand was moving quickly as she fucked herself, he could only see her mouth but it was open and gasping out the words WUIV: fuck…cum…cum right now…all over daddies cock…like a good slut…like daddies good little whore. DTRRQ: -sent a video- Clicking play, he moaned as he fell over the edge, he could see her fingers moving fast to get her off Her moans loud, “Fuck….fuck…daddy I’m cumming! Fuck I’m cumming all over your cock….fuck please don’t stop…oh fuck….fuck!” Spencer watched her legs spasm and shake as she fell over the edge, her toes curling. His breathing was heavy as he came down from his climax, head back he sighed WUIV: wow….that was….holy fuck

DTRRQ: yeah….I don’t normally do that…but….holy fuck… The conversation slowly ended as they both decided sleep was much needed after that, though before that Spencer sent his own photo as a fair trade for her videos and photo. DTRRQ: holy….wow….so until next time then? If there is one? He smiled at that WUIV: only if you want there to be… DTRRQ: then until next time, sleep well…. DTRRQ: daddy. Spencer smiled locking his phone, that was the hottest most impulsive thing he’d ever done…and fuck he couldn’t wait till the next time.

[frangipanidownunder]

Character Study

For @allyinthekeyofx and her headcanon:  Season 11 Scully moves back in to the unremarkable house and William snaps an unexpected photo of them when he walks in to Mulder’s home office.

The last time she was in this room the floor was a mess of papers, scraps of notes, complex codes scrawled diagonally, grotesque drawings, random lines of poetry, photos ripped or curled or burnt, maps with dotted lines or flags or circles scrawled around anonymous towns, letters, some of them love letters, some the desperate ramblings of a brilliant mind lost to the cause or losing the battle. Mulder’s office. His place of refuge had become a sort of no-man’s-land where neither of them gave an inch and there could be no armistice.

           Now, she found herself stepping over a threshold once more. She seemed to have history in this department. She was always walking through doorways, either after him or away from him. This time she was determined that the doorway would lead to a life spent right by his side. Seeing his office uncluttered – neither by the gatherings of a quest indomitable, nor by the detritus of brilliance declining – was the best of starts.

People talk about a clean break, but that was not what happened here. It was dirty, the edges of things lost in the wake of two lives no longer in parallel. It was splintered and uneven and shredded. There was nothing clean about leaving Mulder. She had felt sullied for years. Maybe she always would. But the office, his nucleus, the heart and soul of him, there was a clarity here now, beyond the clean surfaces and shiny new laptop.

When Mulder made a commitment, he really dug in. He’d repainted the weatherboards. Fixed the flyscreens. Changed the curtains and blinds. He’d even rolled up the faded old carpet runner in the hall, she’d found it in the shed out the back, and in its place was a bright rug in a contemporary print. It was remarkable what a little love and attention could do.

And what having William home could do.

It was still new, this being a family.

The virus had left Mulder a breath away from death. How often had she wondered, if that breath had been stolen from him, would she have been as stoic without him for a second time? With no life growing in her, there was little to be stoic for. But when Mulder made a commitment, he really dug in. He came back to her breath by painful breath; he was all fluttering eyelids and trembling fingers and code blues. She was all hand squeezing and mattress thumping and midnight tears. Drama at hospital bedsides had become their bizarre theatre over the years.

And William. His tentative presence through their unfolding narrative was at once a comfort and a tragedy. What demons would he bear? He was the knight in shining armour, the hero of the hour, the literal life-donor for his father. How would he carry that burden? It was a question she asked daily and now she would be able to find out the answer. He was living with them. He was living with them. It was such an odd sensation to think it, to say, that it was worth mentioning twice.

It hardly seemed real when Mulder carried his backpack through the door. He’d looked around, shaken his head and said, ‘so this is home’.

Mulder had grinned and countered with an in-joke, ‘is it better than you expected, or better than you hoped?’

William shrugged and Scully shook her head at her feet and so it began.

She was researching an old case, something about spirit beings and ghost-eyed peoples, when Mulder came in.

           ‘I remember that case, Scully. The Appalachians, people freezing to death. Ciladaids.’

           She flipped the laptop shut. ‘I remember you being a self-absorbed jerk on that case. In fact, for that entire year, Mulder.’

           ‘Your inability to see the forest for the trees was staggering, as I recall. You took skepticism to code-red level.’

           She chuffed. ‘You certainly knew how to push my buttons.’

           He walked behind her and his hands kneaded the gristle in her shoulders. ‘You always were easy to ruffle if you weren’t sure of your status.’

           ‘My status was your partner, but you seemed to forget that.’

           His hands slipped lower, caressing her breasts through her shirt. She turned to kiss his stubbled cheek. ‘Now that I have been without you too many times, I can see that I was about to make the first biggest mistake of my life. But you saved me.’

           She stood up and leant in to him for a kiss. ‘Again.’

           He pulled her in for a deeper kiss. ‘Why are you wearing a suit, Scully?’

           ‘I thought you loved me in a suit?’

           He chuckled. ‘I’d love you in a butcher’s apron with desert boots, but you’re wearing too many clothes.’

           ‘Mulder, we have a child in the house now. We can’t just fuck in the study when we want.’

           ‘He won’t know.’

           ‘That’s not the point.’

           He nuzzled her neck and her nipples tightened. It really wasn’t the point. But she couldn’t remember what the point was because he was rubbing himself against her ass and it felt like heaven.

           The door opened and a flash of light exploded around them. William held the camera in front of him, wearing a grin that was a mixture of delight and horror.

           ‘Sorry! I thought I was going to catch Mulder hunched over the desk researching. I’m doing a project where we have to provide a single photo that summarises our parents’ lives. A sort of character study.’ He looked at the camera then swung it round to show them the screen.

           His arms were around her chest, her hands over his forearms. She was formal. He was casual. She was buttoned up. He was open. She was leaning at an awkward angle. He looked like he’d been interrupted. Like he was about to tell someone to fuck off. But the way he was holding her. The setting. Their one-ness.

           ‘Sorry,’ William said again. ‘I’ll delete it.’

           ‘No,’ she said. ‘Use it. It’s perfect.’

[taegdcl1018]

M [M.A.D.E. Series] Part 1 - Big Bang

Summary: Part M; They were losers until you helped them out. Then they become a little more than friends.

Genre: Angst

Warning: Swearing, mentions of suicide

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 300 FOLLOWERS!!! I’m so thankful for all of you. I’ll explain how this series is going to work out. So this is going to follow the MADE albums that came out in 2015, and i’m gonna post the parts out in order of the songs. So this one is Loser, and the next is Bae Bae. Anyways thank you so much for 300 I’m so thankfull!

~ Admin Brooklyn

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Honestly meeting them wasn’t exactly the most well thought out situation in the world. It was actually the most unexpected. It was either fate or coincidence that made it all happen. The random coincidence that you had to fill in for a coworker, making you late. Or fate that had decided that you should live on the same apartment floor as him. He was the first out of the five that you met. It all kinda happened fast, and honestly a little uneventful compared to the others.

When you first met Kwon Ji Yong you were tired, a little grumpy and honestly you really just wanted to cuddle up in bed with a pillow and rewatch old dramas. Ji Yong seemed agitated and frustrated, but also tired and gloomy. He was annoyed by all the people that followed him to his apartment. He was annoyed with all his unanswered text and calls. Above all else, he was most annoyed at himself. She wasn’t answering him cause he was a jackass. He decided that it was best to ignore her while he had her. He couldn’t focus on her when she needed it. Now that Ji Yong needs attention from her, she’s gone. Her love for him washed away.

You first saw Kwon Ji Yong in the apartment complex’s elevator. He wore a white bomber jacket with dark designs and photos printed on the fabric. He contrasted it with a black graphic T-shirt tucked into jeans patterned by splotches of light and dark blues. To top it all off he wore a single silver chain. You gave it to him. The man knew how to dress well. Out of everything he had going on with his outfit - the “TRUTH+DARE” tattoo he had on his neck and the sunglasses that was still worn inside the building- your attention was drawn to his hair and the little tattoo on the left side of his face.

His hair was handsome. Nobody could deny that black had a handsome and old-fashioned look to it. Although the style of his hair was pretty modern. All the hair on his face was slicked back, the side of his head was buzzed. What drew your attention the most was the little tattoo of a noose hanging from his left sideburn. It was small, but noticeable against his pale skin. Although the little tattoo probably held a darker meaning behind it, you couldn’t help but find some liking towards it.

The small elevator ride was awkward. You were worn out, and although he was very attractive, you couldn’t find the energy to give a single fuck of what you looked like in front of him. You knew your hair was messy and wild, but not the sexy kind of wild or the cute kind of messy. It’s the kind of wild that you stay away from because you know that if you get near the beast, it’ll kill you just to satisfy its bloodlust. It was the kind of messy that shows that your life isn’t exactly together. You knew that your work uniform had food stains on them. Due to customers that were either clumsy or rude or the occasional time when your luck had vanished for a single moment and you slipped. Your makeup felt old and worn, and you were sure that your exhaustion translated on your face.

The ding of the elevator seemed to wake you up from your tired daze. You snapped back to reality, quickly realizing that he left you in the elevator alone. You rushed out of the elevator and down the hall. You smiled in relief as you got to your apartment door. Your bland beige apartment door turned into your own gateway into Narnia. A huge sigh of relief left your lips as you slipped off your shoes, your feet aching from being on your feet all day. You slipped off your coat and hung it up before setting your purse down on a nearby countertop. You dug out your phone, setting it out in the open in case you get any calls, which was unlikely cause all of your friends were going out. Sluggishly you made your way towards your shower. Quickly checking for a towel you slipped out of your clothes and into the hot shower.

After your shower you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel, drying off than dressing in a loose fitting shirt and shorts. You made your way to your couch, collapsing on it and turning on the TV. You surfed the channels finding something to watch that was on, finally settling on a drama’s recent episode. Everything was calm and relaxing. The bright light of the TV shining on your face as you watched in the dark with a blanket over you. Your quiet peace was agitated as a faint crashing sound radiated into your apartment. You sat up alarmed, looking around your apartment, checking for anything that could’ve made that sound. When the sound happened again, this time with faint yelling.

You left the comfort of your couch and went towards the door. You opened it cautiously, looking down the hall. The plain hall had never seemed to fill you with this much anxiety as it did in this moment. The look of it was normal. Plain golden yellow walls, with light fixtures placed every ten feet, and the dark carpet that seemed to never stain. The sounds that echoed off the golden walls weren’t as normal. The sound of glass shattering, followed by the sound of a frustrated yell, and then lastly following it with a quiet sob that you almost missed.

You walked into the hall, not bothering to put on shoes. Your shirt moved loosely as you crept your way towards the noise. As you passed your neighbor's door, you wondered how they don’t hear the noise. It was loud enough for you to hear. Your question was answered as moaning emitted from the door. You cringed as you moved forward, wanting un-hear it. As you moved towards the next door, the sound of sounds crashing got louder, as well as the yelling. You stopped at the door. The plain brown door had the black numbers C16 on it. Two rooms away from yours. The door was slightly ajar, but you knocked just in case.

“Hello?” You asked it was dead silent. You pushed the door open a little bit, the hinges slightly squeaking. Light from the hallway flooded into the dark room. Your eyes widened at the broken lamp, glass surrounding the torn lamp shade. You looked around, your eyes stopping at the doorway that held a flickering light.

“Hello,” you say one more time. You watch your step as you walk pass the lamp shade. You focus on getting to doorway without stepping on something that could hurt you. You walk more broken lamps, as well as a few holes in the walls. As you step into the room, you see the man from the elevator. He laid on the floor, a baseball bat in his hand and a phone in front of him. All around him were broken pieces of furniture. The only two things that weren’t damaged were a chair and his TV, which was currently playing the drama you were watching.

“Are you ok-”

“Get out.” His words were blunt but quiet. You scoffed and looked down at him. Broken shards of glass and wood were scattered all over the floor. You frowned at him and crossed your arms. “No.”

“Miss, listen. I don’t know if you know who I am but-”

“I’m pretty sure I can assume, but it doesn’t matter.” You said. You’ve heard of him. Seen him once or twice in a magazine, but like you said, it doesn’t matter. He looked away from his phone and up at you.

His expression was just as emotionless as he looked you up and down. You had cleaned yourself up since your first impressions of one another, although you still didn’t love how he was seeing you. The angle he had on you and the clothes you were wearing were less than ideal.

“Now I’m gonna ask again, and this time, please answer. Are you okay?” Ji Yong looked at your expression, concern etched into your eyes. He shrugged and looked back at the phone. You sighed and looked at the chair. You can’t just leave him here like this. You sunk down to the floor, crossing your legs together.

“Okay then. What happened?” You asked. He stared at the phone. His heart tugged a little. He was an idiot. That’s what happened. He sighed once more, before turning his head to you.

“I messed up.” You look at him curiously, confused on what he did was so bad to cause all of this damage. “I’ve been messing up. I broke her heart and now she won’t take me back.”

You stare at him, and he looks back at the phone. The black screen seeming to haunt him with his own reflection. You nod your head slightly, starting to understand the situation. You stare off at the TV, trying to think of a solution. As you stare intently at the drama, you see the two main leads kiss. The guy pulling her in close and kissing her as a confession of his feelings. As this pulls your attention, you come up with a solution.

“I was just watching this drama at my place.” Ji Yong stared at you questioningly. He turned his head towards the TV. A quiet sniffle could be heard, and you look at Ji Yong his attention drawn to the couple. “It’s about time too. I’ve been waiting for a good whole season for this.”

“Yeah, she looked bad with the other guy anyways.” A smile crept it’s way onto your face as you heard his reasoning. You nod your head.

“My friend will be upset. She doesn’t like them together.”

“Why are we talking about this?” He was sitting up. Ji Yong was confused and you could see it on his face. He turned to you, eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, I’m not cupid and I can’t fix your relationship. I can distract you though. You know, help you get back on your feet from your break up.” He looked at you. You couldn’t read his emotions, but you knew that you were making so progress. At least you hoped you were. Ji Yong nodded his head, still staring at you.

“Let’s finish watching at my place. You know a place without broken glass on the floor.” He nodded his head again. He watched as you got up from the floor, brushing off any dirt off your oversized shirt. You looked pretty good, especially compared from your elevator look.

“What’s your name?”

“(Y/N)” you said. You extended your hand down for Ji Yong. He looked at it then back at you. He grabbed it and got up. As he stood you realized how tall he was. Your head ended up at the same height as his shoulder. You looked up at him and he looked down at you.

“You know who I am?”

“G Dragon, right? Although I don’t really get involved with pop culture.”

“That’s okay, honestly, I’m glad you don’t. Call me Ji Yong.”

~~~

   Next was the youngest. This one also had some issues with violence, but he was more direct than Ji Yong was. Once again you had decided to take another shift at your job as a waitress. Your boss didn’t seem to care, although nobody seemed to care about anybody at your job. It had been roughly a week after the incident involving Ji Yong when you met Seungri.

You were cleaning empty tables when you saw him through the window. Many things about him caught your attention. The platinum blonde hair, the all black clothing, the long pants and leather jacket in almost 90 degrees (30 in Celsius) weather. What mostly caught your attention was the death glare that he was giving. It was direct at this couple, who seemed more than happy with each other’s tongues down their throats.

At first, you didn’t want to get involved, having to deal with one emotional mess was enough for you. You continued to clean tables, just waiting for the end of your shift. You heard a frustrated groan on your last table. Alarmed you looked you, and immediately your eyes went to the blonde outside. His phone was in his hands, and he was glaring even harder at the girl with her man. You noticed how her hand lingered at her phone in her back pocket. Your eyes were wide as you watch the man as he got up and went to the girl.

You saw as the girl frowned when she saw him. You looked away before things got even more heated. You were just gonna finish your work, get paid, go home. That is all you were going to do. Until you heard something.

All the other workers heard it too. You could see the way their heads poked up from the things they were doing. Most of them had a confused expression, others had a poker face. You looked back out the window, noticing both the man and the girl missing from the scenery. A shout echoed through the building and you looked around. You moved towards the back entrance, hearing the sound of yelling getting louder. As you got closer the yelling became audible words that you could make out.

“It is not my fault that you can’t get your shit together.”

“I’m trying. I’ve been changing for you.”

“Really? Have you? Lee Seunghyun I doubt that you have been sober at least once this past week.”

“I’m sober right now!”

You felt awkward real fast as you got closer. You weren’t anywhere close to the door yet, but they were so loud.

“Seungri, I’m done with you. Okay? I moved on, accept it.” And with that, the shouting stopped. After a few seconds of silence, a frustrated yell was let out. You opened the door outside to see the man. The sun shined down on you, already making you hot. You watches as the man, the man who you guessed was Seungri, kick the black SUV next to him. Your eyes widened as he kicked again, causing the side mirror to snap off.

“Hey!” You say, catching his attention. He looks to you, anger clear on his face. Your eyebrows furrowed as concern started to fill you up. “Are you okay?”

“Everything is fucking peachy.” He gestured to the car. A frustrated groan left his lips, and he raked a hand through his hair. You watched, thinking through what you should do.

“Why are you even here?”

“Hate to break it to you, but you’re pretty loud when you’re upset.” He looked at you, obviously irritated. You sighed and tried once more. “I’m here because I wanna make sure you're okay.”

“Like I said cupcake, everything is peachy.” His words were harsh, but that didn’t stop you. You went to the BMW, looking at the license plate. You knew who’s car it was. Dave’s car. He’s a grade ass asshole and you couldn’t care less about the car anymore, but you still worried for him.

“Well, I’m just worried because not everybody can kick a car twice and still be ‘peachy’.” He looks at you then back at the ground. He leans against the car, holding his phone tightly in his hand.

“You don’t need to be worried about me. You don’t know me.” He had a point, you gave it to him. Ji Yong wasn’t like this at all; he just pouty and in denial. You stared at him, still wondering how the fuck he's wearing a jacket like that in this weather.

“True,” you said. He looked at you, just watching as you inch closer. “I don’t know you, but I know that it is hot as fuck and you’re wearing a leather jacket. I can’t do anything to help with you lady problems, but I can give you air conditioning and food.”

He looks at you, a little surprised. He looked at the door then at you. You looked at him expectantly. He couldn’t see a problem with getting, possibly free food and a place to cool down. He leaned off of the car and nodded his head.

“Okay I’ll go with you, but what’s your name? Or I could just call you cupcake.”

“My name is (Y/N). And I’m gonna guess that your name is Seungri.”

“Good guess, now take me to the free food.”

~~~

You spent about a good few days with Seungri. He seemed to be the fastest to pick up his problems, something you admired about him. After the youngest came the oldest, Choi Seunghyun. His problem was something you never expected to get in the middle of. Although you didn’t really expect meeting any of the boys.

You were working again, although it wasn’t your second shift. Once again it had been a coincidence that leads to you working the night shift, but it was fate that you had taken out the trash when you did. You had noticed the trash almost overflowing, so being the good person you are you took it out. The bag smelled horrible, and honestly, you just did it cause you didn’t want to get yelled at.

As you opened the door fresh air filled your nose. It was nice to get out of the restaurant. As you opened the trash bin you heard a sob. You looked around, not really noticing anything different of the alleyway. Seungri’s mess of his tantrum was long gone, the broken mirror picked up by Dave. After you threw the trash into the bin though, you heard it again. This time you took your time, looking for the source of it. That’s when you noticed a silhouette in the middle of the alley.

“Hello?” You called out. You crept closer to him, being careful just in case he was a murderer. As you got closer you noticed he was crouching, and wearing pjs. What freaked you out was that he was covered in blood. Your eyes widened. His sobs continued, his back shaking each time he let out a noise. Your heart broke, and you decided to step closer.

“Excuse me, sir.” He looked up at you, tears streaming down his face. His eyes were bloodshot. You noticed the blood covering his hands and parts of his face. Your eyes were full of concern stepping closer.

“Is everything alright? Are you hurt?” You asked cautiously. You looked at him, searching for a wound of some sort. He shook his head, sobs leaving his mouth again. His face contorted.

“No, no, no, no. Everything isn’t okay.” He said. He was broken, you could see it. Hell anyone could see it. You frowned. You didn’t see a cut or anything on him, but you wanted to make sure he was okay. At least physically okay.

“What happened?” He seemed lost at your question. He stared at the restaurant's wall, thinking about what happened.

“I did- I did something horrible. Something I shouldn’t have done. Something nobody should do.” Your eyebrows furrow at his vague description of the event that leads him to this state. As tears continued to stream down his face, you frowned out of concern.

“You did kill someone?” You asked. He shook his head but scoffed. You looked up at the moon. The sun had been long gone, leaving the sky dark with little stars acting as freckles on the dark sky. Honestly, you wished for this to be happening in the morning, a time of day where it wasn’t as scary out. You had to woman up though. If he wasn’t going to pick himself up then you could at least help.

“Are you hurt?” You asked, concern filling your eyes.

“You already asked that.”

“You didn’t answer.” He looked up at you. Your eyes were caring, yet stern. He looked just as broken as he was. He shook his head. Your eyebrows furrowed, putting one and one together. You looked at the blood staining his striped pajamas and bathrobe. “So the blood-”

“No, it’s not my blood.” His words seemed to echo in your head. You wanted to ask more, but you knew that you shouldn’t. It probably wasn’t the best thing to do in this situation. His eyes searched your face, watching the changes in emotion before it settled into a caring soft smile.

“That’s okay. You might wanna come inside though. It’s dark out, and if we stay any longer something bad might happen.” You started to say. He stared up at you, watching you like a little kid. His eyes were soft and innocent, and it hurt knowing he went through some kind of hell. “I think I can find you some spare clothes for you to change into. So we can clean you up. I can get you hot chocolate too.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding his head as well. He got up slowly, becoming his full height. You craned your neck to look up at him, and he craned his neck to look down at you. You grabbed his hand and lead him towards the back door.

“What’s your name?” He asked. His voice was deep, and for some reason, you never noticed just how deep until now.

“(Y/N). What’s yours?”

“Seunghyun. If you don’t mind me asking, but who’s clothes are you giving to me. I highly doubt that your clothes will fit me.”

“A coworker of mine has extra clothes. His name’s Dave. It’s nice to met you Seunghyun.”

~~~

Two weeks later you met Kang Daesung. Honestly, he seemed to make your heart ache the most. He wasn’t the most violent compared to the three other boys, which you liked. That didn’t mean that his heartbreak was easier than the others. Once again, coincidence leads you to this moment, and fate made it happen.

You stepped out of the gas station, a bag of sweets and sodas in your hand. You looked to your parked car at the far end of the parking lot. Your face contorted in confusion as you noticed something blocking your way to your car. Shouting could be heard, as well as a few screams. Your eyes widened as you realized what was going on.

“Hey!” You yelled. Five heads looked in your direction. They were all surrounding someone who was currently on the ground. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Leave lady. This isn’t your fight.”

“Why the hell do you think is a good reason to fight?” You asked, crossing your arms. You bravely walked closer to the boys. The one was still on the ground, shielding himself for protection.

“He kissed my girl.”

“And I’m sure she liked it more. Now leave, before I call the cops.” They boys look at each other, before leaving. As one of them passes the boy on the ground he spits. You glare at him, but don’t start anything. When they’re gone you rush towards the person on the ground. He had light brown hair, and bangs that covered his eyes.

“Are you okay? Where are you hurt?” You ask, bending down to check if there are any fatal injuries.

“They have my scarf.” He said. Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked around. Those boys were long gone now and if they had it there was a very small chance of getting it back. Squinting your eyes you make out something close to one of the cars. A bright white thing laid motionless on the ground.

“Is it white?” You asked. He nodded his head and you got up. You look down at him and extend your hand. “Come on. We’ll get it and then we can head to the car so I can clean you up.”

“Why are you helping me?” He asked, standing up. He winced as you pulled him up and your face contorted in concern. You walk him down to where you saw his scarf and then to your car.

“Well nobody else seemed too.” You said. He watched as you opened up your trunk. Light filled the car as the tiny lights on the ceiling lit up. You pulled out a first aid kit, opened it up and started pulling out rubbing alcohol.

“Do you just have this stuff on daily bases?”

“Do you always ask this many questions?” His cheeks started to get red and you laughed lightly. “Honestly I don’t, but the the number of times I’ve had to clean someone up and help them in the past month is surprising.”

“So you do this often?” He asks. You take out a cotton ball and put rubbing alcohol on it. Lightly you dab the cotton onto a cut on his forehead. He winced and you gave him an apologetic look.

“Often no, but recently people just seem to get hurt.” Once the side cotton started to turn red you took away the cotton and replaced it with a band aid. You brush his bangs back to where they were and you couldn’t even see the band aid. You gave him a satisfied smile and put away the first aid kit.

“Thank you.” He was looking down at the scarf. It was a nice scarf. It was white with red and green embroidery on it. It was pretty, even though it was dirty from hitting the ground one too many times.

“No problem,” you replied. You looked at him for a moment. Thinking through a decision you weren’t exactly sure of. “Do you wanna go for a ride?”

“What?” He asked, a little surprised. Honestly, you were too.

“Well, you seem like you need a distraction. Plus it’s a nice night out.” He stared at you. He looked down at his scarf thinking it through. He nodded his head and you smiled.

“Sure. I’m Daesung.”

“I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you.”

~~~

The last person you met was Dong Yongbae. Honestly, you are so happy you meet him when you did. Although the situation wasn’t exactly ideal, you were still happy to meet him when you did. Before anything got worse for him at least.

You were walking home, the sun shining down and a light breeze blowing through. It was nice. It was one of the cooler days this month. You enjoyed it, that is until you saw something unusual. There was a shadow of someone on the shadow of the roof of one the buildings. You look up and the shadow was right. Someone stood right on the edge of the building. Your eyes widened as you jumped to conclusions.

“Hi! Umm, what are you doing?” You shout to see if he can hear you. He looks down at you. You put a hand over your eyes to block out the sun, which was horribly blinding you.

“You don’t have to yell. Also, I think it’s pretty obvious on what I’m doing.” His words were blunt. You frowned and tilted your head.

“Why are you gonna jump then?” You ask. He was holding something in his hands, you couldn’t see what it was though. He looked at it, before twirling it in his hands. He looked at you and held it up, before dropping it to the ground. As it hit the ground a piece broke off of it. You went to go get it, retrieving it like a dog playing fetch. As you picked it up from off the ground you noticed that it was a cross with writing on it. You put the arm that broke off back on, reading the writing. ‘SIN WILL FIND YOU’.

“What happened to you to make you think like this?” You asked. When you looked up you saw a pair of legs dangling from the roof. He was sitting on the edge, relaxing up there.

“What makes you think something happened?” You scoffed.

“So you just want to commit suicide just for fun? Funny.” You said, sarcasm dripping from your last word.

“Something happened, okay? But why do you need to know about it?”

“I don’t need to know. I’d feel better if I didn’t have to witness someone dying over something that could be fixed.” You said. Your words were stuck in his head, although they weren’t exactly the most meaningful words you’ve ever said.

“Okay then, give me one good reason not to, and I won’t.” He said. He still sat on the edge. You thought about it, but then you finally said something.

“Well, you’re gonna die at some point and time anyways. Why not live first cause you’ll always have a chance to die anyways. Plus you’ll find a way to get out of whatever you’re in.” It was silent after your little spiel. He was obviously thinking about it. After a little while, you see his legs leave the edge.

“What’s your name?” You smile as you hear his question. Knowing that you’ve gotten your way.

“(Y/N). And you?”

“Youngbae. Hey, you wouldn’t mind if I come down and we go somewhere. Would you?”

“No, I would not.”

~~~

It has been roughly a week since you met Youngbae. It still bothered you a little. You met five guys within one month. all of which seem to have some sort of girl problem that leads them to do harmful things. Honestly, you were so worn out from the past week that you’ve decided not to care anymore.

You were currently working at the restaurant when you saw Ji Yong. The thing was if he wasn’t doing what he was doing you would’ve kept working. Money is something you might not love, but you need it for food, which you love. Ji Yong was currently laying down in the middle of an intersection wearing a fur coat in 90-degree weather. A car was right in front of him honking it’s horn, grabbing people's attention. You ran out of the restaurant and towards Ji Yong, having to push past people who were watching.

“Ji Yong, what are you doing?” You half yelled. He looked up at you. He has broken again, and you could see how bad it was. Your face softened but you were still upset.

“I’ve messed up.”

“Don’t we all.” You muttered. You look at him and extend a hand, waiting for him to take it. You look at him expectantly, the look at your hand. He grabs it and you help him up. You give an apologetic smile to the driver and push Ji Yong towards the restaurant, not letting his hand go.

“What were you doing? You could’ve gotten hurt.” You started to scold as you entered the restaurant. He looked at you, sitting down in one of the seats. “Are you okay Ji? What happened?”

“I’m a loser, a loner, a jackass covered in scars.” His vague answer made you smile. He’s always like this, and it was just as poetic as it was unnecessary. You sighed, a smile on your face.

“Well, Ji Yong, scars fade with time. Also, you’re not a loner if you’re alone, and I’m pretty sure I’m here for you. So there, two out of three problems solved.” You say. He stares at you, his expression was emotionless. He was studying your face, checking to make sure you were serious. After a little while, you see a soft smile forming on his face, causing one to land on yours.

“I guess you’re right. You are there for me.” You smile as the words left his lips.

“See, you’re not that much of a loser.”

[diamondsareapearlsbestfriend]

Sans/Toriel 30 Day OTP Challenge: Day Five

On AO3 | Day One | Day Two | Day Three | Day Four

day five: reminder

prompt: “What trinkets or items does each member of your OTP keep with them to remind them of their significant other? A gift? A photograph? Something else?"

"Miss Toriel?"

Toriel glances up from marking that morning's spelling test into the curious eyes of the only child still lingering at her desk, after all the others have rushed outside for recess. "Yes, Grant? Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh, um, it's nothing, really..." Grant shuffles his feet, suddenly shy as he ducks his head to hide behind thick brown bangs. Toriel waits patiently for him to work up the nerve, until the child reaches across her desk to point at something. "I just wondered – what's that?"

Toriel follows his finger, and smiles when she sees what he is pointing at: the smiling faces of herself and Sans, propped up in a picture frame next to her pencil holder. Well, most of their faces – in truth, it was not the best photo ever taken of the two of them, but it remained her favourite.

"That is Sans, my..." She hesitates, unsure whether it is strictly appropriate to explain the nature of their relationship on school grounds, before settling for: "dear friend."

"Your friend? You mean he's alive?" Grant's eyes widen, glancing fearfully at the photograph as though it might leap off the desk at any moment. "But...I thought skeletons were supposed to stay inside your body."

Toriel chuckles gently. "Very much so. You are correct, Grant – that is indeed the case for humans. But we monsters come in a great variety of shapes and species, and some, like Sans, happen to be skeletons. It is quite natural, and nothing for you to be afraid of, my child."

"Huh." Grant falls silent, considering this information. After a moment's hesitation, he continues: "My mom says...She says I have to stay away from monsters that look scary like that. She says we can't trust them."

"Does she, now?" Toriel steeples her hands under her chin, considering her response carefully. "Well, that is funny. Because I remember a time when there was nothing scarier to us monsters than a human."

She gasps as if she is afraid, pretending to hide her face behind her ears and making the child giggle. "Miss Toriel, don't be silly! I'd never hurt you – you're way bigger than me, anyway! I bet you could beat any human in a fight."

Looking into the child's wide, innocent eyes, Toriel cannot help but feel an ache in her soul, thinking of the truth Grant will one day come to learn. Sometimes, she still wishes she could protect him – protect all of them – from the harsh realities of their shared history, but she knows that would not be right. Only by acknowledging the mistakes of the past can they move towards a better future, and so she simply smiles fondly back at him.

"Perhaps that is true, Grant – not that I would ever dream of doing so, as you know, for violence is never the answer. But sometimes, it is the things that seem silly to others that frighten us the most. That is something monsters and humans have in common, is it not?"

Grant grins, a little bashful. "I mean, not all monsters are scary. You're nice and warm and fluffy, like a big, really smart dog. And obviously Stig is my friend, and so is Bob, and they're monsters, too..."

Toriel nods knowingly, as she recognises the first glimmers of understanding in his eyes. "And how wonderful it is, to have so many good friends. Tell me, Grant, are they your friends because of the way they look, or because of..."

"No, 'cause it's what's inside them that counts, Miss Toriel, I know," Grant interrupts, rolling his eyes; Toriel frowns a little at his tone, but she cannot help but smile all the same. "We learned that in, like, kindergarten. Whether they're nice and you have fun together and stuff like that."

"I am pleased to see you have been listening, Grant," she replies with a wink, as he leans over her desk to study the photo again.

"You guys look really happy," he says, thoughtfully. "I guess...if someone makes you happy, they're a good friend, right? Even if they look scary?"

Grant looks up at Toriel with hopeful eyes, and when she nods in approval, he breaks into a proud, toothy grin that lights up his little face and warms her own heart. There is no finer sight, she thinks - except perhaps the one contained in the photo sitting beside him. She reaches out to adjust the frame, her expression softening into a contented smile as her fingers hover for a second over fond memories, just before the bell goes.

"I could not have put it better myself, my child."

"Well. Here we are."

"Indeed! We are certainly, ah...here." Toriel cleared her throat, looking around at all the faces – some old, many new – assembled in the hall. "I must say, I never imagined that we would be meeting in such...unusual circumstances." 

"Heh – you and me both." It still felt so strange, even after everything that had happened, that the voice she had come to know so well had a name, and a face, grinning up at her. Yet, for as long as it had been since Toriel could recall seeing a skeleton, there was a certain warmth to his smile, the faint blue light in his empty eye sockets somehow reassuring her. "The kid did good in the end, huh?"

"Very good indeed," Toriel agreed, smiling as her chest swelled with pride and gratitude for Frisk, for everything the child had accomplished, and everything they had done for all the people gathered here. "To think, were it not for them, we might never have gotten the chance to meet in the flesh! Or, ah, bone, as it were," she added, with a nervous giggle.

Sans smiled – well, naturally his bone structure made it a little hard to tell when he wasn't smiling, but Toriel was almost certain it was wider than before as he winked at her. "Yeah, well. I told you I was nobody."

Toriel let out a snort of laughter at the old, familiar joke, and as Sans joined in suddenly she was back there – back telling jokes through the old forest door as though nothing had changed, and yet everything had. Because there was no door, no barrier – he was here, her friend, right beside her, and whatever it was that awaited them on the surface, Toriel realised she was certain of one thing: she would no longer have to face it alone.

"Ah, but you are not nobody, surely? You are Sans," she responded, returning the wink as she emphasised his name, as though tasting it for the first time. Short, sweet and succinct – it suited him down to the bone, she thought, unable to keep from smiling at her own joke as she filed it away for future use. "In that case, perhaps we should have something to remember this moment by, should we not? In honour of your becoming somebody – well, to me, at least."

"You saying the queen wants a selfie with me?" Sans' sockets widened for a moment, but she could tell he was not truly intimidated – as Toriel feared he might be, learning her true identity – by the playful gleam in his eye as he chuckled, reaching into his pocket. "Sure thing, Tori – just gimme a sec."

Never before had she gone so quickly from 'the queen' to 'Tori' – indeed, no one had called her the latter in decades, but it sounded so casual and natural, in Sans' pleasantly familiar laid-back monotone, that Toriel decided she rather liked it. He produced a phone from his pocket, and with a few taps she found herself looking at the top of Sans' skull and most of her own chin.

"Oh...right, heh." He turned his head briefly back to flash her a sheepish grin. "Maybe if I..."

"Ah, sorry – please do let me..."

They shuffled around each other, exchanging awkward smiles as their height disparity became increasingly apparent; Toriel tried her best to fit in the frame, bending her knees and lowering her head closer to his, while Sans held the phone out at various angles, even edging up on his tiptoes – for he was barely an inch taller than Frisk, and Toriel could not help but find it adorable, if inconvenient at the present moment – until eventually, they both appeared at least somewhat in the frame. 

"Okay – say 'goat's cheese'."

"Excuse me?"

The camera clicked a few times before she received a satisfactory response. Toriel straightened up as Sans flicked through the results, laughing a little and shaking his head.

"Wow, heh, that's...uh, something. Hey, we can always get Frisk to take one when they get back."

"May I see?" Toriel glanced over his shoulder and Sans held out the phone for her, her ear brushing against his skull as she leaned in. Upon seeing the picture, she too let out a laugh of delight.

Neither of them were looking at the camera; Sans was looking up towards Toriel – or as much of her had gotten in the shot – grinning at whatever she had been saying, her fangs bared in something that barely resembled a smile. The angle was awkward, they were pressed just a little too close together and meanwhile there was Undyne flexing in the background with the Royal Scientist – Alphys, that was her name – clinging onto her arm and looking equally terrified and delighted. 

Toriel smiled, excitement stirring in her soul as she thought about all the possibilities that lay ahead of them, beyond the barrier – they would, she hoped, have the opportunity to take better pictures. But none would ever be quite the same as this one, and somehow, seeing Sans' grin just as wide and foolish as her own, she was certain he felt the same.  

"It is perfect."

Sans wakes up with one too many dogs in his pocket.

"C'mon, buddy, go on, get out of there. No spare ribs here," he says, patting the white lump as it kicks its legs uselessly, having somehow managed to bury its face halfway inside his left pocket. After a brief struggle, the dog emerges with its prize – half a hot dog he doesn't even remember putting in there – as well as a whole bunch of junk, scattering everywhere as it gives itself a good shake before jumping off of Sans' lap and scampering away, victorious.

Sans yawns, bones cracking as he stretches and reluctantly lets himself slide off the bed and onto the floor, surrounded by various debris he'd been hanging onto either because he couldn't remember if it might have been important, or just hadn't gotten around to throwing it out. A deflated whoopee cushion; a matchbook from Grillby's from way back in the day before Grillby got sick of "certain people who think they're funny" asking if they could light up on his face; some old puzzle calibrations he'd probably never looked at; a crumpled equation that reads d = mc?? in handwriting he doesn't recognise. 

As he half-heartedly kicks most of the stuff under his bed – just in case – one neatly folded piece of paper catches his socket. Sans unfolds it, and smiles to himself as he glances over the familiar recipe for butterscotch-cinnamon pie, all lovingly detailed in Toriel's elegant cursive script (“cups of butter, not buttercups”). It's well-used, yellowed from age with a few splotches of what was once probably pie mix obscuring some of the writing.

Sans folds the recipe up again instead of just stuffing it away like he normally would, careful not to tear it as he strokes a finger absent-mindedly along the edges before placing it gently back in his right pocket.

It's not like he can get a paper cut, but if he could, it'd be worth it.

"Oh, pardon me – is this yours?"

"Huh?" Sans turned around, hanging back as they passed through the throne room to see Toriel holding up a piece of paper with a questioning look. “Oh, thanks, Tori – it's probably nothing...”

He realised too late what it was as Toriel unfolded the note, her eyebrows raising before she looked back at him with a surprised smile. “Goodness, Sans – you were carrying this around?”

Busted. “Heh, yeah, I guess I was...?” Not only was Door Lady the queen, turned out she was also really, really cute, which apparently was affecting Sans' ability to think of anything smart or funny to say as he scratched the back of his skull. “Sorry – been meaning to put that somewhere safer, but...”

"There is no need to be sorry! To be honest, I am quite flattered that my cooking has left such an impression on you." Toriel giggled, light and musical, as she folded the recipe neatly and handed it back to him. “But, where we are going, you will not need this old thing any more. I know this recipe like the back of my paw, and – should you ever need it – I would be more than happy to give you a...tu-Toriel.”

She brayed with laughter at her own joke, even more amazing and infectious in person than from behind the door, and Sans started to laugh too, slightly hysterical with relief and anticipation as it finally started to sink in that this was happening. Like some fairy tale, he'd found his Door Lady and now they were all heading to the surface, finally getting their happy ending...or something. It all seemed way too perfect to be real, but Sans had figured out by now that there was no point in worrying any more – he had to hold onto moments like these, no matter how long they lasted.

“Nice, nice – you know, Tori, I might just have to take you up on that sometime.”

“It would be my pleasure any time, Sans.” They exchanged final, nervous but excited, grins and Toriel nodded her head towards the door, where the others were waiting for them. “I will see you – as they say – on the other side!”

Sans pointed a finger-gun at her in acknowledgement as she hurried through the door to catch up with the others, before looking back at the paper still clutched in his other hand.

Maybe he wouldn't need it where they were going, but if he'd learned anything, it was that maybe wasn't always enough. Hands shaking just a little, Sans felt a strange, powerful sensation pulsing in his soul as he took a last look at the pie recipe before folding it how it was and placing it carefully back in his right pocket, the one that wasn't full of junk. If everything reset tomorrow, he had to remember this feeling – he had to remember her.

Sans let out a steady exhale, stuffing both hands back in his pockets as he prepared to join everyone – Papyrus, Toriel, Frisk, all the possibilities stretching ahead of them – and as he teleported his hand tightened reflexively around the note, just to be sure it came with him.

Just in case he ever needed a reminder.