#instead of gut reacting to signifiers

[holygroundgone]

I guess it just makes me sad. In mxtx's work and meatbun's 2ha there's ultimately this undercurrent with basically all the main couples of "i see you for who you are and i still love you for it, every part of you, even the 'ugly parts'" when those characters are frequently mentally ill and often toxic because of it, making what could be considered unforgivable mistakes

And of course from one angle you could consider that romanticization of unhealthy relationship dynamics but there's also this underlying sense of "even if i'm broken i want to do my best for you to love you and make you happy" that is so meaningful to me and resonates with my own experiences and frankly changes everything in my opinion

[xxthehighpriestesstarotxx]

pick a pile reading:

what do you need to hear right now

take a moment and choose the pile you feel most drawn to

for personal readings message me

my prices for readings are 1$ per tarot/oracle card and 50¢ per yes/no pendulum question.

pile 1 on the left, 2 on the middle, 3 on the right

pile 1

part of fortune - increase

the part of fortune card when pulled can indicate a time in your life where more abundance will flow into your life. part of fortune can symbolize good luck, things coming easily to you, happiness and having your needs met. it can also symbolize, fate, or karma, and serve as a reminder to be generous and kind to others. there is going to be a period of time where things will begin to fall into place for you. new opportunities will be coming your way as well.

3 of wands reversed

this card shows that you may have been working towards a goal, or just trying to move forward in your life, however you’ve been dealing with obstacles and delays that keep getting in your way that seem to be slowing you down instead of helping you move forward. don't rush yourself to overcome the roadblocks in your way and take of advantage of the time you have to start thinking about want you want to do and how you will achieve it, also planning ahead for these goals. change will be coming, but there still has to be work done before that happens.

king of cups

the king of cups represents having a balance of your heart and mind, being diplomatic, compassionate and having and sharing your wisdom with others. the king of cups can also show someone who is artistic and creatively gifted. go with your heart, and gut, but also be logical and smart when making your decisions.

death card

the death card is the end of a cycle. there may be a change coming, bringing new beginnings and a transformation in your life in someway. you can’t cling to the past and the things that are stopping you. this is a major transition that will happen, you might be worried or afraid of what’s to come, but let go of the past in order to fully focus on the present and future changes to come.

overall message

you probably have been struggling with things not going your way, and obstacles in your path, slowing you down from doing what you need to do and reaching your goals. take advantage of the time you have to work on yourself and your situation, to be able think about what you want. with hard work, and perseverance you will get through this situation. with the king of cups, try to balance your emotions and logic. sometimes we can tend to react emotionally to situations without thinking about it and analyzing it before making a decision, be mindful of keeping balance of both.

with the death card and the part of fortune card, a positive change is coming, possibly a karmic change. however, with the 3 of wands reversed, there is work that has to be put in, and it's important to plan and think ahead for what you want. you may also have to leave behind the things in your life that doesn't benefit you or is holding you back. the king of cups can signify that some emotional growth, learning to have balance of mind and heart is needed in order to move forward, as well as a symbol to be compassionate and kind. this change will be end of a phase or era in your life, and its going to be for your benefit and bring positive changes, good fortune, joy, and wellbeing.

pile 2

air element - communicating

the air element signs are analytical, intelligent, at times detached, but they love to be informed about the world around and them and the things they enjoy. being analytical and a thinker can lead to overthinking, and anxiety. when the air element card is pulled in a reading, this can be a sign that its time to communicate what you want, and go for it.

the hermit card

this card shows a time of isolation in a way where you withdraw yourself from your current situation in order to self reflect, find yourself, or looking for guidance. this time is important for you to look back and reflect on what it is that has been bothering you, or something you want to change in your life. you might feel like you need space to get away from the world around you, to have alone time to think and do soul searching. look within yourself for inner guidance and take time for yourself.

2 of pentacles reversed

when 2 of pentacles are reversed it can show an imbalance, especially financially. things may have been disorganized and chaotic for you, you might be overworking yourself, and overextending yourself. this leaves you feel overwhelmed and stressed. you feel like your hands are full, there’s not much more you can handle at times. the two of pentacles encourages you to reevaluate your priorities, what your goals are, what do you want to do, and to make sure you are taking care of your self (mentally, physically, emotionally)

the strength card

this card shows strength, determination, bravery, and is a powerful card. someone who is strong and has gotten their strength from dealing with past experiences. this card is a reminder that you have the strength to overcome any challenges in your way. you are a determined and strong person inside, don't let others try to stop you or diminish that.

overall message

you might be struggling and feeling spread thin, overextending yourself, always helping others even when you know you don't want to or cant. you might be financially struggling or having an imbalance in that aspect of your life. with the air element card pulled, you may need to try to better communicate with others, when you are overwhelmed, feeling stressed and your needs too. its okay to reach out and ask for help from others.

with the hermit card, you need to take some alone time and reflect and think about your needs and what you want to do. really analyze your situation and what you want to do to overcome it. look within yourself for inner guidance and your inner strength. the strength card shows you have that inner strength, power, confidence and determination to overcome this challenge and any challenge you face. look within yourself and take care if yourself. you are a strong person, even if you don't feel like it sometimes.

pile 3

12th house - escape

this card suggests you might be healing from pain from your past, working past that and trying to heal. when this card appears in a reading, it’s can signify that something is off, if you feel vibes that don’t feel right, trust your intuition. this can also be a warning of secret enemies in your life. they will smile in your face, but wish bad on you behind your back. be careful of who you surround yourself with, not everyone has the best intentions. take this as a time to heal and work on building yourself up.

6 of cups reversed

when this card is reversed is can show that you are stuck in the past, not fully moved on and in the present. this card can also symbolize sometimes having a bad childhood, or bad relationships in the past. also leaving home, growing up/maturing and moving forward, and having gained emotional growth and strength from past experiences. despite this, you might still be stuck in the past, reminiscing or maybe even romanticizing certain memories or people from your past. don’t let put all your energy in the past thinking about changes you can’t change, when the present is now.

10 of wands

you’ve been working hard, with big responsibilities, maybe a burden, you have alot on your shoulders, you're tired, burnt out, overworking yourself. this has been going on for a while. don’t give too much of yourself to others when you have a lot going on with yourself. it’s okay to say no sometimes and take time for yourself. think about what’s really important especially in the long term. the ten of wands shows that the cycle of carrying a burden and responsibility is coming to an end, you put in so much work and effort, that when the cycle finally ends, you’ll feel the relief and it will be worth it and deserved

2 of swords reversed

you might be feeling hesitant to go through with something , or make a decision in your life feeling like both outcomes will be negative, or maybe having an inner conflict or one with others, whatever it is is leaving you feeling confused and hesitant on what to do. you’re overanalyzing the situation. don’t continue to stress and be anxious over it and do what you feel is right for you. don’t listen to what other want you to do and go with your intuition.

overall message & interpretation

you’ve been through some difficult times in your past, and have been holding on to it, not fully letting go of the hard times, and moving forward. you might be carrying a lot of emotional baggage with the 10 of wands, showing you are carrying a burden, along with a lot of responsibilities on your back, and despite this weighing you down, you’ve still made progress and things will be getting better soon. don’t let your past hold you back in life.

you’re ready to move forward and move on with your life but you find yourself stuck, the 2 of swords reversed is showing that you are hesitant in making this choice or moving forward. you need to make the decision or choice you want to make. don’t continue to be anxious and unsure about the outcome, with the 10 of wands you’ve likely been carrying this burden for a while, and once you make the choices you need to make, or do the things you need to do, the cycle of carrying the burden on your shoulders will be over. it won’t be a quick fresh start, but a relief off your shoulders, and because you made it.

if this reading resonates with you, this is a message you needed to hear. take what resonates and leave what doesn’t.

for personal readings, please message me :)

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (51) || atz

You don’t know what to do anymore.

Everything is falling apart to pieces, the world around you, the people at your side, you yourself, crumbling into ruins. Yunho is suffering from poison, having been stabbed in the side by his dearly beloved brother himself, who is cooperating with Commander Kang, Vice-Commander of the Royal Navy’s Red Rose fleet.

He also happens to be Yeosang’s estranged father and the man with the antidote to Yunho’s poison. He wants your captain to give up his magical knot, the nautical maps, you, and Yeosang in exchange for pardons for the whole crew… and Yunho’s antidote.

Wooyoung is avoiding you like you’re down with the plague, refusing to look you in the eye and cutting short all your feeble attempts at conversation with curt, uninterested replies. He’s become like some sort of wraith, gone more times than he is present, and the immense loneliness that clenches deep in you doesn’t help at all with the pains that have started to emerge in your chest.

You’re terrified. Terrified about exactly what exactly is happening to you.

And then the Kraken…

The Kraken is dead.

Jongho had reported the incident to your captain the moment the four of you had returned to the vessel, him being more worried about the Royal Navy ship present in the waters as compared to the death of the Kraken, but you had barely reacted to his worried questions, unable to comprehend what you had just seen.

The ancient Kraken is… dead.

You sit against the mast in empty silence, watching the stars blankly as the ship sails beneath them on a sea reflecting the galaxies in the night sky, lost in the majestic wonder of the sight and in your thoughts. Tonight, the air is freezing, and instinctively your hand reaches out next to you, seeking for the usual warmth that is always present by your side.

Then your fingers falter, halting hesitantly in mid air when they find nothing but cold, empty space.

Despair wells up in you and your hand falls back to your side, limp. Your head falls forwards as you try to hold back the sudden, warm tears that threaten to slip from your eyes. It hurts, deep in your chest, as real and raw as the sporadic pains you’ve been experiencing since leaving the Grand Iguana, and perhaps if you’re honest with yourself, even more so.

When you close your eyes and wish hard enough, with all of your might, you can see Wooyoung’s content smile as he lounges on the deck next to you, eyes fixated on the stars overhead. Wish a little more and you can feel the comforting weight of his head resting on your shoulder, the warmth of your intertwined hands in the lining of his pocket. Even if it was all a lie, even if he had never really cared about you, even if you were nothing more than a game to him, you just want to stay in that single moment forever, trapped in your knitted cocoon of comforting lies.

But you don’t have time to be worrying about those things, you think as you aggressively wipe the tears from your eyes. Because there are so many more problems that you need to focus on, bigger ones that are looming over you in spite of your own troubles.

Yunho is still dying.

And San doesn’t have a cure.

“I don’t know how to create the antidote.”

You don’t know what you should do, to be honest. There are all manner of emotions rushing through you right now – fear – despair – hopelessness – anger; directed at yourself or someone else, you don’t know, but all that matters is that Yunho is dying.

And that neither you nor San can do anything to stop it.

Slumping against the mast once more, you let out another exhausted sigh. You’re tired, completely worn out, battered from the constant strain and worries on your mind. All you want to do is lie down and sleep, but you can’t bring yourself to go to bed in front of your master, who is still burning midnight oil night after night as he and Yeosang search fruitlessly for an antidote.

You can’t bear to see the haggard, gaunt expression on his face as he rifles through the same books yet again, knowing full well in his heart that they don’t have the answers he needs, that only powerful magic could hope to have any sort of effect on the poison. You can’t continue to hear your master sob quietly to himself every night from under your covers as his worry for Yunho and the sheer weight of his failure takes its toll on him, the candlelight flickering across his face only making the tear tracks on his cheeks all the more pronounced.

And in the morning, when he wears a bright, falsely cheerful grin, telling you that everything will be alright, guilt eats away at you like a starving man when you know that he is the one who needs your comfort instead.

You bury your head in your hands with a soundless scream. Your sanity feels like it’s ripping apart at the seams, unraveling and crumbling to ash. There are too many worries and burdens stifling you from within, choking you like poisonous ivies, the thorns digging into your lungs and suffocating you of the air that you so desperately need. You want to spill everything in your chest to someone else, to relieve the burden from your shoulders, but who would be able to lend you a listening ear at this time of the night?

You glance about the deck instinctively. All your crewmates are sleeping below decks, San and Yeosang are tirelessly researching into the night for a cure, Wooyoung still won’t speak to you, and your captain… he…

Actually, why don’t you speak to your captain?

Leaping to your feet, you nearly trip over empty air in your haste as you scramble to the captain’s cabin. To your immense relief, you can see the faint flicker of candlelight coming through the glass windows, signifying that your captain is not yet asleep. You raise a trembling hand, and after a moment of hesitation, rap on the heavy wooden door with your knuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

You’re left hanging for a moment when there’s a brief moment of silence, but before your hand can fall to the side in disappointment, a soft, raspy voice comes from behind the closed door.

“Come in.”

Relief floods through you and you pull open the door, stepping into the dimly lit interior of your captain’s cabin. Knowing that he usually sleeps in the hammock in the corner, your eyes flit there at first glance, but you’re surprised to find it empty. Instead, you finally see him at the glass window overlooking the sea, lounging on a chair there as he stares unblinkingly at the scene outside. He’s in a state of casual undress, signature red jacket slung over his shoulder and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbows as his fingers dance absentmindedly on a sheaf of thick parchment paper on his lap.

Then the smell of alcohol hits you like a punch to the gut.

In his other hand is a bottle of liquor, and from the pungent scent it’s a strong, powerful one. For a moment, you’re actually worried; is your captain too unable to cope with the pain and fear of losing his friend? Taking a hesitant step forward, you call out to your captain softly.

“Captain? Are you alright?”

If Hongjoong is surprised that you’ve come to search for him in the wee hours of morning, he doesn’t show it, subtly sliding the bottle of alcohol behind a curtain before he begins to tidy the papers on his lap as if he hasn’t heard your question in the least. When he’s satisfied with the state they’re in, he finally turns to glance at you.

“Ahh, Chin Hae, what do you need from me?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Because your captain, Kim Hongjoong, is not wearing his eyepatch.

You’ve never actually thought about what was under that slip of black cloth. As the eyepatch has just… always been there, in some way you’ve forgotten that beneath your captain’s eyepatch, there are the scars of your captain’s childhood. You remember that your captain had told you once how his father had abandoned him on an island and shot him in the head, causing him to lose his eye in what must have surely been a traumatic accident for any child.

But the alcohol must have addled with your captain’s mind a lot more than you’d thought, because he doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that he’s not wearing his eyepatch, instead cocking his head curiously to the side as he awaits for your response.

Your own eyes trace his face, lingering on his right eye as much as you try to tear your gaze away in polite courtesy. The eyepatch is such a big part of his wardrobe, even more significant than his red jacket itself, that you feel like he’s bared a part of himself to you without intending to.

You’re not going to lie. The scar is ugly, shallow ridges of scar tissue joining his skin of to his cheek, slightly fainter in colour than the smooth, unblemished skin around it. It mars what you would have almost called a flawless face, an unsightly stain upon what was once a perfect, white canvas.

You can almost imagine the sight happening before your eyes. Your captain as a young, innocent child, still with both soft green eyes and not yet exposed to the horrors of the world, scrambling backwards desperately in the sand, terror sending his body into sheer mind numbing panic as the one person who was supposed to protect him raises a musket to his head.

And it’s the last thing he’ll ever see out of that eye.

Your captain’s other eye, the healthy, working one, is a hazy green, dulled by the alcohol and pain. It takes him more than a second to realise what you’re looking at, his mind fogged over with liquor, but when he does, you’re terrified, yanking your eyes back to the ground as you can.

But it’s already too late.

“Get out!” Hongjoong roars, every syllable trembling with rage, rising to his feet in one explosive action. The papers on his lap slide to the ground and scatter everywhere, but they’re the least of your troubles right now. At the moment, you’re a lot more concerned about how your captain is practically looming over you, handsome face twisted in fury, warm breath hitting your cheeks. Your eyes are drawn back to his eye once more, almost instinctively, and Hongjoong clamps one hand over the scar, so hard that his fingers turn white, turning away from you so you can’t see it any longer, shoulders wound tight with tension.

Your heart breaks.

“Captain-”

“I said, get out.” He seethes, making to move across the room to his table, where his eyepatch lies. But the alcohol must have affected him a lot more than you thought, because he only manages five steps before his knees give out beneath him and he crumples to ground in a limp heap with a cry of pain. A yelp of horror leaves your mouth and you rush to help him, but he merely waves you off, one hand still pressed tight over his eye.

The message is clear. He doesn’t want you seeing his eye.

“Get me my eyepatch.” Hongjoong manages through gritted teeth and you scramble to obey, feeling the rough cloth beneath your fingers as you pluck it from the tabletop. Your captain practically snatches it from your hands when you return with it, yanking it over his eye as fast as he can.

The two of you remain there for a moment, your captain trying to get his breathing under control as you merely stay still before him, afraid to move. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and it’s only now that you notice his sallow cheeks, the old rum stains on his shirt. He’s been drowning all his fears and sorrows in liquor, and your heart only shatters more when you recall the brave front he’s been putting on in front of you and all the crew.

“I’m… I apologise.” Hongjoong finally rasps and your eyes dart to his face. His fingers still linger at his eyepatch, as if subconsciously trying to hide his scarred eye, his expression almost unreadable, forlorn, defeated. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. You should go.”

Part of you does want to leave, terrified of what might happen if you stay here any longer. But even more than that, you’re worried about your captain. He’s clearly completely drunk on both alcohol and his emotions, and you can’t just leave him on the floor like that. So, mustering your courage, you put an arm around him and yank him to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in your chest when you do so, pulling him to Yeosang’s bed.

All the fight has clearly evaporated from your captain, because he merely goes along with what you’re trying to do, a complete turn from earlier when he’d been shouting at you to leave, albeit on unsteady feet. When Hongjoong reaches the bed, he simply topples over onto the mattress with a soft groan, eye shut as you sit next to him on the edge of the bed, a hundred and one questions running through your mind with nowhere to begin.

“Why?” You manage to whisper, the question soft to even your own ears. Exhaustion and alcohol must have loosened your captain’s tongue, because he actually answers you, voice so forlorn it almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I…I couldn’t help it... I felt like such a useless captain.” Hongjoong breathes into the silent room, voice laced with pain and depression and guilt. “Yunho got stabbed because I was too slow. Yeosang and you are wanted because I failed to protect the two of you. Now, we have no cure to save Yunho, but I… I just can’t give either of you up to that bastard. I don’t want to make a choice, so I’m trying to forget, but it just isn’t working.”

Everyone on board of this ship, Yeosang himself included, have reassured you that your captain would never give any of you up, but to hear it for yourself, with your own two ears, means so much more to you. Some sort of relief settles in you, but it doesn’t last long.

Your captain lets out a self deprecating chuckle. “I’m such a selfish man, aren’t I?”

You don’t know what your captain is talking about. What does he mean that he’s selfish? Kim Hongjoong is one of the most kind hearted people you’ve met, willing to go to any extent for his friends and crew, you included. But when you open your mouth to refute, your captain speaks once more, voice slurring ever so slightly over his words.

“Hey, Chin Hae... I’m terrified.”

The pained whimper that breaks forth from him is the final blow to your heart as you feel it shatter into teeny tiny pieces. You have this urge to comfort him, to reassure him in any way that he’ll be alright, but then Hongjoong is sitting up on the bed once more, green eye clouded with desperation as he grabs you tight by the shoulders.

“You can’t die, Chin Hae.” Hongjoong’s voice is shaking with some sort of deep rooted fear as his gaze searches yours. “Please… no, that’s an order. I order you not to die, Chin Hae. I… no… I won’t be able to bear it if any of you die so please…” His voice breaks at the last word and a single tear rolls down your cheek at the sheer anguish in his words. “Please… please don’t die.”

He’s begging you.

“I’ll take all the danger, all the pain, everything. Please, don’t do anything dangerous.” He continues rambling weakly, head bowed before you in supplication as he pleads with you. He’s drunk. Too much so, you think blankly, your heart ripping itself to shreds at his words. “Getting tortured… even dying would be a better fate than losing any of you, so please…”

You’re frozen, unable to move an inch at the sheer wretchedness of his pleas. Your captain, your stupid, foolish and utterly selfless captain, doesn’t care for anything else except the safety of his crew. Your captain, who is always a pillar of support to all of you, perhaps doesn’t realise that he too, needs comfort as well.

Hongjoong is still mumbling ‘please’ brokenly under his breath, tears actually streaming down his cheeks as he begs you to stay alive and safe. You don’t know what to do, one hand coming up to grip the fabric above your chest, right where your heart is.

How? How are you ever going to tell Hongjoong about how your life might just be ending soon?

At this point, you don’t even know how to worry about yourself. Instead, you’re more concerned about what will happen to your captain if you do die, because how can you bring yourself to worry about you when your captain cares for your life more than his own?

The answer is simple, really.

You can’t.

This isn’t like that time from so long ago, when the biggest secrets you’d been keeping from the crew was the fact that you were a woman. Your captain is already tearing himself apart from the inside over all the problems he has to face now, what would happen to him if you told him you were dying and there was likely no way he could fix it?

He’d go insane.

So, as you hold back the tears that are desperately trying to escape your eyes, you pull him close in a hug and he clings to you, as if he’s drowning and you’re a lifeline. You press your nose into his shoulder and pat him, rubbing soothing circles into his back much like San used to do for you.

“I won’t die.” You lie through your teeth, and your heart clenches painfully, seemingly aware of your fibs. But Hongjoong nods desperately, trembling uncontrollably against you, your legs tangled in the blankets.

“You promise?” His voice is so weak, so afraid, that the tears spill over your lashes and onto your cheeks, soaking into his shoulder. You attempt a reassuring smile, but even to you, it’s forced and brittle, like flaking clay that has been left out in the sun too long.

Your reply is nothing but a sweet lie, one that you know you cannot possibly keep.

“I promise.”

[bthump]

How would you conceive of the pre-Eclipse scene resolving in the absence of both the crimson behelit and the gathered apostles?

These two pages are an illustrative mirror - the image of Griffith above them, untouchable, and the actual Griffith placed below them, human and vulnerable. This moment is Guts finally rejecting that image in favour of the real Griffith.

Which echoes this statement from Casca, and her simultaneous realization that Griffith is human, and she’s in love with him:

It also more directly echoes Guts’ realization that his home was with the Hawks all along:

Finally, after a good twenty five or so chapters of Guts desperately avoiding confronting his own role in Griffith’s downfall, he acknowledges that it’s all because of Griffith’s feelings for him.

And desperately wonders what course of action he can possibly take now that he’s realized the extent of Griffith’s devastating feelings for him, and realized his own mistake in leaving, and acknowledged finally that Griffith is not a god.

What I’m saying is that if fate hadn’t so rudely interrupted, this was all gonna lead to a kiss or a declaration of feelings or at the very least a desperate sobbing apology and promise that he’ll never leave again. This is the brief window of time where Guts has finally figured it all out, give or take the exact nature of his own feelings, which may have needed a little while longer to really settle. For once he’s in a position to provide some emotional resolution, and everything’s perfectly set up for it. The Eclipse pulls the rug out from under this foregone conclusion to their relationship drama.

(Like honestly, one major thing that makes the Eclipse feel so tragic is that Guts figured everything out right before his tragic ending smacked him in the face anyway. The happy ending is right there, we’re given every piece of the puzzle that makes it up, we can see it start to come together, but bam instead the Eclipse happens. It’s such a loss of potential.

Regardless of the actual realistic issues Guts and Griffith would still have lol, from like communication without a tongue to childhood trauma, thematically their relationship is resolved with Guts’ understanding here. The only thing missing is whatever Guts would do to demonstrate that understanding to Griffith. That “What then-?!” doesn’t indicate that it’s futile no matter what - it indicates that there’s something Guts can do in that lake which will resolve the situation, a new action he can take that will signify the opposite of leaving Griffith on his knees in the snow, but he doesn’t get a chance to figure it out and do it.)

So without an Eclipse, I guess this is what I’d envision, give or take: Guts reaches Griffith, sort of desperately pulls him into an embrace similarly to the torture chamber scene, Griffith is in full despair but without a behelit. The course of action Guts takes is to take off Griffith’s helmet because he needs to see Griffith’s human face without the symbolic pretense, also like the torture chamber, but unlike the torture chamber he reacts with love and affection rather than irrational betrayal of his false image of Griffitih as a god.

Maybe that’s an impulsive quick kiss, maybe it’s a hand against his face and the Gay Forehead Bump, maybe it’s a heartfelt apology and declaration of his intent to stay with him, maybe it’s all of the above.

Griffith takes a step back from the ledge. They live happily ever after.

(also if it is a kiss Guts doesn’t even realize what he did or the implications of it until like, twenty minutes later lol.)

[cognitivefunk]

Yaaay, I finally finished this request for @maryiii006  I’m sorry it took a couple weeks, I hit a writer’s block so I hope it’s ok~~ Title: Only Look at Me Fandom: Diabolik Lovers Pairing: Shu Sakamaki x Yui Komori Rating: Explicit (smut) Warnings: One sided-affection (side character), smut, oral sex, character death but it’s very ‘read between the lines’/off screen if you will Word Count: 3,350

It had been a little over a month since the two of them had moved out to the countryside. Shu decided it would be best to live in quiet surroundings alongside Yui, unburdened by his brothers or by the noise pollution of busy city life. Ever since he had opened his heart to her, he wanted nothing more than to be by her side, and for her to be by his. Just the thought of being apart got under his skin. It was all the better to do so under the refuge of nature, with the sound of the steam by their modest house and the soothing sounds of nature being their only company.

Be that as it may, Yui wanted something to busy herself with, as they embarked on their life together. She was flustered at the thought of being alone with the vampire at first, since it would be like they were living as a married couple. She wondered if perhaps one day that would be possible, for them to have a little ceremony, but she was happy to be with him regardless. And so began a new chapter of uncharted territory for the pair.

Yui kept to a nocturnal schedule for Shu’s sake, and picked up an evening shift at a small rural clinic. She mentored under the doctor there as an assistant, alongside another girl similar in age by the name of Aoife. She never explicitly asked, but the red haired, freckled woman seemed similar in age to Yui. The doctor was a strange man with dark hair and bags under his grey eyes that never seemed to lighten. He wore thick framed glasses that distracted from the tired features of his face. The man wasn’t particularly old, but the constant lack of sleep defined his face.

--

Yui organized the glass jars of various herbs and medical tools. The clinic had more of an apothecary vibe than a modern medical office. “Yui, could you brew another pot of coffee please?” a rich baritone voice asked from behind the younger woman and she stood up, brushing her skirt as she did so. “Sure thing!” she responded cheerfully. Most of her tasks at the clinic involved cleaning, organizing, and brewing the coffee since she had no real medical training. Aoife typically handled a lot of the patient intake information but she was running late, leaving Yui alone with the doctor for a few hours.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the clinic, which gave the woman a sense of comfort. She poured a mug and brought it over to where the doctor, who was sitting in his chair going over some paperwork. He lifted his eyes toward her when she handed him the mug and took it into his hands, intentionally grazing his fingers over hers and letting them linger for a moment too long. Yui retracted her hands and turned to busy herself with more work but the man reached out to grab her by the wrist.

“Yui…why don’t you help me with some of this work?” he spoke low, pulling her closer to him, moving his hand to place firmly on her hip. “I don’t really know how to do any of that, maybe you should wait until Aoife comes back?” Yui offered, trying to maintain politeness despite her discomfort. She figured the doctor was just being friendly; at least that’s what she was hoping for.

“You’re right,” he stated, setting his glasses on the table beside them. He stood, his hand still on Yui’s hip as he guided her to the exam table and prompted her to sit on the piece of equipment. “Paperwork is Aoife’s job after all,” there was an unnerving cheerfulness in his voice as he spoke, “Instead, I’ll teach you how to do a proper examination instead.” He circled around the young woman, loosening the tie around his neck slightly before lightly brushing his fingers across her exposed thigh. The blonde gulped nervously, but went along with his whim for the time being, still giving him the benefit of the doubt, despite her growing suspicions on the situation.

“Let’s start with a physical,” the doctor turned around, grabbing a wooden tongue suppressor from one of the glass jars beside the metal table. “Say ‘aaaah’,” he ordered, and Yui opened her mouth widely, sticking her tongue out as she followed his order. “Good girl,” he muttered, pressing the stick against her tongue and peering into her mouth. A small smirk spread across his face before he pressed the suppressor further back against her tongue, causing her to gag and pull away. He tsked and tossed the wooden stick into the waste bin beside them. “We’ll have to work on that gag reflex of yours, it’s far too sensitive,” he replied cryptically when Yui gave him a questioning look. “But your mouth is nice and healthy. A lovely color, in fact…”

“Thank you?” Yui wasn’t sure how to respond to that statement, and goosebumps were starting to prick against her skin. Something didn’t feel quite right, and she found herself glancing over at the clock, wondering if her female partner would arrive soon. Her shift was ending soon and she wanted to go home. The older man’s hands were on her neck, feeling around her jaw and lymph nodes at first, but his fingers soon started to caress her throat, gliding up to swipe a thumb over her lower lip. “You’re very beautiful, Yui.”

The blonde swallowed hard, eliciting a look of excitement on the doctor’s face, as he felt the motion of her throat under his fingers. “I, I think I should go for today sir.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to come back, knowing that the man was interested in her. She wondered how Shu would react if he knew what had happened here. She knew he would be able to smell his scent on her skin.

The doctor leaned forward, intending to capture her lips for his own, but Yui turned her head when she saw him moving toward her, causing his lips to brush against her hair before he tightened his grip on her. “Don’t play coy with me, I know you want this,” he spoke against her ear and she shut her eyes tightly, murmuring a soft, “No,” before bracing herself for his retaliation when suddenly she felt him move away from her abruptly and a pained cry reached her ears.

“Hey, dirtbag, get your hands off of her,” Shu had shoved the man to the ground, situating himself in front of Yui, shielding her from the doctor as he got to his feet. “Yui, who is this?” the man asked, eyeing the vampire with suspicion as he prepared himself to square off with Shu, unaware of the power difference the two of them truly had.

“This is Shu, he’s my uh—“

“Yui is my betrothed,” the blonde vampire said coolly, “I came to bring her home since she was running late. To think she was wrapped up in something like this…” there was an obvious annoyance in his voice as he glanced back at her. A blush crossed her cheeks at the word betrothed, and a smile started to spread across Shu’s face, but his gaze was soon back on the other man, as the doctor had attempted to take a swing at him. Shu caught his arm with ease, twisting it so that his shoulder joint dislocated, earning another pained cry from the assailant.

“Yui, do you really want to be with such a ruffian? I could provide a happy life for you,” the doctor attempted to reason with her, but she recoiled, frowning at the man as he worked on replacing his shoulder back to its rightful place. A nasty snarl distorted his features at her silent denial of his advances and he grabbed a scalpel from the drawer next to his desk.  

“Close your eyes Yui,” the vampire growled out, and she shut her eyes immediately, instinctively covering her ears in the process. “Please don’t kill him,” she pleaded with Shu, but didn’t dare open her eyes. She could still hear the muffled groan as Shu brought his foot down on the doctor’s gut before he leaned down to grab him by the throat.

“Don’t you ever touch her again, do you hear me? She’s mine. Consider yourself lucky she’s even here right now, or I wouldn’t hesitate to end your miserable existence,” his words were dangerous as Shu held the doctor in the air by his throat, letting him claw at his hand in an attempt to escape his grasp. He kept his jaw clenched, as he peered into the man’s eyes, his pupils constricted like that of a predator. His self-control was waning, as he contemplated ending the man’s life then and there when the ring of the door caught his attention. Glancing behind his shoulder, he met the gaze of a young woman as he stood in the middle of the clinic still holding the doctor by his neck.

Emerald eyes took in the situation before her. Aoife looked to the right, seeing Yui sitting on the examination table with her eyes closed and her hands over her ears. Then to the left, where the doctor was quickly losing breath, judging by the blue that was beginning to tint his fingertips and the edges of his face. The scalpel had fallen to the floor in the scuffle. She smiled at the vampire serenely, “I think you should take Yui home. It’s time for my shift, so I’ll clean up this mess.” Her words were gentle, but there was a palpable energy that rolled off of her, signifying the weight of her words. .Shu dropped the man to the floor, watching him gasp for air for a moment before he turned to pick up Yui from the table and walk out of the clinic. “Tch, it’s not worth my time.”

He held her bridal style, walking in silence as he walked down the path toward their home. He was glad they were a distance away when he heard the curdled scream of the doctor followed by a nearly deafening silence. Yui had opened her eyes when she felt his arms wrap around her, and she held onto his neck, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thank you, Shu…” she said softly, still quite shaken from the event. He didn’t reply right away, however, his jaw only clenched in response. Once they made it back to the house, he set her down on the bed and looked her over, making sure she was alright before speaking.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” he asked, a pained expression scrunched his eyebrows, and he leaned his forehead against hers, his intense gaze peering into hers. “I don’t know, I just froze,” Yui responded, and Shu searched her eyes for any sign of dishonesty before he sighed and kissed the side of her jaw, leaving a trail of kisses over her skin. “I was scared and thought someone would walk in and he would stop.”

“Then I’m glad I came in when I did,” he spoke gently, but there was still an edge of anger in his gaze. “So you really didn’t like him, right?” There was a pleading look in his eyes, as he searched her face. “Of course not, I just didn’t know how to handle the situation. You saw him, he grabbed a knife,” she reasoned, shivering at the thought.

“Don’t think about him. I’m tired of it already.” Yui bit her lip, fidgeting her hands together in her lap. “I’ll erase him from your skin,” he murmured, running his hands over the places where the doctor had caressed Yui, followed by his lips. He worked his way down her neck, then back up to her lips. Yui sighed into the kiss, relaxing into her beloved’s touch. Her eyes fluttered shut, but then Shu pulled back. “Don’t close your eyes this time,” he pressed his lips against hers once more, pulling away only to speak. “Look only at me, Yui. I won’t let anyone else touch you.”

Yui kept her eyes open, her pink irises glittered with emotion as she kissed Shu back, feeling slightly awkward staring into his eyes as they kissed. His fingers found their way to her lap, interlacing his fingers with hers as he deepened the kiss. His tongue ran along her lower lip, asking for entrance, which was granted when she tilted her head and parted her lips. She let him explore her, tasting her sweetness on his tongue.

“Nnn,” she moaned into the kiss, which was far more intense than usual due to the fervent eye contact. She could see the lust burning in his eyes, replacing the anxiety that was there before. “Look only at me…” he repeated again, his gaze piercing into hers in a standoff between cerulean and rose. “I don’t want you to look at any other men, Yui. I don’t want to let you out of my sight ever again,” he cupped Yui’s cheek after freeing his hand from hers, his cool touch leaving a trail of heat where her body yearned for him.

“If you feel that way, I can resign so I can be closer to you,” Yui answered his unspoken question; she could tell he was truly worried for her wellbeing. But he was also acting jealous over the misunderstanding from the one-sided affection of the doctor. She gently tucked a piece of hair behind Shu’s ear and cupped his cheek in return.

“Did you really mean it? When you said…betrothed?” she asked, remembering the way he protected her earlier that night. A blush darkened on her cheeks, and she waited for his response as her heartbeat quickened in her chest. Shu looked taken back for a moment, but he swiftly recovered with a soft smile. “It is,” he paused, suddenly looking bashful. “If you want it to be, that is…”

A sudden bloom of love burst through Yui’s chest, filling her with excitement. “Of course!” she closed her eyes to smile, overwhelmed with happiness in that moment. “Hey, I told you to look at me,” the vampire teased, holding her close to his body. “I want to see your face, your eyes, all of you…I guess I’ll just have to punish you.”

Yui was about to question what he meant by that when she felt his fangs sink into her neck. “Aaah, Shu!!” she exclaimed, grabbing onto his shoulder while he drank from her. He groaned against her neck, moving his hands to undo her blouse, pushing the offending fabric off of her shoulders before pulling back enough to speak. “You’re sweeter than usual today,” he breathed against her skin, trailing down to her breast, undoing her bra and tossing it to the side. He sunk his fangs into the supple mound, eliciting a low moan from the woman.

Shu chuckled against her breast, using his tongue to flick over the sensitive flesh while he rolled a nipple between his index finger and thumb, pinching and pulling while he looked up at her. He had a sinful look on his face, and it made Yui clench subconsciously, arousal stirring in her belly. “Shu..” her fingers wound into his hair, pulling gently on his messy locks. He let go of her breast with an almost animalistic moan, his eyes wild with lust as he pushed her back against the bed.

He slid down her body, pulling her skirt down, along with her underwear, grinning up at her from his place settled between her legs. “Keep your eyes on me, Yui. I want you to watch me while I do this to you. Hm? Pull on my hair if you need to, but keep your eyes on me. That’s it,” he spoke in his rich honeyed voice, descending onto her core with his mouth. Yui trembled under him, using both of her hands to hold onto his head by tangling her fingers into his hair. Her gaze wavered, but she did her best to keep eye contact whilst he pleasured her. His tongue lapped up the length of her wet heat, settling to circle around her swelling bud as she tugged his hair, eliciting several groans from him.

His piercing blue gaze never wavered from hers as he worked his magic on her pussy, using his fingers to spread her open, gaining more access to her heat. She cried out as he tongue fucked her, her lips trembling as desire threatened to swallow her whole. “Shu, I need you now. Please, please, please,” she started to beg, her legs shaking next to his head as he lifted his body to mount his lover.

“You want me?” he teased, rubbing his length up and down her aching pussy, waiting for her to say something in response. “Shu!!” she cried out, hands shooting up to cover her face. “Ah, ah, none of that,” he swatted her hands away, tilting her chin toward him with his free hand. “Tell me that you want me,” he breathed, chuckling at the cute way she blushed and tried to avert her gaze.

“Please, I want you so much Shu. I want you inside me, I want you to take me—“ she was cut off as he sank into her heat, their moans mixing together as they joined as one. “Yui…you’re always so tight,” he spoke through gritted teeth, hissing at the tight heat that surrounded him. “I love you so much,” he leaned down onto his forearms, giving him access to kiss her trembling lips as he buried himself inside of her.

“I love you too, Shu,” she spoke between kisses, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He shifted to use one hand to angle her hips up before driving back into her at a deeper position. “Fuck…Yui.” He watched her face as she started to come undone, her shyness melting into lust as her face relaxed into their shared pleasure. She kissed him, watching the way his eyebrows knit together, the way he hissed and groaned when he thrust his hips against hers.

“I’m so, ahhn, close,” she moaned against him, writhing her hips against his, their rhythm becoming sloppier with their impending climax on the horizon. “Me too, let’s finish together ok?” He sat back on his legs for better leverage, and Yui wrapped her legs tighter around his waist as he gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. Their cries of pleasure filled the room alongside the creaking of the bed as they reached orgasm one after the other. Yui’s legs collapsed to the bed whilst Shu continued a few shallow thrusts, emptying his seed into her waiting womb.

Shu finally pulled out, lying down beside Yui before pulling her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest and placing soft kisses onto her hair. “I don’t ever want to be apart. I never want to see you in that position ever again. I never want to be in a position where I can’t protect you, Yui.”

He pet her hair as he spoke, her breathing slowing against his chest as she relaxed into him. She reached up to hold the side of his face once again, “I’m not going anywhere, Shu. I love you, and I want to be with you always. We’ll figure it out together, so don’t worry ok? You saved me today, and that’s all that matters to me right now.”

Shu let out a hum of agreement, tightening his grip on her before letting out a yawn. They could hear the early sounds of morning as the birds outside chirped outside the window. “Nn, damn. I’m so tired, let’s sleep for a while, just like this ok?” he nuzzled his face against her soft hair, relaxing his arms around her as she cuddled closer to his chest, wrapping one arm around his waist, allowing them to fall asleep wrapped up in one another.

[dinoyoongi]

Confirm or Deny (5)

SYNOPSIS: You’re a member of the rising group FRNZEE. You’ve been dating Namjoon for years when Dispatch releases an article exposing your relationship. Your company confirms the relationship. Big Hit denies it.

PARTS: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader

GENRE: Romance, Angst

WARNINGS: Strong language

WORD COUNT: 3503

AUTHORS NOTE: A bit shorter than the others but I felt this was a good spot to end the chapter on. There will only be one more part to this before it’s over! I want to thank everybody for your patience - I’m definitely not as quick a writer as some others on here and when I do sit down to work on this, writer’s block hits me like a garbage truck every time. This chapter is kind of rushed and Namjoon-less but it I hope you’ll all like it just the same! Thanks for all the love. ❤️

___________________________________

BREAKING: Y/N officially departs FRNZEE & terminates contract with Hot Star Entertainment!

After two months of speculation of whether Y/N would return to FRNZEE after being attacked outside the KBS building, it's been confirmed by Hot Star Entertainment that Y/N has officially terminated her contract with the company. Y/N was recently involved in controversy after her company confirmed dating rumors between Y/N and BTS' leader RM that the latter denied. She had been removed from the group's comeback and was on hiatus from all activities when she was attacked by BTS fans outside the KBS building during a taping of Music Bank that she had attended with her manager out of support for her members. Despite official statements being released by both Big Hit Entertainment and RM – who uploaded a handwritten plea on Weverse begging for his fans to stop the bullying – Hot Star Entertainment felt that Y/N's mental health was being compromised and released her from contract.

“Like they give a shit about my mental health,” you snicker sarcastically, dropping your phone a little too forcefully onto the kitchen counter. From your peripheral, you can see your mother's lips turn downwards in disapproval at your foul language but she fortunately chooses not to scold you, recognizing the delicate situation. It's not as if this is a blindside. Nobody was pulling the wool over your eyes right now. You had been aware that they were permanently removing you from the group and from the company only one day after you returned home to Daejeon.

You're only surprised that they waited this long to announce it. You imagine it wouldn't look too good for them if they kicked you out of the group right after you were assaulted – no surprise there. Their image is all they care about.

“Has anyone tried reaching out to you?” your mother asks from the stove, stirring a steaming pot languidly.

Your eyes fall down to your still-lit phone, catching the small red balloon icon that signifies missed notifications. Calls, texts, voicemail, emails; you don't need to open them to see who they're from – you've spent the past week dodging any incoming forms of communication from everyone including your members, your former manager, the CEO of Hot Star, numbers that you don't recognize that you assume to be reporters and even all seven members of BTS.

Out of all the names that showed up on the screen on your phone, Namjoon's appeared the most.

His unread messages and unopened voicemails feel like an anchor on your chest. Is he reaching out to pity you for what happened with his fans? Is he reaching out to get back together with you? Is he reaching out to cuss at you because you dragged his name into your articles again? Is he reaching out to hammer that final nail in the coffin and be done with you for good?

All of these scenarios are equally terrifying so you pretend that the messages don't exist. However, there are times when you miss him so much that your chest physically aches and the thought of loading up your phone's inbox to listen to his voice is so devastatingly tempting. Playing his albums or watching him on YouTube isn't the same. You don't miss RM – you miss Namjoon. Your Namjoon.

You're not completely depriving yourself of him, though. Two months ago, the day of your attack, he posted a message messily scrawled onto a napkin to his Weverse account. Despite his username displaying as RM, your heart can tell just by his words that it's Namjoon. You've stared at the message so many times over the past few weeks that you have the words ingrained into your head.

ARMY,

Today, somebody I care about was seriously injured. I want to deny that our lovely ARMY would do anything to cause harm to other people. That's not Bangtan. That's not what we teach, what we stand for. But that was our logo on their phone cases. That was our lightstick in the pocket of their bags. That was our faces on keychains that hung from their straps. At the risk of upsetting some, I speak on behalf of the rest of the group to say to those who harm other people in the name of Bangtan – both physically and verbally – you are not ARMY. ARMY is better than this. ARMY is too good for this.

Please ARMY, let's always be better.

It's a simple message but one that you know was difficult for him to write. Having known the boys for the majority of their career growth, you know that the admiration they have for their fans is one-hundred percent not an act. Knowing that some of them assaulted you in such a humiliating manner had to have felt like a knife in the gut.

“Nobody,” you lie to your mom who quirks her brows, waiting for your response. “Nobody has tried contacting me at all.”

“When are you going back to Seoul?”

You sigh, dropping your eyes onto the kitchen counter. “Mom, why would I go back to Seoul? There's nothing there for me anymore.”

“What are you going to do then?” your mother asks softly. You hear the spoon she was stirring with drop the table, followed by a heavy sigh. “Is that it? You're done with your music career?”

“It isn't as if my contract just expired and I can shop around for new agencies. I was the center of a very huge scandal. I was the butt of jokes and online bullying for so long. I don't think there's an agency out there that would poke me with a ten foot pole at this point.”

“But you trained for so long. You didn't go to university. Y/N, what -”

Your body slides from the stool, your feet slapping against the linoleum so hard that your mother flinches from the sound. “I'm suddenly feeling kind of sleepy. I'll just go take a nap before dinner.”

She calls your name as you lug yourself upstairs towards your bedroom but you pretend not to hear. You're not angry with her – absolutely not. If you're angry at anything, it's your life. It's this situation. It's the world. It's a fact that most idols audition and join agencies for two things and two things only – money and fame. And while those two things can be really great at times, that's not why you decided to be an idol. You decided to become an idol because, well … there was really nothing else you could do.

Throughout your life, whenever anybody asked you “what do you want to be when you grow up?” you never gave the usual answers that your classmates did – police officers, veterinarians, doctors, lawyers, judges, the president. Your answer from the first time you were asked until the last remained unchanged: an idol. Music was everything to you. There was nothing that you could study for, nothing you could major in that would give you a sense of happiness and fulfillment like music did. Like music still does. It was the upbeat songs, the quirky choreography, the super cute but super outrageous outfits, the camaraderie and bonds formed between group members and the thrill of satisfaction when all of that came together for a comeback. That is what you've always wanted. There was nothing that came even close.

And now that you've had it, now that it's slipped right through your fingers … what do you do? What are you supposed to do with your life?

Heaving yourself onto your bed, you groan in frustration. Your phone chirps from the pocket of your hooded sweatshirt, alerting you to a text message. Waving the device in front of your face, you sigh when you see Ji-na's name.

Ji-na: please be strong. keep your head up. don't skip meals. i love you and i'm sorry.

Your chest throbs are you reread the words again. And then for a third time. If you were being honest with yourself, you stopped being angry with Ji-na and the rest of the group the moment you arrived home. If you were to put yourself in their shoes – would you have reacted the same way? An idol's career is already typically short; seven or eight years if you're lucky. Would you be willing to risk that for another person? The knee-jerk response might come easy to some but only those who have been in your shoes, trained as long and hard as you and your members did, can answer that question. But despite not holding onto any anger, you can't erase the betrayal from your heart. Ji-na was more than just a member of your group. Ji-na was your best friend. Ji-na was the hand that you reached for when FRNZEE was getting mobbed at airports. Ji-na is your first dibs sleeping buddy when you had to pair up in hotel rooms. There was very little that you couldn't and wouldn't tell Namjoon but if there was – Ji-na was the one you confided in. Ji-na was everything.

And going through this without her and Namjoon seems incredibly impossible.

Your eyes leave the phone, slipping over to the corner of the room where your suitcase and bags are haphazardly strewn about as you were too lazy to commit to unpacking. The one thing propped neatly against the wall is a sparkly, medium-sized gift bag, intricately tied with rainbow ribbons. Ji-na's birthday is coming up in week but you've had her present ready for months. Instead of leaving it at the dorms, you brought it home with you. At the time, you were so caught up in your anger and woes and self-misery that you had every intention of sending it back to the store once you settled in but now?

It seems you have a present to hand deliver.

_______________________________________

- TWO WEEKS LATER -

You've only been gone for two months but it seems like Seoul has already changed so much. The first big difference? There's now a doorman stationed in the lobby of the dorm apartments. You can tell that he recognizes you immediately by the way his cheeks flush red but he still refuses to let you go any farther, keeping you a safe distance away from the elevator. You get it, you really do. He was probably hired to keep out nosy reporters and fansites and journalists but knowing Hot Star the way that you do now, you have no doubt that he was also explicitly warned not to let you in. Sighing, you pull your phone from your bag, typing a few quick words to Ji-na before hitting send.

It only takes three minutes for the elevator to open with a loud ding and a flash of pale skin is hurtling itself at you. Ji-na wraps her arms around your neck so tightly that you cough from the pressure until she loosens her grip. You try to ignore the moisture that you see building in her eyes when she pulls away.

Grabbing her hand, she tugs you toward the elevator. “Come on. We have some talking to do.”

“Ah -” the doorman interjects, nervously stepping in front of you. “I'm sorry, Ji-na. She's on the no clearance list. She can't go up.”

Ji-na scoffs. “Even with my permission? Even though I'm bringing her up with me?”

He grimaces. “I'm sorry. It's my job.”

“It's okay, Ji-na. I just wanted to drop this off anyway,” you say, thrusting the bag in her direction. She stares at it for a few hard seconds before hesitantly accepting it. “Happy Birthday. If you're ever near Daejeon, let me know, okay?”

You turn on your heel to leave but a painful grip on your hand stops you. Ji-na twirls you around to face her, like a scene straight out of a cheesy drama. She's toe to toe with the doorman, facial features locked in what you know is supposed to be intimidation but on Ji-na it just looks like an angry kitten.

“If you won't let her upstairs, let's compromise. Your office?” she quirks an eyebrow, head jutting toward the door behind his podium. He contemplates this offer for a moment before relenting with a sigh, dropping a pair of keys into her hand.

“Don't tell your management about this, okay? She's not even supposed to be in the building at all.”

Ji-na throws him an obnoxious salute before yanking you into the room.

_______________________________________

Your heart-to-heart is long and full of anger, accusation, revelations, tears, laughter, giggling and so much more. While you're not ready to completely forgive her for leaving you behind that day, you've accepted the reality that Ji-na is one of the only friends that you have and you're not ready to let her go. She understands your continuing edginess with the situation and promises to do everything in her power to regain your trust and make it up to you.

You expected to leave with a heavier heart than you came with. Instead, most of the weight has lifted.

You only exit the doorman's office after Ji-na receives a text from one of her managers about a project meeting the group has soon. Her arm is around your side as she walks you to the front door, squeezing you tightly. “Please come visit a lot more. We have some off time coming up – would you mind terribly if I came to stay with you in Daejeon?”

You roll your eyes but your smile stays wide. “No, I wouldn't mind terribly. Just give me a heads up so I can stock up on soju and shrimp chips.”

She throws her head back to laugh loudly, bumping her hip to yours as the two of you take a few more steps toward the front door. “Yes! You know me so well! And you also have to make sure that you have tons of-”

“Y/N.”

The voice is jarring but immediately recognizable. Lifting your head, you meet the eyes of your previous manager. The last time you had seen him, he was loading your belongings into the back of a car that would send you right home. He gapes at you, gaze wide and shocked. Behind you, the doorman audibly groans.

“Um, he has nothing to do with this,” you hurriedly declare, throwing your thumb behind you in the groaning man's direction. “He was in the process of kicking me out, I swear. He's very good at his job. You guys should give him a raise. Okay, bye.”

You squeeze Ji-na's hand one final time before moving to scurry out of the building. For the second time today, fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you backward. You sigh as you yank your hand away. “A simple 'wait! stop!' would suffice. Why is everyone so grabby today? Look, I was just dropping off a birthday present for Ji-na. I promise that the doorman didn't let me go upstairs.”

“Y/N, I don't care about the doorman. I have something for you,” he says quickly before reaching into the tote bag that hangs around his shoulder. He rummages somewhat frantically for a few seconds before producing a business card, raising it into the air with pride and beaming as if it was the cure to a zombie outbreak. “You remember me telling you about one of my old co-managers for a different group who quit Hot Star and started working for P NATION?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. This was not the greeting that you expected out of your former manager.

“Um … I think so. He's one of Hyuna's managers now, you said.”

“Yes!” he screeches, his chest heaving as if he has just finished running a marathon. You exchange a glance with Ji-na who looks equally perplexed. “Yes, he works with Hyuna. And he called me last week and said that Hyuna heard about everything that happened to you in the news. And so she started looking you up on YouTube and she thinks you're really talented and wants your contact information.”

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register everything that he has just said considering how quick, breathless and jumbled his words are. Ji-na is elbowing you excitedly in the ribs.

“I've tried asking Hot Star for your address but they wouldn't tell me anything. I was literally coming here to ask Ji-na to try to reach out to you so I could pass the information along but here you are! It's like fate!”

Ji-na throws her elbow much deeper this time, accompanying the jab with a sharp screech. You can see that there's something exciting happening but your brain isn't putting it all together yet.

“Um, why does Hyuna want my contact information? You said she heard about my situation in the news so she must know that I'm not with FRNZEE anymore, right? Or any company, for that matter. We can't collab or anything like that.”

Manager and Ji-na groan in unison, so in sync that it seems rehearsed.

“Y/N, please, are you really this dense? Do I need to dumb this down for you?”

You grimace but bat your eyelashes hopefully. “Would you?”

She sighs, slapping her hands down hard onto your shoulders. “Hyuna was kicked out of Cube for a dating scandal. Psy – who founded P NATION – signed her right after. You were kicked out of Hot Star for a dating scandal. And now Hyuna is contacting you. I mean, I'm just speculating here but there's no way this is a coincidence.”

Wait.

If she's saying what you think she's saying then …

Hyuna wants to contact you … to sign you … to P NATION?

All you were here to do was to drop off Ji-na's birthday present. After this, you were going to stop into a few cosmetic stores to stock up on some harder-to-find products and then treat yourself to a well-deserved oreo bingsu before heading home. Talking to Hyuna – arguably one of the most popular and influential females in the k-pop industry ever – about possibly signing with Psy's new agency was not in the forecast.

Realizing your stunned state, Manager smirks smugly, lifting your hand to drop the business card into before wrapping your fingers around it and letting it fall.

The card feels like fire in your palm.

“Y/N,” Ji-na's voice breaks through your haze. You glance up at her silently, her warm smile only heightening your nervousness. “Go home and call her. Listen to what she has to say or what she has to … offer. Okay? And then call me and tell me every little detail.”

“You guys, that can't be right. Hyuna and Dawn's scandal was different – they both admitted to being in the relationship. Nobody bullied or laughed at them. I … I'm a joke. Why would P NATION want to sign me? Do you think they're just going around plucking up poor little k-pop idols who are mistreated by their labels? No, they're smarter than that. They-”

A hand – belonging to either Manager or Ji-na, you're not sure which one – whacks you upside the head. The strength of the blow is painful but it has its desired affect – it shuts you right up.

“Stop it, Y/N,” Manager scolds. “What happened to you wasn't fair and we all know it. You worked so hard for FRNZEE and maybe this is your good karma. Maybe this is ...”

“Fate!” Ji-na squeals hysterically.

___________________________________

An hour later, you're sitting in the corner of the cafe by yourself, a heaping bowl of bingsu untouched in front of you. Instead, your eyes focus on the card that you've set down onto the table. You wonder if this is a prank; if someone from Hot Star is getting one last act of cruel revenge on you before parting ways completely.

But what if it's not?

What if this is what was always supposed to happen? Everything that has happened to you, everything that you've been through, everything that you've lost … was it for this? Half of you jitters in happiness at the prospect of being signed to a label that houses some of the greats – Psy, Hyuna, Jessi. But the other half of you mourns what you had to give up for this.

Namjoon.

Was this opportunity supposed to make you grateful for losing him? Are you supposed to feel like your breakup served some kind of purpose now?

It didn't. Most of the happiest moments you can remember are either with Namjoon or because of Namjoon. If the choice was your idol career or Namjoon then …

Why do you have to make a choice? Why can't you have both? Why is that wrong?

For the first time, you shift your eyes away from the P NATION logo and onto the phone number scrawled messily onto the bottom of the card.

Lifting your phone, you dial with trembling fingers.

< -- PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER -- >

[tastyliltina]

SnackInc 1/?

A/n:  This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I've been meaning to post it...kind of a worldbuilding thing I made back when Fern was still a newer character of mine.  Not really sure if I'll continue it or not, but the basic premise is that Fern works at a corporation that commissions humans out to be used as snacks for more feral giants/predatory creatures.  This keeps random attacks on humans down and helps settle cravings the giants might have.  Fern's a pretty well known snack but fell on hard times and had to resort to more shady deals outside of the corporation.   So...yeah, have a worldbuilding thing ;;w;; If you enjoyed and want a story for yourself, feel free to inquire about commissions!:  tinascommissions.carrd.co/ All stories are on sale 50% off until Dec. 10th!   Now, onto the story! ~~ Fern stumbled through the street, clutching his wad of cash. Thick, warm liquid slimed his clothes as he moved away from his client. The giant looming behind him chuckled, and Fern turned to face the beast.

“Look, man…” Fern sighed, trying to brush back his hair. “Keep this quiet, alright?  Don’t want it getting around I’m offering this...service to random giants on the street.” He thumbed through the payment, ensuring the bills were all there. Once he was sure, he glanced back up to the grinning giant.

Pearly peaks of white shimmered in the moonlight. Something about fangs in the dark was much more terrifying. Still, Fern held his ground.

“Heh. Whatever you say, morsel~.” A tongue traced over smiling lips, and Fern rolled his eyes.

“If that’s your best compliment, I’d hate to see an insult,” he muttered. The giant scoffed, but straightened. Deals like this weren’t appreciated among watchful eyes. Departures needed to be discreet.

Fern sighed. He watched his client stalk away, and tried to grasp what little pride he had left. The fact the ground shook with every step the giant took did little to help. Being treated like food for a quick cash grab...how humiliating. Still...money was nice. And with more wealthy clientele, maybe working in the food industry wasn’t so bad. Turning, Fern descended into the dim alley. He shivered as the drool clinging to him reacted with the wind…. Getting home would be hell.

Slowly, he traversed the desolate streets. Runoff from a recent storm splashed beneath his feet, though hardly drew Fern from his thoughts. With the money he’d gotten from tonight, he’d almost be able to pay off rent. If he did that, maybe he could find some more high-end clients. Spending night after night in another mouth, in another reckless giant was getting old. Most of the bastards didn’t use mints... Others liked to bite.  At least through SnackInc, he got the clinets that cared about their treats a little more...he missed the days of pampering.  

But damn, having extra cash felt so, so good. Fancier outfits and attending clubs where the high-end clients frequencted wasn't cheap.  The reassurance dinners would be easy was well worth a few showers, he supposed. As long as rates didn’t spike, maybe there’d be enough for something hardy. A soup, or...maybe just burgers. Either sounded fine, as long as it wasn't a steaming bowl of ramen.

Soon enough, Fern found his apartment. The building was silent as Fern ascended the stairs. He supposed that made sense at this time of night. Just as he slid his hand into his pocket, Fern heard a rustling behind him. He stiffened. Giants and humans alike knew not to visit the others' living quarters, especially this late at night. It wasn’t worth the jail time or the fees. Some, though…

“Easy, pal.”

The voice was calm. Casual. Fern blinked. He turned, and was met with a pair of golden eyes. The rings of yellow peered down at him, squinting in the dark. Fern didn’t miss the reptilian features on the creature before him, and felt part of his blood run cold. Reptiles were the worst for rando attacks.

“What.” Fern snipped. His tone wasn’t aggressive enough. Fern didn’t care. He didn’t want to be yelling at a giant he didn’t know, especially one that knew where he lived.

“Said easy, man,” the giant continued. He was small, green-skinned and husky. Scales patched across his face, and a black sweater draped the giant’s torso. Unlike Fern, he appeared calm and collected.  “Not gonna try anything. Just wanted to know where the nearest gas station was.”

Fern raised a brow. Oh.  Though he didn't know if he trusted that answer or not, Fern could take it.  He lifted a hand, pointing south. “‘Bout five miles that way. You can’t miss it.” The giant followed his gesture, squinting again. Then, he nodded.

“Cool, thanks.” Instead of leaving, or moving at all, the giant remained seated. Fern furrowed his brow.

“Well...okay. I��m-I’ll be going,” he mumbled. The giant nodded, not seeming intent on leaving. Fern felt something twist his stomach as he stepped into his place. That had been...unnerving, almost as much as approaching random giants to get them to eat him.

Slowly, Fern stepped into his living room. He flicked on the light, and was greeted with the familiar sight of...mediocrity. Beige walls, a beige couch, dirty carpet. Even the flickering light emulated half-assed effort. But, this was home. For now. Fern stretched, sighed, and made sure to lock his door behind him.

He sauntered down the hall, the thought of a shower making everything a little less horrid. Clean clothes, a clean bed… Even with the uncleanable stains of previous occupants on the mattress, sleep sounded so wonderful right now. Fern stepped into his bathroom. He stripped, tossed his clothes aside, and turned on the shower. God, hot water felt good.

Several minutes and layers of body scrub later, Fern scooped his soiled laundry up. His nose wrinkled at the stench of unmasked slobber. He tossed the clothes in the washer, ran a hand through his hair, and returned down the hall. The bed creaked as he collapsed into it, the scent of occupants past filling the air. Fern didn’t care. By the time the smells registered, he was already asleep.

~~

Fern woke up to the sound of his alarm. He groaned. Another day, another customer to please. Sitting up, he snatched the offending device from his nightstand. Who was on the calendar today…

Wait. Fern’s eyes scanned over his clientele list. There was a new face among the regulars... Green skin, yellow eyes, red Mohawk...damn. It was the giant from the other night. Fern grimaced, setting his phone down and rubbing at his face with a sigh, taking a moment to collect himself.

Normally, the ones that approached Fern outside of business were scouting for fresh meat after some kind of falling out. They were the ones that made this job hard. Fern stood, looking over his calendar. For today, at least, there weren’t any taken slots. He had that much. Maybe he could do some cleaning? Cleaning sounded great.

He stood. No point planning the day without getting it started, he supposed. Fern stretched, sighed, and ambled down the hallway. He scouted the kitchen for food, and settled on some bacon and eggs.  There was always a sense of pride that came with making his own food. Fern stepped up to his stove, twisting the stove knobs.  

Soon enough, a steaming pile of eggs and bacon littered a paper plate.  Fern grabbed some silverware, once again checking his schedule for today.  Nothing new. He rubbed his chin, opening the file of his newest client. As expected, there wasn’t much available.  Most clients went by a first name basis, and the majority didn’t include any other information but a phone number and place to reach them.  Fern wasn’t sure how the new guy found out about what he offered, but decided to shrug it off.  

Breakfast was quick.  Fern took his time cleaning his plates, wishing he didn’t have to go out to the store today.  But, one couldn’t get by without dish soap and food. Fern was too much of a neat freak to live a day without one, and food wasn’t a necessity when some clients bought him dinner before having him for dessert.  He trudged down to his bedroom, throwing on a simple sweatshirt and jeans.  

Fern slid out of his apartment, slipping his hands into his pockets.  The jingle of keys signified him locking his door before he peeled away from the familiarity of home.  Human-sized creatures traversed the narrow sidewalks, hustling and bustling to and fro. Fern didn’t miss the stares of those passing him.  Word got around. Some people looked to him with admiration, being able to take on such an important, and yet demeaning task. Others scowled at him, and some took things to a physical level.  Fern ignored those that bumped into him without saying anything, reserving his battles for those that had the guts to say something and make a scene.  

Walking to the market never took too long, one of the perks of living in a small town.  The building smelled like cinnamon, a warming reminder of the chilly air outside. Fern slid in with a small crowd.  He headed for the cleaning section first, rubbing his hands together as he searched the shelves for his usual dish soap.  

“Hey.”

The voice snapped Fern to attention.  He blinked, turned, and smiled at the familiar face behind him.  Kenny stood with her hands in her pockets, oversized sweatshirt complimenting her ripped up jeans.  Fern relaxed. It was nice seeing a familiar face, even if it was of a cranky and potentially crazy bitch.  

“Hey, Ken.”  Fern nodded. He took pride in the ability to shorten her nickname without getting shanked.  Kenny stepped up next to him, sliding her hands to her hips. Unlike Fern, Kenny had a more vanilla career.  She was a well-renowned tattoo artist. Fern’d debated going to her for a few years, but didn’t know if their history justified her making a few creative decisions while he was under her needle.  

“What brings you to market?  Finally decide to crawl out of your slimy cave?”  Kenny’s voice lowered. While she wasn’t a friend per se, Kenny was one of the few people Fern opened up to about his career choice.  She’d never given him a hard time about it. If anything, she almost seemed in awe...or disgust, it was really hard to tell as far as Kenny was concerned.  

“Ran out of soap,” Fern shrugged.  “Can’t go without it,” he paused to pluck a bottle from the shelf.  “Got a new client today. Some giant approached me after a rough one last night…  Had to scrub myself for hours, the guy had way too many drinks before he gave me a call.  Starting to think he ate me on a dare, y’know?” “Shit man,” Kenny shook her head, somehow without disturbing her loose bun.  “I still don’t get how you deal with those assholes day in and out. Doesn’t it get...I dunno, gross after a while?”

“It does get gross, but really...someone’s gotta do it.  If not me with all the magical guards in place, then it’d be someone else, or no one at all.  And we know how big folk can get if they don’t get their...fix.” Fern tried to hide the bitterness in his tone, but he could still feel it in his voice.  Anyone who didn’t live under a rock knew how bad things got before the Snack business stepped in. Disappearances, random attacks on towns… Even if it wasn’t a well-liked profession, it was an important one in order to keep the peace among different species.  “But, there’s perks,” a crooked smile plastered Fern’s face. “Don’t gotta worry about a giant trying to mess me up, y’know? I’m...valuable.”

Kenny scoffed, “Valuable my ass,” she shook her head and sighed.  “But yeah, you gotta point. Still...”

“Don’t you go worrying about me,” Fern laughed.  “You’ve got a badass persona to keep, y’know?” He yelped as Kenny’s hand whacked the back of his head, but snickered at the fuming woman.  She crossed her arms and sneered at him.

“Oh, shove it up yours.”

“Sorry, only know how to go down, I’m not into that-” “Fern I swear to God if I didn’t like you I’d shove my foot so far-...you know what, fuck it.”  Kenny grabbed the back of Fern’s sweater, and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back. A dull ache spread along his back and head, and he groaned.  

“Nice...seeing you, Ken…” Fern mumbled as he pushed himself up.  As usual, Kenny’d vanished into the crowd. Fern expected as much.  Kenny never liked being forced to admit she had other emotions besides anger and rage...Fern liked to tease it out of her when he could, even if the result was almost always the same.  Rubbing his head, Fern grabbed the soap from the shelf and headed towards checkout with a chuckle.  

[merinnan]

DMBJ Ep 6

I’ve been a bit behind putting these up on Tumblr, so I’m afraid you’re about to get a dump of the remainder of Season 1, plus the first two eps of Explore with the Note! (not all in one post, of course - 1 ep per post as usual)

So! Episode 6!

The Xiaoge Rescue Count at the start of ep 6 stands at 9 for Wu Xie, 12 for the protagonists, 13 for everyone.

- And we start back with Chengcheng and High Jr. I DON'T CARE ABOUT THIS SUBPLOT, MAKE IT GO AWAY AND BRING BACK XIAOGE AND WU XIE. 

- Why is Chengcheng calling her kidnapper dage? I don't like her or trust her. She is annoying and shady

- Oh, good, now we are back to Wu Xie being a good boy 

- That is a lot of guns and explosives Sanshu has recovered

- I am annoyed at how they all seem to think that A-Ning needs to be shielded from everything unpleasant because she's a girl. She's a goddamn mercenary leader. I think she can take knowing these things - and it's better to let her know as it's found out so that she can adjust to the news properly, instead of springing it on her when it can't be concealed anymore, like what happened when the blood zombie showed up.

- On a completely different tangent, Wu Xie's neck dressing has stayed astonishingly clear for running around in a tomb, crawling through tight tunnels, falling off of ledges and being dramatically rescued, fighting bugs, and fainting all over floors.

- Wu Xie is so sweetly optimistic 

 - LOL, sure Pangzi, you're here for archeological study 

- ....Wu Xie, you are disturbingly knowledgeable about guns for a college student

- Now that I've read the first novel between having watched ep 5 and now, my mind is slightly reeling from how innocent and babie drama Wu Xie is compared to novel Wu Xie 

- Awww. Doesn't matter which Wu Xie it is, babie with gun always looks kinda adorable.

- Also, I appreciate Wu Xie's trigger discipline. So often shows have such terrible trigger discipline. 

- Oooh, it's like a carved thing on the dais that got his attention. I thought it was like a computer drive or something at first, because it looked kinda like that.

- OH NO, THE LIVING VINES ARE HERE AND SNEAKING UP ON THEM 

- ...and pushing the button made them retreat 

- ...phew? 

- I am still concerned 

- The music signifies that something creepy is coming 

- lol, babie. Looking so innocent even though He Knows What He Did

- I don't know what that sound is, but that's not a good sound 

- ...earthquake? That's a bad thing to happen when you're in the middle of an evil cave. 

- WU FAMILY, WHY ARE YOU THE ONLY ONES TRYING TO STAY ON YOUR FEET WITHOUT HOLDING ONTO ANYTHING?! 

- So fucking stubborn

- This is where Wu Xie gets it from, if Erbai is wondering 

- A-Ning is the smartest one, staying sitting down 

- The tree opens up like a fucking security vault and ejects a coffin. Because of course if fucking does. 

- Oooh, yeah, that's that shot from the opening credits 

- "I can't read any of this, but it says this is the guy we're looking for" 

- "His story recorded here is the same as what we know" WU XIE YOU JUST SAID YOU CAN'T READ IT

- Come on. Earlier in the show you said "yes I can read this" and read it. And in the novel, you puzzle it out from being able to read bits. This part, you flat out said he couldn't read it, and now are telling everyone what it says 

 - I love continuity, but dramas really don't

- The music now is similar enough to the Harry Potter music that I almost expect an owl to go flying past 

- The owner of a coffin wanting the coffin to be opened hundreds or thousands of years later seems like it should be something more worrying than how everyone is reacting

- I wanna know how Sanshu knows the coffin has been there for 3000 years. Wu Xie can't read the dates on it, and the Warring States Period was 1500 years ago, not 3000 

- JESUS CHRIST, SANSHU, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE SENSIBLE ONE!

- Why are you suggesting you open the chained shut coffin in order to see if there's somehow something alive (or alive-ish) in there? 

- Awwww! Wu Xie going "no, don't do that, Pokerface told us not to touch anything"

- Like. Not, "no uncle, that seems like a bad idea" 

- But "Xiaoge told us not to, and we should do what he says" 

- I have the feeling that if this Pangzi is agreeing with something, then you all should not be doing that thing. Because this version of Pangzi is an idiot

- HOW THE FUCK IS THE MOVING COFFIN GOING TO SECRETLY HAVE THE EXIT INSIDE IT, PANGZI 

- THAT MAKES THE LEAST SENSE OUT OF EVERYTHING SO FAR 

- Pan Zi's "WTF do you think you're doing" look

- This Pangzi is so bad 

- I even like Chengcheng better than him. And I wish they had taken her into the tomb and used her as bait. 

- I'm glad he's better in other adaptations. Like, I love the Pangzi in Chongqi. I am so glad that he was my intro to Pangzi, not this one

- DON'T MAKE THE BABIE SAD BY BEING DUMB

- A-Ning really should not be just standing there with her leg injury. I've had a muscle biopsy before where they took it from the thigh, which is a similar 'injury' to what she's got, and you do not get on your feet unless you absolutely have to for days afterwards.

- At least they have her limp when she's walking, and it's kinda sad that I'm glad they do that! 

- And Pan Zi should not be doing hard physical labour with a fucking gut wound

- But I think I'm more annoyed by A-Ning, because I have personal experience with her kind of injury so know first-hand what kind of pain she's causing herself by standing and walking 

- HUMAN BRAIN LOGIC GO

- Pangzi you fucking dick, just standing there watching. You should be pushing instead of Pan Zi 

- Hahahah, after all his shittalk and boasting, and he can't do it 

- Oh, there, finally

- I know that inside lid is supposed to be jade, but it looks so terribly fake. Oh my god. It's awful 

- It looks like a bad Photoshop of one of those Windows 98 default backgrounds

- I love the looks everyone gives Pangzi every time he slips up and talks about getting money from the stuff in the tomb 

- LOL, that's not a carving, that's a couple of translucent green plastic discs stuck on top of Windows Background Photoshop cover

- ...I'm kinda waiting for someone to suddenly shout BOO! really loudly while they're all carefully trying to listen for any sounds in the coffin

- They're almost at the end of the first novel in terms of plot, and there's still 4 and a half eps to go

- Wow, I think that's the first time I've seen Sanshu actually worried 

- lol, and now Pangzi says he believes him, rather than get his ear that close to the coffin himself 

- PANGZI DON'T STARTLE SOMEONE WHO HAS THEIR FINGER ON THE TRIGGER OF A GUN & DEFINITELY DON'T SMACK THE GUN

- Wu Xie has a lot of control to have not accidentally shot right then

- LOL, after all their declarations how they're archaeologists, not tomb robbers, & how they're here to protect cultural artefacts from robbers, etc - they go make references to the northern and southern schools of tomb raiding

- Just without actually saying exactly what the 'Southern School' being referred to actually is. 

- ....and now Pangzi jumps in front of the pointed gun as he grabs it. Do you have a fucking death wish, dude? 

 - And now we see the infamous bronze armour! Jade armour. Whatever

- You'd think they'd have learned to fucking take all of A-Ning's guns away from her after last time she held one of them at gunpoint 

- OMG, the face on the helmet is so fucking ridiculous, I can't - It's not even properly positioned over his face

- Aaaaah, Sanshu called him tianzhen  I'm so happy at being able to identify that word now it's ridiclous 

- That...that is not what peeled skin looks like 

- Pangzi comes right out and admits he's a tomb robber 

- And for the first time, no-one calls him on it

- Or correct him for calling them tomb robbers 

- Ah, there you are, Xiaoge. I was wondering how long it would take for you to be back 

- I see looking for people in a tomb requires no shirt XD

- Better shots of shirtless Xiaoge

- Like, same, Wu Xie. Same.

- Look, I have two braincells, and one is for Xiaoge and one is for pingxie

- YOU ACTING LIKE THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS, PANGZI

 - Oooh, this is a goood shot of the tattoo. And of who the tattoo is on

- I don't have a Xiaoge problem. It's the opposite of a problem.

- Seriously, Pangzi is so fucking lucky that Xiaoge didn't kill him a dozen times over during their first meetings here

- Also, now that Xiaoge has explained why he threw a knife at Pangzi, I believe it's time to update the Xiaoge Rescue Count to 9 for Wu Xie, 13 for the protagonists, 14 for everyone.

- Although maybe I should have also been keeping a People Eyerolling At Pangzi Count given how often it's been happening

- More Xiaoge pics, feat. emotions that are not 'worrying about Wu Xie'

- Also, did he throw the corpse off the platform after he broke it's neck, or did it yeet itself off somehow? 

- I mean, I too wanna know how Xiaoge knows all this stuff if this was all put here 3000 years ago

- I do love that Wu Xie is already about the only person who Xiaoge will actually look at instead of staring down or straight ahead

- LOL, Wu Xie won't even let Pangzi so much as touch this. 

- I honestly appreciate that Xiaoge appears to travel lightly enough that he doesn't have a spare shirt

- EVERYTHING makes Wu Xie better than everyone else (except Xiaoge), Pangzi

- lol, Sanshu, yes. You tell him. 

- Hahahah, and Wu Xie playing along with Sanshu, the little adorable shit 

 - THE LOOK ON HIS FACE 

- KJFDHKJDAFHFKASDJHFKJASDLHGFSKLJ 

- AND DON'T THINK I DON'T SEE THAT SMIRK, WU XIE 

- There is absolutely not enough of little shit!Wu Xie in S1

- Loooool, his little nod at Sanshu now that they got their way and made Pangzi promise to stfu for the time being 

- And that is the first time I've seen that style of carriage roll like a car 

- Those skull ballistae were a cool aesthetic, though

- THAT CARRIAGE WAS ROLLING LIKE A FUCKING CAR, HOW IS IT BACK UPRIGHT AND ROLLING ALONG THE GROUND TO THE CLIFF 

- HOW TF IS IT ROLLING ANYWHERE WITH A SMASHED WHEEL 

- HOW TF IS HE ABLE TO HOLD IT FOR EVEN A SECOND, ESPECIALLY WITH ONE HAND

- A thin as fuck flagpole is going to give you jack shit in terms of something to brace with when it comes to that much weight 

- THE SCRIPTWRITER OF THIS SCENE IS BAD AND SHOULD FEEL BAD 

- *cries in physics minor*

- I can suspend disbelief for aliens, zombies, everything about Xiaoge, logic holes, and plot pits. Apparently my line is a non-cultivator breaking the laws of physics. 

- Aaaah, here come the zombies 

- So this dude is not the zombie dude 

- He is the emperor, I think?

- OH MY GOD THAT GREENSCREEN IS JUST THE WORST 

- I thought the one on the river was bad. The one of her falling as he dives off the cliff to save her is actively painful 

- Oh, now it looks like we're gonna have a dumb love triangle in the flashback. Yay. *waves tiny flag*

- Bitch, be a bit more grateful. Yes, your ex-lover caught you as you were falling & did so by basically flying, but that's just standard wuxia defiance of physics. Your husband held a FUCKING CARRIAGE with ONE HAND for AT LEAST TWO WHOLE MINUTES to keep you alive before your ex finally showed up

- "Were you really frightened?" Your majesty, what kind of a stupid question is that? 

- The emperor's armour is really pretty, I gotta say 

- Uuuugh, this stupid love story hurts in a bad way 

- I'm just gonna fast forward through it 

- ...and there's the end of the episode.

- That love triangle is going to make me scream, I know it 

- But that does explain how they're going to pad out the episodes a bit more with how far through the plot they are already 

- None of them are even really that pretty to make up for the boring, trite, love triangle plot

- How do they expect to keep my attention through it if I don't even have eye candy?!?! 

- I will be seriously headdesking if this flashback goes on for more than the next ep! 

- Oh well, there we are. The end of ep 6

The Xiaoge Rescue Count at the end of ep 6 stands at 9 for Wu Xie, 13 for the protagonists, 14 for everyone. 

[trashmenofmarvel]

Devil’s Backbone Chapter 11

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x S.H.I.E.L.D. agent!Reader

Summary: With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors. (This fic is explicit, 18+ only, mild dubcon)

Chapter Warnings: Blood, wound care

Word Count: 6.4k

0017 EST, January 12th, 2014

You guided the assassin to the couch after having felt along the wall for the light switch and flicking it on. You tried your best to lower him onto the cushions as gently as possible and not dump him like a sack of potatoes, no matter how tired your arms were. It was difficult; with his tactical suit and the metal arm you guessed he weighed at 250 pounds. Most likely more.

“Easy,” you said when he braced his metal fingers on the edge of the cushions and pain flashed across his face.

He met your eye, that same look of edgy wariness you had seen a few times was there very much still in place. You got the sense he was assessing you, taking your measure, but then his gaze quickly shifted away. His stare went blank and he seemed to sink within himself. Something was going on in there, something you couldn’t see or perhaps even guess at.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the luxury of keeping your distance, so all you could do was hope he didn’t do to you what he had done to his former allies.

Leaving him on the couch, you went to the hallway closet to raid it for what you would need. If memory served, it should be well-stocked with supplies and clothing. You found it was, cataloging what you needed: a large white medical kit, an armful of towels, a blanket, a flashlight, and a grey sweater jacket. That last one you pulled out and tugged on, zipping it up your chest. The heat had been set to fifty degrees to keep the pipes from freezing in the winter, and you turned the heat up on your way back to the living room.

You carefully pulled out the supplies you wanted and made your way back to the living room, placing the goods on the nearby glass coffee table. The assassin’s face was pale and sallow in the garish light of the ceiling fan lamp, his left side and leg almost black with blood.

When you sat on the edge of the coffee table and reached for his chest, he flinched away, his eyes wild but glassed over. His hands clenched and released in rapid succession, but he didn’t seem to know exactly how he wanted to react himself.

You backed away a few inches, palms up to show you meant him no harm. “I need to check your wounds. Unless you want me to take you to a hospital.”

His gaze flickered from your hands to your face. When he didn’t respond, you said, “Yeah, didn’t think so. I need to stop the bleeding. I’m going to be as gentle as I can, okay?”

His taut shoulders loosened and fell marginally, the tightness of his eyes softening just the tiniest bit and he gave a small, single nod.

It was the best you could hope for. Now all you had to do was figure out how to remove his clothing, a task that would be much more difficult than it seemed at first blush. His tac suit had a halter harness strapped across the chest, and the rest of it didn’t seem to have any discernible openings.

Well, gotta start somewhere.

You slowly reached forward and cautiously unsnapped the weapon harness, pulling it away from his chest. You realized the vest had buttons; you had thought they were simply decoration at first. A ridiculous conclusion, considering how practical the assassin was. You doubted he did much for the aesthetic.

As you unsnapped each button, you watched his face, looking for signs that he was going to lash out. Sweat beaded his forehead and his eyes were glassy with dark circles underneath, but he seemed calm enough. His breathing was uneven. You assumed it was from the pain.

When you finally got through the buttons—so goddamn many of them since they went the entire length of his torso—you very carefully peeled back his vest. The assassin winced but didn’t make a sound when the Kevlar fiber parted from the blood-tacky skin beneath.

There was a lot of it smeared across the left side of his chest and stomach, but most of it was dried and very little of it was fresh. The fact his wounds had clotted was a good sign, but you had no idea how much internal damage there was. He could just as easily bleed to death on the inside.

“All right,” you released a held breath as you eyed the cause of all that blood. “I count two gunshot wounds, one below your ribcage and the other above your hip. I can’t tell how deep they are. Um…”

The assassin moved and you drew your hands back quickly, but he only stripped off the rest of his vest and tossed it to the floor.

You stared. You couldn’t help it. Your eyes fastened onto the place where his artificial left shoulder joined his body, signified by a seam of jagged scars. It was brutal, looking as if the metal had been soldered to flesh without any care or consideration for the man.

Efficient and cruel.

Your eyes wandered over his chest, then. The large pectorals, the defining lines of his abs, the sheer power in his biceps and forearms. You had thought without his bulky gear he would look smaller, less intimidating. If anything, he looked larger and more primal.

You cleared your throat and forced your eyes back down to his bloodied and torn flesh. Methodically moving your focus downward over his clothed left leg, you saw two or three more possible wounds, but you wouldn’t know until…

“Don’t freak out,” you said with a slight wince, “but your pants need to come off.”

You chanced a glance at his face. He remained as immutable as ever, his heavy gaze bore into yours until you looked away. Christ, you could feel your cheeks heating up. You weren’t sure if it was from his glare or the fact you were trying to strip him naked.

“So… do you want me to do it or…?”

Without a word, the assassin reached down and unbuckled the gun holster across his waist. There was a zipper along each side, following the angles of his pelvis. He unzipped them, and without warning, pulled his pants down his hips.

He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“Okay,” you remarked to no one in particular as you quickly looked away. Of course. Why would a deadly assassin bother to wear underwear?

Commandos go commando, you thought in a moment of fleeting, anxiety-induced, borderline-hysterical humor. Oh, God, this is really my life now. Mad scientists and sexy underwear-less assassins.

You managed to keep your face blank as you took deep steadying breaths. You weren’t even sure why you were freaking out. You had seen plenty of your teammates naked, an unavoidable occurrence when you went on overnight missions together, and you hadn’t given a shit then.

Of course, none of your teammates had fucked you with their tongues or fingers, either.

Seeing the towels on the coffee table, you grabbed one and held it out in his general direction.

“You can cover up with this.”

Per usual, he remained silent, but you did feel the towel being tugged from your grasp.

You needed to focus, get your shit together, patch up the maybe-friendly killer, figure out what the hell was going on, and plan your next move. The last thing you needed was to be thrown off and sent reeling just because of a little bit of exposed skin.

Or a lot of exposed skin, as the case was. When you turned back to look at him, his pants were around his calves, his torso entirely bare, and the only thing covering his crotch was a towel that was, in retrospect, much too small.

The fact he was mostly naked vanished from your thoughts when you saw the next two wounds. You winced, leaning closer to peer at them.

“One in the hip and another in the thigh. They’re not bleeding anymore, but… you’re going to want an actual surgeon to remove all of these. So for now, I’m just going to clean and cover them—“

“Take them out.”

Your eyes shot upward to his, finding he was prompted up on his elbows, staring down at you with a hard expression.

“What?” You swallowed as his intense stare stirred something between your thighs. Your body had the worst timing. “No. I’m not doing that.”

Somehow, his gaze became even harder. You could feel the tension in your pelvis increase likewise, and you became much more belligerent and irritated than you meant to be.

“Listen, buddy,” you snapped, “this isn’t like the movies. If I go digging in there I will definitely make it worse, and that’s if I don’t kill you on accident. The best thing to do is to leave them be and—”

He moved too fast for you to react. Grabbed by the neckline of your jacket, he hauled you off the coffee table and nearly onto his chest where he glared into your face, inches away.

You froze like a rabbit between the wolf’s teeth.

“Take… them out,” he growled. Actually growled. It should have been funny. Instead, it made you feel something close to fear and not far from arousal.

For a moment, you said nothing. Your limbs were taut with distress, your heart pounding in your ears. After a moment you swallowed and blinked to clear your vision. His blue eyes seemed to fill your whole world, but you forced your tumultuous thoughts into something more coherent and focused. There wasn’t time for this bullshit posturing. He might be some kind of super badass who can murder two dozen people and then take four bullets from a machine gun, but that didn’t mean you were wrong.

You took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye.

“I didn’t bring you here, with me, against all gut instinct and better judgement, just so I could watch you bleed out on the couch.”

He blinked. It was the only reaction to your words aside from the curious way his eyes flicked between yours, as if searching for something. After a long, drawn out moment… his expression lost its hard edge and his fingers loosened their grip.

“I won’t,” he mumbled, too softly, too vacantly, and then released you.

With a lingering look you hoped made your irritation clear, you returned to your place on the coffee table and pointedly ignored the way your heart was thrumming in your chest.

Oh, yeah. You were irritated. Even a little scared. You were also undeniably turned on.

Great.

“Okay.” You muttered, pulling out a pair of forceps and sanitizing them with rubbing alcohol. “I’m just going to make it worse, but if that’s what you want... I’m warning you now though, if I do worsen it, then I really will take you to a hospital.”

He didn’t respond verbally, but he did lean back against the cushions and tensed his jaw as he stared up at the ceiling. You knew that rigid position from experience: he was mentally preparing himself for overwhelming physical pain.

You stared at the wounds and then back up at his face as you said, “I don’t have anything to anesthetize you with—“

“It doesn’t matter,” he cut in, gruff. “No more stalling.”

You would have prickled at his words, but his tone wasn’t cruel or mean. It was unnerved. He knew it would hurt, further confirmed by the fact his normal arm was gripping the back of the couch tightly.

The grim gesture prodded at your thoughts, and it made you wonder what had happened to him to provoke such a reaction. Did he have previous experience with having bullets dug out of him while awake? God, you hoped not.

You took a deep breath and began to work. You dealt with the highest wound on his side first, wiping at it with iodine, being as gentle as possible as you smoothed the cloth over the damaged skin. You took a pair of forceps and paused when you realized you needed to shine some light into the wound itself to see what you were doing.

He held his metal arm away from his body, the silver forearm propped on the coffee table next to your hip. You were nearly touching him already but you scooted closer, trying to get a better angle of approach. You leaned down and placed your free hand on his flank, feeling the taut muscles under your fingers. You clicked on the flashlight and lightly tapped it against his arm, making a metallic clicking sound.

He peered down at you cautiously, and you indicated the flashlight in your hand.

“Hold this, please.” You aimed the light at his injuries. “Just like that.”

He wrapped his silver fingers around the black handle of the flashlight and pointed it where you had instructed. In doing so, he had to lean the artificial limb against your thigh. You could feel the cold metal through your pants and you struggled against any reaction.

Praying you didn’t pass out yourself, seeing as you weren’t exactly trained to be a field surgeon and go digging around inside someone’s body, you carefully moved the forceps into the illuminated, bloody opening. You could actually see the shiny metallic surface of the bullet. It should have been much deeper than it was, considering a goddamn machine gun had shot him. You set your jaw and tried to steady your hands as you dipped the forceps into the wound and very delicately grabbed the slug.

You heard the shift in his breathing that told you he felt it. You paused and searched for something comforting to say.

“Remember to breathe,” you told him. “Wiggle your toes.”

You glanced up at his face and saw the confusion there, settled in a severe crease between his brows. You shrugged and felt your cheeks heat. “That’s what my dentist tells me when something is gonna hurt. It’s silly but it works.”

His gaze became even more piercing if that was possible, so you cleared your throat and returned your attention to your task. You grabbed hold of the slug again and began to pull it out. It took a little bit of wiggling and you went slow, trying your hardest not to cause any additional damage.

The couch creaked ominously as the assassin dug his fingers into the woodwork underneath the fabric. You couldn’t imagine the kind of pain he was experiencing—your own gunshot wound had been nothing more than a deep graze—but he bore it in silence.

It was unnerving. You almost wished he would make some kind of noise, if only for his own benefit. He certainly didn’t need to hold back on your account, and it couldn’t be healthy to repress so damn much. After all, this wasn’t the first time you’d notice him do something like that before.

Pleasure or pain, he seemed to just… hold it back.

Finally, the slug came free. You stared down at the warped piece of bloody metal, almost fascinated, before you put it down on one of the towels nearby.

One down. Three to go.

You continued onward, freeing the second slug in his side with as much ease as the first. You tried to be more careful with the bullet in his hip, suspecting it was close to the bone. The one in his thigh was also difficult. The thick wall of muscle did not make it easy for the bullet to be extracted, and you were sure you had caused some additional tearing on its removal. You kept mumbling apologies, wincing whenever his leg twitched, but he remained quiet.

The assassin may have carried the pain with stoic silence but it was definitely affecting him. Sweat trickled down his forehead and dampened his hair, his cheekbones were so prominent he looked almost gaunt, and his pupils had contracted to dark pinpricks. His fingernails had ripped small tears into the couch. The pain you were inflicting must have been excruciating, yet the control he had over his own body in the face of it was impressive, and you had to admit, a little concerning. It didn’t seem normal.

You were able to extract all four bullets first and then patch the wounds after since there was so little blood to speak of. After washing them with iodine one last time, you pulled them closed and sealed them shut with a cutting-edge medical glue, one that would expedite the healing as well as protect the wound from infection. You finished them off by taping gauze over them, protecting the glue and skin until he could get more thorough medical treatment.

You were beginning to suspect he might not need it. The assassin’s injuries should have been much worse; deeper with much more damage. You didn’t understand it at first, but then realized it was surprisingly familiar.

You had seen Steve Rogers take a few nasty blows; wounds that should have put him in a hospital. Yet somehow, more often than not, he simply walked them off and returned the next day looking as if his wounds were several days old.

The idea that the assassin could be enhanced or even gifted should have crossed your mind before now, but to be fair, you had been a little preoccupied.

“It’s done,” you said, breathing out in a long exhale. Your fingers were coated with red and orange, and they trembled with fatigue. You began to clean up the mess when his voice caused you to halt.

“Thank you.”

You looked up and found his gaze already settled on your face. The sight of those pale blue eyes watching you so closely sent heat through your cheeks.

“You took them for me,” you said, trying to sound blasé and failing when your voice slightly cracked. “It’s the least I could do.”

Needing a moment to collect yourself, you stood and picked up the soiled towels. Walking around the couch, you went to the washing machine in the hallway and tossed them in before going to the kitchen and throwing out the bloodied wipes. You went back to the living room and returned to your perch on the coffee table, grabbing the medical kit and pulling it toward you. Digging through it for a moment, you found what you were looking for and pulled out a bottle of pills, ones you remembered from your field training.

Sensing a heated gaze on the back of your neck, you nervously twisted off the top and shook four pills into your hand. When you turned to where the assassin was still lying on the couch, you saw he was watching you closely. He seemed to do that a lot, and it made you feel self-conscious.

“What is that?” he asked, his tone matching the suspicion is his pale eyes.

“A drug created by S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medical doctors for injured agents in the field.”

His eyes narrowed. You already knew where this was going, but you pushed on, hoping you were wrong and he would act like a reasonable person.

“It suppresses bacterial growth and promotes healing. I donno, something they cooked up in the labs—“

“No.”

He stared at you. You glowered back.

“I don’t want it.”

“Do you want those wounds to become infected?” you snapped. “Because that’s what’s going to happen.”

He ignored you and actually tried to sit up, so you said, “Nu-uh,” and placed your palm against his bare chest. It was all too easy to push him back down, his strength sapped by his wounds. His skin was warm under your fingers and you quickly pulled back.

He looked up through his strands of sweat-darkened hair and you met his gaze unflinchingly.

“Why are you so hell-bent on suffering through this?”

You weren’t sure why you asked. Why you even cared whether he was in pain or not. He didn’t answer, and instead broke off eye contact, looking away.

Your anger vanished, leaving you feeling tired. All you wanted was to crawl under the covers of the only bed in the entire small house, but you couldn’t. Somehow, it had taken root in your mind that the assassin was your responsibility. Whatever happened to him, whatever he did, it was on you.

You got up and went into the kitchen, proceeding to rummage through the cupboards until you found what you were looking for. Most of the shelves were filled with MRE and canned foods, but you found the bottles of supplemented water without much difficulty. You knew you were dehydrated and probably malnourished, so you took two from the cupboard instead of just one.

“At least drink this,” you muttered as you returned. You held one out to him, the blue liquid sloshing mutedly inside the bottle. He eyed it as if it were an IED. When he neglected to move, you squared your jaw. “You need to replace your electrolytes.”

He studied your face for a moment, and then carefully took the bottle from your hand. You stared at the metal fingers wrapped around the curved plastic, so lightly it didn’t even bend the material. You were curious as to how sensitive those fingers were.

Nope. Don’t go there.

“What you probably need is a blood transfusion, but this particular safe house doesn’t come with its own blood bank,” you remarked as you sat back on the coffee table, facing him as you unscrewed the top of your bottle.

You were relieved to see he had pulled his pants back up around his hips while you’d been in the kitchen. You weren’t so happy he was up in a sitting position. At least he was leaning back against the cushions. In the event that he did pass out, you wouldn’t have to carry him anywhere else. Or deal with him cracking his skull open.

The assassin made no remark to your dry comment and instead downed the bottle in one go. You were pulled from your sour thoughts at the sight of his large Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp.

Oh, for fuck’s sake—

Needing a distraction, you pulled out the bottle of pills he’d rejected. You opened it, tapped out two pills into your palm, and popped them into your mouth, swallowing with the supplemented water. After the torture, dehydration, exposure to the elements, and the incredible psychological stress, you hoped they could tide you over until you sought actual medical help. The beating your immune system had taken, not to mention the actual beating at the hands of the soldiers, was going to take a nasty toll. Already the fatigue and pain was settling into your bones and muscles like a dusting of broken glass.

You realized the assassin was staring at you again.

“So,” you prompted suddenly, “Do you have a name?”

He blinked and slightly tilted his head, mouth forming into a frown.

“I… I don’t know.” He paused, chewed on his lip, and added. “I think it’s… Bucky.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Bucky? That’s a… unique name.” You had almost said it was a weird name, but you decided to try the diplomatic approach rather than the dick-ish one.

The assassin remained quiet, his eyes staring somewhere near your knees. He looked almost lost in thought.

It didn’t seem as if he would say anything else, so you cleared your throat and said, “Well… my name is—“

“I know who you are.”

You snapped your mouth shut, feeling the corners of your mouth tug into a tight frown.

“Okay. Then maybe you can tell me why you killed the people you worked for and opened my cell door.” You hadn’t meant to sound so scathing and annoyed, but now that the danger of him bleeding out had passed, a restless urgency for answers was taking hold of you.

The assassin met your eyes only briefly before they slid away again.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know much, do you.”

You could have winced at the ice in your cold words, but it was the effect they had on him that made you feel like a real piece of shit.

He looked downright miserable as he stared at his hands and said in a faint voice, “I’m sorry.”

His odd change in behavior and personality made you remember this wasn’t the first time he had acted this way. There was something very wrong with him.

Guilt needled at you. When you spoke again, it was with a gentler tone. “What can you tell me?”

A blank look passed over his face, followed by furrowing brows.

“It’s… hard. There’s fragments. Bits and pieces, but I can’t… focus on them. I try, and… they slip away.”

It was the most words you had ever heard him speak at once. But the next ones made your breath catch in your throat.

“I think… they did this to me?”

He raised his eyes to meet yours, a pained expression that was disturbing to see. He looked like a soul lost in the wilderness. “I can’t remember,” he added, his eyes trailing down to stare near your shoulder again.

Perhaps you should have been afraid. Or at least alarmed that you were stuck with a killer assassin with retrograde amnesia, but his words, his behavior, everything about him prodded at something vulnerable within you. A chink in your well-hewn armor.

You had maimed. You had killed. You had done truly despicable things in the line of duty, but at the end of the day, you could put all of that away in nice, tidy little boxes. But this man refused to go into a box quietly. Every time you tried to pack him away, to forget what you had done with him in the loneliness of your isolation and treat him like an enemy at worst and a hostile ally at best, you just… couldn’t.

He had dug himself under your skin and seemed intent on staying there.

“Who were those men?” you asked, making an effort to get him to keep talking. “The ones who kept and tortured me?”

“HYDRA,” he replied simply.

You sighed heavily. No matter how many times you heard that name, it was still difficult to swallow. You made one last-ditch effort at denial.

“The last time I checked, HYDRA doesn’t exist anymore. S.H.I.E.L.D. wiped them out in Nazi Germany.”

He shrugged. “They didn’t.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, and instead rubbed your tongue across the front of your teeth. To say this man was taciturn was putting it mildly.

“Okay. For the sake of argument, let’s say they are HYDRA. Why would they go after Mister Kartal? And why take me?”

The assassin set his jaw into a grim line, but this time when he spoke, he met your eyes.

“Because there is no S.H.I.E.L.D. HYDRA has been within them from the beginning.”

You could only blink at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Kartal was a HYDRA agent stationed within S.H.I.E.L.D. He took steps to go to the FBI and expose HYDRA in exchange for protection. I was ordered to kill him, his family, and all of the agents involved.”

His pale eyes drifted over your face.

“Except you.”

You felt like you couldn’t draw a full breath of air.

“I don’t understand,” was all you could say.

“I was ordered to bring you in. Alive.”

“But… why?”

He looked away.

“They didn’t tell me.”

You sensed he wasn’t being entirely truthful, but then he was talking again before you could follow-up.

“What I can tell you is that the man who gave me my orders is S.H.I.EL.D. I don’t know his name, only that he has a lot of power in your organization. And he’s implementing his plan in a few hours.”

You frowned, remembering the conversation that had taken place in your cell.

“The man who asked you all those questions? Was that him?”

The assassin studied you before nodding once.

“Do you know what he’s planning?” you asked, dread sitting in the pit of your stomach.

The assassin pressed his lips firmly together. “He has been working towards this for a long time. The ability to assassinate millions of people in an instant. And at your headquarters, using three Helicarriers, he’ll be able to achieve that.” He swallowed once before adding, “The launch is in less than twelve hours.”

You were glad you were sitting down already, because you were fairly sure you would have planted ass-first into the carpet. Everything he was saying was unreal, unbelievable. And yet… you couldn’t deny things had gone horribly wrong from the moment the first vehicle of the convoy had flipped in a plume of fire and smoke. That mission, not to mention the escort route itself, had been kept secret; from the feds, from the state department, even from S.H.I.E.L.D. besides the members of STRIKE who had been there.

Yes, you had sensed something was wrong from the start. But still, you hadn’t realized the situation was so fucking dire. Like, world-ending, apocalyptic dire.

“I have to do something,” you said flatly. It was your responsibility. Especially if you and this man were the only ones aware of what was really going on inside S.H.I.E.L.D.

The assassin’s expression changed, and at first you couldn’t understand what it was. But then you realized he was… almost smiling. But God, you had never seen such a sad, hollow smile in your entire life.

“The last mission directive he gave me was to wait for… for Steve Rogers to arrive at the Triskelion. I had orders to kill him.”

His words should have disturbed you; instead, they filled you with sudden hope. You got to your feet and exclaimed, “That’s it!”

The assassin looked up at you, wide-eyed.

“Captain Rogers!” you explained with a wave of your hand. “He can help! I mean, if you were sent to kill him, he’s definitely not HYDRA, right? He’s not compromised. We have to contact him, tell him what’s going on. And then help him stop the launch, and���”

Your words trailed off, dying as you caught sight of the expression on his face. You had thought he would have been glad to hear your idea. Apparently, were wrong.

He looked down and sighed through his nostrils.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” you asked, scrunching your face. You were completely confused over his reaction.

“He won’t trust me.” He curled the metal fingers of his left hand. “Not after… what I’ve done. And I don’t trust me either.”

You sat down slowly on the coffee table again. The ease with which he had spoken earlier was gone, and he had returned to sounding unsure, his speech halting and hesitant. There was no mistaking the shame there; you of all people would recognize it.

“I don’t even know who I am, or… what kind of person I was.”

“Hey.”

He looked up, dragging his eyes as if with great reluctance. You met his blue eyes steadily. He might be unsure, but you weren’t.

“By the sound of it, none of that was your fault. Those men, those people did something to you. Brainwashing, maybe.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, recalling just what they had done to you by the aching points along your scalp. “Psychological torture and manipulation falls under the purview of HYDRA if I remember my history lessons correctly.”

At the mention of HYDRA in a historical context, something tugged at the back of your head. History. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s history. There was something there you needed to remember. It was too bad history had been your worse subject at the Academy.

Your mind tried to grab the loose thread to pull it, but it was just out of reach—

“But…”

You blinked, focusing your attention on the assassin. He was staring at you again, and you were alarmed to see he looked on the verge of tears.

His voice was soft and edged in horror as he stammered, “You… how can you try to defend my actions? After… after what I did to you?”

A heavy stone dropped in your stomach, splashing with a ripple of dread. This was the closest either of you had gotten to acknowledging what had happened aloud. You pressed your lips together and looked away. You couldn’t think about that right now. There were bigger issues to deal with.

“You may not know what kind of person you are,” you said quietly, “but I can tell you this much. You’re the kind that saves someone from being tortured to death. And you’re the kind that wants to prevent more lives from being lost.”

When you looked back at him, his eyes were no longer as glassy but his expression was so sad it was almost sweet. And in that moment, all you wanted to do was run your fingers through his soft hair and tell him it was going to be okay. The urge was so strong your hand actually moved across your thigh.

You halted the movement and rose to your feet so quickly you saw spots in your vision.

“You need sleep and so do I,” you announced, not quite meeting his eye. “Even a couple hours will help clear our heads so we can come up with a better solution for the… HYDRA threat.”

And then you hesitated and looked at him. In fact, you eyed him for so long that he tilted his head and asked in a curious tone, “What?”

You chewed on your lip. This was a bad idea, but what were you going to do? Handcuff him to the couch?

“Can I trust you?”

He searched your eyes, his jaw tensing into a grim expression.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You took a breath. “Can I trust you not to kill me in my sleep?”

His expression fell; you immediately regretted asking. Or at least, being so cruel about it. Why couldn’t you use your damn head before you opened your mouth? You had just told the guy he had saved your life, and then you go and say something like that. Goddamn typical.

Before you could continue berating yourself, his face smoothed into that unreadable look you were becoming familiar with.

“I won’t hurt you.”

You hugged your arms in front of you, knowing it made you look defensive but really you were doing it for self-assurance.

“How do you know that? If you’re still under someone’s control, I mean, how do you know you won’t hurt me?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

It was circular logical. A nonsensical appeal. But his tone was open and he managed to hold your gaze without looking away again. You trusted he believed what he was saying, and that would have to be enough for now.

“All right,” you said slowly. “Can I trust that when I come back out of that bedroom in the morning you’ll still be here?”

His eyes softened in that sorrowful way again.

“Where would I go?”

I really do have a way of making myself into an asshole every time I open my mouth, don’t I? But he did have a point, as sad as it was. Even if he had a safe place to hide, safer than here, he was being hunted just as much as you were. And while you had no doubt he was still dangerous, he was also vulnerable until he was fully healed.

It occurred to you that he needed you. Maybe as much as you needed him.

Realizing he was still staring at you, you cleared your throat and said, “There’s only one bed, so… the couch is all yours.”

The assassin didn’t speak but he nodded once, his eyes dropping to focus on his hands with hard scrutiny. You could almost feel the waves of guilt radiating off of him, and you sighed. Grabbing the blanket you had fetched earlier from off the table, you held it out for him.

“There’s food in the kitchen if you get hungry, and the shower is down the hall. Help yourself to it. I’ll be… in the bedroom. If you need me.”

Not that he would. But you wanted him to understand that whatever this weird thing between you was, you weren’t afraid he would hurt you. Maybe you should have been, but you weren’t.

He stared at you for a moment before taking the blanket. You turned around, your cheeks heating up again, and you prepared to make a quick exit.

“I know you… saved my life.”

You paused, his soft voice halting you in your tracks.

“You didn’t have to. You could have just left me there, but… you didn’t.”

His speech was awkward but heartfelt. You glanced over your shoulder but he wasn’t staring at you; he was looking down at the blanket in his hands.

“I… appreciate what you’re doing. Trusting me. And… believing me. About HYDRA.” He paused and clenched the blankets tighter. “I’m not used to... all of this.” He said it as if he meant more than the immediate situation. It felt like he was saying he wasn’t used to being treated as a person. As human.

Something churned within your stomach. A sensation.

Guilt. Shame. You had endured so much over the past few days and you weren’t sure when the full realization of everything was going to hit you. You knew when it did, it would be ugly.

You wanted to help him. But you didn’t even know how to help yourself. So you did what you always do in uncomfortable situations. You pushed it away.

“It’s nothing,” you responded flatly, turning back towards the bedroom so you wouldn’t look at him. “You saved my life. I saved yours. We’re even now.”

You tried to make it sound like it didn’t mean anything. It was just an exchanging of debts. A life for a life. And now he would help you stop HYDRA. He was a means to an end. That was all.

The effect was lost by the slight waver in your voice. You ducked your head and left the room, feeling his gaze on the back of your neck every step of the way.

Next Chapter

[ncfan-1]

“I think I may be falling in love with you.” Can we talk about what a conspicuously weird thing that was to say?

I mean, it’s obviously an attempt at manipulation, but to what end, exactly? Narek’s stated goal is to try and coax information about other androids out of Soji, and she presented him with a golden opportunity to present himself as a confidant, and he just didn’t capitalize on it. Like, dude. She asks you if you believe her, and you say yes. Obviously, you say yes, even if you don’t mean it, because you’re playing the part of the caring boyfriend who, of course, has no idea what’s going on here, but if Soji ever wants to talk about anything that is going on, ever wants to talk about anything else that happens to her that she doesn’t understand, of course you will listen. I feel like the game plan here should be for Narek to try to position himself as Soji’s trusted confidant, but again, he had a golden opportunity, and he used it to say something conspicuously weird and inappropriate for the conversation instead.

But then, Narek hasn’t really been behaving in ways that would encourage Soji to regard him as confidant, in general. And once she’s had more time to think about it, maybe she’s gonna be wondering if there isn’t something a bit off about her new boyfriend.

[More of my highly disorganized thoughts under the cut]

I predicted earlier my hope that Narek would join the good guys, and then immediately experienced the regret that comes when you make such a prediction when you’re not even halfway through the first season yet. Nowadays, I’m still hopeful, but more uncertain. I think that, for now, what keeps him at least somewhat sympathetic is his interactions with his sister.

(As a note, I had to look up her name, and got the name of her cover identity on earth—Narissa Rizzo. I’d be shocked if ‘Narissa’ is her actual name, but then again, who knows if Narek is his real name, so these are the names I’m going to use when talking about them, since I’ve got nothing better to go with.)

First, let me just say: it took Romulan makeup and dim lighting for me to recognize Peyton List, aka Poison Ivy Mark 3 from Gotham, and I’m not sure what that says about me. I hope she gives as engaging a performance as she did when playing Ivy.

Okay, when Narek tells Narissa that he’s not sure if Soji knows exactly what she is, and, if ignorant, should probably stay that way as long as possible, I was just like “….why?” Isn’t your stated goal to get information out of her about other androids, and won’t your very scary boss get mad at the both of you if you can’t get that information? How are you supposed to do that if she doesn’t even know she’s an android? Is it because the moment she finds out you’ve been playing her the whole time is the same moment she finds out she’s got enough raw strength to oh, say, snap your neck like a twig? Is it because of the implications from this episode that Soji might be some kind of apocalypse maiden and you’d like to avoid doing anything that could trigger the apocalypse? Or is there another reason you’d like to share with the class?

On another note, I wonder if either Soji or Narek have thought to use any kind of birth control. Because literally the only way this situation could get even more fucked up would be if it turns out Soji can get pregnant and then does. Just imagine the first brother-sister back alley rendezvous after the pregnancy test. God, what a conversation that would be.

Anyways, from a writing standpoint, I can’t help but think that it means something, the way Narek and Narissa play off of each other. Because he opens with making nasty digs regarding her ears which, considering that probably involved cosmetic surgery which could have been quite painful to recover from, is, yeah, pretty nasty. But then she escalates it so much. First, in Episode 2, she makes it very clear that while she is interested in preserving his safety, if it comes down to saving his life or her own, she’ll throw him under the bus in a heartbeat. And then, in Episode 3, when discussing the state of affairs between Narek and Soji, she behaves a lot less like an impatient sibling than she does a jealous lover, and proceeds to get really creepy. (Someone please tell me I’m not the only one who got incestuous vibes from their back alley conversation. Please tell me I’m not the only one who got those vibes; I don’t rightly know how else I’m supposed to interpret the sniffing.) Seriously, I don’t think you’re winning any contests if you guess who comes off more sympathetically after their conversations, but at present, I’m not sure what it means that Narek has been portrayed more sympathetically than Narissa in both of their talks. We’re definitely meant to think that Narissa is the bigger fish in the pond, but beyond that, I’m really not certain.

(Another thing that interests me about them is how they’ve both thus far been rather ineffectual. The goal was to get information, and neither of them have succeeded yet. I thought about the contrast at first as being light touch vs. sledgehammer, and I think that still holds, but there’s another one I can think of: the fairly soft-spoken manipulator who doesn’t seem to know how to parlay manipulation into actual results vs. the violent loose cannon whose impatience got her target killed before she could get any useful information out of her. It’s too early to tell what it means that they’ve been ineffectual thus far, whether it means that they’re going to step up their game later on, or if they’re just not very good at their jobs, and are going to go on being not very good at their jobs. Both are equally possible.)

Similarly, from a writing standpoint, I can’t help but think that it means something that Narek was present and watching as Soji comforted the newly ex-Borg drone in Episode 2. But at present, it’s too early to say just what it means, if it means anything at all. What I think is that it would be very difficult for Narek not to develop some sort of empathy for Soji, whether he means to or not, but I’m not sure how much that would mean, either. When the time comes, I’m not certain whether or not it will be enough to change anything.

And with all of this is the elephant in the room, that the last live-action fiction show I watched while it was airing was Gotham. As anyone who has followed my blog for a while knows, I was largely… quite disappointed with Gotham as a show. Good cast, but everything else was a flaming train wreck. Gotham was a show where the most fucked up thing that could happen had a decent chance of actually happening. Gotham was also a show where many other things I thought had to mean something later turned out to be sound and fury, signifying nothing. That casts a shadow over my perceptions of Picard, and given how many other disappointments I’ve had with TV shows and movies and manga and comics, my operating method these days is to just not get my hopes up too much. If I prepare myself for disappointment, I can be pleasantly surprised if I’m not disappointed, but if I am disappointed, at least I won’t be gutted again.

-

Now to talk about something I am more optimistic about, even if I know no more about it than I do what I just talked about: what role Soji has to play in this story.

I’m actually most interested in Soji of anyone in this show, though I will likely talk less about her since I’ve found less to be anxious about. I’m very curious to see how she’ll cope with the revelation that she’s an android, since she’s all but certain to discover it in circumstances just as unhappy as Dahj’s discovery. I’d also like to see how she reacts to news of Dahj’s death, and get information on what their relationship was like.

I’m also eager to learn what the hell is up with the Zhat Vash’s fear and loathing of androids in general, and Soji and Dahj in particular. The agent interrogated in Picard’s house calls one of the two sisters ‘destroyer’, Rhonda (the ex-Borg drone and expert on Romulan mythology Soji interviewed; at least, I think that’s her name) associates Soji and/or Dahj with some sort of malevolent figure from mythology—I mean, if Soji’s presence is enough to trigger a suicide attempt, it’s likely Rhonda doesn’t regard her as a particularly benevolent figure. (Though this comes with the caveat that seeing as the mythological figures came in a sister pair, one who lived and one who died, it’s possible that there’s some sort of benevolent/malevolent dichotomy going on.) Are they just projecting their own fears onto Soji and Dahj, or is there something else to this?

Furthermore, I’d love to know what has drawn Soji to the Borg in the first place, because biologically, she’s only roughly three years old and wouldn’t have had a lot of time to develop this interest naturally, and, well, I don’t think it’s a coincidence, story-wise, that she is where she is, doing what she’s doing for work.

And then there’s Bruce Maddox. Considering there was an episode later down the line in TNG where Data exchanges letters with him, I had assumed he’d experienced character development since his appearance in ‘The Measure of a Man,’ and it would seem I was right. (Oh, and fun fact? In ‘Data’s Day’, the episode I referenced in the beginning of the preceding sentence, there was featured a Romulan who had been posing as a Federation ambassador for years.) But I do wonder for what purpose he created Soji and Dahj. It’s possible that he simply created them to be his children, that he created them for the sake of creating them. But I wonder about that, honestly.

Episode 3 raises the serious possibility that Soji and Dahj’s ‘mother’ is a hologram, or some other kind of artificial intelligence. While it’s possible for their ‘mother’ to be a hologram without there being anything more to their creation than just being created for their own sake, the fact that the purported ‘mother’ responds to Soji’s questions about whether she’s heard from Dahj with blatant lies doesn’t really gel with that. If there is anything at all to the Zhat Vash’s fears regarding Soji and Dahj besides projection and paranoia, then how does Maddox play into that?

Anyways, it’s only been three episodes and I probably shouldn’t try to form any concrete opinions on how things are going to go yet, but I’m very interested in seeing how things go.

[imaginetyzx]

"won't you just let me hold you" with you and kara... much love, reigenquest

GRRR UASGASIOFFOASOIGSAFSI jason ur gonna pay for this

edit: the line from the prompt takes a LONG TIME to get in there bear with me i have brainrot

It’s been about seven short months since I met them. How often does anyone meet a set of six brothers, let alone sextuplets? One in particular always stood out to me. The bizarrely shaped shades, the essentially greaser-like leather jacket, the absolute nerve and guts to flirt with people even when you know nobody likes you. Maybe I’m going off a little bit, but my point stands.

I won’t drop the L word yet but god do I like Kara. It’s predictable, I know, my thing for hopeless flirts, emotional people with emotional secrets they have yet to reveal to their soulmate since they haven’t found them yet, all that jazz.

Anyway, after MONTHS of being pestered by my friends, I’m asking The Question tonight. It took weeks to figure out how I wanted to go about it, and in the end I decided to go out of my comfort zone and do something more extravagant. I’m gonna dress up nice and sing outside the goddamn window, because fuck you, Romeo and Juliet is a good story, aside from the ending. It somehow took even LONGER to pick a song to sing, I wanted to pick a song I both knew all the lyrics to and one that also fit my voice range well enough that I’d sound less like a dying cat when singing.

I was torn on what to wear, unsure if I should dress masculine or feminine. So, I compromised with myself. I tucked my ponytail into a beanie, only leaving my thin bangs visible. I put on a knee length pencil skirt that had thin white stripes on black, and my knee-high black boots underneath. On my torso, I wore a mostly plain t-shirt with a skull on the chest pocket and my favorite black jean jacket over it. Yeah, it’s still winter, but the fit. I put on various kinds of jewelry including one of my many pendants around my neck. I begin my walk to the Matsuno House, with only my purse on me. In my purse is my fully charged cell phone, with a karaoke version of Hesitate by The Jonas Brothers on youtube. Don’t judge me, this song make’s me cry without fail.

After talking to myself for several minutes, I can see the house in the distance. Their mother and father are out tonight, so I luckily don’t have to worry about THAT embarrassment. I pull out my phone to text the youngest brother, Todomatsu (as he is the only one who actually has a phone of his own).

[txt.tyz]: hey, is he still up?

I stare at my screen waiting for an answer. I didn’t want to tell any of the others about this, but in order to plan everything well, I had to inform Totty of this plan. Not that I mind, though, he would’ve figured it out anyway, he’s just that clever.

[txt.td]: yup, the only 1′s up are him, me n choromatsu-niisan somehow. i doubt u will wake them up too since the song ur singing is on the quiet side

[txt.tyz] ahhhh ty totty ;-; im almost there

[txt,td] ;3 id wish u good luck but u rly dont need it

-totty is offline-

BITCH? What does THAT mean? Asshole.

By now I’ve reached the house. I stand outside, looking up at the window, where I see Todo peeking out the window. He gives me a thumbs up and he leaves my field of vision. I feel goosebumps show up on my skin when Kara opens the window and stands on the roof, closing the window behind him.

“W-what’re you doing here so late?” He says, and I blush. I’m not good at being smooth.

“i-uh-well i-just listen.” I manage to spit out while taking my phone out, pressing play, and setting it down on the mailbox.

“Kiss the tears right off your faceWon’t get scared, that’s the old, old, old meI’ll be there time and placeLay it on me, all you’re hold, hold, holdingTime, time only heals if we work through it nowAnd I promise we’ll figure this out”

I can’t even keep eye contact with him while I sing, out of pure embarrassment. I can’t believe I’m even doing this. I can’t believe I let my friends talk me to into SINGING to him.

“I will take your painAnd put it on my heartI won’t hesitateJust tell me where to startI thank the oceans for giving me youYou saved me once and now I’ll save you tooI won’t hesitate for you”

I haven’t noticed it because I refuse to look directly at him while singing, but Todo and Choro are both peeking through the window, watching it all go down.

“Pull me close and I’ll hold you tightDon’t be scared ‘cause I’m on your sideKnow there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for youPull me close and I’ll hold you tightDon’t be scared 'cause I’m on your sideKnow there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for youI will take your painAnd put it on my heartI won’t hesitateJust tell me where to startI thank the oceans for giving me youYou saved me once and I’ll save you tooI won’t hesitate for you”

As I hear my voice fading away to signify the end of the song, I look at him and-holy shit? Is he crying? Does my voice sound that bad?

“Oh my god dude I-was I that bad? I’m so sorry, I could never compare to your talent but even so, I wanted to do something special-please don’t cry!” I plead to him. I immediately grab my phone, shoving it in my purse and looking at the ground.

“I’m so sorry I’m sorry I-” I continue to apologize, not noticing that hes slid off the roof and to the ground in front of me. Just as I go to look up at him instead of seeing a slightly distant figure, I see his face for a brief moment before he wraps his arms tightly around me and my eyes meet his jacket. He smells like cheap men’s cologne. Of course he does. I’m frozen in place, unsure of how to react to this. Does he feel bad?

“Oh, my angel..” He says, pulling away slightly. “You beat me to it.”

I freeze again. I can’t find words to say, until I hear Totty yell, “I TOLD YOU SO!”

“You mean…you-the-” I stutter, visibly blushing.

“Yes.” He plainly states.

“So you-”

“Yes.” He repeats himself.

“…so…will y-” I start to speak until he silences me by connecting our lips for only a moment, but damn why can’t it be longer. I guess it IS late, after all. He envelops me in his arms and strokes my hair.

“Won’t you just let me hold you?” He sing-songs the question, eyes closed and clearly not planning on letting me go yet. That is fine by me, sir. I give, closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around his torso.

After a minute or two, I yawn. It’s pretty late.

“Ah, we both need our beauty sleep, don’t we? We can continue tomorrow.” Kara grins and lets go of me, still standing close.

I nod. “O-okay…I’ll come back tomorrow?” I question him. He nods back, turning to face the house but still looking at me.

“Til then, my angel~” I hear him coo as he walks into the house.

My face flusters, and I shit you not, I run home because I have so much adrenaline in me.

(AHHHH,,,THIS HURT ME PHYSICALLY BUT TWAS WORTH IT)

[spaceplanninguru4u-blog]

How to create mood boards that inspire: 20 pro tips - Paul Watt

Learning how to create mood boards will transform your pitching experience. Mood boards communicate a designer's vision at the start of a project. They should be visually stunning collections of ideas, full of textures and images that paint a picture better than words alone. A mood board is the closest you can get to inviting someone to climb inside your creative mind.

It's crucial that your mood board is more than a confusing, messy collage. Instead, it should be a cohesive, beautiful expression of your vision. But how do you achieve this? We've put together a series of tips that'll let your inner creative genius sing by replicating your creativity on a fantastic mood board.

Have you got an awesome design portfolio to accompany your mood board at your next pitch? If you think it needs some work, we've got lots of portfolio examples to inspire you.

01. Look beyond the digital world

When putting together mood boards, it's easy (and therefore tempting) to just use images found online. But just because you're working on a digital product doesn't mean you have to stick to digital inspiration. Plus, you may be breaking copyright laws by using them.

For example, while working on the ITV news website, digital product design company Made by Many looked at copies of the veteran Picture Post magazine in order to express how powerful and effective an image plus a caption can be for telling a news story. Real world inspiration such as this can be a very powerful 'convincer' when putting together a board for a client.

02. Take pictures

Real-world inspiration is all around us. So use the camera on your phone to take pictures of everything you see that inspires you, whether that be a bird in flight, great use of typography on a sign, or the brickwork on a building. Or maybe it's just a little corner of your house.

They don't have to be great photos in the traditional sense – it's all about capturing thoughts, impressions, themes and feelings.

03. Curate what you include

Have you ever had the misfortune of going to a gallery exhibition and it just not doing anything for you? You weren't 'touched' by the exhibition or 'moved' by what was on show – and other similar emotive profusions. It's very easy to shove a load of stuff together and call it an exhibition; it's an absolute talent to curate threads and synergies between works and call it an exhibition.

When putting together mood boards, think of yourself as a curator rather than a collector, and try to introduce meaning and threads from one image to the next. It makes for easier interpretation.

04. Choose the right format

From the outset, establish how you mood board is going to be presented, as this will determine how you go about it and how much or little detail to go into.

An 'offline' mood board will generally be looser in style and could still be presented online, with some explanation, while a completely online mood board should be tighter and will generally need to work harder to convey a theme or style. Think about how a person viewing your mood board solely via email would view it.

05. Build things up around a large image

Whether your mood board is electronic or physical, the layout needs to give prominence to key theme images. You can then surround these with smaller supporting images that enhance the theme.

It's a subliminal trick. When someone sees a large image on your board in their heads they'll have questions about it – and they'll quickly scan the rest of the board to find answers for those questions. If you place smaller supporting images around the larger image they should answer these questions by clarifying the messaging given in the larger one.

06. Get tactile

When making a physical mood board, don't be afraid to get, well, physical. Traditionally, mood boards are made from foam board. Although cutting this stuff up with a scalpel and spray mounting cut-out images onto it can be a pain (especially if you're not dexterous with a blade), it's extremely effective as a presentation tool. The tactile nature of cut-out images glued onto boards enhances the emotiveness of what's being explained.

It may seem like an old-fashioned thing to do, but perception-wise it's a real ace up your sleeve as a designer. Just be careful with your fingers on that blade...

07. Incorporate your board into your pitch

Generally mood boards are considered to be separate to pitch or presentation work: they stand alone to show mood and tone. This is standard practice, but consider instead making them part of your pitch or presentation. Remember, you're trying to use subliminal visual tricks to make a client 'get it'.

Mixing mood board elements in with the presentation – rather than bolting them on at the end – can be an effective way of communicating your concept to the client.

08. Don't reveal it too early

It's important to make sure that a well-meaning project manager doesn't email an offline mood board ahead of the presentation 'so the client knows what we're presenting'.

For an offline mood board, it's far better to let it all sink in to the client's mind as you showcase it, rather than come armed with lots of questions before you even start.

09. Present your own mood board

In a similar vein, if your mood board is being presented to the client, try to be involved yourself. It makes no sense to have something that originated in your head being communicated by someone else, because that way meaning can become muddled in a Chinese whispers-type mess.

10. Keep things loose

Locking an idea or a style down in a mood board can be detrimental, as the client will feel shoehorned into going with a particular aesthetic. Keep everything a little loose and don't make everything look too final.

If you're using preview images from image libraries, don't worry about the watermarking on them – it all adds up to a 'hey look, we can change this, these are ideas' feel to the board.

11. Watch the audience

When you're presenting a mood board, watch the faces of those you're showing it to. Ignore any verbal client 'oohs and ahhs' but instead watch their facial and emotive reactions as they look around the board. This will give you a much more honest take on whether the board is doing its job and if they're reacting well or badly to what you're showing them.

You have to put these people 'in your mood', so ignore their mutterings and watch their emotive reactions.

12. Hone your mood board skills

Employees at branding agency Landor Associates use a form of mood board to showcase themselves to other members of the team. Individuals put together nine images in a 3 x 3 grid to give their work colleagues an insight into what they're like; their interests, passions, cares and worries.

If you ever want to test out your mood boarding skills, try this out and showcase it to your colleagues.

13. Text it up

Don't ignore the power of a few isolated words on a board. Well-chosen words can be fantastic show-stoppers and give your viewer pause for thought as they have to mentally read what's in front of them. Big, bold words juxtaposed together work very well at creating drama, tone and meaning for any project.

14. Make the theme obvious

Obscure references can be fun, but try to have a number of relatable items or 'touchpoints' in your mood board. You want to let others in, so being deliberately obtuse will earn you no points at all. It's easy to fill out a board with a pile of incomprehensible references; it's much harder to be clear and use imagery to sell your vision. But it's worth the effort.

15. Aim to spark an emotional response

Think a little bit left of centre if you're presenting a mood board to a client. What would give them a genuine emotive response? Real world objects are good for this. If you were inspired by the beach, bring in a shell. If your eureka moment happened on the train, bring in the ticket. This type of thing intrigues people's brains and gains that all-important emotive reaction.

16. Don't make presumptions

Expecting too much of the audience can be the difference between a successful mood board and one that's dismissed as being too cerebral. There's a danger of assuming they'll 'know what you mean' – chances are they won't. So if it takes a few more references, images or textures to get what's inside your head into a client's then add them in.

17. Test your mood board

Don't forget to test out your boards before you send them off. It's not a game of Pictionary, so if your testing audience have to ask too many times what an image means or why it's there, then it probably shouldn't be there.

18. Have fun

The whole process of creating mood boards should be fun – a refreshing break from the often tedious tasks of the jobbing designer. If you're not having fun then it's a sure sign you're going about things the wrong way...

19. Use mood boards to brief designers

Following on from the previous point, mood boards are a good way to brief a creative. Don't be afraid to go into detail. The mood board above was compiled for animator Tom Baker as a mood and style guide for creating cartoon versions of The Avengers TV series characters. Instead of relying on one example of a character, several types were found in many different poses, which gave Baker a clear take on the style and direction of the piece.

20. Speed up client sign-off

Mood boards shouldn't just be for pitches. Consider preparing mood boards to show other similarly themed projects, websites or functions before creating polished visuals.

'I'll know it when I see it' is a phrase that most of us are familiar with. But to hear this when finished artwork comes back from a client is gutting, signifying that it's back to square one. Using mood boards at different stages of the process can help you avoid this happening.

[quietpagan]

TH Written in Stone, ch 2.

Vendel took the long way around, through the very center of Heartstone Trollmarket, but the trolls in the surrounding crowds parted around him like leaves to a breeze, and his disgruntled face ensured that he was unbothered in his journey.

Screaming, even in as lively a place as Trollmarket, was cause for alarm when it was a certain type of scream. Shrieks of rage, or of surprise, were not uncommon, but utter terror was something relegated only to the most dramatic of trolls. Blinkous was included in that number and most of the time Vendel could safely ignore it when Blinky had something to shriek about, but when Rot and Gut were added to the mix, it was time for him to find out what his old friend was up to now.

As collectors and purveyors of both fine and dangerous goods, Rot and Gut had a notoriously high tolerance for shocking situations, since they handled explosives and volatile spells and hexes daily, not to even mention how often they were threatened with bodily harm in outrage at their prices. Anything that could make those two scream warranted concern.

The rumor about a Changeling in Trollmarket notwithstanding.

It had been more than a century and a half since Vendel had visited AAARRRGGHH in his actual quarters, instead of coming to find him in Blinkous’s room or library. AAARRRGGHH had established his need for privacy and isolation early in their days and Vendel tried to respect that as much as he could, and that included not bothering the troll when he went to his quarters. Nowadays AAARRRGGHH only used his own room when he was having a bad day or an off mood, and it was an unspoken point that nobody would bother him until he came out and allowed himself to be bothered.

The fact that Blinkous and AAARRRGGHH had seen fit to take their screaming and their humans to the lonely little quarters at the edge of the market was telling of how dire the situation really was. AAARRRGGHH never invited any other than Blinky to his rooms when he saw fit to use them, and Vendel knew there were things in the room that he wasn’t eager to others to see. But a Changeling situation was much more severe than punch-holes and gouges in the walls.

There was a flash of bright blue light just as Vendel turned into the corridor. He frowned as he walked through the entrance to the rooms.

Blinkous and AAARRRGGHH were crowded around the nest, their backs to Vendel but their eyes peering over their shoulders. The Trollhunter and his rotund companion were sitting on the pile of furs and quilts, the Trollhunter attempting to hide a gaggletack behind his back as Vendel peered at him.

Vendel may be half-blind, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Cease your ridiculous posturing,” he grumbled, smacking the two trolls out of the way with his staff. The Trollhunter had the gall to try and smile at him. He smelled of despair and fresh tears and iron magic.

“Do you really believe you could trick me, Trollhunter? I have been around for many more years than you will ever see. That gaggletack you hold only confirms the disturbing rumors the rest of the market has been panicking about.” “Vendel, it is not really – “ “Spare me, Blinkous,” Vendel said, blocking the smaller troll with his back as he leaned down at the Trollhunter and his companion.

“A Changeling,” he murmured to himself, trying to see the webs of magic around the boy. He knew he wouldn’t; Changelings hid their nature utterly, and only the most experienced trolls could tell the difference between the smell and magical signature of a Changeling and a regular troll or human. Vendel was not so experienced that he could see the varying threads in the magic that wove around the boy, but he could smell the active magic coming off of the gaggletack, something that would never happen if it had not reacted to the whelp’s touch.

“I didn’t know,” the Trollhunter whispered. He sounded as if his throat was too closed to make a louder protest. Vendel couldn’t see the tear tracks, but he could smell them. There was a difference between the scent of anger and deceit and the scent of fear, and the Trollhunter was nothing more than terrified.

“Such a thing should be impossible,” Vendel said, straightening up. “Changelings undergo immense training and conditioning to become as dangerous as they are. An untrained, unknowing Changeling is highly unlikely.”

“Vendel, if I may,” Blinkous said from behind Vendel’s hairy shoulder. “Although the Master Jim’s troll form has developed in approximation to his human body, it is still quite obvious that the boy is no more than sixteen years old, in both forms.” Vendel understood what Blinkous was trying to say. As one of twenty-three census takers and archivists around the world, Vendel – as well as Blinkous, who was another – had access and knowledge to every troll birth, death, marriage, and official movement across the globe. Given trollkind’s long lives, children were not uncommon but not terribly abundant either. Only two whelps had died within sixteen years, one from accidental exposure to sunlight and one from an unexplained accident. Vendel knew exactly who this Changeling was that had taken the place of original James Lake Jr, and so did Blinky.

And they both knew that one year in the Darklands, under the experimentation and conditioning required to create a Changeling, was not enough time to truly create one; it was barely enough time to complete the Change. The troll children who were taken and Changed stayed for decades or even centuries in the Darklands, growing into the cult that followed Gunmar and receiving brutal mental and physical training in preparation for the day that they were assigned to a human child.

The boy’s young age indicated that his body was the only thing Changed about him. He would never have had enough time to undergo conditioning, and with that assumption it could be inferred that he had been switched with a human child without any training whatsoever. An utterly pointless exercise, a useless waste of two childhoods, and completely nonsensical. Why would someone go to all the trouble of kidnapping a troll whelp and Changing him, only to stick him out into the human world when he wasn’t even trained, was even old enough to be trained, in gathering information? It made utterly no sense.

Vendel harrumphed and stepped back.

“Let us see it, then, Trollhunter,” he said. The boy looked up at him with shock.

“Wait wait, what? I don’t wanna change again, what if it – there’s no way– I can’t do this again – “ “You will not be stuck, Jim,” Blinky said gently, scooting past Vendel to kneel before the child and placing two hands on his arm. Vendel watched with both amusement and curiosity; his old friend had never been so doting to Kanjigar or his predecessors.

“Both forms are yours to do with what you will,” he said as the boy looked at him in askance. “I promise that you will not be trapped, and it will not have to be for long. If you please, Master Jim?”

The Trollhunter stared with wide, desperate eyes, blue to amber, and slowly drew the gaggletack from behind his back.

“Here, Tobes,” he murmured, and handed the thing to the other human boy. Vendel watched with interest; apparently he did not yet know how to change forms voluntarily. The other boy took the totem, examined it, and then handed it back to the Trollhunter with a dramatic flare that made the little Changeling give a watery smile.

Vendel was the only one who didn’t have to squint at the flash of blue light, and when the glare faded a little blue troll was sitting where the ‘human’ Trollhunter had once been.

Vendel’s clouded eyes obscured the details but left the general form, and it was clear even to him that the whelp was young – very young. If he had been a true troll he would still be unallowed to leave the home without an adult to supervise or carry him. As Blinkous had mentioned, his trollish body had matured parallel to his human one, and looked more like the body of a tween than a small child, as any true troll would be at the age of sixteen.

He could see the vague suggestion of horns and a thin, lithe body, and it matched with his suspicions about the boy’s true parentage.

“A shame that you couldn’t have bulked up,” Vendel said, poking the boy in the shoulder with his staff. The muscle certainly felt harder, the skin stonier, but he was still a skinny little bastard. “I fear this form will be nearly as useless as your fleshbag body.” “You’re…you’re not…angry?” Vendel sighed.

“There is no changing it now,” he said, “Nor any use in denying it. Our Trollhunter is a Changeling, and being angry about it will not serve any purpose. You and your unique history are no more a threat to Trollmarket than you were before, son of Bar-bu-rah.”

The boy’s smell flushed and he ducked his head. Vendel imagined that telling the boy’s fleshbag ‘mother’ about this would be a conversation that he would be glad to miss. He had more than enough drama to deal with.

“I will deal with Trollmarket’s initial panic, James Lake Junior,” Vendel said. The boy looked up in surprise, as did Blinkous, who Vendel then turned and pointed at.

“You will have the honor of containing the rest. Once they have assurances from me they will not try to kill him, but I cannot guarantee the boy’s safety, Trollhunter or not. Your duty, young one,” he said to Jim, “has just become much harder.”

  Getting out of Trollmarket was a matter of tucking Jim under AAARRRGGHH’s arm and having him barrel through the crowd as gently but as quickly as possible. A troll AAARRRGGHH’s size had no competition whatsoever in terms of strength, and any who wanted to give the group a piece of their mind was firmly moved aside while Blinky headed off the rest with fast-talking and astonishingly personal insults.

Jim, cramped in the troll’s armpit, was gently having the skin on the side of his face abraded away, but through the pain and embarrassment he was grateful to get out so easily.

Returning, he knew, would be significantly more difficult to endure.

Blinky had decided that Trollmarket would be too dangerous for Jim in the coming days, until he and Vendel could calm everybody down. Apparently Changelings were liked even less than humans, and Blinky could not promise that Toby or Jim would not be attacked.

“Do. You. Mind!” Blinky yelped, shooing away a red troll who had been silently following them. Jim couldn’t see much but even though the troll had seemed calm, Jim was still incredibly nervous; any approaching troll, any angry face, was suddenly a threat that only Blinky’s distractions and AAARRRGGHH’s steady mass could protect him from. Jim had learned early that being the Trollhunter didn’t save him from violence or ridicule, and suddenly being revealed as a Changeling apparently invited even more. A human Trollhunter was a curiosity; a Changeling was an insult.

It was nearing one in the morning when they made it to the surface and to Jim’s house. His mom’s car was in the driveway and Jim knew that she would be passed out somewhere, probably still in her scrubs and glasses. The thought of something so normal calmed him immensely, until he remembered that he and Blinky were still arguing about the decision on whether or not to tell his mom about the new situation.

Blinky was very highly against it. There were enough humans in the know about trolls, he argued, and needlessly worrying Jim’s mother by telling her about trollkind and Trollhunters and her son being a Changeling would be a cruelty that served no purpose. Jim hid his Trollhunting from her; how was this revelation any different?

Jim had mixed feelings on the matter. On the one hand, he felt incredibly guilty, even though he knew deep down that he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Nobody had asked him if he wanted to be a troll or a Changeling or whatever was going on. But he apparently had taken the place of the real James Lake Jr (and wasn’t that a strange and horrible realization), who was stuck in the Darklands with Gunmar, and somebody had to answer for that and Jim couldn’t help but feel like it should be him. Didn’t he owe his mom an explanation? Didn’t he owe it to her to tell her about her son –  both her sons? But on the other hand, his mom had enough to worry about, and Blinky was right that he already had a big secret that he was hiding from her. What was it to add another?

They compromised; wait a few weeks and see how things went, and then go on from there.

AAARRRGGHH lifted Jim and Toby up over Jim’s back fence, settling them on the ground before shoving Blinky over as well.

Blinky dusted some grass clippings off of his trousers and made to speak, but Jim really wasn’t interested in listening. He had had a really, really terrible night, and all he wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up in a world where today had not happened.

Whatever Blinky was going to say, he didn’t. A stone hand, hard but not too cool to the touch, rested on each of Jim’s shoulders.

“You’ve weathered your responsibility as Trollhunter admirably so far,” he said quietly, looking down in Jim’s face. “Through everything that has been thrown at you, every insult and difficulty, you have shown more strength of character and of spirit than Trollhunters who had centuries to perfect themselves. The soundness of your heart will never fail you, no matter if you are human or troll or anything in between. It is your heart that makes you who you are…”

Jim finally looked up, and the compassion in Blinky’s eyes almost made him cry again.

“…Not what you are. Adversity is the tool with which we build our strengths. I have no doubt in my mind that through this you will emerge stronger than any Trollhunter before you.”

With those words and a final kind smile, the trolls departed, leaving Jim and Toby alone in Jim’s backyard.

Now that they were alone, now that the bustle and background magic of Trollmarket was gone, Jim could feel the gaggletack in Toby’s back pocket, whining just on the edge of his senses, like a tickle in the back of his throat.

“Tobes…” “Yeah, Jimbo?” Jim focused on the boulder just to the side of his back door, trying to find words through his rapidly closing throat.

“You’re not…I don’t know – “ Two short arms pinned Jim’s own to his sides. Toby damn near squeezed the life out of him before relaxing, although he still didn’t let go.

“Dude, look at it this way,” he said, as completely nonchalant and unbothered as ever. “You’re like half old best friend, half new best friend! And always my best friend. No matter what.”

What did I do to deserve you.

All of the confusion and panic of the night welled up in Jim’s throat and he silently sank, crouching on his heels with his face buried in his arms. With a quiet whump Toby landed on the grass beside him.

“What am I gonna do, Tobes…” “I don’t know,” his friend answered honestly. “Maybe your mom’ll be totally fine with it. But you can come live with me and Nana if she’s not, you know, Nana won’t mind. Especially if we don’t tell her.”

A watery laugh burbled in Jim’s throat; he shook his head against his arms.

“She’s not that blind, Tobes.”

There was a vague swish that Jim interpreted as a sweeping hand gesture. He raised his head and rested it on a forearm.

“What if she really does kick me out,” he whispered. “I can’t not tell her. This isn’t some secret job and a suit of armor; this is her own son we’re talking about.” “Both sons,” Tobias corrected, nudging Jim’s thigh with his shoe. “Technically you’ve been Jim for a lot longer than the original version.”

“But that’s the thing!”

Jim stood in one swift movement, unable to hold still any longer.

“I’M not the original Jim! She thought she was raising HER kid this whole time, but what she got was some weird Changeling ripoff!” “I thought you looked pretty cool,” Toby muttered.

“I’m a troll, Tobes! I can’t be – I can’t be – being the Trollhunter was bad enough, now I’m an actual troll now too? I didn’t think that it could get worse, but it actually got worse! How in the heck am I going to explain to my mom that I’m a goddamn troll?!”

Toby raised an eyebrow at the unusual profanity, but otherwise had no further reaction. Easy for him to do, he didn’t have to worry about what his mom would think about finding out that her ��son’ wasn’t actually her son and that he was a troll who hunted trolls and oh god it was so messed up…

They sat in the grass together for a long time, Toby rubbing a warm hand across Jim’s back as he dried his face on the knees of his jeans.

“What am I gonna do, Tobes…” he murmured once more. The hand on his back traced a soothing line across his shoulders, and then Toby was pulling Jim to his feet.

“You’re gonna go inside, tell Dr L goodnight, and then go to sleep, because we’ve still got school tomorrow and I really wanna see if Crazy Steve is a Changeling. And you’re gonna do your day like you normally do. Think of it this way, dude – “ Jim, entranced by Toby’s confident demeanor and his own fatigue, nodded grimly.

“ – You’ve been a Changeling for the past fifteen years! You’ve totally got this! The only difference is, you know about it now.” That sounded just like top-tier wisdom to Jim’s exhaustion.

He walked Toby to the street, and then went inside, checked on his mom (asleep in bed, glasses on but shoes off), and then went to sleep, because he had school tomorrow and he wasn’t sure that he was up to lying awake with only his thoughts. Toby would be at school, and as long as he was there, Jim knew he’d be able to handle this, whatever this turned out to be.

 A/N: You know how you sometimes get so busy that you simply don’t have the headspace for creativity? I had the majority of this chapter written, just not the ending. Nothing I’ve got in the works is permanently put on hold, but I’m drained of mental and physical energy right now and I simply ask for patience. Thank you for sticking with me so far, and don’t give up quite yet.

[captainweatherly]

Reactions and Feelings for 2x05

OK... HERE COMES MY FEELS.

Holy cow, y’all. I said this last week too, but this episode was incredible!! It was tragic, it was moving, it was tense. I know this episode was supposed to “break the mold” of the season and signify the midpoint, and yeah... it did! There are so many things to unpack here, so buckle up. This might get long. 

Obviously, MAJOR spoilers inside. Enter at your own risk. 

First off, the casting for young JFK blew me away. The accent was spot on and that was cool and all, but his acting was amazing!! He was adorable and I love the trope of bringing someone from the past into the future. They are always so much fun to watch them react to technology and culture. There were two times during the episode that my heart tore for him. The first time was when Kayla was telling him about his family’s curse and hit fate. The second when we asked if he was a good president. Yeah, I teared up at the second one, especially when Lucy said he was one of the best. It was so heartfelt and moving. 

Mission wise, this was SO cool. While I really wish we could have gotten a few glimpses of the boys trip and the drama and funniness that would inevitably ensue, I am happy that the episode stayed mainly in the present. This made the plot of the episode run very smoothly and focus more on the Lucy of it all. Along with other characters that don't usually get a lot of screen time. Which made me happy because I am always happy with more of those type of scenes.

OK, NOW FOR MORE FEELS. 

Let’s start things off with Jessica, because she was easily one of the biggest pivotal characters for this episode. I don’t mean “case-breaking-saving-the-day” pivotal, but plot line wise she turned everything around. 

Before I go on, I would like to say that I absolutely love her. She has spunk. She is funny and friendly. Honestly, just a really likable character. I would love to say that I hate her and just want her to leave right now and let Lyatt sail into canon bay, but I can’t say that. I see the chemistry that Jessica has with Wyatt. They were married and obviously have a history... that can not just be thrown aside. They play well off each other. 

Not only does she relate well to Wyatt, but she also seems to like Lucy as well. Even when Lucy is at her most awkward point, she tries to befriend her and comfort her when she is not feeling well. She actually puts effort into trying to get to know her and what she does/did for a living. Can I just say that Lucy handled that situation so well?? She could very easily be a bitch to her, but instead she talked with her and handled it with grace. I am LOVING this friendship that is blossoming. Not to mention the multiple times that they speak up for one another and show mutual respect. 

Next on my list: Jiya. Everyone with a brain and at least 1 IQ point loves Jiya because she is just so pure and smart. This episode is no different. If anything, her pureness escalates exponentially and we FINALLY get to see Jiya and Lucy getting a little closer. Jiya taking take of Lucy and talking to her about the whole thing with Wyatt, not judging her at all, was such a great moment for those two (it also confirmed my theory that Rufus told Jiya about it mwahahaha). It’s so important for Lucy to have someone to talk to about all of this and I am glad that she is opening up to Jiya. 

Also, Jiya is super smart and I loved her loop theory, even if I don’t 100% understand it... I approve. 

Speaking of people who love and care for Lucy, let’s talk about Denise because this was a HUGE episode for her. For one, I am enjoying her stepping into the protective and caring ‘bunker mom’ role. She really does care for the team and wants the best for them. The fact that Rittenhouse has the nerve to come after her... OH I AM MAD. Carol is a grade A piece of crap of a person and a mother. Yes, it appears that she does actually care for Lucy and her well being, but in her twisted mind Rittenhouse completing its goal is the best to her. 

I am super concerned for what this means for Denise’s family. It is longer safe for them to live in their house. I have a feeling that we will see them coming to live in the ever growing bunker. 

Carol may be a piece of actual trash human being and mother, but Denise is the exact opposite. The scene with Lucy and Denise in the bunker KILLED me. I was crying like a baby when she told Lucy that if she were her daughter, she would be so proud of her. That line sucker punched me in the gut and had me in tears. What a moving line! I love one (1) bunker mom. 

Next up: Lucy. Abigail Spencer is yet again reminding us that she is amazing. The depth of character we get to see in Lucy this episode is beautiful. We get to see her have emotions. She snaps several times mainly at Wyatt, not in a hurtful way, but in a way that expresses her feelings and reminds him how awkward of a position this is for her. I am so happy that the writers are letting her have completely rational conflicting emotions and Abigail portrays them perfectly. Despite her feelings for Wyatt, she knows that getting his wife back was the driving force for him and she wants him to be truly happy. If that is not true love showing from Lucy, I don’t know what is. It’s the ultimate sacrifice. My heart hurts. Someone bake Lucy some cookies and give her a giant hug please. 

Now here comes the part that my shipper heart was physically torn from my body, crumbled in a million pieces, then run over by a truck. The last five minutes of the episode were PERFECT. Do I wish Lyatt was happy and together and everything was beautiful? Well, duh. But am so so so happy they addressed the fact that they were a thing, things did happen, and that the feelings involved in the thing were and absolutely mutual. THIS IS THE RIGHT WAY TO DO THIS. ALL OTHER SHOWS TAKE NOTE. Also, the call back to Bonnie and Clyde “Babydoll and Shweetheart” was breathtakingly beautiful. I totally believe that the callback was a giant sign from the writers that they have not forgotten about the Lucy and Wyatt of it all. After watching it again, I noticed that the facial expressions are similar to the season one episode. Yeah, the one where Wyatt realized he had feelings (don’t @ me on this, he knew it right then and there). I know Wyatt loved his wife and is trying to spark the relationship again with her. I support that. However, I think we will see that Wyatt and Jessica’s feelings for a second chance will change soon. 

Speaking a relationships that are changing. Can we talk about Flynn and Lucy?? The last scene where they are just silently there for eachother was awesome. Now, you may have figured this out by now, but I don’t ship these two romantically. I see them a more of a brother/sister dynamic. I love that these two are getting closer. 

So yeah, Lucy’s family might suck. BUT she has a new family that loves her and I think that that is beautiful.

Speculations: 

1) Flynn and Lucy are related (maybe brother and sister?). 

2) Jessica and Wyatt will mutually split ways sooner rather than later in the season, but she will stay in the bunker.

3) Jessica and Lucy will become friends. 

4) Jessica and Flynn will become friends???

5) Denise’s family will come to stay at the bunker. 

6) Jiya will have a major breakthrough soon in her health. 

7) Mama Rittenhouse will have a redemption arc towards the end of the season.

Favorite moments: 

Jessica’s “Well she’s a teacher, right?!” and everyone looking at her flabbergasted 

Lucy pointing at Jess when someone says “Someone’s mom is here” at the party

Flynn’s sassy “yes ma’am, all three of them” 

[mybullshitsensesaretingling]

Odds Are

Request: Could you do one with Bones x reader where the reader gets hurt in battle and Bones saving her. Just a lot of fluff! Thanks!❤️ @caaptain 

A/N: There’s something about Bones that makes me wanna put him on a shuttle and have something go horribly wrong

“Are you making any progress at all?” Leonard’s irritated voice sounded from behind you.

You dropped your hand to let it hang between your bent knees, closed your eyes, and prayed for patience, before twisting at the waist to look at him with a forced smile. “Len, why don’t you go look for some fire wood. It’ll be getting dark soon.”

“Are you saying that we’ll be spending the night here?”

“I’m not saying it.” You turned back to exposed wiring of the shuttle. “The cracked exoplating and busted life support is saying it.”

You were answered with silence. After a few moments, you assumed he had left and your shoulders relaxed. Dropping your knees to the ground, so you no longer had to squat, you studied the reading on your tricorder. You had been working on patching the shuttle for hours and you weren’t much closer to getting off the ground. The only real thing to change was your mood.

“Is there any hope of fixing it?” So he hadn’t left after all.

“Depends on how much of a hopeful person you are.”

“So that’s a no.”

Getting to your feet, you turned to face him. “Leonard, we were shot out of the sky, lost oxygen, and tumbled into one of the worst crashes I have ever heard of, much less been part of, yet we survived. Whoever shot us is in all likelihood still out there and quite probably looking for us, but we have not run in to further problems yet. Odds are we will continue to make our way through this.”

“How on Earth is that evidence for good odds?” his tone rose. The two of you had been building up to a fight since you hit land and were sure everyone was alive and well.

“If you want to continue to be stubbornly pessimistic, that is your prerogative, but it would be helpful if you did it while looking for firewood.” You looked back to your tricorder.

“If we’re still under attack, it doesn’t seem safe to split up.”

“But it seems safe to keep pestering me,” you grumbled. Raising your eyeline, you saw him look at you from under a quirked brow.

“Sorry, I’m just,” you struggled momentarily to find a viable excuse, “dehydrated.”

“No need to apologize to me about irritability,” Leonard  told you. “I’ll see if I can find some water.”

“Great.” You weren’t sure if you meant to sound sincere or not. “Take him with you,” you added, gesturing at the scientist sitting in the doorway to the shuttle. He had made himself as unnoticeable as possible, trying his best to stay out of the line of fire of both of your tempers.

With a curt nod, Leonard  headed off into the forest, motioning for him to follow. The scientist glanced down at the arm he had in a sling, but inevitably decided it was safer to brave the wild than stay where he could get in your way. Turning back to the shuttle, you went back over your mental list of the damages.

A frustrated yell ripped through you as you threw your tricorder against the broken paneling. It ricocheted off and smacked you hard in the shin, causing you to let out another yell. You held your head in your hand, before moving your fingers up to comb through your hair. You were a pilot, not an engineer. Fixing totaled shuttles was just barely under your job description. You knew basic mechanics at best.

The sound of a twig snapping caught your attention. Your hand dropped and your spine straightened.

“Len?” you called nervously. When there was no reply you stiffed further. “Leonard?”

An unintelligible garble of words reached your ears. Before you had time to react an alien came into the clearing. His words grew harsher, but no more clear. Your eyes drifted down to the phaser he had a firm grip on. You raised your hands in surrender.

“Alright, let’s not do anything either of us would regret,” you said in as calm a voice as you could muster.

Slowly you moved towards the entrance to your ship. Again a long string of harsh language.

“I’m just going to get my universal translator, No need to do anything rash.” You reached for your the device and he fired into your shoulder. “Now see,” you grunted, “this is what I was talking about.”

He moved the phaser though the air, warning you not to move again. At least that what you assumed the action was meant to signify.

“I. Am. Just. Trying. To. Talk. To. You.” You motion out each word to the best of your ability.

When he didn’t show any signs of attacking, you reached for your translator again. He took a few steps forward, looking almost panicked. You sighed and pressed your palm against your shoulder. He began yelling at you once again and you rolled your eyes.

You threw your hand out in front of you. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Something pressed up against your back. Your mind desperately scrambled to work out what was happening, what you should do. You couldn’t think in full sentences. A voice in the back of your head told you to scream. That’s what people did in these situations, right? They screamed. But you didn’t. You couldn’t seem to get your mouth to follow commands. So you just stared wide-eyed at the alien in front of you. As he took another step closer to you, your body caught up even though your mind hadn’t and acted on its own. You used the hand still held in front of you to take hold of his wrist and twist the barrel of the gun away from you.

The being jerked his arm away from you, sending his elbow into your gut. You winced and released him. As he twisted back to face you, your reached for your own phaser. Your fingers didn’t get the chance to reach your harness. The attacker behind you grabbed your wrist, yanking them back. The butt of his phaser hit you across the face. You stumbled backwards. Your vision blurred for a second and it took you a moment to get your bearings back.

A shout sounded out off in the woods. It was too far away for you to fully make it out, but it was unmistakably human.

Leonard.

The thought that he could be in any kind of danger, launched you into action. You kicked your foot back as hard as you could.  The heel of your boot landed against your attacker’s shin. His grip loosened in shock enough for you to pull a hand forward. You wrapped it around the handle of your phaser, lifted it up, and, with barely enough time to aim, fired. Then you swung around. Before you got a good look at him, his fist made contact with your face. With a grunt, you returned the act, punching out at whatever your fists could reach.

After that it was all a blur. If anyone were to ask you exactly what lead to you laying on the ground between two unconscious members of an unknown species, you would have no answer for them.

You didn’t get a chance to gather yourself before you heard more footsteps. Your heart rate started to pick up again as you got to your feet. Instead of the fear and anger that you were expecting, your body filled with relief, when you saw Star Fleet uniforms not the uniforms of the hostiles.

“Len,” you sighed, limping over to him. “Are you okay? I heard a shout. Oh my god, your face.” You put a hand on his cheek. Your thumb lightly grazed the cut that now lay there.

“Am I okay?” he repeated like it was a ridiculous question. “You look like you’ve been through a blender, and you’re asking if I’m okay.”

“I’m fine,” you tried to smile reassuringly. “I may throw up or pass out and I think I may be dying, but other than that, I’m fine.”

“I’m fine too,” the scientist said walking past you to the shuttle. “In case anyone was wondering.”

You chuckled but it quickly turned into and a wince. Now that your adrenaline rush was fading your were acutely aware of just how beat up you really were and your legs threatened to give way.

“You’re not fine,” Leonard said firmly.

“Yeah, probably not,” you agreed, letting him help you to the seats in the shuttle.

Despite not having been on your feet for all that long, getting off of them was such a relief that you sank into the chair immediately. You shut your eyes, trying to prevent your expression from twisting in pain. You could hear Leonard  walking to the back of the ship. Lifting a hand, you gently pressed your fingertips to the spot where the pain in your head was stemming from.

When they came back bloody, you groaned, “I can’t believe I got pistol whipped. What is this, the Wild West?”

“Do you even know what a pistol is?” Leonard snorted coming back to kneel in front of you.

“Yeah, it’s like a phaser for cowboys,” you guessed, trying to make it sound convincing.

“More or less,” he smiled softly the way he always did when he was worried about you but didn’t want you to know. He cupped the your cheek with hand, using his thumb to wipe away the tears you hadn’t realised had started falling. “I’m going to start on your shoulder.

You made the mistake of looking down at it.

“Oh my god. That’s disgusting,” you gagged.

“It’s not that bad,” he told you. “Just look at me instead of it.”

You were pretty sure he was lying, but you didn’t saying anything, letting him remove the part of your uniform that hindered his work and clean the burn without interruption. It wasn’t until he started loosely wrapping bandages around the area that you spoke up again.

“I can’t feel it. Shouldn’t it hurt?” You asked. “I mean, I was shot. Isn’t that usually a painful experience?”

“Your nerves are probably damaged.” Looking up from his work to see the worry in your eyes, he added, “It’s very common with phaser wounds. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” You held your pinky out and looked at him expectantly.

“Would it make you feel better, if I pretended to be a five year old and shook your pinky?” he asked finishing your dressing.

You nodded enthusiastically, but immediately regretted the action as the pain in your head worsened. Leonard moved his hand from your shoulder and hooked his pinky around yours. His eyes studied your expression and you knew he could tell how miserable you were.

“Now how ‘bout I patch up that pretty face of yours,” he suggested, already reaching for the bandages again.

“No, I like it like this.”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“It makes me look rugged, like a mountain man.” You closed your eyes in an effort to get the room to stop spinning. “Lets everyone know I’m not afraid to kick their asses.”

“Calm down, Kit Carson.” He slowly started cleaning the cut. “This won’t even scar.”

You smiled but didn't open your eyes, hoping it would keep the dizziness at bay. Leonard's hands worked steadily, his warm fingers moving across your temple.

“I’m sorry I couldn't get you to your conference,” you murmured, almost hoping that he wouldn't hear.

“Don't worry. Woulda been boring anyway.”

“Come on, you’ve been grumpy since we landed,” you said. “You wanted to go.”

“I just want to make it clear that what you did was not landing the shuttle, it was crashing it very violently with a lot of cursing.” He smoothed a bandage across the skin above your eyebrow. “And you were just as grumpy as I was.”

“I’m a sympathetic grump. When the people I care about are grumpy, I turn grumpy,” you explained.

“Uh huh,” Leonard hummed. “That’s all I can do ‘til we get back to Enterprise. Try not to move that arm.”

“How’m I supposed to fix the shuttle with one arm?” you asked, opening your eyes.

“I don’t care.”

“What do you mean you don’t care?” you practically shouted.

“What I care about is your safety.” You opened your mouth to argue but he didn’t give you the chance. “We’ll figure it out. I know how to boost the distress signal. I’m sure that scientist knows something about engineering.”

“But I’m the pilot,” you pointed out, knowing it wouldn’t even begin to change his mind. “I got us into this mess; I should get us out.”

“This isn’t your fault.” He caressed your arm soothingly. “Just take it easy. Like you said, odds are we’ll make it through this.”

“I like when you’re positive,” you smiled. “It suits you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Leonard rolled his eyes and kissed your forehead.

[marvelous-heroimagines]

Familiar: Part 3

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Word Count: 1.2K Warnings: Torture, angst, swearing?

A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve updated this fic, so if you’ve changed your URL since I last posted, please message me to let me know what your new one is!

Feedback is always appreciated. Let me know if you want to be added to the tags list.

Part 1, Part 2

~~Third Person POV~~

Madam Hydra watches the scene in front of her, a satisfied smirk on her lips and a glass of vodka in her hand. She never thought that her final Asset would have become Hydra’s saving grace. She takes a sip of vodka to hide the small jump her body involuntarily makes when one of her agent’s fists finds the Asset’s face. The Asset takes a second, her head hanging to the side, before she spits out blood.

The agent that was beating the Asset hesitates to throw another punch, and instead glances over his shoulder, looking for approval from Madam Hydra. She cocks her head to the side, assessing the Asset’s injuries, and deciding how much was too much. Taking a few slow steps towards the Asset, she exams her. The Asset only holds Madam Hydra’s stare, not even daring to blink.

Madam Hydra knew that the bruises and cuts on the Asset’s face would heal in a matter of days, but they didn’t need longer than that. Madam Hydra turns on her heel, gives the agent a nod that signified finality and waited until he left before turning back around to address the Asset.

“Took it like a champ,” Madam Hydra says with an air of pride and amusement as she raises her glass in a toast and lets the last of the burning liquid slide down her throat.

~~Bucky’s POV~~

Bucky was physically present in the briefing room, but his mind was somewhere else. It’d been 3 days since you’d appeared at Tony’s party, and you’re all he’s been able to think about since. He’d run every tracking system he knew of, and they’d all turned up empty; not that he was surprised, you were Hydra. You were a ghost, just like he had been; appearing when and where you were needed, and disappearing as soon as your duty was filled.

But Bucky can’t shake the feeling that you appearing at Tony’s party was just a mission. You’d had the perfect opportunity to take him and the Avengers down, but you didn’t; you appeared there for him. And he had no idea why. After 3 days of wracking his foggy memory, Bucky couldn’t remember more than what would appear in your Asset file. It was obvious that Bucky wasn’t the one that hadn’t known you; The Winter Soldier had - and those were the memories that Bucky had worked so hard to suppress.

It was ironic, really, that Bucky used to want to remember nothing about his time as The Winter Soldier; but now those memories were the ones that he was seeking so desperately. Maybe if he remembered more about you he’d be able to save you. Maybe if he could unlock some part of you that was buried beneath the Winter Soldier programming then he’d be able to free you from it, like Steve had done for him.

Suddenly, the power goes out, bringing Bucky back to the present. Blinking red emergency lights switch on, and everyone in the briefing room is left confused and scrambling to figure out what had caused the power outage. Something in Bucky’s gut tells him that it’s you, and without saying a word he jumps from his seat and rushes out of the room. 

Bucky doesn’t know where to go, or if you’re even in the building, but he just keep moving. His stomach churns as he starts to suspect the worst - what if your appearance at the party wasn’t just to taunt him about the past you and his Winter Soldier self shared, what if you had been prepping for a later attack?

Bucky comes to a stop as he passes through the residential wing, his eyes focusing on his bedroom door that was ajar. He distinctly remembers closing it fully - not wanting anyone to stumble upon the research he’d been doing to find you. His footsteps create a soft echo in the empty hall as he creeps towards the door. His muscles were tensed and his brain was running through scenarios that could be waiting for him on the other side of his door; his body readying itself for fight or flight was a common occurrence when something felt off these days.

But nothing could have prepared him for what was waiting for him inside his bedroom. Your back - Bucky had since committed every part of your being to his memory in case he were to encounter you again - was turned to him, your shoulders were slumped and your hair was messily pulled back into a hair tie.

He knew that he should be preparing for a fight, but his muscles relaxed on their own as he slowly approached. You swiftly turn on your heel, looking as if you were ready to throw a punch. But the moment your brain recognises him, you almost fall to the floor. As if by instinct, Bucky lunges forward and catches you before you’re even close to banging your knees on the floorboards.

His skin tingles at the skin-to-skin contact - yet another physical response that his mind can’t place - but he can barely take notice of his initial reaction as his stomach drops through the floor at the sight of cuts and bruises on your face. As Bucky leads you to his bed, allowing you to sit, he notices that your cheeks are damp from tears and fresh ones begin to fall.

Silence falls over the room as you sob into Bucky’s chest. He knew what this would look like from the outside; but Bucky felt like he was right where he needed to be, like him comforting you was an old muscle memory that he was just remembering.

“I’m sorry to come here,” you eventually force out through sobs, your voice breaking just as Bucky’s heart was, “I didn’t know where else to go,”

“What happened?” Bucky can’t help himself from asking the burning question,

“H-Hydra,” you stutter as you try to stop yourself from crying, “The other night... Tony’s party... I was punished for disobeying orders,”

“You disobeyed orders?” Bucky was more than a little shocked, when he was under Hydra’s influence, he’d never gotten the chance. Maybe you were already on your way to breaking your programming.

You nod with a sniffle. Bucky stares at you, unsure of what to do; but his body reacts without thought - he reaches out and wipes a tear from your cheek. The moment his hand touches your cheek, you let your head sink into his touch.

“I... I just,” you stammer, almost like you were trying to think of the right words to say, “I need to get out,” you admit, your eyes unable to meet his.

“We’ll help you,” Bucky immediately replies,

“You don’t understand,” you shake your head, “They’ll be ready for an Avengers attack... It’ll be too obvious,” Bucky searches your face, unsure of what to say or what you’re asking, “You escaped,” you note, “Only you can help me, Bucky,”

It was the first time you’d used Bucky’s name, and it was if he was hearing his own name for the first time as it rolled off your tongue. Tears begin to fall again as you stare up him with pleading eyes. You lean forward and nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, “Please help me, Bucky,”

“Of course,” Bucky didn’t even think before the words escaped him. He knew that keeping it from Steve and his teammates was a dick move, but he was the only one that was interested in saving you. And here you were, pleading for his help. He was going to help you escape Hydra, no matter what it took.

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