#it's like people have never even heard about the concept of a rebound

[shamblingrevenant]

Cait/Maddie is fascinating to me on a meta level because the fandom's reactions to it really showcase the lack of reading comprehension on the Internet

[ms-scarletwings]

That Speculative Analysis About Irkens No One (Originally) Asked For: Part III

Hey! Huge thanks to everyone who took an interest in the first two parts of this fun I got into about Jhonen Vasquez’s funny green guys. I didn’t really expect to kind of rebound back into this old flame the way I have been lately and it’s actually a pleasant surprise that other fans have been getting something out of it and enabling my latest thinkworms.

Check out the part one of this extended analysis here, for broad tids and bits about Planet Irk and the mention of its inhabitants being basically cyborgs.

Part Two, takes on Irken physiology and focusing on their tissue differences from humans, here.

So alright, I’ve been holding this one in since the very start. Previously, I brushed the topic of the control brains, and I’ve sorta gestured acknowledgement toward the Irken obsession with height. Now, I’m really ready to get some thought goo flowing all over and in the crevices of the matter of Irk’s power structure, and, perhaps the one social W that this marauding pack of space imperialists get to claim.

Bearing no further ado, let’s talk about the Tallest. Can we talk about the Tallest? Please Mac, I’ve been dying to talk about the Tallest with you all day.

I’ve said once and now repeated twice that I think the canon implied that the homeworld of our favorite invaders is dummy thicc; consequentially, it’s left a lasting ripple on the evolution of their species as well.

Planetary gravity has a ton of invisible effects on the skeletons of large fauna, to the point where it’s the main thing that you, filthy Earth creature, can shake your own fist at it for taking a huge slice of the blame behind the prevalence of back pain in upright hominins. All that downward tug can really wear a spine down good over the years. In fact, would you believe that astronauts actually grow a smidge taller in Zero-G environments? Legit. So… use your brain and consider what we could have ended up looking like with our same bone structure, but many times that compression.

You take that mental path, and suddenly, height outcomes may not seem like such an arbitrary measure of general survival fitness after all. Especially in the days before the Irkens represented an intergalactic super power. It may seem counterproductive in their modern intelligent society, but no doubt this aesthetic affinity is something that runs much deeper ingrained than practical programming. Respecting tallness is something Irk takes on dogmatic intuition- to the fault of barely being able to comprehend the notion of another species being both tall AND intellectually primitive.

Nevertheless, I pose that the connection may also be more than traditionalism, and not so vestigial after all. My reasoning suggests that The Almighty Tallest are in fact, not randomly born… they’re planned and made by the real overlords sitting atop the pyramid. And even so, they have existed in the species long, LONG before the PAK even did.

• Caste Polymorphism & Bug Stuff

The insectoid inspirations of Zim’s kin are something so obvious they really need no recapping, yet, I’m pining to make a more specific comparison. Some people like to go for wasps or bees, but if you ask me, the roving militarism of the armada is begging for the ant metaphor if anything.

And I got a hell of a species to whip out that you’ve probably never heard of.

A quick context breakdown- Polymorphism is another one of those long biology terms for a pretty simple concept: when one species has different distinct forms or types of forms that appear in its population. And it’s not talking about continuous spectrum differences like height alone. It’s talking about when animals/plants can have one gene with different possible phenotypical presentations. One good example (in humans no less) is the existence of different blood type groups. One of my absolute favorite cases, by the by, is in Side-Blotched Lizards. The females are samey and look pretty generic, but the males deadass come in 3 completely differentiated color variants, all of which are playing a perpetual game of rock paper scissors with the other two for breeding success.

And this kind of phenomenon of course gets way less subtle in the insect world. Everyone here probably knows the simplified version of what a colony critter’s caste system looks like, with sterile female workers, breeding done males, and one big fat queen at the top, pumping out replacements for the other two. This is the part where I tell you it’s a hell of a lot more complicated, weird, and varied than that, actually.

Consider army ants, as I see them, the most Irk-ish of real world animals. Some fun facts on the most notorious handful of species below:

+ Nomadic by nature, they do not build any form of permanent hill or nest, and instead make temporary pit stops inbetween periods where the entire colony swarms along the forest floor in search of resources.

+ Army ants are aggressively predatory and forage in the style of legion-like “raids” that overwhelm their prey with sheer numbers and speed.

+ These raids often take shape by way of linear traffic columns that guide the direction of the swarm. This is because the ants have poor vision, relying on following the paths of the scent trails of the workers that are spearheading the legion.

+ Eciton burchellii, in particular, demonstrates a stark example of polymorphism by way of a rigid caste hierarchy. I.e., The non-reproductive colony members are divided into 4 sized tiers of worker. From smallest to largest there are minors, medias, porters (sub-majors), and soldiers (majors).

And let me tell you… the difference between the Soldier (major) caste and the rest of that batch is a pretty surprising gap.

This is what ONE major-type ant looks like hanging out with colony mates from the lower worker castes.

Oh wait, getting ahead of myself. Ahem… sorry, I meant THIS is the image I was referring to:

Not only is that obviously the bossiest bitch of the bunch, but she has some pretty cool features unique to her status… The more spidery looking body shape and those absolutely wicked mandibles being a standout.

You know what drop I already had coming, so I’ll cut to the chase.

It’s clear that the Almighty Tallest are NOT the Irken equivalent of a hive queen. They are not drones, either. Besides the glaring fact that they are non-reproductive individuals, the role they serve in Irken society has very little if anything to do with running the day-to-day lives and functions of the larger population.

Instead, we have always seen them (and would have seen them more in the unmade episodes such as The Trial) involved more with the military front of the empire. Tallest Miyuki’s one known planned appearance would have featured her overseeing the military research happening on the Vortian base. Tallest Spork’s brief entrance (and exit) was planned to take place on Devastis, where he addressed those who were being evaluated to join the elite ranks of the armada. And our very own iconic duo have,

also,

never even once been seen on their home planet since their introduction. Their first appearance? Conventia. Ever since? Aboard the Massive, where they directly command and supervise the operations of the active invasions.

Why, the Almighty Tallest in all cases… these aren’t emperors at all, they’re generals! Sure, they have power, they have reverence, but even they must obey the final judgement of a Control brain at the end of the day. The same brains that grant them their status in the first place. Note, in real ants, the mechanics of how exactly any one egg is differentiated into its decided caste, from worker to queen, and all between, is… to say the very least, really fucking complicated. And all over the place. Broadly speaking, it’s a mix between genetic potential and nutrition during development. In some species this determination is near entirely up to the whims of DNA, and in others, it does come heavily down to how many protein shakes the colony decided to give their brood that day.

For the purposes of this hypothetical, I’m going to assume the people of Irk fall somewhere in between those two polar options. Now, being a futuristic network of coordinated supercomputers using cloning tech, the control brains have a more precise handle on the gene pool/diversity of their underlings than anything possible with natural breeding.

Let’s also assume they record and monitor the current population of each potential class of irken (they literally assign and code the PAKs’ occupational roles themselves). With each batch of smeets, they can predetermine certain percentages aside with the potential to fill whatever roles need replacing and expansion… keeping the genetic height markers attached for those downline to understand who should be looking down on who. Ergo, not ANY Irken can one day become the almighty tallest, but within each generation of smeets produced, there are potential candidates hidden among the upper ranks of would-be soldiers.

This way, the sudden death of the current armada commander would not disable current operations or throw the offensive lines into utter chaos for years on end. The Control brains need only select out the cream of the crop from their “proto-Tallest” and then cue their body (via diet or hormones) to switch the proper genes on, get a new growth spurt going, and complete the metamorphosis into their true potential.

As for why they seemed to break a historical precedent and jump for a two-for-one special in Zim’s generation… yeah, I’m not sure about that really. There could be a link between that and the very sudden death of the two previous tallests in a row, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. It could just be a remarkable coincidence that Red and Purple were decided to be equally viable successors. Or, Operation Impending Doom could have been deemed an ambitious enough endeavor to warrant the appointing of two regents at once, given the scale of Irk’s expanded army for the purpose.

So, that’s it, then? The Irken species became so reliant of their technological advancement that they have casted aside and replaced every bit of their natural life cycle and order some

computer deemed inefficient? Substituted the seat of their leadership and even their ability to procreate with the soulless calculations of their AI programs?

:y Well, yes, but actually no.

• Long Live the Cyberocracy!

When I said in part one that Irk was on track to eventually make the jump from cyborg citizens to an entirely mechanical or digitized lifeform, I was doing a ponderous thinking thing. I was supposed to just be speculating, and then I find out the most mind blowing revelation while doing the research for this bad boy- those alien bastards already did it. The madlads/madlasses… So, living Irkens DO actually run the show around here, hiding in plain sight this whole time.

I am still desperately searching for confirmation of the rumors I heard that Vasquez himself has said what I’m about to share, and I deeply appreciate anyone who can give me that as well. Even if this turns out to only be fanon, I’m still in love with this interpretation anyway: Within the Control Brains are the preserved consciousness of Irkens who have achieved this evolutionary end stage. WHO are they exactly is… honestly anyone’s guess. The important part being that they no longer have need of their meat suits to survive any longer and now exist as these hulks of nerve and metal.

Be this what it looks like to me, and it would be certain that this is actually the most coveted and honorary fate of any single Irken- immortalized and given a status on par with deification over the most powerful imperium the cosmos has ever known. Perhaps this was the path of particularly accomplished Tallests of the past, who had their paks integrated into the core of a fledgeling new control interface. What better way to commemorate those who have fallen in the highest level of glory? A single “brain” could in fact even be the summation of multiple beings, making example of the greatest the species has to offer and what all should be striving for. Conversely, the greatest punishment of their kind is the opposite- to be forever deceased, forever forgotten, forever excluded from this collective transcendence:

Damnatio Memoriae.

(But like… in a kids’ show)

There’s no clear estimate on how many control brains exist in the franchise, there are at least four that we have seen on screen, one on Devastis and the others within Judgementia. Probs safe to assume there’s at least one permanently built into the infrastructure of any planet of key enough importance to the Empire. Interestingly, lost scripts and show canon make numerous references to them still having gendered pronouns and voices when addressed individually.

Though, now that I think of it, that’s also really interesting that the same is true for the worker castes, too.

• Putting the “Trans” in Transirkenism 👉😎👉

When a worldbuild goes so far as to explicitly confirm a completely sexless, alien race of neuter cyborgs, the existence of a human-like gender binary starts to beg for some kind of explanation. You can’t just “suspension of disbelief” it aside the same as you can the fact that English is the most popular first language across the Galaxy.

Oh, lookie, it’s one of my favorite things to think about when toying around with postbiological concepts/philosophy. I knew there were even more reasons transhumanism always seemed like such a cool sci-fi trope, from the endless possibilities in imagining the badass super powers, to the worlds of knowledge, and to the absolute social equalization that would all be unlocked in a cybernetic future. Well, that future is already comfortably in the hands of Irk, and whether intentionally or not, it has apparently brought them to the threshold of not just a postorganic, but also a post-gender society too.

A feminine and masculine variation does still exist in the form of small aesthetic differences- voice, antennae shape, pronoun usage, and eyelashes- but is now so far disconnected from the original associated sex roles that the distinction might as well be no more than a cosmetic preference. While “female” irkens are seen much, much more rarely than their counterparts, neither gender is treated differently from the other, and both have been spotted in occupations all the way up to invader elite and the Almighty Tallest.

This is a blending, of course, far beyond the insect-like caste system that itself did survive to the modern day, and that shows some truly impressive progress from what I imagine they were doing before.

Army ants, like all eusocial insects, are matriarchal; as in, where the females run the colony from top to bottom, while the males lead short runs of being mutilated by the workers, mating with the queen, and then dying shortly after.

In this headcannon narrative, it was almost certainly the male-associated gender Irkens who were liberated by the technological jump.

And that’s all sum purdy neat food for thought, huh ! ?

[aceandnancy]

I’m so mad at the writers for putting Ace AND Nancy with new slowburn love interests! Especially after the crap of the last two seasons. This is a mess and I fear by the time the show ends I won’t feel satisfied with Nace. They literally aren’t together yet and they’re going to be rushed now when the writers had 4 seasons to actually put them together. They just strung us along for hype and views to the detriment of Nace’s development and pacing. It truly feels like they waited too long 😕

Unfortunately, it was always going to be rushed. This may be a controversial opinion, but I don’t think the writers really value Nace as much as the fans do. They probably resent them for consuming so much attention and that’s why they like baiting us to watch knowing there's no follow through. Plus, they were never going to let them be in a relationship anyway because they need Nancy to be unhappy in order to drive the drama. They also use her love life in general as a plot device (every season her current man is tied to the current mystery plot). If she was happily dating Ace, they wouldn’t be able to use her misery and her love life as a main story engine anymore. 

Initially, when I first heard that TPTB were in discussions to end the show for months, I was thinking (against my better judgement), maybe there’s a chance they’ll end this ridiculous curse nonsense early and put Nancy and Ace together by 4x08 or 4x09 since it was the final season. However, then stuff started leaking that there’s probably more unnecessary randoms being thrown in the middle of their love story again and changed my mind. I would not be surprised if they’re doing this to dilute Nace, so fans will lose interest. I mean these are the same people who gave us the nonsensical mess known as 3x10 and who tried to gaslight the fans into thinking dull Park was on equal footing with soulmate Ace. I will never trust them again (and I sure as hell don’t trust any attempts at damage control. They were probably pretty peeved their “amazing” storyline was leaked months before it aired). 

Personally, I always thought nothing would happen until 4x12 anyway (because it was always going to dragged out)…but now I think it’s probably all in the series finale thanks to a last minute re-write…and I’m guessing it will only be one lousy kiss. I think they originally devised this curse not as a Nace storyline, but as a way to keep them apart, so they WOULDN’T have to do them until the last possible minute. It was essentially kicking the can down the road by cleverly disguising their disinterest as a “slowburn”. 

If the writers think I want to watch Nace dating other people for the third season in a row, then they are sadly mistaken. I would understand the concept of short-lived rebounds before Ace found out about the curse (even though they are NOT NEEDED), but these randoms seem to be a bigger deal (at least Nancy’s does...).  I have zero interest in watching that transpire when the time for romantic third parties is over. It’s incredibly tedious, uncreative, and insulting to the fans who stuck around this long and through an incredibly long hiatus. (Right now, my viewership is up in the air and if I do watch, it will be time-shifted with ALOT of fast-forwarding. It’ll be like the randoms don’t exist to me even at the expense of the main characters). 

When I started watching this show, I envisioned Nace would get together by Season 2 or 3 and would just be an awesome power couple solving mysteries together. I never pictured them with all of this ~drama. Now, the sad thing is…we’re never going to get the meaningful payoff other couples do when a slow burn finally plays out. We’re not going to see those domestic, loving, and quiet moments of them just being together in the context of the larger show. And it just breaks my heart because I feel like I wasted my time and energy on nothing. 

Long story short, they waited too long, and now the fans (and Nace's legacy) will ultimately pay the price. 

[cosmiclatte28]

90′s LOVE (Sungchan x you, Mark)

The MV IS OUT!! and I really like their concept. This is like how EXO nailed the football concept and now NCT nailed the Hockey concept!! I am so excited that I have this in my mind... 

I hope this is not boring and yeah give Sungchan some more love! 

warning : i don’t want to soil the plot, but there’s some kiss..

PART TWO HERE

You bend to untie your skating shoes; you're done with today's skating class. The locker is already crowded with the trainee for the next schedule. The ice hockey team from your club is here to play today. They're the best team in town, NCT U Dinosaur and next week they are playing against Gorillas. You bet it will be an interesting match with the Dinos winning of course, there's no doubt with that tall new center they have and the super tight bond between the players. It's like their mind is already connected and they can always pass the puck with ease. You excuse your way to your own locker, well with their padded costumes and tall bodies, you're struggling to find your way to the locker.

"Excuse me," you say between each steps and the members are all friendly to you, hey they always meet you because your class is before theirs and so you always see them preparing themselves. "Oh hey there (y/n)," Mark, your best friend and secret crush, greets you with a quick side hug. He squishes your shoulder and you just laugh nervously obviously surprised and shy from what he did. He's super friendly with you to the point where you wish he can see you as someone more than a friend. He lets you go when his other friend calls him and you make your way to the end of the locker. "I see someone is left behind again," a tall shadow appears on your peripheral views. You sigh, knowing this is once again Sungchan teasing you for your one-sided crush on Mark. Well, you knew Sungchan earlier than you knew Mark, Sungchan once went to the same elementary school as you did, so there's nothing awkward between the two of you. You got separated but meet one another again in this skating rink. Him as a hockey player, you as a figure skater. "Shut up, he's called over." You try to push the negative thought away.

Deep inside your heart, you still have the slightest hope that Mark is liking you back. Sungchan just laughs at you, he puts his hand over your head wanting to ruffle your hair, but your bun doesn't allow him to. He awkwardly puts his hand down, lucky you did not realize this. "So, you're going to stay and watch us practice?" Sungchan has hope in his tone. You look around and see your brother Ten already entering the Barn (the rink). "I guess I have to wait for Ten." you stuff your skates into your bags and grab your slippers. "Oh okay cool. Wish me luck I need to warm up." Sungchan smiles to you, you just click your tongue, "Okay big boy, good luck." you fist bump him and he makes his way out of the room. You change your clothes and make yourself comfortable in the bleachers. With one cup of hot tea and a phone in your other hand, you waste your time on the internet. "Hey you wanna go home?" Ten skates to your side and asks over the rink. You see the time, and shake your head, "I got nothing to do, I'll watch you. Focus," you shoo him away and he just pulls you his nose scrunch face. Their practice ended nicely, and you have your eyes glued to Mark on all of the game. Dude, he's a good wing man and Sungchan is a tough center. His scoring is accurate and he's super calm in the midst of the game. Your brother is playing as a wing man too. Practice ended with Mark's team winning and they all crowded the room back with their sweaty bodies. After a shower, you find yourself going home with your brother. "Next week is game day, you must watch us!" Ten says excitedly on the way home inside the bus. "Sure, I mean I am on a term break for preparing the state skating, I can watch your games." You squeeze your brother's hand. "How's your practice today?" he asks you this time. You shake your head, "Not good, I cannot do the quad axel yet and my biggest rival, Taeyong, can do that easily. I mean even when we skate on different categories... I still feel I lost to him." Ten hugs you from the side and cheers you up, "Hey you're doing great okay, you just need a few more practices It's okay." You shake your head, "It's not. He did it in two tries and I still can't do it. Maybe mom is right, figure skating is not for me." Ten looks at you in amusement, "The hell are you saying? You worked hard from seven years old and you're thinking of stopping because of one move where people acknowledge as something nearly impossible to be done?!" You laugh at yourself, "Silly? maybe I should join the hockey team. Maybe Mark will pay more attention to me." You're open to your brother about your feelings, he knows your silly one sided crush on Mark and Ten has already told you repeatedly to move on, but you're so stubborn. "Still not over him eh?" Ten changes the topic. You blush and nod your head, "He's so sweet." Ten actually knows Mark is always sweet with everyone, no he is not a player. He is just warm and welcoming to all girls, Ten knows Mark longer than you but you never listen your brother. "For once can you listen to me?" he desperately sighs, you shake your head. Ten stops. "Let me just tell you this, someone else is always there for you, but when you're busy counting stars, you forgot the moon." Ten shuts his mouth afterwards and you find his sentence confusing. What is wrong with Ten? Sungchan goes back home with his roommate, Mark. Together they walk under the warm moon and talk about random things until Mark asks Sungchan about you. "So I heard you know (Y/n) right?" The taller guy just nods his head, "Yeah why?" "It's just that is she available?" Mark directly asks this and Sungchan is surprised, is he interested in her? No way this is happening. Sungchan notices the small smile Mark tries to hide but failed. "Well as far as I know she is not seeing anyone." Sungchan admits he really wants to lie and say you're not available, but you will kill him. "Oh a cute girl like her is still single?" Mark's eyes dilate twice in size. Sungchan rolls his eyes, "Maybe because she is waiting for someone to make the move." Mark whistles, "Classic, and you? You're dating anyone?" Sungchan blushes, "No one in the moment." Mark just nods his head, "Uh maybe you can ask her out, you seem to like her." Sungchan almost froze on his steps, wait was he really obvious? He wants to yell at Mark "Oh hell yeah I am asking her out when I know she has a crush on you... you dense..." He holds his words and just toss Mark a silly look, "Nah, not now. She's not interested in me." "Why not try?" Mark nonchalantly asks. Sungchan wishes he can spill the beans, but no he can't inside his heart he only scream "Because I know that I will just be her rebound when she realizes you're really not interested in her." "I don't know Mark, why don't you try win her if you like her." Sungchan tosses back the bomb and Mark just chuckles "I am already committed." "Hell what? You never told me!" Mark blushes, "Well it's not usual so I'm not really telling anyone." Sungchan understands and touches the shorter's shoulder, "Who is he?" Mark smiles, "Haechan, it's Haechan our defence." Sungchan smiles happily for his brother, he slaps his back, "Congrats bro!" Mark just giggles, "Thanks, come on let's go in!" They arrive at their apartment and Sungchan feels his head breaking down.

So how can he tell you Mark is unavailable, and he knows you'll be so heart broken. Sungchan thought of all the possibilities and ended up sleeping. He didn't see you anymore until the game day. You are there sitting on the bleachers with your oldest brother, Taemin and the two of you are super excited. You see Sungchan on his way to the dressing room and you dash quickly to see him, you just want to wish him luck. "Sungchan-ie!!" you reach his hand and he stops in track, looking back he sees you "Oh it's you!" his smile erupts. You hand him a chocolate bar, "Good luck! Score many points today okay? Play safe" you pat his back and he can't hide his silly face, "Thanks, I will do my best. Hey where are you going?" he asks when you move away. You mouthed MARK and leave him. That's when he realizes he should've stopped you from looking Mark but he's too late. Sungchan sees you frozen in track by the door of the locker room, the energy drink you bring for Mark falls to the ground and before he can reach for you, you've ran away. Sungchan wants to run after you but his captain Winwin calls him. "Shit," Sungchan sees Mark and Haechan on the corner making out and his smart brain is enough to understand you learn the truth the hard way.

Sungchan is a professional, once he is in the Barn, he’s busy with the game and he sets aside all of the emotion and problems. He’s determined to console you after the game, so first he needs to win this game and then win your heart.

The game ended with fantastic scores, Sungchan performs very well and scores many today. You cheer excitedly by Taemin’s side. The two of you jumping excitedly when the team wins.

You’re still sad when you saw Mark earlier, but here you are once again in the waiting room congratulating everyone in the team. You hold your tears when you get a hug from Mark. His hug sure feels different now, you know it you really stand no chance. You walk to your other friend, Sungchan and you surprise him with a hug. You never hug him first, but today you feel like he’s the only one you can trust.

“Congratulations” you whisper and Sungchan excitedly picks you up from the floor. You yelp but let him pick you up, well he’s way taller than you.

“Sorry,” he whispers back, “Sorry I did not run to you earlier.”

You gulp, oh so he saw you. “No don’t be. I’m fine. You need to focus on the game earlier.”

“Yeah I did, all because you came here and gave me the luck I need.” He still has you levitating and clinging to his big tall frame.

You squirm in his touch, “Okay put me down,”

“No. Not until you cry yourself and calm down.”

Your lips tremble, Sungchan sure is a smart man.

“I am not going to cry,” you lie to him

Sungchan shakes his head, “You will. I know you want to cry now. He’s gone already, no one is here you can cry.”

You sigh, “Please.. please put me down.”

He puts you down and sits beside you.

“I am a fool wasn’t I?” You bite your lips, eyes already wet.

Sungchan pulls you into his embrace, “Pour it all out.”

You stain his jersey with tears, and you punch his chest angrily.

“It hurts,” those are the last words you say before closing your eyes and just feeling the warmth Sungchan gives.

Ten comes into the room and catches the scene, he quickly runs to take you over and lets Sungchan changes his clothes first. The younger man did what Ten said and Ten also knew what happened. Well earlier once the game ended, he clearly saw Mark kissing his boyfriend, and Ten knows you’re crying because of that.

You look up to Ten and with hiccups you ask him, “Hyung,  I focused on the star.. and now when the star is gone… did I lost my moon too?”

Ten sighs, you remember what he said that night. Ten looks into the tall man who’s cleaning up his gears and smiles, he rubs your back and brings your teary face to see him, “Hey you did not lose the moon. I can assure you, this time the moon is still here.”

“Really?” you sniffle

Ten brushes your hair away, “Yes honey, you just have to look closely.”

Your eyes catch Sungchan’s tall figure and everything clicks.

“I’ll try, I don’t want to rush…” you shy away from Ten’s gaze.

Ten smiles, “It’s okay, he waited this long, he can wait a bit more.”

Sungchan hears that and just smile, he leaves the room so you two can talk more privately, but deep inside his heart he knows if he plays the game right, he can win your heart now.

 endddd 

please support nct u 90′s love, be it streaming or just appreciate their music and maybe tell someone else about the song! It brings back memories :D

[cinnamonbunsenburner]

Love of a Billion Stars *Oikawa Tooru x reader Soulmate au*

- When you’ve heard of the concept of soulmates at school you were 8, you practically glowed with delight thinking that you probably have one of your own. Probably also thinking that it was ‘very easy’ to ‘feel’ if your soulmate was nearby.

- Lmao you believed that there was some sorta radar of something, or a bell that will go off if your soulmate moved

- *they’re not a dog y/n-chan wtf*

- But boy were you wrong 

- Then came your 16th birthday, the day you were supposed to have your mark that will give you a glimpse of what your soulmate likes in general. And on your 17th birthday, had you still not have found them, another mark will appear on your dominant hand

- You were imagining their symbol to be some sort of representation of who they are as a person, their inspirations in life, their dream career, and all that motivational shit

- To your surprise and demise, you were let down. Not really.. but the mark was very general and vague, and was NOT a symbol/ mark that will motivate you in moving through this life

- bread.

- fucking bread.

- what the fuck. 

- How in the world did you have to pair up your soul with someone who’s life inspiration was fucking bread

- What, did you need to go to France or shit to scavenge hunt your soulmate?

- ....

- no, y/n, you are not gonna think that that’s a good idea.

- no.

- Anyways

- Needless to say, you were quite irritated because how could you find someone that likes bread when literally everyone can like bread?! It’s very vague and looking for a person that has their life encompassed by a singular type of bread *milk bread to be exact* is very difficult considering that almost everyone likes that bread

- Fast forward to the time of your 17th birthday, you woke up with a dash of hope that maybe, JUST MAYBE, this soulmate of yours loves something else that’s more specific than a freaking piece of delicious milk bread.

- Alas you were surprised that this milk bread s/o of yours has their life revolved around volleyball!

- YEY they’re not completely as weird as you’d think they’d be lmao

- But, who were you to judge when you don’t even know what your mark was on them

- Maybe it was weirder than a piece of food

- Maybe it was a cow or dog or a fish 

- *very weird y/n, very weird indeed*

- The next day was a school day and you woke up bright and early, eager to hunt for your soulmate 

- You’re a third year at Seijoh and were quite popular because people thought your mark was  ‘intriguing’ *pfft* 

- anddddd because you’re gorgeous as heck ;]]

- Admirers flocked you, thinking that they might be your soulmate 

- They showed you their mark that was also some kind of pastry and that you guys paired ‘cause they also liked the pastry that was on the pack of your hand

- *you have like a line of milk bread bois at your disposal and it was kind of annoying so you give a different excuse every single time they try to confess to you. Such a player, y/n-chan*

- “l/n-san! I’ve heard that your mark was milk bread and I love that! Look, I have your *insert your favourite pastry* as my mark”

- *you were surprised because it was the first time that someone actually came up to you with your favourite pastry. But you were NOT feeling this dude. 

- C’mon, where’s the zing you were expecting and- and the slow motion eye contact-- thE ROMANCE?! Honestly, you were about to say yes ya’ll were soulmates BUT the gut feeling says that this was not it

- “Uh, sorry.. I’m lactose intolerant”

- *nice excuse y/n-chan, v v convincing*

- Then you just skrrt skrrt away ‘cause you may have a fan base but you were NOT gonna comfort that guy who’s borderline looking that he was gonna cry- nope; in the middle of the hallway, of all places. Gee, theatre boys are different

- In the back of your mind, you thought that the theatre dude was just acting that out in hopes of guilt tripping you. 

- trust issues, m8, trust issues are present because of these thoughts acCKK

- You sighed to yourself and went spy ninja sneak sneak towards the Aoba Johsai VBC, hoping that someone there might be your soulmate

- ‘cause you were v v tired of the self-proclaimed milk bread bois that was your fan club 

- But, you didn’t expect much once you were at the gym because there’s literally thousands of people in the vbc industry that might potentially like milk bread 

- You were thinking of maybe going out of town to hunt for your soulmate but you thought that you were probably gonna get strangled by your parents at how much money you were going to spend for finding a person

- *yes, you were getting desperate because you wanna FINALLY stop at being a third wheel when your friends were with their s/o*

- and maybe because you just want to hog someone else’s sweater and clothes and to do the premarital hand-holding oop

- ...

- You peeked inside the gym doors and was startled when this guy’s serve slammed to their opponent’s court 

- You’ve watched a couple volleyball matches when the second mark appeared to learn your soulmate’s passion. Awee

- And you just know that that killer serve could knock you out

- It was as if the universe was playing some sort of joke to you that his next serve landed out of bounds and rebounded towards your direction

- You shrieked in a banshee-like manner and moved out of the way just in time

- ‘I just saw my life flash before my eyes holy shit. So that’s what it feels like huh’

- While you were lost in your thought for a moment, a tall *and beautiful as fuck* guy went out the door and approached your still shocked form

- “Oh! Didn’t see you there. Sorry about that, my bad”. the tall guy said, rubbing his nape sheepishly, his eyes naturally falling on the hand that you raised up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear

- “Uh.. no! It was on me. ‘cause I was spying- I mean sight seeing-- UH WATCHING you guys play hahaha” *real smooth y/n, v v smooth*

- He promptly reached down for the ball near his feet and you got a glimpse of his dominant hand

- His mark was a star constellation,,, your favourite star constellation and beside that was a symbol of your dream career

- “Hey, quick question... do you like bread?”

- The tall guy looked down at you and grinned his pretty boy grin *damn you is whipped.*

- *your gut feeling was going haywire holy shit*

- “Why of course beautiful stranger! Milk bread to be exact ‘cause my mom bakes it so deliciously”, tall guy said

- You’re heart flipped and skipped a beat-- scratch that, your heart skipped a whole nth of beats that you might as well be dead

- “We have a practice match going on right now, my lovely fan. If you have something to give me, you can still wait until later! Wouldn’t want to be punched by Iwa-chan again..”

- And with that, he turned away to go inside the gym once again

- “Cassiopeia..” you muttered loud enough for him to hear as he passed by you

- “Sorry?”, he stopped in his tracks and turned to you with a shocked look on his face

- “Cassiopeia” you repeated once more, with a shaky voice. “It’s the constellation on your hand, right?”

- Oikawa, with his popularity, had been approached by plenty of his admirers, often claiming that they love astronomy and that they knew what kind of constellation his mark bears

- But when he asked them with his usual flirty voice he perfected to please the people around him, that person stammers and just said a random planet of some sort

- ‘does this look like a planet to you-’ he thought and never had he faked a smile more than when admirers fake their interest in astronomy to get close to him

- While he does admire all the courage and effort they put in confessing to him, he also hates the fact that they give him this silver lining of hope that he finally has someone whom he can connect with emotionally as they both have a piece of each others’ soul

- So when you uttered the correct kind of constellation, he was frozen

- His mind ran miles per second, all of it consisting of ‘what ifs’ and ‘too good to be true’

- Both of you stared at each other, heart’s unknowingly beating as fast as the other

- “Oi Shittykawa, what’s taking you so long-”

- “Iwa-chan, take charge for me will you?”

- “What? Coach’ll get mad you know!”

- “Just sub someone in”

- Iwaizumi stalked closer to you guys and was prepared to beat Oikawa’s ass off but before he could assault his lame best friend,

- “Code star, iwa-chan.”

- The buff ace froze in his actions and promptly nodded silently and closed the gym doors

- The bestfriends talked before about what they’d do if they found their respective soulmates. Iwaizumi proclaimed that it was rather childish of Oikawa to have a ‘secret code’  just because his nerdy best friend believed that the aliens might take away his soulmate once they finally find them 

- Though oddly enough, the shorter male agreed to this *pfftt*

- Finally alone, never once had you both took your eyes away from each other.

- “Uh- are you- are we?” You gestured to the two of you

- “I- I think so??” Oikawa flushed, he was NOT used to being all blushy around people, esp since he has a large fanbase

- Ya’ll were awkward as shit lmao, its adorable

- “... You want some milk bread at the convenience store nearby?” 

- You yelled at yourself internally, ‘WTF BRAIN?! COULD”VE BEEN A COFFEE IN A COFFEE SHOP JFC I am overheating sm’

- He gave you one of the softest smiles he himself never thought he could unintentionally do

- “I’d love that!”

[comic-brew]

On smoldering ashes

Chapter One: Early hours of a nightmare

@whumptober2020 days 1. Waking Up Restrained | Hanging and 12. Broken Trust

Summary: Bruce Wayne has gotten vulnerable. Bruce Wayne has found love. His love and his kids are all he needs to find happiness.

Some sick concept of fate doesn’t like him being happy.

Reading Time: 25 mins (3k)

Warnings: whump, being restrained, implied nonconsensual sedation, idk what else to put but it only gets worse from here

AO3 | Next Chapter

ps: reblogs and feedback greatly appreciated uwu

***

By January, he’d told her about the night at the theater. About the alley. How he had felt like his entire world was obliterated, sinking in his parents’ blood, their eyes staring right through him with the eerie glint ot lifeless terror.

By February, he’d told her about Alfred. About how he had raised him in more ways than one. Not enough could be said about Alfred that would satisfy Bruce’s love for him.

By March, he’d told her about his children and how he was so proud of each and every one of them, how he loved them more than anything in the world. They were all the meaning he truly needed in his life. He emphasized that he didn’t know what he’d do without them. Where he’d be without them.

By April, he’d told her what he did when he lost one of them. When he lost a piece of his soul.

By May, she met the eldest son. She wore her brightest smile and noone could tell her apart from the person she painted on herself.

By June, she met the youngest son. She kept any and all comments to herself, and instead chose to admire how much the boy resembled the father.

By late July, she had gotten to see him smile. Not one of the plastic, industrialized Brucie Wayne smiles, nor a half lit smirk. The true smile of the man behind the facade carefully tailored to appease the masses. A genuine reflection of the light in his heart.

And if that wasn’t somehow insinuating that she’d been slowly let inside, by August she’d gotten to taste Alfred’s infamous cucumber sandwiches, more than once.

“I’m Batman” he whispered sincerely in her ear one night of early September, which of course she already knew. She silenced him with a kiss and told him she didn’t care. Told him that she loved him. Before he could revel in his happiness, or perhaps precisely then, the world was drowned passion.

By October she’d heard every story he had to share. Every weight he needed to let off his chest she carried, every muffled scream he expertly hid in late night conversations she was awake to listen and relieve. She even graced him with her own narratives lived through the eyes of a woman she never knew and never would. But to him, they were treasured like droplets of potable water in a desert. She had stitched together flesh and stitched together heart, carefully planting a thread that if she pulled would make him all unravel.

Oh, how she yearned to make it all unravel.

Patience she no longer needed.

The time had come for the thread to be plucked.

***

Bruce walks all around the ball room, untouched glass of champagne in hand. Fake smiles change before him and his hand has been shaken more times than he can possibly keep track of. He congratulates somebody’s kid that got into college, discusses financial partnerships with members of the elite, stroking their ego with a flattering speech about how much good their presence and financial assist has helped their oh so beautiful city of Gotham.

It all fades away so quickly, but the night’s end is nowhere in sight. The great grandfather clock is ticking away the seconds almost pensively, dully enough that Bruce thinks he could fall asleep to its rythm.

He wishes he could anyway.

Somewhen amidst the bleakness of it all Bruce finds a spare moment to glance at the moonshine washed city before him on the other side of a window. It’s a rare sight to be able to admire the lunar pathway illuminating the city skyline without thick smog clouding Gotham’s view of the night sky.

The heavy oak doors creak in indication of motion and Bruce’s head snaps towards the sound. And there, beside the mahogany entrance stands her, as beautiful as ever in her white gown hugging tightly around her waist and falling down to the ground with superfluous grace.

Bruce can’t take his eyes off her as she looks around the ballroom, politely nodding at the people of varying prominence eyeing her intently, with esteem and curiosity all the same.

This is the first time he sees her.

This is the night they meet, Bruce observes.

Cecile is edging her way towards him and his hand twitches where it’s hovering above his mildly inflated pocket. The ring sits comfortably enough encased in the same cashmere as him. Nonetheless his fingers are drawn to it like a magnet, itching to reveal it to her, dying to admire it delicately complimenting her eyes.

He’s imagined the diamond shining on her pristine fingers many times before, but of course it never shines more brightly than her smile.

Cecile greets him ever so charmingly, extending her hand. Bruce offers his to be shaken in her grasp, and even though he can trace all the lines in her palm by memory, her skin feels foreign against his.

This is the first time they meet.

The ring has yet to be purchased, it can’t be hidden in his pocket.

The night they met was months ago.

Cecile’s image falters right in front of him, but his body doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s left smiling and making small talk with the empty ballroom.

It’s all fake, Bruce reminds his extracted self.

His self, who’s still chasing after ghosts of memories from future and past alike.

***

When he realizes that he’s been asleep, Bruce forces his eyelids open. They almost begrudgingly obey him, fluttering open drowsily as he struggles to will himself awake.

You’re in civilian clothing, he muses. His head is unpleasantly exposed to chilly air, the safety and burden of the cowl all the same isn’t enveloping his skin. Neither is his belt as he can guess. Being completely stripped off his tools and armory is never a good sign when he doesn’t know where he is.

So he tries to focus on exactly that. Finding out where he is.

First thing he sees is the soft blue glow of pixel letters on a screen. The low contrast of blue on ebony feels prickly enough to his eyes when he attempts to figure out the words. The light of each letter blends in with one another until it has formed a melange of shapeless nothings.

Bruce squints with the lingering grogginess, determined to read the inscription. After staring contemplatively at the screen for a couple of seconds he concludes that written on it’s sleek surface is the phrase ‘Please Remain Calm’.

It’s when the words are processed in his brain that he registers he has no feeling in his arms. Glancing up, he more feels than sees the chains, as if he needed to judge the situation with his eyes in the almost pitch black room to acknowledge that he’d been hanging from a rusty pipe on the rather low roof.

The batman inside him scolds him, and mocks him for his peak detective skills. Who knows what else he missed. Worlds Greatest Detective his a-

“B?” calls a voice from the shadows.

Bruce whirls around abruptly at the unforeseen sound rebounding on the walls. His rolling stomach protests by urging bile to rise all the way up to his mouth, but Bruce can’t bring himself to care. He swallows back the bitter taste without blinking.

He knows who that voice belongs to, even if it’s slightly distorted by the texture of the room.

No amount of vertigo could ever stop him from recognizing it.

From recognizing any of them.

“Jason?” his eyes search helplessly the shadows for the boy, to no avail. Of course you can’t see him. You’re not Batman now. You don’t have night vision. “You’re here too?”

“Yeah… Yeah. Wherever the fuck here is anyway. Just woke up?”

Bruce nods simply. He realizes a little late that the gesture was most likely lost amidst the darkness.

“-Yes. Just now” he adds quickly. In fact, his senses are still swimming and his stomach churning, but Jason doesn’t need to be aware of that. “What about you?”

“Been up for a bit. Enough to know that these,” Jason growls, pointedly moving around in his restraints to let Bruce hear the metal jingle, “Were probably made to hold King fucking Kong”

Bruce accepts the information with a soundless sigh. He doesn’t acknowledge defeat though, he doesn’t. He hasn’t tried anything yet. And he knows Jason is perfectly capable of evaluating the situation himself. He knows if something could be done he could have done it.

But.. he doesn’t want to know it. Kidnappings never end well for any of the people involved. Which should be promising enough for their captors’ inevitable fate, but he’s not alone in here. He wouldn’t mind enduring anything they might throw his way to acquire whatever knowledge they might be after. But he can’t let his Jason go through the same pain as him.

So he’s going to try everything again, himself.

Just perhaps.. perhaps after the gastric acids settle back down in his stomach. Yeah, he could assess the situation first. Figure out where they are. Doing so doesn’t require much movement.

At the corners of his vision sleep demands to drag him back underneath, but on the other hand his head is reeling and the urge to vomit has a strong hold over him still. He suppresses both the vertigo dancing inside his head and the blooming ache in his hanging limbs, shakes his head in a feeble attempt to pull his thoughts out of the murky haziness that lingered after his wake.

An image briefly crosses his mind, bright and vibrant, yet it fades quicker than Bruce can form an impression of its context. It whispers a few words conspiratorially to him, a few words he’s embarrassed to admit he hadn’t thought of.

“The others,” Bruce mutters under his breath.

“Hm?”

“The others,” Bruce repeats sternly. “Where are the others?”

Jason stays quiet for a bit and Bruce’s shoulders stiffen. With every passing beat he feels the pain shearing through his flesh all the more clearly.

“I don’t know” Jason admits finally. “I don’t know, I thought I was on my own before you woke up. This place doesn’t exactly have the best lighting”

Bruce has already stopped paying attention to Jason’s voice and anything else he might be saying. He’s almost frantically searching and scouring every far corner of his mind to salvage any fragments of memories sunk deep inside sleep induced mist. The dark blue words that fail to illuminate anything other than the edges of the screen and the beginning of the pipeline climbing the ceiling only further contribute to his frustration.

He needs to remember what happened. Concentrating brings blurry images to the front of his mind but a strong headache stops him from attempting to decode the puzzle his fragments of memories compose.

So he travels further back in his mind, where events are more discernible.

The last thing he remembers is being in the Manor. He assumes that’s where and when the ordeal took place. Everyone was there (aside from Kate, still abroad, and perhaps Alfred, if he could remember the time placement) because they had met Cecile for the first time-

Cecile.

Cecile, who was a civilian. And if he and Jason were snatched that easily and with no recollection of how it happened, then… if Cecile and the kids aren’t here with them..

Bruce’s ear picks up rustling of metal and his thoughts are interrupted.

“Was that you?” he whispers to Jason.

For a brief moment the young vigilante remains silent. His probable reaction can be brought to Bruce’s memory clearly as day. He doesn’t need sight to decide it’s not a good sign.

The presence of his pause is never consoling, least of all now.

“No,” he replies.

Silence.

And again sound, echoing for just half a second.

“Who the fuck is there?”

“Jay? Jay it’s me” a startled voice calls.

Duke

“It’s me, Duke.”

Bruce heaves a breath of relief, but his heart only clenches up tighter.

***

Cassandra wakes up soon after. They’re al here, together. The concentrated effort that must have been required from their captors to achieve that is daunting, making their intentions appear darker and dangerous as they sit shrouded in mist.

As soon as every last of them have opened their eyes a couple of groaning light bulbs nestled in between pipes flicker to life.

The light reveals his… affiliates’ position and dishevelled state. The sedative induced retching is only now beginning to abate, leaving the prickly sensation on his throat behind.

The last bulb to switch on illuminates the space just behind the screen which is now displaying nothing but tv static. The presence o light at last makes known the existence of a man of heavy build dressed in all black and opaque sunglasses standing proudly behind a layer of protective glass.

The bulletproof glass, if Bruce were to make an estimated guess, is attached as a window to the wall facing the bats, and them also faces the man with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Small drawn patches of exposed skin tease Bruce’s memory, but he can’t quite figure out the exact shape of the tattoo on the man’s forearm. A quick glance at the henchman -he supposes- gets Bruce knowledge of a lump that could easily be hiding a gun, and a wire that most likely serves as part of a communications device.

He spots the slit of a sliding door to his right and past the space Jason is positioned, hanging from the second pipe. No indication of a handle.

The room large in depth, and while Tim, Damian, Cass and Stephanie are bound to the same pipeline as him, Dick, Barbara, and Duke follow right behind Jason in that order.

They can’t escape, is the bitter realization.

In no way can they reach one another as their feet hover helplessly above the ground. Heavy cuffs are holding their fists securely in place, clenched uncomfortably in the heart of the metal.

Bruce can only hope whoever the man in black works for will slip up and give them an opportunity to strike

They’re all perfectly capable of handling the situation, no matter how hard his heart is beating in his ears, all showered in concern for the young people here with him.

And the people that are not with.

Cecile was with them.

Now she isn’t.

She must be somewhere else. She’s still alive, Bruce know this. She has to be.

And he’s about to find out where.

“There was another woman with us. Where are you keeping her?” Bruce inquires, and his speech gradually deepens as he leans into Batman’s cruel, hoarse timbre.

The man doesn’t spare him a second glance. Simply standing with the poise of a statue, ever unflinching.

The provocative absence of any type of response fills Bruce with equal pique as it does dejection. Before he knows it he’s fuming and seething in powerful conniption, metal clashing against metal with the same ferocity.

Where is Cecile?!“ he yells, thrashing about in his chains. "Tell me what you bastards did to Cecile!”

The man only stares blankly back at him. Bruce shouts even louder. The blood is boiling in his veins, the cacophony of the force with which the chains clash against one another and the pipeline can almost be described as ear numbing.

“Hey B! Bruce! Calm down, okay?”

If they hurt her, he swears he will-

Bruce’s vehemence withers away when a familiar presence carefully closes the small door beside her and begins strutting her way towards the glass.

The other side of the glass.

She stops right where he can soak up the sight of her and smiles, cocking an eyebrow. A smile so far from being as beautiful as he remembers it. This smile fills Bruce with dread. Just a little too wide to be kind. More teeth are showing than they normally should.

It’s not as wide as the Joker’s- they’re never as wide as the Joker’s. But always just a little too wide.

“Well oh my! I’m flattered my absence has had such a huge impact on you, love. Truly”

All the air has been ripped out of Bruce’s lungs in an instant, and all the air his delayed breaths provide is immediately rejected.

It can’t- It can’t be.

It can’t be Cecile.

“No”

Not her. Not the woman he loves. Not the woman he’d trust with his life.

No, no, no-

Cecile regards him curiously, finding it’s the perfect time to play with her Auburn locks of hair before deciding to speak.

“Well for one, I have to give you this. It was fun, while it lasted dear” she says with amusement. Clearly enjoying ripping Bruce’s heart into a billion pieces.

Bruce feels nauseous, and this time the lingering aftereffects of whatever sort of sedative he’s been injected with have absolutely nothing to do with it. The only creature residing in his eyes is heartache as Cecile forcefully shoves her betrayal down his throat with every laugh and word.

Bruce can only find it in himself to gawk at her, thunderstruck.

She gestures towards him, barely able to hold back snickers.

“It’s just- I mean, this will surely be plenty more enjoyable than our time together, not gonna lie”

Her silver eyes’ malicious shine is unmasked, openly expressing itself. Her awful fits of laughter are as good as daggers embedded hilt deep into his chest but everything is fading with every new gash. Everything but his thoughts.

He has fallen for an illusion.

For nearly ten months, his entire life has been a lie. The foundation he built his newfound happiness on was never steady, and the first seism has arrived to shake his world apart.

Cecile is standing aside, looking particularly pleased with herself, and Bruce only wants to stop.

He only wants to cease existing.

[arcaneranger]

Final Thoughts - 2019 Long Shows

Dear Lord. This is where all the good shows went.

2019 was absolutely awful on a season-by-season basis (except for Summer, anyway), but that’s mostly because most of the best shows ran longer than what has become the industry norm of a single season. And indeed, heading into the new decade, we seem to be seeing a major renaissance for two- or split-cour shows, given the massive success seen by shows like My Hero Academia, Food Wars, and Haikyuu!!..particularly in comparison to the new perpetual-runners Black Clover (which, despite running for over two straight years now, is still not the most popular show of Fall 2017 by viewer count on MAL, and sits at a ‘meh’ 7.2), and even worse, Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, which is faring even worse on both counts even though it premiered two whole seasons earlier and the fact that it is the sequel to Naruto.

As a reminder of my rules, the shows on this list may or may not have premiered in 2019, but they finished airing this year. The split-cour rule (stating that I judge any show that “finishes” and then premieres a “new season” within six months) didn’t come into play for any 2018 shows, but it will for Ascendance of a Bookworm and Food Wars this year, at the very least.

With that being said! 25 shows running longer than thirteen episodes finished airing this year after being simulcast, and of those…

I skipped 6:

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part V: Golden Wind, Fairy Tail Final Series, A Certain Magical Index III, Ace Attorney Season 2 and Cardfight Vanguard (2018) because I either dropped or have not finished their previous (also long-running) seasons.

Yu-Gi-Oh VRAINS because the simulcast started late and also it was bad.

I Dropped 8:

Worst Long Show of 2019: The Rising of the Shield Hero

It’s always fun to see that a show you hated from its first episode only gets more and more distasteful afterwards, but it’s less fun when a service you have to promote because they’re the legal option is forced to shove it down your throat because they had a hand in making it and it became a massive hit that your friends don’t see any issue with because the author wrote a story that justifies its hero’s patronage of the slave industry. This is my punishment for watching the whole first season of The Asterisk War before I knew better.

YU-NO: A girl who chants love at the bound of this world

A confusing mess from the word go, this ill-fated adaptation of a visual novel from the nineties seems like it was mostly made to cash in on the popularity of the Science Adventure series, but failed to present itself in a way that made an ounce of sense or looked remotely interesting.

Fairy Gone

Am I really the only one that saw potential here? I mean yes, it ended up a boring slog that didn’t care to move its plot in a meaningful direction, but the first episode was at least cool. I guess Izetta: The Last Witch should have taught me better.

We Never Learn

I know that I’m in the minority in terms of the male demographic for shows like this, but honestly, how are bland harem shows still this easy to market? A copy-pasted protagonist with copy-pasted waifus drag down what could be an interesting setup for a story. 

Karakuri Circus

The first episode of this one had me excited, the second and third left me bored to tears and wondering if it would continue to look uglier by the minute. I haven’t seen a three-cour show look this janky since Knight in the Area.

Radiant

Having heard good things about this show from my cohorts, I do feel bad for saying I’ll probably never return to Radiant, but when you have a show that’s notably written by a European author...and it turns out to be a frustratingly standard shounen affair with middling production values, well, you can see my earlier annoyance with Cannon Busters.

Ensemble Stars

This one still gets to me. It almost looked like a male-idol show I would finally be able to get behind, what with its rebellious attitude and oddball setting...that is, until the setting got to be too unbelievable and the show began drowning its audience in side-characters because they had to squeeze every husbando from the mobile game into the story, and it all began to resemble UtaPri a little too much...but without the production value.

Boogiepop and Others

This was a hard drop, honestly. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how I felt four episodes in, before concluding that I was bored and not particularly invested, two things that should never describe the experience of watching a Madhouse show. The fact that this was the project responsible for ruining One Punch Man only made it worse. There’s a slow burn, and then there’s walking away without turning the stove on.

And I Finished 11 (holy crap that’s like three hundred episodes just on their own).

That Time I Was Reincarnated as a Slime (5/10 & 1/10)

I’ll be honest, I had forgotten just how livid I was with the ending (and especially the sad excuse of a recap episode) of Slimesekai, and reading back through my write-up of it, it’s certainly coming back to me. While this year had bigger demons to fight (Shield Hero), the bad taste that Slime left me with hasn’t really faded, and the wasted premise bugs me to this day.

Hinomaru Sumo (7/10)

What Hinomaru lacked in production value, it happily made up for in good execution and earnest heart. I can’t believe this came from the same studio as Conception, Try Knights and 7Seeds, but if they can only get out one good show a year, I’m glad that we got one bringing attention to a sport that many will joke about but few understand, respect and appreciate.

Kono Oto Tomare (7/10)

Speaking of giving love to traditional Japanese culture, here’s a decent-if-unoriginal show about a local high school koto club down on their luck, and the troubled teens coming together under a scrappy protagonist to bring it back to life. Kono Oto Tomare doesn’t have much that you haven’t seen before, but a decently-executed club drama with Your Lie In April-inspired musical performances is more than enough to keep me interested, and since Forest of Piano kinda crashed and burned under the weight of its own self-importance this year, it was nice to have an alternative.

MIX: Meisei Story (8/10)

It’s hard to judge MIX next to the other shows on this list because it’s almost too old-school for its own good, revelling in an eighties storytelling style that didn’t end up jiving with a wide audience this year. But at the same time, its fun character dynamics (and a very good dub from Funimation, despite them saying they’d never touch sports anime again) were very entertaining to watch, even if it didn’t focus as much on the sport it was supposedly about as much as I’d have liked.

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (8/10)

I fully admit that I’m very salty about the fact that this won Show of the Decade in Funimation’s poll while it was still on and I thought there were hundreds of more deserving shows, but I can’t deny that Demon Slayer was a very enjoyable experience, albeit one that I had notable problems with. That’s not gonna stop me from getting mad when it sweeps the Anime Awards in a few weeks, though.

Fire Force (8/10)

I was very afraid that David Productions wouldn’t be able to match the energy of Studio Bones’ adaptation of Ohkubo’s previous work, Soul Eater, but I was happy to be proven wrong. Even if the last few episodes contained a bit too much infodumping, it was all sandwiched between jaw-dropping fight scenes that proved that the people who make Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure can still handle the reins of a more traditional action show.

Fruits Basket 1st Season (8/10)

I know that my score for this one is a bit lower than others, but I think that Fruits Basket did pretty well in its first season, considering that it was largely spent setting up future storylines and adapting the part of the manga we’d all seen before, but with much higher production value. I’ve been familiar with this part of the story for over a decade, and the scene with Tohru and Kyo (you know the one) still made me cry. Now, we get the real plot going.

Dr Stone (9/10)

A great start to a totally new spin on shounen, Dr Stone gives me hope for survival in the post-Shokugeki world in which we’ll soon live, as a show that wears its research on its sleeve. A complex plot weaving interesting characters in and out of a narrative surrounding a philosophical battle where both sides actually do have fair points (even if one of them is going about it in a pretty cruel manner). More please.

Vinland Saga (9/10)

Once again, a great start to what will hopefully be years of quality storytelling, Vinland Saga made it seem like it was dragging in the middle only to reveal just what its slow burn had been leading up to, with twist-heavy storytelling and a fantastic cast to match the high visual quality of its brutal battles.

Run With the Wind (9/10)

It’s not often that Production I.G. gets to make a complete, fully-realized show anymore, and this one was a glorious reminder of the potential of the studio in the TV space, and a great rebound for the director of Joker Game. It’s gorgeous to look at, the cast is wonderful, and the story is both realistic and idealistic in a satisfying balance. It’s a miserable process to get to the finish line in real life, but sitting back and watching this was nothing but a treat. At least, until a minor fumble at the end.

Best Long Show of 2019: Dororo (9/10)

Speaking of complete stories, Tezuka Productions and MAPPA teamed up for a breathtaking adaptation of an underappreciated Tezuka classic that expands upon the story in exactly the right way to create a thrilling, savage, beautiful masterpiece that focuses a laser-sharp eye into the relationship between two characters in their journey to, literally and figuratively, become complete people. Also, that opening was killer.

And that’s it! That’s the fun list. Next comes the painful one. Stay tuned for the trash heap.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Eleven

In the commons, a movie was playing. But no one was watching it, not really. Without you and without Clint, Movie night isn’t the same. 

It’s too quiet. There aren’t enough jokes. Or enough people that have seen Mystery Science Theater to appreciate riffing on movies and how to do it right. Even Lucky, who would be begging for pets and pizza, is down. He misses Clint. And you. 

“Has anyone heard from Barton?” Steve asked, stroking the dog's ears. 

Tony shakes his head, “I called, but he was really non-specific about what was going on... All he did say is that Y/N is okay and that he’s trying to get her to come home.”

Steve nods and stretches, “I wonder if he’s had any luck.”

Thor growls softly when Bucky rolls his eyes. It’s a subvocal sound that Bruce feels more than hears and puts a hand on his arm. 

“I hope so,” Nat said, “That last mission with Strange was a nightmare.”

“Indeed,” Thor agreed, “Our witchling is much more agreeable... And powerful. When she recognizes how strong she is.”

Natasha nodded, but before she had a chance to reply, Lucky’s ears had perked up, and he bolted out of the room. A furry bullet on a mission.

“Where-” Steve started, but a series of happy barks and Clint laughing put the rest of them on their feet. By the time they made it into the hall, Lucky had effectively tackled you to the ground and was licking your face like he’d not seen you for months instead of a few weeks. “Lucky, ya moose,” you giggle, “Help!”

Lucky, ya goofball,” Clint said, pulling him off and patting his side, “At least pretend you have manners.

But then, before there was anything else, you’re pulled into hugs and fussing before you can do much more than take a breath. You accept hugs, but stay quiet about where you went. Or why. And Clint, as much as he’d like to grab Bucky and choke the life out of him for using you that way, follows your lead. You’d talked a lot. Making a strategy for how to handle this. You had talked. And talked. And talked. Tangential and scattered. Panicked. Clint had almost turned around and taken you back to your little house. But, on the flight, you’d calmed down a little at a time. And now, your hand found his as you pointedly ignored Bucky. A detail that, in all the chaos, Clint knew most people were going to overlook. 

Everyone but Thor and Bruce looked at your joined hands in amusement. They assumed that Clint had finally made a move to coax you into coming back. And you and Clint had agreed to let them think that. You had a plan. Even if Clint didn’t like it. He understood it. 

Bucky had wanted to hurt you. He’d twisted and lied and manipulated so well, he’d succeeded. But, like with most toxic relationships. It was a battlefield. And Bucky had only won a battle. You were going to win the war. And you were going to win by refusing to fight. By blatantly ignoring that he existed and by living your life. 

You just... refuse to play the game. And Clint. Well. Clint was gonna do whatever you decided. He knew, probably better than anyone why you wanted it to be this way. You were still in survival mode. Like you always would be. And he knew that because that’s what he was doing. He wanted to protect you. He wanted to fight Bucky. Even if he knew it would only make it worse for you. So he took a deep breath and pulled you a little closer. He could do this. He could do this for you because you deserved to heal. You deserved to be happy. Like you were right now. 

Even if he could feel Bucky quietly seething every time you leaned into him. Clint refused to stop touching you. He refused to undo all the work he’d put in to get you back here.

___________

Things settle down slowly. And Clint gets more comfortable. There’s an easy rhythm to working you into his day. Casual touches. Jokes. Cups of coffee. The pace of this relationship is, by design, slow. 

Achingly slow to the rest of the team. But, Clint gets it. You don’t want him to be a rebound, and he doesn’t want to push you. You had a lot. A lot of complicated feelings around intimacy and, well. No wonder. Before you’d been on your own, there’d been the puritanical idea of being “pure.” After that, it had faded to the concept of someone you loved. That loved you. But it was still there. The need for that to be a moment. Something you only shared with one person. and Bucky had taken it. Taken that moment from you. Like a greedy kid snatching a cookie. Clint didn’t have those hang-ups. But, he could respect your consideration for him. That you didn’t want to use him as a rebound. 

He’d reassured you that it was fine. That he could do “slow” even if “slow” had never been his forte.

“Barton!” Steve barked, “Stop staring at your girlfriend and pay attention.”

Clint rolled his eyes. He wasn’t even looking at you. He was looking at Bucky, who was looking at you. Bucky was looking at you like he was planning while you and Natasha did some Yoga and had a gossip. It made him want to rip his fucking arm off and beat him with it.

“Seriously, dude,” Sam said, “Just have sex already. This middle school bullshit is cute but-”

Clint holds up a hand, “Hey Sam,” he says, “When I want you to tell me what to do with my dick, I’ll marry you.”

“I’m just-”

“No,” Clint said bluntly, “If you’re not feeding me, fucking me, or financing me, stay out of it.”

Thor makes a soft approving sound and claps Clint on the shoulder, “Well said,” he praised. He was gratified to know that Barton had good intentions. Of course. He’d known that, but it was good to see in action. 

_________

Natasha sat up slowly and stretched, “I still don’t understand why you left.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” you answer.

“I don’t understand that, either.”

“Look,” you say, rubbing your neck, “It isn’t important.”

“But it’s important enough that Clint gets to know,” she said, hurt.

You take a deep breath and exhale slowly, “I was going through some shit, okay?” you tell her, “I was in a pretty bad spot, and I don’t want to keep going back over it. It's over. It’s done. I just wanna put it to bed and move on.”

Natasha frowns, “But-”

“I’m fine,” you say, gentling your tone, “I promise. I just... I needed some distance. It gave me the perspective I needed. I needed a plan. And now I have it.”

“And Clint,” Natasha teased.

“And Clint,” you agree, smiling a little.

“How is he?”

You raise an eyebrow, and she smirks, “Does he giggle?”

“I wouldn’t know,” you say primly.

“How-”

You sigh, “Tasha,” you answer, “you know why.”

“But you like him.”

“I do,” you agree.

“So-”

“So, we’re moving at the pace we want to move at,” you say firmly, “And that’s that.”

The Spy smiled a little, “I can’t believe you told Clint and not me,” she pouted, teasing you just a little. 

You sigh, “It was just. It was a lot Tasha. I don’t know how to explain it. I just didn’t want to cause and issue. And then Clint showed up and he gave me those big puppy dog eyes and was like ‘I just miss my friend’ and he fucking... He’s Clint.”

“He’s Clint,” she agreed nodding. He’d done the same thing to her on several occasions. It was hard to be indifferent to those big baby blues and his crooked smile. Especially not when it was genuine and not bravado. When it was bravado it gave him a very punchable face. “But are you really dating?” she asked. Natasha knew you had weird hangups with sex and relationships. That you wanted the whole nine yards. The Hallmark movie treatment with all the cute little romantic things. That you wanted a house with Ivy and a white picket fence... where you stood on kids depended on the day. But you still wanted a partner. Someone to have your back. Someone who would bring you flowers sometimes. 

“Yeah,” You say, catching Clint’s eye and smiling a little when Natasha takes your arm and you start walking towards the locker room. Clint winks at you and Natasha snorts as he walks smack into the nearest column trying to watch you walk away. 

In the showers, you and Natasha chat while washing off the workout nastiness. You chat about frozen yogurt. About where you want to go shopping in the city. You gush about makeup palates and discuss the virtues of various restaurant’s miso soup. It’s mundane. Comfortable. Like you’re picking up where you left off. Natasha is comforted, somewhat. That it wasn’t personal. That you hadn’t not talked to her for any specific reason. That her friends were happy. And like always, Natasha gets done long before you do. Teasing you about cutting your hair to be done faster. 

When she sees Bucky in the hallway, scrolling through his phone she doesn’t think anything of it. Steve has a thing about Phones on the training room floor. What does alarm her? A lot. Is an almighty crash and Bucky being thrown backward. Out of the hallway and sliding across the mats. Only to have you leap. Actually leap and land on his chest, staff in hand with a snarl. 

Thor is the closest and gets there first, though he doesn’t move to pull you off of him. Clint isn’t far behind him. He doesn't move to help Bucky either. But there are close enough to hear you growling at him. Using your staff to hold his arms down. And a considerable amount of magic to keep him there even as he’s struggling to get his vibranium arm free. 

“Fuck you,” is all Steve can hear you snarl, “You come near me like that again. You LOOK at me and I don’t fucking want you to and I will tear you apart.”

“Y/N,” he says, his tone firm, “Let him up, he can’t breathe.”

You growl at Steve too, eyes silver and luminous, and that’s when Clint steps forward to try and get you out of kill mode. Bucky is turning a frankly alarming shade of red. And Clint is willing to bet you don’t actually want Bucky dead. You just want him to be scared. Scared enough not to touch you. So Clint kneels where you can turn your head and see him, “Baby,” he says quietly, “Let him up. You made your point, okay? C’mon. Come with me. I know you. This has been on a slow simmer for a while. But come with me. Just get off of him.”

He keeps his voice soft. Coaxing gently. Like he did to get Lucky out from behind his dumpster. Because what people didn’t know was HYDRA/SHIELD didn’t manage to make you a supersoldier. You weren’t. What they did, to make you faster and stronger was infect you with a specific kind of Lycanthropy. That your Witches’ Powers neutralized the need to turn but didn’t do much to temper the fury. Bucky was starting to get a little purple by the time Clint managed to talk you off of him. You get off of him slowly, coming back into yourself and looking distressed and Clint pulls you against his side. 

“You touch her again and I’ll let her tear your throat out,” Clint warns, grateful when Thor takes your other side. Thor can grab hold of you if you need held back. Clint can’t. He also won’t. He’ll just let you fucking kill him. 

______________

“Bucky,” Steve said softly, “What the fuck did you do?”

Bucky coughs and gasps for breath, letting Steve help him up, “Nothing,” he says, “I was just standing there.”

Steve’s eyes narrow, “You know that’s bullshit.”

Bucky hacks for a second, “She just jumped me.”

“She said,” Steve said levelly, “That you touched her. And ever since she got back you’ve been an asshole. Again.”

Steve folds his arms and his eyes narrowed and Natasha looked towards the door Clint had just walked you out of. A moment of comprehension dawning, “You’re the reason she left!” Natasha blurted out.

Bucky half-turned, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, “What the fuck did you do to her?”

“She attacked me!” Bucky protested. 

“And we wanna know what you did to deserve it,” Steve said, getting angry, “She doesn’t do shit like that for fun, Bucky. She hates it. It makes her feel like a monster... So what did you do to make her feel like that was her only option?”

Tags:

@lancsnerd, @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @etherealwaifgoddess, @stevieang, @beautybyfire, @sunmoonandbucky @mrsfox79, @bbmommy0902, @mendes-fan, @iheartsebastianstan, @wtfcas @pinknerdpanda, @process-pending, @ladifreakingda, @leasly, @coldbookworm, @hv-chw3, @past-perfect-future-tense, @starkrobb @beardburnsupersoldiers, @petlaufeyson, @queenoftheunderdark, @potatoheadthewise, @thehyperactiveteen, @thefridgeismybestie, @boyett514, @an-awkward-human-1, @sunshine-and-riverwater

[myriadimagines]

Run From Me

Lucifer One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Mazikeen

Other Characters: Lucifer Morningstar

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Requester: —

Summary: Mazikeen already knows she doesn’t understand humans, but you confuse her more than than any other human she’s met. She doesn’t understand why you care so much — about the world, other people, and most perplexingly, her. Based on the song bury a friend by Billie Eilish.

Word Count: 1,236

A/N: this is my submission for @locke-writes’ intro to 2020 challenge!! i liked the concept better than the actual piece but :/

please reblog/leave comments, they’re very much appreciated!

Your name: submit What is this?

What do you want from me? Why don’t you run from me?

Mazikeen doesn’t need to tell others that she’s a demon for them to be afraid of her. From the dangerous glint in her eyes, all light disappearing in her dark irises, to her fiendish smile, red lips curled upward to reveal her grinning teeth, Mazikeen seems to be the epitome of terrifying. It’s only natural for people to run from her, an instinctual self preservation that drives everyone to stay as far away from her as possible, and it amuses her. It makes her laugh how a tiny little movement will make any human around her flinch, how pathetically scared they are of her without even knowing her true nature.

And she has no doubts you will be any different. 

She sees you at the bar, elbows leaned up against polished wood as you survey the scene. There’s a quietness about you that almost doesn’t seem to belong in the rowdy club, full of strangers drunkenly dancing, a mass of hot bodies pressed up against each other. Lux has always been a refuge, a go-to for people desperate to forget about the outside world, to drink their problems away and crush them under their heels, dancing until they collapse.

Mazikeen has seen them all. The sloppy drunks, the emotional ones. People who are fresh off a breakup, holding back their tears long enough to try and find a rebound. Others who are looking for a fling, someone to cheat with, anything to fill up the emptiness inside that’ll forever be hungry, gnashing teeth never to be satiated. 

She thinks she has you all figured out, defined and crammed into one of the various boxes that everyone else fit into. A quiet, shy type, probably at their first club, wanting to dip their toes into a wild scenery they’ve only ever watched from afar. It makes Mazikeen chuckle, watching you stay in the corner, not even having a single drink. You’ve picked one hell of a club to visit, one you’re no doubt unprepared for, and Lux is going to swallow you whole. 

You make eye contact with her when you finally turn around, and she made a point of strutting straight towards you, leaning towards you as she shoots you an expectant look, “What do you want?”

You smile at her. “Can I get a water?”

Mazikeen sneers at you, her condescending gaze sweeping over you before she snorts, “Seriously?” 

You don’t even flinch, she realises, don’t shy away and shrink under her gaze that would make anyone else squirm. It takes her by surprise, and she blinks at you and your unrelenting gaze, and she reluctantly reaches for a glass under the bar. She flips on the tap, refusing to break eye contact, a silent competition that neither of you seem ready to give up on. She slides the glass to you across the bar, and you catch it before it tips over the edge. Your smile widens, and you say, “Thanks. I’m y/n, by the way.”

Mazikeen’s nose wrinkles ever so slightly, perplexed at your unexpected boldness. She doesn’t like it, mainly because it feels defiant, as if your existence is an active challenge towards her very being. 

She’s so used to others running from her, she doesn’t quite know what to do when someone, for the first time, seems to be running straight towards her.

She spins on her heel, dismissing you as she finds another customer at the end of the bar. You grin to yourself, taking a sip of water as you can see Mazikeen cast a quick glance to you out of the corner of your eye, and you know both of you are thinking the same thing.

Game on.

What are you wondering? What do you know?

You mean nothing to her. At least, that’s what she tries telling herself, despite the fact that each and every night she finds herself revealing secrets to you she’d never even think of telling anyone else. It terrifies her, each time she lets her guard down, terrifies her that one day, it’ll be too much for you. That you’ll turn around screaming, running away from her darkness that no one else can handle.

You must be from Hell, Mazikeen decides, quite early on after getting to know you. There’s no other explanation, despite Lucifer firmly assuring her he’s never once heard of you before, decidedly ruling out the possibility. 

But there’s something about your smile, your taunting, teasing smile that makes Mazkeen feel like you know more about her than she realises. As if you can see right through her, leaving her a translucent body, her soul open for you to see. 

And she hates it. Hates the vulnerability, hates feeling exposed to the point where it could be used against her. She doesn’t understand how it feels like you know her, know every single detail about her life, and the very feeling alone is enough to unravel her. 

It takes her a while to realise how much time the two of you unintentionally spend together. Perhaps it was all planned from the start on your part, calculated moves that would always put the two of you together. You’re relentless, always showing up in the exact same spot at the bar again and again, refusing to talk to any other bartender except for her. It doesn’t matter how hard she tries to fight against you, she always finds herself drawn towards you by the end of the night, unable to fight the palpable magnetism that buzzes between the two of you.

You soften her, eventually, the two of you bonding over quiet conversations at the end of the bar as Lux begins to wind down, as the club begins to empty and the music begins to dim. Lucifer often finds the two of you still talking long after closing hours, unable to peel yourselves away from one another. Mazikeen hates the smug, pointed grin on Lucifer’s face each time he sees the two of you together, hates his insinuation that the two of you together means anything. 

You mean nothing to her. At least, that’s what she tries telling herself, despite the fact that each and every night she finds herself revealing secrets to you she’d never even think of telling anyone else. It terrifies her, each time she lets her guard down, terrifies her that one day, it’ll be too much for you. That you’ll turn around screaming, running away from her darkness that no one else can handle. 

Why aren’t you scared of me? Why do you care for me?

She doesn’t understand how you’ve managed to never once cower away from her, how you’ve continued to stay at her side after seeing the sides of herself that even she’s deemed ugly and terrible. Parts of herself that she felt nauseated to show you, parts she was sure you’d reject her for, but instead only makes you more fond of her. Each passing day seems to draw you closer and closer to her, and she knows she cares for you far more than she’d ever care to admit, just as you care for her.

So she finally asks you, finally confronts you with all the questions that have swarmed her mind ever since first meeting you, an unfinished puzzle full of holes and pieces that are lost into oblivion that only your hand can find.

You don’t reply, looking up at her wide eyes, and Mazikeen realises that perhaps she’s known the truth all along. A truth she pushed aside as an absurdity, and impossibility, because of the eternity she’s spent believing that she’s incabaple of being loved. A truth you don’t need to say out loud.

You love her. 

And Mazikeen has unknowingly fallen in love with you, too.

tag list: @melody-of-scream / @diansaprince / @inspiredbynewt / @belle82devart / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @locke-writes / @ayanemoon / @fangirlsarah16 / @batfam16 / @ariagrillart

[nobodyfamousposts]

Not sure if this has been asked before (if so you can just link the answer if you want). But what's your least favorite episodes of season 1 and 2 of Ladybug?

There were many I really didn’t like and some I didn’t bother to watch specifically because of that, but there are a few that really stick out:

Animan: The akuma reason was weak. And overall, the episode itself is only really notable for Ladybug jumping into a dinosaur’s mouth and for getting Alya and Nino together, which kind of came out of the blue and with little other setup.

Evillustrator: While one of the more popular episodes, this one felt too all over the place to me. Sabrina deserved some focus, so I appreciated that, but there was so little available to give her that it made her actions incredibly rushed to the point of being extreme and nonsensical. Why was the Sabrina subplot even necessary? More attention could have been given instead to Nathaniel, maybe having him actually trying to talk to or interact with Marinette more before his crush is outed by Chloe. Or even to Marinette and Chat interaction. Seeing them working together and coming up with a plan. A bit more than the brief moments we actually got, which would make all the more sense for Adrien to ask her about it later.

Antibug: While it worked in a sense to show Chloe as Marinette’s foil, the episode lost its luster by having it be yet another “Marinette/Ladybug needs to learn a lesson for something she really wasn’t wrong about” episode. This would have gone great for an episode as part of Chloe’s arc, but they didn’t use it that way. Instead of Chloe learning a lesson about not lying or seeking attention, Ladybug had to be called out for not listening to someone who had just lied to her, and it was made out as if her not listening to or working with others was a regular problem despite it never actually being an issue at any point previously. All in all, interesting concept for a Chloe akumatization but poorly executed. Not to mention it was horribly unfair for Sabrina’s akuma to only be a stepping stone to cause Chloe’s.

Volpina: Yet another “Marinette/Ladybug needs to learn a lesson for something she really wasn’t wrong about” episode. It at least moved the plot forward somewhat, but not nearly enough and not with any true permanent relevance other than the introduction of Lila. And I’ll be frank: I never liked Lila. Even when she first appeared, I didn’t like her. Not as a rival. Not as a new antagonist. Her motivation was stupid and her lies were obvious. I stand by my original Volpina post that it would have been much better if she was Alya’s rival rather than Marinette’s. The episode would have been better served introducing Alya to the Miraculous and setting the stage for the next season and her eventual role as Rena Rouge. As it was on its own, it was a rather poor season finale.

Frightningale: What was the point of this episode? We were promised more plot-relevant episodes in Season 2 and this was about as far from that as one could get. If they were going to make it “fun” and have an akuma that forced people to sing/dance/rhyme, why didn’t they make use of the actual singing abilities of their voice actors whom we KNOW can sing? Have any of you heard Christina Vee? I wanted Idol Ladybug, dammit!

Frozer: The one good thing I liked from Frozer was that it showed Marinette at least ATTEMPTING to move on and just be friends with Adrien—not even to specifically try to rebound with Luka, just to move on. If they had stuck with that, I would have been much more forgiving. But as they didn’t, it was pretty much Glaciator all over again.

Troublemaker: Again, what was the point of this episode? Other than embarrassing Marinette on a nation-wide level? The akuma was one of Hawk Moth’s weakest and the set up, while understandable for Penny, seemed really poorly executed.

Gigantitan: …Why? Just why?

Queen Wasp: Yes, Chloe just tried to crash a train, but let’s focus more about how Ladybug lost the Miraculous Chloe was clearly just shown abusing to try to crash that train. Sounds like a real good plan there, Chat. Also, I can’t be the only one who felt the subplot of Marinette going off to New York to study fashion was poorly done. The offer itself was rushed, the family’s decision to just let it happen and move with her was rushed, and there was little time actually offered for Marinette to make an informed decision.

I understand that a lot of these issues can be shrugged off with the claims of “it’s a kid’s show” or “it’s only a half hour time slot and there isn’t enough time”. That it’s a kid’s show doesn’t mean they can’t address real issues kids would actually have to face. That they only fill up a half hour time slot means it’s all the more important that they cut out the junk and keep the parts that matter. Hey Arnold did it. Avatar the Last Airbender did it. Plenty of kid’s shows were fully capable of it. These guys have no excuse.

[darawonplease]

Darawon fanfiction concepts

- trauma fanfic [concept]

Characters. Eun Jiwon x Sandara Park 

nb. I wanted to take inspiration from a bunch of songs to help myself decide the main plot/s of the darawon fanfic I want to craft.

Ni Yao de Ai / The Love You Want (Meteor Garden OST)

concept. unrequited love / coming to terms with reality.

Dara understands that the sweet romance she dreamed of couldn’t be further from the harsh reality. Jiwon is actively avoiding her. She keeps thinking about him but knows that she doesn’t have any grip on him, she knows nothing. She is very doubtful, she doesn’t know if his feelings are true or if she’s just a rebound. She realizes that her constant fantasies will hurt her and that the relationship he wants is quite different, he doesn’t want to depend on anyone and wishes for freedom.

Although I often dream of you I still have no idea It's raining outside Which day is it today But I don't know Where you went *Although I have never Doubted you I still feel uneasy Who is your one and only Forgive me for doubting myself ~I understand the love I want Will spoil me Like a little child Who only knows how to be Bad in your arms The love you want Is not just reliance Must be like a man Even in bad weather Leads a carefree life

- If I were You - 2NE1

concept. unrequited love / moving on / need for closure

Dara can’t just console herself. She spends all her nights watching the beautiful yet tactless night sky. She wants to swap places so that he’ll understand her feelings, she wants to understand him too. She wants to love him but this unrequited love has taken a toll on her. Dara wants to spend the last day together with him to finally be at peace and have the closure she desperately needs. The constant crying, the mix of emotions that are stirring violently inside of her are starting to make her feel apathetic. She wants to throw everything out and scream but no one would be there to listen to her pain. She wishes to move on, either through alcohol drinking or with the help of her friends but she is just stuck in her house. She can only listen to herself sobbing in that empty house that feels like a prison.

Another day passes by like this My whole day was spent for you I wore the clothes that you liked the best

I should look beautiful in the mirror But I just look miserable The tactless night sky is so beautiful I wish you could be me I wish I could be you I wish you could feel it for just a day Your heart My heart I wish I could love you I wish you would love me I wish we could be together just for a day So I can let you go without regrets I want to throw away everything in front of me I want to scream out loud but The only one to listen would be me Along with the burning candle There’s not much left to my heart This beautiful house feels like prison The tactless night sky is so beautiful Sometimes, I want to push everything back and go out like you I want to wash down my pain with alcohol, my sadness with laughter But I don’t

- Trauma - Eun Jiwon

concept. break-up / regret / failed romance / moving on

Jiwon’s marriage terminated with a divorce after only 2 years. He still can’t move on from this life long relationship. He’s left scarred and hurt. He perfectly knows that the more he tries to forget his ex-wife the more she intrusively come up in his life. He’s mad because their story seems to be written by a cruel author, he wishes to try again and change their tragic ending. 

I guess it has been long Since I lost you Everything about you makes you my kryptonite My wounds won’t heal easily If it was a novel I’d rewrite it We’ve come too far Memories turn into painful records

You’re my trauma, from the beginning We were characters of an obvious drama Tell me why, I just cry I have to spit you out to survive Our scripts have messed us  I just cry

The more I explain the worse person I become Why bother trying to forget you When you become more clear by day 

I just cry I have to erase you out of my head That’s the only way I’ll make it alive I just cry Trauma

Round & Round - SECHSKIES

concept. regret / break-up / moving on / pretending / calling for help

Jiwon keeps experiencing sleepless nights, everything is still while his heart is a mess. He tries to distract himself, like a parasite that sucks out other’s happiness to stay afloat but it’s just temporary; when the party reaches its end he suddenly feels the burden of being alone again. He wants to go crazy and have wild fun but deep inside he is lonely and miserable. He wishes to go back to Dara and prefers to be hurt again and again if it means to feel that happiness even for just a day. He misses the old times, the carefree relationship they lived happily. No matter how hard he tries to forget her, her voice is always in his mind. He’s hopeless and wants to be consoled by her. 

I toss and turn all night, nothing changes outside the window when i open my eyes It’s empty even when I fill and put whatever inside, the tv that’s chatting alone is not fun 

Even is I call people uselessly and borrow others laughter It’s good for a while, low low, I can’t feel it no more From the day you killed me 

I want to go crazy and stumble insanely I want to feel the emotions I felt when I met you for the first time again

I’m running wildly and lively right now, but my heart is dying I run crazily all night but i want to go to you honestly I can’t stand it no more, I’d rather be hurt again and again A few times of swears, pains and loves, I want to feel the you of back then 

When I look back while I’m playing without thinking, I’m trapped in a cold space   Even when I kicked the remains of you out of me, why do I keep hearing you when I close my eyes? 

The heart hardened by you and the broken compass I keep hearing the silence of the sad song Even if I try to close my ears, you keep on calling me The really dazzling long night when you left me 

I’m trapped in a windowless room My heart is lost and dizzy without you Please hug the broken me 

That time when my heart burnt On the day my everything ran round and round towards you I’m in regret without you 

I scream and laugh crazily     But I actually want to cry at the thought of you 

HATE - Eun Jiwon

concept. regret / break-up 

Jiwon finally gets what seems to bother him so much lately. He was so careless when rejecting Dara once again and finally realizes how much his words hurt her. He’s become a demon to his own eyes too, he can’t believe he was so harsh with such a sensitive woman.  He’s too afraid of commitment and tries to protect her distancing her failing to understand that he should’ve been there for her instead. He’s mad at himself for not being strong enough to hold her while he could. 

I hate myself, The TV show I saw last night It brought out the scary anger in my eyes the tv that’s chatting alone is not fun I don’t want to watch it all-day Every time I look in the mirror I close my eyes

Please let’s break up, I pray My mouth that said harsh things to you Shut up your lips tight, don’t say anything I haven’t said a word yet, yeah

Making you cry because of my tears And my hands that I didn’t hold you back I hate my feet that just turn around The painful night because of me Now I’ll let you go, goodbye No way, why did I lose you

I hate myself I can’t do anything I hate this about myself

- TIPSY - EUN JIWON

concept. drinking / temptation

Dara and Jiwon go out to get a few drinks together. He suddenly feels strange, his heart is palpitating, his pupils dilating, his cheeks redden. He want to blame it on the alcohol but he’s actually drunk with feelings. He finally gets to see the sensual side of Dara and stop himself from falling deeper and deeper for her.

It’s too early to sleep in this dark night My mind’s still noisy even when the flame’s out Even when I swam until I’m breathless I’m deeply locked with your thoughts. I’m stained with your fragrance

What kind of feeling that’s coming up is this? I heard the beating music inside of me The sound of a sweet laugh oscillates

I kept on being swayed just by your gaze the whispers of your red lips is so tender I’m attracted to you unknowingly I fell for you without any word, girl I know you’re danger

I’m spinning because of you, I think I’m going psycho I’m a drowned fool, Baby please slow down My heart’s goes round and round, don’t flip it Hold on to me while we’re playing because I’m wobbly It’s frustrating, I’m wobbly and everything’s twisting  Why do i keep on getting wobbly while we’re playing? It’s dizzy, got me tipsy tipsy tipsy

I’m drunk because of you,  I don’t know why I’m like this, why? I walked wobbly like that

I look at your dark hair and dazzling eyes You’re perfect and chic without trying while wearing your natural attire Your smile quickly flashes by while looking back at me, uh I fell for you right at that short moment

I fell for you more as this night gets deeper My lips calling for you without me knowing Your smile quickly flashes by while looking back at me, uh

Even when I look weak like this I can protect the only you, my girl When you’re tired lady, when you’re hurt, you can lean on me and cry.

- Don’t Give it to me - Loco ft. Hwasa

concept. drinking / temptation /

Jiwon and Dara go out for a couple drinks. Jiwon teases Dara and takes her over her drinking limits. She doesn’t want to disappoint him and accepts every drink he pours her even if she, deep down, knows it’s a terrible idea. She wants to properly confess to Jiwon and doesn’t want the alcohol to be the reason she fails again. The tension between them keeps increasing and the alcohol is slowly cutting on their inhibitions.

It's dangerous, a close call Holding on by a thread But you're trying to cut it with scissors I don't need your favor I don't have much patience I can only see it as a temptation Don't come to me, don't Don't cross the line, please Don't give me alcohol, don't I might try to make it work with you if drunk Don't offer me a drink, oh baby It'll only bring regrets Don't give me courage, oh baby I know it'll only last today If you want me to be sincere, don't give me that drink I'll say nonsense and do the devil's dance A cool wind blows outside but the world is still too harsh I want to keep you only at my side Men are all the same No, men who had drinks are all the same Saying I don't see anyone but you Is just saying I forgot everything else but you So don't give me alcohol I'm lonely enough sober Don't let me scissor away Ripping love and revealing instinct I want to get to know you first Ya, I want to keep my sanity They say this is the cost of getting older But I want to give it cheaply You don't even need to move Don't let my words become a ploy Let's just enjoy and toast with water Don't offer me a drink, oh baby It'll only bring regrets Don't give me courage, oh baby I know it'll only last today One shot, two shot, I don't want to keep emptying these glasses Don't get me feeling good anymore Don't make eye contact like you're making a toast I don't care who you are Don't make me cry I don't care who you are

[zombizombi]

hummingbird heartbeat pt44

Nothing really changed, with Jeff and Kent. At least, it didn’t seem like it. Had Bitty expected things to change? Sort of. How was a more nebulous concept, it was just -- Kent and Jeff were boyfriends, now.

He thought.

He was like, 99% sure, anyway. Kent hadn’t given him many more details, even though an entire month had passed, and Jeff -- well, Jeff wasn’t interested in talking to Bitty about Kent. Bitty knew, at least, that they hadn’t been… intimate, knew that Kent hadn’t slept with Jeff yet. To hear Kent tell it, they barely touched each other. On Skype calls where Bitty saw them together, Jeff and Kent seemed the same as ever. They weren’t even sitting closer on the sofa or anything.

It was weird. 

And honestly, Bitty didn’t even know why he cared so much, it was not his business. Moo Maw always said people ought to mind their own business. Except, well… Kent was Bitty’s business, so by extension, his relationship with Jeff was, too. Kind of. Right? Which meant minding it was a little more acceptable. Reasonable, even.

“I guess I thought something would happen?” Bitty said to Jack, curled up in bed one night. Their nights together were becoming more rare, would be rarer still. Jack’s season was upon them.

“Something happened. You said they talked.” Jack turned on his side a little more, tucked closer to Bitty. He ran hot fingers down Bitty’s side, tucking them up under the hem of his shirt. “Maybe they’re just still figuring things out.”

“I don’t even know if they’re dating,” said Bitty. He shivered.

“You know you have to be patient with Kent.” Jack pressed a kiss to Bitty’s neck. “Why is this bothering you so much?”

“I don’t know, I --” Bitty sucked in a quick breath as Jack’s teeth closed on his earlobe. Jack was right, he should worry about something else. It was just so hard to stop thinking. He’d never been good at that, not really, because Bitty’s mind was always sort of going, worrying about something. It was -- “Honey,” he said, as a little shiver ran down his spine.

“Maybe you need a distraction.” Pushing Bitty’s shirt up further, Jack pressed his hand flat against the small of Bitty’s back and brought his lips down to Bitty’s collarbone.

Bitty’s breath caught. “Oh?” This was probably going… good places.

“Mhm.” Jack’s breath was hot against the hollow of Bitty’s throat.

Jack was a very good distraction.

Bitty spent the rest of his time in Providence trying not to worry too much about Kent and Jeff. He had enough on his plate, anyway. It helped to pick Jack’s brain about captaining a hockey team -- the NHL season would be starting soon enough that if he wanted to really get Jack’s full laser focus, Bitty had to do it then. And he really, really wanted Jack’s full attention. Jack and Kent were different in a lot of ways, including the way they played hockey, and the advantages that could come from being able to talk to not just one, but two NHL players in leadership roles weren’t something Bitty could pass up. Advice from different perspectives and leadership styles would come in handy, was worth spending some precious boyfriend time on.

And it was apparent, several games in, that Bitty’s extra attention and work was paying off. Samwell’s season was going well -- really well, actually. A brand new first line meant big changes in play, new hurdles to overcome. The new guys were fast, good skaters, but sometimes lines took chemistry, and sometimes chemistry took a few months to build. They didn’t really have months, though, and if running drills on passing was what Samwell needed to make it to the Frozen Four, well.

Bitty spent extra time going over tape with the coaches. He worked with the boys on passing and drills, organized a couple of game nights for team bonding, tried to ensure that he was available to any of the guys if they needed him. It was great. The guys were really getting it together, and Whiskey was honestly amazing. He was really focused, really talented, and really… intense. He was the best player they’d had since Jack, and so far, they’d even managed to avoid any real injuries. Bitty allowed himself to hope for the Frozen Four.

Stirring the custard ingredients together, Bitty balanced his phone on his shoulder with his chin. “I think it might not be completely out of reach?”

Kent laughed. “Why did you say that like a question?”

“I don’t want to jinx it,” Bitty said. “You know, it’s like -- if you say too much about it, it’ll definitely end up not happening?”

“You guys are having a good season so far, though.”

Even though Kent couldn’t see him, Bitty nodded. “We are!”

“And you’re, like, working on your thesis, right?”

Bitty sighed. “Baby, that’s not until Spring. School’s barely started!” And his thesis was kind of not his highest priority at the moment. Or like, ever, but definitely not now.

“Well yeah,” Kent said, “but you’ve, like, thought about it. Right?”

Right. How did he end up dating two insane overachievers, again? Bitty poured the vanilla buttermilk custard filling into the blind-baked pie crust. “I’ll get it done! Worry about your own dang GPA!”

“Mine’s really good,” Kent said, smug and satisfied in a way that was both irritating and adorable at the same time.

“Yes, your brain is very sexy, dear,” said Bitty. “Isn’t it your bedtime?”

Kent gasped. “Not for another, like, two hours!”

Bitty opened the oven. “You are absolutely ridiculous, and I --”

“Oh my god, Eric, don’t you want to talk to me?” Kent’s voice sounded farther away, and the sound of running water filtered through the line. “What kind of pie are you making?”

“Mr. Parson,” Bitty said. “Am I on speaker phone?”

“Yes,” said Kent, after a small silence. Bitty heard the sound of a door shutting in the background.

“It’s chess pie,” Bitty said. “Who’s there?”

“What the fuck is a chess pie?” Jeff asked, and Bitty sighed. Why didn’t anyone know this?

“Y’all really need to come visit.”

“It’s good,” Kent supplied.

“All right, super chief. We play Boston on our first roadie, I think.” Jeff’s voice was closer. “Make one then.”

“We do,” Kent said. The water in the background shut off and, after a minute, Kent picked the phone back up. “I was gonna get you seats, if you wanted. And maybe you could, um.”

“Stay?” Bitty finished for him, smiling a little.

“Yeah,” Kent said. “And you can tell me all about your boys in person, so I can see how cute you look when you’re all focused.”

“Gross,” said Jeff, and Bitty laughed.

Those fuzzy, warm feelings of confidence about their season couldn’t last. Bitty should’ve known that, but everything was just going so well. The new lines were starting to gel, plays were making sense -- they could do it. They could totally do it.

At least, that’s what Bitty thought until Derek Nurse gave himself the most idiotic hockey injury ever. The game was beautiful otherwise, honestly. Everyone was playing gorgeous hockey, and Bitty was really, really proud of their progress.

In the third, Nursey slapped the puck on a rebound, sending it careening into the net over the unprepared goalie’s shoulder. It was a filthy goal. Grinning, he returned to the bench, bumping gloves with the guys as he came within reach.

“Nice goal!”

“Top shelf, Nurse!”

“Fuckin’ s’wawes--”

“Hey, thanks for the assist, Poindexter!” Nursey grinned over his shoulder.

Dex rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck crashing across the boards like that, Nursey.”

“Jeez, Dex,” Nursey said, “I’ll interpret that as ‘you’re welcome, keep it u--’” the door clicked open just as Nurse was about to swing over, and somehow, despite literal years of playing hockey, he fell. As luck would have it, he broke a bone with that foolishness, which would not only screw up everything about their game but also serve as the catalyst for the Haus becoming ground zero in a not so cold war.

Honestly, this was the universe’s way of paying Bitty back for thinking that they were doing well that season when it came to injuries. He should’ve knocked on wood.

Dex and Nursey were absolutely ridiculous -- everything one of them did irritated the other, and they weren’t, apparently, able to be reasonable in any way whatsoever. Bitty probably should’ve anticipated it, as they’d always nitpicked each other, but after the injury their feuding was on a completely different level. Slytherin and Gryffindor level, even. Everyone had assumed there’d be some nonsense with them moving in to the Haus, of course they had, it was just -- it was so, so much worse than anyone imagined. Complaining about a lack of privacy, Dex attempted to turn his bunk bed into a private oasis. When that didn’t work, he vanished into the basement, accompanied by some power tools. Bitty wasn’t sure what was going on down there. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, truth be told.

When Shitty invited Bitty and Jack to come up to Cambridge to see their new place, Bitty leapt at the chance to escape the Haus for a visit with old friends. It would be great to get away from the world’s most annoying d-pair, and it’d be good for Jack to take a quick trip before his season really got going. It was their last chance.

“Welcome,” said Lardo. “To Haus 2.0.”

“This is interesting,” Bitty said, looking around the house. It definitely had the same feel the Haus used to have. Messy, lived in, vaguely gross. Rent had to be insane.

“Right on,” Jack said, accepting a beer from Shitty as he looked around. “Samwell after Samwell. I’m jealous.”

“Ahem! Allow me to give you a tour of our buckwild best friend abode,” said Shitty. He waved an arm. “It’s several degrees of dece!”

“And pancakes every Saturday,” Ransom added.

“You guys have another roommate?” Jack asked, talking around a mouthful of pie.

“Yeah,” Holster said. “She hates us.”

“Like legitimately wants us to die,” Ransom added.

“Hey, not our fault!” Shitty shoved his shades up on the bridge of his nose. “The Craigslist ad said, and I quote: must be motherfucking down to motherfucking clown.”

“That’s kind of a big ask,” said Jack.

“Oh yeah, how’s my old room at the Haus, Bits?” Lardo asked.

Bitty sighed. “Well, Dex now lives in the basement. So.”

Lardo raised a single brow.

“It’s a long story,” Bitty said.

“To rooming situations from haus to shining haus!” Shitty raised his beer, and everyone else followed suit.

“Hear, hear!”

Hanging out in Cambridge felt like old times, complete with Lardo slaughtering them all in Mario Kart. She was gracious enough to let Bitty be Peach, but the niceties ended there. They were taking a break from the game, Shitty and Rans and Holster and Jack all occupied with a board game, when Lardo leaned over a bit, bumping shoulders with Bitty.

“How’s Kent?” Lardo asked. “Are you guys still…?”

“Yes, we are.” Bitty drained the last of his beer. “He’s doing really well. Season starts soon, so he’s just been busy.”

Lardo nodded. “How many years is it, now?”

“Oh my Lord,” said Bitty. “It’s -- I don’t know. Three? Isn’t that crazy?”

“Yes,” Lardo said, passing him another beer. “Being in an LDR that long is pretty intense, bro.”

“It’s almost over,” Bitty said.

Lardo glanced at Jack, laughing about something with Shitty. “Is it?”

Ah. “Well -- no. I guess it isn’t.” Bitty rubbed the back of his neck. “But I’m going to Vegas after I graduate so it’ll just be… different.”

Lardo nodded. “Been planning that a while,” she said.

Bitty chewed his lower lip. He had been. He’d been thinking about it for a long time, actually, worried about logistics and appearances. Kent’s coming out had helped a little, but there was still no telling how the Bittles would handle their baby boy moving to Vegas to live with his boyfriend.

His boyfriend and his boyfriend, really.

Bitty spent his last night with Jack in Jack’s apartment, both of them snuggled up on the sofa with television and Jack’s favorite pie. Bitty ran fingers through Jack’s hair, smiled a little. “I’ll miss you, honey,” he said.

“I’ll miss you, too,” said Jack, curving gentle fingers around the back of Bitty’s neck.

“Yeah?” Pressing a hand to Jack’s chest, Bitty pushed up off the sofa a little. “Wanna give me something to remember you by?”

Jack laughed.

Kent put a new video up, and Bitty waited to watch it until he was home in his room, able to give it his full attention. Kent was in Jeff’s living room, sitting on the sofa wearing a faded Boston University hoodie that Bitty didn’t remember seeing before. Kent still didn’t put his face into the view of the camera, even though with Bitty out, it was truly only a matter of time before someone found the channel for real. There were a smattering of jumbled comments, a few coherently asking “IS THIS KENT PARSON?!?!?!!?!?!”, but nothing concrete. Yet.

In the video, golden sunlight streamed through the window behind Kent and Kevin curled up next to his side, her head resting on a little toy teddy bear. He scrubbed behind her ears with one hand before he began to play. The melody was sweet and familiar.

It was Rainbow Connection, the song from the Muppets.

Behind him, Jeff walked by, pausing for a moment. He laid a hand on Kent’s shoulder, for a moment, bent down, the ends of his dark hair falling into view, but the rest of him wasn’t visible on camera. His voice could be heard, just barely, murmuring something quiet — but Bitty couldn’t understand what he said. After pressing a kiss to the top of Kent’s head, Jeff wandered out of view of the camera. Kent played and sang without interruption, though Kevin had shifted, wagging her tail and staring up. Halfway through the song she laid her head back down, using the teddy bear as a pillow.

It was a serene little video, everything about it warm and soft. Domestic. Bitty’s stomach hurt a bit looking at it, and he took a deep breath. It was okay to be a little jealous, right? Surely Kent was a little jealous sometimes. Bitty was just used to having Kent all to himself, but it wasn’t bad for Kent to be with Jeff, too. He’d kind of been with Jeff the whole time they’d been together anyway, hadn’t he? And they’d had such a great summer.

It made him feel a tiny bit better to see a couple of comments asking where Sweetie’s boyfriend was, several of them decrying the lack of “cute baker” in the video.

When Bitty called on Skype that night, Kent answered from his own bedroom.

“Oh,” Bitty said. “You’re not at Jeff’s?”

Kent blinked. “No? Why would I be?”

“Well, I saw your video today and just thought --” Bitty squeezed Señor Bun. “It was really good, sweetie.”

Kent shrugged one shoulder. “You know I like to sleep in our bed.” Kit crawled into his lap and he buried one hand in soft fur. The purring was loud enough that Bitty could hear it through the computer. “Jeff’s downstairs, though.”

Of course he was. Jeff practically lived at Kent’s house. Bitty nodded.

Kent frowned. “Babe,” he said, after a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I just miss you,” Bitty said.

Kent softened all over, eyes warm and gold in the lamplight. “I miss you too, Eric,” he said. “I miss you all the time.”

“Even with Jeff there?” Bitty asked, hating how small his voice sounded.

“Yeah.” Kent slid his tongue along his lower lip before sucking it in under his teeth for a minute. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Eric,” he said. “Are you sure you’re okay with this --” he waved a hand -- “whole thing?”

“Yes,” said Bitty.

Kent tilted his head, and the light flashed on the lenses of his glasses. “We don’t have to do this,” he said, after a bit of quiet. “Me and Jeff, I mean.”

“Yes, you do,” said Bitty. Even if Kent thought they could go back, they couldn’t. Shouldn’t. “You belong together. Just like you and me.”

“Eric.” Kent rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away from the camera. “C’mon.”

“It’s fine,” Bitty said. “I mean, it’s different. I’m getting used to it. But it’s -- it isn’t bad, honey.”

“Really? ’Cause you don’t seem, like, thrilled about it,” Kent said. “You’re being weird.”

“It’s fine,” Bitty said, again. Because honestly, it was fine. And he’d be there when school was over, he’d already been looking at the job market in Vegas. “I’m not being weird. I want you to be together. Besides, it’s not like --” he cut himself off, shutting his mouth before he finished that sentence. What Jeff and Kent did was only marginally Bitty’s business, even if he could not stop thinking about it.

“It’s not like what?”

“It’s not like it’s a whole lot different from how you’ve been the entire time I’ve known you,” Bitty said, voice soft, “is what I was gonna say. Is it?”

Kent flushed. “It’s different,” he said.

Holy shit. Bitty sat up straighter, ignoring the twist in his stomach. “Kent Valeray Parson,” he said. “Did you sleep with him?”

Kent’s blush deepened. “I --”

“Oh my god,” said Bitty.

“Not yet,” Kent said.

“Oh my god,” said Bitty. But it had been so long! And Jeff was so, so hot. “Why not?”

Kent rubbed his face with both hands. “Just -- because, okay? We just haven’t.”

“If it’s because of me,” Bitty said, “I --”

“It’s not.” Kent stared down at his hands for a minute. “It’s not you.”

Bitty frowned. Did -- did Jeff not want to, or something? Oh, Lord. Maybe it was some kind of like, ‘I love you but I don’t want to sleep with you’ thing. Jeff was kind of known for fucking around. With women, granted, but still. Surely it wasn’t that Kent didn’t want to. “Honey,” he said. “Do you not want to?”

“Oh my god, Eric,” Kent said, “you have eyes, are you serious? It’s just not -- we’re not there yet, okay? Fuck.”

“Well --”

“Can we not do this?” Kent pushed Kit off his lap. “I don’t ask you about Jack, do I?”

Oh. “Okay,” said Bitty, squeezing Señor Bun. Kent was right, of course. He didn’t ask for details about Jack like that, never had. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked, it’s not really my business --”

Kent was quiet for a minute, picking at a thread on his comforter. “I just don’t know if he, like. Wants to?” he said.

“Sweetie,” Bitty said. “It’s Jeff.” Jeff Troy’s reputation was well-deserved, he was pretty sure. The way he looked at Kent? Bitty was pretty sure that wasn’t the case.

“I know,” said Kent.

“He’s, um.” Bitty rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of the word. He was not going to call Jeff a fuckboy. Even though he was, according to internet message boards. “He, like, you know.” Liked to fuck. Oh, Lord. That meant -- surely Kent would ask Jeff to get tested. Bitty didn’t need to worry about that, too, did he?

“But I don’t think he’s picked up in a while?” Kent said. He chewed on his lower lip. “So, like. Maybe he’s not?”

“Or maybe he’s just saving himself for you?” Bitty countered.

That sentence was too ridiculous to bear, and after a moment, both of them laughed.

“So,” said Kent, “how ’bout them Dodgers?”

“Smooth,” Bitty said. “Real smooth.”

He missed Kent more than ever over the following few days. It wasn’t that he didn’t have enough to do. Bitty had more than enough to do, and he worried, going to bed at night, about not having enough energy to do it all. Kent sounded relaxed on the phone. Happy. Their calls were the same as ever, sweet and warm and faithful. Bitty could almost forget, sometimes, that Jeff was there -- except that Jeff was always there, always had been, and it was… hard, maybe, to think about him watching Bitty and Kent together all that time.

There was so much Bitty wanted to ask him, so much he knew Jeff wouldn’t say.

Bitty couldn’t really devote his time to cross-examining Jeff, anyway. At the Haus, Dex living in the basement was turning out not to be so bad. He was handy enough to fix the place up himself, and Bitty was certainly not going to complain about someone doing work. It needed it, and having Dex fix things kind of took some financial pressure off of everyone else -- as well as giving him something to do. It kept a little peace.

The Haus wasn’t entirely harmonious, though. Whiskey still hadn’t come around, Bitty noticed, preferring to spend most of his time elsewhere with other friends. He wasn’t being team. And as Captain, it felt like Bitty’s job to make sure all the boys were team.

All of his efforts to do so, however, fell flat. Repeatedly. On Skype with Kent, Bitty sighed a little, flopping down on his bed.

“What is wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Kent. It’s just been on my mind,” Bitty said. It was probably stupid to be so uptight about it, anyway. Kent wasn’t the most popular guy in his dressing room, either, and he did fine. Right?

“So it’s something, then,” Kent said, voice about as placid as Kent’s voice ever got.

“At the end of the day,” Bitty said, “I don’t care. I just can’t stop thinking about it and it bothers me.” Kent would know what he meant. They’d talked about it before.

“That’s, like, the definition of caring, Eric,” said Kent, voice warm.

“His high school girlfriend came into town and he didn’t even show her the Haus --”

“You mean he didn’t introduce her to you.” Kent’s voice was a little softer. “Eric --”

Bitty sighed. “That is what I meant,” he admitted. “It hurts. What am I doing wrong?”

“Not everybody is going to like you, babe,” Kent said. “Doesn’t matter what you do. I mean, I know you hate that, but Brian says that’s life or whatever.”

“I know that.” Bitty sighed again. It didn’t make him feel better, though, knowing. It didn’t help at all.

What was he going to do? He’d tried basically everything he could think of, and Whiskey still spent more time with the lacrosse team than he did at the Haus.

“It’s okay if he doesn’t want to, like, experience college the way you do,” said Kent, slowly, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with one finger. “You know that.”

“But I’m his Captain,” Bitty said. “And I can’t seem to get him involved in the team, you know? Team spirit?”

“Some dudes just, like, aren’t into that,” said Kent. He shrugged. “There’s always one or two in a room. It’s no big deal, guy’s good at hockey. You’ll be fine.”

“I just want --” Bitty chewed his lower lip. What did he want? A perfect senior year? Harmony across the Haus and the best team Samwell ever had?

Jeff pushed Kent’s door open. “Your phone’s ringing,” he said.

“Aw, fuck,” said Kent, “that’s the GM’s ringtone. I gotta take this, here --” he traded the laptop for his phone, leaving Jeff on screen. “Talk amongst yourselves.”

“I --”

Kent was gone before Bitty or Jeff could protest, and Bitty rubbed the back of his neck as Jeff chewed his lower lip.

“So,” said Jeff.

“So,” Bitty said. “You, uh. Y’all --”

“What did you say you wanted there, bro?” Jeff asked, interrupting Bitty’s question.

“Nothing,” Bitty said. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as Jeff raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t know. There’s just one guy on my team, y’know, I just. He’s not like, a part of the team?”

“Ah,” said Jeff. He sat, then, just quietly waiting. After a few minutes, Bitty somehow ended up ranting to him, too. When he paused to breathe, Jeff cleared his throat.

“Why don’t you go ahead and take about twenty percent off ’er there, bud,” Jeff said. “Nobody’s perfect, fuck.”

“But --”

“Some guys just don’t wanna do the whole, like, thing,” said Jeff. “It’s fine. If it’s not on the ice, it’s not important. I mean, like. You said he’s playing well. So stop trying to force everybody to be all Happy Days with you.”

Bitty sighed. “I am not,” he said, “forcing anybody to --”

“Just let the guy live, damn,” said Jeff.

What sucked was that Jeff was right, and Bitty knew it. He was trying to think of a decent comeback when Kent returned, the sound of the door interrupting Bitty’s train of thought.

“Jeff, stop antagonizing Eric,” Kent said.

“Oh my god,” said Jeff, “I wasn’t even doing anythi--”

“Yeah,” Bitty said, “stop antagonizing your boyfriend’s boyfriend.”

“Hey!” Jeff ran a hand through his hair, pulling it out of his face. “I’m just being honest, man!”

“Horizontal violence,” said Bitty, and Jeff rolled his eyes.

Climbing back into bed, Kent had to crawl over Jeff. They paused for a moment, Kent half in Jeff’s lap, and Jeff leaned in to press a kiss to Kent’s mouth. When they parted he was grinning, and Kent swatted at him before pushing away to settle on the bed again.

“I miss you,” Bitty said, and he felt it with his whole heart, wasn’t sure if he meant just Kent or both of them. Watching them, Bitty realized that together they felt like home.

His chest felt tight. He missed the warmth of their Canadian summer, laughing in a rental house and sharing ice cream. Leaning his cheek in one hand, Bitty smiled softly, just looking at them on camera.

Looking back, something in Jeff’s face softened a little, and he turned to look at Kent.

“I miss you, too,” Kent said, and when Jeff reached out to run his thumb over Kent’s cheekbone, he closed his eyes for a moment. “Wish you were here.”

“Soon,” said Jeff. He glanced at Bitty on the screen, smiled softly.

“Soon,” Bitty agreed. Soon they wouldn’t have to rely on Skype at all.

( the whole fic is here on AO3 )

[praphit]

Jessica Biel: Whiteface & the Beast! This is my story.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the ever-lovely! - Jessica Biel.

I had a dream about her, but I'll get back to that in a sec.

If you don’t know, I normally ramble about movies. There are a lot of movies that I could have talked about this week. 

"Dolemite Is My Name" - 

Eddie getting back into the swing of things! I'm actually a lil concerned about this. "Coming to America 2"? The first one is a classic; what are we doing?! Does it need a sequel? Don't mess with perfection! I've heard that there will be another "Beverly Hills Cop" sequel as well! What's next? - another "Norbit"?   Another "Nutty Prof"? The chronicles of Donkey?

I could have talked about "Jojo Rabbit", a comedy involving Hitler. 

That is dangerous territory, my friends. BUT, with Scarjo in the mix, any offense is kinda forgiven. I mean just look at her. 

If I were a cop, and I caught her red handed in murder, I'd probably let her go, and just say the victim fell in the kitchen.

It's weird how her awesomeness works when she's in offensive films, unless she is the lead.

Somehow her powers failed her in those incidences.

She hasn't tried to do black face yet though, so there's that! On that note, the only white actor allowed to do black face in my opinion is Robert Downey Jr 

(Sgt Lincoln Osiris - Look up for context, kids). To this day, I'm all for giving Osiris his own franchise. Maybe have Scarjo play his black girlfriend (kinda like Foxy Cleopatra from “Austin Powers”).

This would be horribly offensive! But, I'd still love to see it, as everyone's heads explode over the fact.

I could have talked about that boring ass war movie... whatever it's called. I think Dr. Strange is in it

Or the horror movie "Countdown" I use the word "horror" loosely. It looks like fun hot garbage. Kind of a cool concept though -  an entity setting a timer to beat your ass and kill you.

But, there's something else, or maybe I should say someONE else on my mind, that I need to warn y'all about. This is more important than some movie.

And it's of course Jessica Biel.

No, not THAT Jessica Biel (the ever-lovely)

Like I said, I had a dream about her, and in THAT dream she was the ever-BITCHY.

Always ordering me around:

Take out the trash, wash the dishes, walk the dog, etc. BUT, nothing I did was ever any good for her! Didn't like the way I placed the bags outside. Didn't like how I put the dishes away. I walked the dog for too long, or sometimes not for long enough.

Paint our room this color or that color, then I would paint it that color, and she'd take one look at it and want it redone. She'd always eat the food that I brought home for ME (with MY name on it!) Then be like "I didn't know."

What do you mean you didn't know?! You ain't buy it! And your name sure as hell ain't praphit!

*heavy sigh* I'm traumatized, people! In the dream, it was like we were married for decades - DECADES OF THIS! And any time I'd try to stand up to her, she'd start crying. In real life I'd never put up with this! WHAT THE HELL?! I'm still mad!

Some people would be like "Well, at least you got a dream where you're living with her, so... at least some sexy time salvages it all." NO! There was no sexy dream time had! And even if there was, I don't think it would have been worth it!

It went down in the dream like this:

Praphit: *giving sexy eyes* :)

Biel: "I'm not in the mood"  

Praphit: "Again huh?? Ok... well, imma... you know... and then go to bed.

Biel: "No."

Praphit: "What do you mean NO?"

Biel: "It's cheating in the eyes of our Lord."

Praphit: "Our Lo... since when are YOU religious?"

Biel: "Don't you Christian shame me!"

Praphit: "I'm NOT, I just... *heavier sigh* anyway, FINE, I'm going to bed."

Biel: "Whatever. Leave the light on; I'm about to read."

SEE, PEOPLE!

THE EVER-BITCHY

There's a shower scene. I go into the shower. I know what some of y'all are thinking FINALLY! YES!

Nah.

She's in there crying... over something I did. I'm just in there consoling her, while getting yelled at. I didn't even get a look at what she had going on in there. No, you know... good shots in that scene. Whoever was directing my dream is fired.

Then, things got weird.

We go into my dream mom and sister's room. She kicks them out (OF THEIR OWN ROOM). I'm trying to explain myself. And apparently, what I did to her... (now, people, try to follow... cuz I certainly can't) I had been dressing up like Justin Timberlake, in white face... like Casper the ghost white face, with a curly wig on like JT from the NSYNC days. I was out performing, and everyone was buying it. AND (somehow weirder!), sometimes, I'd put makeup over top of the JT makeup in order to look like Justin Bieber, so as to perform as him as well. So... extra white face. AND EVERYONE BOUGHT IT! I'm unsure, but at some point, she had sex with either me (dressed up), or JT and thought it was me, or Bieber and thought it was me... Idk, again, I can't follow this nonsense. But, we argued forever, and somewhere in there, I woke up.

I went to work that morning, MAD! Think of a time where you argued with someone the night before, went right to bed, and when you woke up, you're still kinda in that mood; kinda like you're still arguing with them. You know?? I was doing THAT, MAD... at Jessica Biel! It doesn't even make any sense!

And as far as the JT/JBieb thing... if she's fooled during sexy time... isn't that a lil bit her fault as well?  I mean... ... it makes me think of Rachel Dolezal; remember her?

(If you don’t remember her, google her name... it’ll change your life)

(I'm waiting for the movie of her story to come out btw. Maybe Scarjo could play her)

Now, getting fooled at work by her or in the community is one thing, but sexy time? People, I'm not going to get into details, but... you know what I'm talking about. If you're fooled... what the hell is wrong with YOU?!

Anyway, Idk what to make of any of this.

I've considered that this dream is a true glimpse at the real Jessica, and that perhaps one day, Justin Timberlake will share with us his story. I've considered that it's prophetic, and that Jessica might leave Justin and pursue a rebound with a Baltimore black man like myself. Maybe God is warning me.

I've considered that Jessica Biel might be a witch - and did this to me on purpose, so she doesn't have to vent at Justin. I wouldn't hate on her if she's a witch; that's between her and our Lord.

Or maybe it's all real! Maybe when I go to sleep, I sleep walk as Justin Timberlake... AND Bieber... and then live in horrible, argumentative fashion with Jessica Biel. People, IDK! I just want closure! But, I fear, It's never gonna happen.

Today is Halloween. Imma get some candy, rock a costume, and forget/suppress all of this. In this life, you'll rarely get closure when bad stuff happens to you, BUT you can ALWAYS get candy - that's what I tell the kids.

I'll leave you all with that. Happy Halloween!

And you TRAIN yourselves to wake up if you ever spot Biel in a dream!

[bangtangurlarmy]

Prove You Wrong || Jungkook

Pairing - Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre - Assassin! AU 

Word Count - 8940 words.

Warning! - This fic is clearly a work of fiction and does not depict any of the members in the story as they have been portrayed in this work. Their personalities have been shown as it is only for entertainment purposes.

Also contains graphic depiction of violence. If you get squeamish easily, I suggest you turn a blind eye to this post. 

You sensed the approach of an attack. You heard near silent feet on the tiled floor of your bedroom before you opened your eyes. Your fingers discreetly curled tighter around the hilt of the dagger you always kept under your pillow, your breathing not once giving away that you were awake. 

Opening an eye, the dagger in the assailant's hand gleamed in the moonlight and before they could plunge it in your back, you whirled with your dagger in your hand, up and against theirs. With a swift punch to their face that they'd let too close in the moment, you jumped off your bed, toes curling against the frigid cold tiles. 

The person who'd tried to attack you was on the floor, clutching on to his nose, obviously disqualified. You strained your ears, letting your eyes adjust to the almost dark room - most of the moonlight only shone on where you were sleeping on the bed so you couldn't rely on that source anymore. 

You heard the singing of a blade and ducked in time before jumping ahead and grabbing onto the owner's wrist and twisting it, their grip loosening on the sword before it clanged on the floor. Pulling them forward, a knee to his ribs had him out as well. 

Rolling your shoulders, you clutched the hilt tighter as you twirled and brought it close enough to the person who thought it was a wise choice to keep his jewellery on - the chain glinted betrayingly against the moonlight - and swiped your blade, close enough that it ripped clean through the shirt material but not too close to harm him. Disqualified. 

You sniffed him before you saw him. You could tell whose scent it was from a mile off. The familiar thudding of a pair of feet you'd heard way too many times in your life, approaching, inviting your own feet to dance with it. And you gladly accepted. 

The dagger raised to counter his sword, the muscles in your arm burning as he pushed down, but you didn't let it break your balance, gathering enough strength to push him off, feet tapping over the tiles as he caught himself. 

His smirk mirrored yours as he took a step to your left that had you reacting faster than you could catch yourself as you realized he'd tricked you. Rebounding off the floor, he flew to your right before a swift movement of his blade snipped off one of the straps of your nightgown on your shoulder. 

Disqualified. You let out a growl in his direction, mostly because he'd ruined one of your favourite nightgowns. 

"Okay, that's enough." A familiar, deep voice sounded from a corner before the light switched on, illuminating the room. You saw three men behind you, two of whom had distaste written all over their rugged faces as they watched you. Sending a shrug their way, you turned to look at Yoongi, your trainer and employer, for your evaluation. 

The five of you gathered in the centre of the room, as Yoongi walked with muted footsteps, taking a stand in front of you.

Before he could speak, you opened your mouth. 

"Keep staring and I'll gouge your eyes out with my bare hands," Your face remained blank and you heard a muffled cough from your left as he looked away from your bare shoulder. You'd kill Jungkook for that humiliation. You heard him snort beside you, making your jaw clench in annoyance. 

There was a hint of a smile on Yoongi's lips before he spoke, "I'd say good, but that was rather...It made me want to sleep. Daniel, please work on your footwork and breathing. Jimin," He sighed and you could see Jimin tensing from the corner of your eye as he stood out of line. 

"You're definitely better but you could do exceptionally better. Next time, I want that, along with zero jewellery on you," Jimin relaxed and fell back in line. 

“Taehyung, work on guarding both your sides and a more silent approach, especially with a sword.”

"Jungkook, the next time I see you being a little too smug about undressing someone, you'll be taking a trip to the Fatal Keep," Yoongi said, referring to the place where most of the brutal trainers taught people who were unfortunate enough to land there - usually as a punishment. Authority was evident in his voice at a minimum, yet enough for him to understand what he'd done was puerile and unnecessary. 

You felt a smile tug on your lips when Jungkook mumbled a "Yes, sir."

"Y/N, good job with keeping aware of your surroundings, although you didn't have to hit them too hard," He said, chin jerking to show you your work. Daniel was bleeding through his nose and Taehyung was rubbing where you’d hit him on the ribs. You sighed through your nose.

"Daniel deserves it though," You gestured to him, eyeing him with spite. If you ever caught him looking at you like that again...you would definitely not hesitate to act on your words. 

Yoongi shrugged, "Yeah, maybe. But listen, you are all being trained to be stealthy and hyper-aware of your surroundings. The most you will now be allowed to do is disarm the assailant for the exercise, should it happen again," With a pointed stare towards Jungkook, Yoongi added, "You will not always have a weapon free at your disposal. Six out of eight fights will be without weaponry. You must learn to trust your body."

With understanding nods in response, Yoongi flicked a hand so fast you were mere seconds away from being nailed by a blade that flew past where your head had been. Wide eyes watched Yoongi, partly in awe, partly in fear of it happening again. Your heart pounded from the surprise attack, but you knew it was an example of what he'd said about trusting your body. The rest had gotten the message loud and clear.

"You may now retreat to your rooms," He dismissed, the boys filing out of the room one by one. Jungkook was about to leave when he turned around and walked to you, you clicking your tongue at his approach.

"Sorry about your nightgown..." His eyes trailed down your body in such a way that made you squirm. Not with uneasiness, but with...You shook your head and looked away. 

"Just keep your payment on my dressing table so I can buy a new one," You said, clearing your throat. 

"Or I could just," he took a step closer, "fix it for you." 

If it wasn't for what he said, you'd have been flustered with colour evident on your cheeks. 

You looked back and scoffed. Him and sewing? Yeah, he might as well be stripping in a bar right now. 

"It's fine, I can do it myself. You still owe me some goods in return, though."

Jungkook rolled his eyes, an all too familiar motion. 

"The usual?"

You grinned, "You know it."

You were bored to tears.

Blinking sleep away from your eyes, you stifled a yawn as you sat cross-legged in the shadow of the chimney. Leaning against it, you watched the window of the inn where your target was currently getting ready to sleep. 

You never understood Yoongi's concept of having an impromptu exercise the day before any assassin's mission. It didn't make it any better when you didn't know what the exercise would be. So every time he approached you about the next target, you were quite often consumed with mixed feelings of anticipation and dread.

Popping another chocolate and hazelnut ball into your mouth - part of the treats you'd seen resting on your dressing table when you awoke that morning, with a card that read 'Sorry not sorry for what I did. Spar with me today?' - making you laugh at the memory, you waited another hour in the shadows, the sweet treats keeping you up and energized until it was time to move.

The kill had been far too easy and most of the sugar-fuelled energy still hadn't worn off, so instead of reporting to Yoongi immediately, you approached a door you usually wouldn’t when you were in your right mind. Knocking lightly, you bounced on your feet, feeling way too restless. 

"The fuck you want- oh."

Your wide eyes met with his and you cleared your throat. 

"Sorry, uh...you probably don't want to be-"

"Oh, no, it's okay. It's just that Daniel has been bothering me since evening. How was your mission?" He asked, still at the door. You rocked back and forth on your heels as you rubbed the back of your neck, giving him a sheepish smile. 

"Too easy?" He laughed, reading your posture instantly. He knew you like he knew the target he practised archery on. You didn't know if to be insulted or be pleased. 

You nodded, "I still haven't reported yet. I was wondering if you wanted to spar?"

You weren't surprised at his raised brows, given how late into the night it was. "Now?"

When you just shrugged in response, he smirked. 

"I don't see why not."

"So haven't you gotten a new mission yet?" You asked, panting as you tried to keep up with him. You could feel your energy declining rapidly. You would be exhausted soon and then you could go sleep. The thought of a warm bath and silk sheets almost made you moan out loud but you caught yourself. 

Jungkook's sword clanged loudly against yours, the sudden force making your arm shake a little. You frowned at his furrowed brows. 

"Kook?" It was during these moments when you'd both forget you weren't competing against each other for a title of 'The Best Assassin in the Land' or some shit like that. 

"Huh?" He grunted as you easily disarmed him in a few heartbeats. 

You watched him in confusion as you gasped for breath, the last few movements having taken out every bit of your energy. He still hadn't answered. 

"A new mission?" You repeated. 

He shook his head, a hand rubbing the back of his head, before brushing gently at his hair. He only did that when he was nervous. 

"Yeah...yeah- hey, don't you have to report to Yoongi? It's been an hour, he's probably expecting you."

You cursed, instantly forgetting what you were talking about as you shouted over your shoulder, a request for him to keep your stuff back, running out of the training room and to Yoongi's office. 

When you reached his office, you were about to knock when you heard a muffled voice say "It's wiser to send Jungkook for that. Namjoon isn't somebody to be handled by Y/N...not yet, at least. Don't reconsider your choice."

You frowned before knocking loudly, the person going silent as you entered. 

You and Jungkook had trained together ever since you were little and you couldn’t remember the first time you’d tackled him to the floor with just your bare hands. Well, he did too, number of times more than you could care to admit but that wasn’t the point.

Jungkook was a skilled young man with equally good looks. Although you hated to admit that part, there were enough instances that happened along the way that made you want to squirm thinking about it. His raven black hair shone like obsidian everytime the sun hit his locks, and his chocolate brown eyes dazzled every time he wielded a sword. And not to mention how easily he could imitate the look a kicked puppy, his eyes doe-like, that you found yourself falling into his trap multiple times before you'd grown immune to it. But it was the way his toned body filled his tunics, or the way he went shirtless during combat training that you found tough looking away from.

His talent in swordsmanship and archery, in addition to that, made you wonder how he was good at almost everything. Too good.

Of course, you were as good as him, just a tad less. He'd been training ever since the age of five whereas you'd only begun at nine. With two years of age separating you, it didn't take too long for the rivalry to develop. One was always ready to outshine the other. In every field. 

You were skilled in swordplay and archery but more in hand to hand combat. You’d had more wounds from those combats than scars from sword or dagger cuts to display, unlike a certain somebody.

You both were, nevertheless, equally feared and known in the country for your skills and work, although, nobody knew either of your faces. If they did, it was under an alias. 

While you weren’t exactly a freelance assassin and could take on assignments and targets only that your employer cum trainer deemed fit, Jungkook basked - no, bathed in the wealth he received from being more available to the merchants who wanted their dirty work done for them. Of course, he only did it if their trainer, Yoongi, allowed him to take up.

Maybe that’s why he was a freelance - because he was ready to follow rules and guidelines, take calculating steps and plan before moving ahead. While you, on the other hand, constantly got high on the adrenaline each assignment gave you, from the risk of getting caught or being absolutely, fucking ruthless.

“Devil help me if you ever get caught,” Yoongi grumbled at a meeting causing others to snicker, Jungkook being the most obvious out of them all. You shot daggers with your eyes, shutting them up instantly, only Jungkook daring to keep his smirk.

You were angered by that. By the fact that Yoongi didn’t seem to trust you enough or believe that you were more than capable to get out of a problem on your own. That conversation you’d heard two days ago echoed in your head as you took another bite of your food.

“I will have you writhing on the floor, begging for mercy,” You grunted as you pushed the flat side of your blade against his, causing him to take a defensive stance.

He grinned, “How about you actually do it than talk. All I see is you losing miserably.”

You snarled as you went tip first into him, ready to pierce his armour, his sword coming up to counter your attack. That’s when you ducked, catching him off guard before you swept your leg clean on the floor beneath him, the clanking of his armour against the stone floor satisfying your hunger for victory. Most of it, at least. 

Jungkook groaned, a hand coming to his shoulder as you watched him, your chest heaving before turning away.

“Why are you so pissed anyway?” He called as you walked to the bench where water and some snacks lay in wait.

Grabbing a bottle, you twisted the cap so harshly Jungkook gulped when the cap landed on the floor, knowing full well there was still some part of that temper that was burning, ready to consume anything that was unfortunate to tread along its way.

“I don’t know.” Came your clipped answer as you breathed heavily after two gulps of water.

“Bullshit,” You heard the sword whining as it went back to its sheath, his footsteps sounding as he came towards the bench. “You never beat me unless you’re absolutely pissed, and from you wanting to stab me, I can tell something’s bothering you. And it's not because you're running short on chocolates.”

You hated him. You hated his brain. You hated how much of a smart ass he was, observing you every step of the way. He knew you way too well for your own good.

“You imply one more time that I don’t beat you at sword fighting more than you do, I will shove mine down your throat so you don’t talk again.” You crushed the empty bottle in your hands and threw it into the bin. 

Jungkook took a gulp of water, grabbed a banana and took a bite off it before talking, “That’s because you don’t beat me at this more than I do-“ he stopped chewing when you turned around, anger flashing red in your eyes, your hand on the hilt of your sword in emphasis on your threat. “-you’re just a sore loser.”

You turned back around, trying to calm your breathing as you walked towards the door.

“At least you’re the second best!” He called out as you exited the training room.

Taking another bite of the fruit, Jungkook laughed as he heard a faint shattering of a glass vase. You’d be answering to Yoongi about that at dinner tonight.

You threw your bedroom door open and launched yourself onto the bed. Inhaling deeply, you screamed into the pillow, the soft material muffling most of the frustration. 

When you were satisfied, you turned around to face the ceiling. You weren’t pissed at Jungkook, per se, you were pissed at Yoongi.

Although you heard - eavesdropped, kind of - about it from somebody else while they were talking to Yoongi, he had confirmed it right the next day when you were hoping you'd misheard it. Jungkook was given the duty to take down Kim Namjoon, one of the leading rivals of Yoongi, who was also a genuine threat to the kingdom.

You wondered the night following the news if it was that what had made Jungkook feel nervous - either facing Namjoon or telling you about it. You didn't blame him, both the options were daunting.

Kim Namjoon was the most sought-after hitman and leader of the deadliest assassins in the country. You scoffed when you’d first head of that, claiming nobody could beat Yoongi’s assassins, but one look at their victims told you they got their job done thoroughly. Without a trace, they left the scene - and their victims were left mauled and unidentifiable. They followed recklessness while Yoongi followed caution. You snorted at the irony of your choice of leader. 

It was rumoured that Namjoon was the one who was responsible for the death of the Duke a month ago, although it was believed that Namjoon never took on the victims personally. But if he did with the Duke, then perhaps he must have done something that pissed Namjoon off to an extent that was unforgivable. Since then there’s been chaos in the country. Nobody knew whether the rumours were true, nor did Namjoon or his assassins bother to confirm or deny them. Why would they, when the chaos clearly gave them the upper hand?

The King not long after had put up an announcement: anybody who’d bring the dead body of Kim Namjoon would be heavily rewarded. There had been attempts on his life since, but the number decreased over the weeks as the people who tried their luck were found dead at the gates of the castle. For the last week, the world was silent as Namjoon slept soundly every night.

But the fact that Yoongi had more belief in Jungkook than you did something to you. It felt close to betrayal because - and you remember this very clearly - he’d promised to give you a target that was worthwhile. And you were hoping it would be Namjoon. Not some petty fool like the corrupt courtesan you'd taken care of three days ago. You weren't exactly questioning his authority, but rather you were tired of the men of the keep whispering behind your back about how Yoongi only kept you for....other purposes. If you could shove your sword down their throats and squish their eyeballs under your feet, you'd gladly do so. But...they were Yoongi's men. And you were his lone female assassin. He wouldn't want you going rogue.

You didn’t realize how quickly the time flew by until the housekeeper, Rosa, patted your cheek to get you to have a bath as you were “stinking up the entire room”.

Yoongi drummed his fingers on the table as he awaited an answer from you. The rest of the assassins at the table had their eyes on the floor, the tablecloth or the food which was slowly getting colder with every minute that passed with you staying silent.

“Y/N, I’m not going to repeat my question.” His voice was stern as he addressed you regarding the damned vase you’d pushed over on the way to your room.

“I was pissed.” You muttered, eyes on your shaking hands. You fought to keep your temper at bay. 

You could feel half of the tension at the table lifting as the others let out a steady breath. Jungkook’s eyes burned two holes on your forehead.

“Why?” Yoongi asked, eyes still hard on you.

You could hear the underlying question. Why is the assignment I gave Jungkook bothering you? You breathed heavily through your nose. 

“Have I not proven enough of my worth for you to give me better targets?” You blurted, eyes wide and set on your trainer. His jaw ticked and you knew you were testing his patience. But you weren’t letting down. No, not this time.

“Y/N-“

“No, I don’t care that Jungkook is better than me or that he keeps taunting me for being second best-“ you noticed him straightening at that, “-but why am I never sent for anybody higher than a harlot or a fucking courtesan. Am I that useless? Heck, even Jimin gets important targets and he's just been here for a year."

Jimin visibly gulped at this, his eyes focusing elsewhere. 

“Or wait,” your voice was calm, a bitter laugh sounding before you said, “is it because I’m a girl?”

Yoongi’s eyes were brewing anger, his fingers curled tight into a fist. Jungkook cleared his throat, but Yoongi’s hand came up, signalling him to keep his trap shut.

“You are worthy of even the king, must it ever happen to require to kill him, Y/N, but you fail to understand. First, you will not question me, ever again. Second, you will get your assignment when it’s time. Third, this is for your own good.” He came closer, the vein on his forehead popping as he barely contained his temper. “Am I clear?”

You clenched and unclenched your jaw. Your foot bounced and your palms began sweating. You could feel Jungkook’s eyes on you.

Glancing at him briefly, his eyes were soft yet stern as he raised his brows. Don’t you dare.

That ticked you off.

“No.” You breathed.

Yoongi blinked once. He narrowed his eyes. The tension rose again.

“What?”

“I said no, you are not clear. I am done being your lackey and you telling me what to do. Let me be clear, Yoongi, I know what I’m doing. And I’m going to prove that to you.”

You turned to Jungkook, “And you.” You pointed at him accusingly, then at the rest, “And the whole lot of you misogynistic assholes. You think I can’t take a man down. Could you get any more patronizing than that? Watch the castle gates tomorrow morning. Then let me see who has the balls to laugh behind my back and call me a ‘prostitute in disguise’.” You glared at one of the guys, Daniel, him cowering under your look. Hmph, they couldn’t even own up to their own words. Pathetic! 

And with that, you stood up with so much force, the chair you were sitting on toppled over, breaking the silence in the room. Storming out of the place, you went to your quarters to get ready. 

You’d show them who you were. You couldn’t wait to see their faces when they’d see the result. 

You were armed to the teeth, checking yourself once more, making sure you had all that it would require to take down one man and his watchdogs. There was a tendril of nervousness that caught hold you but you pulled away before you prodded it further. 

You had stepped right out your door when you almost crashed into somebody. Looking up, your frown dug deep as you recognized him. 

“What?” You growled, your hand already at the hilt of your dagger, ready to hurt him should he try to restrain you. You’d stop at no length. 

Jungkook, however, only watched you. He was looking into you, really looking, as though he could break down the wall you kept putting up. In his dreams. 

Your patience was teetering over the edge, you ready to yell at him when he spoke. 

“Why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove? That you’re better than me?” 

Sometimes, you really wished you could skewer him on the poking stick and grill him over the fireplace in your room. 

You narrowed your eyes, laughing humourlessly, “Look here, pretty boy, don’t think you’re somebody worth worshipping for your skills. I have no interest in proving you wrong about anything.” You began walking away. 

“Then why are you risking your life? You know Namjoon is a guy not to be reckoned with.” 

His question stopped you in your tracks. Fury ripped through you and it flowed in waves, your hand itching to punch something, anything. 

“Oh, okay,” You turned around, “So when you do it, you’re saving the whole damn world and damsels come running to you squealing how strong you are and you get patted on the shoulder for being so fucking brave, but when I do it, I’m risking my life and it’s too dangerous and men look at me like I’m a piece of meat ready to be pounced on when I'm weaponless. Why? Because I'm a fucking girl. Can your dumb brain sort through what’s clearly so messed up?” 

Jungkook’s eyes widened. He’d never thought you’d been bottling up so much anger and tolerating such actions. Now he felt like he should have punched those men who made snide remarks about you when you left the room. 

“Look, all I’m saying is, don’t go now. It’s snowing, and you wouldn’t be able to see a thing out there! Just stay, you can go when the snow clears.” He wished, no, hoped you would heed him. But after that little storm you brew in the dining room, he doubted you would. 

And he doubted right. 

“As fucking if. You will stay here. If I even get a sniff of you following me, I swear to all Hell, I will not hesitate to kill you.” You snarled, baring your teeth at him before you stormed away and out of the keep. 

“Y/N...” Jungkook’s voice trailed away as you jogged farther into the streets. 

You crouched on the roof, your fingertips stinging against the cold as you waited for the harlot to come out. They were taking way too long - and worse, they hadn’t exactly shut the blinds. So it was pretty much a free show if you wanted to look. You scanned the house again. More like a mansion; you’d taken about fifteen minutes to scour the place, which was ten minutes longer than you usually took. 

Namjoon’s union was in the wealthier part of the town so it was understandable.

It was pretty big for just one person, but you knew it was just like your keep, shared with the other assassins. It was a mansion that had the essential rooms on the ground floor, with a verandah and a set of staircase that led to the front door. Two hours ago, you’d seen the girl walk in through there, just as another exited. Talk about adventurous. It absolutely disgusted you. 

The living room was to the right, a wide window revealing much of the interior decorations and couches that adorned the room. The dining room was to the left where some of the watchdogs - okay, assassins - sat and played a game of cards while two guarded the door. And they hadn’t failed to check out either of the women that left and entered. You had sneered at that, a hand itching to hurl a dagger towards them.

There were two guards on either corner of the house, patrolling the sides where the alleyways between the houses were dark enough for you to be able to dispatch them easily. And when you’d studied the back of the house, you found two other at the back door. There were no maid quarters on either side or the back so you safely assumed the rooms on the second floor belonged to the housekeepers.

The first floor seemed to have at least five rooms, judging by the size, while the second had three. Namjoon’s room was on the first floor, the first door to the right. The roof was definitely not to be considered an entry safe place given how steep it was. Clever of him. 

The storm had calmed considerably, your fingertips at the mercy of your warm breath as you blew into your hands. You crossed your legs and waited for your chance. 

It was well into early dawn, around 3 am perhaps, judging by the quiet road and darkness of the sky - save the full moon that shone furiously - when the two guards moved from their posts at the front door for another two to replace them. So they rotated every two hours, while the ones on the sides and back every three. They wouldn’t expect an assault at the back then, but this was Namjoon’s men you were talking about. You’d seen they were capable of, so their lax bodies didn’t let you believe that they were truly relaxing. 

You didn’t mind. Besides, you were aching for some good action. You’d be honoured to take them on. 

When you looked back again, you saw the woman in Namjoon’s room did not leave and in fact decided to stay, much to your annoyance. If it was going to get violent, then you might have to kill her as well. You hoped silently that it wouldn’t come to that. 

Inhaling deeply, your breath curled into the air as you breathed out, rolling your stiff shoulders and bouncing on your feet before sliding down the roof. Catching hold of the drain pipe, you easily slipped down, the metal stinging your fingers as you did so. You remained against the wall of the house whose rooftop provided you visibility access to the assassin’s keep as you walked towards the alleyway where you’d seen the guard turn the opposite way. 

Making sure both sides were clear, you jogged across the street, your feet silent on the gravel as you made it onto the sidewalk on his side of the house. 

You walked closer to the manor, eyeing the side of the house to see if you could find an open window. You pursed your lips when you realized you would have to get in through a door - either front or back.

Noticing the light catching on the hilt of the sword that remained sheathed to the side of the guard, you walked as quiet as death towards him. 

Anchoring yourself a few inches away, you smirked at the guard’s wide eyes when he turned around, “Surprise.”

Before his hand could reach for his sword, your palm thrust against his nose, causing him to stumble a few steps back before your hands came from the sides and slapped him on his ears. Grabbing onto his face, you swung it down where it met your aiming knee, the loud crunch of his nose breaking quenching a particularly sadistic part of you. 

Aware of how loud the melee was to alert the guards at the back door but not the front, you let his body thud against the gravel before strutting around the corner of the house, two blades by your side, ready to spill some blood.

The two men were hurtling towards you in seconds, a thought spared to praise their speed before you met the first one’s blade with both of yours, them crossing to trap the sword before swinging your arms so wide that it sent the sword flying onto the grass, disarming him. But it didn’t faze him. A fist came swinging towards the side of your head, your hand coming up to block it, before sliding down your hand so swiftly that he didn’t realize his wrist was slashed until you kicked him square on the chest, knocking him out. 

The other had crept up behind you, a rogue arm agaisnt your throat before you could duck out of the way. His bicep crushed your throat mercilessly, but you turned the daggers in your hands, before sending them behind you, impaling the sides of the guard. His arm loosened and you fought the urge to cough as you twirled around and landed a punch that surely killed him. 

Almost wheezing, you coughed into your elbow before you pulled yourself onto the landing of the back verandah and landed quietly on your toes. You just hoped the guard on the other side hadn’t heard any of it.

Catching your breath wasn’t too hard. With a hand brushing over the hilt of your sword that calmed your nerves, you walked through the back door hat hadn’t been locked. 

Foolish. Just utterly, disbelievingly foolish.

“Some assassins you are,” You scoffed, closing the door behind you.

Jungkook paced in his room, the crackling fire no longer burning, bits of ember floating through the chimney as he rubbed his hands together. He couldn’t remain still. 

Partly because of the cold and partly, well, because you’d just gone out on a death mission. He didn’t know what kind of power had possessed you, and although, yes, he did find you hot during the training session earlier for some apparent reason, he couldn’t shake off the uneasiness he had felt since the moment you stormed out of the training room. 

He’d never realized all of this had bothered you so much. If he did...if he did, he actually didn’t know what he would have done. 

Jungkook was standing next to his window when he heard two voices outside, right under the window. One of them was laughing as he spoke, “I don’t know what she thinks of herself, we’re probably going to find her body at the gates tomorrow.”

“Not probably, for sure.” And they snickered again. 

That’s it. He would take no more. 

Striding to his closet, he ripped out a coat from its hanger and was out of his room before he had his coat on. Rubbing his shoulders and knuckles, he trudged towards the front door. 

Jungkook was going to have a nice, long chat with those boys outside. 

You easily slipped through the lobby, the men in the dining room too busy smoking a cigar to see a black-clothed being passing by. You tiptoed up the stairs, remembering where the leader’s room was. You kept reminding yourself to make it as quiet as possible so the lady beside him wouldn’t wake up. 

You treaded slowly and quietly, knowing you had enough time till dawn to prove your point to the men in your keep. 

But you froze when you noticed a guard patrolling the hallway where Namjoon’s room was. You were still on the landing, an extra set of staircase left to cover before you could reach the guard. 

When you reached his door, you remembered to control your breathing, before rubbing your legs together to make sure you had your daggers there, strapped to your thighs, the sheath by your waist housing your beloved sword that never let you down. 

You swore silently. How had you not noticed the man? And this guard wasn’t as lean built as the rest. He was bulky and his muscles looked ready to rip through his shirt material. You rubben a hand over your face. What would you do about him?

You felt a sudden calm filling your nerves when you realized what you could do. 

You were right, the threat made to one of the guards to call the burly assassin down worked. 

You stood pinned against the wall as you awaited his arrival, the thudding footsteps softer than how you’d imagined it would be, forcing yourself to strain to hear. 

When you were certain he was just two steps farther from turned to the dining room, you launched yourself, the sword singing in the dead silence of the room as you swung it, the edge cutting deep into the chest of the unsuspecting assassin, whose eyes only widened as he realized what had happened.

When you reached the assasin’s door, the one you’d not been assigned to kill, you remembered to control your breathing, before rubbing your legs together to make sure you had your daggers there, strapped to your thighs, the sheath by your waist housing your beloved sword that never let you down.

But for tonight, a dagger would do. A clean slit across the throat would do. He would have a slower death than a stab to the heart. Than the rest of his men.

Turning the knob as slowly as you could, you opened the door, praying it wouldn’t creak. Although you’d planned for a masterful and extra entry, this would do. The element of a surprise toned down a little. 

You glided expertly over the carpeted floor - big mistake on his side - and reached the bed. Only a single body could be seen under the sheets. Hopefully, that meant that the girl was in the bathroom. 

You clenched your jaw before grabbing the end of the quilt and with a quick flick of your wrist, you had the blanket off the bed, the bloodied dagger poised to cut his throat- 

Wait. 

You found yourself pointing the dagger at a bunch of pillows. Your heart stopped.

“Looking for someone?” A whiff of cologne wafted to your nose before you felt his breath on the back of your neck, but the next thing you saw was blackness as the hilt of his sword met with your head. 

You groaned as you felt a heavy pounding in your head, as though someone was hitting you with a sledgehammer. It might as well be happening. 

Your eyes were slow to adjust to the light, and you slowly realized what had happened. 

You had come to kill Kim Namjoon, one of the most wanted criminals of the kingdom, who was an expert at his job. You knew that because you’d seen what he was capable of. Most of his guards were easy to dispatch save for the final kill, that was him. Now you were in his bedroom, bound to a chair and completely vulnerable. To be alive after being caught was a miracle in itself. 

“Well, would you look at that.” You heard a voice croon from somewhere behind you, your ears ringing from the force of the blow he’d given. You felt blood trickle down the side of your head.  

“And here I thought, Jungkook was a male,” Namjoon chuckled, his dagger glinting against the moonlight that shone through the window. That’s when you noticed the rooftop of the opposite house, the one where you’d been spying from. He could see you directly from his room. 

So much for being discreet. 

“I’m-” You coughed, your throat dry. How long had it been since you were knocked out? Judging from the darkness and quietness outside, it seemed like 4 am at the most. 

“I’m not Jungkook.” You finished your sentence. 

“Oh?” Namjoon leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He smiled, the smile not reaching his eyes. 

“The who are you, girl? Some amateur trying to earn recognition? Desperate for attention, is that it?” 

Your pride hurt as the words rolled off his tongue. If you hadn’t been so indiscreet about your hiding spot, he’d have been dead. You had sworn an oath to the keep and to Yoongi that under no circumstances were you to reveal your name and neither your connection to him or any other assassin. 

“Wait a minute - you’re that girl of his. What’s his name, ah, I forgot.” He laughed, the dagger glinting at you again as he paced in front of you. You remained mum, but the look in your eyes perhaps gave you away. 

“Aha, that ruthless little assassin who doesn’t know how to follow rules...but has got quite the skills, considering how you took one of my best men out.” He brought his dagger to your cheek, the tip biting into your skin. You clenched your jaw at the stinging sensation. 

“You call him one of your best? I think we both have different definitions of that word.”

He chuckled, “Got quite a mouth. You’re the girl...” He trailed, the dagger digging further.

“...who begs to be noticed. Jungkook must be your companion. Is he here tonight?” You resisted the urge to shake your head. 

“No? Okay, then, I guess this will be a long night for the both of us.” He smiled cunningly, and then before you could react, he slit a long cut down your cheek so swiftly you screamed only when the pain registered a moment later. You felt blood drop onto your arm that was tied to the chair, your feet a gone case as well, as they sat with one ankle over the other underneath you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest as you saw him grab his sword. You couldn't go down like this. No, you wouldn't let your impertinence to Jungkook and disrespect for your occupation cost you your life. 

Jungkook hissed as he ran hot water over his knuckles, the gashes nothing compared to what he’d received so many times before. But then the entire time, his thoughts were on you. On your safety. He glanced at the clock. 

If you didn’t return by 9 am, he’d look for you. He just didn’t want to go too early and piss you off if you were really getting the work done. He hoped you’d be alive for him to find. 

You bit a shriek as his sword gashed your thigh, blood spilling quickly onto the carpet. It was carefully aimed, you realized, noticing the shallowness of the wound. You had to blink a few times for the stars in your vision to go away. Yoongi had trained you better than this.

“Tell me, who sent you?” He probably knew that already if he knew Jungkook’s name. But how did he? Was there somebody on the inside? A mole? 

Perhaps he didn’t. Maybe all he knew was that Jungkook was from Yoongi’s guild. Maybe...maybe that night when you’d overheard that man telling Yoongi not to reconsider his choice to send Jungkook was for another reason. Not because you were incompetent, but because it would be easy to kill another threat to Namjoon’s life.

When you didn’t respond, you felt a blow to your jaw, and then to your stomach, making you cough out blood as the breath knocked out of your lungs. 

“Speak!” His hand pressed on your thigh, right where he’d gashed it open, making you scream in agony. He smiled all the while, his dark eyes glinting with nothing but never ending darkness. You wished you hadn’t stepped out of the safety of your keep. 

But as he removed his hand from your thigh, you remembered. 

“I’ll tell you.” You breathed, your wrist twisting as discreetly as possible where it remained tied behind your back. 

You breathed again, your blood almost choking you, “I’ll tell you,” you said again, still eyeing him as you flicked your wrist. 

Namjoon only watched you through narrow eyes, suspicion clear in them as he knelt on the floor in your front of you.

Big mistake. 

“But you have to let me go,” You whispered, the blood rolling down your chin as the security of the blade that slid to your palm calmed you. 

Namjoon laughed, and you began slicing into the rope, cutting it whenever you or he made a sound. 

“Okay, darling, I will. As long as you tell me your name and your employer's.” You could see right through the lie. But you pretended not to. 

“My name’s Y/N, and I work for Min Yoongi. Jungkook is my companion but he isn’t here to kill you-” You felt the blade snap the last of the rope, your thigh burning as you tensed it, readying yourself. 

Namjoon’s brows knit together. 

You smirked, teeth shining red with your blood.

"I am," And with all the strength you could muster, you raised your tied legs to your abdomen and kicked him square on the chest, his head hitting the wall as he fell over, the dagger in his hand flying across the room.

Quickly bringing your hand to the front, you cut as fast as you could through the rope that had your ankles tied together, the wound on your head thrumming for you to work faster, and your thigh burning as you stood up. You were losing a lot of blood, you could tell from the way you were instantly lightheaded. 

You noticed your weapons on the desk across his room and made a run for it. But Namjoon was too close and grabbed onto your ankle, causing you to fall face first to the floor, but you braced yourself, palms coming out to catch your fall. He scrambled on the floor and began climbing over your body, your thigh rendering you almost helpless. Almost.

You waited for a second longer before turned around and raised your knee to his crotch, causing Namjoon to curl away, groaning, your leg fighting out of his grip before kicking him on his face, a sickening crack sounding as you broke his nose. 

“You bitch!” He snarled as he grabbed onto his face.

Dragging yourself from under him, you stood up and gathered all the strength you could. 

Your daggers could be replaced, but you couldn’t leave your sword behind. And neither could you leave him. 

Spitting out the blood from your mouth, you felt your anger flare inside you. Anger directed not just at him and the men at the keep, but at yourself. Because you didn’t take better precautions. Because you were impatient.

You stalked over to Namjoon where he remained crouched over. 

“Hey,” You poked at his shoulder with the tip of your sword. He rolled over.

You were angry at yourself for being so fucking ruthless. More than usual.

“That was very bold of you to think I’d let you live after learning my name.” And you brought your sword down on him, slashing his stomach open. 

He screamed. The feral shriek had the windows shaking. You felt angry at yourself for leaving Jungkook like that. 

The housemaids ushered to the room and did nothing but watch as you finished Namjoon off right there, his head cut off clean as you brought down your sword again. Blood splattered all around, your face nothing but a canvas of your own and your victim’s blood. 

Carrying his head by the long locks of his hair, you strode to the door, the housemaids gasping as they made way for you. They didn't scream for help but rather watched you in silent understanding. Like they were thanking you. Thanking you for ending that tyrant’s life.

You felt your vision lightening, stars getting more and more clear with every step you took. 

As you left the house, you noticed the rest of the assassins knocked out cold, along with the ones at the front door. 

You raised the head to your face, it still contorted into a silent scream. 

“Guess somebody had a temper, huh?” Your voice was slurred as you spoke.

The cloth was tight enough to stop the bleeding for a while, but not enough. Your head was bleeding as well, and you occassionally spit out blood and saliva on the side of the street. The wound on your cheek had begun to scab, but you knew it would leave a new scar. 

The cold bit at your cheek and thigh, a dull ache on your other cheek from the punch following soon after. You moved your jaw just to check if it was broken. Thankfully it wasn’t. 

It was early dawn by the time you’d reached the door of your keep. And just as you were about to knock, Jungkook opened the door, his eyes wide and alarmed at the sight of you. You didn’t even want to know what state you were in. Dried blood all over your face, hands and legs, wounds throbbing from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” 

“Hey...” You breathed, almost falling into his arms as you walked through the door. And you would have if it wasn’t for Yoongi standing right there. 

“So, did you prove yourself?” His eyes were cold as he eyed you from head to toe. 

You smirked with what little energy you had. 

“You can always look out your window at the gates of the castle like I promised. It’s a trophy to behold, after all, he’s finally taken care of. There’s also somebody who works for him among us so you might want to look into that.” 

He walked towards you, his face set hard. You stood your ground, ready for the reprimanding blow. 

Yoongi raised a hand, and you remained there, unflinching, to his fair surprise. He smirked, “You’ve learnt a lot in one night. I wonder when you’ll learn to sleep with it.” His hand went down. 

He was right, partially. The physical pain you’d gone through made you so numb you wondered if you no longer had any feeling left in your nerves. But he was wrong about losing sleep because of the rampage you’d gone out on. 

You glanced at Jungkook with a small smile. Now that you knew his life was no longer in danger, you could sleep way more soundly than you did before. For a moment, you wondered why that was.

Jungkook had rushed to your aid instantly. He had you sitting on his bed, not yours, claiming his room was far warmer than yours and closer. 

All you did was snort as he made you sit on the mattress. You watched him run about, grabbing bandages, disinfectants and plasters. 

His eyes glistened as he worked on your cheek, the stinging put off with a gentle blow of air from Jungkook after every dab of the disinfectant. His jaw ticked, clenching and unclenching as he worked on your head. His fingers trembled ever so slightly as he worked on your thigh. Thankfully the gash wasn’t too deep to warrant stitches. 

But you noticed the change in his demeanour. And you made a sick attempt at improving it. 

“You know, Jungkook, now with this kill, I’m going to be the talk of the town for a while.” When he didn’t respond to you, and kept his head down and focused on your thigh, you went on, assuming he didn’t understand what you meant. 

“So, like, what are your thoughts on being second best now, huh?” You chuckled softly as you noticed his shoulders tremble. But when it went on, you frowned, “Kook, it’s not that funny- wait,” You grabbed his shoulders. 

You struggled to bring him up, his sagging body being too heavy for you. But you managed to pull his face up, the tears on his cheeks catching you off guard. 

“Why are you crying!?” You asked incredulously, you eyes searching his for answers.

But rather than a reply, he threw his strong arms around you, pulling you close to him, his chest firm against your cheek. You heard his heart beat rapidly, mirroring yours. But yours sped with embarrassment.

“Jung-”

“I thought I lost you.” He mumbled into your hair before kissing it. You were so taken aback your mouth sealed shut. He was showing you affection. Something you weren’t exactly accustomed to. But...

“Fuck, Y/N, do you know how scared I was?”  He pulled back, his puffed face coming into view, his nose running as his lips trembled. There was anger lacing his voice, but relief overlapped it.

Shit. You never realized how much he worried about you. 

“I...Jungkook, I didn’t- I’m sorry, I was stupid,” Your eyes darted to the floor, while your cheeks flushed with colour and a fresh bruise. 

“You were even more stupid than you usually are!” 

“Hey!”

But he hugged you again instead, his nose nestling into the crook of your neck, silently breathing you in. His hand remained strong on your back, and you couldn’t handle the way it made you feel. So you said-

“You look super ugly when you cry, by the way.” 

He laughed softly, his breath hitting your neck, making the hair on your arms stand. 

“Well, you look even more ugly when you’re all beaten up.” He smiled through his tears, a hand caressing the cut on your cheek. 

You rolled your eyes, “Oh, Jungkook, thank you for your sympathy, I appreciate it.” 

When he didn’t respond, you asked quietly, a hand coming to hold his. 

“Are you upset with me?” 

He crossed your fingers with his, holding onto your hand so tight as though you were going to disappear any moment. 

“Very. And I’m going to be clear about that the next time we train.” 

You feigned a hurt look, earning a chuckle from him, the sound relaxing your bones, warmth radiating through you.

When he embraced you again, you realized he was the one who was always there for you. You had proved a point today, but in some way, he had proved one, too. 

"You know I love you right?" He mumbled into your hair.

You blinked. 

HAPPY JK DAY TO MY HUSBAND FROM A PARALLEL UNIVERSE :D

[trulovell]

An evening together || Trusa

Who: Tru and Rosaline

Where: Home

When: Tuesday 18th December 2018

Notes: Tru and Rosaline have both had a busy day and attempt to get their relationship back on a better path with mixed results.  Pretty long

Rosaline had anticipated today’s rehearsal being long and hard but just how long and hard it had been had still taken her by surprise.  Entering their home she heard Tru moving in the kitchen and after kicking off her shoes and dumping her bag she went to join her Domme.  “M’home Miss,” she murmured wearily, her voice scratchy from overuse.  The submissive moved in close, curling her arms around Tru’s waist and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.  “Was your day as draining as mine?”  As she looked down she spotted some of her green makeup remained on her hands and arms and she chuckled softly as she released Tru and made her way over to the sink.  “Will you still love me when this show has turned me permanently green?”  She asked with an overly dramatic sigh and a playful smirk.

Tru was exhausted by the days events.  There was no other word for it.  She wasn’t cut out for meetings with pompous idiots who thought their suit put them well above her.  Thanks to Bella the University property had been secured and the work on that had now begun and Tru’s visit there was the small highlight of the day.  However much of the day had been spent dealing with insurance issues on the actual brothel and it brought home to her how much she would have hated office work and why she was putting so much effort into getting new premises ready to go as quickly as possible.

She was lost in her thoughts as she stirred the pot, not even really paying attention to her own actions but turned with a smile at Rosaline’s greeting.  “Hello Starling,” she sighed, accepting the soft kiss.  “It was exhausting,” she agreed, a small laugh as Rosaline went to wash the green paint off again.  “Am I going to have to get a doctor’s letter to carry with you to prove you don’t have some sort of contagious disease causing the green hue?” she chuckled.  “Dinner will be in about fifteen minutes so you have time for a quick shower if that will be more effective.”

If there was one thing which was always guaranteed to make Rosaline swoon it was hearing her nickname come from Tru’s lips.  She gave the Domme an appreciative squeeze before moving to the sink.  “That’s probably a good idea,” she replied, feigning seriousness in her tone but her smirk revealed she was joking.  “You’ll also have to have some kind of speech ready for every time you’re asked why I’m not locked in a confined room.”  The makeup on her arms was being stubborn so she gave up and returned to Tru.

“I think I’ll need more than fifteen minutes to shift this.  At least you’ll never lose me in the dark as I’ll glow like some weird lemming,” she continued to tease as she wrapped her arms around her Domme again, craving the contact.  “I could do a great She-Hulk cosplay though…” she went quiet and rested her head on Tru’s chest, pulling herself in closer.  “You only suggested a shower to keep me away from the food,” she murmured, unable to resist further teasing.  “Tell me about your day?  You need to go first so I know where the level is so I can make mine seem worse.”  She giggled and turned her big dark eyes up to the Domme’s beautiful face, genuinely interested in Tru’s day despite her playful comment.

Tru rolled her eyes at the joke though her lips twitched.  “If I wanted to keep you away from food I’m sure there are easier ways,” she laughed as she looked round and caught sight of the big, doe eyes looking at her.  “Well I met with the contracting team for the university building and talked through plans.  I like having the different coloured rooms, it really helps create the moods so they are happy to do that and that meeting was alright.  They reckon they are on course to open mid January so I now need to decide whether I want some sort of big launch or something quieter.  Then I had to meet with the insurance company and the loss adjuster and …..let’s just say there are good reasons I became a whore.  These people are not human.  The way they spoke to me was just so insulting, it was as if they were so above me.  I deal in figures everyday and I may not have a degree in accountancy but I certainly understand the concept of the bottom line!”  She let out a breath as she felt herself get riled again.  “I’m thinking of getting Nox to come along to the next meeting and see if they are patronizing to him.”  She pushed her hair back from her face as her shoulders dropped a  little.  “Alright Starling your turn.”

“Like tying me to the sofa just to be sure I don’t interfere,” Rosaline continued her teasing and had so nearly said bed instead of sofa but she hadn’t quite built back up to that stage.  At least she was being affectionate and giving physical contact again unlike the awkward first few days when she first moved back in.  The submissive’s nose turned up at the mention of contractors but her playful smirk soon returned as an idea struck her, but she didn’t interrupt and kept listening as Tru continued.  “If you need ideas for room colour schemes I’m sure I can come up with a Star Wars one Miss,” she cooed playfully but then sighed.  “I’m sorry you have to deal with them Miss,” she said softly, her hands running up and down Tru’s back.  “You can remember how they treated you though and return the favour if they ever require your services.”  A nod of agreement followed the idea of Nox going with her next time.  “That… would make me feel better about it too Miss,” she added, thinking the supportive presence would be good for the Domme even though she knew Tru was perfectly capable of handling everything herself that didn’t necessarily mean she should.

“Urgh, where do I start?” She breathed with a sigh, pulling Tru even closer.  “We’re so, so close Miss, and people are still messing about.  I get it in the first few months but we have to be serious now, there were a number of… chats, let’s call them, in the producers office today.  Riccardo was an ass again and ate cherries, drank a cherry drink and sprayed some cherry smelling thing all over him right before our kissing scene… I was actually sick, which messed up the makeup which put us behind schedule.  They knew it wasn’t my fault though.  I’m just grateful he’s the backup so I should only get 3 or 4 performances with him in total.  Oh, and y’know that song and step sequence I’ve been practicing over and over and driving you mad with?  I nailed it… But Alexandra kept fluffing her last lines right near the end so we had to keep redoing it.  I think the pressure is getting to her and being newly single isn’t helping.  If I send her your way do you think you could squeeze her in with one of your men who like non-sexual scenes?”

Tru could tell how tired Rosaline was when she pulled her even closer.  She let out a grunt of annoyance as she heard about Riccardo purposely setting up Rosaline and especially to hear that he made her sick.  Her lips moved into a smile as she heard that the submissive had got the routine right, she had performed it for the domme so many times that she felt she could almost perform it herself.  Chuckling at the end of the story Tru nodded, “I can certainly do that but it would have to come from Alexandra and not you.  I’m not in the business of setting up friends for scenes, it has to come from them.”  Whether Rosaline was serious or not Tru wasn’t sure but she was very serious about her work and business.  “Right my sweetheart let’s get you fed and then into a warm bath or shower and see if we can restore you to a more normal colour for a few hours.”

“Oh I know Miss,” Rosaline replied, he big eyes still gazing adoringly up at Tru, “she mentioned it first… well actually she said she was desperate to get laid but when we talked during a break we agreed to minimise the risk of rebound it should be non-sexual at first.  She didn’t want to burden you with bookings because she saw what happened in the news.  So I said I’d have a word and here I am.  I’ll tell her to call you.”  The idea of eating something and getting properly clean was definitely appealing but Rosaline was in a playful mood and tightened her grip on the Domme even more.  “Does that mean I have to let go?”  She mumbled, pouting up at the beautiful Domme but her face split into her mischievous smirk and she backed away a little, hand dramatically rising to her chest.  “Then it’s true… you are ashamed of me looking like this,” she whined, projecting her voice as best she could despite its scratchines.  The hand on her chest rose to her forehead.  “Oh woe is me, whatever shall I do now!?”  The submissive cracked then and burst into a fit of giggles, clearly her fatigue was making her more bratty than usual.

Tru gave a loud chuckle as Rosaline confirmed that she knew how these things worked and she had already made it clear the other submissive would need to make her appointment direct with Tru.  “We need all the bookings we can get, I have wages to pay,” she said with a smile.  It wasn’t the financial situation was dire and she didn’t want Rosaline to think it was but she also couldn’t waste the money she had.  She held up her hands in surrender as Rosaline started her theatrics.  “Far be it from me to say that,” she agreed with a smirk.  The tone in the submissive’s voice gave hints of her brattiness and Tru looked right into her eyes, her stomach flipping.  The blonde wanted nothing more than to tell her to bend over, pull down her panties and give her ass a good spanking justified by the tone but in reality she sensed it was necessary for them both.  However she was still hesitant to offer any real dominance beyond simple commands and so she just kissed the brunette’s cheek.  “Sit down Rosaline, we both need to eat,” she said simply instead.

Rosaline smiled when Tru laughed, it was such a wonderful sound and one she had definitely missed with everything that had been goin on, it was made all the better for knowing she had been the cause of it.  “Maybe I’ll send the whole company your way Miss,” she replied with a smirk, “relieve some of the frustration that is clearly there.”  The moment Tru’s stunning blue eyes locked onto her own Rosaline felt herself getting instantly lost in them, drawn to do absolutely anything the Domme commanded and she could feel her heart rate increase, her stomach tie itself in knots from the idea of what could happen.  She felt her knees going weak, ready to take the weight of her as she submitted to the woman she loved but then the moment was gone and she was being kissed on the cheek.  Rosaline knew what she wanted, she just didn’t know how to ask for it - or more specifically she knew how to ask, she just wasn’t sure she could.  “Yes Miss,” she replied just as simply as the order had been given and shuffled over to the table to take her seat.

Tru could feel the palatable heat between the two of them.  The spark was still there but there was a definite hesitation too.  One that couldn’t be quickly fixed she knew, or rather she didn’t know having never been in the position before.  She had heard people at the brothel talk, submissives who didn’t know if they could forgive their Dominants, Dominants crying in the bar over a wandering submissive.  It didn’t happen all that often but there were occasions and Tru could offer up all the tea and sympathy they needed but more often than not what they needed was a good scene to sort themselves out.  The thought hung heavy in her mind as she began to serve up dinner.  In some strange way the fire had been a blessing in that it gave her a good distraction - but then again if the fire hadn’t happened neither would anything that followed.

With a long breath out she closed her eyes and centred herself before taking the two plates over to the table.  “Tell me more about Riccardo,” Tru said after she had eaten a bite.  “Do I need to deal with him because I’m not going to allow some jumped up idiot to make you sick when you are working so hard.”

Rosaline’s internal battle continued as she took her seat.  Her heart was telling her to strip, kneel and bow, to beg to be used but her head fought the instinct and placed the immovable image of some guy’s hands all over her Domme.  Deep down she knew she had forgiven Tru, she just didn’t know how to move on.  “Other than he’s an ass?”  The actress relief with a heavy sigh, smiling at the offer to have him sorted out.  “He’s new at the agency, thinks he’s the next big thing with an ego so overinflated he probably floats if he jumps.”  She tucked into her food for a moment, humming happily at the taste.  It wasn’t like her to bitch about her costars, but Riccardo had done nothing of merit in her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure our first rehearsal was the first kiss he’s had, he’s terrible at it even without the cherry.  But of course has all these huge elaborate stories about how many girls he had back in Rome.”  She sighed heavily and turned her big doe eyes on Tru.  “Of course he’s a Dom… which makes me second class to him and… well, I can’t say it do anything.  And honestly, people are nervous he’ll pull a cherry stunt during an actual show so any ideas to deal with him are gratefully received Miss.”

Tru’s blood boiled as she heard about the way this jumped up little boy was acting.  How dare he treat her submissive with such disrespect and as her eyes settled on the new collar the brunette was wearing her lips began to curl.  “He may be a Dominant Starling but that certainly does not make you second class and if that is how he views it then believe me, he’s not a good Dominant.  However I think I may need to visit you at rehearsal very soon.  Perhaps we need to show him exactly how fierce your Dominant can be - if that is what he is confused about.  Or we can give him a clear idea of how Dominance and submission work if he really considers you less than him because you chose to be a submissive.”  She took a bite of her food as she considered what she could do and was actually quite looking forward to meeting this Riccardo and his ego.

Rosaline thought she would hate the feeling of ‘needing’ to be rescued but hearing Tru’s supportive words, how she would come to her defence and see Riccardo for herself reminded the submissive why she had fallen for the Domme in the first place.  “I’d really like that Miss, thank you.”  She offered a big smile.  Being one of the few claimed submissive’s in the company meant Tru basically had an all access pass and the thought of Riccardo being taught a much needed lesson made her smile even brighter.  “Is all of the above an option Miss?  Just to make sure we cover all bases.”  Her hand reached out to hold her Domme’s for a moment and her big dark doe eyes gazed into her blue ones.  “I know how busy you are Miss, and I don’t want to add to that but if you have the time a visit would be wonderful.”

Tru held the submissive’s gaze for a moment, speechless as she gazed deep into her eyes.  “I’m sure we could work on all of the above,” she said with a small smile as she broke the moment.  Her stomach twisted with nerves in a way which was quite unfamiliar to the domme these days, she always felt she was past that.  “I’ll check my schedule the next few days and see when I could call in.”  She returned to her food though her mind was elsewhere. There was so much hesitation between them both and she didn’t know how to move beyond it, frightened that she might push too far.  She didn’t blame Rosaline for wanting to take things easy and build up the trust between them again, she rather felt that way herself but from a different point of view, however with the brothel still out of action she was managing more paperwork than doing any kind of scene at work and without Rosaline available in the same way she was already starting to suffer.  Glancing up she  took in the girl’s beautiful features and wanted nothing more than to see her tied up and begging.  Tru looked back down at her plate and lost herself in thoughts that veered between denying her good girl over and over for an evening and forced orgasms until the brunette was begging her to stop - both fully enjoyable activities in Tru’s mind.

Rosaline felt another surge in her heart rate as she held Tru’s gaze, once again feeling that spark between them and for a moment she leaned closer, ready to slide off her hair onto her knees but the connection was broken before she could act.  Following Tru’s lead she returned to her food but kept glancing up at the beautiful blonde, stealing looks like a smitten schoolgirl in class.  With their food finished Rosaline was struck by what she could only describe as first date nerves even though they had been together over a year now.  Thinking back she wondered how they would have gotten over the awkwardness in their early days and the submissive’s playfulness came surging forward.  “Am i your desert Miss?” She cooed flirtatiously, a mischievous glint in her eye which was matched by her smirk.  She could feel herself trembling with nerves but this one didn’t let it stop her, she wanted this so much, she wanted Tru to have her.  Rosaline slid from her chair and dropped to her knees beside Tru, she had done some kneeling recently of course but this time her hands went behind her back and her head bowed - the pose Tru loved and had taught her.  Their pose.  “Please can I be your good girl?”

Tru was surprised as Rosaline dropped to her knees beside her though she was secretly very happy.  She needed the submissive to be sure though.  Once they passed this point she wasn’t willing to drop back to the hesitant and restrictive behaviour again.  Putting a finger under Rosaline’s chin Tru tipped her head up so she was looking at the domme. “I want you to be sure Starling.  You are mine, that’s not changing.  But this, what you are asking…..I can’t go back and forth.  If we do this then I am forgiven and we move forward.”  Neither of them were likely to forget the actions in a long time but she wasn’t willing to have it thrown back at her repeatedly either.

Rosaline felt her stomach lurch with nerves again as Tru’s finger was placed under her chin and directed her gaze up.  “I miss you so much Miss,” she blurted out the moment their eyes met.  “I forgive you.  I can’t bare to go on like this, I’ve wanted it for a while I just wasn’t sure you did and I didn’t know what to say or do.”  The submissive took a breath and let it out slowly, never breaking the eye contact with her Domme, letting herself get lost in those pretty blue eyes she loved so much.  “I just…” Just what?  Even she wasn’t sure, she was sure of this, sure this was what she wanted and what it meant, she definitely wanted them to move forward instead of looking backward, wanted to be Tru’s good girl again with everything she loved about that status.  “I just… might have some different needs for a while, until we get back to how we were…” Her brows were furrowed, she was thinking aloud to be totally honest with Tru, just like the Domme had been with her.  “I might not… I won’t know until it happens.  I’m sorry Miss, I’m not making any sense am I?”

Tru held her breath while Rosaline spoke.  There was an element of relief that she did want to submit but she wasn’t ready for everything and while it was understandable the domme also found it a concern.  The idea that things would be different until they got back to where they were was difficult to anticipate because it was all about when Rosaline felt ready.  “It makes sense sweetheart but it is going to take some navigating,” she said honestly.  “I need you to take a few minutes and think about your current limits.  Anything that you know you will not be willing to do you need to say, make it a hard limit just now.  We will review your limits on a weekly basis right now.”  Tru stood up, “I’m going to clean up dinner, you are going to go into the living room and kneel.  Clear your mind and think.  When I come through you will tell me honestly what those limits are.”

Rosaline sighed with relief when her nonsensical ramble was given some form of validation, even she wasn’t sure it deserved it so it made her appreciate Tru’s tolerance of it even more.  She nodded in agreement with every sentence Tru said, all of it making perfect sense to her and when instructed she thanked the Domme for the meal and went to kneel in the living, holding her obedient pose perfectly as she waited.  It was while there, alone, listening to the sounds of Tru in another room that Rosaline realised her problem may not be submitting at all, but rather a deeper, more ingrained fear which had reared its ugly head due to what had happened.  The submissive remained as still as a statue in her perfect pose until Tru came through to join her instructed her to move.  When she was given permission to speak Rosaline tried her hardest to remain concise, knowing how important this was.  “All my old limits still stand Miss and my safeword is unchanged.  I… I’ve realised I’m struggling with… being alone, or more like left… abandoned.  It’s why I’ve been more clingy and wanting little gestures from you.  I need that little extra confirmation.”

She took a breath, ordered her thoughts and continued.  “So please, no solitary based punishments.  I know quiet time and wall time are good for me sometimes but if you could stay in the room just so I know you’re there I think that would be enough.  Also, senses.  For the same reason I think I would panic if all my senses were taken away and I couldn’t tell you were still there, so something like if I can’t see or hear I’ll need a touch, just something to reassure me, if I can still see or hear you I think I’ll be fine.  I’m sorry if I sound needy Miss, I hope those are ok?”

Tru’s heart broke a little more hearing the lingering anxiety she had caused.  It wasn’t at all what she had expected to hear Rosaline say but in many ways it was more of a wake up than and reminder of her responsibilities than many other things would have been.  “Of course it’s ok sweetheart.  Your limits are what you need to avoid to feel safe and secure….I’m…” She was going to say she was sorry she had left Rosaline feeling as if she would leave her again but she suspected that may cause the submissive to backtrack or try to change her limits again before she felt ready and she really didn’t want that.  So she rephrased her words, “I’m glad you are able to identify what you need.”  

They both needed a scene and a thorough one at that.  Something to get them back on a better footing again not to mention the fact she hadn’t seen Rosaline naked in far too long.  Standing up Tru gazed down, “You use your safe word if at any time you do not feel comfortable.  Even if it is something we have done a hundred times, if it doesn’t feel right this time then you safe word. Understood?”  Getting the confirmation she gave a nod, “Crawl to the playroom, go right into the middle and strip.  I want you standing with your hands behind your back and your feet apart.  I’ll be right behind you.”

Rosaline smiled when Tru validated what she had said and alleviated all the concerns that she was being overly needy or cautious.  Deep down she knew Tru wouldn’t leave her like she had before, it had been a one off mistake and she had paid the price and learned her lesson during the events that had followed.  But that knowledge was buried very deep down and needed coaxing back out, which they would do together.  That she was definitely sure of.  “Thank you Miss,” she replied, her smile growing a little.

With a coy little smirk the submissive lowered herself onto her hands and knees and began to crawl as instructed.  As she glanced behind her to see Tru following she teased by wiggling her ass a little.  The teasing felt good and knowing what was coming caused her heart to race with excitement - or was it nerves?  Rosaline assumed it was excitement and continued on, making quick work of stripping out of her dress and underwear, though as always, putting on a bit of a show for her Domme who she was grateful to see had stayed with her the entire time.  She stood exactly as instructed, feet apart and hands clasped behind her back.  Her coy smile returned as her head rose and she saw Tru looking hungrily at her but she also felt her entire body trembling, doubt started to creep into her mind.  Maybe it wasn’t excitement.  She wanted this, that was definitely true but suddenly she wasn’t sure if she could.

Tru’s eyes roamed the submissive’s body.  She desperately wanted to touch her, hear her moan and beg straight away but at the same time she was well aware that they both needed this to be slow and steady.  She walked around the beauty’s naked body, itching to touch but holding back for the moment.  “Legs wider,” she ordered, “Shoulders back a bit more.”  The sight as she came back round to the front was a stunning one and she took a good few moments to shamelessly look over Rosaline’s body.  “You look stunning Starling,” she purred, ignoring for the moment the bruises on her shins from rehearsals.

When she could resist no longer she stepped forward, one hand running down from her shoulder to her wrist before the hand came up to cup her breast as she leaned forward to kiss the pink lips which called to her.  Her hand settled under the perfect, full breast as her thumb lifted to rub over the raised nipple as she began to tease ever so gently.

Rosaline instantly complied with Tru’s orders, feeling herself falling into the headspace she knew and loved so much, the place which only Tru was able to take her to now.  “Thank you Miss,” she sighed happily when Tru complimented her.  With the way she was being looked at Rosaline knew Tru would see every missed piece of makeup and every bump she’d received from mis-steps during rehearsals.  Had it been a normal scene she would probably have made a cheeky joke about the stage bruising her more than Tru did but this was not a normal scene.

The submissive felt herself melting into the gliding touch down her arm, a low shuddering breath escaping from her.  Oh how she had missed this.  A soft, whimper like moan left the submissive’s lips as Tru’s hand cupped her sensitive breast and she was completely consumed by the kiss, losing all sense of what else was going on as she returned the kiss feverishly.  But then the kiss was broken and the doubt returned, as did the trembling.  The caress across her nipple should have felt amazing, it did feel amazing but something wasn’t right.  Rosaline’s violently shaking hand rose and curled weakly around Tru’s wrist to guide her hand away.  Tru’s beautiful blue eyes met her own which she knew were full of confusion and also welling with tears.

��Pinecone,” she whispered, employing her safeword for the first time ever with Tru and she felt her stomach lurch at having to do so, she had never had to before, why was now any different.  What was wrong with her?  “I’m sorry Miss,” she croaked, tears falling down her cheeks, “it doesn’t feel right… I don’t know why…” She was frozen for a moment, gripping Tru’s wrist like her life depended on it.  Would she leave her after this?  Consumed with fear she dived forwards, wrapping her arms around her Domme with a vice like grip.  “I’m sorry Miss, I’m sorry,” she sobbed into Tru’s shoulder.  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me… am I broken?  Please don’t be mad, I’m so sorry.”

Tru’s heart sank as she heard the safe word but what worried her more was Rosaline’s reaction to using it.  Her arms tightened around the younger woman and she softly hushed her.  “I’m not mad sweetheart.  Don’t ever think that.”  Kissing the top of the brunette’s head Tru closed her eyes, knowing the submissive couldn’t see her reaction.  “Let’s get you dressed Starling and then we are going to talk.”  Her deliberate use of Rosaline’s nickname was designed to reassure her further that the domme was not upset though she couldn’t deny she was disappointed.  It was understandable but they both needed to recover in their own way and own pace.

She kept an arm around Rosaline’s shoulders as she steered her through to the bedroom.  “Pyjamas on,” she ordered firmly as she sat down on the bed and showing the brunette that she wouldn’t leave her alone.  Once Rosaline was dressed Tru slid back up the bed so her back was against the headboard and patted the pillow next to her, “Come and sit next to me sweetheart.”  Once the submissive was settled she took a breath, “Thank you for using your safeword.  That is what I need to be sure you will do.  It doesn’t mean you are broken darling and I will never be mad at you for it.  Your safeword is just that, it stops everything.”  Pausing for a moment she turned her head so she was looking clearly at Rosaline, “When you are ready I would like you to tell me what made you safeword.”

Rosaline let Tru’s words wash over her and soothe her reeling mind, her panic starting to subside instantly and she suddenly felt stupid for thinking Tru would abandon her.  The nickname also worked wonders and unable to speak Rosaline nodded obediently and let herself be guided by Tru’s arm around her shoulder.  As the submissive pulled on her pajamas she kept glancing at the Domme on the bed, her vulnerable state needing that extra confirmation that she was still there.  She settled on the pillow and after just a moment she shuffled closer, wanting to press herself up against Tru as much as possible.

“I felt… strange,” she started, believing it to sound feeble but also the best description she had.  “I don’t know why I thought you would be mad… I know you won’t ever be because of me using my safeword.  I panicked.  I’m sorry.”  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding it for several seconds and she let her mind drift back to the exact moment her feelings had begun to change.  “I wanted to do it Miss, I really wanted it.  I still do.  The thought of it is exciting… it’s just the doing.  I didn’t feel unsafe, I didn’t feel scared.  I was… anxious?  It just didn’t feel right... I’m sorry, I don’t know why.  I really wish I knew.  I’m so sorry.”

Tru listened carefully.  Part of her wanted to reach out and wrap her arm around her beauty and pull her close but until she knew what the issue had been she wouldn’t actually touch her.  Rosaline’s explanation didn’t really help.  There was nothing obvious stopping the scene so Tru just had to assume that they were still not back to where they had been.  She couldn’t blame Rosaline for it in any way of course, her anxieties were Tru’s making and not the submissives but there was no way of changing what had happened.

“It’s alright my darling.  We will wait until you are ready for that kind of contact again,” if ever ran through her mind.  “For now it’s been a long day and we would both benefit from an early night.”  The kneeling and domestic orders would have to be enough for them both now and she tucked away the hope that perhaps Rosaline would feel ready for a spanking soon, they both needed more but every little would help until that time.

Rosaline knew her explanation probably didn’t help but there were no words to describe how she had felt and what had caused her to safeword.  She assumed it was just a product of their new circumstances but having never been in this position before she didn’t know that for sure.  “Thank you Miss, I know we’ll work it out… together,” she murmured and lifted Tru’s arm, draping it over her shoulders.  Not just wanting but needing that contact from her Domme.  She needed to make sure Tru knew she could touch her, it was just sexual activities which she seemed to be struggling with.

The submissive didn’t even try to stifle the big yawn which came to her, the long day and rollercoaster of emotions catching up to her and making her feel completely exhausted.  “Please hold me til I fall asleep?”  She mumbled though her eyes were already drooping even as she spoke.  She felt Tru shift her position, moving them both so they were laying down and with the protective embrace of Tru’s arms around her it wasn’t long before Rosaline drifted off to sleep.

[therubymuse]

Returning To The Inkwell

CW: Family member's death. Trans surgeries. Talk of suicide. If you follow me in one of my many circles, you’ll have heard by now that in July, I travelled to Vancouver to get something that has changed my life: a vagina. 

Obviously I’m not shy about it, and the reason for that boldness is that, all of my life, I felt shame around my genitals. I deeply disliked them being perceived or having intimate attention focused on them. I wore clothing that was baggy enough, both as a guy and a girl, that you couldn’t see. And swimming outfits caused me deep discomfort, as they tend to cling to you when they’re wet. 

So when I open a conversation like this, you need to understand, it took thirty six goddamned years  to get here. My excitement about my body, how she looks, and what she can do, is no less euphoria than those of you who are cisgender felt when you had your “spring awakening”. I’m just 20 years late to mine. But at least someone left the lights on and a couple bottles of rose wine in the fridge. It’s my party. 

I had started writing a lot of soul-searching after my discharge from the hospital, but my inkwell dried up. The physical costs of healing swelled and took much of my energy with it, and now that they’re dying back, and I’m able to do things like write on my laptop (it took almost two months to be able to sit with my laptop on my, well, lap). But now a new spectre has reared its head in time for the fall equinox, that of my dead mother.  I told my mother I didn’t want to speak with her anymore, about two years ago. By March 2021, she had passed away from cancer I didn’t know about. And I found out she died just recently. I don’t know how I feel about it. My mom was probably the closest person to me emotionally in my family, but she also emotionally abusive, because she carried stuff from her own family she never healed. Her and I shared a lot of mental health challenges, and that made it harder, not easier, to connect. 

I always thought I’d have more time, or at least, one more chance. 

Where I was expecting my energy to rebound by about the two month mark, physically, I have, even though I still can’t lift heavy things, but emotionally I’m shorted out. It’s not just numbness, it’s complete dissociation. My mind runs so fast I forget my body can’t keep up, and yesterday, I was so physically exhausted that making macaroni and cheese was the extent of my powers. I slept 12 hours last night. Today I’ve done more, and feel a little more connected, but I don’t know where to start with the grief. If I don’t face it, it’ll come find me, that I know. But I still don’t want to. 

This whole experience has affected the system in some interesting ways. Coral has been joined by a caretaker named Rainbow. I haven’t seen Yorkie in awhile. Ramona and Alastor have been angry and defensive. Fran is elated still about our surgery. One of the people who hurt Coral and Ramona are gone now, but their emotions are still here. Rainbow is helping a lot. Not sure where she came from. But it’s allowed Ramona and Al to express their rage rather than act as defenders all the time. It’s been a hard couple weeks for my partners, who I am eternally grateful for, cause I’ve been everywhere. 

I’m really glad to be finding my words again. I don’t feel like this is kind of magnum opus level work, but for over a month all I could do is stare at my laptop from my bed, writing what I could in my phone. The fact that this writing exists at all, is a triumph of two months of will and healing. It might not be slick or polished, and it may not be work on my book, but it is words on paper (so to speak). 

Death and I are not strangers. In 2015 and 2017 I made attempts on my life, and survived both times. I buried my favourite grandparents, and several friends since leaving high school almost 20 years ago. The concept of someone just not being there anymore isn’t new to me. It’s the terms on which we left off that are breaking our hearts. One of my biggest fears is being absolutely alone. And my mother, difficult though she was, occupied a space in my psyche that is quiet now. As an abused kid, I thought I’d be dancing to find out I’d never have to hear that voice again. But somehow I’m sad?

How does this woman fuck with me still from beyond the grave? 

I’m so tired. 

Photo by Mike Labrum on Unsplash