#like my edges were truly snatched wtf

[rosinna]

you know. never in my life did i think i would ever be referring to fuckin scrawny ass lanky ass dutch irish dick simmons as daddy but, here we are.

simmons flippin’ gene like nothin and whippin out that knife.

in the year of our lord 2017.

simmons wielding that knife like a badass mother fucker.

me, calling him daddy, like the shameless bitch i am.

[babblydrabbly]

you don't have to be more | digger harkness x reader

Digger Harkness x F!Reader Characters: Digger Harkness, Harley Quinn, Rick Flag, Floyd Lawton, Richard Hertz. Warnings: FLUFF. Hurt/comfort if you squint. Language. Canon-Typical Violence. Cuddling. Kissing. Some grinding ngl. Wordcount: 6.5k+ [ A/N: For this request. Oh god, you probably wanted more fluff than this. I truly don't know what came over me. Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for betaing ♥️ ily Also, trying out new headers! Since poor Digger doesn't have too many gifs. But I'm still including text titles at the top so anyone who uses text to voice can know wtf is happening. ] My Masterlist

Anonymous Asked: Please can I request some pining boomer, I need this tough ass to go absurdly soft at reader and have the others roast him for it.

You've spent more than half your life as a vigilante named Night Shade. After a frame job lands you in Belle Reve, you get put on the Suicide Squad almost immediately. Digger Harkness is his usual self around you— and you don't really mind. You never have.

At first, he doesn’t recognize you.

You stand with your arms folded over your chest, your back to the wall of the tent as Colonel Flag goes over the mission objective laid out on a large table. They’d given you your full suit back, but here, at Belle Reve, you’ve held off on putting your armor and mask on until they ship you out.

Digger had tuned out the Colonel’s introductions for the new recruits. He didn’t bother with figuring out who was who anymore. Plenty came and went. It seemed like he, Harley, and just a few others were ever lucky enough to survive mission after mission.

But he does notice your perpetual scowl; how your lips draw down into a tight, pouty little frown, and Digger just can’t resist.

He joins you as everyone exits the airfield tent, wind picking up as the helicrafts start up their engines.

“First go, eh?” He hollers over the whirling blades. You glance over at him.

“What?” You say back.

“Said I never seen you before. Shame.” He flashes you a cocky grin. “If we weren’t about to die, I’d love to have you for a drink.”

You arch a brow at him. Search his face for the hint of a joke. You give him the old once over as the two of you wait your turn to board the carrier. The criminal’s not perturbed when you say nothing and leave him there on the helipad, high and dry. Blackguard comes up to pat Digger on the back with sympathy as he passes, boarding after you.

“Tough, man.”

Your armor is waiting for you on your seat. The other spots are also place marked with various weapons and garb for the others. You hook your chest plate and arm guards on as the others get settled in. And of course Harkness’s spot happens to be across from yours.

His toothy smile returns. You almost have enough time to finish rolling your eyes before you receive a heavy duffel bag to the lap.

“Oof, sorry, doll!” Harley Quinn yells. She yanks the bag off of you and kicks it under the seat, plopping down beside you. When she offers a handshake, she snatches yours up before you can even lift it high.

“What’d they call you? Night Stalker or somethin’?”

You chuckle, “Something like that.”

Harley takes up your attention most of the trip, and it seems to set a rapport with the rest of the squad— if you were in with her, you were in. Even Colonel Flag seemed to glance at you with more recognition as you all lined up for the drop somewhere over the Pacific ocean.

You step to the edge of the door with your mask in hand, eyeing the water down below. A flood of thoughts crest and crash around in your skull, just like the waves beneath you— how you wished you weren’t here. How this wasn’t the time to feel sorry. You’d only been at Belle Reve a few short weeks, and they had plucked you out of your cell in the dead of night with an agenda ready and waiting for you. Waller liked your skillset. There was plenty she had planned for you— if you survived, of course.

From the corner of your vision, you see that your drop buddy is eyeing you up again. Digger saddles up to you with a nod.

“You ready for a shit show, lovely?” He grins.

You smirk at that. You reach up and finally sheath your face with your mask— A white, blank face, with two narrow slits for eyes.

Digger blinks, his grin wiped clean from his features. He looks over your mask, stunned, and the rare moment of silence has you smiling under your Kevlar face. You watch with amusement as it all clicks into place for him.

“Shade?”

“Ready for drop in three!” Flag hollers from the back of the craft.

“Wait—“ Digger reaches for you. “Hey!”

You kick off the platform smugly, plunging into the frigid water without any hesitation. Digger curses as he jumps in after you before he misses the drop zone.

—

“When were you gonna tell me?” He hisses later. You and the others shush him as you sneak your way through the foliage, using the jungle trees as cover. Digger sticks close to you as you clear a path, even though he’s supposed to be paired up with Hertz off to your left.

“You didn’t ask.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know!”

“Shut it, Harkness.” Flag snaps over the comms.

“They caught you. How’d they get you?” He inquires, ignoring everyone. His laxed attitude back on the craft has disappeared, and the more gruff Digger you’re acquainted with refuses to let it go. Before you can answer, you hear the sound of something approaching rapidly. Throwing your arms around the Aussie’s middle, you tackle him to the ground just as a grenade launcher whizzes past, lighting up the greenery around you— and the entire squad’s location.

The mission is hellfire from then on. Digger doesn’t have time to prod you with any more questions, but that doesn’t stop him from gluing himself to your side as the two of you work together. You snatch up one of his boomerangs and fling it into the darkness, ducking to let him catch it as it flies back. By the time the sun rises, the lair you’ve been tasked with infiltrating is a crumbling mess, and you never thought you’d be this relieved to be taken back to prison.

—

Back at Belle Reve, you’re surprised there’s privileges to being a cooperating member of the squad. You throw your tray down onto the metallic table after the latest mission briefing, the rest of the mess hall cleared from lunch a few hours previous. You hunker down beside Harley who chatters away with Lawton on her other side. You’re content to eat in silence for a while, which doesn’t last long.

Digger hikes a leg over the bench to straddle it as he faces you, sliding his own tray til it’s flush with yours. He’s got on a serious face; you kind of wished he was still in a flirty mood. Ever since you got back, you’d been trying to avoid the conversation you know is coming.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He begins. He rests his elbow on the table, crowding your space with his thighs bracketing you, but you refuse to move away. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think anyone wants to be here, Harkness.”

“No yea, but you’re not one of us.” He mutters, “You’re supposed to be out there throwin’ assholes like us into prison. What happened to you?”

You pretend your sloppy joe is somewhat edible, chasing it down with a sip from a carton of orange juice. “I was still breaking laws. Vigilante justice isn’t exactly without it’s own crimes.”

He huffs at that.

—

You were proud of the number of people you’d brought to justice. You had put half your life into training and becoming strong enough to protect yourself in such a dark, difficult world. You knew the risks. Still, it blindsided you the way your choice to take matters into your own hands finally caught up to you.

You were in Australia, tracking down a real piece of shit target fleeing the States when your search led you to Boomerang. You’d been prowling the offices above a diamond exchange; their laundering records would uncover your target’s real identity. And in the process, you crossed paths with Digger Harkness.

He stilled when he sensed your presence. The rest of his crew didn’t notice you in the darkness. You flickered on your high-powered flashlight meant to blind anyone nearby, but at their distance, it simply made a cover for hiding you.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked from under your mask curiously. You were new to Australia, but you didn’t expect to see the pair of actual boomerangs strapped to the man’s chest.

Digger tutted, shielding his eyes. He tried to get a good look at you to no avail.

“Keep working boys, I’ve got the little lady.” He murmured.

You’d fought up and down the corridor, until you had your leg wrapped around his neck and his wrist pinned down to the floor, still holding his weapon. He was an odd mix— a long range weapon paired with belligerent fist-fighting? If the genius just had let you get a word in edgewise, the two of you wouldn’t have had to waste your time.

“I’m not here to stop a bunch of thieves.” You snapped. You couldn’t care less about a generously insured jewel exchange losing it’s diamonds. It took all your bodyweight on his chest to keep the broad, muscular man pinned. You were impressed. You didn’t expect so much strength under the gaudy tracksuit top and trench coat.

He stopped struggling and arched a brow at you instead, “You’re not?”

When he relaxed, you shoved off of him. “No. And I won’t rat if you don’t.”

That made the thief brighten. It’s a complete shift from the man who just tried to slice you to ribbons. “Well then,” He leered. “You don’t sound like you’re from ‘round here, lovely. How’s about I show you a good time?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him against the wall as you passed. “No thanks.”

But your mission had you crossing paths with him again. And again.

Everywhere there was anything worth stealing, there he seemed to be. You nearly had your target under your thumb one night— if you caught him here, right now, in this bank as he made an exchange with the higher-ups running it, you’d have proof of the embezzlement that had been affecting thousands of people there and back home.

You loved the part about being right, but not the part about how the situation going much higher up on the ladder meant you were a little outmatched tonight.

You grunted as another large man twice your size picked you up by the throat and slammed you into a wall of safety deposit boxes. The security guards doubled as henchmen, apparently, already in your target’s pocket. You landed on your feet and evaded another lunge, but when you stood up to take the man out, he was already falling over, unconscious.

You put your hands on your hips. “Is there anywhere you aren’t robbing?” You whisper-hissed at Harkness.

He shrugged, all smiles. “You’re welcome, sweetness.”

“Shut up.” You busied yourself with the guard’s keychain, smothering the quirk of your lips.

Harkness approached you, eyeing the keys. “Go on, share now.”

He couldn’t see you roll your eyes, but you handed him the rest when you took the ones you needed.

“How’s the investigation goin’?”

“Please.” You scoffed. “Go on, play burglar.”

You made to walk away when you felt a finger catch on one of your belt loops. Harkness drew you back, boxing you in against the bank of deposit doors, but this time you’re pressed against them with a soft thud. Harkness planted himself in front of you, his large hands coming to rest on your hips.

“You know, I’m wonderin’,” He murmured beside your head, lips near to your ear. “Been really convenient, you showin’ up to all my heists. If you wanted to spend your nights with me so badly, invitation’s still open, love.”

The last thing you’d ever do while out on your mission is get distracted like this. But you’d be lying to yourself if there wasn’t something about the reckless, idiotic thief that made you want to linger. He was cocky, but once in a while he did get you to laugh.

You pressed a gloved hand to his chest and slid it up tentatively, over the large expanse of firm muscle until it came to settle around his neck. Even through the fabric, you could feel the way his Adam’s apple bobbed under your palm. You tilted your head, and your mask with it, enjoying the way Harkness tried to decipher what you were thinking from beneath your blank face.

His face was always so open, his expressions never hidden from you. He leaned forward, and for a moment you thought he might actually try to press a kiss to the painted kevlar, on the spot right where your lips would be. The thought made your pulse thrum, and you tightened your grip around the Aussie’s neck incrementally, drawing a soft groan from his parted lips.

Another, more pained groan sounded from the unconscious guard on the floor, pulling you from your daze. You pushed Harkness away in an instant, your focus returning to the task at hand. Harkness swore under his breath, and threw a glare down at the man.

“Thanks for nothing, mate.” He snapped, giving the henchman a sharp kick to the stomach, before following you out of the room in a hurry.

You were a little sad to part ways with Digger Harkness after you wrapped up your case a few weeks later. After capturing your target and turning him over to the authorities, you don’t miss the way Harkness, too, seems a little disappointed at your leaving. You had danced around his advances, never really accepting or denying. You weren’t used to distractions, and you knew if you waited it out, your work would decide for you.

He did hit on you one last time, and you let yourself laugh— fully and light-heartedly— at the thief. Pulling him into the shadows of the alley where you say your goodbyes, you lifted off your mask in the darkness halfway, just enough to press your lips against Digger’s in a deep kiss. His shock didn’t last long, arms flying up to wrap around your waist as he returned it. You pressed your body into his, a soft sound escaping you as he lifted you up with ease.

“Hope your work brings you back, lovely.” He murmured when you pulled away, still in his arms. You leaned in again, unable to resist stealing one more kiss from the thief.

“Might get bored and come throw you in jail.” You quipped. Digger heard your voice— your full, unfiltered voice for the first time. He put you back down on the ground, wishing he’d heard more of it while you were still here.

“I’ll be seeing you, Shade.” He hoped.

You were proud of what you did, but eventually, it made the wrong people angry. You went home, picked your work up there again soon after. You chased a lead that took you nearly four years of investigation to gather enough evidence for— when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Police came for you when you weren’t out prowling, in the middle of the day, catching you by surprise.

You were sentenced to Ninety years. Ninety years for witnessing one of the most brutal murders you’d ever seen. You’d been too late to stop it, but when you tried anyway— tried to hope that the victims were still alive by the time you could take out the real murderer— you realized too late that you were outnumbered. The murderer wasn’t just some lone wolf. He’d had connections. And he used them to pin the murders on you. You escaped that night, but when they cuffed you right there, right in the middle of your day job in front of everyone, you knew there was no amount of training or quick thinking to get you out of this one. They knew your real identity, knew everything. He’d finished you with one phone call to the chief of police.

You stayed silent the whole trial, except to plead not guilty. But still you had to sit and watch as the city’s best prosecutors smeared your name and your life’s work in front of the loved ones of the people you had tried to save. The look in their eyes filled you with shame. When the gavel fell and your sentence was announced, you let the numbness spread, let it stay there in your gut all the way to Belle Reve.

You hadn’t killed them yourself, but you didn’t save them either.

—

Digger sits with wide and storming gray eyes as you finally answer his question. It’s the first time you’ve spoken about it since they locked you up, and you avoid his gaze idly. You shove your plastic fork into a small pile of sad looking mashed potatoes, waiting for him to say something.

“That’s bullshit!” He hollers, and you jump, surprised.

When you recover, your eyes fall again. “Yeah, well. Here we are. At least I got to knock off ten years, so far.”

“Yeah, doin’ Waller’s dirty work.” He snorted. “You tried to save those people. Don’t their families fuckin’ know that?”

You should feel comforted by his support— wished you had it when you were going through it alone— but it was too late now. Digger watches your brows knit together. He’s still not used to seeing your actual face. Not used to seeing the way it looks like your eyes are shining like they might brim over with tears as you try your best not to look at the thief.

“Shade…”

“[L/n],” You say, quickly collecting up your tray and standing up. “You can just call me [L/n] from now on.”

Digger stammers out something close to an apology, though what he really wants to do is follow after you as you hurry off. But you have to return to your cell when you’re done, down a corridor they won’t let him follow. He swears, shoving his tray away from himself with a frustrated sigh.

A sad whistle brings him out of his sulk. Digger looks up to see that Floyd and Harley had stopped eating a long time ago, eavesdropping in on your conversation. Both of them offer him cringful expressions.

“That sucked, dude.” Lawton says.

Harley nods sadly. “You really bummed her out, makin’ her explain the whole deal.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you never to ask the quiet ones how they end up in here?”

“Oh, fuck off!” Digger snaps, throwing his tray on the floor. One of the guards immediately moves to mediate before Digger puts up his hands, “Alright, alright. I’m done.” Harley and Floyd burst into laughter as they escort the thief back to his cell, his sour face sending them into even more hysterics on the way out.

—

The next mission would take two weeks, if you were all lucky— and you had a feeling being out in the open that long didn’t sound very lucky.

The squad’s ‘basecamp’ had to keep moving. This recon mission meant you had to pack light, and you shouldered your pack all day, throwing it down in the evenings as members of the squad took turns monitoring a mysterious facility a few clicks away. You hated that you didn’t get to know who was in there or what for— you recorded your findings in the day, and reported to Colonel Flag at dusk, no questions asked.

“Doesn’t seem very deadly.” You mutter. You sit next to Digger on your bedroll, chewing tiredly at your rations.

He snorts as he finishes up his own. “Careful. You’ll jinx us.”

It wasn’t freezing in this climate by any means, but you notice the way Digger hunches his shoulders, looking irritated. He’s got his coat and hat on, but you know him well enough by now that the man was trying to keep from shivering. You smirk a little.

“What is it with you and the cold?” You chuckle. You reach over and tug on the ridiculously wide collar of his trenchcoat. Digger frowns, snatching it back and pulling it over himself snuggly.

“‘S not my fault. Not built for it.” He grumbles.

You set up your bed rolls an appropriate distance away from each other every night, but every morning, it seems as though Digger Harkness is trying to make his way over to you inch by inch. You wake up the next day before him, only to find him sleeping entirely off his mat, in between it and yours. You nudge him awake with your foot carefully, and point out he’d be a lot warmer if he slept off the ground at night.

The night after that, you feel something press between your shoulder blades just as you begin dozing off. Startled, you jerk up, finding Digger off his bed roll again. He snores lightly as his head rests on your mat and you ease your tensed arms. You watch him sleep for a few minutes there in the dark. Eventually, you lie back down, careful not to wake him as you return to your sleeping position, his face nudging the spot between your shoulders again with a sleepy rumble. You don’t move closer to him, but you settle for not pulling away tonight either.

—

During the day, you’re forced to pair up with Harley. It’s a lot of walking, and you’re surprised to find there’s someone in the group who complains more than Digger. Harley Quinn can’t seem to enjoy silence, so you let her fill it up as the two of you traverse the woods.

“So, what’s with you and Boomer?” She finally asks. You’d been waiting for it ever since the day in the mess hall. You grip the straps of your canvas bag awkwardly, wishing you’d kept your mask on instead of leaving it on your hip.

“He talks about his old girls but he don’t ever talk about you.”

“No?” You arch a brow. “Probably because I’m not his old girl.”

“Yeah, well. I figured it either meant that, or...”

“Or?”

When she levels you with a prodding squint, you huff.

“I… met him once. Before Belle Reve.”

“Once?” The crime queen laughed. “Please. You two look like best buds.”

You shrug.

“Or mooore?” She croons, her face getting dangerously close to yours. You scrunch up your nose, willing yourself not to betray anything on your face. God, you wish you had your blank one on.

“Look, I lived in Sydney for a few months. We— crossed paths a lot.”

“I bet you did.” She cackles. She doesn’t seem to mean anything terrible by it besides the obvious, so you let her think what she wants, leaving the topic at that.

—

That night, you grind your teeth as you try to will yourself to sleep. It’s only your second mission, but the week of constantly moving and the threat of someone opening fire at any moment has exhausted you. You keep your arms crossed as you lay on your side, your mind racing with a million anxious thoughts like it always did when you couldn’t sleep— how you wouldn’t be here if you were better, how you were really just a dog now, sleeping out in the cold, waiting for commands. When it was all over, if you lived, they would plop you back in your cell, and you’d still have decades to go.

You’re snapped out of your downward spiral when an arm lands down over your waist. You jump, stopping yourself before you elbow Digger in the face and knock out his teeth. You scowl; maybe you should punch him awake. You’re about to open your mouth to say something when he flexes his arm, dragging you backward across the mat. With a soft yelp, you’re met with Digger’s broad body flush to yours, his bearded face pressing into the nape of your neck.

“Harkness. Digger.” You hiss, poking his arm faintly. Digger mumbles something unintelligible, his arm relaxing again. Still, he’s spooning you in his sleep, without any sign of rolling back over. You sigh.

Shit. It bubbles up in the back of your throat— a sob that you quickly snuff out. You press your lips together pathetically.

The thought of a life sentence in Belle Reve, the thought of the loneliness that came with it— You knew it would be even worse than the loneliness you’d felt even before your sentence. You were like every other vigilante; your secrets had made you keep everyone at arm’s length. Harkness had been the last person you’d ever bothered to let in, however briefly. And here he was, still offering you the affection you never knew how to ask for, even in his sleep.

You carefully lift his arm, settling it back down over your bicep until Digger was hugging you comfortably. You press back against him, drawing a pleased sound out of the slumbering thief. Closing your eyes, you relax, finally letting yourself drift off to sleep too.

—

You’re not plagued by dreams. Instead, you wake up, realizing blearily that you slept through the entire night without stirring. Which was good for your exhaustion, but bad considering the fact that you should be on your toes— what with the suicide mission and all.

You’ve also missed something else, because when you sit up and yawn, you pick up on a joke you’ve just missed.

Harley Quinn is in titters on her bedroll as she hugs her stomach, her laughter bringing her to near tears. Lawton is also doing little to contain himself.

Then you remember Harkness, and how his arm was suddenly very absent. You turn around to look at the thief and come face to face with his beet red expression as he glares over at his friends. He’s already sitting up, flustered, his cap askew on top of his curls.

“I didn’t know koala bears got as big as you, Boomie!” Harley teases in between breaths. “Big ole bear clinging to his tiny little tree.”

“Alright. Alright already!” He snaps. You’re surprised when he gets up, saying nothing as he stalks off into the treeline and away from the rest of you.

You don’t mind Harley’s teasing, but when one of them— the tall lanky one they call Blackguard— tries to ask you if Harkness greeted his little tree with some morning wood, you shoot him a vicious glare, shutting the bleached blond up quickly.

—

Digger drags his heels for the rest of the day. Flag dishes out directives, and Digger rolls his eyes when he hears he’s paired up with Lawton on surveying duty.

His attention is split, halfway between the mission, and you.

Digger had stirred when you shifted his arm last night. He was ready for a jab to the gut, when instead you decided to pull him closer. He opened his eyes faintly, confused, when an odd sound got caught in your throat. He’d heard it before in the mess hall, when you had swallowed thickly and excused yourself from the table.

From his position, he couldn’t see your face. But he’d been memorizing it— every chance he could sneak a look, in the briefing room or out here, where you seemed to not want to wear your usual face anymore. He didn’t mind one bit; he always imagined you with a pretty face he could stare at all day under all that Kevlar. And he was thrilled to find out he was right.

But Digger had a feeling. There was a reason you didn’t want to wear it anymore.

A pang of guilt hit him; he always figured only the people closest to you ever got to see your real face. He’d never been one of those people, as hard as he tried in his own way, back in Sydney. Belle Reve stripping you of your uniform and mask by force didn’t feel like he’d won the right to finally know who you were.

It just felt like another thing he’d stolen.

He listened as you squashed whatever emotion tried to overwhelm you. Digger stayed utterly still as you settled back against his front, your warmth radiating through all the many layers between you. He felt the way his ears flush and heat up against the cold night air, but he didn’t dare break this spell that had come over you by being his usual, overbearing self.

You seemed to drop off to sleep soon after that, and Digger finally let himself press his face to your neck carefully, committing the feeling of you in his arms to memory with a hum.

“—Have you even heard a goddamn word I’ve said, Boomerang?” Colonel Flag scowls. He taps a finger against the butt of a rifle slung across his chest irritably.

“Yeah, yeah. Take a lap around the base and let Lawton do the picture taking. What the fuck else is new.” Digger waves off.

“And rest up early when you get back.” Flag adds, ”I’m putting you and [L/n] on the midnight watch this rotation.”

Digger blinks, “— What? Why?”

“You’re really gonna complain, man?” Lawton drawls as he waits for the two other men to wrap up. Digger smothers his grin as he hurries after the marksman, ignoring the way Flag shouts a few more last minute orders after them.

—

As it turns out, the usual pair who had been taking the midnight watch on this mission had been compromised. Something about an old landmine on the other side of the base and an unfortunate misstep. You were all down two squad members, and now everyone’s duties were being shifted around.

You sigh loudly as you stop in front of Harkness, throwing your pack on the ground beside him. He sits on the sloping forest floor, binoculars in hand, your little stake out area all ready for your late night shift.

“How’s the watch?” You greet, taking a seat beside the Aussie. You snatch up the binoculars from Digger and aim it at the facility.

He mumbles something gruffly.

“Hm?”

“Said I’m tired of this fuckin’ weather!” He gripes.

In reality, Digger’s been nervous of you approaching ever since he set up about an hour earlier. He couldn’t get any of the rest Flag recommended— Not while it was cold, and not when the realization that he’d be spending the entire evening with you alone hit him.

Fuck! He’d looked like a fucking moron clinging to you this morning.

Your soft chuckle draws you from his bitter thoughts. “You want my jacket?”

Digger rolls his eyes, but quirks a smile all the same. “Fuck off.”

“I can see you shivering from here.”

He waves you off. Putting the binoculars’ strap around your neck, you stand and brush the bark and moss from yourself before kicking Digger’s ankle. He gives you a questioning look as you do it again, waiting for him to get the hint.

His confusion soon melts into surprise. His eyebrows shoot up as you turn, taking a seat down snuggly between his knees.

Reaching behind yourself, you tug Digger’s coat open, pulling the large edges around yourself. It takes a little shifting around, but soon the two of you are tucked comfortably inside his jacket, your back pressed squarely to his broad chest.

Digger thinks his lip might split the way he can’t stop grinning. He rests his chin on your shoulder, any hesitancy about touching you totally evaporating. You sigh as he draws around you, his large arms enveloping your entire middle. The two of you fall silent as you let the shared heat generate and warm you both up. You stay like that for an hour, then two, only shifting to stretch a muscle here or there, but always returning to the warmth of Digger’s coat.

“I, er— about this morning.” Digger mumbles after a while. You’d been so content where you were you realize you'd almost nodded off for a moment. You turn your head sleepily, and in doing so are met with his cheek pressed against yours. “They’re assholes.”

You tilt your head, rubbing your cheek against his beard. “They can have their fun.” You muse. It’s true— you didn’t mind Harley or Lawton one bit. You had your own reservations about opening up; but they had nothing to do with it. You rarely cared about what other people thought or assumed. You’re about to propose that the two of you can have your own fun, when the tip of Digger’s nose finds yours by accident, and you burst into laughter at how cold it is. You quickly muffle it, what with the covert operation still going on.

“What?” The Aussie whined. He slips his hand into the coat, snaking his fingers underneath as many layers as he can find. You yelp.

“Fucking freezing.” The shock of his cold palm to your stomach makes you wriggle against him, clamping a hand down over his. “You bastard.”

A grin presses to your neck. “But you’re so toasty. Perfect place to warm my hands up.”

You’ve given him what he wanted, your head falling back onto his shoulder as you tried to squirm away. Digger takes the opportunity to press a kiss to your lips.

You gasp, stilling, but soon relax against his bold touch. You let your eyes flutter close, your muscles relaxing as you kiss him back.

Digger’s hand warms quickly against your flushed skin as his thumb draws idle patterns on your stomach. You move your mouth against his carefully, and he’s content to let you set the pace. Ever since you’d turned up, you’d been all Digger could think about back in his cell alone, his thoughts drifting to the typical, cocky ideas he had— But he also dared to imagine you’d want to continue the fleeting, tentative thing you had shared over four years before. He felt pathetic, still clinging to the memory of that goodbye kiss. But it wasn’t anything like his usual dalliances. You were something special. Something much better than he was.

You feel the pull of Digger’s mouth turning into a frown. You open your eyes gently to see him scowling as he opens his.

“What’s wrong?” You murmur, your hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. He shakes his head.

“Nothin’.” He says. “You just… never came back. Figured you didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?” You press on, pulling back to search his face.

But you can put it together yourself. His expression is an open book to you, as it always has been.

“I got caught up in my work.” You confess. “I always do.”

He huffs. “Don’t I know it.”

“But I— I saw you keeping busy too,” You tease, biting back a grin. “Finally hit up every bank in Australia. Fucking ridiculous.”

“Yeah, you were keepin’ tabs on me?” Digger’s smile widens.

“Maybe.”

“Then… Did y’know I came over?” He finally asks, after a moment. “Cleaned out a few U.S. banks too.”

“I heard,” But then, more somberly, “Heard you got picked up.”

And a little time later, you did too. It never crossed your mind they would ship you off to the same place that held Digger. You sigh as you let your head rest on his shoulder again. “Not that I minded.”

“Hey.”

“—Because… I think I’d have honestly gone insane if you weren’t here.” You finish. And you watch the way his affronted expression shifts back into that pleased, soft look he gives you so often— the one he thinks you don’t notice when you’re not looking.

You thread your fingers through his curls and drag him back down for another kiss. It’s more searing this time, one you hope makes up for all the times you’ve pushed him away.

Digger groans. He curls around you further, his hand sliding over your skin as he parts his lips. He pushes his tongue into your mouth and it meets yours with a hot swipe. You part for him in return, shivering as the two of you begin to suck and lick into each other’s mouths with more zeal, the binoculars and mission forgotten for a moment.

“Shade…” He murmurs. And you forget that you wanted to put that name away— wanted to throw your mask into the ocean and never call yourself that again. You didn’t deserve the persona anymore. But you’d missed the way his little nickname for you sounded on his tongue. You swipe at it again, taste it. Maybe you didn’t mind keeping the name if he was the one saying it.

Digger draws a moan from you when the hand beneath your shirt drifts upward, his palm closing over your breast. He kneads it slowly, fingers pressing together to pull the flesh under his touch firm. You lean back more. You push against the ground with your heel as you try to make any space between the two of you disappear. The Aussie makes another deep growl against your mouth when you tilt your hips, the motion making you rear brush up against his groin. Digger grinds back against you without hesitation. You don’t think it’s possible for him to squeeze his arms around you any tighter, but he does. You whimper when he lifts you off the ground, onto his lap where he can roll his hips against you with more of that slow, heated rhythm.

An incredibly awkward cough rings out.

You gasp, yanking away from Digger.

Colonel Flag stands a few feet away from the two of you with Lawton at his side. You feel yourself flush as Digger feels more inclined to roll his eyes.

“Oh, what now.” Digger snaps.

“Rotation. We’re here to uh, relieve you.”

Flag has the decency to look away while you remove yourself from Digger’s lap. Lawton, on the other hand, snorts at Flag’s mention of ‘relief’.

“Koala’s too busy clinging to his tree again.” He chuckles.

Digger scowls as he stands up. He makes sure to close up his trenchcoat over his front as he collects himself.

“That’s racist, mate.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “Man, shut up and get back to camp. Before she doesn’t feel like cuddling up to you no more.” He adds pointedly.

Flag nods at you curtly while you hurry by with an apology, and Digger soon follows after you.

You wait until you’re both out of the Colonel and Deadshot’s sight, before you grab Digger’s hand and pull him against a tree. You allow him to crowd you against it, grinning up at him as you take both his lapels in your grasp.

“So grouchy all of a sudden.” You tease. You lean up on your toes to kiss Digger’s frown away.

“Everyone and their mother’s always interruptin’ me when I finally get you alone. You ever notice that?” He complains, and you definitely don’t consider it a pout.

“Well, no one’s around right now.” You point out. You slip your hands into his coat again, hooking your fingers into his waistband. When you pull him closer, Digger grunts at the way your knee slides up between his legs, your thigh meeting his middle, where he’s still hard from earlier. You arch a brow at him. “We don’t have to head back to camp right away, do we?”

The Aussie flashes you a megawatt grin so bright you think his gold tooth might light up. He leans down and captures your lips again. As he kisses you, he reaches down and plucks you up easily, his hands cupping the back of your thighs until your legs are wrapped around his waist, your back to the tree.

He pulls away for a moment to take another look at your face— how it’s bare, open, and staring back at him with more affection than he ever let himself imagine.

“Think I’m a bad influence on you, love.”

You grin. “Oh, please. Like I always followed the rules.”

[stopeatingwhales]

second chance x damon albarn

i'm surprised i haven't written anything about dilf damon yet bc i've been so obsessed with him recently wtf. anyways enjoy x

i might do a second part to this, idk yet tho

Pairing: dilf damon x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 2.786

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Do you want to come over?” I abruptly asked, the silence pouring through the line deafening my ears as my fingers toyed with the hem of my shirt. The desperation and moment that led to me ringing my ex-boyfriend at what was nearing eight in the evening seemed as though it was a fever dream, the words rolling off my tongue so delicately out of apprehension only a fragment of that trance. In all honesty, I had no idea as to why I rang Damon, or to what extent the string of thoughts guided me towards the action of calling - we had been broken up for around a year, and it came as a much larger shock that I was able to muster the amount of courage to tap his contact on my phone and attentively listen to the thunderous rings as the landlines attempted to connect, instead of quickly shutting the phone off before he was able to receive a missed call alert.

“Uh, um - are you sure?” he questioned, the stutter escaping his mouth insinuated that he was just as dazed at my sudden offer as me, the demeanour of his voice accentuating the idea that he was entirely finished with the ephemeral chapter of his life which had me intertwined inside as his partner; that he had gotten over me quicker than the momentary period our relationship lasted. My heart sank, realising how indigent I sounded, as if I had never gotten over him throughout our time apart - which I did, learning to live with myself was easier than I had thought it was going to be; the weeks leading up to the breakup stemming from the distance we shared apart due to Damon consistently being on tour and never providing enough time for me, for us, to consider one another as more than romantically acquainted, though that didn’t mean the gap in my heart had been sealed shut, it was simply brimmed with other, unspecial fragments of things which could only distract the thought of him for so long, until I’d discover myself adventuring for something else to hyperfixate my thoughts upon, though he always returned.

“Yeah…” My voice trailed off, so quiet that I struggled to sustain the volume. Though we had only just spoken, the trance that he had obtained over me for all those months we were with one accord, returned in an instant, having the same rush that a recollection of memories, pastimes that were once forgotten, crumbled to dust, had been reborn; ignited into a new bloom in the height of a harvest, resulting in the scolding of yourself upon how you granted the ability to forget such a thing. It seemed as if all those thoughts, ideations convinced to the point that I had gotten over him, were myriads of masks attempting to say it enough to believe it. Without a doubt, I had never overcome the strains of the acquaintance we shared - and I could only hope he felt the same way.

I heard his throat clear itself before his voice echoed through the telephone speakers once again. “Alright… I’ll be there in a bit.” he mumbled, those words bringing a soft, yet apprehensive grin to my lips. I had no idea what I was doing, or why, but it felt right.

It felt as if only the sum of a few minutes passed when I heard a distinguishable knock on the door; one that had not rang through my ears for an interminable amount of time, one that was able to send me months back in time to a period where he had significantly been a figurehead dictating the story. As I jolted up to answer the door, it felt as if things were normal again, back to how they used to be so many nights previous; me waiting for him to come home after he spent a long day at the recording studio, crafting what could only be assumed was the pure essence of talent, unlocking the door to allow my arms to envelop into an embrace cherished with affection and warmth, proving he longed to have my presence just as much as I craved his. Once my eyes met the sight of him, my heart dropped at the overwhelming feeling of my reminiscing about what once was, the nostalgia for a moment so authentically shaped with what could only be described as true love, my body yearning to relish in the sensation of his arms protectively wrapped around my body, a feeling which could only fulfill one’s heart with all that it desires. "Hi..." I trailed off, stunned by how similar, yet different his appearance was from when we last saw one another. His hair had the same shape, though it seemed a little shorter, his eyebags still prominent on his features, though it seemed as if they had sagged down slightly, posing the idea of whether he had been sleeping alright. His torso still adorned shirts with dark colours, amplified with one of his leather jackets which only made me more attracted to him. Widening the door, he set foot into the apartment, nodding his head lightly as a greeting. Although I was very elated to the fact that he was in my apartment, it felt eerie having him back here after so long, stepping foot into the space that was once served merely as a homely and secure space where we both could simply live and enjoy our time together, no distractions included.

Once I had followed him into the living space, he took a seat onto the couch facing the television. I attempted to make my footsteps omit as little noise as possible, as if to avoid damaging the awkward silence that had been shared between the pair of us. It went without saying that neither of us knew how to break the ice, or where this was going to head. One could only hope that the outcome of this meeting was positive. “Do you want something to drink?” I asked, ushering over to the cabinet adjacent to the television, supplied with all sorts of alcoholic beverages in which I had not touched, simply there as a point of manners to offer when somebody had come over. “White?” I offered, pulling out an almost-full bottle of white wine. I knew he hated it.

"You know I’ve always hated white." he mumbled, a small smile playing upon his lips. Something about that little grin plastered on his lips made my stomach flip and turn, welcoming a swarm of butterflies to accentuate the nervous pit that had formed within myself. The intense feelings reminded me of the same bewilderment your body undergoes during the first date; there is such a raw attraction to somebody that you know far too little about, but you are so hypnotised by their presence it is as if they’re the only thing in the world that matters, to the point that they obnoxiously overtake your mind, every little thought occupied with their name, wondering whether they may like such and such, like an infection spreading without you knowing such cure for it. The atmosphere was intense, carrying the same ambience of two strangers meeting for the first time in an isolated space, though there was also a refreshing element of familiarity that neither of us wanted to admit that we appreciated so deeply.

"Red?" I asked, snatching the half empty bottle as I placed the other wine bottle back in its designated place, turning my head back to fix my gaze onto Damon, raising my eyebrows as a form of derise for the drink. Nodding his head in response, I quickly took two glasses from the cabinet, brimming them both with the alcoholic liquid before slowly making my way to sit next to him on the sofa, handing him one of the glasses as he thanked me in response. The same devilish silence echoed in the room once again as we granted the situation to truly sink in - thankfully alcohol was present. As I took a sip of the beverage, I tried to gulp down as much liquid as possible before I spoke once again. "So... how have you been?"

"Good... Just came off tour actually. Was a really successful one." he replied, his voice laced with a slight tone of doubt, edging the regret of so eagerly returning back into a place that was once so attached to his occupancy. He carried on talking about how the tour had been, my head subconsciously nodding, attentive to what he was talking about. Each time he had told me about something new they had added, or something they had changed surrounding the live performance set-up, it never failed to blow me away. Him and Jamie together, working on such a creative idea and putting it to life on stage was truly something out of rare virtuosity, disregarding the lengthy old ramblings from Damon almost every night he had returned home about how much Jamie had pissed him off, having a petty argument as if it was a be or end all in their friendship. It was actually a good form of entertainment, seeing how riled up Damon had gotten simply because of something that Jamie joked in an interview.

Once he had finished talking, our eyes connected, uncertainty clouded in his eyes as he searched for the reason behind him needing to come over. "Y/N, why did you ask me to come over?" He said, abrupt, almost as if those words had been lingering at the back of his mind the entire time we had been in one another’s acquaintance; the ease of the sting of words rolling off his tongue softly implied that, perhaps a try to prevent the harshness of the asking from offending me in the slightest. "We haven't seen each other for a year, why now?"

Both gazes never dared to break contact as if we had attempted to communicate telepathically - the ideation of instigating a conversation as awkward as how this had become, the two of us simply wanting the ground to swallow us whole. His gaze had the ability to put me into a trance upon which I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else except for the utter magnificence that was birthed into his loving eyes. Inhaling sharply, I tried to collect the thoughts in my brain that had been travelling in all directions, searching for all sorts of different possibilities that the conversation could reach. "Can we give it a second chance?" I asked absentmindedly, the realisation of what had just rolled off my tongue not settling in my mind until his eyes widened, speechless and shocked at my sudden questioning.

Sighing, he cocked his head to the side. “Love, we didn't work out the first time..." he began, my heart dropping to my stomach as the thought of him breaking my heart again entered my mind. His expression quickly softened once he saw my face drain colour, explaining all that he needed to know about how I had coped since he had left the picture. "I don't want to hurt you again."

Breaking away from the stare, I gawked at the dark shades of red that had adorned the transparent glass clasped in my palm. Holding in my emotions wasn’t going to do me any justice, and since he was here, it would not make sense for me to stupidly avoid the whole reasoning behind me needing him inside my apartment after so long. “It’s been so hard trying to get over you,” I mumbled, my voice almost inaudible out of embarrassment, though I knew he could hear me. “I need you.”

What I didn’t see from my shameful gaze at the ground, was the miniscule beam that broke out across Damon’s features. What I was unaware of, my body encompassed in such a impotent state of pure isolation, was that Damon had been as dependent on hearing those words escaping my mouth before he could admit the same to himself. Though it had all been answered to me as he softly brought his arm to caress my arm, gently squeezing the skin as a form of reassurance, implying the notion that he understood, that he felt the same way, after all this time. We broke up not because we lost feelings, but because the emotions we carried for one another were too strong to handle, too intense to progress with, that when he was gone for those long hours it had left me in such a stupor of helplessness and melancholy that it was unbearable to handle without it tarnishing my health. Unsurprisingly, at this point we knew where the conversation was headed; my desires to be swathed in his arms once again that I had tried so hard to banish to the back of my mind, to the depths of my distant memories in which by reliving such a hug came flooding back, my body leaned into his touch almost instantaneously, a subconscious reflex that I had craved, such an embrace that no other person could give, the mere side hug from him was able to banish all the pain that I had tried so diligently to mask away for the past few months.

We sat there for a short while, taking in the moment as it had played throughout, our breathing syncing together as comfort relished in the atmosphere, our minds now finally at peace while all the conflict that had battled our minds over the time we weren’t together. "Let me come on tour with you." I said, my head resting against his shoulder.

A chuckle erupted out of his throat. “It’s not that easy love.”

"Why can't it be? You're literally the frontman!" I exclaimed, lifting my head off his shoulder to connect eyes with him. "Damon, it would be so fun!" I exclaimed, attempting to encourage him.

It was as if things had mended back together, all the cracks in the pavements had been glued together to mend the time lost, as if it had never occurred. Through all the hardship I had faced trying to find the remedy to my heartache, I was dumbfounded to realise that it had been sitting in front of me, at the top of my phone’s contact list, right in front of my eyes this entire time. His eyes were calling out to me, enveloping my heart in comfort and warmth, the hunger radiating out eager to the ideation of starting anew and preserving the time in which we had lost, building new memories, unfastening the lock on the clock dictating the length of the relationship, allowing it to elongate, carry on as long as we could. My heart brimmed with homeliness - the house I was inside finally feeling normal to me once again.

"I'll see what I can do," he grins, the beautiful sight causing a small smile to erupt on my face as my body melted back into his arms once again. "No promises though."

It felt nice to wake up next to someone again the next morning, on the mattress that once was a carcass of many tears of sadness and melancholy, authentically conveyed by the essence of nihilism embodied from isolation, the kind of philosophical beliefs one could only develop an understanding towards subsequent to irrational thinking as the hours fell still, leaving you sat there, reliving the last moments from your memory bank with the significant other you had soiled ends with, a person who had supported you from the very beginning, even when things formed a bitter congestion to the relationship devoured by both participants, perhaps from the acceleration of argumentation shared, or the distance that had started to weave its way between, leaving you both stranded to conclude, as if you were both on separate, desolate islands fighting against the starvation of progressing through your lives and starting anew, departing from the old knots and attachments formed once epitomising pure adoration and love, though over time spawning to be the offspring of the devil. A person whom you knew would make your bed every morning, cradle you in his arms at the darkest hours to baptise the negativity coiled in your brain, whispering what seems like sweet nothings, merely sounding like soft raspy groans due to them being exhausted out of their mind, but you knew they were saying something to you, you could hear it, acknowledge it in a language that nobody else was able to understand. I relished in concession that he who lay beside me was the one that bestowed and epitomised all the things that I once lacked a night before. A lover.

[rather-impertinent]

Fluff

A/N: idk wtf to call this it's too hot my brain is melting and I'm about 0.4 seconds away from murdering my parents lmao. This is full of mistakes, is over-edited and is now probably shit but I'm too tired so I'm afraid all my fucks have been killed in the war. But if u do like it pls let me know I live for your validation ok bye friends much love xo (P.s. Set between The Reception scene and The Bedroom scene in 3x07) ~~~~~~~~~~~~ As the front door of Killewarren slammed shut behind her, Caroline heaved a deep sigh of relief: it was nine o'clock and the last (inebriated) guest had finally left. A wide smile formed on her face as she rested the back of her head against the large oak door, reflecting on the day. The entire day had been a great success: the wedding ceremony was beautiful and Caroline revelled in the attention her new gown and new husband brought. She felt absurdly proud of Dwight and his seamless progression from country doctor to master of Killewarren, and had told him so numerous times today, to which he had modestly rolled his eyes at. Presently, a panting pug by the name of Horace approached her dying for some undivided attention. She scooped him up in her arms and scratched his ears eagerly. "Hello, my precious." She offered her cheek for him to lick, which he did. She cradled him gently, swaying them both from side to side, trying to soothe him before relaying some difficult news. "Now, Horace, you mustn't sleep with Dwight and I tonight- though I doubt we shall be doing much sleeping." She smiled at the thought. "So I shall allow you to sleep in the servants' quarters with James or you may sleep in the small tea room, which would you prefer?" She asked as though he were a small child as opposed to a small dog. She had no wish for Horace to be lonely and so decided that he should sleep in the servants' quarters with James and called for the young footman to inform him of this. He agreed eagerly and carried Horace away with no protest from the pug, who liked the young man very much. Satisfied, she returned to the parlour in search of her husband. He was perched on the edge of the armchair, his neckcloth looser and waistcoat slightly unbuttoned, dissecting a slice of wedding cake. Dwight felt her lasting gaze on him and lifted his head up from his dessert. "What?" he asked with a mouth full of cake, crumbs escaping from the corners of his lips. He was so glad to finally be alone with his wife; for all forms of stilted politeness to be gone. She kicked off her shoes beside the doorway. Her gown swayed elegantly as she sauntered towards him. She smirked, playfully snatched the fork from his hand and stole a chunk of his cake. "Nothing," she mumbled through the large slice of sponge she had rammed in her mouth- an act she'd never do in front of anyone except Dwight. The Enyses began to giggle wildly and after a while Caroline thought she might faint if she did not stop. Once she finally did stop, she voiced a pressing thought. "You owe me a dance, Dr. Enys," she reprimanded. He immediately coloured. He had been so engaged in ensuring the comfort of the guests that he had entirely forgotten his promise to dance his wife's favourite dance with her. He smiled apologetically and held out his hand. "I believe I do, Miss Penvenen. Though, unfortunately, we no longer have music." She took his hand. "Mrs Enys," she corrected with a disapproving face. "No matter, we shall make some," she replied confidently, pulling him from the arm of the chair to stand in front of the fireplace. His brows furrowed at her before she began to murmur softly; her voice was not unpleasant, but not as angelic as Demelza's. He grinned at his wife's ability to make the best out of any situation- a quality he loved about her very much. He grasped her waist, pressed her body against his and began to join in on the tune Caroline was humming. He felt rather foolish to begin with, though the content smile on Caroline's face quickly banished such insecurities. They danced slowly at first, swaying gently from side to side, their foreheads pressed together. After a while, Dwight started to hum more quickly and began excitedly twirling her around the finely decorated parlour, enjoying the sound of her dress swishing against his trousers, mixed with her musical laughter. Feeling quite breathless, Caroline loudly - emphatically - hummed a new, much slower, song. Dwight laughed and obliged, pulling her close to him. As he caught sight of her flushed cheeks and wide smile, he felt suddenly overwhelmed. He had almost lost this woman- twice. Both times due, at least in part, to his loyalty to his duty- whether it be to his friends, profession or country. It occurred then to Dwight that he should not pity the sick, the dying, the imprisoned- but instead the living, those who were fully conscious to the wonders that life could bring and, above all, those of whom lived without love or purpose. He was fortunate- for Caroline gave him both. Caroline eyed his vacant expression, knowing this meant he was in deep tonight, and noted his song-less voice. "A penny for your thoughts, Dr. Enys," she commented, continuing to guide them slowly around the large room. He smiled slightly, coming out of his daze. "They are worth much more than that." "Well, what is your fee? I am quite wealthy, you know," she teased. "A fee higher than any monetary value. Given that I would give my life for the thought in question." Caroline's heart fell through her entire body. He had not twelve hours ago been discharged from his naval duties, for the time being, was he already considering returning? She gently wriggled free from his embrace and took a step back. Dwight, knowing what she must be thinking, reestablished their prior closeness and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Do not distress yourself, my love. I was referring to you," he whispered before smoothly hoisting her up with his one arm until she could almost sit on his hip bone. She put her arms gently around his neck and rested her hands on top on his shoulder in order to balance herself. As he began to sing quietly and slowly spin them around, their eyes locked and Caroline wondered if there would ever be a moment in the future where she would feel more content than this. She smiled as she thought of how highly Uncle Ray would approve of the happiness Dwight had brought her. "You truly are a man of talent, my love." "I have many," he whispered against her neck, placing a kiss there. This sent a shiver down her spine. She tilted her head to look at him, her eyebrows raised coyly. "Is that so? Perhaps you should relay them all to me." He set her down gently and gazed into her eyes. "I should prefer to show you." His blue eyes were hooded with desire. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered ferociously. "Pray do." He leaned forward and repeatedly pecked her lips before breaking away teasingly. He took several steps backwards. "Would you care to join me in the bedroom, Mrs. Enys?" He offered her his hand, just as he had done the first time. Her nose crinkled and she smiled devilishly at her husband. She laced her fingers through his and eagerly pulled him along and up the winding staircase.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Nineties Revival

We’ve reached that lull in my moviegoing life where the transition from summer chaos to heavy winter releases leaves the actual theaters with barren schlock. There are a few gems out there but august has become the new January in a sense, mostly because no one wants to f*ck with the juggernaut that is Marvel, and we get a lot of underperfoming or studio abandoned films that they just want out there. August is a weird month because, while the movie released around this time are all lower budget, filler experiences, they are usually the most original flicks released. It’s a double edged sword because, while i’m glad originality is being pushed, they often suck so much ass, you know? So while the cinema recuperates over this long few weeks, it gave me an opportunity to revist and visit, a few surprises from my childhood.

Hey Arnold!: The Jungle Movie

I predate Nicktoons by a few years so i remember a world when they didn't exist. I wasn’t a huge fan of the original fare but there were a few gems. Hey Arnold was easily my second favorite of the lot. This show was amazing. It follows Arnold and his adventures growing up in Hillwood. The show is rich with characters and they all have time to shine. The Jungle Movie is a fitting close to the world we lives in with these characters. It was a little bit of stretch plotwise, but i was happy Shortman got his well deserved resolution and that Helga, the sneak true protagonist of this show, finally got her football-head. If you can’t tell, Helga is my favorite characters and i shipped the two of them hard.

Rocko’s Modern Life: Static Cling

When i was a kid, i remember loving the hell out of Rocko. It was the second coming of that raunchy, spastic, unapologetic, smut from the old Ren and Stimpy show. That mess had got cancelled because the the creator was a pedophile dick who kept teenage sex slaves but that’s a different story. Rocko came in and kind of filled that niche for a few season and then was a gone. Some, what? 23 years later, Netflix dropped a revival and i was thoroughly surprised. The sow and it’s formulas has not aged well at all but it approached this revival trend with legitimate awareness and hubris. This is basically an indictment of the Millennial obsession with nostalgia with just a sprinkling of modern politics and i kind of dig it. This is definitely a Rocko episode, but it’s a Rocko episodes for all of those kids who watched back in the day, who are 23 years older now.

Invader Zim: Enter The Florpus

Zim is my, hands down, all-time favorite Nicktoon. As far as i’m concerned, it’s the greatest thing Nickelodeon has ever created and i was livid when it got cancelled, especially when i found out it was because they simply didn’t want to pay the animation bills. Like, f*ck you guys! I mean, Invder Zim is a classic and they abandoned it because of loot? Come on, the Hot Topic merchandise proves there’s an audience for this show. Thank god for Netflix because they swooped in and bought the rights to the Florpus flick we’ve been waiting on for what seems like decades. And that wait was worth. I loved Florpus. This was everything i ever wanted out of a Zim film. While The Jungle movie gave Arnold his deserved happy ending, Florpus pretends to hand Dib his own fairy tale ending, only to snatch it away in a very Zim way. It was truly glorious. This thing is beautifully animated, giving Zim it’s proper due with a myriad of techniques that range from the absurd to the adorable to the WTF, as Zim should be. Florpus was perfectly executed and told the store it wanted to tell. It never lags or overstays it’s welcome but it does make you yearn for a new series simply because, with today's advancement in technology, Zim would look spectacular and probably wouldn’t cost near as much as it used to.

[smokeybrand]

Nineties Revival

We’ve reached that lull in my moviegoing life where the transition from summer chaos to heavy winter releases leaves the actual theaters with barren schlock. There are a few gems out there but august has become the new January in a sense, mostly because no one wants to f*ck with the juggernaut that is Marvel, and we get a lot of underperfoming or studio abandoned films that they just want out there. August is a weird month because, while the movie released around this time are all lower budget, filler experiences, they are usually the most original flicks released. It’s a double edged sword because, while i’m glad originality is being pushed, they often suck so much ass, you know? So while the cinema recuperates over this long few weeks, it gave me an opportunity to revist and visit, a few surprises from my childhood.

Hey Arnold!: The Jungle Movie

I predate Nicktoons by a few years so i remember a world when they didn't exist. I wasn’t a huge fan of the original fare but there were a few gems. Hey Arnold was easily my second favorite of the lot. This show was amazing. It follows Arnold and his adventures growing up in Hillwood. The show is rich with characters and they all have time to shine. The Jungle Movie is a fitting close to the world we lives in with these characters. It was a little bit of stretch plotwise, but i was happy Shortman got his well deserved resolution and that Helga, the sneak true protagonist of this show, finally got her football-head. If you can’t tell, Helga is my favorite characters and i shipped the two of them hard.

Rocko’s Modern Life: Static Cling

When i was a kid, i remember loving the hell out of Rocko. It was the second coming of that raunchy, spastic, unapologetic, smut from the old Ren and Stimpy show. That mess had got cancelled because the the creator was a pedophile dick who kept teenage sex slaves but that’s a different story. Rocko came in and kind of filled that niche for a few season and then was a gone. Some, what? 23 years later, Netflix dropped a revival and i was thoroughly surprised. The sow and it’s formulas has not aged well at all but it approached this revival trend with legitimate awareness and hubris. This is basically an indictment of the Millennial obsession with nostalgia with just a sprinkling of modern politics and i kind of dig it. This is definitely a Rocko episode, but it’s a Rocko episodes for all of those kids who watched back in the day, who are 23 years older now.

Invader Zim: Enter The Florpus

Zim is my, hands down, all-time favorite Nicktoon. As far as i’m concerned, it’s the greatest thing Nickelodeon has ever created and i was livid when it got cancelled, especially when i found out it was because they simply didn’t want to pay the animation bills. Like, f*ck you guys! I mean, Invder Zim is a classic and they abandoned it because of loot? Come on, the Hot Topic merchandise proves there’s an audience for this show. Thank god for Netflix because they swooped in and bought the rights to the Florpus flick we’ve been waiting on for what seems like decades. And that wait was worth. I loved Florpus. This was everything i ever wanted out of a Zim film. While The Jungle movie gave Arnold his deserved happy ending, Florpus pretends to hand Dib his own fairy tale ending, only to snatch it away in a very Zim way. It was truly glorious. This thing is beautifully animated, giving Zim it’s proper due with a myriad of techniques that range from the absurd to the adorable to the WTF, as Zim should be. Florpus was perfectly executed and told the store it wanted to tell. It never lags or overstays it’s welcome but it does make you yearn for a new series simply because, with today's advancement in technology, Zim would look spectacular and probably wouldn’t cost near as much as it used to.

[btsburgh]

Chapter 13 (The Darkest Timeline)

Tawni’s brain was firing off responses. Anything immediately available in her brain was dragged to the forefront like it would help her situation.

SWOT Analysis. How long have I been asleep? When is class? Go get your beanie. It’s on your head. Bradford. Bean’s on the balcony. Jungkook.

Jungkook?

Jungkook.

There was a single fanzine that looked at Jungkook. Eye contact was made and she could feel the electricity. The coursing feeling of sudden understanding that JK_Love97 knew that she was holding hands with THE Golden Maknae. As the girl tilted her head, and Jungkook looked at Tawni, there was no longer anything beyond fight or flight in her synapses.

“We have to go.” Tawni whispered, tugging on their joined hands urgently.

“Uh, duh. That’s where I’m going silly.” Jungkook said, his like 8’4” ass a little bit stronger than Tawni so when he tugged, she went along with him and towards the door.

“No, really.” Tawni urged, “We need to-“

But it was too late. Through the window, she could see the one girl raising a hand to pat her friend and pointing at the glass. Her oily fingerprint indicating directly at Jungkook on the window.

“Fuck.” Tawni made a decision.

———

Jordan locked her phone, effectively ignoring the call from Kim Seokjin, but also saving herself from getting dragged into another 95’s and their mother brand escapade. Namjoon seemed really distraught anyways and was tugging on Jordan’s hand.

“What’s up?” Jordan asked.

He looked away, another notification from Animal Crossing Pocket Camp pinging: Somebody new has moved into the park. And what a shame that Namjoon was more interested in the dispatch page than anything. Rocco was a truly interesting little horse that he was just ignoring because his band was making headlines or whatever. Dumb.

“So …” Namjoon clenched his jaw, obviously displeased with Rocco. Or I guess BTS. How can you be displeased with Rocco? I’ll attach a photo here like look he’s so cute.

Rocco

Anyways moving on

“Taehyung has been spotted in Busan. And Lobi never checked into a hotel.”

Jordan wrinkled her stress line free forehead (stress free because she’s never once worried about a anything besides America’s Next Top Model) and spoke, “Why are either of those things problems?”

Namjoon looked at her like she was actually insane, “Taehyung was in Seoul like two hours ago and Hoseok isn’t supposed to be-“

All of a sudden there was a scream.

No, more than that. A sea of screams. A symphony, cacophony of screams that erupted out of nowhere. In mass, in number, so many that Jordan’s ears almost curled at how polyphonic the sound was. So many sounds it created a perfect harmony. A three part chord.

Then they grew louder, punctuated by the sounds of boots and shoes on pavement. And when they looked towards their certain doom, they saw an onslaught. A mass of women, just charging. And quickly. Towards them. Specifically.

“NAMJOOON!!!” The crowd screamed.

“Oh that’s probs not lit” Jordan said.

Before she knew it, Namjoon was yanking her away and they were running.

Jordan didn’t like Jordan.

———

Bria looked to Yoongi, “Yo, fam, your hands.”

He pulled his hands up, examining them closely, “I guess I do have hands.”

———

Now, it wasn’t like Kobi intended to make joining high stakes video game tournaments part of their lore, but at a certain part in your very secretive relationship with the most talented artist on the planet, you start to make dumb decisions. Maybe because their relationship being a secret is like a plot point? But also not because Kobi is perfect lmao who am I kidding.

Anyways, they HADN’T gone to fuck in a hotel. Joke’s on you. They decided to hang out and do South Korean stuff because Kate wanted to experience where Hoseok lived and all that dumb stuff. She’d been there before, but not like this.

And definitely not when they were high key gaining traction because they were like artist of they year or whatever.

So they went and did dumb stuff. Until the ended up agreeing to play in a Mario Kart tournament. They were both quite competitive and actually really good at Marip kart. Though, Kate had the upper edge because she was a fucking beast with Yoshi on the motorcylce, but Hoseok wouldn’t really own up to that one ever.

They played a few rounds, easily surpassing the newbies who thought simple drifting would get them to first place alone. How naive of their young souls. Then eventually they ended up a little further up. Nudging each other after every match because holy shit they were better than South Korea’s best. Which is insane. South Korea has got mad skills in the video game department.

But eventually it came down to the semi-finals.

And Hoseok sat down with the guy he was against and Kate sat down to play against the random chick she was against. And you knew for a fact that they were going to have to eventually play each other ofc, but we’ll Dave that for later.

———

The crowd was gone. Dissapted in a thorough stampede towards Namjoon. For which, Tawni felt only a slight pang of guilt. Firstly because she sent a hoarde of fully energized fansites against Jordan, but also because she made the decision sans Jungkook’s guidance. Not that she had time to seek it out or anything, or that the decision was bad itself, but Tawni was a pro at beating herself up over dumbass details so here she was.

They had pulled their hoods over their faces and escaped quickly into Seoul’s more forgiving city streets. In fact, there was a little drizzle right then. Just slight raindrops across the fabric of their hoods, and a dampness in the air that they breathed. It might have been spring break, but it was still pretty chilly, even a whole 24 hour flight away it was chilly. So Tawni could see her breath as she let Jungkook tug her through alleys and streets.

She knew he liked to take pictures and be some dumbass artistic bitch because he was good at literally everything for no reason, so he roamed the streets of this city on occasion with his own hood up and a fake name to give when he eventually stopped to order ice cream. But right now it was apparent that he knew these streets. He dragged her along until he saw a little late night noodle shop, and pulled her inside, snatching his phone as soon as he did.

“Kookie, I’m sorry about-“ Tawni started.

But he cut her off, “No, it was hilarious. Namjoon’s gonna kick my ass, but it’s so worth it.”

Well, at least she knew he was seriously because he lit up like a little bunny rabbit. Smiling with mischief because, yeah it was a little fucked, but also oa little fun. The thrill of getting caught. The thrill of sending a hoarse of random women after Namjoon.

Serves him right for getting mad when everybody suggested an acoustic version of Expensive Girl.

But after a couple of seconds on his phone, Tawni realized that not all was fun and games.

“Come on, we definitely shouldn’t stand around.” Tawni raged Jugnkook towards the noodle bar.

Luckily, Tawni was a master at Duolingo and Memrise, and had managed to fully finish out the food ordering portion of the apps which comes directly before the “how to speak to wise owls in Korean” but after “deciphering basic prophecies” and “colors” so she was well versed, but nowhere near fluent.

But noodle ordering - totally okay.

She ordered them two bowls in extremely broken Korean. The woman behind the counter looked to Jungkook on more than one occasion during Tawni’s epic struggle, but he seemed eight feet buried in his phone, so he was no help whatsoever.

But, after multiple interpretations of the woman thinking Tawni was ordering “gay bear noodles” instead of sesame bulgogi, they got their food and sat down.

“What’s the problem,” she asked very carefully.

Jungkook bit his lip, “So I guess Kobi aren’t at a hotel?”

“She’s really not tapping that right now? Damn.” Tawni took a bite of definitely not gay bear noodles.

“it’s hard to hook up in hotels for us. Everybody knows our face and we have to show it so they can identify us.” Jungkook explained, not even touching the noodles Tawni had walked through hell and high water to order. “But there’s also Taehyung … I guess he-“

Then they turned their heads to the sound of a sudden flashing.

———

Like Pascal, guiding his boat through a treacherous storm, they dove into safe shelter, Jordan taking Namjoon with her as they glided underneath an overpass.

They palstered themselves against cold stone walls and just took in long, labored breaths. They didn’t want to risk breathing too loudly and alerting anyone to their location. And a few seconds later, they heard the terrible sounds of clattering boots against cement.

But they grew louder, and louder, and louder. The screams of excited young Korean women filled their ears. Over took their senses until suddenly they were duller, quieter, and became distant. In a second, the hoard had passed, moving on to the green pastures of wherever it was they decided that may be. Not Namjoon certainly, since he was heaving against a brick wall next to Jordan.

“Yo that was intense. I saw my life flash before my eyes.” Namjoon exhaled.

Jordan nodded. “So since you leaned close to death have you changed your mind about that acoustic version of expensive girl?”

Namjoon glared, “I decided I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Understandable.” Jordan nodded, “have a nice day.”

But then her phone rang.

Jordan’s, not Namjoon’s.

Oh shit I guess the pronouns gave that away wtf. Anywys. Shit. Anyways. Jodan’s phone rings and she’s like

“Yo, what up, It’s J-Dumpster. Can I help?”

There’s low breathing on the other end of the line, breathing sh recognizes as Seokjin’s so she pulls the phone from her face and hits the speaker phone button like any middle aged soccer mom might do if her fully grown son had called her.

“Please.” Seokjin said softly. “Taehyung’s gone.”

Namjoon leaned in closer to the phone. “First of all, bitch, why didn’t you call me? Secondly, I’m sure Taehyung’ sfine. He’s probably getting ready to make chalk murals in Busan right now.”

Seokjin’s breathing became heavier, “I can’t talk. Just. He’s not safe. Send-“

The signal cut off.

Namjoon straightened himself out.

Jordan didn’t. “He’s joking, right?”

Namjoon looked steely. Like Jensen Ackles. Or Christian Bale as Batman, he looked steely cold.

“Seokjin doesn’t joke.”

———

Kate had finished her match in record time. As to be expected from the best Mario Kart player in the whole universe. She finished with no problems. Coasting through the course and even hitting those treacherous Canyon glider sections with precision and ease.

Even Hoseok finished as well. Not as well, obviously. He took one fall on Bowser’s Castle, but luckily the guy he was playing against was also a little bit clunky and ate it on one of those ghost brick things. When he won, everybody knew because he jumped into the air, popping and screaming and hollering like Hoseok does. And when he was finished, dashed back to the board to see …

“Wait, what?” Hoseok asked, turning in confusion.

He saw that Kate’s name had been advanced to the finals but not his. In fact, both his name and the guy he was playing against were marked out on the enormous inflatable velcro board they had put shit on. Why they didn’t use a white-board, I have no idea, but this is South Korea so they take their e-sports seriously.

“You’re disqualified,” A man said.

He appeared from shrouded darkness, a familiarity too him as he stood in the open light now. The overhead lighting cast shadows against his face and Hoseok squinted like … Maybe he’d seen him before. Some other time. Some other place. Some other … life.

“What?” He asked, “I didn’t … Wait, do I know you?”

“I am Byun Baekhyun. King of all gamers here in Korea.” He narrowed his eyes, “You may be a more famous idol than me in this realm, but you made the mistake of stepping foot in here. Where I have all the control.”

“What? You’re an idol?” Hoseok stepped forward, lowering his voice, “Listen, Don’t-don’t tell anybody who I am, okay? I can’t get caught out with a girl or else all 10 million girls following my twitter account will have me thrown into the ocean or something.”

Baekhyun didn’t respond for a moment, tugging the dark, thick cloak I just decided he was wearing tighter to his body. He seemed to contemplate the sentence for longer than necessary, the sounds of impatience ringing in his ears.

“Accept an unrightfully disqualification.” He whispered.

Hoseok stepped back, shifting the mask on this face as he looked around and pulling his ball cap further down. I was gonna give him a bucket hat to be In Character™ but like I decided since this is my universes, I can do whatever the fuck I want and I want no balenciaga’s or bucket hats in this universe. ACTUALLY LOVE YOURSELF HASNT COME OUT YET SO HE DOESNT EVEN HAVE THE MONEY FOR BALENCIAGAS SO ITS CANONICALLY CORRECT

Anyways

“No!” Hoseok stifled his voice, “I won fair and square. I can’t just let Kate take the title.”

“Wow, you’re a shitty boyfriend,” Baekhyun rolled his eyes, “But fine, I’ll just post on our Facebook page that you and her were here. Playing Mario Kart. Together.”

Hoseok bit his lip. “Okay, fine. I’m disqualified. Just don’t post any pictures.”

Baekhyun clapped his hands.

Just then, as if it was written that way, Kate bounded up to them. JK I don’t bound places. I dissolved into the air next to Hoseok like a badass.

“Whaddup”

“Congrats!” Hoseok shouted, “I uh … I got disqualified so you win.”

Kate turned to him with furrowed brows. “You got disqualified? For why?”

He tugged his collar, “I uh … I used cheat codes. I’m sorry.”

Kate didn’t really believe it but hey, “So yeah, I’m the best bitch at Mario kart then.”

“Well,” Baekhyun chuckled, “Not exactly. You would have to defeat the reigning champion for that.”

“Reigning Champion my ass,” Kate said, “I’ll whoop their ass, lemme at ‘em”

“A CHALLENGER!” Baekhyun exclaimed, flinging his arms open so his dark cloak spread wide like wings of blackened angel. He then slowly took his phone out of one of the folds. “Let me call him real quick tho.”

———

“Listen to this,” Yoongi held up a finger, looking very seriously.

“Fam, I’ve been listening.” Bria laughed.

“Good,” Yoongi paused for 35 seconds before slowly reaching over and pressing a key on his keyboard.

A single Eb note rang out followed by silence.

“Shit,” Bria exhaled, “That’s genius.”

———

Now you see, Tawni’s a photographer. She knows intimately how cameras work … or at least, she knows enough. Enough to get how white balance functions.

White balance is not, contrary to popular belief, the balance of power that keeps white folk as the oppressors because they were too pale to deal with the sun and had to creat their own toughness.

White balance is actually how a camera determines color and lighting. Meaning that if a dark tone is set as white because there’s very little white in the photo, it will balance the photo out color and lighting wise to fit. However, if there’s too much white and light tone is set, it will blow out the photo and make it basically a white blur of incomprehensibility.

It’s also important to note most people set their white balance on auto which does not handle sudden change well

Meaning that when Tawni yanked the table cloth up off the very nice table in the noodle shop they were eating, the fanzine’s cameras couldn’t adjust in time, and the photos instantly became … white blurs.

Which gave them just enough to -

“Run!”

“Again??” Jungkook looked surprised, “I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Listen, I love food too, but we have got to go, bitch.” Tawni stood up from the table, still shrouded by the falling cloth.

Cameras continued to flash as Jungkook looked longingly at his bowl on noodles.

“COME ON!” Tawni shouted.

Jungkook grabbed the noodles and they bolted.

It didn’t take long for the horde of fansites to lose them as well. Which was a bummer because they’d lost Jungkook and Namjoon in one day. Which is tough because Jungkook is very large and Namjoon is very slow so they aren’t usually easy to lose.

But Tawni and Jungkook had made themselves at home in a very, very tiny alley way. The space was just thin enough for both of them to slide into side by side, the cold, damp brick of soeul buildings holding them both upright. Jungkook was scoping noodles into his mouth by the truck fulls and Tawni’s not extremely athletic so she was catching her breath.

“Sorry,” Jungkook shoveled noodles in-between muffled words, “This is a shitty first date.”

“First date?” Tawni asked, “You mean us seeing Justin Bieber was like a pregame or?”

Jungkook laughed, swallowing the last of his noodles, “As long as you don’t hate Korea because of me, then it’s fine.”

“I could never hate Korea. You’re here.” Tawni, the dumbest person ever, said.

Jungkook lit up a little, lowering his bowl, “Okay, but you’re catching it at a really good time it’s not always like this.”

“What do you mean?” Tawni cocked her head, “What’s different about it right now?”

“You’re in it …” He smiled goofily.

And I won’t even pretend they were gonna lean in and kiss bc y’all bitches know that shit ain’t happening until at least he comes back to America.

But his phone did ring. And he picked it up, eyes widening as he got zero words in. The chatter on the end of the line was rapid and demanding until it burned out, just barely letting him speak.

“Now?” He got out.

“Now!” The other person yelled.

The call ended.

“So uh … your mom?” Tawni asked.

Jungkook looked wide-eyed and bewildered. “We have to get back to the dorms. Taehyung’s missing.”

Tawni rolled her eyes, “Are you for real? I’m sure he’s rescuing puppies in Gwangju right now. Can’t we stay out a little longer? Do they really need you?”

Jungkook looked unamused, “This is my career, Tawni. Seriously, let’s go.”

———

Namdan and Tawkie arrived at almost the same time to the dorms.

Namjoon slammed the elevator buttons, breaking through to the other side and sighing as he did so.

“Gonna have to put that on the list,” Jungkook said softly.

“Yeah,” Namjoon glared at him, “I’ll put it on the fucking list.”

He reached up as the elevator started and took a pen from a holder to write on a yellow pad of paper pasted to the inside fo the dorm elevators. He scribbled:

Sorry, broke three more buttons. Please take from my next paycheck - Joonie

Jordan raised her eyebrows, “That’s …”

“Don’t.” Namjoon held up a hand.

When they got to the dorms, they found it in disarray. It hadn’t been cleaned when Jimin and Seokjin got back. In fact, there was more damage if that was possible. Jimin was sitting on the couch, staring at his phone, but when they arrived, he immediately stood up.

“Hey!” Jimin scratched his neck, “Uh, nice of you to rendez-vous. Seokjin’s not feeling well so if you could-“

“I need to talk to him.” Namjoon stated, walking over towards his room, but Jimin leapt in front of him.

“You really don’t!” Jimin said, sweat on his brow.

“Move, Jimin.” Namjoon said softly, “Or we will move you.”

Jimin swallowed. “You can’t move m-“

Jungkook promptly lifted Jimin up off the ground and slung him over his shoulder. They five of them, four willingly, and one squirming on Jungkook’s shoulder which Tawni wished she was, but wasn’t, made their way to Yoongi and Jin’s room at the end of the hall.

“No!” Jimin shouted, “You don’t want to do this!”

They passed the studios which exist in the dorms in this universe because I realized there was a major plot hole and idk how to handle that so I just decide that it’s not the way it is lmao. Then walked up to the room where Namjoon looked to the others as he reached for the doorknob.

“Fine!” Jimin yelled, clenching his jaw and adopting a serious demeanor. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Namjoon opened the door.

And on the other side was Jin. Laying face up, covered in ramen.

“What the fuck.” Jordan said, pinching her nose.

Like we’re talking, fully cooked and seasoned packets of instant ramen, but like sixty of them, because only his head, hands and feet appeared out of places in the mound of stringy noodles. His face was gaunt, pale and worn in from stress and neglect. His eyes were hollow as they stared up at the ceiling and his mouth was just repeatedly mouthing I don’t give a shit I don’t give a fuck over and over, yet no noise came out.

“Oh boy,” Namjoon looked to the others, “Let me handle this.”

He walked past the threshold and the minute his foot hit the floor beyond the door Jin halted his chant. Namjoon took another tentative step inside and Jin slowly, in the way a body might rise from the dead, tilted his head up to look at Namjoon.

Jin spoke with a high accent, one entirely made up as well. “Oh! It’s my betrothed come back from war. Lydia, how I’ve missed your face.”

“Not … Lydia.” Namjoon said slowly, shaking his head and taking more careful steps across the room towards the pile of noodlejin.

Jin followed him intently with his eyes but remained motionless as he rounded to come squat by his side. “Oh Lydia, how are the valkyries fairing these days? I hope you haven’t fought too hard, my love.”

“Still not Lyida,” Namjoon sighed, falling into a cross-legged position next to Jin and letting out a sigh, “Or a valkyrie for that matter.”

Jin didn’t respond, mouthing nonsense for just a moment until his gathered something else in his jumbled brain. “Lydia, you’re frightening me.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Alright, I’m Lydia. Yo, whaddup, Lydia in the house.”

Jin smiled, “Ah, Lydia. How I’ve missed your humor. Always the trickster you. However, I do have to admit that things have no been well in your absence. The Kingdom is in disarray.”

“How so?” Namjoon asked.

“We’ve lost a squire, Kim Taehyung. You may remember him. He was always a bit odd. But he’s been taken from us. I fear,” Jin looked back towards the ceiling with his hollow eyes, “For the worst.”

“The worst?” Namjoon asked, “What do you mean?”

Jin shook his head. Denying any further comment.

“Come on, Jin. Tell me.”

Jin looked to Namjoon, but kept his mouth shut, turning back to the ceiling. “It’s unspeakable.”

Namjoon let his head fall, staring down at his feet for a moment. This has only happened once before. When Hoseok got sick off of a dish Jin made, he wrapped himself in carefully deconstructed bento boxes and called himself Mr. Roboto for 36 hours until eventually Namjoon snapped him out of it.

“Jin. I need you back, buddy. I know you’re blaming yourself for whatever happened but you can’t make multiple personalities every time something goes wrong that you decide is your fault.”

Jin sighed, “Lydia … I fear I am too far gone.”

“Jin.” Namjoon looked him in the eyes. “They named somebody else World Wide Handsome.”

There was a moment of silence.

Then Jin snapped up, the mound of noodles slopping away and spilling into Namjoon’s lap as Jin sat up wearing a t-shirt and boxers. “Hold the fucking phone, bitch, what?”

Jungkook shook his head, “I don’t know how Namjoon does it.”

———

“Alright, so Taehyung’s been kidnapped.” Jin said, pointing a stick at 20 pieces of printer paper Jimin and Jungkook had taped to the wall and scribbled details of a plan on. “By some sort of high risk Korean gang. They left me a voicemail saying we can come with four bajillion won by ourselves tomorrow at noon to these coordinates.” He slapped the stick to a poorly drawn image the resembled Apple Maps and a pin where the coordinates led. “Or they’ll send a real ransom to bighit.”

“Oh,” Jimin leaned back on the couch, “That’s fine. Let the authorities handle it once they send a ransom, he’ll be fine.”

“There’s more.” Jin cleared his throat, “They’ll send his nudes to AllKPOP.”

“Shit,” Namjoon breathed, “We gotta make that drop tomorrow.”

“But we don’t have four bajillion dollars.” Jungkook noted, leaning up from the tiny armchair that he and Tawni had crammed themselves into. “And we don’t know where Kate, Hobi, Bria, or Yoongi are either.”

“Oh, well,” Jimin raised his hand, “Yoongi’s here actually.”

———

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Jin held three fingers to Yoongi’s face.

Yoongi concentrated on his fingers for a very, very long time before breaking down into laughter, “These are Jin’s hands, not Hoseok’s!”

Bria leaned forward and grabbed Jin’s hand. “You’re right! What the fuck, this buzzfeed quiz is so hard!”

“Next one!” Yoongi leaned back in his chair.

Jin nodded, “Yeah, they’re gone.”

“Gone with the wind,” Yoongi said softly, “A good novel.”

“I want to see the movie,” Bria said too, “Should we go?”

“Shit, right now?” Young looked at his bare wrist, “The movie theaters don’t open until noon here.”

“Oh, we have an hour or two,” Bria settled back in the couch to wait.

Jungkook looked between them, “It’s 10 PM, guys.”

Yoongi scrunched his eyebrows together before bringing his wrist back up and looking at it more closely, “You’re definitely wr-“

Namjoon burst out, “THERES NO WATCH ON YOUR WRIST YOONGI!!”

“Cool!!” Jin and Jungkook grabbed Namjoon and pulled him back and to the other side of the studio. They held him firmly as he thrashed, random and uncontrollable rage taking his body suddenly.

“Cool!” Jin yelled, “Stay cool!”

Namjoon took a slow deep breath. “You’re right man, we gotta figure this out.”

“Yeah, we found two. We just need one more couple and then we’re good. We can figure out how to retrieve Taehyung in the morning and-“ Just then Jungkook’s phone rang and he took the call, stepping away for a moment and plugging one ear.

“Actually,” Jimin said, “If we can find Hoseok and Kate then I think I have a plan for getting Taehyung back. But we need all hands on deck.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nodded even though he was on a phone call so nobody could hear him, “I’ll be there in ten.”

Everybody looked at him as he turned back to address the crowd, suddenly calm. “So … I know where Kate and Hoseok are. But I have to be the one that gets them.”

“I’ll go with.” Tawni said.

Namjoon agreed, “Good idea, if he’s dressed up and with a girl nobody will suspect it’s Jungkook.”

“Hey, I’m-“

Jimin interrupted Jungkook, “And we can stay here and prepare for getting Taehyung tomorrow. But we’re gonna need lots and lots of black clothing.”

“Shit,” Yoongi laughed from the couch, “That’s crazy. I have lots of black clothing.”

Jordan nodded, “Let’s get cooking.”