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cf56 · 2 years ago

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My thoughts on episode 8

SPOILERS for season 3, episode 8 of the Animaniacs reboot

Ah, time to watch another episode of Animaniacs, an episode I have definitely never seen before and definitely have not had an entire emotional breakdown over. The previews for this one got me hyped. I can't wait to see that 3D animation!

On a serious note, if you're a big fan of this episode, you probably shouldn't read this review. I'll try to avoid retreading ground I've already covered, and I'll try to keep my criticism reasonable and logical so hopefully everyone can at least see my side of things, even if you don't ultimately agree.

The episode starts off with the worst dialogue exchange ever written into Animaniacs.

It's just as shocking and painful to watch now as it was the first time. Wakko's expression here will haunt me and bring back bad memories for years to come.

This exchange is just such an impressively perfect storm of awfulness. If you changed any one thing about it, it wouldn't be so historically atrocious. It would still be bad, but not "makes me question my Animaniacs fandom" bad. What really sends it over the top for me is how Dot reacts to Wakko coming back and being alive. If she and Yakko simply greeted him cheerfully, it would be made super clear that it was entirely a joke and they were only messing around. I'd still hate it. I just wouldn't need to write a fic to cover it up. Instead, there's just no payoff. It's played straight until the end, when Dot is actually disappointed that her brother isn't actually dead. It's so unnecessarily overbearing. I know the entire thing is supposed to be sarcasm, but like... where's the joke? What's supposed to be funny about it? Haha, we don't value our brother and would be better off without him, but we don't actually mean it! Oh no, he's not actually dead, but I'm only being sarcastically disappointed over it. You can laugh now.

You know, I actually take it back. Dot's disappointment didn't really seem sarcastic at all. It just felt mean-spirited, straight up.

They had to realize something was wrong here. They specifically made it so Wakko didn't hear or react to what his siblings were saying. At least subconsciously, they knew that if Wakko heard it, the cruelty of the whole thing would be amplified tenfold. And it was already pretty damn amplified. Wakko not hearing it doesn't make this moment any better for the characters of Yakko and Dot.

I think these Warners are the real alien imposters, not the ones we saw in episode 6. They're implanted by aliens or the studio to make poor Wakko think he isn't loved.

It's pretty funny to hear the Warners say "Jackass Monkey" so casually.

No, Yakko, you are not technically a boomer. Baby boomers were born from 1946 to 1964. You were born in 1929, making you a member of the Silent Generation. (Ironic, isn't it?) Also, it doesn't even make a difference, since Wakko is the same age as you by that logic, and he clearly loves video games. Hey, you were the one who wanted to be technical about it.

Lore item: I believe this is our first confirmation ever that the Warners have red blood flowing through their veins, and not just ink or nothing. So, if they bled, they would canonically bleed red. Just a thought for all you angsty fan creators out there...

They also have real, organic organs and are not just inky blobs all the way through.

I thought the easter eggs were cool. Some folks probably didn't like them because they felt like teases for segments we never really got in the reboot, but I was fine with it.

Slappy still in the process of giving Chicken Boo that beating two seasons later.

I thought the 3D animation looked really nice. I was genuinely super excited to see it before the episode came out, and I hoped that the main thing I'd be doing was pausing to admire the animation. Other things overshadowed that, unfortunately.

On their own, the Wakko smells jokes would be fine. It's the kind of teasing that's in-bounds for the Warners, and this isn't the first time they've made fun of such a thing. Combined with what happened earlier, though, it just feels like the Wakko abuse keeps piling up. It feels like someone writing the episode randomly decided to choose Wakko as a target to pick on for the entire episode, and by proxy that makes it feel like Yakko and Dot randomly decided to choose Wakko as a target to pick on for the entire episode. It makes them feel like bullies. It's the total opposite of how their dynamic should be- take a few innocent jabs at your siblings, sure, but 99% of the harsh teasing should be directed outside of the group.

On a positive note, Wakko sticking his tongue out in 3D is really cute.

"Warner Brothers has STANDARDS! Well, not artistic standards, obviously."

Obviously...

Now, I said before that Yakko's apology to Wakko was a flimsy cop out, but I never went into detail on why I felt that way.

Let me be clear. If you removed the dialogue at the beginning at the episode, Yakko's apology would be a great sibling moment. I mean, reboot Yakko actually verbally expressing that he cares about Wakko? I'd be freaking out in a positive way. If it only happened after a couple jokes about Wakko's scent, it would be good.

However, taking into account everything that's happened, how Wakko has been a target to ruthlessly pick on since the instant the episode first started, the apology feels condescending and insincere to me.

If we got to the point that sweet, oblivious Wakko actually felt the need to call out his older brother, who he idolizes, over always picking on him, you know it's already pretty bad. He even points out one of the primary issues with it- Yakko is punching down when he makes fun of Wakko. Wakko is his little sibling who he's supposed to protect and support.

Yakko then responds with the same logic a schoolyard bully uses. "Come on, can't you take a joke?" The bully says, after making a target out of this one kid for the entire schoolyear. You might call it an overreaction to compare Yakko to a bully here. For one, I'm only using an example to show why this moment doesn't hit for me. Secondly, at least I had the sense to edit out the lines where I compared him to an abuser. Thirdly, I agree. It's a tragedy that I'm comparing Yakko to a bully right now. Wakko spoke up to try to defend himself against his siblings, and Yakko's response wasn't to genuinely apologize and promise to stop doing it- it was to justify his behavior and dig in deeper. Sibling teasing is sibling teasing, but if your family member who you love has to actually come up to you and tell you point blank that it's going too far, and you refuse to see the error of your ways, that's when it's really gone too far.

The last reason this is a flimsy apology- if this is how you express your love for Wakko, because picking on him is easier than saying you care, then why don't you do the same to Dot? There's still clearly favoritism being shown here towards one sibling, which is awful. Also, it's not how you show your affection. We've seen how Yakko shows affection. We've seen it explicitly, and it's nothing like this. Go watch Wakko's Wish if you don't know what I'm talking about.

I at least appreciate that they always kept the Warners as one unit and didn't ever have them fight each other.

I did find the echoed "d'ah"s to be funny, even as I was watching this the first time with my soul being ripped in two.

I didn't watch Starbox and Cindy the first time around, so as far as I'm concerned this is the entire new episode for me this time. I thought it was clever how they had a battle over lights in a child's room. I thought it was sad how Starbox has been Stockholm Syndromed into loving the self-admitted scary monster.

Through 8 episodes, there have been as many Starbox and Cindy segments as there have been Warner songs.

I feel like the Gold Warners had more potential than this. The concept of alternate copies of the Warners for the Warners to battle is interesting, but the problem is that these copies are nothing like the regular Warners. They don't talk, so you can't actually have an interesting battle of personalities that would naturally make up a Warner vs. Warner fight.

Wakko defending Dot is a GOLDEN sibling moment. But... you know what I'm about to say. I would freak out and cherish this moment forever in almost any other context. In the context it's been given, it only makes me kind of sad. Because Wakko still has a heart of gold, Wakko still stays loyal and true to his siblings, even when they have thoroughly proven they don't deserve it. And even when Wakko steps up to defend his siblings, and ends up being the one to save the day and show them how to get out of there, they don't even mention it afterwards. They don't apologize for how they treated him. They don't thank him for saving them. If there was only some kind of payoff at the very end, it would be at least a little palatable. There just isn't. Wakko is the only Warner who comes out of this episode looking like a good sibling. It just gives me the image of my mind of Yakko and Dot as bullies to their innocent brother who loves them unconditionally despite everything they've done to him, which is not even close to how the Warners should be in reality or how they're portrayed in any other episode.

Just Ralph being a better friend to Wakko than his own siblings in this episode:

I guess I should briefly talk about the video game characters in this episode.

Honestly, the best part about them was their names and character designs.

In this episode, Wakko:

-Heard his sister celebrating his death

-Still happily interacted with his sibs immediately after and got them into something that makes him happy

-Sat around and took care of the tower by himself for six months while his sibs played his favorite video game, not even playing with them or being able to talk to them at all

-After Yakko and Dot came back to consciousness, Yakko immediately physically fought with him over the privilege of being player 1

-Got a lame special move compared to his siblings

-Got his smell constantly made fun of by his own siblings

-Had to call Yakko out over it and got a paper-thin "apology" as a response

-Defends his sister, despite everything, by hurting himself. This is the second time in the episode he's gotten smashed by his own mallet.

-Fights with Ralph over the remote as soon as he gets out so he can save his siblings from the game

-Does not even get a hug or a smile from his siblings once they're out due to his heroics. At least, not one we were shown.

This episode is frustrating. There's so much good about it. The animation is so cool. There are funny jokes. There are multiple great sibling moments on a level above anything else we've explicitly seen in the reboot. If only that first minute was cut completely, I would consider this a great episode. It wasn't cut, unfortunately, and it drags everything else down with it. Doesn't it almost feel like the writers of this episode put in a bunch of wholesome sibling moments, realized they didn't want to give us that much, and decided to "balance it out" with all that awfulness? If that is the case, I hate it even more. They simply don't understand what we want from these characters. Is it fair to say an entire episode is bad because of one horrible dialogue at the very start? Honestly, I don't really care. That dialogue doesn't just drag down this episode. It drags down the season, the reboot, and my entire Animaniacs fandom. I can't help how I feel.

I don't think, even after everything I've said, that you guys understand the true depth of the effect this episode has had on me. When I was first spoiled over the infamous lines, I was at a point where I was feeling more passionate over Animaniacs and writing than I had since I first started all of this. I had just finished reading a fic, Don't You Forget About Me, that destroyed me in the good, angsty kind of way. That fic is about the Warners being magically made to forget about one another. It tore me apart to read about their relationships being destroyed so easily in the fic, to see them turned against each other. When I read that spoiler, back in early January, it was like it had all come true. What meaning does it have to read about them forgetting about each other when they apparently never had much care for each other in the first place? All the deep feelings I was feeling over that fic completely disappeared, in literally an instant. I went back to read it, and I felt nothing. (Through no fault of the fic- it's still really great.) At the time, I had an angsty one shot in the works, I was getting progress on so many fics at once. Reading that spoiler killed all that passion in an instant. Put simply, if this dialogue never existed, you would have gotten about 4-5 more fanfic releases from me over the past month than you actually got. I've barely touched any of those WIPs since.

Despite all the good, I can't ever forgive this episode for what it did to me. It has been super touching to feel all the love from the fandom after I expressed my emotions over this episode. It's nice to know we're in the same boat. Even after all of that, even with all the good in this episode, if I had the option to erase it from existence completely, to make it as if it never happened, would I do it?

Yes. In a heartbeat. I'm still not sure if my fandom will recover from what this episode did to me.

If you're a defender of that dialogue, I want you to know that I respect your opinion. I also want you to know that we're simply not on the same wavelength when it comes to how we view this show and its characters. Could those lines be classified as just harmless sibling banter? Maybe in your sibling relationship, but not in mine. It's been a little insulting to me to see the few out there who have claimed that only those without siblings would take issue over these lines. I've watched 133 episodes of Animaniacs and one movie. I've dedicated half my life to this show. I can tell you that what the Warners did here is not even close to in-character for them. To me, it truly feels like Yakko and Dot were replaced by unfeeling aliens for an episode.

Was this the least entertaining episode of Animaniacs ever? Far from it. If you showed this season to someone off the street who's never seen Animaniacs, they almost certainly wouldn't rank this episode as the worst of all of them. They'd probably rank it as one of the best. 90% of it is good, after all. 5% of it is mindblowingly bad. If someone who hasn't watched Animaniacs before saw this episode and only this episode, what impression would they get of the sibling relationship between Yakko, Wakko, and Dot? To me, they'd come off as bullies to the one true-hearted member of the group, Wakko, and that's heartbreaking to think about. So, while I gave it some thought, I can't do it. I can't rank this episode anywhere other than last. I hope to God that it stays there.

My current ranking of season 3 episodes:

Episode 6

Episode 3

Episode 7

Episode 4

Episode 2

Episode 1

Episode 5

Episode 8

Feel free to add to the never-ending discussion over this episode if you want, but don't say anything about any of the episodes that come after. They're all I have left to look forward to.

#animaniacs #animaniacs season 3 #animaniacs reboot #animaniacs 2020 #animaniacs screenshots #animaniacs analysis #animaniacs spoilers #animaniacs episode 8 #cfposts

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toestalucia · 7 months ago

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I STILL have not watched versus&rising im gonna be honest with u BUT heavy heavy heaviest rising spoilers <33333333 (also main story spoilers

anyway im actually kind of worried about dad considering uh. rising casually having mom lore. like. 'i am your mother'. can u imagine releasing rising right after the most devastating story chs in gbf & us going to estalucia next update and being like 'hello heres ur mom. things are Not great and the implied dialogue is Hell'. fully understand all the 'rein.....O_O' comments they made on the rising streams JKBKADJD I GET IT NOOWWWWW (<-when it was released and my friend dm'd me asking me if i want spoilers)

like im sincereeeelllyyyyy hoping he's okay-ish but its also? if he went to estalucia for mom id like that. he returned to zinkenstill with a baby, and then left like 6-8 years later. i admittedly dont think he'd leave on a whim (theres also the part of how much happened ~10yrs ago). was the otherworld involved. was the kings eye involved. was mom dead before he returned to zinkenstill or. what is different in our timeline compared to the others (i saw one of the rising trailers and they use the bg art for the tree violet knight sits on in one of reins visions(??????)..................)

sorry risingers who r screaming that this is readily available knowledge IM GONNA WATCH THE STORY THIS MONTH I PROMISE i wanna pick up rein. i alrdy told kaitlyn that. but ill make it a separate blog cuz what the hell that is a SPOILER. but depending on it i might pick up dad too <-captain obsession

beyond hilarious baha made her goth tho. rein u r so fkng cool i love mothers u never couldve prepared me for mom to appear in the SIDEGAMES. theres a gran @ mom thing i rly wanna write. because to me theres certain things that gran doesnt want to hear from their parents? like..what happened happened.

GAMERS WHERE IS MY NOTES OF WALFRID TALKING ABOUT MOM had to grab it myself again

Walfrid: There's one more thing I need to apologize to you for. In all this talk about your father's journey, one piece of the puzzle has never been mentioned. You know what that is, don't you? I'm referring to your mother.

Walfrid: Yes, I know her very well. She was another great friend on our journey. In fact, she set off on the journey with your father right from the start. Gran: What kind of person was she? Walfrid: She was a compassionate woman, coming from a line of maidens who worshipped the god of the Sky Realm. Katalina: What? Then the maiden who sent Vyrn was… Walfrid: Yes, her. She lived in the same area as Gran's father. She grew up with her parents and younger sister in happiness. But then an incident compelled them to Vyrn and leave. (Taking cause and effect into consideration, this all dates back to when the sky was formed…) Vyrn: …? Walfrid shakes his head as if to dismiss his idle thoughts and returns to the topic at hand.

Walfrid: I have my reasons for not wanting to discuss that woman in too much detail. The truth is I don't know anything about her at present. As in I don't know where she is or what she's doing. I don't even know if she's safe.

Walfrid: But I have a feeling you will meet her at some point as your journey unfolds. You should prepare yourself for when that day arrives.

dialogues that lives in my head at all times

#stardust speaking !#gbf spoilers #gbf versus rising spoilers #sorry ill be normal now

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mariacallous · 2 years ago

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Alexandra Pelosi is at home in New York, preparing a birthday party for her 15-year-old son, and pops up on Zoom beside a sign that says: “Don’t work for assholes. Don’t work with assholes.” When our interview begins with the most unimaginative of queries – “How are you?” – she is in no mood for casual conversation.

“How am I supposed to answer that question?” the fast-talking film-maker bats back. “Look, I don’t know how you do polite small talk because I’ve just been through basically like both of my parents’ funerals.”

To be clear, neither of Alexandra’s parents is dead. Her father Paul Pelosi, 82, is undergoing a slow and painful recovery from a hammer attack in late October by a home intruder. Her mother Nancy Pelosi, also 82, last month announced her retirement as Democratic leader in the House of Representatives, assured of a place in history as the first female speaker.

Alexandra, 52, recalls that, when her father emerged from intensive care, his house looked like a funeral home because so many well-wishers sent flowers. “I was reading the notes from his friends and I was like, this is great, ’cos you get to go to your own funeral, ’cos you get to see what people say about you when you die. I’m putting a good spin on it, trying to cheer him up.”

Then she went to Washington for her mother’s long goodbye. “If you’re in politics and you step down, it’s like going to your own funeral because you get to read your own obituary. Essentially it’s like I’ve read both of my parents’ obituaries and nowI have to keep living with two living people. That’s surreal.”

The pitiless assault on Paul Pelosi was one of the most disturbing examples yet of America’s increasingly coarse, polarised and violent political culture. He has told how he was sleeping when a man he had never seen before entered his bedroom looking for Nancy, who was in Washington at the time.

Officers responding to Paul’s 911 call found him and David DePape, 42, fighting over a hammer, according to a federal indictment. An officer ordered DePape to drop the hammer but he responded, “ummm nope,” before forcefully swinging it at Paul, who was treated at a hospital for a fractured skull.

DePape last month pleaded not guilty to federal charges of attempting to kidnap a federal official and assaulting a federal official’s family member. Paul, wearing a hat and glove on one hand, made his first public appearance since the assault at the recent Kennedy Center Honors in Washington.

“Wasn’t that amazing?” asks Alexandra, who has been struggling to sleep and has had nightmares about the incident. “Come on, you can’t be a bitter old journalist! I think every member of our family cried when they saw that because that’s the first time he left the house. That was a nice 10 seconds of his life but he has to live with traumatic brain injury for the rest of his life and he’s 82. If it could’ve been me, I would have loved to have been in his place.”

She reflects: “It’s been very dark for all of us. We all process it differently. I’ve been very dark because the minute it happened I got on a plane with my mom and went to San Francisco. We sat in the ICU for a week and I was very upset because my mother loves to tell the story that, when I was 16, she came to me and said, ‘Mommy has the chance to run for Congress and I will only do it if you give me your permission but I’d have to be gone three nights a week.’ I was like, ‘Mom, get a life!’

“She loves that story and so then we were sitting in the ICU 35 years later and I was like, ‘If I had known that this is where it was going to end, I never would have given you my blessing that day 35 years ago.’But my dad was like, you can’t say that because it’s not fair to erase her career just because of this; you have to say, if you came to me today, I would not give you my permission because of how toxic the social media environment is.”

Alexandra’s son, Paul, is named after her father and worships him. He was with her at the US Capitol when it came under attack from a mob of Donald Trump supporters on 6 January 2021. “He was asking me that day, ‘Mom, why do all these people want to kill MiMi?’ I couldn’t come up with an answer. Because of the Affordable Care Act? I don’t know.

“I know that if you watch Fox News, you hate Nancy Pelosi because they’ve programmed you to hate Nancy Pelosi and, if I watched Fox News, I would hate Nancy Pelosi too. But I don’t know how it gets from that to, ‘I want to break into her house and try and kill someone in her family.’ That’s a leap and so it’s been a lot for my teenagers to try and process that.”

The Virginia governor, Glenn Youngkin, and Arizona gubernatorial candidate Kari Lake made fun of it while Trump’s son, Don Jr. retweeted a “Paul Pelosi Halloween costume” featuring a hammer.

Alexandra, who had to clean up the mess and has photos of her father’s bloody pyjamas on her phone, comments: “I can’t see how the governor of Virginia can make jokes about it or the wannabe governor of Arizona can make jokes about it and then how elected members of Congress can tweet these insane Pizzagate-style conspiracies. That’s unforgivable. That’s who I’ll never forgive. I’m trying to make peace with that.”

Both her parents feature in her latest film, her 14th documentary for HBO, broadcast on Tuesday. Pelosi in the House is shot in a cinéma vérité style across three decades with plenty of shots of Nancy’s back as she strides through the corridors of power. At one point she is seen putting Vice-President Mike Pence on speakerphone while doing household chores.

Alexandra admits: “She never gave me permission. She has not signed a release. She has not seen the film. She does not know what this is. I don’t know if she’s ever going to watch it.”

Indeed, Alexandra could never get her mother to sit down for an in-depth interview. “This is watching her work because Nancy Pelosi is her job. The only way to understand her is to watch her work so the only way I could explain her is watching her work. But if I tried to talk to her or ask a question, it just wouldn’t work. She just didn’t play ball with me. That’s not what she does. ”

The documentary sometimes revels in the quotidian but, when it arrives at January 6, moves to a different plane. Watching on TV as Trump delivers an incendiary speech urging his supporters to “fight like hell” to overturn his election defeat, Nancy vows to “punch him out” if he sets foot in the US Capitol, her sacred ground.

Alexandra recalls: “She was protecting her turf. It was the House of Pelosi and they broke into her house and tried to kill all of her family members because the caucus is her family. Nancy Pelosi has two families. She has us, her children and grandchildren, then she has her political family, the members, the caucus.”

Whipped up into a frenzy, the mob marched on the Capitol. Alexandra’s husband, the Dutch TV journalist Michiel Vos, was outside reporting the drama; she and her teenage son were inside, watching with alarm. “I was looking out the window: ‘Oh, look at those protesters out there.’ I’m trying to get her [Nancy’s] attention because she’s very laser-focused. Then my son kept saying like, ‘What if they stormed the Capitol?’

“At some point the security came over and said we’re leaving. They [the mob] had already broken the window to come in. The security camera shows that the protesters were two minutes from us but we found out that after. At the time we did not know how close they came so it wasn’t as scary as it seemed.”

Nor did the threat come as a complete surprise. “The Republicans have spent hundreds of millions of dollars demonising her and turning her into a target. The Capitol police have protected her for decades. There was a pig’s head on her doorstep in San Francisco a few days before that attack. It’s not as if this all came completely out of the blue.”

Alexandra accompanied her mother into the back of SUV that sped them away to safety. The speaker, full of cold fury, and other congressional leaders gathered at a military base, working the phones to demand that order be restored so they could certify Joe Biden’s election victory.

Alexandra melted into the background and filmed for posterity. Some of the footage made its way into the House’s January 6 committee hearings. “It’s like a soccer player. What do you do when you put a ball in front of me? I’m going to kick it. I knew my job was to kick the ball.”

The rioters, meanwhile, had overrun the Capitol and were ransacking the speaker’s office. Among the most haunting footage from that day is the sound of one demanding, “Where’s Nancy?” Subsequently Stewart Rhodes, founder of the far-right Oath Keepers, reportedly said he wanted to hang Nancy “from the lamp-post”.

Alexandra reflects: “Stewart Rhodes was prosecuted so my son comes down for breakfast the other day and he’s like, ‘Hey, did you see that this guy was found guilty? He said he wanted to hang Nancy Pelosi from a lamp-post. Why did he want to hang Nancy Pelosi from a lamp-post?’ I don’t know. I still haven’t been able to come up with a good answer for Nancy Pelosi’s grandchildren about why people want to hang her from a lamp-post.”

Such unanswerables underline that it has been a bruising couple of months. But a trip to Washington boosted Alexandra’s spirits. First, she was reunited with her ��old friend” former president George W Bush – a relationship that bemuses her liberal friends. “It’s renewing my faith in humanity because I know there’s hope that the Republican party does have a life after Donald Trump and then I can live in America and we can all live happily ever after.”

Then she attended a state dinner at the White House, sitting across from Biden and next to the guest of honour, the French president, Emmanuel Macron.“Let’s face it, I’m the least interesting person at the table so it’s my job to entertain them.” She began with a mother-in-law joke for Macron’s benefit:“When I met my husband’s mom, the first thing she said to me was, ‘Why can’t you be French?’”

Now, in another welcome diversion from her parents’ “funerals”, she has to get ready for her younger son’s birthday party and so ends the interview with a final plea. “Be nice,” she says mischievously. “Haven’t the Pelosis suffered enough? I don’t want to retraumatise my family when they read the Guardian. That’s all.”

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avalentina · 2 years ago

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Mr. Seavey

A Daniel Seavey OneShot

The guys and I are walking back from Chipotle, out of nowhere a car speeds right through a red light. That was the last time I saw him alive.

"Daniel, look out!" I heard Jonah yell, before shoving me out of the way. -SLAM-

I ran over to his still body, shaking him to wake him up. The other guys pulled me off of him when the ambulance got there and I watched as they wrapped my best friend's body in a black tarp.

-the previous night-

"Group Huddle guys!" Zach yelled.

5 minutes later we ran on stage and killed it. One of our best shows yet.

It was also the last time I ever sang.

-2 Years later-

(Madison's POV)

"Good Morning Mr. Seavey! Your old bandmates are going for drinks tonight and are requesting your presence, should I add it to the calendar?"

"No, thank you Madison. Is Sofie here yet?" He asked.

"Waiting in conference room 3 sir." I answered. Mr. Seavey turned and left his office.

"Do you want me to take notes today sir?" I asked. He shook his head so I headed back to my desk.

"Whatcha writing Maddie?"

"My will Brayden, I'm writing my will." I answered. "Do you think he would mind if I asked him to pay off my student loans?" Brayden laughed.

"Are we still on for tonight?" Brayden asked.

"I'll be ready at 7." I responded and Brayden headed towards the editing bay.

"It's just a casual dinner enjoyed by two very good friends," I reminded myself. "Brayden is not boyfriend material, he's just funny, nice, and super attractive."

"Madison!" Mr. Seavey yelled from his office. I rushed in.

"Yes Mr. Seavey?"

"Why do I have 20 text messages from a certain Zach Herron asking me if I'm coming out with them tonight? He stated sharply.

"I'll call him right away sir." I replied.

"Don't bother," he continued. "Apparently they have a new artist in tow, which means I have to go." He finished. I had just turned to leave when he said something else.

"Be ready at 6 sharp, and wear something nice."

"What for?" I asked.

"Those idiots are insisting that you come too." He said and then went back to his computer.

On my way out of the office I apologized to Brayden.

-5:20 PM-

I'm digging through my closet while on video call with my best friend Esther.

"STOP! That one is perfect!" She yelled. I pulled out the dress she was pointing at. It was a burgundy form fitting dress with ripples just above the left hip. I slipped it on and looked in the mirror.

"Seriously Ess how are you this good??" I said while stepping into my formal black heels. "And when are you getting back from Minnesota?"

"I learned from a pro, and tomorrow!" She stated. There was a knock on the door.

At the door was Mr. Seavey's driver. I sent him back downstairs and touched up my makeup before heading down myself.

He opened the car door for me and I slid in next to Mr. Seavey.

After a dead silent 20 minute car ride we pull up outside Skylight Gardens. I closely followed Mr. Seavey into the restaurant. He pulled my chair out for me and I thanked him.

"Where is this new artist?" He asked the group. I slipped the notepad out of my purse and opened it ready to take notes.

"Daniel, you haven't been anywhere other than the office and your house for over 2 years." One of the guys who I recognized as Corbyn Besson had said.

"Bro, you haven't even looked at a girl in a you know what kind of way, since Jonah died." Zach added. I noticed Mr. Seavey's face turning red and tried to interrupt.

"When was the last time you saw that therapist, man? Mr. Avery continued.

"What the hell is this?" Mr. Seavey announced. I decided that now was a good time to excuse myself.

"I'll give you a minute." I stated and walked quickly off to the lady's room.

-Daniel's POV-

"Dude, just admit it!" Zach said excitedly.

"Admit what?" I answered.

"That you actually have romantic feelings towards a girl for the first time in over 3 freaking years." Jack finished.

"I do not have romantic feelings for Madison, you idiots." I responded. The boys high fived each other and I rolled my eyes before glaring at all of them. At that moment Madison had come back.

-2 weeks later-

-Madison's POV-

It has been 2 weeks since the awkward dinner and it was also 1 week before the launch of Sofie's new album. Her team was pulling late nights at the office and that included both Mr. Seavey and myself.

3 days before launch it was 1 am when I was leaving and I went to say goodnight to Mr. Seavey. He looked up from his laptop as I entered and his hair was messed up, his suit coat was unbuttoned and he had an extra button on his shirt open. I felt my breath catch in my throat.

"Goodnight Madison." Mr. Seavey said in a soft voice that I had not heard before.

"Goodnight Mr. Seavey," I replied and then left his office.

It was the night of the launch and everyone including Mr. Seavey was up on the roof celebrating. I noticed him head back downstairs and followed.

-Daniel's POV-

I was opening my laptop to track the release numbers when Madison entered my office. I don't know what it was about her tonight, but I wanted so badly to kiss her. She pulled a chair around behind my desk like usual on a launch night and we would discuss the results and make preliminary plans for future projects.

When I turned to make sure she was ready for notes I found myself staring into her eyes and I went for it.

Our lips connected in a soft kiss that made all of my stress melt away.

Madison's POV:

"OMG I am kissing my boss, this is so wrong, oh who am I kidding this is the best moment of my life."

-The next afternoon-

I open my eyes and realize I'm not at my apartment and I'm also not alone. Then everything from the night before comes rushing back.

Mr. Seavey kissed me, we drank a whole bottle of scotch, and then ran out of the office like teenagers sneaking out of the house.

"OH GOD!" I yell.

"What time is it?" I hear his beautiful sleepy voice say.

"2 in the afternoon." I answered.

"Madison?"

"Madison! OH SHIT!" He said completely awake.

"Hello Mr. Seavey." I respond quietly.

-1 month later-

Daniel's POV:

"Madison and I agreed that nothing happened that night, it was all a mistake, we were caught up in the moment."

"Shouldn't I be happy about that? Why do I feel like I lost something important?"

I pulled out my lyric book and started writing.

Madison's POV:

I turn my head and see Mr. Seavey writing. He's never done that before. I send Mr. Herron a quick text message, out of concern. His response is instant and the message is clear.

😃🤯🥳

So him writing is a good thing? I clarify.

Daniel Seavey is an amazing songwriter who hasn't put pen to paper since Jonah died," He answers.

Daniel's POV:

Say You Won't Let Go

"That's the perfect title."

As soon as I finish writing it, Zach walks in.

"WHERE IS IT?" He asks jumping excitedly.

"Where is what?" I answer.

"THE SONG, WHERE'S THE SONG, and don't even THINK about lying to me." He says loudly.

I sigh and hand him the book.

-1 year later-

-NO POV-

Why Don't You website post

Say You Won't Let Go, Daniel Seavey's solo album is topping the charts after a midnight release on 9/27/2023. The album includes songs with each of his former Why Don't We bandmates. Including See You Again which was written in honor of Jonah Marais.

Post Written by Madison Warrens-Seavey. President of Why Don't You Records

-9/28/2023 5:30pm-

Daniel's POV:

"Madi, baby, are you almost ready?" I said, knocking on the bathroom door.

It's still hard to believe that, A- She's my wife, B- I'm making music again, and C- She agreed to take over the label so I could record again. We completely switched roles.

Madison's POV:

"Two minutes Dani!" I holler.

"How do I tell him this? This is a disaster?

I look in the mirror, touch up my eyeliner and head out.

-an hour later-

"What's going on Babe? He asked me with his cute, sad, worried face.

"Dani, how do you feel about being parents," I ask?

"Are you, are we really, you're pregnant." He said excitedly, the biggest smile on his face. "We're going to be parents!" He lifted me up and spun me around before setting me back down and pressing his soft lips to mine.

-9 months later-

Daniel's POV:

"Have you guys figured out a name yet?" The nurse asked. I looked at Madison, and she nodded.

"Jonah, Jonah Maxwell Seavey." I replied sitting in the hospital bed with Madi, staring down at our son.

The End!

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baekhvuns · 9 months ago

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SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING 😭😭😭😭 everytime I wanted to shoot you an ask I was like "I wanna write a longer message, so let me do it later" and yeah later turned out to be a looooot later WTF MY LAST MESSAGE WAS IN THE BEGINNING OF AUGUST 😮😮😮😮 how and when... time is not real seriously it's insane. What did you think happened to me? 😅

Lewis said NEVER LET THEM KNOW YOUR NEXT MOVE, he is craaaaazy. Hopefully it'll end well for him, but the fuck is he oooooon. My friend needs to be strong, keeping her in my thoughts & prayers, cause she DOES NOT fuck with Ferrari at all. Imagine if I had to support Barca or Tottenham 😅 Damn the news about Klopp shocked me, Liverpool is doing so well, I guess it's better to leave when you're still successful. It's a shame he feels burnt out, but I get him

Omg, graduation, my child Baeksussy is growing so fast! You'll be free from your Avocado Uni soon, excited, nervous?

Stop not the rom coms and thinking about me ahshsjshajaja, romance is not dead <3 Any interesting WIPs? I haven't read fanfiction in 100 years, actually I haven't read much at all, my brain is all rotten 🙃

I hope 2024 is better for everyone, but I don't have high hopes, lmao. I just wanna survive winter, still trying to beat seasonal depression before I enter my allergy era. I spent my birthday as well as NYE SICK AND ON MY PERIOD BECAUSE IT CAME A WEEK LATE.

Yeah the job in Seoul highkey scares me cause I haven't worked full time like that in a long time, but I need a lot of money and it can actually help me a lot. I'm trying to do something more with my life, but idk if I'll manage, I don't smoke nor drink anymore so how am I gonna cope??? The good side is that I'm getting a really nice apartment and a car too from the company 😌

Meeting Yuta again would be an achievement, meanwhile I saw some other NCT members and Mr Xiaojun like 5 times 😭 when I finally got an opportunity to talk to him he signed my pc <3 I alsl came across Changbin, Yeonjun and Dino once, and Itzy while they were filming something. I went to bunch of NCT concerts in the past few months, I still have more to attend including Ten's con FINALLY TEN SOLO!!! I also saw SVT, SKZ and a few smaller groups, my last one was Everglow a few days ago <3

I miss being a massive Shinestar, there were a few anniversaries of my fan calls with him recently and I got sentimental. But yeah I don't speak to that many hardcore Atinys anymore so I'm not up to date with Atz. It's pretty sad, but maybe it'll change in the future. On the other hand I prefer to be more casual. Casual... meanwhile I gave so much fucking money to SM IT'S SICKKKK. I enjoy kpop music-wise still, but you're right something is a bit off lately...

In my defense, hear me out: I've only spent like 3 days in Vancouver! I barely registered what was happening, cause my friend and I were helping her friend who was giving birth 😭😭😭 she was not supposed to give birth at that time 😬. So if you by any chance were also birthing a child at BC Women's Hospital then perhaps we met! I also remember going to a food place called The Naam I believe as well as one really good, yet tiny Vietnamese vegan one. Oh and I visited a university, not yours though, but imagine agsjdhsjsjajddjskh

But okay I deserve the lashings! So I'll be your euro guide once you visit the old continent 💜 - DV 💖

i responded to this ask FOUR times 😭😭😭 & gave up bc it won’t load (this ask from u is still so surreal)

6 MONTHS OF NOTHING I THOUGHT U WERE NEVER COMING BACK 😭😭😭😭 i actually genuinely thought something must’ve happened at your travel bc the last time u messaged me u said you were either hiking or in a jungle so no service or something and when u stopped responding i was like “omg the forest got to anon” 😭😭😭

he REALLY BE LIKE THAT ???? hoping he gets his 8th, id celebrate like i won it,,, but it also makes me think— this year abu dhabi would be the last time he’d driver as a merc driver, goes to ferarri w/ 100 million a year,,, possible free cars from ferarri -> retirement soon,,, THIS IS TOO MUCH MR MERCEDES U CANT GO 😭😭 LMFAOOO i cannot wait for ur friend to turn up in all red apparel ready for a therapy session, she a real tifosi LMAOOOOO no fr 10 years is a long time i get his situation as well + focusing more on his family, it would be crazy if he went to barca id probably die

this is so accurate

wait omg did u also hear about what horner might have done 😀 and the fact that he and newey have a contract where if one leaves, the other follows = which in my delusional tifosi mind can only say NEWRY TO FERARRI 2024/2025 FERARRI WDC HAMILTON 8TH TITLE LECLERC FIRST TIME WDC

Omg, graduation, my child Baeksussy is growing so fast! You'll be free from your Avocado Uni soon, excited, nervous?

no really! a little TOO fast everything’s a lil too fast 😭😭 free from avocado 😭😭 iM very nervous actually but i can’t wait to leave it so i don’t have to worry about assignments being due 8am in the morning or having any classes at that, gonna get a few tats and enter the real world 😭😭😭 this uni took years off my life

romance is not but i may be soon fbkafjak nO NONE WIPS 😭😭 just dreams that would seem very real if i were to convert into a wip,, im on the same boat as u, i just stopped reading (also probably bc so many authors also left) i read like those older ones once in a while to feel something

JCJCKCJCKC STOP THATS THE FUCKING WORST (also u might hAVE recently had ur birthday so happy belated birthday!!!!) do u ever have high hopes and then those hopes just fall to the pits of the earth <3

hopefully this job gives u loads of moolah $$ so u can travel to more places!! you’re going to sk and the drinking culture there anon 😭😭 them bosses would be pissed if you didn’t drink bfwmdbwk OH???? A CAR AND AN APART??? OKAY THIS IS BIG GIRL MONEY AND A BIG GIRL JOB WOAH ANON WHERE TF ARE U WORKING 🤚🏻 MF SAMSUNG???

this entire thing ‼️100% i have a few friends who i listen to the albums with when they drop one, engage in discussions abt the song choices and then go to the concerts just not a whole content type of person anymore idk if they’re doing some interviews or shows but i find out about it like a while later bc im just so out of the loop,, LMFAOOOO TO SM FHKWHDKWHDKW SM DOWNFALL HAPPENINGG something really is! idk maybe it’s like the star factor groups once used to have that’s just not existent as much? heard about teddy’s new gg & it looks very promising lots of star factors and an actual nepo baby but it’s likely not gonna be meeting up to the expectations

anon you gotta be fucking kidding me right now YOU WERE 15 MINUTES AWAY FROM ME IM GONNA ANBFMWFHWKDW COMBUST GET THE FUCK OUT ???? I WAS JCJCKCJ RIGHT MF THERE 🔫 omg is the friend okay?? the baby??? birthing a child (added to ur resume),, YOU WENT TO NAAM??? ITS SOO GOOD ISNT IT!!! i will give u my step (it’s like u add a bunch of restaurants or places you’ve been to, kind like a itinerary) account for foods in canada OR better yet u give me urs so i can be prepared 🫡

u must’ve visited the rival university, fuck them actually, it’s time u come to my jail or a university with its brutalism architecture <3 im gonna assume u went to the bc’s uni which sucks ass in my opinion, avocado uni was and is >>>> sorry like imagine u come to my uni and walk past me and then have the audacity to send me an ask “hey baek sussy i went to ur uni today!” AND I LOSE MY SHIT

But okay I deserve the lashings! So I'll be your euro guide once you visit the old continent 💜 - DV 💖

you absolutely do,, absolutely i cannot wait!! i might even go twice that year! AND GIVE U YOUR LASHINGS THERE it would be really funny if u take me to spain and it’s an el classico night..

#✉️ : ask #dv 💖 anon

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trans-girl-uchiha-itachi · 7 months ago

Text

additional notes on home inspector AU:

this is a modern AU where they all live in california but don't ask me why or how anything works okay

itachi is a licensed realtor

some years ago, itachi retired from ninja life to become a househusband but he wasn't getting enough enrichment in his enclosure so after 6 months he was kind of chewing the walls. around this time, kakashi decided he wanted to purchase a house for himself & his dozen dogs & gai

kakashi invited itachi to come along to the open house because it's not like he's busy

itachi invited hinata to come along to the open house, but didn't actually tell her where they were going. he was just like "come with me."

hinata: okay, sure, why not

(she's used to being invited places in this way because itachi doesn't have social skills)

they get to the house. hinata's like "oh, hi taichō!"

itachi: how does it look. the house.

hinata: it looks like a fucking house, dude

itachi: no, i mean. how does it LOOK. structurally.

hinata: *has An Peep*

hinata: hoo BOY that's a lot of termites

hinata: also warn me next time you want me to do this?? i need to read up on home inspection

when kakashi finally gets around to making offers on houses, itachi discovers a hidden(?) talent for real estate negotiation. with the power of the sharingan he manages to cut $250k off kakashi's purchase price

also at around this point shisui (business major, in a poly triad with hinata & itachi) gets roped in as an amateur mortgage broker; kakashi's financial situation is somewhat complicated because he and gai have a civil partnership but he's also legally eyeball married to obito and can't get divorced without giving back the eyeball. and also obito is maybe legally dead in the state of california. it's not clear. he's still somehow the founder and owner of the exclusive privately held management consulting firm akatsuki

so shisui's job is basically to charm and/or brainwash home loan originators into underwriting kakashi despite *waves vaguely* That

after kakashi's house closes itachi is like... maybe i should do more of That. i should become a realtor. i need to Contribute to this household... (n.b. not only is hinata independently wealthy, her ninja job is VERY lucrative; itachi absolutely does not need to do anything. he's just bored and doesn't want to admit to it)

hinata: i support you 100%! *becomes a licensed home inspector*

she's still a full-time assassin; this is just a side gig

when you hire itachi as your realtor he says something like (very deadpan) "in this market it's usual for sellers to get an inspection done, and have buyers waive the inspection contingency. however, the seller's inspection may not necessarily catch everything. with your permission, i can bring along a specialist to home visits."

the specialist is hinata. he doesn't mention that hinata is also his romantic partner of many years

hinata shows up masking REALLY hard, dressed up in breezy business casual, super professional, and then just. wanders through the house seemingly aimlessly, then comes back and tells you shit like "oh yeah there's a water leak behind the second floor bathtub, it's not too bad but it's been going on for kind of a while. if you buy the house you should get that fixed before it damages the floor joists."

itachi's yelp reviews are off the shits. "kinda weird guy, serial killer vibes?? really good negotiator though." "his home inspector seems to be some kind of house medium? she ??communed?? with the house and then told us about all kinds of things we found out were true six months later when we cracked open the walls. i didn't believe in psychics before but i DO NOW"

in the gc rn we are Rotating, due to critical first-time-homebuyer brainrot, a mundane AU where hinata is a home inspector. "hey can you peep inside that wall real quick and let me know if there's water damage? thanks"

itachi is a real estate agent (who often works with hinata) not because he has social skills but because he mind controls everyone else into cooperating. the mangekyō sharingan can see all aspects of the california housing code at once, etc

#the trashcan speaks #my fic #home inspector au

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allthewhumpygoodness · 2 years ago

Text

Sicktember Day 6: sick on vacation

Well here it is folks: my ONE contribution to sicktember. I wanted to do more. It didn't happen.

***

It's just their luck that they would get sick on the holidays. In hindsight, nothing they shouldn't have anticipated.

But still. B didn't get on a plane for almost six hours and then sit in a cab with an all-too-talkative driver through the worst of a snowstorm, and then find out just as they were struggling through the middle of nowhere trying to find C and D's cabin that their phone was dead just to end up being miserable the whole time.

It could be worse. Right now at least, it's no more than a scratchy tickle in the back of their throat and a heaviness in their limbs. They're a bit chilled too, but that could easily be the drafty wood house they're staying in. C and D couldn't have a more beautiful spot for a winter getaway - up in the mountains (but not too high), and surrounded by towering conifers no matter where you look. Only ten minutes away is a little town that looks like it should be made out of gingerbread, currently all decked out in Christmas lights.

B couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of jealousy when they first set foot here, knowing their friends can come up here whenever they want instead of being confined to a tiny apartment - the cabin itself might be drafty, but at least they do have proper heating and a toasty fireplace on top of that. B isn't sure their building's furnace has been so much as looked at in fifty years.

But after a long morning of feeling steadily more and more tired and achy it's all they can do to sit curled up on the sofa with a blanket, sipping hot chocolate. Guilt pricks at their skin knowing they aren't exactly being the most lively houseguest, but they really don't have the energy to get up and move. For a while now they've been drifting in and out of a shallow sleep, trying not to let their not-so-hot-anymore chocolate fall from their hands.

Footsteps shake them into wakefulness. They look up to see C entering the room, peering over at them. "Cozy?" they say, a small smirk on their face.

B's cheeks grow warm. They were chilled to the bone when they sat down and buried themselves in three blankets - probably at this point they looked like some kind of burrowing creature. "Just chilly. And tired. I'm - honestly I'm a bit of a mess today, I guess I'm not used to being out in the country like this."

C looks sympathetic. "You're a city dweller for sure. And it does get cold out here." Just as they speak the wind rattles the windows, blasts of snow coming with it.

Seeing B's nervous look (that wasn't supposed to be on their face, not at all), C goes over and shuts the colourful curtains, blocking out the snow-filled world outside. "There. We're nice and safe in here."

B nods, coughing a little. Their throat burns, making them wince - with a sinking feeling they note that it's worse than before.

I'm not that sick, they tell themsevles. I just need some sleep. And to get warm.

The cushions on the couch dip down a little as C sits beside them, resting a hand on their arm. They look at B with a critical glance. "You look a little under the weather, you know."

B shrugs, not meeting their friend's eye. "Maybe. It's just this cold." Another wave of chills hits them and they shiver uncontrollably. "It gets in my bones."

"Here." C moves some pillows and fetches another warm blanket from a nearby chair, draping it over where B sits crumpled. "Lie down right here, while the fire's still going. Take a nap. And lose this - " they take the mostly-drunk cocoa from B's hands - "Drink the rest of it later."

B complies, but they can't help feeling awkward as they lie down; this isn't their house - C and D might be friends, but it's not right to be so casual...

C seems to read their expression. "I promise, we don't mind. You seem like you could do with some rest. Don't feel bad."

"Are you sure? I just hate that you invited me here, and now I'm not even doing anything...I'm not even being helpful..."

C shushes them, adjusting the blankets. "Holidays are for taking time off. And you have been plenty helpful, more than you needed to be."

B only manages a muffled noise in response. Just upon laying their head on the pillow they're twice as exhausted as they were.

A hand brushes through their hair, fingers resting lightly on their forehead for a moment. "Try to rest," says C. "You seem like you need it."

For a while, they do. Sleep claims them quickly enough, but then soon they're caught in a web of dreams they can't quite make sense of, that are just strange enough to be disturbing. And once the dreams have them, they don't let them go for what seems like a very long time.

It seems like they wake up five or six or twenty times in a row, again and again only for there to be something wrong with the room - something distorted and twisted and horribly nightmarish. Each time they're either too cold or too hot, their limbs aching and trembling.

Eventually they wake for real with a groan, fighting to block out the knife stabbing them through the temples. For a solid minute they can't open their eyes at all - the second they try the world is too bright and they can't seem to focus. They panic for a few long seconds, wondering if they'll forever be stuck in a dark and blurry world.

But the seconds pass and they manage to pry their heavy, gritty lids open. It's dark now, the fire dwindled to a few coals. A wave of malaise washes over them and they let out another muffled noise of discomfort. They have to admit it now - they're sick, sick.

Dimly they're aware of the fact that they should go to bed, but dragging themselves out of their nest and up the stairs feels all but impossible. So they lie there wrapped in feeble half-dreams and aches in their bones.

Soon in the back of their brain they hear footsteps approaching and open their eyes a sliver. C's slightly blurry form approaches them, their face only coming into focus at the last second.

It's worried looking. Their face. "Hey," they say. "How are you feeling now?" A soft hand rests against their forehead.

"I think I'm sick," B manages to get out. God, their throat feels like sandpaper. The extra-grainy kind.

C lets out a small sound of sympathy. "You're not kidding. You feel like you just came out of an oven."

B's eyes are half closed again already. "I...I just want to sleep."

"I know. I know, but believe me when I say you'll be a lot more comfortable in your own bed."

It's not my own bed, they want to say, it's the guest bedroom in your cabin that you let me stay in and now I'm ruining the entire visit by being too sick to actually do anything.

But they don't say any of that. Instead they give in to C's gentle hands as they guide them upward, sitting them up on the couch. Their eyes hurt and their nose and throat are full of gunk, but they melt into the warmth of C's shoulder all the same. They feel a soft hand on their forehead again, cool right where it burns.

They're distantly aware that when they're better this will seem horribly embarrassing. Right now they don't care very much.

"Come on," C says gently, "let's get you up to bed. You'll be nice warm up there."

B clings to their arm as they stagger up the stairs, unable to focus on very much aside from the effort of putting one foot in front of the other. When they actually reach the bedroom they're borrowing they're exhausted, leaning heavily against the doorframe and taking several long moments to catch their breath.

They're barely aware of C leading them to their bed, only that all of a sudden they're lying down and something heavy is being pulled over them - the sheets are cold and they start shivering immediately.

"You'll warm up," C says soothingly. "Just wait a little. Can I bring you anything? I'll get you water- that isn't even a question - but do you want some tea, too? Some chicken brother?"

"No," B gets out, "no, I'm fine." To their horror, they feel painful tears rising in their eyes. "I'm sorry," they say, unable to keep it in any longer. "I wanted this to be a nice trip with you, and I'm so grateful to you and D for inviting me and it's so lovely here and I'm just jealous that I can't have what you have, and I don't belong here even if you've invited me...I just wanted it all to be special but now I've ruined it."

C shushes them, looking alarmed, one hand reaching for their now-tearstained cheek. "B, honey, you don't have to be sorry about all that. We want you here, or else we wouldn't have invited you in the first place. I'm sorry you got sick in the middle of it all - but you haven't ruined anything. You're our friend, and we're happy to have you no matter what state you're in. We'll help you through it, I promise."

That's just too much. B lifts a shaking hand to their eyes, burying their face in the blankets in a vain attempt to hide the fact that they're crying in earnest now. They feel C rubbing gentle circles on their back, saying soft and kindly things, and feel like their heart might just melt with how overwhelmed with love they are.

It's only the fever, they think. I can't really feel this much. I'd explode if I did.

But they do. They cling weakly to C's arm while they sit there beside them, holding them with both strength and tenderness until the tears pass.

#whump #sickfic whump #sicktember 2022 #welp #my single contribution i guess #e's whump writings

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fuckyouozai · 1 year ago

Text

Proof of concept for “aang and katara should’ve had 6 kids”:

---

Avatar Aang and Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe settled in Republic City on the cusp of their eldest son’s thirteenth birthday. By then they had three children, and another on the way. Sila was born in the wintertime, with the dark complexion of his mother and the brown eyes of his father. As his sister before him, he resembled their mother in more than looks alone: he too was a waterbender, always chasing behind Kya, trying to keep up.

Over the next few years they established Air Temple Island permanently, inviting Air Acolytes to join them and practice the traditions of the Air Nomads. They were perfectly happy with four children, who went to school with the other children of the acolytes, or occasionally went into the city for special classes. And then, three years later, Katara realized she had missed her moon cycle: and nine months later, she gave birth to twins.

In the Southern Water Tribe twins weren’t uncommon, but they were held with a special kind of regard. Sun and moon; water and sky; night and day. A baby girl and a baby boy: Yishi and Yonten. Yonten was the youngest by mere minutes, and unlike his airbending sister, he was a nonbender. Bumi, by then sixteen and busy looking after his family, was delighted to finally have another nonbending sibling. He cradled Yonten in his arms, cooing at him, poking him on the squashed nose.

---

Yishi had been gone for almost three years now. Once she received her airbending tattoos, she kissed her mother and father and hugged her twin brother, and then she took her air bison and left to live the truly nomadic life. Kya had done similarly, but returned every few months or so, writing constant letters. They practically heard nothing from Yishi; occasionally a traveler would appear at the docks of Air Temple Island to relay a message from the Avatar’s daughter, whom they had encountered in the wild plains of the Earth Kingdom or the southern Fire Nation archipelago, or once, in the mountains near the Eastern Air Temple.

Then, in the dead of night, an air bison landed silently in the courtyard of their home. Bumi and Sila were both gone, Bumi with the United Republic special forces and Sila in the Southern Water Tribe, where he taught waterbending. Knowing her parents were lonely with half of their children absent, Kya had come home to spend time with them. She watched out her window as the bison landed, and then a figure she knew to be her sister slipped off of its back and into the home.

In the morning, Kya joined Tenzin and Yonten in meditation with their father as the sun rose, as they usually did. She loved the silence and focus of meditation, found it calmed all the constant storm inside of her, the fear, the shame, the embarrassment she felt at not being the daughter her parents wanted, even though her father constantly told her that it wasn’t true: she was perfect to him. Though Tenzin claimed to meditate for hours nightly, he frequently started to fidget after a while. This was better than Yonten, who usually fell asleep.

When they were done, Kya stretched her arms and legs, sore from waterbending practice after seeing some new techniques in the underground pro-bending tournaments in the city. As Tenzin lectured a yawning Yonten, she went inside with her father, finding her mother slicing fruit for breakfast.

Kya dropped a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Do you need help with that?” she asked, but it was perfunctory. Katara was almost done. Sitting down at the table, she added casually: “Yishi’s back.”

“Really?” asked Aang, looking around at her from his place beside Katara. “You saw her?”

“She got in late last night, she’s probably still asleep. You want me to go wake her up?”

“Let her sleep,” said Katara, as Aang retrieved yogurt to accompany the fruit. “She’ll need the rest before we get up and all mob her at once.”

Kya grinned. Tenzin and Yonten made their way inside and Aang began to serve them bowls of fruit and yogurt before they all heard a creaking on the floorboards outside the kitchen. At Tenzin’s expression she nudged him and said, “Yishi got here last night,” and Yonten’s face lit up in delight. Then Yishi rounded the threshold, and Yonten’s face lit up again, but this time in shock.

“Hi,” said Yishi, with a sheepish grin. She placed one hand on her swollen stomach, leaning against the doorframe. “Uhh…surprise!”

Aang, Katara, Kya, Tenzin, and Yonten all stared at her obviously pregnant belly, wide-eyed. “What?” asked Katara, dumbly. “Yishi…” she abandoned the fruit and went to her daughter, holding her by her elbows. “How did…this happen?”

“Well, Mom,” said Yishi matter-of-factly, “I’m pretty sure you know how it happens, actually.”

“But - you never mentioned - who’s the…” she trailed off, then asked, “Did you bring someone home with you?”

“Nope,” answered Yishi, patting her stomach. “Just this kid. No husband,” she continued, “no boyfriend, no nothing. Just a night full of dancing a little ways outside of Ba Sing Se. Hi, Daddy,” she said, as Aang appeared on her other side and automatically gave her a hug.

“Congratulations,” he said, a little stunned. “You could’ve sent a letter, you know. But, still, congratulations.”

“Sweetheart,” said Katara, still trying to process this. “If you - you could’ve come home earlier, it would’ve been fine. We could’ve figured this out, together.”

“I didn’t need to figure it out, it was on purpose, Mom. Really,” she insisted, with a laugh. “I’d been thinking about it for a while, and I just decided to - go for it.”

Yonten got to his feet, greeting his sister with a hug. “Wow,” he said, and he sounded impressed rather than simply shocked. “Good for you. Outside Ba Sing Se, huh? Does that mean we might get a little earthbender running around?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Yishi replied, smoothly.

As they settled around the breakfast table - Kya said very little, knowing that if she opened her mouth then an argument would come out of it and she didn’t want that, whereas Tenzin was in pure shock, gaping at his sister in disbelief - Yishi explained. “Dad,” she said, “Air Nomads didn’t have any formal marriage practices, did they? And children were raised communally, all as brothers and sisters, without specific families. I’m just thinking, if I am committed to a true Air Nomad life then I’m living without earthly attachments. Except for this family,” she added, glancing at her siblings on either side of her.

She reached out and took Kya’s hand, maybe sensing the disapproval there. “We are the last of the Air Nomads. All of us. And so I was just thinking - I want my children to be raised like their ancestors were. I don’t need a husband for that. I just need all of you.”

“Hold on,” said Tenzin, a deep crease on his brow. “So you come back after being gone for three years just to tell us that we’re all responsible for the baby you’re about to have?”

“She’s right,” said Aang, before Yishi responded. “The Air Nomad tradition is to raise children communally.”

Kya did not pull her hand away from her sister, but protested, “I already raised four younger siblings, I didn’t ask to be a ‘communal’ mom a second time-”

Yishi said, “That’s not what I’m asking!”

“Sweetheart,” said Katara, reaching out across the table to place her hand on top of Yishi’s and Kya’s. “That does sound like what you’re asking. Help us out here.”

It seemed Aang wanted to respond, but when Yishi caught his eye he gestured to her, allowing her to speak. “I’m not asking anyone to be my child’s parent,” she continued, taking her hand away from her mother and sister and holding her stomach protectively. “I’m just saying that it’s important to me to have children - to make sure our legacy continues - and I want to do it in a way that honors our heritage. My child will be raised with the rest of the children here on the island, and will be family to all of them. Everyone. That doesn’t make it your responsibility and not mine, Kya; all I’m asking is for you to love my baby the same way you love me.”

There was a beat of silence between the six of them, and then Kya let out a loud sigh, and she embraced her sister in a hug. “Fine,” she said. “Twist my arm, why don’t you. I guess I’ll love your baby. I’ll do my best, anyway.”

Yonten laughed, and Aang smiled, watching his daughters. Tenzin said, “I still don’t like this,” but then asked, “Have you thought about names?” and that really got discussion going.

When Katara wrote to her absent sons, Sila arrived a few weeks later. By then Yishi’s daughter had been born, and he shouted with surprise and delight when he disembarked the ship, scooping the baby into his arms and nuzzling into her little face. “Waterbender,” he said sagely, “I’m calling it.”

This was wishful thinking: it was only a few days later that her baby’s sneeze lifted Yishi into the air, and they realized that the population of airbenders in the world had increased by one. On Air Temple Island they threw a party, and then they threw another one when Bumi finally got leave from the United Republic forces two months later, and all the siblings were reunited. When he arrived, he plucked his sister bodily into the air and spun her around. “Congratulations!” he kept repeating. “Yishi! You should’ve told us! I would’ve liked to meet the guy at least!”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Bumi,” she giggled, as Aang and Katara fawned over their first granddaughter. She leaned over and, into his ear, she admitted, “I didn’t even know his name!”

They roared with laughter. Toph had come for this party: she rarely left the community she was building in Zaofu, but she had been so utterly thrilled when she heard about Yishi and the baby that she’d come right away. Sitting next to Lin, who was pointedly avoiding Tenzin’s gaze, she clapped Katara on the back and guffawed. “This is too good,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “You judged me so hard for what I did, and now your daughter turns around and does the same thing.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Katara said, stubbornly. “Toph, you held a tournament for the best earthbender.”

“Yeah,” Toph agreed, leaning back with her hands behind her head. “But I also didn’t know his name.”

She laughed, and winked in the general direction of Yishi, who unfortunately was not looking.

When Dolma, Yishi’s daughter, was about three years old, Yishi tucked her into bed and then was gone in the morning, leaving a note in her twin brother’s room explaining where she was going and why. As she had requested, he did not tell his parents about the note, but when Tenzin was so worked up that he was actually spitting with fury Yonten finally gave in, showing him what Yishi had said. “That doesn’t make it better!” Tenzin insisted, but he at least relaxed a little bit.

In the meantime, the two of them spent all their time with Dolma. They talked with her, they took her on walks, painted with her, cooked with her, and Tenzin even took her through some very basic airbending. Watching their son and first grandchild together, Katara leaned against Aang. “He’s going to be a wonderful father,” she said.

“He is,” agreed Aang. “But it’s not going to be with Lin.”

At this point, everyone seemed to know that except for Tenzin. Aang had tried having a gentle conversation with him about it, reminding him that he needed to talk to Lin about this and if he didn’t like her answer, it wasn’t his job to get her to change it. But Tenzin always shrugged this off, assuring his father he’d talk to her eventually.

Yishi returned within a year, tossing her daughter high into the air with her bending when she made it back. Before she’d hardly spoken to the rest of her family she collected Dolma onto the back of her sky bison and they took a long flight around Republic City, circling Air Temple Island. It was more than an hour before she returned with the setting of the sun, Dolma asleep in her arms.

“Five months,” she answered, when her mother asked about the slight but noticeable thickening around her waist. “I wanted to make sure it would take before I came back, in case I had to keep trying.”

“You know,” said Katara, “you could probably do this same thing, just within the city so you don’t have to be gone so long.”

She smiled at her mother as Aang shaved her forehead: she had grown out her bangs to hide the tip of her arrow. “Everyone in the city knows who I am, Mom. And besides, that’s only a few miles away from our doorstep. Not very nomadic.”

Yishi’s second daughter was born a few months after the family’s first wedding. Sila married a waterbender in the Southern Water Tribe, a woman Katara and Aang had only met a few times. Sokka knew her well: she was a few years older than Sila and on the tribal council, where she was infamous for her temper when it came to trade and integration with the Northern Water Tribe. Sila even requested that his parents not invite Fire Lord Zuko, because he did not want to invite the Northern Chief and thought it might be a faux-pas to invite one head of state and not the other. In the end Princess Izumi came in his stead, grabbing Sila under one arm and giving him a noogie in front of his betrothed.

Dolma slept in Yishi’s arms through the whole ceremony. Yang - named, of course, for Avatar Yangchen - was born in the middle of the night, after half a day of laboring. Katara was by her daughter’s side, and was the first to hold her new granddaughter. “Hello, little one,” she whispered. “Welcome to the world.”

The next year, Sila and his wife Uki traveled to Republic City. It was only the second time Uki had ever left the South Pole, and the whole time she was homesick, looking up at the bright blue sky hoping for snow. It was nighttime, after dinner, and Katara had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders when she and Sila told her and Aang that their first child would be born in the spring. They were ecstatic, hugging them both tightly. Katara held onto her boy and told him how proud she was of him.

“I didn’t get that,” said Yishi, sounding jaded as she and Bumi sat in the kitchen, peering down at their brother and his wife in the courtyard. Bumi sipped his tea as Yishi nursed Yang.

“Well,” he said, fairly. “You were nineteen and, importantly, not married.”

“I was twenty,” she said. “That’s how old Mom was when you were born.”

“Sure, but she was married to Dad.”

“I told you, Boom, there are no marriage customs in Air Nomad culture. They probably just told Granddad they secretly got married so he wouldn’t be mad.”

“I mean, Dad was there,” Bumi ceded. “Present. You know, a part of his kid’s life.”

Yishi was silent for a moment, her lips pursed. Then she said: “Lin’s dad isn’t in her life, and look how she turned out.”

“Uh-huh. Look at Suyin.”

“Suyin,” said Yishi, “is doing great, by the way. She’s practically running Zaofu now, and she just got engaged.”

“I bet Auntie Toph hates that.” Yishi grinned at her brother, and he grinned back at her. “Listen,” he said, going to sit down across from her. “Mom and Dad just want us to be happy, really. They were worried about you when you got back the first time. You know, what if it was a mistake and she was too scared to admit it, what if something bad happened, what if she struggles. There was a whole lot they didn’t know. And,” he added, pointedly, “you proved they had nothing to worry about. But Sila’s always been the responsible one, so they’re not worried about him.”

“I’m responsible,” muttered Yishi, swiping her fingers across her baby’s cheek.

“You are,” agreed Bumi. “But you’re no Sila. You’re no Tenzin. And that’s a good thing, because if you were we wouldn’t get along the way we do.”

“But he’s leaving,” she added, looking up at her brother. “He and Uki are going back to the South Pole. Who’s going to help raise the kids?”

With a shrug, Bumi replied, “Uncle Sokka and Auntie Suki, I guess. Granddad, maybe Uki’s family. But probably it’s going to be mostly the two of them, Yi. That’s normally how families work.”

“Not for us,” she countered.

“Not for you.”

“I mean Air Nomads.”

“Sila is second-in-line for Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, Yishi, everyone knows Uncle Sokka is grooming him to be his replacement. Does that sound very Air Nomad to you?”

“That’s not fair,” she protested. At her breast, Yang unlatched, making bubbling, cooing noises, and without hesitating she wiped her baby’s mouth and covered herself. “We’re not one or the other, we’re both. A mixture of cultures, Air Nomad and Water Tribe.”

“Exactly,” agreed Bumi. “So it makes sense that you’re doing it the Air Nomad way, and he’s doing it the Water Tribe way. That’s how this works. You and him come from the same place, but you’re different people. You get to make your own decisions.”

Yishi patted her baby’s back for a while, her lips pursed. Yang twisted around in her arms, reaching her pudgy little arms out when she spotted her uncle across the table from her. Yishi asked, “So what tradition are you following, Boom? Bachelor bending?”

He laughed. “Hey, some of the old monks were celibate, weren’t they?”

Baby Yang strained towards him desperately. “Oh, please. You may not have any kids, but everybody knows you get around.”

Grinning at his sister, he held out his arms across the table. “Just give me the baby and shut up.”

It was like clockwork: when Yang was three years old, Yishi left once more. This time she did not leave a letter, sensing that Yonten was troubled by something, unable to fully focus on the family.

With his twin sister gone, Yonten finally managed to work up the courage to talk to his father alone.

“So,” he finished, feeling exhausted and embarrassed to admit this, afraid of what his father might say, “I just…have thought about this a lot, and Salila and I have talked a lot about it, and - she’s not an acolyte, Dad, she never has been. She doesn’t have it in her and she doesn’t want that. And if that’s not - if we’re not allowed to - if the only way she’s permitted to live on this island is if she converts to our lifestyle, I’m not ready to ask her to do that. So. With your permission, I want to go into the city, and live with her there.”

Aang looked at his youngest son, confused. “Salila doesn’t have to convert to anything,” he told Yonten. “I mean, of course you can live in the city if you’d like to. It’s not like your mom or I ever asked Sila or Kya to stay.”

“Kya is living the true nomadic lifestyle,” Yonten pointed out. “And Sila - he’s more Water Tribe than Air Nomad.”

“He is exactly the same amount of Water Tribe as you are,” Aang said. “But anyway, that’s not what matters. Yonten, if you really love Salila and you want to be with her, there’s no requirement that says she has to join the Air Acolytes just to do that. She’s welcome here if she wants to come but she doesn’t have to change her entire lifestyle for that. She can keep being exactly the person she is, just here instead of there.”

Yonten’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, hesitantly. “What if… well, she doesn’t like the robes, Dad, she prefers pants-”

“Oh, no,” sighed Aang. He reached out to put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Please don’t tell me you’ve putting off asking your girlfriend to marry you because you were afraid I wouldn’t approve of the fact that she wears pants and eats meat.”

Yonten turned red in the face, and Aang couldn’t help but laugh. He managed to delay the wedding until Yishi returned, confiding in him that she didn’t actually know if she was pregnant again but was very optimistic - “I had to shorten my schedule when I heard about you and Lila!” - but eventually he married his fiancee in an outdoor wedding in Republic City Park. This time Fire Lord Zuko was invited, and Sila apologized profusely to him for the snub at his own wedding. Zuko didn’t seem to mind. He just leaned over to the two-year-old dressed in his Southern Water Tribe best and asked, “And who’s this?”

Kota was very polite and managed to babble something half coherent. Iroh, Zuko’s grandson, took to Kota with great gusto: Dolma and Yang were fine, but Kota was the only other boy in his generation so far. He took it upon himself to show him the ropes.

When the Fire Nation envoy left, taking Iroh with them, Kota wailed for three hours before finally tiring himself out and falling asleep.

Aang and Katara stayed awake until the house was silent. Everyone was home: Bumi, Kya, Tenzin, Sila, Yishi and Yonten; Sila’s wife Uki, Yonten’s new bride Salila, whom of course Aang and Katara knew very well, after a decade together with their youngest son. Dolma, five years old and already so smart, so observant, who had been so patiently waiting for her mother’s return. Yang, too young to remember her mother’s absence. Kota, who reminded Katara often of her father, the same sharp chin and narrow eyes. And a new baby growing in Yishi’s belly, waiting to be born.

After Yishi’s third baby was born - another daughter, whom she named Sunma but immediately started to call Sunny - Aang and Katara received a letter from their son requesting their urgent presence in the Southern Water Tribe.

Uki had been pregnant a second time. But it had been a difficult and perilous pregnancy, and Sila had asked his uncle not to mention it to Katara until they were certain they wouldn’t lose the baby. This certainty somehow never came, not even until the birth, which took two days. The infant was born quiet, barely breathing. Sila had been in a pool of water attempting to heal her for a week by the time his parents arrived. Katara climbed into the pool with him, holding his tiny newborn daughter, and she held her son as he cried.

The baby survived. They had not named her for fear that she would not live through her first month, but afterwards Sila asked permission from his parents and his uncle to name her after another girl he’d heard stories about. A beautiful, brave girl who had also been born quiet and still, and whose power he drew strength from every night.

“Hello, Yue,” whispered Kya, the first of Sila’s siblings to visit. She tickled at the baby’s tummy. “Hello, you tiny little thing. She’s beautiful,” she told her brother. “Takes after her mother, I guess,” she added, with a grin.

She stayed longer than she meant to. Certainly longer than she tended to stay at home on Air Temple Island, with Dolma and Yang and now baby Sunny. It was easier here in the Southern Water Tribe, where there was no expectation that she help raise her sibling’s children, where she could simply be the fun aunt who comes and goes as she pleases.

And of course there was the other thing, about which she knew her Uncle Sokka wanted her to tell him about but which he refused to bring up on his own, in case she wasn’t comfortable talking about it. She had been staying in the home of a woman she’d known for a very long time, whom she’d come to and gone from over the years, warming her bed before disappearing for a while. Kya did not want to be tied down: she did not want to have a family, not like either Yishi nor Sila had done. But she loved that woman. Each time, it got harder and harder to leave.

In the next few years, it was obvious to all of them how Aang suddenly began to slow down, his age taking a toll on him. He walked with a cane now, and his breath sometimes came ragged. By the time Yonten and Salila were expecting their first child, Aang was bedridden. All his children came to Air Temple Island with their families, to be by his side.

Avatar Aang died in his sleep, with his family at his side. A month later, Salila gave birth to twins. She and Yonten named the girl Ami, and they named the boy Aang.

Afterwards, Katara went to the South Pole with Sila and his family. Kya put down her traveling and joined them, living in her mother’s house, helping her complete the rituals which would locate the next Avatar. Tenzin and Yonten took over as spiritual leaders of Air Temple Island.

When they could not find Yishi, they at first thought she had disappeared once more. But then Tenzin spotted something unusual on the shoulder of the statue of their father, and a few airbending moves later he found Yishi there, leaning against the cold stone of the statue. Her eyes were red.

Tenzin sat with her while she cried into his shoulder for a while. Then they started talking, sharing stories about their father, laughing about him. Wondering if he was proud of them.

“He was,” Yishi told her brother, gently. “You know he was, Tenzin.”

When they talked about how their father had missed the birth of two more grandchildren by mere weeks, they both cried for a little bit. “I should be telling Yonten this, not you,” Tenzin said, and they both laughed wetly.

“At least he met most of them,” said Yishi, her arm tucked around her brother’s. “Dolma and Yang and Kota and Sunny and Yue. And you know he’s still with us. Still watching us. He’ll be with them every single day, I know that. Love is a form of energy. You know what he used to say. It swirls all around us.”

He thought about that conversation frequently afterwards, as he focused on his duties. Yonten faded into the background, happy to do whatever Tenzin needed done to keep things working smoothly. Everyone doted on little baby Aang, so much so that Salila snapped at the latest batch of admiring acolytes. “He’s just a baby!” she told them. “It’s just a name! If you want to find the Avatar, go to the Water Tribes!”

Someone pointed out that it wasn’t impossible that baby Aang was in fact a waterbender, so could therefore be the new Avatar - his grandmother was Master Katara, it could happen. Salila hissed out loud at them, and when they scattered, she hollered at them, “And if you’re going to fawn over him, show his sister some love too!”

As it turned out, baby Aang was not a bender at all. His sister Ami was an airbender. That seemed to trouble Tenzin somehow, unable to feel the joy that the others felt at such a miracle.

That night, he told Lin his ultimatum. He could not stay with someone who wasn’t willing to give him children.

Her eyes bugged nearly out of her head, a vein jumping in her forehead. “Willing?” she echoed, furious. “Give you?”

When she was done with it, Air Temple Island looked like it had just seen a particularly bad set of earthquakes. Yishi had been hooting and cheering the whole time, her girls laughing and following suit. Salila went into the city and recruited some earthbender construction workers to fix the damage. They were clearly impressed.

Yishi was teaching a group of women about the sex-specific traditions of the Air Nomads, her daughters in tow. Sunny was still young enough that she mostly played in the corner with her sisters as Yishi worked; once the class was finished, Yishi’s star student stayed behind to help clean up and play with the children. “I love kids,” she sighed. “I’ve always wanted to be a mother.”

Tenzin poked his head into the room. “Yishi, are you done here? I’m holding an advanced meditation class and I need the space.”

“I’m done,” said Yishi, scooping Sunny up in her arms. “Go on, girls.” Both Dolma and Yang slipped out of the room, giggling. Yishi’s student got to her feet. “Oh,” said Yishi. “I don’t know if you’ve been formally introduced yet. Tenzin, this is Pema. Pema, this is my brother Tenzin.”

Pema smiled shyly, and bowed at him. “It’s an honor to meet you, Tenzin.”

Ok so Bumi, Kya, Tenzin. Then I would add two more kids and I am going to pull Yeshe and Sila from Tibetan and inupiat cultures respectively. Bumi, Kya, Tenzin, Sila, and then maybe fraternal twins Yeshe and Yonten. Yeshe (girl) is an airbender but Yonten (boy) is not a bender. I can’t decide if Sila (another boy) is a bender or not. My gut says not a bender at all, but that puts aang and katara at a 50/50 bender/nonbender rate. Making him a waterbender feels like a cop out for some reason but actually that may be the best option. Yeah Bumi and Yonten can be oldest/youngest and also nonbenders, kya and sila are waterbenders, tenzin and Yeshe are airbenders. I don’t love how neatly that works out to 2/2/2 but it mimics the 3 different siblings in canon so I guess it works.

Bumi (katara 21)

Kya (katara 28) (Bumi 7)

Tenzin (katara 32) (Bumi 11, Kya 4)

Sila (katara 34) (Bumi 13, Kya 6, tenzin 2)

Yeshe & yonten (katara 37) (Bumi 16, kya 9, tenzin 5, Sila 3)

Yeshe is much more free-spirited and go with the flow than tenzin, and doesn’t like the idea of settling down and having a family, tho she does want kids to help revive the Air Nomads. She maybe argues with her family a little about making that happen her way but takes a lot of comfort and inspiration from Toph, who also started a family on her own terms. Yonten is pretty spiritual and actually can access the Spirit World better than any of his siblings, I’m thinking some Kelsang energy from him. He def has a family on Air Temple Island.

Sila is just a classic Water Tribe dreamboat. He’s more interested in Water Tribe politics and spends a lot of time with Kanna, Hakoda, and Sokka, maybe even interested in the role of chief. Katara is worried about him being away from her for so long and getting involved in politics when he’s, yknow, the avatar’s son, but sokka points out that the SWT wanted katara as their chief back in the day so there’s precedent.

When Aang died it was Sila who stayed with Katara, not Kya - mostly because he was already there. Yeshe & Yonten also stayed for a while (Yeshe was in and out but Yonten brought his family down so was there a year or so), trying to convince Katara to come live on Air Temple Island, but then Korra gets found as the new avatar and Katara dedicated herself to teaching her. I like to think Sila was Korra’s actual waterbending teacher and Katara sort of observed them both.

Yeshe’s kids (let’s say 3 of em) are raised the traditional Air Nomad way, collectively, which she CONSTANTLY gets into fights about with Tenzin, Kya, and Sila, who think she’s not being responsible enough as their mother. Bumi is the one who usually defends her because he’s closest to the twins since Yonten is the only other nonbender. Kya in particular gets mad because she’s like you CANNOT dump your kids on me I love them but I chose not to become a mother for a reason and Yeshe’s like exactly you’re not a mom so you have the time to help me out and Kya full on blows up at her and peace’s out for like a year after that.

Yonten is the most easygoing in that Aang-like way of sort of being passive and not getting mad at things even when someone is antagonizing him and all of his siblings except for Bumi absolutely, absolutely fucking hate it. It doesn’t help that he’s the youngest lmao

Uh oh I have just fallen in love with these OCs I just now created this was a mistake

#fics #maybe this should get its own post

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archangelgabriellives · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 5 of Bar AU!! Still going strong!

Previous chapter here. Chapter 6-->

It'd been a week since Sam vanished. Seven days of staking out the shitty bar at night waiting for the only bartender who served him to come back. Because he had to come back.

Seven days of walking up and down what this town could call a main street looking for Sam. Moldy and faded signs for, what Dean supposed, were all these people needed here. A general store, gas station, a bank. And more than a few bars.

Dean can see it, the pity in their eyes when they have to tell him, again, that no, they haven't seen his brother. In fact, Dean has a suspicion that a few of them don't even think he has a brother.

He can't blame them, but he was going to get desperate soon. The kind of desparent that would burn this town to the ground, building by building, to find Sam.

Or that bartender that no one seems to remember. Dean knows he’s not wrong, knows that there is a man out there who served him one of the most delicious beers he’d ever had. The man that, hand to god, made his brother laugh. Dean knew he was out there.

The only option Dean can think of is that Sam was kidnapped. That had to be it. That cagey, distrustful…short bartender must have been something sinister, something that went bump in the night.

Something that they hunt.

And Dean was gonna find him.

No matter what.

Sam stared, eyes wide and mouth hanging open at the sight before him.

A halo.

A god damn halo.

His throat went dry, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Years of hunting instincts tried to push its way to the front of his mind, but Sam could only gaze at the pure beauty floating above Gabriel’s head.

“So…you’re an archangel?” he stammered, voice quiet.

“One in the same, handsome.” Gabriel’s smirk only widened, enjoying Sam’s gobsmacked wonder. “Would you like me to show you my…divine appendages?"

Sam just blinked, still gazing above Gabriel as he ignored the innuendo.

“I must be dead, then,” Sam muttered to himself.

Gabriel laughed, that same bright and melodious sound that sent a shiver down Sam’s spine.

There was a whoosh, and before Sam could move, Gabriel appeared in front of him, sitting on the table, all sharp angles and a smirk on his face. A foot was on Sam’s chair, leaned it back so Sam had to look up even more to gape into the gold eyes of the apparent angel. The shadows fell over Gabriel’s face, but the gold of his eyes shined still, clear as day and Sam could not look away.

He didn't think he would ever want to.

“You will listen, Sam Winchester.”

His voice echoed, rattled his bones. Sam nodded.

Gabriel chuckled, and suddenly the mood shifted again.

No longer filling up the room with his energy, or his halo, Gabriel fell back into his loose, carefree attitude, giving Sam a gentle slap on his cheek as he pulled his legs up underneath him on the table.

“Good,” Gabriel said, his casual smile returning.

“Well, then…” Sam started, “where am I? If I’m not dead, that is.”

“I told you. This is my home. Or,” Gabriel shrugged, “one of my many places where I hang my head.”

“Are we still on Earth?”

“‘Course, Sam.”

Sam’s mind was racing. He needed to find his bearings, start to formulate a plan. That, even with something that he knew was incredibly powerful sitting right in front of him, that he needed to find a way to get back. To find Dean.

God, he must be going out of his mind with worry.

“Sam,” Gabriel interrupted his thoughts, “I have something very, very important to talk to you about."

A crinkle formed in Sam’s brow.

“The moment you pulled into town, I knew you.” Gabriel leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in his lap. “In fact, I’ve known you from before you were even born.”

Gabriel’s eyes go glassy, like he’s somewhere else, a million miles away. But he shakes himself out of it a moment later.

“My brothers,” he says, a seriousness Sam hadn't heard from Gabriel in his tone before, “they're coming for you.”

~~~

I have started a tag list for this story. Let me know if you wanna be on it!

@ldrmas @kyramaximoff

#bar au #supernatural #sabriel #still simmering #but im gonna get it #gabriel #sam winchester

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soulmate-game · 3 years ago

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Harley's Plea for Help ch. 6

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6-- you are here

Yet another night of barely any sleep, but this time Marinette didn’t have the coffee-angel Red Robin at her rescue. No, instead she had to go completely uncaffeinated until she and her class got to Wayne Enterprises. Madame Mendelieve could only sigh as she watched Marinette scamper off to the café as soon as they made it past the initial security of the building. A couple of her classmates chuckled or snorted at her familiar behavior.

It was the same barista at the register as before, but this time Marinette felt too tired to properly order or be adventurous in looking for new flavors.

“I feel like death. I don’t care if it tastes like pure bean oil today. Flavors will take away from the amount of coffee you can shove in one cup, right?”

The poor barista blinked, eyeing the deep bags forming under the poor girl’s eyes. She sighed. “I had hope yesterday that you were just a normal caffeine addict. Now I see we actually have a second Mister Drake,” she said it as if she was mourning at Marinette’s grave before poking a few buttons on her touchscreen order station and turning her head. “One Insomniac CEO, but not for the boss!” She called out. The barista making the drinks paused for a second with wide eyes.

“We have another one?!” He asked, shocked. “Piece of advice?” He turned to Marinette. “Get some sleep.”

“Sleep is for the dead,” Marinette deadpanned back. “I got stuff I need to do today.”

The guy just shook his head and sighed, making the drink as Marinette paid and left a good tip. The drink came out fairly quickly, and everyone behind the counter stopped for a moment to stare as she gulped down the hot drink with no concern for her tongue or throat. A satisfied sound left her as she finally pulled away from the cup.

“This is really good!” She complimented, turning to the Baristas with a still-tired smile. It would take a minute or two for the coffee to have full effect, but she already felt better. “A little too bitter for my usual tastes, but perfect for days like today. Thanks!” She waved at them before turning around and seeing that her class was already gone again. Before she could fully process that though, a hand slapped down onto her head and ruffled her hair.

Surprised (really, not a lot of people could sneak up on her anymore. Just how tired was she?) she let out a high pitched squeal.

“You’re a good kid,” the soft, slightly scratchy voice that said that made Marinette’s shoulders drop and eyes widen. Tilting her head back she was greeted with the widely-grinning face of Jason Todd. He was once again in the uniform of a security guard.

“Wha— Uh,” Marinette couldn’t quite find the right words right away. She was too stunned. Jason just chuckled, jerking his head to indicate the same door her class had gone through the day before and leading the way over there. Marinette scrambled to catch up.

Once they were far away enough from prying eyes and ears, Marinette cleared her throat.

“Um,” she started. “Did… I mean, do you..?”

“Yeah, our mutual friends had a chat with me last night,” he confirmed casually. He sent her a meaningful look even though his grin never left his face. “Like I said; you’re a good kid. And I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re not responsible for the things your parents have done, you know.”

The girl at his side hummed noncommittally, not fully convinced but also not wanting to argue.

“You’re not,” he repeated firmly, stopping in the middle of the side-hallway. They could see her class at the other end getting checked in, but didn’t make a move to join them yet. “I mean it. The stuff that happened to me, none of that was you. Hell, you were a little kid back then. And there’s nothing you could have done to stop it, either. I’m not gonna hold anything against you just because you’re his child. You didn’t ask to be,” he shrugged. “Besides, I get it. Biological relation doesn’t equal family. Trust me,” his grin was gone and a tired one replaced it. “I know that better than most people.”

The pigtailed girl could only gulp, taking a deep breath as she forced down the tears that wanted to bubble up. She had had this conversation with Adrien a few times, but even then she had been convinced that he just didn’t understand. He was just being nice. But this— Jason’s words were more valuable than gold to her. He had no reason to be nice, so it had to be at least partially sincere.

“Thanks,” she whispered once she was positive she wasn’t going to break. She lifted her cup up and took a long sip of her coffee. The slight burn against her tongue helped ground her. “That means more than you know.”

Jason chuckled. “Nah. The fact that you stood up for me to the Bat,” his grin returned to his face full blast, making dimples appear on his cheeks. “Now that, you have no idea how much that means to me. You must have some serious guts to lecture that guy, too. Is it too late to adopt you for myself?”

That tore a quick laugh out of her, making her classmate’s head whip over to the opposite end of the hallway where she and Jason were. She quickly quieted herself, but her eyes danced with amusement as she looked up at Jason. “You’re too young to be my parent anyway, but I wouldn’t say no to a brother,” she joked. Jason’s eyes sparkled.

“Good, exactly what I was aiming for!” He slipped a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. “That’s my number. Call me if you ever need anything, got it?” He turned to resume leading her back to her class and she quickly slipped the paper into her pocket before anyone saw and got the wrong idea. “And I mean anything.”

Marinette just smiled and nodded. By then, they were close enough for Alya to smirk and ask; “What took ya so long, girl?”

“Oh,” Marinette shuffled a little on her feet before an observation gave her a last minute idea and she straightened up with a wide smile. “We just got distracted talking about motorcycles!”

Jason’s eyebrows raised for a quick second before he settled his expression again and played along. He had figured that not many people knew about her biological family. That part made sense. But she had been a total mess just the day before when she had tried to lie about Paris’ little villain problem in front of Bruce. How was she able to actually come up with a good lie this time around, when she had been just as much put on the spot? He wondered to himself about what was different about this situation to allow her to lie more easily. Maybe Bruce not being there was part of it— she seemed easily flustered by famous people.

Think of the devil, because no sooner had that thought finished developing in Jason’s mind before Bruce Wayne walked into the hallway with a paparazzi-ready smile. Jason rolled his eyes and sunk to the back of the group silently, sinking back into his job and keeping an eye on their surroundings. He listened as Alya laughed softly and elbowed Marinette even as the group turned their attention to Bruce.

“You and your bikes,” Alya teased. “If someone knew enough about motorcycles, I bet you’d marry them on the spot.”

“Nah,” Marinette whispered back. “If they gave me a really nice one though? That’s marriage potential for sure.”

The two girls laughed for a second before focusing back on the tour. Adrien wasted no time making his way to Marinette’s side, silent questions in his eyes. Jason watched with interest as the two seemed to silently communicate with one another. It was obvious that Adrien was calling her lie, and Marinette was essentially silently telling him that she would explain later. It was so seamless and subtle that if Jason hadn’t been extremely familiar with that kind of communication already, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Once again his eyebrows rose a tick on his forehead, and he made a mental note of the interaction. That kind of silent conversation wasn’t an easy thing to do with people. It was most commonly seen in married or otherwise long-term couples, childhood friends, family, or hero partners. The childhood friends and family sections were already ruled out from their background check on her and Harley herself had mentioned that even though Marinette had once crushed on Adrien, she had unofficially adopted the boy as her brother since then. Though, their time as close friends was only documented as having lasted about a year. That wasn’t quite enough time for that sort of effortless silent communication to be possible.

Of course, Jason had his suspicions already. But there was no rush, either. The Clown was on the move and more important to focus on for now. He could focus on the puzzle that was Marinette and Adrien later.

Bruce took over the tour as he had the day before, and the class was instantly riveted once again. If the fact that they were being led through the building by the very man who owned it wasn’t awesome enough to get everyone’s full attention, the man’s personality was. He came off a little carefree and very kind, but there was an obvious undercurrent of just how much he loved his company that showed that he did take it and his job seriously. Just, not too seriously either. And he interjected everywhere he could with personal stories and anecdotes and little bits of his family history that the normal tour guides might not have known. It was not long after he announced that he was going to take them to a lower lab set aside specifically for their class’ tour, so that they could do their first interactive activity, that jason found the opportunity to sidle up next to Marinette on the opposite side from where Adrien walked alongside her.

“So,” he said casually. “How’d you know I ride a motorcycle?” he smirked to show he wasn’t upset as he looked down at her curiously. Marinette blinked, taking her attention away from Bruce to look over at Jason. Once his words registered, she smiled widely and pointed to one of his pockets. The corners of his bike gloves flopped over the edge.

“I noticed those. I figured you’d have a negative reaction that might give us away if my lie was too off the mark, and I do have a habit of saying stupid things if I don’t have a clue or something to play off of. I also had to make it believable for the class, and they all know that my Nonna has played a huge part in my love for motorcycles. I plan on getting a license to drive one when I turn sixteen later this year,” she told him softly. “I tend to gush whenever I see a cool bike, so I knew they wouldn’t question it.”

Jason huffed a little bit of laughter under his breath. It was like the trope of a character looking at random items in the room to come up with a fake name, but somehow it had actually worked for her. She was quick-witted and clever, he had to admit. And observant.

“I was running late, so I must have left them in my pocket when I was changing,” he admitted, unbothered. “Ah, here we are,” he nodded to return the two teen’s (he had noticed Adrien paying close attention as he and Marinette had their conversation) attention back to the tour. Bruce opened the door for the class with a flourish, gesturing for everyone to go in.

“Since these first few days are going to be tours and lessons about working in general, your first activity of your trip is to solve various problems we’ve given you based on real situations that WE employees have been in before. Split up into groups, and choose a table. Each table has a different problem covering a different industry. Reporting, Science— specifically research and development, business management, and entertainment…”

—*—*—*—*—*

“It’s straight,” Adrien assured her, trying to keep himself from laughing as Marinette straightened his tie for the millionth time. “I promise. And you look fantastic.”

Marinette stepped back, nodding at Adrien’s appearance in approval. “I know. We both look great, but…” she fidgeted and then stepped forward to go right back to over-straightening his tie. Adrien snorted, grabbing her hands before she could touch the poor thing again and lowering her arms to her sides.

“Calm down. Like you said, we both look great. You don’t have a single hair out of place, the outfits you made us look amazing, and my tie is at a perfect ninety degree angle to my collar. Take the model’s word for it,” he teased with a lopsided grin. “We look ready for the front cover of a magazine. So just take a deep breath, because we should get down to the lobby soon to wait for the ride he’s sending for us.”

“Right,” Marinette nodded. She followed his advice and took a deep breath. Once she was suitably calmed, she opened her eyes and nodded at him. Adrien smiled and held out his arm, making Marinette snort as she took hold of it gently and let him lead her to the elevator.

Bruce had not specified whether the dinner was going to be casual or formal, but with the fact that his kids were going to be present and it was at his own house, Marinette had a feeling it was going to be more of a casual thing than if they had went out to a fancy restaurant with a black tie dress code. At the same time, this was the Wayne manor they were talking about. She didn’t want to be underdressed, either. Not to mention that it was her design skills that had played a huge part in her winning the contest in the first place, so she felt like she had to show her work again to prove that they had chosen the right person.

A playful wolf whistle greeted the two of them when they got down to the lobby. Alya was, to no one’s surprise, the perpetrator. She stood in the lobby with Alix, Nino, and Max, who all had known about the dinner and agreed to be there to see the two of them off and put Marinette’s worries to rest. The four of them jogged over, Alix smiling and adding her own soft whistle of appreciation.

“You guys look great,” the short skater assured them, taking the time to skate slow circles around them to make sure that nothing was wrong with their outfits. “I think you’ve outdone yourself, Mari! Very cool.”

Alya nodded eagerly, bouncing in place with a wide, beaming smile on her face. “Ah! The both of you look ready to kick ass and woo rich people!” she added. Max pushed his glasses up on his nose with a small grin.

“There is a ninety-five percent chance of your work impressing all of the Waynes,” he said in his own version of encouragement.

“You guys got this!” Nino shot them a thumbs up. “They beat me to all the stuff I wanted to say.”

Marinette beamed, laughing along with her friends as she allowed herself to relax a little. Adrien’s outfit was of her own making, a subtle way for him to rebel since his father had sent him with his own Gabriel brand suit should an appropriate opportunity to wear it come up. Adrien had no plans of ever putting his father’s suit on his body. In an effort to spice up formal men’s wear a bit without making the whole thing white and silver like Gabriel wanted, Marinette had made him a classic silk shirt in black, with short sleeves that fell at that perfect halfway point between his elbow and shoulder. The sleeves had thick cuffs in a dark forest green, with decorative straight stitches on the seams in a bright magenta pink thread. On top of that was a corset-style sleeveless vest with a deep V. The majority of the vest was the same black as the shirt, but with dark green hand-stitched swirls that were just barely bright enough to be contrasted against the black. It created a very subtle pattern that would be hard to see in the wrong lighting, but would make it look that much more expensive and elaborate in the right lighting. The lapel of the vest was in the same dark forest green as the cuffs of his shirt, with a few decorative swirls embroidered on the very corners. The piping of the corset-vest made three curved lines on either side of his waist, curling from mid-rib cage to his waist. It gave him a slightly more feminine twist to his outfit, making his waist look smaller even though it wasn’t actually pulled very tight on him— it was mostly the illusion made by the piping rather than the actual tightness of the garment. The two outside piping lines were done in a magenta pink, while the middle piping line was once again in dark forest green. Unlike most corset-style vests, this one had no buttons or zipper on the front at all. Instead, it was closed only by corset lacing in the back, the laces done in such a dark shade of green that it was almost black, while the eyelets that the laces were threaded through were that same magenta pink as the piping and decorative stitches elsewhere on the outfit. The tie that Marinette had spent so long making sure was straight was almost entirely soft lace, but it was layered in such a way with layers of sheer green and pink lace that it looked like it was a constant swirl of the two colors. If someone got close enough to see the pattern of the lace tie, they would notice that it was a pattern of cats chasing a butterfly.

Underneath the artistic top of the outfit were black dress pants, once again with thick forest-green cuffs on the bottoms. But instead of the decorative stitching, the pant legs flared a bit at the ankles for just a little extra drama. Magenta-pink Oxfords peeked out of the wide cuffs. The green detailing made Adrien’s eyes pop, while the pink accents gave his boyish charm a little more of a feminine touch that almost seemed to highlight his naturally sensitive and charming nature.

In contrast, Marinette wore a sleeveless pink pantsuit. It was the same shade as the pink accents in Adrien’s outfit, and had a built-in corset as well that went only around her natural waist. The corset boning on Marinette was a solid black, while the rest was just the same base pink as the majority of the suit. The black of the boning seemed to flow downwards, changing from boning into thick hand-embroidery in thread of the exact same black. The embroidery flowed down the sides of both legs, in the shape of tree branches and apple blossoms. Pale green accents in the form of swirls at her high neckline and a pale green lace capelet that was the only thing covering her shoulders helped tie her outfit in with Adrien’s. She also wore pale green low kitten heels and her black hair up in a braided bun. With how her pant legs were form-hugging until they flared out slightly at the heel, and the lack of sleeves exposed her toned arms and shoulders and emphasized her strength there without making her look unbalanced or too masculine for the rest of the outfit’s style, she looked ready to rock the business world. Her bright blue eyes clashed with the green details of the outfit just enough to bring attention to them, assuring that people who met her eyes would not be able to easily look away.

The quick snap of a phone’s flash went off, drawing everyone’s attention to Madame Bustier. She was beaming at all of them, and had just taken a picture of her two students all dressed up. She waved her phone happily. “I’m sending this picture to the both of you. I’m so proud of you guys!” she gushed.

Marinette and Adrien both blushed deep red, shifting in their spots. They were confident in their looks, and Adrien was just as proud of his pseudo-sister, but neither of them was very good at handling so much positive attention aimed only at them. Especially not from their extremely sincere friends and teacher.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng?” An older gentleman with a British accent turned everyone’s attention to him. The first thing Marinette thought was that he had kind eyes. He also had soft wisps of white hair on his head, carefully trimmed and slicked back. Of course, Marinette and Adrien also couldn’t miss the high quality and perfect press of his carefully maintained suit. Once he had shown all the proper credentials to Madame Bustier, he introduced himself to the two well-dressed teens with a shallow bow. “I am Alfred Pennyworth, the butler for Wayne Manor. I am to escort the both of you there for supper tonight.”

“Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur Pennyworth,” Marinette said, walking up and shaking his hand. Adrien was right by her side the whole time, matching her smile watt for watt and shaking Alfred’s hand with just as much enthusiasm.

“Yeah, thank you for having us over. I know it was technically Bruce who invited Marinette, but you’re probably the one that has to do all the work. So, thank you. We really appreciate it,” he told the man sincerely. Alfred’s answering smile was soft, almost fond.

“Yes, I admit I am in charge of most of the work for tonight. But you shouldn’t worry, it’s no different from any other day at the manor,” he said lightheartedly, a little bit of good natured snark shining through his otherwise proper behavior— “Every last one of the Waynes would die in less than a week without me to keep everything in order,” he joked. “Allow me to lead you to the car.”

Marinette and Adrien followed behind Alfred. She didn’t know if it was the calming aura he put off, or if it was the gentle way his eyes sparkled that made her want to look after him. But whatever it was, she found herself wanting to protect this kind old man already. Which is why her eyebrows slightly pinched together. Before climbing inside the luxurious town car he had brought for them, she couldn’t help but turn to Alfred and ask;

“I hope you aren’t overworked. I don’t want to overstep, Monsieur, but isn’t the Wayne family rather large for one person to look after on their own?”

Alfred laughed gently at that, his eyes once again softening. “Do not worry about me, Miss Dupain-Cheng. They are family to me. And though, yes, you are correct in assuming they are a handful, they are also wonderful people. They help me where they can, but taking care of themselves is not their forte. Being able to do that for them is my greatest joy.”

The wrinkles in Marinette’s brow smoothed out and she smiled. “That’s so sweet. You’re making me want to meet them all even more.”

Something about that twinkle in Alfred’s eye made her feel like he was laughing at some joke she didn’t hear. “I’m sure all of you will get along swimmingly.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“I FOUND HER FIRST!”

Alfred had barely opened the manor’s doors to let Marinette and Adrien inside before the chaos started. Or rather, before they were let in on it— it seemed as if the chaos had already been going on for a while.

Jason skidded across the floor in a mad dash, having to grasp the doorframe he was running out of so that he could turn the corner sharply and veer towards them.

“Tell them, Marinette! I found you first, you’re my sister now, don’t fall for any of their Jedi mind tricks!”

Marinette just blinked, a little caught off guard. It hadn’t exactly sunk into her head until right that moment that ‘Wayne Family dinner’ would include Jason. Her mind was still catching up to the fact that she was seeing him out of his security guard uniform for the first time. He wasn’t dressed up at all, in a well-loved brown leather jacket over a white shirt and dark wash jeans. He still had his motorcycle gloves on. Marinette looked down at first herself, then Adrien.

“Are we overdressed?” She asked with a grimace. Jason huffed.

“Of course not, you guys look amazing! But seriously, tell them that I claimed you as my sister first and none of them are half as cool as me.”

Marinette and Adrien traded glances before laughing together.

“If we’re being technical here,” Adrien drawled mischievously as he straightened out his vest. “I met Marinette first, and she adopted me as her brother long before we met any of you,” he pointed out with a sharp grin.

“Ha!” a younger man laughed pointedly, following after Jason. The newcomer was dressed more formally, in a dress shirt under a very luxurious looking burgundy designer sweater. Under that, he wore black perfectly-pressed slacks and nondescript oxfords. His collar showed signs of housing a tie earlier, but he had clearly taken it off sometime earlier. His hair hung slightly long, framing his face with two long locks while the back of his hair slightly stuck up in all directions in natural tufted curls. Like Jason, his hair was jet black and he had bright blue eyes. He was also about half Jason’s size, much shorter and leaner than his adoptive brother. “He’s got you there, idiot,” he snarked smugly at Jason before turning to the two guests. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, Mister Agreste. I’m Tim Drake-Wayne, it’s nice to finally meet both of you,” he introduced himself as he walked over to shake their hands. “And your outfits are amazing! Did you make them, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“Marinette,” she corrected with a lopsided grin. “My last name is a mouthful, and I prefer to just go by Marinette anyway. And yes, I made both of these outfits before we left Paris,” she admitted, trying her best to seem professional. She had already ruined her chances of that with Bruce and Jason, but this time she was prepared!

“They are just as impressive as the rest of your work that I’ve seen. And call me Tim, it’s only fair,” and then he smiled.

Damn his boyish grin. He wasn’t someone Marinette had a crush on— he wasn’t her type— but damn he was unfairly charismatic and charming. His smile temporarily short circuited her brain. That was exactly the kind of boyish smile that had started her crush on Adrien, and that she was unfairly weak for. Now she felt a deep-seated urge to protect this boy and his smile or so help her, someone would be sent to the ER if he was hurt and it wasn’t gonna be her. And she didn’t try to dissuade herself from that strong protective urge, her mother had already assured her that all the Waynes were trustworthy and that Tim in particular shared a lot of her bad habits. She could allow this little bit of vulnerability. Hopefully.

“... I’ve only known you for two minutes, but if anything happened to you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself,” she breathed. Adrien elbowed her hard, making her yelp.

“You said that out loud Mari,” he deadpanned. A deep flush immediately came over her face, and she covered her mouth with both hands.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry— but you— just forget I said anything. Please!”

Tim was visibly shocked, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Jason snorted, overcoming his own brief moment of shock pretty easily.

“Careful there,” Jason chided good-heartedly. His gaze met Marinette’s with a slight weight in it though. “You barely know the guy. He’ll annoy you out of your mind soon enough.”

Marinette caught the hint, wincing and changing the subject. Jason could see that she had done exactly as her mother had warned— she had gotten attached to Tim almost immediately. And while he wanted to believe Marinette when she said that the same wouldn’t happen with Joker, that she was not going to repeat her mother’s mistakes…

He couldn’t help but worry. Joker was a slippery bastard, and good at getting past people’s defenses.

Tim eventually led them all to the dining room, where several people were already sat waiting for them.

“We decided it would be best if we didn’t all swarm you at the door,” Tim explained, grinning at her kindly. “Take a seat wherever you want, Alfred is probably going to be done with dinner soon.”

Marinette and Adrien both nodded, going to sit by each other’s side. Adrien put his hand on her knee when they sat down, and traded a meaningful look with her.

“Calm down,” he whispered. “We’re not in Paris. And if you slip, I’ll catch you. Promise.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed a little. Yeah, she could trust Adrien to make sure she didn’t slip up too much. Get too careless. He’d watch her back like she did for him. She’d be okay. They’d both be okay.

“Thanks, Adrien. I needed that.”

—*—*—*—*—*

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1kook · 4 years ago

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youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3 word count: 8.7k

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him.

And then winter comes.

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years.

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household.

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute.

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets.

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick.

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house.

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable.

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold.

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him.

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional.

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.”

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before.

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again.

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty.

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house.

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions.

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever.

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through.

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times.

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner.

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong.

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor

You blink.

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago.

Oh, so this was new.

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on.

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again.

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy.

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning.

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest.

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you.

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck.

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss.

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?”

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck.

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest.

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck.

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds.

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy.

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side.

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again.

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip.

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers.

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct.

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip.

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt.

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery.

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again.

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him.

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored.

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately.

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth.

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again.

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate.

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear.

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum.

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad.

So you do.

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm.

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes.

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth.

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet.

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves.

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that.

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t.

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him.

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully.

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed.

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight.

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off.

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly.

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you.

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face.

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch.

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble.

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?”

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls.

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy.

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully.

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip.

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite.

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely.

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why.

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now.

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months.

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—”

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions.

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing.

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss.

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat.

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss.

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty.

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off.

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up.

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good.

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading.

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds.

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it.

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan.

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...”

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick.

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you.

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you.

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his.

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.”

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks.

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt.

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips.

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.”

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin.

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm.

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you.

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success.

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself.

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell.

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle.

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, ��underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out.

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart.

To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death.

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying.

It fits perfectly.

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #goldenclosetnet #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jjk♡#jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #mine

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fermented-writers-block · 3 years ago

Text

PART 1 of 6 of the Owl Deity Hooty Theory

[NEXT PART]

[OWL DEITY HOOTY THEORY MASTERPOST] (in development)

(TLDR at bottom of post)

Over several long months of research and analysis since March of 2020, I have been following an utterly fascinating thread of potential misdirection and subtle details throughout The Owl House, and today, I would like to start weaving together of what I believe could become one of the biggest and most cleverly disguised twists in the entire show.

To begin, let’s take a look at the B plot of Understanding Willow:

On first glance, it’s an ultimately inconsequential sidestory with the sole purpose of justifying an excuse to keep Luz and Amity in Willow’s mind, as well as providing some well-needed room to breathe and release tension after the veryemotionally charged confrontation with Inner Willow. After half an episode of Eda and King outdoing the other in ridiculous ways to win Gus’ vote and Gus running off in frustration at the end of the episode from Hooty’s inane rambling, it’s easy to laugh off Gus’ pick and assume that nothing/of value was said when he closed the door for the interview.

However, if one pays close attention to that very scene, Hooty actually canstill be heard (if faintly) underneath Eda and King’s grumbling, interestingly talking about how “It all started with a hunt. Blood red skies. That’s right, I was created-.”

Now, while it may seem silly to focus on dialogue from Hooty of all characters, this A) tells us that there was an event in the past involving blood red skies and a hunt of some kind, B) that Hooty had been created close to said event, and C) implies that what he knows but can’t tell as a story worth a damn is EXTREMELY important to be included and be hidden in such a manner.

For comparison, the only other instance of dialogue being tucked away in the background in the entire show is in Wing It Like Witches:

During the lecture at the beginning of the episode, the history teacher openswith lore on Belos appointing a head witch to each coven over 50 years ago, immediately cluing in the audience to try and decipher the rest of the lecture as it moves to the background. Adding to this is how the musical sting when Luz shows off her movie obscures what he says even further, making it even more of a intriguing puzzle that the creators clearly intended for viewers to pick up on and attempt to solve.

In contrast, the hidden dialogue of Hooty’s interview is much shorter and not as hard to decipher as the teacher’s history lesson, but at the same time, there are few to no indicators whatsoever in that scene to clue in the audience to even check for something like that. It comes at the end of an episode where most viewers would have been paradoxically tired out and driven abuzz by the revelations of Amity and Willow’s relationship, doesn’t attempt to draw much attention to itself, and frames itself as a comedic subversion of audience expectations with neither the “greatest witch who ever lived�� or the self-proclaimed king of demons being picked by Gus.

Instead, he picks someone that the show portrays constantly as an oblivious and gullible idiot after being described as a “state of the art defense system” at the very beginning of the series. Someone who, despite it being played for laughs, is scarily capable of casually subduing Lilith offscreen one episode and then beating her and an entire squad of Emperor’s Coven members without even the slightest change in personality or temperament.

Someone who, due to being the Owl House itself, could be considered the titular character of the entire show, yet is taken for granted by those who inhabit him and barely gets any respect from even the cutely patronized King - including when Hooty could be interpreted as having potentially been full on DEAD for a time given the use of extremely cartoony X eyes and a lack of vital signs in The Intruder.

And someone who Eda at best tolerates and at worst abandons in personal interactions and only occasionally acknowledges him when he’s actually doing his job. Yet at the same time is so implicitly trusted beyondprotecting her home to the point where - when up against the closest person Eda has to an equal outside of likely Belos - the only actually recognizable spells Eda used in combat were 1) stereotypical energy blasts, 2) a single shield spell in Covention, and 3) a noticeably large reliance on imitations of Hooty above any other spells she could have decided to use instead.

In short, the show repeatedly tells us he is just an idiotic gag character through and through, but at the same time demonstrates he has immense power through both onscreen and offscreen demonstrations, implicitly tells us his importance ahead of time through Eda’s imitations in actually serious situations, and treats his interview and origin story as - if not even more- important to keep secret than a long lore dump about how Belos’ reign works.

After all, there being only two instances of hidden background dialogue in the entire season is already intriguing on its own, but for one to get plenty of clues to draw in people’s attention and for the other to be treated as just another gag about a “mere comic relief character” - aka a good way to draw away attention and lower one’s guard - heavily suggests a far deeper significance buried under layers of misdirection, comedy, and conditioned audience expectations.

I mean, when Eda bragged about being “a bad girl living in a secret fortress,” Hooty followed with a remark about how “I’m the secret.” While that line may sound like Hooty simply being confused as part of a one-off on the surface, it’s an odd dialogue choice for the writers to pick when you think about all the other reminders of his nature as the house itself throughout the season. With the precedent these moments set, it would have been much more appropriate for him to latch onto the “fortress” side of “secret fortress” AND it would have been just as equally funny of a joke about his awareness skills, but instead, Hooty broke away from the established trend to say something that would make people suspicious were it to come from anyone else.

In a way, this reminds me much of the many subtle bits of foreshadowing strewn across the show, like Luz unknowingly describing Amity in Witches Before Wizards and Eda burning a hole through Luz’s coven type quiz that coincidentally selected the same track she had taken at Hexside as “a punky potionist.” At the time of airing, these initially seemed like one-off jokes, but eventually came back in full force several episodes later with Amity’s hidden sensitive feelings and love for the Azura books becoming clear in Lost in Language, and the reveal of Eda’s school track in Something Ventured, Someone Framed with her school misdemeanor pictures.

That said, compared to these individual bits of minor foreshadowing, the jokes about Hooty in Understanding Willow appear to simply be the most obvious pieces in a giant puzzle, implicitly and outright telling attentive viewers that there’s a major mystery to be uncovered here.

In fact, I feel bold enough to say that we could be looking at a twist on a similar scale to that of the Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz and Stanford Pines twists in Steven Universe and Gravity Falls respectively, what with this particular puzzle piece coming from how Gus wanted to make THE greatest interview of all time, and how he was looking for someone who was “interesting, accomplished, AND noteworthy:”

Note the emphasis on the ‘and’ here, as Gus had made a big deal that “people aren’t meantto be all those things” at the beginning of the episode, so as a result, stripping away all the comedic framing of his subplot leaves the intriguing implication that whoever - and, perhaps, what- Hooty is, they really are the most interesting, accomplished, AND noteworthy person out of everyone.

I could go further and talk about why I suspect the mystery surrounding King’s origins, whether true or not, is partially meant to misdirect us from paying attention to Hooty, or how the TOH crew’s could be disguising legitimate clues to his nature among made up and highly meme-able joke answers in order to proliferate said concepts throughout the fandom - thus letting us do all the dirty work of getting ourselves used to the ideas and used to dismissing them at the same time - but to bring things to a close for now, I’d like to leave you all with a question that I’ll start answering next time:

What does it mean when both the most powerful and notorious witch on the Boiling Isles and the possible actual king of demons/the Titan itself/something don’t match up to a house? And what do you think it is that makes him so special to warrant such misdirection?

TLDR: Between Eda’s golem spells, the show stressing his nature as the titular house, his implicit strength, and the odd dialogue and structure of Understanding Willow‘s subplot in relation to him, I believe I have good reason to suspect the show has been giving us many hints towards Hooty being much, much more important than it would like us to currently believe or even joke about. Particularly, through clever uses of comedy to establish and enforce a strong audience bias against looking closely at him or unironically taking him seriously, and to potentially plant the seeds for something I will start exploring in Part 2.

#the owl house #the owl house theory #owl house theory #the owl house speculation #toh theory #the owl house hooty #toh speculation #owl deity hooty theory #long post

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dollythesheepp · 2 years ago

Text

Endless Forms Most Beautiful, Chapter 6.

You can read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39467289/chapters/104264037#workskin

Two hours later, Janis and Heather step out of the busy police station, the balmy breeze and the morning sunlight embracing them like a warm hug as soon as the doors open.

"I nailed it, every detail!" Janis says excitedly, she feels as if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

"They haven't made a decision yet," Chandler reminds her, putting on her sunglasses in a very cliche detective fashion.

"Please contain your excitement..." Janis mumbles.

"This is me excited," Heather replies, earning an eye roll from Janis.

"Come on, Chandler, give me a little love here," she teases. "Why do you have to be such a megabitch?"

"Because that's your favorite thing about me," Heather gives her a wink and a lopsided grin. Janis can tell that the casual banter easily rolling off of Heather's tongue —the sarcastic remarks, the witty insults, all wrapped up in a slightly flirtatious tone— was something common in her friendship with Veronica, they had probably known each other for years. Janis is walking in dangerous territory, she says one wrong sentence or gets a small fact wrong and her whole act will fall apart.

"Look, JD doesn't know about the money yet," Janis takes advantage of Heather's good mood to bring up the elephant in the room. "Let me put it back before he finds it."

"That's not the deal, Sawyer," Heather's expression closes up and she speaks in an annoyed tone.

"There was no deal!" Janis says, the frustration making her voice louder than she wanted it to be. "It was just you taking-"

"Looking after you, partner." Heather cuts her off. "And if you bring that shit up one more time, I swear I'll throw it all in the shredder," with that being said, Heather walks away before Janis can get another word in. Janis stands on the sidewalk, fuming, as she watches Heather's figure become smaller and smaller, until she reaches out for her car and leaves. Before Janis can do the same, she feels a small vibration coming from her back pocket and picks up Veronica's cellphone; Denise's name appears on the screen.

"This is Janis," she answers.

"Well, Janis, this will be quick," Denise says. "Since you already know where I live and I can't find a sitter on such short notice, I expect to see you at my house tonight at 9."

"How about right now?"

"Tonight! Go through the back door and knock quietly," Denise lists out the instructions. "And don't forget to bring everything you have from Edith!" with that she hangs up.

Janis isn't liking twin number 6 very much.

***

It's 8:54 when Janis parks Veronica's black Altima in front of Denise's house. Seated next to her is Damian, who gazes at the neighborhood like it's insulting him, disgust written all over his face.

"I never would have agreed to come with you if you said we were going to the suburbs," he mumbles as a tall couple who looks like they belong in a Light and Fit commercial start jogging next to him. "What are you doing?" he asks when Janis makes a motion to exit the car.

"Just stay here, I won't take long."

"You're gonna leave me here?" he asks, incredulous. "Why the hell did you bring me in the first place? You told me we were gonna get frozen yogurt."

"We will, I just need to talk to someone really quick..."

"Who's in there?" Damian asks. Janis is starting to think that the whole twin sister drama is his private little drama show. "Is it Edith?"

"It's definitely not Edith," Janis answers. "She's dead."

"She's dead?"

"Yes. This one is Denise, she's just a suburban bitch. She knows things but she won't tell me unless I give her this," Janis gestures to the briefcase that's in her lap. "So I need you to be my backup."

"I don't even know what that is," her brother says. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing" Janis responds as she opens the car door and gets out, much to Damian's dismay. "I just need someone to know where I am."

"That is not comforting!" he yells at her from inside the car, sticking his head out of the window like a dog, but despite his protests, Janis is already crossing the street. "Janis!"

At Denise's behest, Janis goes to the back of the house. The small wooden gate is unlocked, leading up to the backyard that, even with snow covering most of it, looks straight from a vintage illustration of The American Dream, with an outdoor grill in the corner and a porch swing. Janis walks to the back door and knocks softly, and it swings open half a second later. Expecting to see Denise on the other side of the door, Janis is surprised when she is greeted by a woman she doesn't know.

"Uh, sorry I think I got the wrong house..." she says. These damn houses all look the same.

"No, you didn't," the woman chuckles. "You're Janis, right? Come in, Denise is upstairs. "

She opens the door wider for Janis to pass, then closes it behind her. In different circumstances, unfamiliar faces would apprehense Janis, but after the current events, meeting someone who doesn't look like her is a relief. The woman appears to be in her late twenties just like Janis, with dark blue eyes that almost look violet, wavy ginger hair, slightly lighter than Chandler's, and a friendly expression on her face.

"I'm Cady!" she says with a smile and extends her hand;Janis shakes it. "Nice to meet you."

"Janis," she says. "But you already knew that, somehow..."

"Good, you're here," says a third voice. Janis follows the sound to see Denise Sadler standing on the stairs. Unlike Cady, she doesn't look friendly at all, and neither does the revolver in her well-manicured hands.

"Woah, is that necessary?" Janis asks.

"Be quiet, my kids are sleeping," Denise whispers, meeting Janis and Cady in the living room.

"You're gonna shoot me while your kids are sleeping?"

"If you show your face to them to or my husband then yes, I will shoot you."

"You're gonna scare her," Cady intervenes.

"I've never known a blood relation but I have to say, being your twin sucks," says Janis.

Denise looks at her with a smug look on her face and scoffs. "Twin?" she repeats. "You really have no idea, do you?"

Not understanding what she means, Janis doesn't respond. Denise saunters over to another room; she says something in a hushed voice to someone inside, but the person is out of view. Denise prompts the person with a soft "Come on," and the person obliges, stepping out of the room and into full view. Janis sucks in a breath.

"Hi!" says twin number seven. This version of Janis has messily styled hair, its dyed blond locks falling all the way down to her shoulders, and her black The Clash t-shirt. "I'm Lizzie. We spoke on the phone."

"Shit," is all Janis is able to muster after staring at the woman for what feels like forever, unable to form a coherent thought. "How many of us are there?"

The new lookalike, Lizzie, exhales through her mouth in what Janis assumes is a nervous laugh. "We're not sure. At least 8, including you,'' she says in a gravelly voice. ''But as far as we know there could be more of us out there."

"But what exactly are we?" Janis asks. Lizzie exchanges a quick look with Denise who nods her head in denial. Meanwhile, Cady remains seated on the couch, awkwardly fidgeting with her bracelet like she's an outsider standing in the middle of a family discussion.

Wait, isn't that technically what this is?

"We can't tell you that yet," Denise says.

"What? I did what you asked, the least you can do is give me an explanation-"

"We will," Lizzie chimes in diplomatically. "But...we don't know you, dude. And believe me, we have our reasons to be wary right now. "

Janis runs a hand through her hair, irritated. "There's not much to know. I was born in Alaska, then I moved to Illinois with my foster mom and my brother when I was six, dropped out of high school when I was sixteen, around the same time I came out of the closet, then got into a crappy relationship at eighteen and moved out of my mom's house to live with my girlfriend. I wanted to be an artist but that didn't work out so now I just hop from shitty job to shitty job," she blurts out. It feels weird to tell her life story to a bunch of strangers but if that is what needed to be done to get to the bottom of this then so be it.

"Wait, you're an orphan?" Cady reminds Janis of her presence by asking this question. "So you don't know your birth parents?

"No," Janis says, confused as to why that specific part caught her attention. "I was adopted when I was five. That's all I know."

"You forgot to mention the part where you stole Veronica's identity," Denise says with her arms folded.

"We'll talk about that later, let's just-" Lizzie starts to talk but she is interrupted by Denise.

"No, we'll talk about it now. Suicide? I don't accept that!" she says. She is facing Lizzie and Cady, excluding Janis from the conversation altogether, like she isn't seated inches away from her. "This one is some kind of low-life grifter, how do we know she didn't push her?"

"I didn't want to be her!" Janis exclaims. "I was running away from my own problems."

"Oh, I can only imagine," Denise scorns.

"That's enough, Denise," Cady says softly. "I know this is hard but yelling at her won't change anything."

"We're all sorry about Veronica but we can't say we're surprised, can we? She was losing it, like, clinically," Lizzie says.

"She was the strongest one of us. If she couldn't cope then..." Denise pressed her lips together and doesn't allow herself to finish, letting the sentence dissipate into the air.

Janis slumps forward on the armchair so she's closer to Lizzie and Cady, the least hostile ones in the room, who are both seated on the couch. "Can you just tell me how we are related?"

"Give us the briefcase first," Lizzie insists.

"I'm not giving you shit until you get me some answers," Janis answers back. "How are the eight of us related?"

"We're not," Denise chirps.

"Well, you are," Cady says, then turns her head to face Janis, ginger curls swaying as she does so. "By nature, at least. She's referring to nurture."

Janis squints her eyes in confusion. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Do you really want in? Fine!" Denise bellows at her, the rule of keeping quiet not to wake up her kids completely forgotten by now. "We're clones! We're someone's experiment and they're killing us off. Is that helpful?" Denise spits out the words like they're poisenous seeds.

Silence overcomes the room the second Denise closes her mouth. Janis keeps her gaze on Denise, who doesn't elaborate. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lizzie on the upholstered couch rubbing her forehead, but she doesn't say anything; neither does Cady. Janis turns her head to look at them fully, in hopes they will start laughing and say "Gotcha!" or deny it, but both women remain quiet.

Clones...

There is no way they expect her to believe that, right?

"Sorry, I wanted to land the whole clone story a lot softer..." Lizzie says at last.

Janis doesn't have a lot of time to process the information that had been thrust upon her, as the motion sensor light on Denise's backyard announces the presence of someone else in the house. Cady, seated in a spot that gives her full view of the windows, is the one to notice that.

"Is someone out there?" she asks. Denise grabs her gun in a hurry and heads towards the back door to confront the intruder.

"Holy shit! Don't shoot me!" Janis hears a male voice come from outside. Janis bolts out of the chair as it occurs to her a second too late that the person screaming is none other than her brother. When she gets to the backyard, Damian stands like a deer caught in the headlights, with his hands up in the air to prove he means no harm as Denise points her revolver at him.

"Denise! He's with me!" Janis says, she gets in between the two of them, the gun now pointed at her. "He's my brother."

Denise looks from Janis to Damian, who looks paler than a ghost and slowly puts the gun down with shaky hands. Infuriated with Damian for not doing the one thing she asked him to do, Janis grabs his hands and starts dragging him far away from the crazy lady with the gun, heading in the direction of the house to get her keys and her cellphone — she hasn't let go of the briefcase, there's no way she will be giving that to these women. She remains unsatisfied with what they've told her and the briefcase is her only leverage— before getting the hell out of there.

"What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay in the car," Janus hisses at him. Lizzie is waiting for her by the door, with Janis's belongings in her hand; she makes a motion to give Janis her stuff but moves her hand away when Janis reaches out to get them.

"You just broke the first rule of clone club," she says, craning her head.

"Never tell anyone about clone club?" Janis derides the lame movie reference. Lizzie nods her head, then sets her gaze on Damian who stands behind Janis, flabbergasted.

"Well, this is awkward. Hi, I'm Lizzie!" she says with a quick wave, to which Damian retributes without saying a word, too verklempt to communicate verbally.

"I have to go back to Long Island this weekend, but you have the girls' number, give them a call when you decide what you want to do," Lizzie says to her. "You need answers; we need the briefcase. Seriously, it's life or death."

***

"Clones?!" Damian repeats the word for what feels like the hundredth time as he tries to churn on what Janis told him.

"They're not me," Janis maunders, slumped on his couch, the vertigo in her head matching the one in her brain. "They not. They are completely different people."

For a moment, Damian's frantic paces around the loft are all there is to hear. "Cop Janis, Soccer Mom Janis, Punk Rock Janis..." he mutters. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know!" Janis can't help but lash out at him. "What difference does it make?"

"A lot. Last time I checked human cloning was illegal, let alone impossible!"

"Just let it go, it doesn't matter!" Janis tries to eschew the subject but Damian doesn't back down.

"It does matter, though," he says. "You can't just ignore it."

Janis can't get Denise's voice out of her mind, her harsh words gnawing insider Janis's brain.

Clones...someone's experiment...killing us...

"Yes, I can! This doesn't change anything." Janis yells, meaning every word. The song remains the same: get the money back from Heather and get out. Janis doesn't know what those women are dealing with, granted not even they know, but it's something dangerous. People getting killed and people killing themselves because of it and Janis plans to remain untethered, she refuses to get sucked into this mess.

***

Janis waits until the next morning to talk to Heather again, one last desperate attempt to get the money back. She steps into the police station as if she belongs there.

"Veronica!" a man she doesn't know approaches her with a smile. "Are you back already? I thought you were still off."

"I am but I can't get enough of this place," Janis says. "Is Chandler here?"

"Yes, I think she's at her desk," he says. Janis thanks him and follows the place he pointed at. The guy is right, Chandler is in fact at her desk. She is seated in front of the computer, a mountain of files beside her.

"Hey," Janis greets.

"Hi," she says but doesn't take her eyes off of the computer. "Are you going to bug me about the cash again?"

"Things are bad between JD and I," Janis tells her the fabricated lie. "At any moment, he's gonna see the empty account and-"

"Stop pulling my dick about this, Sawyer," Chandler scowls. "I told you, you'll get the cash once you're on active duty."

"Sawyer!" both Janis and Heather turn their heads to see Lieutenant Gowan standing at the door of his office.

"Sorry, just came to say hi!" Janis says.

"No, you're not," he says. "In my office, now."

Janis swallows dry but complies with his order, she takes one look back at Heather with an expression that asks "what did I do?" to which Heather responds with a shrug.

"Congratulations, you're reinstated." Lieutenant Gowan tells her. He gives her Veronica's gun and police badge, the objects feels heavy in Janis' hand, like they don't belong there. "Welcome back, detective."

Heather's eyes meet her as soon as she walks out of the office, whatever she was working on her computer is forgotten, as she's focused on Janis.

"I have bad news for you," Janis holds up her badge for Heather, in glee. Heather tries to fight the smile that starts creeping up her face but eventually gives in, her pearly white teeth lighting up her whole face.

"Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw," Heather says. "We just got a call, some idiot didn't realize they were burying a body next to an active gravel quarry. Buckle up, bitch."

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