#not to mention how they use the music in that last scene too! it's repetitive and unsettling

[stuffgoeswrong]

Hibike Euphonium season 3 episode 7

Broooo!!

Brilliant. This is easily my favorite episode so far. I love that Reina, Kumiko, and Shuuichi communicate in one shared notebook, first of all. It's so sweet and funny. Other things just, are making me emotional. Mamiko making up with her dad and just giving a gift to him that he enjoyed after the season 2 drama? Yay! And Kumiko and Hazuki going to the college event together really felt like this chapter in their lives is ending. I'm so proud they're growing up even though Kumiko still hasn't decided what she'll do (but we know where it's going at this point). Their conversation afterward was funny too. Plus! Natsuki and Yuuko visiting with snacks and just talking about how the year is going is so very realistic.

The thing that took me by surprise was Mayu Kuroe this episode. Something's clearly been off or hinted at with her even though she's so nice and respectable. I've been worried where it's going, but now we've seen she's very similar to middle school Kumiko, yet she's in Kumiko's same grade. It's haunting and unnerving for Kumiko to see what she used to be like: without passion and kind of without opinions. Mayu has such a ways to mature and grow from where she's at. She just wants to please everyone, which isn't a bad thing, but can be dangerous if she has no moral code. She seems to think less of herself than everyone around her because "no one would ever love someone who isn't" opinionated or whatever. She likes being around those people but doesn't think she's like them herself.

And they frame all this through Mayu's photography! Where you don't see the person taking the picture and often don't even think about them. We look at her pictures through her eyes, but lack the seeing through her heart. She likes taking pictures, but she's never in them. She doesn't have a reason she likes it, not that we can tell, but she'll need that if she's going to make a profession out of it. She's like a ghost or a shell right now even though she thinks highly of her musicianship and does have some preferences, she says. To hammer the point home, she asks what drink Tsubame likes most so she can just have that instead of guessing what she wants. I think I got chills, what a way to end that heavy scene.

But Kumiko, caring band President, invites her into a picture for once. Later, Mayu says it didn't develop properly when she's sharing photos with the group. Foreshadowing? Going forward, she might resist Kumiko's efforts to help her with whatever she might need. Kumiko's biggest challenge is again helping her younger self.

So yeah. I just needed a moment to analyze this episode cause it did something to me. A lot happened and a lot was done very well.

[ceoofsammonroe]

What We Do In The Shadows - James Kelly Smut

Summary: You meet James at a club that your friends had dragged you to and you both find what you’ve been looking for, hidden in the depth of the shadows.

Warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, public sex, reader and James get freaky in a dark corner of a club, exhibitionism, handjob (James receiving), fingering (reader receiving), grinding, alcohol consumption, drink sharing, use of pet names (doll, baby, etc.), teasing, begging, mentions of smoking, as always James is a constant yapper.

Masterlist

The low thumping of a gritty bass vibrated through your body as you idly sipped on the remnants of your drink.

Your friends danced around you, laughing and jumping beneath the haze of fog and strobe lighting. You swayed along with them, trying to match their energy but not quite hitting the mark.

They had dragged you out to this club after staging a makeshift intervention about how you were supposedly turning into a hermit. They swore that you were far too young and hot to be spending every night hulled away in your home and insisted you come out with them tonight to let loose and ‘get some’.

You’d begrudgingly agreed and went with them on the pretense that you’d just be hanging out and not searching for any random hookup. However, now that you were here, you found yourself scanning the dark room for anyone that would catch your attention.

It was pointless, though. Every face you saw looked just like the repetitive boring supply that drove you to reclusiveness in the first place.

It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in having some fun. It was just that nothing seemed to spark your interest. Every guy felt the same, forcing you into a monotonous rhythm that was unfulfilling and unsatisfying.

You wanted something that would excite you, that would make you feel alive again, but that conquest was growing more and more hopeless with every passing moment.

James had a headache.

The pounding of the overly loud music was hammering against his skull and the too bright flashes of lights in the otherwise dark room were disorienting.

God, he was getting old.

He took a swig of his beer, rubbing his thumb against the drops of condensation on the glass bottle.

His coworker, Adam, had tricked him into coming out tonight — much to James’ disdain. This was not his usual scene. In fact, his usual scene was relaxing on his couch in the comfort of his own home.

“You could at least pretend to be having fun,” Adam sighed, giving him a pointed look.

“You said we were goin’ out for drinks,” James retorted, leaning against the small table they were standing beside.

“Are we not drinking?” Adam asked, gesturing to the beers they each had in their hands.

James rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he said, “I thought we were goin’ to a bar. Somewhere we could watch the game or somethin’. Not some place this…chaotic.”

“Look, man, someone had to drag you out of that cave you’re always hiding in,” Adam shrugged, taking another drink of his beer. “You need to go out, see people. You need friends.”

“I have friends…” James scoffed, though even he didn’t sound convinced. “I mean, we’re friends.”

“We’re work friends,” Adam corrected him. “That doesn’t count. Besides, dude, you gotta get laid. When was the last time you got any?”

James felt his cheeks warm at the question and he didn’t feel particularly inclined to answer. Instead, he raised his empty bottle and said, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

He weaved through the sweaty crowd, grimacing to himself as he made his way to the bar. He rubbed his temples as he waited for another beer, thanking the bartender once he was given a fresh bottle.

His eyes scanned the crowd briefly, looking for anyone that might pique his interest before he shook his head with a sigh.

Truthfully, James really hadn’t gotten any in a long time. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be getting laid — he was a man, after all — or that women weren’t interested in him. He’d had plenty of girls show him interest, it just all seemed like too much work.

He didn’t understand why there were so many steps nowadays to gauge whether or not you even wanted to pursue something with someone. Maybe it was old fashioned, but James missed the feeling of just connecting with someone.

He let out a huff, taking a swig of his drink and turning to go back and tell Adam he was going to go home.

He stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on someone across the room.

You felt his eyes on you before you saw him.

The ruggedly handsome man at the bar looked somewhat startled when your gaze locked with his, but he didn’t break the eye contact. Instead, he tilted his head to the side as his lips pulled up in an intrigued smile.

Something about the way he was looking at you ignited a spark in your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time. You noticed yourself swaying to the music a little more sensually, relishing in the way his eyes slowly trailed up and down your body, appreciatively.

You looked away from him momentarily, turning to your friends as you said, “I’m gonna go grab a drink.”

You made your way through the crowd, watching his grin widen as he raised his bottle to his lips. He looked at you expectantly as you approached him, seemingly waiting for you to make the first move.

With a smirk, you turned away from him and faced the bar like you’d only walked over to order a drink. He nodded, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he let out a deep chuckle.

He leaned in closer to you, his lips hovering near your ear as he said, “If the goal is to get me beggin’ for your attention…it’s workin’.”

You glanced over at him with a raised brow, making a show of giving him a scrutinizing once over.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, grinning up at him, “didn’t see you there.”

“Right, right…” he drawled, biting back an amused smile. “Well, since I’ve got you here now, I’m James.” He waited, eyebrows raised as silence passed between you. “Are you gonna tell me your name, or…?”

“You haven’t earned my name yet, James,” you told him, leaning against the bar with a tilt of your head. “Although, that begging you mentioned earlier might give you an advantage.”

James breathed out a laugh, shaking his head as his eyes sparkled with interest. He focused on your face, narrowing his gaze as if he was trying to figure you out.

“Can I at least buy you a drink?” James asked, gesturing to the bar.

You looked down at the beer in his hand, smirking as you took it from him and said, “This one will do, thanks.”

James blinked as his mouth opened and closed, caught off guard by your boldness. His attention was quickly redirected to the way your lips wrapped around the bottle as you downed the rest of the drink. He fought back a groan as you licked the remaining droplets from your lips, slamming the empty bottle on the counter and taking a step closer to him.

You trailed your fingers down his arm before grabbing his hand, pulling him with you as you said, “Dance with me, James.”

James wasn’t a dancer — never had been — but, as you asked him to dance, he couldn’t possibly refuse. He felt entranced, like you’d bewitched him somehow and trapped him under your spell. He didn’t have a single complaint about it, though.

He followed you out to the dance floor, his eyes never once leaving yours. There was a growing tension between you, a heated tether that was pulling you closer together.

As you melded in with the crowd of moving bodies, you gripped the front of James’ shirt and pulled him into you. His hands gripped your hips as he glanced around at the rest of the crowd before looking back down at you, a sheepish grin on his face.

“I don’t really know what I’m doin’ out here, doll,” he said, though he made no move to leave. His thumb rubbed the fabric of your dress as he leaned down closer and asked, “You gonna show me?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” you smirked, reaching up to trace your fingers over his brow. “Close your eyes.”

James’ eyes fluttered shut as he released a shaky breath, waiting eagerly for your next move.

You ran your fingers along the edges of his ears as you said, “Listen to the sound of the music. Focus on it. Block out all the other chatter.” James shivered, but did as you said. You moved your touch down the sides of his neck, placing your hands flat on his chest. “Feel the pulsing of the bass inside of you, like a heartbeat. Let it meld with your own.” James all but groaned at the feeling of your soft hands rubbing against his chest, but he focused on the task at hand. He honed in on the deep vibrations, unable to tell where his heartbeat ended and the bass began. You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tip-toes to whisper in his ear. “Now, feel the person in your arms. Feel how my body molds against yours. Move with it, with the music.”

James’ breath hitched as you placed a soft kiss beneath his ear. His eyes opened, blown pupils staring down at you with a mix of desire and curiosity.

Slowly, you began to move with the music. His body moved in time with yours as his hands slid around to your lower back, pressing you closer against him.

His body felt firm against your own, the faint scent of smoke and cedar swirling around you. His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost as if he was afraid he’d break you. He quickly fell into the rhythm, letting himself go as the heat built between you.

“See? You’re a natural,” you grinned, swaying your hips to the rhythm.

“It helps havin’ a hot teacher,” James smirked, leaning down until his face was a few inches from yours. “Although, it kinda makes a guy wanna misbehave.”

The friction of your bodies was tantalizing, wrapping you both in a haze that had nothing to do with the fog and smoke in the air.

James’ gaze flickered down to your lips as his tongue darted out to wet his own. He leaned in, slowly, and you could feel your body humming with anticipation. He let his lips just barely brush against yours before he gripped your hips and turned you around, pressing your back against his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as he wrapped his arms around your waist, brushing his lips against your ear.

“Do you feel what you’re doin’ to me, doll?” James breathed, pressing his hips against your ass to let you feel the growing hardness beneath his jeans. “You’ve got me hypnotized.”

You bit your lip as he nipped at your earlobe, feeling scatters of goosebumps erupt along your skin. His breath fanned against your neck as he trailed soft kisses down to your shoulder.

“Maybe that was my plan all along,” you quipped, reaching back to tangle your fingers in his hair. It was softer than you’d expected, feeling silky to the touch. “To seduce you and lure you into my clutches.”

You danced to the music, intentionally grinding your ass back against him. James groaned in your neck, gripping your hips as he rocked into you.

“Fuck, baby,” he cursed, feeling desire burning through him like a wildfire. “You won’t hear me complainin’.”

James’ cock pulsed in time with his heart, nestled against the curve of your ass. He had to fight the urge to rip your dress off and fuck you right there — in the middle of the dance floor. He hadn’t felt this kind of raw need in a very long time and he was quickly losing his resolve.

Everywhere James touched felt electric as his hands roamed across the fabric of your dress. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had chemistry this natural with someone. It was like your bodies had known each other for a lifetime, and god did they want to reunite.

You tightened your fist in his hair as he grazed his teeth along your shoulder, using your free hand to guide one of his down your thigh.

He caught the hint, chuckling against your ear as he gripped the plush flesh. He let his hand disappear beneath the skirt of your dress, softly trailing his fingertips up and down the inside of your thigh.

Your skin felt hot beneath his teasing touch, flushed and glistening with sweat. There was a tightness growing in your lower belly, nearly making you forget where you were. Your head leaned back against his shoulder as your eyes fluttered shut, the pounding of your heart nearly drowning out the music.

James could feel the heat of your desire between your thighs and his mind was filled with thoughts of touching you, feeling you, tasting you. He noticed how your breathing quickened and the subtle way you parted your legs, and he couldn’t resist moving his hand a little higher to brush against the damp fabric of your panties.

Your eyes shot open as you gasped, tugging sharply on his hair. His touch was fleeting, teasing you before moving down your other thigh.

You turned back around to face him, your knees nearly buckling beneath the look of want in his eyes.

“That’s awfully bold,” you said, sounding as breathless as you felt. “Copping a feel of a stranger in a crowded club.”

He gripped your chin, tilting your head back and pulling your face close to his as he whispered, “Wanna see what else I can do in a crowded club?”

He trailed his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling it down as he leaned forward and took it between his teeth. You inhaled a sharp breath, peering up at him through your lashes. He raised an eyebrow, waiting on your answer.

You nodded at him, too dizzy with need to form a verbal response. His lips spread into a primal grin as he led you through the crowd. You followed him toward the dark corner where the shadows could hide your secrets. Finding an alcove, he spun you around and pressed your back against the wall.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as you gripped the front of his shirt, gazing up at him. His mouth turned up in a smug smirk as he leaned in to trail soft kisses along your jaw.

“Where’d that chatty personality go, hm?” James teased, his breath hot against your ear. “You were such a smooth talker, doll, what happened? Cat got your tongue?”

Your face flushed at his teasing, but you couldn’t find the words to argue your case. Instead, you grabbed his face and captured his lips in a hungry kiss.

James groaned, pressing you harder against the wall as his lips devoured yours. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you licked into his mouth. He hummed in approval as you tugged on the strands, rocking his hips against yours.

Your eyes shot open with a gasp as you felt his hand snake beneath your dress, teasing you over your panties with his fingertips.

He stared down at you through hooded eyes, breathing heavily as he watched you squirm against his touch. He grinned, wickedly, as he felt the fabric dampen even more with his soft touch.

“What’s got you so wet, baby?” James taunted, playfully, nipping at your bottom lip. He dropped his voice to a husky whisper as he said, “Gettin’ all hot ‘n bothered hidin’ in the shadows like this?”

You released a shaky breath as he kissed down your neck, sucking softly against your pulse point. He slowly started sinking to his knees, gazing up at you as he trailed his lips down the fabric of your dress.

“James, someone might see,” you whispered, feeling your heart race as you warred between watching him and glancing around to make sure nobody was looking.

He looked up at you with a smirk as he reached under your dress, slowly peeling your panties down your legs.

“Let ‘em watch,” he shrugged, stuffing the garment in his back pocket as he stood up again.

He grabbed the back of your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist to open you up for him. He kissed you, slowly and deeply, as he pressed you back against the wall and shielded your body.

“Relax, doll,” he murmured, moving to kiss your neck. “Nobody can tell what’s happenin’, even if they do look this way. Besides, they’re all too drunk to care.”

A soft moan escaped your lips as he began to circle your clit. The callouses on his fingers made for a delicious friction, building the ache that was growing in your belly.

“Fuck,” you breathed, gripping onto his shoulders for support. You leaned your head back against the wall, giving his mouth better access. “That feels so good.”

James chuckled against your neck, his warm breath making you shiver.

“Yeah? Feels good?” James asked, lifting his head back up to look at you. “What about this?” You gasped as James eased a finger inside of you, stretching you out before adding a second one. James grinned, curling his fingers. “Does that feel good?”

A soft mewling sound resonated in your throat as you fisted the fabric of his shirt. He was watching you with rapt attention, taking in every little reaction he was pulling out of you. His thumb circled your clit as two of his fingers pumped inside of you, curling against that spot that made you see stars. He was working your body with expert precision, like he’d unraveled you time and time before.

“Yeah, feels good,” you panted, trying to get ahold of yourself. His touch was making you dizzy, filling you with an untamed desire. “I can’t let you do all the work, though.”

James raised an eyebrow as you spoke, rubbing your hands down his chest. You smirked up at him, undoing the button of his jeans. His eyes grew darker as a groan escaped his lips, his hips bucking forward instinctively. He chewed on his lip as you slowly undid the zipper, letting your finger trail down the bulge in his boxers.

“Fuck, doll,” he hissed, his cock twitching in his boxers. “You wanna touch me? Wanna wrap those soft hands around me, make me feel good?”

You nodded, dipping your hand past the waistband to wrap your fingers around his cock. You began to slowly stroke him, making a deep groan sound in his throat. He was already slick with pre-cum, his length throbbing in your hand.

“Good thing I decided not to wait any longer,” you purred, squeezing him tighter. “Feels like you were about to explode any second there.”

“Shit, baby,” he moaned, thrusting into your fist. “You have no idea. Coulda came just from touchin’ you, from feelin’ you squeezin’ my fingers all tight.”

His fingers were still pumping in and out of you, coaxing you closer to the edge. You used your free hand to push the front of his boxers down, exposing his cock to the thick air between your bodies.

Your hand looked small around it as you twisted your fist over him. You clenched around his fingers just at the sight of him, almost drooling at his size.

A cocky smirk pulled at James’ lips as he said, “Like what you see, baby? Thinkin’ about how good it would feel buried in that tight little pussy of yours?”

Your eyes fluttered as you whimpered, dripping onto his hand. He pulled his fingers out of you, earning a whine of protest as your walls clenched around the sudden emptiness. His eyes glimmered with lust as he brought his fingers up to his lips, sucking them clean.

“Mm,” he moaned, breathing deeply. “You taste so good, doll. So fuckin’ sweet. I wanna bury my face between your thighs until you’re screamin’ my name…but we can’t risk that.”

You wanted to tell him to risk it all, not caring if anyone saw, but you knew you couldn’t. Still, it didn’t stop your body from trembling at the thought.

Instead, you gripped the back of his head and pulled his lips back onto yours. You moaned into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

His kiss was desperate and hungry, matching the boiling heat inside of you. He replaced your hand on his cock as he kissed you, rubbing the damp tip against your swollen clit.

“Ah,” you gasped, instantly rocking your hips forward.

James tilted his head to the side, grinning as he said, “Oh, that’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck you? Want me to fill you up so full that nobody else will ever feel as good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, gripping his shirt as you swallowed thickly. “I want you to fuck me. I’ve wanted you to since I saw you by the bar.”

“Are you sure, doll?” James asked, taunting you. He teased his tip around your entrance, nudging forward without actually pushing inside of you. “I can stop if I need to…”

“I’m sure! I’m sure, just…please, fuck me, James,” you begged, desperately tugging at his hips to try and make him move forward.

“Eager baby,” James cooed, chuckling lowly. “I’ve got you, doll, don’t worry. Gonna make you feel so good, I swear.”

He eased his hips forward, slowly sinking into you. Once he was buried to the hilt, feeling you snugly wrapped around him, he let out a shaky moan.

“Oh my god…” you breathed, letting out soft sounds of pleasure as you clung to him. He was stretching you out in a way that made your knees buckle. “Please, move. Fuck me.”

“Gladly, baby,” he said, wasting no time in setting a steady pace.

His hips snapped against yours, thrusting into you relentlessly as your eyes rolled back. Your toes curled as you clutched his shirt tightly, unable to stop the lewd strings of moans and whines spilling from your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, doll,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against yours. “Nice ‘n wet, too. God, you’re fuckin’ soaked. All for me, hm?”

“James,” you mewled, digging your nails into his shoulders.

Every thrust was angled perfectly, like his cock was made to fit inside of you. He cradled the back of your head to keep it from hitting the hard wall, a gentle gesture in contrast to the way he was fucking you. He hiked your leg up higher, pushing in deeper as you let out a loud moan.

“Oh, god,” you whined, scrunching up your eyebrows. “Don’t stop. Fuck, just like that.”

“Shh, baby,” James whispered, kissing you softly as he grinned. “We can’t have you drawin’ everyone’s attention, can we?”

You bit down on your lip to keep quiet, suddenly reminded of the fact that you were still in public. A thrill coursed through you, making you clench around him as your heart pounded.

“Oh, you like that, doll?” James asked, brushing his lips against your ear. “You like knowin’ that I’m fuckin’ you right here where anyone could see us?”

You gasped, nodding your head as you whispered, “Yes.”

He nipped at your earlobe, bringing his hand down to rub fast circles against your clit as he thrust into you.

“Such a dirty girl,” he purred, licking the shell of your ear. “Gettin’ off on the risk of bein’ caught with a stranger’s cock buried deep inside you? Shoulda just bent you over the bar n’ fucked you right there like I wanted to.”

Your lips parted in a silent cry as you panted, feeling a rush of heat through your bloodstream as you lost the rest of your resolve.

“I’m gonna come,” you breathed, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me, doll,” he groaned, snapping his hips harder against yours. “Wanna feel you squeezin’ my cock, milkin’ it dry.”

White hot pleasure washed over you in waves as you came around him. James fucked you through it, kissing you roughly to swallow down your moans. His hips stuttered as he followed after you, biting down on your lip as his release spilled inside of you.

James’ thrusts slowed to a stop as the both of you came down. He kissed your temple, breathing heavily as he tried to regain his composure.

You gazed up at him through slightly blurred vision, taking in the deep blue of his eyes and the bright flush of his cheeks. He reached a gentle hand up to brush back the hair that had clung to your forehead as he leaned in to kiss you softly.

You melted against his lips, drowning in his kiss.

He eased out of you, holding you steady as he helped you fix your dress. You could feel him dripping down your thighs, causing a heat to creep up your neck.

Glancing over his shoulder, you spotted your friends searching for you by the bar. You let out a shaky breath, looking back up at James with a sheepish smile.

“I gotta get going,” you told him, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for the dance.”

James begrudgingly let you go, his eyes following you with longing as you walked away from him. His heart was still racing, completely captivated by you.

When you rejoined your friends, they all gave you curious looks and immediately questioned your whereabouts. You rolled your eyes and laughed, walking toward the door as they pestered you relentlessly for answers.

As you stepped outside, the cool air felt nice against your flushed skin. The gentle breeze did, however, remind you of your current lack of underwear — thanks to a certain thief.

Before you could walk toward the car waiting for you, you felt a hand on your arm. You turned around to see James, grinning as he held out a cigarette toward you.

You quirked a brow, shaking your head as you said, “I don’t smoke.”

“It wasn’t intended for you to smoke,” he shrugged, handing it to you anyways.

You glanced down at it, seeing that he’d scrawled his number on the side of it.

He leaned in to your ear and whispered, “Call me ‘n tell me if I earned your name.”

He smirked as he pulled back, giving you a wink before disappearing back into the dark club.

You bit your lip to conceal your grin as you turned back to your friends, meeting their shocked and thrilled faces.

You spent the entire car ride back filling them in on every detail, listening to their squeals and gasps of excitement.

It was safe to say that you’d found the thing you hadn’t even realized you’d been looking for and, as you clutched the unlit cigarette in your hand, you couldn’t wait to see him again.

[vickyvicarious]

Like The Dawn by The Oh Hellos is about Adam and Eve but ...Jonathan hospitalized in Hungary with brain fever and mad, seeing Mina, and marrying her

And like the dawn you broke the dark and my whole earth shook

I was sleeping in the garden when I saw you

And like the dawn you woke the world inside of me

You were the brightest shade of sun when I saw you

At last, at last

Bones of my bones and flesh of my flesh, at last

And you will surely be the death of me

But how could I have known?

I wanted to get to this ask on their wedding day, but I'm a bit late. Alas, I wanted that so I didn't have to tag spoilers on this but I'm gonna do it anyway because parts remind me of scenes from later in the book.

This is such a sweet song. Jonathan thinking of Mina as the dawn, the sunlight... I love it. Even before they reunite, the thought of her kept him going. But when they meet again...

You didn't mention the first two lines but I think they work really well: "I was sleeping in the garden when I saw you first / he'd put me deep, deep under so that he could work / and like the dawn you broke the dark and my whole earth shook" Like, "the garden" is a place to grow and heal, it's the hospital! And yet his sleeping wasn't good in this context, he was lost/unaware. Dracula putting Jonathan deep deep under so he could work is quite a twist on how I'm sure that line is meant to be read but I think it works super well. Dracula's work is of course his plans for his trip. Jonathan being deep under referring both to his torment and despair, the attempt at damning him to become a vampire too (his fate if he'd remained in the castle), and finally in the same sense that he is 'asleep'. He's buried in pain and madness and trauma. But then Mina comes in, and she breaks the dark, and his world changes around him to something better.

In the next verse, the line "bones of my bones and flesh of my flesh, at last" is of course a specific reference to Adam and Eve but I think is also a quote used to show how closely linked two people can be? In any case it works excellently for their marriage, for them joining together... The 'at last' is his profound relief and joy at finally returning to her, at marrying her. (It also works so well for the line right before, when seeing her gets two "at last, at last"). This line also works so well in contrast to Dracula's perversion of a 'wedding vow' in his wine-press speech where he says Mina will be "flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood; kin of my kin;" in a moment of horrible triumph. But she's already bones of Jonathan's bones, flesh of his flesh; as she later tells Jonathan their souls "are knit into one, for all life and all time".

So she wakes the world inside of him, she was the brightest shade of sun.... and then after the musical interlude, we get the lines: "at last / and you will surely be the death of me / but how could I have known?" These lines, if anything, take us from their wedding to Jonathan's vow. There's a kind of sad tone to this part which works better there. The lingering 'at last'... If she dies, then she'll be the death of him too because he'll be joining her. The line about 'how could I have known' doesn't actually sound regretful in any way and the song begins to build back up with repetitions of the memory of her being the brightest shade of sun, of her saving him. I think that part works well for his devotion and dedication to follow her even if that sun sets.

[sagitariusrising]

I Let The Beast in Too Soon

“I let the beast in too soon, I don't know how to live without my hand on his throat, I fight him always and still. Oh darling, it's so sweet, you think you know how crazy, how crazy I am. You say you don't spook easy, you won't go, but I know, And I pray that you will…”

A man with silver hair meets a woman covered in stars…

18+ content. Orson Krennic / OFC; Modern AU; Modern Rogue One tech interpretations; Boston setting; Defense Contractor!Krennic; Scientist!Krennic; Kyber Crystals; OFC with psychic abilities; Mentions of Wilhuff Tarkin, Galen Erso, Chirrut Îmwe, Baze Malbus; other characters forthcoming; clubbing; alcohol use; smut; mutual attraction dialed up to 11; safer sex practices; OFC doesn't have time for Krennic's games; emotional vulnerability from both characters; fear; Krennic is besotted; more tags to be added later

Word Count: 5450-ish

This story is inspired by the house on the bluff on the coast and my need to put Orson Krennic and his science in a modern setting.

Full courage!! This is my first full fic post ever and the story has lived rent-free in my head for years. Several of you have seen it, you know who you are, specifically @smolbeandrabbles (who was my first reader: OCs = my babies), and @pinksiamese (who gave me thoughtful and constructive feedback, edited what was needed, and kicked my rear end into gear). I owe a lot to @sufferthesea (and her perfect comm that helped form the entire planned story) There's more...

Playlist (in order)

The title comes from "Fast as You Can," by Fiona Apple: This song nicely encompasses the entire planned fic.

"More," by the Sisters of Mercy.

"Fascination Street," by The Cure

"Perfect Kiss," by New Order

"Natural One" by the Folk Implosion

"The Killing Moon," by Echo and the Bunnymen

OFCs faceclaim is here

***

A man with silver hair entered the club. 

Kary noticed him immediately, but who wouldn’t? Confident in his masculinity, pale suit, and haughty expression. He checked his coat at the door and surveyed the dance floor. 

Feigning disinterest, she peeked as he strode to the bar.  He raised his hand and ordered a drink. 

He’s too old to be here, he’s probably slumming tonight. Maybe he’s lost? Or meeting someone? 

That was it. Turning her attention back to the beat of the music, she lost herself in the dancing. Tonight’s venture away from home had a purpose: she needed the distraction, to get outside of her head. 

***

Clubbing in the theatre district hadn’t been part of Orson Krennic’s evening agenda. Tonight was supposed to be his big sendoff, but he’d left the festivities early, feeling let down and almost empty. 

The event had been part presentation, part retirement party. Krennic delivered his academic paper, titled “Nanotechnology and Optic Crystals: Military Applications of Laser Technology for Drone Warfare” at the banquet sponsored jointly by MIT and Tarkin Industries. A celebration, his last hurrah. 

Retired from the Navy with Captain stripes in place,  Krennic went to work in the private sector. For Wilhuff Tarkin, his rival both in school and in the service. Putting their differences aside, the two men had diligently worked to produce technology for military contracts. 

After five years, Krennic had become bored and embittered. Tarkin had regularly second-guessed and belittled his ideas and took more than his fair share of credit for their designs. Krennic was paid well and was respected in the industry--at least to his face. And he had all the status symbols: a penthouse apartment with a view of the waterfront, first name status at all the restaurants, and an expensive car. Plenty of beautiful women threw themselves at him, a rotation of bed partners whom he’d enjoy for the night and forget in the morning.

But the thrill was gone. 

Krennic was bored. He wanted something beyond the superficiality of business transactions and casual sex. His weapon designs had become repetitive, the innovation was gone. The social scene in Boston was dull and noisy. He began to entertain the possibility of a more substantial relationship, but the dating apps were bewildering: all of his matches were airbrushed women with parted lips who called him “Daddy.” 

Galen Erso was the zenith of his disillusion. They had been as thick as thieves in the Science Corps, had come up together in the Futures Program, attended MIT together, and become commissioned officers in the same unit in the Navy. They were like Oppenheimer and Groves: the crystal-based lasers they designed together were invaluable to the government and had been used for crushing conflict in countries across the globe. 

But Galen had seen the impact of their work in real-time, the bodies of civilians whom their weapons had struck down. Horrified and encouraged by his wife, Galen had resigned his commission, left the Navy, and settled on some organic farm in the middle of nowhere to raise a family. 

Krennic had seen Galen at a protest in front of Tarkin Industries. Disheveled, with long hair and hemp trousers, Galen had been carrying a sign that said STOP THE WEAPONS OF WAR and was leading a chant of REMEMBER THE INNOCENT. The next day, Krennic received an email with attached photos of dead bodies and destroyed cities. 

Deciding he needed an exit plan, Krennic spent extra hours at the lab, developing and testing a new application, nanotechnology with ion beams reflecting from lenses made from Kyberium.  Testing in the lab had proved successful, his field simulations had confirmed his hypotheses, and he’d been able to duplicate his results successfully. 

The power of the Kyberium was swift and deadly. Applying for a patent was easy and he had stealthily offered the technology to Raytheon. Krennic was going to get out of Boston, build a house up north by the ocean, and figure out the next chapter of his life.  

After the sale had gone through---a generous profit and a share of Raytheon’s proceeds in perpetuity---he had sold his shares in Tarkin Industries and resigned. Wihuff was furious, apoplectic. And humiliated when the paper Krennic had written about the technology had gotten noticed and published in a well-regarded academic journal. Forced to swallow his pride, Tarkin had arranged for Krennic to present the paper at tonight’s conference and combined the presentation with a retirement party. 

The applause had been thunderous. After the presentation, Krennic accepted a glass of scotch and made his way around the room, shaking hands and nodding at his peers' congratulations. Tarkin muttered “congratulations” and palmed over a shining point of Kyberium, Krennic nodded his thanks and slid the crystal into his pocket.  But the room was stuffy, the company boring, and there was too much fawning. He had already moved on. Krennic ducked out of the gala as soon as he could. 

***

He had boarded the subway with the intent of going home. But at the Theatre District stop, he’d made a spur-of-the-moment decision to get off the train and walk the remainder of the way. 

The sidewalks were crowded with theatergoers, tourists, and scads of people streaming in and out of the blocks of dance clubs. The music coming out of one of the clubs had stopped him: the tunes reminded him of his youth and decided he would have a drink and perhaps find some female company, he’d paid the ridiculous cover charge and gone in. 

The pulse of “More” by the Sisters of Mercy greeted him.  Through flashing lights and the crowd at the bar, the dance floor was packed. 

Meeting women was easy: his looks and obvious income made sure of that. But surveying the room, he thought blonde...brunette...too thin...too fat...too odd looking...taken...Christ, they’re all too young!” 

He ordered bourbon, tugged off his tie, and stuffed it in his pocket. Maybe he would just sit and enjoy the scenery. 

Leaning against the bar, he scanned the crowds. 

And found her. 

Twirling on the dance floor, a shapely redhead. Pale skin, with tattoos covering her shoulders and back. She wore a thin camisole and a flowy skirt made of silky material. Younger than him, but not a kid. She sang along to the music, oblivious to others. 

No dance partner. He watched her rebuff a man who slid up against her. Interesting…

The opening chords of “Fascination Street” by the Cure dropped from the speakers. 

Krennic watched the girl change her rhythm and sway her body to the music; enchanted to watch her run her hands over her shoulders and hips, twisting and turning. He’d found his mark for the evening. He ordered another bourbon and downed it. More courage, he needed a buzz to focus his concentration.

***

Kary was grieving: Baze and Imwe were dead, and their house was on the market. Nan had died two years ago. Her circle of protection, the friends who had helped her understand her powers and harness and control the visions. 

And the responsibility that had been left to her. She shook it off.

Just stop. Dance, get another drink. 

She twirled to the pulse of the music, hands in her hair. The song faded away. Out of breath, she turned to the bar. 

The silver-haired man was staring at her. 

She met his gaze. A jolt flared in her belly. He was cruelly handsome: tall, flinty blue eyes. And still alone. 

What is he doing here? 

Intrigued, she maneuvered to the bar. An empty seat allowed Kary a clear view. 

And why is he staring at me? 

Flagging down the bartender, she ordered a bottle of water.  She downed it in large gulps. Then, a gin and tonic. Triple limes. Her third, fourth drink of the night? She’d forgotten. 

…screw it.

She gulped her drink and swiped her hand across her face. the juniper tingled on her tongue. 

Tonight is for forgetting. 

He was still watching her.

***

Her bare back was half-turned towards him and Krennic’s eyes followed the lines of tattoos; they wrapped her back and shoulders, clear patterns of constellations: Cygnus, Lyra, Hercules, Draco, Capricorn, Sagittarius, Scorpio, Libra. His trained eye found the circumpolar patterns of Ursa Major and Minor, Cassiopeia, and Cepheus.

The night sky, he thought. Northern Hemisphere in the summertime. A slight smile tucked one corner of his mouth. She knows her astronomy.

Repositioning himself to get a better view, he continued to study her. Hair cascaded into tendrils of copper that glimmered in the colored lights. Damp with sweat, her camisole clung to her body, enhancing the round sweep of her waist and breasts. But her smile was unaffected, she seemed oblivious to the admiring glances. 

Including mine…

The music covered his growl. That body. 

Phantom sensations of her pressed against him, curves swaying on the dance floor. His cock stirred as he envisioned her hair spread across the sheets of his bed, his hands moving her hips to match his rhythm, that smile evolving into moans of pleasure.

Krennic put down his empty glass and signaled the bartender. “Another. And send a drink,” he said, raising his voice over the music, “to the redhead with the tattoos.”

He watched the bartender mix another drink and slide it in front of her. She shook her head. The bartender retracted it and poured her a shot of something instead. Krennic watched her toss it back and signal for another.

“Sorry, bro.” The bartender handed Krennic the refused cocktail. “The lady says no.”

Krennic smirked and stared down the bar. Her eyes met his; cool and savvy, gleaming with interest. No giggling or primping herself, no salacious expressions or fluttering of eyelashes: none of the usual female responses to his interest. But she was returning his appraising gaze, eyes drifting from his face, studying his body, drifting to below his waist. She met his eye again and seemed to remember herself, and her eyes darted away.  Then she shrugged and returned his smirk. She turned away. 

This girl is a rebel.  

His intrigue continued to grow. So did the lust coursing through him. He got up and strode towards her.

***

Kary focused her attention on the drink in front of her. 

Who is this guy? 

The way he held himself and the smirk on his face told her that he was used to getting what he wanted.

This is getting more and more interesting... he’s played this game before, but I’m not falling for run-of-the-mill games. 

“Not feeling thirsty?” 

His voice was rich and distinguished, gilded with an accent she couldn’t quite place: Australian? South African? 

He glared at the young man sitting next to her until he got up and left. 

Stomach flipping, Kary watched him take the vacated seat. She shook her head and looked him over; he was dressed in a crisp white shirt, pale grey slacks, cufflinks, and an expensive watch. The body beneath was broad through the chest and tapered at the waist. He had enormous hands. Close up, his eyes were shockingly blue, full of intelligence and cunning. 

Not as old as I thought. She studied his hair; up close, black threads wove through the silver.

He studied her too, eyes sweeping over her.

“Not feeling chatty, either?” 

Kary shook her head. She met his eyes and felt the familiar white noise in her head that was the precursor of…what she was drinking to block. She focused on his mouth instead, fearful that her eyes would give away the attraction she felt. 

Or see who he really is…

Finishing her drink and tilting her head towards the dance floor, Kary got up and walked away. 

***

Snubbed again. He watched her weave into the crowd. Or am I?

Krennic’s amusement deepened. His interest sharpened. This stunning woman wasn’t falling prey to his small talk and wasn't visibly impressed by his stature. His pride was wounded, but with every passing second, he felt she was worth the challenge. He wished he was still in the Navy; perhaps his dress whites would have made a stronger impression, but then again, she didn’t know who he was—his past, his work, his connections.

Even if she did, would she be impressed? 

He scanned the dance floor, found her twirling to the music. They locked eyes and she jerked her head.

New Order blasted from the DJ booth. “Perfect Kiss.” It was one of his favorites, with its gorgeous synth-pop bridge and climax. 

I haven’t danced informally for years. 

Downing the last of his bourbon, he straightened his shoulders and neck. He kept his eyes on her and removed his cufflinks, and rolled up his sleeves.

***

Keeping her back to the bar, Kary waited for the silver-haired man to join her. 

Will he accept the challenge? Or is he too proud to let go of himself?

Warmth settled up and down her back. The scent of expensive cologne and tobacco wrapped around her shoulders. Lips hovered close to her ear.

“May I touch you?”

That accent. She shivered, her thighs clenching together; she turned her head toward him. Nodded. Her hips filled his splayed hands. Kary’s head spun. He found the beat of the music with his body and buried his face in her hair, matching her pace. His fingers caressed through the silk of her clothes. His hard cock pressed against her backside. 

No attempt to hide that. She struggled with her breath.

The nine minutes of the song felt like an eternity, which then dissolved into “Natural One” by Folk Implosion.

He spun her around and locked eyes with her, slinging his arms over her shoulders. She didn’t know if it was the drink, the music, or just lust, but she pressed herself close to the man with the silver hair. Tugging her closer, he eased her into a thrusting movement that matched the beat of the song. He slipped a long muscular thigh between hers and she ground herself against him, fresh jolts of desire rattling her spine. His hand skimmed down her back and cradled her bottom, moved lower, and went under her skirt; she was wet, and if she kept going like this, she was going to come right there on the dance floor. 

I don’t care.

The white noise in her head dissolved into the red noise in her blood.

The music changed again.

***

The moody romance of Echo and the Bunnymen’s “Killing Moon” slowed the pace of the dancefloor. 

Krennic stepped back and let a sliver of air between them. Twirling her into a waltz-like move, he steered one steadying hand between her shoulders and dropped the other one to her hip. As the music swelled, he eased her into a backward dip and left a lingering kiss on the throat. 

She groaned.

Grinning, he drifted his lips up the curve of her neck.

He wanted more but the song ended and she pulled away from him.

“I’ll be back.” She made brief eye contact, then smirked. “But if I’m not, you should come find me.”

She walked away, trailing her fingers down his arm.

***

Pushing her way through the crowd of women in front of the ladies room, she found an empty single bathroom with a door. Locking herself in, washed her hands and studied herself in the mirror. She was flushed, hot. Her hair was a mess. 

Do I know what to do next? She steadied her breath. He’s a catch, that’s for sure…but why is he here? 

She wasn’t looking for a man. The dance floor was full of women who would gladly take her place. She had come to the club to escape her grief. He was just a bonus to the night, a sexy dance partner who could be filed away as a fantasy.

He’s fucking hot, but there is too much at stake. She pushed back from the sink. I’ve gotta lose him…like now.  

Running one hand through her snarled-up hair, she opened the door. 

What happened next was a blur.

***

Krennic grabbed her hips and pulled her against him. He kissed her full on the mouth, his tongue seeking hers. He grinned as she returned the kiss, once, twice then jerked her head away and buried her face in his neck, kissing along his jawline and running her fingers through his hair. 

Nails scraped against his scalp. Krennic growled and shoved her against the bathroom sink. Hoisting her up, he felt her legs wrap around his waist. Desire boiled over as she ground herself against him. Pushing her further back he kissed her chest, pushed his hands under her camisole and bra, and cupped her bare breasts, running his thumbs over her nipples. She thrust herself back against him, hands scrambling at the buttons on his shirt, growing more desperate and her hands traveled lower, the last button popped off and rattled against the floor. 

Chest bare, he grunted as she nipped at his collarbone, the sensation going straight to his cock. Pulling her back again against the sink, he yanked up her skirt, running his hands up her legs. Krennic couldn’t contain his smile at the whimpering sounds she made as he plunged his fingers past her panties and found her wet. 

Krennic pressed his fingers into her. Swirling and exploring, he grazed her clit and pressed harder as he heard her gasp.  Stopping, he lowered his mouth against her ear and whispered: 

“Is this for me? Did I do this to you?” His smile got wider as he met her eyes and watched her nod. 

Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her panties, he drew them down. She spread her legs to pull them off entirely and reached for his belt. 

Her hands rubbed his cock through his pants, then stopped. Hissing at the friction, he looked down at her: she was frowning. 

“Do you have something?” Her voice was soft, but firm. 

Krennic mentally clawed his way out of his haze of lust. 

What? Something? Oh. Protection. 

Of course he didn’t have anything: tonight he hadn’t planned on an adventure with a strange woman.

Glancing around the room, he noticed a condom dispenser on the wall. Coins only. He had no change. 

Reluctantly pulling away from her, Krennic examined the dispenser. Bending his elbow, he jammed it against the machine. Once, twice, three times. The dispenser dented and clanged open, condoms scattering across the floor. Krennic grabbed a handful and tossed them on the edge of the sink. Problem solved. 

She grabbed the waist of his slacks and pulled him back to her. Another kiss then moved her face away.

Why wouldn’t she look at him?

And why was she avoiding kissing him on the mouth but letting him touch her everywhere else? 

Krennic resolved to get to the bottom of these questions right after…

An insistent nip under his ear brought him back to reality. Krennic responded with a bite to her neck and slid his hands back under her skirt. Less tentative this time, he thrust a finger directly into her warmth and slid his hand around her back, holding her steady as she gasped and teetered on the edge of the sink. The only way this was going to work was if she could keep her balance against the sink. Fucking in a public bathroom was something he hadn’t done in years and he certainly wasn’t going to take her on the filthy floor. 

She gasped as he pressed into her, she was so fucking wet, his palm pressing against her clit. Feeling her rub against him harder, he withdrew his hand. Krennic smirked as she whined in protest. He kept his voice light, teasing. 

“Feeling eager?”

Krennic’s belt buckle clattered as she unzipped his slacks, jerking them down along with his boxers.  Krennic saw her eyes widen as she boldly grasped him, stroking cock to the base, tightening and relaxing her grip. He groaned as he watched her lean forward and tease him with her tongue.   

Hissing, he pushed her head away and pushed himself against her heat as she dragged her nails across his chest. 

Reaching behind himself, Krennic fumbled for a condom. He had to get inside her. Hands shaking, he dropped the first condom on the floor. She had both hands on him, clenching, dragging. He couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t open the fucking condom. 

Impatient, she released him and plucked the condom out of his hands.  Blinking in confusion, Krennic watched as she effortlessly opened the wrapper and with swift and triumphant ease, sheathed it over him.  

Grabbing her waist again, he tugged her up onto the sink. Her hand reached between them, and grasped his cock, Krennic covered her hand with his and allowed her to guide him…

Watching her carefully, Krennic saw her eyes go out of focus as he eased into her. Trying to go slowly, to savor her, he gripped her hips, grit his teeth, and fought the urge to bury himself completely into her. She fought him, covering his hands with hers again, threading her fingers over his. Krennic was startled at the sense of intimacy he felt, but this was forgotten as she pushed her hips against his, engulfing him in soft warmth. 

Groaning at the unexpected movement, he watched her, awed as she moved her body against his, bore down once, twice, and then trembled, and cried out. He felt her clench and pulse around him and realized that she was coming already. 

Krennic watched her bite her lips to smother her cries of pleasure. Feeling her go limp, he supported her body against his and continued to thrust into her. She was perfect: hair askew, face flushed, hands sliding across his chest. 

But she wouldn’t look him in the eye. 

Desperate to see her, Krennic pulled out, she whined and clutched at him. He roughly spun her around and pushed her against the sink. Gripping her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh, he plunged back into her from behind, feeling himself grow harder as she moaned gratefully when he thrust back into her. Gasping, she moved her hips to match his rhythm. 

Burying his face in her hair, Krennic struggled to hold his composure. She was too far away from him, her hands and chest pressed against the sink. Keeping his thrusts shallow, he ran his hands over her back and shoulders and pulled her back against him. his hand roamed over her belly, caressing his fingernails across her breasts, he pressed his hand against her chest and drew her against him. 

He caught a glimpse of them in the mirror in front of the sink. Her face was a mask of pleasure. 

The mirror…

Krennic leaned closer, and whispered in her ear. 

“Look at me, little rebel…”

Her eyes met his in the mirror, feline green and heavy-lidded. She reached up and grasped his hair, shrieking as she came again, slamming her hips against his, keeping her eyes locked with his in the mirror. 

Krennic fucked her through her second orgasm. The combination of her pulsing around his cock with their eye contact and the new rhythm of her hips against him sent him over his own edge. His orgasm shot through him. He gasped, pounding himself into her, coming hard, blissful, dissolving. 

He continued to thrust through the aftershocks, burying his face in her neck, breathing in her scent, something floral, her sweat combined with his own. Moving his hand down her chest, over her belly, and back down between her legs, fingers brushing against her clit, grinning at her gasps. 

Images of tenderness flashed through his mind. Inviting her to his bed, drinking coffee, and lounging in bed with the newspaper. Her tattoos, the stars lining her shoulders and back:  maybe she would understand his work. 

Christ, I didn’t even know her name. 

Still inside her but receding, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. Her hand moved against his, then up to his face. She kissed him. Once, twice...she didn’t pull away. 

Someone banged at the door. “Hurry up in there!!!”  

Krennic reluctantly pulled away, and withdrew from her, wincing. She made a mewling sound as she lowered her head. He pulled off the condom, washed his hands, and turned to her. She was meeting his eyes now. He reached for her...

“Will you excuse me?” 

Nodding, he adjusted himself, buttoning his shirt. 

“Just give me a minute”

Krennic stepped out, pushing against another couple trying to get in “Wait your fucking turn”. 

***

Kary sagged against the sink, body thrumming and trying to collect her thoughts. 

When their eyes locked in the mirror, Kary had a vision.

Shouting, fists slammed against tables. A panorama of explosions. The man’s voice, full of awe and pride. 

“Oh! It’s beautiful” 

Combined with his hands on her body, his cock thrusting, the vision had sent her over the edge.  The best sex she’d ever had. 

Her legs were wobbly, she was shocked at how empty she had felt when he pulled out. Turning around to see her backside in the mirror, Kary noticed marks on her hips. She was probably going to have bruises tomorrow. 

I don’t care…

But she did: the visions frightened her. His presence, his power. She was intrigued by the man with the silver hair. He was stern, but a tiny bit vulnerable, a skilled lover who had met her challenge. What was he like outside of this place? 

Hold on: you don't do things like this, you're drunk and lonely, the stars aligned and you let your guard down. 

The fear and desire were overwhelming, and he was waiting for her. 

Did he feel her power? 

Never mind, you’ve got to lose him. Go home and forget this ever happened. 

Cleaning herself up she noticed her panties under the sink, along with the button that had snapped from his shirt. 

Collecting herself, Kary opened the door. He was leaning against the wall, ankles crossed, head lowered. Raising his eyes to her, he bit his lip and gave a shy smile. He reached for her hand. 

“Hey, little rebel…”

Her stomach flipped as his blue eyes continued to plead with her: he had given her that look in the mirror. Kary felt the pulsing between her legs return. 

“I think this is yours.” She held up the button. 

His smile was boyish, the arrogance she had seen earlier was gone. He traced circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. 

Kary tucked it into his pants pocket. 

I need to get out of here. 

“Listen, I’ve got to...you know…” He jerked his head towards the men’s room. “Meet you at the bar?” 

She nodded, and his hand lingered on hers as he pulled away to stand in the short line. Kary backed away, keeping eye contact with him until she left the area. 

She had five minutes, tops. Weaving around the dance floors to the crowded bar, she pushed her way through and flagged the bartender. Throwing a wad of cash on the bar, Kary made her way to the coat check. 

***

Navigating his way back to the bar, Krennic was lost in thought. He was going to settle his bar tab, get her out of this club, and take her to his apartment. Maybe he’d fuck her again, but it wasn’t necessary tonight. He just wanted to hold her, wake up next to her. Get to know her, study the tattoos on her back up close. Figure out who this mystery girl was, and why this felt like something more than a casual fuck. 

She could be the start of something beautiful.

Signaling the bartender, Krennic tossed down a credit card. Signing off on his tab, he glanced around the bar. He surveyed the dance floor: no sign of her. A coil of concern bloomed into panic.  Flagging down the bartender again, Krennic asked “Have you seen the little redhead who was here earlier?” 

The bartender pointed behind him. “I think that’s her over there…” 

Krennic spun around and saw her at the coat check counter. 

She was leaving!

Fighting his way through the crowd, Krennic shouted “Wait!!! Don’t go!!! Please!!”  She glanced over her shoulder, and he caught her eye, pleading “Wait!! I don’t even know your name!”

Her eyes flashed with panic. What happened to the woman who had clung to him? 

Fuck!!

Krennic cursed out loud, shoving people out of his way. She was too far away from him! Stumbling towards the exit, he shoved the door open and ran onto the crowded street. Panicking, he looked left, right, searching desperately for her in the throngs of people. He couldn’t find her. 

Struggling against the impulse to punch out a window, a person, something, Krennic drove both hands into his hair, his heart pounding in despair. He was frantic, he had to find her, but how? 

He didn’t even know her name, how could he let her slip away?!?! 

An idea occurred to him. He pushed back into the club, through the crowds, and up to the bar. Almost shoving a young woman aside, he reached over and grabbed the bartender’s arm. 

“The redhead!? Did she pay by credit card? Do you know her name?!”

Shaking off Krennic's hand, the bartender said “No man, sorry. I’ve never seen her before tonight, she’s not a regular here”

“Did she pay with a credit card!?”

“No man, sorry. She paid with cash. If I were you I’d check your pockets. Lots of thieves come in here, gotta be careful…”

Krennic cursed aloud again, bar patrons staring at him. She couldn't have been a thief. He reached in his pockets. Wallet, money clip, cufflinks-all there. His credit cards and cash were intact, his watch was still on his wrist. He dug into his back pocket, hands finding the button from his shirt, and something else. 

He pulled out a bundle of silk and lace. Her panties. Despite himself, Krennic grinned. His little rebel had gotten the last word in. Now how the fuck could he find her? 

***

Heart hammering,  Kary fought back unplanned tears. He was frantic, heartbroken. She had heard him shout after her and almost had a change of heart. But she shoved the impulse aside and hurried out of the club. Pushing through the people on the sidewalk, she ducked into a parking garage and pressed herself against a retaining wall, hearing him holler in the streets. 

She looked for a way out. The parking garage had an exit at the opposite end. Pulling out her phone, she called an Uber to pick her up. She needed to get home, away from where he could find her.  

Baze and Îmwe had tried to teach her control her response to the Kyber crystals. But the visions were too overwhelming, unbearable. There was always a surge of power, blue and green fire.

And the silhouette of a man…

Dammit, this is no time to speculate, get out of here…

Looking up, she searched the shy. Through the glow of the city, she found the glint of the North Star and breathed through her panic.

Kary didn’t even know the silver-haired man’s name. It was better this way. 

***

Krennic paced back and forth. He had taken a cab home, muttering his address to the driver and sitting in the back, clenching his fists and trying to keep a handle on his panic and anger. 

He’d poured himself a bourbon, downed it, and poured another. The apartment, modern and sleek, seemed less like a home, too damn tidy. She would have been a beam of freshness and color to this place. 

The bourbon was getting to him and he was going to pay tomorrow. Krennic didn’t care, the drink wasn’t numbing his wounded pride and the confusing -imagined?- connection he felt with the redhead. He pulled her panties out of his pocket. Again. Stroking the soft silk, he remembered the groans of pleasure, her weight against him, her lips, his surprising feelings. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve wanted to take someone home with you. 

He clenched his fists, downed the rest of his bourbon, and threw the tumbler to the floor. Ignoring the shattering glass, he thought “This is why I have to get the fuck out of Boston”. 

Desperate for a distraction, Krennic picked up his phone. He scrolled through what looked like a million missed text messages and phone calls.

His realtor.

“​Orson, where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all night. I’ve got your dream house, it’s going on the market next week, and you’ve got the first showing. Be there, bring your checkbook.”

A date. An address: Coburn Cove. Manchester-by-the-Sea. 

And several photos of a ramshackle house atop a buff facing the ocean.

…to be continued

[mayxthexforce]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

respond to the prompts out of character!

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? Hard to say. I gravitate towards obscure and tertiary characters because of the freedom that gives me to develop them beyond what we were given, but I also have some characters who have A LOT of lore (Obi-Wan, Luke, Leia, Han) because of how much information there is to pick from. I guess something else that most of my muses have in common is that they are, to different degrees, confident and passionate about whatever goals they have, no matter how different those goals might be or how different their alignments are. They might not be too sure about who they are as individuals, but they know where they stand, they know the role they play, and they're either embracing it or actively rejecting it.

is there anything you don’t like to write? There's a few. A big one is smut for the sake of smut and violence for the sake of violence, for both I need a certain amount of plotting and some kind of chemistry between the muses + understanding with the other mun of how things might go. Cheating plots are a huge no, I don't want my muses to cheat nor to get cheated on. Obviously incest, non-con, anything involving bathroom stuff in the bedroom. Also I don't enjoy writing one liners-single paragraph replies, the shortest I can give is 2 paragraphs without counting dialogue lines and even that is super rare.

is there anything you really enjoy writing? I love fleshing out dynamics that didn't exist in canon (e.g: Han and Dryden, Maulkiller and Maul, Myles and Din, Koska and Paz, Roan and Anakin, Nuru and Thrawn) or didn't get explored as much as they could have because they were more background dynamics (e.g: Quinlan and Agen, Sabé and Anakin, Garen and Obi-Wan, Medrit and Boba, Bossk and Jango, Elodore and Dooku). I also love writing the scenes in between, the things we didn't get to see but that could have led to how things went.

how do you come up with headcanons? I look at a character and focus on the gaps in the story. Be it a blank in the plot like what Sabé's family life was like for her to so quickly and happily leave them behind and never look back, or something small like what about hoi-broth makes Obi-Wan have such dire allergic reactions (it's the oxidized spices).

do you write in silence or do you play music? either with instrumental/repetitive music or with some random YouTube video (analog horror and AITA compilations are very useful for this lately) in the background. A personal favorite for writing or Under Giant Trees by Agnes Obel.

do you plan your replies or wing them? I plot them a bit. First, I figure out what my character would do and say in response to what my partner's reply said, if it's a longer reply I even do bullet points, and then I actually put it into words.

do you enjoy shipping? I love shipping. Romantic, platonic, familial. It's all awesome!

what’s your alias/name? Mica.

age?  23.

birthday? October 29th.

favorite color?  Green, red, purple.

favorite song?  Zombie by The Cranberries.

last movie you watched?  Diary of the Dead by George A Romero.

last show you watched?  The Simpsons.

last song you listened to? Ainsi Bas La Vida by Indila.

favorite food?  Rice and tuna with butter and cheese.

favorite season?  Spring.

do you have a tumblr best friend? I have a few. Tanya (corruptedforce), Vani (galaccias) and Luna (foundjarin) have been here since my humble beginnings. Break (mutatiio) is a more recent addition but I'm just as attached. Cato (monstarousmythos) isn't in this fandom but has put up with me through it and through so many other fandoms, and then there's Liz (nieithryn) and Viktor (@virulentmastermind) who I've been talking to a lot lately and really enjoy our conversations. Special mention to Dylan, who -while most of our interactions happen on discord- first interacted with me through Tumblr and I wouldn't be this deep into Star Wars roleplay if it wasn't for them being the first nice experience I had in this RPC.

TAGGED BY: Stolen from @nieithryn.

TAGGING: @galaccias, @corruptedforce, @d4gangera, @monstarousmythos, @mutatiio, @k4ssa, @tacticalvalor, @foundjarin.

[allqrcoded]

Devlog 7: ASSET NEVER ENDS

Hi everyone, happy love month. As usual, the polishing stage begins & so does 90% of the work I need to get done for these sorts of projects (angel care, while occasionally pain in the ass to work with, has served me well).

In the light of things regarding polish, we'll be talking about the usual like bug fixing, more maps I've done and the like. This devlog is a bit on the short side since it's just updates on the two things I mentioned last devlog (along with me not having that much time during the week), but it's a lot of progress!

Bug fix update

On the lighter side of things, the first round of bug fixing concluded this month! While I haven't touched directing cutscenes per se along with fancy character sprites/what not during it, things like soft locks have been resolved. Though, I feel like that's still the tip of the ice berg because there are still a multitude of aesthetic issues I have with some of the UI choices I made along with struggling with how to remove the gauge bar in the pause menu, but that's for another day. 2nd round will probabably get started after I do some placeholder assets along with directing the rest of the cutscenes if any of the movement routes bring any softlocks.

More lighting

Thankfully, I've managed to find a more convenient way to name my overlay assets in order to transport them into the game itself without many issues. While making the lighting effects themselves does feel a bit repetitive, the moment lasts quicker than expected. Placeholder maps have been imported into VX Ace for the ones that show up for one time and is ending specific. Right now, a ridiculous amount of that sort of work got done during the weekend, so I'm sure that it'll be done sooner or later.

What next?

Ok, I haven't actually been finding fitting music for Dt-Z yet and that aspect of it has been in the backburner for too long. Though, I did download a free to use survival horror pack I found when I was developing angel care, so tracks from there would be useful (saves more time rummaging around every corner in the internet, too!)

Fancy CG work is also on hold in order to prioritize the game's functionality this month, but hopefully that aspect would have some progress on it in around April, maybe? Unlike angel care, Dt-Z really isn't CG heavy, so there probably wouldn't be that much images in that category. Next month, after bugs and what not have been squashed, I could get started on importing music... Maybe make some original tunes, too, if I feel as if a scene needs a certain type of sound that I can't find anywhere else.

Regarding next month's agenda, I'm actually a bit split on what to do in March lol. I mean, sure, directing CGs is (in my mind) probably more important than CG work and music.. etc. But still. I kinda hate making those fancy sprites, haha. I made a bit of progress regarding that this month, however, so let's see. Definitely basic movement routes are the priority. I've listed down a bunch of things I need to get done for that part, however, so that'll definitely aid me because I have a tendency to forget what I was originally gonna do when I boot up VX ACE.

[kurishiri]

now im not into jude enough to dig into deep theories abt him as a char, but im gonna look at this a different way, specifically on the artistic presentation, along with other small things. i hope i can add something to this!

i feel that this pv is very much a reference to the sense of time itself — and the lack thereof:

of course, there is the ticking at the beginning and the end. this would often symbolize the countdown of something, or time running out.

the abrupt zooms with a glitching effect r almost alarming but also purposeful. one moment we see jude’s full silhouette, small against the backdrop, and then the very next moment they zoom in so close we cant see his eyes. and the glitching effect may suggest a lapse in “time.” some time was “lost.”

the sound effects throughout the video (and the timing when the music transitions) remind me of a time machine, which inherently suggests the manipulation of time, and messing with one’s sense of time. or, in this case, the sound effects winding “down” in tone also suggest the slowing or temporary pause of time as well. this could be an allusion to jude and the theme of time.

the way it blacks out in certain places to highlight words he says also may artistically suggest or symbolize some sort of lapse in time. there is also a time near the end where it blacks out for a brief moment, and i dont think that was an accident /lh

some other symbols:

lampposts and the way their positioned. in the beginning and end, the lampposts really pop out due to its dark backdrop. and in the bridge scene, they first show the lampposts before jude. they show the moon as well in that shot, but they have positioned it such that our eye is first naturally drawn to the lampposts (i.e. the center of the canvas). lampposts may symbolize guidance or staying on the “right path.”

the number 1010. the pocket watch shows the time 10:10, and 1010 is regarded as a sort of divine number, or an angel number? at least in numerology, the number 1 symbolizes a new beginning and taking action — a reminder to trust yourself and make things happen. and meanwhile 0 may symbolize wholeness or the potential, infinite possibilities, encouraging one to delve into the unknown and embrace intuition. so 1010 together may suggest that “you are where you need to be, and there is room yet to grow.” overall, it can be regarded as a symbol of new beginnings too.

another interesting thing is the spilling of the red wine. im not really sure if this is supposed to mean anything significant. it could be as simple as a metaphor for blood, but it could perhaps be something more.

other repetitive imagery include the moon, cigarettes and smoke.

one other thing abt one of his last quotes:

he mentions — using my tl,

“no way im lettin’ ya get away now. for the rest o’ (this life)time, i’ll make a mess o’ yer life. that is the price of this curse ya cast on me.”

to me this sort of emphasizes the trait of his curse, specifically having a heart of revenge (being vengeful). he phrases this in a way such that hes “taking revenge on kate for casting this ‘curse’ on him.”

and i think thats interesting how in these trailers, the characters’ last lines always seem to reflect a part of their curse, so to speak. i think it really ups the impact because it sort of acts as a punchline to highlight them as a character, all the while showing how they’re twisted or distorted by the curse they bear.

for example, elbert says “i am searching for the most beautiful thing in the world… when will you become mine?” which highlights his greed; and alfons “whatever you want to believe is the truth itself.” this sort of implication of ‘brainwashing’ or sort of ‘mental manipulation’ is sort of threaded in there, characteristic of the mirror curse.

and i think jude is sort of meant to be similar in that sense. its a way for them to hit home in one go his character and his curse, while emphasizing the impact with the orchestral music for the dramatic factor, the sounds (theres a soft drum sound when he widens his eyes! — which may further heighten the perception of him being “unhinged”), and visuals.

Jude Jazza's PV Dissection ☾.

Beneath the cut for event and other suitor's route spoilers. This is just for fun, and please feel free to kindly share what you think! To be honest, I don't think I have anything interesting to add, but here goes it...

My First Thought: Let’s just state the obvious and say that Jude’s route is going to be ANGSTY and WILD!!! That much is definite by watching the PV, and that’s pretty much what we see in his events as well. The animation was beautiful. There’s a A LOT of recycled CGs, and majority of his lines come from his gacha cards and bond stories, but it gets the job done.

However, I feel like Jude is still very much under wraps. His PV barely gave us anything to go on that we don’t already know about, or haven't theorized. I’ve watched it like 15 times. I counted the number of hands on the clocks to see if there were 13 (there’s not), and paused to search the outline of Big Ben, and things like the shadows to see if something was hinted or hidden, but nothing.

Of course, that doesn’t mean it didn’t give us anything at all, but before we get into that, let’s just recap the premise of Act 2:

In Act 2, Kate has already been the fairytale keeper for one full week, and that’s when Vogel enters the picture with the claim that they want to be “friends” with Crown. Harrison knows that they’re lying about something, and Darius, as we learn, is looking for “family members.”

Now…..

Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick - The ticking clock is very prominent in his trailer, and that makes sense because Jude’s fairytale curse is associated with time. His icon is an hourglass, and he is very cognizant in events/routes about wasting time. Additionally, it’s interesting to note that several of Jude’s events often mention specific lengths of years that have passed, such as, Dark IF, GHR, Island Lust, and a bond story.

As far as the PV goes, I think it may be hinting that Jude is running out of time in the sense of accomplishing a goal, which will in turn fulfill a promise. Our average life span today is about 80 years, but back then it was much shorter, and I feel like Jude needs a lot of time to accomplish what he is doing. It could be that a single lifetime is not enough for him to accomplish it, but he is going to try anyway. Such as? Him traveling to the moon. I feel like the PV points to this at the outset with that giant full moon behind Big Ben. I think this may be a CG we get.

Conversely, it could be that he is running out of time in the sense that he is dying of an illness. We know for a fact that he suffers from seasonal asthma (which is triggered with enclosed spaces filled with smoke), he smokes himself, but he also suffered from childhood malnutrition, and that can cause a lot of issues. Still, I don’t know how strong of a theory this is as Jude has no problem with physical exertion or activity……not looking at that one other gut I love in IkePri.

Additionally, a part of me feels like he’s just tired and he wants to die. To be honest, all these guys have some kind of death wish in one form or another, but in terms of Jude, Ellis said that he looked like he was going to fall into the river as he looked at the moon while chain smoking, and Roger said Jude looked like he was vacantly staring at the moon as if he had given up on something.

Notably, in Roger’s past records, we learn that Jude uses cigarettes to fuel his rage to keep him living, and Kate also mentioned in his Cruise Liner event that anger is a great motivator.

So, for all intents and purposes, Jude is being kept alive by his own rage, cigarettes, the promise he made, and Roger. THANK YOU ROGER! That’s what I feel at least.

Rewinds/Record Scratches: I think glitchy rewind/record-scratching sound is being cleverly used to note the different tones we are going to see in his route, like I mentioned before, it’s going to be angsty and wild (that’s what I feel anyway).

However, I will say that a part of me feels like it’s a nod to all the times he says things like, ‘once you’ve lost something, you can’t get it back.' How many of us wish we could rewind and do things over or see someone we’ve lost again, even if it were just for a minute?

Jude said in Roger’s route that once someone is gone those left behind are stuck feeling a void, and I think he’d do whatever he could to rewind time if that were in his power. However, cue that jazzy music and we find ourselves in the interior of a…..

Warehouse: No doubt by the docks that Jude frequents for deliveries, and while it’s nothing major, it does indicate one of the settings we will likely be at. Although, this is pretty obvious to most of us because in both his first event and his one year anniversary event, they are at the warehouses by the docks.

Personally, I loved the detail of the seagulls, not that is important in anyway, but I just got excited to see a visual of it instead of just imagining it. However, I am hoping to see something different in terms of what we’ve already seen in both of those events. Kate getting caught by someone who broke their contract with Jude or is after Jude, and she is caught in the middle. Is that too much to ask?

Papers: We quickly shift to an office like space, whether this is located at Raven or at Crown, there is something very important to note in this scene, and that’s not only the rows of books behind our clever mobster, but the bulletin board that has notes stuck all over them.

At first, I thought that this could be business plans, product information or designs, business targets, or information about the personal lives of those whom Jude makes contracts with. Ultimately, I think that these are engineering designs and research papers that he’s written and/or reviewed for……moon travel. If you look closely, one paper in particular has a definite design on it.

Why am I so hellbent on this? Because Jude says himself in his bond levels that he’s trying to nab all the researches and scientists that he can as quickly as possible, and that he was going to have Ellis look into the authors who wrote the papers he had been reading. On a random note, I don’t think this would be his office space at Raven, but his personal office or room at Crown.

About that Bridge Scene: You know, the one where he looks completely over this shit as he smokes a cigarette? Then all of a sudden he shoots you that look like he’s gonna tear you up because he’s annoyed, and you’re like: Impregnate me, please? That one. So, the night that Ellis met Jude, Ellis said that he was standing on the bridge looking like he was about to fall into the river.

I believe this may be the second CG we may get of Jude in his route, and I want to know why he goes to the bridge? Is there special meaning to it? Did he visit that place with his loved one? Was a promise made under the moon? Is this were he wants….things to end? And forgive this last bit, but I can’t help but think of the song ‘Moon River’ when he’s at that bridge.

Ah, to hell with it, It’s too pretty not have posted again:

How long: When we get to the scene of Jude and Kate in a somewhat awkward rain scene (I agree with my friends, her sprite looks out of place), he asks Kate how long she is planning to stick next to him. Here again, we have a form of time being hinted at, and Kate’s time with Crown should end in three weeks time.

Still, we don’t know how far along we are in his route when he asks her this question, so it’s difficult to say how much time Kate has remaining with him at this point. What we can guess is that she’s been at Crown long enough to have seen Jude do horrendous things - all of Crown - for that matter.

Additionally, she will have seen the filthy underbelly of England at that point, perhaps in the form of drugs, SA, human-trafficking and the like, if his events are any indication of that. Not to mention his cruel attempts to force her to give up on being fairytale keeper. So, how do you think Kate will answer, and will her answer disrupt his plans??

Unhinged, Possessive, Obsessive Jude: Is he really though? I think so. This is what I think will be the third CG - belonging to his Mad Love End. Did you all see those eyes??? He is UNHINGED, and I am HERE for it. I think it really drives home the point too that he is going to make her pay for placing a curse on him for the rest of her life - that’s Judese for - I’ll make you pay for making me love you for as long as you live.

Seeing him that expression in his eyes and the way he plays with her hair, (this is also a thing Jude does in his events), really exemplifies the phrase that he also uses in that their being together is madness.

Thinking about it, it really wasn’t until the Island Lust story that we started to see a small glimmer of Mr. Jazza’s jealousy, and that’s because Jude is often cold and controls any emotions that could be linked to her romantically. But we slowly start to see this change with Island lust, I gushed how he didn’t like Kate thinking about the other Crown members when he was near her, and in effect, ignoring him.

In the Jude vs. Nica event, we got even more of his jelly side when he learned that Kate and Nica are on a first name basis, even though they just met. CUTEST THING EVER.

And finally, in his Dark Mafia card, Jude is ready to commit murder over the guys who are looking at Kate. So, I’m really looking forward to seeing how jealous or possessive he may get once he gives into his feelings.

Pocket Watch: The time shows at 10:10 pm. Is this significant? I can’t say for sure, but there is nothing odd about the pocket watch itself. The only thing I noticed is that the hands on the pocket watch aren’t moving.

That doesn't necessarily mean anything, but let’s throw out a random idea I had about the watch actually being broken. It doesn’t work. The time stopped at exactly 10:10 pm, perhaps some incident happened during that time when it stopped, and Jude wears it as a memento. Ultimately, I don’t place too much stock in this because there's really no basis for it, but let's say we've covered our bases with this and move on to the last, but certainly not least...

My Evil (or sin), is an unfulfilled promise: His tag line at the end….I don’t believe this is related to Jude’s fated demise. I have an inkling that Cybird may go the Disney route for his fate, but that can be a discussion for another day….maybe. What I do believe is that this emphasizes Jude’s compellation to pay back an unfulfilled promise (essentially what amounts to a betrayal).

I don’t feel that he MUST pay back betrayals that others experience, but if he is involved in a case in some manner of speaking (like for missions), Jude has been known to carry out revenge, such as he does to Anne’s father in GHR. Also, in the "Evil Behind the Scenes" event, Jude allows the husband of the wife who was unfaithful take care of things behind closed doors (it said it was supposed to be talking, but Ellis was in the room too, and who knows what the husband did). It’s interesting, because Jude mentions that while he has no interest in harming women, betrayal must be repaid, so whatever happened happened.

This would make sense as to why Jude does everything he can to fulfill his own promises. But, what if he fails to keep his own promise……what happens then? Hope to find out soon.

That's all I could dig up. They really gave us nothing, but everything at the same time?

Honorable Mention: No eye Kate...please stop treating my girl this way cybird!

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

please. i can’t do this alone.

Titans 3.01

thoughts! thoughts! thoughts! some red hot thoughts!

SPOILERS ahead.

1. one episode in, and this season already looks set to give me everything i want. its abandonment of plot and storytelling conventions as it goes from one point to the next at breakneck speed; its cheerful bastardisation of iconic storylines from the comics; the ‘as-you-know-bob’ clunky exposition on one end and extremely restrained, subtle explorations of complex character dynamics on the other; endless shots of neon bleeding into black and blue corridors, shadows and silhouettes; my delight in seeing it celebrate and deconstruct the dark nolan-y batman aesthetic at the same time; my bafflement that it’s so fucking goddamn obsessed with the batfam when it’s supposed to be about the TITANS; kory just... saving every overburdened, clunky scene that she’s in by her sparkling charisma. just... *chef’s kiss*. muah. my show is back, in all its glory.

MY SHOW IS BACK, Y’ALL!

1.5. i mean... this show is so artful and weird and not afraid to go absolutely bonkers in exploring its characters’ psyche, but can just about barely stage a passable comic book fight when every tom dick and harry and their new streaming services can deliver ones that are far more exciting. i love this show with every atom of my body.

(there’s something to be said about rooting for the underdog as well. a pleasure in finding something to love about what other people dismiss. but! enough navel gazing! i have fictional characters’ navels to look at! metaphorically! and maybe literally!)

2. i expected jason’s death to come about pretty early in the season as soon as i heard rumours that red hood was showing up, but for it to happen in the first five minutes of the first episode... that’s a record. 

(well. “happen.” still don’t know what exactly went down there.)

2.25. GOD. jason is such a tortured and tragic character in this show, used and passed around by people with alleged good intentions, never really fitting in anywhere. he’s veritably bleeding vulnerability and the need to belong, the need to be known, and yet the tragedy is that his death proves that nobody in his life knew anything about him at all; that they only saw the flimsy walls he put up to protect his soft core, and thought that that was all there was. that they say they loved him, but blame him for his own death. 

dick is flabbergasted that jason can read, though we know from last season, from what jason revealed to rose, that he has a love for plays and music. barbara is quick to dismiss his actions as ‘impulsive’. bruce has no idea that his supposed son was building his own little chemistry lab right under his nose, and beyond that, no idea that jason needed structure, stability and validation beyond being left alone in a huge house with a treasure trove of dangerous weapons. kory thought his decision to fight the joker was from not learning and growing when the guy tried to kill himself last season and nobody apart from dick even tried to talk to him about it! did you consider that he might still be suicidal? especially after the titans admitted to having “given up” on him because he was just “too hard”?

2.5. the one thing that’s been consistent across all three seasons (so far) of the show is the unreliable narrator trope. there’s a reason why the characters’ dismissals of jason’s actions as impulsive is so repetitive; why jason’s death is a mystery dick feels compelled to solve. it’s a flailing attempt to know his brother much too late--but with red hood, maybe he gets a second chance, just like he got one with the titans. this is what jason’s arc has been building up to. this is ‘death in the family’ but more fucked up in some ways. it didn’t linger on the death because the death wasn’t the point. the joker isn’t the point. everything that came before it is.

this way it will also make perfect sense that the red hood’s main enemy becomes the titans rather than batman.

2.75. goodness knows what’s going on with jason’s little chemistry project. at first i thought he was immunising himself to joker gas or something, but maybe it’s what passes for lazarus pit juice in this universe? 

anyway, it’s pretty impressive that jason learnt all of that from a college chemistry textbook. STOP BRINGING UP THAT HE READ SOMETHING, DICK--

2.8. i’m glad that dick doesn’t immediately sink into self-loathing and guilt and tries to investigate jason’s death while also acknowledging how he failed him. it’s like he actually learned something from the last two years! 

anyway. more about dick later. 

3. oh how i love titans!bruce. a lot of characters had a lot of Opinions on his reaction to jason’s death in this episode, but again, i ask you to consider that they’re unreliable narrators, and this universe’s bruce is a product of how it shaped him. bruce wayne has become a phantom to himself--an artifice borne out of vigorous discipline and crushing self-denial. 

bruce has been batman for a very long time, and without a robin for much longer. (dick must be... in his early thirties? so he was robin for about, say, 10-12 years according to the timeline of the show. that still makes bruce pretty old when he took on his first robin.) things have... calcified (possibly parts of his brain). the personal cost and the collateral from the mission he’s taken up for most of his life is too much to countenance; it has to be a war, and war requires sacrifice. 

on some level bruce knows that’s a lie. he’s so goddamned alone. what’s he going to do? sit down and cry? who’s going to listen to him now? oh, is he going to just stop being batman? who’s going to stop gotham from consuming herself then? he’ll just have to forge ahead, do better next time, maybe he’ll be firmer with them, or kinder with them, or notice more things, or train them harder, or spend more time--

3.25. don’t get me wrong: titans!bruce is an asshole and a half. his roster of potential robins was honestly bone-chilling. the fact that there’s a twisted root of compassion makes it more disturbing. 

3.5. alfred’s dead! it must’ve been pretty recent, because i could’ve sworn that dick tried to call alfred in the very first episode of season 1, or at least considered calling him... 

what a devastating double-blow for bruce then, losing his father-figure and his, uh.... son-figure so close together.

4. i don’t know about barbara yet. i mean, i like her, but she had so much clunky expository dialogue to deliver this episode, and for an episode that was named after her, she only showed up halfway through it. but i like the weight of history behind her interactions with both bruce and dick and her compassion to bruce before he cruelly crossed a line. i also like the implication that she and dick have been in touch recently, and that she didn’t immediately try to guilt-trip dick about some perceived abandonment. it’d be too repetitive.

4.5. there’s also a sense that she ran interference for dick a lot whenever there was something Too Big and Emotional for him to confront directly, and i like and appreciate that character beat.

5. dick, my man! it really does feel like a substantial length of time has passed between the end of s2 and the beginning of s3... kory’s got a new costume, they’ve become celebrities in SF, working missions together, and dick’s actually smiling! genuinely enjoying his work and having fun with it for possibly the first time in the entire series! it’s really a far cry from the fractured, dysfunctional mess that they were at the end of the last season.

i just hope this doesn’t mean that they’ve magically reached a resolution off-screen to all of their fucked-upness from last season, and that the repercussions--for gar in particular--are actually addressed on screen. 

5.25. i mentioned this briefly above, but it really is so refreshing that dick doesn’t wallow in guilt and self-loathing after jason’s death; he acknowledges his and the titans’ failure, is able to admit to barbara honestly that he’s not doing great, and is actively trying to reach out to bruce to make sure he’s ok, is trying to investigate what made jason seek out the joker on his own, and is probably the only person not immediately buying that it was jason’s recklessness that got him killed. i love that dick is finally beginning to trust his instincts or just employ them at all after years of guilt and paranoia and self-loathing. we love some positive character growth!

5.5. another thing i love? the bruce-dick interactions on this show. every scene they’re in together is so fraught with tension, both of them holding themselves back, their emotions on a whipcord-tight leash. dick wants to reach out to bruce, is even somewhat familiar with this brand of denial in the wake of grief, but wants barbara to make the first move because he genuinely does not know how to get bruce to open up. his instincts are right, and wonderful, and genuine, but his expression has been smothered by years of trauma, emotional and physical self-discipline, and what i suspect is poorly treated mental illness. 

it takes a lot for him to finally explode at bruce at the end of the episode--in a way he hasn’t done even when his only opinion of bruce was ‘fuck him’--and it’s all the more startling for how subdued he’s been through the episode, how much he’s been holding back his emotions for bruce’s sake. love it.

5.75. it sort of hurts my heart to see the flying graysons poster in jason’s room. there are a few implications:

a) jason settled into dick’s old room despite living in a giant mansion with dozens of other rooms he could’ve used

b) he didn’t take down dick’s poster--not when he moved in and was idolising him, not when he moved out of the titans and was sort of hating him. i wonder if the reminder of what dick was before robin--that he was forged out of unspeakable tragedy--gave jason the connection to dick that he so desperately wanted in real life

c) dick moved right back into the room and slept on the bed that was now jason’s. grief can be so quiet and piecemeal sometimes.

6. i spy the beginnings of actual arcs for both gar and kory! i just hope that with the move to gotham their stories don’t fall to the wayside...

6.5. i’ve known tim drake for less than ten minutes but if anything were to happen to him i’d kill everybody 

7. this review has gone on for too long and i am tiRED. however, before i leave: i miss some of the dedication-to-aesthetic that titans season 1 used to have. remember how the first few episodes didn’t really feel like a superhero show but something out of gothic horror? there was something gorgeous and raw about that, about open landscapes and the road and creepy buildings looming up at the end of it. moving to titans tower in s2 really ruined a lot of that for me, given its ripped-from-architectural-digest aesthetic, all smooth and clean and artificial. 

i hope that we really explore gotham’s hellscape in interesting and innovative ways instead of camping out in the batcave all the time and indulging in the show’s unending love for long corridors, neon backlights and silhouettes.

8.....

9.  wait, fuck, HOW CAN I FORGET ABOUT HOT PSYCHIATRIST GUY (TM)??? NONE of you prepared me for his return! NONE OF YOU! i gasped! i got up and did a happy dance! 

listen, titans writers, if you’ve had a peek at my titans s3 wishlist, please go ahead and give the other items on the list a go too, thankyouverymuch.

[alicemitch09writes]

last love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: Nothing was the same anymore, that much was clear. But it is really? Is it really too late for it all?

author’s notes: This is the final part to the first love trilogy. Please go read the first one, then its sequel - skinny love, before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

He wakes up with a start – sweating all over, heart pounding against his chest, sleep slowly washes over before realizing where he was and the humid heat that was summer gracing his room. He let out a relieved sigh, falling back into his sheets.

“Tetsuroo, wake up already!” came his mother’s voice, which resounded through the house.

The teen waited until his heart calmed to finally get out of bed, still drenched in sweat. A mirror stood across him, revealing his image – still the same gangly guy with serious bed hair, but his eyes still looked tired, even though his bags had lessened.

Grabbing a towel, he takes a quick shower.

He pretends to not have seen the look on his mother’s face when he wolfs on his breakfast, giving her a quick sloppy kiss on the cheek, before grabbing his bag and leaves.

His phone rings �� a text message, he flips his phone and sees a text from his sister, quickly typing a reply before going to the music app. Plugging on his earphones, he begins to walk down a familiar path.

Leaning his head back, clear blue skies greet him. It was too much of a good day today.

Closing his eyes, he soaked up on the light, warming his face. When he opened them, the train station was in clear sight, his steps quickened.

Four stops and twelve blocks later, and he was walking down a place he’s grown familiar with the past few months. The grass was still greener, the flowers were much brighter, and the trees were tall as ever – maybe because it was summer. But the paint job was still terrible, even though they had maintenance work on them.

Upon entering the hospital, he nods at the nurses and staff – all of which, were used to his presence for the past months, adjusting the weight of his right arm, carrying his bag.

Kuroo Tetsturou fell into a routine – he woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast, made small talk with his parents or sister, and went to the hospital. It’s been that way for months.

He stood in front of the door, about to knock when he heard her – a soft strumming and singing.

“I love this place, but it’s haunted without you…”

He felt the familiar skip of his heart at the sound of her voice. Carefully pushing it open, he finds (Name), playing her ukulele, pen, and notebook on her lap.

“My tired heart is beating so slow,” A thoughtful look crosses her face as she sings as if testing the lyrics. She quickly sketches down on her notebook – chords, and lyrics, falling into her element. Picking her ukulele, she strummed slowly, trying the new lyrics – “Our hearts sing less than we wanted, we wanted, our hearts sing ‘cause we do not know, we do not know” –  a small smile gracing her lips when they came out.

Without even knowing, his body moved on its own accord, stepping inside and towards her.

The song had a light melody to it, repetitive on the notes, yet strangely melancholic and full of longing. Yet somehow, unfinished. She stopped for a moment, stumped, before going over it again. Despite her minor slip up, she smiled through it and went over the song again – she was a perfectionist like that.

The sound of the door clicking broke the moment, (Name) looking up to find Kuroo standing in front of him, surprise written all over her face.

“H-Hey, (Name).” Kuroo says, lifting a hand in greeting.

She gives him a nod, awkwardly glances at him, then back to her notes.

“How’s your song going?”

She fiddles with the page, chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s coming.”

“I see.” He nods, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “By the way, I got something for you.” Putting his bag on the foot of her bed, he unzips it and takes out a pink package. “Sis bought some stuff for you, says you’ll be needing it once you get into college.”

Slowly, a smile forms on her face as she reached for it, Kuroo careful as to not let their fingers touch. “That’s nice of her.”

Sitting himself on the couch, he looked at the clutter of papers on the table – university brochures. “Have you decided on where to go? Or are you still bent on getting to where uncle is teaching?” he asked teasingly, especially on the last question, an attempt to lighten the mood.

Her lip curled by a fraction, hugging her instrument close. “…well, it is my dream school and all.”

Kuroo nods at that. “Well, knowing you, you’ll make it – with or without the influence of your dad.” She smiled at that, playing with the ends of her short hair. His eyes followed her fingers tangle in those (hair color) locks, remembering how strange it was to see her usual locks chopped off, of combing them when she was still unconscious.

A tense silence fills in – both teens staring at anything but each other, unsure of what to say next.

“How about you?”

Kuroo made a questioning hum.

“Keiji told me you’re yet to enroll into college,” there was her ever-present concerned tone, (eye color) eyes soft, yet, basing on her tone, there was no mistaking how carefully she had asked.

Peering up to her through his fringe, Kuroo contemplated on his next words. “I haven’t decided on a course yet.” He lied, shrugging offhandedly. “No worries, though, I’ve been working part-time.” That was half a lie, he had just started working at a small grocery store. A small distraction outside the four corners of his own home and the hospital.

Her brows furrowed slightly with worry before it eased away when a knock came from the door. Her doctor – a small middle-aged man named Dr. Ishioka peeked in, beaming at the sight of her.

“Good morning, (Last name)-chan.” Noticing she was not alone, he gave Kuroo a short nod. “And to you, too, Kuroo-kun.”

Kuroo returned the gesture, having been a familiar face in the hospital for the past few months.

“How are we today?”

 “Good,” she smiled, still hugging her ukulele, forgetting her stationary in front of her. When her doctor noticed, he merely gave it a glance. Having finally noticed at what he was looking at, she started looking sheepish. “A-Ah, I was just writing my song!”

The doctor smiled kindly. “And how is it?”

“I-It’s coming,” she replied, using the same answer she gave Kuroo earlier. “I get stuck on words, and things are a little fuzzy to figure out.”

The man nods, hands buried deep in his pocket. “That’s good, getting some brainwork done. However, don’t stress yourself, okay? You’ve been asleep for six months, and it’ll still take some time for your body to get used to moving.”

“She won’t,” Kuroo says aloud, (Name) and Dr. Ishioka turns to him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

(Name) nods dutifully, finally putting down her instrument.

In his professional eyes, there clearly was an underlying tension between the two. Instead of pushing into it, he knew where his limits were.

“Well, that’s good to hear then. You’re in good hands, (Last name)-chan.”

The girl looks up to the doctor, who gives her a kind smile before leaving her a few instructions, which Kuroo was quick to take note of, before leaving.

Just as the door closed behind him, he heaved a sigh, wishing the best for the two.

“(Last name)-saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!” a loud, jolly voice erupted in the room, making a dash for the girl. Barely a step in, Yaku kicked him in the back, grabbing the tall teen by the collar and pulling him back. “Geh- “

“Lev, control yourself! This is a hospital, not a playground! Geez, it’s like taking care of a giant baby.” Meeting her gaze, he lifted a hand. “Yo, (Last name), you look well.”

She laughed, eyes soft at the sight of the Nekoma team filling her room. Kenma, sitting beside her, had his eyes stuck to his console per usual.

“(Last name),” Noboyuki nods, holding out a fruit basket. “we brought you fruits.”

Her smile grew, touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Kai!”

Kenma puts away his console and takes the fruit basket from the taller lad, putting it on a nearby table. He plucks an orange and disappears into the washroom, momentarily leaving (Name) with the Nekoma team.

“(Last Name)-san, your hair!” Inuoka pointed out. “It’s grown so much!”

She laughed at his comment, touching her hair consciously. “Yes, it has. My head feels lighter, actually.”

“Then, you’re keeping it short?”

She hums, tapping her finger to her chin in thought. “Who knows?”

“It looks good, actually,” Yaku commented. “Then again, it’s your hair, so it’s your choice.”

After the short pleasantries, the boys headed towards the couch and sat down, Fukunaga flipping through the channels. Kenma emerges from the washroom, sitting in his spot next to her.

“Ah, it’s your mom’s turn to watch you, right?” Noboyuki asked, sitting on the couch.

She hummed, nodding, Kenma placing the oranges on a table in front of her as he plumped and propped some pillows behind her, making sure that she was comfortable. When he was done, he sat down and began to unpeel his orange, (Name) mimicking him.

“Although" she broke into a sigh, breaking off pieces of the orange "I just wish I could get out of here, it’s so stuffy in here. Not to mention, it gets kind of scary at night.” She shuddered, blaming it on the time when the boys from Fukurodani visited and Bokuto, who had been channel surfing, stopped upon a horror film – particularly on a very scary scene. Lest to say, she didn’t sleep well that night and Bokuto was nearly banned from visiting her again.

“That’s understandable, hospitals tend to be scary,” Noboyuki says kindly.

“You can say that again!” roared Yamamoto.

“Yamamoto, shut up.” Yaku reprimands the loud-mouthed boy.

“Lev, how’s your read block training going?” as soon as the question was asked, the Russian tensed, beginning to sweat profusely.

“A-Ah, it’s going great!”

“He still sucks at it,” Kenma says, munching on a slice of orange with his eyes glued to his game console. “And no amount of practice seems to work, it’s like he’s meant for failure.”

“You can say that again,” says Yamamoto, arms folded against his chest. “he’s a hopeless cause.”

“H-Hey, I’ve been practicing!”

“Bless Nekomata-sensei for ever thinking you had a chance.”

“Yaku-san, not you, too!”

“Time to scoot, little newt!”

“Goddamn it, Fukunaga!”

(Name) couldn’t help but laugh, missing her rowdy boys.

A month of being holed in here was enough to drive anyone insane – everything was too gray, too cold and too dull. It meant so much to her whenever someone came to visit, bringing color to her room and warmth to her heart. Even as they all ganged up on Lev, she knew they really cared. And as far as Kenma’s told him – being vice-captain and all, Lev’s actually not bad. Though, he is quite clumsy with executing his offense and defense. She missed this, she really did.

But the thing was, it just wasn’t the same anymore.

It was hard to be around him anymore, that was a fact.

When she woke up, it looked like she had emerged from a different world. Kuroo quickly called the doctors, happy tears slipping down his face. Too happy to know that she finally woke up – after six months! – he almost forgot to ring her parents of her recovery.

A few hours later, when she slowly came to, he walked back in the room. Happy tears filled the room, the happy parents engulfing their finally awakened sleeping beauty.

But at the sight of him, she suddenly shook and cried – Kuroo quickly ran out of the room before anyone told him to, for her sake. All his worst fears came to life.

The doctors had assured him that it was just the effects of being unconscious for so long – it was difficult to adjust to her surroundings and the people she cared about. Her mind might still be subjected to her previous mindset, long before she went into a coma. So, when she woke up, there was a lot to take in for her. But with the help of doctors, her family, and friends, she was able to come through.

In a span of two weeks, (Name) was showing progress with her recovery. She was still subjected to strains when she overworked herself, especially when it came to brain exercise. But overall, she was doing well, her energy revitalized with the support of her family and friends. And ever since she woke up, there’s not a day when a friend – from Nekoma or Fukurodani – would drop by and visit.

In fact, the only time she ever seemed comfortable was when he wasn’t in the scene. She was much more comfortable with being in the presence of others than with his. And that hurt.

Things just weren’t the same anymore.

She knew that.

He knew that.

And it was all because of that one mistake of his. Just the thought of it made his gut churn, his hands balled into fists, his anger to rise, geared towards him.

There was no questioning of her newfound fear of him, after all, it was also his fault. Kuroo accepted his fate wholeheartedly, even though it killed him.

He could hear his thoughts twisting: of the reason that he stayed, was to ease himself of the guilt, to make him feel better about himself.

So, he came up with a decision, once she’s done with her rehab, when she finally gets discharged, he’ll leave her alone. As much as it pained him, he knew it was for the best.

After all, who was he in her life anymore?

“To light the night, to help us grow…” she mumbled, jolting down her notebook. “It is not said I always know…” Her nose scrunches, having hit a block. Frustrated, she throws her hand in the air, looking around her quiet room. Everything looked too dull, too gray. Instinctively, her hands reached to her right, where her ukulele usually lay, only to find it sitting on the chair across her – her father, had visited earlier and played her a song in an attempt to cheer her up.

(Name) sat up, turns to her side to lower the rail before sliding her feet off the bed. The cold tingle on her toes was a sensation she never knew she’d want to feel again, having been bedridden for months. Taking deep breaths, she lifted her feet off, remembering to bear the weight – feeling like a toddler walking for the first time.

Just as she reached her ukulele, a harsh voice called out. “Didn’t the doctor say you aren’t supposed to strain yourself?”

She looked up, meeting Kuroo’s furious gaze, seeing her out of bed.

Technically, according to the doctor, she could walk quite well now and advised her to do some exercise when she can. Kuroo couldn’t help but overreact.

“B-But…” without a word, he gently helped her back to her bed. She didn’t argue, her mission to grab her ukulele forgotten.

He sighed, pulling up a chair. “You do want to get out, right?” She nods, slowly, withdrawing her fingers away.

“D-Dr. Ishioka says I’m good to walk now.”

“Is that so?” she nods, like a petulant child. Kuroo sighs, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry for overreacting.”

“It’s okay.” Relaxing, she offered him a gentle smile, which lasted for a minute before realizing the bags under his eyes, how bloodshot his eyes were. “You seem tired.”

“Hm,” he yawned, massaging his throbbing temples. “shitty customer, don’t worry about it.”

“You should sleep.” she offered.

“I’ll be fine,” he calls off, turning his back to look for something to do, anything to avoid her eyes.

“Kuroo Tetsuroo,” she called, using her tone – one he and Kenma were fairly familiar with, even the team. It pleased her to see him tense, slowly facing her. A triumphant smile was ready to break into her face, but concern about his welfare won over.

His shoulders slumped, surrendering. That made her smile, a tiny bit triumphant, before patting on her side. Instead, Kuroo resigned to sitting on a chair next to her bedside, leaning forward to rest his head on his folded arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down?” she offered, clearly displeased.

“I’m fine like this,” he tells her softly. I got used to it.

She looked like she wanted to argue but quickly closed her mouth shut. She moved closer so that he was laying on her lap. “Tetsuroo?”

“Hmm?”

“I-I wanna go to the gardens tomorrow, to stretch my legs.”

“All day?”

She nodded shyly, determined.

“Okay then, walking all day it is. By the way, how’s the song coming?”

Her shoulders fell, dejected. “It’s coming…I’m just stuck…”

Kuroo laughed, muffled by the sheets. And then he broke into a yawn, his head heavy, throbbing, eyelids drooping close but he fought to stay awake. Thin fingers soothingly ran through his hair, like they usually did, easing the tension from his head and replacing it with the sense of calmness.

“Hey, (Name)?” She leaned close, face illuminated by the moonlight. How he wanted to touch her face. “Sing me a song?

Smoothing her fingers through his hair, a soft smile crept its way to his lips, especially when she began to sing. His heart tugged, slowly beating faster – he always loved hearing her sing with or without an instrument. In one exhale, his subconscious slipping, the last thing he heard was her sweet voice and the beating of his heart.

“Hey, (Name).”

“Hm?”

“Why have you been avoiding Kuroo?”

She froze, slowly turning her head to blond-dyed teen beside her, hands folded against his chest and console free. He watched her from the corner of his eye, golden eyes inquisitive, waiting.

“Of course, you knew.” She smiled, leaning into his shoulder. “It’s not that I’m avoiding him…it’s just,” she lifted her hands, making gestures before letting them fall. “I-I don’t know how to talk to him...I’m not sure I want to. Just…being around him makes me feel like a black hole if that even makes sense.” The blank TV screen in front of her bed reflected the two, lying side by side on her bed, but she could also see the view outside her window – a dark blanket of night, the moon obscured by clouds.

“Hey, Kenma?” There was a question she was dying to ask, gnawing her the moment she woke up. She wasn’t even sure if she was ready for the answer, regardless of what it was. “My mind’s a bit fuzzy, and I was unconscious and all, but I do remember voices in the dark.” Swallowing thickly, she says. “A-And I swore I heard Tetsuroo.”

Kenma’s eyes noticeable widened, his shoulders heavy from bearing weights of two sides. In his head, he was debating whether he should tell her or not – he was obligated to, after all.

“Yeah, that was him.” He exhaled, recalling the past six months. “Kuroo didn’t leave your side since he found out you were admitted.”

She let out a weak gasp, the dam breaking. Alarmed, the blonde turned to his friend. “Why are you crying? Are you happy? Sad?”

“Both.” She sobbed, crying against his shoulder. But also, she felt incredibly guilty.

Kenma sighed, really, these two were a handful. When they talked, they both had to be careful of the other, as if they threaded on thin ice. He’s had enough of bearing their secrets, especially when it concerned the other – it made him the third wheel.

But as frustrating as they were, they were still his friends and he cared about them.

A few months into (Name) under coma, Kuroo Tetsuroo received word that he had been qualified for the colleges he applied for, one, in particular, was in the United Kingdom. Driven by guilt, he had to turn down their offers of scholarships for her, too broken to even take a step forward.

A day after she woke up, he called the admissions, asking if he was still qualified. To his luck, he still was.

Although the semester wouldn’t be until next month, Kuroo’s things were all packed. He didn’t bother saying a word to anyone, it was for the best.

It was a dick move, but then again, he was a dick.

This was the biggest leap of faith in his life, the opportunity of a lifetime, he had to take it. Yet, as much as his heart yearned for it, it felt like he was taking the easy way out.

He’ll miss Tokyo, his home, his family, his friends.

But what he’ll miss the most was her.

It’ll be alright, he thought to himself. After all, she’ll be off to college, her dream school, where she can start anew.

And as much as he hated the thought of it, he knew that she’ll meet someone else, someone who’ll treasure her in ways he failed to.

It felt surreal to be outside again, to have the sun and the wind kiss her skin. Hands instinctively flew to her hair as the wind picked up, remembering that it was still growing and it was cropped short.

What’s more surreal was the audition she got for her dream school, which was in a week’s time, having considered her situation. Nekoma was going to have a practice match soon with Karasuno, a mini-reunion was planned by the two schools. She was finally going to meet Kenma’s special someone he met at a Game Expo. It was almost too much for her heart to take.

But something was missing in all this fanfare – Kuroo.

For days, she hasn’t heard a word from him, hasn’t seen from him since. If she traced it back, it started just a day before she was released. She missed him. She really did. Her heart ached just to see a familiar hide of messy black hair, his gangly form, his easy smile.

And then she received a call from Bokuto, frantically telling her that Kuroo was at the hospital.

Apparently, he was out drinking with a few friends and suddenly got into a fight. Although he started it, he didn’t fight back, allowing the guy to beat him to a pulp. Had Bokuto not been there and Kuroo’d be critical.

Without a word, she ran out of her house, thoughts flying to Kuroo.

Upon arrival, her heart broke at the sight of him, hating that his arm was bandaged, the bruises and stitches on his face. She had the exact look of heartbreak when he saw her, all the guilt washed over her as she rushed to his side.

“What happened to you, Tetsurou?” he smelled of blood, dirt, sweat, and alcohol, but she didn’t care. “I know you’re one to pick fights, but I never thought you’d go this far.”

He turned away, avoiding her in eyes. That hurt. Kenma’s words surfaced, making her heart twinge.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked Bokuto angrily, completely ignoring her presence. She flinched at his tone, mind flashing to a certain memory.

“She was the best person to call,” Akaashi answered calmly, appearing next to the grey-haired teen. “Kuroo-san, go home. And more importantly, you and (Last name)-san need to talk.”

“Eh? But Akaashi, don’t you think Kuroo’s out of it?”

“I’m very much sober, thank you very much.” Kuroo threw a glare at the raven-haired setter, ignoring Bokuto’s concern, or (Name)’s.

After being given painkillers, Kuroo was good to go. And before anyone could stop him, he walked out of the hospital.

(Name) looked at the two teens worriedly before chasing after him, calling after his retreating form. But he didn’t look back, not even once. She didn’t stop chasing after him either.

Finally, he stopped by the riverside next to the bridge – the same one she found he and Kenma some years ago. Although puzzled, she followed him down the steps. Knowing that she was behind him, that she wouldn’t leave him alone, Kuroo sighed – ignoring the pain from his chest. He sat down, she took it as an invitation, sitting a step above him.

The silence between them was thick with a heavy weight of guilt wrought by the past few months, hearts burdened heavily. It was almost unbearable to even breathe, running away was the perfect option, yet the two stayed, another option weighing heavier.

They remain like that for at least an hour, the night growing older with every second. Two teenagers too afraid to tell the other what they wanted to say, fear holding them back.

Finally, for what seemed like forever, Kuroo exhaled through his nose, a heavy sigh. That was never a good sign. “I’m going to Cambridge.”

Her head whipped to him, he worried she’d get a whiplash. But she didn’t, her world just stopped. “W-What…?”

Sighing again, he pressed his forehead to his palms, unable to meet her eyes. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but this was for the best.

“The next semester won’t start until next month, but in a few days or weeks, I was called to take a test and offered a scholarship. So, I leave sometime this month.”

She could feel her heart twisting with every word he said, and she hated it – hated the way he talked to her, hated how he seemed to avoid her. Then again, she pretty much did the same thing when she woke up. She missed him, she really did.

Brought by the pent-up emotions she’s been feeling, she called out, in a shaky tone. “Hey, Tetsu, won’t you listen to my song?”

Song? He peeked up at her. So, she finally got to finish her song.

Swallowing hard, she reached for her ukulele – the sight of the band-aid sent a sharp pain in his heart, a painful reminder – fingers positioned over the strings, shaking just by a fraction. Before he could stop her, she glanced up at him and began singing.

  I love this place

But haunted without you

My tired heart is beating so slow

Our hearts sing less than we wanted

We wanted

Our hearts sing cause

We do not know

We do not know

 Her singing was as gentle as her music, enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He was reminded of the many times she’d sing to him, in times when he was at his lowest. To cheer him up, all it took was a few comforting words, a gentle smile, a warm hug, or her offering a song. It was cheesy, but he loved it, especially because when she sang to him, it would be only him and just him alone, making it very personal for him. He was selfish like that, especially with her.

  To light the night

To help us grow

To help us grow

It is not said I always know

 Of course, you don’t, he thought laughingly.

He could feel the longing in her voice, the loneliness – it made her seem like she was a princess locked up in a tower. Its lyrics tugged at him, knowing the feeling so well.

When their eyes met, he saw the young woman he fell in love with when they were 8, the young woman who held his heart now.

  You can catch me

Don't you run

Don't you run

If you live another day in this happy little house

The fire’s here to stay

 The emotion in her eyes made his throat dry, tugging his heart – did she just?

  To light the night

To help us grow

To help us grow

It is not said I always know

 His heart was hammering wildly against his chest, a rush of emotions burning inside, igniting his veins. The words were at the tip of his tongue, heart ready to burst out of his chest to tell her.

But not just yet, he didn’t want to jinx it, couldn’t bring himself to, he wanted to hear more.

  Please don't make a fuss

It won't go away

The wonder of it all the wonder that I made

I am here to stay

I am here to stay

Stay

  Overwhelmed by her emotions, by the pent-up emotions she’s withheld for so long, tears began streaming down her face uncontrollably. Alarmed, Kuroo quickly took her ukulele aside and enveloped her in his arms.

At his touch, everything she’s been holding in surfaced - missing him, loving him. “I’m sorry!” she cried, returning the hug, tightening her hold on him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“No, don’t say you’re sorry.” He pulls back to plant a kiss to her forehead, thumbs brushing her tears away. “Don’t you ever feel sorry, (Name).” He whispered against her skin.

Kenma’s neutral look of displeasure came to mind. He felt like an idiot. How could he be so stupid to have dismissed her feelings over his?

(Name) couldn't stop crying, her heart was so full of emotions that it seemed like it would burst anytime. She felt loved, so loved in Kuroo's arms - from the boy she's loved for so long. And somehow, his embrace made everything better, everything was forgiven, forgotten – yet, it made things worse at the same time.

“Tetsurou, please don’t go…” glossy (eye color) eyes begging, his heart aching. She couldn't take not having him by her side, couldn't take the thought of losing him. “Don’t go, please.” Gentle hands reached up to cup his face, tears continuing to stream down. “Stay, please.”

Oh, those (eye color) eyes, she had no idea of its effect on him.

“Stay?”

Placing his larger hands in hers, he leaned his forehead with hers, their noses bumping.

“Always.”

[notnctu]

now playing: can’t help falling in love - elvis presley 

lee jeno x fem!reader genre - fluff details - established relationship  word count - 1,582 synopsis - where you and jeno attend your best friends’ wedding.

a/n - this is for @kpopscape‘s jukebox friday <3 inspo from the wedding scene in the movie crazy rich asians! also i hope this isn’t confusing LOL the first part is a back and forth between jeno/(y/n) pov, like it switches between the conversations but ultimately they’re in separate rooms -author doie ❀

Lee Jeno stands in a pampered black and white suit, with a classic black tie situated up to his neck. Hair is slicked with a thick gel that he can’t wait to wash out, but gives his forehead a special feature for this very special day. He’s nervous, not entirely sure why, he’s not the one getting married. 

The outdoor wedding scene has always been one of your favorites. A rooftop that looks over the vast ocean, the thin horizon that separates water from sky. The decorative floral altar frames the center perfectly. You’re incredibly jittery, not entirely sure why, you’re not the one getting married.

Your best friends panic respectively in their own rooms. It’s mad chaos when you re-enter the cramped room. The mom of the groom is leaving no space for breaths, beating down the neck of your best friend. As your duty of maid of honor, you’re rushing to her rescue.

“I think it’s time to start heading to your seats now.” You usher every relative that isn’t suppose to be in the area. Excited chatter erupt from each of them, overly joyous that the occasion is about to start. 

Now, you have a best friend to reassure as she sits in her glorious chiffon gown and a heavy frown on her painted lips. “What can I do to help the bride?” An unfamiliar peppiness embodies you, hoping to lighten her mood. 

Smoothing your own dress under you, you sit down in front of her and hold her hands in your own. Her glittery eye makeup catches the light from the marveling late afternoon sun and the strands of her hair are pinned by pearl clips out of the frame of her delicate face. 

“Is this what cold feet feels like?” She asks carefully. And when she looks up, her glossy eyes are much of a shock as the question itself. 

In the groom’s room, every person is scrambling for their dress shoes. Jeno sits in the corner of the room, quietly observing the frantic lack of responsibility on display while also fulfilling his role as best man by consoling the sullen groom on his big day. 

“What does it feel like?” Jeno genuinely inquires and he waits for the answer from his best friend.

Jeno notices his slumped forward shoulders, as if all the confidence in his best friend is drained out. Nonetheless, this is the best he’s ever seen him clean up. A smooth shave, without a cut in sight and accessories that actually complement his suit. Throughout all the craziness, this is a show stopping man before him. Who knew suits can make such a difference?

“Cold feet... it feels confusing.” His best friend fiddles his thumbs as if guilt preoccupied his conscience for feeling this way on his wedding day. “I love her, but what is that suppose to feel like? Do you know what love feels like, Jeno?”

Jeno blinks and without a doubt answers, “I do.” and his automatic thought is you. He will never stop falling in love with you. 

Your best friend peers out the window and the empty room provides a serene silence on this beautiful day. The serious question now fills the air instead. 

You gulp, the pure image of Jeno’s smile enters your mind. Love is Jeno, he holds your hand as if he’s always afraid that you’d let go. “I do.” And a gentle smile finally rests on your best friend’s face. You simply can’t help falling in love with Jeno and she knows.

“It’s like how a river flows into the sea.” Jeno stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. The analogy sounded better in his head, but he can see the gears turn. 

“It’s just meant to be.” You add to your best friend’s heavy sigh. 

“It’s time.” A knock startles the men in the room and Jeno stands up. He instructs his best friend to take a few deep breaths before heading out. Jeno lightly dusts his shoulders and bids his good friend a warm smile.

“It’s just meant to be.” Jeno whispers and gives him a firm pat, and his friend nods. A smile grows tenfold at Jeno’s last words. 

Jeno has always been the person of the friend group who gives love advice before he’s ever felt it. It wasn’t for four years ago when he met you did he actually understand what he told others.

Love is more than emotional. It’s taking your hand in a large crowd so you’re not lost. It’s early evening dinners spent together. It’s active listening to the other person’s troubles. It’s simple, yet too complex to explain. Some things are meant to be. 

Finally, you two rejoin with one another and form the orderly line that every pairing walks down the aisle in. Jeno takes your hand, as you offer your world to him. The charming toothy smile that he’ll never grow tired of seeing, your hands intertwine. You both seem anxious, not entirely sure why, you two aren’t the ones getting married. 

But you two face the closed doors that are about to open. The soft gentle song begins to play, announcing the start of their beautiful journey. 

Jeno gives your hand a small squeeze, “everything okay?” His whisper is almost inaudible. 

“Not something I couldn’t fix. You?” You mumble back, the doors open and the groom starts his walk down the aisle. 

“I do learn from the best.” From side eye peeks, you see the sly grin on your boyfriend’s charming face. “So yeah, not something I couldn’t fix.” 

You both walk down the aisle in unison. The white rolled out sheet that has pink flower petals scattered across disappear under your feet with each step. Mutual friends sit in the crowd and their distant relatives all wear expressions of awe.

The music is drowned out when you two reach the altar, separating to join the different sides of the couple. Something inside you tells you not to look at Jeno standing on the other side, not yet. 

Facing forward, each groomsmen and bridesmaid pairing flood in one by one. The final repetition of the song and your best friend is ready for her entrance. Her sheer veil drapes over her face, a large bouquet of pink roses in her hands, each step brings her closer to her future husband.

You’re immersed, completely close to tears just at the moving image of your best friend finding a love so true. Years after years, she’s been wandering the Earth set searching for a perfect partner. You felt a bit foolish to have found Jeno before she had found someone, wondering if you rushed too soon into a relationship. 

Jeno has always felt unreal to you. There’s something new and old to love about him every day. You love that he just always knows what to say, remembering a moment in time when you asked, “shall I stay?” and for him to reply, “would it be a sin if you did?” for you, of course not. 

You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry and everything was smooth sailing, until the vows and you consequently make eye contact with Jeno across the altar.

It’s as if time stopped, you two are in your own world. Jeno’s eyebrows rise up subtly in shock, like a whole waterfall of epiphanies washed over him. He sees you blinking back at him, as beautiful as ever in a formal gown and a small bouquet in your hands.

Jeno hears the vows, “for I can’t help falling in love... with...” and your mouths move in synchronization as you two mouth the last word silently to yourselves, “you.” 

Your heart is ready to burst out of your chest and a tear happens to slip down your face. Not only are you incredibly happy for the newly weds, you’re soaring through the sky that Jeno loves you as much as you love him.

Jeno smiles sweetly at the droplet that draws down your cheek and your poor attempt to wipe it away. But he’s staring at you as if you’re all he’s ever wanted in love. Is this what his friend feels as they exchange rings? The realization that this is the only person you’re ever going to love. 

He’s made up his mind. He’s going to marry you one day, like it’s set in stone. “I do.” Your friends’ futures are sealed and celebratory cheers break you two out of the trance. 

“Congratulations.” You hug your best friend as tightly as you can before she walks down the aisle together with her new husband. Jeno steps forward, interlocking your fingers proudly and placing a small kiss on the back of your hand.

“I can’t wait to experience that all over again.” There’s a happiness in his step and the way his smile beams. “Only, it will be us exchanging vows at the altar.” 

Perhaps Jeno is intoxicated from the joyous atmosphere of the wedding, but you don’t mind. You love him all the more to want to share something as special as today, “you aren’t ready for what I would say to you.” 

Jeno chuckles, pinching your cheek lovingly. “In that case, you better make me cry, you big soft baby.” 

You pretend that you’re offended, pouting a little before bursting into giggles with your boyfriend. There’s a million things you’d want to say to Jeno, but the one thing you’ll never forget to mention would be, “I love you, Lee Jeno.”

[raging-violets]

Finished watching "The Artful Dodger" the other day. I really enjoyed it. The modern music attached to it was a bit jarring at first, but I got used to it pretty quickly. Also wasn't a fan of how the scenes would fade/cut to black to signal commercial breaks. I feel like at times they came slightly too early so it cut off the ends of sentences and/or cut into the emotion/tension of the scene.

David Thewlis as Fagin was great. I don't think I've ever seen something he's been in that I didn't admire his acting abilities for. Fagin was fun to watch, but the back and forth between himself and Jack regarding their pasts and how Jack was meant to be a thief, and how they both hated Oliver, etc did get pretty repetitive until the back half of the episodes. That being said, I also felt like Jack's storylines between Belle and Fagin were too far apart. By that I mean, clearly Jack was being pulled in two separate directions the whole entire time (and was the premise in the trailer that made me want to watch the show) but I just wanted to see those two worlds enmesh a bit more. I wanted to see Fagin bouncing off of Belle, or Fanny, or even Hetty. And I don't know if I would have preferred the flashback scene in the first episode be removed entirely as it wasn't something that continued throughout the show, or just have more of them.

The "first time this ever happened" surgical exclamations did get repetitive, too. However, I did like the added bits of information that reflected the societal times where Belle knew she couldn't just put her initials on a write-up for the Lancet about thier groundbreaking surgery so she'd have to essentially get credit under Jack's name. And I liked the little bit of friction that Hetty had with Belle being in the room, but not being a "professional."

I think the show needed ten episodes and not eight; just to give some other characters a bit more of a chance to be fleshed out and understand them more. (Like Fanny. I liked her character and showing the differences between her and Belle, but also thought she could have done more outside of falling in love with the idea of each man she set eyes on.) At the same time, as much as I would like a second season, I don't know if it really needs one. I felt like every plot line came around full circle and was resolved in the end. Though I would have liked to see more with Belle's illness and how that affected her life outside of its bigger impacts between the first and last episodes, and mentions of her having another "attack."

I didn't need a new fandom to fall into at the turn of the new year and then "The Artful Dodger" had the audacity to wallop me in the face!

Like oh my god, this show! 😍

(And it doesn't hurt Thomas Brodie-Sangster is the lead 😁)

[vanillacaramelhoney]

Different (9)

Pairing(s): Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: "Put. Her. Down."

Warnings: Uh, none??

A/N: Sorry this part took so long, I just kinda lost motivation to write for a hot second there 🥺

Masterlist

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Repetitive noises typically annoyed people if they weren't the ones making it, but as YN laid, curled up on Five's bed as he wrote on the walls, the clacking of chalk against it was the only thing keeping her sane.

It gave her something to focus on- to keep her from thinking about Eudora's death, or the danger Diego was putting himself in, or what would happen to her younger self.

Upon seeing the traumatized girl, most people would scold Five for working on equations rather than comfort her. But Five knew her, and he knew that she needed time to process everything first. And when she was in need of comfort, he would be there- even if that meant not worrying about the apocalypse for a moment.

So, she laid on top of Five's bed, curled into herself. Five stood in front of her, writing on the wall behind her.

The writing stopped, and YN's thoughts started.

"Okay, I think I've got something." She looked up at Five at the sound of the sudden intrusion of his voice. "It's tenuous but promising."

YN watched as Luther walked into the room, confusion already present on his face.

"What is all this?" he asked.

"It's a probability map."

"Probability of what?"

"Of whose death could save the world." Five tapped on the wall. "I've narrowed it down to four."

"Are you saying one of these four people causes the apocalypse?" Luther asked.

"Their death might prevent it," YN explained for Five, her voice dull and eyes closed.

The sound of clacking came back for a moment as Luther glanced down at the girl.

"I'm not following." YN let out a hum as Five jumped into the explanation.

"Time is fickle, Luther. The slightest alteration in events can lead to massively different outcomes in the time continuum. The butterfly effect." Luther nodded. "So, all I have to do is find the people with the greatest probability of impacting the timeline, wherever they may be, and kill them."

Five dropped off the bed to look through Vanya's book as Luther came around to the other side of the bed. He looked over the names.

"'Milton Green,'" he read. "So, who's he? A terrorist or something?"

"I believe he is a gardener." YN opened her eyes to look at Five.

"You can't be serious," Luther said. "Wait, this is madness, Five."

Whatever words were about to follow halted when Five placed a case on his bed. YN sat up in curiosity.

"Where'd you get that?"

"In Dad's room," Five answered, unzipping it. "I think he used it to shoot a rhinoceros."

He pulled it out, looking it over. "It's similar to the model I used at work. Nice shoulder fit and highly reliable."

"But you can't- this guy Milton is just an innocent man!"

"It's a little distasteful, but his death could save billions of people," YN told him. "Besides, he'd just end up dead anyway."

"We don't do this kind of thing," Luther criticized.

"We are not doing anything," Five corrected. "I am. And if YN wants to come, then she's allowed to join."

"I can't let you go and kill innocent people," Luther said. "No matter how many lives it saves."

"Well, good luck stopping me."

"You're not going anywhere."

With a shriek, YN was lifted off the bed by the back of her shirt collar. She was shoved out the window and left dangling from Luther's grip.

"Motherfucker!" she screamed, kicking in his grasp as fury filled her body.

Five was quick to spin around, aiming the gun at his brother.

"Put. Her. Down."

"Put the gun down- you're not killing anyone," Luther countered. "I know she's important to you, so don't make me do this. It's either her or the gun. You decide."

"You know, I'm pretty sure if you drop me, I'll survive," YN continued squirming, "but that doesn't mean I'm fine with this."

It was silent as the two stared back at each other, waiting for the other to move.

Using his strength, Luther tossed the girl. She let out an alarming screech.

Five dropped the rifle and jumped forward to grab onto her.

He quickly pulled her back into his room.

"I can keep doing this all day." Looking back, Luther stood with the gun in hand.

Ignoring him, Five fretted over YN, having her sit on his bed.

"I know you're still a good person, Five," Luther continued. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have risked it coming back here to save us all. But you're not on your own anymore."

Five looked up at Luther. "There is one way, but it's just about impossible."

"More impossible than what brought you back here?"

Looking back at YN, she sighed, knowing where this was going.

Pulling to the side of the road, Luther parked the car, and Five unbuckled his seat. YN sat in the back, more interested in looking out of the car windows.

With a sigh, Five spoke, "I never enjoyed it, you know."

"What?"

"The killing," he clarified. "I mean, I was good at my work, and I took pride in it, but it never gave me pleasure."

It fell silent for a while.

"You think they'll buy it?" Luther asked, laying an arm on the briefcase.

"Well, what we do know is that they're desperate. It's like a cop losing his gun. If the Commission finds out, they'll be in deep shit. Not to mention that they'll be stuck here until they get it back."

"I should hold onto it," Luther said. Five hummed in confusion. "In case they make a move on either of you."

"Okay, Luther, but be careful," said Five. "I mean, we've lived long lives, but you're still a young man. You got your whole life ahead of you. Don't waste it."

Luther stared at his brother, confused.

"There's a car coming up," YN announced.

Sure enough, a car appeared from behind a hill on the road.

"Here we go," Five said, the three climbing out of the car. They joined each other in the middle of the road, watching the car drive past.

"You sure you want to do this?" Five whispered to YN. "I can understand if you don't. You've been through a lot."

They watched as Hazel and Cha Cha exited the car, their creepy masks covering their faces.

"I don't really have a choice," YN responded.

With a sigh, Five walked forward to meet with their tailers, YN just a step behind him.

"The masks really necessary?" Five asked.

The two pulled them off and threw them aside.

"So, where is it?" Cha Cha asked.

"Wow, that's how you're gonna start," Five sassed. "You know, we can get back in our car and call it a day."

"You won't even make it halfway there," the woman said, pulling out her gun. She pointed it at Five, and Hazel raised his to YN.

"Maybe," Five said, "but as I'm sure you found out in your previous foray, my brother is not your average giant."

"He's right," Hazel said. "You dropped a chandelier on him, got right back up."

"You hurt us, and he'll destroy your precious briefcase," YN smiled.

"Probably us, too, right?" Hazel asked. "So, how do we help each other?"

"I need you to get in contact with your superior, so we can have a chat with her," Five explained. "Face-to-face."

"About what?" Cha Cha asked.

"Why do you care?" YN asked.

The woman took a deep breath. "Just don't tell her about the briefcase."

"Fair enough."

The four parted, Cha Cha and Hazel going to a payphone, and Five and YN returning to the car and Luther.

Five settled against the car, and YN sat on the hood.

"What now?"

"Now, we wait."

YN grabbed Five's hand to fiddle with while they waited. The sound of music typical to an ice cream truck had them confused.

Five grabbed YN's hand and pulled her down to his side as they looked back.

Everyone watched in confusion as it drove down the street, music echoing.

"Is that her?" Luther asked the two beside him.

YN's eyes widened in disbelief as the truck drove by.

Klaus sat in the front seat, smiling and waving out at them. In the passenger seat was Diego.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

The truck continued, Cha Cha and Hazel raising their guns to fire at it.

Luther covered Five and YN with his body, holding his arms out.

The two watched, however, as everything came to a halt.

They peered out from behind Luther.

"What the hell?" YN muttered.

Together, they walked out from behind him to take in the scene before them.

"Neat trick, isn't it?" Turning, the Handler stood there in all her unbridled glory.

She pulled back the net veil covering her face and removed her sunglasses.

"Hello, Five, YN," she greeted. "You two look good, all things considered. And I must say, I'm very sorry for your loss, dear."

She smiled at YN, who was held back by Five from doing anything.

"Good to see you again," Five said, whispering a warning back to YN.

"Feels like we met just yesterday," the woman said. "Course, you were both a little older then. Congratulations on the age regression, by the way. Very clever. Threw us all off the scent."

"Well, I wish I could take credit," Five said. "I just miscalculated the time dilation projections and, well, you know. Here we are." He briefly held out his arms.

"You realize your efforts are futile. So, why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"We want you to put a stop to this," YN told her.

"You realize what you're asking for is next to impossible, even for me," the Handler said. "What's meant to be is meant to be. That's our raison d'etre."

YN rolled her eyes, looking off to the side, and Five pulled a gun.

"Yeah? Well, how about survival as a raison?" Five gave a mocking smile.

"I'll just be replaced. I'm but a...small cog in a machine." As she stepped closer to the two, Five kept a close eye on her. "This fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse is just that- a fantasy. I must say, though, we're all quite impressed with your initiative, your stick-to-itiveness, really quite something."

YN narrowed her eyes at the flattery.

"Which is why we want to offer both of you new positions back at the Commission in management," she told them.

"Sorry, what's that now?" Five questioned.

"Come back to work for us again," she coaxed. "It's where you belong."

"The last time we were there, things weren't going that good," YN recalled.

"But you wouldn't be in the correction division any longer," the Handler corrected her. "I'm talking about the home office. You'd have the best health and pension, and an end to this ceaseless travel. You're distinguished professionals in-" she trailed off for a second as she looked down, "-matching schoolboy shorts. We have the technology to reverse the process. I mean, you can't be happy like this."

She reached over to push Five's gun down.

"We're not looking for happy," he told her.

"We're all looking for happy," she responded. "We can make that happen. We can make you yourselves again."

Five sighed, looking to the side. "What about my family?"

"What about them?"

"I want them to survive."

The Handler looked at Luther, then at the truck where Diego and Klaus resided.

"All of them?"

"Yes, all of them."

Without a word, they watched as the woman pulled out her sunglasses and put them back on. "I'll see what I can do." She held out her hand. "Do we have a deal?"

"One thing," Five said.

He nodded toward the gun lying on the road, silently telling YN to deal with it.

As she went to it, Five messed with a bullet that headed in Luther's direction.

YN unloaded the gun, throwing both parts to the sides before returning.

The Handler held her hand out again. Grabbing YN's first, Five took hers and shook it.

They were gone with a flash, everything returning to normal.

The bullet missed Luther, Cha Cha and Hazel fell to the ground, and the truck crashed into the back of the assassins' car.

Luther frantically looked around for the missing two, calling out their names in confusion.

Looking back at the assassins, he held up the briefcase.

"Come get it!" Cha Cha came running at him but turned when it was thrown to the side.

The man ran to the truck to help his siblings. They ran back to the car as fast as they could.

They quickly climbed inside, Klaus and Diego in the back, Luther getting in the driver's seat.

They were off in seconds, leaving behind the frustrated assassins.

----Taglist

@fancytravelerbird @megasimpleplan4ever @yikes-matey @we-all-are-strange @flowertoty @rasberrymay @lilacs-lavender @margotsfandoms @nibbles7192 @colie-babi @thegirlwholikestomanythings @halparkebitch @faith-quake @aesthetically-hailey

[astoldbygingersnaps]

8,18,30

since i've actually managed to finish something recently, let's answer this meme that's been chilling in my inbox for like a month!

8. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, share a song that’s been inspiring you lately.

BOY DO I

i've mentioned this before, but i tend to create playlists for most of the fics i write, both because i can't write without music but also i'm of the belief that a good playlist really helps convey those carly rae jepson e·mo·tions.

because it's my most recent project, the band au playlist has been the one i've been wearing out recently, but particularly 'killing me softly' by the fugees. given the Events™ that will occur in chapter two, this bit seems especially relevant:

I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd I felt he'd found my letters and read each one out loud I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on

Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time) Singing my life with his words (two times, two times) Killing me softly with his song Killing me softly with his song Telling my whole life with his words Killing me softly with his song

get ready for the pain, kids.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

ah yes. my favorite question to answer.

since we're already on the band au train, let's do a deep dive of the scene detailing the rise and fall of shisui and itachi's relationship, shall we?

there are some lines in this first chapter that are honestly some of my favorite things that i have ever written. the truth is that after alexa and i started talking about this au, i was so haunted by it i wrote the entire first chapter in the period of a few hours.

i've been struggling a lot with being creative and producing content, and worrying that my writing was becoming repetitive or unnatural. and, though i've been hesitant to discuss it, the truth is that for the last few months, for a variety of reason i don't want to go too in depth about, my mental health has been absolute shit garbage, which was not helping the problem At All. so i kind of wanted something sad and fucked up to pour my bad feelings into, and this project fit that perfectly.

ANYWAY, i wanted the scene that discusses the band's rise to fame to feel like a blur, to reflect how surreal it would be to blow up so quickly, but also to show the slow, sort of inevitable degradation of this relationship. one thing @birkastan2018 said that i think really hits the nail on the head is that the saddest thing is how they don't break up because of anything salacious, it just happens because they're growing up and away from each other, and i think that's exactly it. they're two people that have been inextricably linked since childhood and now that they're the adults they're both starting to freak out about that.

obviously it's shisui that panics first

Shisui turns to him and asks, aren’t you worried that one day we’re going to get sick of each other?

but it's definitely on itachi's mind, too. he's just more in denial about it.

and Itachi tries to ignore how terrified the question makes him feel.

more than anything i think this section is what it's like to be in a Big Adult Relationship and live through it falling apart and experiencing all the things that aren't in romcoms or love songs

In the span of three months, he and Shisui have had at least twenty-five arguments. Some are big, some are small, but most are incredibly stupid. They’re meaningless moments in time, all a complete waste of their energy, and yet each one pushes the knife in them just a little bit deeper.

and to know deep down that something is over before you let yourself accept it

Shisui starts sleeping in the guest room and sometimes Itachi will wake in the middle of the night and pad down the hall, peeking his head inside to make sure the man hasn’t given up and run off for good. He loses track of how many hours he spends in that doorway, staring at Shisui and trying to find the person he once loved. He lost track of a lot of things that year.

and now i'm sad! whoops!

30. Tell us an idea for a longfic you want to write in the future.

i know i'm gonna say olympics au. you know i'm gonna say olympics au. let's not play these games, anon.

no, but seriously. i've had the idea of figure skater!itachi and hockey player!shisui living in my stupid little brain for so long that if it doesn't actually materialize at some point i may weep. oh also i think i would like to revist the friends with benefits au to explore what hokage!itachi would look like but. maybe don't hold your breath on that one, guys.

[dustedmagazine]

Music for Films, Vol. II: Chick Habit

For good and for ill, Quentin Tarantino’s movies have been strongly associated with postmodern pop culture — particularly by folks whose reactions to the word “postmodern” tend toward pursed lips and school-marmishly wagged fingers. There for a while, reading David Denby on Tarantino was similar to reading Michiko Kakutani on Thomas Pynchon: almost always the same review, the same complaints about characters lacking “psychological depth,” the same handwringing over an ostensible moral insipidness. Truth be told, Tarantino’s pranksome delight with flashy surfaces and stylistic flourishes that are ends in themselves gives tentative credence to some of the caviling. Critics have raised related concerns over the superficiality of Tarantino’s tendency toward stunt casting, especially his resurrections of aging actors relegated to the film industry’s commercial margins: John Travolta, Pam Grier, Robert Forster, David Carradine, Darryl Hannah, Don Johnson and so on. There might be a measure of cynicism in the accompanying cinematic nudging and winking, but it’s also the case that a number of the performances have been terrific.

The writer-director brings a similar sensibility to his sound-tracking choices, demonstrating the cooler-than-thou, deep-catalog knowledge of an obsessive crate-digger. Tarantino thematized that knowledge in his break-through feature, Reservoir Dogs (1992). Throughout the film, the characters tune in to Steven Wright deadpanning as the deejay of “K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the Seventies”; like the characters, the viewer transforms into a listener, treated to such fare as the George Baker Selection’s “Little Green Bag” (1970) and Harry Nilsson’s “Coconut” (1971). As with the above-mentioned actors, Tarantino has sifted pop culture’s castoffs and detritus, unearthing songs and delivering experiences of renewed value — and thereby proving the keenness of his instincts and aesthetic wit. “Listen to (or look at) this!” he seems to say, with his cockeyed, faux-incredulous grin. “Can you believe you were just going to throw this out?” And mostly, it works. If the Blue Swede’s “Hooked on a Feeling” (1974) has become a sort of semi-ironized accompaniment to hipsterish good times, that resonance has a lot more to do with Tim Roth, Harvey Keitel and Co. cruising L.A. in a hulking American sedan than with the Disney Co.’s Guardians of the Galaxy (2014).

In Death Proof (2007), Tarantino’s seventh film and unaccountably his least favorite, soundtrack and screen are both full to bursting with the flotsam and jetsam of “entertainment” conceived as an industry. 

In just the opening minutes, we see outmoded moviehouse announcements, complete with cigarette-burn cue dots; big posters of Brigitte Bardot from Les Bijoutiers du claire de lune (1958) and of Ralph Nelson’s Soldier Blue (1970) bedecking the apartment of Jungle Julia (Sydney Tamiia Poitier); the tee shirt worn by Shanna (Jordan Ladd), which bears the image of Tura Satana; and strutting under all of it are the brassy cadences of Jack Nitzsche’s “The Last Race,” taken from his soundtrack for the teensploitation flick Village of the Giants (1965). Bibs and bobs, bits and pieces of low- and middle-brow cinema are cut up and reconstructed into a fulsome swirl of signs. And there’s an unpleasant edge to it; the cuts are echoed by the action of the camera, which has been busily cleaving the bodies of the women on screen into fragments and parts. First the feet of Arlene (Vanessa Ferlito), propped up on a dashboard; then Julia, all ass and gams; then Arlene’s lower half again, chopped into slices by the stairs she dashes up (“I gotta take the world’s biggest fucking piss!”) and by the close-up that settles on her belly and pelvis, her hand shoved awkwardly into her crotch. 

As often happens in Tarantino’s movies, furiously busy meta-discursive play collapses the images’ problematic content under multiple levels of reference and pastiche. The film is one half of Grindhouse (2007), Tarantino’s collaboration with his buddy Robert Rodriguez, an old-fashioned double-feature comprising the men’s love letters to the exploitation cinema of the 1960s and 1970s. In those thousands of movies — mondo, beach-cutie, nudie-cutie, women in prison, early slasher, rape-revenge, biker gang, chop-socky, Spaghetti Western and muscle-car-worship flicks (and we could add more subgenres to the list) — symbolic violence inflicted on women’s bodies was de rigueur, and frequently the principal draw. Tarantino shot Death Proof himself, so he is (more than usually) directly responsible for all the framing and focusing — and he’s far too canny a filmmaker not to know precisely what he’s doing with and to those bodies. The excessive, camera-mediated gashing and trimming is a knowing, perhaps deprecating nod to all that previous, gratuitous T&A. His sound-tracking choice of “The Last Race” metaphorically underscores the point: in Bert I. Gordon’s Village of the Giants, bikini-clad teens find and consume an experimental growth serum, which causes them to expand to massive proportions. Really big boobs, actual acres of ass. Get it?

Of course, all the implied japing and judging is deeply embedded in the film’s matrix of esoteric references and fleeting allusions. You’d have to be very well versed in the history of exploitation cinema to pick up on the indirect homage to Gordon’s goofy movie. But as in Reservoir Dogs, Tarantino doesn’t just gesture, he dramatizes, folding an authoritative geekdom into the action of Death Proof. In the set-up to Death Proof’s notorious car crash scene, Julia is on the phone, instructing one of her fellow deejays to play “Hold Tight!” (1966) by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich. Don’t recognize the names? “For your information,” Julia snorts, Pete Townsend briefly considered abandoning the Who, and he thought about joining the now-obscure beat band, to make it “Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick, Tich & Pete. And if you ask me, he should have.”

It’s among the most gruesomely violent sequences in Tarantino’s films (which do not run short on graphic bloodshed), and Julia receives its most spectacular punishment. Those legs and that rump, upon which the camera has lavished so much attention, are torn apart. Her right leg flips, flies and slaps the pavement, a hunk of suddenly flaccid meat. Again, Tarantino proves himself an adept arranger of image, sign and significance. Want to accuse him of fetishizing Julia’s legs? He’ll materialize the move, reducing the limb to a manipulable fragment, and he’ll invest the moment with all of the intrinsic violence of the fetish. He’ll even do you one better — he’ll make that violence visible. Want to watch? You better buckle up and hold tight. 

Hold on a second. “Hold Tight”? The soundtrack has passed over from intertextual in-joke to cruel punchline. It doesn’t help that the song is so much fun, and that it’s fun watching the girls groove along to it, just before Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell) obliterates them, again and again and again. The awful insistence of the repetition is another set-up, establishing the film’s narrative logic: the repeated pattern and libidinal charge-and-release of Stuntman Mike’s vehicular predations. It is, indeed, “a sex thing,” as Sheriff Earl McGraw (Michael Parks) informs us in his cartoonish, redneck lawman’s drawl. Soon the sexually charged repetitions pile up: see Abernathy’s (Rosario Dawson) feet hanging out of Kim’s (Tracie Thom) 1972 Mustang, in a visual echo of Arlene’s, and of Julia’s. Then listen to Lee (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) belt out some of Smith’s cover of “Baby It’s You” (1969), which we most recently heard 44 minutes before, as Julia danced ecstatically by the Texas Chili Bar’s jukebox. Then watch Abernathy as she sees Stuntman Mike’s tricked-out ’71 Nova, a vibrating hunk of metallic machismo — just like Arlene saw it, idling menacingly back in Austin, with another snatch of “Baby It’s You” wisping through that moment’s portent. 

For a certain kind of viewer, the Nova’s low-slung, growling charms are hard to resist, as is the sleazy snarl of Willy DeVille’s “It’s So Easy” (1980; and we might note that Jack Nitzsche produced a couple of Mink DeVille’s early records, connecting another couple strands in the web) on the Nova’s car stereo. Those prospective pleasures raise the question of just who the film is for. That may seem obvious: the same folks — dudes, mostly — who find pleasure in exploitation movies like Vanishing Point (1971), Satan’s Sadists (1969) or The Big Doll House (1971). But there are a few other things to account for, like how Death Proof repeatedly passes the Bechdel Test, and how long those scenes of conversation among women go on, and on. Most notable is the eight-minute diner scene, a single take featuring Abernathy, Kim, Lee and Zoë (Zoë Bell, doing a cinematic rendition of her fabulous self, an instance of stunt casting that literalizes the “stunt” part). Among other things, the women discuss their careers in film, the merits of gun ownership and Kim and Zoë’s love of (you guessed it) car chase movies like Vanishing Point. One could read that as a liberatory move, a suggestion that cinema of all kinds is open to all comers. All that’s required is a willingness to watch. But watching the diner scene becomes increasing claustrophobic. The camera circles the women’s table incessantly, and on the periphery of the shot, sitting at the diner’s counter, is Stuntman Mike. The circling becomes predatory, the threat seems pervasive. 

If you’ve seen the film, you know how that plays out: Zoë and Kim play “ship’s mast” on a white 1970 Dodge Challenger (the Vanishing Point car); Stuntman Mike shows up and terrorizes them mercilessly; but then Abernathy, Zoë and Kim chase him down and beat the living shit out of him, likely fatally. In another sharply conceived cinematic maneuver, Tarantino executes a climactic sequence that inverts the diner scene: the women surround Stuntman Mike, abject and pleading, and punch and kick him as he bounces from one of them to another. The camera zips from vantage to vantage within the circle, deliriously tracking the action. All the jump cuts intensify the violence, and they provide another contrast to the diner’s scene’s silky, unbroken shot. The sounds and the impact of the blows verge on slapstick, and our identification with the women makes it a giddily gross good time.

So, an inversion seeks to undo repetition. Certainly, Stuntman Mike’s intent to repeat the car-crash-kill-thrill is undone, and predator becomes prey. But, as is inevitable with Tarantino’s cinema, there are complications, other echoes and patterns to suss out. For instance: as the women stride toward the wrecked Nova, while Stuntman Mike pathetically wails, the camera zooms in on their asses. Bad asses? Nice asses? What’s the right nomenclature? To make sure we can put the shot together with Julia’s first appearance in the film, Abernathy has hiked up her skirt, revealing a lot of leg. Repetition reasserts itself. In an exacerbating circumstance, Harvey Weinstein’s grubby fingerprints are smeared onto the film. Rodriguez’s Troublemaker Studios is credited with production of Grindhouse, but Dimension Films, a Weinstein Brothers company, handled distribution.  

When the film cuts to its end titles, we hear April March’s “Chick Habit” (1995), with its spot-on lyric: “Hang up the chick habit / Hang it up, daddy / Or you’ll never get another fix.” And so on. Even here, where the girl-power vibe feels strongest (cue Abernathy burying a bootheel in Stuntman Mike’s face), there are echoes, patterns. Note how the striding bassline of “Chick Habit” strongly recalls the pulse beating through Nitzsche’s “The Last Race.” Note that March’s song is a cover, of “Laisse tomber les filles,” originally recorded by yé-yé girl France Gall. The song was penned by Serge Gainsbourg, pop provocateur and notorious womanizer. The two collaborated again, releasing “Les Sucettes,” a tune about a teeny-bopper who really likes sucking on lollipops, when Gall was barely 18; the accompanying scandal nearly torpedoed her career. Gall refused to ever sing another song by Gainsbourg, and disavowed her hits.  

Again, that’s all deeply embedded, somewhere in the film’s complicated play of pop irony and double-entendre and the sudden explosions of delight and disgust that intermittently reveal and conceal. Again, you’d have to know your pop history really well to catch up with the complications, and Death Proof moves so fast that there’s always another reference or allusion demanding your attention as the cars growl and the blood spurts. Too many signs to track, too many signals to decipher — that’s the postmodern. But perhaps we have become too glib, assuming that all signs are somehow equivalent. Death Proof insists otherwise. Much has been made of the film’s strange relation to digital filmmaking, of the sort that Rodriguez has made a career out of. Part of Grindhouse’s shtick is its goofball applications of CGI, all the scratches and skips and flaws that the filmmakers lovingly applied. They are digital effects, masquerading as damaged celluloid. Tarantino cut back against that grain, filming as much of the car chase’s maniacal stuntwork in meatspace as he safely could. Purposeful practical filmmaking, for a digitally enhanced cinematic experience, attempting to mimic the ways real film interacts with the physical environment and its manifold histories. Is that clever, or just more cultural clutter?  

Amid all the clutter that crowds the characters onscreen, and their conversations in the film’s field of sound, it can be easy to lose track of the distinctions between appearances and the traces of the real bodies that worked to bring Death Proof to life. Which is why Tarantino’s inclusion of Bell is so crucial. She provides another inversion: Instead of masking her individual presence, doing stunts for other actresses in their clothes and hair (for Lucy Lawless in Xena: Warrior Princess, or for Uma Thurman in Tarantino’s Kill Bill films), Bell is herself, doing what she does best, projecting the technical elements of filmmaking — usually meant to bleed seamlessly into illusion — right onto the surface of the screen. And instead of allowing one group of girls to slip into a repeated pattern, bodies easily exchanged for other bodies, Bell’s presence and its implicit insistence on her particularity (who else can move like she does?) breaks up the superficial logic of cinema’s market for the feminine. She disrupts its chick habit. There’s only one woman like her. 

Jonathan Shaw

[areyouseriouspadfoot]

park meeting, part 2. (muggle au)

Here’s part 1

The play date went fantastic; Marlene and Hazel were already at the park when Sirius arrived with Harry. The kid played with the dog the whole time and the other two had a really nice chat.

She told him about her work as a therapist and as a Psychology Professor in a prestigious university while Sirius told her about his fantasies of becoming a full time musician, but for now he was rather happy as a music teacher. He also mentioned that he used to be in band and that he played the bass, but when Harry’s parents died, he had to quit so he could take care of him.

Using his godson as an excuse, Sirius bought her ice-cream and walked her and Hazel home with Harry over his shoulders. Admittedly, he didn’t want the date to end, but all good things must come to an end. He was so startled when she kissed him so painfully near his lips that forgot to ask her number. However, he knew where she lived and, most important, he also knew that she went to the park every day.

“Don’t you think you are a little obsessed with her, mate?” Remus asked teasingly after taking a sip of his beer while lifting Harry with his leg playfully as he tried to climb it. Sirius hadn’t stopped talking about this girl for days now; he was getting not only repetitive, but bloody annoying too.

Sirius rolled his eyes; he wasn’t obsessed, he was just worried. Ever since the play date, Marlene hadn’t showed up to the park like she said she would:

“Yeah, I come here almost every day, I love this park and so does Hazel… don’t be surprised if you find us here, we kind of VIP members by now”

“I’m not obsessed, idiot, I think something happened… I went there almost every day and haven’t seen her, it’s been two weeks now” Sirius explained.

“Why don’t you call her?” Remus asked arching an eyebrow, it was kind of funny and definitely strange seeing Sirius worrying this much about a girl. He lifted his leg again, Harry giggling happily on top of it, and then put him down.

“I told you, I didn’t get her number” Sirius groaned exasperated and then ran his fingers through his hair with frustration. “I even went to her place once but didn’t know which apartment was hers” he sighed.

“And yet, you’re not obsessing over her” Remus pointed out sarcastically, picking Harry up and placing him over his lap. “I think uncle Padfoot is in love, mate” he smirked.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, Moony, I’m just worried” Sirius replied, shaking his head fervently. He leaned back on the couch and sighed, maybe he was overreacting and she was just busy. However, he couldn’t stop thinking about her… what the hell was wrong with him?

Harry crawled across the sofa, grabbed Prongs and started playing with him. Both Sirius and Remus stared at him with a sad smile, he looked just like James. Except his eyes, he had Lily’s green eyes. In a matter of seconds, the toddler was fast asleep hugging his favorite stuffed animal.

“I need you to do me a favor” Sirius said after a while.

“Why do I have the feeling that is something mental?” Remus sighed, rubbing his face with both hands.

“Come on, mate!” he smirked. “Mental is what I did for you last year… remember that lovely bird you shagged on Peter’s birthday?” he pointed knowingly.

“You shagged her friend, how could that be mental?” He rolled his eyes while shaking his head in disbelief.

“She was a 6, Moony… you know my standards” Sirius replied simply. “Besides, I’m only asking you to go to the park tomorrow with Harry and see if she’s there… I’ve humiliated myself enough”

“Okay, first of all your standards are questionable to say the least. And second, I doubt a psychology professor would approve that way of referring to women… or people in general” he said knowingly. “Besides, I don’t even know how she looks like, how am I supposed to find her, anyways?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, he just wanted to see her again, what’s wrong with that? “Harry knows her, and she’ll be with a bernese mountain dog … oh and she has blonde hair and blue eyes; she’s gorgeous you shouldn’t have any problem on recognizing her” he said simply.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever”, he was only doing it because he was really curious about this mysterious girl.

-------

“I swear mate, he was just here… how the hell does he manage to escape with those tiny legs? I’m looking for him, okay? Yeah, I know, he couldn’t have gone that far… wait you’re coming? Bloody hell, Padfoot, I’m going to find him, there’s no need… there he is, for Christ’s sake!” Remus hung up and ran towards Harry.

“Why is it that we always meet like this, Harry?” Marlene smiled tiredly as she lifted him up and kissed his cheek. “Let’s go and find Sirius, okay?” she asked with her heart beating with excitement.

The toddler giggled happily, “Hazel?”

The dog barked and Marlene placed Harry on the ground, allowing the kid to pet her. She looked around trying to find Sirius, but he was nowhere to be seen. However, after a few moments, another man approached to them.

“Harry, mate, you can’t run away like that” Remus sighed heavily.

“Moony!” Harry giggled and then pointed at the dog, grinning happily. “Hazel!” he beamed joyfully.

“Well… if it helps, you’re not the first one” Marlene commented, smiling politely yet a bit disappointed to see that he wasn’t Sirius. “I’m Marlene, you must be Remus, am I right?” she asked, holding out her hand.

He blinked surprised and then realized she was the girl. Sirius was right, she was quite beautiful, and definitely his type. Remus nodded and smiled, “I can see Sirius told you about me”.

“Yeah, he did… but only good things, don’t worry” she teased and looked at Harry who was playing happily with Hazel. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Remus” Marlene smiled tiredly.

The past two weeks had been a living hell: first, she had the flu and had to be in bed for, at least, five days but stayed only three because she started treating a new patient that required the 150% of her attention because he had a severe depression. If that wasn’t more than enough, she had tons of papers to correct.

“Is nice to meet you too… Sir- Harry hasn’t stopped talking about you” he commented, wondering if Sirius was on his way or not.

“Oh, he is a really sweet boy” she smiled. Remus seemed like a very nice guy, but she was exhausted and needed to get some sleep.

“There you are, mate!” Sirius arrived, panting heavily with both hands placed on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath. “We should try putting on a collar next time, little devil runs away every fucking time” he muttered in between taking deep breaths. He stood up straight and blinked with surprise, noticing the blonde therapist right there. “Well, hello stranger” he smirked.

Marlene’s lips curved into a wide smile and her heart started racing. “Hey, you” she mumbled and placed both hands on her back pockets.

“It’s been a long time” Sirius said with a mixture of reproach but also relieved to see that she was okay.

Remus’ eyebrows arched and had a hard time trying not to laugh; he was this close to making a scene. He smirked slightly, thinking on how he was going to tease him relentlessly for the next couple of days.

“I know… it’s been a tough couple of weeks. I had the flu, and then the papers to correct and my patients and… oh shit, I forgot” she gasped and took out her phone: her patient hadn’t called her yet. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. “Look, I have to go… why don’t I give you my number and we can hang out sometime?” she suggested, looking at Sirius.

“Sure” Sirius grinned and dialed his number on her mobile and called himself; when his phone started vibrating he hung up.

“I’m so sorry, I really have to go” she sighed before whistling softly. “Hazel, come on… it was really nice meeting you, Remus” she said and then looked at Sirius. “Call me” she muttered with a slight smirk and then, after checking that Remus’ eyes were focused on the kid and not on them, she pecked his lips briefly but intensely. Marlene bit her lower lip teasingly and then look at the toddler. “Bye Harry, I’ll see you soon” after saying that, she started running away with Hazel trailing behind her.

“Oh…It’s been so long” Remus teased him before bursting into laughter and, of course, earning a light shove. “Oi, no need for that” he complained and looked at his friend who was writing something on his phone. Curiously, he saw the screen and read:

DINNER TOMORROW 8:30, BLONDIE. 

[highly-flammable]

Reacting to Legacies 3x03 (SPOILERS):

1. So ARE we FINALLY getting to some proper firstborn Mikaelson witch breakdowns?

2. Oh well, apparently no. They'll just try to wave it off as some one time thing probably.

3. So Hope and Landon are on a break. Okay. TBH watching them sass each other is interesting.

4. The guidance counselor is pretty much a compulsion monster, is that it? Well, I do like his wardrobe.

5. Alyssa's concern for MG is so fake I can't.

6. Nobody other than Jed read for Stefan? THE DISRESPECT.

7. Lizzie playing Caroline makes total sense but them asking Josie to play the lead without even an audition looks a bit bad TBH. Like, give the other interested people a chance, at least.

8. I find it a bit repetitive how there are mind-controlling monsters popping out again and again.

9. So MG is basically going through a phase similar to what Cami was going through when Klaus used to compel her at the beginning of TO. Considering Quincy's fondness for Cami, he must have liked playing that.

10. I understand that Landon is supposed to be a capable songwriter in-universe but it takes more than that to write and direct a musical and it's very weird that they didn't even find a guest star to pose as a Drama or English teacher who is guiding him or something. WHERE ARE ALL THE TEACHERS?

11. I kinda feel like some of the lead characters in this show are colour-coded. I see Hope and Landon in red and blue a lot (the two gowns we have seen Hope wearing also fall into this pattern) and Josie wears yellow in like, every other episode. If I recall correctly, Lizzie wears a lot of white, too. I wonder what the reasoning behind these choices are.

12. Well, I liked Hope and Landon's relationship in S1, I have no idea what was going on with it in S2, and I still don't know what to think about it.

13. Lizzie casts herself in Caroline's role and then chokes at rehearsal. Not totally unrealistic but still feels a bit forced to me. Would have been better if Landon cast her because she's Caroline's daughter and Lizzie was a bit apprehensive in the first place because she didn't want to mess up the role.

14. I appreciate the show taking a moment to talk about Lizzie's bipolar disorder though. It's been a while.

15. "Bonnie just disappears for long periods of time"? Dude, she's still super important and you're putting her in the play. Right? RIGHT?!

16. Landon, THANK YOU for pointing out how weird Caroline and Alaric's relationship was. The guy deadass got engaged to her and had a pissing contest over her with Stefan, that will never not gross me out.

17. So the monster is mind controlling Landon to put Klaus into the play. Saw this coming IG.

18. Hope is painting again, like her dad used to do when he felt things were going out of control. I've been rewatching TO and this is making me so emotional. I MISS KLAUS AND HIS SHENANIGANS. And not a single character on Legacies comes close to Klaus, Elijah and Hayley for me. (Sorry if this hurts anyone's feelings but Legacies really is a downgrade from TVD and TO)

19. Ugh, why would he use the contents of the letter as lyrics? Dude, is it because you're mind-controlled? No, I don't like this. Klaus loved Hope to the ends of the earth and wanted everyone to know but Hope wants to keep things private, and her wishes should have been respected.

20. So apparently Landon tries not to put Klaus' villainous antics into the show. Well, okay, it's definitely a copout but since he is Hope's boyfriend, makes sense. But I don't understand why the musical HAS TO BE about the Salvatore school. The accreditation excuse is lazy, writers! Also, Landon, my dude, Klaus was a major donor of the school. Put that in instead of the other things, stop pissing off your girlfriend FFS. Even if you're mind-controlled 🤦🏻‍♀️

21. I do find it funny how Landon is all gaga over Klaus' use of language though. The guy really did have the best lines, didn't he? (Tied with Elijah, I suppose, for me)

22. The other singers of the first song are really good so Kaylee sounds a bit rusty in comparison. Also, she reminds me too much of Dark!Josie with the hair and makeup. From a distance, she can be mistaken for Nina though.

23. I love that the backstage activities are being shown.

24. I'm digging Jed as Stefan and I really like his singing voice. And the Hero Hair wig cracked me up. Kaleb is obviously good at singing at it's nice to hear more from him. I also like how Chris Lee didn't try to exactly emulate Ian and played Damon how someone who has only heard about him might play him.

25. Is Hope painting herself before the pit or something? Or is this supposed to symbolize her despair at her parents' loss? ALSO, I WANT SOMEONE TO MENTION HAYLEY :( Why is Hayley so ignored?!

26. The same person probably wrote MG's notes and Caroline's letter IRL and therefore, in-universe, MG has Caroline's handwriting and it's funny to me.

27. Jenny sings well, I like it. I don't understand the song though, was Caroline actually ever feeling this insecure? I feel like the song became a lot more about Lizzie than her mother. (It's been forever since I watched TVD, if anyone has yet to guess, I prefer watching TO)

28. The doppelganger thing cracked me up.

29. Wait why did the monster attack Josie?! Ohhhh he's forcing Landon to improvise and put Klaus' song at the end. Well, I guess it makes it seem a bit less like Landon's fault. But would Hope know that?

30. It's hilarious how they lowkey make a call back to Nina leaving TVD and them having to put Elena in a sleep spell though.

31. Landon having a hissy fit is funny to me. Aria needs more comedic scenes.

32. Wait, where did Jade come from? Has she been in the school all these weeks?

33. While the scene seems a bit shabby to me, Klaus talking to Hope reminds me of their scene from TO 4X03. I needed more of Summer Fontana and Joseph Morgan together. Also, the donation did get mentioned, YASSSS. Man did some horrific things but he did fund the school so maybe a little less badmouthing in the presence of his daughter now that you know the story, eh, students?

34. The fact that the guidance counselor actually wore a leather jacket and a henley is cracking me up. It's really bizarre.

35. "Terrible painter" XD Klaus would have eaten you for saying that if he were alive.

36. Um, Hope, wouldn't you ask your family if you are doing enough to make your father proud, instead of this random bloke who supposedly met him once?! Maybe call Freya or Rebekah.

37. Why is this monster being nice to Hope? Doesn't it try to break people up or something? You'd think he'd try to piss her off even more and ruin her relationship with Landon.

38. Stefan was trying to be more like Damon by sacrificing himself? Um, what?

39. Well, this musical at least gave Stefan and Caroline a goodbye scene. I wonder how much the twins remember Stefan, must have been a bit emotional for Lizzie to play that. Jenny's singing was gooood, really liked it.

40. JED WAS GONNA KISS LIZZIE AND I WANTED IT TO HAPPEN. But a forehead kiss does work.

41. Hope's playing Elena now? What?

42. Ngl I want Hope and Jed to be friends. She needs more of a connection to her wolf side. Both of her parents wanted her to be surrounded by wolves and she's barely interacting with the wolves in this show, which always makes me sad.

43. So this monster can also do little spells and move physical objects eh? Whatever, this is random.

44. And this monster brings people back together? Why?

45. So when Hope is singing, is she doing it as Elena or Hope? She came on stage as Elena, but I thought the song is about Hope. So WHAT IS IT?

46. Oh Damon's on stage, so Hope is singing as Elena and it's a call back to the graveyard scene from the TVD finale.

47. Danielle sings pretty well. It's good she decided to perform this time.

48. Okay, that lifting up scene was adorable. I feel like Hope and Landon are at their cutest when they're a bit spontaneous. But she's Elena on stage and it lowkey looks like Landon crashed her romantic scene with Damon to kiss her so I'm cackling.

49. How much older is Jade supposed to be than Josie?

50. So is Josie going to leave the school for a while and that's why Ethan will be back in the picture?

51. Jade used to babysit Josie? Okay, it is hella awkward.

52. Josie why, don't do this, yikes. Kissing her once doesn't make it non-creepy.

53. The Sheriff feels kinda shoehorned to me. Also, I don't care for Matt Davis or his character.

54. So Candice did the voiceover for Caroline's letter. That's nice for the show. I still don't understand why the letter showed up in Hope's fireplace though LOL.

55. This episode should have spent more time exploring the aftermath of the loss of Rafael. The abrupt shift from the last episode wasn't nice.

56. Yeah, kids, talk out your problems, thanks.

57. I feel like Klaus is too much of a controversial figure that Hope's conflict about her father's reputation would be resolved in one day. This is feeling undercooked. Speaking of, when is one of Klaus' or Hayley's enemies coming after Hope, because she did inherit all of them. Would make for better storytelling than this monster of the week nonsense. And yeah, still no mention of Hayley, I hate this.

58. The monster's characterization was really odd to me and I am so tired of this format SMH.

59. So they toyed with MG for weeks to get a vampire for the spell? That sounds like too much effort. There are tons of vampires from Klaus and Rebekah's bloodline, they couldn't find another? Also, I wonder who is the wolf that they will use.

Well, I felt like this episode was mostly okay, but not that well-cooked or epic or whatever. What is horrific is that they didn't show Bonnie, though. They could have at least gotten a female black guest character who is one of the witch students or something. This is very offensive.

Also, I don't think it makes sense for the show to do any more musicals in the future. This ain't Riverdale.