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jockbroski34 · 4 months ago

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AlterEgo

The last thing I expected on my 20th birthday was to receive a gift from Cody, my roommate. We were never close, and there was no way in hell he actually knew much about me to know it was my birthday without me telling him. Him and I were basically complete opposites. While I was your typical nerd, smart, introverted, and so on, he was basically your typical jock in all the worst ways. He was boisterous, arrogant, and a total meathead. We mostly agreed to stay out of each others’ way, considering our irreconcilable differences, but that didn’t stop him from being a massive pain in the ass. His room was constantly in a state of disarray, with sweaty clothes scattered all over the place. As such, I often avoided being anywhere near his room if necessary since it smelled like a locker room. He often invited over his “bros” who were just as bad. Whether they were hogging the TV to watch whatever game was on, smuggling alcohol into our dorm to get wasted, or playing catch in the fucking living room, they were always a nuisance. And whenever I brought any of that up to him, he would always end up saying something like “It’s not that serious, dude. We were just having a good time.” Yeah, a good time at my expense. Whoever assigned the two of us to live together must’ve thought this was some twisted joke.

I woke up at 9 AM, still a little tired from last night. I hung out at one of my friends’ dorms to celebrate my birthday. I yawned, and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. I saw Cody was up as well, his legs spread across the couch, to the point that he was taking up two seats, watching something on the TV that was several volume levels too loud for me.

“Hey bro, today’s your birthday right?” Cody asked, as he tilted his head to face me.

“Uhh, yeah. How did you know?” I responded.

“Oh don’t worry about it, bro. Happy birthday!” I saw him get up and run to his disorganized room, likely to grab something for me. I could see a pair of worn gym shorts on the floor through the crack in the door. He pulled out an old Nike shoe box, since he likely had nothing better to put a gift in. “I’ve been saving this for you. I hope you like it!” Is this his way of trying to get on my good side?

I rolled my eyes since I doubt he got me anything I would enjoy. He probably just got me something that he’d enjoy, like some tight-fitting tank top or protein powder or something. Not that I work out or anything. The only gift I’d want from him is for him to stop being a douche. I opened the box and I was surprised about what I saw. It was a video game. Not any that I’d ever heard of. I looked at the box art and the words AlterEgo were written in a wacky, colorful font.

“Yeah, I knew you like video games, so I found this for you. I heard on the internet that it’s pretty nitch…nichy…what’s the word…”

“Niche?” I responded. I had to admit, him struggling to pronounce the word right was a little amusing. As amusing as being with a simpleton like him could be.

“That’s the word! I got it for myself, but I realized like half an hour in that it wasn’t my thing. I’m happy with what I have right now. I figured you’d probably get more out of it than me.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem, dude. Anyways, I gotta hit the gym. I’m gonna be out all day so you have the PS5 all to yourself. Hope you enjoy it bro!”

I watch him leave, thankful to have some peace and quiet. As I ate breakfast, I read the back of the cover in order to figure out what this game was about.

“Become a new you! In this life simulation adventure, you can become any kind of person you want and live any way you choose. Control your fictional avatar, your AlterEgo, and level up your stats to become closer to your true self.”

The game seemed something like The Sims or Animal Crossing, but with some stat progression system. It was a game that I had never heard of, but it could be some hidden gem. The rest of the back was filled with screenshots from the game with the cartoony characters doing activities such as cooking, jogging, and riding a motorcycle. I figured I might as well try the game since I did get it for free. Even if it was from Cody, I wasn’t one to refuse someone’s generosity.

I put the game in the disk slot and booted it up. The title screen had that same logo and some bubbly background music. I pressed the start button and I was presented with a save selection screen. I noticed that Cody’s save was on there, which was odd because I was playing on my account. I knew I should’ve put a password on it. I wanted to make my own character, but part of me was curious about the character that he made. Knowing him, I can only guess. His game time was less than an hour, as he was only on Day 1, and he likely spent most of that time on the character creation screen.

I started his save and my character was sitting in his room. At this point, it was very bare, with only a bed and a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered around the room. I guess the character starts by moving into their new home? I went into the menu to find more information about the character. The character was named Cody obviously and his AlterEgo somewhat matched him too. I went into the stats screen and I was greeted by a tutorial.

“Here you can check your AlterEgo’s stats. You have already set your initial growth modifiers and assigned your base stats. If you need a refresher, whatever stats you chose your AlterEgo to excel at are highlighted in red and the ones you chose to trade off are highlighted in blue. This means that your AlterEgo will grow in the stats in red much faster and prioritize activities that increase those stats and avoid activities associated with increasing your stats in blue. As you play, your AlterEgo will naturally develop into one of hundreds of potential archetypes based on the activities that they excel at. Experiment and see who you become!”

I looked at the stat screen and saw a list of stats with a bar indicating percentage level. The stats included Strength, Constitution, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, Courage, Charisma, and Luck. Not too far off from DnD I guess. It seemed like he chose to have Strength and Constitution as his highest stats as their font was colored red and Intelligence and Wisdom as his weakest stats as they were colored in blue. Gee, why am I not surprised… Cody was anything but a genius. It seemed like he had 20 initial points to allocate wherever he chose with a default limit of 5. And I was equally not surprised to find that my meathead roommate chose to put 5 in Strength and Constitution again like a barbarian. It’s like all he cared about was his looks and perceived masculinity, even in game.

Strength (physical strength): 5

Constitution (physical build and stamina): 5

Dexterity (agility and flexibility): 2

Intelligence (knowledge): 0

Wisdom (intuition and discipline): 0

Courage (risk-taking and bravery): 3

Charisma (social skills): 3

Luck (good or bad fortune): 2

After looking through his stats, I decided enough was enough and I didn’t really want to go around pretending I was Cody the whole game. I quit out of his save and went back to the title screen. I was back on the save select screen when I became confused. There was still one save, except the name of the character wasn’t Cody…it was mine? The play time was set to 0 minutes. I don’t know how that happened, but if it saves me the trouble of building a character and reading more tutorials, I’m happy.

To my relief, the avatar representing Cody wasn’t there. Instead, a very generic, average character stood in its place in the same room. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was some placeholder account with everything set to the default. Whatever, I can probably change stuff about him later. I decided to move my AlterEgo outside and I was greeted by a map of a large city. I chose an area of the map to explore at random and controlled my new avatar. On the busy city street, there was a cafe, restaurant, and a gym. It was too early for the cafe and restaurant to open, so I guess my only option here is the gym. I’ve never stepped foot in a gym before, but this character doesn’t have to represent me as a whole. Plus, I’d like my character to be well-rounded unlike Cody’s who would probably spend the whole time grinding here.

I went into the gym and had to perform a set of quick-time events. First, I had to do some bench presses. Then some squats. Then finally, run on a treadmill. At the end of it, my AlterEgo did a cartoony celebration and flexed his arms. A pop-up showing that my Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity went up by 1, followed up by another one saying that my Strength and Constitution will double every time I do activities like go to the gym. So it looks like Cody’s modifiers carried over after all despite everything seeming to be the default. That should’ve been the first thing I checked. I didn’t want my character to be specced to be some lumbering brute. I suppose that if I wanted to get my character’s Intelligence and Wisdom, it’d probably be like playing on Hard mode. Honestly, I was open to the challenge.

I was disappointed to find out that it’d be harder than it seemed. When my character got home in the evening, I went into one of his boxes and I was presented with an option to read. I was presented with several options, ranging from comics to full-on novels. I chose the novel since I figured it would raise my Intelligence the best. I watched my AlterEgo try to read the book, but I saw a look of confusion on his face. Eventually, he grew frustrated and threw the book back into the empty box as if he were shooting through a basketball hoop. I expected my Intelligence to stay the same, but no, it actually dropped!

“Sometimes when your AlterEgo fails to complete an activity, their stats can decrease! These stats can even go into the negative. Make sure to keep your stats high because it can become very difficult to increase your stats if they fall below a certain point.”

I couldn’t believe that my character struggled to even read. This guy was nothing like me at all! I hoped that it would be easier to raise my AlterEgo’s Intelligence because I didn’t want him to be a moron. I watched my character fall asleep and I could see into his dream. Another tutorial popped up.

“Sometimes your character will have dreams! These dreams are mostly random, but will also depend on your character’s stats. Just like other activities, you have a chance to increase your stats.”

I watched my character fight in a zombie apocalypse, but the zombies didn’t even look remotely threatening. I succeeded in the activity and my Courage went up by 2 and my Luck and Strength went up by 1. My character wiped his head of sweat as the zombies turned to dust.

The next day, I learned that my AlterEgo can go to school. That was expected, considering my character’s age, only I didn’t realize how hard it would be for him. He was sitting in a desk trying to write down notes. Eventually, like an idiot, he slammed his thick head on his desk and started snoring. This was honestly getting embarrassing. My Intelligence and Wisdom dropped yet again, not by 1, but by 2. If I didn’t do something different, my AlterEgo would basically be a clone of Cody instead of myself. After class, instead of being given an option to go and do something, my AlterEgo is approached by a group of buff men.

Quarterback: Hey new guy, you’re looking pretty strong. Judging from your Strength and Constitution, I think you’d make a good fit for the football team. Your Dexterity and Courage also seem pretty good. Wanna join, bro?

You know who else played football? Cody. I had to keep being reminded of him even when he wasn’t even around. This was my character and I didn’t care about sports, so I clicked the no option. To my surprise, my AlterEgo nodded instead. It's like this game is going out of its way to spite me at this point. Two tutorials popped up.

“If your Wisdom is too low, your AlterEgo might act on their own desires rather than your command. This means that they can sometimes act on their own or select activities that they are more interested in rather than those they are not. Raise your Wisdom or else you will have less freedom when developing your AlterEgo.”

“You have decided to join a club or organization. This will grant you a passive growth to certain stats every week.”

I watched as my AlterEgo walked away with the group of jocks. A football uniform magically appeared over his normal clothes. For joining the football team, I was granted a point in Strength, Constitution, Courage, and Charisma every week, with the usual double for Strength and Constitution.

I kept playing the game, getting frustrated at my AlterEgo’s reluctance to even try to act smart or reasonable. He frequently avoided or skipped intellectual pursuits to focus on those that made him look or feel good. It honestly just felt random whether he wanted to obey me or not. By the end of Day 7, the first week my stats were looking like this.

Strength: 30

Constitution: 28

Dexterity: 10

Intelligence: -20

Wisdom: -15

Courage: 21

Charisma: 17

Luck: 16

My Intelligence and Wisdom seemed unfixable. My AlterEgo wouldn’t even bother to try to read or pay attention at school and he consistently started to make random choices that satisfied his needs as the week progressed. I grew incredibly frustrated at this, but out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was an end to this so I could go back and make my own character. Either way, this game was plagued with questionable design choices. It’s like the AlterEgo was already locked into a specific path. I hoped that I had accidentally skipped a tutorial or something and that I hadn’t softlocked myself out of raising certain stats. Unfortunately, my AlterEgo’s stats continued to grow and drop as I hit Day 30.

Strength: 75

Constitution: 69

Dexterity: 44

Intelligence: -66

Wisdom: -49

Courage: 54

Charisma: 37

Luck: 41

I received another tutorial message on Day 31.

“You look like you are on track to evolve into your archetype very soon! By this point, your AlterEgo’s stats will be locked in place. That will be the end of the main story, but there is still so much to enjoy afterwards!”

I figured I might as well see this through to the end. You know, see how much of an idiot my character can become. Despite my efforts, all my AlterEgo does now is work out, practice and go to games, and go to parties, outside of necessities. His Intelligence is so low that he rarely even goes to school anymore and that has caused his intelligence to plummet to the bottom. I played for even longer, eventually hitting Day 60. Turns out that this is the day I would discover my AlterEgo’s archetype.

“Congratulations on making it this far. I hope you are excited to find out your archetype, because I know I am! Remember that these changes are permanent, so there will no longer be ways to increase or decrease your stats.”

I watched my AlterEgo marched onto the stage and I was able to view my final stats and a rating of each of them. The descriptions seemed to be heavily based on my other stats, and trust me, they were very satirical, and in my case, very scathing.

Strength: 100

I’d give this an A+. I’m not even sure if you are human anymore. I’ve seen you lift things that no normal man could, not because you have to, but because you want to. You spend more time at the gym than you do at your own house and you might give The Hulk a run for his money.

Constitution: 100

You also get an A+. Your months of training at the gym have given you a perfect, chiseled body that looks like it could be made out of iron. You have a seemingly endless supply of testosterone and your stamina (in more ways than one, it seems) cannot be beaten.

Dexterity: 75

This gets a B. You are very athletic and quick on your feet despite your appearance. However, your large size means that you can be pretty clumsy and you’ve probably broken more things than you’d like to admit.

Intelligence: -100

I’ll just go along with your teachers and give you a big fat F. Are you even trying? I worry that there’s not a single thought going around in your thick skull. You care very little for anything intellectual or sophisticated, not that you even know what those words mean.

Wisdom: -90

Likewise, you also get another big fat F. Were you dropped on your head when you were a baby or did you take too many tackles to your cranium? You have incredibly poor judgment and you only make decisions that satisfy your brutish desires. In short, you often act before you think. Your lack of discipline is only matched by your lack of brain cells. As long as you’re having fun, should I really care what you do with your life?

Courage: 90

I’d give this an A, but not an A+. Because your brain moves too slow to process any risk, you often think before you act. You often find yourself in the most dangerous of situations and you often perform incredibly stupid stunts. When you’re on the field, you’re a risk taker, and at least it usually pays off. On the bright side, you always come out unscathed, so I can commend that.

Charisma: 70

I’d give this a B-. Being on the football team and being very attractive is going to place a lot of eyes on you, but they are all focused on your body because everything else you have to offer is very superficial. I wonder if you surround yourself with people who think and act the same as you do or if people keep you around to laugh at every stupid word that comes out of your mouth.

Luck: 80

Lastly, you get a B. Your luck genuinely amazes me sometimes. Despite everything, despite your lack of any intellectual thought or reasoning, you have survived long enough to make it this far in life. This alone proves that life favors some over others. If there is room for the concept of a higher power in your shrunken headspace, then they probably feel a sense of amusement at the state of you bumbling around through life with only your good looks and muscles salvaging you.

“What do you think? Are you happy with your results? Anyhow, it’s time to reveal your archetype. It’s who you are and who you will be from now on! Drumroll please… (As if it wasn’t obvious enough…) You, my friend, are…THE JOCK!”

The Jock

You are likely an athlete or bodybuilder and you likely care little for intellectual thought. You enjoy playing and watching sports and working out above anything else. You are hyper-masculine, aggressive, arrogant, and egotistical. However, you are also very muscular, tall, athletic, popular, and handsome. You feel a deep sense of camaraderie with anyone you consider your bro, which mostly includes other jocks like yourself. Your wardrobe mostly consists of tank tops, jerseys, varsity jackets, shorts, sweatpants, jockstraps, baseball caps, sneakers, and everything in between. Because of your high testosterone and your above average genitals, you are viewed as a desirable partner and often partake in sexual activities with members of the opposite sex, and sometimes even other men depending on the person and situation. Your most likely career path is as an athlete or coach, but as long as it doesn’t require too much deep thinking, you could probably find a job anywhere with your connections and attractiveness. Enjoy your new self!

I watched my AlterEgo vanish within a cloud of smoke and come out a cartoonish representation of your average stereotypical jock with blonde hair and a very lunkish, yet admittedly impressive build. He looked around, clearly disoriented, with a dull, confused look on his face before flexing with a cheesy, confident smirk on his face. The audience cheered and clapped at this ridiculous personification of a walking stereotype as if they were watching a magic show. Honestly, it was almost amusing how the description it gave for “me” couldn’t possibly be more wrong. It sounded like everything Cody was, not me. Although I guess I was playing with his settings, not by choice I will add, but I had little control over how my AlterEgo decided to live its life. I just wish I could get him off my mind for just one day. Either way, I found myself incredibly dissatisfied with my new AlterEgo, but I accidentally found out a way to make things even worse for me. I just wanted to scroll through the remaining text to get to the credits, since I have been playing for 8 hours by now, when I saw a selection that would seal my fate.

“Are you satisfied with your result? Now that you’ve discovered who you truly are, are you ready to be The Jock in the real world? WARNING: If you select Yes, your save will be deleted as a result. These changes are permanent. If you click No, you can continue playing after the credits.”

I accidentally clicked Yes as I was mashing through the text. What the hell was I thinking?! I had no idea that this would change the entire trajectory of my life. At first I felt nothing, as the screen faded to black. Then, I saw the credits start to roll, playing a remix of the joyful title screen music, and that’s when I started to feel all warm inside and I felt a painful shock come from my controller.

I felt a sudden wave of pain rush through my body as my bones started to crack and shift in my body and my muscles began to inflate like balloons. I looked at the credits and noticed that the new jock AlterEgo was doing the things he normally enjoyed doing in the background. But I couldn’t really concentrate on it as I found myself focusing down below. My legs stretched and stretched until I was around 6’4. My feet grew to a size 15 and my thick glutes and ass made me sink deeper into the couch from their weight. The fat in my stomach felt like it was melting as it left behind nothing more than a layer of sweat and a firm six pack of abs. My upper chest formed into a round set of bouncy pecs. Likewise, my biceps and triceps were almost the size of my head now and my soft hands became rough and covered in calluses from intense lifting. I felt my clothes cling tightly to my body as if they were two sizes too small, and they’d easily rip if my body grew any more. My shirt fit more like a crop top on me and my clothes were damp from pit and ass sweat.

I felt my long hair recede into my head until it formed into a shorter cut that was much easier to maintain. As it did that, my chestnut-colored locks lightened into a golden blonde. My soft, round eyes became more sharp and masculine and I could feel them turn from a chocolate brown into an icy shade of blue. My youthful face lost most of its baby fat and buried beneath it was nothing more than the chiseled edges of my jawline. The lower half of my face, which used to be soft and hairless, was now covered in a prickly lawn of stubble. Even my pasty skin turned a shade tanner from the years I spent in the sun throwing balls around. I noticed that my entire body started to sweat profusely to the point that I could smell my own musk and I became absorbed by my new-found masculine scent. I could smell the testosterone that was pumping through my veins like a drug. I felt powerful, dominant, virile, and dare I say it, good… Lastly, I found my lips contort into an obnoxious, conceited smirk. Was I…enjoying this? Judging from the growing feeling in my groin, I was led to believe that I was. And it kept growing and growing and growing…

All the while, the credits continued to play and the happy-go-lucky music felt like it was mocking my painful situation. Despite the strange pleasure I felt, it was only a distraction as my body still writhed in pain through the whole process while I changed entirely into a real life manifestation of my AlterEgo. What the hell is this game? I noticed that the jock avatar stared directly towards the screen, as if he was breaking the fourth wall, and started to walk closer and closer before vanishing from his virtual prison for good. The lively credits started to simmer down, giving the screen a more empty and disquieting feeling. That was the last thing I noticed before I felt a sharp headache ring through my head. I am usually fine playing games for a long period of time so why…Why did my roommate buy me this game anyways, bro? If he was gonna buy me any game, he should’ve gotten me the new CoD or Madden game, not this weird shit. I had to admit, it was kinda addicting. I liked being able to work out or play sports even when I’m at home. Wait, what was that? I felt like I just heard another voice in my head, both sounding similar yet different to my own. Eventually he called out directly to me.

“Hey bro, it’s me. Your AlterEgo. You know, the real you. It’s been fun, dude. Now I get to enter the real world, isn’t that sick? So here’s what’s gonna happen, dude. I am currently inside your mind and I’m making the final changes to turn you into the person you were always meant to be. That’s right dude, we are becoming one singular person in both body and mind. Don’t try to struggle or fight back. You know I’m stronger than you. There’s no going back. So, are you ready to become one with your true self?

No…I thought to myself. I wasn’t a jock. I was never a jock. I’m nothing like my AlterEgo. This is a mistake. This was Cody’s AlterEgo, not mine!

“Chill out, bro. I know you read the warning and you clicked Yes, so you obviously knew the risk. Why did you keep playing if you knew you’d become a jock regardless of the decisions you made? Because you are one deep down. Or maybe you secretly wanted to be one. Maybe you wanted to see what life was like on the other side. Maybe this Cody guy wanted you to try out this save, you know, to see what would happen... Whatever reasoning, it really doesn’t matter dude. I know you can feel me taking over your mind. You’re finding it harder to think. Soon you’ll be The Jock, me. I just wish you realized a little sooner who you really were…”

I felt my brain starting to shut off and my vision starting to become blurry as my AlterEgo took it over. I don’t even know how any of this is possible, even by today’s standards. An AI buried deep within the game was taking over my body and mind entirely, reshaping me in his image. But I continued to resist, to cling onto whatever parts of my personality I could. However, as I felt my mind sink deeper and deeper into this mental void, I felt myself slowly becoming more and more like The Jock. The archetype that was decided on, not by me, but for me. Until that’s all I was.

Everything turned black for a few seconds. I slowly regained consciousness as my brain rebooted itself. Wait…what’s a reboot? I sat and watched the credits with a dim look on my face as it finally ended. I was booted back to the title screen and saw that my save was indeed deleted. This was proof that my AlterEgo was now a part of me and that he was finally whole. I pulled out my phone wanting to learn more about this game, because, dude, it was kinda fucking weird. By scrolling, I couldn’t find much, but I did discover a post from not too long ago on some ancient forum site that was probably made in the early 2000s.

“Is The Game AlterEgo Real?”

“I’ve heard rumors about this game called AlterEgo, but I have very little information on it. It’s said to be incredibly dangerous and could lead to permanent bodily and mental changes. Throughout all of my research, I could not find any copy of the game for sale, nor any definitive proof that it’s real or any information on the company that developed it. If you have any information on this game, please let me know.”

I skimmed through the forum page, not that interested in reading what everyone had to say. Who has time for that anyways? But I did find one reply that caught my eye.

“I can confirm with certainty that AlterEgo does exist. My friend received it as a gift for Christmas and he wouldn’t stop talking about it to me. It’s like he was addicted. A week later, when I saw him next, I could barely even recognize him. His body had grown and changed greatly and he didn’t act like his usual self. I even feel like his memories might be a little distorted. I tried checking his house to find the game in order to figure out what it was all about, but I don’t think he has it anymore. He probably sold it or gave it away since he said he finished it. No matter what, he won’t tell me. If there are any other copies of the game left, please let me know.”

Woah, so this game is fucking weird, dude. Wasn’t just me. I just played it right? But I don’t feel any different. You know, I bet these nerds would pay a lot for a chance to find out about this game. Maybe they might come out as different people. I’ll put it up on eBay for a high price. One of those dweebs just has to take the bait. I wouldn’t mind a little cash though. I’d feel bad for selling Cody’s gift, but just imagine what I could get with that much money.

“Hey bro, you still in here dude?” I heard a familiar voice shout as they opened the door.

“Yo Cody, there you are. What’s up dude?” I was happy to see him. Cody was my roommate and my best friend. We were practically inseparable. When he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened. I couldn’t really blame him for being impressed with my awesome body.

“You beat that game I gave you already?” He seemed surprised, yet almost impressed.

“Yeah, it’s not usually my type, but I enjoyed it dude.”

“Do you…feel any different, bro?” Cody sounded kinda hesitant there. Had he read about the rumors too? I don’t see why he’d have to worry. None of those rumors are true anyways.

“Nah, same as I’ve always been.”

“Alright, good. I was just making sure you were down to get some food. You should be out partying and celebrating your birthday, not playing some nerdy video game. And trust me, I know all the good spots.”

“You’re right bro. I haven’t gotten enough exercise in today. Let’s go.”

“Wait, before you go, your clothes are so sweaty dude. You should change.”

“Oh shit, good idea.”

“Y-you can just wear one of my clothes. They’d probably fit you better.” He was right. As I soon realized, someone shrunk all my clothes as part of a prank.

Me and Cody went to a sports bar to watch the game. If I remember correctly, this was our favorite spot to get food, except you know, anywhere that lets me hit my macros. Since it was my birthday, he even paid for the whole meal. I don’t remember how long I’ve known him, but couldn’t ask for a better bro. On the way home, Cody grabbed a six pack of beer from the frat house and brought it to our dorm to drink the night away. I wasn’t old enough to drink, but it’s not like I never had alcohol before. And besides, today was basically my cheat day.

We got wasted while we watched TV, and we did some things that I probably wouldn’t admit to anyone but him. I couldn’t help it though. I hadn’t gotten laid all weekend and it was my birthday. Quite frankly, I deserved it. Thankfully Cody took one for the team. He said it wasn’t weird because we’ve definitely done it before and that it was our secret. I had to give him credit. His tight hole is better than most girls’. I didn’t know he was a bottom until tonight. I also didn’t remember having a dick this big, but you don’t see me complaining. After all was said and done, I passed out drunk next to him in his bed, our bodies drenched in sweat and each other’s fluids, as I enjoyed the bromance I have with my best bro. This was the best birthday ever.

The next day, I got up extra early to go for a run despite my hangover. Afterwards I went to school, but like usual, I struggled to pay attention. It was like my mind was in a constant fog. My grades are slipping and this football scholarship is the only thing keeping me from dropping out entirely. After classes, I joined Cody and the others at practice. Throughout the day, I kept getting this feeling of uh…dayjah voo? That word that means that you feel like you’ve done something before. I wasn’t exactly sure where it was coming from. I shrugged it off. I was just a jock and I didn’t need to worry about stuff like that.

When I got home, I got an offer for the game Cody gave me. You know, AlterEgo. Some nerd seriously offered $1000 for it. I didn’t actually know it was that rare. I hope he enjoys it more than I did. I’ll sure enjoy the 1000 dollars. I bet he’ll love passing it around to all his other geeky friends. I wonder what their AlterEgos might look like…

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chaotickryptonitetree · 11 months ago

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grant me easiness and i'll give you everything (it's only fair) | jeremy swayman

what I feel about him is alarming and frighting and yap yap yap. hope you like!

Whoever claimed to enjoy airports had clearly never been an Uber driver.

Sure; the money was significantly better than a normal ride—but the traffic? And the poor temperament? And the confusing lanes? It made you question if it was even worth the money.

But there were bills to pay, so you added tonight to the list of nights you ended up at the rideshare terminal of the airport.

You knew by now that flights usually got in on the 10s (7:10, 8:10, etc), so people would have collected their luggage and made their way to ride shares by the 35s (give or take). Glancing at the dash cam, you read 9:32. As if on cue, your phone pinged with a few alerts.

Typically, you’d choose the one that offered the most money. But it had been a long night, with a lot of rides, and had made enough to finish a bit early. So you picked the one that would put you closest to home. And it happened to be Jeremy, who wanted to end up at a brownstone around 7 minutes from your building.

And you waited.

Just for a minute or two before a knock on the back window stirred you from completely zoning out. Instinctively, you unlocked the car and a body slid into the back seat.

“Jeremy?” You confirmed, not bothering to look back.

“How do you know that?” A cheery voice forced your hand, made you make eye contact with him in the mirror. Mistake.

“Are you Jeremy or not?” You were paid to drive, not indulge lazy jokes. Still, his kind eyes didn’t waver.

“Just messin,” he looked out the window and mockingly placed a light touch to the window. Despite yourself, you tracked the movement, watching his hands (his large, large hands). Mistake. “Driver, take me home.” He sighed a wistful sigh, and even though you didn’t want to, a small smile found its way to your face. Putting on the turn signal, you merged into the departure lane and turned up the stereo.

Checking your blindspot, you pulled onto the freeway—traffic was awful so it would be a long ride despite the short mileage.

“Temperature okay?” You asked politely, following your script.

“Just right!” You could hear the smile in his voice, even though you refused to look at him again.

“Music alright?”

“My favorite!” You raised an eyebrow at his response—top 40 radio was no one’s favorite. But that was your last question that usually made riders feel heard enough to give 5 stars. Slightly relieved (as always), you settled in for the drive.

Usually you spent the time working through a problem in your head, really getting into the whys and hows of something that was bothering you. One of your friends was being distant, so you started there. She had started this behavior about a month ago, so that could mean that—

“I flew in from Alaska,” that cheery voice interrupted your internal monologue completely.

“That’s nice,” your reply was non-committal. You didn’t usually talk to riders that much. Didn’t plan on making it a habit.

“Yup!” He popped the p sound. “I’m from there, and I was visiting my family. It was awesome—I really miss them when I’m here for a long time.”

“Nice.” You were out of practice making small talk with a new person (to put it lightly). He just nodded—the only indication being the sound of fabric moving around his neck as he did so.

“So, where are you from?” He leaned forward in his seat, as if genuinely interested—as if knowing where this stranger grew up was a seriously important part of his night.

“I don’t have to talk to riders just because,” you cringed at how mean you sounded. He didn’t even deflate a little, just leaned back and laughed a slightly weird laugh.

“Fair enough,” his tone made you wonder if he was always this happy, this unphased.

And then the music filled the space as much as your stale air freshener did—even if the air was tinged with a bit of guilt on your part.

“I can feel you looking at me,” your eyes darted to him again in the mirror. Brown eyes forgiving and kind and very, very cute.

“Not tryna hide it.” It could’ve been taken as flirting, but you had the impression that he was just like this with everyone. Still, it warmed your cheeks just a little bit. “I’ve just never had such a pretty Uber driver,” and then a moment later, “well, a pretty one that’s my age, I mean.”

You laughed, despite yourself. “Pining after older women are ya?” He smiled easily, and it definitely was for him—easy.

“Look at this face and tell me I’m not a cougar's dream,” he laughed loudly. You didn’t look back for safety reasons (and convinced yourself that was the only reason). He leaned forward again. “I like it though,” his words felt like an admission, even if he didn’t lower his voice. Everything about him just felt—genuine? In a way that made every breath feel like a secret. “Makes me feel like I have a hot girlfriend who likes me enough to pick me up at the airport.”

You scoffed. If he wanted a hot girlfriend, it definitely wouldn’t be hard—not with his easy charm and pretty face. “I’m only here because I’m being paid.” You hesitated. “And there’s no way you don’t have someone who likes you enough to brave the traffic.”

You could sense his delight through your headrest. “Oh yeah I do,” he looked out the window again, “I have the best friends in the entire world. They were just busy tonight.” He sighed as if the idea of his friends was as good as having them in the seat next to him. It was quiet for a moment. “But no girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t asking,” your tone was blunt, but you couldn’t help but smile. He laughed his weird, goofy laugh.

“Call me a romantic,” he addressed you by name—something you typically didn’t like from patrons in your backseat—but it felt different with him. “But I want that—someone who wants to be the first person to see you when you get back, who can’t even wait to kiss you even if it’s in front of a whole terminal.”

“Sounds like you’ve been watching too many rom coms,” but that suddenly felt unkind to such a gentle man, so then a moment later, “I hope you find that.”

“I will,” he seemed absolutely sure. “Oh shoot,” he raised his fists to the sky mockingly. “My phone died. Curses!”

“I have a charger,” you looked around for the cord while still keeping an eye on the road. He stayed quiet for a moment, considering.

“No, I have an android,” he quickly put his phone in his front pocket, eyes squinting with trouble. Trouble that made you think that he definitely didn’t have an android. “Oh wait! I have an idea!” He completely over-sold his facial expressions, making you question where he was going with this little scheme.

“And what would that be?” your tone was dry, eyes still on the road as you took the exit off the freeway, only a few minutes from his destination.

“So I can give you your rightfully earned tip!” He reasoned, “you can give me your phone number so I can send you money once I get my phone charged.” You could feel his hopeful gaze on you, like his plan was the most logical course of action ever spoken.

Logistically, it made no sense. You could tip an Uber days after your ride. “And what—you’ll just remember my number until then?” For some reason that was the first question you asked.

He nodded, serious as you’d seen him. “Of course,” he said incredulously, “I remember important stuff.”

And it didn’t make any sense. And you could’ve said no. And this was probably against some sort of employer code. And he was definitely this charming with everyone. But he looked so endearing and hopeful and there was something very good about him. Something right.

So you rattled off your number, and he mouthed each number after you said it. And you believed him that he would remember it.

And you believed him as he opened the door to leave, wishing you a good night. And you believed him as he waved from the top step. And as he opened the door and turned around for one more look, mouthing goodbye.

Despite yourself, you believed him.

…

Your bed was heaven after a long stint in the car. Practically asleep before your head hit the covers, a notification sounded from your phone.

A message from an unrecognized number was the last thing you saw before sleep.

From: unknown

Sent $50

And then a moment later, after you saved his contact.

From: Jeremy

Any interest in meeting me at Dunkin on Tuesday morning?

You went to sleep smiling. He remembered.

…

You agreed to meet him early—you typically liked to start driving before 11 and he had morning skate.

The sun had just risen as you walked to a Dunkin about halfway between you and him, bundled up in a puffer jacket and a toque. The bell jingled above the door as you entered, blowing warm air into your hands. It was freezing out.

You didn’t even have time to glance around and look for him before a tall, broad body in a black coat walked up to you and held out his arms for a hug. And then you weren’t freezing anymore. Not even a little bit.

He released you with a smile, linking your arms together and pulling you into line. “What do you usually get?” You asked, convincing yourself that you certainly were not leaning into his side. Definitely not.

He peered down at you, tucked into his side, nose red from the cold. “Whatever looks good,” he admitted, “usually the thing with the most cream and sugar.”

You laughed—even if you didn’t really know him, the idea that he didn’t have an order, that he just let himself enjoy whatever he wanted (even if it had a ton of sugar), that seemed very him.

“I’ll get that too,” you definitely snuggled into his side more, but maybe it was so you didn’t have to face his genuine smile so head on. Maybe?

And so he ordered for you both, but not before complimenting the teenage cashier’s pride pin and asking what his favorite donut was.

“Dunno,” the kid had braces and posture that seemed to shrink in on itself, and was clearly not used to anything beyond what can I get for you, “sprinkle looks pretty good today.”

“Then two of those too,” he put the spare change (and a five) in the glass tip jar. “Thanks brother,” he put out his knuckles for a fist bump. The kid tapped his fist lightly to Jeremy’s, completely won over.

Like a puppy, he quickly found something else to entertain himself with while you waited. “We almost have matching jackets!” He gestured to his black north face and your navy one. You pulled a face—how could he find such delight in everything?

“I guess?” You pinched your face together. He didn’t mind.

“Very couple-y of us,” he put his hands up at the look you shot him. “I had to say it,” He shook his head like it was obvious. And it was so cute you didn’t give him a hard time about it.

“Thanks for paying,” you directed the subject elsewhere, “you didn’t have to do that.” He shrugged, eyes fixed on your drinks as the barista (are they called baristas at Dunkin??) set down two identically light and sweet drinks.

“My pleasure,” he grabbed the bag with two sprinkle donuts inside.

“I’ll send you my share,” you made to grab your phone from your pocket. His hand over yours stilled the movement entirely, warmth emanating from his palm.

“You got it next time,” he shrugged—like obviously there would be a next time. And you believed him, hand now interlaced with his.

“I know it’s bad for me,” he groaned as he took a sip, “but it’s actually the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” A completely innocent line, but it felt dirty as he said it. Or maybe you were just losing it over how his thumb moved over yours.

“Oh,” you responded quietly, taking a sip of yours. Total sugar bomb. “Well you’ll work it off anyways in practice I’m sure,” you fumbled over your words just a little bit. He seemed amused. “Like, looking at you, I’d never guess you have a sweet tooth,” you said, even though there was absolutely no reason to keep talking. He titled his head in delight. “Because you look totally in shape—you look, great. Yeah.” A true example of vocal mastery was on display tonight.

He took a bite of donut, his white teeth a sight so intimate it made you blush. He hummed while chewing, nodding. “Oh yeah? I’m not sure why you mean…should we keep talking about how hot I look?” He joked before pulling a very embarrassed you into his side and out into the chilly air. It didn’t feel as cold with his hand around yours though.

You laughed an embarrassed laugh. “Easy, you big dope, I was trying to be nice.” He laughed into your toque, head on top of yours.

“I know, I know.” And then he went into talking about how he wasn’t a fan of Dunkin before moving to New England and now he was addicted. And you just listened, toasty from humiliation and content as he walked you home, hand covering yours.

…

You offered to pick him up from practice later in the week (he had asked you to come to a home game, but you weren’t quite ready for that yet). He was right on time, waving an animated wave as he walked out the door with a few teammates.

You waved back (a bit more timid in the presence of his friends), and turned to que up your next song. He knocked lightly on the window, and you rolled it down. He was bent over, face in the window as he glanced toward the backseat.

“Want to meet my friends?” He asked politely, clearly excited.

You hesitated, which made him continue. “No pressure at all. If you don’t want to, I can hop in the backseat and we can pretend you’re my Uber driver again,” he smiled a grin that was so genuinely happy it made you less nervous. You turned off the engine.

“No way,” you unbuckled your seatbelt. “I wanna meet ‘em.” You opened the door and shut it softly behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself instinctively. He pumped his fist.

“Let’s go!” He seemed overjoyed. It was quite possibly the sweetest reaction to such a nothing event. You rolled your eyes, but let him pull you in front of him, large hands rested on your shoulders, steering you to face his two teammates.

He introduced you to them both (they were sweet, but there was something on their face that made you unsure if they were making fun of you or jeremy–or both–or no one). But listening to them banter back and forth while you stood pressed to the front of him made you realize that they just joked around like that.

Jeremy was usually the punchline–but he didn’t mind. He was easy to laugh, easier to smile, and made a point of pulling you impossibly closer to him. If his friends noticed, they didn’t say anything.

But then the fact that they didn’t say anything made you wonder just how many people he had introduced to his friends. Maybe they were having a non-reaction because they were so used to it? You stiffened slightly under his hands.

And he must’ve felt it, because he placed a feather-light kiss to your hair–which did pull a reaction from his boys.

“If you’re around on new year’s, we’re throwing something and you are obviously invited,” one of them nodded towards you, eyes a little wide.

“Obviously?” You questioned, but felt far more comfortable than a moment ago. The taller one laughed, eyes flickering to Jeremy’s briefly.

“Obviously,” he confirmed. “You think this is our first time hearing about you?” He shook his head, clapping the shorter one on the back. “Sway here wouldn’t shut up about you. If you didn’t respond to his text he was going to make us call every Uber in Boston until one of us got you as a driver.”

You hit his chest as you turned around. “You goof,” you meant to say–but the words died on your tongue when your eyes met his–so full of genuine enjoyment and content that it warmed you from the inside out. You turned toward them again, waving goodbye.

“I’ll see you on new year’s then.”

“Nice to meet you,” they parroted, smirking at Jeremy. “We’ll see ya sway.” He waved and let you pull him into the passenger seat.

“I like your friends,” you rubbed your hands together and blew on them. He smiled a radiant smile.

“You’ll love the rest of the guys,” he pulled your free hand into his lap, both palms wrapped around it, warming you right up. You drove the rest of the way home with one hand so he could keep a grip on you. He gave you a play-by-play of practice (which drills he did best on, what made him laugh the most, what he wanted to focus on for the next game), only coming up for air once.

“I really like you,” he said earnestly, as matter-of-factly as when he spoke about drills. It made you shake your head.

“Obviously I like you too,” the words felt good to be out–like you didn’t realize how true they were until you said them aloud.

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “Obviously?” You could feel his smile on the back of your hand.

“It's, like, impossible not to.” You pulled in front of his building, putting the car in park. Meaning to pull your hand back from him–a little embarrassed–but didn’t even make it over the console before he crushed you in a hug over the center console. The steering wheel dug into your side, nose crushed into his chest, hair static-y all over his puffer. But you couldn’t bring yourself to back out of it–arms rubbing circles against the back of his coat.

You had no idea how much time had passed when he pulled back, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and walked up to the front door. It was probably the longest he had gone without talking around you. But you didn’t mind. You liked him when he talked, when he didn’t, when he smiled, when he breathed.

You smiled all the way home.

…

You agreed to walk to the new year’s eve party together. It was just far enough away for you to prepare to meet more of the people from his world and hear about his last couple road games. Just hearing him talk made your nerves melt away.

He insisted on meeting on your doorstep, however, even though it added 10 minutes to his walk. He texted when he was on his way.

From: J

Be there in a few!

From: you

You need my address?

From: J

Course not.

And then.

I remember important stuff.

You went in for a hug as you opened the door–a new part of your routine.

“Hey,” your greeting was muffled into his puffer. His navy?? Puffer. One identical to your own. You thumbed the material and glanced up at him. “Nice coat?” You raised your eyebrows.

He laughed loudly, tipping his head back. “I wanted to match.” The way he said it made it feel obvious–tone like a noncommittal shrug. Like why wouldn’t he want to match?

The ease of the gesture was lovely. He was lovely. “Well then,” you linked your arm with his, setting off down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, “it is an honor to match with you tonight.”

He let a grin brighten his face. “You smell really good,” he breathed into your hair. “Like you always do. And I like the glitter you have–” He ghosted a thumb over your brow bone, “here.”

And the loveliness haunted you the entire walk over, conversation easy and light. He was so open, so kind, in a way that eased openness and kindness from you as well.

So the night was much better than you had expected. It felt natural to meet his friends, his teammates, their wives, their kids. It didn’t feel like being thrust into a brand new world. It just felt like natural–like getting another piece of Jeremy was a privilege.

And you didn’t feel out of place with how enamored you were with him–everyone here clearly was. He was the heartbeat of this group of people–and you felt lucky to watch him light up the room. And a little part of you felt proud that you were here with him.

The one who everyone wanted to be around–he wanted to be here with you.

“You’re too nice for him,” another new face laughed as he clapped Jeremy on the shoulder, looking down at you.

“Too nice?” You glanced at the palm resting over your stomach. Possibly the most gentle, kind touch you had experienced. How could anyone be too nice for that? “For him?” Your voice raised with confusion.

The young guy in front of you raised his eyebrows at the man behind you. “He didn’t tell you?” His smile was all trouble. “Our boy Sway likes to be a little roughed up,” he laughed at your blush, hidden by you turning around to gape at Jeremy. To wait for a rebuttal.

But it never came. He just laughed good-naturedly and hugged you into his chest. “Hey now, don’t scare her away!” He looked down at you, squeezed tight against his chest. “Lucky to have her here at all.” His smile was just for you.

And so you smiled and let yourself half forget about that comment. Met some more people. Drank some more wine. Smiled a lot.

But you couldn’t forget it entirely.

Some time later, he beckoned you over to where he sat on the couch. You finished up chatting with some of the women and made your way to him.

“Hey,” you stood in between his legs before he pulled you down to sit on one of his thighs with a thud. You felt him sigh into your hair as you leaned back so your head rested on his shoulder, hands reaching around the play with his fingers. He was solid and warm.

“Hey,” if you had to put money on it–you’d bet he was smiling. “Thanks for being a champ about this–they can be a lot.” You traced a nail over the outline of his hand. “But they’re important to me, so it makes me happy that they get to meet you.”

As intimate as a secret, spoken lowly in your ear. As secure as a fact, warming your chest.

“I like them,” you thought for a moment. “Even if they think I’m too nice.”

He rolled his eyes. “They’re just giving you a hard time. It’s a long story.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You can tell me if you want.” You could feel his chest rise and fall under your back.

“When I first signed, I showed up to practice all beat up once. Bruises, all that nonsense.” His eyes shone as he retold the story–like the emotions were just as fresh as they had been. “Told everyone I walked into a doorway–or something stupid like that. In the locker room later, everyone saw the marks this girl had left all over me.” He indicated scratch marks over where you lay on his chest. “All on my back and my neck and stuff. Never heard the end of it–how doors are really fighting back now and all that.” You just listened. “So yeah, they give me a hard time about it. But it’s no big deal–I didn’t want them to scare you or anything. If you’re not into that, don’t worry.”

He ducked his head into the crook of your shoulder, kissing behind your ear. You shivered, trying not to wiggle too much over his lap. Tilting your head towards him, you let your voice drop so only he could hear. “I’m into that.” His eyes went wide. “And I’m into you, so I can still be nice.”

He gulped audibly, making you smirk. “Like, I can be nice and tell you that you’re so good.” His face was as serious as you’d seen him. “Makes me wonder if you’d be so good for me.”

He nodded before he knew what he was nodding at, grip tight around you. “I would be.” His voice was clipped. “I’d be so good for you.”

You nodded back, chest on fire. You believed him.

You let your cheek rest against his sweater, eyes peering up at him–slightly flushed from the party and eyes a little tired. It had to be close to midnight.

As if on cue, the countdown began from the tv. Every voice in the room chanted along…10, 9, 8…but you almost didn’t hear them. Too busy looking at Jeremy. 7, 6, 5. You turned so your legs swung off the couch, sideways in his lap.

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” he whispered, holding you upright against him. “Like a real one. Not just a friend or something.” 4, 3. You pulled him so close you could see the shine of his lip from his drink, feel the sweat on the back of his neck from his sweater.

2. 1. “Glad to be your first or something,” you grinned into the kiss, teeth knocking against his. He laughed a breathy laugh into your mouth, free hand palming the back of your head. His chest rose and fell next to yours, making you pull back.

“I’m so happy it’s you,” he admitted–probably the most embarrassed you’d seen him. You ran your hands through his hair, settling against his chest so he could put his chin atop your head.

You believed him.

...

happy new year! Love ya

#nhl fic #nhl imagines #jeremy swayman #bruins #boston bruins #david pastrnak #brandon carlo #charlie mcavoy #matt poitras

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stars-and-the-min · 7 months ago

Text

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (9) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n reunions galore!

masterlist | last part | part 9 | next part

INSTAGRAM

chrisyamada

liked by eb_jonno and 482,492 others

chrisyamada was on stage w/ the aussies again 🎸 tagged: emptybottles_official

lukaszhang don't come for my job man ↳ chrisyamada @lukaszhang i can't handle lina for extended periods of time dw about your job security

ceciliapham THEY DID THIS FOR ME AND ME ONLY 😭😭😭

piastri_lina now if i didn't know any better, i'd think this was a soft-launch... ↳ piastri_lina @piastri_lina know ur place christopher yamada

oscarpiastri

liked by selinabui and 213,284 others

oscarpiastri Race week recharge 🔋

pi4str1 convinced that if oscar was to open an oscar.jpg account it would just be all lina

selinabui ur so hot do u have a gf ↳ oscarpiastri @ selinabui yeah sorry 🫤

piastri_lina boyfie looking boyfie, wifey looking wifey, what is a girl to do 😭😭😭

logansargeant ask her if we can talk again ↳ selinabui @ logansargeant U TOOK ME SERIOUSLY??? IS THIS WHY I HAVEN'T HEARD FROM U???

TWITTER

↳ pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 2h wait i asked a lina question OH MY GOD PLS PLS PLS CHOOSE THE LINA QUESTION ↳ Williams Racing @ WilliamsRacing · 2h Find out when the episode drops 😉 ↳ jess @OPIXSTRI · 1h OH MY GOD I'M GONNA DIE ↳ Williams Racing @ WilliamsRacing · 1h Don't die just yet

YOUTUBE

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selinabui Shenzhen, China

liked by oscarpiastri and 264,938 others

selinabui my own kinda home race? tagged: eb_jonno

eb_jonno *OUR* home town performance ↳ selinabui @eb_jonno my bad bro why did u think i tagged u

oscarpiastri How do you still suck at bowling? ↳ selinabui @ oscarpiastri wdym i won ↳ cameliazzz @ selinabui no you didn't???

pi4str1 same top as the one in oscar's post? ↳ marie_h.sb @pi4str1 pls they think they're so subtle 😭

linasgirl4 SINCE WHEN SELINA. SINCE WHENNNNN ↳ linasgirl4 @linasgirl4 i'm going fucking feral i need to know how long they've been together for my mental health ↳ emptybottlos @linasgirl4 calm the fuck down it's not that serious

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 1d dude are u kidding me? ↳ kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 4h she still got that :] energy 🥹

camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 21h I CAN'T BREATHE I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST SAW JONATHAN SU AND SELINA BUI LIVE IN THE FLESH AT THE SHENZHEN FENDI POP-UP ↳ camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 21h i'm not alive i have ascended to a higher plane

president linami @ linaminami · 16h try not to say mother challenge failed. she looks so good wtf

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emptybottlesbar

liked by cameliazzz and 332,974 others

emptybottlesbar Jonny and Lina at the Shenzhen FENDI pop-up store. Did you manage to catch them? tagged: emptybottles_official, selinabui and eb_jonno

selinabui wtf are we pokemon or smth??

eb_jonno was i not photogenic enough, i'll work on it ↳ emptybottlesbar @eb_jonno You were very handsome 💚 ↳ eb_jonno @emptybottlesbar well that's a very nice way of saying i look bad in photos

2cami4lina I DID CATCH THEM AND IT WAS SPECTACULAR

TWITTER

lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 1h oh ttpd, oh how 2021 lina coded it you are ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 1h i need a lina x i can do it with a broken heart edit STAT

emme @flowersforcami · 42m oomf said i can fix him (no really i can) is super lina in her tommy era coded and i can't unhear it now

↳ kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 1h @urdaisea baby girl this is for you 😭 ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 44m HOW ARE THEY SO QUICK OH MY GOD IT'S HEARTBREAKING

oscalina real ?! @emptyginbottles · 33m it's only been like a day since it dropped but i've already been blessed with a so high school oscalina edit the lord is good 🙏 ↳ jackpot ☆ @slayridgo · 30m i wanna be on ur fyp bc i've gotten two 'you look like taylor swift' edits of olivia and lina and it's been depressing

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h lina's stories perfectly encapsulates my april 19 experience, she's the chairman of the swiftie f1 girlie department ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h side note she used one of those oscar gifs from f2 and it's so endearing

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selinabui just posted to their story

trans: brother yu (she uses the fish 'yu' and not zhou guanyu's actual 'yu', again, it's a pun) is awesome!

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification @cherry-piee @urfavsgf

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smau #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 social media au

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lostyesterday · 6 months ago

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My top ten favorite B7 scenes

B’Elanna/Seven is my current favorite Star Trek ship, so I wanted to make a list of my personal favorite scenes featuring the two of them in Voyager. These scenes aren’t necessarily good (although I do think some of them are), and they’re not necessarily the scenes that provide the best “evidence” for B7 as a ship (which isn’t something I care about all that much to be honest). These are just the scenes that I personally enjoyed and have thought about the most.

10. Someone to Watch Over Me

This episode is terrible, but given how much I’ve thought about this particular scene, I couldn’t not include it. This is the Voyager scene that most clearly demonstrates how obsessed Seven is with B’Elanna and particularly with her romantic relationships. To me personally, this screams oblivious gay crush taking the form of jealous obsession. Obviously, B’Elanna is right and Seven is stepping way out of line here. This is probably the worst thing Seven ever did to B’Elanna and she’s so justified in being mad about it.

9. Survival Instinct

I really enjoy this scene because it’s an example of both B’Elanna and Seven trying to change the adversarial nature of their relationship. B’Elanna is trying to help Seven here even though she has difficulty with her. Seven immediately regrets her defensive response to B’Elanna’s attempted helpfulness. I think it’s interesting to see how the two of them have fallen into a pattern, responding defensively to each other because they’re used to their dynamic being adversarial, when they both theoretically have the capacity to understand each other better than most other people understand either of them.

8. Infinite Regress

The infamous cheek bite scene. Is this scene good? No, probably not. Has it lived in my head rent free since I originally saw it? Yes, absolutely. Technically, you could call this the only intentionally sexually coded Seven/B’Elanna scene in the show. Mostly, the thing I can’t stop thinking about is the two of them joking about it afterward. B’Elanna jokingly asking if this qualifies as their second date… I will think about that line forever.

7. The Voyager Conspiracy

I love everything about this. Seven immediately calling B’Elanna as soon as she thinks she’s found a problem with the ship’s systems regardless of how early it is in the morning. The tone of B’Elanna’s response implying this probably isn’t the first time this has happened. B’Elanna actually investigating the problem even though she’s rightfully irritated at Seven for being so annoying. I love them.

6. Course: Oblivion

It’s so, so easy to interpret this scene as Seven being jealous of Tom’s relationship with B’Elanna. Me when the person I have a crush on just got married: Monogamy is stupid, and it would make way more sense and be better if everyone (you) would have sex with anyone they want to, whenever (me, right now).

5. Human Error

Ignoring my issues with this episode, it’s so interesting how one of Seven’s major attempts to become “more human” is to try to connect to B’Elanna in this way. I think she chose B’Elanna here because she’s someone Seven genuinely wants to connect with at this point in the series, but she still struggles with how to make that connection. Also, I cannot stop thinking about Seven thinking in detail about how B’Elanna does her hair. Given the rest of the scene, I think it makes sense to say that she didn’t choose this question/compliment/terrible flirtation randomly and has genuinely just admired B’Elanna’s hair a lot. Which sure is something. And of course I love B’Elanna’s confusion here. She can tell Seven’s trying really hard to be nice, which is so not like Seven that she can hardly believe it.

4. Message in a Bottle

I love how these two scenes represent both the adversarial tension between B’Elanna and Seven, and the potential ways they could relate to and understand each other with time. B’Elanna is clearly deeply frustrated with Seven, and yet she still tries to explain to Seven why people (not just B’Elanna) are reacting negatively to her. And B’Elanna can obviously relate to being perceived by others as rude, which makes her statement that she doesn’t expect Seven to change overnight, with the subtext that she understands deeply how difficult this situation is for Seven too, really fascinating. Seven initially appearing to ignore B’Elanna and then later saying thank you to her compliment is also great. Also, B’Elanna’s reaction to Seven shocking that guy is so fun.

3. Extreme Risk

This is a short interaction, but it’s so interesting. Seven initially tries to engage in their ordinary adversarial back and forth, but when B’Elanna doesn’t respond in the typical way, immediately asks if something is wrong. I love that Seven is the first person in the episode to notice that there’s something wrong with B’Elanna. It’s so interesting that Seven seems almost disturbed by the lack of any hostility in B’Elanna’s responses and by B’Elanna immediately putting Seven in charge of something she was going to do. I think that, in a way, Seven has grown comfortable with her adversarial dynamic with B’Elanna because it’s familiar. Maybe B’Elanna has grown comfortable with it to, to a certain extent, and her lack of willingness to engage in the typical verbal sparring of their relationship in this episode comes from the same place as her lack of desire to participate in the normal routines of her other relationships. I guess I’m suggesting here that maybe Seven and B’Elanna are both more important to each other than the show explicitly portrays.

2. Hope and Fear

The iconic “we’ll be outcasts together” scene. This is probably the single scene that best illustrates the parallels between Seven and B’Elanna – how both of them have been treated like outcasts and deep down expect to continue to be outcasts forever. How both of them feel deeply ambivalent about belonging – desiring it desperately and yet pushing away from it because they believe they can never have it. Also, B’Elanna’s defensive excuse that she was “joking” two seconds after she realizes she was accidentally way too vulnerable is so good.

1. Imperfection

Thinking about this scene makes me want to scream incoherently, but I’ll try to summarize my main thoughts concisely and analytically. This is probably the scene where B’Elanna and Seven genuinely connect and relate to each other most strongly. B’Elanna understands better than anyone else in this episode what Seven needs, and Seven trusts B’Elanna of all people to ask these questions to, to be vulnerable with in this way. B’Elanna saying that Seven’s made an impact on every member of the crew is… a lot. B’Elanna truly listening to Seven here and understanding what it is that’s bothering her and saying the exact right thing in response. The whole framing of this scene with the close-up shots on faces, the softness in B’Elanna’s voice. Fuck.

#star trek voy #b'elanna x seven #lane posts #lane's character and relationship meta

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wen-kexing-apologist · 1 year ago

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Hypocrisy

Alright, I didn’t know what I wanted to write about for today’s episode of Only Friends and @colourme-feral suggested hypocrisy and @writerwithoutsound suggested Nick and or BostonNick, so let’s try to kill two birds with one stone.

[I was floating the idea of hypocrisy anyway so this ended up being perfect].

OKAY SO, if there is one thing that is true about Only Friends it is that every character is judging or hates another character for a behavior they themselves have engaged in and have no problems with.

Sure, Jan.

Which is just such a human trait, “my behavior was justified, but their behavior was not” type of bullshit that we do because we are only ever capable of understanding to the fullest extent our own thoughts and feelings and motivations, and aren’t always capable of extending the same critical thought to others.

What’s fun about Only Friends is that in order to discuss the hypocrisy that existed in Episode 9, we have to understand that almost none of the hypocritical behavior is new. Everyone has been falling in to the same patterns of the people they judge the harshest.

So, what hypocrisies did we see today?

Top

Top wants Mew back, Top claims to care about Mew’s feelings, and Top spends the entire episode consistently, continuously, and pointedly ignoring Mew’s established boundaries by appealing to Mew’s moms. After having his own relationship ruined by a recording, Top takes the initiative to get back at Sand and at Ray by filming them making out, as evidence for Mew. And he is fully prepared to use it, to try to show Mew that Ray is cheating on him just like Top did. But he pulls himself back at the last minute, why? Because he knows that Mew has, until their breakup, always considered himself as morally superior, and a strong sense of morality is an attractive feature for Mew.

It is, in my mind, part of why Mew has never been romantically interested in Ray, because Ray engages in almost every single behavior that Mew looks down on as morally reprehensible. By choosing not to share the video, Top is playing to the moral high ground, but he still took the video in the first place, and you know he is holding on to it in case he needs it later, and you know Top had intended to use the video, and had tried on several occasions to show Mew. It was only at the last second that he decided to change tactics. And it worked in his favor, but his actions are still entirely hypocritical because he says he is doing all of this because he cares about Mew’s feelings, when in actuality he doesn’t care about Mew’s feelings, he cares about manipulating Mew’s feelings.

Sand

We have established time and time again that Sand hates Top, and Top similarly has no love for Sand. We have also heard repeatedly that the reason for this is because Top stole Sand’s ex. I am hoping we get some sort of flash back to what he means by that next episode. But either way there is an implication here that Boeing either cheated on Sand or that Top was making moves on Boeing while he was with Sand, they broke up, and then Boeing started dating Top. Either way, Sand has exhibited zero amount of understand or willingness to move on or move past Top’s transgressions. Except, this episode we see Sand actively be made aware of the fact that Ray is lying to Mew about the fact that he and Sand are still fucking, acknowledges that he is being used as a secret lover for Ray, and deciding to have sex with Ray anyway, therefore helping Ray cheat on Mew, the very thing that Mew was initially spiraling over with Top.

Sand is the one that stole the audio recording and started the distribution train that led to the downfall of Top and Mew’s relationship, so that he could ruin Top’s relationship because Top had ruined his and Boeing’s. I do think Sand did release the audio file to Ray in some capacity to get Ray to go to Mew, either it was going to ruin Mew and Ray’s relationship leaving Ray open for him, or it would bring Mew and Ray together, and allow Sand to move on from his compulsive need to yield to Ray. (Though Sand is, like many of the others, a contradictory character who keeps saying that he won’t wait for Ray, and waits for him anyway; or says he doesn’t want Ray to come meet him, but then they end up fucking when Ray does inevitably show up).

oh honey, we know.

And like I said in a post the other day, except for the brief moment in Episode 1 where Mew apologizes to Sand on Ray’s behalf when Ray is drunk and trying to fight Sand in the bathroom, Mew and Sand have not said a single word to each other since, yet they keep radically impacting each other’s lives, mostly by nature of playing the world’s largest and most convoluted game of ping pong with a one Ray Pakorn.

I would like to just acknowledge the masterful way that Jojo and co have handled this show, and the maturing of their characters. We have spent eight episodes watching these boys do everything under the sun to protect what they want, besides you know…talking to each other about it like reasonable adults. But that is expressly because they aren’t reasonable adults. They are barely even adults. Most of them are just learning how to exist in the world as people, how to navigate relationships, how to be mature; and those characters like Sand who have had no choice but to get independent and self sufficient quickly can appear mature compared to everyone else, or may consider themselves more mature than others around them, which I for one think Sand absolutely does think he is more mature than the other people he knows. But he is the same age as the rest of them, he is just as susceptible to being a petty little asshole, to lying, to cheating, to manipulating to get what he wants when talking openly and honestly would have saved him a whole lot of time and heartache.

Nick

oh how the camera loves Mark Pakin

Honestly, I am trying to think about whether or not Nick has been hypocritical at all, and I don’t think he was in this episode. I think after his conversation with Boston at the Halloween party he has admitted defeat and was trying to move on. He tried making out with Sand to see how it felt, they both realized they were very much only friends. He tried making out with Daddy Dan and it went fine. But Nick saw Boston at the bar, and decided it was time to finish this once and for all, so he went to go apologize to Boston, sincerely, and to tell him, honestly, what his feelings were. Then he left and went back to his date with Dan without once looking back behind him to see if Boston was following. Good job, Nick, if I am remembering all events of Episode 9 correctly, you made it out the other end of this episode without being a hypocrite!

Boston

It cannot be denied that in past episodes, Boston has been extremely hypocritical. He broke it off with Nick because Nick recorded Boston and Top having sex. You know, something Boston thought (correctly) was an egregious violation of privacy. Yet fails to see how him recording Ray and Mew was doing precisely the same thing.

However….you know, I don’t think Boston was much of a hypocrite this episode either. I think as a character, similarly to Sand, he is very contradictory. Boston has been saying for a long time that his heart is frozen at sub zero temperatures, he doesn’t want a relationship, he has never loved Nick, etc. etc, and yet we are beginning to see the cracks in that. Boston doesn’t take pictures of himself, yet he and Nick both have selfies of both of them together. Boston tries to maintain some sort of morals, trying to convince his friends younger brother not to sleep with him, but Atom keeps pushing. Boston spends this episode minding his own goddamn business for what appears to be the first time in his entire life. As a result, he gets Nick, interrupting his bathroom hook up to give a truly mature, and expert apology about the ways he has hurt Boston, and how he feels about Boston. Boston says he doesn’t like drama, but he leaves his hook up the second his hook up says Nick is being dramatic.

As an aside, I absolutely loved every single one of Boston’s reactions to everything Nick was saying about him. Because Boston for the last x period of time, since the reveal that Boston and Top fucked while Top was dating Mew, Boston has literally been getting his ass beat repeatedly, and has been explicitly told that he was not welcome in the events the rest of the friend group are in. He’s always given off a kind of lone wolf vibe to me, but I don’t think he actually is one, and I think he is actually starting to feel the impacts of his decisions. As @shortpplfedup says “when Boston starts realizing that not everybody thinks like him, he’ll be okay.”

Anyway, good job Boston and Nick for managing not to commit egregious acts of moral failure this episode. So proud of you!

Cheum

Okay, listen. Jojo is content in showing that The Lesbians are a) capable of doing the thing all these boys need to learn and communicating openly and honestly about their issues in order to preserve their relationship and b) are simultaneously capable of being messy bitches. I love Jojo for this. Cheum this episode, as with every episode, continues her attack on Ray, “the evil spirit left you already, huh?” and sure there is an argument here that she is speaking generally. But I am holding fast to the read that she is talking about Ray, because at no point before this has she blamed Mew for his own behavior. She spends all this time praising Top, and then finishes by saying “but what he did was damn evil. It’s too much to forgive. I understand that.”

Ma’am.

My dear.

Darling.

Were you not the one desperately trying to get Top and Mew back together? Were you not the one ignoring that very knowledge in order to try to get Mew to forgive Top? Were you not the one that gave Top the invitation in the desperate hope that these two would get back together? Are you really only now seeing what Mew was so upset about, or have you understood the entire time, and were just okay with potentially making Mew uncomfortable for the sake of preserving the relationship you want your friend to have? These are rhetorical questions, I know the answer.

Mew

Mew has, in my opinion at least, not been the most hypocritical person out there, but he certainly has been one of, if not the most judgemental people out there. In this episode, though, we get a kind of hypocrisy from Mew that doesn’t actually bother me, or really make me roll my eyes because it is so effectively utilized, and it all has to do with Mew’s relationship to Ray.

Because Mew went scorched earth on Top when he found out Top cheated. He felt hurt, he felt betrayed, he spiraled into a wave of insecurity so hard he adopted Ray’s aesthetic and personality. He started partying, he started drinking, he tried to change every part of himself. And he was fucking pissed. He wouldn’t talk to Top, he flaunted Ray around because he knew it would piss Top off, he got escalated on multiple occasions, and fought Boston cause he was so upset about being cheated on.

And then Ray goes and does the very same thing that Top did. On multiple occasions. He kisses Sand at the Halloween party, he makes out with Sand at school, he lives in the middle of the night, drives two hours out of his way, just so he can meet up with Sand, interrupts A GAY BOY CUDDLE (it is the sin of all sins to break up a gay boy cuddle) and then has sex with Sand all while he is still dating Mew.

You can imagine after Episode 8, how my brain was spinning thinking about Mew finding out that Ray cheated on him at the party, getting super pissed, and having a blow out fight that ended in a break up. So you can imagine my (very pleasant and happy) surprise at Mew and Ray at the end of Episode 9 just talking it through. I say Mew’s hypocrisy this episode is something I really liked because it felt like such a natural and organic demonstration of where Mew and Ray’s feelings for each other truly lie. Mew is using Ray to get back at Top. Ray knows Mew is using him to get back at Top. They have a calm conversation and an amicable break up, and Mew doesn’t seem at all upset that Ray cheated on him. Because Mew does not care about Ray like that.

I do think Mew truly loves Ray, as a friend. I do think that Mew certainly has some compassion fatigue from navigating Ray’s substance use issues for multiple years, at a very young age, but it seems very clear to me in the way that friend group interacts with Ray that the only reason Ray has any friends at all is because Mew keeps him in his life.

Ray

Ohhhhh Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray I love you dude, but Jesus Fucking Christ. Here you are once again, proving my point. Ray, I don’t know if you are *the* biggest hypocrite of the evening, but you are certainly in the running. I know you’re hurting, but damn dude you’re self-sabotaging. Ray has spent so much of his time in this show simping for Mew, wanting to be with Mew, saying that he loves and cares for Mew. And the second that he is able to shoot his shot and have Mew even remotely entertain the idea of them being a couple, he shifts all of his attention to Sand.

Which, to be clear, Ray being interested in Sand is not the hypocritical part of all of this. Because, despite the fact that Ray was being kind of a massive piece of shit when he said it to Sand, he’s not wrong that he is allowed to like as many people as he wants. BUT Ray fucking hates Top, for a number of reasons, primarily because he is dating Mew and therefore getting in the way of Ray being able to do the same.

But also because Ray jumps in to play hero, Ray tells Mew repeatedly that Ray has been nothing but good to Mew, and that Mew has been nothing but good to Ray. And, then the second that Ray has everything he thinks he wants, he turns around and pulls exactly the same bullshit that Top did. Ray cheats on Mew, multiple times depending on what Mew’s definition of cheating would be. Whereas Top was able to wait to have sex with Mew, Ray after however many denials of sex erupts on Mew, he gets upset about it, and Mew calls him on his bullshit a bit, but the fact remains that as much as Ray says he cares about Mew, he isn’t showing it when push comes to shove.

I want to wrap this post up by saying that I think Jojo, Ninew, Den, and the others have done a truly remarkable job navigating the mentality of 21 year old boys. I love that after two months of watching these kids constantly come up with the most convoluted shit to hold on to the things they want, including recording intercourse, stealing said recording of intercourse, low-key stalking someone, and timing a playlist to incorporate the sounds of said recorded intercourse, they have finally finally started thinking “hmmm…what if we just…talked about it?” All our boys started showing some impressive blossoms of maturity this episode and I cannot wait for their inevitable backslide because they are- and I cannot stress this enough -all suffering from a chronic illness called Being In Your Early 20s.

#only friends the series #ofts #only friends #only friends meta #only friends analysis #gmmtv #jojo tichakorn #ninew pinya #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #mark pakin #neo trai #lookjun bhasidi #book kasidet #force jiratchapong

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liopleurodean · 1 month ago

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Counter question: What exactly could the Jedi have done that falls under "done more for clone rights"? They're in the middle of fighting a massive war, spread thin as it is. Sad fact is lobbying for policy change, even for important stuff like this, is pretty low on the priority list when Dooku and his ilk are pillaging systems left and right. If Yoda and Mace and the others have choose between discussing military strategy and pushing for legislation in the Senate (which isn't even their job to do), 9 times out of 10 their priority is the former. Not to mention by the time the war had simmered down to a point where they could start advocating for clone rights, Order 66 was literally a phone call away.

hey, thanks for the question! and you're absolutely right, there wasn't a lot the Jedi could do in the realm of politics. in my post I mention the Jedi struggled with "limitations of the war and their contracts with the Senate and Kaminoans" which definitely affected what they were able to do for the clones. however, I was talking less about political value and more about public opinion -- by the end of the war, most civilians resented or even hated the clones and what they represents. while there was some backlash against Jedi, as well, for the most part the Jedi generals were seen as heroes and paraded across the Holonet. the Jedi could have done more using their influence of public opinion toward the clones, especially those more commonly in the spotlight like Obi-Wan and Anakin (both of whom are considered to have the best treatment towards their troops in the first place).

another realm of their influence is the ranking system. take, for instance, Rex and Tarkin: during the Citadel mission both were Captains, but Tarkin automatically held a higher rank by virtue of being nat-born (something Anakin inadvertently encouraged in his encounters with the man). while the Jedi Commanders were better about recognizing their inexperience in battle and letting the clone commanders take the lead, the Generals could have done more to crack down on clone racism (speciesism? clonism?) within the Republic Navy. not only is that their duty as Generals and therefore the top of the command chain regarding their men, but also the Jedi are the legal owners of the clones and are responsible then for their treatment.

which does come to my last point, if we want to talk politically. the Jedi own the clones. legally. (we're not even going to touch the slavery part of this, that's a problem for another day.) the Kaminoans talk big about "their product", but in the end the Jedi (and the Senate) are paying customers and therefore what happens to the clones outside of Tipoca City is none of their concern. yes, there is an existing contract that the Jedi have to honor, but considering that none of the Jedi knew it existed and the Jedi who initiated it is dead, there should have been a reevaluation of the contract terms and what kind of influence Kamino could have. a big part of the issue is that Senator Burtoni, a representative of a Republic system, would speak out to the Senate about clone issues when the clones no longer belonged to Kamino. the Jedi should have done more to crack down on that kind of behavior and reestablish their control over clone treatment. Shaak-Ti obviously did some work in that department during her time on Kamino, but it's truly depressing how much slid by her.

Anyway, I'd love to hear more thoughts on this! this was mostly just me rambling off the top of my head, so if someone has a more clear and concise point that they want to share, I'd love to hear it. I totally agree that the Jedi were cornered into an awful position and were limited in choices, but I do still believe that more could have been done for their men.

#ashla regina astrum #ashla speaks #star wars #the clone wars #jedi #clones #thanks again for the ask anon!#im always down to talk abt star wars

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aspoonofsugar · 2 years ago

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you wrote such a beautiful rwby analysis but unfortunately I think you put more thought into the plot than the entire writers room

Hi!

Thank you, I am happy you found my analysis beautiful!

That said, I am sorry, but I disagree with your statement. It is fine if you dislike the series and even if you criticize it, but as for me, I think the writing is rather strong.

Here are some thoughts, which aren't really directed at you, but rather are born by me seeing a tendency going around where it is somehow "cool" to outloud state RWBY is badly written. I even saw people like... "apologizing" because they enjoy the series. Newsflash...RWBY is good.

RWBY is a series with a writing that goes from decent to very good depending on the moment. I would give it from 7 to 8.5 or even 9 in some scenes. More importantly, it is a story the writers are clearly enjoying writing, as for now. This is why I like watching it. It is genuine, upfront in what it wants to say and it takes risks. Ironically, a series with limited resources shows much more freedom in execution than many other stories, which are economically backed up.

I would also add people keep talking about good writing, but never really elaborate on it... And like, trust me, I do think there is good writing and bad writing. The problem is that people just take examples of "well written series" and decide a series written differently must be bad. This isn't really the case.

First of all, let's focus only on a specific type of story, which is the kind most modern movies, books and series are. This type of story is built on 3 (4) factors:

Plot

Characters

Themes

(Worldbuilding)

I would say the first 3 are more important usually, but there are some stories where the worldbuilding is so strong it becomes its own selling point.

Now, a good story is usually strong in all these departments. The perfect story is top notch in all 3 (4). That is because a good plot usually lets you develop the characters better, which in turns helps exploring the theme.

However, here comes the amazing truth... even the most incredible stories. Even the masterpieces loved by everybody... even them... end up choosing only 1 or 2 of these aspects and sacrifice a little bit of the 3rd (and 4th) one.

Naoki Urasawa's Monster? Its focus is themes. He chooses to go all out on this department, which is why the story is so powerful and resonates so much with people. Still, to do so, he chooses to sacrifice some parts of the plot to the point... some mysteries are not really solved. Some people may be annoyed by it, but I would not call it a flaw. It is a choice. Leaving some things open enriches the themes.

Death Note? If the story has to choose between characters, themes and plot, it goes for plot. This is why despite having so many well liked characters, it is difficult to think of outstanding character arcs in it. The same goes for the themes, which are only touched superficially. This is why btw Death Note is not a fave of mine, really.

Now obviously, many examples can be done and we could discuss forever on some because there is always always always a subjective component. What I am trying to say is... there are different ways to write a story. Not all people would like the same. Luckily, we have tons of stories.

Back to RWBY. I would say RWBY shines when it comes to themes. Characters and plot are good and interesting, but what keeps the story together, despite it playing so much with genre is that it has a very strong thematic core. You can't invent it or fake it btw. See, Death Note's author tries to do it in later works (Platinum End cough cough), but fails. At the same time, there is another department RWBY is top notch and that is symbolism. RWBY has a very rich symbolic system. Again... surely there are coincidences, but like this is a little bit too much...imho.

Now, does it mean, the writers came up with all the patterns I and others find? Probably not, but here is the thing... writing has an unconscious component. If you go earnestly at it, you are bound to unconsciously create patterns. A good writer is able to recognize them (either consciously or unconciously) and to capitalize on them. So far, I think CRWBY has capitalized on the patterns they created. I also think it is clear they are very good at researching and at playing with different sources by going deep into them. Again, you can't come up with the Ever After if you have not read and even studied Alice in Wonderland. It is just impossible. You would end up with a shallow and uninteresting copy cat. The Ever After isn't that because it is used to explore themes, characters and lore in an interesting way. Hence... ladies and gentlemen... it is a fruit of... good writing.

But really, since people are not commenting on it... I would like to point out that in 5 episodes of less than 20 minutes, they have managed to introduce a whole world, with its own lore, set of characters and main story (Alyx's) and to tie it to the protagonists' predicament in a way that hits really hard thematically and psychologically... To do that you need exceptionally thight writing... it is not that simple to do...

Anyway, have a nice day anon and consider watching something else. Thanks God the world is full of stories!

#rwby #asksfullofsugar #anonymous #rwby volume 9 #rwby spoilers #btw obviously the story can still go downhill #this is possible for all stories #but so far i trust the writers #if that changes i'll let you know #i will add that messing up a story doesn't mean some parts of it aren't well written #see tokyo ghoul has still some of my favourite moments ever #but i still think it went downhill

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mayhem-ensues · 1 year ago

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My Top 10 Sulemio moments

It's been a whole week now since our girls' story ended but the brain rot remains, so I'm listing out my favourite Sulemio moments from the show.

List is going under the read more because it is long and has many images.

Number 10 is this small conversation from Episode 9 between Suletta and Shaddiq. The reason I love this so much is that it’s the first time that Suletta really takes pride in the fact that she’s Miorine’s groom. A lot of people are of the belief that Suletta first starts really developing romantic feelings for Miorine after Episode 7, and I think this scene really highlights that change in Suletta’s feelings.

The other noteworthy thing here is that it really illustrates the difference between Suletta and most of the other people in Miorine’s life which is that she actually trusts Miorine to make her own decisions.

Number 9 is the late-night conversation between Suletta and Miorine in Episode 4. I love this scene not just because it’s the first time where they really start to learn more about each other, but also because it does set up the parts of their character that would cause problems for them later. Suletta is proud to carry the expectations of Mercury because she loves the idea that she can be useful to them, whereas Miorine thinks it’s an unfair burden to carry. It’s a nice set-up for the later drama to come when these two aspects of their personalities clash.

And this is something that I really love about Suletta and Miorine’s relationship. When there is friction between them, it always comes from a place that is true to the characters rather than the drama coming from forced “misunderstandings.”

Also, there’s only one bed in Miorine’s living area and Suletta certainly wasn’t leaving to go back to whether she slept before she joined up with Earth House that late at night. They 100% shared that bed.

Speaking of friction between the two characters, here’s Number 8 on the list, the Greenhouse conversation from Episode 16.

I find Miorine’s desperation in this scene to be really heartbreaking, she’s looking for any sign, no matter how small, that Suletta might go against Prospera’s wishes if the circumstances were right, but Suletta’s still in too deep at this point. The fact that Miorine is visibly hurt by the conversation here says so much, considering how far she’s previously gone to maintain her composure. Even during the big emotional moment in Episode 11, she doesn’t want Suletta to see her cry, but here she genuinely breaks emotionally and can’t hold it in at all when Suletta admits that she would kill for her mother.

Number 7 is Suletta reaching Permet Score 5 and it’s a moment I love for more or less the same reason I love the previous scene, any scene where a normally stoic character really shows how much they care is an incredible scene in my opinion.

And of course, everything leading up that is excellent too. Miorine choosing to trust Suletta’s decision to pilot the Calibarn despite the very real dangers, even pushing to activate higher levels of Permet when the others were hesitating is a perfect display of Miorine’s faith in Suletta, and a perfect turnaround from her earlier, misguided attempt to protect Suletta from the Gundam’s Curse.

At Number 6 we have the moment that this show left me with permanent emotional scars.

Miorine forcing herself to abandon Suletta for “her own good” was always going to be heartbreaking, but they really twisted the knife by having Suletta fantasize about their perfect wedding while Miorine’s fingers hovered over the trigger. And then on top of all that, they just had to go and play the damn Happy Birthday song AND have Miorine tossing back cool-san! Like, they really stuck the boot in there.

Like, when I was re-watching the show, I have to admit I found it genuinely difficult to re-watch this scene again and that’s how you know it was really well done. Suletta begging for another chance while her entire life crumbles around her haunts me.

Show of hands, how many people started watching the show because of this exact scene? Cause seeing people talk about this moment was definitely what got me to watch the first episode.

Don’t think I have to elaborate too much on how good this scene is or what it means for their relationship, but I will say that Suletta’s reaction when she finds out she’s engaged is probably still my favourite Suletta face.

Also, Miorine completely sidestepping the potential “but we’re both girls tho?” drama by talking about how common gay marriage is was perfection.

More shows should have that amount of courage.

Number 4 is the happy ending. After everything these two went through over the course of the show and also some of the dumb stuff that was said about their relationship by real people, seeing them end the show married, in love and living their best lives was unbelievably cathartic.

Also, extra bonus points for having Suletta end the show disabled and not having it treated as an awful tragedy that mars the happy ending or having it be something that she can just overcome with sufficient willpower.

While I would have loved to have seen the wedding on-screen, the fact that we ended the show with married sapphic women in as big a franchise as Gundam is already pretty incredible.

Wedding OVA when tho?

At Number 3 we have Suletta and Miorine using healthy communication for the first time!

As I said earlier, one of the things I love about the relationship between Suletta and Miorine is that any drama between them is true to their characters, Suletta is insecure in her relationships and needs to feel “needed” to feel safety in those relationships and Miorine is cold and closed off emotionally since her upbringing makes it hard for her to trust. As such both of them have trouble communicating exactly how they feel.

That being said, in order to be truly great, conflict and drama needs to be followed up with by a satisfying resolution. And in terms of providing a satisfying resolution to all that drama, they absolutely knocked it out of the park in this scene. Miorine explaining to Suletta how much her life has been changed for the better since they met, actively working to accommodate Suletta’s desire to feel useful and asking to be together forever. Like everything here was exactly what it needed to be.

Also, as well-done as the emotions were here, it would be remiss of me not to mention the goofy looney tunes style chase scene that proceeded it was also brilliant.

The number 2 spot on the list goes to the formation of Gund-Arm inc.

When we meet Miorine she is very upfront that her one and only goal is to escape the Benerit Group and go to Earth. Although she passes up on the chance to escape from Earth to save Suletta in Episode 2, she’s still pretty clear about what her ultimate goal is. Although it goes unsaid for several episodes after this, this is the moment that Miorine decides that keeping Suletta safe is more important than making it to Earth by willingly tying herself to a Benerit Group company just to keep Suletta and Aerial safe. Even bowing before her father and begging for his help, probably the last thing that Miorine ever wanted to do, in order to make sure her plan worked. If this scene doesn’t illustrate just how much Miorine was in love with Suletta even at this early stage of the story, I don’t know what will.

In addition to the scene just being completely incredible in every way, the other reason it ends up so high on this list is because this scene marks a pretty clear turning point in Suletta’s feelings for Miorine. I think most people now, generally agree that this scene is probably where Suletta starts falling for Miorine for real, and after rewatching the show I think that idea comes across very clearly. From this point onward, Suletta clearly takes a lot more pride in her title of Groom, she’s a lot more openly affectionate towards Miorine, and also a lot more concerned about how Miorine perceives their relationship.

So yeah, awesome scene, huge turning point in their relationship, Number 2 spot.

And finally, we reach my number one favourite Sulemio scene, their reunion in Episode 22.

Just take everything that I said about the scene from Episode 11 and multiply it by 10. Suletta reappearing in Miorine’s darkest hour to remind her to keep moving forward was everything I needed after a rough couple of episodes for Miorine.

Also, the whole scene is just a perfect show of how Suletta developed over the course of the show. Suletta starts the show shy, insecure in her relationships, not particularly confident in her words, and following orders rather than working toward her own goals.

Here, Suletta is able to speak with complete confidence about how Miorine changed her life, about the things that she’s done wrong and the things she wants do better, and about her desires for the future.

Of all the scenes in this show, this is the one that had me tearing up the most, and for that, it absolutely deserves the number 1 spot on my list.

Also, that handholding. Hoo boy, that is the most emotionally intimate handholding I’ve seen in my life.

So yeah, that's my list of my favourite Sulemio moments. If your favourite scene wasn't one of the ones that made my list, then tell me about what made you love that scene so much because I love this show, and I love these characters and I will read anything about them.

#sulemio #suletta mercury #miorine rembran #gundam witch from mercury #g witch

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nowoyas · 2 months ago

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vespertine: evening blooms prologue - nishinoya yuu/cat hybrid!reader

Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: she's here! housekeeping: right now, I hope to update every other wednesday until I've caught a rhythm with this fic, so we're hoping next update will be 10/9. it may come a week sooner, but shouldn't be any later than that--the next chapter is already written, and the ultimate goal is for this fic to update weekly once I've got a more clear plan set in place for it.

Summary: Yuu feels like he's at a dead-end in his life, despite his many accomplishments ranging from a middle school volleyball award to losing his virginity in high school, the proudest of these being befriending the mother cat in the alleyway beside his apartment. She rewards his friendship by introducing him to the dying hybrid behind the dumpsters.

Warnings: blanket series warnings (see vespertine masterlist for details), implied alcohol abuse, light mentions of blood/hospitals

Words: ~3000

prologue: alley cats

Nishinoya Yuu is on the precipice of a mental break, and no one seems to have noticed.

He's not sure anyone would believe him if he bothered to bring it up. He's Yuu, the bright, unrelenting baby of the Nishinoya family and the single best brother his sisters have ever had. (Unrelated, the only brother they've ever had.) He's that Nishinoya, talents ranging from a middle school "best libero" award (the highlight of his life so far, even though he doesn't really play anymore) to finding the wrong time to be at the wrong place and get blamed for shit he had nothing to do with, all because of his kickass hair and inability to keep to himself. He's Yuta, second most popular host at Nakamoto's and soon to be the first, if he keeps up the good work.

It's funny, really, how easy hosting is. He spent all of high school growing used to a reception anywhere from "total disinterest" to "actively making fun of him" if he dared trying to pursue a girl while being only 159 centimeters tall, and here he is, four nights a week, leaning in with bright eyes and nodding along while some beautiful married woman (Misaki, her name is Misaki) tells him he's so cute over a glass of wine. Yeah, he comes back to the apartment most nights totally exhausted, sleeps until noon, is basically forced to drink for work, and has no idea where he's going in life, but what fun is there in knowing that, anyway?

So he leans in. He smiles. When Misaki or one of his other clients comes in for him, he compliments her hair and asks is that a new dress? and flashes a smile, and on his days off, he does what he can to keep the apartment clean enough that Mei doesn't ask questions and forget the taste of alcohol in his mouth.

"Yuta-kun?" Misaki tilts her head with a pout. "What are you thinking about?"

He blinks. Laughs it off. "Sorry, Misaki-chan. You just look so lovely tonight that I keep getting distracted. I'm really lucky that you choose me, you know?"

"Oh, please," she says, a bubbly laugh leaving her lips. "There isn't anyone else for me. You know, the other day, my husband…"

She launches right into another story. He frowns appropriately, files away the details without really processing them, tops off her glass for her when it starts getting low. He's grown skilled at making the mechanical look fluid.

When he tunes back in, she's talking about that damned hybrid, the one her husband brought home and fell in love with. According to her, the single source of every problem in her life: if not for her, her husband would still be interested in her, but instead, he focuses all his attention on a pretty young thing just because she's got doe eyes and a twitchy tail.

"I mean, we have kids! What, am I supposed to tell them their father's sleeping with a deergirl instead of their mother?" she snaps, then sighs. "I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear about this."

"No, no, tell me. Is Nara still making trouble?"¹

"You wouldn't believe it." She pauses, takes a dramatic sip of her wine glass. "I'll need another bottle tonight if I'm going to get into the stunt she pulled last night. Any recommendations?"

He flashes another toothy smile, reaches for the menu. "Let's take a look."

The night drags on that way—Misaki for two hours, then another regular, then a new customer who blushes and smiles too sweetly to have ever done anything like this before, who looks at him with hearts in her eyes when she names him her preferred host. It's a victory that feels too, too empty, nearly forgotten by the time he's unlocking the door to his apartment and kicking off his shoes, muttering a quiet tadaima! into the room.

No response comes, not that he expected it. Mei left for another business trip this morning, so it's just him here, and she'd be asleep this late, anyway. No one to talk to when he strips off his suit jacket, or tease him for throwing it on the floor, only to immediately pick it back up and gingerly hang it on the coat rack.

He flicks on the lights in the living room, collapses onto the couch. Mei left a note on the whiteboard, enough words to make his head spin with the last vestiges of alcohol in his system. He'd done good tonight, he thinks, managed to get away with only drinking about two glasses' worth of whatever shit his clients had ordered, managed to come home only a little buzzed.

His alcohol tolerance is basically fucked, he thinks as he stares at the note and doesn't comprehend it.

Right. Focus.

Her handwriting, smooth and font-perfect, fills the board.

Yuu! I had to jet out for another trip! I'll be in Hawaii with a client until 9/22. I wasn't able to take the trash down before I left and trash day's tomorrow, so please run that down so it doesn't start to smell! I'll be 19 hours behind you, but just think of me as 5 hours ahead! Please let Mom + the girls know where I'm at and that I'll bring back souvenirs! I'll call when I've touched down. There's leftovers in the fridge and if you're not gonna cook the chicken tomorrow, you should stick it in the freezer. Be good, okay?

PS. The neighbor in 802 was looking for you. I think he wants to hang out next time you're off work!

He groans. Lets his head drop against the back of the couch.

He'll get to it, all of it, in a minute, once he gets changed out of his work clothes and heats up something to snack on. Gone is his button-down, the silver necklace, the too-nice pants and belt. Before he steps into the shower, his reflection catches his eye, and his stomach turns.

He never recognizes himself after work. The stupid one-day hair dye shit he uses to cover his blond streak is convenient—it lets him walk around on his days off with a certain plausible deniability. Misaki or one of his other clients might recognize his face on its own, but given how much they drink with him, it's doubtful. Still, he covers the blond with black on work nights, runs some product through to make it all… swoopy and dreamy, or whatever, instead of the trademark spikes-and-tuft he wears off the clock. It works well, it washes out easy, and it looks fucking nothing like him.

Nothing like him at all.

"The commission's good," he says out loud. "It's good."

He drops the stupid fucking wristwatch a client gave him into the handmade jewelry dish Mei gave him for his "birthday" earlier this year.² The last work thing weighing him down. It doesn't prevent him from feeling the disconnect when he meets his reflection's eyes.

The commission is good. Good enough that it shouldn't matter how long he has to stand under the running water to wash off the shift, the feeling of the alcohol, the cling of twenty women's perfume on his skin, his clothes, in his hair. It shouldn't matter how his nice, expensive, gift-from-Aya watch feels like a cuff on his wrist by the end of the night, or that he can't skip wearing it even one night for risk of losing a client. It's good.

He doesn't need to worry about affording repairs or maintenance for his bike, can go toe-to-toe with Mei for paying the bills, even with her cushy jetsetting consultant job. His clients bring him gifts and spend money just to spend time with him, and none of them are objectionable-looking in the least. Not that he's ever seen a girl he didn't think was at least a little pretty.

He steps out of the shower, slings a loose towel around his waist. His reflection looks a little better now—still clearly exhausted, but at least he can recognize Yuu looking back at him. He finds basketball shorts, a hoodie. His keys and wallet. Throws a burrito in the microwave, throws his towel on top of the hamper.

While his burrito simultaneously over- and under- cooks, ensuring an ideal 3 AM trash-and-cat-run eating experience, he finds a can of cat food in the pantry and dumps it on a plate. He made good money on commission tonight; Mama Kitty can have some of the top-shelf wet food.

One final pat of his pockets as he kicks into some sandals: wallet so he can open the side door after hours, phone, keys, wrapped burrito. Trash bags in one hand, plate of food for Mama Kitty in the other.

She doesn't greet him right away when he makes it outside. Probably, she's tending the kittens and will be with him soon. He sets down the plate on the stoop, flings the trash bag into the dumpster, takes a seat, and waits. She'll probably come out around the time he burns the ever-loving fuck out of his tongue on his burrito.

It's a balmy night. Quiet, for the city. Quieter in contrast to Nakamura's, to obligate conversation, laughter, serenading women with enough money to afford it, or in contrast still to the roar of his motorcycle carrying him back to the apartment. The trains don't run when he gets off work. More small talk at the end of a shift is the last thing he needs. It's too dark in the alleyway to see whether there's clouds in the peek of sky overhead, but there's definitely the sting of rain amid the smell of garbage. It's just bright enough to see Mama Kitty when she hops up on the stoop beside him with a hoarse nyaugh.

He laughs every time he hears it. She meows like a lifelong smoker, like she pulls eighty hour work weeks at the factory and sleeps ten hours a week, tops. Noya takes another bite of his burrito as she watches him expectantly. "Me too, Mama Kitty, me too. Kittens doing okay?"

Mama Kitty doesn't reply. She's tired, too, at three in the morning, but something feels different tonight; it's in the way she doesn't turn to scarf down the food she's brought, the way she stares him down. Ungrateful, he thinks with a quirk of his lips as she eyes his burrito instead.

"You don't want this, sweetheart. It's somehow the hottest thing I've ever eaten and still frozen in the middle. That food you've got there? It's some fancy American brand. Kaede hand-picked it for you. Said it's good for new mothers. Helps them produce enough milk and rebuild their energy so they can take care of the babies. This cat food will change your life, Mama Kitty. You just gotta eat it instead of my dinner."

Her tail flicks at the air, agitated as she lets out another death rattle of a meow. She's insistent, tail flicking even faster.

He raises a challenging eyebrow. "You're not getting my burrito."

Mama Kitty's eyes focus. Her shoulders drop. Sensing that she's about to pounce, he closes his hand over his burrito protectively, letting his keys rest on his lap.

She lunges, instead, for those keys, and, protective as he was of his shitty 100 yen burrito, he doesn't move quick enough to catch her. He lets out a shout, springing to his feet and narrowly snatching his phone out of the air as it slips out of his pocket with the movement.

"Oi, Mama Kitty! If you don't like the new brand, just say so!" he shouts after her as he chases her further down the alley.

He's never really gone this far down. The one time he tried, Mama Kitty had hissed at him something monstrous, sounding close to a horror movie monster and very visibly prepared to make him find out if he dared fuck around any further. That had been after she had her kittens, so he'd always just assumed that she didn't want him near them. No problem, he just wouldn't go past the dumpsters.

This time, she doesn't hiss, doesn't spit; doesn't turn to him with ears pinned and ratty fur fluffed and perfectly replicate the noise the zombies from one of his shooters make. She drops the keys a few meters ahead of the end of the alley, comes to sit just in front of a lump of something he doesn't recognize. He scarfs down the last of his burrito, proud of how easily he manages to fit half a burrito down his throat without choking, and shoves the trash in his hoodie pocket so he can scoop his keys up.

A noise gives him pause.

It's not one of Mama Kitty's—it's too high and not nearly crunchy enough. It doesn't quite sound like a kitten, either—he's caught the kittens' meows once or twice and they're more like squeaky toys, though they've been growing a bit sweeter lately.

No, this was more like a whimper, like a human whimper, and his blood is tinging cold as he looks for the source.

He stuffs his keys in his pocket with the burrito wrapper. It's dark back here, dark enough that Mama Kitty's all but disappeared except for the white in her tabby coat and the reflection of a distant streetlight off her eyes, so he fumbles for his phone's flashlight.

A chorus of the squeaky meows he'd expected to hear raises in protest as the light shines on them. Later, he'll try to remember back and be sure there was four kittens to report to Kaede, but for now, he's focused on the lump they're curled up with, on not dropping his phone as he takes in the sight.

There's the peek of skin, a tangle of hair. What's not visible, as he tries to make sense of what he's half-convinced is a dead body in the alleyway beside his apartment, is draped in hospital gown blue.

Human. A kid, maybe a teenager.

Then: large ears flicking, almost like Mama Kitty's. One ear torn, though where Mama Kitty's left point is jagged from one fight or another, the lump's ear is torn in a way that looks clean, purposeful. Like someone held it down and just snipped the point off.

Another whimper, or maybe a groan. A tail flicks up, wraps over the human-shaped lump's side.

Not human. Hybrid.

"H-hey," Noya says, clearing his throat. It's coated with cheese—fucking burrito—and that's what he'll tell anyone who might ask why he stammers, why his tone comes out sounding so much like fear when that's not a thing he feels. "Are you—are you alright?"

A flick of the ears greets him, but no other movement. He looks to Mama Kitty, who watches him cautiously. No hostility yet. He crouches, reaches for the hybrid, and when his pinkie brushes one of the kittens, he hears a half-hearted hiss from behind.

Message received.

He swallows thickly. "Alright. Help the hybrid, don't touch the babies. Loud and clear, Mama Kitty."

Nyeeaughh.

A soft huff. He shakes the hybrid's shoulder gently—it doesn't react, except for its tail to flick and drape over his forearm. It shivers under his hand, too violently for the weather.

"Hey, c'mon. You gotta wake up."

No response.

He sets the phone aside, tries his best to sit the hybrid upright without too much force or jostling. The good news is that it's light, concerningly light. Clearly a cat hybrid, which, sure, he thinks he remembers they're supposed to be smaller than your average human, but he'd swear that he's slung around toddlers that were heavier. Makes it easy to lift, even as he wonders whether any hybrid is supposed to be this light.

It's awake, he thinks. It looks at him with bleary eyes, pupils constricting harshly when he raises up the flashlight again. "Hey. Can you hear me?"

No response, except to track his lips with its eyes. It occurs to him, belatedly, that some hybrids never learn to talk, and this one might be one of them.

"Can you, like, blink twice at me if you understand me?"

Two blinks.

He exhales a sigh of relief. "Okay. Alright. I don't know what happened to you, but I'm here to help, okay?"

The hybrid's eyes flick to Mama Kitty, and for a split second, Noya swears she nods back.

The hybrid nods in reply.

"Are you hurt? Can you show me where you're hurt?"

It glances down. Noya follows the eyes to the pricks of red beginning to seep into and stain the hospital blue covering its abdomen, and… well, fuck.

He's gonna have to call Kaede for this one.

Footnotes

1. Nara is a deer hybrid, "adopted" from the Nara prefecture itself. Misaki's husband is not very creative with names.

2. Noya, mostly on Mei's insistence, tells clients his birthday is April 10th, six months before his actual birthday. He maintains it half for privacy (if a client tracks him down they're likely to cause issues for Mei, too) and half because it's sort of nice to have a half-year birthday.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

#my fics #cat hybrid au #nishinoya yuu/reader #nishinoya yuu x reader #yuu nishinoya/reader #yuu nishinoya x reader #noya x reader #noya/reader

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wardenparker · 2 years ago

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The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 9

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world where his ex-wife is not the only ‘ex’ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. ✨💖Inspired by and based upon absurdthirst’s Tequila. 💖✨

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always18+ Word Count: 8.5k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this series include: divorce, break ups, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption.** Summary: Paris may be tumultuous at first, but it’s the City of Love for a very good reason. Guys, I have no defense for this one. I just really love Paris and want to go there so fucking badly... Notes: Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who came along for this wonderful ride with us! Next week we’ll be posting the epilogue for this story and then rolling right into something new immediately. The wheels of chaos in our minds never stop rolling so the fics just keep on coming. 🧡🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

Thanks to the overnight flight and the comfort of being able to sleep in first class, when you and Marcus touch down in Paris at 8:30 the next morning, you pretty much manage to avoid the fuzzy feeling of jetlag. It's been years since you've been back here but everything feels just the same, giving you a satisfying feeling of homecoming as you set out through the airport toward the taxi stand to ride out to his colleague's office.

"Sorry." Marcus tosses you a small, apologetic look as the taxi drives erratically through the city. "I'll see what's up and then if you want to go to the hotel, we can see about checking in." He knows you might not be up for hitting the ground running and he can carry this alone if he needs to.

“No, no, it’s okay.” As the city passes by the taxi windows you sink back and allow yourself an indulgent smile. You might be working, but it’s nice to be back. “Let’s go and be briefed for the case and all of that. Find out what we’re working with.”

“Thank you.” Marcus picks up your hand and kisses the back of it. “For coming with me. Saves me from having to choose an agent to bring with me.”

“I hope I’m half as effective as any of your team members are.” You kiss the back of his hand in turn and give it a supportive squeeze. The people you’ve met from his department have all been friendly and kind, and his stories paint them to be very good at their jobs on top of being nice people. “Plus, I’m infinitely more fun to play dress up with.”

“And I won’t feel exceedingly guilty if I had to pretend to be romantic with a co-worker.” Marcus knows there will be a time, but he doesn’t want to do that so early in your renewed relationship.

“Work is work.” Of all the problems you ever did have, jealousy or worry about infidelity was never one of them. You and Marcus are both loyal people to the core.

“I know.” The fact that your belief in him doesn’t waver is incredible. “But right now, work has you playing my wife.” He winks at you. “You might be good at that role.”

"It's almost like method acting," you tease, briefly sticking your tongue out at him as the taxi winds its way toward the nondescript office where his colleagues are waiting.

Marcus helps you out and tips the driver, hauling the luggage up the stairs after shooting you a dirty look when you protest that you can get your own bag. “Get the door.” He huffs at you.

“Stubborn.” You chide him teasingly, and slip past him to open the door. The woman at the desk seems pleasantly surprised that you speak much better French than Marcus, but switches to English for ease. She directs you to the second floor and gives you an office number, assuring Marcus that he is expected.

“Monsieur Pike.” The Interpol agent immediately greets you at the elevator, obviously being given a heads up about your arrival. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Marcus nods, adjusting bags so he can shake hands. “Happy to help, this is Dr. Pike. She is a director at the Smithsonian.” He introduces you, looking at you with quiet pride.

“Pike?” Ducasse looks between you, at the suitcases Marcus won’t let you carry and how you stand close together, keeping each other in your line of sight despite not always being focused on the same thing. Confident but not showing off. “I did not know you had gotten married. Welcome, Madame. Your expertise will be invaluable.”

Marcus catches your eye, tilting his head to communicate that he will follow your lead on how to explain your relationship to these people. Not wanting to embarrass you or to make you feel as if you are pressed to answer dozens of questions.

“We are divorced, but reconciled. A story for another time, perhaps.” Honesty, above all, especially when dealing with his colleagues, and you shake the man’s hand politely before allowing yourself to be ushered into a nearby office. “I am happy to extend my expertise to the FBI and to INTERPOL.”

“That will be a story to hear.” Ducasse’s brows shoot up in intrigue but he doesn’t press, instead motioning to you towards a seat and taking one of the bags from Marcus to stack the luggage in the corner of a cluttered office.

“What can you tell us about this case?” Marcus ask, shifting the conversation to the matter at hand. “How did you come to know about the art and this auction?”

"We had a tip that one of the warehouses that the local police were monitoring has seen some substantial movement and pursued several leads before finding the location of the auction. There is a mansion in Faubourg Saint-Germain currently owned by an alias of Jean-Luc Poitiers." The quick-speaking INTERPOL agent begins to point out photographs on the pin board lining one wall of the crowded room. "Poitiers has been underground long enough for any of the heat from his competition to die down, and it appears that this is where he has been suffering his isolation." Ducasse rolls his eyes as though considering a mansion in the gorgeous Seventh Arrdonissement a place to suffer is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. "The auction is extremely exclusive, by invitation only, but we have taken care of that while you were in the air."

“You got us an invite.” Marcus grins. “Who are we pretending to be?”

"A married couple, conveniently." Ducasse pulls a file out from under several other things on the desk beside him and hands it to Marcus to peruse. "Mr. and Mrs. Luke Martinez of New York City. Second house in the Hamptons, eight figure annual income from real estate holdings and investments. You will be asked to submit banking details upon your arrival, we will supply you with the numbers and the false funds." He leans back, half-sitting on the edge of his desk. "We will surround the building, ready to lock it down for arrests and to seize the stolen art, but we need you to actually put eyes on those paintings."

“What I wouldn’t give to have that be our lives.” Marcus jokes as he flips through the files and skims the background on the couple. “We will need to buy some clothes that reflect this.”

"You can attend to that this afternoon. There is some budget to be spared for it." Ducasse had made sure of it, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

"Does Mrs. Martinez have a listed career or am I a housewife?" You don't peak over Marcus's arm at the file in case there are things that aren't meant to be shared with civilians. You just want to have your story straight. "Or, um...a first name?"

“There’s nothing here you can’t see as a consultant on this case.” Marcus provides and grins at you. “Your name is Penelope.” He explains as he hands the file over.

"Well of course, why wouldn't it be?" The file has pages of background information and numbers that you hope you can memorize, but as you start to flip through the pages you practically feel your heart stop. There is a photograph of two men walking down the street side by side, one talking into a cell phone and the other checking his watch. The man on his phone is tall and lean, with curly brown hair and bright green eyes, and a jawline only slightly less defined than Marcus's. The crisp, blue suit is nothing like you remember, but his face is unmistakable. "Wh—who is this?" You ask, pointing at the image like you're afraid the man might jump out of the photograph and attack.

“That—” Ducasse snorts and taps the photo. “Is Henri Aubel.” He informs you. “He has been in Interpol’s sights for a long time, but we have been unable to pinpoint the crimes on him, unfortunately.”

"I..." Looking between Marcus and Ducasse, you can feel your stomach drop and a wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere. "I know him," you murmur, reaching for Marcus's hand like a security blanket. "I mean...we—we dated. While I was living here...years ago." The man you had known then was bright and seemingly sincere. Incredibly charming, yes, but you had never had any kind of inclination whatsoever that he was a criminal.

“Shit.” Marcus immediately frowns, aware that your cover won’t work. “Then we need a new game plan. Because if he recognizes her, ‘Penelope Martinez’ will be in danger.” The last thing he wants or is willing to do, it put you in danger for a case.

“Was it a close relationship?” Typically not a man to pry for personal information from new acquaintances, the rules have just changed for Ducasse since this is related to his case. He flies around to the other side of his desk to sit down, immediately tapping away at his keyboard to bring up the file on Henri Aubel. “What did you know of him then?”

The irony isn’t lost on you. To have just left a case with Marcus’s ex-fiancée behind only last night and for this one to now include your ex-boyfriend? The universe is having a nice laugh at your expense. “I met him at a gallery opening while I was a student at the Sorbonne. We…we were on and off for about two years, but I never had any idea that what he was involved in was criminal. I just thought he was an artist with a wealthy family.” Although, now that you know that he is wanted by INTERPOL, you’ll be combing back through every memory you have of him to see what you can glean. You squeeze Marcus’s hand gently, feeling like a child who has been caught being naughty. “I’m sorry,” you murmur under your breath, knowing that you have made this all incredibly awkward.

Marcus frowns and shakes his head. “It was ten years ago.” He reminds you. “It’s hard to know who people will become when you are a college student.” The only thing he’s worried about is your safety. “But maybe this is better.” He offers. “We don’t go in as the Martinez’s, did— did Henri know about me? Or that Pike was your married name?”

“Yes.” Swallowing is harsh and almost painful, like the lump in your throat is very real. “But back then you were going to be in marketing. I never had any idea you would go into law enforcement.”

“Good.” Marcus flashes you a supportive smile, aware that your guilt is amplified right now. He turns towards Ducasse. “So we pose as ourselves, just— fictional images of them. Is that doable with the invitations?” He asks seriously. Neither one of you are on social media, so it wasn’t like accounts would have to be modified.

“It should be.” Ducasse is nodding as types rather furiously. “At the risk of being indelicate, Madame, this may work to our advantage. A surprise like this can throw off even the most careful of men.” He looks up at you, eyebrows raised slightly, and tilts his head. “Henri Aubel is a dangerous man. If you did not know that about him, then you did not know the real him.”

“Then I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.” There is an empty chair nearby, and you sit down in it with the case file still in your hands. “I think it will surprise him, though, to see me. We were…well, I thought we were very close. But obviously he was never entirely honest with me.”

Marcus takes the file from your hand, turning towards you and giving you his full attention. “Listen to me, baby,” he begs you softly, seeing the hurt and turmoil in your eyes. “Men like Aubel have been taught from a young age to hide who they truly are. He never had any intention of you finding out who he is. Took advantage of you being unfamiliar with his family, with France. That makes him manipulative, you did nothing wrong.”

“Thank you.” Even though your voice is quiet it’s clear, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to squeeze tightly and murmur a soft “I love you” in his ear. It feels heavy, and wrong, and like you’re in trouble, but you know that’s just the shock of discovery.

“So we say that I’m— fuck, I was a hedge fund manager who made it big and wants to indulge in art?” Marcus tosses out, looking over at Ducasse. “How does that sound? New money, and my wife knows art?”

“That will work.” The INTERPOL agent nods, looking back at his screen before looking over at Marcus again. “Use New York City as your base, but use whatever details of your past suit you. The banking details are an offshore account in order not to raise any red flags, and I will simply change the name on the false account to reflect your real name. There is jewelry in the evidence lock up that you can use as props.” He sees nothing on either of your fingers now, so obviously it will be needed. “When you are out today getting your clothing for tomorrow night, please be as obviously affectionate as you feel comfortable with. On the off chance that Aubel has been watching to see if Dr. Pike will come back to Paris, we want your cover to hold up.”

Marcus nods, looking back at you again. “Are you okay with this?” He asks softly. “I can still find someone else if you don’t want to see him again.”

“It would be slightly hypocritical to back out when you just had to spend three weeks with a case with your ex.” You remind him. “And…and Monsieur Ducasse seems to think it could help.” You shake your head, offering Marcus a smile when you can summon it up. “I’ll be okay. As long as you’re with me, I’ll be okay.”

"I won't leave your side." Marcus promises, sure that he will stick to you like glue in the first undercover op you've ever participated in. His own need to make sure you are safe wouldn't allow it, even if he thought this Aubel wouldn't hurt you.

“We will do everything in our power to make sure no harm comes to you.” Ducasse assures you earnestly. “If I thought this would be more dangerous for you for knowing Aubel, I would not send you in. But I must ask, Madame. Do you know how to use a gun?”

The question makes you shiver a little, not being a big fan of firearms, but you nod. “Marcus has taken me to the firing range. We have one in the house, so I’ve learned.”

Ducasse nods and his eyes flicker over towards the FBI agent. He can tell that the man who had previously worked on a case with INTERPOL isn't exactly comfortable with his wife being in harm’s way. Not that he blames him, but this is a fortuitous situation and he will use everything in his power to get Aubel behind bars. He's wasted too many hours on chasing him to give up because your ex is the suspect. "I doubt you will need to, but we always send in our operatives armed." He allows.

“Why don’t you tell us more of what we’ll need to know for tomorrow?” With a whole day and night to prepare, you know that there will be plenty to learn and plenty of time to ask questions, but also plenty of time to build an alibi by being seen in the city. If what Ducasse says is true, people may be watching.

******

Hours later, Marcus sighs in relief when you are able to get to your rooms. With the knowledge that people might be watching, the bags had been delivered and you along with Marcus had started a very loving shopping trip along some of the more upscale stores in Paris. Now he's happy to just be alone with you and not worry about someone photographing you or approaching.

“I never thought shopping on the Champs-Élysées would be stressful.” Wrapped up in his arms in the exquisite suite, you and Marcus both sigh heavily and absorb the calm of being alone for a little while.

"It doesn't help when you are wondering when your ex is going to pop out from behind a bush." Marcus pulls you into his arms and sighs. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I didn't know. I wouldn't have put you in the middle of this if I had."

“You didn’t know?” You huff at him, perching your chin on his chest to look up at him. “I didn’t know! I feel like such an idiot never realizing he was lying to me for two whole years. And honey…” Fingers gently tracing his face, you cup his cheek in your palm and offer him a smile. “I would never let you face this alone if there is even the tiniest possibility that I can help.”

“I appreciate that.” He sighs softly. “So much for romance in Paris.” He can’t help but chuckle. “Not exactly turning out how I wanted.”

“René suggested we spend some of tomorrow doing romantic or touristy things, so we can still have some fun.” The INTERPOL agent had turned out to be a very kind and likable man, and by the time lunch came you and he had been joking together over tartine. “I know it’s not perfect, but maybe we can squeeze an extra day of paperwork,” you say the word in air quotes, “out after this is over and have a day to ourselves?”

“That would work.” Marcus admits, “taking in the sights before we buy stolen artwork.”

“I could take you to my old neighborhood?” It’s something you wanted to do anyway, and might feel a little less like being on display. “Walk around, grab lunch, maybe go in and out of some shops?”

"Whatever you want to do." Marcus promises. Despite the curve ball, he wants this trip to be one of fond memories when you look back on it years from now. Especially since he will be able to propose in the city that you had always loved.

“I had a couple of places that I always thought you would love.” And that just makes you hug him a little tighter, knowing that something good will come out of this trip no matter what happens with the case - although you know Marcus will see it through to the best possible outcome.

"I will love them." Marcus promises. "Because I will be with you."

“I love you, too.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring him down for a kiss and let it linger in the privacy of your quiet suite of rooms. “What do you want to do before dinner?” Ducasse had suggested a visible night on the town just in case Henri or his people were having you watched - either as his ex or as an attendee of the auction.

"I will leave it up to you." Marcus leans back and shoots you a grin. "This is your city, baby." He sends you a wink. "Show me the sights."

“Then we’re going to Harry’s after dinner.” Harry’s New York Bar is a legendary hangout of the Lost Generation, and given his love of all things F Scott Fitzgerald, it will be the perfect place for celebrating tonight. “You’ll love it. I mean, I hope you will.”

"Harry's?" Marcus looks at you skeptically. "That sounds like a nice place to drink." He hums and slides his hands down to caress your ass. "You want to get ready to go out?"

"You just want to get me into one of those slinky dresses we bought today." You wiggle your ass in his hand and grin, giggling when he raises an eyebrow at you like that should have been obvious. "Should we eat dinner someplace swanky to keep up appearances?"

"What is the swankiest place we can get reservations at the last minute?" He asks, smirking at you because there is nothing he wants more than you to put on a slinky dress and go have a fabulous meal before he proposes in one of the most romantic cities in the world. The ring in his pocket is burning a hole in it and he wants to see it on your finger.

“I bet if we had the concierge call it would do better than if one of us tried.” Your eyes flick up to his with mischief shining in them, wondering if you could even pull this idea off. “Madame Brasserie or Jules Verne? À la Tour Eiffel?”

"Whichever one you've never been too and always wanted to try." He tells you indulgently.

"Madame Brasserie is the newer of the two restaurants in the Eiffel Tower, so it might be harder. But I wouldn't mind eating at either one." There's something altogether too indulgent about the idea and you sigh a little dreamily. "I'll call down to the front desk and see what they can do."

"I'm going to jump in the shower." Marcus offers. "We've been going nonstop since we got here and I at least want to wash off the travel before dinner tonight."

"That sounds like a plan." You reach up to kiss him again before letting him out of your arms. "I'll shower after you. Otherwise we'll be having room service because we can't keep our hands off each other."

"You know that's exactly what would happen." Marcus winks at you and grabs his bag so he can get his toiletry kit out. "Make your calls and I'll be getting sudsy in there."

******

About an hour and a half later you're both finally ready and barely keeping your hands off of each other despite showering separately. The blue velvet dress you chose for tonight hugs all of Marcus's favourite parts of your body and the perfectly fitted charcoal gray suit he settled on is elegant and easy, making him look even more effortlessly handsome than usual. "The concierge said he would have a car waiting for us." You tell him, taking one step toward the door of your suite before he can pounce and trying to swallow down your nerves over the little blue box in the bottom of your purse. "Jules Verne had one reservation left for tonight and we got in just in time." And because you told the concierge about your plans, he had made sure to arrange for a few things to be waiting for you in your room when you returned tonight.

"Perfect." Marcus has heard of the restaurant and he wants nothing more than for this to be the perfect night. Regardless of what happens on the case, he wants you to have a night you can look back at dreamily. His first proposal had been sweet and earnest, not exactly fancy, but now the need for a grand gesture is almost compulsory. "We still have the elevator ride down to be handsy."

"Let's hope we get it to ourselves then." You throw him a wink over your shoulder before heading out the door, knowing Marcus will be close on your heels.

"Jesus, Paris you is saucy" Marcus chuckles as he hustles after you. "I like it."

"I've decided to enjoy the trip and make the most of it." The door clicks shut behind him and his arm slips around your waist as you walk down the hallway together, just a few feet to the corner and then the elevators, but still far enough for you to get cozy while you walk. "My favourite city in the world with my favourite person is not something to waste."

“Favorite person huh?” The proud grin stretches across his face and he edges closer when you reach the elevator, then he leans forward to call the car to your floor. “I am honored. Especially since you’re my favorite person.”

"I think honoured might be a stretch," you tease, leaning against the wall while you wait for the elevator together. "All I want is for you to be happy, baby. To be the one that makes you happy."

“Baby – you’ve always made me happy.” That is something that he can promise. Right up until you wanted out, Marcus had been the happiest he had ever been in his life. He reaches up and caresses your neck. “Always.”

"I love you so much." Wishing you could go back and erase the years apart won't change anything, but you lean up to kiss him now without hesitation. The future is what matters now. Your future together.

“I love you too.” The promise is simple, heartfelt and the look in your eyes has him wanting to drop down to his knee right now, but he knows it’s not time.

"Come on, love." The soft ding of the elevator interrupts you, but it doesn't matter. There will be plenty more sweet moments before the night is over.

Marcus allows you to pull him into the elevator and hums when he finds the car empty. “Should I wait to kiss you?” He asks, smirking slightly. “Don’t want to mess up your lipstick.”

The eyebrow you raise at him is incredulous, and you shake your head at him as the door closes to leave you alone for at least another minute. "Kiss proof," you inform him, as though it were ridiculous that you would wear anything else around him.

Thank God for whoever invented 'kiss proof' lipstick. Marcus has always loved you without makeup, straight out of the bed, but there is something so sexy when you are dressed up. Even if it's not technically for him, he feels like it is. Just like you love when he puts on cologne. Tugging you closer, he grins at you. "Well, we need to test that." He hums, "we haven't kissed with this lipstick color on."

“It’s a new brand, too.” He’s drawing you into him so easily you feel like a moth going to a spectacularly handsome flame. “How will know they’re telling the truth unless we test it?”

“Indeed.” Marcus makes it slow, gentle. Taking his time like the car isn’t slowing down as it reaches the ground floor.

It’s so easy to wrap up in each other. To let yourselves get carried away with affection and the romance of being in Paris together. The passionate kiss is intentionally and immediately intense – deep and luxurious and would probably be borderline pornographic if anyone was watching.

The doors open and there is a discreet cough before Marcus pulls away. Smiling apologetically as he finds a couple waiting to come onto the car. “Désolé pour ça.” Sorry about that. The apology is perfunctory, because he’s not sorry at all.

You can hear the woman muttering about Americans as you and Marcus stroll out through the lobby and it’s all you can do to contain your giggles. “Sorry not sorry.” You whisper, beaming at him. The concierge is waiting to load you into the car that he has ordered on your behalf, and you swear you feel like you’re in a movie. It might be a crime thriller, but it’s still elegant and passionate, and you love it.

"I'm not sorry either." Marcus keeps his hand on your back until you are sliding into the car and he is slipping in beside you. Allowing you to tell the driver where you are going since you are better familiar with the area.

Fortunately for tonight’s plans, you aren’t far from the Eiffel Tour. It’s an easy sight from the windows of your suite and a straightforward drive that only takes a few minutes - though the walk would be uncomfortable in heels. You’re grateful to have the driver and will certainly be tipping him at the end of the night even though it isn’t a necessity here the way it is in the US. When he lets you out at the edge of the park that surrounds the monument, Marcus slips out first and you happily accept his hand to maintain a little propriety while climbing out of the car in a skirt much shorter than your usual. “Now we go up,” you tell Marcus, practically sighing as you look up through the layers and layers of metal that compose the Eiffel Tower. Some people say they’re disappointed the first time they see it, but you’ve never understood why. It’s remarkable - an architectural triumph that stands out in the Paris skyline like a beacon.

“Did you know that the tower only took two years, two months and five days to build?” Marcus asks, nearly giddy as he climbs out of the car and offers you his hand. “Not bad for something that’s stood for over one hundred years.”

“I thought you might like to see it up close.” Yes, he has been to Paris for work, but you doubt he’s taken any extra leisure time for himself in all of that. “I came here my very first night in the city. I dropped off my bags at my little student apartment, and started walking across the city. Bought a crepe from a vendor on the street and sat on…” It takes you a second to find it, but as your eyes comb the area, they land on a bench a few yards away. “That bench, and looked up at the Tour Eiffel as I ate my dinner.”

“What did you think about while you were looking up at her?” Marcus asks curiously, wanting to know about your time here. Even if he wasn’t a part of it, you had history here.

"That she made me feel less lonely." You thread your fingers through his gently and give them a soft squeeze. It might sound like a sentimental answer, but you know that Marcus will understand. "If I was sitting here looking up at her, surely I wasn't the only one. So...it sort of became tradition. Any time I felt lonely I would come sit and spend time with her. And I knew that she was keeping other lonely people company. So I was automatically less alone."

“I understand that.” Marcus does, he had found plenty of little parks or monuments where he had been living to visit. Wanting to feel surrounded. It had always been that way since you had left.

"Come on, love." A small tug on his hand has both of you smiling at each other, but you nod toward the monument. "There's a special elevator for people having dinner at Jules Verne."

“How touristy is it that we are having dinner here?” He asks as you drag him closer to you. It might be incredibly cliché, but he’s thinking about proposing after dinner. Asking you if you will go up to the observation deck with him.

“Extremely.” And it doesn’t bother you in the least. In fact, it’s sweet. Sharing the city with Marcus means playing tourist in the best way possible. “But I think that’s a good thing. It’s a first for both of us and it’s going to be a beautiful meal.”

“It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.” Marcus admits, staring at you like you hung the moon. “The last time I was here, I—I couldn’t make myself come here.”

You turn back to him after hitting the button for the elevator, a soft but serious expression drawn on your face as you reach to touch his cheek. “Neither of us ever has to face anything along again, Marc.” You can promise him that. Wholeheartedly and without hesitation. “From now on, each chapter of our lives will have two main characters.”

“I love you.” Marcus whispers, knowing that down to the very fiber of his being. He’s never stopped, never. Not even when he convinced himself that he had moved on. You were just ingrained in his being like the hair color on his head or the way he has to lay on his right side to really sleep.

“I love you too.” Through all the ups and downs, the hardest struggles and the clearest days, it’s always been him. “Always.”

The ride up to the restaurant is shared with a young couple who are obviously on their honeymoon, making Marcus grin at the display of young love. “Don’t act like that’s not exactly how we are,” you murmur under your breath to him once the other couple has moved ahead of you to the maître’d stand. The couple are probably barely older than you were the first time you got married and you’re all the exact same level of handsy.

“Exactly.” Marcus steps up to the maître’d stand once they are being led off to be seat. “The couple in front of us?” He gestures towards the couple. “Champagne? To their table? And I will pay their bill.” He decides, wanting them to have a magical night.

“Oui, monsieur…” The gentleman provides ample space for Marcus to say his last name, and smiles in polite acknowledgment at the name Pike. He knows this reservation. Took it himself barely two hours ago. “Right this way,” he says in clear English, gracefully motioning for you to follow.

“After you.” Marcus lets you walk in front of him, so he can help you sit and so he can glance down at your ass in the gorgeous dress you are wearing. Reminding himself of exactly what is underneath.

The indulgent mood you’re both in extends to deciding on the seven-course menu with all the recommended wine pairings, and settling in at your table in the corner with a perfect view of Paris below from the window beside you.

“This is probably better than anything we could have imagined when we were their age.” Marcus had seen the surprise and delight in the younger couple’s faces when the champagne had been delivered. Looking around to see who had gifted them such a thing, Marcus hadn’t let them know. Hoping that one day, they would do the same to another young couple starting out.

“I hope they’re so excited for everything to come.” You reach across the table to link your fingers together and run your thumb over the back of Marcus’s hand. “They’re starting a whole new chapter of their lives.”

“Yes, they are.” Marcus looks down at your joined hands and smiles. Fully aware that the same can be said for you. The ring in his pocket is making him eager for the dinner to be over. You are wearing a ring that is a part of the mission tomorrow, but tonight, he wants you to wear his.

“Speaking of which.” The smile you flash him is bright and bubbly, and you hang onto his hand like a lifeline. “I want to talk to you about a dream I had on the flight over last night.” It’s just a silly thing, but it’s about sharing those silly thoughts and future plans with him. Something that you had trouble with years ago.

“Oh?” Marcus ticks his brow up in curiosity. “What kind of dream is this? I promise I didn’t leave the toilet seat up or cheat on you with your non-existent cousin.”

“No, it was nothing like that.” Although the idea of being cross with him over a dream about leaving the toilet seat up makes you laugh. “It was a coming-home-from-work dream.”

“Oh yeah?” He shuffles closer, getting the hint that this is one of those ‘want to make this happen’ dreams. “Coming home to me, I hope?”

“And the kids.” When you nod it’s with heated cheeks and a shy smile. “In the dream it was some kind of holiday? I couldn’t tell what, but I came home and you had been decorating the house with the kids all day to surprise me.”

“Halloween.” Marcus guesses, knowing how much you love the spooky holiday.

“Maybe.” The fact that he’s playing along has you lighting up as you smile at him. “But I came home, and you told me that before we had dinner, that the kids had a surprise for me.” In the dream you remember being incredulous until Marcus had supported this surprise - a fact which reassured you that it wasn’t a brand new crayon mural on the living wall or something like that. “And that surprise was a very cute and tiny little kitten.”

“A kitten, huh?” Marcus grins and shakes his head in amusement. He’s had a mild cat allergy but luckily the medications had improved since he was a child. “A smokey grey one or a black cat?”

“I was thinking one of the breeds that’s kinder to allergies,” you admit sheepishly, knowing he would probably be a little extra sneezy when the dear cat sheds seasonally. “In the dream it was a Siamese, but I don’t know how they are for shedding.”

“We can always look into that. I think they are better?” He tilts his head. “But honestly...” he twists his fingers around and pulls your hand closer. “I like the idea of having to introduce the baby to the cat when we bring them home from the hospital? Give them a little guardian from the start?”

“So you’d rather have the cat first?” For some reason that thrills you - as if it were a validation that the steps you’ve been taking to solidify your relationship ship are working. “We can do that.” You’re practically squeaking at the idea, so it’s fairly obvious that you like it. “Have our first baby be the fur baby?”

“Practice, right?” Marcus laughs. “If we can keep a cat alive, we graduate to a miniature human?”

“That sounds like a good plan to me.” Though you both laugh easily together, you’re practically vibrating with excitement in your seat. “I just think we aren’t home enough for a puppy. And cats are so sweet.”

“Cats are more…independent.” Marcus allows, grinning softly. “Maybe after we get back, we could visit a shelter. See if it’s kitten season? Or maybe even an older, sweet soul who wants a home for their twilight years?”

“We can absolutely start looking around shelters.” It was really just an idea that you were throwing out there - something that made you smile and gave you that feeling of making your house into more of a home. But in true Marcus fashion, he has turned it into something sweet and spectacular. “Although I insist that if we get a kitten, they have a silly name.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus grins, nodding in agreement. “Something that will sound adorable and be completely opposite the personality.”

“Bonus points if it is something will sound completely bizarre being called out at the vet’s office.” It absolutely tickles you that he’s going with you on this, knowing that his childhood dog was innocuously named Buddy. “Something long and elaborate that will be extremely silly when scolding them. We need to get all the comical naming impulses out of us before the kids are born.”

“Mr. Fuzzlesworth.” Marcus tosses out with a grin, enjoying the idea of planning with you. Obviously you would need to get home before choosing a pet, but this is what relationships are about, planning.

“Sir Fuzzbutt de Fluffington.” You nearly double over, giggling at the table. “Although, Mr. Fuzzlesworth kind of sounds like a Dickens character and I love it.”

Marcus chuckles, enchanted by your enthusiasm for this. Hating that the two of you have to break apart when the first course is served. It looks delicious and it's obvious that the waitstaff tries to make this an experience for those who dine with them.

"Cheers." Raising your glass to him when the plates have been set down and the wine has been poured, you have nothing but love in your eyes when you look across the table at Marcus. This is a far more eventful night than just this same time yesterday, and hopefully the food will be just as exquisite - if not even more so. "To us."

"To us." He will never not toast to that. "I think we are getting spoiled with nice dinners." He hums as he taps his glass to yours softly. "How will we go back to eating Thai takeout or Chinese on our couch?"

"Easy." You waggle your eyebrows at him salaciously and lower your voice. "The incentive is that we can do that naked."

"You got me there." Marcus smirks and nods. "That's a good incentive."

The courses are exquisite. Crab, scallops with caviar, langoustine ravioli, cod poached in consommé with fennel. Every plate is like a dance, and it genuinely might be the best meal you've ever had in your entire life. "We're coming back here," you tell Marcus when he groans happily at the chicken course that's been cooked with black truffles and wine you know for sure is too expensive for weeknight drinking. "The first night of our honeymoon, we have to come back."

"I have no objections to that." Marcus takes another bite and closes his eyes in pure bliss. "None."

Hopefully there will be a more sentimental reason to come back to this place on your honeymoon, but you have to keep that close to you for just a little while longer. Instead you just smirk and tilt your head at him. "Although the hotel might be a bit of a stretch. I'm enjoying that for what it's worth on this trip."

"That hotel room is a dream." He rolls his eyes dramatically. "I never get rooms that good on cases. We are stuck in something like a Days Inn. Not that they are bad, but it's not...this."

"Maybe I'm magic?" You tease, knowing that dealing with your former flame on a case isn't exactly magical. But at least it's come with something positive for him. "Like a flashy good luck charm you can keep on your arm."

"I'd keep you in my pocket if I could." He chuckles, winking at you playfully. "But on my arm is okay too. I guess."

"That would be a very big pocket to whole a whole adult person." Although the image is fairly adorable, you'll give him that. "But I'll tell you what. If you ever find one big enough, I'll hop right in."

"You know they make huge pocket blankets for being lazy on a couch all weekend, right?" Marcus grins at you, knowing he will order you one for Christmas now.

"I actually did not know that." You grin at him over the last few bites of this fifth course. "Sounds great for cuddling."

Chuckling softly, Marcus manages to get through the rest of the dinner without giving away that every course makes him even more jittery. Eager to get to the best part of the night in his opinion. Getting to propose to you and show you how much he loves you and wants to make this forever.

The last two courses are sweet - lemon and then chocolate - leaving both you and Marcus feeling more full than you've felt in ages but independently anxious and excited without the other having any clue. If you had known in that moment that you had the very same plan in mind it might have made you laugh or even rethink the occasion to try to surprise the other one all over again. But as it is, when you step out of the restaurant after your sensational dinner, you look up at Marcus and smile softly. "Do you want to see the best view of Paris you'll ever have in your life?"

"You read my mind, baby." Marcus answers with an indulgent smile of his own and he couldn't get closer to you if he tried as he leans in. Wanting to keep the moment as intimate as possible.

"Come here." There is almost no one on the observation deck at this time of night, and you've never been so grateful for coincidences in your entire life. The last two people looking out over the city in this area wander away toward the restaurant to enjoy their dinner as you and Marcus choose a place to stand, and for a moment you're sure that the strangers bolted from the scene because they could hear how hard your heart is beating. Surely if the pounding in your ears is as loud as your heart, then the whole world around you can hear it, too.

"It's a perfect night." Marcus has done this before and yet his heart still beats wildly and he can feel the slight moisture of nerves dampening the shirt under his suit jacket. Coming over to you and taking your hand gently as he turns to make a show of looking out over the city of Paris under the gorgeously full moon.

"It's the perfect view." Paris is secondary to everything, right now, although it's the perfect backdrop for what you're about to do. While Marcus is looking out over the city, and despite how hard you're shaking, you manage to hold his hand while carefully extracting the ring box from your purse and exhaling deeply. Kneeling down in heels is an exacting task, but your dress cooperates, and you manage to not make a sound as you do.

Sighing softly, Marcus knows that this is the moment. Sure there have been thousands of proposals right here, or on the ground below, but he wants to add one more. “I need to ask you some—” Turning, Marcus stops mid word when he sees you kneeling in front of him. “—thing. What—” he can’t even ask you what is going on, eyes wide and focused on you and the small box in your hand.

"Here's the thing, Marc." You're already on the verge of tears as soon as you open your mouth, but that's okay. This is the first time you've ever done this and hopefully it will be the last, and Marcus knows that feeling all too well. "I know this is...nontraditional. And you're a traditionalist in a lot of ways. But I need to ask you something. Because for ten years, anytime something big happened in my life, the first thing I wanted to do was call you. Whenever something bad happened, I wanted to find the doorstep of whatever house you were living in and make sure that you were okay. I thought about you every single day that we were apart, and now that we're together again I just can't..." you sniffle, breaking out into a smile at the overwhelming joy in your heart. "I can't help but be excited that I won't have to call you if something good happens. Or worry about you when something goes wrong as things inevitably do in life. Because you’ll be right there with me. I love you more than anything or anyone in the world, Marcus Pike. And there is nothing more that I want than to come home to you. To share our joys and sorrows with each other and to build the life of our dreams together." The little box in your hand is slightly damp with the nervous sweat from your palm but neither of you notice, too focused on the way the lid snaps back to reveal the stunning rung that you picked out just yesterday. "Would you do me the immense honour of marrying me again?"

He stares for a moment, the shock and warmth of you proposing to him curling into his chest and making his heart burst. Choking out a laugh, a happy one, Marcus hits his knees in front of you, staring at the little blue box that he certainly recognizes. “I— can’t— of course I’m going to marry you again.” He manages, reaching for your hand and digging into his jacket pocket with the other to pull out an identical box.

With both of you crying and laughing you would have looked slightly hysterical to anyone around, but you lean forward to kiss Marcus as he digs in his jacket. Nothing else matters except the fact that he said yes, and for a moment everything in the world stands perfectly still. It isn't until you pull away again that you see him holding an identical Tiffany ring box and you burst out into another round of sobbing giggles. "Of course we both did," you laugh, pulling the platinum band out of the box in your hand to hold out to him. "Can I, love?"

“Yes.” He can’t help the giddy, bubbly laugh that rumbles out of his chest. Watching as you start to slide the band on his finger. “I can’t believe this is what you were buying yesterday.”

"You didn't buy the 'lunch with Angie' story, huh?" The ring fits him perfectly and you can't help but stare at it a little. The last time you put a ring on his finger was years ago, and as wonderful as your first wedding was, this feels so incredibly right tonight.

“I saw you.” Marcus admits with a grin, his thumb rubbing the underside of the band. “I had decided to look for your new ring.”

"You saw us?" It takes a second to refocus, but your eyes flick up to his and you reach to wipe away the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yeah. I thought you were looking at something like a necklace or whatever.” He admits. “The associate kept bringing me rings so I didn’t have to turn around in case you saw me.”

"I was too focused. Although, the store manager now knows our entire love story." You lay kisses on both of his cheeks before you look down again, seeing the ring he's holding out to you in that same, now familiar, blue box. "Marc." The gasp that escapes you almost takes all of your breath with it. "Honey, it's absolutely gorgeous."

“I still have your other rings.” Of course he does and he’s pretty sure you know that too. “But I wanted to give you a new one, one for our new beginning.”

"Your parents will love this." As he slips that new ring onto your finger, it feels like your sense of balance has been missing that fine tuning for years. Without Marc's ring on your finger, you've been missing something this whole time. "I love you so much, baby. So much. And I can't wait to have our cat and our kids and our life full of dreams."

Marcus’s smile is full of all the love he has to give you. Bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss to the skin just above the new symbol of his commitment to you. “And tequila.” He adds, smirking at you as he reaches out to cup your face and draw you in for another kiss. “We can’t forget the tequila.”

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Agent Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x f!reader #ex wife reader #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic

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