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paracosmic-murdock · 15 days ago

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vigilante like me

chapter eight: we could be the way forward, and i know i'll pay for it

pairing: matt murdock x black widow!vigilante!reader

summary: nights and nights of playing the hero as if that could redeem you that easily ended up taking you to new york, where you accidentally met the man who would turn your world upside down. a vigilante like you.

warnings/tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, mentions of murder and themes explored in the past couple chapters, mentions of reader being able to wear matt's clothes but it's not specified whether they're too big/too small/fit perfectly/etc., phd in applied flirting and ma in yearning studies, some smut (minors dni), takes place sometime during the blip, when born again comes out we might find out if my decisions of who were gone were right, spoilers/references of stuff and themes from daredevil (2015); avengers: infinity war (2018); avengers: endgame (2019) black widow (2021); and hawkeye (2021), but y'all must've watched all of those already so idc, yelena belova and the themes and events from the black widow (2021) movie are very relevant in this plot, song: cowboy like me (taylor swift)

word count: 3.6K

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

“You alright?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“You're just acting weird,” you commented. “Are you sure you're alright?”

“I am, yes.”

“Okay,” You let it go, not quite convinced but also not wanting to keep him from leaving any longer. “So, you're going out now?”

“Uh, I guess.”

You pursed your lips. “Okay.”

“Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine.”

The two of you sat in silence, both clearly hiding something, neither daring to give anything away.

“You went out,” Matt noted.

Your heart jumped in its place, which made him frown. Were you that affected at the thought of him knowing what you were up to?

“How do you know that?” you asked him, almost knowing the answer already.

“I smell a different fabric softener,” he replied. “Mine doesn't have any smell, and yours is coconut. There's also gunpowder. Coffee, the good one. Those weren't here before I left.”

You nodded. “I needed my clothes. And to protect myself in case they come for me… you know I couldn't take a punch if my life depended on it.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Matt sat beside you. “I could've gone with you.”

“No,” You shook your head. “I don't want them going after you. I know they couldn't take you, but I'd rather not risk it.”

“Okay,” Matt replied. “Anything else you'd like to talk about?”

“Such as…?”

“Are you going out again?”

“I'm not,” you lied, and, for the first time, Matt heard your heart beat faster. “Are you?”

“Yes, like every night.”

You put your head on his shoulder. “What's wrong with you? You're acting weird.”

“I'm just worried about you.”

“That's not it,” You sighed. “Do you… regret what happened between us?”

He immediately turned to you. “Sweetheart, don't say that. Don't ever believe something like that, alright? I like you, and this between us, whatever this is is what I want. You're what I want.”

“Are you sure? Because-”

“I am sure,” he confirmed. “Now, why don't you go to sleep? I'll be back as soon as possible.”

“I will, yeah.”

Matt kissed your forehead and stood up, ready to get changed.

You watched him attentively. The way he hesitantly searched for his suit as if he didn't know where it was or how he stopped for less than a second to focus on you.

He eventually left his apartment, and once you thought he was far away enough, you searched for the voice messages Svetlana had sent you not too long ago.

“I found the address of the apartment they rented. They've been here for a few weeks now, so I guess they were carefully plotting how to get to you,” she began. “Let me know when you leave your place so we can meet somewhere and get there together. I'm not sure we'll find them just like that, but we'll start from there.” The first audio ended there, and you played the second right away. “Someone I know has access to security cameras all around Hell's Kitchen. I'm pretty sure he hacks them or something. I called him, and he said he'd look for them tomorrow morning so we can see if they left or what. You know he works with the Russians and they're close with the ones here, so I found one of them and mentioned I'm Fyodor's sister and to tell him I'm looking for him; gave him a burner cell number. I'll let you know what I find.”

Matt was listening to the entire conversation from the rooftop, and him suddenly going down the stairs made you flinch. “Shit, Matt! What the hell is wrong with you?! You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Are you going to kill Fyodor and Crosby?” he asked as soon as he reached the floor. Matt took off his helmet and left it on the coffee table in front of you.

You bit your lip, hesitant. “Matt…”

“I'm not gonna stop you, I just want to know.”

“What do you think I should do? Just let them beat me almost to death and get away with it?”

“I'm not saying anything, sweetheart,” He crouched in front of you. “Tell me what you and Svetlana are going to do to them.”

“We want to.”

He sighed. “You don't have to do it.”

“What do you think is gonna happen if I leave this to the justice system like you do?” you questioned. “I give them my ID and all that, they find out I'm not an official citizen yet, they send me back to Russia, and I get killed there. Then, they're taken into custody, they deport Fyodor and there he's not gonna face a single consequence because he has enough influence to be let out. And I don't know about Crosby, but I don't like the idea of him breathing.”

“I understand that,”

“Then what, Matt?” You just looked at him, and something in his eyes was just… different. “What will them in jail do for me and my peace? I need them to know they can't do whatever they want. What stops people like them from doing the crime is the punishment, Matt, and if they are immune to it, they will do whatever the fuck they want without a thought in the world.”

“Hey,” he called for your attention, and you just knew he was conflicted. His eyes on yours felt so heavy and afflicted, and you just wanted to know how to help him. “Tell Svetlana not to look for them.”

“Matt?” You cupped his face, trying to ease him. The idea seemed far too distant, but the look in his eyes, though blind, is one you know more than enough. It's like anguish in disguise pleading from behind the bars of one's pupils to be let out, figured out. Needing a peace you feel like you will never get back because you took something that wasn't yours to end with, and you must pay the price of that emptiness you left. “Did you do it?”

He pursed his lips and stayed silent.

His face spoke more than a billion words, and now you knew what was wrong.

“It's okay,” you mumbled, pressing your forehead against his. “It's alright, I'll tell Svetlana to stop looking for them.”

“Will you tell her I did it?”

You shook your head. “No, I'll make something up, okay? You're safe.”

“You can't take the blame for this.”

“Don't worry about a thing, Matt,” you assured him. “Tell me everything that happened and we'll figure it out. Just tell me everything.”

“I went to Fogwell's and Crosby was still in the alleyway where I left him,” Matt started. You took off his gloves and intertwined his fingers with yours. “I took him to an abandoned building near the dock and made him call Fyodor. When he arrived, I hit him and took him where I left Crosby. I asked them about what happened and I hit them because I had to. I knew I had to hit Crosby and make him regret assaulting you and trying to kill you, but the more he talked about everything, the madder I got. I couldn't stop, and I didn't until my hands hurt. By then, they weren't breathing anymore.”

“What did they say?”

He sighed. “That you had it coming. They insulted you and said they would do it again. Among other things.”

“Okay,” You left his couch and sat on the floor in front of him. “Where are the bodies? We gotta get rid of-”

“I threw them into the river.”

“I am sorry, Matt,” you said, feeling your heart break at the thought that he broke who he is because of you. “This was all my fault. I'm not even worth the bother.”

Matt shook his head. “Don't say that.”

“Matt?” You lifted his chin. “Stay with me tonight? Please?”

“I have to go.”

“I know that,” you murmured. “I know if you don't go out, people get hurt. I get it, but… I want you here.”

You had no idea how you could tell Matt how difficult it is going to be for him once he has to hit somebody else again.

“I can stay a little bit longer.”

“Okay,” You smiled lightly and kissed his lips. Matt smiled in the kiss and felt like everything will be fine someday. “Tell me something.”

Matt hummed, sitting beside you. “I wish I could see your face.”

“Wow, sir,” You smiled lightly. “You're not missing out on much. As for me, I wish I couldn't see your ugly face.”

“You're ruining my self-esteem.”

“Good,” You took his face in your hands and pulled him closer. “I really like you, Matt.”

“I really like you, too,” He smirked and drove his hands to your neck, stroking your skin softly until he kissed you. “Very much.”

Matt left not too long after that, not before promising he wouldn't eavesdrop anymore. So, you made the call.

“I thought you wouldn't call,” she said instead of greeting you.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was out and forgot my phone at home.”

“It's okay. Where are we meeting?”

“We're not. It's done.”

“What? Did you-”

“They knew I was at my place, so they followed me to the dock where I was supposed to meet with a guy I know who was gonna help me find them,” you began, walking around Matt's living room as you tried to relive the conversation with him. “Suddenly, they approached me, but I didn't waste a second. I shot them both. They're now at the bottom of the river.”

“Oh,” Svetlana mumbled. “How are you?”

“I'm fine, just… shaken and sick of this life. Of running and having to do shit like this despite having been out of the Red Room for so long.”

“I get that,” she replied. “I am sorry about all of this. About my brother.”

“This was for you, too, Sveta,” you mentioned. “I hope we can be at peace now.”

“I hope so, too,” You knew she smiled. “Don't be a stranger, okay?”

You chuckled lightly. “The same goes to you.”

She hung up the call and you gave yourself the luxury of sighing in relief.

You wouldn't even think about the moment somebody else comes for you again. You're not alone now, right? There's Matt, and now he is your biggest concern.

Killing someone is that one thing you can never come back from. You know that better than anybody; taking a life, whomever it belongs to, changes you completely. Matt needs you now that he crossed the line you know he swore never to.

Especially because Matt did that in your name.

Now, you were in his bed, taking in everything around you.

Silk bed sheets, the good ones. A neat pile of laundry, ready to be organized. His phone, there in the nightstand. A lamp, new. It wasn't there before. You turned it on; it was dark.

Your heart jumped in its place, and you wondered if that is what they say in the movies that teenagers feel when they fall for the first time… Is it that you are falling or have you already fallen? You don't know that anymore, and maybe will never know.

You stood up, approaching the pile of clothes. They were his work suits and each was already on the hanger, which was labeled in braille and had English on the opposite side. You checked if they were all correct and hung everything in the closet.

Walking around the room wasn't enough to ease you now. You thought, perhaps, that there were sections of the apartment you were left to explore. He made you breakfast and dinner, and you went out for lunch with Svetlana.

Outside, you saw the bag he had brought from work. Curiosity got the better of you, and you went to the dining table and opened it. Grey curtains he doesn't need for himself.

In the fridge, a six pack of Stella Artois beers, quite different from the cheap ones you always saw him drink at Josie's.

A new mug. Blue, shorter and wider than his white one, probably so he could tell the difference between that one and his.

Before you could keep looking around, you heard his steps coming down the stairs.

“You're early.” you noted.

He took off his helmet, revealing a new cut in his left cheekbone. “Yeah.”

“Is everything alright?” You walked to him.

Matt nodded, but you knew better than to believe him.

You helped him unzip his suit in complete silence.

“Are you?” you asked again, putting your hand on his chest.

He chuckled softly. “Don't worry about me, sweetheart.”

“It's too late for that,” you replied.

Matt sighed.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Okay, we won't,” you said. “We'll sleep now. Or maybe talk about something else.”

Matt gave you a short kiss. “I'd like to sleep now. Let me take my pillows and-”

“Take them, where?” you asked him as if you didn't know what he meant and weren't plotting a way to get him to share the bed.

“What? Do you want to sleep in my bed with me?” He smirked.

“I do,” you confessed. “And I also would like to wake up with you in it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure you want me, darling.”

“Sure I do.” you confirmed with a smile, one wide, at that.

“You're smiling,” he mentioned, mimicking your smile. “God, what a feeling.”

“What feeling?” You laughed.

“When you smile it just… it's a whole other thing,” he began. His hand went to cup your face, as if touching you enhanced that feeling he was talking about. “Your heart beats faster, but it's still calm, and your body temperature rises ever so slightly. It feels comforting when close to you, like when the sun leaks through the windows in the morning.”

“I didn't know you were such a charmer.” you joked.

“I'm sorry for hiding that from you.”

You shook your head and kissed him. “God, keep them coming.”

“You can't possibly understand how much I need you to get well so I can take you out to dinner,” Matt pecked your lips, leading the way to his bed like you wanted. “I hope you kiss on the first date.”

“It usually takes me at least five, but I think I can make an exception for you.”

Matt hummed. “By the way, how are you feeling?”

“Like I was stabbed multiple times, yeah,” you mumbled, soon cuddling in his bed. “And it hurts way more that this is something that was purposely done to me. That he knew I had to be unconscious because otherwise he wouldn't have been able to get to me like that, and that… a person I trusted did this to me, not to mention what I learned today that he did to his sister.”

“What did he do?”

“He and his father sold Svetlana to the Red Room,” you answered. “And that is shit, Matt, because… the Red Room was Hell on Earth. It was the kind of thing that makes you turn the TV off when you watch the news, it makes you want to throw up when you hear about it, or cry at the thought of your mother, sister or daughter ending up there. You grow pessimistic about humankind when finding out what the widows have done, and lose hope in this world completely when you realize what they did to us to make us do such things. They purposely gave their daughter and sister away when she was a little kid, and for what? Some pieces of paper with buildings on ‘em.”

You sighed.

“All the atrocities I've seen in this world could make you forget about the people fighting them everyday, or the people in the market selling you vegetables, or the owners of the coffee shop you pass by everyday. Or people like you,” you added. “Now that there's only half of us, you realize that there's more good people than bad people, and that it's not that simple. You know it because there's half as evil and twice as sorrow, and because you see how grief can change the path of any person for better or for worse.”

“But you're out.”

“Some days, it feels like I never left,” you confessed. “Some days, I wake up in such pain and so tired that I feel like this world isn't worth saving, that I've had enough. Those days, I decide for a little while that I won't fight anymore, but then… My neighbor's daughter is with him that weekend and she watches some Grimm Brothers cartoons about fairy tales that remind me of the messed up ones we used to watch there. I go out and step on branches, and it sounds like those bones I've broken… arms, legs, ribs, and necks alike. Fireworks sound like gunshots, history documentaries remind me that us widows took part in many of those. The ballet academy on my way to Fogwell's reminds me of those times we learned it and I was so afraid to mess up that I would have an anxiety no seven year-old should feel. The smell of hospitals reminds me of a wing in which they would take us to experiment on us sometimes, or when we got a hysterectomy done as some twisted initiation ritual. Blood, knives, guns, they go without saying. Little girls the age I was or other fellow widows were when we were taken. Screams. Darkness. Even words like target or just names, you know? In the Red Room, we were controlled by them to the degree that, to this day, we don't know which actions were ours and which, theirs. Some days, I just think that unawareness is bliss, and then… Then, I remember that a Widow is all I've ever been, and that I have no idea who I am outside a mission. I've never had a reason to question myself all that much, I just existed, worked, and tried to shut the voices in my head. Now, I feel like maybe there's hope for me. That I can live instead of survive.”

Matt kissed your forehead. “I admire you. I don't think many people who went through what you did could have the courage to be good after everything, but you do. Maybe you do fight, and it's not ideal for you, but you care. If you didn't, you wouldn't go out to help and take care of this city, you would pick fights and do bad things. As you said, good and bad… narrowing everything down to it is not simple at all. I met someone years ago, and, at the beginning, I thought he was some lunatic that mixed an intention with the worst way of execution. I thought he was insane because he killed so many people in cold blood; people who were bad, but I've always thought that justice is real. I know that punishment and deciding who lives and who doesn't isn't up to us. I think that most times, but when you are surrounded by so much depravity and evil, you question everything. He, uh- he did all of that because of his family. We know that killing the people responsible won't bring them back, but, deep down, you just know that it will bring you some comfort at least, however short it might be. He did all of that out of love and grief, and while I would never do anything like that and I would never justify his actions, I understand where he came from. Our intentions can be good or bad, but what really defines us is what we do with them… And it depends on the way you see stuff: you feel that you must fight, and you do it by saving others. Or, maybe, he saved others from the damage those people did and would keep doing, but he did it by committing mass murder. Some will condemn us or justify us, but the truth is that… it's not that simple, is it?”

“And it never will be,” you agreed. “You think you wanted me safe and that they deserved punishment for what they did, but you killed them. I think that, yes, you killed them, but I know I'm safe and so is Svetlana. You might see yourself as a murderer, Matt, but from the point of view of someone that was a victim of so much, I see you as a hero. There is so much goodness in you, and you can't let this take that from you. No matter what… you are not what you did last night, you are what you've done all these years for this city and its people.”

“I came back because, for a moment, I was there again, the moment their hearts stopped beating. First, I couldn't stop, and I couldn't keep going as soon as I came back to reality,” Matt said, finally letting out the reason that brought him back earlier than usual. “And I'm afraid I crossed a line, and that it will haunt me forever.”

“It'll pass,” You kissed his forehead. “One morning, every trace of this will be gone for good. For both you and me, and if you let me, I'd like to be there that day.”

Matt turned to you and took your hand, placing it where his heart is. “I'd love to be there with you, too. However long it takes, sweetheart, and I am serious.”

His heartbeat was steady and his eyes so telling that you wouldn't think he can't see you at plain sight. “I can tell that.”

He kissed your lips once more before holding you even closer and closing his eyes, ready to sleep. “The only heartbeat I care about now is yours.”

Wow.

taglist: @wh1sp @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x you #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader

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mortish-writes · 10 days ago

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No Patreon quite yet.

The Bride of Shadows Patreon isn't ready yet, I didn't realize that a month after giving them a picture of myself and a copy of my government ID, and then them saying I was all set, they'd still do an additional review when I was actually ready to launch my Patreon. Apparently this can take as along as a week, but usually takes a couple days.

The Zealot route for Night V is edited and will be ready for early release as soon as the Patreon is up. You will have to start a new game and only the Zealot route is available right now. The Heretic Night V route will be out next week.

The Night V Zealot route is an additional 25,000 words, with two separate branches depending on whether you're aligned with The Weaver. It also has separate endings depending on which RO you have the strongest bond with. There are also breast sizes now. See? I also added the option to refuse The Weaver and...stay dead. Cause apparently the offer to not be dead was frustrating readers.

The name of the patron version is The Nightborn Edition. Right now, it is largely the same as the current build (+Zealot Night V and a few new variables, mostly hidden), but once the Patreon is live we'll be running polls for new content. Our first few polls will be regarding conception/pregnancy since that will start in Night VI. We'll nail down how we want to handle paternity in poly relationships and how random/not random we want things like gender/appearance/multiples to be. Then we'll vote on a new tendency and which tendencies you'd like to see more of. The goal is to make a version tailored to the interests and tastes of patrons, without taking content away from free players.

I've also changed Bound mode for patrons. It will now feature an MFM storyline with the option to go crazy and have an exclusive MF relationship with Valdricht. Serax TBD, I'll explain in the FAQ, no I don't love Valdricht more, there are important plot reasons for it, if you want Serax you can still have him in MFM mode or play MMF mode as the gods intended. I know that the Duskweaver Cultist won out in the poll, but MFM/MF will be much easier to integrate into the existing story at the moment. Also, you get updates earlier and you can support my goal of writing Bride of Shadows full-time.

Hopefully the review process will be quick and I'll do an official Patreon launch announcement/invitation soon. It will be much prettier and more comprehensive than this. In the meantime, I'll be working on the Heretic route for Night V. Just not tonight. I'm going to relax now.

Off-topic rant don't read unless you have nothing better to do. Sometimes a girl just has to type some feelings in a big block of text. So Bride of Shadows has gotten a ton of new players/followers this week. Idk if it was blessed by the algorithm or what. That's not the rant, I'm incredibly happy about that and insanely grateful. So today while I was trying to set up the Patreon version, I thought I could just add the Patreon edition to my regular page and password lock it. Maybe I can and I just couldn't figure it out, but that's a question to puzzle over another day. Anyway, somewhere in the process of attempting this I restricted the main game for like 30 seconds and it completely removed Bride of Shadows from the Itch algorithm. It went from getting a new follower every 15 minutes to totally disappearing from all the categories. Which sucks because we were doing so good. Like, we were almost in a warm, fuzzy sandwich between the hot succubus game and the sexy Minotaur game and that's without a new release in two weeks. I know, I still can't believe it. Anyway, I think the vanishing is only temporary and it'll creep back into the algorithm again, but I'm too tired to worry about it right now. I cried on the phone with my husband for like 5 minutes about that and Patreon and then he came home with chocolate filled caramels for me. Anyway, it's impossible to be sad while eating them, so I'm feeling much better now but I wanted to rant in a wall of text regardless. In February the big stressful thing was my old blog getting shadowbanned, and I went through this whole 24 hour emotional crisis where I thought the IF was doomed and no one would ever find it again and now this month my crisis is that it was getting tons of followers until I derped the algorithm. It's all to say, sometimes I gotta complain about things that annoy me, but I never lose sight of the bigger picture, which is that I'm writing a story I love and lots of people are enjoying it, so no matter what shenanigans befall me, I don't let it distract me. And if I do get overwhelmed, there are always chocolate filled caramels. And because you read all of this the Nightborn Edition password is "veryeasytoguess". I'll be changing the password once the Patreon launches. In the meantime, feel free to check out the new Zealot night. I hope you'll be able to join the Patreon and help build the Nightborn Edition into something really special. For players in non-Patreon regions or those who hate subscriptions (I totally get it), the Nightborn Edition will be available on Steam once the IF is complete and you're always welcome to submit suggestions for things you'd like to see in the final IF. Also just in case it wasn't clear, the regular free story will still be updated. Night V will be out not long after I finish writing the Heretic route. Thanks for reading, you're all amazing. -Mortish

#bride of shadows if #twine wip #twine interactive fiction #patreon #kofi

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 8 months ago

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Granted, tumblr’s search function may broken but I can’t find a post on your blog centered on Alya’s writing. As a person constantly on the look out for critical examination of Alya’s role in the narrative and the compromises on her principles, relationships and competences made to artificially engineer the episode’s story, I’d be very interested to see your thoughts

I use Alya's writing as an example of a character done dirty all the time, but I don't think I've ever done a sugar post focused on her and I totally should. Before we get into it, I will openly admit that her bad writing bothers me more than Marinette's or Adrien's because she is best girl and we stan her. What can I say, I'm a writer whose best friend is an artist with a diagnosed anxiety disorder. I like characters who are writers and with artsy, anxiety-ridden best friends. They are my people and that gives us a great starting point for this post.

Marinette is the unambiguous main character of the show, so it makes sense to design both her hero partner and her best friend around balancing her out, giving them strengths to fill out the spots where she is weak. It's how you make a strong cast. When Alya is allowed the shine, she fills that balance role wonderfully and I love it! Some of my favorite moments are when Marinette goes on one of her rants and cool-headed Alya drags her back down to Earth:

Marinette: We're gonna stroll over there real cool as if we just happened to be passing by. Alya: Then what? Marinette: Then? I'll invite him out for a fruit smoothie at the end of the photo shoot! Then, we'll get married! Live happily ever after in a beautiful house and have two kids? No, three. And a dog! Maybe a cat? Nah, forget the cat. A hamster! I love hamsters! Alya: Let's just start with just happen to be passing by and see if we can get to that smoothie.

This banter from Stormy Weather is fantastic. It's exactly the type of thing I want to see from these two as it gives Alya a very different flavor of supporting role from Adrien. While Alya and Adrien are both card holding members of the Marinette hype squad, Alya is more of a voice of reason while Adrien is there to validate Marinette and follow her crazy schemes without question.

This brings us to the first issue with Alya's writing: when the plot demands it, they make her a gullible tabloid journalist even though it goes against everything her character should stand for. The reasons I'm comfortable saying this are many. The first one is that Alya is very clearly supposed to be seen as a serious journalist. That's why you get scenes like this one from Feast:

Alya: Now you know back in the day sculptures were painted, right? Most of the paint vanished over time, but tiny microscopic pigments still remain. Thanks to this special app, witness how it originally looked. But here's the big thing. All these works of art have something in common. It's the same symbol! Look, everywhere. It's like some kind of secret society emblem. As if a kind of Order of the Guardians has been watching over the superheroes since the beginning of time!

This scene would not exist if Alya was supposed to be the kind of person who only cared about getting blog hits because this type of content isn't where the money is. But money and clout aren't what Alya cares about. She's just a passionate reporter (or fan girl) who wants to know everything she can and who is having fun sharing her obsession with the world. This is an extremely important aspect of her character because it brings us to reason two that she clearly wasn't meant to be a clout chaser: if she was a tabloid journalist who only cared about hits, then she should have never been given a miraculous.

I could go on a rant her about how poorly Alya's blog is used after she becomes Rena Rouge, but I'll spare you the word count and just say that, as soon as she joined the team, she should have stopped sharing secrets on the blog. It makes sense that a blog would initially fill her need to share the fine details of her obsession, but once she's on the team, the blog should have been replaced by her teammates. She could still have the blog, but it shouldn't have things like the freaking guide to how the miraculous work that we see in the season four episode Gabriel Agreste:

Alya: The Miraculous are magical jewels that give powers to superheroes, like Ladybug's earrings and Cat Noir's ring. But supervillain Shadow Moth also has two Miraculousbrooches in his possession, and they will give him his powers. We can figure out from this that the Miraculous can either make a superhero or a supervillain. It's all riding on who wears it, which is why these jewels can't fall into just anybody's hands.

Alya, you are supposed to be Marinette's sole confidante at this point. Why are you giving the world this information? The writers are doing you dirty, my dear, and I'm so sorry. The best I can do is to promise to never treat you like this in my stuff.

Now, to be fair, there is some nuance to this. Alya is a human being. She's allowed to have flaws, so I can absolutely forgive her for getting caught up in the moment and posting scoops to her blog without thinking (see: Oblivio). That's honestly a great weakness for her character to have as it makes perfect sense for a fan girl to fan girl. At the same time, if you want to have a fan girl character who becomes part of the things she's a fan of, then you usually need to give that character something that will tone them down and make full fan girl mode something other than the standard setting.

Making your fan girl a serious reporter is a great way to do that! It allows you to have that initial bust of fan girl hype that quickly switches into serious get-the-details mode. Without that kind of complexity, Alya would just be another Wayhem and one Wayhem is already one too many.

While I will give Alya some grace on this topic and even call it a good thing for her character, the same cannot be said for her writing because the writers fail to embrace her hype as an in-the-moment weakness and it ruins her character. To put it another way, a lapse in judgement about posting a photo is excusable as a photo is quickly acquired and posted. A lapse in judgement about a full interview with a total rando who is claiming to be Ladybug's best friend is not excusable (see: Volpina). It's a completely different flavor of poor judgement as - at a minimum - it requires Alya to stand there talking to a person for several minutes and never once question what that person is saying. Those are not the behaviors of a good journalist.

Of course, this brings us to the most glaring example of Alya's character assassination: the Lila thing. Almost everything about this arc paints Alya as a terrible friend, which is a massive missed opportunity as Lila is the perfect antagonist for Alya! Who better to take down a liar than a truth seeker? It's such an easy way to give Alya her own mission to focus on, especially if you make Lila more subtle. You don't even need to have Alya believe Marinette without question. Just have her be an investigative journalist who is like, "You know what, this new girl clearly bothers Marinette and I know Marinette can get caught up in her own head, but it doesn't usually last this long. I think something is up, so I'm going to use my skills to see if Lila is telling the truth that way I know if I'm supporting the right person here." Don't have your character claim that she checks her sources and does research if you're going to turn around and have her believe whatever she hears without checking any of it!

Even outside of the Lila thing, I wish we saw more of Alya's research skills! They were such a good thing to give Marinette's best friend as Marinette is great at focusing on a clear task, but research is the kind of thing that would overwhelm her, so it makes perfect sense to make her best friend a researcher as that lets the team have someone to help track down whatever Gabriel is calling himself this week. The writers even understood this to some extent as we saw in Mr. Pigeon 72:

Alya: Marinette, how long have you been working on this? Ladybug: I dunno, six-seven days, maybe ten. Now that we're on spring break, I finally have time to put my whole heart into it! Alya: When was the last time you worked on one of your own designs? Ladybug: I do loads of designing! Look! (pointing to the contraption at her door) I designed a security system so that nobody can enter my room when I'm not in it. And if I put on this hat (puts on modified hat) I hear everything that's going on in here, even when I'm out of the room. Alya: I'm gonna have to break it to you because I'm the only one who can. THIS IS TOTALLY INSANE! Girl, trust your BFF. When I'm researching something obsessively and I can't think of anything else, that's when my mind can get really blocked. You know what you need most right now? A break! Ladybug: No way! No breaks until I find out how to keep Shadow Moth from reakumatizing people!

Remember who ultimately figures out how to keep Shadow Moth from reakumatizing people in this episode? Alya! Because her creative style is all about researching and looking at the evidence. You know, the classic skill set of a reporter?

I really do mean it when I say that the show has a fantastic setup for telling a good story. Alya's character should have been a perfect addition to Marinette's team. My favorite lineup is the line up from season two with Kagami and Luka in non-love-interest bonus roles that I won't get into here since it's a little too deviant from canon to make sense without explanation. Instead, I'll just give you the clear roles they perfectly set up and then squandered for the original miraculous five:

Ladybug: Battlefield commander

Rena Rouge: Big Picture Strategist (basically Marinette excels at reactive thinking/leading during a battle while Alya excels more at proactive thinking/long-term tactics)

Chat Noir: Peacekeeper/Heart/Hype Man

Carapace: Protector/Stop Button (much like Alya and Marinette, Nino and Adrien should have been two sides of the same coin with Adrien being focused on making everyone happy while Nino focuses on keeping everyone safe)

Queen Bee: Wild Card/Chaos Element (I love a good chaos element who is there to suggest the options that won't occur to people who have been raised to follow the rules.)

I'll also point out that this lineup would show that the characters weren't interchangeable and make the two main couples feel more unique and meant for each other. For example, Nino's tendency to encourage others to stay safe would pair terribly with Marinette's need to not get too caught up in her own thoughts. The second Nino second guesses one of her plans she'd fall apart, so she needs Adrien to be her Chat Noir. Similarly, Alya's impulsivity weakness would make her a terrible match for go, go, go Hype Noir! She needs a partner who makes her take two seconds to second guess herself. There was so much potential here you guys! So much potential! It could have been beautiful! Instead, we got canon...

There you go, my broad love letter to Alya. I could keep going, but you didn't request a specific topic, so I'm just going to end it there. Feel free to ask for more, but please do it in another ask as this is already super long and - out of kindness to my followers- I try to avoid essay after essay on the same post unless they really need to be connected.

#Alya deserves better #ml writing critical #ml writing salt #Alya defense squad

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nocreativityfornames · 2 years ago

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You know what's one very obvious/simple plot I'd like to see turned into an Obey Me! event? MC getting sick. Like, I know we've seen this exact trope many many times before since the fandom has written about it multiple times but hear me out:

What's the plot of a majority of Obey Me! events? The brothers messed something up/got into a troublesome situation and MC spends the entire event running around trying to help them.

And you know who's never been on the center of an event? MC. Sure, we're literally the main character and we're there 100% of the time, but like I said before, the focus is always on the other characters and us helping THEM with shit.

Also, I think we've just got done with the "x character focused" events with Lucifer being on the spotlights of the last one. So what's a better time for it to happen? Like, we NEED an event centered around MC and the brothers being the ones to reach out/help them through it.

And what exact trope has never been done in Obey Me? MC getting sick. Like, it's the perfect plot: MC comes down with a fever or something, and through the entire event, the brothers are taking care of them and nursing them back to health.

Like, I just wanna see boys taking care of us in canon. I wanna see Lucifer scolding us for being stubborn and not taking care of ourselves while feeding us some soup. I wanna see Mammon being the tsundere idiot he is and doing the tiniest things to help us while simultaneously grumbling about how he isn't worried about us or anything like that. I wanna see Levi bringing our favorite games to our room so we can play together since Lucifer ordered us to not get out of bed. I want Satan to read us a book to help us fall asleep, I want Asmo to come to do our nails, prepare us the best baths, and talk about whatever juicy scandals we've been missing recently by not going to RAD. I want the twins to be so soft and careful with us because they're worried sick and want us to get better as soon as possible. I want all the side characters to visit us and bring us little gifts and sweets to make us feel better.

Please, devs, give us a Sick!MC event! I promise we'll cherish with all our hearts and will go back to it every time we get sick just to feel comforted by our favorite characters T^T

#this post may or may not have been influenced by the fact that I've got the biggest headache rn #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me!#om brothers #om mc #☙ no creativity for names ✾#1000+

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screamingatmyfandom · 11 months ago

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I don't know which person manifested main character energy in my area but I'm literally living through a Hallmark movie plot as a background character.

For context, I live in Washington state, specifically behind one the main headwaters for many lakes, rivers, creeks, and watersheds in the area. It is also a major marshland that prevents major flooding when it rains, which is always, bc it's Washington.

This place is just forest and marsh, and our small neighborhood that's accessible by travelling down a one lane road through a swamp. (We have one singular lamp that lights that road like Narnia, especially in the fog XD).

Recently a big company came out and went door to door going "Hey, just letting you know that we're gonna be building a facility 10 ft from your houses. We chose this cute little neighborhood because there would have been pushback from bigger ones! So guess we'll be neighbors soon!"

To which we collectively went "No? N-no, you're not allowed to build back there. We almost weren't allowed to build back here when the neighborhood was first established. There are native plants and animals that live here, along with about 60% of pierce county's usable water. Also that "cute little neighborhood" remark sounded really condescending?"

So now here we are, about 2 months later, protesting with actual signs and a website because they still tried to build there, then stopped and nearly got in trouble for doing illegal things.

So. To whichever person is living out their main character Hallmark fantasy in Washington state, could you please hurry up and kiss the love interest and realize that you hate your corporate job so the black bears in my neighborhood can go back to the forest and stop curbstomping my trash can? Thank you.

#pierce county #washington state #ecopunk #living through a hallmark movie #ecology #environmental activism #if you want to hear more about us vs big company let me know #it gets crazy #hopefully it won't get crazier #but so far it's wild #solarpunk #environmental advocacy

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clubdionysus · 9 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #44] Skinny Dipping

warnings: fluffy goodness <33 a lil smut, creampie, fingers in said creampie, like it's not smut as such but its a thing?? idk lol, v important conversations!! a plot chapter!!

notes: look im sorry it's one chapter again waaa I had work today!! next week we'll get more bc the next 5 or so chapters all need to be uploaded together hehe <3

wc: 10.6K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

As you glance across the beach to where Jeongguk sits with Yoongi and Namjoon, you're pleased to find his eyes on you. Give him a small nod. It's reciprocated, a subtle dimple forming in his cheek.

The laughter of your friends is spliced with the crackle of firewood that burns at seven-hundred degrees Celsius in front of you.

Sitting by the beach, under a crescent moon, you're smitten by the simplicity of a good life.

There's a beauty to Jeongguk and the way he carries himself, and you consider yourself lucky to indulge in it. You hold his gaze until he sips on his beer, at which point Danbi asks you a question—something about whale sharks. Why the fuck she thinks you'll know anything about whale sharks you'll never know, but find yourself back engrossed in conversation regardless.

Jeongguk watches on for a little while longer. Likes how you're wearing your hair loose for a change instead of in a claw clip (of which he also loves). The glitter on your skin sparkles in the light of the fire, and Jeongguk thinks the stars are pale in comparison to you tonight.

If you were looking at him, he'd silently say 'pretty' . Instead, he just thinks about how pretty you are. Pretty, pretty baby.

Compiled by Namjoon and Yoongi, the campfire they've got going would be better referred to as a bonfire. Tall and imposing, it illuminates the darkness of the beach with a warm orange glow.

Tiny embers flutter up into the sky, like the butterflies that so often like to dance around in your stomach these days.

You're reminded of them with every stolen glance in the direction of your best friend.

Freshly showered —alone, because you'd scarpered as soon as you'd laid eyes on Hayun's danger-red lips— Jeongguk is full of boyish charm, hair still waving around his features even if it is a lot shorter than it used to be. His lip ring catches in the light of the flames, silver in a myriad of golden hues, much like his eyes. For once it's not the stars sparkling in his eyes.

It was a conscious yet undiscussed decision that had been made between you both to sit as far apart as you possibly could. Not for a lack of desire —you'd be on his lap right now, if you could be— but more so to keep up the facade you've grown so accustomed to wearing around him. Unbothered. Unaffected. Unswayed by the glow of his honey skin in the warm haze of the fire, and oblivious to the warmth that's also being cast over him by the rose-tinted glasses that you tend to wear in his presence.

It's not like you need to be close right now. You're both wrapped up in different conversations, and truth be told, you like it better this way. Enjoy the ache in your chest that comes with being apart. Perhaps you're a masochist, or perhaps you just forgot how lovely it is to pine without pain.

Sipping on make-shift cocktails of whatever was left in the fridge, there's no real motive to the evening, other than enjoy the company of your nearest and dearest.

Tomorrow morning you'll go on a coastal hike, and then it will be time to bid farewell to the weekend.

Despite the hiccups, you don't think you would have changed a thing - and when Jeongguk once again catches you staring and bites down on his lip, you're certain wouldn't change a thing.

He tilts his head back. Challenges you. Mouths, c'mere.

You shake your head, but lift your empty drink. Knock your head to the side, in the direction of the main house. Silently say, come with?

He's on his feet and heading towards the house before you even get a chance to blink. Is just eager to be with you. Loves his friends, but kinda wishes he could have you all to himself.

He doesn't wait for you. It's deliberate. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he has a tiny little scenario in his head that he wishes to play out.

As soon as you get to the house, you see why.

Standing behind the kitchen island, he's got a tea towel over his shoulder, an empty cup in his hand and a glint in his eyes. The main lights are off, fairy lights sparking just like your heart is.

"Welcome to Dionysus," he grins, all charming and goofy, trying not to giggle. A sight to behold. Beautiful boy. "What can I get for you?"

Half-empty bottles line the kitchen counter, and Jeongguk looks right at home. Right where he belongs.

When you come to stand opposite him, elbows resting on the counter, hands clasped beneath your chin, you're trying to fight a smile.

You're losing. Giggle, too. Bite down on your bottom lip, and close your eyes, 'cause even looking at him like this is enough to drive you wild.

"Something that will fuck me up, but—"

"Is also delicious?" Jeongguk finishes for you, with a smile so fond you think he could end world wars. He's kinda awestruck by the fact you remember anything from that first meeting. Plays it cool, though. "I know just the thing."

He wastes no time scrambling together one of his infamous purple shots. Makes four. Two for you, two for him. You watch on with kind eyes, so inexorably smitten.

He raises his glass to cheers your shot against his, glasses clinking like bells chiming at a church wedding.

Silly, trivial thoughts for a silly, trivial interaction.

"How much do I owe you, Mr barman? For the drinks?" You beam, unaware of the fact you're looking at him like he's responsible for stringing up stars in the night sky.

He shrugs. "Not much. Just a kiss."

"You're a terrible businessman," you tell him, eyes fixed on his smile as he walks around the counter to meet you.

He simply nods. Lets his body fall into a natural state of being as he reaches you, zero thought given to the way he cups your jaw. "A kiss for a shot. Pay up."

Perhaps you shouldn't be so reckless. Perhaps you shouldn't kiss him out in the open for any prying eyes to see. Perhaps you no longer care.

Jeongguk sure as hell doesn't.

Lips on yours, it's innocent. No intrusion of tongue, no pressing of his hips to your tummy. Just a kiss. Him and you. One star to another.

Pulling away, he peppers you with one, two, three more tiny pecks. "Would you like a receipt?"

You shake your head. Pull him back in for another kiss. Just one. "Sorry. Thought you deserved a tip."

Laughing as he hands you your second shot, Jeongguk is in good spirits. Swigs down his own shot, then gets to making the long version of the drink. Says, "Star Lover alright? There's a little coke left if you just want a vodka coke."

Shaking your head, you smile. "Star Lover is perfect."

There's a casual intimacy to the way Jeongguk makes your drink first, his second. Had been drinking beer all evening, but switches to Star Lovers, 'cause it's what you want.

He wants the taste on his tongue to match yours, just so he doesn't go insane thinking about it.

"Sit with me," he says gently as you meander back to the beachfront, a hand on the small of your back.

Sipping your drink, you shake your head. "Hayun'll just glare."

Jeongguk laughs. "She'll glare anyways."

He kind of feels guilty for Hayun's bad behaviour. It's the second time today you've mentioned her intrusive eyes, and it's becoming clear that it's bothering you.

"I can speak to her?" He offers. "I know she can a bit difficult—"

Shaking your head, you don't let him finish his train of thought. "I don't wanna make drama out of nothing —and anyways, it's not like we're... yanno... together."

Jeongguk knows you're right. Doesn't care. Speaks it into existence.

"Kind of are, though, aren't we?"

"No," you reply ever so pleasantly. There's a nonchalance to your tone. One that intrigues him. Makes him disregard any feelings of rejection he could tie to that statement. You glance across to him with a light smirk, then add, "Well, you haven't asked me to be with you, have you?"

Jeongguk stops. Purses his lips. Could ask you right now, if he wanted to, but he's got a plan. Is specific in how he wants to do things.

He also knows that once you get back home and back to reality, there are external factors that will interrupt the sanctuary of what it's like when you're together. It won't just be you and him anymore. It will be you, and him, and responsibilities, and jobs and whatever else the universe wants to throw your way.

He doesn't believe that life can be as easy as it feels like when he's with you. Has never known it to be easy this easy. Has also never known what it's like to be yours, but that's neither here nor there.

You've another exhibition on your plate, and he's got business affairs to sort with the bank. The timing really isn't doing him any favours, but he wants things to be perfect when he asks you to commit to him. Thinks you deserve at least that; security in all aspects. Wants to be the kind of man worthy of you.

Has seen your ex. Seen the guy you casually dated. Both were well-established. Financially sorted. Thinks that it must be your type. Thinks that he has to be like that, too, to be worthy of you.

Thing is, you've never wanted perfect.

These days, all you really want is him. And while yes, it could be argued that Jeon Jeongguk is perfect, he has his flaws too. Is human.

It's his humanity that you adore; the slight overlap of his top teeth when he smiles, and the cute little puffs that form beneath his eyes, too. The noises he makes when he's focusing and the noises that he makes when he's sleeping, entirely unfocused. The way he sinks into his duvet when he's sleepy, and the way he sinks into your body as if it's his most natural state of being. There's little about him you don't love. The freckles on his skin that you've kissed a hundred times over. The scar on his cheek. The way he twists his spine to click his back and the sigh of relief he always exhales afterwards.

Perfect has never been part of your criteria.

Partner has been.

And when you cook, Jeongguk will always wash up. Sometimes, he'll goof around with you at the same time, speaker on, your joint playlist playing while you dry the dishes. Other times, he'll insist you go and wait for him in bed.

He closes his curtains every single time you stay over, even though he's used to sleeping with them open. Turns off his alarm even if his body clock still wakes him at ass o'clock.

You detour your walks home from work to catch him as he's leaving the gym, a cup of coffee from his favourite cafe in your hand. Have his loyalty card linked to your phone so that he can collect your free stamps, even if you buy just as many coffees from there as he does, these days.

The sacrifices you make for each other are minimal. Meaningful.

So no, you're not together.

But you're partners, whether you want to admit to it or not.

"You're so impatient, Disco Ball," he teases as he catches up with you, hooking onto your belt loop to pull you back in line with him. "Good things come to those who wait."

"And great things pass those who wait by," you counter.

You're just teasing, and he knows this. It doesn't fill him with fear. Not really. None more so than normal.

"Patience," he simply states. "It's a virtue, B."

"Always been far more in tune with my vices."

"You're impossible."

"S'why you love me," you flirt, not giving him the chance to respond before you head back down to the shore. "C'mon, Jimin'll be spreading rumours about our sex life if we're any longer."

He hasn't —but he does mumble, "Hmm, quicker than usual. Embarrassing," to Jeongguk as he sits back down.

Jeongguk just lightly slaps the back of his friend's head, and resists ripping into him for the disastrous encounters he knows his housemate has had with you. Thinks it would be a little too mean.

Instead, he just glances back over to you, a pretty smile on his lips as you laugh with your friends. The way in which you've become so integrated with one another's lives proves to Jeongguk that this is right.

It's exactly how it's supposed to be.

Why else would you meld so perfectly into one if it was not aligned by the stars themselves? There's no 'star-crossed' about you two. Were always destined to crash into one another. Was mapped out. Plotted. Planned by Venus, executed by Mars. Solidified by the karmic constance of Saturn, and nurtured by the careful understanding of Mercury.

Written in the stars, were you and Jeongguk; lived out on earth for a finite time. Seems silly to waste it.

But is time together ever wasted?

Jeongguk doesn't think so, but he does miss being in conversation with you. Encourages the group into a series of little drinking games, just so that he maybe gets the chance to banter with you.

The flames of the bonfire lick at your heart every time he glances in your direction. Is charred within seconds. It's not the black hole you've convinced yourself you'll become if you finally give into your feelings; but it's one that you much prefer. A warm heart, in a chest that isn't your own. You'll keep his safe for as long as he keeps yours safe, too.

"Never have I ever," Jimin sucks in a little air between his teeth, the game playing on around you.

You've only half your Star Lover left.

Or should that be you've only half of your drink left. There's a star across the crackling fire who's very much full of love for you.

Never Have I Ever has become a staple across the weekend. With so many players, you're always learning something new about one another, but Jimin doesn't care to learn anything new right now. He just wants to get as many people drinking as he can—and that includes himself.

"Okay," Jimin continues. "Never have I ever slept with someone in the circle."

Little fucker.

Your eyes flicker to Jeongguk. The only people who aren't raising a glass to their lips are Namjoon and Hoseok. Even Nabi drinks, which causes a little bit of a stir from Seoyeon.

"Sorry?!"

"Oh, it was one time," she cringes, bunching up her face.

From across the circle, Jimin snorts.

"With Jimin?!"

"I was young!" Nabi cries. "Naive! He was just there!"

"Okay, one—rude," Jimin interrupts. "And two—many people have shagged me. I've shagged many people. Hardly a surprise, now, is it?"

The rest of the circle laughs and jokes about what a terrible pairing they'd make, but secretly you're relieved. It softens the weight of your encounters with him.

The commotion of it all allows for the sip you take to go largely unnoticed.

Or at least you think it does, until the game reaches Hayun.

"Never have I ever," she hums, stringing out the final word as if deep in thought or contemplation. Maybe you're a cynic, but you don't buy it. Think she knows exactly what she's going to say. She waits it just a moment longer, then finishes. "Hooked up with multiple people in this circle."

Fuck.

It's a smart question, you'll give her that much. It'll force Jeongguk's hand. Make him admit to his history, as well as his present.

Thing is, it'll force yours too. You don't think she's aware of this. Nobody is.

From your peripherals, eyes too busy locked on Jeongguk, you see the subtle shake of Jimin's head. Can't hear him as he whispers to Jeongguk, "I'm not drinking."

The last thing Jimin wants is to give Hayun any ammunition. Doesn't think it should matter at all, not in the slightest, but knows how Hayun works. If she thinks she has one up against you, she'll use it, no doubt. You fucking Jimin and Jeongguk is exactly the kind of shit she'd use to weasel her way into Jeongguk's brain.

Jeongguk's eyes flicker over to you.

Realistically, he doesn't care if anyone knows.

If he drinks, he knows it means announcing your business to the group. Doesn't wanna be the one to take your privacy away from you, should it be something you wish to preserve.

You've never really feared judgement for your past endeavours, but you've also never been in a situation like this. Jimin is Jeongguk's best friend.

Both busy locked in internal battles, you don't realise that it's been a few seconds of vacant staring at one another. Are interrupted by Hayun again, saying, "Gguk?"

Before he even gets a chance to respond, your voice drowns her out.

"Never have I ever been skinny dipping!"

It's not your turn, and you're well aware the distraction will be noticeable, but you don't care.

Hayun had been attempting to turn a fun little game into something far more dramatic than it needs to be, and frankly, you don't have the energy for it. All you want is to have fun, and you can't for the life of you figure out why she insists on being such a miserable cow all of the time.

Thankfully, debate breaks out amongst your friends. Turns out, only Soeyeon and Yoongi have ever done it before, and so the rules are changed.

"Okay, either you take three shots, or you skinny dip now," Jimin declares - because of course he's the one making bad decisions for you all as a collective.

And yet everyone just seems to go along with it, enticed by the allure of released inhibitions under a crescent moon. The water sparkles as if there are a billions stars hidden beneath it. Even though you know it's impossible, part of you feels like you'll be right at home in the waves. They're tepid at this time of night. Settled by the moonlight that shines down upon them.

Pulling his shirt by the nap of his neck, Jeongguk chucks it to the ground and makes sure he's positioned right beside you.

"There's jellyfish in these waters," you mumble, knowing that it's absolutely a stupid idea —yet you shed yourself of your shirt (that really belongs to him), too.

He's loosening the buttons of his pants, as he says, "S'why I'm keeping my boxers on. Not risking my cock."

"They can probably sting through clothes."

They can't. Not the moon jellies, at least.

"Don't say that," he whines, pushing down his trousers while you also slip out yours. "Bra?"

"Do you mind?"

"Not my tits, are they?" Jeongguk just shrugs. Doesn't think he has any right to tell you how much skin you can show, and it's not like anyone is actually gonna be looking. Not like that at least.

You're on the peripherals. The rest of your friends are kind of coupled up; Danbi with Taehyung, Nabi with Hayun, Namjoon with Hoseok and Jimin... Well, Jimin is Jimin. He's kind of everywhere all at once.

Still, he's well acquainted with your tits, and it's not like seeing him stark bollock naked is gonna do anything for you. Been there, done that, got his housemates T-shirt, or however the saying goes.

"Hmm, they kinda are yours," you shrug, looking across to Jeongguk, sultry through your lashes.

"Don't say shit like that," he husks, a hunger in his pained expression. You don't think he realises that he's licking his lips, toying with his lip ring. "I'll get hard."

Smiling, you roll your eyes, as if it's not exactly the reaction you wanted. "You're so easy."

"Fuck off," he grins. "But no, do whatever you like. "

Secretly, Jeongguk likes the idea of other people knowing what you look like beneath your clothes. Likes that he's the one who gets to touch you. Likes that it's mouth that will no doubt be sucking on your nipples before the night is over.

Maybe he does have a thing for exhibitionism... fuck .

One thing is for sure, though: he's getting a semi now that he's thinking about it.

Thankfully, Soeyeon and Yoongi are counting everyone down. Sitting on the beach still, they're watching on. Have done it once before. Don't feel the need to do it again. Also kinda wanna just be alone for a second, just to indulge in one another.

"Three..."

Reaching up your back, you snap the clasp apart, and let your bra drop to the sand below you. Have completely forgotten about the fact that there's more than just you and Jeongguk around. He's all that you're looking at, and it's reciprocated.

"Two..."

"I'm so fucking obsessed with you," Jeongguk states. Plain and simple. No frills. What's the point in pretending like he isn't? Should have told you months ago. "Like... Holy shit."

"One!"

Yelping a little as Jeongguk grabs your hand, your other hand holding onto your poor unsupported tits as you hurtle into the freezing water, the adrenaline is enough to keep you going.

You're far too drunk to be doing something so reckless, but Jeongguk keeps himself close to you. Won't ever let you get into danger. Hooks an arm around your waist. Doesn't let you go.

"Can't just say shit like that," you laugh, water splashing around you.

Your friends are close by, basking in the moonlight, but all you focus on is him.

"Can."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

" 'Cause ," is all you say, and it gets Jeongguk beaming from ear to ear.

Though it's dark, there's enough light from the shoreline lights to clue you in on the dimples that are forming; his happiness hard to hide.

"I can stop, if you like?" he offers, that smile still ever-present.

"No, you can't," you smile right back. "You can't just stop being obsessed with someone. Can't just lose that."

"True," he accepts, and then just decides fuck it. Keeps an arm wrapped around your back, the gentle waves lapping against your shoulders, while his other hand rests at the base of your throat. Gets a little closer. Nudges his nose up against yours. Husks, "think losing you would destroy me, B."

"Mhmm?" You tease, reciprocating, nudging your nose deeper against his. "Better hold me tighter, then."

And so he does. Gets your chest pressed to his. Tightens his grip around your throat. You're at his disposal. Holds every single fucking card —and for once, you're happy to lose control. For Jeongguk, you'll fold.

"Tight enough?" He whispers, keeping both afloat as his lips brush yours—until the sound of Namjoon yelling from across the shallow water pulls you and Jeongguk away from the intimacy of your shared embrace.

"Out!" He bellows. "Jellyfish! Everyone out!"

You and Jeongguk somehow hold onto each other even tighter, yet both turn to face the commotion.

"I'm dying," Hoseok wails as Namjoon drags him from the shallow water, Seoyeon and Yoongi rushing over to see what's happened. Knowing Hoseok, it's a lot of fuss over nothing.

"You're fine," Namjoon mumbles, manhandling Hoseok's leg to get a better look once they're safely on the shore. "Yoongi—" he looks over to ask for his phone, of which Yoongi is already passing over, flash on. "—Ah, thanks."

Jeongguk tosses you his shirt as soon as you get to the sand, blocking you from the sight of anyone else but him. Once you're decent, he holds your hand to drag you a little faster to where Hoseok is on the brink of certain death.

"It's fine. Was just a moon jelly," Namjoon assesses, thumb rubbing over the reddening rash on Hoseok's calf. "There's not been any reports of Nomura's jellies out this far yet."

"Should I piss on it?" Jimin asks, and is subsequently shooed away by Danbi.

"I'll die before I let any of you piss on me," Hoseok hisses, then turns to Namjoon. Is ever so sweet as he says, "Unless you think I should?"

Both you and Jeongguk look on in mildly amused horror.

"Is this... flirting?" Jeongguk quietly asks you, nodding towards the treacle-filled eyes Hoseok is looking at Namjoon with.

"I think so?" you giggle so quietly only he can hear you, as your arms wrap around his bare waist. "Please don't ask me to piss on you, too."

"Might be hot," Jeongguk mumbles, draping his arm over your shoulders, pressing a kiss into your wet hair.

"Shut up."

Once it's been assessed that Hoseok really won't die (and Jimin has offered his piss on at least two more occasions) it's decided that bedtime is calling. Quick showers are had to wash off the remnants of the ocean, taken in tandem as some people busy themselves cleaning up the kitchen to make it easier for the morning.

"Hey," Jeongguk says quietly, catching your arm as you walk towards your door after your shower. A small yelp escapes your lips as he pulls you into your room, but there's no resistance from you.

Not when he shuts the door.

Not when he presses your back up against it.

Not when towers above you and traps you in place with his body.

And most definitely not as he presses a kiss into your lips.

Oh, it's so bloody predictable by now. It's like you lose all sense of authority when Jeongguk shows even the lightest dominance.

But there's an undeniable authority to the way in which he touches you, one hand flat to the door beside your head, while the other grips onto your waist. Lips safely right where they're supposed to be, Jeongguk's hip press against your tummy.

Oh, hello.

You softly moan into his lips, surprised by his sudden need to have you like this -but you're not complaining. Not in the slightest. In fact, the way your hands grip his waist and pull him tighter against you would suggest that this is exactly what you've been craving.

"Missed you," he mumbles against your lips.

"Been ten minutes," you hum into his.

"Too long." His hands roam. They're everywhere all at once. Can't decide which part of your body he wants the most. Knows he wants it all. Won't be satisfied until he has it all. "Fuckin' hate showers without you."

"Careful," you whisper, a pretty smile on your lips as he steals a hundred tiny kisses. "You really are starting to sound obsessed."

He just nods. "I am."

Jeongguk speaks in hyperbole. Embroiders his words with the silliest of sequins. Exaggerates just to make you giggle a little.

Now is no exception; except for the fact it's as honest as it is dramatic.

He's also as horny as he is smitten. Wastes no time getting you right where he wants you.

Hands pinned above your head, pressed into the soft feather down of your pillow, Jeongguk trails his lips up your neck.

Wet and wanting, the kisses he dapples your skin in are intentional. He wants your body squirming beneath his much like it is now; the breaths hitching in your throat reaching a point of instability that will no doubt turn into the moans he adores so much.

"Gguk," you rasp, and struggle a little against the grip he has on you —even though it's really just a ruse to get the friction between you both a little more heightened.

He knows what you're doing. Knows you well. Tightens his grip, and presses your wrists deeper into the cotton.

"Mhmm?" He encourages you to keep talking. Loves your voice. Loves hearing it when he's hard. His hips match the pressure of his hand that's pinning down your wrists as he grinds between your legs.

"The others," you reply, voice a little low in tone. "They're still—"

"Don't care," he tells you, lips pressing up your neck to your ear. His tongue flicks against your lobe. Nibbles down. Lips migrate to your cheek. One, two, three pretty kisses until he finds your lips. Steals just one, and says, "Only care about you."

The way your chest presses up to his as you laugh, face turning slightly away from him as a smile breaks on your pouty lips, has Jeongguk realising maybe you should be quiet. He doesn't want anyone else falling in love with you, too.

Wants to keep you his; your laughter all bottled up for him, and him alone.

He's insane at the mere thought of you with someone else. Insatiable every time he hears you laugh at a joke made by someone that isn't him. Interwoven into the fabric of his DNA is the way he feels about you; chemical. Chronic. Catastrophic.

But you're beneath the weight of his body, now, and you're giggling because of him .

"You do care," you tell him regardless. "Your ex is literally down—"

"Not my ex."

Jeongguk interrupts you in a way that sort of just stops you in your tracks. He loosens the grip he has on your wrists, and fills the space in his palm with your cheek, instead. It's not the first time he's downplayed the magnitude of Hayun's impact, but it's always felt like he was kidding himself. The sternness of his tone, this time, is different. Decisive. Final.

"Please don't be hung up on her," he adds. "I'm not."

"No?"

"No, B." Nose nudging up against yours, he's soft when he asks, "Do you trust me?"

With a tepid nod, you confirm that you do. Let your fingers intertwine with his. Say, "With my life."

And so you sink; into the sheets, into his kisses, into the way it feels to be fucked by a man who wouldn't call this fucking at all.

It's more than that. Leg bent at the knee over his elbow, his lips buried into the crook of your neck, Jeongguk isn't searching for relief. He's seeking refuge. Finding a home inside you - and when your walls begin to tighten around him, nails scratching down his back as his lips latch onto your chest, he knows he's found one. Has the keys. Can lock the door. Keep himself safe.

Safe, safe, safe.

You, you, you.

Doesn't take much for him to come undone. Not much at all. Would be embarrassing, if he didn't feel so secure with you.

"Shit," he husks against you in the comedown of it all. Swears, "You were fuckin' made for me, B. Made for me."

His kisses trail all over your body. There's not an inch of skin he doesn't want.

"Always take me so well, don't you?" He praises your spent body, as he nestles into the sheets beside you. Shuffles a little further down the bed so his lips can wrap around your nipples. Lets his hand dip to your soaked pussy. Says nothing as he begins to rub sensual circles against your clit.

"Gguk," you whine, writhing a little in the sheets. You're just as spent as he is.

"Mhmm?" he mumbles, sucking your nipple deeper into his mouth. The sensation of his tongue rubbing against your hardened bud is enough to drive you insane, but the way he toys with your pussy? Even when he's already made you cum? God, he's criminal . A sinner .

"I'll cum again," you whine, shoulders pressing back into the sheets —which only encourages him more.

He sinks a finger into your cunt, with little care for the fact it's just been stuffed with his cock, and that is currently full of his own cum.

"Fuck," you sigh into the sensation, a second finger joining the first.

"Let yourself," he says, pulling himself away from your chest, sinking further down the sheets, until he's between your legs. Does nothing for a moment. Just takes in the sight of you. "Fuckin' love his cunt." Begins to fuck his fingers into you with a little more precision. Gets you writhing . Smirks. "You like that, don't you, baby? Like me pushing my cum into you, huh?"

"Mhmm," is all you can manage to whimper as he begins to stroke up against your sweetest of spots—and when his lips hungrily lap around your clit, you know you're done for.

It doesn't take long for an orgasm to crash over you like the waves you were caught in with him earlier that night.

He teases you through your orgasm, not easing up his fingers nor the suction of his lips. Praises you in the afterglow. Tells you how pretty you are. Prowls back up the bed. Kisses you slowly, then presses his slick covered fingers to your lips. As you accept them into your mouth, he says, "That's it, baby. Clean them up for me. Good girl. Such a good girl for me."

And yet it's Jeongguk who cleans the sheets up when you go to the bathroom to sort yourself out. He's a good boy. A good boy for you .

Waiting for you by the door afterwards, he simply holds his hand out. Guides you downstairs. Decides you'll sleep in his room. Faces no resistance from you in the slightest.

Why would he? All you ever seem to wanna do these days is curl up beside him. Doesn't matter where, doesn't matter when—but if it did, in a bed at two in the morning would seem like a good place for it.

Come the morning, nobody is particularly pleased for the early wakeup, but the coastal hike itself is pretty painless. Despite your previous deliberations, you decide that Danbi is right. There's no need for you to try and get on Hayun's good side.

She sure as hell hasn't tried to get on yours, so what's the point? Will just bring you unnecessary stress that you could really do without.

That being said, you leave Jeongguk to his own devices for the morning. Spend the hike with Danbi and Tae. Hoseok is back by the house, nursing his 'wounds', and Namjoon—the only person who actually seemed excited about the coastal hike—is right there with him, tending him back to full health.

"They're so into each other," Danbi says. "So smitten . It's gross ."

You just look at her —then at the boy whose hand she's holding— and furrow your brows. "Pot, kettle, black?"

"Fuck off," she laughs. "Not like you've got a leg to stand on, little miss 'ohhh, we're just friends .'"

"Fuck off," you laugh right back, but don't argue against her. She has a point, after all.

It's proven when Jeongguk sheepishly comes to your room as you're packing your bags up.

"Hey," you smile as you glance over towards him for just a second. "Nearly finished. Can't find one of my bras."

"It's in with my stuff," Jeongguk says without missing a beat. Knows he packed a few things of yours up with his. A natural consequence of merging into one another's space in the way that you two so often do.

When you look over at him once again, you notice the way he's got one of his arms outstretched. Is waiting for you to fill the space beneath it.

So you do.

Chin resting on his chest, you're looking up at him, smiling as he looks down. There's a little glitter on his skin. Perfection .

"Gotta run the people who came by train back to the station. Wish I could put you in my pocket and just take you everywhere," he mumbles, as if that's a normal thing to say to the girl he's been trying to convince everyone is simply just a friend.

"That'd be really inconvenient."

"No." He simply says.

"Yes."

He mumbles an indication of his disagreement, as the hazy, love-drunk curve of his lips presses down into yours.

The kiss is quick. Fleeting. Just enough to reassure him that he's been making the right choices. Making good decisions.

Pulling away from him, there's a pleasant smile on your lips that just absolutely refuses to budge. There's one on Jeongguk's face too, as he watches on, still leaning against the door frame.

"That wasn't very friendly," you say softly of the teeny tiny kiss you shared.

"No," he agrees. "It wasn't."

A small pad of paper and pen had been left in every room by the host of the house. Just standard hotel-type stuff. Nothing fancy. Not branded. Barely used, 'cause people just tend to use their phones these days, but still a nice thing to have.

Jeongguk had left a few doodles in yours over the weekend. Nothing big, nor fancy—but notably, they're all ripped out when he goes to open it once more, for you've tucked them away in your purse. Keepsakes. Little mementoes. Line drawings of stars, and sketches of your unmade bed. Yours, forever.

You're not really watching him, too busy making sure you've got the last of your items back, as he begins to scribble down into it once more. This time, he's the one who rips it out. Rips it again, to re-shape the rectangle note into a square. Folds it with little precision. Doesn't care for perfection in the same way that he usually does.

His creation is tucked into his back pocket before you even really notice what he's doing.

"Who's going to the station? Hobes, Nam, and Hayun, right?"

Jeongguk nods. "Yeah."

You nod, too. Turn to look at him. Say, "She's not allowed to ride shotgun."

It's not like you mean it. You're just joking .

But you do also say, "That's my space."

And Jeongguk agrees (even if it will enrage Jimin later in the afternoon). It is your space.

So he makes her ride in the back. Says that the seatbelt isn't working properly. "Safety precautions."

In a way, it is a safety precaution—just one for your heart, instead of Hayun's health.

Once they reach the station, Jeongguk helps to ferry the luggage to the platform with them all, and agrees to watch it with Hayun as Namjoon and Hoseok run to grab coffee. It's just an excuse for them to flirt, and he knows this. Decides to let them indulge it. Knows he'd have been annoyed if anyone got in the way of his time spent with you in the early days.

Hell, he gets annoyed at it now. Wants you all to himself, all of the time.

Small talk is made with Hayun. Weather and whatnot. Events of the weekend. Perfectly pleasant, and entirely forced.

Until she says, "So what's the deal then, huh? What's going on with you two?"

Still, she refuses to address you as anything more than a pronoun. Doesn't want to give you the luxury of an authentic existence in her own mind.

"No deal," Jeongguk says.

"Oh come on," she nudges her shoulder against his arm, but is surprised when he dodges the touch.

The Jeongguk she once knew would have thought about the exchange for weeks. This Jeongguk seems to want it erased entirely.

"God, you're touchy," she says, stifling a laugh. "She's turned you into such a"-

"Don't," Jeongguk says, tone soft but stern. "This kind of conversation isn't fair, Hayun. Not on me, and not on yourself. Not on anyone ."

He doesn't name drop you specifically, but the implication is there. She understands. Wishes she didn't.

It's a strange reality for her to live in. One that feels uncomfortable, and new, and foreign.

Yes, she's with a man who once knew her body better than she knew her own mind, but he's entirely different.

The Jeongguk who had drunkenly sobbed into her voicemail for months on end is not the Jeongguk who came out of his room holding your hand yesterday afternoon.

The Jeongguk who had fucked Hayun with more tenderness, more care, more devotion than any other man ever has, is not the Jeongguk who holds you when you cry.

No, the Jeongguk she once knew no longer exists. His vessel is largely the same, yes, but he's got stardust in his veins, now. When he bleeds, he bleeds for you.

"I took you for granted," Hayun admits, arms folded tight over her chest, cherry-red lips pursed. "You're right. I'm sorry."

And it confuses Jeongguk.

Confuses him, 'cause he would have done anything to hear Hayun say it this time last year.

Confuses him, 'cause she seems sincere and yet he doesn't believe her to be, nor does he really care.

Confuses him, 'cause the only thing it really makes him feel is sick.

He remedies the unpleasantness with thoughts of you. God . He just wants to get back to you.

"Or maybe you were right," he offers instead, trying to ease the situation. "Maybe there really is no such thing as right person, wrong time."

She frowns. "How so?"

"If it was the right person, it'd be the right time," he shrugs.

Thinks he met you at the perfect time. Wishes he had met you sooner, but knows he wouldn't have been ready.

"And is she that person?" Hayun finally pouts, deflated. "Is it the right time for her ?"

Jeongguk presses his lips together. Never imagined a reality in which he'd ever be telling Hayun any of this about another girl. Nods. Says, "Yun, when we... Well, you know. Back then, I projected my feelings onto you a lot. Thought that maybe if you saw how much I cared, that you'd care, too—"

"I did."

"No," Jeongguk stops her. "Not in the same way I did. We both know that. Yun, it felt... Felt like I was always fighting a losing battle with you. Sorta got myself hooked on the pain. Sorta like an addiction, in a way."

"That's morbid."

"That's the truth," he shrugs. "But the only thing I've ever fought when it comes to B is my own bloody head."

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, he glances down at Hayun. Sees her for exactly what she is: just a girl. Was special, 'cause he decided that she was—but she's never sparkled like you do.

He's never had any control over the way he sees you.

"I really care about her," Jeongguk admits. "I can't... I can't be an emotional crutch for you. Not someone to run back to, not someone to confide in in the way that you do. I'm not someone you can flirt with just because you're bored, or lonely."

Every sentence he speaks is like a sucker punch to her chest. She wishes the train would just hurry up.

"I really want to make things work with B."

Shaking her head, arms still tightly folded over her chest, Hayun can't believe the bullshit he's spewing. Thinks he never would have said this shit before you came around.

"So you're just throwing us away?" She almost spits. "Years of friendship, Jeongguk—"

"Years of you using me," he corrects.

"I never—"

"You did," he says firmly, not caring to let her manipulate the situation. "Might not have been your intention, but it is what it is."

Silence hums in between the roaring of train engines. The platform they're on remains empty. Stagnated.

"I didn't mean to," she grumbles. Looks away. Seems to be a shell of herself.

And Jeongguk really does think she means it. Wants to believe that no one would ever be that intentionally cruel.

"I know."

He's not after a fight. Isn't after anything really. Only wants to solidify the foundations you've been building together, and knows that he has to put in a little extra work on his end. Wants you to be secure. Knows you never will be if Hayun is still in the picture.

"Look," he sighs. "We're still gonna see each other around. Still gonna get on just fine —but there's no need for us to hang out one-on-one. No need to catch up. All my news for the foreseeable future is gonna be about B, anyways, and let's not pretend like it's something you'll actually care to hear about."

"What makes her different?" Hayun huffs, taking a seat on the empty bench in the middle of the platform. "What's so special about her?"

"You've met her," Jeongguk states, not joining her on the bench. Keeps his distance. "You know exactly why she's special, Hayun."

She scoffs. Shakes her head.

"So that's it? We're just not friends any more all because of some girl you've known for five minutes?"

"I'm not fighting with you about this. It doesn't have to be a fight."

"You're abandoning me and you expect me to be cool about it?" she scathes. "Throwing away everything we've ever shared all because of some fucking girl—"

"Hayun, I'm in love with her."

He doesn't mean to say it. Doesn't even really realise that he has until she falls silent.

But it's simple, and it's true, and it's acceptance; the way he feels about you has been spoken into existence. It's not big. Not scary. Just a fact of life.

"If she loved you—"

"You've no right to speak on how someone who loves me should treat me," Jeongguk laughs, cutting Hayun off. Really can't be fucked with her anymore. "She never asked me to have this conversation with you, if that's where you're going with this. She's my priority. I'm having this conversation because I know you have a tendency to overstep boundaries and I'll be damned if I let you fuck this up, Hayun."

Silence resumes.

"Look," he eventually sighs. "You were really important to me for a really long time. I'll always have time for you if you desperately need it... but I can't live in the past. Not when I have a future that I'm really excited about. Not when I have a present that makes me feel the way that it does."

But Hayun doesn't like this. Doesn't understand. Is annoyed. Pissed off that she isn't winning.

"Is she better than me?" She asks, deliberately getting a little vulgar, now. Wants him thinking about what it's like to fuck her. Think it's where she'll always reign supreme.

Jeongguk doesn't want to entertain it. "You're different."

Hayun doubles down. "Is she better?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to," Jeongguk simply shrugs.

"I'll take that as a no," Hayun smirks. Thinks she's won, 'cause why else would not just say 'no'?

But this really does piss Jeongguk off. Gets his jaw tense. Has him snapping.

"This little act of yours ain't cute, Hayun," he laughs—but it's not enough.

There's venom on his tongue, and the only way for him to save himself is to spit it at her instead.

"You ever been fucked by someone who loves you?" He hisses. "Huh? You know how fucking good it is when the person you're with actually gives a shit about you?"

Hayun is silent. They both know the answer. Knows the reason she can't let go is 'cause there's no way she'll get anyone who ever cared as much as he did.

Did.

Past tense.

"Don't ask stupid fuckin' questions," he finally says, a little softer in his tone, but still incredibly stern. She's done damage that can't be undone. He can deal with her being shitty to him, but it's different when she's shitty towards you. "In fact, don't ask jack shit about my fuckin' sex life. That's what I mean by overstepping boundaries. Know your place."

"I didn't mean—"

"I don't care," he says with a shrug of his shoulders as he turns to leave. She doesn't need his help to watch the bags. Her burdens are no longer his. "Conversation's done, Hayun. Couldda been amicable but you just couldn't help yourself. I'm sure I'll see you at the wedding."

He swallows down a 'get home safe', knowing that she'll be fine. Doesn't need his well-wishes, even if he does feel like an asshole.

There's a slight curve to Hayun's lips as he walks away. Proof that she can get under his skin, she thinks. False confirmation that he secretly still cares. Complete delusion. Ignorance of the fact it's his feelings for you that have him riled up. Protective .

His blood is all hot. Those damn stars are burning too brightly in his veins. Feels like they're gonna burst. His chest too, heart beating faster than should really be possible. Matches the speed at which he tanks his car down the country lanes back to the house. Back to you.

And yet when he's parked up in the driveway, he can't help but sit for a little while. Ruminate. Ponder the state of his circumstances. Wonder how it all came to reach this point.

Hands still on his wheel, as he glances up towards the house, it all just kind of fades away. He really did mean it when he said you help him forget about all the bad shit. When he focuses in on you, all he sees is the good.

So he pulls himself together. Greets you with a squeeze of your waist as he walks past and sets to loading up the car. Doesn't check the side-house, 'cause he trusts you to have remembered everything. Relinquishes control to you in a way that's unusual of him—but nothing about the pair of you is entirely 'usual'.

Never has been.

Jeongguk thinks he'd like it if your unusual affection for one another became the usual for you. Strange to others, maybe, but just right for him.

"No, call it again. Reload!" Jimin whines when you call shotgun just before all leave.

Jeongguk doesn't reload. Says, "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

Jimin threatens to use Jeongguk's good towel when he gets home, but it doesn't work.

See, Jeongguk wants you close. Close, close, close. Wants to hold your hand when he drives, but knows that he can't, so settles on this instead.

It's about twenty minutes into the drive when Jimin starts whining again. You've fallen asleep, the lull of the heater and chilled playlist Jeongguk has chosen soothing you. It's been an exhausting weekend, and it's not like you've been sleeping enough. Had told yourself you wouldn't fuck Jeongguk, not even once, throughout the weekend. Failed.

Jeongguk hushes his friend. "Don't wake her. She's not been sleeping well."

Yeah, Jimin internally scoffs. Heard it for myself.

Thankfully, he does settle. Can sense Jeongguk isn't in the mood to bicker. Eventually, Jimin naps too, and so do Danbi and Taehyung. It's a quiet journey, but one that Jeongguk thinks he needed. Alone time was sparse for the past few days. He needs a moment to recharge.

Traffic is light for a Sunday, roads peaceful. Often, he's the only car for miles. Likes it better this way.

It's a solid half an hour before he speaks again.

"Rise and shine," Jeongguk says softly, pulling you from your tranquil state. Still in the passenger seat of his car, he gently squeezes your knee, helping to bring you back to the realm of the living.

"Hmm?" you chirp, a little confused as you begin to stretch out.

You're unfamiliar with your surroundings, but can tell you're at a service station. It's a carbon copy of all the other ones along the motorway, just with slightly different bedazzled tat on offer in the marque stall out the front of it. Trot music blares from the speakers, and the scent of fried snack foods waft in through the open windows of his car.

The parking lot has ample space for three hundred cars, but you're not sure there's even thirty here. Cracks in the cement floor are sprouting with fresh spring weeds, and the empty retail units out front are almost indistinguishable from the ones that are still in business. It's drab. Bleak. Void of life.

"Where are the others?" You question, glancing behind yourself to see that the backseats are all empty.

"Wanted food," he clarifies, hand now resting on your inner thigh. You don't mind. Not in the slightest. "Said I'd wait with you and see if you wanted anything."

It's sweet, the way his eyes are always deep and dark whenever they look at you. There's an innocence to Jeongguk—to his intentions—even if you know that he isn't innocent in the slightest.

It boils down to the fact he's a genuinely good person. Will never let someone be left out, even if they are sleepy and would have happily slept through the entire service stop. The light shining in through the windows illuminates his dewy skin, highlighting all the teeny tiny flecks of glitter on him. It makes you smile. Makes you part your legs a little wider.

It's not like you're actively looking to entice him—you're just sleepy, and cosy, and he's handsome, and lovely. It's a match made in heaven.

The way his half-zipped sweatshirt hangs off his frame, revealing the vest that's tight to his chest, just really does something to you. Paired with the chain you know looks oh so good when it's dangling in front of your face?

Well, who could blame you?

Jeongguk smirks. Narrows those big brown Bambi eyes of his. Says, "From the shop. I'm checking to see if you want anything from the shop. Not from me."

"I'm all good," you shake your head, then stretch into a comfier position. Jeongguk stays with you. Doesn't bother going to get himself a snack. Will eat when he's home. Just wants to revel in the last few moments alone before your friends rejoin you.

Once they do, the rest of the drive is plain sailing.

You're dropped off first, Danbi staying in the car to head straight to Taehyung's place.

In all honesty, you'd been expecting to enjoy the quiet after a weekend of chaos. A chance to recharge your batteries. Time alone is typically your favourite way to unwind.

And yet today it isn't. In fact, you feel lonely, which is a rarity.

There's an emptiness to your bedroom.

With Danbi at Taehyung's, and Jeongguk at his own place, you don't really know what to do with yourself. Your entire afternoon routine feels lethargic. Unexciting. You shower, put on your laundry, have a mild panic because a rogue hair slide makes the washing machine wail for a while, then hang it out to dry on the roof of your apartment building.

You've not got much of a cityscape view from the rooftop—not like Jeongguk's apartment does—but it's something better than nothing. In a block of low-rise apartment buildings, you've always been quietly fond of the area. The traffic is light, a few roads back from the busy main street, and there's only one yappy pomeranian in the next building over to disturb the peace. It's home.

Elbows resting on the rooftop wall, you can't help but frown as a sad reality begins to kick in. The lease is up in a few months. Given how much time Danbi spends at Taehyung's studio, it seems only natural for her to move in with him when the time comes.

Moving doesn't appeal to you right now. You're settled. Content. Sure, Hoseok could move in, but he's gotten used to the expensive end of town. You doubt he'd be willing to come back to the squalor of your district.

Equally, Jeongguk and Jimin already have a pretty stable arrangement - not that you'd even want to live with them. You and Jimin have conflicting interior design tastes, and Jeongguk is annoying enough as it is. Living with him would only serve to make you lose your mind.

You've many options, realistically. Roommates, finding somewhere smaller, keeping the place you currently have but doubling your monthly rent expenses. All viable choices.

Still, it's nothing that needs to be decided yet. Both time and circumstances will change. They always do. Decisions, the good and bad, still have time to be made.

Flopping down onto your bed when you get back into your apartment, there's a weight to your shoulders. A sigh in your lungs. An ache where your heart resides.

With every pulse of your heart you can feel it.

And so can Jeongguk.

On his back, staring up at his own ceiling, he's silent. The echo of the TV vibrates through the wall, Jimin on the other side, but Jeongguk just sort of blocks it all out. Arm draped over his own waist, forlorn eyes studying the slight movement of the washi-taped birds in his AC unit breeze, there's little else he can think of but you.

It's not like this is a new thing. It's been months of Jeongguk having a disco ball for a brain. A slow process, he thinks. Was just flecks of glitter at first, trapped in his limbic system. Somewhere between the amygdala and hypothalamus.

But they multiplied. Spiralled. Crystalised.

And now his brain is hundreds of tiny mirrored shards, all reflecting an image of you.

Part of him thinks it should drive insane; that it should feel claustrophobic to never have his brain to himself.

He simply doesn't feel that way, though. Can't explain it. Just is what it is.

Thoughts of you are interrupted by the presence of Jimin —although it's not like the thoughts actually cease to exist. It's sort of like music playing when you're reading a book, or the sound of crashing waves while you sunbathe on the beach. Just 'cause he's distracted, doesn't mean they aren't there.

Jeongguk says nothing, just grunts as Jimin crashes down onto his bed uninvited. Facedown, Jimin doesn't know nor care of the importance that Jeongguk's origami birds hold. They've been such a staple in his housemate's bedroom for years at this point. Existed well before you—though he did notice the increase in them after you.

"Speak to me," Jimin mumbles, voice muffled by Jeongguk's sheets.

There's no care for formalities. No specification of what Jeongguk should speak about. He already knows.

Still, he says, "About?"

"About Disco Ball, dumbass."

But what's there to say?

"Can't keep bottling shit up, man. It'll destroy your head," Jimin adds. Has seen it happen once before. Cares too much for his friend to let it happen again.

"Not much to say," Jeongguk dismisses, just like Jimin thought he would. It's so typical of him.

"We both know that's not entirely true, don't we?"

"Do we?"

"Gguk."

"Well, what?" Jeongguk sighs. Rubs across his face with the heel of his palm. Keeps his eyes closed as he shakes his head.

"The walls were far thinner than you thought they were, Gguk," is all Jimin says. It's all he needs to say, but also thinks that Jeongguk needs a little push. "Y'know there's this old proverb— Don't let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game."

"That's not a proverb," Jeongguk frowns. "It's a quote from the film B made us watch after the last Notebook screening."

"Shut up," Jimin says, realising that he has just in fact quoted a 'A Cinderella Story ' at Jeongguk. "Doesn't matter. Is still true. The longer you go on with 'just friends' bullshit, the more and more she'll start to believe that's how you really feel, and then you'll lose her."

"I won't"—

"Shut up," Jimin repeats. "You'll lose her, 'cause she'll find someone that's proud to show her off. Will find someone who doesn't hide her. At the moment it's like you're ashamed of her."

It's not like that in the slightest. Jimin doesn't think it comes across like that to anyone, but he needs Jeongguk to wise up. Needs him to do something.

And even though Jimin is unaware of the Seokjin history, and the way in which you were shunned by someone you loved, Jeongguk isn't. Is well too aware that you've been made to feel like that before. Hates the thought of ever doing it to you too. Echoes of 'you sound just like him' makes his hairs stand on end, goosebumps ghosting his skin. He'll be damned if he's ever compared to your scumbag of an ex again.

"What if it's not what she wants?" Jeongguk says quietly.

"But what if it is?"

Jeongguk stays silent for a moment. Glances over to his chessboard, where a dishevelled bird sits. It barely looks like a bird anymore, thanks to his stroppy fists that tossed it across the room a couple of months ago.

Wings crumpled, it's been through the wars.

And yet when Jeongguk shows up at your door unannounced, holding the bird in his palm, he tries to pretend like it's totally normal.

Looks at it, then looks at you.

Says, "It fell."

"Into what?" you laugh, dressed in nothing more than one of his shirts and a pair of tiny shorts that have no business riling him up in the way that they do. "A literal rock-paper-scissors battle?"

"Erm," Jeongguk stutters. "No. I, uh. Fuck."

Showered and changed, he's now wearing a baggy sweater you've seen a few times before. Have always been tempted to steal it, but never got the chance. If it ends up on your bedroom floor tonight, it's fair game. The silver of his chain peeks out from the neckline, his lip ring glistening as he toys with it.

He struggles to find the words—and then just thinks fuck it.

What's the worst that could happen?

Rejection?

"No," he corrects himself. "Fell into my fist. Well, no, onto my back, and then I balled it up in my fists. Couple of months ago, actually. Anyways, I, uh—" he pauses. Is so nervous he's pretty sure he'll be sweating through his sweater. Looks to the floor. Shakes his head. Get a grip, man. "It's one of mine. I want to do it."

"Okay?" You question, raising the pitch of your voice as you gesture for him to come inside. His demeanour is very unlike his usual self, but it kind of reminds you of the Jeongguk you first met. It's cute. Sweet. Timid. "Can I read it?"

Hesitant, Jeongguk passes the bird to you. Kicks off his shoes. Walks away from you. Settles on the sofa. Wants to scream into a pillow, but is trying to look cool about things, even if his blood is burning red hot in his veins.

The way it feels like your heart is in your throat as you go to read the words out loud is a shared experience. Jeongguk's all of a tither, too. Hides it far better. When you glance over at him, you almost can't see his nerves. The soft purple mood lighting helps.

It's his eyes that give him away. So big. So sparky. Full of stars. All for you.

Just like the fear scribbled into his bird is all for you, too.

Admit your feelings.

You look over to him, then back down to the paper. Take a moment.

He says nothing. Nibbles down on his bottom lip. Is beautiful in the breakdown of his bastions. Walls need not be kept up any more. There's no point.

"Okay..." You say slowly. Assumptions would be disastrous right now, you think. "To who?"

Jeongguk swallows back his nerves. Looks you dead in the eye as he confirms the conclusions you're so desperately trying not to jump to.

"You."

It's not enough. You're still second-guessing.

"Admit your feelings to me... about who?"

Jeongguk would laugh if he didn't feel like the world is caving in around him. His head is spinning.

Or maybe it's just him.

Orbiting. Crashing. Colliding.

"You."

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nalyra-dreaming · 2 months ago

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Hi nalyra, I saw the MW Felix comment and I have to say it's sadly very much in character for the Lestat they have built. We've seen lestat make comments about seeing people as "inferiors" and "cattle", we've seen him not only enjoying the hunt but also mocking his victims (Mardi Gras, the tenor). He believes the earth to be a savage garden. As per Sam's comments lestat has fully embraced being a monster and his future arc will supposedly be to "crawl his way back to his humanity" (in contrast to louis whose arc is the opposite). His motivation according to sam is shame. Shame for things we've seen (I dread what they will do with claudias death and lestats involvement)

With season 3 coming I think it's safe to say we can take rolin and Sam and everything we have seen so far as face value. This is not the humanity loving, his light ever persevering, forgiving to the point of naive book lestat.

It's rolins interpretation of lestat which is...lacking if I say so. If he sees him as a sad clown or someone who would hurt his most beloved companion (which is directly against what Anne wrote bc she has lestat saying he'd never hurt louis and he never has) well then this is what we're getting.

I have been personally gutted by coming to this conclusion, that this is what the show is actually serving us. Messy vampires who are monsters and do monstrous things and petty relationship drama with some brilliant moments on the side, where I was hoping it would be the other way around. I really don't think they have a bigger plan in mind where all will be explained and made right, season two revisions and the latest autumn brown interview and long face reveals killed that hope.

We can certainly engage for the show for what it is and keep the good parts to enjoy it but I would be lying if I said its easy to do that. The show really has the potential to be impeccable and for some reason the creators chose to limit it and mischaracterize the lead of the series.

I know this isn't a fun topic to discuss (it certainly has not been fun for me to think about) but since it's a conversation that's been happening I'd love to hear your and everyone's thoughts !

It's funny, isn't it, that the version of Lestat we're getting is this jaded, hardened person, thanks to the shift they did, and the Louis we're getting is the version ... who got some of Lestat's good characteristics / world views.

I mean, I remember Rolin saying that, that they gave the evildoer-thing to Louis on purpose. Which, granted, at the time I didn't mind it much - but now it becomes ever clearer that they've pumped Louis up to be a better character by using (some of) Lestat's characteristics, which is... a choice.

And I agree, this is the show Lestat, and, in the context of the shift in character and time, it does make sense(!)

I have talked about it in the turning post, and others - this Lestat is a lot more jaded, he's been alone, he's been hurt, he's experienced heavy loss. He has experience with vampires, pitch forks and torches, and... Armand.

He clings to what he has quite differently. And can lash out a lot harder, too.

I've said it before, this is what we'll get. I waited 30 years for this show. There won't be another anytime soon, not that I'd necessarily want one(!), and I'm also anxious about certain real life developments which could have impact sooner or later.

I WILL enjoy this.

Like hope, with bloody knuckles. :)

But it is clear and has been stated that this is not Anne's Lestat, and that is actually quite the statement.

They are adapting the Vampire Chronicles - and fundamentally changed the main character(s). That will have repercussions for the upcoming arcs. And I do think the hinted at Amel plot is only the tip of the iceberg there, and when it hits it won't be pretty.

I have seen a development like this before, this "adaption of the books but freeing themselves of the books"... we all have I guess. The Witcher, for example, which was an incredible let down with season 2 for me. I hope this show will not follow that example. But when Rolin said something to that effect in one interview (I think it was a video) the alarm bells did ring in my mind.

Anyways. No, it isn't fun to talk about this.

But I'd rather be surprised positively by s3 than otherwise :)

#Anonymous #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #annes lestat

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icy-watch · 4 months ago

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Ok, and that was the end of s2p2 of Ninjago: Dragons Rising.

Lots going on at the end there.

There are Emotions here.

So predictions for next season.

The Fab 5 are going to be the main antagonists. That's pretty much a given at this point. It's going to be a tough fight, but there's going to be only 1 person or being who'll be able to defeat them:

Ras's master.

I still have no idea who or what that could be, but they're this giant looming threat over everything. They are, ultimately, going to be the final threat.

I feel like they've been pulling some strings and really want Arin, not Ras, by their side. And as soon as Arin masters Shatterspin, they're going to ditch Ras.

That's just what I'm feeling rn.

And then there's Jay. Nya and Kai are going to find Jay. I"m not sure if they're going to ever restore his memories. I would love to believe that they'll be able to, but I think there's something lost about Jay's memories that are with Wu.

As in, Wu is somehow keeping Jay's memories from him for his own protection or something.

Oh, wait if Jay knows where Wu is and what's going on with him? Hmmmm. That's an interesting plot thread to go down. I might play with this idea later.

And, finally, the reason Wu caused the Merge. The idea I proposed while watching the episode feels... tangible. Wu caused the Merge bc if he didn't so something the Fab 5 would be unbeatable. They needed Elemental Powers in order to stop them.

This completely contradicts my prediction about about Ras's master being the only thing to defeat them, I know, but my brain is thinking many things and I can't control it.

And we have left now is to wait until the next season is released.

Correct and incorrect predictions below the cut.

Correct

The Forbidden Five caused some problems in the past and were sealed away or something. "Problems" is putting it lightly. Very lightly. It's implied they committed genocide. Multiple times.

The Forbidden Five were the last students Egalt and Rontu had. I had this marked as confirmed, but it's been so long since I last watch that episode to actually say yay or nay.

There is a portal gate at Mysterium. It wasn't confirmed in any of the episodes t appeared, but as it was in the City of Temples Monastery, it's safe to assume it has 1 as well.

Either Kai or Lloyd will be able to do the Rising Dragon technique first. Kai was first, and Lloyd was third. 😊

Something's up with Egalt, and Wyldfyre knows what it is. Sadly, she knows exactly what is is, bc she lost family members to the same disease.

2 members of the Fab 5 escaped and the second 1 is possessing Jordana. I think this was rather obvious to me.

We'll see some old friends at the Tournament of the Sources. We got Tox and Neuro and Mr. Pale and Chamille and maybe some others I forgot about.

Jay is either going to be a random competitor in the Tournament or 1 of the members of the Wolf Army. Por qué no los dos?

Bleckt can't be trusted. The fact I switched from Bleckt to Roby.

Zeatrix will make it decently far into the Tournament. She actually did. Before she lost and tried to kill Lloyd.

By the end of the season, Arin will join Ras. Technically, yes, he did.

Nokt and whoever's possessing Jordana killed the Matriarch. This became obvious. It was less obvious whether or not Ras was in on it or no.

There's a lot of manipulation in the Tournament to either help Ras or the Fab 5. Help in the form of an old man with buttons.

The City of Temples Monastery won't be how they get Kai and Bonzle back. It'll be something with the dragon horns. I'm genuinely surprised that this was the actual solution. Holy canoli.

Nokt and his sister are using Ras. He really is very easy to play with. They were holding a string in front of him and he was batting away at it, believing he was in control of everything this whole time.

Bleckt and Ras have been conspiring, but it has nothing to to with the missing horns. Yeah, their whole plot together was the subplot for the season. Nokt and Rox's plot ended up being the main 1.

Something will interrupt Sora and Nokt's fight. I'm counting Bleckt shifting the platform as an interruption. It wasn't what I assumed would happen, but it did keep Sora from actually winning the round like she should have.

There is going to be a fight between everyone and the Wolf Army. I feel like this was a given.

The rest of the Fab 5 (+ Kai and Bonzle) will be freed at the end of the season. This was another 1 of those things that felt like it was a given.

Jordie is going to get free from Rox. This 1 also felt like it was a given.

Incorrect

Sora is going to struggle with learning the Rising Dragon technique. She didn't even learn it.

Arin is going to do the best out of everyone learning the Rising Dragon technique. *sad laughter into a pillow*

Ras is sacrificing the Writers to keep control of the Wolf Army. Well, he was sacrificing them, just not to keep control of the Wolf Army. Actually, that resulted in him losing control of the army.

Bonzle was the reason none of the Finders could leave the Land of the Lost. She wasn't directly responsible for keeping them there, although she failed to mention that the spell holding them there was gone.

Bonzle was captured by the Administration. Not really... Jay tried, I'll give him that.

Zane, Cole, and Gandalaria won't realize Bonzle's been taken until after the fight. She managed to get away from Jay. Although, it would have been fun to see the 2 of them bonding a little bit.

Bonzle will be rescued. More like, she's going to save Kai from spiraling in the Nether-Realm.

Kai, Sora, and Wyldfyre will free Zane, Cole, and Gandalaria from the library. They were able to come up with a small solution all on their own.

Arin will join Ras at the end of the first half of the season. He made it much longer than that!

Lloyd will have another vision before he and Nya find Arin and reach the temple. He did not.

Beatrix will make a comeback this season. lol

Arin will find a clue as to where his parents are in the City of Temples. Ras saying he knows where Arin's parents are is not a clue. That is straight up manipulation and lies.

Frak is being used to get to the ninja bc of his history with Arin. Honestly, this would have been a good path to explore. But that would have meant that Ras would have to actually talk to his students rather than talk at them.

Zeatrix is the villain of the season. She never even stood a chance.

Wylfyre is either going to be completely oblivious to Roby's flirting and have it pointed out by Sora, OR she's going to notice and flirt back, turning him into a puddle of simp. Or the secret third thing where she's bad at flirting and so is Roby. They're both beans.

The Administrator called for the Matriarch to be killed. Nokt and Rox did that all on their own.

Roby is the 1 manipulating the Tournament. He was a bit too eager to have the ninja participate, and very into having the Most with the Tournament. But he's just a bean.

Nya left to find Jay. She and Riyu got kidnapped by Nokt and Rox.

The Fab 5 did something to sever the connection Nya and Riyu had with Kai and Bonzle. They did, indeed.

Arin will join the Fab 5 at the end of the season, instead of Ras. He ran after them, but he didn't actually join them. He was going after Ras.

Partial

Lloyd's vision is def going to happen. My predictions about exactly what are mostly accurate, but I thought it was Beatrix (like everyone else) and not Zeatrix. So, it sits in partial for being mostly accurate.

Riyu knows something's up with Arin. Sort of? But not really? Not in the way that Arin needed someone to notice that something was up with him.

Something bad will happen to Bonzle and Euphrasia. Euphrasia came out of the Blood Moon Ceremony with only being scarred mentally.

Nya's going to leave the group to go out and find Jay. Well, she did leave the group. And originally it was to go find Jay, but she got a little sidetracked.

Frak and Jordie will join the ninja at the end of the season. Frak did. Jordie is MIA.

Unconfirmed

The Monastery will be destroyed by Ras at some point, officially marking the end of Wu's time as master and the permanent start of Lloyd's. I'm genuinely still waiting for this to happen. It seems very possible.

The 3 Wu Theories: He's the Energy Dragon under Imperium. Or, he's running a tea shop somewhere. Or, he's the Administrator. I have a lot of ideas as to where Wu is at, tbh.

The Administration is playing a part in Ras freeing the Forbidden Five somehow.This all depends on who the Administrator is.

1 of Arin's parents is the Administrator. This would be terrible. I kinda want it to happen.

Wu caused the Merge for a good reason. Something had to happen to either merge the Realms or let them be destroyed. Waiting to see whether this 1 will be right or if Wu truly is evil.

Nokt was expecting someone other than Nya to participate in the Tournament. Someone who's not Kai. This is most likely Kai, but I still kinda feel like he was expecting a relative we don't know about yet.

#liveblogging #ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising #season 2 #episode 20 #elements of betrayal #ndr s02e20

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i-heart-hxh · 7 months ago

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Hey there! I just found these preview pages from volume 38, though I'm not sure what they say and if they're legit. Wondering if you've seen them as well?

These first pages usually show the characters that are going to be in the volume. What stood out to me is that Gon is there as well! Now, from a quick translation from the internet, it basically says that he's unable to see aura and he's on a homecoming (?) trip. Then on the bottom there is a synopsis on what has happened so far in the manga. Does this mean we'll see Gon in the upcoming chapters? I'm trying to not get my hopes up but...

What do you think?

Hi!

So, you may already know this, but I want to make it clear first that Volume 38 will only contain chapters that have already been released (391-400)--so Gon definitely won't be appearing in the chapters collected in Volume 38. These are the chapters we got back in the end of 2022, before Togashi went on the hiatus that will be ending in October. Typically the previous 10 chapters are only collected into a volume and released around the same time more chapters are about to come out, so that's why this volume is only being released now.

Also, Gon has been listed in the character summary page throughout the Succession War arc as far as I recall, so, it's nice that he's still included but it unfortunately isn't a change from previous volumes, where he also never appeared.

While Gon being on the cover was a welcome surprise that I'm very happy about, I don't think either it or the character introduction page are strong signs of his impending return. However, Togashi clearly doesn't want us to forget about him, and is reminding us that he's still one of the main characters of the series, so I think it's a great sign for the series going back to him over the longer term!!

HxH is very unpredictable, so Gon could technically return at any time, whenever Togashi deems the story has come to that point. However, with how many characters and plot points are being juggled in Succession War, I personally am not anticipating his return particularly soon. We could get a cameo or small scene or something, but I don't think there's a lot of space to go back into his character arc quite yet. I think we may still need to wait a while before he's part of the story again, but I do think it's coming at some point--perhaps at the end of this arc, or when the story does a major shift.

Gon does have ties to the Dark Continent, with Ging and his presumed ancester Don Freecss being both being connected to it, and Killua does as well, via Nanika, so I think when the Dark Continent itself becomes more prominent in the series, it's possible we'll see them return to the story. But as usual, it's hard to predict what Togashi has up his sleeve. I am confident we'll see them again, though, and all the focus Togashi has put on especially Gon this year (with all his tweets of art of him, this cover, etc.), I'm sure Gon will be back when the time is right!

Thanks for asking!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #gon #asks #magicdeckcard #my posts

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pain-in-the-butler · 9 months ago

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do you think, though it’s the climax, we’re gonna see the end of the kuro story soon? i feel like with the amount of unanswered questions and, well our main objective, we’ve still got a long way to go, but i don’t know now. regardless of pacing and chapter lengths, do you think we’re finishing up? or do you think we’re kicking off with a bang?

If you asked me before the hiatus news dropped, I would've said we probably have about four or five more years of Kuro left. However, after Yana's announcement that we're basically looking at the finale... we might have three years or even fewer after the hiatus is over. Which is shocking considering how many loose ends there still are.

It's impossible to say how long this hiatus is going to be, but it seems the plan is for Yana to come back and give us her best shot. I hope she'll use this time off to recuperate and come up with a strategy to tackle everything that still needs to be said so that her ending can be as solid as possible.

What I am beginning to anticipate and fear, because I can be a bit of a negative Nancy, is that she's using this time to see how to condense the plot as much as possible and get it all over with while still making it coherent and covering most of her bases. Before today, I thought we were looking at two more arcs, each about two to two and a half years in length, but now I think Yana's really looking to wrap it up in one big go. That's...... interesting!

Yana has always been a bit of a shaky writer to me, with some actual good storytelling and ideas baking slowly over a long period of time; then at other times she relies on exposition and new characters who aren't even that interesting to carry her plot before sending them off to the Shadow Realm (Blavat who?). So to me, it's really hard to say what a hiatus is going to lend her. She deserves a break (she should have been forcibly given one long before now), but as for what the behind-the-scenes discussions about the story sound like, I can only wonder endlessly for the rest of my life.

tl;dr: Black Butler is definitely being prepared to end. We just have no idea when we'll actually see it.

#asks

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friend-crow · 5 months ago

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When I was a kid, I lived down the street from a cemetery. My family went to the same church as the caretakers, and I had relatives buried there, so it was familiar territory. The town is old for the US, with burials back to Revolutionary War veterans, and I liked to ride my bike in the older parts of the cemetery where the mausoleums and old sculptural gravestones were.

One summer evening, I was there with family and got separated from the group, but this being pre-cellphone, we had a plan for that: everyone find their way back to the gate closest to home, and we'll meet up there. So I turned my bike and started working my way back around towards the meetup point.

The cemetery had a few paved main thoroughfares, with side paths being just gravel or dirt paths. The route I picked went up a gravel side path along one edge of the cemetery which was a mix of flat, flush stones and a few short older style headstones. The edge of the cemetery was fenced, with the six foot chain link all overgrown with ivy.

As the sun went down, I was pedaling up the hilly stretch of the side path, watching out across the (largely) open field for any other members of my group.

As I turned my head to look up the path, a figure shot past me down the hill.

It was quick, but I got the distinct impression of a adult or large teenager, standing upright like a rollerblader, moving extremely quickly, and all in vague white. And they passed by me within about two feet.

I immediately dropped a foot and whipped my head around to see what kind of lunatic would go down that hilly gravel path that fast and nearly hit me in the process, and there was absolutely nobody in view.

Nobody! No one on the path. No one in the field of low headstones. No noise. No movement. Nothing.

And as I stood there, looking around baffled, foot crunching in the gravel underfoot as I turned, I realized something.

Whatever that was didn't make any noise on the gravel path.

I changed path slightly to go stand near the family plots while I waited for the others - if something spectral was wandering the cemetery, I'd prefer to have backup from my relatives than be a sitting duck by the side gate.

We ended up moving out of state soon afterwards, and I never got the chance to be on that path at sundown again, but I do wonder sometimes: what did I see? And if I went back on a summer evening, would I see it again?

#birdhouse of horror

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writtenbyjos · 11 days ago

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Starlight and Shadows: Gravity Falls

Prologue 1: Vagabond

((ALL FAN-FICTION RELATED CONTENT AND OC'S BELONG TO ME))

Gravity Falls, oh it is good to be back! I am BEYOND excited to share this with you guys, I've put my absolute heart and soul into writing this story, but I'm going to post chapters 1-5 whenever I can finally get them polished, edited and formatted the way I want. But this is the first prologue out of two that's going to set up the story before the story even begins. It'll introduce Eliza and Matilda, (Matilda's Prologue COMING SOON) and gives some context for where we'll pick up later in the story. It's going to be a full fledged story with all the angst, romance, mystery and adventure your heart can handle. To let you know what you'll be getting yourself into, we have a very charming and mysterious male antagonis with unknown intentions named Trick, changlings, vampires, the darker, more sinister side of Gravity Falls, inter-dimensional travel, heartbreak, a character who can see and communicate with ghosts, flashbacks and delving deep into some angsty Pines Twins content. What the people (AND ME) love to see. I've posted some artwork of my OC's, Eliza and Matilda if you wanna go check it out! I am so hyper-fixated on this fanfiction, its actually insane. Like, Gravity Falls has literally taken my mind and heart hostage and I am a WILLING participant. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this little story as much as I have enjoyed writing it! :) <3 Attaching the Spotify playlist I created to read along with the stories. Enjoy!!

(ALL GRAVITY FALLS CONTENT BELONGS TO ALEX HIRSCH AND THAT KING ON EARTH ONLY WE ARE HUMBLE SERVANTS)

Summary:

PROLOGUE PLOT:

The first prologue (Vagabond) revolves around the happenstance meet cute and completely chaotic situation that Stanley and Eliza find themselves in. Eliza is an ex-pageant queen hailing from a wealthy family business, but escaping to big cities to live out her dreams of being on stage while haboring a complex darkness she can't seem to break free of. But right now, performing nightly at a seedy variety club downtown with her two best friends will suffice. After a heist gone very, VERY wrong, Stanley Pines, hunky drifter, takes cover from a cop chase and drug bust into an alley where he stumbles through a back door-- and onto Eliza, in a robe, smoking a cigarette out the door before she goes on for her first set. Their meeting would set off a butterfly effect, and set many events into motion. And the rest, my friends, is history.

MAIN PLOT (IN PROGRESS): After a year of sailing the seven seas and repairing their strained relationship and re-discovering their love and zest for life, Stan and Ford Pines return to Gravity Falls to spend a highly anticipated second summer with Dipper and Mabel, fresh off the track of their first successful year of high school. Dipper and Mabel have been trying to figure out how to be teenagers under the strain of their parent's failing relationship while Ford and Stan have made a fortune from their research. But while still trying to re-adjust to normal life after the traumatic events of defeating Bill and surviving Weirdmageddon, everyone still feels weary of calm waters and still haven't found their footing. But they know as long as they'll have each other, they can make it through anything. After the reunite, it was as if they had never left. The whole gang is back and better than ever. But in Gravity Falls, all is not always as it seems... and when Stan's long time old flame Eliza resurfaces and her estranged, mysteriously charming lover Trick comes looking for her, he brings with him a looming threat that no one could have ever imagined. This would be the summer where everyone's lives changed forever.

It was a hot, soggy-aired late afternoon where the days of august seemed to drag on like a bad movie. In Las Vegas, you needed three things, a tough hide, a sharp mind and a little dumb luck. In 1978, 'Grease' had just been released, and dancing was the capture of everyone's attention, but anew kind. Big cities like these offered the opportunity for young people with big dreams to think they could take the world, where it was almost still possible for people to have hope for the future, everything was so unknown, so mysterious. Stanley Pines was no exception. After a disastrous attempt to pull off a heist that involved certain "illegal" and "counterfeit" goods, exotic animal smuggling and a fake ID ended in being busted by two undercover cops. Stanley was once again evading the arrest and capture as he hurtled himself through the busy streets of one of his favorite cities in the world. He'd become well acquainted with the unpredictability and excitement of las Vegas. In other words, Stan had successfully learned how to be a full time criminal, evading the grasp of the LVPD many times in the past year. But this time… this time he may have taken things just a little too far.

As his heart pounded in his ears, he made sharp turns on street corners, jumped over chain link fences and ducked into a few port-o-poties eventually pushing some sad sack off their tourist bike and making a mad dash for the south side of town, where he knew he could find enough chaos to blend in with or a seedy bar to hide in. He cycled through the sidewalks and lights like a race car on a fast track.

He had become addicted to the feeling of escaping the authorities, it was the same rush he would get when he'd do something to get him sent to detention in high school. There was still no feeling like it. But he was so caught up in the adrenaline of outrunning the police, he nearly crashed into a construction site surrounding a large pot hole gaping in the middle of the sidewalk. He swerved around and barely missed it, laughing as he looked back, pounding a fist proudly into the air.

"Suckers!" He cackled. But what happened next was no laughing matter. He felt a small bump underneath the tires and his heart sank as the wheels began to pedal slower and slower.

"Goddammit, not now, not now! Fuck! Shit!" He cursed to himself, pulling over by a brightly lit club and hopping off into its hidden alleyway. He examined the front wheel: busted. There was a giant nail stuck in the tire, presumably from the construction site he almost fell face first into moments ago. He grabbed his hair in his clutched fists frantically and paced back and forth, in a disheveled suit he had sticky fingered from an old thrift store for this exact occasion. He put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath.

"He went that way! We got him now!" He heard voices yelling from the street not too far away and knew he had to think of a plan and fast, if he didn't want to be locked up and sent off to the big house. He looked around frantically for an escape, and spotted a back door that was slightly open, cracked. He didn't think twice, just forward and lunged for the door, opening it and hurting himself inside. He managed to get himself through the door and flattened himself against the wall just as the cop car zoomed past the alleyway in the opposite direction, away from the club. It was one of his more graceful exits. But what wasn't so graceful, was his crash landing. He'd gotten his boot stuck in part of the ply wood that stuck up from the ground and fallen face first onto the dusty floor. Luckily, his giant nose broke his fall. He lay there for a minute, unsure if he could move his anything. He sighed and turned over to lay on his back, grimacing from the pain of falling flat on his forehead.

"Hey, this is a closed smoke session, buddy." A gravely voice startled him almost half to death, and it was coming from a short-torso-ed, long legged, blonde leaning against a door frame with a lit cigarette in her left hand, taking a long drag. Before he could say anything, she stepped over to him where he was sprawled out on the floor like a complete idiot about to make a snow angel with no snow. She was wearing nothing but a pink robe with fluffy cuffs and red platform heels—a specific detail that Stan would remember fondly for years and years to come. With every step closer she got, her heels echoed in the hallway full of metal shafts and a boiler sitting in the corner huffing like a train engine, presumably about to burst open. She seemed to walk in sync with the bursts of hot air, like the world was her stage and it beckoned to her every move.

"I—uh…sorry…" He scrambled to his feet as she towered over him, a look of annoyance plastered on her face as she took another drag and puffed it into the already clouded air. When he got to his feet and brushed his jacket off, he winced at the still open door that spilled into the street that he'd just been chased down. He closed it with two hands and huffed, turning back towards this mysterious stranger. And from this angle, he was almost stricken with how beautiful she was.

"Hey I'm smokin' here! Why'd you close the door?" She whined.

"I think you'll live." Stan muttered, catching his breath, searching around the room for something to barricade the door closed.

"Who the hell are you, anyways?" She asked, more inconvenienced than upset, watching him scramble about.

"No time to explain! Just help me keep this door shut, toots!" She eyed him suspiciously and crossed her arms. He looked at her with a pleading look and sighed, rubbing his eyes together with one fist. "Please?" He asked. The woman groaned and dropped her shoulders.

"Fine, fine." She said huffing. She threw him an old pipe from a pile of metal scraps and broken show signs in the hallway and Stan made a makeshift lock so that no one could barge in without exerting a good amount of effort. She came up right behind him and fastened a small chair and placed it underneath the door handle, making sure it was secure. She took her arm in his and put out her cigarette on a small ash tray by the door and lead him hastily to a small door down the hall. Upon entering, it looked like makeshift dressing room. He ran in and caught his breath, the lady shutting the door abruptly behind her.

"Y'know, most times I don't let strange men into my room until at least the third date." She said putting her hands on her curvy hips. Stan propped his forearm on a beam and wiped the sweat off his forehead panting a little from all the excitement. When his head cleared enough for him to realize she had just back handedly insulted him, he felt his face turn red.

"Hey! I'm not strange! Besides, y-you're the one who pulled me in here!" He said smoothing out his beige leisure suit and shook his head. "Strange men my ass…geez, women are so paranoid." He muttered under his breath, irritably. He'd had just about enough of today.

"How about I throw you back onto the street? Hello? I'm also the one who saved your ass back there!" She said, strutting over to him and poking an accusatory finger into his chest with force. "Where's my thank you?" She said crossing her arms definitely. Stan sighed and decided he needed turn on his charm to smooth his way out of this one, that is, if he wanted to stay hidden from Sergeant Amos and Deputy Jones. He grabbed her chin between his pointer finer and thumb, giving her a warm smile.

"Thank you, princess." He noticed her face flushed with a rose tint.

"I…y-you're welcome." She was trying to act big and tough, but Stan could see a quiver of weakness in her eyes, and he thanked his lucky stars for his natural wit and charm, and that he wasn't his twin nerdy twin brother.

"You got a name, sweetheart?" He asked. She gave him a look and smiled.

"Eliza. Like in 'My Fair Lady'." She held out her hand and Stan took it gently in his, grazing her knuckles with his stubbled lips. "But you can call me Liz." She said, walking her fingers up Stan's torso.

"My fair lady indeed….Liz, I like it. Pretty name for a pretty gal like you. I'm Staley Pines. But…you can call me Stan. Nice to meet ya." He said with an award winning smile.

"So, you man of mystery, I know I'm probably gonna regret asking this and regret letting you into my dressing room but, who or what exactly, did I just save you from?" She took a few steps closer with each word til she was inches away from his face, fiddling with the hem of his coat. He didn't know if she was pickpocketing him or just feeling him up. Either way, he didn't care.

Stan gulped and tugged on his jacket collar.

"See, if I told you, where's the fun in that?" He chuckled nervously.

"Oh look—my dressing room telephone…" She pulled away and grazed her hand over a pink rotary next to her lit up mirror and a few make-up brushes. "Hello? Hello operator? There's a strange man in my dressing room that won't leave me alone…" She pretend to be on the phone and twisted the wire between her little fingers, feigning fright.

"Alright, alright! I'll tell you, just—just put the phone down, shortcake." He held out his hands cautiously, as if he were talking her down from the ledge. "But… how do I know you're not just gonna call the cops for real?" She put her weight on one foot and played with the belt of her robe.

"I guess you'll just have to trust me." She said bopping him on the nose.

"Meh, cut it out!" He chuckled, gently swiping her hand away. "Fine…I was uh, I was sorta being…chased or something." He said sheepishly.

"Or something?" She asked, holding back a chuckle. "Who was chasing you?" She crossed her arms.

"Charley and Hudson Combs, L.V.P.D. Precinct nine." Stan waited for her to make the usual judge-y, freaked out or doped out reaction he'd usually gotten from everyone else, but she never did. She just nodded and raised an eyebrow, pulling a box of cigarettes from the breast pocket on her robe. She lit another cigarette and motioned for him to continue.

"I was… s-supposed to meet a few fellas about getting a few tigers and an alligator down across the boarder. Know what? I shouldn't be telling you this. You need plausible deniability." He winced, but there was still no reaction out of Liz except a slow, exhale of smoke from her drag and a nonchalant shrug of reassurance. Stan sighed. "…But when I met up with the buyers to seal the deal, they turn out to be undercover cops! They tried to arrest me but uh…" He chuckled proudly. "Let's just say these hands can get away from anything, out of any situation. I managed to outsmart 'em and get them off my trail…maybe just long enough to buy me some time to figure out my next move. But twiddle-dee and twiddle dumber put a slash in every one of my tires! Gonna cost an arm and a leg, too.

"So how'd you end up on the floor of my Long story short, I've been trying to outrun these asswipes for half an hour now!" He exclaimed.

"Well, why the hell didn't you just say so?" She asked casually, still holding out her cigarette with a bent wrist.

"What?" He asked, surprised at her accepting nature…or was he skeptical?

"Why didn't you say that earlier? It would've made things a lot easier! There's a secret stairway that goes up to the attic, dummy." She said matter of factly.

"Well, in a city like this, who knows who you can really trust? Or if…if you're a guy like me…" He said shifting uncomfortably. Eliza half smiled, knowingly.

"A hunky drifter with a thrill problem?" She asked giving him a look down. Stan ran his fingers through his hair and shot her a hand gun, winking.

"Haha, yeah!"

"Wait here." She said, turning around briskly and meandering towards the back of her boudoir.

"Look, Eliza… I appreciate you and all of this but I don't exactly have time to wait. I need to figure out what the fuck I'm gonna do! What if they come looking for me here? I left the bike outside, I mean…I'm toast! Christ on a saltine cracker…" He took a flask from his pocket and guzzled down a large swig of whiskey.

"Calm down, mon cher," she had disappeared behind a drape and he heard her fiddling through what sounded like a dresser or drawer of some kind. "You're bumming my good mood. Besides, all you need, is a little wardrobe change!" She sang.

"What the fuck?" Stan muttered to himself. "What the hell does a wardrobe change have to do with getting me off the hook? So I can take a prettier mugshot?"

"God. Men are so lucky to have women. You're all hopeless. Without us, you'd be chasing your tails, itching your fleas and off starting wars." She called. "Oh wait, too late."

"That's debatable." Stan muttered, taking another swig of his drink.

"Hey pal, I have a strict alcohol policy here." She said coming around the corner with a new suit, some make up and a bag of mystery supplies. Stan put his flask away quickly and blushed trying to play it off cool. She set down her haul on her make up table and put her hands on her hips.

"No alcohol allowed." She frowned.

"Damn, you really know how to have fun, don't you?" He asked, putting it away.

"I said, no alcohol…Unless you're willing to share." Eliza extended her hand expectedly and Stan felt a sly grin grip at the corner of his lips. He shook his head and sighed.

"Guess I misjudged you, kid." He said handing her the flask. She twisted one the top.

"Guess you did." She said taking a giant swig, both alarming and impressing Stan at the same time.

"You nervous or something? What's got you so thirsty?" He chuckled, amused as she wiped her mouth with her arm and handed him his flask back.

"Pre-show nerves. And there's a very devilishly handsome stranger in my boudoir." She hummed.

"Devilishly handsome, eh?" Stan tried to appear more confident and put together than he really was and leaned on the side of her mirror, like he'd seen James Dean do many a time in the movies."Hey, what's the plan with those? This devilishly handsome stranger needs to make like a bird and fly out of here, y'know…unseen." He stroked his chin, looking at the pile of stuff on her table.

"Cops can't arrest you if they don't recognize you." She said smiling, holding out the suit for him. It was flashy alright, it was black with electric blue lighting strikes and a silky pant to match. She had picked out a wig with long brown hair, and a fake mustache to tie it all together. It was a stretch, but better than anything he had on hand.

"Huh. You really think this disguise can hide me from the cops? Don't you think it's a little too…sparkly? What if I just draw attention to myself?"

"Thats the point! If you were trying to outrun the law, the last thing you'd be doing is going to a sketchy variety show at a dingy night club. You'll be hidden in plain sight! Besides, I've never met anyone who can grow a mustache in under half an hour, Stanley." She raised her eyebrows and Stan felt his stomach settle for the first time all day. This might actually work.

"I like your style, kid. That's impressive. Crazy, but we might be able to pull this off." He said taking the costume and draping it over one arm.

"Are you crazy? Of course we will. I didn't grow up learning how to make myself eight years older with my pageant make up for the fun of it…" She paused and winked. "I did it to help disguise shady figures and get them into the witness protection program."

"Pageants, huh?" Stan asked, masking a snort. Eliza was amused that he didn't even question her comment about the witness protect program.

"Yes." She gritted her teeth and pushed her hair behind her ears.

"Isn't Miss America supposed to be a role model or something? Like a goody two shoes in an expensive dress?" Eliza rolled her eyes.

"You have no idea." She shivered slightly and rubbed her arms quickly.

"You know doll, I did have this under control. But I appreciate the help anyways."

Eliza smirked.

"Right. Until you came stumbling in here with a broken bike and into the arms of a half naked stranger in a leotard? Yeah. Sounds like you have everything under control." She looked amused and Stan blushed. "It's a good thing you're cute." Stan puffed out his chest and cracked his knuckles.

"What can I say? I'm adorable! People can't get enough of me, even the cops keep ridin' my ass from here to New Jersey." Eliza giggled into her hand and adjusted her robe. Stan couldn't help his wandering eyes as they surveyed this lovely stranger he'd stumbled upon, literally, and the slip in her robe near her chest that was opening up just enough to get a better look. She was a good foot and a half shorter than he, with high cheekbones, long blonde hair and big, blue eyes. She had a small trail of freckles lining her nose, and they way her small waist and big hips swayed with every word she said, beckoned Stan to come closer.

"That's debatable." She smirked, turning around, hair hitting Stan square in the face. But he didn't care—it smelled like vanilla ice cream and babies' laughter.

He watched as she made her way behind a curtain and motioned him to look away. "Do you mind? I have to get ready… And you need to get into that suit, pronto."

"R-right, sorry…" Eliza slipped behind a pink curtain by the velvet couch and disappeared. He instinctively turned around and crossed his arms, hearing a zip and a tug here and there. Stan's face flushed and began to shed his layers and put on the blue suit while Eliza was still getting her dress on.

"Where did you say you were from?" She called.

"Uh…that depends. I've been banned in seven states including my hometown…"

"Seven states? No way." She said impressed "And you're hometown…Which is…?" She asked.

"Glass Shard, New Jersey. Born and raised. But like I said, I'm not exactly…allowed back. Got a lot of angry people with fake pitch forks waiting for me if I ever do." He chuckled.

Eliza peered around the satin drape and looked pleasantly surprised when she got a good look at Stan. And vice versa. Her robe had disappeared and she was now wearing a sparkly a two piece set, with a white, bedazzled, form fitting tank top and matching pants with bell bottoms and platform heels that almost brought her up to Stan's chest. She had on big, circle, blue tinted glasses and her hair was teased.

"Very nice. Very Bowie." She said signing Stan to do a turn around with her twirling finger.

"Not so bad yourself, toots. Damn. You're a sight for sore eyes. What I wouldn't give to be walking around the streets of Vegas with a gal like you on my arm." He took her hand and twirled her around slowly, ending her in a dip, locked in his arms. They stayed like this, locked in time for a minute and Stan's eyes wandered to her pink lips, so soft and so thick.

"I mean…if you play your cards right…" She said, the breath taken away from her by their embrace. There was a moment—just a fleeting moment—where he thought she might want to kiss him back, but before she could there was a knock at the door and Stan nearly dropped her on her head before catching her mid fall. She hit his arm and dusted herself off, scoffing. She put a finger to her lips and motioned for him to be quiet.

"Eliza? Your little girl group is on in fifteen. Sage Green is finishing up her last set." A male voice called from the other side of her door.

"Thanks Julio." She called, turning back to Stan, she sighed and went to get the fake mustache and matching wig. "Now then, after you put this on, you're on your own. I have a show to do." She took the mustache and applied a thin line of glue on its sticky side, and stood of her tip toes to reach Stan's upper lip. She stuck it under his nose and smoothed the edges, her fingertips brushing against his lips every now and then. Next, she fitted the wig over his head. Her hands pulling and tugging at his hair was doing more than he'd care to admit. But the look was pretty convincing…and Stan couldn't deny her obvious expertise.

"One more thing…" She reached for her makeup palette and grabbed a brush readying herself to work on Stan's face.

"Woah, woah, woah…that is not touching my face, doll face." He said defensively. "Guy's don't wear makeup! I'm not some kind of sissy." Eliza raised an eyebrow and snickered to herself, dipping the brush in a red color, then a blue, then a black.

"There is so little you understand about the world, Stan. Get your head out of your ass. Do you want to look convincing for the cops or not?" She asked. Stan looked at her, then the make up brush with powder on the end and sighed.

"Fine. But you better not make me look bad." He said. After a few moments of breathing in Eliza's perfume which was a heavenly blend of amber and childhood wonder, he began to grow tired of the poking and prodding of the prickly brush and wondered how the hell women could sit still and do this for hours when he could barely sit still for five minutes. He had a newfound respect. He liked having Eliza stand so close to him, he could hear all the small catches in her breath as she honed in her focus, their lips barely inches away from each other. "I still don't understand how this is gonna help."

"Of course you don't," she sang. "C'mon, admit it, you secretly love this. I know you do." She found his discomfort quite hilarious but Stan just groaned in annoyance.

"Oh yeah, I love getting stabbed in the eye. Feels like I'm kissin' a porcupine. Hey!" He flinched. "Be careful with that thing—you're—you're getting powder in my cornea!" He blinked, scrunched his face up and tried to rub the make up out. Before he could start messing up all her hard work, Eliza scolded him and slapped his hand away. "Great, just great!"

"You big baby. Hold still…" She hissed. "Aaaaand…all done." She stood back and tilted her head. She looked pleased with herself. "Take a look." She stood behind him as he checked himself out in the mirror. And he had to admit it, she make him look like an entirely different person. The wig and mustache combo made him look like a young and hip club goer, and the suit didn't look half bad. What really threw him was the fake black eye she had given him, he assumed with the red and blue make up.

Somehow, she had managed to re-sculpt his face with what little make up she used and he was amazed. He put his hands on his hips and beamed. "And thus, Stanwick Pinestone was born." She winked at him through her reflection.

"You can really do all this with make up?" He looked intrigued, admiring his newly sculpted jaw line.

"Duh! I told you! Make up is the most magical tool in the world. It can turn you into anyone you want to be; on stage and off. Now that's my kind of thrill. It probably doesn't beat illegally smuggling exotic across the Mexican border or being on the FBI's most wanted list, though." She eyed Stan who was rubbing the back of his neck."One thing I do know, is that those guys aren't looking for someone with a black eye and a mustache." She crossed her arms and cocked her hip to one side with pride.

"Lizzy, you're a genius! But the good kind!" He picked her up by her waist without thinking and spun her around in the air. She laughed and gripped tightly onto his forearms, throwing her head back with pride. The thin, blue veiled skirt attached to her was it billowed around and twirled as she did. When he put her down they both took a beat and chuckled uncomfortably.

"I just meant—you—well…thanks. For this." Stan rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You really are somethin' else." This time, he found it in himself to give her a real, genuine smile.

"Just don't get arrested, I will need that disguise back." She laughed. "And you know what? The mustache combo isn't a bad look for you, in fact, I think it's kind of sexy."

"Yeah, not bad, huh? Let's just hope its enough to keep me out of trouble…for now." He checked himself out in the mirror a few more times, smoothing his fake hair back and stroking his brand new stache.

"Not that I'm not enjoying our little pow-wow, but I do have to get to stage before they cut our act altogether. Are you good from here?" She asked, grabbing a little tiara from a shelf by the door and placing it on her head.

"I'm good from here…" Stan paused when he turned around and noticed the glimmering crown placed carefully on her head. "…Princess." He flashed her a smile.

"You can stay and watch y'know…if you want…" She said.

"Hey, I gotta act the part anyways, right? Can't give it away too soon." Stan said cooly. "Might as well stick around and pretend like I'm having fun. Y'know, sell the look."

"I swear to god, if my girls don't show up soon, I'm going to throw up." She said adjusting her hair and costume.

"Your girls?" Stan air quoted, squinting.

"Ellie and Betty…they're my partners. We sing together? In the variety show."

"What's your act?" Stan asked.

"We're all named Elizabeth…does that count?" She shrugged making Stan chuckle. "The Three El's…it's—it's a work in progress." He could see her blush in the mirror as she powdered her face.

"Oh joy. There's three of you?"

"Hey, I'll have you know we're very popular! Any day now and we'll have a real residency here in the city. Just you wait." She squinted and pointed, getting right up in his face.

"I have no doubt about that. Who wouldn't love you?" He said, coming off as way more confident than he felt, and it was secretly making Eliza's knees weak. She blinked and shrunk off her tip toes.

"If they show up…I hope they're okay. They know how important this show is for us! It's exposure!"

"Hey doll, cheer up! Even if they don't…who need's em? You've got that crowd in the palm of your hands. Knock 'em dead! Break an ankle! Isn't—isn't that what they say in theatre or whatever?" He asked, rolling his wrist.

"Something like that…You're not totally wrong." She said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Course I'm not! I'm always right!" He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

"And hey…" He lifted her chin. "If you need someone to play off of, I'm already dressed for the part, huh?" He stretched out his arms and did a turn around.

"You know, you're pretty alright. For a criminal." She winked.

"You're not so bad yourself, y'know… for a pageant queen." He replied. She looked side to side, taken a back slightly.

"How did you…my title?" She shook her head, scanning his face.

"I used to live in Jersey! A.k.a, pageant capital of the East. I know a first place tiara when I see one, kid." He looked up at the little, silver crown on her shelf right above them, picked it up and fitted it on the top of her head gently and she blushed furiously, stunted for words. He mustered all of the courage he didn't have and bent down to kiss her quickly on the cheek. Her face was completely red now, she absent mindedly touched the place he had kissed with her fingertips and smiled, immediately snapping out of it and the color from her face draining at the reminder that she had to go on without her two counter perfomrers.

"Well—partners or no partners! The show must go on! I've gotta get going! Shoo!" She ushered him out the door and she waved as she fled through the hall, but not before turning around, running up to Stan and giving him a quick, hesitant peck on the lips, returning the favor and leaving him stunned and frozen in place. It was…electric. It made him wonder what her lips might've really tasted like.

"Thanks for the drink, Stanwick. See you out there! At least try to act like you're having fun." She saluted him and disappeared into throw two big, double doors, leaving Stan to his own agenda. He already missed her, and wondered how could so much change in the span of half an hour, after having lived without her his entire life.

He entered the main stage area complete with a piano, a bar, a microphone and sea of weirdos clinking glasses and dancing with the disco music blaring from the speakers. He did exactly as him and Eliza had planned, he grabbed a drink, mixed and mingled and tried to stay as calm as he could. He was actually starting to feel like things were going to be okay, until he saw the two cops that were chasing him, slip through the back way and spill into the room. All sense of confidence abandoned him and he began to worry that their entire idea was a bad one that would put him directly in arms reach of the people he was running from. Stan anxiously began to shuffle through the crowd, dodging investigative eyes.

He started to panic, to fear, to imagine himself locked behind bars with no family that cared enough to come and find him. His thoughts were racing, till he felt pressure on his wrist. For a split second, he wondered if his time had finally come. But when he turned his head, he saw Eliza, practically glowing underneath the disco lights, grabbing a hold of his wrist.

"Eliza?" He pulled her in close, sure she could hear the pounding of his heart. She pulled away with a panicked look as well—had she seen something she didn't want to?

"Stanwick, I need your help!" She looked at him with pleading eyes, and Stan melted under the veil of sweet relief that he hadn't been caught yet. Her disguise was working. She pulled him to a back room behind the stage and caught her breath, fanning herself. "I'm going to kill them, I'm going to kill them!" She said frantically.

"Careful, sweet thing. You're still in ear shot of the cops, they came through the front like fifteen minutes ago!"

"Well, they haven't found you yet!" She said dismissively. "Look. You gotta help me. El and Betty—my scene partners, bailed on me! They were supposed to be in costume with their heinies on stage fifteen minutes ago, and no one has seen them! And I need someone to fill in for them and make this a duet. And that someone is gonna be you!" She took his shoulders and shook him.

"Woah, woah, woah there is no way that I'm getting up there with this—"

"You said you'd help me!" She frowned and it was adorable. "Consider it pay back for saving you life!" She put emphasis on the end expectedly.

"Doll, I can promise you, nobody, and I mean nobody—including you—wants to hear me get on that stage and sing. It ain't happenin'. Being a silent stage prop, now that's more up my alley." He said defiantly. Eliza huffed and looked around, as if to find an answer to her situation. "Besides, I thought you said you could handle it by yourself?" Stan said.

"Thinking about doing it yourself is a hell of a lot different than actually doing it by yourself, you know! I didn't think they'd really bail on me!"

"Not…happenin'." He said firmly.

"Look, if you help me with this, I—I'll get you a ride. Anywhere you need to go. I know a guy that works here at the club with a limo we can borrow." She said. Stan looked apprehensively at the stage doors, and then back to Eliza's pleading face. He must've been absolutely out of his damn mind. "Seriously, he can get you anywhere you need to go, but I can't go up there alone and sing a song meant for two or three people by myself!" She pleaded, clasping her hands together. Stan sighed and his shoulders dropped.

"Fine. Since you're practically humping my leg…I'll…I'll do it." He said begrudgingly. Eliza squealed, throwing her arms in the air and then wrapping them around Stan's neck happily.

"Thank you, Stan! I'll make it up to you, I promise!" She hung around his neck like a necktie.

"Kid, this ain't gonna be pretty. I'm warning you now." Eliza dropped down to her feet and grabbed his wrist, pulling him through the bustling dancers and to backstage.

"Just follow me, I'll lead. And…don't worry about those cop guys. They won't bother you." She said slowly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, kid."

The next few minutes were spent getting the stage equipment ready for singing, and touching up their hair and costumes. It was a smaller club, but everyone involved seemed to be eager to put on a quality show for their patrons. The stage lights shifted and Eliza and Stan stood with hand held microphones with anticipation, his bad and her's good. She took his hand in hers and gave it a little squeeze as the club owner, a tall man with about fifty gold chains around his neck and a mouth full of silver grills announced them.

"Give our little girl a round of applause. To continue our night of nostalgia variety show, Eliza and her—friend will lure us into a night of romance with their rendition of a timeless classic." He said, turning around to face them. He whispered to both them within ear shot:

"If I see those two, it's their heads and your ass. Don't fuck this up." They both nodded.

As the curtains pulled back, the heat and harsh light from the stage lights nearly blinded him, throwing a hand over to shade his eyes out of instinct. Eliza was already posing, holding the microphone like she'd rehearsed what spot to be in. She was absolutely beautiful under the glow of the overheads. But it didn't distract Stan from the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. The last time he'd gotten up on stage was when he was faced with the decision to be in a high school production for community service hours or face suspension because he had busted into the gym and stolen equipment and left a half smoked joint behind. He was usually prepared for anything, but this wasn't something he was ready to jump head first into.

Stan immediately recognized the song being played on the piano as 'Ain't No Mountain High Enough'. This was gonna be rich.

Stan put on his ultimate con-man facade, to pull off one of the greatest scams ever, tricking this crowd into thinking he could sing. He followed Eliza's lead clumsily but kept up pace. He noticed the uproar in the crowed when Eliza's verse came on and her smooth as silk voice echoed through the microphone. She had the audience completely captivated, and as they came together in harmony, they soon both had them eating out of the palms of their hands, cheering and moving to the rhythm blindly. Eliza's stage presence was unlike anything Stan had ever seen in his life, she was graceful, smooth, confident and…shining. Literally, she was glowing like a star in the night sky. The way her hips moved, and how to crowd moved with her, was intoxicating. It almost made Stan enter late on the second chorus.

As they sang, Stan noticed the two cops swaying in the audience too, as if they had been dismissed from duty like nothing had happened. They even made eye contact once or twice and…nothing. It was like they'd been caught into a trance of some kind…weird. It got him excited enough to really let loose on stage and get caught up in the rhythm of his singing partner and of the song. He and Eliza made a very convincing duet, their chemistry was electrifying the whole room, wether they intended for it to happen or not. Without the fear of being caught, Stan finally let his fun side run wild. He busted a move and tangled Eliza into his arms at every chance he got, conjuring a few excited screams from the ladies in the crowd. After shedding his jacket and letting his gold medallion shimmer in the disco ball's reflection, a pair of underwear was thrown at him and he smiled egregiously. He hadn't had this much fun in years.

Then just as the song ended, the crowd went wild and cheered for the new not-so-power couple. He saw the two cops high five and leave through the front entrance. He had never felt so alive. It was a rush like he had cheated death or gotten away with murder. He and Eliza joined hands and took a bow together, exiting stage left to make room for the other performers. As soon as they were back stage, they burst out into laughter and embraced passionately.

"That was so fucking awesome!" Stan let out a belly laugh, spinning Eliza around in his big arms. "Did you see those moves? I was on fire!" He cheered.

"And to think you tried to tell me that you couldn't sing! You lair! That was amazing!" She pushed a pointer finger into his chest. "I don't think I've ever seen someone throw underwear at a variety show!"

"I've never done anything like that before…I felt so alive. Being there with you—kid—that was…thanks. And…the way you saved me from jail tonight, nobody's ever stuck out their neck like that for me before."

She gave him a warm smile and looked at her feet.

"Don't mention it. You saw them leave too, right?"

"Walked right out that door after looking right at me right in the face! Idiots! Don't know how the hell that happened but who am I to argue with fate?" He ran his hand through his hair, still shaken up by that entire performance.

"Do you…still need that ride?" She looked up at him, a twinge of sadness in her big, pale, blue eyes.

"Well, I mean…if I got those guys off my back, maybe I could…stick around town a little longer. Y'know if the mood strikes me. I've got places to be and suckers to scam. Y'know how it goes." He tried to play it off as aloof, but wished he could just take her in his arms and never let her go again. Because the thought of walking away from someone like her was almost unbearable to think about. Funny how fast things can change on a dime.

"Well, you're always welcome on my dressing room couch. I could use a partner like you…maybe I'd actually be able to get out of this city, make a name for myself." She glanced over to the stage doors.

"Look, I know I con people for a living, so take what I say with a grain of salt but kid. I'm being honest when I tell you I've never heard a voice like yours before. And I've even been to Minnesota!" He barked.

"Thank you, I think?" She half smiled, unsure wether to take it as a compliment or not, considering who she was talking to. Nevertheless, she couldn't ignore the feeling in her chest, that felt like the warm glow of a sunset on an august evening like this one, where everything seemed absolutely perfect. They paused, unsure of what to say but very sure that neither of them wanted to part ways yet.

"Do you…I was supposed to get dinner with the girls but…they aren't here so…" She said twirling her hair anxiously.

"Girls shmirls…They didn't even bother to show up! I mean, you'd have to be pretty dumb to pass up an opportunity like that." He said.

"I just hope they're alright…It's not like them to miss a performance." She rubbed her arms, shivering slightly. Stan realized how cold it was back stage now that they were out from under the heat of the moment and of the crowded, musty stage room. He paused, then draped his suit jacket around her arms.

"I'm sure they just just got caught up in traffic or they're doing lines somewhere. Isn't everyone these days?" Stan smiled at her. "But hey, I gotta admit…kinda glad they didn't show up." Eliza blushed and pushed a strand of loose hair out of her face, almost completely engulfed in how big the jacket was, and how small she was.

"Yeah, who needs 'em anyway?" She said. It was then that Stan noticed a little dimple in the left corner of her mouth and a small gap between her front teeth. She was about as adorable as they come.

"So, you were inviting me to dinner?" Stan chuckled.

"It's funny…I seem to remember you offering to pay." She said sneakily.

"Hey, hey, woah…Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, what kind of man would I be if I enforced those toxic stereotypes? This ain't the nineteen-fifties anymore, baby. But if you're nice to me, maybe I'll buy you a shake."

"What a gentlemen." She said sarcastically.

"Come on, let's get out of these clothes. The sequins on this damn top are making my tits itch." She pouted.

"What happened to the 'third date' rule?" Stan put his arm around her and pinched her cheek. "Did'ya finally find your exception?" He grinned from ear to ear.

"Not a chance." She said putting her head on his shoulder as they walked to her dressing room. "I just don't wanna be worried about getting burger grease on this outfit."

They got back to her room, just as they had left it. Stan felt as though his life was now divided into two parts, before he met Eliza…and then everything that comes after. She freed herself of his grip, and disappeared again behind her changing curtain. Stan looked long and hard in the mirror before he took off his disguise. Was this some divine intervention to get him off the streets for good? Was Eliza some kind of heaven sent protector? He glanced over to a pair of arms that were held up and visible above the curtain rod. Her top was coming off and she stretched, letting out an adorable little grunt.

He changed back into his old clothes, that felt sweaty and smelled like cigarettes. His reflection turned from hunky drifter back to a lost, disheveled, low-life, con-man. Far from the world of glitz and glamour that he'd just been exposed to. He slumped his shoulders and sighed. Where had everything gone so wrong?

"Stan?" Eliza appeared in the mirror next to him, brushing his arm. She had removed her make up and her hair was now up in a messy ponytail, her small stature being devoured under the fabric of a baggy hoodie. The dark circles under her eyes were more evident now, she looked tired. Normal. Angelic.

"Nice to know you're still there under all that make up." Stan teased. She shoved him lightly in the arm and gazed at herself, standing next to him. Maybe she wouldn't let him in on it yet, but seeing them stand side by side brought her a great deal of comfort to her.

"Nice to know you're still an asshole under that wig." She reciprocated.

"Touche." He muttered. "So this is you? The girl behind the pop star?"

"I can be both…" She fixed her hair slightly and sighed.

"I don't know about you, but you better be careful, baby. I could get used to this." He chuckled and turned to face her, running a hand through her hair. She let her face rest in his giant palm and before either of them could think, they both leaned in, their lips touching at last. It was the perfect kiss, tender with purpose and meaning. Stan cupped her small face into his hand and ran his thumb along her ear. After what felt like an eternity of bliss, they pulled apart and looked at one another. Neither of them would admit it, but this was the first time in either of their lives that they felt they had been truly seen by someone else.

"Well, I could get used to that." Eliza said smiling. She was about to lean in for another kiss when she purposefully missed his mouth and whispered something in his ear instead. "Shakes first, kissing later." Stan shivered at her voice in his ear.

"You're making this so hard." He teased. Eliza looked down at his pants and then back up at him with a raised eyebrow and a smug look.

"No… just you." She bopped his nose and took his arm, leading him out the back door into the alleyway where he had entered from. He followed up with a loud, 'HA' and pointed a finger gun at her quick-witted remark.

"You're trouble alright…I like trouble….Maybe if you're sweet to me who knows where the night'll take us?" He escorted her down the street and into the bustling Vegas street.

"Who knows? If you buy me dinner, I might be nice to you." Stan stopped in his tracks and gave her a long knowing look. She was the one. He was done searching, but he'd never admit it to her, not till he was sure she felt the same way.

"What?" She asked, still holding his hand.

"Nothin'. Just thinking about how good that shake is gonna be when you pay for it." He chuckled and tickled her waist, bringing her back into a warm, tight embrace. They walked together, side by side, hand in hand to a greasy old diner underneath a train track that looked like the toilet water would give you sepsis, but as far as they were concerned, it was absolutely magical.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, she laughed at all his jokes at the right time, and he listened when she told him about her dark and twisted past with American beauty pageants, her strained relationship with her mother and step father and how she planned to take over broadway one day. It was the best of times, and it was the worst of times. It was no secret both of them had had it hard the past few years trying to make it on their own, but they agreed that finding other people to sit in the shit-storm with you, made it considerably less horrible. It was the start to the beginning of a new chapter for both of them and they could feel it. It couldn't have been a more perfect night, and Stan even paid for the shakes.

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