#would leave these terrifying notes for me all over the house alluding to the fact ill never be believed and he would terrorize me forever

[idiotshriek]

just woke up from such a scary dream im considering buying a gun

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #7

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.2k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: a bit of talking down on yourself, the confusion continues, general fluff with a touch of angst 

a/n: this is the final date. guys...how is this going by so fast?? please let me know your thoughts on the date, on everything else overall...and I’ll see you soon? Next Saturday is the finale!

Date #7

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Note from the creator of this stupid idea:

I loved her first.

 “Who do you think it was? Any ideas?”

           “I…” you shrug. “No?”

           Gina arches a brow, staring you down from across your kitchen table. “So, that was a lie.”

           You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from your chest, Gina also chuckling. It’s a relief, the fact that she doesn’t hesitate to call you out. You’re grateful that you finagled her number from Jin, shooting him a text that looked a lot like this:

Me: Burn this after reading

Me: We can’t have any evidence !!

Kim Seokjinnie: ok, hi. I’m not burning my phone weirdo. I’ll just keep it away from Jungkook. What’s up??

Me: Hi. You know what I meant.

Me: Can you give me Gina’s number?

Kim Seokjinnie: Sure, I’ll send you the contact in a second. You two gonna hang out or something?

Me: Hopefully…do you think it’s weird if I just ask her out of the blue? Will she not wanna come?

Kim Seokjinnie: Nah, she’s pretty chill. I bet she’ll come

Kim Seokjinnie: *Kim Seokjinnie shared a contact with you*

Kim Seokjinnie: do you need anything before I burn my phone?

Me: no, thank you!! I owe you one. I’m short on friends rn, hopefully she’ll come over

Kim Seokjinnie: I’m sorry  miss you. We’ll all get to hang out once this is all over, I promise.

“Yah! I really don’t know. I mean they’ve all be so…”

“So what?”

You sigh, sounding like some kid in a dreamy teen movie. “Perfect?”

“There’s no such thing,” Gina huffs, leaning back in her chair. It’s a bit rickety, you’d found it at a yard sale with Namjoon and Jimin. You had just moved into your apartment, and realized that you were a little low on furniture. Together, you’d managed to find three mismatching chairs that made you grin each time you saw them.

It was a little odd at the time, you didn’t want to buy three chairs. Two seemed like plenty. They convinced you though, and looking back you understand why they were so adamant.

Wasn’t it rule #3? “Limit one-on-one interaction”? Three chairs made it so that there was always space for at least two of them.

Suddenly you look at the most average things in your house with different eyes.

Groaning, you rub your hands over your face. You’ve probably smudged your makeup, but you don’t care. It’s Friday night, you can do whatever you want.

“Unfortunately, I really think that there might be.” You let out a dry chuckle. “Seven dates with the world’s most perfect men. I knew I was screwed from the beginning, but this, I mean, I didn’t expect it to go this far.”

“On the bright side, you only have one more to go.” Gina gets up, stretching before moving to put her plate in the sink. She’d picked up some takeout on her way to your house, proving to you that you two are going to be friends for a long, long time.

“I’m terrified because of that. What happens after tomorrow’s date? I know it’s up to me, but I feel like I’m waiting for someone to come tell me the next step.”

Gina hums in agreement, shooting you an apologetic look. “Maybe I shouldn’t have pointed out how flirty they were at the haunted house. You never would have gotten into this mess.”

“No,” you wave her off. “It’s not your fault. Jungkook let it slip anyway, after the door closed on us in the basement. Ugh, I still get freaked out thinking about that. Has that happened since?”

Gina pauses over the sink, back turned to you as she runs her plate under the hot water. After a moment she shuts it off, turning around to wipe her hands off on a dish towel before leaning up against the counter.

“Erm…”

Your stomach drops. “What.”

“It’s just…” she crosses her arms and uncrosses them, unsure of what to do with her hands. “The door is connected to a little button on every employee’s key fob. You know, just for some extra scare factor.”

You meet her sheepish gaze with a blank stare. “So you’re telling me…”

“It’s just a part of the tour,” Gina shrugs. “Wait, what happened? He told you about the pact when the door closed? That’s…that’s honestly not the most romantic setting-”

“No no, we had a little moment after the door closed, and we almost kissed. But he stopped himself and said the I didn’t have to worry about him making a move. When we got out, I asked him why, and that’s when he mentioned the pact.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So tomorrow is the last date, correct?”

           “Yup.”

           “Look,” Gina notices your worried expression. “Do yourself a favor. Let go. Don’t waste tomorrow thinking about what’s gonna happen next. Focus on the moment, ok? Then how about we get together next week sometime to talk everything over? If you feel like that might help, that is.”

           You definitely made the right choice in inviting Gina over. You can already feel your stress levels going down.

           “Ok.”

           You’re up early the next morning, earlier than you’d like. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on your sofa, basking in the golden morning sun and watching the little dust motes float in the air, but it’s certainly been a while.

           For once, it’s quiet in your mind. You’re not sure why now, why today. There’s no doubt you’ll be your typical bumbling mess once Yoongi picks you up, but for now all is peaceful.

           It’s the last date. Somehow, despite how much you’ve enjoyed these little escapades, you feel relief at the thought. Knowing that you’ve made it nearly to the end without doing anything remarkably stupid (you’re still mortified that you and Jimin got kicked out of that basilica but oh well), and now you’re so close.  

           For now, you slide your worries under the rug, to be left there for the weekend. You curl your legs under you and lean your head back against the cushions to drink in the sunlight. It warms your skin, leaving you feeling even better than before.

           Yoongi is supposed to be here around four. Jungkook had sent you a quick text earlier in the week checking that you didn’t have any plans for Saturday afternoon and night. You didn’t bother to tell him that you always had all day open for them.

           While the exchange had been short, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was blushing just as much as you when his contact popped up on your screen. In an instant you were plunged into the memory of clinging to him just outside your front door, Jungkook’s shaky breaths the only thing keeping you planted in reality.

           Either way, it was safe to say that you were a blushing mess despite the simplicity of the text. He kept it strictly professional, not once alluding to the events of last Saturday. But you could still hear those words he uttered when he asked if you ever thought about what might have happened if he’d kissed you in the haunted house when he had the chance.

           “I do. Every day.”

           Of course you thought about it. You let out an amused huff on the couch, laughing to yourself. Who wouldn’t? But the only thing was the fact that you were thinking about a lot of things. Not just Jungkook.

           Or his lips, for that matter.

           The couch rustles as you get up, deciding to change out of your red sweatshirt for a green one. You’d been instructed to dress warm, which made you wonder what was planned for today. Outside everything looks warm and pleasant, certainly no need for anything too heavy.

           By the time afternoon rolls around, you’re tempted to call up Gina for a late lunch or something. To say you’re antsy is an understatement; you’re positively losing it. The clock on the wall has decided to try its hand at stopping time altogether, and you think it’s doing a pretty good job of it. Every time you glace over, seemingly no time has passed.

           This time, you really start to wonder if no time has passed. You swear it’s been stuck at 3 o’clock for a while-

           The sound of someone knocking on your door has you nearly tipping over from where you perch trying to grab the clock.

           For some stupid reason, you’re frozen to your spot at the far end of your living room. Holding the clock in your hands, you jump a little as a second tentative knock sounds.

           To your utter mortification, your mouth opens and you yell out, “Come in!”

           You’re still frozen in place when the door opens and Yoongi pokes his head in. His eyes immediately land on you, a sheepish smile that he has a hard time containing immediately breaking out.

           “You’re not planning on throwing that at me, right?” He asks, making you glare down at the clock you cling to.

           “Oh.” Your knuckles have turned white, and somehow your heart has decided to try its hand at sprinting a marathon. “No. I- it’s broken. I think.”

           Yoongi shuffles inside, closing the door gently behind him before wandering over to you. His pale complexion makes the pink on his cheeks easy to spot. Somehow the fact that he’s blushing makes you blush.

           “Do you have batteries around here?” He asks quietly, hiding his amusement.

           “Maybe in the kitchen?” You brush past him, handing off the clock. “Would you mind getting the old batteries out?”

           He mumbles out a sure, plopping down on your sofa while he gets to work on the clock. He’s wearing a similar outfit to you, which makes you smile. It’s not very often these days that he sports a bandana and you wonder if he somehow knew that you love the way he looks in it. His hair looks particularly fluffy as it kisses his forehead, the dark bandana giving him an air of coolness you know you could never pull off.

           Rummaging around your kitchen drawers, you pause when you realize what you’re doing. Are you stalling? What’s the rush to fix a clock when you have Min Yoongi in the other room waiting to take you out?

           Closing the drawer, you take a deep breath and shake your head.

           “Sorry Yoongi,” you call out, trudging back into the living room. “I’m an idiot.”

           He looks at you over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s your reasoning?”

           “Ouch.”

           Yoongi chuckles, setting the clock down on the coffee table before getting to his feet. “Wow, is it just me or…”

           You wince. “This got off to a bad start, huh.”

           “Yeah.”

           Looking at each other from across the room, you realize just how much you’ve missed him. His witty sarcastic remarks, his honesty.

           Him.

           “Can we start over? Go knock on the door again.”

           Yoongi’s already on his way, huffing out a laugh as he steps outside. “Alright, see you in a second.” The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re suddenly left with the silence of your house.

           As Yoongi timidly knocks on the door, the same sense of calm you experienced this morning settles over you.

           The seventh date. No more guessing who’s on the other side of the door, no more anxious glances in the mirror to check that everything looks flawless. It’s just you, Yoongi, and the door between you.

           There’s already a smile on your face as you open that door, finding Yoongi standing with his hands in his pocket. He returns your grin, feeling like a fellow conspirator in a heist that has yet to be planned.

           “I’m here,” he announces, then adds with a chuckle, “finally.”

           “Took you long enough,” you tease, reaching out to grab his jacket and pull him inside. He feigns a horrified expression at your flirty nature, but you just roll your eyes. You’re not sure who wraps their arms around the other first, but the next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in a tight embrace.

           I missed you, is what you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. The lump that’s formed there only grows thicker with emotion as Yoongi’s gravelly voice rumbles against your hair.

           “How’re you holding up?”

           Your arms fall around his waist, ever aware of his shoulder. Even though he says he’s completely healed now, you aren’t taking any chances. It’s quiet for a long moment as you struggle to find an answer.

           “I…fine. I’m fine.” You pull away and arch an eyebrow at him, pleased to see that is cheeks are still rosy despite the serious look in his eye. “How are you holding up?”

           He lets out a breathy laugh, dropping your gaze. “Fine.” Then, when he catches your disbelieving stare, he states as innocently as possible, “What? Aren’t we lying to each other tonight?”

           “You suck.”

           “See!” He exclaims as you step out of his grasp to grab your things. “You always do that when you’ve been caught in a lie!”

           “Ugh, yah! I wasn’t lying,” you turn around to face him, walking backward toward your room. “I’m fine, really.”

           He shrugs. “And so am I.”

           You stifle your laughter as you enter your room, grabbing your things and wondering if you should grab a coat. “Do I really need a coat?” You call down the hall.

           “Yes!”

           Pursing your lips, you snatch the puffy monstrosity from your closet before turning to head out. Double checking that you have everything you need; your eyes can’t help but glance at the item sitting atop your dresser.

           You stick your tongue out at it. A few seconds later it’s tucked safely away in your top drawer and you’re heading out into the hallway. Your stomach does an uneasy flip as you recall the words that are practically burned in the backs of your eyelids now.

           I loved her first.

           Yoongi gets up from off the couch, waiting for you beside the door. His dark eyes survey you as you walk toward him. “Good to go?” He asks quietly. Clutching your coat a little tighter to your chest, you nod.

           The two of you head out, locking up your apartment and settling in the car that Yoongi drove over. Before long, you’re out on the highway, speeding toward your destination.

           Which, you’ve just realized, is still a mystery to you.

           “Sooo…” You begin, smiling lazily at Yoongi. You take a moment to admire his hands that are wrapped around the steering wheel. “Where are we going?”

           A smile tugs at his lips, but he manages to contain it as he adopts a serious expression. He glances over at you. “We’re going to see the sea.”

           “We’re…” you stutter, furrowing your brows. “We’re going to see the sea?”

           A breathy chuckle escapes him. “Yeah. But it’s a long drive, so are you down to listen to a murder-mystery with me?”

           “YES.”

            You’re still pretty sure that it was the nosy maid that did it by the time you arrive at your destination. Two hours, one murder-mystery short audiobook, and several snacks later, the sun is well on its way to the horizon when Yoongi pulls off to a sandy parking lot filled to the brim with cars.

           There’s tons of people mulling about, several of them appear to be young families who smile fondly as their children laugh and play in the sand. There’s a couple of food-trucks that have popped up on the beach, which sport long lines. Yoongi observes them woefully, seeming to come to some sort of understanding with himself before moving to get out of the car.

           “Woah, what’s with all the people? Is this beach always this busy?”

           It’s a beach you’ve never been to before, the pristine sand glowing as the sun makes its way across the sky.

           “Today’s a special occasion,” Yoongi explains, popping the trunk and rummaging around. “We should probably pick out a spot now before all the good ones are taken.”

           You come around to the back of the car to meet him, taking the blanket he extends out to you. Leaving your big coat in the backseat, you hope he doesn’t scold you and tell you to put it on. Right now it’s windy, but fairly warm. No need to look like a living marshmallow just yet.

           Before you can inquire after what the special occasion is, Yoongi passes you a couple of water bottles and begins rattling off instructions.

           “How about I jump in line to buy us some dinner,” the way he says it so casually has your heart skipping a beat for some reason, “and you head down the beach to scout out a decent spot?”

           “But what kind of spot do you mean? Is there a show or something?”

           Yoongi pauses, closing the trunk and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, something like that. A show. Just find a spot that you like, I’ll come find you with our food, ok?”

           “Ay ay, captain.” You trudge away, hoisting the blanket up higher in your arms as you begin to look for an empty space. The immediate surrounding beach area appears to be pretty packed, which has you marching farther and farther away from the parking lot.

           You grin as a couple of children race past you, giggling as they fly their kites. It’s looks like it’s a little boy and with his younger sister, trying their best to keep their kites afloat in wind. Waving at them, your smile only grows as the boy sheepishly turns away and the girl cheerfully waves back.

           It feels like you walk for years before finding a clearing. You were definitely looking for a semi-secluded spot, not too keen on spending your long-awaited date with Yoongi surrounded by strangers. It doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone what the big deal is about today before you’re laying the blanket out. Not wanting to leave anything unattended just for it to blow away, you decide to just be patient until Yoongi finds you.

           The sand is warm beneath the blanket as you plop down, resting with your face turned toward the sun as you let out a content sigh. Despite the chill of the wind, the sun warms you right up.

           “Why are you alone?”

           Peeking one eye open at the little voice, you’re delighted to see the same little girl from earlier standing a little ways away. She watches you with a meek expression, her kite forgotten at her feet.

           “Oh, I’m not alone,” you explain. “I’m just waiting for my friend to come find me. He went to go get food.”

           “Oh.” The young girl shuffles her feet. “My mommy says that I need to get all my wiggles out before the show.”

           You chuckle. “Really? What show are we watching tonight? Is it Disney?” That would certainly make sense for all of the young families here tonight. Did Yoongi bring you to a beach-front outdoor movie?

           “No, silly!” The girl giggles at your questions. “The sky’s coming to say hello!”

           “What?”

           “That’s what my mommy said. She said, ‘Young-mi get your wiggles out, the sky is coming to say hello soon!’”

           You blink, a little amused by Young-mi’s earnest response. “I see…I didn’t know that the sky was coming to say hello tonight.”

           “Then why are you here?”

           “Oh,” you crane your neck toward the parking lot, but it’s too far away to see Yoongi. “My friend brought me, as a surprise.”

           “Wow,” Young-mi utters in a reverent tone. “Can I meet your friend?”

           “I don’t see why not.”

           With a gleeful shout, Young-mi takes off running, her kite skipping along the ground behind her. She runs toward her family, her mother grinning at the sight before reaching out to pull her into her arms. You watch on with a forgotten smile, wondering for a split second what that would be like.

           If you squint, that could be Yoongi sitting beside Young-mi’s mother, throwing his head back with laughter at something his daughter says to him. Their son crouches in the sand nearby, digging around as though searching for gold.

           Laying down with a soft sigh, you close your eyes and let the little daydream take over. Here, at the beach. Telling your children that this is where you had your first date; laughing as they make disgusted faces when Yoongi plants a loud kiss on your cheek-

           “Did the nosy maid get to you?”

           Yoongi stands above you with arms laden with food. He blocks out the sun, the rays coming around to make him appear like an angel. Judging from the delicious smells radiating from the food he carries, you think he actually might be.

           “Ah, so you agree that you think it was her that murdered Duke Rittington?” Your voice sounds a little croaky, a testament to the fact that you were just dozing a moment ago. Leaning up to ease some of the food from his arms, Yoongi snorts.

           “No. It was obviously the son. Why can’t you see it?”

           Rolling your eyes, you pat a spot next to you on the blankets. Yoongi takes the seat without hesitation. “Because, the son seems like too easy of a suspect. Whereas the maid-”

           The screams of Young-mi as she rushes toward you cut you off. “You have a boyfriend?!”

           “Oh, no.”

           Yoongi leans over, still busy arranging the bags of food – is that a cheeseburger you see? – around the blanket. “Who’s that?” He mumbles.

           “I, uh, made a friend while you were grabbing food,” you explain with a small smile.

           Now Young-mi reaches your blanket, dropping to her knees as she gazes up at Yoongi with wide, innocent eyes. “Hi, my name is Young-mi and I’m four years old. I’m the second tallest in my class.” Young-mi prattles off information, her large eyes never once leaving Yoongi’s face. “Are you her boyfriend? I hope you’re her boyfriend.”

           Yoongi lets out a startled laugh. “You do? Why’s that?”

           “You’re so pretty.”

           Now both of you burst out laughing, Young-mi looking utterly confused at your outburst. Yoongi covers his face with his hands, shaking his head.

           “What? What’s so funny?” Young-mi questions.

           You grin at her. “You think he’s pretty?” The little girl nods enthusiastically. “I do too.”

           Yoongi peers over at you at this comment, an unasked question in his eyes. The pink in his cheeks has intensified, as has your own blush.

           “Aren’t I supposed to be the one complementing you?” He asks under his breath. You shrug.

           “You brought food, so now we’re even.”

           Young-mi lingers a little while longer, asking a few questions and drawing in the sand. Munching down on your cheeseburger, you eye Young-mi’s kite.

           “Do you mind if I try to fly your kite for a second?” The question is out of your mouth before you can fully process it, but Young-mi looks up at you excitedly.

           “Yes!!” She squeals, immediately dragging the little handle over to you. “You have to run really fast, that’s what my mommy told me. Then it’ll fly!”

           Glancing back at Yoongi as you clamber to your feet, you don’t miss the fond smile he wears as he watches the interaction take place. You wave at him, heading off down the beach with Young-mi. Once you’ve walked far enough, you wink down at her.

           “Ok, you run on ahead and I’ll catch up in a few seconds.”

           The girl wastes no time running off, her laughter making you feel lighter than you have in weeks. Once she’s far enough off, you take off after her. She heads straight toward her family, who smile at you as you attempt to get the kite off the ground.

        ��  Sand flies up behind you as you race, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi with his phone out, recording you with a wide smile on his face. The sun has hit the horizon now, a dizzying array of colors sending your mind into a joyful frenzy. Up ahead, Young-mi has successfully made it to her family and is waiting for you to catch up. She jumps up and down as the kite soars above you, the little pinwheels attached to it spinning around in the wind.

           A bit more energy overtakes you, and you sprint the last few yards toward Young-mi, unable to stop the laugh that jumps out of you. You feel so free, here on the beach. It’s almost like you’re up there flying with the kite-

           “Wait!”

           Someone shouts it, you’re not exactly sure who, but by the time the plea registers in your ears, it’s too late. Foot catching in the hole that Young-mi’s brother had been digging earlier, you feel a twist of pain before tumbling to the ground.

           You cry out, barely managing to catch yourself before faceplanting it. The handle from Young-mi’s kite digs painfully into your hand, but that’s the least of your problems at the moment.

           Young-mi’s family rushes over to you, but before they reach you Yoongi is dropping to your side.

           “Oh,” you pant, “hi Yoongs.”

           “Are you alright?” He’s also panting, and you wonder if he had begun running after you before you even fell, foreseeing your path. “Your foot…”

           “I am so sorry!” Young-mi’s mother stoops down on your other side, her husband right behind her. “We completely forgot that Doyun even dug that hole! Can you move? Are you in pain?”

           From where you’re laying belly-down on the sand, you can’t help but feel the burn of embarrassment in your cheeks. “I…move? Yeah, I can – ah never mind.” You wince as you attempt to get to your feet only for the dull ache in your right foot to flare up to a fiery red pain. Yoongi immediately reaches out for you, unsure of what to do. His hands ghost over your leg, but retract when you hiss in pain.

           “Here, my husband-” Young-mi’s mother points over her shoulder to the man in question. “He’s a nurse. Honey, could you…?”

           “Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle?” The man asks in a gentle voice. “Just to make sure nothing’s broken.”

           With a nod, you allow both him and Yoongi to help you swivel around to sit the correct way, the blush you already have deepening even more when Yoongi takes up a spot at your back. He gently pushes your shoulders back until you’re leaning into his chest, his arms coming to wrap around you in a protective manner.

           When you wince as the man delicately presses down on your already swollen ankle, Yoongi begins talking.

           “So, is it just me, or has this entire night been a disaster?”

           You let out a choked laugh. “No, Yoongs. Well, maybe it has, but it’s all my fault. I can’t believe I fell, how embarrassing…”

           “Oh, are you two out on a date? Er, sorry for prying…”

           Both you and Yoongi awkwardly chuckle. “No, no…um, yeah. We are.”

           “It’s our first date, actually,” Yoongi adds as an afterthought.

           “How exciting! Honey, it’s their first date, did you hear that?”

           The man currently inspecting your ankle spares the two of you a kindly glance. “Good for you two. You make a good looking couple.”

           “But I swear I’ve seen you before,” the mother comments, squinting at Yoongi. “Where do I know you from…”

           You can feel Yoongi tense up behind you, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead he takes to finding your hands (which you’ve slipped into your sweatshirt pocket to avoid accidentally punching the man poking and prodding at your foot), eventually curling his hands around yours and steadily unclenching your fists.

           “Oh! I know it! Do you do commercials?”

           Yoongi lets out an audible sigh of relief, which makes you smile for half a second before a particularly hard prod at your ankle sends you into a tailspin.

           “Yeah, I’ve done a few commercials.”

           “I knew it. How’s it looking, honey?”

           Her husband sits back on his heels, giving you a nod. “Nothing appears to be broken, you just twisted it pretty good. Babe, grab that icepack out of the cooler. You should keep ice on it for a while to counter the swelling.”

           A second later you’re handing a little bag of ice. “I don’t wanna take your ice,” you comment lamely. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, pulling back from you and standing.

           “It’s just a disposable pack we used for the cooler,” the mother explains, waving off your concern. “No need to worry. We’ve got plenty more. Now, go enjoy your date!”

           “Yeah, try your best to have fun. And keep ice on that, on and off for the next couple of days. It shouldn’t give you too much trouble after that.” With a wink toward Yoongi, your temporary nurse gives him a little nudge. “You seem like a good man. I think you’re in good hands here, miss.”

           Young-mi bids you a mournful goodbye as you limp away with Yoongi, quickly coming to find that sand isn’t the kindest to people hopping around on one leg. You’ve made it all of four hops while clinging to Yoongi before he stops.

           “Hop on my back,” he commands, stepping directly in front of you.

           You blanch. “But Yoongi…your shoulder.”

           “It’s fine. Just hop on. You don’t need to limp all the way back to where we’re sitting.” When you hesitate another moment, he looks back at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes sparking in the sunset. “Jagiya.”

           Well, the man puts up a convincing argument.

           Yoongi crouches down so you don’t have to jump, and with a bit of careful maneuvering you manage to hop onto his back. His hands grip your thighs, hoisting you up a bit higher which makes you gasp a little. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on shoulder.

           Setting off toward your abandoned blanket and food, you can’t help but feel a rise of disappointment in your chest.

           “Yoongi?” You mumble, almost sounding like an embarrassed child.

           “Hmm?”

           Hiding your face in the back of his neck, you groan. “I’m sorry.”

           Yoongi’s steps falter before he continues on, confusion evident in his tone. “Sorry? For what?”

           The calm that you felt earlier has completely shattered at this point, and you grit your teeth against the pain in your ankle and the onslaught of emotions that surface. What happened to picture perfect? Why couldn’t you focus?

           Other than sitting in the car together, you feel as though you’ve hardly touched base with Yoongi. You haven’t seen the man in nearly two months, and yet here you are distracted as ever. Distracted with your dumb broke clock, distracted with the audiobook, distracted with a kite.

           Yoongi stops in his tracks as he feels hot tears against his neck. “Jagiya?”

           “I- I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you blubber. “I’m an idiot! I c-can’t focus on anything tonight and…and now I’ve made everything fall apart by going and getting h-hurt…Yoongi, it hurts so bad. A-and now I’m complaining, which is making everything worse!”

           You’re surprised when Yoongi doesn’t say a single thing, instead picking up where he left off as he trudges on toward the blanket. In response to his silence, you continue in your repentant monologue.

           “And you waited in line to get us fooood,” you bite down on your lip as you fight the urge to wail. “It’s probably c-cold now, and you waited for s-so long to get it…I feel like such a bad person…if you don’t wanna continue the date, I u-understand. I promise I won’t tell anyone if you want! J-just, I’m so sorry, Yoongi. I’ve completely ruined this, and you drove t-two hours to get me here….” You’ve reached the blanket now, Yoongi gently sets you down, and you hobble on one foot as you half-expect him to grab his keys and set off toward the car. “I just can’t think straight because I read that stupid pact and-”

           “Woah, back up.”

           Swiveling around to face you, Yoongi has a frown etched into his face. It makes you want to turn and run, to crawl into a cave to die from embarrassment, but it’s the fact that you can barely manage to stand on one foot at the moment – let alone run – that has you standing still.

           “You read the pact?” You blink, hopping a little. When Yoongi sees your struggle he reaches out to you, steadying you. “Here, let’s sit.”

           “W-we’re staying?”

           Yoongi gazes down at you, the look in his eyes turning unspeakable soft. “Yes, jagiya. Unless you aren’t feeling up to it anymore?” He looks as though the thought of leaving now pains him, but he waits patiently for your answer.

           “I wanna stay.”

           “Good. Now, what’s this about you reading the pact?”

           Having successfully turned into a sniffling mess, you wipe away your tears with an angry swipe. It’s time to come clean.

           “I found a copy in Jin’s room-”

           “What were you doing in Jin’s room?!” Yoongi whispers frantically, growing more concerned by the second. You wave him off.

           “-and I took it! I knew I shouldn’t, but I just wanted to know, you know? So I stole it but that was stupid because then I saw that thing on the back…the little note.” Your words trail off, unable to even say the word lovewhen Yoongi’s looking at you like he’s unsure of whether he wants to laugh or cry.

           “The little…note?”

           “Yeah, you know…” You shake your head, moving on. “And since I saw that, I’ve been a mess. Like, an actual mess. I finally called Gina help just to get some help, I needed someone to talk to because you know, I can’t talk to you guys right now which is stupid. But I’m still so lost and I screwed everything up and my ankle hurts Min Yoongi!”

           You’ve stunned yourself into silence with your outburst, Yoongi across from you looks a bit lost himself as he sits back on his heels. It’s clear the moment he comes to a realization.

           “The note.”

           It’s all you can do to breathe normally and not burst out into tears again. Yoongi’s expression turns mournful when he sees you.

           “Oh, jagiya…” leaning forward, Yoongi somehow manages to pull you into his lap. Wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head close to his chest, Yoongi pulls you in as close as he can. He sways gently back and forth, a hand coming up to cup your cheek to make you look at him.

           You do so begrudgingly, feeling like nothing more than a large child. However, the moment you meet his eyes, it hits you like a lightning strike.

           “Do you remember,” he begins quietly, “that time when your final paper accidentally got deleted? All you had left to do on it was add the reference page. You were distraught, remember?”

           Of course you do. It’s the stuff of nightmares. Countless hours spent laboring over a final essay for a class you loathed, only to make a stupid mistake and delete it all. All of it, all nineteen pages were gone in a blink. Your hard work along with it.

           “I remember you called me, a sobbing mess. Obviously I thought you’d hurt yourself, the way you were crying about killed me.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, leaving you completely enraptured in his spell as he continues speaking. “I fought with Namjoon because I needed to go see you, but we had a schedule. It was an interview, I don’t even remember for what or with whom, but I was so angry. I seriously thought I was gonna punch him. Then I remembered he goes to the gym a lot more than me, so I didn’t.”

           He manages to make you crack a small grin at that. The sight spurs him on. “But I’ll never forget the sight I saw when I finally made it out to your house later that night. It was like what, two in the morning? No one knew I was even going over, which obviously I did on purpose. I didn’t want to get into another argument. When I walked in your apartment, you were sat at the kitchen table. Remember?”

           The memory is vague, tinged with exhaustion and disappointment, but it’s there. You’d set up camp at your kitchen table all day, missing all other appointments just to try to rewrite your paper. You were half delirious at that point, staring at the screen seemed equal to burning at the stake.

           “I’ve never seen you look more exhausted in my entire life,” Yoongi chuckles. “I remember I was ready to write the paper for you, I was so sad for you. But when I made it over there, I was floored to see that you’d already written it. Not only that, but you’d written twenty-seven pages. Twenty-seven! Who does that?!” He shakes his head at you, looking absolutely shocked.

           “When I asked you why you would do that, you just shrugged and said, ‘why not reach for the stars?’ Then you submitted it, stood up, walked over to me and gave me a hug before going straight to bed. I was so shocked that I just stood there for ages, trying to fathom what had just happened.”

           Yoongi sighs, glancing up at the night sky. You admire his jawline from this angle, nuzzling in a little closer to him for warmth. He notices that you didn’t bring your coat out with you, giving you a playful glare before gently rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

           “Why did you tell me that?”

           You can feel his shrug. “You are more capable, more special than you will ever know. I’ve always kept that in my heart, over the years. Why not reach for the stars? Jagiya…”

           Yoongi shuffles a little bit before cupping your chin and pointing toward the horizon where the sun has slipped down. The night sky is becoming more visible by the second, a few stray stars winking down at you.

           “Look.” He points at a certain spot in the sky just in time for you to see a streak of breathtaking light.

           A falling star.

           In the span of a few minutes, you’re completely speechless as the sky continues to darken and your eyes are glued heavenward. Gradually, more and more falling stars dart across the sky, taking your breath away. As they continue, you recall Young-mi’s words. The sky is coming to say hello.

           Yoongi reaches for your hand, easily enveloping it while tracing the outline of your knuckles.

           “You,” Yoongi breathes out, sending tingles down your spine. “Are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.”

           Heart thundering against your ribs, you turn to look at him only to find his eyes also trained on the heavens. He speaks the words softly, almost to himself, but you still catch them.

           “You’re a star, all the way up there…and I’m all the way down here. Maybe all I’m meant to do is admire you from afar. But for tonight, just for a moment, I’ll hold you.” His eyes slide down to meet yours, glinting with pure starlight. Cold and beautiful. Hurtling toward you, burning up in your atmosphere and leaving you wondering what would happen if you let him in.

           If it would lead to utter destruction or the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

           All words have escaped you at this moment in time, but you don’t feel the need to scramble for some sort of a response. Instead you settle for snuggling in a bit closer, allowing Yoongi to hold you a bit tighter.

           Tonight, he’ll hold you close to his chest while what will later be recorded as the most prominent meteor shower in recent history rains down above you. The dark night sky is set aflame with streaks of silver as falling stars graze the earth, sharing a sweet goodnight kiss as they hurtle through space. You marvel at the seemingly never-ending parade the night sky puts on, relishing the way Yoongi keeps your warm as he also marvels at the wonder above you.

           There’s no words that are exchanged for the entirety of the meteor shower, the only form of communication found in the patterns Yoongi traces out against the back of your hand and the way he gazes down at you from time to time. As though making sure you’re really there.

           It’s a long while before the meteor shower begins to fade, and it’s only when you hear Yoongi softly calling your name that you realized you’ve dozed off.

           “It’s over, jagiya,” he coos, brushing hair away from your eyes. “Let’s get you to the car, then you can sleep the rest of the way home.”

           Somehow you two manage to make it to the car, you yourself being much more coherent by then due to the sharp pains in your ankle. You realize that you two are some of the few people left at the beach, making you wonder when everyone else left.

           Your eyes are half-closed when Yoongi begins to drive away, your hand finding his atop the console.

           “You know you don’t need to worry about us, right?” Yoongi mumbles out, glancing over at you with a worried expression. “We’ll support whatever you decide to do. Remember what I said before? You’re the most capable person I know. You don’t need us, not really. Just…be happy.”

           You mumble out something incoherent, not completely realizing that he’s referring to the aftermath of the pact until you’re already asleep.

           The next thing you know, you’re parked in front of your apartment and Yoongi is grinning down at you from the passenger side door.

           “C’mon,” he urges, helping you out of the car. “Careful with the ankle.”

           “Mmm.”

           It takes a bit of careful maneuvering to get up the stairs to your apartment, but you manage to make it. Leaning up against the door, you fumble for your keys.

           Once you’ve found them, you hand them straight over to Yoongi. You’re far too tired to attempt unlocking your door at the moment. He laughs at your behavior, shooting you a proud gummy smile when he unlocks the door. You don’t even have to ask before he’s assisting you inside, helping you hobble to your room before turning to leave.

           “Thank you, Yoongi. For everything.”

           Yoongi smiles down at his shoes. “We’ll swing by tomorrow to check up on you if that’s ok?”

           We.

           Your stomach flips to remember that you’re over now with these dates. Now what-

           “Or just shoot me a text? I know that might be awkward if we all show up…”

           “Thank you. I’ll text you?” You sigh, running your hands over your face. “Yoongi, I…” You trail off, staring up at him from your bed as your mind and heart races. There’s just no words.

           With a soft smile, he leans down and pecks your nose. The innocent gesture has your ears turning red, which widens his grin.

           “I know.” He whispers back.

           And then he’s gone.

           And you’re left here, suddenly colder than ever.

main masterlist

the dates are DONE. please let me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you! Tomorrow I'll be opening up a poll for your top two dates, so stay tuned for that! 

alsooo stay tuned this week because I may have a lil bonus chapter for you guys 

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797  @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @delacyrose224  @luvtaeha @fanfictionreader05 @mininimmy @dreadity  @starlight-night0 @luzaroon @seaoffangirling @prachi05 @fangirl125reader @bluehairedotakugem @hunnibxbe @kayahay @fanfictionreader05 @seokjinmoonfics @littletinyhobi @honeyhalcyon @yoontaethings @herrmionejgranger  @beepbeep11 @extraordinary_reads @vntwishlist @aussiebeachbabes​ @hitsussi @hannah2291 @alwaysasadaesthetic​ 

[angrylizardjacket]

dirtbags // 4: Lola

Summary: High school AU. 1985. Winter. Heather’s party is huge; Lola makes new friends, get better acquainted with some underclassmen, and turns out to be far cozier with the hostess than anyone could guess. The next day, Nikki comes to work despite his hangover, while Charlotte and Eileen plan Vince’s murder. Razzle’s just there to have fun. 

A/N: 6603 words. For @misscharlottelee and @julymotel , my beloveds, as always. Sorry it's late, it's been a hell of a week. But, here's the kids. I should say that this chapter does include slight, implied internalised homophobia, just as a warning.

judge if you want, we are all going to die. i intend to deserve it.

For the record, Lola isn’t a party-goer by nature, and the fact that she’s been to two in as many months is baffling her. Usually she just goes to see bands, and sometimes hangs out at peoples’ houses, but high school parties specifically alluded her for most of her time in Boston. It’s not that she wasn’t invited, but her mom had been something of a hardass, and the closest she’d ever gotten was when drunk kids made their way to the diner right before closing on a Friday or Saturday.

Her dad’s fully supportive of her going out and partying, which is weird in it’s own right. He writes down their home phone number on a piece of paper, in case Lola can’t remember it when she’s drunk - his words - and tells her to call whenever she needs a lift. Don’t go get into a car with strangers. Drink plenty of water. Be safe. Have fun. 

“Dad, you’re being weird,” she’d told him flatly, applying eyeliner to her waterline in the bathroom. Leo, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, was watching her with a fond expression.

“If I was a hardass and banned you from going out, you’d probably still sneak out anyways -” Lola goes to protest, which Leo finds sweet, but he holds a hand up, and she lets him continue, “not that I don’t think you respect me, but I just know what it was like being a teenager; if you got into trouble while sneaking out, you wouldn’t feel like you could call me for help,” he explained, giving pause, “but I always will, you know that, right?” And Lola nods, but goes back to applying eyeliner, knowing her father’s tone of voice too well, anticipating the fact that he was about to dive into a story of his own to help prove his point.

“When I was your age, or maybe a bit younger, fifteen or sixteen, me and some friends snuck out to a bonfire one night that my parents had absolutely forbidden me from going to, and I ended up needing to go to the emergency room from a burn I got on my hand from being an idiot around the fire,” and he raised his left hand, to show the still visible, large scar on his palm, “I was more terrified of what my father would do than of the burn itself so I didn’t try and call him or mum; I walked home from the hospital alone the next morning, and lied about how I got the burn.”

Lola paused, lowering the eyeliner pencil, meeting her father’s gaze in the mirror. Leo’s smile had turned a little sad at the memory; Lola doesn’t hear much about her grandparents, and she wonders if stories like this are the reason why.

“You’re my kid, Keola, I never want you to think you can’t come to me for help, okay?” It’s rare for Leo to use Lola’s full first name, usually reserving it for more poignant and earnest moments, so every comment about how he’s being a sap, or that she already knows, dies on Lola’s tongue. 

“Thanks, dad,” she smiles soft, and Leo smiles back, all crows feet and laugh lines, before he tells her that she looks badass, and he steps out of the doorframe, heading back downstairs to the diner. 

By the time Lola shows up, it’s just edging past eight-thirty, though the party still seems to be in its early stages. There’s music that can be heard down the street, and fairy lights scattered throughout the garden, though most of the partygoers who had already arrived are still confined to the house. Apart from a gangly, dark-haired boy whose face she knows, but whose name she doesn’t, sitting on the wide, ostentatious front steps, looking up at the stars glittering overhead. There’s a cigarette in a loose grip between two fingers, though the ash has already burnt down half of it without him tapping it off; it’s almost comical, she’s pretty sure he hasn’t even put it to his lips yet.

“You’re wasting that,” Lola points out, and the guy is jolted from his thoughts, the movement sharp enough to have the ash falling from the cigarette and to the ground by his shoes. He looks to the cigarette, which has gone out, and then to Lola, a little helpless, “I could take it off your hands,” she offers, unsure of how to proceed, and he holds the cigarette out, smile blooming on his face.

“I can’t get the hang of it; I’m playing a smoker in this play I’m doing in a month, and I’ve been trying, you know, make it feel natural, never seems to,” his mouth is curved into a bemused smile as he shrugs helplessly, watching Lola tuck the half a cigarette behind her ear. For a moment, his eyes roam his face, like he’s searching for something to recognize, and she can read it all over him when he finds it, his eyes alight with familiarity, “you work at the diner!”

Lola hates how disarming she finds his earnestness. He doesn’t mention her reputation or the rumours around her, which she’s pretty sure he would have heard since she’s eighty-percent sure he goes to her school.

“Lola,” she offers her hand, and he takes it, using it as leverage to get to his feet before he gives it a proper shake.

“Keanu,” he says, matter-of-factly, still grinning, and Lola suddenly knows where she knows him from. The school musical sign-up sheet is on the Art Faculty’s notice board right outside her art classroom, and she’s been staring at his name amongst a small list of others, including Eileen’s, much to Lola’s surprise, while she and the rest of her art class wait to get into their room.

At least she’s pretty sure it’s him; Keanu’s not exactly a common name. The only other time she’d heard it was in one of her dad’s stories, it was the name of one of his childhood friends -

She leaves it be; he groans and stretches, and there’s an idle moment where his shirt rides up, and Lola reminds herself to focus on the person who actually invited her, and to stop getting fleeting feelings for people she barely knows just because they’re pretty. Lola mutters that she needs a drink, and Keanu claps her on the shoulder and agrees, the two of them heading inside.

Heather’s house is in the same part of town as Vince’s, almost an hour’s walk from the diner, but somehow Heather’s is even nicer. Sprawling front lawn, abstract paintings and movie props on little, pristine pedestals inside, Lola feels like she’s lowering the property value just by stepping foot inside. The party was easily both the nicest and most raucous Lola had ever been to, which, granted, wasn’t saying a lot, but their house was wired with speakers, all connected back to the jukebox in the living room, and Heather’s parents had even let her hire coloured lights.

“As long as the cops aren’t called, we can do whatever we want,” was the message passed around the school from Heather herself. Lola’s feels as though that probably won’t bode well for her parents’ elegantly displayed collectables, but whatever, it’s not like it’s Lola’s problem.

Already there’s a decent crowd inside, and Lola loses Keanu amongst them, making a beeline for the kitchen, manoeuvring around the house with easy familiarity. She reaches pushes past several people to get to the fridge, reaching all the way to the back, past a set of tupperware, to the bottle of wine Heather’s mom had stashed there. Lola removes the sticky note telling everyone not to touch it, and uncorks the bottle over the sink, scowling.

It feels like she’s floating through the night, no-one around that she knows just yet, disconnected from everyone else, carrying the bottle of wine by her side, occasionally taking a drink. Moving from room to room, she takes her time people watching, and guessing how long before the various, expensive props and bric-a-brac were being used for things counter to their intended purpose. 

In the front room, there’s finally someone she recognises, kind of; the the young redhead, the fruit one- Peach! She’s unsteady on her feet, beautiful and angry, defiantly making her way through a can of cheap beer, and Lola wonders where the rest of her clique is, that sister of hers, Eileen, even Charlotte. 

“You okay?” Lola’s never been great at comforting people, but Peach is currently leaning against a wall at a forty-five degree angle after losing her balance, and scowling. She’s drunk. Already. Fuck.

“I’m fine! Freaking- fucking great!” She’s not even looking at Lola properly, glaring out the window she’d narrowly missed falling on. Lola follows her gaze. It’s just passed nine, and Tommy and Charlotte can be seen walking up to the door; they don’t see Peach or Lola, thankfully. 

“You - you’re friends with that... that mean, asshole, punk guy, right?” Peach asks, standing upright so suddenly she overbalances again, and Lola has to catch her elbow to keep her from topping. Peach slaps her hand away, but keeps her balance, obviously with a bee in her bonnet about something that Lola couldn’t even begin it fathom.

“Nikki?” Lola clarifies flatly, amused but not wanting it to show. Peach nods solemnly. Lola bites back a laugh, “yes, I’m friends with him, why?”

“Is he coming tonight?” Peach asks, tone almost forcibly coy and casual, raising her can of drink, taking large gulps as Lola says that he mentioned that he should be, and then asks why. Peach goes quiet. Lola had thought it impossible for Peach’s scowl to grow deeper, but it did, as a blush began to creep up her neck. 

“You know my sister, right? Eileen?” Peach says, instead, and Lola nods slowly, and she takes a swig of wine, “she’s a year - a single goddamn year - older than me; I’m sixteen, Lola, she said I was too young to go to a party like this.” And yeah, okay, Lola makes a face at that; she was the same age as Tommy, and he’s done objectively worse stuff in front of Eileen and Charlotte with no complaints. The last house party flashes through Lola’s mind, and she grimaces - “exactly, it’s dumb! Charlie had been dating Duff for a year by the time she was my age, and let me tell you, they were proper gross!” Peach sways a little, and Lola reminds her that she has no idea who Duff is; Peach calls him a word that shocks Lola to hear her say it, especially for a girl who had to correct herself from saying freaking to fucking just moments ago.

“Noted,” Lola nods, and takes another drink; she’s almost a third through the bottle.

“I’m not a child, Lola,” Peach says, as seriously as she can muster, and, as if light a lightbulb has gone off above Lola’s head, she realises why Peach was asking after Nikki. 

“You’re not,” Lola agrees slowly, and looks around, hoping to spot Charlotte or Tommy around, someone better suited to talking an angry, determined Peach out of something she’d regret. 

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Peach huffed, standing to her full height, which unfortunately for Lola, made her taller by a few inches, “you know what, fuck you, Lola -”

“Peach -”

“No, fuck that, I know that tone -”

“Never thought I’d see you out at a place like this, Peach,” there’s a warm familiarity in the voice that joins them, and Peach visibly relaxes. Lola turns, and sees Vince Neil, bleach blonde, decked out in his usual, obnoxious white. 

“Fuck off, Vince,” Peach mumbles, turning back to the window in an attempt to hide her sudden blush. Lola raises her eyebrows and looks to Vince, intrigued. The moment his gaze meets Lola’s, Vince turns quietly awkward, and can do little more than offer a shrug. 

“Peach?” He tries again, and Peach finishes her drink, tipping her head back, and doesn’t even seem to notice that she’s started to topple back until he catches her, “fuck, Peach.” He says, still holding her.

“You really should fuck off,” Peach says, softer this time, leaning into him, and something pained flashes across Vince’s expression for the barest moment; Peach doesn’t notice in her state, but Lola sees it. 

“Eileen been in your ear lately?” Vince asks through gritted teeth. Peach’s scowl back in full force, and she’s righting herself.

“No,” she snaps, an obvious lie, and she pushes past Lola, making her unsteady way to the kitchen, Vince obviously feeling some sort of obligation to her, following quickly in her wake. Thank God. Lola really didn’t want to take care of a girl she barely knows all night. 

She’s two thirds of the way through the bottle of wine, feeling good and buzzed, and she’s made polite conversation with the people she knows and the people she doesn’t, the people who know her by reputation, or from the diner, polite to a fault, knowing too much and too little about her all at once.

Tommy’s roped them into a conversation with a few kids from his year that Lola doesn’t recognize any of them, and one, drunk, brunette, stupid, asks her about the rumours, in a crude, roundabout way. Tommy’s hand is firm on Lola’s shoulder, apology in his eyes as he silently pleads with her to not make a scene. Lola kicks his asshole friend in the shin anyways, and spits that he has terrible taste in friends. 

Charlotte waves to her, but Lola doesn’t see it in her angry state, storming up the stairs to the second floor. It’s quieter up here, mostly. There’s a group in a side room playing spin the bottle, and people taking advantage of Heather’s parents’ bedroom, and the door to Heather’s room is closed. Lola bangs her closed fist on the nondescript door. 

“Who is it?” Heather’s voice, strained, rings out from the other side.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Lola whined through a lie, banging again. There’s scuffling on the other side, Heather hissing for whoever’s with her to go, to get out the window, anything. Lola smirks, “please, all the other bathrooms are -” and she fake gags, right as the door wrenches open to show Heather’s flustered face, hair a mess, scowling.

“What?”

“I’m lying,” Lola whispered, leaning against the doorframe, pushing down all her annoyance at Tommy and his asshole friends, and playing at being coy. Heather huffs an annoyed breath through her nose.

“I know,” she snaps, but lets Lola in anyways, and Lola automatically closes the door behind herself, leaning her back against it, watching Heather try and act casual, heading to her bed, “should I be jealous?” Lola smirks, and Heather shoots her a filthy look. Lola takes a long drink of the wine, and Heather’s expression turns from angry, to simply annoyed.

“Of course, of fucking course, you, the only asshole who actually knew about it-”

“Your mom can buy another one, it’s not like you’re not -”

“Don’t say it,” Heather warns, sitting on the edge of her bed, and Lola’s smile grows sly and amused. Heather’s gaze flicks to the door handle, “lock that.” 

“Yes, Princess,” Lola smirks, reaching over with her free hand, making quick work of locking the door.

“Do not,” Heather hisses at the pet name, and Lola pushes off the door, heading towards her, and offers her the bottle. Heather’s lips press into a thin line as the regards the drink she knows is completely illicit for a number of reasons, before taking it, and taking a drink - “fuck, how much of this have you had?”

In answer, Lola takes the bottle back and finishes it off. 

“You’re a pig and a thief,” Heather tells her, but Lola’s smile is all teeth.

“And you kicked out someone - a boy, I’m guessing - for this thieving pig,” Lola reminds her, placing the empty bottle carefully on the nightstand of her luxurious double bed. Heather turns scarlet.

“I thought you’d at least wait until eleven to find me,” she deflects, defensive at the truth in Lola’s words, to which Lola herself actually laughs, flopping back onto the bed, arms spread, two fingers hooking into the back waistband of Heather’s flirty, short skirt.

“The fact that I’m here at all is a miracle, Princess -”

“Don’t.”

“And you know you could have told me to throw up in the garden,” Lola points out. A moment of silence follows, she tugs at Heather’s waistband, and Heather follows the unspoken prompt, leaning back onto the bed.

“Boys don’t know what they’re doing,” she says, staring up at the ceiling, arms folded but feet still planted firmly on the floor, and Lola’s eyes go wide, delighted, twisting onto her side to look at Heather’s blushing face.

“I knew you liked me,” Lola teases, grinning sharp.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Heather scoffs, angling her head back to level a glare at Lola, after a beat, she reaches back, fingers nimble and cold but her grip on Lola’s jaw secure. She frowns at Lola’s lips, rubbing her thumb none too gently over the bottom lip, taking off the black lipstick painted there, staining her own thumb in the process. 

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Heather prompts, frustrated, tone icy. Lola raises her eyebrows at the blonde's impatience.

“As you command, your highness,” Lola pushes herself up on her elbows, and off the bed, smirking in the face of Heather’s annoyance, before she scrubs at her mouth with the back of her hand, getting rid of the rest of her lipstick.

“I’ll be quick so you can get back to your boytoy,” Lola smirks up at Heather, kneeling between her knees, and in the next moment Heather’s legs clamp painfully tight around her head, bony knees pressing into her temples.

“If you tell fucking anyone I did anything other than get you water while you threw up in my bathroom, I will ruin your fucking life,” she spits, and Lola’s expression contorts into one of furious annoyance as she wrenches her head free, sitting back on her heels.

“As if I’d tell anyone; if you tell anyone, I’ll burn your fucking house down, do not test me on that,” she warns in return, before Heather relaxes and lays back, eyes back on the ceiling, waiting, “fucking pillow princess, I wish you’d get me a glass of water once in a while,” Lola muttered, leaning back in.

“Hey!” Heather objects, looking down, only to see the barely concealed fury smouldering in Lola’s eyes as she looks at Heather through her lashes. Lola orders her to shut up, presses a pointed kiss to her inner thigh, and Heather obeys without any more fuss.

All it took, in the beginning, was for Lola to confront Heather and ask why the fuck she couldn’t keep her eyes to herself during class, fully expecting a fight. It was after school, Lola had followed her into the bathroom after class as the school was emptying. Heather’s lip had curled, derisive, giving Lola a look like she was a bug beneath her shoe.

“You see something you fucking like?” Lola had snarled, ready to square up, chest puffed out, and Heather had rolled her eyes, scoffing about how Lola wasn’t even close to her type, before she’d realised what she’d said. 

Neither had known how to proceed in that moment, both terrified of how the other would react, Lola could see the sudden fear in Heather’s eyes at the admission. Very deliberately, Lola had relaxed her posture, looking Heather over with a new appreciation, and Heather had flushed under her gaze.

“I didn’t know it was like that,” Lola had smirked, gaze locking onto Heather’s. The blonde was embarrassed, furious at herself, “well if I ever become your type -” those seven words had changed everything. Immediately, Heather knew exactly what Lola had meant, that she wasn’t a threat in the way she’d feared, and that Lola was like her, in some way, in a way that was safe.

“You’re -?” Heather raised a single, perfect eyebrow at her.

“I don’t advertise it,” Lola said, voice flat, hands in her pockets and shoulders carefully relaxed, “don’t know, you know, who else is... like me.”

“Like you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it here,” Lola had muttered, gaze flicking to the empty stalls, and Heather had given her a long, evaluative look, before stepping forward, apparently finding something she likes. 

Heather’s kind of pinning over a straight girl and none of the rest of the school has any idea she likes anything other than boys, and she’d like to keep it that way. No-one really cares about Lola the way they do about Heather, so they feel safe fooling around together at Heather’s under the guise of ‘studying’; they don’t really even like each other as people, it’s more mutually beneficial than anything else, but it’s kind of nice to have this understanding between them, free to be themselves without fear, even if it’s only for short amounts of time.

Now, at the party, when Lola goes to leave the room after all is said and done, hair checked in the mirror, lipstick reapplied neatly, Heather grabs her arm, quiet but no longer irritate in Lola’s presence, and Lola’s eyes go wide with question, but she too is silent. Heather steels herself, steps up to Lola, and then she’s got her fingers carding through Lola’s hair, and holding tight, and Lola lets herself be maneuverer, her head tipping and Heather’s lips on her neck. 

When Heather steps back, there’s the beginning of a hickey blooming on the juncture where Lola’s shoulder meets her throat, aching faintly, pleasantly, and her hands are soft on Heather’s hips, lips twitching into a smirk.

“You could have just said thank you,” Lola snorted, and Heather’s frowning, but it doesn’t seem to be specifically at Lola; she rolls her eyes. Lola presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, quick and chaste, and scrubs at the mark she leaves behind before Heather slaps her hand away and tells her to get out, though there’s no anger behind it. 

When Lola opens the door, she puts on a show of being a little more unsteady than she really was, and is surprised to see Nikki leaning against the wall a few feet away, chatting to Tommy, looking so carefully casual. Lola’s pretty sure she hears Nikki sigh something about needing to find a guitarist, but that’s the moment Tommy spots Lola. He tries to apologise for his friends, but Lola shrugs, letting the incident go easily.

And then Nikki’s eyes flick to hers, and he asks if she’s okay, and Tommy seems confused but Lola’s hit with a realization. She pulls back her act and tries not to smile too wide.

“I’m fine now, great actually, it’s sweet of you to care,” its absolutely and completely innocent, but she raises an eyebrow at him, as if asking how he knows that she was unwell. In lieu of response, Nikki stands to his full height, walks to the door, and knocks. Lola and Tommy watch, the former far more confused than the latter.

Heather opens the door wide, not a hair out of place, makeup immaculate and untouched, and tells Nikki to fuck off, swanning past him and down to the rest of her party. Nikki turns on Lola. 

“You couldn’t have thrown your guts up in a bush somewhere?” Nikki hissed, frustrated, and Lola does a great job at biting back her laughter, shaking her head and shrugging helplessly. 

“We’re you waiting out here that whole time?” Lola asks, and Nikki turns amusingly pink, stalking past her to the stairs, to which both Lola and Tommy followed, with Lola calling out a half-hearted apology, and Nikki telling her to shove it up her ass. 

gandhi said 'be the change you want to see in the world.' fuck that. be the trouble you want to see in the world.

“Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last night,” the morning after the party, or was it afternoon - midday after Heather’s party - Lola’s tying her red bandana around her head, hip leaning against the counter out the back by the fryer where Nikki was scowling at an order of fries that was bubbling away.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Lola,” Nikki snaps back, looking up at her, still frowning, and Lola’s smile widens, just a little. Nikki sighs, relenting, his voice dropping low, “I’m hungover as fuck, just piss off, can you?” But it doesn’t sound half as cruel as the words themselves imply, and Lola dips to press her cheek to his shoulder in a moment of affectionate familiarity before heading out to start serving customers. 

It’s almost one when Charlotte and that English kid, Razzle, walk in, with the tall, pretty ginger, Eileen, sans their usual extras, but they take their spot at their usual booth by the window, talking quietly but animatedly. 

“- the nerve on him! Hi, Lola,” Eileen’s practically vibrating with pent up, frustrated energy, greeting Lola with what Eileen probably assumed was a smile, but was still definitely a scowl.

“Everything alright here?” Lola asked, forcing her voice even brighter than she’d usually attempt, and Eileen’s gaze dropped to the menu, going quiet, brooding, while Charlotte sat up a little straighter and smiled, clearly not on such an intense wavelength as her friend.

“Everything’s just great; plotting Vince’s murder, kind of starving, the usual,” she shrugs, and Razzle, by her side, snorts a laugh.

“Good to see you survived the night, Honky Cat,” he adds in lieu of a greeting of his own, and Lola takes a moment to process all the information she’d just been exposed to.

“’course I did, I drank my weight in water between shots,” Lola smirks at Razzle, before her gaze slides to Charlotte, “and that’s very fair; I’d ask what he’s done now, but I think I’ll take care of your order first,” she grins amicably and pulls out her notepad and pen, as the three of them order their usual drinks and lunch preferences.

Lola heads back to the counter, calling out the order to the kitchen, taking another few order to their various destinations, before getting her friends’ drinks together to take them over.

“- home and didn’t even call, Razz, she didn’t even -” Eileen was still ranting by the time Lola deposits their drinks before them. Lola’s pretty sure she saw Razzle and Charlotte deliberately knocking knees beneath the table, but doesn’t think about it too hard. Nor does she dwell on the memory of seeing them at the party last night, of a gaggle of cheerleaders around talking to Razzle, though he just kept trying to talk to Charlotte. Later, she’d definitely seen them on the sofas, talking with Tommy and some of Charlotte’s other friends, leaning in to each other, Razzle’s arm around her shoulders, playing with the whispy ends of her hair. Lola hadn’t thought much of it at the time; she’d made out with Tommy at her first house party in the area, it hadn’t developed past friendship. 

It was cute, if it was anything. 

“Lola, you were there!” Eileen turned very suddenly, the moment her cup had been placed in front of her, and Lola’s eyebrows shot up, “did you see my sister last night?”

It feels like a trap, because yes, Lola definitely did, but also -

“Yes, why?” Lola asks, slowly, cocking a hip.

“They’re in the middle of a blue,” Razzle said, with a fond smile at Eileen’s carefully neutral expression, while she stirred her drink with intent.

“A fight,” Charlotte translated, “and Peach went to Heather’s last night, and got kind of shitfaced, and Vince took care of her, was really quite sweet, but she stayed with him because his place was closer and Peach refused to call Eileen.”

“She stayed with Vince?” Lola said carefully, trying not to imply she was jumping to conclusions, but Eileen’s stirring ceased in favour of vigorous drinking of the drink, obviously stuck on a similar train of thought.

“She slept on the couch,” Razzle filled in quickly, “was still there when I left, tucked in with a blanket, all above board.”

“And you didn’t know where she was -?” Lola frowns, confused.

“Vince called at three in the morning,” Eileen glowered out the window, voice low and even, “dad was mad until he was grateful; the man’s backbone is made of marshmallow fluff. She was meant to be home at one.”

“But she’s okay?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Lola,” Eileen had said, giving Lola a look far older and longsuffering than her seventeen years. 

“If we brought in Vince’s heart, would your dad batter it up and fry it for Eileen to eat?” Charlotte asked, tone teasing and light, to which Eileen rolled her eyes, but at least it got her to smile, even a little. Even when Lola snorted a laugh and told her ‘absolutely not’.

Later, on their break, Lola and Nikki sit on the roof of the building and share a serve of chips that he’d overcooked, and a cigarette, and Lola asks about Vince. Turns out Nikki doesn’t know much; he hadn’t grown up with the rest of them, had moved to the neighbourhood near the start of high school, and all he really knows is that girls apparently think Vince’s dick developed some sort of Midas touch over Summer.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been stupid pretty,” Nikki shoves a chip in his mouth before leaning back on his elbows, “far as I know, but you’ve seen his car, right? That fuck-off, expensive red one that sits in the teacher’s carpark, with the massive scratch in the paint along the left? Yeah that’s his; got it for his birthday last year and he’s been getting tail like nobody’s business ever since.” And Lola tries to process all this information before he’s barrelling right on ahead with, “speaking of; if you’re gonna nail Tommy, can you do it soon and put the poor kid out of his misery?”

“Excuse me?!” Lola had choked on her lungful of smoke, turning red at the suggestion.

“Yeah, poor kid was pretty convinced we were a thing and didn’t want to make a move; kinda stupid, but I dunno, admirable? Noble?” Nikki groaned through his words, laying back against the gravel of the roof, hand out for the cigarette. Lola passed it to him, glad he couldn’t see her vaguely guilty expression, knowing she’d slept with the girl he’d been hitting on the night before.

“Tommy has a thing for anything halfway pretty that’s not related to him, he’d be just as happy to boink any other girl,” Lola points out, and Nikki snorts a laugh in mild agreement, “and the only reason we’re not fucking is because you’re afraid my dad’s gonna rip of your arms like he’s the fucking Wampa from Star Wars.” She punctuates it by eating the last chip, laying out beside Nikki on the gravel, checking her watch. Five minutes before their break ends.

“Leo wouldn’t rip off my arms- I don’t think Leo would rip off my arms!” Nikki counters defensively, but that just has Lola laughing as she corrects -

“Sorry, no, your exact wording was ‘I don’t want your dad to Kali Ma my fucking heart like I’m that little bastard from Indiana Jones’,” Lola does an absolutely atrocious impersonation of Nikki, who’s laughing despite himself, “which you only took back because I told you he wasn’t Indian, and even if he was, it’s kind of a fucked thing to say,” Lola tells him pointedly, shifting onto her side, propping her head up on her hand as she smirked at Nikki. 

When Nikki looks at her, green eyes shining in the overcast, afternoon light, there’s something unreadable, teasing and soft all at once, like he’s entertaining an idea he’d considered unthinkable.

“I don’t think I could look Leo in the eye if I banged his daughter,” Nikki’s voice is soft and low, though he’s grinning wide, tone coy, eyes creasing in the corners, and Lola’s gaze flicks to his lips. 

“For Leo’s sake, then,” Lola matches his tone, corner of her mouth twitching into a sharp smirk when she finally looks back to his eyes, “and Tommy’s too,” she teases, pushing herself into a sitting position; she can hear it when he presses his head further into the gravel in exasperation, swearing under his breath. When Lola stands and smiles, the picture of innocence, she offers Nikki her hand to help him up; Nikki rolls his eyes, but is still smiling when he accepts.

“Your hair looks dorky like that,” Lola teases as she climbs down the fire escape.

“I know,” Nikki sighs, “but its better than getting hair in everyone’s food; I’m not gonna be the reason your dad fails a health inspection,” Nikki adds, a strange hint of protectiveness in his voice that warms Lola’s heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“Don’t worry, Leo’s never failed a health inspection, he doesn’t intend to start any time soon.”

love is a dream someone else had last night.

Eileen and Razzle see fit to join their ragtag bunch of misfits at lunch the following Monday by the open gate and the science carpark, which Lola had been informed was the teachers’ carpark.

Lola doesn’t care who sits with them, except for the fact that she’d taken the leftover lemon merengue tart from the diner since it was being replaced with an apple crumble, and there was only enough for four. For the past week, Eileen’s been alternating sitting with them and sitting elsewhere, but she hadn’t been here last Monday, so Lola had assumed - anyways, now she’s worried she looks like a bitch, and not for an actual reasonable reason.

“What do you mean you almost got with Heather on Friday?!” Charlotte’s voice was somewhere between a horrified and disbelieving squeak where she was picking at the crust of the piece of tart she was sharing with Eileen. The lemon merengue debacle turned out to not be much of an issue, with Charlotte and Eileen sharing, and Tommy and Lola sharing too. Lola was incredibly focused on picking at a scab through the hole in the knee of her jeans.

“I mean I had my hand in her fucking panties when someone -” Nikki cast a very pointed look to Lola, “knocked on the door threatening to throw up, and I got shoved out a window,” Nikki played up being irritated, despite the fact that he was laying out on his side directly behind Lola, while she was leaning into him.

“You’re my hero,” Eileen told Lola, serious as ever, while Charlotte cackled with delight, and Razzle snickered from where he was touching up the left hand of Tommy’s sharpie-nails.

“You guys are a bunch of assholes,” Nikki huffed, shoving the remained or his own piece of tart into his mouth.

“I brought you food, show some fuckin’ respect,” Lola smirked despite herself, gently elbowing him in the ribs; he flicks her knee in retaliation.

“Absolutely not; you’re a cockblocking traitor and the worst friend I’ve got,” Nikki announced, nose in the air, and Lola leans all her weight back suddenly, tipping Nikki onto his back and laying heavy across his stomach as she demanded he take it back, the two of them getting into a petty squabbling match, shoving at each other while the others could only look on in exasperated amusement.

“I thought Heather had a boyfriend,” Eileen pipes up, to which Charlotte makes a a gentle ‘eh’ noise in the back of her throat.

“She’s getting laid,” Charlotte corrects with half a smirk, and everyone who was paying half attention understand easily. Tommy sighs, but it’s not nearly as dejected as he’s known for whenever the topic of girls he fancies being with other people comes up.

“Whatever, I got to second base with Pam that night, and no-one can take that away from me,” Tommy announces, watching Razzle finish off his pinkie.

“Good for you, man,” Razzle says, with his trademark sincerity. Eileen and Charlotte still can’t believe it happened, but unfortunately both Razzle and Vince had seen with their own two eyes and been able to confirm; Vince may be biased, but Charlotte trusted Razzle.

“Everyone got some fuckin’ action that night except for me,” Nikki whines, finally shoving himself off, “and the fuckin’ Vomit Comet over here,” he jerked his thumb to where Lola was righting herself; Lola flips him off in response. 

“I didn’t,” Eileen points out.

“You weren’t there,” Nikki rolls his eyes, “you don’t count.” 

Meanwhile Razzle and Charlotte had both gone very quiet, and very pink. However Lola, who had no patience for people trying to hide their somewhere-between-pining-and-sincere feelings from each other and from other people, instead turns her attention to Eileen as she’s sweeping her hair out of her face.

“Have things gotten any better with Peach?” She tried, tone hopeful, and Eileen’s expression barely changed, just the barest crease of a frown upon her forehead, though judging by the way Charlotte’s whole expression soured, things had not, in fact, gotten better.

“Came back on Saturday afternoon all sunny and smiley and mom was thrilled,” Eileen’s deadpan irritation really sold her exasperation at the whole situation, “that she was friends with Vince again, and she hasn’t said a word to me yet.” Eileen takes a deep breath, straightening up from where she’d been slouched without realizing, taking a deep breath, nose in the air as if rising above it all, “which is fine with me, because I have a ton of dialogue to learn and they want us off-book in a month.” 

This only sets them off fondly teasing the ever-unflappable Eileen, for her seemingly out of character choice to join the school’s musical, though they were all very proud of the fact that she scored the lead, even Nikki had voiced that he thought it was pretty cool. 

When Lola had asked about it, Eileen had made mention that it filled in a lot of free time, that it was something she could add to college applications, and that a friend had convinced her to do it; Keanu -

“I keep hearing that name around,” Lola muses, leaning back in her seat while they were waiting for their French teacher to arrive. Eileen raises her eyebrows, “is that the pretty, dark haired Senior?” Eileen, surprisingly, had flushed scarlet when nodding. Lola hummed thoughtfully, leaning back further until the front legs of her chair lifted from the ground; she hooked her feet around the legs of her desk as she contemplated.

“It’s a musical right?” Lola asked, and Eileen hummed in confirmation, “if you can sing, you know Nikki and Tommy are -”

“I’d rather eat an entire microphone,” Eileen responds flatly, already knowing what Lola was about to suggest before she’d even finished her sentence, and Lola really tries not to laugh, but she knows Eileen well enough by now that that response makes entirely too much sense.

“You make a fair -” and that’s when Lola’s grip on the table slips, her feet sliding quickly up the legs of the desk as she topples backwards, the momentum pulling the desk up with her legs and directly on top of her, winding her. At least it made Eileen laugh, mostly from shock, sure, but Lola counts it as a win.

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

If you were a Durmstrang Student (Draco x reader)

Warnings: Bodily harm, physical fighting, fluff, panic attacks, alluding to... Ahem... Doing the do

Notes: I'm not saying Durmstrang is like this all of the time. It's just an idea that came to mind. And also the fact that in the books that headmaster made me UNCOMFORTABLE.

So you spent your first year of school in Durmstrang

As an American

You obviously didn't do well considering: A) Language barrier and B) everyone was so serious all of the time

You took on a serious demeanor and the first time your parents saw the school they kind of realized you hated it.

You learned discipline from them but jesus, at what cost?

Finally your parents decided to find a better fit after moving elsewhere.

You basically did walkthroughs of different schools

And you saw Hogwarts and thought: "Damn. I wanna go here."

You running into a blonde boy who couldn't take his eyes off of you.

Apologizing for it and him noticing the uniform.

"Sorry, are you from Durmstrang?" He asked.

"Yes I am." You nodded.

You being able to sit in the great hall while your parents work out the kinks.

Draco telling you to sit with Slytherin

You telling the Slytherins about your time at Durmstrang

"Do you like it?" A student asked.

"Not really. Everyone is so... Emotionless. It's more of a military academy than a wizarding school." You muttered.

Draco noticed the look on your face.

You weren't exactly happy with it and he could tell that you were being honest

"Surely there's something you look forward to while you're there?" A student asked.

You pondered and then laughed.

"Does sparring count?" You asked.

Them not getting it.

"Sparring. Like fighting with rules?" You asked.

"Sorry you guys... Duel?" Someone else asked.

"No. Sparring. Like physical fighting not magic. We're trained with magic and physical strength it's why we're good at quidditch." You explained.

A few students went "Oooh" as a response

You were a bit of an odd ball to Draco but something told him you were definitely a Slytherin.

Well he was right.

After the great hall Dumbledore ultimately decided to allow you to transfer and took you back to the office for a sorting.

The hat pondered between houses and decided slytherin was the best for you.

The next school year Draco saw you in Diagon Alley but couldn't tell if he was hallucinating or actually seeing you.

Then he saw you on the train and gaped.

"You're... Here? And in Slytherin?!" He asked noticing the robes.

You laughed. "Yes, I was in the middle of the transfer process when you met me." You said.

He of course stuck with you, him finding out more personal things

Your birthday, your favorite things, more stories about Durmstrang

He was really excited to learn more about you.

You really enjoyed spending time with this boy

And as he listened to you he started to become really grateful that his parents decided against Durmstrang

Yes, they may have been prestigious. But considering he could tell something happened there that seemed to bother you, Draco was glad he never went.

Occasionally Draco would notice certain things here and there

Like a scar on your hand that went to your wrist

The scar on your neck that you tried to hide

Why were there so many scars?

There was a reason indeed for those.

And that was that damn headmaster

For the less obedient students, physical punishment was not off limits

Your parents were unaware of that until after you transferred

You usually stood up for the little guys and often got in trouble for it

You hated him. You hated that headmaster more than you could say.

Whenever you were asked about your scars you'd go quiet and appear to just be seething.

Draco couldn't tell why you'd get so upset over them but he never asked

Because of your need to stand up for the little guy however, you did snap at Draco for mocking Longbottom

He didn't understand why you cared but you clearly did

Harry noticed it and so did Ron

Both of them started talking to you, which naturally pissed off Draco

And some insults were thrown and you showed little to no reaction

You may have been a little shorter than the boys at the school but when you go to a school where physical altercations were a regular thing, verbal insults don't bother you as much.

You did however hate hearing them from Draco. That upset you.

He could tell he went too far and later apologized around Christmas

You accepted the apology and his attitude slowly began to change from stuck up to more sarcastic than anything.

His parents were pleased to know his new friend was a Slytherin and from Durmstrang.

Your parents worked for the ministry (thus why you moved multiple times) and you ended up meeting them at a dinner over the summer

"Did you enjoy your time at Durmstrang?" Narcissa asked.

Your eyes almost seemed to glaze over, all of the adults took notice and immediately knew something was off

"....Yes. I did." You said in almost a trance

Draco rose a brow noticing you'd never answered like that before

And then he realized: the times he'd heard you answer were to students. You never answered the adults when asking that.

It was most likely an enforced reaction for you.

"...How was it really?" Lucius asked.

"...I need to be excused." You said leaving abruptly.

Your mother sighed and shook her head. "She hasn't been the same since her time there..." Your mother admitted.

"It's like they still are controlling her, even when she's not there." Your father sighed.

Both of Draco's parents were now glad they never enrolled Draco there.

"Can I go look for Y/n? She looked upset." Draco asked.

Both of your parents nodded and he found you rather quickly.

You were in the library, sitting by a small fire in the fireplace.

You looked like you were crying.

"Y/n?" Draco asked.

You wiped your eyes. "Hi Draco." You said.

"You don't have to pretend, it's just me." He assured.

You sighed. "Why does everyone always want to know about that damn school?" You muttered.

"Probably because most people stay there when they're enrolled." He shrugged.

You shook your head. "It's not fair that I lost a year of my time to them." You muttered.

He kneeled next to your seat. "Then we'll have more fun to make up for that year." Draco assured.

You smiled at him and he smiled at you

It was the first time your heart really skipped a beat with him and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

The next time you saw Draco his hair wasn't slacked anymore and he was taller

He noticed you were a lot more prettier than usual too

The two of you never left each other's side unless you had to

You ended up having fun with him that year

You were the one to stop Buckbeak from injuring Draco that year

You stood there between the two, making sure that the creature wouldn't harm him.

"Rest easy there little guy... He's all bark and no bite don't worry." You said to Buckbeak, bowing to him.

Buckbeak bowed to you and you smiled.

Draco found you very attractive when that happened too, your smile usually made him notice you more.

Hogsmeade being really fun.

Ron and Hermione both laughing as you had a snowball fight with them.

Draco reading in the corner trying to avoid talking to them

Him feeling the snow hit his arm.

"Did you just... Throw snow at me?" He asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh lighten up Draco--"

And then a snowball hurdled towards her and you were laughing.

Having a moment where you both tripped midsnowball fight and fell onto each other.

You being a blushing mess and him helping you up.

You screaming after Harry just popped up next to you.

Poor bastard forgot that you went to the wizarding equivalent to a military academy so you kind of....

Drop kicked him.

"Oh my God Harry I am so sorry!" You said helping him up.

"Christ Potter! Where'd you come from!?" Draco said surprised.

"Can you stand, oh God tell me you can stand!?" You said panicked.

He assured you he was fine.

And then asked you to show him how to do that.

So it turned to you teaching the group self defense

No surprise, your best class was "Defense against the dark arts"

Draco loved seeing you passionate about it too

His parents sending you a Christmas gift

Which was a cane! That doubled as a blade

You and Draco were the only two that knew that and it was going to stay that way

Lucius' mind set when he bought it was "Watch that headmaster try to touch her now. Bastard."

No one really understood how terrifying you found that headmaster until the boggart lesson

No surprise: it was him

Everyone was confused and Remus saw the pure terror on your face

You were so scared and it was obvious from the shaking

Remus handled it and talked to you after class

He knew something was up and hated to see you anxious

You would stay in his classroom when the younger students would bombard you with questions

Draco would sit with you two

Days where you both sat in there, him sitting in a seat and using another as a footrest while you sat next to him smiling and laughing.

Oh Remus knew you liked him

You noticed Hermione showing at random times

You were confused until the day that you and the group found out that Lucius somehow caught wind of the fact that Buckbeak almost hurt you and Draco.

You guys went on a rescue mission

Draco was with you guys because if it was important to you then damn it, it was important to him

So the plan didn't exactly... Go to plan

Finding out your favorite teacher was a werewolf wasn't in the plan

Neither was finding out that that same teacher was basically housing a convict.

Or discovering Harry's parents were killed by Ron's pet rat

You almost killing Peter with your Christmas gift but being caught off guard by the fact that REMUS WAS A WEREWOLF

All of you swearing not to tell another soul about anything.

The group becoming closer to Draco.

Draco's family actually offered to have you over for the summer and you accepted

Lucius noticing Draco's smile when you were present

You enjoying Narcissa's company.

You were a little oblivious to them being supporters of the dark Lord but that mainly came from the fact that weird behavior wasn't unusual in Durmstrang

Going to the World Quidditch game and basically freezing up because the Durmstrang headmaster was near you.

You having to relocate with Draco because you were on the verge of a panic attack

"H-He's here Draco-- I-I can't" you hyperventilated.

Arthur Weasley finding you. "Oh dear... You poor thing, why don't you come with us to the tent, we'll make tea?" He offered.

You accepted and Harry swore he'd punch the shit out of the headmaster if he came near you.

You all laughed but then you heard screaming.

You basically defending them, again with your Christmas present from Lucius

Coming face to face with a death eater and having a blade put to your neck

Draco sneaking up behind them and knocking them out before bolting.

Somehow you were calm for that.

Truth be told: that wasn't uncommon at Durmstrang either.

The school year starting off with you finding out that Durmstrang would be with you

You naturally freaked the hell out

Especially when they introduced the schools and the headmaster noticed you.

You were shaking the entire time

Then there was one student who you saw that seemed to calm you

Viktor Krum

He took his seat with you and almost seemed to be like a big brother

Course Draco was so jealous he couldn't see that

You seemed a little less anxious when Krum was present and that mainly came from the fact that when you were in trouble at Durmstrang, Krum would step in.

You being excited for Viktor when he was selected

Then said excitement disappearing when Harry's name popped out.

You asking if there was anyway to take his place, practically begging.

You couldn't. But you were allowed to help him if he asked for it.

Then the first trial came up.

And the only thing you heard was "Y/N, HELP!"

You immediately ran down there and fought a fucking dragon.

Harry narrowly escaping with the egg and you.

You coming back to the stands and Draco being so relieved that he kissed you

In front of everyone.

Krum smiling like an idiot because his little sister was in love.

Then it became you and Draco doing things together all of the time

Days where you sat in the astronomy tower, looking out at the school and enjoyed each other's company.

Draco holding you in his arms while reading in the common room.

Nose kisses. He loved it when you kissed his nose

Asking you to the Yule ball

You saying yes because DUH.

You ending up being apart of Viktor's Trial

Draco being confused on where you were until someone mentioned that a faculty member asked you to be a part of this.

Draco's heart dropping

Viktor coming out of the water with you.

Your first words were "Whoever decided this would be fun right before winter can actually bite me!"

Fleur coming up empty handed and you knowing there was a child down there

You dropping everything and charging towards the water

The Durmstrang headmaster stopping you and saying "This isn't your challenge girl."

You pulling back your arm with this look that could kill

You growling out "I don't care." Before jumping back in.

Draco almost passing out because he thought he was going to lose you.

Viktor assuring him that you could do this.

You coming back up with Gabrielle

Draco wrapping you in his coat and holding your hands while breathing on them to keep you warm.

Him walking you back to the common room while everyone else was celebrating

Maybe he helped you change

Him seeing the full extent of why you truly feared the headmaster.

Scars were basically all over your back

He didn't care about them being there, he cared about why they were there.

You didn't actually do anything.

I mean yes: he did see you shirtless

But other than that he turned his back.

He wouldn't stop glaring at that headmaster whenever he was close by.

Actually, most of Slytherin seemed to be pissed.

Because when one of their own was hurt, that's when you should expect DEATH.

The Yule ball coming up and Narcissa being made aware of the fact that you were Draco's date.

Her sending you a dress

Viktor walking you down the stairs to Draco and then waiting for Hermione

Draco thinking "She is so out of my league"

You and him dancing together with smiles and laughter

Him kissing you before going to his dormitory

Both of you thinking about each other the whole night until you both went to the common room and fell asleep on the couch

No one daring to separate you two

Watching the final challenge and seeing Harry come back

Cedric being on the ground and Harry in a shocked state

You sprinting down there to make sure he was okay

"H-He wanted me to bring him back.... His parents"

You just hugged your friend until Mad eye came over

You knowing damn well that this was just the beginning of something massive

You preparing yourself over the summer by physical training.

The Malfoy's acting even weirder than last time

You learning that they were supporters of the dark lord

Them wanting to genuinely keep you safe

You agreeing to join up when the time came

Then you turning into a double agent

Both you and Draco did actually

Your shocked faces when Snape was in the Manor

Umbridge really liking you for some reason

You secretly helping Fred and George

You finding out that Umbridge was hurting students and you stepping in

Then when she threatened you-- Draco stepping in with some more serious threats.

When she was dragged off by centaurs you all celebrated

Maybe Draco and you celebrate in your own way

Maybe you two had some... Fun

Him waking up next to you and thinking he was the luckiest guy in the world

You and him becoming inseparable

You finding out about the battle at the ministry

You and Draco sneaking off to the Burrow and finding Harry so emotionally drained.

You hugging Harry as he just cried for hours

Draco knowing damn well this was going to get ugly very soon

Him knowing there was a plan in the works with the dark lord

He just didn't know that the plan would involve Voldemort staying in the Manor

Pt 2 coming next

[peach-pops]

song and movie: 999 Happy Haunts from Haunted Mansion || 1.4k masterlist

warning(s): character deaths, poisoning, mentions of alcohol 

authors note: In honor of Halloween here is Nishinoya’s prompt! [If you’re on the discord this is not the spooky one i was talking about, saving it for a rainy day] Some characters or paintings I allude to are from the actual ride in either Disneyland/DisneyWorld and more info on them can be found here! Of course, one of the Haunted Mansions most recognizable rooms is the Stretching Room/Foyer and if you want to see what paintings I allude to click here!

word count: 2.3k

lyrics: If you would like to join our jamboree, there's a simple rule that's compulsory // Mortals pay a token fee, rest in peace, the haunting's free // So hurry back we would like your company

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“ You know, we should get a place like this. Wouldn’t you say it’s cozy and romantic?” Nishinoya teased as he slipped his wet tie off of his neck and hung it up on the coat rack.  

“ I would also say it’s creepy, secluded from the outside world, and full of cobwebs but whatever makes you happy my love,” You said as you removed Noya’s drenched coat from your head and hung it up beside him.

You had always teased your fiancé about getting a manor of this size if you two ever made it big but as you stood there in the middle of the foyer, all you wanted to do was leave and never look back. You and Noya just needed a place to stay to wait out the rain after your car had broken down so when you two stumbled upon this seemingly vacant manor, who were you two to pass up the chance at a warm fire?

Who were you two to pass up the chance at a warm fire- what an awfully silly thought that was now. Here you were, in a stranger’s home, unannounced, uninvited, and certainly not welcomed.

“ I have a bad feeling about this Yu, maybe we should leave,” You said, clearly distressed,” we practically broke in and now we’re just making ourselves comfortable in a stranger’s home.”

“ Relax, first of all, it’s not breaking in if the doors were unlocked and second, if it makes you feel any better, maybe we can try to find the owner and wake them up,” Noya said as if it was a matter of fact and while you knew his option was awful, you had no better suggestions.

As you looked around the foyer, you took notice that there wasn’t a single sign of running electricity yet besides the peeling wallpaper and the creaking floorboards, it was in good repair for a mansion of its era. You felt like you were in a real lifetime machine; everything from the candlesticks that were covered in light dust to the stale, dead air you were breathing in felt ancient.

“ Whoever lives here could use a house renovation,” Noya laughed to try and ease your worry but your mind couldn’t be bothered to entertain him when you felt like you were being watched.

You tried to keep your eyes off the walls of the room but it was as if they were luring you in, almost prodding you to turn and lookup. Across the upper extension of the foyer laid out framed, huge portraits that were faded in color and stared back at you with empty eyes.

The series of macabre portraits made you shift uneasily from side to side and Noya’s eyes were soon drawn to them too. One painting stood a smiling, elderly woman with a single rose in her hand while another showed a middle-aged bearded man holding a scroll.

No matter where you stood in the room, it was as if the eyes were following you carefully.

The last painting on the far left side of the foyer made you hold your breath as you carefully took in the portrait; a beautiful young woman, who couldn’t be that much older than yourself, held a pink parasol over her shoulder as she smiled plainly back at you.

As you stared at the portrait, you felt an uneasy feeling over your shoulder, and in the peripheral of your eyes, the striped, peeling wallpaper looked as though it was stretching and that the room was getting longer.

“ I must be going mad,” You mumbled to yourself as you waited for Noya to empty out the water left in his shoe.

In your gut, you knew that there was something unnerving within the walls of the mansion so once Nishinoya grabbed a candlestick and lit it, you two both made your way down the hall to try and find the owner of the manor as quickly as you could.

Noya held the candlestick up to the height of his shoulder and peered down the dark corridor as you listened closely for any sign of activity. You and Noya both shared the same furrowed expression when the sound of a low hum made its way through the walls of the manor and whatever was making the noise, you could feel the vibrations underneath your feet.

“ Music? Is that a pipe organ?” You asked after a moment of silence to confirm your guess,” so that means someone does live here.”

“ Or that someone is throwing a party, listen see?” You and Noya walked farther down and the closer you got to the end of the corridor, the louder the music got,”I think I hear people too!”

Your grip on his arm relaxed but your chest still felt tight at the feeling of being somewhere you knew you shouldn’t be. It was almost as if the dread was smothering you like a pillow over your mouth and nose; each time you thought you would have a chance at a full breath, something else would set you off to make you more anxious.

Whether it was the bolts of lightning that would illuminate through the grimey windows or the distant but present ‘creek’ heard just a few feet behind you, everything and anything about this manor did not sit right with you.

Noya approached the great mahogany door and by the sound of laughter and music,  it was clear that there was some sort of rambunctious occasion happening on the other side of the wall. By the layout of the manor, it made sense that there would only be one grand entrance to the ballroom yet the mahogany door was covered in dust and undisturbed spiderwebs that looked as though they had been harboring there for years.

“Noya, don’t touch that. There’s probably another way in we just have to figure it out,” You said as he continued to try and push the heavy door forward with his foot,” Yu, enough. The spiders-”

“ Stand no chance again me!” Noya forced open the great mahogany door with one final push as several hundreds of spiders scattered up towards the ceiling. The door made an earsplitting cracking noise from the wood being stuck to the doorframe for so long but once the door opened all the way, the both of you froze right where you stood.

There, within the Grand Hall, revealed over a hundred spirits floating and waltzing along to a jovial melody from the towering organ pipe that was playing by itself. Each ghost was dressed elegantly from their head to their feet and there was no lush or lively color to their translucent ivory figures except a light blue hue encompassing the outline of each one.

You were absolutely terrified by the scene in front of you and for a moment, you truly believed you were going crazy. It wasn’t until you pried your eyes away from the ballroom and towards your fiancé that you knew the look of awe and fear on his face made everything more real.

A huge gust of wind flew past you as it instantly knocked the candlestick out of his hand, drawing the attention of some nearby ghosts.

“ Looks like we have a couple of party crashers huh?”

“ Well as they always say, the more the scarier!”

“ What’s wrong mortals? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost!”

You could feel the thumping of your heart against your chest and while you were sure you couldn’t take a breath, you could still sense the oxygen flowing in and out of your lungs. As Noya was paralyzed with shock, you quickly snapped out of your daze and tried to run out the room holding Noya’s hand but the mahogany door shut quickly, leaving you and Noya trapped inside.

“ Well, we certainly weren’t expecting more guests, especially guests of your kind,” You turned your head to face the ghost with the slow, MidAtlantic drawl and whose beard resembled white ivy tendrils,” but for you travelers, maybe we can make an exception.”

Noya opened his mouth to reply but he could tell in the way that you squeezed his hand that you wanted him to save his breath.

You gave a fleeting glance to Noya but turned your head back to the ghosts and did your best not to be distracted by their physically transparent state,” We’re very sorry, we didn’t know this manor was occupied. This looks like a charming party, however, we really should be going-”

“ Nonsense! You mortals are no match for this storm outside!” A chill went up your spine as one of the female ghosts with a wide feather hat yanked harshly on your arm and her touch felt as sharp as ice,” I see that lovely ring on your finger which must mean you two must be betrothed! I remember what it felt like to be young and in love, now all I am is dead and rich!”

Noya let out a genuine laugh at the ghosts quip,” Well, it could be worse, you could be dead and poor! Or alive and poor-”

“ Nishionya!” You scolded but the female ghost only tutted your tongue.

“ Oh dear that’s alright, please, you must stay and dance!”

“ Please, we really should be leaving.-”

“ Don’t you want to stay for the party?”

“ Oh no, thank you but, well, we shouldn’t impose-”

“ Impose? Well, it would be a delight to celebrate with you mortal lovebirds,” another ghost chipped in as the plump spirit pulled Noya in close to his side,”what do you say, hm? Convince your darling there’s no harm in a dance or two!”

From the second you laid eyes on Noya, you could see his whole body pumping with adrenaline as if he was on a drip. For Noya, how much damage could one dance do?

“ Y/N...one dance and we can leave,” Noya practically pouted as you now felt the immense pressure of having to either deny or accept his request,” please darling?”

You looked back and forth between the ghosts surrounding you, your fiance, and the other spirits waltzing on the dancefloor and while you knew deep down you should just grab him by the ear and bolt out of there, you reluctantly caved in,” You get one dance. One.”

Noya’s eyes lit up and he was buzzing up and down from excitement because how many people could say they got to dance in a haunted ballroom with ghosts?

“ There is one little thing you must do before you are allowed to partake in the jamboree. Us ghouls have a rule that's compulsory where mortals must pay a token fee,” The bearded ghost sang in a low rhyme as he handed you and Noya a cocktail glass filled with a silvery, gray liquid,” in this case since we have much to celebrate, the token fee is simply a toast... to new beginnings.”

You warily took the glass and when you bent you face down to smell the liquor, you wrinkled your nose immediately at the stench and your eyes began to water. Noya had the same reaction but instead, went to smell it again.

“ This smells horrid.”

“ It’s a classic creme de violette with gin and lemon juice. The correct name is called the Gray Ghost.”

“ It doesn’t change the way I think the drink smells,” You said as you gave another look at Noya,” one dance. You hear me?”

“ One dance, yes! Just one,” Noya couldn’t even hold in his anticipation as his smile grew bigger,” I love you.”

“ I love you too,” You took in a deep breath and clinked your class against your fiances,” To new beginnings.”

Noya couldn’t help but lean in to give you a soft kiss before the toast and as you kissed him back, you felt safer knowing that he was here with you, no matter how insane the night had become.

You both ignored the applause that came from the surrounding ghosts and Noya gave you a small smile before clinking his glass against yours,” To new beginnings.”

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

You and Noya’s infectious laughter could be heard from every corner of the ballroom yet the spirits paid no mind to the two loverbirds as Noya attempted to twirl and dip you for the third time in a row.

You shrieked at him and told him to stop and you exclaimed over and over again how he was going to drop you. Noya, with his newfound confidence he had gained by watching the other spirits waltz, insisted that third times the charm and he promised he wouldn’t let go of you this time.

By any witness there, Noya had picked up absolutely zero skills from the other spirits because he couldn’t take his eyes away from you for that long. One song turned into two more and this continued on all throughout the evening and not once did the couple ever pull away from each other to take a break.

Master Gracey watched the young couple from afar and smiled to himself as Madame Leota polished the cocktail glasses.

“ Do you think they’ll ask for another round?” Madame Leota teased as she bumped her hip against his,” They didn’t waste a single drop, they must’ve been thirsty. Oh, you must tell me how to make that cocktail, I’ve always been awful at making drinks.”

Master Gracey hummed and pulled out his notepad to recheck the ingredients and started to list them off to his desperate companion,” Three-fourths ounce of lemon juice, two ounces of gin, half an ounce of the cherry liquor-”

“Heering or Maraschino?”

“ Maraschino. It’s always Maraschino. Then a dash of blue curacao and half an ounce of creme de violette,” Master Gracey said as the young couple caught his eye again,” how much did I put in?”

He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle when the energetic male successfully did a half-decent dip to his lover. Their translucent, ivory figures jumped up and down for joy because finally, they managed to get the move right. As the couple leaned in for another kiss, Master Gracey snapped his fingers once when he remembered the last ingredient.

“ Oh, that’s right! It was half a teaspoon of arsenic.”

taglist:  @boosyboo9206, @goopyartiste​, @sugas-sweetheart​, @kirislut​, @estridries​, @hannahalanib1​, @art0saurus​, @shoutamajiki​, @yee-harr​, @animatedarchives​, @greywarenns​, @bnha-bakusquad​

[tfw-no-tennis]

hunty movie 1

sooo ruth and i watched the first hxh movie holla

me as soon as we’re done w/the yorknew arc: OH FUCKY ITS ANIME MOVIE TIME

i love anime movies. theyre so often Entertaining As Hell, and also Not Very Good. its a very fun intersection 

overall this movie slots pretty easily into that category. it was a good time but nothing revolutionary. which is ok! and that makes sense bc its not canon apparently 

this movie was basically the ‘killua and kurapika have Trauma(tm)’ movie lmao 

we open w/killua having a trauma dream abt illumi, rehashing the stuff we saw in the hunter exam arc....we see this a few more times in the movie, and it really drives home how killua is still rlly scared of illumi and kinda just goes into a dissociative trauma state whenever illumi is around (even fake doll illumi or dream illumi, in this movie). poor kid :( :( 

regrettably tho ruth and i agree that illumis outfit in this movie was pretty sexy 

ok that whole beginning part where kurapikas eyes get stolen happens SO fast hvbfhdjshfsk its like ok guess thats the status quo for this movie!

jesus poor kurapika. they cant catch a fuckgin break huh

also that kid was totally the kid that was alluded to by kurapika at the end of the yorknew arc...so i guess that was included in the anime as a setup for this movie? 

also apparently that stuff was based off of a short story thing the author did a while ago which is p cool

leorios terrible drawing skills is hvhbjsdfbsdfngsjkdf

also leorio is so tender w/kurapika hhhhhhh im gonna die. im gonna gay die

and gon and killua are just. tiny soulmate boyfriends ok 

ah yes i see the obligatory movie original character who befriends the protag

it kinda cracks me up how hostile killua is to retz like vhbhskhdfbaj i get that its bc of Trauma and his fear of betrayal/betraying but it also reads as killua being a Jealous Gay which is kinda hilarious 

ruth and i when hisoka shows up: [prolonged annoyed groaning and dismayed yelling]

hisoka literally just shows up to sow chaos and throw around information to stir shit up huh

of COURSE the villain is the former 4th spider thats like. easy choice lmao 

it might just be the fansubs but i feel like there were strong implications that hisoka and 4th spider guy fucked bhjdfashfdjnakn

the most unbelievable thing abt this whole thing is that hisoka didnt kill that doll guy lmao 

ohhh shit its uvo

OHHH SHIT NOBUNGA AND MACHI....its so bad but i really like the troupe members and when they show up im like !!!!!!!

machi is so cooooool

aughhhh its like....i feel bad for nobunga for having to face down uvo like this....and THEN when pakunoda shows up too :( and nobunga tells her doll ‘rest in peace now’ or something when he cuts her down....oof. but also like theyre evil murderers so im!?! conflicted?!?!

also the shadow beast guys that uvo killed showing up and then proceeding to do LITERALLY NOTHING was kinda hilarious

and damn so technically the troupe is on the same side as the main crew, what with all of them wanting to wreck omokages shit

also omokage looks like sephiroth lmaoooo 

ill be honest i barely know what sephiroth looks like but ruth said this and i felt in my bones that its true 

ok i gotta talk abt the kurapika backstory stuff bc OUUGHGHGHGHGH my fucking UWUS BITCH!!!!

seeing a bunch of kurta was sad....and seeing baby-er kurapika OUGH and also pairo is sooo cute and him and kurapikas friendship is so pure 

kurapika is so different :( theyre like, so much more innocent and excitable....thats so damn sad bro wtf 

pairo pulling some slick moves swapping that little potion thing - all while using his blindness as a cover - was so good...no wonder he and kurapika get along so well 

also gotta say its even more brutal that one of the main reasons kurapika didnt get Big Murdered w/the rest of the kurta is bc pairo pulled this stunt - if he hadnt, kurapika wouldve failed the test and never would have left 

also kurapika saying theyre gonna find someone who can help w/pairos eyes ;_; the similarities w/leorios backstory/motivation makes me die 

and seriously im still caught up at how innocent and pure kp is oooof ough 

tho still defs the kurapika we know....theyve seemingly always had a temper, what with the reaction to the dudes in the market 

like, kurapika did NOT hold back...even after finding out that they were just part of the test! tho i do get it bc they insulted pairo...kurapika’s love for their friends/stalwart need to defend their friends is clearly a big thing 

also the market people’s reaction to seeing kp’s red eyes is rlly interesting to me...are the kurta like, known to anybody? or are they more of a vaguely talked-about group that like, ‘probably exists’? or is it that people know abt them but not the red eyes thing? it seems like these people, if any, would know, bc this market is seemingly a day’s travel from where the kurta live....i want more kurta lore bro!!

i big love pairo helping kurapika cheat like that....such an interesting twist, and makes it obvious that theirs is a friendship of equals 

anyways i loved that flashback stuff and it just drives home how absolutely fucked up and horribly sad kurapikas whole existence is, especially in this movie w/pairo’s doll being used against them

n e ways back to the non flashback stuff

i love that gon’s super nose returned for this movie omg 

im just auhghghghgh gon and killua know each other so well uwu....

aaaand illumi (well, doll illumi) is back to fuck shit up for poor killua

ugh it still gets me how clearly terrified of illumi killua is...we dont really see him act like this any other time :( and the fact that doll-illumi was able to scare killua enough to get him to run away and leave gon behind (albeit briefly) was oof 

gon jumping in front of killua and getting his eyes stolen instead....baby boyyyy oughhh

also can i just say thank fuck they didnt replace illumis eyes w/gons bc THAT wouldve been some serious nightmare fuel lmao 

cant believe killua then ran away again and walked emo-ly on the train tracks 

and THEN he saw a train coming and was like oh well :( guess ill die :/ JESUS KID 

but gon w/his Big Sniff Powers comes to the rescue!!

it was so cute how gon told killua that killua didnt run and abandon him - they were working together to fight :’) gon understands killua so well 

i love how the squad then squads up to fight omokage...with half of them being blind lmao 

and in the half that isnt blind is leorio, who STILL doesnt know nen, and literally brings a knife to a nen fight 

i totally saw the whole ‘retz is a doll and her older brother is omokage, and retz actually died a while ago’ thing coming lol but still, not bad

all omokage does is talk abt the beauty of his dolls or w/e like ENOUGH bro 

kurapika fighting pairo and killua fighting illumi (AGAIN) was all so fucked up they shouldve switched opponents for less trauma oof 

and poor leorio is literally no help vhhvdijfhjbashkj he just gets throw around this whole time

kurapikas fight against pairo was sad bc it was such a fucked up situation...kp did gr8 tho, i liked them saying that this isnt the real pairo, cause pairo would never say/do these things. still and extremely sucky situation to be in! 

meanwhile its the gon and killua vs doll-illumi rematch...and this illumi is like, a version of illumi drawn from killuas mind/heart (or something idk, it was kinda glossed over which i understand), which means that hes extra scary and focused on telling killua how much hes just a mindless killing machine who cant have friends 

but luckily we have gon here to help snap killua out of his trauma haze, which certaintly wasnt the case at the hunter exam - so it was kinda nice to see how things went w/gon around :’) they work so well together oughhhhh....and they love each other so much broo gay preteen love real 

hisoka just fuckgin materializing in the house place to help sow more chaos....unbelievable 

me: i bet hisoka wont want to fight doll chrollo bc its not The Same as real chrollo 

ruth: no i think he will bc hes a whore 

hisoka: [fights doll chrollo] 

me: oh shit u right 

kurapika: ok omogake its time for you to FUCKING DIE- 

and then killua stops them and says that he’ll do it, be he doesnt want kurapika to kill anymore :( :( :( bro im sooo fucking sad. killua rlly b out here thinking that hes already too far gone to matter when it comes to murder, but he doesnt want his friends to end up like that, so he might as well take on that burden, because whats one more person’s death on his hands? (EVEN THO HE SAID HE DIDNT WANT TO KILL ANY MORE...but theres exceptions when it comes to saving your friend’s souls and whatnot) :( :( AUGHHH

but luckily retz comes THRU with some good ole fratricide

killua: [takes notes]

the fact that the phantom troupe just fuckgin shows up and is like oh hey its you guys. this casual enemy stuff kills me lmao i love it 

then they just fuckgin LEAVE and theyre like welllll we cant rlly fight u bc of chrollo’s state so by i guess. its NOT On Sight but someday it will be! YOU TOO HISOKA DONT THINK WE FUCKIGN FORGOT ABOUT YOU. 

dramatic house burning! and rip retz, saw that one comin tho 

when they all went thru and said their life goals and then killua was like shit i dont have a cool definitive anime goal LMAOOOO

but THEN gon said his goals should be to stay by gon’s side UHMMM???? baby gays AUGHHHHH and killua is just like lovestruck AUGHHHH 

Gays Win 

then they all peace out to resume the next arc lmaoooo

and then we see flashes of other characters, like the blonde girl (who ruth and i totally thought retz was, seeing thumbnails from this movie....we were like w8 hasnt that girl not been introduced yet??? lmao)

we also see some dude w/long hair and a hat who ive never seen before but ruth went OHHH ITS SCYTHE GUY!!! so i guess hes gonna b important?? lol 

and then we saw chrollo....still in the same place the squad left him vbhajfdjkahsbfkdjabhsukfdj CAN HE NOT GET DOWN FROM THERE W/OUT NEN OR AN AIRSHIP??? THATS SO FUCKING FUNNYYYYYY ARE YOU KIDDING ME 

general thots:

so this was very much an Anime Movie, in that they cant like, advance to plot or develop the characters much, bc its a movie. and this one is non canon

it was enjoyable but i do feel like it was much more typical shounen then hxh usually is...like, i feel like this was made by the same people who make like, the naruto movies or w/e, and w/the same sort of approach/attitude 

this isnt necessarily bad - i LIKE shounen for a reason - but it was a bit noticeable bc it wasnt quite as smart as hxh is usually, and it rehashed a lot of stuff weve already seen in this show itself 

but still i think it did a good job w/what it had, and it had some good angst, and everyone was very gay which is good

the art style was SLIGHTLY wack but it wasnt as bad as i thought itd be 

overall a fun time like most anime movies. didnt reinvent the wheel but i had a good time. im excited for the greed island arc, and im also disproportionately excited to watch the hxh musical bc that is a thing that exists and i MUST see it asap bc that sounds like the kind of hilarious wackiness that appeals to me specifically

so thats it...later! 

[drsilverfish]

Old Timey SPN - A Fresh (Queer) Look at 4x06 Yellow Fever

Dean in Yellow Fever (comedic terror overlays heart-stopping anxiety).

Whilst we’re on S14 mid-season hiatus, I wanted to write this meta, because sometimes, when writing or reading about the queer subtext in 2018/19 SPN it’s perhaps too easy to forget why queer subtext came into being in the first place, not just as codes in literature, film and television, but as codes in the everyday lives of LGBTQ people. Such codes were (and still are in many places) built around being able to safely signal to, and identify, one another, without being outed more generally, therefore being at risk of often life-threatening violence, backlash, repression etc. 

The world Sam and Dean grew up in, on the road in dive motels and truck-stops, working cases in the “boondocks”, on the fringes of a seriously macho hunter culture, with an ex-marine and Vietnam Vet for a father? A father who sometimes drank too much, and who (in subtext) was, most likely, sometimes physically violent towards his eldest son? A world where Dean got him and Sam fed by stealing food when their Dad forgot to leave them enough? A world where, when they were a bit older, they got by on hustling pool and credit card fraud and (Jensen’s headcanon, but also see below) Dean probably turned tricks on occasion too? That was not a world where you could be “out” safely, by any stretch of the imagination. Of course that doesn’t mean it was a world where sex between men didn’t exist. But it was far, far more likely to be a world populated by MSM (men who have sex with men, but who do not identify as gay or bisexual) than by anyone sporting an “out” LGBTQ identity of any kind. 

It’s not until ten years later, in 2016, in 11x19 The Chitters, that we meet any clearly identified LGBTQ male hunters, and when we do (Jesse and Cesar) we learn that Jesse’s childhood, in small-town Colorado, was full of fear and the need (which his older brother warned him about) to stay in the closet for his own safety.

SPN really hints at all that, early on, in the scene from 1x08 Bugs when Dean comes out of a pool hall with a wad of cash in his hand, and Sam ribs him about hustling pool and Dean says it’s “fun and easy” and there’s a “Billiards” sign flashing behind him which is partially broken, so instead it reads “Billiar” (Bi-liar = bisexual liar) hinting (in subtext) that maybe, what Dean was hustling wasn’t just pool, but dudes:

Original gif-set here: http://canonspngifs.tumblr.com/post/182845022861 

So, content warning for this piece of meta - under the cut I discuss “queer-bashing” and link to an upsetting (but important) real-world piece of reporting in Vanity Fair from the 1990s on a series of brutal homophobic and often ultimately murderous incidents in Texas, as an example of the kind of climate Dean and Sam would have been aware of, growing up.

If you’re feeling OK to follow this thread through, the first thing you should do, is read this earlier, great piece of collaborative meta on Yellow Fever and its Dean/ Ash subtext by @f-ckyeahfutbol and @sandraugiga  and @aslightsgoflashing (the last blog now deleted):

https://f-ckyeahfutbol.tumblr.com/post/147912926731/aslightsgoflashing-f-ckyeahfutbol 

I want to write something adjacent to that meta, by talking about how both Dean’s heightened anxiety (brought on, ostensibly, by the “ghost sickness” in the episode) and the form of violence meted out to Luther/ the ghost in Yellow Fever, can be read as, subtextually, signalling towards Dean’s “gay panic” and (the extremely understandable cause of said panic) - homophobic violence. 

More under the cut...

Firstly, let’s understand something of the history of violence towards gay/ bisexual men, particularly in the small town and rural United States where SPN is set. SPN began screening in 2005. Just a decade earlier, Vanity Fair ran this important piece of investigative journalism on a series of deadly and violent “queer-bashing” incidents in Texas carried out mostly by teenage boys, who felt supported by their churches and communities in carrying out these attacks (many of them resulting in murder):

https://www.vanityfair.com/news/1995/02/texas-murder-199502 

Sam and Dean are aware, in the SPN story-world, of this kind of community-supported homophobic violence. Remember the out gay teacher who was murdered by a homophobic preacher’s wife controlling a Reaper in 1x12 Faith? Meta on that here: 

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/115161057824/bisexual-in-the-subtext-since-s1 

The SPN story-world also established, early on (see below 2x11 Playthings) that Dean is anxious about being perceived as queer, in a way that Sam is not: 

SAM: “They probably think you’re over-compensating”

DEAN: .................................

Original gif here: http://nimbus2ooo.tumblr.com/post/5585782984 

Dean has been queer-coded as bisexual since S1, and, as this Dean/ Ash meta master-post makes clear, specifically, in the early seasons, in relation to Jo Harvelle and Ash, whom he meets at the same time:

https://sandraugiga.tumblr.com/post/124850209617/a-detailed-look-into-dean-and-ash-masterpost 

Ash, of course, dies in 2x21 All Hell Breaks Loose, which is why the Yellow Fever @f-ckyeahfutbol  and @sandraugiga meta linked to, above the cut, discusses mourning and the Dean/Ash subtext as one of the threads running through the episode. As “ghost-sickness” in some Native American cultures, is a form of mourning, that reading is definitely relevant:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghost_sickness . 

Bearing that in mind, I’m going to leave Dean/ Ash to one side, and talk specifically about reading the “ghost-sickness” in Yellow Fever as closted “gay panic”.

The episode opens with Dean, terrified, running down a dark street at night. 

On one level, we later understand, his terror is all about what he experienced in Hell and his fear of returning there. He is being chased by a little dog, which, it is eventually revealed, he is hallucinating is a Hell-hound.  

However, on another level, we can also read this as Dean being chased by his “Gay Thoughts TM”. The little dog is wearing a pink bow. Pink is often used in symbolic visual TV/ cinema code for “gay” a) because it is understood as a “feminine” colour (and there is that old stereotypical association of gayness with femininity) and b) because the colour was reclaimed and used with pride by the LGBT community itself, particularly in the 1970s and ‘80s, from the pink triangle that homosexuals were forced to wear as an identifying mark in the Nazi concentration camps. 

After this opener (also strongly played for comedic effect, so the queer reading is definitely in the closet) we flash to 43 hours earlier, and the first vic, Frank O’Brien, on the autopsy table. Posing as FBI agents, the Winchesters show up to investigate. They have taken the aliases Joe Perry and Steve Tyler (from Aerosmith). Tyler has been quite open about having had sex with men as well as women. 

Dean notices (and we should note it’s Dean, not Sam) that there is a mark on Frank’s ring finger where a wedding ring should be, but it’s missing. Then the coroner hands Dean Frank’s heart. 

A dude with a wedding ring missing and then his heart is passed to Dean? That looks like symbolism for queer-on-the-side infidelity to me.

We learn all the other vics were also men, and they all died of heart failure (aka, in subtext, we are talking about queer closeted men). 

We also learn that Frank’s wife Jessie committed suicide many years ago, and that Frank was a bully in school, but he “got better” after his wife died. Both of these factoids can be read as subtextual signals pointing towards Frank’s queerness (possibly his self-loathing turned outwards and his unhappiness in his marriage). 

Then we meet the germaphobe (a mirror for Dean) Sheriff in town.  The Sheriff is really cut up about Frank’s death, and seems to be hiding something.

SHERIFF BRITTON: "Me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were Game-cocks.” 

(Dean snickers) 

SHERIFF BRITTON: “That's our softball team's name. They're majestic animals.”

In other words, Dean heard the word “Game-cocks” and his mind immediately went to “fuck buddies,” which says a lot about Dean, but also Dean’s gaydar may have been on-point. 

Were the Sheriff and Frank, in fact, (closeted) lovers? 

Textually, we find out the Sheriff knew Frank had murdered someone, and covered for him. Subtextually....?

The Sheriff, we realise later, like Dean, has also been “infected” and is beginning to suffer from the ghost sickness. This “infection” as a metaphor for queerness might seem as if it is alluding to HIV/AIDS, but, if we read the queer subtext of the ghost sickness in Yellow Fever as about closeted “gay panic” in the kind of environment where it’s not safe to be out, then this isn’t a “gay/ bi men are infectious” homophobic metaphor, it’s more about closeted men’s fear, in a homophobic environment, that they are somehow “infected” by queerness and will not be able to keep it secret. 

And how are the men who have died, “infected”? It seems to be (metaphorically) “through the heart”, as Dean was shown literally holding Frank’s heart, and the Sheriff was suffering from grief-of-the-heart at Frank’s death.  

As soon as Dean is drunk, and therefore disinhibited, the element he is is repressing emerges, and Dean flirts with the Sheriff’s cute young assistant. And let’s side-eye the Dean-mirror Sheriff’s choice of deputy eye-candy here. The deputy is framed by a painting of stallions in the Sheriff’s office. Stallions, like game-cocks, being a symbol of hyper-masculine virility - the Sheriff’s choices being both a cover for, and a coded signal of, homoeroticism.  

 And here’s that much giffed flirting scene:

(Couldn’t find the gif credit for this one)

At Frank’s neighbour’s house, Dean (not Sam) gets crawled over by a huge yellow-white python (read - penis metaphor) and Dean (infected by the ghost-sickness, aka “gay panic”) freaks out. As frequently throughout the episode, this subtextual meaning is covered by comedic effect. 

(Couldn’t find the gif credit for this one either - sorry - older gifs tend to appear on platforms like “giphy” that strips out the OP)

Finally, the boys find out that a dude named Luther is the ghostly source of the “ghost-sickness”. Luther, who had learning disabilities, was murdered by Frank, who ostensibly (and wrongly) believed Luther murdered Frank’s wife, Jessie (who had been kind to Luther, and who, Luther’s brother tells the Winchesters, he had a “crush” on).

Is that the actual story, however? That’s the heterosexual, surface-available textual story. 

But subtextually? The Winchesters find Frank’s wedding ring in the lumber yard which the ghost of Luther is haunting. What if that disused “lumber yard” was a known cruising ground, and Frank had had sex with men there (symbolised by the loss of his wedding ring) perhaps with Luther himself, or with the Sheriff (and Luther witnessed it) then he felt guilty about it (maybe because Jessie found out about his habit of having closeted sex with men on the side and that contributed to her suicide)? And so, Frank went after Luther.

Why this subtextual reading? 

Let’s look at the way Frank killed Luther. He wrapped a chain around his neck and “road-hauled” him to death behind his truck.

Have you heard of a “fag-drag”? Unfortunately, I don’t mean drag performance, but the “queer-bashing” version. You may have heard of a “fag-drag” used in this sense because of this Southpark clip (typically faux-ironic in tone) in which Mr. Garrison yells, “Come on everybody, let’s get us some queers, and some trucks, and have us a good old fashioned fag drag.” Mr. Garrison was depicted as a closted gay man who hid his homosexuality by making homophobic statements in the first three seasons of Southpark (he eventually came out as trans).

Or, you may have heard of the “fag-drag” (a particular form of homophobic violence) thanks to Brokeback Mountain. It was such a (murderous) “queer bashing” that young Ennis was forced to witness (the aftermath of) by his father -  in which an old gay rancher had been roped to the back of a truck and dragged, “...until his dick came off,” and he died.  

Sorry for the graphic imagery - none of this is OK and I am using “fag-drag” in quote marks throughout, because it’s obviously a violently homophobic term in and of itself. 

So, in subtext, we can read Luther as having been “fag-dragged” to death by a, self-hating, closeted Frank. 

As Dean gets pulled further and further into the hallucinations that accompany the ghost sickness, Sam calls Bobby for help. 

Bobby realises that the ghost responsible for the “ghost-sickness” is a Buruburu, a ghost born of a person’s fear after dying in a terrifying way. Bobby tells Sam a salt-and-burn won’t work - they have to scare the ghost to death. I mean, logically, that makes no sense, right? A ghost born of terror would surely feed on terror?

But, subtextually, it does make sense, because Sam and Bobby love Dean dearly, but they both, at this stage in the SPN narrative, do not fully understand just how much Dean’s surface macho bravado is a performance, covering much that he hides from them (including his queerness).  

So, although they both express distress about it, Bobby and Sam recreate Luther’s original death (in subtext, his homophobic “fag drag”) by wrapping an iron chain round ghost-Luther’s neck and hauling him over the ground, attached to Baby.

Shots of ghost-Luther’s death - Sam calls it a “truck haul” (in subtext, a ”fag-drag”):

are intercut with shots of Dean, in the motel room hallucinating the creepy little girl version of Lilith. He asks her, “Why me? Why’d I get infected?” She tells him, “Silly goose, you know why - listen to your heart.” In subtext - that’s Dean’s queer heart (and see my meta linked above on Dean’s queer heart in 1x12 Faith). 

As Luther’s ghost gets “fag-dragged” by Dean’s soul (Baby) Dean’s heart starts to give out (again, the shots of the two events are intercut). In our queer subtext reading, we can understand this as a metaphor for the trauma Dean’s own closeted self (his “gay panic”) is inflicting on his queer heart: 

Once Luther’s ghost has been destroyed, the ghost sickness leaves Dean.

Or (metaphorically speaking) does it?

The final scene between Dean, Sam and Bobby is really heartbreaking, in a subtextual sense. Because Bobby and Sam tease Dean about how anxious he was under the spell of the ghost sickness, and he pushes back, full once again of his performance bravado:

BOBBY: “You sure, Dean? 'Cause this line of work can get awful scary.”

DEAN: “I'm fine. You want to go hunting? I'll hunt. I'll kill anything.”

BOBBY: “Awwww, he's adorable. I got to get out of here. You boys drive safe.”

So, yes, the more textual layers of the narrative tell us that Dean got infected by the ghost sickness not because, as Sam says in the episode, Dean is a “dick” but because Dean’s terror of being dragged back to Hell (and to the things we eventually find out he did there) made him susceptible to fear-infection. 

The more textual layers tell us, that the things Dean keeps from Sam in their talk at the hood of the Impala at the end of the episode, are his hallucinations of Hell-hounds, of Lilith, and of Sam himself with yellow eyes.

But in the queer subtext (should we choose to adopt this reading)? 

Dean’s “gay panic”, Dean’s fear of homophobic, or homophobic but homo-erotically charged, violence (like that which was visited on Luther by Frank) was what attracted the ghost-sickness to him (and not to Sam) just as it was attracted to the town’s other (closeted) men, like the Sheriff, who, guiltily (and in fear) nevertheless cruised for sex in the abandoned lumber yard, or took part in nights away with their fellow “Game-cocks”. 

And so, in this subtextual reading, one of the things Dean is choosing to hide from Sam, is his queerness.

This particular reading of Yellow Fever makes additional sense once we get to 4x16 On the Head of a Pin and discover that Dean’s time in Hell included a, hideous and twisted, but nevertheless homoerotic, charge between himself and his torturer and “mentor” in Hell, the demon Alastair. That’s an additional trauma, an additional psychic wound, for Dean’s queer heart to bear.

Finally, we should also note, that an element that significantly supports this queer reading is the fact that Yellow Fever is set in the fictional town of Rock Ridge, Colorado. That is also the setting for the spoof Western Blazing Saddles  (1974). That movie contains the famous “French mistake” sequence (which later gave Edlund the title and concept for 6x15 The French Mistake).

This sequence is where the movie finally breaks the fourth wall (revealing itself to be artifice) and the Western set of Blazing Saddles breaks through into a cabaret chorus show, where an all male troupe are performing a top and tails number called “The French Mistake” (an allusion to men having sex with men). They are called “faggots” and “sissy marys” by the cowboys, but they also “queer” themselves by using feminine pronouns; “Come on girls!” The cowboys and the chorus dancers get involved in a free-for-all punch-up, but we also see some of them making friends with one another, emerging from the melee with their arms around each other. 

This is, of course, a meta-commentary on the queer subtext of the Western genre (and the closeted queerness of classic Hollywood itself). So, it’s a pretty interesting setting to have chosen for Yellow Fever (as it points, by allusion, to the queer subtext of Supernatural i.e. it’s a big sign, for those chosing to follow the trail, that looking out for queer subtext in Yellow Fever might bear narrative fruit). Here is the “French Mistake” clip from Blazing Saddles:

The book Intersecting Film, Music and Queerness by Jack Curtis Dubowsky (Palgrave, 2016) contains a chapter specifically devoted to reading the queerness in Blazing Saddles.

My own reading of Yellow Fever has been brought to you by me, courtesy of Andrew Dabb and Daniel Loflin, who wrote the episode, inspired by some of the questions left hanging in @f-ckyeahfutbol. and @sandraugiga ‘s meta on the episode.

As ever, here is my usual disclaimer -  Dean’s bisexuality and his attraction to men continue to be told in the SPN subtext (14 years and counting now). My queer readings of Supernatural do not “promise” that this element of the narrative will emerge into undeniable main-text for the general audience.

However, subtext IS a part of narrative. 

[wargwhatisitgoodfor]

GRRM’s Much Ado about Mirrors - An Introduction

NOTE: The following is entirely speculation. Also in the latter portion of this meta, I will be introducing the possibility that a specific character has been tortured and sexually assaulted since season seven.  

Within a story’s framework, mirrors can draw connections amongst characters and events and can convey conscious/subconscious thoughts, truth vs lies, etc.  In a reference to the practice of hydromancy, The Lord of the Rings contains a basin of water, Galadriel’s mirror, that provides visions of the past, present, and possible future. Inspired by Tolkien’s device, GRRM uses mirrors not only in an allegorical manner in his series A Song of Ice and Fire (e.g. Sansa Stark as the positive mirror image to Cersei Lannister) but also to consistently foreshadow major events with water as well as to allude to previous scenes that haven’t yet been revealed to the reader (this will later compare to Melisandre’s pyromancy).

Of particular note, both Arya Stark’s confrontation with Joffrey Lannister alongside the waters of the Trident and Dæny’s clash with her brother Viserys in the midst of the “Dothraki Sea” serve to FORESHADOW THE CLIMAX OF THE ENTIRE SERIES.

GRRM successfully misdirects his readers and builds suspense though by also utilizing inversions, parallels, and consistently and purposefully leaving out scenes. Just as GRRM emulates and references multiple primary sources in his narrative, the show writers have looked at the most successful adaptations of the material that inspired him in their creation of the television show.  In fact, this upcoming season will be tying together narrative threads in a major plot point that was seemingly inspired by Peter Jackson’s adaptation of LoTR.

Examining GRRM’s narrative techniques within the text itself and to his literary/historical sources reveals a great deal about Game of Thrones Season Eight, such as “The Kidnapping Plot”, “The Parentage Reveal”, “Will Dæny get her house with the red door?”

MIRRORS:

1. In the Series - Lady Crane is to Bianca as Sansa is to Cersei… AKA “THE KIDNAPPING PLOT”: 

Jaquen H’ghar assigning Arya to rewatch her father’s death is certainly a reference to Hamlet testing Claudius; however it is also a mirror of the threats that Sansa and the Stark siblings/cousins will face in season eight. On stage, Bianca’s feelings and murderous plans for Lady Crane foreshadow Cersei’s targeting of Sansa. When the action moves back-stage as the actors remove costumes and wigs in front of mirrors, most of the doubles change but Lady Crane remains the stand-in for Sansa (e.g. the other actors’ comments that the crowd loves Lady Crane references book!Sansa’s pledge in A Clash of Kings: “... IF I AM EVER A QUEEN, I WILL MAKE THEM LOVE ME”). 

The writers make this point irrefutable when they both acknowledge the criticism levied against them (Lady Crane: “The writing’s no good”) at the same time as they foreshadow how they plan on elevating the series from everything else that has come before it with Arya’s response: “(this story) would all just be (more of the same) without (Sansa the subversive heroine).”

Just as the threats to Lady Crane shifts, Sansa/the Starks will be targeted by a different force mid-way through the season when ALL of the Stark siblings/cousins will be involved in a violent stand-off, which will center on the FATE OF THE NEXT GENERATION OF STARKS.

2. To a Primary Source - Howland Reed and Petyr Baelish are the reconstruction/deconstruction of a trope and historical character: 

Yes, just as Petyr Baelish has been ushered out of the action, the show will finally deliver Howland Reed!  

Early on in season eight, Jon Snow will meet Howland Reed after trouble has ensued in the North.

(Leo Woodruff was cast as Howland as he had been on set for several years and wouldn’t attract any attention with his presence on set.) The show, as well as the book series, has quietly but consistently foreshadowed the ironic “event” in which Howland will enter the present narrative beginning with several comments from Robert Baratheon in season one and continuing on through Jaime and Cersei’s last argument in season seven. In fact just as some fans have noted that “The Spoils of War” mirrors “Hardhome”, Howland’s arrival should flip another notable scene (and reference an important moment in Westerosi history).

Given the nature and atmosphere of his appearance, Howland will not only privately discuss Jon’s parentage (the show’s opportunity to do a weirwood tree vision/flashback of the Tournament of Harrenhal) but will also reveal Ned Stark’s contingency plans

(the means by which this story will starts to conclude its theme of the futility of war… for more details, see the section on parallels between Ned and Doran Martell). NOTE: This meta on Howland Reed and Petyr Baelish will be part one in this series. 

INVERSION:

1. In Show/Series - Jon Snow and Jaime Lannister:

There are many metas on the connections between the two; however I haven’t seen one yet explore the respective secrets that both characters have NEVER disclosed to anyone; it is those secrets that have largely dictated their individual characters arcs and are the main reason the show has the two having a conversation with each other in season one.  To be sure, Cersei’s line about Jaime being the “stupidest Lannister” in the last episode of season seven will in retrospect be ironic. These narrative threads should be exposed with all the action and fallout surrounding “SANSA’S GIFTS” early on in season eight. 

2. To a Source - Dæny and her character’s main inspiration:

Dæny was not only partially inspired by a Shakespearean MALE CHARACTER (there are very few, if any, one-to-one correlations) but her narrative will ultimately contain elements from one of the most well-known and subversive adaptations of that particular character. Coincidentally, as Dæny is the inverse of the main male character, Jon Snow is the positive mirror of one of the main supporting characters in the same play. GRRM’s purposeful lack of additional POVs in Essos can make it difficult to recognize that her narrative arc not only takes her full-circle but has her regress; however it should be irrefutable upon her final conflict, which has her face the same question as many of her predecessors: “What do you do with the children of those who threaten your power?”

 Dæny’s clash with the Starks over this question is the MOST VISUALLY REFERENCED SCENE in the whole tv series. 

(THE COLOR OF THE EGG IS IMPORTANT.)

PARALLELS:

1. In the Show/Series - The Plans of Ned Stark and Those of Doran Martell:

Due to the trauma that they both experienced during Robert’s Rebellion and their steadfast love for their sisters, both Ned Stark and Doran Martell worked steadily and inconspicuously towards shoring up separate plans for their respective families.  Besides recruiting their younger brothers’ help and their focus on strengthening political alliances in their respective regions,

THE CORE OF EACH OF THEIR PLANS RESTS ON A SECRET MARRIAGE BETROTHAL. 

Unfortunately, their differences (Ned is for protection/reactionary and Doran is about vengeance/aggression) may lead to entirely different ends for their houses (I’m still holding out hope regarding Sarella’s future collaborative efforts with Samwell Tarly and Marwyn and her eventual governance of Dorne).  Ned’s contingency plans should not only hint at an ironic ending but at the theme of the futility of war.

2. To a Source - Varys and his character’s inspiration:

Despite the substantial differences between show!Varys’s plot and his counterpart in the book series, his ties to his character’s main inspiration remain intact - his secret identity and his visits to political prisoners.  These core characteristics will lead him to be an active participant in his death, similar to his narrative source; in an ironic twist, Varys will end up aligning with the Starks and will save the life of one of their most important allies with the help of Melisandre. Varys is another testament to GRRM’s belief that anyone can make the choice to be heroic.  

MISSING SCENES -

GRRM intentionally leaves out critical scenes throughout his series as it enables him to surprise his reader. Because it would be too obvious to leave out the most important scenes, GRRM does it in MANY instances. “Why don’t we have more insight on Sansa’s female relationships?” “Why don’t we have a chapter with Catelyn saying goodbye to all of her children?”  “Why don’t we have a Dothraki POV?”  The writers for the show have successfully used this device since season one. It isn’t until season seven though that the show makes it evident that some of the most important scenes are not always shown to the audience.

It may seem like the writers are cheating the audience with leaving out scenes, but they have always provided us with ALTERNATE VERSIONS OF WHAT IS MISSING.

1. In Show/Series - Ramsey is to Theon as Yara is to Euron:

Once Yara is taken captive and paraded through King’s Landing, the audience doesn’t get to view another scene with her nor learn second-hand what is happening to her. Theon does express two beliefs about his sister’s fate: 1.) Yara is still alive, and 2.) Euron is holding her captive rather than Cersei. However, Euron’s comment to Yara in season seven about the King’s Landing crowd (“... THIS IS MAKING ME HARD”) along with book!Aeron’s terrifying memories of Euron visiting his bedroom at night (”No mortal man could frighten him, no more than the darkness could... nor memories, the honest of the soul. The sound of a door opening, the scream of a rusted iron hings. Euron has come again.” A Feast for Crows, “The Prophet”) indicate that

Euron not only commits gratuitous violence against his ship’s captives but that he enjoys sexually assaulting his family members.  

Is that enough foreshadowing for the tv show’s general audience? Perhaps it isn’t, which may be part of the reason why the show writers decided to repeatedly show graphic scenes of Ramsey torturing Theon... those scenes also serve as a stand-in to what Euron is doing to Yara.  

What would be the purpose of delaying this revelation about Yara? The most obvious answer lies in a conversation that Theon has with Ramsey about his father during season three: “Those men, they said that my father knew what they were doing to me.” As the audience knows, Balon Greyjoy does learn what is happening to his son and still refuses to him him. 

If Ramsey and Theon are a stand-in for Euron and Yara, then the audience can extrapolate that THEON IS AWARE OF WHAT EURON DOES TO FEMALE CAPTIVES (EVEN THOSE RELATED TO HIM) AND EXPLAINS TO DAENY WHAT YARA IS EXPERIENCING. We also know from the Dragon pit meeting that Dæny does not ask for Yara to be returned. 

This possible narrative may lead the audience to unexpected topics: Will an abortion be part of the plot in season eight of Game of Thrones? If Yara has been the subject of Euron’s heinous, violent acts, what does this mean for the other familial pairing - Jon and Dæny? Jon’s arrival at Dragonstone and his departure for Winterfell does roughly correspond to the same time frame as Euron taking Yara hostage and Theon heading off to rescue her.

Thus, are Jon and Dæny a MIRROR of Yara and Euron, or are they the INVERSE of one another? Was Jon summoned to Dæny‘s room? Or did he come of his accord? Is the show exploring the topic of “submission vs consent” with two of its most popular characters?

2. To a Source - “Sansa’s Gifts” and Peter Jackson’s The  Lord of the Rings Trilogy:

Similar to Dæny and Cersei respectively in seasons five and seven, Sansa will receive “gifts” from someone who is trying to convince her of his/her loyalty towards the end of episode one or towards the beginning of episode two. Not only will this complete the “rule of three” for all of the queens in the last season, but this plot point was inspired by a narrative device that Peter Jackson created in adapting The Lord of the Rings.

To maintain the surprise of this plot twist, the show left out TWO CRITICAL SCENES that happened early on in the series.  Just as Theon and Ramsey are a stand-in for Yara/Euron, there are two scenes that serve as a double for the ones that the audience will never see; however those scenes have been alluded to, and the audience has witnessed evidence that they occurred. 

This show’s writers have been planning this since the beginning, and “Sansa’s gifts” actually fits ALL of the narrative devices mentioned in this meta: 

Mirror (In Show AND Source Material)

Inversion (In Show AND Source Material) 

Parallel (In Show AND Source Material)

It also INSPIRED ALL OF THE “GIFTS” THAT WERE CREATED SPECIFICALLY FOR THE SHOW, including the thimble Sam gave Gilly, Ellyria sending Myrcella’s necklace to Cersei, Davos giving his carvings to Shireen, Littlefinger bringing a falcon to Robyn Arryn, etc.

Truly, the narrative impact that this will have on the outcome of the entire series cannot be overstated. Just as Ned’s death overturned the audience’s expectations as it also impacted the trajectory of the entire narrative, so will “Sansa’s gifts”. 

[cynicinafishbowl]

your DVD meme for ch 5 has renewed my interest in the first conversation between tristan, evie, and darcy where the topic of elizabeth bennet first crops up. if it wouldn't spoil anything, can you elucidate? many thanks! :D

I give you: a brunch scene (under the cut)

Meanwhile, in an immaculately appointed breakfast room in an imacculately appointed house in an excellent part of London [Caroline keeps an excellent house], the subjects of that conversation were, unsurprisingly, given the room they occupied, breakfasting.

“Fitz…”

“Yes?”

“Why is it that when I unlocked your phone and opened your facebook I found that you were stalking the profile of a certain woman?” [Evie you little shit]

“Evelyn…”

“Yes?”

“How is it that you were able to unlock my phone?”

“Because you were too busy getting prodigiously fucked during Question Time to spend a few hours setting it up, and so knowing that you hate fingerprint activation and so would never use it, I set it to my fingerprint. Which, before you even bother, is not something you can change until you get a new phone.” [This struck me as the easiest way for someone to have access to someone else’s phone, and I wanted Fitzwilliam to always be able to hack into Darcy’s phone]

Darcy didn’t expend the effort of responding, because he had to admit that that was an impressive level of deviousness.

“Christ, Evelyn. That’s got to be some kind of security breach,” said a woman seated to his right, through a bite of pastry. [Caroline is, as usual, the voice of reason]

Fitzwilliam shrugged. “I like to think that if anything should come of it, I’m well enough connected to get away alright.” [He’s right. He’d be fine] He paused for a moment. “Say, Caroline, where is Charles?” [neat segue there, homie. Nobody noticed that shift in the conversation]

Caroline took her time taking a sip of tea [Yes, girl. Make them wait] and presently attended the conversation. “Charles is at work, or making eyes at his new girlfriend, or probably both. We can return to him later. Who is this certain woman you were alluding to? I must hear everything.” [Darcy doesn’t generally waste time mooning over ladies, so this is an interesting one]

“It’s nothing,” Darcy said sharply. [bullshit, mate. Now everyone smells blood]

“Well then, now I truly am intrigued. Who is this woman?”

“A civil servant from the media department, who was sent to upbraid Fitz for making the mistake of allowing himself to be photographed next to a crackpot. She seemed to make quite a lasting impression on him.” [that is, as with many things I write, certainly one interpretation of events]

“Well come on, don’t leave me hanging,” Caroline instructed, “show me photographs.”

“Pass me your phone, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam said. [Boundaries? What boundaries?]

Darcy responded a particularly rude hand gesture. [Show, don’t tell] “Use your own phone.”

“You know full well that mine doesn’t have facebook on it [he’s one of those weirdos], and Caroline’s isn’t set up to unlock when I show it my fingerprint.”

Darcy rolled his eyes and handed over the requested item [he knows that everyone’s going to find out sooner or later - Caroline and Tristan are far too nosy]. Fitzwilliam presently unlocked it, opened Facebook, and handed it to Caroline, who took the phone and flicked through the photographs. “Elizabeth Bennet,” she said, scrolling. “She really hasn’t gone the aggressive security route.” [Elizabeth ruthlessly polices her online presence so that she doesn’t need to worry about security. This is my personal method of choice, because when (for example) a place you’re applying at wants to check on your online presence, finding nothing just makes them suspicious. It is far better to have an easily visible, innocuous presence]

“All the better for Fitz to stalk her with,” Fitzwilliam smirked. [it is terribly convenient for the lad]

After a moment more, she looked up, made aggressive eye-contact with Darcy and drawled, “Why she looks to be exactly your type.” 

“She’s a bit short,” Fitzwilliam chipped in. “And that’s stepping past the fact that she’s a bit left wing [everyone agrees that she is very much, essentially, his type]. And also the first time they met, he referred to her as, and I shit you not, ‘some chit’, to her face, so I don’t really see things ever happening betwixt the two of them.”

Darcy glared at his audience.

“You said what?” Caroline asked, looking up from her scrolling with a very disapproving glance. [Caroline as unimpressed matriarch is a fave]

“It was not my finest hour,” Darcy admitted grudgingly. [no shit]

“I probably ought to note that she also seems rather your type, E,” Caroline continued to drawl [Caroline is the first to articulate what basically everyone was thinking], returning to the screen.

Fitzwilliam leaned back in his chair in an affectedly louche manner. “She’s certainly, to quote Fitz, tolerable enough, [I couldn’t very much leave that line out of the fic, now could I?] but she’s slightly terrifying.” [and herein lies his problem with Elizabeth - she is too hardcore for him]

“Oh don’t be a weak bitch,” Caroline insisted [Caroline Bingley, everyone’s wingwoman since 19--], returning Darcy’s phone to him.

“And how about you, Caroline?” Fitzwilliam asked, a wicked glint in his eyes, and in a most unctuous tone. “How’s the love life?” [A quote from Bridget Jones’ Diary, when everyone keeps asking ‘So how’s the love life, Bridge?]

“Shocking, as always, thanks for asking,” Caroline replied with a flick of her hair. “Every time I try dating another DJ I’m reminded that they’re all insipid little morons, and that’s why I don’t date them.” [real is her struggle]

“So find yourself a nice lawyer.” [always a safe option, especially given her study]

“How on earth would I happen to find myself in the path of a nice lawyer?”

“I seem to recall you gaining a degree in that general subject, and then throwing it all away to become a DJ. It’s not too late to, oh I don’t know, use your law degree to be a lawyer, rather than to simply negotiate your own contracts.” [She’s getting some use out of the degree]

“Evelyn, darling, my parents have been trying that line of argumentation on me for years. What makes you think it’d work coming from you?” [ah yes, disappointed parents]

Fitzwilliam shrugged. “I suppose it was worth a shot.”

Caroline sighed. “If I were still in the closet, I could just marry Darcy. That would be so much easier.” [she is, after all, exactly his type]

Darcy decided that it was time to attempt to get in on the conversation [it’s getting a bit dicey vis-a-vis his social life]. “I am actually in the room. What makes you think that I’d be interested in marrying the closeted lawyer sister of an old friend?” [apart from the fact that she’s entirely your type?]

Caroline laughed, light and bell-like, with a swish of her hair which she had practiced painstakingly until it looked effortless when caught on camera. “I’ll have you know that I would be the perfect politician’s wife [she’d be such a great society wife]. I’m old enough money for the Party not to be horrified when you eventually make that bid for the leadership which we all know is coming; there’s nothing contentious about being a lawyer; we photograph excellently well together; and most importantly, we both know that you have better things to do than engage in trivialities like enjoying human contact. Which is why I would be ideal. I would exist literally only for photo-ops.” It was an oft-rehashed discussion, and had been ever since Darcy, seeing that she would be a most advantageous match, had asked her out that one time [honestly, Darcy, you don’t ask your best mate’s older sister out on a date. It’s just not done], and she had informed him, in a very straightforward manner, that she wasn’t really into the whole ‘penis thing’ [much to his disappointment]. “Alas, it is now a little too well known that I frequent the lady train,” she sighed. [She’s been pretty vocal on the subject]

“That and the fact that ‘popular DJ/recording artist’ doesn’t have quite the same cachet as, say, distinguished lawyer’, beloved of society,” Darcy pointed out.

Caroline made a non-committal noise, as if to indicate that she could see the potential merit in what he was saying, but wasn’t quite sure she agreed with him [after all, she could always go back to Law]. “Say, Darcy, is Georgiana showing any indications of being interested in women?” [A nice inversion of Caroline’s continual obsession with Georgiana as a means to Darcy in Pride and Prejudice]

“Not lately. If that should change, I will be sure to let you know.” [Darcy has no problems with this]

“I’d have hoped that she’d let me know herself,” Caroline sighed, before changing the subject a moment later. “Oh, fun fact!”

“Enlighten us,” Fitzwilliam invited.

“I’ve finally landed on the final iteration of my stage name.” The menfolk at the table raised their eyebrows [any occasion to use the word ‘menfolk’ will be shamelessly exploited]. “I’m switching from DJ Carolinnaea to DJ Carolinnæa.”

There was a pause before Darcy spoke. “They sound exactly the same,” he ventured with some hesitation, wondering what terrifying explanation awaited him. [I enjoy having characters very hesitantly say something which is blindingly obvious - so obvious that they’re confused as to how nobody else has commented on it, to the extent where they’re convinced that they must have missed some vital point, because nobody else seems to find it weird]

“It’s all in the spelling, Fitz. Instead of ending in a-e-a, it now goes double-n-smushy-ae-letter-a.” [describing niche things with the vaguest language possible in a flailing manner is another favoured trope of mine]

There was another, longer, pause before Darcy finally responded with “Why?” [more confusion as to ‘how is nobody else asking this, have I missed something?’]

“Why not? I was bored, and now I’m teaching the little fan-children about the existence of alternative letter forms.” 

“Should you really be using an aesc in your stage name if you don’t even know what the character is called?” Fitzwilliam mused. 

“That’s what it’s called!” Caroline exclaimed, delighted. “I knew I’d heard the name of it before, but I didn’t want to have to google ‘smushy ae letter’.” [I also just like the word ‘smushy’]

“I still don’t understand why you went with that name,” Darcy commented.

“Everybody loves a good Botany pun, do they not?” Caroline responded.

Darcy and Fitzwilliam just gazed at her blankly, until Fitzwilliam eventually remarked, drily even by his standards, “No, not really.”

Caroline shrugged. “So it’s just me. No matter. I think it’s bloody hilarious.”

[mypatronusiswadewilson]

Adventures in Louisiana (pt. 1/?)

Eric Northman x Reader

Word Count: 1,749

Warnings: Some swearing, but not much else really. This is mostly story building here before I get to the good stuff in the next chapter.

Summary: You end up finding yourself in the small town of Bon Temps Louisiana, thinking it’s just a nowhere town. But really, you find yourself at home with all these strange things. 

A/N: So this is supposed to kinda glance over stuff on purpose cuz it’s mostly just background for the real plot that’s gonna come next. I do have mild alluding to the reader having high sensitivity/psychic power. Not sure if that’s gonna develop later on or not. We’ll see. Hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day vampires crawled out of their coffins and showed themselves to the world had been a strange day for you. It was the day you had left your hometown to go explore the world, and it was your first night out on your own. To know that immortal, blood drinking beings from old legends were ACTUALLY real scared you. And now you were out and about with them, completely alone. Granted you were also out and about with human serial killers every day, or so you tried to rationalize with yourself. You had told yourself that it was simply something you were going to have to get used to, even if it was mildly terrifying.

And you did. Vampires became a common occurrence for you over the next couple of years, and, just like regular people, there were some you could get along with and some that you absolutely despised. However, Eric Northman was the kind of vampire that would be in one category for a moment only to switch into the other the next.

You had met Eric completely by accident on your adventures into Louisiana. In fact, you stumbled into Bon Temps by chance as well, if you would call a blown transmission as “chance”.

And that night in Merlotte’s is where we start this story.

~~

You thanked the tow truck driver outside the bar as he parked your car in the lot. “You sure you want me to leave you here? I can get you to Shreveport if you want,” he offered. He seemed like a genuine man, though a little hard to remain in a cramped cab too long with, considering the body odor.

You shook your head “I’m okay, thank you. I’m sure I can get someone to help me out here. Plus I’m starving,” you joked lightly. “Alright, well have a nice night Miss,” he said before driving off.

Turning towards the bar, you stared at the neon sign for a moment. Was it just you or did it feel like something was drawing you in to Bon Temps? You shook the thought away as you headed inside, it must just be you.

Walking in, the smell of burgers and beer wafted into your nose and felt almost comforting, as it was a smell that you had gotten accustomed to over the last two years. From the window to the kitchen you heard a female voice call out to you “Go ahead and find a seat! I’ll be there in a second!” “Okay!” you called back, before finding a booth along the wall and taking a seat.

Moments later, a pony tailed blonde with a smile across her lightly angled face came up to you. “You must be new around here, I’m Sookie and I’ll be servin’ ya. Can I get you something to drink?” she asked you, and you noted how kind her voice and demeanor were.

“Just a sweet tea please,” you responded, returning a smile to her.

“Alright, I’ll be right back,” she said, practically bouncing away, which you thought was a little weird but hey, better to have a chipper waitress than a dull one. It didn’t take you long to decide that you wanted a simple burger and fries, so you looked around the bar to survey the people around you; a habit you picked up over time. You noticed that most of the people in here seemed to know each other, so either they all frequented the bar, or it was just that small of a town. Possibly both. You heard names bounce around the room like balloons. Names like Sam, Tara, Jason, Arlene, etc. Eventually you were able to match names to people; like Jason was the dirty blonde hunk of a guy that was trying to flirt with whatever walked, Tara was the bartender with a quickfire mouth, Lafayette was the cook on the other side of the kitchen window, Sam must’ve been the owner of the place, Arlene was the redheaded waitress, and so on and so forth. Of course you couldn’t pick out everyone in the small crowd, but at least it gave you something to do. However, Sookie’s voice snapped you back into the real world

“Sorry that took so long sweetheart, what can I get you to eat?” she asked, setting your glass of tea down in front of you.

“Just a burger please, and some fries. Also, do you know of any motels around here? I seem to be without a ride out for tonight.” you asked

“Oh, yeah, but you’re not gonna want to stay there, it’s kinda… sketchy to say the least,” she said with a light chuckle. “I can let you have my couch for the night, if you like,” she offered, of which you gave her an incredulous look.

“You’d let a complete stranger stay in your home?” you asked. Was she crazy?

“I know, crazy, but my Nana taught me to help those in need, and that us girls gotta stick together. If you’re willing to stay until I get off work, then the couch is all yours,” she replied with a smile.

“Well, thank you so much. I would be nice to not have to worry about bed bugs for once,” you chuckled, receiving a small laugh in reply. “My name’s Y/N by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. I’ll go put in your order for ya,” she said before going back to the kitchen.

The rest on the night was a small bustle of people coming up to meet you, and you guessed that Sookie must’ve said something about letting a stranger stay the night, and people got concerned enough to want to check you out and make sure you weren’t a serial killer or a thief. This amused you a little, and also warmed your heart knowing that little Bon Temps was such a close-knit community. It was when a dark haired vampire with high cheekbones walked into the bar, only to sit across from you that you felt slightly uncomfortable.

“Can I help you?” you asked the man, eyeing him with suspicion.

“Who are you?” he asked, ignoring your question.

“I’m sorry?”

“Who are you?” he repeated.

“Y/N. Who the fuck are you?” you asked, starting to get defensive.

“Bill, what’re you doing? Stop trying to interrogate her!” Sookie said, obviously upset at his sudden and unprovoked barrage of questions.

You waved her down “It’s okay, I’m fine,” you said to her before looking back at Bill “I’m assuming you’re trying to make sure I’m not a murderer like everyone else has? Well I’m not, if that helps any.”

Bill seemed to regain his composure “I apologize, that was... uncouth of me,” he said, his tone very ‘old southerner proper’.

You shook your head “Nothing to apologize for. Though if I’d known staying in Bon Temps for the night was gonna be so tedious, I’d have taken the tow truck driver’s offer and gone to Shreveport,” you joked with a smile.

“Oh hush now. Come on Y/N, my shift’s over so let’s go,” Sookie said with a roll of her eyes.

~~~~~

Over the next few days, while your car was getting fixed, you had decided that maybe you would stick around for a while longer even after the transmission was back into running shape again. Sookie and yourself had become pretty good friends since that night, and you even came to like Bill. After insisting to Sookie that you had overstayed your welcome at her house, you were able to rent one of the tiny houses from Sam; your down payment being that you cleaned the house yourself since he didn’t exactly have time to. Soon a week or two stretched into a month, and Sam even offered you a job at Merlotte’s. It was good, and you felt like you finally found your little niche in the world.

It didn’t take you long to figure out about Sookie’s Telepathy, what with her always seeming to know stuff about you that you didn’t remember ever saying out loud. And Sam being a shifter was out of the bag when you were at the bar late one night finishing up when he came in through the back as a dog and then shifted back to himself in the middle of the kitchen, not knowing you were still there. Basically, you you caught up on most supernatural things at this point, though in reality it all seemed shoved on you at once.

One day, you and Sookie decided on a girl’s day out in Shreveport, enjoying a nice summer day in the sun. However, that wonderful day seemed to go by faster than expected.

“Oh man, what time is it? I could’ve sworn it was noon just a few minutes ago,” you joked, seeing that the sun had gone down and that night was setting in. Sookie checked her phone

“It’s nearly 8,” she replied “We better get going,” she said, not quite as lighthearted as yourself. You gave her a look.

“Is everything okay? You seem-” you started, but were cut off by a gust of air hitting your face.

“I had a sneaking suspicion you were in Shreveport, Sookie,” said a gravelly voice as you turned to look at who it belonged to. “Who’s your friend?” asked the blonde. Jesus, you expected a handsome voice to pair with an equally handsome face, but you were still surprised when you saw him. Sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes, and a “I’m the best person in the vicinity” smirk.

Sook was visibly annoyed. “Go the fuck away Eric,” she grumbled.

“Aren’t you going to answer my question? That’s awfully rude of you Sookie,” he said, thick with sarcasm.

“Or, you know, you could just ask me like a normal person? The name’s Y/N,” you butted in with a roll of your eyes. He smirked at your chutzpah.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“And I gather you’re Eric “The Asshole” Northman?” you asked sassily. Eric grinned and looked over at Sookie.

“Aww, you’ve been talking about me, Sookie? I’m flattered.”

“Go to hell.”

He sighed “Tsk. You’re no fun. Alright I see I interrupted your fun, but-” he turned to look at you “I’ll be seeing you later,” he said with a wink before another gust of wind told you he left.

“The hell was that about?” You asked and Sookie shrugged.

“I dunno, but it can’t be good.”

[hiverforesteevee]

FNAF Fridge Highlights

My favorite entries from Five Nights at Freddy’s Fridge pages on TV Tropes

Some of these entries may be edited/abridged/modified, but for the most part, these are copy/pasted directly from the pages.  I didn’t write any of these, I just compiled them here for my own amusement.  Go to the site for even more intelligence and insight on these scary games!

SPOILERS

·        Why does Foxy’s eyepatch spring up after he barges in? Because Real Life pirates used their eyepatch during raids to get the eye covered accustomed to the dark quickly if they have to go fight in a darker part of the ship, not necessarily to cover a lost eye.

·        Several of the characters introduced in 4 had artwork that asked the question "Was it me?", referring to the Bite of '87, a mystery that has haunted the series since the first installment. But the biggest clue was there ever since the first entry, in a certain character's catchphrase. Hint: The one that keeps saying "it's me".

·        Why did the kids hate Mangle so much? Presumably, because parents thought Foxy was too scary for children, but Phone Guy noted that Foxy was his favorite, so maybe the kids were pissed their favorite animatronic got replaced by a Lighter and Softer Toy Foxy.

·        Why do Foxy (and Mangle) NOT fall for the Freddy mask? Well, foxes are always thought of as smart and cunning — besides, Foxy already proved his wits in the first game when he was the only one who tried to catch you off guard by approaching quickly enough that only the fastest reflexes would save you, and didn't just leave when he couldn't get in but actually banged on the door, signaling "I know you are in there, open up!"

·        This troper always found the Purple Guy's behavior leading up to his death strange. If the ghosts of the children he killed are now after him, how does jumping into the Springtrap suit save him? However, look at the Purple Guy's expressions. He starts out terrified of the ghosts, then dashes angrily (or determinedly) towards the Springtrap suit, laughing once he puts it on. Purple Guy possibly didn't jump into the suit to save himself. It could be that he jumped into it to deliberately set off the springlocks and kill himself. That night, he found out that ghosts are real, and that they are all tied to the suits they were stuffed inside of. That laugh could be him signifying that he has gained a victory over the children by giving them exactly what they wanted: his death. Now, he has effectively given himself a form of immortality. No wonder the children can't find peace!

·        Why is the new animatronic called Springtrap? Because when the purple guy got into the suit, the SPRINGS holding the animatronic devices in the suit collapsed, TRAPPING the purple guy in the suit. It's also brilliant in a meta way considering that the game was released in March without a specific date attached to it. You could say that the game itself was a literal spring trap!

·        Why is Freddy the first animatronic you control in the post-level minigames? Because they take place after Freddy Fazbear's Pizza has closed down and been left to rot, and Freddy becomes more active in the dark.

·        Although several of the confirmations/revelations in this game might seem hard to swallow — probably the biggest one being that the Puppet was the Murderer's first victim and bound the souls of the later victims to the animatronics in an overzealous and rather misguided attempt to bring the Murderer to justice — they're easier to accept when you remember that the Missing Children are, you know, children. Children are not known for their ability to think in the long-term or to thoroughly and seriously consider their actions; their brains are still undergoing a lot of development, and they tend to be very impulsive and only consider things in the short-term. So the Puppet still can be considered a "good guy" (certainly better than the Murderer at least) or even the Big Good of the Five Nights at Freddy's series in a sense because, even though it's responsible for the madness that the animatronics wrought, it genuinely was trying to help the other children in the only way it knew how. Likewise, even though the animatronics slaughtered an unknown number of innocent security guards, you could argue that they genuinely were trying to bring their murderer to justice; again, poor impulse control means that they're unlikely to stop and really try to assess whether the security guard is innocent or not. This is also a hint of Springtrap's true identity. It acts much, much differently than the other animatronics, generally being content to wait the player out and is much sneakier and more intelligent, being able to infiltrate the office in different ways. As Springtrap contains the spirit of an adult — and a Serial Killer, one who was smart enough to evade the authorities, at that — its methods are much more sophisticated and well thought-out.

·        The Arc Words "IT'S ME" are suspiciously absent from FNAF3, even though they appeared in the previous two games and maybe also in the fourth ("Was it me?" on the Nightmare Bonnie image), why? Well in this game, we're only dealing with the ghost of the Purple Man - and "IT'S ME" might've been just connected with the Children. A message from them to (who they assumed was) the Purple Man. As in "Hi there! Remember that innocent child you killed and then stuffed in an animatronic? Well, guess what, motherfucker? IT'S ME"

·        A clever one on Scott's part here - watch the scene where Purple Guy dies. When he's freaking out, he avoids the water on the floor... but when he runs to the suit? He runs THROUGH the water. Moisture is said to set off the suits! Moisture on his feet set off the suit and killed him. It wasn't the laughing, not even getting in the suit - he'd gotten in the suit before to kill the children originally and had probably laughed, so he knew that doing those things was safe. It was trying to survive by running through the water (which was the quickest way to the suit) that killed him.

·        Though "exotic butters" being a gift basket for the main character appears to be part of the glitchy keypad's Running Gag, the technician may have been attempting to request it on purpose, considering how much popcorn he eats.

·        There are some parallels with the vampire soap opera and with the story of Circus Baby and Mr. Afton: 1) Vlad refuses to admit that he fathered a child, even though the baby has his skin color and habits. Mr. Afton created Circus Baby based on his daughter, but now he's left her to rot in the Circus Baby basement, to be shocked and forced to perform for no audience. 2) Vlad's son wreaks havoc in his mother's house and at the daycare. Circus Baby killed a girl by accident and at night manipulates the security guard into helping her and the other animatronics escape. 3) In the Fake Ending, Vlad and Clara reconcile, but they don't address their bigger problems like the child support, or her cat getting traumatized. Eggs escapes in the Fake Ending and is fired with a severance package that included exotic butters, but Mr. Afton is still on the loose, Ennard is in Eggs's house, and the two technicians will remain vanished from the lore.

·        "Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator", is a Double-Meaning Title. Besides describing the "Pizzeria Tycoon" portions of the game, it also describes the location in which the game takes place — it's a "simulation" of a Fazbear's Pizzeria meant to lure Springtrap, Baby, etc., to a location where they believe they can once again continue to murder innocent children, only for them to be trapped and destroyed within.

·        It's possible to receive a lawsuit accusing one of your animatronics of having hurt someone... even if you have yet to purchase and/or salvage a single animatronic. These might simply be comically pathetic money grabs by parents trying to con you, but perhaps there's more to them than that. The story of the game eventually makes it clear that Cassette Guy has been deliberately trying to lure all the possessed animatronics into your restaurant throughout the entire game. Even if you refuse to salvage any of them, they're probably still hanging around in the alley directly outside of the pizzeria, hoping to find a way inside. It's completely plausible that they might maul anyone unfortunate enough to wander into that back alley, or even briefly break into the restaurant just to cause trouble. This is supported by the fact that you will sometimes have to fight off animatronics in your office even though you never salvaged them as a result of them hiding in larger objects you buy. This proves that at least some of them are capable of breaking in without your permission.

·        The Puppet's origins are alluded to as early as the second game, when the Phone Guy briefly discusses his uneasiness around it. "It can go anywhere" because it was designed to go anywhere, even outside the perimeters of the restaurant, to help a child in need. "It's always thinking" alludes to the fact that THIS puppet is different from the mindless drones that Phone Guy would be used to, having worked with the company since early on.

·        You would have expected going back to Freddy Fazbear's would have brought back the old camera-watching mechanic that's been missing for the last few games, but nope, all you get is a motion sensor. Why? Because if you had cameras, you could see that the animatronics aren't wandering the pizzeria you're building — they're wandering Cassette Guy's death maze. It'd completely spoil the Wham Line of what this location's true purpose is.

·        The Racing Minigame. Taking the proper turn in Lap 4 takes you to a sort of 8-bit adventure game where you control Orange Man as he drives around between a couple of locations, including his home and (apparently) a bar. Neat Easter Egg, right? ....No. Go back to the racing game and watch the bottom half of the screen: that's oncoming traffic. You're not racing anybody, you're just a drunk driver. Specifically, a drunk driver who thinks you're in a car racing.

[raven-and-beez]

Please make me read these 10 books before (I die) 2018

Hello people! I come to you today, trying to make some sense of my ridiculously numbered (over 1100) TBR on Goodreads. God help me.

*sounds of perpetual screaming*

I know a lot of us have the problem of excessively adding to our TBR but believe me mine is worse. 1100(+) + the books I keep buying for some reason. And I hardly ever read physical books! (I read on eBook, maybe will do a post on that?) Yet, books are the only thing my mind justifies buying (with my money, other peoples money is for other trash). I’m not sure if my brain knows logic.

This means I have a SURPLUS of books I want to read. And the thing is I really want to? But alas life. So for this post, I’ve accumulated few books that I would really love to get to by the end of this year. But I probably won’t so screw me.

Sourdough by Robin Sloan

I came to know of this book, not more than a few days ago and doesn’t that tell you what kind of a person I am. Anywho this book is about fooood. And a secret society and a whirlwind of stuff. Colour me intrigued. I really like the idea of delving into a completely new world within the world we occupy which we think we know. The intricacies of little obsessive groups and how the meaning of a thing takes a completely new form for them is fascinating to me. Also, Sloan is the author of Mr Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore which according to a review I read, is kinda like this but about book nerds. So yeah.

What I talk about when I talk about running by Haruki Murakami

Raven and I have forever been talking about hitting Murakami together. And this year, I hit it. But I read his short story collection, The elephant vanishes, and while I did like his writing and vibe, they very much left me unfulfilled because all his stories are about hyper vague things and end on hyper vague notes. I have a few stories still left to complete because by the end I was so sick of it. So I really want something meaningful from him. And this book sounds so up my alley. I think Ariel Bisset mentioned in one of her videos that this book might be about running in the title, but in fact alludes to much more, which is something I very much like. Also, this sounds like a very readable non-fiction book and yes, please.

A taste for monsters by Matthew J. Kirby

You need to read the synopsis of this, and you’ll get it.

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi

I actually have the actual physical graphic novel of this and that does not happen very often. It’s so iconic and if I have it, WHY HAVEN’T I READ IT?? Also, want to watch the movie!

Any other works of Nina Lacour

Not long ago I read her We are okay and I fell very hard in love with it. And yes I’m a little terrified that her other books won’t do the same for me, but I still want that essence of another of her books so.

Radio Silence by Alice Oseman

Alice Oseman might be the cutest person on earth. And also I am completely certain her book is going to be great, so fight me. I also say also a lot.

Welcome to the monkey house by Kurt Vonnegut

It. is. high. time. i. read. some. Vonnegut!! When will I realize that owning a book is not the final step, R E A D I N G IT IS. (I was so happy that I brought my first Vonnegut, how does leaving it unread make sense to me? And yes, I do want to read Vonnegut because of the perception of it but how is it bad to want to know what’s behind that perception. Yes, I’m a blind sheep and I admit to it.)

All the Lives I Want: Essays about My Best Friends Who Happen to Be Famous Strangers by Alana Massey

I probably really need to read this book just because of my toxic brain but current celebrity culture is very interesting?

Eleanor Oliphant is completely fine by Gail Honeyman

This book sounds so cute! And fun! And some other things. My brain has turned to jelly.

The thing around my neck by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

The last time I walked into a bookstore (3 days ago) I picked up this and read a few pages. And I’ve been meaning to read some CNA for sooo long. And I liked it! So guess who’s going to go back and pick the book back up?

I’m going to end this by saying I just remembered another book which is The lovers dictionary which I want to read because Lorde highly praised it and also adding that I’m probably never actually getting to these books. So, yay me!

Real talk: I’m just really bad at reading. I read A LOT of news and articles because someone is in school to become a journalist or something and by the end, I’m just really drained and can’t handle anymore input. And also my brain keeps pulling the cord on me and parachuting off, which renders me a little incapable of doing anything. i.e. I’m left terrible at everything, not just reading. And I really wish I could say I should get points for trying, but most of the time I admit defeat long before that.

But sometimes, I appear!! And hoping is nice, right?

[Raven and I are currently buddy reading Turtles all the way down by the Green man. Aren’t you excited?? Temme below.]

Lots of love and perpetual angst,

Beez

[its-just-like-the-movies]

In the Loop (09, B+)

One of the most interesting things about existing in this hellish landscape of American politics (I’m going to use the term interesting in a loose way, since the most interesting things are also the most terrifying) is the way that almost all cinematic experiences with Things To Say are refracted through the ghoulish, orange, ballsack-like texture of our current President. Beatriz at Dinner and Get Out have particularly earned notice for the way their films interact with our current political climate, to say nothing of looking back at older films and Realizing Things about them. In that context, it’s amazing that In the Loop still feels as hilarious as it does, even as the idea of fucking ourselves into a war through a combination of bureaucratic fuck-ups, bureaucratic fuckery, sheer ineptitude, lies, and genuine fake news feels like it could happen at any moment these days. Allegiances shift by the minute between the pro- and anti-war factions of the U.S. and U.K. governments, partially because some are forcibly dragged or accidentally duped across these lines (political parties are not specified or mentioned for any government officials), partially because we learn where loyalties actually lie, partially because some are trying to keep their careers alive at any possible cost. No one emerges from In The Loop’s maze of political backstabbing and vulgar insults heaved like so many bricks, but the landscape it creates in doing so is one of more interesting depictions of this kind of political background than the power-hungry monstrosities of House of Cards, or the kinds of straightforward depictions that political dramas present us.

The fact that it’s so merrily vulgar and nasty to all of its characters, giving everyone so much comedic material to dish and to take, is surely the recipe to its success, perhaps even more than how wonderfully it’s structured. Half of the encounters in the film feel like they’re simply humiliating dressing-downs of one person or another, very often perpetrated (and occasionally received) by Peter Capaldi’s vicious, pragmatic reprisal of Director of Communication Malcolm Tucker. In the Loop opens with one such event, as Tucker berates International Development Minister Simon Foster for flubbing during a radio interview, calling war “unforeseeable”. Still, this is enough to get him into a meeting with U.S. Assistant Secretary of State for Diplomacy Karen Clark, albeit as a piece of meat. Yet the fact that he us unaware of his status as “tit meat” (as he calls it) leads him to nervously sputter gibberish when Clark acknowledges his presence in the room, and leaves no excuse for the absolute gobbledygook he bumbles at a gaggle of reporters, digging himself further and further into the shit pit. “Climb the mountain of conflict!” is appropriated as the slogan of the pro-war people, especially by U.S. Assistant Secretary of Space for Policy Linton Barwick, whose psychotic rewriting of facts for his own aims and eagerness to go to war is dulled by his own, astounding dullness. Presidents and Prime Ministers are invoked but not seen, and the fate of the world is decided by assistant department administrators and their underlings. The most significant document in the whole film, “Post-War Planning, Parameters, Implications, and Possibilities”, called PWPPIP, is written by a woman named Liza Weld, Karen’s assistant, who is completely mortified that her mostly anti-war paper may be tanking her future in Washington, even as she assists Karen in trying to discover Barwick’s secret anti-war committee. You know, the secret war committee his own aide alluded to in a public meeting. That one.

Yes, okay, so my description of the film’s characters and set-up is similarly tinged with In the Loop’s own colorful language, but can you blame me? How can anyone hear Peter Capaldi’s Scottish brogue complaining that he tripped on a baby-faced assistant’s umbilical cord and not feel similarly inspired in how you process information? It’s amazing to watch the creativity in how these people attack each other, even the ones who are ostensibly allies. Delicious lines, perfectly read, with each actor wearing a winning face to match their insane dialogue. Malcolm Tucker wouldn’t be so intimidating if we couldn’t the fire in his eyes or the vein’s threatening to pop out of his head, nor would Linton’s nastiness be so irritating if he also wasn’t so palpably smug about it.

What’s equally interesting as everything that’s said (though maybe not how they say it) is all the information that’s left pretty vague. The blatantness with which In the Loop is a satire of the invasion of Iraq doesn’t contradict the fact that we never even hear the name of the country everyone wants to invade. The degree to which every single character recognizes the validity of PWPPIP, whether they support the war or not, doesn’t change that we’re left to guess why any one character backs the side that they do - though we are seemingly told that wanting war is definitely going with public opinion. Weld’s anxiety is precisely rooted in that assumption, and is constantly hummed into her ear by a U.S. State Department junior staffer named Chad. Still, we’re left to look at these characters and wonder what each one of them sees if war is declared, or what they’ll do if it isn’t. We’re simply shown who thinks it is and isn’t right. In the Loop perpetrates the smartest case of leaving certain details off the screen, of letting the audience fill in the blanks about political agendas and alliences and parties that I’ve seen from an Anglo-American film, particularly one involving American politics. Perhaps this is simply me noticing something that’s existed in plenty of films I’ve already seen, but this feels like a smarter case of political vaguarity than, say, The Iron Lady’s handling of Margaret Thatcher’s politics. Even a film as glorious as Selma still has to have two characters give us a brief summary of the SNAP organization at the height of its clout. Yet, In the Loop is able to get away with not naming a single political party or any motivation to start a war by portraying the determination of its characters to pass their agenda. The moral compasses of Karen Clark, Simon Foster, Linton Barwick, and Malcolm Tucker become the subjects of the film, nevermind that multiple characters (to include the ones I’ve mentioned) are primarily concerned with staying afloat.

It helps a bunch that each character is so cleverly and clearly realized on the page and by their interpreters. Colorful language makes the whole thing more palatable, for sure, but image how easy it could be to turn any of these characters into cursing, screeching, self-absorbed loons. Everyone wears their characters like second skins, finding the right modulations and line readings to live up to the comic and political potential of the script. It’s one thing hand lines as delicious as “Difficult difficult lemon difficult”, a long monologue about not pissing yourself during a meeting, dismissing a former ally and a creepy subordinate as “General Shrek and his magical talking donkey”, undermining an accusation with “unofficially, this is a shoe”, but another entirely to find a whole cast of performers that can give every single line the punch it requires. All the plaudits to casting directors Sarah Crowe and Meredith Tucker for bringing such a perfect combination of British and American actors together, even with the caveat of bringing Capaldi and a handful of actors over from an existing property (as if that’s a recipe for guaranteed success). The casting of such a talented ensemble is a gorgeous achievement unto itself, and it’s instances like these that makes the casting directors having their own branch at the Academy Awards feel richly deserved, and their lack of Academy Award category feel noticeably empty.

And what a cast! In the Loop possesses a frankly majestic ensemble, with rich energy and endless potential for humor between any two characters. Reading through the massive ensemble listings brings back a flood of fantastic moments. Picking any one actor to even start with for doling out praise feels difficult, so let’s just begin with my favorite favorites and work my way through the rest of this inimitable cast. Peter Capaldi sharpens each line reading for maximum effect, letting each vein practically pop out of his skull as he attacks his subordinates, allies, and enemies with frank modulation while still knocking everyone down a peg. As Karen Clark, Mimi Kennedy furnishes a low-simmering but palpable anger at the ever-growing potential of war, dodging the very real potential for bitchy caricaturing baked into the role, and striking as many comedic notes as anyone else while keeping a fairly lowkey approach next to her colleagues and castmates. David Rasche’s blowhard take on Linton Barwick is as affecting and hilarious as Tom Hollander’s earnest but congenitally inarticulate performance of Simon Foster. James Gandolfini’s general and Gina McKee’s advisor may very well walk away with the best reaction shots of the whole film, with his befuddled or angry face-pulling and her absolute delight in seeing her superiors flail without her. Chris Addison’s newby, Anna Chlumsky and Zach Woods’ mutually antagonistic and differently desperate ladder climbers, and even smaller performances from Paul Haggis, Steve Coogan, Olivia Poulet, Enzo Cilenti, James Smith, and Alex MacQueen do their bit to make every second of the film an absolute delight. (Yes, I basically rounded out the film’s whole Wikipedia page, but since I remembered who each of these people were, and the bits of theirs I loved, I think it’s acceptable).

Yet, as much as everyone makes In the Loop funny, most especially Armando Iannucci, Jesse Armstrong, Simon Blackwell, and Tony Roche, but never is it funny without a clear recognition of the stakes at hand. This is about war, goddammit, and everyone knows it. Part of what’s so evocative in Mimi Kennedy’s performance is the selfless anger she produces at Barwick’s scuzzy tactics to push for war, her great sense of how goddamn wrong this all is, and that she is virtually the only character to hold these feelings with such passion. The script and Iannucci’s direction are attuned to everything upsetting and disappointing about the film’s trajectory while nonetheless enjoying how its characters poor and scheming decisions drive the story. We are given the room to laugh at the absurdity of Barwick while registering how threatening he is; to see the value in someone shutting down a panicked question of bravery in the face of political crisis with the answer they need to hear, and know the answer is the same when two sturdier character elects to take different paths on protest resignations. Everyone is an operator, no matter how good or bad they are at it, and every single one of their decisions have real impact on an ever-winding narrative. For a film all about communication and information, the way a scenario can change on a dime based on the revealing and expulsion of information and political statements, In the Loop emerges as one of the best titled films of 2009. The fallout of the film’s climax, as the U.N. decides whether or not, leaves plenty of heads spinning, and dominates the mood of the film’s remaining runtime as decisions are made. Then again, the fact that many paths are also thwarted and snatched away from certain characters only highlights the value of the ability to even make a decision on one’s own behalf.

As hilarious as In the Loop is to experience, there’s no way not to take it as a pretty forlorn manifesto about the status of Western politics, and the ways people can affect the future with the best, the worst, and completely unrelated or bumblingly misguided intentions. Pawns sometimes have more power than the people manipulating them, on both sides of the aisle, and no one is immune to the jarring shove of an unforeseen fuck-up. Laugh and be wary. That’s for sure the place I was in once the credits starting rolling, watching everyone reorganize themselves to fit the new situation they lived in. It feels odd to end a review of such a blisteringly funny film on such a somber note, even if the film does so too. Despair at the world stage, and have a great time doing it, especially when Iannucci and co. make it amazingly easy for you to do both, and with remarkable dexterity. In the Loop is able to serve you the black comedy and political despair with ease, and deliciously so.