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ladyeliot · 3 years

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No pressure

Request: Anonymous. Hiiii! I had a Chris Evans x reader request. The reader is famous and has to go through a stalker who breaks into her home. She calls 911 and isn't hurt, but Chris wasn't there so he comes to her and visits her and comforts her. It could be fluffy. It's ok if you don't want to do it. I'm sorry if it sucks. 😊

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Warning: Stalker and at the end fluff.

Word count: 1636

Notes: Thank you very much for the request, I loved it. In the end I modified the character of the stalker a bit, but everything else is there. / English is not my native language, sorry for the mistakes.

Anyone could have said that having a nice comfortable life in a country house in the middle of the countryside and with a regular job could be very boring, but that was all you needed on days like this. The energy consumption of your life prevented you from enjoying the little things. Day after day you would arrive home after midnight after spending more than 10 hours a day locked up in a recording studio and if you were lucky at least 2 of the 10 hours had been profitable. When you weren't in the studio, you were touring in the remotest places on earth and when that didn't happen you were probably promoting the new album.

Without a doubt it was an unimaginable life, which during your childhood had been a dream for you, and after effort and persistence you had achieved it. However, it wasn't all that beautiful, and the sacrifices you made were endless.

Like any other Saturday you arrived home after 00:30 and because of the low traffic in Los Angeles your arrival was delayed by about 45 minutes. Crestwood Hills was a lovely residential neighbourhood to live in, with nice views of the Santa Monica Mountains and the coast, but quite problematic if you wanted to go from your studio in Venice Beach, yet you knew you wouldn't move from that house for anything.

The automatic garage door opened as soon as you got close to it, when it opened you could see the Christmas lights that you hung around the palm tree at the entrance last week, which gave a homely feeling to your garden, and that made you think of the comfort your bed would provide when you lay down in it.

The door closed behind the car and with great heaviness you picked up the guitar and went to the entrance door, thinking about how much you wanted to fall on the bed. To your surprise you saw a dim light coming out of the living room, accompanied by a pleasant smell of your favourite sauce. Strangely enough, you left your guitar on the floor, right next to the umbrella stand, and headed towards the light. The first thing that crossed your mind was that you had probably forgotten some date with Chris, or maybe some special date. However, there was nothing scheduled in your diary, so you assumed it would be a surprise that I had prepared.

"Mr. Evans?" you said with a half smile.

You entered the living room and right next to the window that led to the garden you came across a mahogany table decorated with purple tulips and two candles on each side, complemented by the plates and cutlery and a small note on your plate. You couldn't help but deny with your face as you smiled.

-This night is all ours. Just make yourself comfortable, enjoy and ask me for whatever you want.-

You arched an eyebrow forgetting how tired you were and how many things you would ask for if he only made himself available to you. A loud noise coming from the kitchen made you think about those juicy thoughts. You put the note back in its place, and leaned in, trying to expand your change of vision.

"Is everything all right out there?" you burst out laughing. "Aren't you going to come and give me my welcome?"

The feeling of happiness that had invaded your body vanished in an instant, unless Chris had shrunk a few inches, worn long hair and taken on a feminine look.

"What? What the hell are you doing here? How did you get into my house?!" Every pore of your body began to give off an intense heat that was present in your cheeks.

In an instant you rushed to her, taking away all the kitchen gadgets that were in her hands. The situation went from the most romantic to the darkest, and even a bit comical if you think about it coldly. The story you had with that person was long and full of chapters, but even so the current situation had gone too far.

"Get out of my house" you stretched out your right arm and pointed to the front door. "I have no idea how you got in, but the only thought that you've been wandering around, touching my things and preparing food in my kitchen is making me very nervous.

"Does that make you nervous now? We have to talk, you know that...", your ex-confident could not finish his words.

"Get out! I know that you haven't stopped following me since I came from Memphis, that you're there every night when I go out waiting for me at the back door of the studio and that more than once I've seen you on the beach when I go for a run. I told you and I'm telling you again, it's all over, there's no more, it's been a year and a half. And now get out of my house if you don't want me to call the police."

“It's all over, there's no more? What a harsh word for you" the honey-coloured eyes of the young woman who was just a few metres away from you, turned, but she hardly moved from her place. "After all this time, after all I've done for you!

"For me?! I can't believe it..." your tone calmed down, you had gone from anger to bitterness in a few seconds. "Are you listening to yourself?"

She barely showed a clear intention to leave, you knew her well, but the last few months she had become a complete stranger to you.

"It's okay, you asked for it," you took the mobile phone out of your back pocket and typed in 911. "If you don't want to leave my house, and tell me how you got in, explain it to the police.

The fight of looks continued, it seemed that she wasn't going to give her arm to the wall and although you didn't want to put on any show either, as you preferred to do it on stage, you knew that if she didn't see against the sword and the wall she wouldn't leave your house. You hated her for getting you where you were going.

"911, what is the address of your emergency?" you stared for the last time into her eyes waiting for her to make a gesture to leave.

Time stopped and the wait became eternal, both for you and for the female voice coming out of the earpiece.

“911, what is the address of your emergency” repeated the woman.

The girl in front of you smiled uncertainly as she reached into the right pocket of her jeans and pulled out some keys, the keys to your house along with an alarm control.

"You got it," she whispered, heading for the exit door.

“911, what is the address of your emergency?”

"Nothing" you said with a thread of voice contemplating the keys on the kitchen counter and with your heart racing because of the amount of contradictions that had just happened.

Thirty-five minutes passed before Chris' car was planted in front of your house. During that time you got rid of the whole scenario that person had set up, avoiding leaving any trace of it. Chris arrived with an expression of disbelief mixed with irritation, all you needed was someone to calm you down, but in the end you had to spend fifteen minutes trying to get him to relax.

"I'm sorry" said Chris. He put his arms around you and put a little kiss in your hair. "I just... I don't want to take thirty minutes to get here if anything happens.”

"I don't think she'll show up again," you said sure of that fact.

"I don't care. Today this happened, tomorrow anything else can happen," he said kissing your hair again, and realising how serious he was being changed his tone to one of comedy. "If I could I would wrap you in bubble wrap so nothing would happen to you."

"You know that wrapping obsesses me, in less than two hours all the bubbles would be bursting," your comment made Chris laugh, so you could finally breathe easy when you saw him like that again.

"Come here."

The hug broke up and Chris led you to the sofa, sitting in a position where you were facing each other.

"Listen. I've been thinking..."

"Thinking?" you arched an eyebrow after the playful comment, trying to break its seriousness again.

"Yes, honey, sometimes I think," Chris responded to your comment with the same playful tone. "No, listen, I know you're not very friendly about serious conversations, but listen to me. I've been thinking, and I've been thinking about the idea of living together. Don't think it's because of what happened today, or what I said before, I've been thinking about it since last month when we spent Thanksgiving in Boston," you nodded slightly, wrapping yourself in memories of that familiar day. "I'm not asking you to do it immediately, I just want you to think about it, no pressure.”

"No pressure," you repeated arching an eyebrow and looking at Chris' hands that were on your lap.

"No pressure," he imitated.

"Okay," you whispered, taking one of his hands and giving him a slow kiss on the back of his hand as you let yourself be enveloped by his gaze. "I'll think about it."

It took you just two seconds to approach her lips and seal your answer with a kiss.

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lazyevaluationranch · 4 years

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I was wondering if you would be willing to share the titles of your resilience-inspiring lesbian farm books? My google search led me to a book titled “Attack of the Lesbian Farmers” which, while certainly inspiring, is not exactly what I was looking for.

Here are two very different books in the Farm Lesbians Write Honestly About What Went Wrong And How They Got Through It genre. Hopefully at least one is to your taste.

It's nearly fifty years old now, and can be hard to find, but Country Women: A Handbook for the New Farmer is deeply important to me. Country Women was a black and white xeroxed magazine written by a collective of woman-run farms in California in the 1960s. (There are some issues scanned at the Lesbian Poetry Archive). Each issue was half articles about feminism and half articles about small-scale farming. In the 1970s, the how-to articles on farming were expanded and organized to make the book, along with some scattered journal entries, lovely hippie-style line drawings and poetry about wood splitting, bees, and gazing at one's beloved while fixing the tractor on a summer day. The contributors have names like Jean and Ruth Mountaingrove, Ellen Chanterelle, and Sam♀ Thomas.

It's written in an informal and pragmatic style, mostly organic hippie farming, but using pesticides or conventional medications when necessary.

This afternoon the Anderson brothers began teaching me how to graft fruit trees - the careful joining of life with life. Even more than I loved gaining a new skill, I loved learning from two old men who have so very much to teach me. I admire the audacity of eighty-three-year-old men setting grafts that will not bear fruit for years: the total involvement in a process they love. Those trees will stand and live; I doubt whether Jake or Fred even stop to wonder if they'll pick the fruit. I want to live my life with that kind of harmony and purpose. I want to be planting seeds the day I die.

The first lamb was born today. Premature and dead. Olivia, the mother, seems to be all right though. I had a dream a few weeks ago that the lambs were born tiny (like mice) and pink. And that I struggled to save them, but they were too small to feed. The lamb today was small and pink, its fleece plastered against its body, thin and sparse. For a moment it was nightmareishly like my dream... This is my first animal death. The beginning of a long cycle. It seems even harder to have death come before life, than to have an old one die giving birth. Hopes for the future stillborn.

Driving home today, I suddenly realized that this really is going to be a sheep ranch, that I have done, and am doing, and will do it. That I'm making my livelihood from the land. The canyon is fenced now. There are sheep out there on pastures that were open hillsides two years ago.

The very act of building this place, the simple actions of tamping dirt, stretching wire, dumping hay in feeders, has profoundly changed my sense of self. I'm doing things I never dreamed I could do, and I'm doing them easily without even considering whether I really can. Last night I was talking with Susan about fencing the front meadow for feeder calves, and I realized that I could say that realistically, no fantasizing, no bragging: I can fence the front meadow as soon as I get done with the hay barn and get a little more money.

Like almost every other farmer in America today, I'm in debt and hoping for a good season. I'm only at the beginning now, and I know there are many struggles to come and overcome and come again: Someday I too, like my neighbours, will be counting carcasses killed by a marauding dog or watching the spring oats be wash away in an "unheard of" late storm. No matter how prepared I am, there us always that vulnerability - to the weather, other animals, disease - that seems to strike when things are finally going smoothly. But inside me there is also this incredible joy: This life is real and good, and it has made me strong and real and good too.

I gotta stop or I'll type the whole book into this post. One more:

My father is here this week ... working on the truck whose engine has been alien to me. I am learning now what I could have learned at 7, 11, 15. Beneath my truck, side by side, lie his seven-year-old son and his twenty-five-year-old daughter, both of us learning for the first time how bearings fit together, how to remove pistons. And here beneath this truck the patriarchy stops: he has passed his knowledge to his daughter, and from me it will pass to sisters, from sister to sister to sister.

That's this book. The things women weren't supposed to know in the sixties. They found people to teach them; they taught each other; they learned through bitter loss. The book says: we have gone before you and you are not alone. Here is what we have learned, and here is how we have learned it. We have failed, and we have wept, and we have gotten up and gone on, and it was alright. Here is the fire, passed from hand to hand to hand. Here is the light that will never be put out.

The week after we first got goats, we received a package in the mail from my coolest relative, a veterinarian who was the first woman to graduate with a specialization in large animal medicine at her school. People thought that women just weren't physically capable of handling large animals. (Hint: the bull weights 1100 kilograms. It doesn't much matter if the veterinarian weighs 50 kilograms or 150 kilograms.) I remember staying with her a child, in summer, laying on the stainless steel operating table in the barn; it always felt cool when the heat was unbearable.

The package, of course, contained Country Women. An old well-loved copy, with notes on long-ago calving dates penciled in the margins, and random scraps of paper with sketches of possible gardens and goat sheds as bookmarks. A light passed from hand to hand, a light that will not go out. It was like receiving a video game quest artifact.

Country Women is rooted in second wave feminism, which is not everyone's cup of tea. For something more modern and story-focussed, consider Hit By A Farm or Sheepish by Catherine Friend. These are collections of short, funny autobiographical essays about farming and relationships. Their tone is honest and wry, self-deprecating. You can see Catherine Friend's blog here and decide if you like her writing style. She wanted to call Hit By A Farm "Sheep Sex and Other Disasters" but her editor didn't think it would sell.

In Hit By A Farm, Catherine - a professional writer - goes along with her partner Melissa's lifelong desire to ranch sheep, and describes the results from the perspective of the slightly reluctant farmer's wife as they start a farm in Minnesota. Sheepish is written fifteen years later, when they're thinking about quitting the farm, after all the shiny newness of farming and the relationship has worn off. There are different mistakes then, different sorrows, and new joys.

From Sheepish:

We rarely pay attention to middles. Perhaps we ignore them because they're problematic. The middles of our beds often sag. The middles of our bodies sag. The middle of a long story told by your brother-in-law is likely to sag, and so you'll need another beer to stay focused. Everyone needs a reason to keep going when they're in the middle.

And:

Don't expect a farm to fix your life, for once the romance dims, you must still muck out the barn and stack hay bales and give that sick goat an enema...Although there are tons of stories about starting something new, there just aren't that many about how to keep doing something, about how to slog through the middle when the going gets tough.

The quotes are all from Sheepish; I can't find our copy of Hit By A Farm:

My spinning wheel continues to torture and confound me. I realize I'm not interested enough in the craft to really commit to learning it. After a few more tries, I tuck the wheel into a corner of our living room and turn it into what Melissa likes to call a Dust Accumulation Research Project. Clearly our wool market will continue to be the wildly unlucrative wholesale warehouse.

The patron saint of spinners is, interestingly enough, Saint Catherine. She was a Christian martyr in Alexandria. In 307 AD, she was condemned to be torn apart by the spokes of the wheel.

Well. No wonder.

Spoiler: things get pretty rough, there’s illness and hard winters and financial issues, but they do not, in fact, give up the farm or each other.

The book says: We made it. You will too.

#the-revolution-will-be-feminized

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do-not-eat-the-dove · 3 years

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I need to write this, I need to write this because I am so fucking angry. I am so, so fucking angry, and every problematic shipper I want you to read this. Read it, all the way through, because if you don’t then you are ignoring children you might have harmed.

Tw’s for: beastiality mention, sexual abuse mention, paedophilia mention, typical darkfic trigger warnings in essential

When I was nine, I moved into the Aphmau fandom. Earlier than that, I was an avid reader of Harry potter. Earlier than that, I was into stampy cat and iballisticsquid and skydoesminecraft. I have been in fandoms earlier than my body can remember, and I started in on wattpad when I was very, very young. Just writing, only writing. I had a vague understanding of what sex and smut was as a child, because of unmoderated youtube thumbnails. I ran into sexual themes online, because that is what a child does okay? I will admit that I knew about sex as a child if only barely.

As a kid in fandom, you don't know how to moderate things. As a literal fucking elementary schooler who doesn’t know how to differentiate “Their” “They’re” and “There”, you do not know the difference between right and wrong. You do not understand what an 18+ warning is, and you don’t know what the fuck a dead dove is and why anyone would want to eat it in the first place. You do not understand, and i think that this is something that problematic content creators expect of literal fucking children, and i also think that it is extremely irrational and condescending for you to do so.

When I was a bit older, maybe twelve/thirteen, I found ao3. I found twitter, tumblr, bnha and anime. I was excited because it was a community, so I became super involved as fast as I could. I had still not hit puberty yet. I hadn’t even learned the pythagorean theorem yet. I didn’t entirely understand variables and I had no clue that washing your face was basic hygiene. I am bringing this up to display to you that I. WAS. A. CHILD. A kid. Five years ago at this point I still had trouble jump-roping. I was a kid who had average decision-making skills for their age and who found the idea of boys gross, crushes were based on who was fastest in gym class.

I let go of tumblr because I couldn’t grasp what on earth it was supposed to be used for and how it was supposed to be used, I posted shitty depressed memes on reddit because I thought I was edgy. And then I got involved in fandom twitter.

Me, my friends, we recommended each other cute ship threads and discussed Notps and did “toxic fandom stuff” because we were children who still celebrated valentines day with sweet-tarts and holographic paper cards. I still knew jack shit about sex and relationships because as a child sex education is just “this is a penis, this is a vagina, this is how you don’t get pregnant, any questions?”

So when one day, i decide to type “BNHA” into the search bar of twitter, intent on finding cute things to share with my online friends and instead am greeted with a picture of a character raping another character, I don’t know exactly what to do.

Let me repeat that; I looked up JUST the word “BNHA”. Just that. Nothing else.

And I, a child, who has no decision making skills, clicks on the post. Because it makes me feel funny, and children are curious.

As a middle schooler. As a child who had the average physical and mental capacity to resist impulse, aka none, as someone who used Uwu and OwO unironically, who thought spelling “as” with a Z made me quirky and fun, discovered a main-tagged post of a character being nsfwed in a sexual assault.

From here, I explored. What you people don’t get is that is what children do. That is what children DO. And you, in all your wonderful wise ways, decide that it is on ME. On someone who had no understanding of what this was, to be the adult and say “I do not think this is right.” You, the thirty year old woman who maintags, are saying that to me, who was a twelve year old.

I think the most traumatic thing I read during that time was an aged-down character, who went from fifteen to five, being sexually abused and pimped out by his mother and forced to have sexual contact with dogs.

Today, I suffer from intense intrusive thoughts that I do not think I need to be diagnosed for, because constantly wondering if you’re going to be sexually assaulted by every single man you come in contact with, having to shoo away evil disgusting thoughts that have made you involuntarily gag and nearly vomit, having to deal with these awful things in my brain is proof enough. Today, I have such a deep-rooted fear of sex and men and relationships that despite me being entirely Heterosexual, wanting children in the future, having these ideas of a family, I feel incapable.

Today, I saw a fic saying that it was my own fault if I found their problematic fic, and today I raged for every child that is going to be messed up by people who choose to blameshift just because they want to use maintags.

As fandom spaces get younger, and the fan age range grows bigger I have noticed a distinct uptick in who is reading and consuming fan content on social media. I know eleven year olds, ten year olds, I have met a nine year old child who messaged like they were twenty. All of these children read fanfiction of characters that they adore, and click on fics that include those characters because they adore them.

I’m going to share another experience that I’ve had with sex and sexual abuse that was self-inflicted, but normalized by the content that I had consumed. As a child, a thirteen year old, I messaged adult men. I went on omegle text chat, I found forums for sexual roleplay, I talked to probably a dozen adults in sexual manners without them knowing or realizing. Even a few women, and I am completely certain this experience is going to scar me until the day that I fucking pass. It makes me feel empty inside, but you know what? Your fics normalized that for me. I read a tweet from an adult, someone much older than me, who talked about having gone into adult spaces as a child. They did the same thing as me. It is a trend, but while I recognize that I was too young to know what I was seeing, reading, hearing from people who were older than me and therefore authority figures, they blamed themself. And that is the most heartbreaking fucking thing.

When you maintag. When you use a main tag, that a child who does not know how to filter out scrolls down on, and they decide that this will be an okay thing for them to consume because adults know better, will you look them in the eyes and tell them the fear of things they don’t understand and haven’t even been introduced to yet is their fault? Will you tell them that ao3 is an adult site for adults and it’s their fault for being stupid enough to read it? Will you tell them that the images that will play in their minds for years until they’re desensitized and so so scared that they’re now a bad person because of it, will you tell them that it was their fault for clicking on it when they were seven, eight, nine?

Frankly, I do not give a shit about what you write. If it is in rpf and you still push it i will think you are a bad person, but other than that I could never care less. But I do care what you tag, because If you write the word bnha on twitter with an image of a young child's favorite character being sexually brutalised? If you maintag a fic where someone is starved till they are nearly dead, infantilised, sexually abused during all of it, and leave it out in the open on a site you know has children, in a fandom you know is targeted towards kids. If your tags leave a child open for attack, harm, mental scarring? I care, because I will not let another child be blamed for something they themselves did not fully understand the weight of.

#fandom #anti anti #problematic authors #problematic shipping #ao3 #archive of our own #tw #tumblr #fanfic #fandom space #I have never talked about these experiences with anyone but if there is a time to talk about it it is now.

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weapingweasley · 4 years

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sore loser ~pt. 1~ (george weasley x narrator)

Description: Enemies to lovers (kinda). A Slytherin seeker has a minor bragging problem and manages to just get under every single cell of skin George has. After the biggest game of the year George decides he’s had enough.

Note: I am aware Umbridge banned Harry and the twins from quidditch and Draco is typically the seeker but we are going to ignore her and injure him for the sake of fiction.

Also, I am sure the narrator will piss a lot of people off, however I like her attitude a lot. She definitely receives the back lash for being a Slytherin, but is never the instigator. She just knows how to end any confrontation. I gave the boys a bit of a temper. Since the narrator is a Slytherin, I though I could use some of that prejudice to fuel some of the “hatred” between characters.

Disclaimer: Cursing, gambling, and a lot of words. She’s a long one.

I am sat in the Great Hall with the rest of the Slytherin table listening to them go on and on about other students and how much of a “spoiled prick” Harry is. That of course is according to the one and only “my father will hear about this” Draco Malfoy. I can’t help but find myself staring at the Gryffindor table. Fred and George are enchanting pieces of napkins to throw themselves at Hermione’s head, while Harry and Ron try to hide their chuckles. Even Neville is whispering about it to Seamus and giggling.

“Are you ready for the match tomorrow?” I can feel Draco’s eyes on me along with everyone at the table.

“I’m ready to see those Gryffindor’s cry if that is what you are implying, Malfoy!” I know he is trying to make me feel less for not actually playing, but I am much better at the whole trash talking and intimidation to care about his remarks. “I don’t mind watching if it means my father doesn’t have to force the school to let me play,” I send him an unnerving smirk, which was not in my benefit.

“Even if you could afford it, you still wouldn’t even qualify,”

“Perhaps we will never know, since your father already paid for your position and I don’t see myself winning a large sum any time soon,” I begin to pack my stuff up for the end of breakfast and pull out one of Draco’s hairs on the way out. It always makes me laugh when he yelps and jumps like this is not an established routine.

As I walk to my first class I feel a push from the back and I manage to catch my books before they sail across the corridor. I can hear Fred’s laugh followed by a sarcastic “oops” from George. Both of them stand likely about fifteen centimetres taller than me, but that has never stopped our aggressive encounters.

“Even with two of you, half a reasonable thought still cannot be managed!” They boys just laugh at my outburst. Pricks.

“Princess still has that stick up her arse, huh Fred?” George’s back hand taps on his brother’s forearm.

“I can’t wait to shove a stick up yours tomorrow at the match!” I snap back at them.

“Or maybe we can do you a favor and shove one of ours up yours,” Fred’s laughter fills the corridor at George’s comment as they both turn and walk past me. After a few metres George’s head looks over his shoulder and leaves me with a long stare followed by a smirk. I can’t explain why the subtle action sends chills through my spine and heat to my cheeks.

When George turns back to his brother I can hear their faint whispering about placing bets on the match. Gambling in favor of themselves, I’m sure. I continue my way to class, at least DADA with the Gryffindors will actually be an interesting aspect of my day.

Throughout class I manage to keep my head down to avoid any attention from Umbridge. Harry can be the victim of her chaos as long as it avoids my direction. On my way out of class a younger redhead jumps in front of me with a smug look.

“You know George made a bet saying that you won’t ever get to use your broom in a game and Fred countered it with if you do, he gives you twenty minutes top before you lose it for Slytherin.”

“Merlin, Ron. You sure know how to open your mouth despite the fact everyone wishes it would just stay shut.” I brush past him making sure that the contact was hard enough to ensure he stumbles. If I knew why everyone seems to hate me, I am sure I could piss them off even more. After treading to the sixth floor for Study of Ancient Ruins, I witness two tall statures pushing each other around in what seems to be a minor argument.

“Tweedledee and Tweedledum, I heard you have wagers against me,” the two Weasleys stop their interactions and turn to face me. “I am flattered the two of you spend your free time thinking about me. However, I much rather be included the next time there is value on my name.”

“Princess, you would not want to be present every time we mention your name." Fred is the first to respond.

“Your tiara would fall with your ego,” George follows as if rehearsed. He holds my eye contact while Fred lets out a laugh. There is an intimidating fire in George’s eyes.

“It’d be worth any diadem to see your empty pockets every time you bet against me.” I turn on my heels and make my way into the classroom.

Ancient Ruins is not exactly an exhilarating class, but it tends to be much less problematic compared to any course with Malfoy and Potter in it. Studying can be quite peaceful when those around you are not waiting to watch the other boil.

I was able to spend the rest of my day avoiding any other confrontations besides witnessing any comments made in passing by a Weasley or any of Malfoy’s followers. At dinner I sit in my usual spot between the fifth years, like myself, and the fourth years. As long as I stay at the end, I don’t have to worry about remarks made my way. The fifth years are talking about the upcoming match which I enjoy listening to. I can hear Malfoy talking about how Gryffindor’s team is full of lazy bastards who just work impulsively out of their “bravery” and how we will win easily.

His comments do make me laugh a bit, but I attempt not to show it. Draco is right though, we are much more systematic and can win. Even if certain players on our team choose not to cheat.

“I can’t wait to get Potter to fly straight into the grass and pull worms out of his nose. It’ll be a nice reminder of where he came from, dirt.” Malfoy is still in the midst of his Potter tangent when I can sense a heavy stare on me. As I look up I can see the Gryffindor table full of chatter, I assume it is much like ours, but only one student is staring right at me.

George’s eyes connect with mine, and I can feel a huge force on my body. Usually, I am one to just hold the stare back, but there is something about this moment that makes me switch my focus towards my dinner plate. Another odd moment with George today, brilliant.

The rest of the meal I manage small talk with Daphne Greengrass. She is much more bearable compared to the other Slytherins in our year. Not once has she made a comment about me being a half-blood or even being the second string seeker.

Instead of following most of the Slytherin house back to the common room I make my way to the library to complete some work before the match. I manage to locate a quiet corner in the back to complete my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. As soon as I open my book I hear footsteps walk by and stop right at the aisle I am working at.

“If I were to guess, your boggart is probably actually having to mount a broom for a match,” the voice belongs to my favorite redheaded twin. His comment only results in an eye roll from me.

“And if I were to guess, your boggart is having to come up with your own thought for once in your life. ‘Is quite a shame to see you can only be a replica of your brother, and not just physically.” Clearly, I strike a nerve because George takes two long strides and slams my book shut and bends down so our faces were only centimetres apart. The loud thud from the books startles my breathing.

“I. Am. My. Own. Person.” The fire in his eyes is back once again.

“You’re right. However, for some reason when it comes to me you’re the instigator. You become the one with the jokes and the loose temper when I’m around. Funny seeing how you’re suppose to be the good one.” I hold myself as still as I can despite wanting to push him away and retreat to a quiet aisle.

“You pretend to be one of them despite having impure blood. Your existence in that house is the purest form of irony.” A cackle leaves me after that.

“Oh my Merlin, you think I’m a purist. You probably think I have the dark mark too!” I cannot control my laughter at this point. George takes a step back a bit shocked, clearly not expecting me to talk so lightly of the mark. “Keep to what you’re good at, gambling.”

A small smile appears on George as I continue to erupt in laughter. What an idiot. Me, a purist. What a leap to assume. “Fine, princess, let’s gamble,” his smile quickly turns into a devious smirk, resulting in my laughs sobering up.

“Fine. Five galleons, that if I play tomorrow you will lose.” A confused look appears on his face, knowing that the odds of me playing are very low. “I don’t cheat either. If someone cannot play, I am next in. So I will take my chances.”

“If you lose or do not even play, I win.” George’s notorious smirk emerges onto his face. I only nod my head. The odds are not in my favor, but at least I have the chance to earn some respect.

“When I win, I will be looking for you and my money.” I stand up from my seat to gain some leverage over him, only for him to stand up straight and return to his naturally towering height.

“Oh, I look forward to seeing you after the match. With my money.”

#george weasley #fred weasley #george wealsey x reader #narrator #hp fanfic #fanfic #fandom #hogwarts #quidditch #harry potter

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 3 years

Text

Le Démon Déchu - Chapter 2: Réponses Et Plus De Questions

Summary: The summary is kind of long so please check a previous part or my masterlist if you want to read it.

Warning(s): threat, swearing

Word Count: 6.8k+

Inspiration: Do You Know What Eternity Is? by Elderly_Worm on AO3, Great Omens (The Big One) by falsepremise on AO3, Pray For Us, Icarus series by Atalan on AO3, Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm on AO3, wasteland, baby by john1513 on AO3, Not of Us by ShesAKillerQueen98 on AO3, How to Win a Lifetime Achievement Award for Services to Television (and how not to) by GaryOldman on AO3, Doctor Who (don’t ask) and, of course, Good Omens itself

A/N: Okay I took a bit of a hiatus from writing literally anything for about five months so sorry about that but I’m back now!! That’s the main thing. Also, I’ve left high school now which is very exciting! That does mean I’ll have so much more time to write and I’m definitely going to try and use this summer to establish some kind of routine for writing so that when I start college, I won’t get too overwhelmed with both my studies and with updating my fics. That’s the plan anyway so don’t hold me to that lmao. With any luck, now I’ve actually said that it’ll have to happen. (I wrote that part of this note back in May when it was the start of the summer. It is currently September and I’m just about to finally publish this chapter and I assure you, I am cringing at my own optimism.) Sorry this took so long to post. This chapter has been in the works since May (yes, I know I’m terrible) but I actually got a lot more writing done in that time that what you just see in this chapter. All will be revealed soon. I just promise that I have been productive. Once you’ve read this chapter, you have my blessing to translate the title of this fic. Hopefully it will make sense.

I just wanted to point out something about the playlist I linked in the previous chapter. I am well aware that there are some rather problematic people in it, namely Sia. I want you all to know that I don’t support her in any way (I don’t like her at all I think she’s a complete ableist twat). Her songs are only on there because of how well they fit with the story (a lot of this will become clearer as the story goes on).

I also wanted to point out that I know that if angels do exist, then their true forms probably wouldn’t look anything like humans. I’m well aware of that, I’m not an idiot, I don’t know if any of you remember when people started googling ‘angel true form’ and some people got scared lmao. The point is, we’ve all seen the pictures. But for the purpose of this story, and honestly just to make it easier for me to describe what the characters are doing, we’re going to have to pretend that they did look like humans. Can I claim creative license with this one? Maybe it got lost in translation because there is probably no way someone could describe how an angel truly looks in any human language? I don’t know, just roll with it.I know that this chapter had so much exposition and explanation in it but I can promise you two things. One, there is still much to be revealed. Two, I promise this isn’t just bad writing on my part. Just trust that I needed to put this all in this early on.

And how is everyone doing after the season 2 announcement? I mean, at the time of writing this specific part of my notes, it only got announced about an hour ago lmao. I’m very fucking excited, oh my god. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since I found out I can’t lie. Catch me trying to finish this before it comes out in case things occur which means I have to change things in this story. I can’t be arsed for that. Oh well. Hopefully it’ll read like those Sherlock fics that people wrote in between series 2 and series 3 if that doesn’t happen.

Taglist: @briarrose26

Ask or comment to be on my taglist! Let me know if it’s for a specific fandom(s) or series. Full list is in my bio.

Hermit (upright) + Five of Wands (upright)

Conflict. Reflection. Resurfacing memories.

************

Let’s admit, without apology, what we do to each other.

We know who our enemies are. We know.

– Richard Siken (Detail of the Fire)

************

“Fuck.”

The angel and demon exchanged glances of what could only be described as thinly veiled panic, while the woman in front of them just looked annoyed at the most.

“They couldn’t wait five minutes, could they?” she muttered, pinching at the bridge of her nose in frustration before standing up again, “Look, just stay down here, I’m gonna go sort this out. With any luck they won’t have actually realised you’re here too.”

“Wait, how do you know they’re here for you?” Crowley asked, suddenly curious as to what business Eloise might have with Heaven.

“Just a gut feeling,” she said before making her way to the spiral staircase behind them, muttering to herself, “If they were here for you, I feel like they would have at least used the front door.”

The other two waited until she’d run upstairs before exchanging a quick glance, an unspoken word, and following her up.

Meanwhile, Eloise was hovering outside a room at the end of the corridor which she could only assume was the bedroom. She was strangely hesitant, not out of fear of them, simply out of fear of the unknown. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in that room for millennia, and something told her that this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat. She took a deep breath, even though she technically didn’t need it, letting a wave of faux confidence wash over her, and stepped inside. Don’t crumble now. You’ve come too far to crumble now.

“Ah, Mariel, long time no see,” Gabriel smiled coldly, brushing the dust off his white suit. Flanked by two other angels, he stood in the wreckage of the bedroom without even acknowledging the damage they must have caused when they crashed in. Beside him were Beelzebub and Hastur, who both looked as though they had been dragged kicking and screaming to come here. Beelzebub in particular kept shooting metaphorical daggers at Gabriel, who remained perfectly oblivious. The entire ceiling had caved in from the impact of their crash, the setting sun painting the doorway where Eloise stood in a pale gold and casting a dark shadow over the others.

She’d grimaced at the use of her old name; it was too unfamiliar, too ancient. Mariel was the name of a long-dead version of herself. Once upon a time, she’d embraced it, but that was once upon a time. Once upon a time long gone.

“Almost like I’ve been avoiding you on purpose,” she muttered, leaning against the doorway as she stared intrusively at each person in the room, observing, assessing. She silently revelled in the blatant discomfort in each of their faces.

“No need to be so rude,” Gabriel said, doing anything to avoid her eyes, his previous confident façade now shattered.

Eloise stared at him in disbelief, “What exactly were you expecting? A fucking welcome party? I haven’t seen any of you in over six thousand years and you just crash through the roof of my house, unannounced and uninvited, so yeah, forgive me for being a little irritated.” She couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. She’d barely been in Aziraphale’s bookshop for fifteen minutes and she was already pretending she owned it.

She watched smugly as he squirmed under her gaze, desperately looking to the others to say something in response. A moment or two passed before Beelzebub’s head suddenly snapped up in confusion, “Are you alone?”

Shit. She’d hoped that they wouldn’t have noticed the presence of the two who were definitely not downstairs like she’d asked. She swallowed, trying not to let any kind of emotion show on her face, trying not to give the game up that quickly, “Yeah, I live on my own.” She watched the whole group of them squint in concentration, trying to sense any other beings in the house. She sighed, changing the subject before they could comment on it any further, “Look, what do you want? I don’t have all day so if you could make it quick then that would be much appreciated.”

Gabriel looked back at her, his suave exterior unfortunately making a return, “Hey, we just wanted to check up on you, see how you’re doing-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she snapped. She pushed herself off from the doorway, stalking towards the others, “You have had six thousand years to ‘check up on me’, don’t pretend you’ve only started to care now.”

She was met with only silence as Gabriel and Beelzebub glanced at each other awkwardly, looking very much like chastised children. Suddenly the latter groaned and cried, “You can’t just leave Hell!”

“Oh, here we go,” Eloise muttered, rolling her eyes, bored already.

“You can’t! You Fell from Heaven, so you go to Hell, there isn’t a third option!”

“Well, apparently there is,” she shrugged.

“No there isn’t!” they argued, face screwed up like a petulant child.

“Then what do you call this then?” she asked, unfolding her wings for the second time that day. She studied their reactions closely, scrutinising coal-black eyes piercing through their very souls. She was searching for any hint of shock, of recognition, of anything that could clue her in as to what was going on in their heads at that moment. All she could find, however, was pure, unadulterated confusion. Which was annoying when her wings were supposed to be an answer to their unasked questions.

Gabriel stumbled over his words, “Good Lord, how did you even-”

Eloise cut him off curtly, no longer having the patience to listen to his incoherent mumbles. She instead turned to Beelzebub who at least had the decency to look a little more composed, “That would be what you could sense then. I’ve got both Heaven and Hell in me, that’s a lot of energy to pick up on.” She stared right through them, daring them to say anything else.

“Must be,” they replied slowly, though they didn’t look at all convinced.

Gabriel held up a hand, his eyes darting about as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing, “No hold on, how did you even manage that?”

“I left Hell,” Eloise said simply, “Why should I have black wings? I’m not some demon who ran away from everything. I left. Permanently. I looked Hell in the eye and walked away. You know what? Fuck it, I looked Satan in the eyes and walked away.”

“You what?” he stuttered.

“Yeah, you heard me. You have a problem with me leaving Hell then go on! Take that up with the bloody devil,” she said, staring them down, daring them to retaliate. She smirked when she was met with pure, uncomfortable silence, “Except you won’t, will you? Because you don’t actually give two fucks about me. Just like I said, if you did then you would have chased me up a long time ago. Quite frankly, I think you must have been glad to have me out of your hair,” she sighed, half sad, half amused when they couldn’t even meet her eye. She paused for a moment, wondering how far she could push this, before asking, “You know what I think is really going on here? I think the pair of you are feeling a bit bruised after the absolute shitshow that was Armageddon last year, which, by the way, fucking hilarious. I think your egos are feeling a little sore after a literal child stopped you from ending the world, so you’re thinking ‘hmm, what would be an easy win so that we don’t feel like total shit? Oh yeah, what about that demon who ran away all that time ago? That should be easy to sort out.’. Well, love to disappoint, but you’re not getting me that easily, especially when not a single one of us actually wants me back, and Sandalphon, take one more step further I swear I will dropkick you back to Heaven,” she snapped, glaring at the angel who had been menacingly inching closer while she had been talking. He reluctantly stepped back alongside Gabriel, looking a little more than miffed that his plan hadn’t worked out. “You really want me back? Get your bosses to talk to me because I don’t actually see why it’s any of your business. No middle men. Just God, Satan and me. I’ll see what they have to say about all this. Questions?” she asked, tone snapping from one extreme to another, almost as if she had just been possessed.

Gabriel stared at her, mouth gaping like a fish, “You can’t just boss us around like that.”

“What? Like how you bossed us around all those years?” she replied without missing a beat, real rage, real danger seeping into her voice now, “I think we’re done here.”

“But-”

“I said, I think we’re done here,” she said, leaving no room for arguments. She gestured to the sorry excuse for a room around them, “Now, if you wouldn’t mind cleaning this up.”

“Why can’t you do it? You can miracle things too,” Gabriel said, desperate for any kind of leverage over Eloise.

“You’re right, I could, but I didn’t make this mess, and I personally believe that you should face the consequences of your actions, Gabriel,” she said pointedly, watching as he visibly gulped. In a matter of seconds, the room was restored to its original state and Eloise was left alone in the room, no indicators that she was ever with any other people remaining.

She sighed and all but collapsed into a chair that may or may not have existed a few moments ago, confident façade shattered completely. She breathed heavily in exhaustion, as if she’d just run a marathon; she supposed she had just run a mental one. Her emotions were bugging her to no end. It was strange. She wasn’t scared, per se. There was very little that Gabriel or Beelzebub could do to her that would frighten her anymore. She tried her best to compose herself, writing off the tsunami inside her mind as just plain old adrenaline, before calling out, “You can come in now. I know you guys are outside, it’s okay, you can come in.”

Crowley and Aziraphale walked into the room, one looking considerably more sheepish than the other. Aziraphale perched awkwardly on the freshly reconstructed bed, “We’re sorry–”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, we’re not.”

Eloise and Crowley exchanged a glance, amused looks on both of their faces while Aziraphale simply looked distressed. Eloise turned back to him and smiled sympathetically, “I told you, it’s fine. I would have done the same,” she admitted, looking away before collecting herself once again, “So, I’m guessing you have a lot of questions–”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Crowley muttered as he took a seat beside Aziraphale, although it was a very loose definition of ‘taking a seat’.

Aziraphale glared at him while Eloise just sighed and reluctantly said, “I think it might be better if I just show you.”

Crowley cocked his head in confusion, “Show us what?”

She brought her chair closer to the edge of the bed and put out her hands, “Take my hands. Brace yourselves.”

Mariel was standing before a crowd of angels, dozens upon dozens of disgusted faces staring right at her. She couldn’t quite remember getting there. She had been in the pitch-dark holding cell and the next thing she knew, she was here. Blinding white light surrounded them, harshly illuminating her vulnerabilities before all of Heaven. She tried her best to keep her chin up even though she absolutely hated the fact that they could see the bruises from when she had been arrested that were now blooming on her face. She frowned as she noticed the lack of measures preventing her from escaping. All that was keeping her there was Gabriel’s presence at her side, cold violet eyes pointedly ignoring her. He really was an arrogant bastard for assuming that she wouldn’t even try to make a run for it. Just because he was right this one time, it didn’t mean that he shouldn’t have come prepared. Mariel sighed and looked up at the angels staring down at her. Michael was sat higher than everyone in the centre of the crowd, face void of all emotion as she said, “The Principality Mariel. You’re on trial today for betraying the will of the Almighty, rebelling against all that is good and light in the universe...”

Mariel blocked the rest of her pretentious speech out as she droned on about all the awful things she’d supposedly done to deserve this. It was all lies anyway. She knew the real reason she was here. There were a few things that stood out to her despite it all, things that nearly made her laugh. She’d known that they’d needed to conjure up some reasons for condemning her, but this was just ridiculous. Gabriel really had gone to extraordinary yet desperate lengths to slander her in her final moments in this Someone-forsaken place. She was surprised that the angels gathered to watch her downfall believed a word of this. She tried her best not to resent them, though. It wasn’t like they had anything better to believe in. Especially considering the amused smirk that had crept its way onto her face.

She returns to reality just in time to hear Michael ask, “What do you have to say to defend yourself?”

“I’ve done nothing I need to defend,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“Don’t make this worse for yourself than it already is,” Gabriel muttered dangerously from where he stood beside her.

Mariel turned to look at him in disbelief. “How the fuck could this get any worse, Gabriel?” she hissed, fury flaring up in her eyes.

He just looked back at her condescendingly, “Do you really need me to answer that?”

She pointedly refused to reply, turning back to face Michael, determined to ignore him.

The next part goes past in a blur for Mariel. Michael speaks again, though she doesn’t listen. Then suddenly there are shouts of anger, screams of rage, coming from the gathered crowd. They spit with venom as they hurl insults at her. She doesn’t hear a word. It’s as though her head is under water, completely submerged in the stone cold anger that seeps through her body, and suddenly Mariel is drowning in the realisation that this is really happening, oh God this is really happening.

Why? Why is this happening to me? You listening, God? Look me in the eye and tell me why this is happening.

She doesn’t get an answer, and though she wasn’t expecting one, it still hurts. Because she knows that she’ll never get an answer from Her again now.

Eventually she feels a tug on her arm from where Gabriel has been standing, dragging her away from the crowd and out her of current state of mind. She could feel her senses coming back to her as she stumbled backwards, but everything was crashing down on her too quickly, too harshly. She did her best to shove the rising panic as deep down insider her as she could. There was no way she would let anyone here see her in that state. She couldn’t let them think they’d won.

She didn’t even realise she had reached the edge of the ground she was standing on, the edge of Heaven itself, Gabriel no longer grabbing her arm. She nearly found herself peering over the edge, but stopped herself before she could lean too far. It may have helped her in the past but now was not the time to give in to her curiosity. And she didn’t trust Gabriel to not push her the moment he had the chance. She turned her head to glare fiercely at him, piercing holes in his very soul. She could slowly feel her anxiety being replaced by cool rage as she found herself saying, “Any institution that tries to silence anyone who opposes them is inherently corrupt.” She stared knowingly at his discomfort as he forced himself to face her. He knew what she meant by that. He knew.

He took a second to compose himself before practically scoffing in her face, “Don’t preach at me.”

Mariel cocked her head as she studied him. She watched as his eyes subconsciously flicked back to the crowd, to the other Archangels. He blatantly wanted nothing more than to re-join his fellow angels, the only beings who understood why he was doing what he was doing, or were at least supposed to understand anyway. Somehow she doubted they were all as cold-hearted and self-absorbed as the angel in front of her. She considered him for a moment before saying simply, “Your quest for power will kill you in the end.”

He furrowed his brows in somewhat amused confusion, “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s the truth,” she blinked at him before leaning in and murmuring in his ear, “It will be your downfall.”

“The only one who’s going to Fall around here is you,” he said dangerously. Mariel leaned back and watched the lethal glimmer in his eye wither and die under the intensity of her gaze.

She just smiled. “We’ll see.” She let herself look at him for a moment longer before blinking away the tears and cautiously taking a small step backwards. She could feel where the ground ended beneath her feet and was sure not to step any further. She took one last look of the place she once called home, embracing how it felt for the last time though she knew she wouldn’t miss it.

She closed her eyes for a moment and fell back.

Mariel was Falling. That bit she knew, but much more than that? Everything was happening too fast for her to notice. And yet, it was as if she was existing in slow-motion. She worried for a moment that this was, in fact, her fate; doomed to remain in a perpetual state of limbo, of Falling, for all eternity. The only thing telling her otherwise was the view of Heaven above her, which she realised only too late was slowly shrinking into nothing. Mariel found herself reaching her own arms out, grasping for Heaven. They were opposite ends of a magnet being roughly pulled away from each other by an invisible force.

You hear that God? Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? And don’t you dare tell me it’s all part of your plan because right now, the only thing I want is to be back where I should be and I can’t even have that.

She pulled herself out of her mind and back into reality; she’d have plenty of time in Hell to yell at a God who’d never listen, let alone answer. She only just started to register her surroundings, the fact that she was actually Falling, who knows how far and for how long, tumbling through the air at an unimaginable speed, plummeting towards a place that could be anything from seconds to hours away. The deafening wind that screamed in her ears, drowning out the screams which may have been coming from her mouth or her mind, who was she to say? Air whipped around her body, icier and more painful than any words that could ever be uttered by the angels above her. It wasn’t until she could no longer see any hint of Heaven on the horizon that she started to feel the tears finally fall, trickling down her face and floating slightly due to the force of the Fall.

Then suddenly it came. She felt it in the very tips of her wings first, a strange tingling sensation, as though hundreds and then thousands of pins were skirting the edges of her corporeal being. It spread over the rest of her wings, and then her body, at a faster pace than she could keep track of until her whole being felt as though it was burning. The pain grew, and it grew, and it grew, and she didn’t think she could physically take any more pain when she looked up in horror at her own freshly blackened wings. Her beautiful, holy wings which had once been the softest, purest white, were now stained with evil and ash. For the first time since she started Falling, however long ago that might have been, she let out a choked sob that racked through her whole body and through the ever-changing air around her. Nobody heard her cries. Nobody heard her screams as the searing pain in her chest grew stronger. She couldn’t even begin to work out whether it was physical or emotional but it was there and it burned a hole, a gaping wound, through her soul, leaving a scar fated to never heal and to forever haunt her-

Eloise was crying. She’d tried so hard to prevent the steady streams that were now running down her cheeks, but that was a memory that she’d never wanted to relive. She looked upwards for a moment, trying to regain control of her emotions and her breathing, before peeling her hands away from the two sat in front of her. She roughly wiped the tears from her face, and suddenly the only thing telling you she had been crying were the bloodshot eyes that Crowley tried to ignore as he said bluntly, “I’m still confused.”

“Crowley, give her a minute,” Aziraphale chastised him, furrowing his brows at the demon before he turned back to Eloise with kind eyes and a kinder heart, “Are you alright, my dear?”

She nodded without much hesitation, “I’m fine, it’s okay.” She certainly wasn’t fine, nor was it okay, but the last thing she wanted was to have to deal with her feelings in front of two people she was trying her best not to scare off. She looked back at Crowley, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

He looked at her in understanding, for if anyone knew her thought process in that moment, it was him. “Right, so you Fell and became a demon. Then what?”

“Well, you know what Hell’s like,” she started, looking pointedly at Crowley. She waited for him to nod before continuing, “Not my scene at all. I just point-blank refused to do anything they asked of me. Naturally they didn’t like that much. Eventually I was called in to see Satan about it. I remember thinking, ‘well, that’s that then. Terrible knowing you all.’, because I didn’t think I was going to survive that. Turns out he was just annoyed that I was being a bloody nuisance to everyone else, but he was too amused to really do anything about it, so he basically just told me to piss off. Leave Hell, don’t come back, and I won’t tell anyone where you’ve gone or that you’re even alive. Not exactly a deal I could refuse, so I left, came to Earth, been here ever since. I think everyone just assumed he’d killed me,” she shrugged as if she hadn’t just destroyed the whole idea of eternal damnation with just a few sentences. She smiled to herself as they gaped at her for a moment, though she doubted they realised they were doing it.

Crowley somehow managed to gather his senses quick enough to hold up a hand and say, “Wait, but when you were talking to Gabriel and Beelzebub and that lot, you said they had six thousand years to check up on you. Why would you say that if they thought you were dead?” He narrowed his eyes at her. He wasn’t altogether quite sure why he seemed to be so keen on finding any gaps in her story, but he needed to be able to trust that she was telling the truth. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Yes, and they didn’t exactly seem surprised to see you alive.”

Eloise grinned. You two are gonna be fun, I can tell. “You’re both very observant, I have to give you credit for that.” She paused in thought for a second before starting carefully, “You see, the trouble with me is that I’m not really one for keeping a low profile. I’m too noisy, so to speak, and I don’t even realise it most of the time. This demon I hadn’t exactly been the nicest to back in Hell saw me in Babylon, gosh, it must have been eighteen thirty something BC? Anyways, he ratted me out to Beelzebub who must have told Gabriel all about it. I had about a decade of this bloody demon trying to discorporate me just to see if it would force me to go back to Hell, then one day he just stopped, and I never saw him again. Beelzebub probably told him to piss off.”

They were both quiet again for a little while. Eloise didn’t even think to say anything. It might be a rare occasion, but she did know when to keep her mouth shut when it mattered. She could see the cogs turning in their heads as if it was projected in the air above them. Eventually Crowley murmured, “I didn’t even know you could do that, you know, leave.”

She shook her head with a strange kind of sympathy that came from recognising an experience you had far too long ago, “Neither did I. It stills shocks me sometimes if I think about it too much.”

A few seconds passed before Crowley cleared his throat abruptly and said, “They called you Mariel. I thought you said your name was Eloise.”

She hesitated before answering. She knew exactly what he was doing, she’d been doing it for the whole of their conversation thus far, but just because she tended to bury her emotions, it didn’t mean that she liked it when others did it. She decided to ignore the hypocrisy of that thought, how ironic, she thought to herself, and instead explained, “It is. Mariel was my angel name. You know how it is,” she looked pointedly at Crowley again, hoping that Aziraphale would be able to put the pieces together. She didn’t actually know how much he knew about what it was like to Fall and become a demon.

“Oh, so is Eloise your demon name?” Aziraphale asked politely.

“No,” she said curtly, instantly feeling guilty when she saw the hurt that flashed over Aziraphale’s face. She grimaced and explained in a gentler tone, “I chose it for myself when I came to Earth. Hell tried to change my name after I Fell but I just refused.” She studied him for a second, watching his eyes dart about, before saying, “You want to ask something, I can tell. What is it?”

He looked a little startled at being caught out, momentarily glancing at Crowley for support, probably subconsciously, Eloise noted with a smile. “I, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you mentioned Armageddon. Back when you were speaking with, um, well, you know. H-how did you know about that?”

“I might have been there.” The words rushed out of her mouth in a much less casual manner than what she’d been aiming for, coming out in a sort of jumbled heap that took Crowley and Aziraphale a moment to decipher.

Crowley, the poor sod, could only think to lean forward and ask a simple, “You what?”

She jumped to defend herself, wanting to avoid the onslaught of questions if she could, “Not actually at the airbase, but I was in the area. I was living in Tadfield at the time.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, although the hint of a smirk on his face told her it was more in amusement than suspicion, “How did you know it was at the airbase?”

Eloise couldn’t help but chuckle to herself because of course, they’d notice her choice of words, “I knew Adam and his mates. I ran an ice cream shop, would you believe it. He came and told me all about it the day after,” she smiled fondly before suddenly coming alive with excitement, “That’s actually how I found out about you two. That’s why I’m here. Because I thought I was the only one trying to stop the world ending, but apparently I wasn’t. I had to see for myself.”

A moment passed before Aziraphale asked quietly, “You were trying to stop it?”

Eloise, not noticing the newly subdued atmosphere, launched herself into a painfully over-enthusiastic explanation, “Yeah, it was quite clever really, if I do say so myself. I made sure Adam was swapped with the American baby in the hopes that he would have a human enough upbringing to perhaps change things. Seems to have worked,” she shrugged, before finally taking in the two shocked faces that were staring back at her. Her brows furrowed and her face fell as she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You switched the babies?” Crowley asked blankly, although it came out as more of a statement than a question.

Her face screwed up as she tried to work out how best to explain herself. “Well, I say switched, it was more of a ‘made sure the demon dropping the antichrist off went to the wrong delivery room’ kind of thing. Feel sorry for the poor sod who had to deal with that but needs must.”

Crowley blinked at her and said bluntly, “I was the poor sod who had to deal with that.”

Eloise looked at him for a moment as about five different jigsaw pieces finally clicked in her head, before she threw her head back in realisation, “Oh shit, so you were. I knew your name sounded familiar.”

“You bastard, we spent six years raising the wrong child because of you!” he exclaimed, wagging his finger at her and jumping off of the bed at one point before Aziraphale tugged him back down. Eloise didn’t know whether to laugh or run for her life, for the menace in his words was betrayed by the disbelieving laugh in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you did what now?” she asked, only just processing what he’d just said, and she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips at his dramatic antics. She knew not to push it when Aziraphale just lifted a finger and pursed his lips with the look of someone who’d rather never bring up said event again.

“Oh bloody heaven, I can’t believe this,” Crowley shook his head, chuckling to himself. Although part of him resented it, he couldn’t help but look at Eloise differently now as they laughed like little kids together. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed so much more like them now, so much more human. Or maybe it was the fact that she had been trying to stop the apocalypse and all the implications that came with the fact. Suddenly he just wanted to know more about her, but he quickly silenced that thought. One thing at a time.

She raised her shoulders with a confused look on her face, giggling as she said, “Sorry? Well, I didn’t know, did I?”

They locked eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter again at the sheer absurdity of it all, leaving Aziraphale slightly bewildered and more than slightly exasperated at the pair. It took them a few moments to finally calm down but once they did, Crowley sobered his tone of voice as he asked, “Right, back to what happened before we came in. Anything we need to keep an eye out for?”

Though he didn’t say it, Eloise could see the unasked question in his eyes. Are we safe? She smiled softly, “Nah, you two’ll be fine. Basically I told them if they want to talk to me, then they need to get their bosses involved, and somehow I highly doubt God and Satan are gonna pop down for a friendly chat any time soon. Even then, you two should be fine. I don’t think any of that lot clocked on that you were here.”

Crowley nodded in understanding, and it didn’t escape Eloise’s attention how the remaining dregs of tension visibly dissipated from both of their bodies. Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other for a moment, the relief palpable from the pair of them. Eloise averted her eyes, giving them the privacy that they didn’t necessarily need but probably did want. She allowed herself a moment to ponder their relationship. They were very in tune with each other, very in sync, that much was obvious. Are they in love? The question sounded ridiculous the moment she thought it. Of course they are, look at them. She’d seen that look time and time again over the millennia. Although when she thought about the way they looked at each other further, that lead to another question. Do they know? The hint of yearning in their eyes was subtle but it was there. No, absolutely not. They’re too comfortable with each other. They’re a unit, that much she could tell. A unit that might not want to be disturbed.

Oh dear.

She looked back up at them hesitantly, unsure of what to say for the first time that evening. Eventually she said, “I’d better go. I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

Crowley frowned. Hadn’t she said she’d been travelling for a while? “You got somewhere to stay?”

Eloise paused. She’d definitely not been expecting that response. “Not yet. There is a flat I was going to rent but the people haven’t moved out yet because of the lockdown and it seems rude to miracle them away. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“Stay here,” Crowley said almost instantly, then pulled a face of confusion at how quickly he replied, “I mean, only if you want to.”

Eloise blinked at that. Surely, they wouldn’t want her there? What reason could they possibly have to want her there? “Wait, are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Crowley just shrugged, “It’s not a problem. What are your options anyway? No hotels are open, and you can’t stay with anyone.”

“Only if you’re sure,” she murmured, still wary for a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She glanced at Aziraphale for confirmation; it was his bookshop after all.

He nodded firmly, “Of course. I’ve been told the sofa is remarkably comfy,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, to which she grinned broadly.

A short while and a few miracles later, the sofa downstairs had become a makeshift bed that was significantly larger and softer than it had remembered it being. Eloise was currently settled on it; all it had taken was ten minutes for her to completely crash out. Aziraphale and Crowley had left her in peace with a chuckle, heading up to the bedroom they shared (that wasn’t out of choice, mind you. Simply because there was only one bedroom in the bookshop. No other reason.) One slightly confused item of furniture aside, all seemed to be well in the bookshop.

Upstairs in the bedroom, an angel and a demon were sitting in the same bed. Neither of them had thought to turn off the lights, so they were sat in thick silence in the bedroom. Aziraphale didn’t usually come up to bed, not as used to sleeping as Crowley was, instead opting to read the night away downstairs. However this seemed impolite considering their new guest, so he’d come up with Crowley. And while Crowley was mulling this over he finally stumbled upon why he felt so uneasy.

Aziraphale hadn’t brought a book up with him.

As bizarre a concern as that may seem, Crowley could always trust Aziraphale to bring a book up to bed with him on the rare occasion he came up at night. That was one of the things he lo- liked about him. Liked. He looked at Aziraphale curiously, noting the slight frown on his face as he stared into space. How deep in his head must he have been to forget a book? “You alright, angel?” he asked as softly as he could so as to not startle him.

He looked at Crowley with wide eyes that darted away almost instantly as he started to play with his hands in his lap, “Yes, my dear, I’m fine. I just realised something, is all.”

Crowley cocked his head in interest, “Oh really? What was it?”

He was silent for a little while before saying in a voice no louder than a whisper, “I think I was there when she Fell.”

Crowley felt his eyebrows raise in shock, looking away for a second to try and compose himself. “Right. Well, that’s a thing.”

“Quite.”

He furrowed his brows as he tried to make sense of what this meant now, “And was she telling the truth? Did all that actually happen?”

“Yes. I remember it perfectly well. Clear as day,” he managed to choke out with a forced smile before going back to his routine fidgeting.

Crowley laid a gentle hand on top of Aziraphale’s, stopping what he was doing and getting him to actually look him in the eye for longer than a second. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am quite well. Don’t fret,” he said, and despite Crowley’s concern, he couldn’t pretend that the smile on Aziraphale’s face wasn’t genuine, however small it may have been.

He reluctantly let it go, changing the subject quickly, “You alright with her staying here? I know it just sort of happened.”

The smile on his face only grew, much to Crowley’s surprise, “It’s alright. After all, wasn’t it you who said we’re on our own side now? I think she’s the first person we’ve met who might understand what that means.”

Crowley tried not to think too much about the fact that Aziraphale had actually listened to him when he’d said that, let alone remembered it, instead opting for a casual, “Yeah, I suppose so. Right, I’m gonna get some sleep. I, um, yeah,” he stammered out awkwardly, cursing his brain for not thinking of literally any other decent response.

Aziraphale simply smiled fondly at him, “Indeed. Goodnight, my dear.”

*************

Hello my love,

At the time of writing this, I do not know what the future holds. For me it’s an uncertain, unstoppable force, and it’s not one I think I can fend off for much longer. I’ve tried, please believe that I’ve tried. I’ve tried for your sake to prevent the inevitable. But it’s coming. I can feel it. It won’t be long now, I don’t think.

If you’re reading this, it means I was right, and I have Fallen. I know you’re probably confused and scared and that there is a biting anger bubbling inside you. I wish I could tell you why this is happening. I wish I could tell you that this is all a huge misunderstanding that will be resolved soon.

I wish I could tell you I love you one more time.

But I can’t. There are many things I can’t do now, and it’ll do me no good to dwell on this any longer than I have to. To survive we must focus on what we can do, and that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.

If I know myself as well as I think I do, there are many things I would have liked to have said to you upon our final farewell, but didn’t because I wanted to make sure you were alright. Don’t feel guilty about this, my love. Think of it as my last debt to you being repaid.

I have a plan. Well, it’s more of an idea, and it might not work. And it’s because of this that I shan’t tell you exactly what it is. It seems cruel to allow you to hope for something that might never come into fruition. But please put your faith in me, and in our love, for we will prevail. One way or another.

I hope that you didn’t wait to read this letter because you were scared of its contents, though I’m sure this isn’t the case. You were always brave. It was always something I loved about you. Your quiet, beautiful, roaring courage in the face of such turmoil and anguish. You always had the courage to be kind and to love with all your being, even when everything was against you. No one would have blamed you if you had turned cold and bitter, and yet you chose not to. I admire you for it every day. My idea, should it work, will require us both to be incredibly brave. But more on that another day. It’s that bravery and that strength that you will need to rely on now. That, and the thought of me. Though I may not physically be with you, but I hope that my love’s own soul is enough.

I won’t sign off this letter, because this is not where our story ends. There is much left to be written. And I need you to remember that each day we are parted. Until the next time, my love.

#good omens #good omens headcanon #good omens fic #good omens imagine #crowley #crowley headcanon #crowley imagine #Aziraphale #aziraphale imagine #aziraphale headcanon #Ineffable Husbands

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nightmarenoise · 4 years

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Some thoughts on TMNT 2012

I finished watching the entirety of the TMNT 2012 series a while ago and boy, do I have some thoughts™. First of all though, the following is going to be my opinions and you’re free to disagree with them. If you feel like attacking me for expressing these opinions though, I’m just going to have to ask you to take a minute and consider that you are about to be a bitch online over an eight year old children’s animated show, and that maybe you should find something else to base your entire identity around. Secondly, I don’t hate the show, not by any means. It was fine. It was fine. It was fine, you guys. I wouldn’t have watched it otherwise. I watched usually about half a season per day because I have too much time on my hands but if I do more than 13 episodes, my puny brain will implode. That being said, I understand that the binge watching might have affected my judgement, because having to wait for a new episode to air each week hits different, I know. Still, I came home after work each day, cozied up in bed and watched 13 episodes of turtle shenanigans before going to sleep and my sleep schedule has never been better. But I digress. Also, I will compare 2012 to Rise, because that’s the only other TMNT show I’ve seen and because this is my post and I want to and it’s only initially.

I feel like the main difference between Rise and 2012 is that Rise is a character-driven show, while 2012 is ultimately plot-driven.

Why do things in Rise happen? Because a character wants something (the boys want to buy their dad a nw robe, April wants to spend a normal day with her new friend, etc, those are just from the top of my head). The motivations are ultimately mundane, and then the story goes from there.

Why do things in 2012 happen? Because the plot said so. Sure, the characters grow and change, but they’re ultimately vehicles for the plot. We don’t really take a minute to let the characters breathe. Usually, things happen because the Turtles saw something on patrol and they’re on patrol because they know the plot is waiting out there to get them.

The show starts with April’s dad being kidnapped by the Krang (/Kraang? It’s unclear) and April herself being spared this presumably gruesome fate because Donnie saved her at the last second. She then goes on to live with an aunt we never see.

We also don’t see much of how this affects April at first. Sure, she is shown to be sad and wanting to get her father back, but the episode ends on the Turtles leaving her at her aunt’s place and then we’re done for the day. Hell, the next time we see April, she just casually drops by their place to show Mikey how to make online friends.

Maybe that’s just me being overly criticial, but I could have done with more time between those moments, showing her coming to terms with things, her normal day-to-day live, or heck, even just going to the lair for the first time.

But we don’t get that because plot has to happen.

April isn’t the only character who suffers from that, but I feel like it affects her the most.

The writers seem to have learned their lesson, because when April loses her dad for the second time, to mutation this time around, she blames the Turtles (which isn’t wrong) and then doesn’t talk to them for a month while presumably going back to her aunt, who I suppose never asks any questions. She only goes back to talking to them when Casey tells her a similar story and she realizes something something, hurting someone without meaning to. Which is fine, but it’s also not really, because it implies April being rightfully upset isn’t valid, because the Turtles didn’t mean to mutate her dad and it was an accident, but it feels like it tone polices someone for experiencing a loss and not letting her take some time for herself to come to terms with that.

But y'know we need her, in part because she’s The Special, but most importantly, so one of the most tedious love subplots can happen.

I know they explained April’s specialness as her being a human/Krang mutant and the Krang needing her unique brain to mutate the entire planet because …reasons. Except for when they later attack New Yok and then don’t need her for that anymore. On that note, I do not understand Krang’s plan at all. Time passes faster in their dimension and they’re kind of at war with the Triceratons and have trouble with the Utrom, so they want to leave (even though the Triceratons are clearly also in our universe, so why not pick a different dimension to take over entirely? There’s established to be ten) and mutate a planet to take over. This is all well and good, except they’ve been at it for about seven million years? Krang takes credit for creating the first humans with mutagen and it’s been mentioned that they steered human evolution to the point where they could create a human/Krang hybrid, such as April. But why did they only have one? They lost track of her when her dad and her fled to New York City, wouldn’t it have been more convenient to have more mutants to do their vague mutant stuff they require by the plot to take over the planet?

Even if we assume that this first mutation means that the first humans didn’t surface between seven and five million years ago, humans haven’t evolved that much in the last couple thousand years. Why wait so long? It must have been billions of years for the Krang.

I know it’s a cartoon and stuff, but they could have easily removed that problem by cutting the line about Krang taking credit for human evolution and for the Krang having been with us for thousands of years. It just creates problems.

Speaking of problematic, the romantic subplots. So, Leo wants to bang his sister, Donnie is creepily obsessed with the first human girl he’s ever met and Mikey is such a good boy, he gets two love interests, because one isn’t enough for all the love and goodness contained in orange boy. I still think it’s weird because all of these love interests are humans, but I gradually got over that. I managed to think about this without physically convulsing for ten whole minutes, for starts.

Okay, so Donnie/April is just bad. The writing and the execution are bad. The characters are fine, I love Donnie, even though he focuses way too much of his time and attention on obsessing over April, but I can let that go on account of him being a teen dealing with his very first ever crush. April though is frequently made to be a callous bitch who knows of his feelings and leads him on when she wants something, but pushes him away at all other times. I vividly remember the time New York was overrun by Krang and April helped Donnie bandage his injured arm and he was about to confess his feelings to her and she pulled too tight to get him to stop. Instead of being up front about it or just telling him that she either liked him or not or that now just wasn’t the time to focus on romance - all of which super valid in their own right. Rip the bandaid off, girl. None of them look especially good coming out of this.

It gets worse considering that after seasons of back and forth and even introducing Casey to give us a love triangle, everyone’s favorite thing in media and April redeeming herself by also being That Way to Casey and by redeeming I mean informing us that she just isn’t really fit for a relationship because she is very toxic in handling them, the whole thing is just kind of dropped forever. There’s no payoff. We spent so much time watching Donnie agonize over this, get worse, then get over his stalker-ish tendencies and get rewarded with a kiss and then nothing ever happens. They don’t even have a conversation about their feelings. The show tries to make it seem like there’s a special connection between April and Donnie because she kills him and then feels bad and brings him back, but, no. That’s not how any of that works. Ultimately this whole thing feels like a huge and infuriating waste of time. Fourth place. And that’s a kindness.

Leo and Karai get third place, mainly because of the incest. Neither of them is as toxic over this subplot and it also has the common decency of not taking up that much time, but it’s still weird. I don’t have much to say here. I guess it was dropped in the end, but maybe also not, but at least there weren’t 30 episodes about Leo agonizing over Karai while she was being weird and also she had her own thing going on and felt like a more fleshed out character than April despite getting less screen time. Third place.

Mikey gets silver because while he’s flirting with two human girls, they both seem to be exclusively into it and also he’s much more mature about dealing with it than his supposedly intelligent brother. Get this. Mikey, being mature at something. None of these ships are confirmed, but it’s a nice change of pace.

Raph takes gold because he fell in love with a girl after she beat the crap out of him and nothing is more valid than that.

Okay, the plot feels kind of rushed, in that they’re confessing undying love after kissing twice, but one, they’re teens and two, this is just the best we’re going to get out of this show.

Casey, well.

Casey exists. He doesn’t add all that much to the story. He has a delightful dynamic with Raph, coming in just after Slash confronted him with his worst traits and then reinforcing the “be a vigilante and do good”-angle and that’s nice. Outside of that though, he tries to hit on April, he hits things with his hockey sticks and I guess he has a family he cares about that we never see. Oops.

I’m very ambivalent about Splinter. I do get him and he’s a good sensei, but kind of a lousy father? Sure, his entire life went up in flames quite spectacularly, but as soon as he realizes his daughter is alive, he often seems to prioritize getting her back over the lives of the four sons he actually raised and spent the last fifteen years with? Also, he’s a dick to Mikey? He gets better later and then he dies. Hm.

Mikey wasn’t as annoying as I feared, going in. He was still stupid, but he had his moments. I also didn’t find him as funny as some of the writers probably hoped, but he was fine. He’s a good boy who deserved better every step of the way, but his brothers and Splinter are kind of not nice to him despite him being just as capable as his brothers. Neither is the show, often making him the butt of a joke or downplaying his achievements (producing super-retro mutagen, saving all his brothers from parasite wasps and the one time he saved the city from cannibal pizza it was treated like a “it was all a dream or was it” and nobody believed him). He doesn’t get a lot of development, but he’s the goodest boy.

Raph again surprised me. He arguably underwent the most development, dealing with his many demons and getting a grip on his temper. This was especially apparent in the Northampton arc when he did chores without complaint and helped Leo train.

Leo on the other hand, started as the leader of the team and ended the story as the de-facto leader of the family and also he was stronger now. I don’t know. Being a leader was his defining trait from start to finish and while he agonized over that, he wasn’t allowed much development outside of that. His first meeting with Karai introduced this subplot about him wanting to be irresponsible and do his own thing, but that was quickly dropped and never brought up again. I liked him best when he was being a dork over his favorite TV show or that time he went to space and on his first outing tried to hit on an alien lady. I would have liked to see more of that Leo, because that Leo was actually interesting.

Donnie, I don’t know. Most of his time was poured into the world’s worst romantic subplot and outside of that he had some traits, but he was mostly there so he could analyze things, develop antivenoms at the drop of a hat, finally create a retromutagen and build 152 vehicles. I like Donnie, but there isn’t much to talk about that isn’t directly tied to April. Except maybe how he promised to turn Timothy back into a human and then never did, even though we keep seeing his frozen remains in the back of the lab. For shame, Donnie. For shame.

To the show’s credit, a lot of the mutants looked horrifying and creepy. They had a tight grip on that horror vibe and it was great. They maintained a balance of comedy and horror and while it wasn’t great, it was a nice reprieve.

I hated Shredder and I know I was supposed to, but I will never get over what a petty bitch he was.

The thing that hit me the hardest was probably the destruction of Earth at the end of season 3. I was legitimately upset about that, so that’s probably a good thing. But when five minutes into the next episode Scrooge McDoctor Who did some timey whimey bullshit to reverse it, I was not any less upset. Make of that what you will. (No, I’ll explain, I felt cheated and it was cheap and annoying. Just when you think the show has some balls, it pulls a “sike” and then flips back to the status quo, usually). The space arc was simultaneously interesting and also not, with a lot of predictable plot threads, but at least we got more locations than the same two nocturnal New York streets all the time.

The ending though was super weird. The other turtles then went into space and probably died or some shit, because they never show up again and also the Fugitoid’s head is alive in orbit, but whatever, no time for that because we have to go back, for the 50th time, to the Foot!

The plot has no time to unfold because the plot needs to happen.

Do you ever think the writers squabbled a lot? It kind of feels like a lot of them wanted to do their own thing and then someone else meddled with that and then we got a patchwork of unconnected threads, left loose and dangling.

I was surprised when we got some buildup to April’s growing dependence on her alien crystal and even one episode dealing with its powers before we got to the episode dealing with the crystal’s effects on her. That sort of nuanced pacing was new. I was also initially very sure that this subplot would only find its payoff in the season finale or half season finale, like most other plot threads usually did, but no, it got its own separate episode.

Yes, they went all Dark Phoenix, but the ending was super anticlimactic, because April killed Donnie and then someone reminded her of it and she felt bad, so she stopped being possessed by evil. They fucked up on the home stretch, but they tried.

I never liked the time travel episodes with Renet much, they felt weirdly intrusive and adding nothing new to the plot. It felt like the first one only happened so we could meet Tang Shen before she died and that didn’t add a whole lot of anything. It confirmed things we already knew and introduced Mikey’s love interest and that was that.

The show tried to do a thing about anti-mutant racism once, but it sure is a good thing that the only people racist against mutants were the mafia, so we don’t have to worry about making a nuanced take here. They could have done something really interesting, but then went for simple black-and-white-morality instead.

My favorite episode was when the boys played Dungeons and Dragons with a sparrow mutant.

The worst part of the show though was its fifth season. First it seemed like it would just continue from where the fourth season had left off with Shredder being revived - because like a good villain, or herpes, Shredder always comes back - by the worst looking dragon I have ever seen in my entire life, but then that arc surprisingly ended after four episodes, shocking me to my core. Almost as shocking as Donnie almost killing a guy, but then deciding not do at the very last second. Again, feels like they could have done more here, but then they didn’t.

The fifth season started with two arcs that seemed to tie up loose plot threads, like Shredder’s revival and the bug alien guy I could have sworn died when he was yeeted out of an airlock coming back to enact his grim revenge, all so Raph’s girlfriend could live on the same planet as him and then never appear on the show ever again. Also Mikey died and his brothers were sad for five seconds before going about their business and then he came back with superpowers and then he conveniently lost them at the end of the episode, because the plot doesn’t have time for things that are emotional or interesting. Then there was that time the writers were like “What if we made Yojimbo, but with anthropromorphic animals and also the turtles are there” and it existed and the Turtles added very few things to the story and then went back to their dimension and never talked about it ever again. Or the time they said “what if we made Mad Max and also everything was terrible” and so they did and Leo became a hulked up war criminal but everyone forgave him because he wasn’t himself but immediately snapped out of it after seeing his brothers and Raphael was on steroids and Donnie became a robot in what I assume was a reference to the comics where he died and became a robot and also Donnie ended up being the only one whose body died, but considering what became of his brothers, he was probably the best off? And Raph had amnesia just so he could say he had amnesia and it didn’t actually factor into the plot once because he immediately recognized Mikey. I don’t know, I hated that special.

But at least it gave me emotions. The best part of the “that time travel demon is back and trying to monster mash” arc was when I remembered that I could browse tumblr on my phone while it was on and then I didn’t bore myself to death and also didn’t miss anything of value.

The series finale was fine. Nothing to write home about, but perfectly fine, even though the show threw an awful lot of shade at the 1987 version.

I feel like the most jarring thing about the fifth season was that the show spent four seasons going out of its way to present itself as something with a cohesive narrative and a plot that goes on and on and then we get these disjointed stories, some of which have absolutely nothing to do with the story at all. Just the writers throwing some idea at a wall to see what sticks because they either didn’t have any ideas anymore, or too many, but the end result wasn’t great and I’ll recommend newcomers to stop after the fourth season, because for real.

Tiger Claw existed and he was infuriatingly capable and powerful and then his sister chopped off his arm and then he got a robot arm and that was it forever. I don’t know, some episodes felt more pointless than others, but some managed to be fun or interesting and some just added something they thought was fun and it ended up never mattering again.

Some characters disappeared randomly, like the dove guy and I don’t care enough to ask what happened there.

Karai’s mutation being reversed off-screen was super bizarre. Sure, her being able to change at will as metal as heck, but it felt weird and incomplete and like I missed an episode. Maybe I did. It was also infuriating how her venom was a plot point in one episode and never brought up again after that.

Outside of that, I don’t have much insight to offer. Other people already exlained how the fight scenes, while nice, are not very accurate, especially the bo staff moves, or how the show is very dark, not in tone, but in actual absence of light and lots of greyscales or how most characters have singular traits rather than fleshed out personalities, especially the supporting cast. How there isn’t a lot of diversity in the human characters and how figure-hugging a lot of April’s and Karai’s clothing is (shoutout to April’s yellow shirt, it’s uncomfortable to look at, cheers) or how the female characters are frequently damselled.

I liked when the animation added personality to the characters because the writing sure didn’t think it had time for that.

All in all, it’s a mixed bag for me. It’s a fine show to watch if you have the time and it’s not all bad and I can see why people enjoy it, but it’s not for me. I liked some episodes enough to watch again, but I feel like in nine out of ten cases, I’ll opt to rewatch Rise instead because it has more of what I personally like, but I won’t think less of you if you enjoyed this version of the show. I’m not telling people that one version of the Turtles is superior to the other, just that I think it’s important to take off those rose-colored glasses and be critical of the things you consume every now and again.

But if you prefer plot-driven shows that can be surprisingly dark, you might enjoy this. Or you could watch Avatar, because it has that as well as three-dimensional characters and better worldbuilding.

Thank you for reading my way-too-long thoughts about an animated kid’s show.

#some of these are nitpicks some of these are not #i did not beta read this #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tmnt 2012 #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles 87 #tmnt 87

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missinghan · 4 years

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night changes ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : friends to lovers! au; fluff;

❖ word count : 5.3k

❖ warning : explicit language & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : kissing Bang Chan was never on your New Year's resolutions list but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

one.

This is probably the tenth wedding you’ve been asked to plan out and as always, you’re not having it.

In your defense, there are countless reasons to hate a wedding.

One, all of your friends are out and about, running into the love of their lives like it was meant to be. Soon enough, all of your girls’ night out would be cancelled in replacement for their date nights. The next thing you know is that you’re now standing somewhere in the audience while they’re having their soon-to-be husband slipping the wedding band on their ring finger. Meaning, all you can answer during every family gathering about your non-existent love life is “I‘m not seeing anyone.”

Two, you don’t trust someone enough for them not to break your heart because you’re incredibly terrified of commitment. A single vow and a piece of paper simply means nothing if their feelings for you fade as time passes by. And obviously, they’d feel obligated not to leave you behind because, well, like they’ve said before - “I do.”

Three, people always say, if you love something, you have to learn to let it go. From your point of view, that’s just total bullshit. If you love something so badly, why should you even let it go in the first place ? You’re supposed to hold onto to it like your life depends on it, even if it makes you seem utterly pathetic. And you’re the kind of person who falls in love with someone, then let your entire universe revolves around them. Not to mention, you’d always end up getting hurt anyway.

Four, who the fuck would want to get married on New Year’s Eve ? Kim Woojin, unfortunately.

Not only do you feel personally called out because your best friend knows that you’re super single and super antisocial at the same time, but also because your other friends have already got themselves a kiss before 2020 even strikes. No doubt, you’d rather stay at home and cuddle with your dog instead. At least he’s willing to give you kisses at all times.

Worst case scenario ? You can still sit back and chat with your favorite person in the whole wide world. Hyunjin is easily mistaken by people that he’s either a player or a fuckboy, but in reality, he’s the literal definition of a ‘Hot Cheetos’. Meaning, he’s quite the looker but has the IQ of a freaking Cheetos despite his sparkly GPA because he’s just lost all the time. Anyhow, you never take his company for granted. He would rather take a step back and watch others party until they pass out on the floor, very much similar to you. In conclusion, you guys are practically platonic soulmates.

“How’s Felix been doing with that girl from work ?” You ask while sipping on the glass of rosé that a waitress has politely offered. Getting hammered tonight isn’t a bad choice, you figure as soon as ‘Beautiful in white’ starts playing in the background.

Hyunjin purses his lips and stares at his glass of bubbly water. “He was shaking while talking to her via text. Via text ! Fucking pathetic.” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “At this rate, I’ll have no choice but to steal his phone and ask her out on a date in courtesy of him.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “He didn’t even have the courage to confess to the girl in Park’s business class back in college. How is he gonna get with someone from work where everything’s more complex and dramatic ? If he doesn’t have a girlfriend by next year, I’ll make him marry Seo Changbin.” Frowning at the burning sensation from the alcohol, you shake your head before placing the glass down. That’s too much wine for today.

You low-key feel bad for Felix and high-key wants to grill his ass at the same time. He might not be very smart, academically, but his hardworking nature made up for everything and that’s why he’d always excel in every single class that he attended. And if you were one of those shallow girls who are all about appearances and shit, you’d definitely fall for him. With a decently attractive face and chiseled abs, he already had your whole school down on their knees back then.

Okay, you might have exaggerated but Lee Felix is really something else. If only people could take more effort in getting to know him, he’s not just another pretty face to look at because nobody’s perfect. Felix is that kid who ran on three hours of sleep back in school because he had to finish homework then played video games in the dark until he’s sick of it. His parents’ bank accounts were probably mortified because they had to pay for their son’s eye surgery sooner or later.

But he is your stepbrother after all, in spite of his flaws.

“Wait, isn’t that Bang Chan from Changbin’s hip hop trio ? 3racha right ?” You notice a familiar face in the midst of chaotic people.

Hyunjin cranes his neck over the crowd and spots Chan almost immediately. “Oh right, we did decide to keep in touch but haven’t really talked that much. I heard they got signed into a music production company so things have been a bit crazy for them. You know, the music industry. Problematic as shit.”

Truth is, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t have a crush on Chan back in the good old days college. You’ve only talked for a couple of times since he’s a mutual friend through Changbin but never really got the chance to get to know him because you’re extremely awkward when it comes to an authentic, in real life conversation. You’re also not the type to fall for someone twice but Chan looks really good tonight.

So your heart says otherwise.

two.

Not thoughts. Head empty. Just Chan.

Kim Woojin just has to have you and Chan sitting at the same table. Now he’s barely eight feet away and you’re already feeling the need to take a breather. You practically lost your feelings for him in the middle of your senior year because of the overloading amount of work and because you never mustered enough courage to ask for his number. But he’s currently right in front of you, too busy all smiling and laughing at Changbin’s dumb jokes to notice the mini mental debate that’s happening inside your head.

Chan has never appealed to you as much of a fashionista like Hyunjin because in college, he usually showed up with long-sleeved shirts, shorts and caps. Black all the way from head to toe. But now you’re starting to wonder if Hyunjin got his good taste from Chan because he can effortlessly pulls off a simple black suit and steals your heart with ease.

He’s wearing a one button suit with notch lapel, giving it a formal yet smart, casual look without overdressing. His white dress shirt is tucked inside his slacks neatly, hugging his body perfectly, and you know that he still takes good care of himself by the crispness of the cuffs. The matte finish of the black fabric makes the whole look that much more expensive with minimal effort. In which, makes your navy blazer over a silky black shirt, and matching pants extremely pale in comparison. Your black heels are also digging into your feet and you’re starting to regret the amount of money that you’ve spent on them.

You’re looking like you’re about to attend a meeting while Chan looks like he’s next on the red carpet for some award show. Oh the things you do to plan out your best friend’s wedding. You just can never imagine yourself frantically running from one place to another in a cocktail dress or a full-on gown. Not even in the next life.

“Christ, I miss my flats.” You wince slightly when the stilettos dig into the back of your feet, outstretching red marks across your skin when you try to sit down. Long story short, someone messed up the entire menu the day right before the wedding and nobody noticed it until you walked into the kitchen fifteen minutes ago for a last-minute checkup. So you’re obligated to spend another ten minutes trying to figure things out while having Jisung entertain everyone by a spicy session of the Pocky Game. Classic.

Seungmin frowns. “Just go bare-footed, the floor is decently clean. This place is a five-starred restaurant after all.” He gently helps you remove the undeniably uncomfortable shoes, tossing them under the table not long after. Your feet finally stop yelling at you for the first time since the past hours and you too, think that it was the wisest decision you’ve made tonight.

“Thanks Min, I really should have just said ‘fuck heels’ and gone with boots instead.” You smile weakly at your friend, feeling drained from the amount of work that you’ve put into Woojin’s wedding. Although weddings are still considered annoying in your eyes but Woojin has been there for you through every ups and downs. He’s the person who’d picked you up from really shitty parties and also the only one who’d cooked you hangover soup plenty of times because you just can’t accept how low your alcohol tolerance is for your own good.

Speaking of which, your best friend creeps up from behind you out of nowhere and almost gives you a cardiac arrest. “How does it feel to eye-fuck my best friend in the middle of my wedding who’s also your ex-crush ?” He says and swings an arm around your shoulder.

You quickly snap out of it, looking at him in disbelief while jolting up from your seat. “I’m not a freaking stalker— and your best friend, what ? Fuck you.” Woojin is usually pretty chill compared to your chaotic group of friends but when he’s in the mood to pester you, you swear to God, he’s louder than Han Jisung and Lee Minho combined.

“Hmm, it’s about time anyway.” Woojin hums. He’s having that kind of smirk which makes you want to knock the daylight out of him as he angles his wrist to take a closer look at his watch. “Would you guys just kiss already ? Chan’s not coming back for a good year or so. 3racha and their dumb business trips.” This time, the playfulness in his voice disappears and a glint of sadness is evident in the corner of his eye. Regardless of how many times they drive each other insane, Woojin could never trade his friendship with Chan for anything else. How could he ?

But wait, Chan isn’t coming back until the very next year ?

“Who said that our business trips are dumb ?” Someone voices from behind you.

In that moment, when you turn around and see his beautiful face, you quickly come to a conclusion that this is rocket science. Talking to your crush is so fucking complicated you wish that they taught you this in school. Like okay, you know that a thermite reaction is basically what happens when metal burns. And if you perform it on a block of ice, you end up with a spectacular explosion. But still, there’s no spark in your dry ass love life.

“Oh, hey Chan—“ You attempt to turn on your heels to meet his eyes but your feet fail you for the tenth time of the night, and gravity is apparently a bitch, which means you fall forward onto something which means you’re now on top of Chan which means he’s being crushed underneath your weight consider all you’ve been eating are donuts for breakfast and lunch while skipping dinner for the past few weeks.

Chan flutters his eyes open, watching how heat slowly flares across your cheeks with mild interest. “Hey,” He grins, both dimples are fully on display. “Long time no see.”

“Oh my god, Chan ! I’m so sorry !” You frantically try to get off of him and offer him a hand to stand up straight. You’ve officially entered panic mode when he grabs your hand firmly enough to lift himself up again. His touch feels absolutely magical because his hand perfectly envelopes your smaller one with ease. As if it’s personally mold by whatever god up there to interlock with yours.

Chan laughs at your flustered state, giving your hand a squeeze in reassurance before slipping his fingers out of yours completely. “It’s fine, but shit, how much did you drink ?”

Needless to say, you miss his touch.

three.

Ryujin deadpans. “Kiss-him-already.” Your roommate proceeds to kick your foot from under the table when she sees Chan excusing himself from the table.

Shin Ryujin don’t have to own the eyes of a legit eagle to see right through your nervous chuckles and the small glances that you keep throwing at Chan throughout dinner. It’s a pain in the ass to witness ‘awkward middle school Y/N’ all over again but at least she’d have something to post on her story in return.

You let out a barely audible groan because she is in fact, being so fucking obvious. Like hello ? Chan’s not blind, nor deaf and not to mention, he has a whole group of idiotic friends who have their phones out at all time to record any juicy moments during special occasions. Especially when it’s Woojin’s wedding.

But when you actually think about it, you’d definitely kick yourself too. Just thirty minutes ago, you had the perfect chance to strike a decent conversation with him yet your brain decided to have you chicken out of the situation instead. Everything was perfect to the T, the settings, the way that he smiles at you, the way that your heart picks up the pace just for him. But you indeed have to fuck up by blurting out the most pathetic little “I gotta go, the restaurant manager just texted me” to ever exist.

“Ryujin, I don’t think that’s how you help.” Jeongin supplies unhelpfully over a mouthful of crème brûlée, a desert dish that he can’t even pronounce properly. He swallows the big bite and pops another raspberry into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. “This entire situation needs to be handled professionally.” He declares as if he’s THE expert. Good gracious, he’s quite the bad boy in highschool but those days are long gone.

Jeongin leaves his seat and cracks his knuckles dramatically. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Changbin, give me a hand.” He waves Changbin over from the opposite side of the table. “You, me, on a count of three, get Y/N to the balcony for her New Year’s kiss. We better hurry cause we only got ten minutes to squeeze. Three, two, one.”

“No, no, no, oh my god PUT ME DOWN !”

It’s like every single neuron within the other one hundred million in Changbin’s brain cells is connected to Jeongin’s because before you can even object, the two of them easily shove you through the crowd of people who are swaying their bodies to the slow, sensual melody. When you can breathe normally again, your vision quickly adjusts itself on the surroundings, which is the restaurant rooftop terrace.

The cozy outdoor space features plenty of potted plants and contemporary furnishings. A sectional is complemented by an outdoor wicker square coffee table and a fabric covered butterfly chair. And there’s Chan, leaning against the black rail while admiring the city’s skyline. Your heart is thumping inside your rib cage so strongly that you can feel it through the veins on the back of your neck.

“Be subtle.” Jeongin pushes your back as soon as he sees your dreamy expression and he quickly drag Changbin away from the scene before he can even whip out his phone.

With his back profile facing you, Chan suddenly inquires calmly. “Are you gonna come here by yourself or do I have to hold your hand again ?”

You purse your lips. “Sure mom, I’m coming.” Yeah, real subtle.

After when you approach Chan and let your forearm dangling in midair from the steel rails, you can’t help but stare at him like a complete dumbass. Moon is lighting up his skin and breaking through his hair, the light embraces him elegantly like a halo of his own, leaving you completely astonished. Although he looks so ethereal in this moment, there’s also something else within his present that makes you a little fuzzy inside. Just like college, but stronger, more profound.

“How come you never asked for my number back then ?” Chan turns sideways and flashes you that boyish grin of his. He must know the effect that he has on you to keep playing with your heart like this. But also what ?

You’re gobsmacked at what he said, eyes as wide as a goldfish’s. “I didn’t even— how did you know ? It’s because of Jisung, isn’t it— my fucking God.” Words spill out from your lips one after another as if you've totally lost control of your own senses. When you’re able to finally snap it close, you also realize that too much has been said. All of your embarrassing moments were probably foiled right under your nose because Changbin and Jisung are two little big-mouthed shitheads.

Chan just laughs wholeheartedly because he’s secretly a sadist who loves to see you being a blushing mess. “I really should have just made the first move, huh ?” When you give him a confused look, he just sighs and takes out his phone. He goes straight into his contact list and shows you the screen with your name and number displayed on it. “Lix slid your number into my locket during your sophomore year, you’re quite clueless too because he clearly didn’t know how to hide secrets back then.”

“You had my number this whole time ?!” You exclaim rather loudly, mentally debating whether you should hug Lee Felix or throw him into a tank full of sharks. “Then how come you never gave me a call ?” A smile unknowingly outstretches on your lips when you find out that you’re not the only one who has been hesitating for a while. At least now you know that the feelings aren’t necessarily not mutual.

This time, it’s Chan’s turn to blush. In which you think he’s too cute when his pale cheeks are replaced by a coral shade of red. You start to wonder what it feels like to caress them with the tips of your fingers, to trace along his jaw and to run your hand through his locks of hair. And before he slips his phone back into his pocket, you catch a glimpse of his lock screen - a picture of Berry with the time displayed above her head [11:57p.m.].

Three minutes until 2020.

“Never got the courage to.” He confesses timidly. “I really thought that you wanted to ignore me for a second there. You know, the whole ‘the restaurant manager just texted me’ and you were avoiding my eyes. Not gonna lie Y/N, that shit stings.”

You roll your eyes at him. “FYI Christopher, it is scientifically proven that when a guy likes a girl, he looks straight into her eyes but when a girl has feelings for a guy, she simply looks away.” Despite the fact that you sound like a nerd, Chan still laughs it off since he’s a bit out of it because of the margarita that he downed about an hour ago. The alcohol really has to kick it right now, not before, not later, right-now.

Two minutes. Time is ticking. The decade is ending.

This is one of those moments where you wish time would just stop for a second because you’re already having too much on your mind yet too little time. The fact that Chan is looking at you with his dark brown eyes, full of liveliness and all, does not help to cope with the situation either.

He smiles sadly. “Y/N, I’m not coming back to Seoul until next year’s January.”

“I know,” You interrupts him awkwardly. “Woojin told me.”

“Do you want me not to—“

“Christ no ! Why would I ?”

God, how do people do this ? Do they just go for it ? No one told you that snatching yourself a kiss would be this hard. You really should have planned everything out first. “Chan, I—“ You blurt but mentally facepalm yourself not longer after. It’s not gonna work out anyway. “Whatever, I’ll just head back inside, it’s freezing out here.”

One minute. Only sixty seconds left.

Those words which left your lips ten seconds ago finally knock some sense into Chan and have his eyes twice as big as before when you suddenly walk away. He instinctively grabs your wrist and turns you around. Nothing seems to make sense anymore when all you feel is Chan’s hand holding onto your waist as if you’re gonna disintegrate into dust the moment he lets you go. His other hand gently caresses your chin and quickly decreases the gap between your lips.

Shivers bubble up on your skin as Chan’s mouth repeatedly brushes against yours, backing you up against the wall. All you can do to deal with the mess running through your mind at the speed of light is to lay your palms onto his firm chest for dear life. The feeling of his soft lips makes you feel like you’ve just spent the whole night by the bar where Minho is mixing up some sketchy looking drinks with you chugging from one glass to another without hesitation. Undeniably intoxicating.

Chan smiles into the kiss when you suddenly grab a fistful of his tie to pull him in closer, deepening you both into the downward spiral full of tenderness and devotion. Although he’s not your first kiss but Chan will definitely be on your mind all day all night for the next few weeks because this kiss is the kind of kiss that leaves you a bit lightheaded but can put a dumb, lovestruck smile on your face anytime.

A small ‘clank’ occurs out of nowhere, making you two flinch. When you break away from the kiss, Jisung is standing there in front of the glass door dumbfoundedly with a can of Coke lying on the concrete floor. “Uhm- sorry. I didn’t know that the rooftop is already taken.” He coughs awkwardly and picks up the red aluminum can.

Woojin isn’t allowing a single drop of alcohol inside his body since he’s the chosen one tonight to drive everyone home after when they all get shitfaced. “Just so you guys know… we’re having cake. It’s— it’s confetti by the way Y/N, your favorite. So.. uhm yeah.. come back whenever you guys are ready— we’ll just— just wait haha, okay bye.”

And that is how Han Jisung learnt how to run. As if he’s Usain Bolt before Usain Bolt was even Usain Bolt. You’ve never seen him running away from something so fast before. He’s not gonna get a good sleep tonight, that’s for sure.

“So…” Chan drawls and you love how his cheeks are still tinted pink, his cool breath fanning your forehead. Fireworks are crackling and whistling in the background, painting the sky with different shades of glitter. Like an explosion of paint on a black canvas but you can’t care less when you already have him by your side like this. Talking about kicking off the New Year by kissing your ex-crush, how drama material.

“Do you still want my number or nah ?”

You almost scoff at him. “I believe that’s not how CB97 get all the girls.”

Chan grunt softly before pulling you into his embrace, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “Ugh, don’t even remind me. I’ve been clowned enough for ‘Wow’ already.” And you just stand there with your hands clasped onto his back, letting every single word, every single moment sink into you like you’re rewatching an old movie. That’s also when you realize that, you just got yourself a New Year’s kiss.

“I’ll miss you, Chan.” You whisper into his ear, teary-eyed.

“Well, you know what they say : Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” He replies like the exceptional composer that he is, holding onto you firmly. Just firmly enough because he wants to hold you like you’re a single snowflake, threatening to disappear if he accidentally squeezes too tightly, but will easily slip away if he doesn’t hold you back. Chan might not know what the future has in store for him but he knows that everything will turn out just fine as long as you’re right here, in his embrace.

Nothing matters when he has both of his hands clenched and remains still in your heart.

four.

[ 3:25a.m. ]

shrek | take care :pp I hate you.

quokka | I’ll give you half of my salary when I get back so please don’t kill me for dropping your favorite mug =)))

Another thing school has yet succeeded in teaching you : how to not be late to literally every single important moment in your goddamn life.

It’s barely forty-five minutes before the flight and you’re THIS close to having a mental breakdown because Chan is actually horrible. Yeah, you kissed him three hours ago and he’s just gonna repay you by booking a flight at three in the morning ? His friends aren’t the best either, really. If Jisung didn’t text you on when you’re brushing your teeth then you would have curled up in your blanket and dozed off.

2020 just arrived and everyone’s already gone wild with their schedules for trips and vacations. Even from the inside of your car, you can still hear people cursing at one another from across the street and be able to bathe in the smell of smoke and gasoline shit. You scrunch your nose at the particular ways someone people prefer to park their cars and carefully park yours neatly in the corner. It’s definitely gonna take some time when you go back to get your car.

Just when you frantically grab your keys and phone your purse before stepping out of the vehicle, you quickly realize that there’s absolutely no need for you to show up. Chan didn’t ask for it, Jisung and Changbin didn’t even ask for it, they just simply wanted to ‘notify’ you about their departure. But there’s still something that’s stirring inside your stomach, which makes it even harder to concentrate while driving.

So you’re determined to find out what that is before he leaves.

And that is also why you’ve chosen to push yourself through the sweaty lines of people queuing up for security, luggage check-in, shopping, and other boring paperwork. Everyone is obviously a bit ticked off since business in airport is slower than a sloth when it comes to holidays. If you were them, you would have just taken a nap on one of the spare benches while waiting for your flight. But the problem is : there’s no empty seats. There are literal people using their jackets as a mattress to sleep on the floor that janitors clean up one two many times with bleach. How tragic.

Besides, it’s been forever since you’ve come to the airport and now you feel like a fucking caveman, just watching the bustling, noisy life passing by with wide eyes. Meaning, you have no fucking idea where their gate is, but you do know that if you’re stubborn enough to have a five-minute staring contest with the map, you’ll figure it out. Hopefully.

After ten minutes of struggling with the map in your hands that’s getting kind of damped from your sweaty palms, you eventually spend another five minutes to race yourself through the packed airport to get to Gate 9 before the plane takes off.

You feel like you really should treat yourself afterwards since running through the airport brings you back to the marathon competition in middle school, the only difference is that it’s ten times more exhausting and time consuming. Changbin better gives you what ever the fuck of a healthy juice and aloe vera sheetmasks that he stores in packs of four inside his carry-on because you’re 80% sure that you look like a strip beef jerky that’s been staying in the oven for way too long.

[ 3:40a.m. ]

y/n | where tf are you guys ?

Just when you finish texting Changbin, you spot Chan in front of a vending machine, struggling with a wallet, and three other water bottles in his arms. And you start pondering how people still think that God is fair and rightful. How is he so fair when he can make Chan look like a freaking celebrity in a simple white dress shirt with black jeans while you’re looking like a raccoon in your denim jacket and leggings ? How is he so rightful when all it takes Chan is one single glance to send your heartbeat over the edges ? But whatever, fuck that. You’re just gonna be slightly salty about Chan looking better than you all the time. Slightly, that is.

Nonetheless, he makes you smile like no other. “Chan !” You call out his name like a maniac, running towards him with no hesitation. Because he’s it, he’s your endgame, and you want to know what it feels like to hold him for the last time before he’s gonna be seven thousand miles away from you for a good three hundred and sixty-five days.

Chan widens his eyes out of surprise when you crash yourself into his embrace, knocking the water bottles onto the tiled floor along with his wallet. Though, he soon regains conscious when his nostrils are filled with your scent, his arms shaking around your waist like second nature. He suddenly smiles brightly, and genuinely in a fairly long time. That alone is enough to prove that you’re the only one who’s capable of making him feel loved.

Chan buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Are you here to ask for my number ?”

“Right, that.” Your mouth forms an ‘o’ in realization. “And.. and… I- I love you, okay ?”

The grin on his face just can’t get any wider now or else his mouth is gonna crack and bleed tremendously. “What was that ?”

“I’m not saying that twice !”

“No, tell me !”

Truthfully, love isn’t just about the horrifying commitment or the metal band wrapped around your ring finger. Love is the persistency in accompanying, offering a shoulder for someone to lean on, so they can be free from reframing themselves in order to not be frowned upon by society. Meaning, they can let go of their pride during hard times, just bursting into tears like a child. The burden is shared and lifted slightly from their shoulders and that’s how love adds a bit of sweetness into reality.

In fact, movies are realistically based on real life, it’s just that everything’s filtered to be picture perfect because humans only see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear. In reality, there’s no certainty that someone will be there to pick you up nor life will leave you alone when you’ve had enough. You won’t even have the slightest chance to look upon the sky and let your tears pour back into your heart, crying is impossible. No, actually, the world is nice, but reality is disastrous so it is your birthright to be terrified of the smallest things. May time be against you, may reality kick you to the curb, may the whole world have their backs turn onto you, you can still hold onto a fragile beam of hope that the entire universe is on your side because you couldn’t have asked for a better person to walk into your life than Chan.

And to him, you’re gonna worth every mile between you both.

❖ p/s : pt.2 is out now!

#bang chan #stayshub #stray kids ot9 #stray kids blurbs #stray kids au #chan fic #stray kids fanfic #stay #kim woojin #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #kim seungmin #lee felix #yang jeongin #christopher bang #shin ryujin #itzy ryujin

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silverinia · 3 years

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I came for Baranski, I stayed for Baranski - a quick Christmas On The Square review someone* actually asked for

(* thank you, anon)

Disclaimer: I am in no way a professional of any sorts when it comes to film and I'm not a journalist either. The last movie review I've written was probably for a school assignment in eighth grade. I didn't do research for this and I've watched the movie exactly one time, so this is just for fun.

It was a Sunday, Sunday the 22nd of November, nearing the end of the train wreck of a year that is 2020. I woke up on an air mattress around seven am, my head aching, my throat itching with pyrosis and light nausea, it was still dark outside behind the closed blinds in front of the windows, when I slowly realised where I was, one of my best girlfriends sleeping next to me in her bed. I had crashed at her place after a warm, fuzzy evening of mulled wine, tacky Christmas movies I would never watch alone (Christmas Chronicles and Holiday Calendar, which I quite honestly didn't enjoy at all, but the company made it fun anyway), doing our nails, wearing the fun kind of face masks for a change and smoking too many cigarettes, as the soft pain in my head informed me right now. She woke up an hour later and the morning went by with coffee and reheated pizza for breakfast, when we decided to watch another movie and I realised that it was THE Sunday I'd been waiting for through Zoom interviews and Dolly Parton twitter memes and the infamous wig gate that will be briefly discussed in the following, and so we clicked on the small icon in the Netflix menu that said "Christmas On The Square".

And oh boy, was it a ride.

To start off, I should mention that I have a hard time watching most modern day American Christmas movies, as I noticed quite vividly again when I watched the two aforementioned Netflix productions last night. The character development is always foreseeable to say the least, the plot lines are plain clichés hunting each other like they're the kids in The Hunger Games, and the writing is generally so bad that you can join the actors in reciting the entire scripts on your first watch. I watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas once a year while I'm gift wrapping and pause every fifteen minutes to shamelessly stare at forties Christine Baranski (I think we should all turn away from the birth of Jesus and instead count our years based on Christine Baranski's date of birth) in flamboyant nightgowns and short Christmas themed dresses, looking so fabulous that every interpreter of Santa Baby ever could only dream of it, I watch Love Actually at least five times a year to lust over Hugh Grant, cry with Emma Thompson and miss Alan Rickman, I enjoy Bridget Jones, which I would definitely consider a Christmas movie, and that's it. That's my yearly Christmas time entertainment routine and I can barely tolerate anything beyond, because I'm still traumatised from the time when I was around five years old and on a holiday family visit where had to sit through National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, the dumbest movie I have ever seen (my apologies if you like it but also, who hurt you?), with my cousins. I hated it. I hated every minute of it. And it scarred me for life.

But this was a Christine Baranski movie, I knew she was going to play the lead and so I was pretty much as excited about this as I could. And the fact that Dolly Parton wrote the whole thing didn't hurt either. As I said earlier to my friend I was watching it with, I have the pop cultural taste of a fifty year old gay man, a quality I am most proud of, and this simply ticked off all my boxes.

I expected something similar to a Mamma Mia experience that wouldn't cause me to crave packing my bags, give Covid the finger and run off to Greece. Light-hearted entertainment, easy to stomach, uplifting music and so little plot that the simplicity feels like a creative choice. That's what my pained, hungover brain knew it could cope with and that's not what I got.

The movie started and I was immediately in the zone. I saw Christine Baranski's name in the front credits (an experience that never fails to make me scream "Yass Queen" at the screen, regardless of where I am and who I'm with, as if I'm the sobering result that pops out of the package when you order Jonathan Van Ness on Wish), the setting was wonderfully corny (I grew up watching Gilmore Girls once a week, so give me warm fairy lights and a gazebo and I'm perfectly happy) and as my friend wondered whether Dolly Parton, in her exaggerated homeless attire that didn't make her look shabby at all, was green-screened into the setting because she stood out so much (which she was because the background dancers were dancing in slow motion, but to be fair, we were probably still a little too drunk to notice that from the start) and I told her I thought that it was just the natural glow someone who's Dolly Parton simply carries with them everywhere they go, I was happy. This was the movie I was prepared for. A movie in which the most problematic thing would be stereotypical characters and the wig they hid Christine's real, flawlessly handmade by God herself hair under.

And then, around five minutes in, Christine Baranski's childhood love interest was revealed as she pressed her perfect pointy nose against the window of his shop and sang about her unrequited love.

And suddenly, things started taking turns at a pace I was still way too sleep-deprived for.

Suddenly, in the middle of my general amazement at seeing Christine Baranski do literally anything and laughing loud at her impeccable comedic delivery, there were unresolved daddy issues, hanging prominently at the wall in her marvellously designed house (she literally says "Daddy" at one point and I couldn't help but think that only someone with her vocal skills could keep from making it sound cringe-worthily kinky). One moment, I was clutching my chest above my heart while she was bonding with little bartender Violet and munching on pretzels while downing some whiskey in that elegant way only Christine Baranski can bond with ten year olds who had it rough, eat pretzels and down whiskey, and the next she felt responsible for said girl's mother's death (which she kinda was too, but I'm not the boss of her). I was still busy making fun of how the very annoyingly, but when you're snacking on pizza with extra cheese at nine in the morning also highly funny, slow talking pastor's name was Christian, and suddenly there was a cancer scare.

It was a lot, a hasty sprint from major issue to major issue with a hint of comedic relief every now and then, and it didn't get any less until the very, rather poorly resolved, end.

The entire, constant up and down was followed by the movie's peak of suspense, the near death of precious Violet, something I couldn't even get too invested in because I was still so busy worrying about Christine's MRT results (I was truly fucking worried), not to mention that I hadn't even started to really process the sudden revelation of the love child and how it had affected her character's actions until this point. Was her constant tendency of pushing people away, as we've seen most clearly with her angel in training assistant who's name I cannot recall right now, the result of her broken trust in her father who practically ripped her son away from her after she had just given birth to him? Was it a result of her never getting the closure she needed with plaid flannel wearing Carl she was clearly still in love with? Maybe both? And what of the many issues was it that made her so incredibly shaken up when Violet blamed herself for her mother's death? Was it 'just' due to the fact that the closed pharmacy was on her, or was there more to it? Was it because she had grown up without a mother herself? Or did I miss a major piece of information because I was momentarily distracted, dumbfoundedly staring at Christine's very blue eyes? No time to ponder on that, little Silverinia, because here comes unconscious Violet in an ambulance, WEE WOO WEE WOO WEE WOO!

I'm not going to go in depth about what plot lines I thought were especially carelessly handled and why, real standouts were the sudden forgiveness towards her father who had still acted like a shitty asshole even though he might have had his reasons, because giving the baby up for adoption just wasn't his choice to make, and the fact that I kind of didn't buy how quickly Regina managed to forgive herself, especially for Violet's mother's passing, considering how deeply her tall, slim, dare I say angelic and entrancing figure was buried beneath the weight of all her issues. It felt rushed and incomplete, but that's as detailed as it gets because my major point is something else.

I think this movie made the great mistake of trying to be more than your average, flat, happy ending Christmas movie. I think no one involved thought it was possible to make it a big hit if the only real plot would've been great Dolly Parton music, fun ensemble dance choreographies, Christine Baranski's outstanding acting skills, fun settings and costumes and a redemption arch with as little plot as it could possibly take to make Christine likable to those who aren't already lost forever in the rabbit hole of being obsessed with her (poor fuckers, can't relate). They didn't notice that with the legends that were involved, they could've easily gone the Mamma Mia way. And I think that's why they tried to include heavier plot lines than most creators would've chosen, experiencing loss at an early age, struggling to find closure, dealing with sickness, teenage pregnancy, parents forcing their choices on their children when they affect their childrens' lives first, adoption, and the fear of losing your kid.

It was a lot and I don't want to say that it didn't work because my friend was crying, like, pretty hard and I questioned my entire existence all through the movie in not the worst way, and I did enjoy it a lot while watching. The "grief is love with nowhere to go" line was a real standout, for example, where the attempt of complexity DID work. It positively gave me fleabag season two, "I don't know what to do with it now, with all the love I have for her." - "I'll take it. It sounds lovely. You have to give it to me." feels, and that's about the biggest praise I can come up with. BUT (and this is written in capital letters because it's the big but) I'm also totally convinced that I wouldn't have enjoyed it if they hadn't cast Christine Baranski for the lead role. In my humble opinion, the hasty, not really at all resolved plot of this movie only worked because Christine Baranski is just a fantastic actress. She quirks a mocking eyebrow and you laugh. She parts her perfectly painted red lips and you immediately hang on them because you don't want to miss a single breath she, a literal goddess, graces us mere peasants of people with. She smiles and you're happy. She laughs and even while she's still laughing, you can't wait to hear her do it again. Her eyes fill with tears and you feel goosebumps on your arms, her voice slightly trembles, a breath hitches in her throat and you feel your heart shattering to pieces. As Chuck Lorre once said, this woman could read you the phone book and you would end up laughing tears because she just gets the job done. She knows what she's doing, she's an absolute pro in her game, and it doesn't matter, not even a little bit, what she's working with, because the work she eventually delivers with it is always at a minimum of 200%. I forced my friend to watch this movie with me because I adore this woman, and I felt for this movie because I felt for her. It wasn't the plot that sadly brutally overestimated itself, it wasn't the songs that I obviously enjoyed, nor the comedic elements that truly made me laugh a lot, it was all her. I came for Baranski, and I stayed for Baranski. This woman can do anything. She can even look graceful in a terrible wig job.

(side note / unpopular opinion: I actually didn't think the wig was all too bad. It wasn't good, actually far from good, but for me, nothing can match the awful wig game of Mamma Mia 2. I loathed that wig, I absolutely cannot stand it. So this didn't feel all that terrible. It definitely wasn't the most problematic part about the movie.)

I enjoyed watching this. It was a nice distraction from all the bullshit in the world. Watching it today was the first thing this year that actually brought me something close to excitement about the holiday season, even though everything will be very different and probably not quite as jolly this year. But it just gave me good vibes and as someone who did not watch this as a film reviewer, that's the biggest part of what leads me to enjoy a movie.

Will I watch this again? For sure. Will I enjoy it when I'm not hungover, having freshly done nails and munching delicious pizza for breakfast? Probably not as much, but it'll still have Christine Baranski in it. Would I recommend watching this? If you share my obsession with Queen B, one hundo. If you don't, probably not.

#Christine Baranski #Christmas On The Square #dolly parton #shitty movie reviews by yours truly

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inyournightmares97 · 5 years

Text

Ultimatum (Part 1)

Park Jinyoung is a master negotiator. He’s used to preying on people’s weaknesses and manipulating them to get his way. So he can’t understand you; a lawyer who sees the world in black and white, as either good or bad. Conflict is inevitable.

But if the two of you can just set aside your differences, perhaps you can perform miracles together

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warnings: Angst, office!au, enemies to lovers!au. Some language.

Part 1: In Which You Win

Part 2: In Which He Wins

Part 3: In Which the Common Enemy Appears

Part 4: In Which You Work Together

Part 5: In Which Nobody Wins (coming soon)

Part 6: In Which Everybody Wins (coming soon)

Midas, they called him in Sales. Because everything he touched turned to gold, and there wasn’t a single lead that Park Jinyoung couldn’t eventually convert into a paying client. He was relentless. His clever tongue worked with his cunning mind to spin even the most unfavorable situation into an attractive opportunity.

Jinyoung was a master negotiator.

He could convince anyone to do what he wanted them to.

Except you.

-----------------------------------------------------

“He’s coming, he’s coming,” Yugyeom hissed urgently. “Wow, he looks maad.”

You didn’t look up from your laptop. There was no need. You could hear the ominous sound of Park Jinyoung’s expensive leather shoes walking towards the Legal Department’s corner of the office. The company had recently adopted an open floor concept, meaning there were no more cubicles or individual offices to hide behind. Just flat tables, couches and colorful beanbags.

The CEO thought the lack of walls and barriers encouraged collaboration and creativity. Really, it just made it easier for people to come and complain to you while you were busy.

A shadow fell over your table.

“Why did you reject the term sheet I submitted?”

You took a deep breath and looked up. Park Jinyoung was undeniably handsome. He had big, innocent brown eyes and kissable plump lips. His shoulders were broad and the buttons of his formal white shirt were slightly strained across his chest. Dark hair fell carelessly into his eyes.

He might have been attractive, if he hadn't been glaring at you like you had murdered his first-born son.

“I didn’t reject your term sheet,” you told him calmly before you turned back to your laptop. There was a meeting in half an hour and you didn’t have much time to prepare. Park Jinyoung always picked the worst time to throw a tantrum. “I made some edits and sent it back to you for approval. You can take your time to approve it and then we’ll draft the agreement accordingly.”

Park Jinyoung’s hand landed on your desk and he leaned forward. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed you.

“Well, I don’t approve. You’ve changed half the terms! It’s an entirely different contract from what I originally negotiated, the client is never going to sign it!” he insisted. His lips were pressed together and you could see his eyebrows furrowing.

“We only changed what was problematic, Mr. Park.”

“You changed most of it,” he corrected.

“Then it would appear that most of it was problematic. This is why we recommend that you have someone from Legal in the room with you when you negotiate with clients. That way, you won’t make promises that the company can’t legally afford to follow through with.”

Jinyoung scoffed. "Oh, I see. So now I'm a bad negotiator?"

God. Did you have to go through this every time Park Jinyoung negotiated a new deal? It was exasperating. He never did what you asked but somehow expected Legal to sign off on his outrageous terms. Just because he could sweet talk the client into paying incredibly large amounts for shitty products didn't mean that his exploitative agreements would hold up in a court of law.

"You're an excellent negotiator, Mr. Park, but we have to do our jobs. There's a reason the legal department is required to approve your term sheets before drafting the final agreement. We have to make sure the company isn't going to be facing any legal risks. In your case, the risks are enormous."

"You have no idea what you're doing."

You bristled. "Don't I?"

Jinyoung's grip tightened on your desk. "This is the biggest client and the largest deal of the year. Do you know how many other companies were bidding for this client? At least fifteen. It's a ten million dollar deal. I got them to accept our terms. Me."

"I know. The numbers were on the term sheet."

Jinyoung spoke through clenched teeth. "Then why can't you just approve it? Come on. Your job is a mere formality, just sign the bloody term sheet and hand it to one of the interns to draft the agreement!"

"I'll do that once you consent to the changes we made."

"The client won't consent to those changes."

"That's unfortunate," you replied calmly as you stood up and closed your laptop. Jinyoung glowered as he watched you slide it into your bag. "If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend. If you want to discuss this further, you can email me and we'll set up a meeting."

"I will be emailing you," Jinyoung promised firmly. He straightened up and shot you a glare before he walked away. You couldn't help but smile as you watched him leave. Not just because you were relieved to be finally rid of him (for now), but also because he had a rather attractive backside.

It was almost worth the whole headache to be able to watch Park Jinyoung walk away.

"Are you done staring at his butt?" Yugyeom asked you cheekily. "You have a meeting to get to, remember?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Do you have all my files?

"Yup."

"Great. I'm off. And uh, do me a favour and block up my calander for the rest of the week with whatever stupid reasons you can think of. I don't want to be available to meet with Park Jinyoung until next Monday. Let him learn how much of a mere formality we are."

Yugyeom grinned. "Understandable."

-----------------------------------------------

"She's ruining the entire deal!" Jinyoung fumed.

Jackson Wang grunted. He'd had too much to drink the previous night. The entire Sales team had gone out to a bar to celebrate meeting their quarterly targets. Jackson now possessed a painful hangover.

"Uh… what?" he asked groggily.

"That witch from Legal!"

"Did she reject your term sheet?" Jackson asked knowingly.

"Worse! She sent it back to me with all the terms altered! Half the conditions are removed and it's an entirely different contract now! If everything has to be according to what Legal wants then why the fuck do I even bother negotiating with the client? How about Legal just hands me the standard contract and I can pass it on to the client and go- here, this is all my Legal team will allow, take it or leave it?"

Jackson hummed. "That would make our jobs easier."

"I spent months negotiating this deal," Jinyoung complained as he paced up and down the corridor. He ran his fingers through his dark hair in frustration. "It took fourteen meetings with the client reps to convince them to give it to us. And what does that witch do? Types on her laptop with her dainty little nails for five whole minutes and destroys my skillfully negotiated term sheet!"

"Hey, how about some coffee-"

"I don't need coffee! I need my term sheet approved by Legal!"

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "O-kay. But you know, what I usually do is that I take Yugyeom or someone else from Legal with me while I'm negotiating the term sheet with the client so I don't have to-"

“You know what her problem is? She’s deluded herself into thinking that the Legal team is somehow important. It’s not. It doesn’t matter what fancy school she came from or what fancy law firms she worked at before this. Sales is what keeps this company running and she should just be grateful for her nice, comfy 9 to 5 job where she has to do nothing except sign off on agreements that other people spent time and effort negotiating!” Jinyoung ranted.

Jackson yawned. “Are you sure you don’t want coffee? Because I was about to send the intern to go get us some coffee. Hey! Hana! Come over here!”

Hana, who had been sitting a few trendy armchairs away and pretending to look busy, jerked her head up and hurried over. She was a cute young college student- perhaps too shy and hesitant to last long interning with a Sales team full of loud and confident men, but her resilience was admirable.

“Yes, Jackson?” she asked hopefully.

“You look exhausted. Why don’t you take a break and get yourself some coffee? Here, take the company card,” Jackson said generously, pulling out his wallet and offering her the company card. “Get yourself a piece of cake too.”

Hana blinked at the card and then looked at Jackson again. “Uh… thanks. Do you want anything?”

Jackson’s smile widened. “Well since you asked, I wouldn’t mind an Americano. Jinyoung will have a latte, with extra cream since he’s had a rough morning.”

“Okay.”

Jinyoung watched out of the corner of his eye as Hana’s shoulders slumped. It had only been a couple of weeks since the younger girl had started her internship with their department, but she’d done little more than file documents and get Jackson coffee. She was often ignored among the hectic schedules and loud voices of the Sales team.

“Hana!” Jinyoung called out.

“Yes?” she asked hopefully.

“I’m going to have a meeting with Legal about my term sheet soon. Go through the original term sheet and also the edited version Legal sent us once you’re back, I want you to attend the meeting and keep yourself updated with the situation. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about red tapism.”

Hana’s eyes brightened. This was the first interesting thing she’d been asked to do all week. “Okay!”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yugyeom shuffled over and cleared his throat.

“Um. You… you have a meeting with Jinyoung at 7pm today,” he told you reluctantly.

Your eyes turned towards him sharply. “What? Yugyeom, I told you not to give him any space to squeeze in until Monday!”

“He sent the intern,” Yugyeom mumbled with a pout.

“The intern?”

“Hana, the intern from Sales. He sent her to ask me to set up a meeting.”

Unbelievable. You resisted the urge to pick up the nearest book and whack Yugyeom’s pouting face with it. How could he be so easily manipulated? Of course Jinyoung would send the pretty young intern from Sales to squeeze a meeting out of Yugyeom while you weren’t around. You groaned and slumped back into your chair.

“Great. Well, since you decided to arrange a meeting that I explicitly told you not to, you can stay back late with me to prepare and attend it,” you replied. You were a kind, but unforgiving boss. “Print out the term sheet and make a note of all the changes we made. I want detailed reasoning behind every edit. Park Jinyoung won’t extract so much as an unnecessary comma out of me.”

“But that’ll take forever!” Yugyeom whined. “We made so many changes!”

You frowned. “That’s why I told you to hold him off until Monday.”

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Yugyeom shuffled away to prepare for the meeting while you leaned back in your chair and sighed. It had been a long day. The company was undergoing a major restructuring, which meant that there were a lot of legal compliances to handle in addition to your ordinary work. You had been hoping to go home early today and take a nice, long shower.

Damn you, Park Jinyoung.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“She’s as stubborn as a mule,” Jinyoung explained to Hana as they walked towards the meeting room. The young intern struggled to keep up with Jinyoung’s long strides while paying attention to what he was saying at the same time. “It’s like talking to a brick wall. She doesn’t listen. She just reads out the rules and insists we follow them to a T. People like her lack compassion. They lack empathy.”

Hana blinked, surprised. But you had seemed nice whenever she saw you. You’d even approached her personally on her first day and helped her understand the employee code of conduct and the procedure to follow in case she faced any harassment or discrimination at work.

“O-Oh.”

Jinyoung kept talking. “You need to learn how to negotiate with people like her. They’re the hardest because they enter the room, determined to get their way no matter what.”

“Don’t you do that as well?” she asked.

What? No. I’m different. I get my way through compromise and collaboration. I suggest creative ideas that work for everyone. That’s how you negotiate a deal. She’s not like that. She doesn’t give a damn what the other person wants or does because she sees everything in black and white. Right and wrong. She issues ultimatums. A good negotiator never issues ultimatums. Repeat after me.”

“A good negotiator never issues ultimatums,” Hana said obediently.

“Good. You’re learning already. Now. What’s our bottom line?” Jinyoung demanded.

“Bottom line?”

“You never enter a negotiation without a bottom line. The bottom line is the worst result that you are willing to accept. If you can’t get the other party to agree to your bottom line, then you walk away from the negotiation immediately. It’s a safety net you set for yourself from clever people who might convince you to giving up more than you should.”

Hana bit her lip. “Bottom line. Right. Um, I guess maybe getting Legal to agree not to change the sub-licensing terms?”

“That’s a good start.”

“But how are you going to manage this? I read the email Legal sent and if she’s really as stubborn as you say then she’s not going to agree to budge on a single one of the terms. Their reasoning is sound.”

Jinyoung smirked. “Reasoning? We don’t need reasoning. There’s only one way to handle people as stubborn as her.”

“How’s that?”

“Persistence. You wear them out.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of Jinyoung’s annoying voice drifted into your ears, but all your exhausted mind could do was vividly visualize his head exploding. How satisfying would that be? To see his pretty face go poof and his blood and brains and innards coat the walls of the meeting room?

It gave you a dark, morbid pleasure.

“Why are you smiling?” Yugyeom whispered from beside you.

"I'm not," you muttered before turning to focus on Jinyoung's monologue again. The poor intern he had brought to the meeting looked miserable, her head was drooping onto the table. But Jinyoung was still going full steam. You forced yourself to wipe the image of his scattered and bloody brains out of your mind and focused on his words.

"-sub-licensing term was the only competitive advantage I had over the other players so I can't go back and tell them that it's off the table now. How would I look? It would damage the image of the company and question our professionalism!" Jinyoung insisted.

You sighed and repeated the same thing you'd been repeating for the past two hours. You were starting to sound like a broken record.

"Offering sub-licensing rights is against company policy."

Jinyoung gave you a dirty look. "So? Is company policy the word of God? It’s not even law. Can't it be changed for a deal as enormous as this one?"

"That's not in my hands."

Jinyoung leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. His dark eyes were suddenly pleading. "Come on. You know that if you refuse to approve this then I'll have to escalate it to Senior Management for approval and that could take weeks. The client wants to sign the agreement next Wednesday. All I need is for you to sign this one document and all our problems go away."

You were too tired to maintain your composure and your patience snapped. "Our problems? Let's be clear, Jinyoung. This is entirely your problem. You offered the client a term that nobody in their right mind would offer."

"I needed to-"

"No, you didn't. You did it because it was the only way you could win the negotiation. I thought the skill of a good negotiator lay getting the client to agree to our terms? Even I could have secured that contract by offering them a sub-licensing term because nobody else does that. It’s something only an imbecile would do and you agreed to do it."

Jinyoung's eyes darkened. "Oh, we're getting personal now?"

"You called our job a mere formality," you reminded him, while Yugyeom nodded furiously to support you. "There are a range of reasons why the company does not offer sub-licensing rights to our clients under non-exclusive licensing agreements, and I shouldn't have to explain them to you because it's all laid out in our business policy. You would know that better than I do, being a direct part of our business and not a mere formality like me."

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "Really? You're going to get snarky? This is a professional environment."

"Yes and it's 10 pm," you replied, slamming your file shut. You were done. "Mr. Park, this meeting has been going on for three hours and we've made no progress. Yugyeom and I are going to get some dinner and go home. You have my edits in hard copy and on email. Once you sign off on them, we'll have the agreement drafted for you and your client to sign."

Jinyoung glowered. "But we haven't-"

"It's the edited term sheet or nothing, Jinyoung. Take it or leave it. This is what I believe negotiators refer to as an ultimatum," you replied firmly.

Jinyoung's lips pressed together and he folded his arms across his chest. The expression in his dark eyes was dangerous.

"Never issue an ultimatum unless you're prepared to face the consequences."

"What consequences? You getting chewed out by the client?" you chuckled as you stuffed your file into your bag and stood up. "I won't be losing a wink of sleep over that. Good luck explaining it to them."

"I can't believe-"

"Hana? Would you like to join us for dinner? We're going to get some pizza," you offered her kindly. The sleepy intern perked up, but her face fell instantly when she noticed the warning glare Jinyoung shot her.

"Uhh, maybe another time, ma'am…"

"Suit yourself. Good night, Mr. Park."

Jinyoung ignored you, and you gestured for Yugyeom to follow you out of the office room. He hurried after you into the corridor nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Mr. Park doesn't look happy. I don't think he's going to let this one go. What could his next move be?" Yugyeom wondered.

You sighed.

"I don't know. But he has all weekend to plan it so let's not get too comfortable."

-------------------------------------------------

Jinyoung's blood boiled whenever he thought of you.

He had never met a woman like you before. You behaved like a strict school-teacher, lording over everyone with the almighty company policy in your hand as if it was some divine teaching and refusing to let anyone toe the line around it. It was just a stupid policy. Jinyoung had never let a document get in his way. Jinyoung had never let a woman get in his way.

Jinyoung had never let anything get in his way.

“So, um… what do we do now?” Hana asked doubtfully. She had seen Park Jinyoung in action before and had watched him negotiate like a wizard. She knew he was an excellent salesperson. But you had played the role of a brick wall during the meeting by refusing to consider any of the options put forward to you. “We didn’t get our bottom line. She refused to accept the sub-licensing terms. What’s the next step?”

Jinyoung bit his lip as he leaned back in his chair. “Do you know what a BATNA is, Hana?”

Hana blinked. “BATNA?”

“It’s an acronym. Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement. If the negotiation fails, what’s our next best choice? Go on. Give it a shot.”

“Uh….” Hana hurried to reach for a copy of the company policies and quickly flipped towards the section which talked about the mechanism for escalating disputes. “I guess according to company policy, we should escalate the issue to senior management-”

Jinyoung let out an irritated huff and closed his eyes. “Hana.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t ever open that company policy book in my presence. In fact, burn it so I never have to see it again. The stupid thing reminds me of that witch,” he snapped. Jinyoung opened his eyes and stared at Hana firmly. “You’re not in the Legal Department. You don’t need the rulebook. You’re with Sales now. Here in Sales, you need to do anything necessary under the sun to secure the deal. So try again, without opening the rulebook this time. What is the best alternative we have to a negotiation?”

Hana shook her head. “I-I don’t know.”

Jinyoung sighed. “Blackmail, Hana. Our next best alternative is blackmail.”

“Uh…”

“I know what you’re thinking. What could that witch have possibly done wrong in her life, could she even have a single black mark on her spotless record?”

“Does she?”

“Of course not. She’s like a teacher’s pet. She derives her iron-clad confidence from the fact that she always follows the rules. You won’t find anything on her no matter how deep you dig. But you know who isn’t that strong and who has done something worth blackmailing?”

Hana blinked. “Who?”

Jinyoung smirked.

“Kim. Yugyeom.”

#got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 scenario #got7 jinyoung #jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung scenario #jinyoung angst #jinyoung fluff #got7 angst #got7 fluff #got7 fanfic #got7 fanfiction #park jinyoung #got7 series #jinyoung series

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jaeknightorbats · 4 years

Text

Tunnel Caprica [M]

Pairings: Baekhyun x Sehun (SeBaek)

Ratings: NC-17

Genre/AUs: Smut, dark romance, slice of life

Description: It was a normal day for convenience store worker Byun Baekhyun when Sehun—a wealthy looking man—entered the store, only getting overdosed by drugs afterwards. It was the encounter that would change Baekhyun’s life. It was the encounter that introduced him to a world that should never exist in this already problematic world.

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, substance use, drug overdose, alcohol, and strong language

Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (NEW!)

Synopsis: Tunnel Caprica connects two cities under the huge and long mountain ranges of the country Ioca [a-yo-ka], making it one of the longest tunnels in the world with a distance of nearly 40 kilometers. However, people choose to drive the 3-hour long pass than driving through the tunnel, because driving through the tunnel can be claustrophobic—an hour drive with nothing but repeating images of the never ending tunnel. But through the tunnel also hides the entrance to another world that Baekhyun is yet to find out.

Part 1

Word count: 3.9k

Just a single response—a single response that could make everything better.

Or could make matters worse.

It had not been long since his girlfriend replied—five hours outmost. But five hours felt like a day to him. Getting used to quick replies, it’s making him crazy as to why he wasn’t getting any response even after sending her messages and giving her calls.

She’s mad.

He couldn’t help but think, and it’s making him weak. He doesn’t like anyone getting mad at him, especially if it was her.

Ple—

He stopped typing. He shouldn’t bother her, she’s at work. He shouldn’t annoy her. She must be annoyed. He wasn’t at work—it was his rest day, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his phone. Nothing worse than that—overthinking.

He dug his face on to his phone, praying to the gods to make a miracle for him.

He waited, and he waited. Still got no response.

Maybe staring at the screen would make a difference. He stared at every icon he could see, scrolled from side to side.

Why am I lying to myself?

Nearly 30, he was, but he could be still naïve at times. He was a high school dropout with divorced parents.

What divorce? They have no money for such things, his parents only lived separately, and things were too confusing for him. He ran away from his home at the age of 17, and started to find ways he could live on his own. Things never worked out for him, still broke at the age of twenty-nine. He’s renting a small, cheap apartment, and he had a third-hand car that needed constant maintenance. He worked at a convenience store near where he was staying, only a 15 to 20-minute walk.

Byun Baekhyun considered himself as a good-for-nothing, and was only working to survive. The only thing that was making him somewhat happy was his girlfriend’s affection. Now, the person giving what he wanted was mad at him.

He took a deep, hopeless breath as he dropped his head down to his table from where he was sitting. At the brink of losing hope, his heart jumped when his forehead felt the vibration of the table coming from his phone.

He didn’t check from who it was, and immediately clicked the notification and read the message.

Disappointed, he was, when the text message was from his carrier, reminding him that his phone bill’s due was approaching.

This girl, now this. His grip to his phone loosen, feeling weak—he could hear his heart beating. He felt like he was losing his mind.

A picture of his wallet flashed through his head, remembering exactly how much money he still had before his next pay. $43.05.

His phone bill usually cost $45.

He didn’t want to double check his wallet, it was too heartbreaking for him. He recently spent most of his money buying his girlfriend a nice dinner and a new phone—a phone she didn’t like that’s why they’re in a fight. She wanted an iPhone. He couldn’t afford such phone. He himself was sticking to his 3-year-old phone. As long as he could send his girlfriend a message, he was fine with any phone.

He pressed his eyes closed, thinking what should he do to pay his dues and to make his girl happy. His feet couldn’t stop tapping—he couldn’t think of a solution.

“Money can’t buy happiness?” he muttered to himself. “Bullshit.”

He stood up from his chair, threw his phone to the sofa just to release some stress—even a tiny bit. He needed a break.

He started walking circles in his small place, thinking of different things how to earn enough money to, at least, pay the bills.

Baekhyun never turned his head so fast when he saw his phone screen flashed from his peripheral view, hearing the vibration from the sofa. His feet dragged him fast towards the sofa and his hand grabbed the phone.

Disappointed again, it was from his friend, Park Chanyeol.

Im coming 2 ur place.

Baekhyun felt so pissed. He was hoping it was from someone better—his girlfriend. “I don’t need you to come,” he muttered to his phone.

Subsequently, a rapid knuckle impatiently knocked on Baekhyun’s door. It paused for a quick while, then started knocking again.

Baekhyun already knew who it was. He stomped his way to the door to stop the noise.

The grin on Chanyeol’s face faded, cocking his brow after he saw Baekhyun. “What’s with the face?” He made his way into Baekhyun’s place without permission and went straight to Baekhyun’s living room.

Baekhyun followed Chanyeol with a glare as he closed the door. “What are you doing here?”

What a stupid question—Baekhyun realized immediately. Chanyeol only visited Baekhyun for one thing, and one thing only—sniff drugs.

“I’m telling you, bro. You should break up with Yuri. She’s just using you,” Chanyeol said as he was pulling out his cheap snuff set from his jacket, placing it on the glass coffee table afterwards.

Chanyeol already knew what was bothering his friend, especially when Baekhyun made a face like what he was wearing. Nothing else bothered Baekhyun but women. Sometimes, Chanyeol knew Baekhyun doesn’t know how to straighten his priorities just for the sake of a woman.

But Baekhyun doesn’t like anyone minding his own business, so Chanyeol only watched him be stupid.

Baekhyun ignored him, and changed the topic. “Hey, when are you going to take home your shot. It’s taking a lot of space on my fridge.” He only had a mini fridge, it could only fit a few drinks and few foods.

“For as long as I don’t need it,” Chanyeol blatantly replied. “I don’t want my mom seeing that, she’ll start asking questions.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You already said that.”

Chanyeol still lived with his parents since he spent a lot of his money on the things he liked to snort.

Baekhyun pulled a chair on the dining table, and watched his friend do his thing.

Chanyeol carefully released a portion of his powered drug from a tiny airless balloon on Baekhyun’s table. Chanyeol pulled his wallet out and took a card to collect the scattered powder on the table and made a thin line with it. He licked the remaining powder that was on his card. Then, took his already-rolled-up bill from his kit. His nose made a loud noise as he snorted the powder. He twitched both sides of his nose and sniffed again, just to make sure his brain received that well. His eyes slightly became watery from the mild burning sensation that went through his nose. He cleaned the white dust excess on the table with his finger and brushed his gums with it—every bit counted.

Chanyeol sighed, satisfied, as he rested his head on the sofa.

“What was that?” Baekhyun asked.

“Heroin.”

Baekhyun was still a traditional man. Drugs never interest Baekhyun. He’s tried a pot, but it was never for him. He’s seen people around him done it, and he didn’t like what it did to them. Besides, these substances cost too much.

“By the way,” Chanyeol lifted his head up and pointed at Baekhyun, “I told boss you’re gonna take my shift tonight.”

Chanyeol also worked at the same convenience store, that’s where they met each other.

Baekhyun reacted, “What?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you. I have some business tonight.” Chanyeol winked mischievously—obviously planning something sketchy.

Baekhyun thought he’d have his rest day for himself.

Then, Baekhyun remembered his bills and his girlfriend.

Maybe he needed that shift.

“Breaking news: Kang Sunmi filed a divorce. The fifteen year old allegedly—“

Snapping fingers diverted Baekhyun’s attention from the television back to his manager who was in front of him. The manager pointed his pen to Baekhyun and said, “That news will stay for a while, customers don’t.”

Baekhyun nodded lazily.

It was past 3AM. He was on his second cup of coffee but he still felt drowsy, his eyes wanted to close itself. He’s not used to night shifts unlike Chanyeol, who could do any shift at any time of the day. Baekhyun still had an 11AM shift after his shift at 4AM. He’ll have less time for sleep, but a little more money for him. He needed every cent.

Less than an hour left.

There weren't many people at the store, so he was pissed off at his boss for being such an uptight motherfucker.

He couldn’t wait for his shift to end, he missed his bed. But he missed his girlfriend, Yuri, a lot more. She was still ignoring Baekhyun’s call and messages, making him miserable. He didn’t know how to make her notice him again.

I’ll pay her a visit after my shift. I’ll be there before breakfast, before she leaves for work. She’ll be surprised, see my effort and sincerity, he thought.

The idea washed away his sleepiness in a snap. He got excited to see Yuri’s face again. Baekhyun hoped she would forgive him and give him a kiss or hug.

His brain cells started to work actively, thinking of what things he should say.

How should I apologize?

Thinking of what he should do.

Should I text her first or knock straight away at her door?

Should I buy her a chocolate?

No, maybe hotcakes. She loves hotcakes.

He was alone with his thoughts, distracted by the challenges of love.

The bell on the top of the door rang when somebody pushed it open.

It woke Baekhyun up from his thoughts, his instinct greeted the customer who got in. “Good evening.” He, then, realized it was already early in the morning. He corrected himself, “Morning, sir.”

They were trained to greet anyone who came in the store.

Baekhyun watched the tall man take big steps as the man walked in, not even turning his head to Baekhyun’s direction. The tall man vanished from Baekhyun’s sight as he passed by the tall shelves.

Baekhyun had seen different types of people enter the store when he took night shifts on some occasions. There were people in pajamas buying food for breakfast, or maybe for their late night snack. Guards, drivers, and night shift employees buying coffee. Normal looking families who were on a trip buying snacks. Bunch of drunk teenagers wearing cropped tops and/or bomber jackets who came from a party buying cigarettes, or water for their friend who kept throwing up. People of any age wearing tacky clothes who were obviously on drugs—he could tell it from their teeth—buying lighters. Some people looked dangerous, he dared not to judge the things they buy, but they were usually alcohol and cigarettes. And, some men buy condoms.

But Baekhyun had never seen a person walk wearing sunglasses. Who wears sunglasses late at night?

What was also striking was the man was wearing an obviously expensive black coat. It was beautiful how vivid the color was; it was the blackest of the black he had ever seen. If the man came from a party, it must be a fancy one, might be a ball, or a fancy wedding of a multi-millionaire. Baekhyun thought the man was lost. The man should have asked his butler or driver to buy things for him.

A pair of heels started to echo his ears—it got louder as it got closer.

Of course, he has matching Italian shoes.

Even the most decent shoes don’t make a sharp sound like that.

Baekhyun turned his head to the man’s direction as the man got closer to the counter.

The man stopped in front of Baekhyun, still holding on to his items. He slightly lifted his head and scanned his eyes around the top shelves that were behind Baekhyun.

Baekhyun noticed the man was wearing a high-end brand of sunglasses. The way the light reflected on the black frame and on the black lenses, it was something else. His skin glowed as the light met his face, showing his healthy and almost poreless skin.

“Do you have anything besides Jack Daniels?” the man started to speak.

Baekhyun turned around and scanned the shelves himself. He knew the man was looking for something hard. “We have Johnnie Walker. Red, black, and double black.”

He rarely drank such expensive alcohol, but he enjoyed the scotch he recommended when he tasted it.

The man scoffed. “I’d take the bourbon.”

Baekhyun nodded and stretched his arm to reach the box of Jack Daniels.

The man placed his item on the counter. Baekhyun scanned the box, and the cotton balls that the man placed.

“Is that all?”

The man looked down at the front of the counter, turned his head from left to right, searching for something. He finally reached for something that caught his interest. He lightly threw the item on the counter

“That’d be all,” he said as he revealed a part of his side body under his coat, reaching his back pocket for his wallet.

“$27.14,” said Baekhyun after scanning the box of condoms—the ultra-thin one.

The man took another item in front of the counter the moment it caught his attention.

Baekhyun scanned a small bottle of lubricant. “$38.54”

The man initially took a hundred-dollar bill out from his wallet but he put it back. He extended his arm, slightly revealing a shiny silver watch under his sleeve, and gave three 20s instead.

The man looked at Baekhyun and said, “Keep the change.”

Baekhyun's eyes slightly widened, his lips curved upward. He couldn’t be happier, he needed every cent of money he could get.

It must be his lucky day.

“Thank you, sir!”

The man cocked both of his brows as a response while he put the smaller items inside his coat and carried the bourbon by the hand. Then, Baekhyun watched the man leave the store.

Baekhyun couldn’t stop grinning as he put the change on his wallet after he cashed in the payment.

“That was a nice watch,” he muttered to himself. It was like love at first sight when he saw the man’s watch. It was still at the back of his head.

Baekhyun looked at the store’s watch.

Ten minutes left before 4:00.

He started to fix his things at the staff room. Removed his tacky uniform under his white shirt, and wore a cozy jacket. He bid his goodbyes to his co-worker and manager and left the store at 4:05AM.

Cold wind blew on his face, making him shiver. He dug both of his hands on the pocket of his jacket, and started to walk across the almost empty parking lot.

He couldn’t spot a single person around. Few vehicles, yes. It was still early. The area of the city he’s in wasn’t exactly the busiest.

Baekhyun put a smile on his face. “I’m gonna buy hotcakes. I’m gonna see Yuri.” He felt excited. He tried to paint the look on Yuri’s face when she saw him at the front of her doors.

“We’re gonna have breakf—“

A long honk of a car distracted Baekhyun from walking. He turned his head where he heard the noise, but he couldn’t see anything—it was too dark, and the parking lot was too huge.

He turned around, checking if other people were around. But he was alone.

It was still honking, it wouldn’t stop. There was panic in Baekhyun’s eyes, his heart started to pound hard, he was nervous. Other parked cars seemed peaceful. His eyes searched everywhere, but he seriously couldn’t see anything. He started to walk hesitantly where the loud beep was coming from, he was unsure.

Silence.

Baekhyun’s ears rang and felt deaf after the vehicle stopped honking. But he was still worried. His feet wouldn’t move, his mind went blank, his ears still ringing.

Then, a tiny, orange light suddenly emerged from his sight from where he was walking to. The light was from inside a car. He could see tiny silhouettes in it.

He started to walk forward, but still hesitant. He turned his head from left to right to check if there were other people besides him. He was still alone.

The light got closer and closer as he walked nearer.

“HEELP!”

A loud screech of a woman alarmed Baekhyun, putting him to a stop.

“HEEELP!”

Baekhyun ran as fast as he could to the light, to the woman’s voice who cried for help. He saw the woman looking in his direction. Baekhyun was having a hard time to breathe because of the cold wind blowing against him, but he ran faster after he saw an unconscious man next to the woman.

Baekhyun panted heavily when he finally reached the vehicle. Him and the woman looked at one another with panic in their eyes.

“HELP!” The woman cried while she was shaking the man on his shoulders.

Baekhyun shifted his look to the man—it was the man who tipped him earlier. He was unconscious.

Baekhyun opened the door. “What happened?!”

The woman was in a state of panic, she didn’t know what to say. She was only worried for the man.

“Have you called 911?”

The woman blinked. “Are you fucking crazy?!”

Baekhyun looked around the vehicle. He saw a spoon, an elastic band, a syringe, a dust of power, and cotton balls. Baekhyun suddenly noticed the man had his sleeve rolled up.

“He fucking OD’ed?!” He concluded after he saw the things around them. The man got overdosed by some drug.

The woman didn’t know what to say. Her eyes were shaking—she was unsure if she should trust the man.

“You must call 911, or he’ll die!” exclaimed Baekhyun.

“No, no, no. Please don’t call them!” the woman begged.

Baekhyun knew if they called 911, they'd go to jail after he regained his consciousness because they were doing illegal drugs.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun cursed, he knew the woman won’t change her mind—he had met a lot of people on drugs, so, he somewhat understood. He removed his jacket, dropped both his bag and jacket on the concrete.

He stepped up to their high SUV and searched for the recliner lever of the man’s seat. But he couldn’t find it. “Where’s it?! How do you recline this fucking seat?!” Baekhyun yelled at the woman.

The woman jumped in panic, “Fuck.” She pulled something behind the seat of the man she was with to recline the seat.

Baekhyun lent his face to the man’s face to feel and listen if he was breathing. He wasn’t. “Fuck.”

“Don’t fucking die on me, Sehun,” the woman begged, pulling her hair. Her eyes began to tear up.

Baekhyun held the man’s face upward. He’s going to perform CPR.

He had his face close to the man, then the woman spoke. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Do you want him to fucking die?!”

Baekhyun exhaled all the air from his lungs and passed it to the man. He pumped his chest with both of his hands intertwined.

No response.

Baekhyun performed another around. He gave air, pumped the man’s chest.

Still, no response.

Baekhyun performed another, and another, and another round.

“Fucking shit. Don’t die on us, man.” He kept pumping his chest, sweat was breaking on his forehead despite the chilly climate.

The man wasn’t breathing.

Then, Baekhyun remembered his friend, Chanyeol. He remembered that he had Chanyeol’s adrenaline shot in his fridge.

“Fuck.”

Baekhyun carried the man on his shoulders and transferred him to the back of the car.

“What are you doing?!” The woman freaked out, confused. She followed them behind the car.

“Keep giving him CPR. I have something in my place that might help.”

Baekhyun went in front of the car, fixed the seat, and started driving. He drove as fast as he could to his place, he had the hazard lights on, he didn’t stop at any red light, he kept honking the car on every car that was on his way. Every second counted. The man could die at any moment.

They reached his place in 3 minutes.

Baekhyun carried the man on his shoulders and ran as fast as he could to his door steps.

Baekhyun’s eyes widened. His keys were in his bag.

He left his bag in the parking lot.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This isn’t happening,” he muttered to himself.

“What? What’s happening?!” The woman freaked out while she held the man’s face behind Baekhyun’s back, trying to wake the unconscious man.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun panicked. He didn’t want to let the woman know. She’d make him freak out more if she knew.

Baekhyun searched his pockets. He was starting to feel the weight of the man on his shoulders. Baekhyun gulped. Then, he felt the bulk in one of his pockets. It was his wallet. He remembered he had a spare key in his wallet.

He immediately took his wallet and searched for the key inside his wallet.

It was the biggest relief of his life when he felt the cold brass meet his finger. It was his key.

He opened the door, then carefully placed the man in his living room.

“Keep giving him CPR,” he ordered the woman as he ran as fast as he could to his mini fridge, and took a package on the top shelf.

He ran back to the man. His hands were shaking. He had read the instruction of how to use the shot countless times when he had nothing to do with his time and when he attempted to throw it away because it took a lot of space. Chanyeol had also told him how to use the shot once or twice just in case Chanyeol got overdosed himself. But Baekhyun still read it, just in case he read it wrong before.

But he was shaking, his head couldn’t think straight. There was an unconscious man in front of him.

“Fuck this shit.”

He’ll have to trust his memory.

He opened the package, and there was a tiny bottle that came with a huge syringe in it.

“Rip his shirt open,” Baekhyun commanded the woman as he tried to inject the 6-inch needle to the bottle with his shaky hands.

Baekhyun breathed heavily. He held his hand high over his head with the syringe, focused on the man’s chest. He had to inject the shot hard enough to get through his ribcage to his heart—to make his heart pump again with the adrenaline shot.

Baekhyun’s breath got heavier and heavier by the second.

Just a single response.

Baekhyun held his breath and stabbed the man with the needle.

A single response that could make everything better.

The man arose from his position, making a loud noise as he inhaled every air his lungs could get as he came back to life.

In a shaky voice, breathing rapidly, the man cursed, “Fuck.”

Or could make matters worse.

To be continued...

J/N: Send notes, reblog. Follow me on twitter @/jaeandbats for updates

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Tunnel Caprica: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (NEW!)

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aire101 · 4 years

Text

Ferrum Intro

My brain absolutely, positively refuses to focus on romance atm, which means I have made no progress on my WIP and instead my brain ended up producing this concept which I will probably continue at least until I get it out of my system. So here’s the beginning of a post-Endgame MCU/SAO Irondad fic that I went online to read, discovered it didn’t exist yet, and so could NOT GET OUT OF MY DAMN HEAD.

-------

It had been a long day.

Then again, every day seemed like a long one lately.

It had been a relatively beautiful November day for New York City, and with the approaching holidays Peter was starting to see the usual uptick in petty crime begin this season. Within his five hour patrol he had helped eight lost tourists, found one lost pet, caught two armed burglars and tied up a ridiculous number of petty thieves. Nothing too problematic, just another day in the life of our friendly neighborhood Spider-man.

Peter sat crouched on a roof looking over the newest Iron Man mural to pop up, this time right on the edge between Queens and Brooklyn. There were several around town already, but this one was especially heart-wrenching. Most were either of the armor mid-action or of Mr. Stark in his trademark press look. But this one was different in the best and worst way.

In this art, Mr. Stark was still in his armor, but the helmet was retracted, allowing the viewer to see the blood crusted on his face, the lines of worry even deeper than they were before everything had gone to hell. There weren’t many pictures of Mr. Stark from the five year period now known as the Blip, but in the ones there were Peter knew he had looked like this— tired and worn in a way Peter had never seen, but could well understand. All in all, it looked uncannily similar to the last time Peter had seen him. When—

Anyway—

And on the shoulders of this mural’s Tony Stark rested an enormous orb holding dozens of galaxies spiraling around a central point— a tiny arc reactor in the shape of a heart.

There was still a little while before he would be expected at Ned’s tonight, but the more he tried to convince himself to hit the streets again, the heavier his limbs felt.

He couldn’t do it. Not like this. Experience told him it was a recipe for disaster, likely to get himself or someone else badly hurt. Himself he could handle, someone else… his conscience couldn’t take another body added to its count right now. Besides, he had promised Ned he’d be there tonight.

Peter sighed and swung away from his rooftop perch to head back towards Ned’s, not sparing the art a backwards glance.

No matter how good it was, no reproduction could ever duplicate what he had lost.

----------

“Whoa, you’re early,” said Ned with a mild tone of shock. Which honestly… was probably fair. “I wasn’t expecting you for at least another thirty minutes.”

“Yeah, I decided to call it a night early. It was actually pretty quiet tonight anyway. Didn’t want to get too wrung out on the web considering we have plans tonight,” said Peter as he stepped into the Leeds’ apartment, slipping off his shoes and hanging his coat on the rack. “Where is everyone?”

“Dad has to work tonight, and mom and Angelica went to Laser Bounce earlier, but they should be back before too long. I stayed home to finish some stuff up before the launch tonight. Plus, I wasn’t sure when you’d be getting here, so…”

“Sorry, I should have messaged earlier.”

“You’re alright man. Like I said, I had some stuff to wrap up. I plan to be in-game as much as possible tomorrow,” said Ned as they moved into his bedroom.

“You sure you don’t mind me getting the first run tonight? They might have some secret opening event planned for the first few hours…” asked Peter.

“I am absolutely positive. I am going to have plenty of opportunities to lose unhealthy amounts of sleep to this game. Besides, between the two of us I think you need the break more than me. On a related note— you look terrible man. Have you been sleeping at all?”

“I sleep,” said Peter defensively. “I don’t really need much though, you know?”

“Physically, sure. Mentally? You’re still just as human as the rest of us Peter. Have you talked to May about it? Or Happy?”

“Can we please drop this? It’s just been a long day, alright?”

“What happened? I thought you said it was mostly quiet?” asked Ned, confused.

“I meant it was quiet for New York, I was still busy pretty much all evening,” said Peter, falling backwards onto Ned’s bed.

Ned sat down at his computer, spinning around to face Peter. “Fine, but I’m definitely going to harass you later, and you better actually sleep after we trade off in a few hours. Anyway, I am SO PSYCHED or this! God I hope its worth all the hype.”

“I can’t imagine it being a flop. The tech behind it is revolutionary, and the head developer has been working on the game for like a decade,” said Peter, as he scrolled through the GameSpot special coverage from that day.

“Wasn’t SI contracted to consult on it, too?” asked Ned.

Peter felt his throat begin to constrict. The nails of his right hand bit into the flesh of his palm as he forced himself to take a slow breath—hold—and release…

“Yeah, Mr. Stark consulted on it himself. Some of the engineering on the headset is similar to the BARF technology. I think he might have worked on a couple system AI’s as well.”

“That is so cool man. So this is almost like his last tech contribution? Last gift to the world…”

“I doubt that. It was just a consult job, most of the work was done by Argus. Plus, Mr. Stark had years worth of projects and updates on file. We’ll probably see things he had a hand in being released for the next ten years at the least,” said Peter.

“Still pretty cool though,” said Ned with a shrug.

At that moment, Peter heard the sound of a key being inserted into the lock of the front door.

“Looks like they’re back,” he said, continuing to scroll, this time through discussions on Reddit.

“Have you had dinner yet? You know if you haven’t she’s going to force you to eat before you dive.”

“Nah, I didn’t get a chance to stop off earlier. What kind of leftovers do ya have?”

“I think there’s meatloaf and some chicken adobo left at the moment.”

“Yaaasss… Chicken adobo…”

Just then Ned’s bedroom door opened, and Mrs. Leeds poked her head in, a large smile on her face.

“Peter! I thought I saw your coat by the door! I’m glad you were able to make it tonight! Edward has been excited about the sleepover for weeks,” she said.

“Oh my god, mom! It’s not a sleepover! I doubt we’ll even sleep much!”

“Isn’t that what sleepovers are about?! You’re ridiculous… Anyway, have you eaten?” Mrs. Leeds asked, looking at Peter.

Peter had to bite back a smile, but shook his head.

“Hala ka, you’re going to waste away into dry bones! I don’t care how busy you are these days, you shouldn’t be skipping meals. You’ll blow away in a strong breeze. Come, I’ll heat something up. I know how bad you boys get about eating when its a normal game. A full immersion VR? You’ll forget you even have a real body that needs sustenance.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Peter, dutifully following her into the kitchen.

“You are in luck. We have some leftover chicken adobo from last night. I know you like that recipe. Did May ever give it a go?”

Peter flashed back to the gloopy, slightly charred mess that was May’s attempt at cooking the dish. “Eh… Yeah but it wasn’t quite the same. Still needs a bit of work.”

“Huh,” Mrs. Leeds said, sounding confused.

“Peter!” shouted a voice from behind him.

“Hey Angie,” said Peter, before he felt arms wrap around him from behind in a bear hug.

His heart throbbed in his chest. His breath caught and wouldn’t come.

Thanos was coming for the gauntlet he couldn’t let him have it he had to run the aliens were grabbing him he had to—

“You never come around anymore! It’s been months—!”

“Stop that Angelica. It’s been a crazy year, and Peter stays very busy between school and an internship. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed? It’s already way passed bedtime.”

Angie rolled her eyes dramatically but stomped back off towards her room to do as she was asked.

“Sorry, dear. She just missed her big brothers, you know.”

Peter did his best to force out a grin, but he wasn’t sure just how well it came off because the next thing he knew Mrs. Leeds was giving him a tender kiss on the head and muttering about making some cups of cocoa.

It was moments like this that he truly felt the strange reality of the fact that he had lost five years of his life. On the surface level everything felt mostly the same— Aunt May along with the majority of his friends had also been snapped, as well as several of his teachers. But while they were gone, Ned’s little sister aged from an innocent five year old, to a ten year old girl who had grown in a world in more confusion, pain and desperation than Peter could really comprehend. Freshman he had helped tutor in school had graduated. Families he had known were irreparably torn apart, seemingly overnight.

It felt like while he was still the same, the rest of the world had tilted slight to the left, leaving him unbalanced and unsure where to step next. He’d always felt a bit out of place anyway after the spider bite, but now it was so much worse. Sometimes Peter wanted a taste of what normal used to be like, without freaky spider powers, world protecting responsibilities and the guilt of looking around him and wondering if he deserved to be here at all.

He glanced at the clock that hung on the wall— fifteen minutes till midnight.

“I should probably go brush my teeth too and get settled in. The server will open soon,” said Peter as he stood.

“Yeah, though there shouldn’t really be much to do other than to actually connect since we calibrated your account the other day,” said Ned.

Within ten minutes Peter had taken care of his nightly necessities and given Angie and Mrs. Leeds both a hug goodnight, settling in on the upper bunk of Ned’s bed.

“Last time I’m asking— are you sure you don’t mind me giving this the first run?” asked Peter.

Ned sighed and spun around from his computer to send Peter an exasperated look. “Do you not want to take it on its maiden voyage?”

“That’s not what I said,” Peter rolled his eyes.

“Then stop worrying. Just have a good time for once. Also, I downloaded a couple files to the gear. Not sure how reliable it is yet, but a few beta testers put out some first floor tips on the DL as a downloadable in game file, so check that out once you dive. It might help out a bit.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

“No problem. Now get going, and be sure to take plenty of notes in your journal to send me later.”

“See you around, kid.”

“I am older than you are by two months. Shut up and dive, loser.”

Peter smiled as he fitted the Nervegear onto his head, laid back and said, “Link Start.”

———————

In a remote, nondescript server room a certain file kicked to life. It’s programming had been remotely accessed, a mere accident of oversight. The digital pathways that connected it to the Argus servers, while known about, had been forgotten in the chaos of the last few years. The file was not one created within the system, but one created to interact within it. The Cardinal system downloaded the precious data, implementing it in the category that best described its form and function.

Program designation: Client

System ID: Ferrum Vir

Administration level: GM

. . . .

Installation Complete

————————

At 12:00 am EST on November 5th, 2023 (1:00 pm JST), Peter Parker joined 10,000 others in the world’s first full dive MMORPG— Sword Art Online.

And so did a very confused Anthony Edward Stark.

#tony stark #peter parker #irondad #irondad and spiderson #marvel cinematic universe #iron man #spider-man #MCU #sword art online #mcu/sao #fanfiction #crossover fanfiction #ai tony stark #post endgame #mostly canon compliant #im not even sure what to tag this #i have no idea where im going with it #aire101 writes #not ffh compliant

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ramajmedia · 5 years

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Grey's Anatomy: 10 Of The Worst Things Meredith Has Ever Done

Meredith Grey has been through more than her fair share of trauma throughout Grey's Anatomy's fifteen seasons. From losing her mother, her sister, her husband, and so many others, it's understandable that having to endure such hardship would change Meredith for the worst.

Meredith is, of course, the main focus of the series and has been from the beginning, but with everything that's happened and all that she's been through, has she really changed that much? Characters like Alex Karev have gone through significant evolution and impressive character development, but Meredith still seems very much like she did at the beginning of Grey's Anatomy.

Meredith Grey has been through some horrible things but she's also done some horrible things herself. Let's take a look at 10 of the worst.

10 THE BOMB INCIDENT

Throughout the series, Meredith has struggled with troubling mental health issues such as suicidal tendencies. This was primarily relevant in the early seasons, and Meredith has come a long way since then, but some of her risky moves just can't be forgotten.

RELATED: Grey's Anatomy: Every Season Finale, Ranked

It's The End Of The World and As We Know It were two episodes that followed the storyline of a patient arriving at Seattle Grace with a bomb in his body. The two episodes were some of the highest-rated in Grey's history and were certainly an unforgettable thrill ride. As great as the episodes were, though, Meredith grabbed the bomb and showed no attempt at self-preservation, which is just insane.

9 CHOOSING DEREK

Meredith and Derek's romance is still one of the most beloved on TV and it garnered a massive fanbase. People loved these two, but when you look past Ellen Pompeo and Patrick Dempsey's magic chemistry, the way Derek treated Meredith sometimes was pretty problematic.

RELATED: Grey's Anatomy: The 5 Best Cliffhangers (& 5 of the Worse)

There were countless red flags in the early stages of their relationship that Meredith probably should have picked up on. Derek's behavior is by no means her fault, but she should have known her worth and got out of that relationship. Maybe choosing Finn the veterinarian wouldn't have been such a bad choice after all...

8 HER RELATIONSHIP WITH GEORGE

Meredith's friendship with George was questionable, to say the least. Their dynamic could have been cute and healthy, but the writers insisted on pushing the tired, cliche storyline in which George was madly in love with Meredith. If this had just gone on for a few episodes, that would have been fine.

RELATED: Grey's Anatomy: The 10 Best Love Triangles, Ranked

But George's crush on Meredith soon led her to use him after one of her many break-ups with Derek, and that was simply selfish.

7 HER REJECTION OF LEXIE

Lexie Grey was introduced late in Grey's Anatomy's third season, and would later die tragically in a plane crash at the end of season 8. This means that Meredith and Lexie had around five seasons together, and some sisterly bonding should have taken place.

RELATED: Grey's Anatomy: 10 Meredith Grey Quotes We Can All Relate To

But Meredith rejected Lexie immediately and shut her out for several seasons. The storyline was just a shame, especially Meredith had just started to get close to Lexie right before she died.

6 SHUTTING OUT DEREK'S FAMILY

Meredith has a real issue with shutting people out. Considering her difficult early life, that's obviously justified, but Meredith takes it to the extreme far too often. Not only did she shut out Lexie, Richard, several of her friends, and Derek at times, but she also shut out the Shepherd family at the worst possible time.

Derek's sudden death was absolutely heart-wrenching and arguably the worst thing Meredith has gone through on the show. But that doesn't mean she shouldn't have informed Derek's family when he was put on life support.

5 ASKING TO BE SHOT

Out of the many slightly suicidal risks Meredith has taken, begging a mentally ill man to shoot her instead of Derek has to be one of the worst. Meredith would do anything to protect the people she loves, of course, but that doesn't mean she has to throw herself under the bus for them.

Not to mention, Meredith was in the early stages of pregnancy at the time, so she was willing to give up her life and her potential child's life for Derek.

4 SYMPATHIZING WITH A MURDERER

When Meredith sympathized and attempted to help a murderer, both Cristina and Derek became furious with her. The patient was admitted to Seattle Grace with head trauma and Derek - along with several others - wanted to make sure the man lived so that he would rightfully spend the rest of his life in jail.

RELATED: Grey's Anatomy: 10 Hilarious Memes Only True Fans Will Understand

But Meredith just wanted to put the guy out of his misery and trying to help a murderer was just not a smart move on her part.

3 LOSING TOUCH WITH CRISTINA

This is not something that is completely Meredith's fault. Obviously, the show could not keep Cristina on the show after Sandra Oh departed, but they did attempt to have Meredith and Alex maintain contact with her...at least, for a short while.

RELATED: Grey's Anatomy: 10 Times the Show Broke Our Hearts

The end of the Meredith and Cristina friendship was one of the most heartbreaking moments on the show, the fact that the two "twisted sisters" have ultimately drifted apart makes matters even sadder.

2 SABOTAGING HERSELF

Meredith's issues with loving herself and accepting herself have been present since the very beginning of Grey's, and honestly, not much has changed, fifteen seasons later. Meredith has covered some ground and made a bit of progress with her issues, but they still rear their heads from time to time.

It seems that Meredith still wastes no time sabotaging herself when things are looking good. She has sabotaged career opportunities, relationships, and happiness countless times.

1 HER ROMANCE WITH NATHAN

It's a general consensus among the Grey's Anatomy fanbase that the show probably should have given Meredith more time to grieve Derek's passing before having her move on to new relationships. In the Grey's universe, a year had passed since Derek's death, but in real life, it had only been a few weeks.

Forcing romances with random guys was a bad move on Grey's part, and Meredith's whirlwind romance with Nathan Riggs is no exception. The two lacked chemistry, and the entire storyline made everyone look bad.

NEXT: Grey's Anatomy: 10 Storylines That Have Aged Poorly

source https://screenrant.com/greys-anatomy-10-worst-things-meredith-ever-done/

#screenrant

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sithlordintraining · 6 years

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Knight of the Night (Modern Superhero/Vigilante Au!Matt)

A/N: I have the flu, but Reader and Kylo finally cross paths. Unexpectedly.

Summary: Matt Organa-Solo, a 21-year old psychology student at Academia: University of First Order. He was the only child of Senator Leia Organa-Solo and Retired Chief of Police Han Organa-Solo. It was a problematic community, but not as terrible as some other towns and colleges. But somehow, he always found himself always somehow saving someone, literally. After a crazy night, will Matt dare venture to become the hero this place needs?

Knight of the Night Collection

Vol. #7- Two’s A Company, Three’s A Crowd

Matt waited for you at the fountain, he looked at his watching. It was 9:57, you got out of class at 9:30 and it was less than a fifteen-minute walk from the building. His dark brows were set in a deep scowl as he waited for you to come. The two of you were going to have lunch together. The familiar sound of your laughter. He looked up to see your famous curls whip through the breeze with a wide smile. His lips tugged at the sight of you, forgetting that you were late. That was until he turned to the side and saw Roger O’Malley next to you. It was definitely petty for Matt to hate this guy, but he refused to say he was jealous. Roger was one of the members of Phasma’s international students' club when they had the potluck. He had accidentally bumped into you and his Irish charm captured your heart. Well, that was an exaggeration, but you couldn’t help but fall for his Niall Horan-esque looks and his sweet nature made you instantly hit it off. Not to mention, Phasma telling her good things about the guy as if she was trying to set them up. Which drove Matt mad, you were with him! Well, technically not, but still. Everyone knew there was something between them.

“Matt!” You approached him. “I’m sorry I’m so late, I saw Roger helping these people and I just had to tell him how nice that was.” You gushed and a deep red blush covered Rogers features. Matt resisted rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry mate, I wouldn’t have kept her long if I would’ve known you had a date.” Roger apologized. Matt pressed a hand on your lower back and thanked him as he took you away from the boy. While keeping up, you turned to wave Roger a goodbye. “What was that?” You turned to Matt. A scowl had permanently set on his face as the pair continued to walk. “Nothing.” He mumbled. You stopped in your tracks. “It’s something if you’re mad at me.” “I’m not mad at you!” Matt’s tone came off harsher than he would’ve liked and it made him angrier. “I’m not mad, I-I just wanted us to have a nice lunch...together.” Matt sighed, with pink ears peeking out of his blond locks. A smile settled on your lips, he was jealous, but you wouldn’t tease him about it. “Alright, let’s go.” You held your hand out so he could lead the way. A boyish grin covered his features as he grabbed it, leading you to lunch.

Y/N’s giggling could be heard throughout the crowded restaurant. Matt tried, but failed, to keep his infatuated smiling at bay; you were just funny and adorable and everything you did made him smile. With his arms crossed on the table and him taking in everything that made you, he wondered how someone such as yourself would be interested in him. You were beautiful, stylish, talented, funny, smart, witty, caring; not that he wasn’t smart or caring, but you were the whole package and he didn’t understand how someone as weird-looking and awkward could get you. “There you are!” The two turned to see Phasma in oversized bamboo sunglasses. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Phasma slid into the booth next to Y/N completely ignoring Matt. “Hello Phasma,” He was ignored as Phasma complimented your outfit. “Anyways, I just saw Roger.” The mention of his name made Matt want to punch the wall beside him. “And he wants to ask you out on a date!” Phasma squealed as your lips parted slightly. Matt clumsily knocked down the utensils on the tables. The girls looked at him before talking when he went to retrieve the items under the table. “Phasma, no what about Matt?” You whispered. Matt froze under the table. “What about him Y/N? I already told Roger that you two were nothing, don’t worry. I told him you’re free on Thursdays.” No words left your lips and Phasma took that as a yes. She hugged you tightly. “It’s been like almost two years since you went out, I’M SO EXCITED!” You rolled your eyes at her. Matt finally sat up to see you laughing. He would not lose you to Roger.

Matt watched Nassar hit the punching bag behind the mask. Though he was there, his mind was on you. It was five days until your date and he felt that he had to do something. “You’re distracted, what’s wrong?” Matt asked him. A staticky sigh left his helmet Nassar’s helmet. “It seems no matter how much we stop the crime, it increases. Plus, I’m still feel defeated on how I lost that guy the other day.” Nassar spoke honestly; there were just too many men that night and one got away. Silence filled the hot, sweat-thickened room before a question was asked. “Is it possible to add another person? There would be more eyes on the community as well as back-up in case one of us needs it.” Nassar spoke clearly, ready to provide more facts for convincing. Matt pondered over this, Nassar watched as his fellow vigilante’s helmet tilted. “Of, course Nassar.” The mechanical voice spoke making Nassar believe that there was more. “Do you have someone in mind?” He asked. “Yes...actually, I do.” Matt moved to a secluded part of the house to prepare for his new Knight.

Roger busied himself with wiping down the table at the hotel-restaurant he bus-boyed at for extra cash. The flickered as he tried to finish the last three tables, but soon all the lights went off. He stood frozen in the dark. “Hello?” His Irish accent grew thick with fear. “Michael? Jorge?” He called out for some of the other workers at the hotel restaurant. The lights flickered on to reveal a tall, dark, helmeted figure standing before him. “Roger O’Malley,” The loud voice makes Roger quiver and he is unable to speak, so he nodded. “Do you know who I am?” He asked and Roger shook his head no. “Well, you should. Now follow me.” The figure turned around taking quick steps, making Roger take long strides just to catch up with the mysterious figure. With wide eyes, Roger exited twisting the dish rag as he took in a larger helmeted figure standing by a black SUV. “Get in.” Roger didn’t need to be told twice. He was blindfolded the whole journey and was helped out of the truck and into a house. Hopefully, not to be killed. When it was removed he saw the first man in front of him and the larger one behind. “You might not know who I am, but you will. I am Kylo Ren and this is Nassar Ren, my fellow Knight.” Kylo said. “Yo-you’re the Knights of the Night.” Roger stuttered. “We’ve seen you’re contribution of being a good samaritan at your school and we think you will be a good fit,” Kylo said and Roger smiled. “Really Mr. Ren?” He asked in his accent. Kylo nodded. “I promise I won’t let you down. I’ll continue to help the fight.” Roger laid his right hand over his heart.

Roger received the name Olcan Ren. He was the smallest of the trio, which means he had to work twice as hard to keep up. And Matt had no problem with pushing him to the brink. It only frustrated him that he kept his positive outlook. And it didn’t help that his jealousy was fueling this. Matt could admit to a handful of times, messaging Roger when he was talking to you. He felt bad for doing this to you, but Matt really liked you and he didn’t want to mess up anything with you. So, excuse him for taking it slow. And as Thursday approached, Olcan was being scheduled for longer and enduring practices, if he wasn’t shadowing Kylo or Nassar. Matt walked across the lawn where Hux told him to meet him. Growing closer, he saw Phasma and Hux, right beside them was Y/N and Roger. Matt clenched his fist as he continued his steps. The sight of your fingers grazing Roger’s stubble had his chest tightening. “Hey, Matt!” Phasma said, causing you to snap your head to Matt. For a second, your eyes locked before he was returning them to Phasma. “Hey, are you guys ready to go to the movies?” He tried his best to hide his apparent anger. “Yeah, Roger would you like to join us?” Hux asked and Matt was 95% sure he would smother him in his sleep tonight. “Oi, I wish. But, I’m pulling extra shifts to take this one here on a nice date.” Roger pressed a kiss to your cheek as you bit back a smile. “Don’t overwork yourself and get some sleep.” You replied. Rolling his eyes, Matt looked the other way as Phasma began to coo.

The ride to the movie theater was awkward, standing online for snacks was awkward, and finding seats was awkward. Basically, anything between you and Matt was awkward. The only seats available for four people had two seats in one row and two seats behind. Of course, Hux being the devil he is, decided to sit next to Phasma. Leaving Matt to now try not to sit too close to her. Matt held the popcorn awkwardly in his hand. “Um...do you want some?” He turned to you. You shook your head no and continued to drink your Slurpee. The two of you stayed silent as the movie trivia played. “So...are you looking forward to your date?” He asked awkwardly. (Y/e/c) blinked a few times at him, surprised that he actually wanted to know. “Yes...no, well it’s been so long since my last date. But, Roger seems really nice and he’s making a big deal. It’s really sweet.” You said shortly, feeling uncomfortable. Matt just hummed and turned to face the screen. A few minutes had passed and you felt bad about going on this date with Roger when you like Matt. “Ok, look I hope this doesn’t mess up our friendship.” You turned to Matt. “I really do like you Matt and I’m sorry, but you know,” You began to shake your head as the lights began to dim in the theater. Things were getting too personal. “There are just some things you don’t understand.” You rambled off rather quickly leaving the boy speechless and confused. He chose not to press into the matter as the trailers began and like you, turn to face the screen.

Thursday came around and it was the worse. It was raining, it was his full schedule of classes, including introduction to women’s psychology, where all he could think about was you. You had mixed feelings about the date, but you didn’t say no. Yet, you looked forward to it. Then you apologized and told him he wouldn’t understand; what did all of this mean? Honestly, it was quite confusing. Matt turned his head outside where the rain poured down the windows. Letting out a sigh, he slid his phone on his desk to look at your Instagram that he stalked. Cringing, as he thought about how creepy he was being. He saw that you had recently posted a slide of photos. Your nails were red and long and when he swiped the next picture was a goofy picture of you fresh out of the salon as the sun-haloed your head. A warmth feeling spread in his chest until he saw Roger’s comment: All this for me🙈. He gritted his teeth; no it wasn’t for him, she is her on woman and does she want because she wants no because of a man. Rolling his eyes, he locked his phone and decided to focus about the Suffragettes instead of Y/N. But, it was easier said than done. After some time, Matt came up the perfect plan that would guarantee an unsuccessful date. Quickly, he sent a message to the other Knights for training. He knew they couldn’t say no to that. It was closely hitting the hour as Roger was ordered to do another set. A sigh filtered through his mask as he continued to swing and duck. Lazily, he swing stumbling to his left. Good, he was getting tired. “Anymore, Master Ren?” Roger asked. Matt hummed through the mask, he quite liked being called Master. “Indeed.” He needed. “And one more thing.” Roger was presented with his own mask and watch. “The watch must be worn at all time and the mask will be worn during training, understood, Olcan?” The Irish boy nodded, blue gleaming with fatigue and happiness. “Dismissed.

You looked over your shoulder for the millionth time, red nails strummed the bar top. Your phone vibrated, it was Phasma. “Did he come yet?” She asked. A pout fell on your painted lips. “No,” The line was silent on Phasma’s end. It was almost two hours you’ve been sitting at the bar alone and had been hit on by every old rich white dude in here shaking your head, you paid the tab and got your bag. “I’m just going to go home if he shows that I hope he’ll be waiting twice as long for my ass.” You ended the call with Phasma and walked outside to see if there were any cabs around. And of course, there wasn’t. Uber wasn’t any better, the closest one was twenty minutes away. “Shit,” She whispered. Sucking up her pride she pulled her little blazer closer to her and made a trek to the nearest bus stop. The wind ran up her bare legs as it howled, that being the only sound beside her red high heels clicking along the pavement. She began to speed up once fewer and fewer people were on the block. Before she knew it, it was just her and the night. And, unknown to her, the Knight. “Hello,” The synthesized voice caused Y/N to jump, eyes widening at the sight in front of her. It was THE Kylo Ren, the mysterious figure who had been saving people. Worried (y/e/c) eyes scanned her surroundings. “A-Am I in danger?” You gulped. “No, don’t be afraid.” The mask spoke truthfully. “T-Then why are you here? You only rescue people in d-danger.” The mask tilted his head. “That is true, but it is dangerous to walk alone at such a time.” What he said was true, but you’ve done it many times before.

So caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t even realize he was talking to you. “You know who I am, but who are you?” He asked. “I’m Y-Y/N,” You held your hand. Gently, his leather hand took yours and pressed it to his helmet. “O-Oh,” He said as you giggled. Matt thought he could hide his awkwardness behind the mysterious, confident, menacing Kylo Ren, but clearly...it wasn’t happening. He still held a firm grip on her hand as they just stared at each other. “Oh...well, thanks. I have to catch a bus.” You removed your hand shyly. “W-Wait, I’m here to take you home.” The mechanical voice rang out. “That’s very sweet of you Kylo Ren, but I’m pretty sure there are people that are more deserving of your time. Plus, I’m a big girl, I’ve stayed out late before.” You smiled and began to walk. Matt didn’t like that answer and slowly rode beside you. “I’m not saying you aren’t-” “Well before you continue, you’re a stranger. Yes, a crime-fighting stranger, but for all, I know you could be a fake. And I’ve already talked too much.” Y/N sucked her teeth and walked a little faster to the bus stop. A small smile fell on his lips at her words. Though this meant turning him down, he couldn’t help but be happy.

“Ok, how about I wait with you and follow to make sure you make it home?” He said. You were just about to say no when you saw the bright lights from the bus. “Okay,” You nodded. Of course, you didn’t believe him; but as you got on the bus, you saw him, almost like a shadow, pull beside the bus. And he had actually followed! If some weirdo in a mask was following you should’ve been scared but you couldn’t help but smile at every stop. It was the little-gloved waves or tilt of the mask that just made you laugh. So much, that you almost missed your stop when you looked out and didn’t see him. Walking off the bus, it drove off revealing you the dark knight. A suppressed smile fell on your lips as he strode up to you. “Well,” You rocked back and forth on your red heels. The mask tilted to look behind you. “I’m sorry you can’t go any further.” He nodded. “Thank you.” You smiled before going to the main campus. The next day, Matt rushed through the crowd to find his friends sitting on the large stairs in the main hall. He could make out Hux, then Phasma, and finally you, with an empty space next to you. She turned and smiled with the same glow from your date and your waves now up in a bun with your pale pink Champion sweatshirt. A blush hit his cheeks as he thought about how beautiful you looked last night. “Hey!” He greeted everyone. “Hey!” They said in unison. Matt plopped down next to you and just stared. “What?” You chuckled. He shook his head. “Nothing; how was your date?” You shrugged. “Roger stood me up.” Matt faked a surprised face. Of course, he was the reason for it. “I’m so sorry Y/N.” You shook your head. “No, it’s ok he was really overexerting himself. It was a much-needed rest.” You said honestly. Matt gulped, not knowing how his next phrase would expose him or night. “Well, I hope other than that, you had a good night.” Her full lips twisted to the side before nodding. “Yeah,” She smiled. “I had a nice ride home and I met someone too.”

tagged: @bluelightsaberjedi @hoe-for-kylo @kylo-renne @whothehellis--alex

P.S.: Hope it wasn’t too confusing

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welllpthisishappening · 6 years

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Hi, Laura. I have a question for you, how did Liam and Elsa started dating in Blue Line?

In an effort to avoid thinking about Ryan McDonagh and JT Miller playing the Rangers for the first time since the trade deadline, I wrote this instead. It’s not real long, but it’s been a week in a way that deserved a few more italics and maybe a few underlines and I’ve been thinking about this ask non-stop for, like, the last twenty-four hours.

Some more under the cut because I am me.

“He absolutely does not know.”

“You don’t know that.”

Liam stared at her, head tilted slightly with something that felt like a mix of fondness and disbelief rolling off him. “I do know that,” he said, letting his forehead rest on hers. “He’s way too preoccupied with whatever stories they’re going to publish in the next two days.”

“He’s got to relax about that,” Elsa muttered, rolling her eyes when Liam scoffed in response. “He’s not even twenty years old and he’s going to give himself an aneurysm.”

“You want to tell him that?”

“I mean…no.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Liam laughed.

Elsa huffed and she couldn’t actually cross her arms, pushed against the door in the hallway of the hotel she, technically, wasn’t supposed to be in.

It was making her anxious.

The whole goddamn weekend was making her anxious – and only seventy-two percent of that anxiety was hockey based. At least ten percent of it was focused on Killian and his ability to be the single most dramatic human being on the planet because he also wanted to be the single best hockey player on the planet and, well, maybe her original percentages were a little off.

She, at least, was not one-hundred percent worried about hockey. She was, at least, five percent worried about what anyone at that national championship hockey game would do if they figured out that she and Liam were dating.

And had been. For the last five years. Well, kind of.

They’d grown up together, of course, living down the hallway from each other and people used to say stupid things about them all the time.

Oh, you must think of each other like live-in cousins. Oh, isn’t it great to have an older brother like that? Oh, you must be incredibly close.

She hated it. She hated the questions and the assumptions and, yeah, Liam lived down the hallway, but it wasn’t like he was actually her brother and it was…kind of stupid.

She liked him.

Elsa blamed the wine coolers. She’d just turned seventeen and Killian had gotten them somewhere and snuck them into the basement and air hockey was a lot more fun when she was pleasantly buzzed and she hadn’t realized she was alone in the basement with Liam until he coughed softly under his breath. And then it just kind of happened.

They just kind of happened.

She absolutely kissed him first.

“You’re thinking so loudly, you’re transferring your stress to me,” Liam said, brushing the words into Elsa’s jaw and that kind of helps. “Killian knows nothing. He knows less than nothing.”

“Anna knows.”

“Yeah, well that’s Anna.”

“You want to tell her that?” Elsa asked. She, somehow, managed to get an arm in between them, tugging on the front of the jersey he had to wear for pre-game interviews and the fabric of the ‘C’ on his shoulder was rough against her fingertips.

Liam shook his head, hair far too long and curls almost dangerously close to his eyebrows. It made her heart speed up. “Nah,” he grinned. “That’s ok. But thanks for the offer.”

“At least your manners are intact.”

“Good upbringing.”

Elsa could feel herself freeze, eyes going wide before she could stop herself and Liam blinked, by her count, fourteen times. She heard his lips part before she saw them, eyes practically boring a hole into the ground, and she’s now, at least, two percent worried she’s going to sprain a muscle in her cheek from twisting her mouth so much.

“The thoughts, Magi,” he whispered, letting his fingers card through the ends of her hair and her heart might have actually exploded at the quiet nickname.

He’d come up with after when she was fifteen and managed to figure out two different hockey schedules and four different school schedules and he had exams and she had projects and everything got done. He told her it was magic and that might have been the exact moment Elsa stopped thinking of Liam as the vaguely attractive guy with a different last name who lived down the hall from her.

He never once called her that around anyone else.

“That’s cheating,” Elsa mumbled. She pressed up on her toes anyway, arms looping around Liam’s neck and his jersey got twisted in between them when he ducked his head.

They were still in the hallway, still playing with fire, which seemed problematic a few hours removed from a national championship hockey game, but she didn’t want to leave and he kept promising Killian didn’t know anything and maybe she didn’t have to worry. Maybe things would just be ok. Maybe no one would freak out. Maybe it wasn’t as weird as she was worried, terrified, it might have been.

“And that’s still not an answer,” Liam pointed out.

“God, I don’t know who’s more stubborn. You or KJ.”

“It’s definitely Killian, but if you could maybe not talk about Killian while I’m trying to make out with you, that would be great.”

Elsa laughed, burying her head into the curve of his shoulder and her lungs felt a bit more like a functioning part of her body when she felt his lips press against the top of her hair. “I’ll take that into account in the future,” she said. “You really don’t think this is weird?”

“What’s weird?”

“This. Us. All of it?”

She felt him tense under her, the fingers that had been tracing out nonsensical patterns on her back stilling immediately. Elsa squeezed her eyes closed, gritting her teeth and counting seconds like that would make any of this better or less weird. She’d made it so weird.

Liam leaned back, staring at her incredulously. And, maybe, with just a bit of anxiety on the edge for good measure. “Do you think it’s weird?” he asked, doing his best to make sure his voice didn’t shake and coming up decidedly short of the mark. “Have you always thought it’s weird?”

“For the last five years?” Elsa countered skeptically. He widened his eyes. She wished she had wine coolers to blame all of this on. “No, no, I don’t, but…we’re here and there are all these cameras and Mom and Dad and, like I said, Anna totally knows and has known forever and wants details—“

“—Details?”

“She’s Anna.” Liam hummed, the ends of his mouth twitching and maybe Elsa was worrying for nothing. It would probably be fine. “But, yeah, details and I’m not really sure we’ve ever been that great at sneaking around and what happens if you win?”

“Now you sound like Killian.”

Elsa scowled, but Liam was definitely smiling at her – enough to make her wonder if confidence was a thing she should be working a bit more on. “I’m serious,” she said. “We’re just supposed to pretend like we’re…what? Totally platonic brother and sister and I’m super psyched that you won a national title?”

“I don’t think you have to use the phrase super psyched, technically.”

“None of these are actual answers, you know.”

“I know Magi,” Liam grinned, brushing his lips over hers again. “But that’s mostly because I don’t have one. And I know that’s going to stress you out. So better to just ignore, right?”

“I’m not sure that’s going to help.”

He chuckled lightly, nosing at her cheek and he really did need a hair cut. Her parents wouldn’t appreciate if he had curls in his eyes when he inevitably posed for pictures post championship. They were absolutely going to win.

And Elsa had no idea when she started thinking of it as some kind of collective pronoun.

“I really do not think of you as my sister,” Liam said. “I have never thought of you as my sister. Best friend, definitely, but never sister.”

“You’re trying to be charming.”

“Is it working?”

“Decidedly.”

He kissed her before she could say anything else – or, maybe, the other way around, but it absolutely, positively did not matter because she needed to get back to a different hotel and avoid her actual sister like several different plagues and she nearly jumped a foot in the air when she hears footsteps rounding the corner.

Killian stopped a few feet away, blinking at both of them with a tie hanging loosely around neck and something that looked a bit like the visual definition of incredulity on his face. “Hey, El,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Elsa stammered. She tried to take a step back, but there was a door in her way and the tips of Liam’s ears might stay red for the rest of their lives. “I was just, ummm….”

“Ummm….”

“Ok, don’t be an ass, KJ.”

He widened his eyes, hand still stuck in his hair and she briefly considered checking him into the closest wall – if only to get that vaguely suspicious look off his face. “I’m not being anything, El,” Killian said. “It’s almost eleven, though, which is almost curfew and you guys are standing out in the hallway like Mrs. V just found out we went on the uptown-3 at rush hour.”

“That definitely falls into the category of being an ass,” Liam muttered. “And Elsa just wanted to double check on the plan for tomorrow post-game. You know Mr. and Mrs. V want to do something if we win.”

“When,” Elsa corrected, but it was pointless and both Jones brothers mumbled no jinx under their breath. She rolled her eyes, retreating back another few steps until she was closer to Killian than Liam and the whole goddamn thing was a disaster. “Well,” she continued. “I’m, uh…going to go now. Because we’ve got a plan and an idea and a plan.”

“You said that already, El,” Killian said.

“That’s true. I did. Well done on the listening portion of the exam, KJ. You absolutely pass.” She pressed her lips together when he kept staring at her, eyeing her like he was trying to read her mind and he was usually better at that. “I probably won’t see you guys before tomorrow though,” Elsa added, not entirely sure why she was keeping the conversation going, but she’d made it weird and then weirder and she could still feel the anxiety churning in the pit of her stomach. She was going to fix this. Kind of. “So. Good luck. And score a ton and we’ll follow the plan after, right?”

Killian gaped at her, mouth hanging open in something that felt a lot like suspicion, but Elsa’s eyes darted to Liam. He smiled. And nodded.

And she was only, like, sixteen percent anxious about anything after that.

“Yeah,” Liam said. “We’ll absolutely follow the plan later.”

The plan, obviously, went to complete shit as soon as the final whistle went off.

She spent most of the third period trying not to cry and trying even harder to ignore Anna’s not-so-quiet quips about how clear the tears in her eyes were, but that might have been the best pass Liam ever made and she’d never seen Killian’s smile that wide or that honest and they won.

They won.

They open up the zamboni doors after – a small army of maroon and gold jerseys passing around one pair of ceremonial scissors to cut up the net and it took, approximately, forty-seven seconds for Liam’s eyes to land on hers. He handed Killian the scissors. And if the game-winning set up in front of the net had been the best pass Liam Jones had ever made, then the few feet between him and Elsa was the best he’d ever skated and she didn’t think before moving, lunging forward and slinging her arms around his neck as soon as his hands landed on her waist.

He still had one glove on when he kissed her. Or she kissed him. She probably kissed him.

That was kind of their thing.

Anna shrieked and Killian might have gasped, but her parents looked frozen and just a bit stunned and maybe they’d been better at sneaking around than Elsa assumed.

“So much for all of that, huh?” Liam asked, voice shaking with his laughter and there were still tears on her cheeks. “Magi, are you crying?”

“No,” Elsa hissed. He lifted his eyebrows when he leaned back to look at her and her feet had left the ice at some point. “It was a really good pass.”

“I was totally trying to impress you, how’d it go?”

“Pretty ok, honestly.”

“All part of the plan.”

She didn’t really stop crying for the rest of the night or a few days later when Liam and Killian sat in front of a backdrop with cartoon gophers on it and announced they were turning pro or, a few years later, when the world seemed to crash down around her and Liam had looked so young when they carted him off the ice. Killian kept pacing in the hallway of the hospital, shoulders sagging under the weight of the guilt he’d carry with him for years, and Elsa couldn’t stop crying, didn’t know what to do next until someone told her she could go in now and she practically ran through the doorway.

He smiled at her from the hospital bed.

“Hey Magi,” Liam mumbled, voice gruff and scratchy and she wasn’t sure what sound she made in response, but it might not have been human. “It’s going to be ok. It’s just…we may need to come up with a new plan now.”

They did.

They figured it out and she cried a few more times and moved across the goddamn country and she was still anxious about hockey for, at least, forty-three percent of the year, but it was a good plan and they were even better at executing it. And Elsa knew there were more tears on her cheeks, standing behind a different zamboni door in an arena she’d always just assumed both Liam and Killian would rule together, but it all worked and he nearly tripped over his own skates when he spotted them – the goddamn Stanley Cup lifted above his head.

“Go skate, little brother,” Liam said and Killian visibly exhaled, that guilt disappearing as quickly as it arrived. Elsa might have sobbed.

Liam slung an arm around her shoulder when they were allowed onto the rink, confident steps as soon as their shoes land on ice. There was music playing and Roland was screaming somewhere and Scarlet refused to relinquish the Cup to anyone, but Elsa barely saw any of them – instead her eyes landed on Emma and her barely-certain movements, skidding towards Killian with a smile on her face and something vaguely familiar lingering in the air around her.

She kissed him. Or he kissed her.

The specifics weren’t important.

“The more things change, huh?” Liam muttered, dragging his fingers over the tiny bundle of blankets masquerading as a baby in the crook of Elsa’s arm.

She nodded, grinning as wide as she could and as certain as she’d ever been and it wasn’t easy to kiss him, but they made that work too and it wasn’t ever really weird. “I love you,” she whispered, barely letting him repeat the words back to her before she heard both Robin and Scarlet shouting and Killian laughing and Liam smiled when he kissed her again.

#onceuponaprincessworld #cs ff #frozen jewel #frozen jewel ff #i don't know how to tag this #it's weird writing in not emma and killian's pov #blue line one shots #HERE HAVE SOME MORE EMOTIONALLY CHARGED NICKNAMES BECAUSE I AM NICKNAME TRASH

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smokeybrand · 3 years

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Exodus

Listening to church people talk about why so many people are leaving the church is kind of amazing. I can only speak from my experience as to why i bailed, but I've spoken to other people who decided to walk away and there's no one answer. Losing one's faith is as personal as finding it but there is a common thruway among all of our journeys away from Christ; The answers weren't there. No one just wakes up and decides "F*ck Jesus from now on." Like with anything you devote yourself to, there is a period of extreme crisis when face with it's end. If you leave a job after twenty years, there's apprehension of what comes next. Now, imagine what that's like for someone who is questioning a core piece of themselves which they use a defining aspect. People interchange who they are with their faith all the time. It's as automatic as breathing in a lot of cases. But then, all of a sudden, you are aware of your breath and you have no idea if you're doing it right or if you're doing it at all. That's what it's like to have a spiritual crisis. You don't want to question these things that literally give you life but you can't stop once you start. You search for reasons to maintain, to stay. You want, so desperately, for that one thing to flip the switch again but it never comes. This period of searching can last years. For me, it was watching my grandma pass. That took around a year. By the time she breathed her last, i was out. A cat i went to school with started questioning his own faith around the same time i did, probably about eleven or twelve years old, but it took him a decade to actually feel comfortable enough to walk away, all the while doing what i did when i was a teenager; searching for answers that made sense, that made faith, worth.

No one just bails on their faith without a strong period of study, introspection, or inward journey. It's never taken lightly but, once you start down that road, you rarely deviate from the path. Once the scales fall from your eyes, you can't put them back. It's been about twenty-five years since i stopped believing and never once have i wanted to come back to the church or regretted my decision to walk away. In that time, I've learned so much more about my former faith, the context of it's construction, it's historical merit, and the way it's weaponized by bad actors as a means of domination or control. The more i learned, the more problematic faith became. The better i understand the motivations behind the Word, the less i could hear it. The thing that really solidified my defection came in a philosophy book I read my sophomore year of high school. It wasn't something difficult to understand or an unknowable theory. When i was fifteen, i came across the Epicurus God Paradox. You can google that to find out the exact wording but reading those eight simple lines, really put into perspective what i had felt for about three years up to that point. I went from questioning myself, to questioning the religion, itself. I didn't get any answers. The questions weren't hard and the answers given made more sense than anything I read in the Bible, but no one else who championed the Good Book, had a satisfactory rebuttal. No one could give me the answers i needed to sate my curiosity which led me to believe there are no answers to be had. There is no endgame, there is no wisdom to be had, there is nothing but the promise. It's a carrot on the end of a stick. We were being lead around in circles by men two thousand years in the grave.

That didn't make any sense to me so i began to dig deeper. If the faith, itself couldn't answer my query, then maybe the historical evidence they tout as proof, would hold at least some answers. Once again, all I got was ore questions. studied the genesis of Jewish faith, i looked into how the creation myths tied to other, non-Christian, religions. I learned about the apocryphal texts like The Book of Judas, The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, the Book of Enoch, and The Book of Thomas. The Dead Sea scrolls are apocryphal texts, too, so why are those accepted and these others denied? Who chose to canonize these books and why? That led me to the Council of Nicaea which immediately, in my mind, invalidated every interpretation of the Word from that moment on. The Council convened in 325 AD, two hundred and ninety-two years after Christ died. Everything in that bible was decided upon, by a bunch of rich, learned, white dudes, headed by Constantine I, three hundred years a after Jesus died as a tool to consolidate his power. The Bible is a propaganda tool created to pacify the ignorant masses. That really wasn't the answer I was looking for and definitely something no one taught when I was in the Church. More than any that, i saw the building blocks of the Jesus figure, going as far back as the ancient Egyptians and Sumerians. Those civilizations are thousands of years older than Jesus so how could he exists back then? If you're messiah is a facsimile, an amalgamation of other Chosen, what does that make his Word? All of these things, coincidences or not, informed my understanding that it's all just kind of made up. It's an interpretation of sh*t that came long before. It's all a game of telephone so who's to say what we're hearing at the end of that millennia upon millennia long line of whispers, is what was actually said in the first place?

How do we know the Word is actually the Word? The only answer i ever got was faith. You can't understand the word if you don't have faith. You need faith to paste over the glaring inaccuracy or logical fallacies that riddle the holy tenets. That's not enough for me, not when there is this overwhelming evidence otherwise. I can read about The Tower of Babel and cross check that information with historical fact, which repudiates the Biblical narrative. I can read the story of Noah's Flood and then point out the similarities between that and the Babylonian myth of The Great Deluge, which was written centuries before. I can even go a step further and note that, at the time time the Deluge myth was being told in Babylon, that the people who would become the Jews as we know them today, were a serf class among the Babylonians. Who's to say that Noah's Flood wasn't simply an appropriation from the higher social caste? There's even evidence that the Deluge myth was being told long before Babylon. I learned all of this after stumbling across Epicurus' paradox so long ago. How can you stay faithful to a religion that can be dismantled so simply by four questions asked by a man who lived thousands of years ago? How do you have no rebuttal for the tangible and factual evidence that can deconstruct the fulcrum of your entire belief system, and expect people to just ignore that? That's why people leave the church. The catalyst is always different but the resolution is always the same. It's not that we want to sin or that youth programs are too fun or that college leads the way to secularism, or whatever else. No, it's that faith isn't enough to cover those glaring holes in religious narrative. We are not afraid of the dark or eclipses or sacrificing maidens to sate the rage of a f*cking volcano anymore. We understand why those things are. We know that an earthquake isn’t a giant catfish throwing a tantrum or that the Oracles in Delphi weren’t having visions but were probably just really f*cking high. We got the answers we needed. Religion doesn't have tangible, rational, answers. It's all faith and belief, smoke and mirrors. It's all a big game of telephone and we all know how those games ended, right?

That said, I do find it hilarious that church folk think college is a primary issue for the exodus of faith among the youth. Like, you get to college, get around other opinions or perspectives, have a dialogue with people from completely different backgrounds or experiences, have access to a plethora of information you'd never had before and, all of a sudden, you question your faith? Really? That's the line of logic we really want to follow because it gets real problematic, bud. Kind of sounds a little bit like education is the antithesis to faith. Kind of makes it sound like you have to be ignorant and gullible to be buy into the Word. Kind of sounds like God wants to keep you barefoot and naked in the kitchen, so to speak which, interestingly enough, is kind of the the theme to Genesis? I don't know, man. It's said we got kicked out of Paradise for eating the Fruit of Knowledge, not for f*cking so... I'm not saying I believe that, I know folks who are super-religious and are incredibly intelligent, I'm saying that other church people seem to imply that with their aggressive biases toward higher education. “Keep your faith by not asking questions or learning yourself good” isn't the best pitch for people grasping at straws for a reason to continue believing. Like, it's really f*cking weird to me that Christians refer to themselves as sheep when, in any other context, that sh*t is not something in which to be proud.

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