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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Creation”

Happy Saturday, everyone! Oh man, oh man, oh man. I think I'll need to steer clear of the general RWBY tags this week, simply because I know the sort of responses I'll see to this episode. From smug celebration at Ironwood's downfall, to bad takes about what makes us human, this episode is a petri dish of sensitive material handled insensitively.

Let’s unpack it, shall we?

We open on an action that feels like a summery of the last three volumes: a grimm attacks an airship from the front, no doubt killing its pilot, while the other grimm conveniently ignore our heroes, no masking in sight. The group looks a little sad at the destruction around them, but ultimately ignore it because they have bigger, heroic things to do. I could write a whole, additional essay on how the huntsmen code — to protect the people — has been warped and abandoned by our protagonists in their effort to do what they think is right. It's a tale that might have been compelling if only RT knew they were writing it.

We get a shot of Atlas drones unloading the bomb before one is taken out, presumably by Qrow and Robyn. Segueing to Ironwood and the Ace Ops, they're waiting for Penny to arrive, the former carrying a massive gun presumably capable of capturing her. Despite the horror we saw on their faces last episode at the realization that Ironwood would kill Marrow for speaking up, it seems that now the Ace Ops are entirely in agreement with these measures. A week ago the implication was that they fell back in line out of fear, but now Harriet talks passionately about "putting down" the group if they were stupid enough to accompany Penny. "The General gave his terms." Vine sighs at this, but doesn't actively disagree. He's just "retracing the steps that led us here."

So, congratulations on introducing four new characters, not bothering to develop any of them, killing one off while ignoring Qrow's hand in that, and having the other three become all, "Yeah! Mass murder is a perfect solution!" off screen. Marrow is the only one with something resembling development and, as covered in these recaps, that's been pretty badly executed too.

Ironwood sends them to deal with Robyn and Qrow after Winter reappears to "assist" him. That gets quotation marks because most viewers at this point have realized that she's who our two birbs spotted in the elevator. Winter isn't on Ironwood's side anymore, she's just skillfully clearing the field for the final attack. Indeed, we get a moment where she hesitantly brings up the bomb and Ironwood responds that he hopes she's not going to try and talk him out of it. No. Winter doesn't think that's possible. This was her final attempt at peace.

One of the reasons why I think I'll stick to my own blog for a while is because the fandom has a tendency to paint broad personality traits as evil when applied to some characters, yet simultaneously heroic when applied to others, when really it's about how that those traits are used. What I mean is, I've seen a lot of Ironwood critical posts that emphasize how stubborn he is. He thinks he's right and he won't back down. He wont listen to others. He's going through with this plan and if anyone tries to stop him? That's their mistake. Totally evil, right? Except, this is the exact same behavior Ruby displays, particularly in Volumes 6 and 7. She was stubborn about stealing from Argus and continuing the fight to the point where it endangered her and her teammates, to say nothing of the rest of the city. She refused to listen to Qrow, or Ironwood, or the Ace Ops, loudly announcing that she was right about, well, everything. If they didn't agree with her, the options were to leave the group entirely, or fight her. The actual difference here is that the writers have taken Ironwood to an extreme, one that's incredibly easy to understand as bad because it is bad: bombing Mantle has no defense. Ruby pulls the exact same nonsense, it's just not to that same extreme and her actions are followed by scenes that are meant to make us forgive her: a sad look because she didn't mean to get a city attacked by a leviathan grimm, a cry on the staircase because she didn't mean to risk the lives of an entire kingdom... even though she did. Ironwood is the bad guy because he's been written to take specific, OOC actions like shooting unarmed kids. He's not the bad guy because when other characters go, "Don't do this" his response is, "I have to." Because that's been Ruby's motto ever since she "had" to use the Lamp to rip Ozpin’s life story away. RWBY introduced those extreme actions of shooting the youngest in the group (for no reason) and threatening to bomb a city (for no reason) or shooting a councilman (for no reason) because when you remove those you've got a man who looks exactly like our hero. Ironwood's arc has been peppered with these confusing, unpersuasive actions because if you just keep the story as him stubbornly keeping to a plan he thinks will save the world, you're left with the reminder that all Ruby has done lately is stubbornly keep to plans she thinks will save the world. This moment with Winter just highlights how ill thought out Ironwood's descent has been because he does everything Ruby does... with a few, tacked on, “and randomly shoots people!” moments to ensure we understand that he’s definitely evil. No comparison to our heroes here, folks!

Ironwood is a bad guy now. That’s certain, but he was made that way so the story never had to grapple with the question of what that means for Ruby if we really start condemning things like lying, secrets, stubbornness, or endangering others for the greater good. Well then damn, if we strip away the hypocrisy then she might not be a good person after all. Or the people she’s simplistically labeled as bad might not be the devils Ruby claims they are.

But that’s a level of nuance RWBY would rather pretend doesn’t exist.

All of which is highlighted by Ironwood’s reaction to "Penny." He sighs and sags over the gun, immediately putting it aside. With his hand on her shoulder, Ironwood tells her she's "done the right thing." Precisely the same way Ruby would lower Crescent Rose and give someone a smile when they decided to fall in line with her.

Which, of course, is the moment when Emerald reveals herself, dispelling the Penny illusion and revealing Team JNPR The Second behind her. She gives a quip about it feeling "weird" to do the right thing before disappearing.

From there the action picks up fast. I really enjoyed this battle simply from a choreography and energy standpoint. It gets the blood pumping, Ironwood's hand-to-hand is spectacular — especially that moment against Ren — and the group actually displays teamwork for the first time in what feels like forever, all of them needed to land a hit on Ironwood. As always, out of the context of the rest of the show it feels and looks great. My primary issue is that we get this fantastic fight against Ironwood. Not Salem, not Cinder, not Watts (like last volume when Ironwood was still a hero), not even Emerald as a means of transitioning from murderous villain to the group's best bud. No, what's arguably the best action sequence in the volume thus far goes to beating up the guy they betrayed from the start. There's no catharsis for me here, only frustration as we watch Ironwood stand in shock as Winter powers up Nora — who's fine now, I guess — and she slams her hammer into his face.

It never should have come to this and when a good character is done so dirty, their downfall doesn't evoke the emotions the writers are looking for. Watching Ironwood fall doesn't generate feelings of victory, or even tragedy at a course of events others were powerless to stop. It's just frustration at watching years worth of bad writing, sprinkled with fantastic ideas that never go anywhere.

Oscar gets a few hits in, Ironwood snatches his cane, and just as he's about to throw a punch, Winter arrives with the most dramatic sword slash I've ever seen.

Ironwood's aura breaks and he falls, unconscious. We cut to an image of a droid's head separated from its body, one of Robyn's arrows through its skull. That doesn't have meaning or anything.

I suppose I should be grateful they didn't rip Ironwood's arm away during the fight, or outright kill him, though I'm still expecting him to die before the end of the volume.

Hmm. Wouldn't that be something? If after Salem's arrival, freezing cold, a Hound attack, grimm soup, a giant whale, a massive army, and a hack ending in self-destruction, the one character who actually dies is Ironwood.

It's looking more and more likely.

Honestly, beyond all the obvious, what's so frustrating about this fight is that characters are only now using their impressive abilities to their fullest. Emerald creates an entire fantasy of what's happening and then straight up disappears, but she only does a half-assed version of that when fighting against Penny. (And really, she put more effort into helping the heroes she just joined over Cinder, the woman she's been obsessed with since the start?) Marrow refuses to use "Stay" against a group they wanted to peacefully arrest because that's just too horrible an act, I guess, but he'll do it on his own teammates the second Qrow and Robyn don’t want to fight.

This is what I mean when I say the rules of the world bend to assist the protagonists in absurd ways. It's not nearly as egregious as Amity suddenly being up and running, but the fact that characters become substantially more powerful while fighting for the protagonists than they do against them is still a significant problem.

So Ironwood is down and out. As much as I hated watching that and didn't necessarily want more, am I the only one who felt like it was... a bit lackluster? I mean, the action was great, yes, but relatively short. There was no dialogue, such as another delve into the moral questions that led to this fight in the first place. There certainly wasn’t any hesitance against fighting a former ally. (Again, we’re meant to believe that the Ace Ops won because they just couldn’t bear to fight the group seriously, but every former ally here is capable of wailing on Ironwood without a single pause or pained look?) Ironwood just skillfully blocks for a while, is blindsided by Winter's betrayal, and then falls unconscious. Given that we learn he and Jacques will be evacuated after the rest of the kingdom, it's possible he'll escape somehow and we'll get a fight 2.0, but if not that feels like a rather tame end to the guy forced into the antagonist seat. Plus, what was the point of having Qrow frothing at the mouth to kill him this whole volume? I never wanted that to happen, I'm glad it hasn't, but I'm nevertheless left to ask why we bothered with that eleven episode side plot if we were going to erase it with one sentence from Robyn about Qrow being better than this. If that's all it took, let them work through Qrow's irrational anger while sitting around in a cell.

Winter tells the group to move onto "phase two" which is when we're treated to a flashback. We return to the ending of the last episode, with Ruby realizing that opening the vault is an option. Jaune, all smiles, goes, "We never considered using what's inside!"

This is what I mean about no consequences! This is what I mean about it all being a meaningless circle that ends with undeserved praise for the group! We started this horror show with Ironwood going, "We don't have a plan to protect the people, so I'm going to take what people we do have to safety" and the group going, "We don't have a plan either, but we're going to stop you implementing your plan because it's not perfect, risking a kingdom's worth of lives in the process." Now, the group has used two plans, one of which two characters knew about at the start and another they could have devised with the information they had. Oscar and Ozpin's, "We have an all powerful magical blast in our cane" and the group's "What if we used the Staff for something other than raising Atlas?" are both things that could have come up in the office debate. These were both always on the table! Instead, Ruby grew furious over the mere thought of cutting their losses, betrayed Ironwood again, attacked his people, denounced him to the world, and then two days later goes, "Oh wait! We could do something now that we could have easily done before if we hadn't made a needless enemy!"

Everyone realizes how much worse they made things, right? Turning against Ironwood, bringing everyone left in Mantle directly under Atlas, sitting around while an army was devoured, drawing it out until Penny was hacked... all of it would have been avoided if the group had thought and discussed things for a few minutes, not jumping straight to violently resisting what Ironwood came up with first. "We never considered..." Ruby says. Yeah, you didn't, except that's not something to smile about. The group made the situation a thousand times worse with their reaction when they could have just magically evacuated the kingdom from the start. “Maybe we could use it to save Penny and get everyone in Atlas and Mantle back to safety." Nothing has changed! They had this ability the whole time! Nothing about the last twelve episodes led them here, they just randomly thought of it after RT had padded the volume with needless drama. Considering that they're heading to Vacuo now, we could have just made this the finale of Volume 7 instead: big fight with Ironwood, revelation, get everyone evacuated while Salem attacks, leave her behind, then Volume 8 begins in Vacuo with the group knowing Salem is out there looking for them. This entire volume has been pointless. What did they accomplish?

Oscar got kidnapped and beat up, Nora was scarred, Ruby and Yang realized horrible things about Summer, and the whole world is panicking about a witch. Good things are... Ren and Ruby unlocked some semblance stuff? Weiss loves her brother again after he proved himself useful to her? Great work, team.

So this one moment makes everything they've done up to this point useless and, of course, once thought up the plan goes off without a hitch. Note that the summary of this episode says, "It's risky, dangerous, and nearly impossible — but it's the only plan they've got." Nearly impossible? That's a whole lot of talk for a plan that was implemented perfectly.

There is, admittedly, one snag, but one that is likewise made meaningless just seconds later. We'll get to that.

We see Winter call Weiss who also smiles at hearing from her sister. Obviously interactions like the group's with Emerald are the bigger concern, but it's still an issue that no one reacts as they should to people reappearing in their lives. Rather, RWBY continually confuses audience knowledge with character knowledge. We know Winter is on their side now, but Weiss hasn't a clue. Last she saw, she and Winter were agreeing to head down different paths. She has no reason to think her sister isn't loyal to Ironwood, so why isn't the group treating this call with suspicion? What if it's Ironwood trying to mess with them through a presumably safe party? I swear to god, with any consistency in the story this group would be dead ten times over because their decisions are so stupid. Oscar decides to believe in the guy currently beating him to a pulp, the group decides to trust a villain over a flawed ally, and now they see Ironwood’s second calling and are like, “Great, big sister Winter is checking in!” There’s a difference between a hopeful story filled with second chances and characters whose reliance on the narrative bending to assist them makes them come across as insanely naive.

None of which even touches on characters forgetting that other characters are presumably dead. Ironwood shot Oscar off the edge of Atlas, but doesn't react to learning he was kidnapped, or when he shows up to the fight. Thanks to Marrow's comment, Winter thinks YJOR have perished in the whale, but also has no reaction to them appearing to help with this plan. Absolutely nothing is followed up on.

We then get a flashback within the flashback (fun) of Winter — shock — not arresting Marrow. It's precisely as I assumed, with Marrow angrily asking why she hit him and Winter responding with, “Because you were about to get killed if I didn’t do something!” As I said last recap, I feel like I should let the marginalized groups lead this discussion, but I do want to add that no matter how well intentioned — or strategic, as I mentioned last time — the imagery itself is still harmful. No matter the context, we were still left with white woman Winter putting her knee on black man Marrow's back to arrest him, and it’s an image that everyone in the U.S. should be familiar with the horror of. Far more of a problem than the (presumed) ignorance of this scene is, I think, the choice to make Winter entirely unrepentant. I think some of this discomfort could have been alleviated if RT had written Winter as apologetic, contrite that it came to that and asking Marrow to understand that she only did it as a means of assisting him. Asking his forgiveness. Instead, we get this

So what, the only emotion we have room for is gratitude that Winter beat him up? Yikes.

As a lighter side note, I find the animation here unintentionally hilarious. Winter's assistive device makes her shoulders look too high, making this gesture more, "Woman exaggeratedly pouts about not getting ice cream for dinner" and less, "Woman sternly closes off during a disagreement about saving lives and betraying their general." Gotta find our humor where we can, right?

What's intentional, but far less funny, is the needless animation to show us that, yes, Marrow is peering at Winter calling Weiss. Oh, the shenanigans.

The elevator opens where Qrow and Robyn spot them. "Speaking of help," Winter says, as if she has any reason to believe Qrow didn't kill Clover. He and Robyn lower their weapons a bit, as if they have any reason to believe Winter and Marrow aren't still loyal to Ironwood. Would it really be so hard to have Winter immediately throw up her hands in the face of their almost-attack, blurting that she's not their enemy and needs their help, please listen? Again, RWBY can't remember which characters know what, let alone what their motivations and reactions should be.

We then enter the third part of the flashback where everyone piles into the Schnee dining room and discusses doing the things they could have done from the start. I'm metaphorically banging my head against that table. In RWBY's favor though, we also get a long shot of Jaune continuing to boost Penny’s aura.

Though it's only one of many issues, just the other day I asked, "Hey, why has Jaune always needed to hold onto the person he's assisting, but now suddenly he can touch Penny once and the boost remains?" It still doesn't explain why he was letting go before/why him needing to boost her continuously didn't put a hard time limit on their plan — not that Mantle's hour limit meant a thing — but at least they're showing more of that here.

Oscar notes that Atlas has enough gravity dust that it won't fall immediately when they use the Relic, but they will have to move fast to ensure no one is underneath. Yeah, like all the civilians you put there. He also cautions that the Staff isn't a "magic wand" that they can just wave to make all their problems go away... even though that's precisely what they're going to do. Ozpin gets some lines that aren't apologies or followed by attacks — hallelujah! — about how the Staff's spirit is a "character" and requires that you be able to precisely explain anything you want him to make. Blueprints, examples, a firm knowledge of how this will be accomplished — all of it is required to actually get what you're after. That's a cool limitation. It's just too bad we didn't know about it episodes ago, forcing our heroes to find ways to meet those requirements. Instead, they already have everything ready to go the moment they learn about it: Penny has her own schematics and Whitley apparently has knowledge of the entire kingdom after sending some ships out. Normally I'd go, "Really?" but I'm still just struck by how much good he's done compared to everyone else in this room. Your show is seriously broken when the side character the writers didn't even want the audience to like until a few episodes ago is more active, mature, and sensible than the heroes.

From there we see the group implementing the plan. They fly up through the hole Oscar left, straight to the vault. Penny opens it without any trouble and Ruby uses her speed to grab the Relic and stop time, halting her self-termination. I do like that combination of skill and their knowledge of how this magic works. That felt like a smart move. What's interesting though is that the Relic appears to stop time in the entire kingdom. We see people in Mantle and Atlas slowing to a halt too. I assume no one remembers that happening after time restarts, otherwise people would be freaked out by suddenly being frozen in place.

Wouldn't that have been cool though? The group often takes a while to use the Relics, either deciding what they need, or watching Jinn's information, so what if you had a population that blinks and suddenly, from their perspective, half an hour has passed? How long might Ozpin have sat on his knees after Jinn told him he wasn't able to defeat Salem? How long was that space frozen? We could have had a world built around rumors and fairy tales. Not the random stories Ozpin brings up to make a point and that we never hear about again, but tiny details that foreshadow these revelations. A Beacon where the kids tell each other spooky stories of people suddenly losing time, once a whole day. The wives, sisters, daughters, and nieces who disappear, or wake up one day with horrifying, unnatural powers. We see magic influence the world around it, but we've seen very little of the world reacting to that influence. The one time I can think of is Blake reading a book about "a man with two souls," the fiction clearly inspired by knowledge of Ozpin. And indeed, it felt great to recognize that as a significant detail and then be proven right years later as the lore was revealed. We could have gotten so much more of that if RWBY was better planned out.

I'm getting off track though. As time stops we see a series of images: Ironwood being led to a cell with Jacques, Penny succumbing to her hack, Team JNPR The Second preparing to contact the kingdom about what's going on. Then everyone is distracted by the giant, blue, buff Ambrosius who comes out of the Staff.

...there's a lot of innuendo in that last statement lol. At least RWBY is committed to the crazy design they chose? I was never particularly comfortable with the image of characters gaping up at a giant, naked woman in chains, so it's nice to balance that a bit with an equally giant, naked dude in chains.

From here things get confusing. In all honesty, I'm not sure if this is another moment where RWBY is trying to pass off a retcon as the group being brilliant, or if I, as an individual, simply didn't follow the logic. I won't bother to rehash the slow, meandering way that Ruby reveals their plan — that certainly didn't help with the clarity. Not in an episode where we didn’t even know these rules ahead of time — but it boils down to this:

The moment they have Ambrosius create something new Atlas will start to fall. Two of his creations can't exist at the same time.

He needs clear instructions about what he's making in order to create it.

The group has brought him Penny's schematics so that he understands how she's built.

They want, specifically, "a new version of her... using her exact robot parts."

They can't just create an exact duplicate of Penny because that would carry the virus with it.

They can't create an exact duplicate without the virus because that Penny would cease to exist as soon as they used Ambrosius to make an evacuation plan instead.

So they essentially want Ambrosius to create a new Penny by removing all the robot parts from the Penny that currently exists, carrying the virus with them, and leaving only the human parts of Penny behind: her aura/soul. Then, the purely robot version is destroyed when Ambrosius creates something new.

Except... this new Penny, this human Penny, still needed a human body. That's what Ambrosius created and that's the snag I don't understand. They want a version of Penny that's just her aura, just her soul, but that soul still needs something to be housed in. Ambrosius himself notes that. At first I thought the group would just have some wisp-like version of Penny they'd have to find a new body for — perhaps leading to a new one for Ozpin too — but she's just... given a human body when he takes the technology away, something she absolutely didn't have before. That is Ambrosius' creation. That is what should have disappeared along with the removed parts of Penny, leaving only her soul — what Ambrosius didn't touch — behind. Instead, the plot oh so conveniently has Penny get a new body for free and it's untouched as they move onto the next task.

Ruby drops a casual line about Ambrosius not being able to kill, or destroy, or something, which I think is meant to be the justification here. The rule (which, again, we JUST learned) about not killing anyone supersedes the rule of two creations not allowed to exist, allowing Penny to stick around. But even if that’s true, it’s a load of bull. What, does the magic think no one in an entire city might die if the floating mechanism is removed and it plummets to the ground? Ambrosius didn’t say, “Sorry, can’t stop floating Atlas because thousands of people are still here and they’ll die if I create something new,” but we’re supposed to believe the group skated by on, “Sorry, can’t destroy the last creation like everything else because there’s a single person still using that body and she’ll die if I create something new”?

Seriously, did I miss something? Or is this another, "Amity is ready because the group needs it" situation? The rule of creations ceasing to exist is bent because the group needs to have their friend around. Ambrosius is certainly enthusiastically complimentary, saying how "smart" the group is and that they've "done their homework," but I'm not so sure. It feels like a moment where the show is (once again) insistent that the group is far more talented and brilliant than their actions actually imply. It's only the rules of the world twisting and turning that allows for their success. To say nothing of how the episode dropped all these rules on the viewer in a ten minute info dump, ensuring we didn’t have any time to think about them before the deed was done.

It doesn't add up for me and honestly, even putting that aside? I hate this. I absolutely despise it. Look, if it turns out this really does make sense then props to the group for coming up with that plan. Our snag aside, the rest is a legitimately well thought out wish. I don't have a problem with the execution so much as the message. I've been saying since Volume 7 that RWBY has done Penny a disservice in terms of her "real girl" narrative. Whereas before we had a firm message that you don't need "squishy guts" to be human, to be real, Volume 8 continued to carry us further and further into the idea that it is necessary. That Penny's body is entirely inhuman, something to hate, but at least her soul is human and good. That's what the virus arc taught us: your terrible, technological body might be betraying you, but hold onto the parts of you that are really human. I hated that too, but I never thought RWBY would go this far. They made Penny fully human and went, “THIS is the version that always should have existed.”

And this isn't just me reading into the implications. It's right there in the text. Blake says that they're looking for “Penny, the girl who’s always been there underneath." Meaning, underneath the metal. The girl exists trapped in the robot body. Yang holds up her arm and says that the metal is only "extra," it's not really who you are.

That gets into two perspectives on disability that RWBY just doesn't have the nuance for: what's an integral and celebratory part of one person's existence can be seen as something separate and discomforting to another. Though there are many people with disabilities who would happily cure themselves with a magic Staff if given the chance, there are just as many who say no, this is a part of my identity. I don't want to change, I just want the world to accommodate my existence. However, RWBY takes a hard stance here, saying that any metal in your body is intrinsically bad. We didn’t use to have this take, but now the show has embraced it. Blake says the real Penny is trapped in there. Yang's words implies that she'd get rid of this "extra" bit of her if possible. Mercury with his metal legs is the enemy. Ironwood with half his metal body is the enemy. Whereas once difference was truly accepted, now it's shunned and fixed whenever possible. Those who can't be fixed, like Yang, must simply deal with the lot they've been dealt, reassuring themselves that the metal isn't really them. But Penny? Penny they can fix.

So they do and the very first thing Penny does is hug Ruby, exclaiming, “Do hugs always make you feel this warm inside? Wow. More!” and proceeds to hug all the others.

What's the underlying message there? Penny didn't understand hugs before this moment. She never experienced the "warmth" of them while an android, despite the fact that here warmth is entirely metaphorical and has nothing to do with a literally cold body. RWBY really went and said that the "real girl” android was never actually real at all — not as real as she could be — because it's only when she's given "squishy guts" that she understands the true happiness of a hug.

Wow.

I mean seriously, wow.

Never-mind that, you know, we've seen that happiness and warmth since she was first introduced.

RWBY is really rewriting all the core themes introduced in Volumes 1-3 and it sucks. The show is absolutely the worse for it.

To say nothing of all the other disservices to Penny's character here. There's all this buildup about whether she'll still be the same Penny once the wish is complete, but of course she is. We wouldn't want to have Penny struggle when she becomes something other than what she's always been, would we? After all, it took Yang an entire volume to work through the shock of a metal arm, but taking away a metal body for a human one is in no way traumatic. Having a normal, human body is intrinsically a good thing! Of course Penny accepts it with nothing but smiles. Becoming human is celebratory, but becoming more machine is a horror.

She gets to watch her body self-destruct, glitching out and collapsing in front of her. But again, nothing to unpack there that can't be covered with a hand over her mouth.

There's no discussion of whether Penny still has the Maiden powers, or whether a wish like that would mess with the transfer in any way. How did the group know this action wouldn't register as a clear-cut death, forcing the power out of her and into someone new? Obviously they couldn’t know, but no one even thought to bring it up?

And the entire time they're formulating their evacuation plan, there's no talk of whether these portals will appear before everyone currently alive in the kingdom. I mean, if they do then Ironwood and Jacques can just waltz through and escape into Vacuo. If they don’t, then Maria and Pietro don't necessarily have a way out. We still don't know if they're stuck floating in Amity, or if Amity crashed, or if they made their way back to Mantle or Atlas. More importantly, the characters don't know. I have no problem with RWBY keeping that a surprise until the finale, but I absolutely take issue with Pietro's daughter walking through a portal, seemingly not to care whether her father is going to make it out too.

It's been the same with Qrow and his nieces' relationships. The show is good at insisting that these families love each other because they hug and smile while on screen together, but when shit is actually going down, none of them care about pesky things like disappearances, arrests, or “The last time I saw you, you were with an old woman on a damaged station after a villain attack, potentially stranded in deadly cold if life support failed.”

So yeah, this entire arc with Penny has been a disaster. From throwing away her framing subplot, to giving her a virus that did absolutely nothing, to giving her the Maiden powers which she's also done nothing with, to erasing her android status for a “She's really human now” message, Penny has been done dirty by the show these last two volumes. Not nearly to the extent Ironwood has, but still. At this point I wish they'd just kept her dead dead. Why do I want her back when that resurrection produces no reaction, her conflicts lead nowhere, and one of the core things that made Penny Penny has now been magically erased?

I've been saying for weeks that killing Penny off and keeping Penny around each had serious downsides attached, yet I never expected RWBY to do BOTH.

Also, I'm warding off any, "But Pinocchio was made into a real boy too" defenses. RWBY is not Pinocchio. Penny is not Pinocchio. I thought the allusion was going to be the Pinocchio inspired girl heading into the whale, not the show forcing the exact plotline — down to a blue, magical creature — onto a character whose entire journey has been about accepting herself as an android. Congratulations, RT. You just obliterated years of work.

Again, if you'd like an example of how to do this far better:

As Penny's character falls apart, Atlas shakes, alerting Jaune and the other that a new wish has been granted. Jaune pecks at the screen and realizes "That did, uh, something…?” but doesn’t realize that there's a giant, red "LIVE" up in the corner.

Jaune tries to warn the entire kingdom about their plan, but what he actually says is

“Atlas is falling, but — !”

And then the communications cut out.

Watts, perhaps?

Our heroes are really good at saying things that make large populaces panic, huh? This is the one (1) snag in their "impossible" plan, but as said above, it doesn't amount to anything. We get a shot of Nora, horrified at the thought of kingdom-wide communications being down, but literally seconds later Team RWBY has made portals appear that everyone can walk through. So... why do we care about communications? More importantly, why does the show try to make us care? So much time is spent getting the viewer invested in problems that never come to mean anything.

Including the problem of Salem herself.

Because the group successfully creates that evacuation plan. This is it. Everyone is leaving while Salem still reforms.

Yang asks if they can use the vaults themselves as a single point for everyone to go to and Ambrosius agrees. So everyone is going to pile into the Vacuo vault that can only be opened by an unknown Maiden? They're going to put an entire kingdom's worth of people, including their enemies, into the vault where the Relic of Destruction is? Yeah, that's great. Prior to this — like if this had been the plan at the end of Volume 7 — I would have 100% agreed that these risks are better than death by Salem/grimm/cold. Now though, Oscar as axed Salem for an unknown length of time, the cold is having no impact on the civilians outside, and the grimm only attack background military personnel that supposedly no one cares about. They couldn't have spent another few minutes (especially with time stopped!) to figure out a means of getting to Vacuo that doesn't involve revealing and providing access to the location of a super secret vault? To say nothing of what they're going to do if Salem wakes up and snags one of those portals for herself. Two kingdoms for the price of one!

But that's what they're going with. Weiss gives Ambrosius a schematic of the kingdom, I guess, and he makes branching pathways appear with numerous portals for everyone to step through. They'll enter through one and, when they exit another, will be in Vacuo. Easy peasy, right? Especially since Ambrosius doesn't seem to have any limitations about how often his power is used. Is it three creations every 100 years like Jinn? We're not told, at least not to my recollection. However, I was expecting there to be a waiting period, that they'd fix Penny, go to evacuate the kingdom, and learn that sorry, I can't make another creation just yet. It feels like the sort of shit move these beings would pull — "Don't cry to me when it's not what you wanted" — it would have been another commentary on the group's insistence on putting friends over the people's safety (like demanding the Ace Ops not bomb the whale because of Oscar), and crucially, would have kept the action in Atlas. Isn't that what this volume is? The battle for and potential destruction of the Kingdom of Atlas? We have two episodes left and, unless something unexpected happens, we're moving that action to Vacuo. Why?

Meanwhile, Penny's corpse is just chilling in the background 😬

While all this is going on, Winter reassures Jacques that he and Ironwood will be evacuated too, though she makes it clear saving him was Weiss' idea. It checks out, considering Weiss is the one who turned her father's arrest into a joke last volume. Winter still takes his abuse seriously.

The group prepares to leave with a celebratory, "We did it!" from Weiss. I'm still banging my head against that dining room table. Before they can pass through the portal though, Ambrosius leaves them with one, dire warning: "Do not fall."

In any other story a line like that is a neon sign announcing to the audience that someone will absolutely fall, and maybe they will, but RWBY has dodged consequences so often I wouldn't be surprised if this was merely another way to string us along. Remember all the hype surrounding Salem? The cold combined with her army and magic? How she was going to decimate Atlas and leave our group broken in a Fall 2.0?

I mean, we still have two episodes left. Forty minutes of content. Salem might still decimate them, especially since something has to happen in the finale. But god, it's a problem that we've come this far without a payoff. Salem randomly decided not to attack anyone, was stopped by a weapon added in solely for this purpose, and now the whole kingdom is being evacuated with a plan the group could have used at the start. This volume really is meaningless.

“We go to vacuo and hope we’ve thought of everything” they say as the camera zooms in on Cinder's smiling face. For the second week in a row.

Bingo time!

Winter betrayed Ironwood, the group used the Staff of Creation, and I'm axing Maria on behalf of Pietro. You can't have the guy's daughter become human — after he was killing himself to give her his aura?? — and magically walk to Vacuo, not knowing if he's even survived since she last saw him, and expect me to think he hasn't been forgotten. Same with Maria. Has the group mentioned her since Amity cut out, notably for reasons they couldn’t explain? Of course not. Did they care to find out what happened? Of course not. I have no doubt they'll both re-appear in the next two episodes, Pietro crying over how perfect his girl is now and Maria congratulating the group on their actions, but we're still marking it.

This is the ugliest thing I’ve ever created, I hope you all are enjoying it :D

Another week, another couple feet added to the hole we’re digging. I know I keep saying I have no idea what's going to happen next... but I have no idea what's going to happen next. A Vacuo ending was not in the cards, not outside of them miraculously showing up in ships. Maybe they have been on their way to Atlas (somehow...) and will arrive precisely when everyone has left! Anything is possible at this point.

See you next Saturday, everyone. Hold on until then lol. 💜

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #rwby recaps #rwby creation

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gunterfan1992 · 3 years

Text

Interview with Half Shy (the songwriter of “Monster”)

For the last few months, I’ve been collecting information for a second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo that will also cover the production of Distant Lands. This means that I’ve started to look into the new songs that we have been graced with this year, and this of course includes “Monster,” the beautiful track from the masterpiece that is “Obsidian”. And so I reached out to the song’s writer, Half Shy, who was kind enough to chat with me via email about the songwriting process!

(Photo courtesy of Half Shy)

In many ways, Half Shy is living the creative Adventure Time fan’s dream: She got asked by Adam Muto himself to write a song for “Obsidian” after he heard her music through Bandcamp! (I’ve dabbled in fan music before, and the fact that someone from the show might listen to it just blows my mind.) What an opportunity; I am so excited for her!

Since a second edition of my book won’t be coming out until after all the Distant Lands episodes air, I thought it would be best to share my Half Shy interview now. Read on for the fascinating behind the scenes story of how Half Shy and “Monster” came to be..

GunterFan: What is your origin story? How did you get involved in music, and how did the Half Shy project come to be?

Half Shy: I’ve been making music pretty quietly since I was in high school with a keyboard and guitar. I played one or two shows a year after college when I could find a friend or my brother to get up on stage with me, but I don’t really have that performer gene in me naturally. I get too much in my head and forget what the lyrics are to the song I wrote, or what the next chord is. Total brain freeze. So that whole experience is a bit of a mental drain. It’s something I think I’d like to dig into and figure out, but right now I’m really enjoying the time writing.

Even playing a song for my friends I still get pretty nervous. That’s where the name Half Shy comes from. I’ve always been interested in making things that by their nature draw a bit of a spotlight, but at the same time, I am just really quite nervous about the attention.

I recorded my first songs under my old name Hey V Kay in my bedroom and started putting them up online one at a time. When I got enough I thought about packaging it up into an album, but then got really distracted by learning how to fix up motorcycles and going to automotive tech school. When I eventually got back around to it I named the album Gut Wrenching.

After a few years I realized that I didn’t want the day-in-day-out life of a mechanic, I just wanted to know how to fix cars for myself and to have that knowledge in my back pocket. I got back into making music but grew frustrated at the process of writing and recording songs. I felt like I wasn’t able to capture the ideas I had in my head. Like trying to draw on your computer with a mouse. Doable, but it’s not going to come out like you’d hoped.

So these last couple of years I’ve focused more on learning the technical aspect of it, from the initial ideas and lyrics, to the recording and mixing. During that process I put out Bedroom Visionaries, and while writing I happened upon the name Half Shy in an old Thesaurus which felt instantly right. Learning all of that has been fun, I even went as far as to create my own book to solidify a daily writing routine (lyricworkbook.com). All that has been a bit of a tangent from actually making much music though. I should be getting my books in December from the press so I’m really looking forward to getting back into making more music instead of dealing with printing presses, setting up websites, and sourcing ribbon suppliers.

GF: What is the story behind "Monster"? How did the show get in contact with you?

HS: I keep a log of “Song Starters” with neat things I’ve heard in the world, and I would look through it every now and then and notice just how many came from Adventure Time. Eventually I thought well, I have to make a song about this show that just keeps breaking my heart. It was around the time I was nearly done with the first [Adventure Time-inspired] song “In My Element” that I got an email from Bandcamp saying “someone bought your album (Bedroom Visionaries).”

I get maybe one or two of these a month at most so I love to go in and say hi to the person and say thanks, be curious about who they are, [and] what they’re all about. Turns out it was Adam Muto, the executive producer of the show. (I asked and he has no idea how he happened upon my stuff. He guessed that I must have tagged something #adventuretime and he just happened to see it.) So I sent him an email saying, “Hey wow thanks for checking out my tunes. Also... holy crap you’ve made the best show I have ever seen in my life.” [I] played it real cool like. After finishing up writing my second [Adventure Time-inspired] song “Betty” I couldn’t help but fangirl real hard [and I sent him another message saying], “I’m sorry this is probably awkward, but I really love your show and I wrote these songs about it.” He was incredibly kind and shared them with his Twitter Universe, and a while after that I got a random email from him saying basically, “Hey, I’m working on this thing I can’t talk about, would you be interested?” I was like… well you know I’m pretty busy working at a sign shop so I’m gonna have to pass on this once in a lifetime opportunity (J/K. Obviously I fan-girl squealed and said yes immediately).

We chatted a bit about what the project was going to be and the direction. He mentioned there [would be] two Marceline songs in the special, [and he asked if I] would I be interested in giving the love song a try? Trying real hard to suppress my instant imposter syndrome I was like, “Yea, totally I’d be into giving that a shot!” So I read through the story and loved the idea of the dragon mirrored in Marceline, thinking through how they’ve both built up a protective shell, how she grew tough for a reason, but now she can open up and be vulnerable with PB.

From there I wrote the initial demo with the first two verses mostly intact and we went back and forth a few times editing it down into the final version. I recorded the final parts for the show in my little home studio in Seattle.

GS: When you were writing the song, what emotions, thoughts, or ideas were you channeling? Was there any sort of memory of event that you were trying to artistically "catch" or "recreate" with the lyrics or music?

HS: As far as channeling an emotion, generally I’d say just the experience of existing as a human. It can be so hard to open up and be vulnerable. I can remember that feeling even as a young kid—getting really excited about something and having someone completely trash it or look at you like, “Why are you so interested in that? It’s dumb.” [It causes us to grow] a little more weary to share ourselves because we know that hurt and embarrassment. The pain of being misunderstood is something I think a lot of us can relate to. Then having to decide whether to keep sharing those vulnerable parts of yourself or think, “They’re just not going to get it, I’m going to get hurt, so why bother?” and then stop putting yourself out there. You lose a lot with that thick armor though. You might feel protected, but you’re not feeling a whole lot of anything else other than the weight and chafing of it (I had a whole lot of armor-related metaphors that I didn't end up using.).

I struggle with this in songwriting too. I’m not the bolt-of-lightning type. There are pages and pages of cliches, total garbage, bad jokes, and cheesy lines that I have to get through in order to get to something that I am excited to put out there into the world: “Here I did this thing, I know it’s a little (this or that), but I made it... What do you think?” It’s hard to open yourself up to hearing the other end of that question.

I filled about 5 little pocket notebooks just thinking through the story, ideas, and trying to get this song right. I wanted it to feel familiar and honor the past songs of the show ([e.g.,] using the ukulele and referencing a few of the familiar chords from “I’m Just Your Problem”) but also be pretty open and vulnerable and different for [Marceline]. [I wanted to] show that she’s going through some tough emotions but also figuring herself out and growing.

GF: I feel like “Monster” is, at its core, an ode to the “Bubbline” ship. How do you feel about your song being intimately connected to one of the most famous LGBTQ+ relationships in animation? Do you have any general thoughts on Marcy and PB, Bubbline, etc.?

HS: Oh, I’m a total fan girl of Bubbline. The whole story of how Rebecca Sugar and Muto slowly morphed it into this deeper relationship is just great. As a part of the LGBTQ community myself it really means so much to see the representation of characters like yourself portrayed in an intelligent way. Growing up I was too young to fully understand what was going on but I saw Ellen getting cancelled, and [I] heard people around me saying they’d never watch her show again after she came out. That stuff sinks in as a kid and so to have these characters who are not only intelligent, but funny, complex, and unapologetically strong who also happen to be queer is really great. I love that the story here isn’t about their orientation, but that they’re people struggling with how to be open and vulnerable in a relationship.

It feels like something sci-fi and animated shows do so well—to show that ridiculousness of limiting who a person should and shouldn’t love. Marceline is a 1000+ year old half-demon/vampire and PB was born from the Mothergum of an apocalyptic radioactive world, but you’re going to get hung up on them loving each other? It sort of brings it into perspective in a really interesting way.

GF: Do you have any other thoughts about the experience that you'd like to share?

HS: Just how lucky, thankful, and honored I feel to be a part of my favorite show, writing a song for one of my favorite characters. It’s also incredibly cool how the people on the show are so willing to connect and collaborate with their fandom. Everyone [on the production crew] was very open and a real joy to work with.

I’d like to give a huge “Thank you!” to Half Shy for agreeing to participate in this interview; she really was quite amiable! If you’d like to hear more of her music, check out her website and her Bandcamp. You can also follow her on Instragram here and on Twitter here. And of course, here is Half Shy’s awesome video of “Monster”.

#adventure time #atimers #adventure time distant lands #atdl #half shy #monster #bubbline #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #bubblegum #princess bubblegum #pb #adam muto #interview

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echo-bleu · 3 years

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hello! I saw one of your previous asks and I was wondering if I could ask you for some writing help too! I have an autistic character that i love, but I'm not sure how to convey that this character is autistic in a way that feel aunthentic and organic instead of stereotyped, specially since she's a girl and I haven't seen many (accurate) representations of autistic girls in the media. I've seen videos about autistic people and they've been very helpful on what not to do, but + I would still love

to get some of the 'do's' what i have so far is that she has a Fixation on the sea, she has a hard time reading sarcasm and/or emotions in others, and she has an overall seemingly 'detached' personality (even if I wouldn't call her that, since she cares about the people she loves, she's just bad at putting it into words). I jsut want to make sure i'm on the right path! thank you so much for listening and I hope this is not a bother!

Hi Anon! I’m not bothered at all and I’m happy to answer this kind of ask. As always, I can only speak for myself, but I’ll try to give you a few pointers. (The previous ask mentioned is this one.)

First, it’s lovely to hear about an autistic girl! I’m not sure if you’re speaking about an adult or a child/teenager, but either way, it can be interesting to read about how autism can look a bit different in women. The gender distinction that has often been made is something I don’t agree with because I feel that it’s an unnecessary shortcut, but a number of autistic people, in majority women and people socially perceived as female, learn to “adapt” more to neurotypical standards by masking their autistic traits a lot, and might not be detected as autistic until adulthood. Masking takes a lot of energy, which can translate as feeling “socially exhausted” all the time and lead to burnout. This article list traits that can be found that are less common and obvious. It is far from perfect imo, but it can give you new ideas!

You didn’t really say if your character is a main or a side character (which changes the amount of detail you’ll want to go into) but so far to me you seem to be on the right track! Having a hard time reading people is something a lot of us struggle with. It might not just be sarcasm, btw, understanding metaphors and jokes can also be hard. That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have a sense of humor: it’s entirely possible to be able to use sarcasm and struggle with noticing it when it comes from other people, and a lot of autistic people have a very developed and specific sense of humor that can be seen as odd.

The “detached” personality is something you may have to handle with care because lack of empathy is a harmful stereotype. Maybe look up the difference between cognitive and affective empathy. Some of us do struggle with empathy, many of us struggle with expressing it in a way that’s comprehensible to neurotypicals, but it doesn’t mean that we lack it. It’s fine for your character to struggle with it, but be careful that she doesn’t end up seeming cold/robotic if she’s not the POV character.

Now for some “do’s”: I’m only going to talk about autistic traits here and assume that you’ve fleshed her out with an actual personality outside of her autism, just like you would any other character.

- I agree that it has to come up organically, but it would be a lot better in terms of representation to make her explicitly autistic, ie use the word autistic. It doesn’t have to be at the beginning of the story. If you’re in a fantasy setting or for some other reason you can’t use the actual word, then describing something like neurodiversity would be a good way to make it explicit. In fanfic, I personally think that tagging “autistic [character]” is enough if the fic is short(ish) and the word isn’t used in the story but the character’s autism is fairly clear, but in an original story, you don’t really have that possibility.

- Something I like to do when coming up with original autistic characters is to choose a few specific stims from them, that regularly come back in my descriptions. It falls under the same umbrella as choosing mannerisms, it gives characters their own specific flavor. You can choose a happy stim, a nervous stim and a bored stim, for example. Autistics stim a lot and in a lot of ways, but I think most of us have a few stims that come back often. It can be things like chewing on a toy/finger, flapping in a specific way, rocking on their heels, twirling hair, fidgeting with a toy or jewelry.

- Sensory differences. It’s also something that you can choose for your character: maybe she likes to listen to music very loudly, and often speak a little too loudly, or on the contrary she’s hyperacusic. She might wear sunglasses outside, or need lights on all the time. She might need subtitles to understand a movie, or be super distracted by sparkly things. She might not make eye contact, or make it too much, or seem to make it by looking somewhere close to the person’s eyes. She might find touch painful or difficult, or seek it constantly, or both (can depend on the moment, how tired she is, or if she trusts the person).

- Like I’ve said before, meltdowns/shutdowns are a delicate thing to portray if you’re not autistic yourself, but overloading can and does happen without going all the way to either of them. It’s actually fairly frequent, and happens when there is too much sensory (or emotional) stimuli at the same time or a too long day or something. From the inside, it can look like struggling to think, feeling like your skin is crawling, feeling like everything is too much, and struggling to initiate actions/figure out the steps to do something. From the outside, it can look like the person is rejecting touch, needs to isolate themself, is irritated, might struggle to speak/be very quiet. As long as the character isn’t mocked for their behavior, I think it’s something you can portray without too much risk.

- A specific interest about the sea is a nice idea! The sea is a very large subject, though, so she’ll probably have a predilection for some things. Is it water currents? Fish species? Underwater plants? Beaches? There’s a lot of options to choose from here.

- Maybe think about co-occuring conditions, because most of us have at least one. Some are very hard to distinguish from autism itself, like dyspraxia or ADHD, because they’re linked or similar to autistic traits. A lot of us are also disabled in some other way: for example there’s a clear (though unexplained) link between autism and hyperflexibility, which can lead to joint pain, gut issues and chronic illnesses like EDS. Many of us have mental illnesses, growing up autistic in this world is honestly traumatizing and it’s hard to find autistics without some kind of C-PTSD or anxiety (on that subject, this post points out that the current diagnostic criteria can probably only diagnose traumatized autistic people anyway).

- A pretty good portrayal of an autistic girl (and to my knowledge the only one where the actor is also autistic) is Matilda in Everything’s Gonna be Okay. I didn’t actually watch until the end and I’ve been told the last episode isn’t great, but the start was pretty good. She’s a teenager, and at one point gets a girlfriend who is also autistic and has a service dog. In Elementary, while Sherlock is only autistic-coded, there is at one point (season 4 I believe) a recurring character named Fiona who I thought was a pretty good portrayal as well. She’s an adult, and she’s stereotypical in some ways but it’s better than most portrayals I’ve seen or read.

I would advise you to have a look through the blog @cripplecharacters. They answer asks about disabled characters, and I know they have answered a number of questions about autism and have at least one autistic mod. Their answers are usually very interesting!

#Anonymous #asks #autism #actually autistic #autistic characters #writing resources #disabled characters

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

chapter 27

Fake Making-It

Social Media AU

previous chapter

~^~

Lucas hesitates for only a moment before knocking on the door. He’s not expecting a response and isn’t surprised when he doesn’t get one. The bowl of ice cream he’s holding is beginning to freeze his hand, and he doesn’t quite have the patience necessary for this. He tries to keep his tone gentle, however, as he knocks once more and says, “Sander?” When there’s still nothing, he doesn’t bother knocking again. “I’m coming in, okay? So if you don’t want me to, speak up now.”

More silence. Lucas opens the door.

The room is dark, the curtains pulled in an attempt to block out the wintery sun. Some light still creeps through, making wispy shadows on the thin blue material. A few rays have also snuck in through the sides and the bottom, and it’s one of these that illuminates the lump on the bed, wrapped tightly in the duvet.

Lucas closes the door quietly behind him and approaches, and he can see a few tufts of white hair poking out from under the sheets. His heart throbs.

“That bad?” he questions lowly. He’s not even sure that Sander is awake.

After a moment, he receives a quiet, “No.”

“Will you look at me, then?”

“I can’t listen to you shout at me. Not right now.”

“I’m not going to shout at you,” Lucas mumbles. “Do you think that little of me?”

“No,” Sander repeats. “But of me.”

Lucas huffs. He considers, and then cradles the bowl carefully in his hands and clambers onto the empty side of the bed. The side he slept on, when they first arrived. He settles against the pillows and nestles the bowl on his lap, taking up one of the two spoons. “Okay. I guess I’m eating all the ice cream myself, then.”

It’s a cheap bribe that has only worked on very rare occasions, but this time it’s different. The offer isn’t just the food, but an olive branch.

Sander takes it tentatively. He lowers the covers and peeks at the bowl in Lucas’s hands before looking up at him.

Gesturing to the spare spoon, Lucas raises a brow.

Sander slowly—painstakingly—pushes himself up until he’s sitting next to him. He busies himself for a second with propping up his own pillow, and then he brushes a hand roughly through his hair in an attempt to comb it down. Then he takes the spare spoon and a dollop of chocolate ice cream.

“Is this your breakfast?” Lucas asks.

“It’s still early.”

Lucas sighs. “Not that early. I could make croques.”

Sander hesitates. “This is enough for now,” he murmurs.

It isn’t, but Lucas accepts this with a nod. They eat in silence for a moment, with Sander taking much smaller, slower bites than him.

“It’s not an episode,” Sander mumbles.

Lucas nods. “Okay,” he says simply.

“So you don’t have to freak out, or anything.”

Lucas raises a brow at him, swallowing a mouthful of ice cream. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“And you don’t have to be nice to me if you don’t want to be. I don’t deserve it, anyway. I have royally fucked everything up.”

The admission is quiet, and not wrong. Lucas has been saying the same thing from the beginning, but it wasn’t quite as satisfying as he’d hoped when Sander came to the realisation himself. There’s no satisfaction in watching him now.

But then again, Lucas hasn’t really been feeling much satisfaction over anything.

He picks off another scoop of ice cream with his spoon, but leaves it in the bottom of the bowl, staring down at it before retracting his hand entirely. He understands, now more than ever. He wants to hide away in the dark, too. Away from the mess they’ve created and the lies choking him and the feelings swimming around in his chest.

“It’s not completely your fault, you know,” Lucas huffs. “I should’ve shut you down at the beginning, but I did the exact same thing as you. Jens asked me and I panicked. So really, he shares some of the blame.”

Sander snorts. Lucas tries not to be pleased by it. “But not you?” Sander raises a brow.

“Nope. I am an innocent victim.”

He’s aware this is very far from the truth, but he isn’t just going to admit it.

Then Sander’s face falls and he looks away again, shrinking down slightly. Lucas pokes at the ice cream again, hesitating, and then sets the bowl aside. He shifts around, stretching his legs for a second before turning his head. Giving Sander his full attention. It takes a little while for Sander to accept it, but then he looks at Lucas with resolve.

“I’m sorry. Seriously. I know you don’t like lying. And the fact that you’re actually friends with Jens now makes it even worse. I didn’t even think about what this would do to you and I’m so fucking sorry.”

It’s not that he hasn’t said it before. He’s said it countless times, in fact. But never has he sounded quite so sincere. Never has his voice broken over the words. Never has he looked this pleading, this wrecked by the chance that Lucas won’t accept his apologies.

Lucas considers him silently, then asks, “What’s it doing to you? What’s all this about?” He gestures at the room around them, and then Sander, even though Sander likely doesn’t need the explanation.

Sander huffs. Self-deprecating and derisive. “I think it’s embarrassment more than anything.”

“Over?”

“Do you want a list?”

“If that’s what you have.”

Sander has directed his gaze to the ceiling. He shakes his head slightly as he swallows. “The fact that I made such a stupid mistake by thinking Robbe had feelings for Jens. The even stupider mistake I made pretending we’re in a relationship. My gigantic mess of feelings for Robbe in general. Dragging you into it and making you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Lucas argues. It’s only half a lie.

Sander seems to recognise this, lolling his head over and giving him a look or pure disbelief.

“I don’t like you very much right now,” Lucas allows, and Sander looks away. “But it’s you. I love you. Even though you are the dumbest asshole I know.”

This startles a laugh out of Sander. His shoulders shake with it, and he drags a hand down his face, and after a moment Lucas isn’t sure if he’s laughing or crying or performing a mixture of both. Either way, it’s infectious. Lucas cracks up with him, lips splitting into a smile involuntarily and letting laughter seep out. It seems to relax Sander, too, and he glances over at Lucas once more and laughs harder.

“We are so fucked,” Lucas sighs.

“So badly,” Sander agrees, shaking his head as he slumps back against his pillow. “Even if we managed to make the breakup thing convincing, it’d just be a bigger lie. Fuck.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “I’ve just screwed up any chance of Robbe ever actually returning my feelings, haven’t I?”

Lucas quickly bites back what he wants to say, which is you’re not the only one. Instead he looks away, down at his hands, and fiddles with his ring. Then he gives up and messes with his bracelet instead.

“Maybe we should just finish the job and go,” Sander says hollowly. “They’ll never have to know. They’ll never care. We can just get through this and then forget about it.”

“What?” Lucas whips his head around to look at him. “You can’t just forget about Robbe. I know you can’t.”

A part of Lucas jumps at the idea, urges him to agree, to say Sander has a point. They would never have to know. Lucas would never have to look them in the face and see the evidence of their betrayal. He would never have to withstand the disappointment. It’s a powerful desire, a flash of fire that putters out just as quickly and leaves behind a simmering pain.

He thinks of sticking around to finish the job, of sharing what he loves with Jens and talking with Jens almost everyday and having Jens look at him in the subtle way he does, intrigued and inspired and irritated all at once. He thinks about having that and then just...letting it go. Never knowing. Always pretending he never cared. Disappearing into thin air without being able to take even a trace of Jens with him.

And that small part of him, the analytical part of his brain, urges him to do it. Says it’s an easy way out and the best option he has.

His heart screams no.

He knows that Sander would never be able to just forget about Robbe. He knows. Now more than ever, he understands.

“We have to tell them,” Lucas whispers.

Sander looks at him, incredulous.

“It’s the only way,” Lucas insists. “When you think about it, chances are they won’t even care. They’ll think we’re dumb and weird as fuck, maybe, but they’ll accept that we panicked and then didn’t know how to explain. We don’t even have to tell them why.”

Sander shakes his head, licking his lips as his eyes flick down. “It’s not better. A half truth isn’t enough to make up for a lie like this. No, if we’re going to tell him, then I want to tell him the truth.”

“Okay. Then that’s what we’re doing,” Lucas decides. At Sander’s blatant terror, he adds, “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Sander sucks in a breath, then lets it out with a slow nod. “Okay.” He looks at Lucas again. “But I just...can you just give me a little time? Let me figure out how to tell him. Please.”

It’s the opposite of what Lucas wants, which is to go back in time to before any of this even happened. But he understands. He does. He understands, and he’s gotten more than he was expecting. Now that Sander has made such a promise, he won’t back out. They might as well drag it on a little longer. Another few days, or one more week, won’t be the end of the world.

Lucas could probably mostly avoid Jens for that time. He doesn’t have to do any more lying. Not really.

Then, well. Then he’ll see. If it can work out for Sander, maybe he’ll have a chance, too.

Lucas slides his arm around Sander’s shoulders and tugs him towards his chest, and Sander goes easily. He slumps into Lucas with what sounds like a sigh of relief, tucking his head into Lucas’s neck and sighing when Lucas presses a kiss to his hair.

“Okay. Deal.”

~^~

tag list: @allthewayornowayy @wedarkacademia @lockerfivethreefive @yellowballoon @gucciboner @nora-keinwitz @moonskam @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @akucecilia @hischbabe @evaksobbe @alittleemo @boring-side-effect @franboos

next chapter

#wtfock #skam nl #sobbe #robbe x sander #van der stoffels #vds #fake making-it

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kaydeefalls · 2 years

Text

@tardis-stowaway tagged me in a “get to know you better” meme, and I am always a sucker for an askmeme, so thank you!

favourite colour: I love a good, rich purple.

currently reading: apart from all the fic in the world? I’ve been REALLY bad about reading actual books since the pandemic started -- I’ll read like half a novel in one sitting and then ignore it for months for no particular reason. Yesterday I read a few chapters of “The Fated Sky”, which is the second book in the Lady Astronauts series by Mary Robinette Kowal. I really really enjoy it! I have no idea why I’ve left it sit untouched after started it several month ago! And now I’ll probably ignore it again in favor of fic for a while. (I think it’s the mobility thing -- I like to read CONSTANTLY, which means fic on my phone has a huge advantage because it goes with me everywhere, while a physical book feels more like a Specific Choice That I Am Making With My Time Now.)

last song: According to the playlist I was listening to yesterday, Vienna Teng’s “Momentum”. I only really listen to music when I’m out for a walk.

last series: I am working my way through FX’s Trust in fits and starts while my wife is out of town (because I know she would have ZERO interest in it), which means I should probably finish it this weekend. It’s very, very well done and also very intense, so I’ll binge a few episodes in a row and then not watch again for a week. But Luca Marinelli is indeed deliciously unhinged in it, as promised by the twelve thousand Primo gifsets I’ve already seen. (Real MVP of the series is Brendan Fraser, though, he’s a goddamn delight.)

last movie: Eternals, which I enjoyed a lot more than I was expecting! I like that it was so deeply character-driven in a way that the MCU has strayed away from lately; unfortunately, the leading characters were by far the least interesting to me. More Phastos and Makkari and Gilgamesh (and Kingo, though he had plenty of screentime as the primary comic foil), please. I still kinda resent the comparisons to Old Guard, which did the immortality and relationships far, far better, but Eternals is telling a completely different story, so that helps.

sweet, savory, or spicy: All are good, but also, sweet all the way.

currently working on: I’ve been blocked for over a month now -- basically I haven’t written anything since posting the purpose of art. There has been a lot of traumatic emotional upheaval in my wife’s family this past month, and while I’m not directly impacted, it’s been...simultaneously A Lot and long empty stretches of nothing all at once, since there’s nothing I can do about any of it and my wife has been halfway across the country for weeks to be with them while I’m just here alone pretending to be productive at work, and my mental health has been kind of crap. So, yeah. This week I’ve been trying to force myself to finish the Finn/Poe soulmark fic I abandoned over a year ago, since if I can’t manage any new creative energy I might as well slog away at something I’ve long since lost the spark for anyway, and I’ve made a little progress there -- shuffling a few things around, hammering out connective tissue between scene fragments I’d already written, coming up with a workable if uninspired outline for the last chapter. I’m hoping my need to be DONE with this fucking WIP will beat off depression brain enough to actually finish it. I hate having it hang over my head. But yeah. It’s been a fucking miserable month. Figures that the ONE perk of having the apartment to myself for weeks is having plenty of time to write, so of course my brain goes on strike and I can’t write a damn thing.

Tagging people is stressful. If you want to play along, consider yourself tagged!

#always a sucker for an askmeme #sorry for oversharing a bit there #but hey that's what tumblr is for right?#anyway my askbox is Very Open right now #i could really use the distraction

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op-peccatori · 4 years

Text

Hopefully, Yours (part 1) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8823

Summary: A fight between co-stars leads to you taking their place, along with the man you’ve been carrying a rather fervid torch for. A happy accident—except it’s a dating show and you have to pretend your feelings aren’t real. | Part 2

Warnings/Tags: language, fluff, oblivious behaviour, dating show, social media, Victor might be a little OOC because I’ve written him differently, some making out in the next part hence the rating, no smut though, my sense of humour

A/n: as always, I’m here to clown around. I tried something a lil new (for me) in this one 👉👈 something I picked up quite recently from works I adored, so I hope you like it! It got longer than I intended so I had to split it into 2 parts ;.; Victor said: keep writing, hoe.

ALSO!!! Yours by Ella Henderson is. THE Victor/MC song for me. I felt it in my bones when I listened to it again after all these years. brb crying

It’s the incessant buzzing of your phone that lures you out of the warm cocoon of your blanket.

You don’t really want to come out of your haven. Not after the week you’ve had, and because you know what awaits you. But as Anna had told you, there’s no way you can avoid this. They had finished editing the episode on Thursday, and Jason had already texted you last night to let you know it would be ready to be uploaded at 7:00 pm today.

Reaching listlessly for your phone, you squint at the bright screen through bleary eyes; it’s 9:00 pm already, and you’ve managed to sleep most of your Sunday away. It’s been a whole week since you filmed the episode, and while you were able to keep your thoughts at bay through it, it’s finally caught up to you.

After all, this is the episode you’re going to be in.

Pulling your laptop towards you, you open the tab that has the streaming site open. Your heart begins its anxious thump against its cage, a beat all too familiar to you by now. As the video begins playing, the memories of that day rise up to the forefront of your mind, refusing to be outdone by this meticulously edited version.

It started with a plan. A very well-thought-out plan.

“He called me a bitch. How can you still expect me to shoot with this jerk?”

Things were not going according to the very well-thought-out plan.

From your place next to Homer, the camera guy, you watched with mounting apprehension as Hollow resisted the AD’s attempts to placate her. But she did seem calmer, the scalding rage of her glare simmering down as he continued to reason with her.

And then her partner for the episode walked back onto the set.

“She said my songs are predictable! You want me to work with a hater?” Kai protested loudly, and Hollow turned back to him in a fury. The AD looked back at you in dismay, the rest of the staff watching with varying levels of exasperation.

“This is supposed to be a cheesy, ultra-romantic show,” Kiki whispered from her place at your side.

“This is what the reality is. All that sappy crap is for the camera,” Willow snorted, shaking her head in disenchanted disappointment.

There may be more than a kernel of truth in that. Hopefully, Yours was your company’s latest project; the second season, the first one having been produced by a different group. It’s a romantic web-series that featured different couples going on dates around town. The couples featured ranged from non-celebrities to people who are household names. So far, there hadn’t been too many issues with the participants—so you really should have expected this.

“Not always!” you cut in, fiddling nervously with your planner. “Some of the couples have gone on to date for real. Raymond and Liliana got married!” A lovely couple from an episode that aired last year. They’d been in the news recently too.

“They’re getting divorced,” Homer piped up in response. You hoped the look on your face let him know how unhelpful that was and turned back to the clashing couple. The AD looked harrowed and harassed as things turn increasingly hostile.

“Willow, do we have a backup couple?” you asked after a long moment of watching them spit insults. “Or just one person to replace either of them. What about Carlson?”

“He won’t be in town until tomorrow.”

‘Can I leave town?’ You wondered in a fit of desperate, wishful thinking.

“And we’ve got everyone here, with everything set up. Can we really waste time?” Kiki wondered out loud.

“No, we can’t,” answered a strained voice from behind you. All four of you turn to see Anna striding towards you, her hassled expression sending a frisson of worry through your stomach. “___, we’ve got guests.”

“Guests?” you repeated numbly. “What guests?” From the look on her face, it couldn’t be good news.

Anna held your gaze for a second, looking vaguely apologetic, before stepping to the side, allowing you to get a look at who Jason, the director, had rushed off to greet. You felt the ground shift beneath you, throat drying rapidly and the surrounding noise dimming as you focused on the new arrivals—your friend, your boss if you insist on the technicalities, and the star of most of your daydreams. LFG’s very own CEO, Victor, and his loyal secretary, Goldman.

In other words, people you hadn’t expected to see today.

“Why?” you whimpered, mostly panicked, but distantly amused by how enthusiastically he’s being greeted. It gave you a few moments to get it together, a familiar buzz coming to life underneath your skin.

This is terrible. Surely, this is karmic retribution for some misdeed committed by you.

“Boss, get it together,” Kiki hissed in an echo of your thoughts, and you realized you had half-fallen back into her and Willow’s arms, their hands steady on your shoulders.

“This is really bad timing. Like, really bad,” Willow pointed out unnecessarily as you straightened up, running a quick hand through your hair.

“Goldman said they just dropped in to see how it’s coming along. I don’t really understand why, this is not at all Victor’s cup of tea, but he’d been hesitant about the show, so...” With a sympathetic smile, Anna placed a hand on your elbow, squeezing lightly. The comfort it brought is chased away almost immediately by a furious screech.

“That is it. I’m done!”

Turning just in time to watch Hollow stalk off the set, you tried to restart your thought process. You just needed to solve this.

“How do we solve this?” Kiki asked in a low voice, and Willow shook her head helplessly.

With no answer for her, you could only watch as Jason led Victor and Goldman towards the set. You knew the exact moment he saw you; there was no smile, but a slow blink. It was still early in the afternoon, and his patrician features were alight with a soft glow in the golden sunlight, the curve of his lip relaxed and his clever gaze taking in you and everything happening around you in seconds. You’re not sure what he saw in your face but it made the corners of his mouth pull downwards.

Your stomach plummeted, seized by a sudden urge to flee.

But with his long strides, he reached you before you could take a step back. Kiki and Willow retreated silently, greeting him like newly registered soldiers coming face to face with their general and leaving you at his mercy. You would have felt miffed, but the way the sunlight softened his features was a little distracting. His lips moved, and you’re certain he said something, but couldn’t quite hear him over the sound of your heart drumming in your ears.

Homer coughed loudly, popping the bubble.

“Good morning, Victor!” Certain your lack of actual delight was obvious, you tried to inject as much enthusiasm into your voice as you could while your project went up in flames behind you. Not that you weren’t happy to see him, as the sudden thrill twisting through insisted on reminding you, but the prospect of disappointing him was one you would rather not face.

There was no visible reaction from Victor, but Homer looked a bit disturbed by the attempt. Goldman just looked like he pitied you, while Jason looked oddly contemplative. This was probably his first time seeing you this…dazzled.

“Good morning,” Victor replied evenly. His eyes, a constant, focused storm and his silken hair falling artfully over his forehead form a picture so lovely, almost beyond words. It’s never stopped you from waxing poetic about them, or his long list of admirable personality traits, but he had a way of knowing when you’re not paying attention. “Looks like I picked a bad time to check in.”

You couldn’t quite pin down the inflexion in his tone, but your immediate guess was that he was either severely disappointed or was low-key mocking you.

With how quickly things derailed, it’s understandable.

“Haha,” you laughed—an unfortunate coping mechanism that seems to flare up most often in his presence. Also, because Victor looked unfairly gorgeous, as always and you were a fool with a worryingly erratic pulse. “Just a few bumps. Nothing we can’t fix.”

Behind you, Kai declared his intent to leave as well. There’s a contract, so they would have to look into this, but that would take time. At that moment, Victor was eyeing the singer leaving the set and your nervous smile with his brows steadily climbing higher.

“Right. Anything I can do to help?” he offered, and the shame that elicited is so fierce you felt like you’d shrunk. This was supposed to be a casual visit, for him to see how the filming was going and instead you made him feel the need to step in and clean up the mess.

“No,” you said, firm, immediate, vehement. He frowned down at you. “We’ll come up with something. Why don’t you two take a seat, we’ll get you some drinks and Anna can go over the ratings and numbers with you.”

Victor seemed to hesitate, still frowning at you, but relented when you mustered up a small but convincing smile for him. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything,” he insisted, because he’s nice like that, before following Goldman and Anna into the small room you’ve converted into an office. You have a small but closed set for the first meeting of the couples, before the crew moves to whatever location has been picked out for the date.

“He’s nicer than he looks,” Homer observed as the two of you watched him leave.

“He’s lovely,” you said miserably. Who would have thought there’d be a day when you said that about Victor? He was still an evil capitalist, but he’s a kind man.

Homer didn’t get the chance to reply as Jason rushed up to you.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have to sit those two down for a talk, but we don’t have time for that today. We need substitutes,” Jason said, not nearly as panicked as you would expect from a director who had no one to direct. It was admirable, this ability to keep his head even when he hits what looks like a dead end.

“I’ll make some calls.” Reaching into your pocket, your mind ram through your options as your hand closed around your phone.

“I want you to do it,” Jason declared.

It took you a few seconds to realize you hadn’t misheard. He looked back at you steadily, already resolute in his decision. You looked around, expecting protests, but the staff members only looked eager.

“…I don’t like this joke,” you said, slowly.

“Good thing it wasn’t one!” Jason returned cheerfully. “Before you turn it down, let me say—please? And don’t go off with the ‘I’m nobody!’ thing. People know who you are.”

“Um.” You really, really didn’t know what to say to him.

“My brother thinks you’re hot,” Homer offered, and Jason beamed at him.

“Okay, we’ll do this. You’re the producer of one of the oldest and most popular shows. You’ve gained more media presence over the last two years. You’re also friends with Kiro and Professor Lucien, so people have been quite curious about you for a while! This is just a fun little thing. Please?” Jason pleaded.

In the spirit of fairness, you took a minute to think about it. It would solve half the problem. And today’s location was a local fair, where the couple got to try out anything they want to, with all the expenses covered by the company. The very thought of stepping in front of the camera left your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t deny the bud of excitement that seemed to have taken root.

In the end, your stomach made the choice for you.

“If you think it’ll be fine, then sure,” you acceded, thoughts filled with stir-fried noodles and holding hands with a faceless person. “But what about the other person?”

“Hmm,” Jason looked in the direction of the office, reminding you that you don’t have all day to decide.

“I could call Gavin and ask if he’s free,” you suggested. People adore him. “Or Lucien?”

Jason nodded as if truly considering it, his gaze sharp on you. “Good choices. What about Victor?”

“Yeah, no. That is a bad idea,” you said at once, without giving it a moment’s thought. This was a dating show, where people go on cute dates and act adorable on camera. The very thought of Victor doing that at all, let alone with you…was something you couldn’t think of because it was ridiculous. And bad for your poor heart.

“It is an excellent idea,” Jason disagreed. You hated to be the bearer of bad news, but this was necessary. You’ve known Victor for a while now, and felt responsible for Jason’s well-being that would inevitably be threatened if he embarks on this particular path.

“He’d never agree to it,” you told him solemnly. The man barely agrees to do interviews; a show like this? Out of the question. “You know who he is, right? He doesn’t have time for this.”

“Why don’t you leave that to me, and go get ready. I’ll go get your man,” Jason said, loud and bright, shooing you in the direction of the dressing rooms. You stood there for another minute, dazed and afraid. What if Victor thought it was your idea?

The horror.

The terror.

“I’m still texting Lucien!” you called after him, voice pitched high in your alarm. Before you could follow Jason to make sure Victor knows you would never suggest this, an arm slid around your shoulder.

“Darling,” Arnold, the head stylist, cooed at you. “I heard the good news.”

“How?” It had been two minutes. People shouldn’t be spreading this without the director’s confirmation.

“Forget the hows. This is your time to shine. Come, we’re going to make that CEO drool,” he proclaimed, shepherding you towards the dressing rooms. “And I can finally do something about this hair!”

“He’s not going to agree.” You were absolutely certain of that, even as your mind continued to conjure cutesy images of you sharing cotton candy with the reticent man.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you reached for your phone over the cotton pads, watching Arnold’s reflection in the large mirror as he flitted about the small room, picking out different outfits. You hadn’t gotten a chance to check it for a while, and scrolled through your texts swiftly, pausing on a few in particular.

‎

Victor [9:00]: Hello. I’ve got some time off today.

Victor [9:02]: Is it alright if we drop by the set? What time is your lunch break?

Victor [9:20]: You must be busy. I spoke to Anna. I’ll see you later.

Victor [9:25]: Also, good morning.

‎

Oh.

He had actually let you know he’d be dropping in. Taciturn and domineering he may be, but Victor’s quiet consideration often left you glowing with warmth. In comparison, your own clumsiness often left you embarrassed. In this instance, it made you feel doubly determined to do this right.

‎

Y/N [12: 05]: Hi, sorry I missed these. Don’t worry, I’ll get us back on track.

‎

Closing Victor’s chat, you took a moment to consider your options before making your choice.

‎

Y/N [12:07]: Lucien! Are you free?

Lucien [12:15]: Hello. Just wrapped up a lecture. I thought you were going to be shooting today?

Y/N [12:16]: I am. Actually, I had a favour to ask.

‎

You stared down at the screen of your phone, shoulders relaxing as one of the assistants fussed with your hair. Should you wait for Jason before asking him? You knew what the outcome will be, regardless of what you wanted. You’ve always known, always kept your thoughts safe behind a barrier, never letting them spill out in Victor’s presence.

You thought back to his disappointment, and something fragile in your chest tightened.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you prayed to all the powers above that this works out.

‎

Victor [12:18]: Dummy. I’m not worried.

‎

There was a knock at the door as you opened the chat, thrown off but pleased by Victor’s confidence.

“Guys, can I come in?”

It was Jason.

With trembling fingers curling tight, you sat up straighter as he was let in. Your pulse quickens, your emotions jumbling together until your can’t tell them apart. You kept your expectations low. You knew what the answer would be. It couldn’t hurt if you expected it.

You just hoped it wouldn’t change anything. It wasn’t your idea.

“He agreed!” Jason announced with a flourish, and your heart halted its despondent march. “His secretary’s picking up his outfit, they said it won’t take too long. We’ll do his hair and mak—uh, are you okay?”

You swallowed your heart back down. “He said yes.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stretching out his answer, nodding as Arnold thrust an outfit at him.

“And he…knows it’s with…me?” you asked carefully.

Jason’s brows climbed a notch higher. “Yes, of course.” His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite read.

“Right, right. That’s great! Fantastic. Wonderful,” you said admittedly weakly, turning your gaze back to your reflection. The colour seemed to have drained from your skin, and you ignored the concerned glance exchanged by Jason and Arnold.

“___, hey,” Jason began gently, coming up to stand behind your chair. “Are you okay with this?”

You studied his worried expression, thoughts turning inward. You shifted aside the panic, the disbelief, the prickling nerves, and shushed the sparks of excitement.

A date with Victor.

It sounded wonderful. But the problem was never about you not wanting it. It was that you’ve wanted it for so long and so badly. Could you really have this?

“It’s okay to say no. It’s just…I don’t think it’ll be as awful as you think,” Jason said. His brow furrowed as the lines of your face smoothed out.

Oh.

“It’s for the camera,” you remembered, and Jason hummed thoughtfully. Regardless of what he may think of you, Victor wouldn’t let it show on the screen. You knew he was aware of what the show entails. So, perhaps, you could have this. It was for work. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay.”

Your breath evened out from its shallow state, and you smiled up at Jason, who still looked concerned.

“It’ll be okay.” Your phone buzzed again, and you gathered yourself once more.

‎

Lucien [12: 23]: What can I do for you?

Victor [12:24]: And I look forward to working with you.

‎

It wouldn’t be real.

Telling yourself it wouldn’t be real was easy.

Sitting next to Victor, your high stools positioned close together as you tried to keep your thoughts away from dangerous paths, was not easy. But the light notes of his scent, sandalwood and myrrh if your nose hadn’t led you astray, threatened to lull you into a state of near-intoxication.

Jason had wanted to film the ‘first meeting’ and, for the sake of authenticity, decided to have Victor wait in front of the camera while you got to be the one to walk in. Which meant it was straight from the dressing room to the set. While you were thankful you wouldn’t be filmed drooling on camera, it still meant you wouldn’t get a chance to talk to him until after, or in between takes.

You were a lot more grateful for the arrangement when you did walk to the set, because the sight of Victor—clad in a slim-fit black shirt, paired with a dark grey jacket and black pants that stretched deliciously over his muscled thighs—stopped you dead in your tracks, your thoughts wiped blissfully clean.

The look on his face, bright under the studio lights, had been unreadable, but it didn’t look like his usual unimpressed poker face, so you decided to take it as not quite a win, but not a loss either. Then the small upturn of the corners of his lips, however, threatened to overload your system, prompting you to avert your gaze slightly as you walked to him, for fear of losing yourself.

Your hi had been shyer than intended, but his hello had been the gentlest you had ever heard it.

And then he handed you a bouquet of red, fragrant roses and you felt yourself grow weak.

It was a short take, where you both introduced yourselves, and discussed where you’d be going for the date.

“Do you like fairs?” he’d asked, gaze intent as if your answer was of the utmost importance.

“I love them,” you’d answered, meaning it completely, and he’d looked glad.

Even through the wild beating of your heart, you had managed to feel impressed. He was doing wonderfully already. Who knew Victor had these acting skills? Hopefully, he thought the same of you. You weren’t acting, though, and this, you were quickly realizing, could be a wonderful way to lift the lid off the pot just a little, and let your real feelings shine through.

You would be filming the individual, interview type scenes last, after the date.

With the first meeting done, with Jason going over the take to make sure he had everything he needed, you would be moving to the location soon. But first-

You looked around quickly, covering your mic and making sure nobody was paying too much attention to you, before turning to Victor—only to nearly jump in fright when you met his eyes. How he’d known you wanted to talk, you’d never know. His own eyes had widened when you’d turned around all of a sudden, the tips of his ears reddening slightly. He had probably been startled by your reaction.

“Hi,” you whispered, grinning up at him, and his lips twitched as he covered his mic.

“You’re doing well,” Victor told you, giving you a firm nod, and you couldn’t quite keep from beaming at him.

“Thanks, you too. I never knew you were hiding such a skilled actor in there!” You really meant it, but your words gave him pause, mouth opening and closing as he considered his response. Strange, as modesty was something he didn’t often bother with. Not to say he’s arrogant, just that he knew his strengths.

“…thank you,” he finally said. “You too. I didn’t know you could…act.”

Because you weren’t acting. The blushing, the shy giggling, the warmth buzzing through you, they were painfully real.

You shrugged, smiling slightly, and he looked away.

“Just…thank you, Victor,” you murmured. “I know this isn’t really your thing. But I promise I’ll do my best to make it enjoyable.”

The light, airy sound that escaped his mouth could almost be a laugh. He did shoot you a small smirk, facing you once more. “Well, you’re not wrong. But it can’t be too bad. I’ve heard they’ve got good street food.”

“Good street food,” you repeated blankly. Wasn’t he taking this acting thing too far? This was bordering on alarming, coming from the man who used to look down on you for eating instant noodles.

“Yes.” He looks at you as if daring you to argue, and, well, who are you to argue with an actor’s method?

His smile faded slightly as yours widened, eyes fixating on yours, your voice pitching higher in your excitement. “I know, yeah, great food. Literally the only reason I agreed to do this!”

Victor’s face shutters at that, his lips pressing tightly together. “Hm.” He turned back to face the camera, leaving you confused, before realisation dawned.

“Hey, don’t worry! I won’t be too much of a glutton, we’ll be on camera, after all,” you told him, as reassuringly as possible because you and good food were a dangerous combo.

He arched a sharp brow at you. “We’ll see about that. I may spend most of my time in kitchen, but Mr Mills has much to tell me about some of your reactions.”

It was only through the sheer power of your offence that you were able to scowl at him even with the heat flaring up in your cheeks. “Well, there’s no way the food there will be as good as the one in Souvenir, so we have nothing to worry about.”

You resisted the urge to cross your arms, keeping your hands neatly folded in your lap as you turned away from him. But when he said nothing for a whole minute, you couldn’t resist the urge to sneak a peek, only to be left with your jaw slack.

Victor was still facing forward, but the corners of his mouth seemed to be curling up despite the effort he was clearly putting into keeping them neutral, his tiny smile still managing to spill through the seams. It enraptured you, a willing captive to the sight of him so pleased, and you wondered if you could make it through this with your heart intact.

But then, you told yourself through your daze, any chef would be happy to receive such praise for their food.

[video]

hopefully, yours, episode 3, part 1: Introductions (Victor and Y/n)

450,569 views • Feb 8th, 2020

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JTV ✓

1.19M subscribers

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51,509 comments

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Jason P ✓

pinned comment

This is a special one guys ♡

‎

needwater 45 minutes ego

AM I HALLUCINATING OR IS VICTOR LI ACTUALLY ON A DATING SHOW?

view 50 replies

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somsom 23 minutes ago

omg it’s y/n! We rarely get to see her on TV. She’s so cute!!!!

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orangeismycolour 16 minutes ago

!!!! Victor and Y/n!!! Omg ever since I saw them attend the Loveland gala together last year, I knew there was something there!!

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tooktiktook 8 minutes ago

um. isn’t this kind of an odd combo?

cheribb 5 minutes ago

@tooktiktok I thought so too but they look pretty cute together. I mean…he totally blushed when he saw her! And his eyes went so soft!

tooktiktok 4 minutes ago

@cheribb Well, she seems sweet but I think he was just being nice.

By the time you were shuffled into a van and driven to the site of the fair, your nerves had mostly settled.

Of course, that may have had something to do with the pudding cup Victor had handed you once you were in your seats. Goldman had brought over a paper bag, with Victor plucking two cups from it like a magician with a hat. With that said, while it’s a trick you’ve seen many a time, it never fails to bring a sparkle to your eye.

With Arnold’s permission, you were more than happy to dig right in. Your makeup would have to be retouched once you got there even if you didn’t eat.

It was easy to relax in the steady familiarity of Victor’s presence. A dangerous notion, your unwavering faith in Victor, that dictated everything would be okay if he was there because he would either make it so, or you, with confidence half-drawn from him, would make sure of it yourself.

It was only once you were halfway through the treat, humming and wiggling in your joy, that you realized Victor hadn’t started on his. Rather, his eyes were fixed firmly on you, intent in observing your devouring of the pudding.

The next bite went down a little heavier as you turned to him.

“Is something wrong?” Your enthusiasm surely couldn’t have come as a surprise.

He hesitated, seemingly on the verge of saying something, before clearing his throat and looking out he the window at the slow-moving traffic.

“No. Just…eat slowly,” he muttered, refusing to look at you. You squint at him, at the pink creeping up the back of his neck, sucking on the spoon thoughtfully. “There’s no need to rush.”

“Sorry. I got a little too excited.” Your laugh is a little hollow, and you muffle it with another mouthful of the soft, sweet dessert, missing his quick glance back at you.

He sighed, sudden and a little ragged.

“No, I meant that you should take your time and savour it,” he told you, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “I can make it for you anytime, so there will be many more chances in the future.”

The next spoonful remained frozen by your mouth as you struggled to process his words. Warm fingers came to rest against the back of your hand, guiding it, and the spoon, to your lips. Your skin tingled, but what was more damning was the way he held your gaze as your lips parted, the metal spoon warm against your tongue as you tasted the sweet delicacy.

It felt all the more sweeter, however, because of the little smile dancing across Victor’s lips.

You were rescued from attempting to respond to that by the van slowing to a stop, with Jason and Homer climbing in before they got moving again. Homer would be the one following you around the fair, as they only needed to get a few takes of you indulging in various activities.

“We absolutely need one with the ferris wheel, of course. A little cliched, but still damn cute. Maybe we can fix a camera in the cabin…” Jason trailed off, turning to Homer for his input. “If you think it’ll be better without you there.”

‘How would it be better without Homer there?’ you wanted to protest. ‘I’ll screw it up if left to my own devices! Professional environment aside, that’s a little too romantic!’

Something prickled at the back of your neck, and you realized Victor seemed to be trying to get your attention, albeit in a very silent way you probably wouldn’t have caught on to if you hadn’t spent so much time studying him.

He said nothing even when you met his gaze, but a reassuring warmth calmed you all the same. I’ll be there, he seemed to say. Trust me.

You were worried about the romantic atmosphere getting to your head, but surely Victor, the ultimate voice of reason, wouldn’t let you get carried away?

“Okay, we won’t crowd you guys too much, but remember to avoid turning away from the camera!”

That had been the last thing Jason said to you both before he retreated to his place behind Homer, who was ready with the camera propped over his shoulder. Your mics were affixed to your clothes, and people were already beginning to shoot curious looks your way. It wasn’t an uncommon sight; many vloggers and people working for food channels could often be found in places like these, flitting about with their cameras out as they partook in the activities available.

While being around cameras was nothing new, it was a little strange to be on the other side of them. Nervousness weighing on your chest, you reminded yourself over and over: be natural, don’t act like a lovesick fool, don’t stare at Victor for too long. Turning to the man himself as Homer adjusted the camera settings, hoping to draw inspiration from his steadfast composure, you could only stare in confusion at the intent way in which he was staring at the entrance to the fair.

Following the trajectory of his gaze, you squinted, hoping to see what had caught his attention. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, with people milling about, the welcoming sign high above their heads bright and welcoming.

“Victor?”

“Hm?”

“Is everything okay?” you asked hesitantly, and he nodded, almost distracted.

“Are we ready?” he asked Homer, who gave him a thumbs up.

Jason grinned at you, winking in what he seemed to think was a discreet manner. “Have fun, you two.”

You couldn’t quite pretend there were no cameras, not with Homer keeping up with you as you began to walk through the entrance arch. Looking at Victor was easier, just to block out the awareness of your companions, of course.

Catching your nervous glances, he inclined his head towards you and made an abortive movement, hand rising and falling midway. His jaw clenched, and then he offered you his arm, elbow bent.

As your hand curled around his arm, you focused on your vibrant surroundings. A task made more difficult when, after a short pause, you felt him tuck his elbow into his side, the broad span of his shoulders relaxing when you tightened your grip.

“I’ve been meaning to come here for years, but never really got the chance to,” you told Victor, your voice still edged with nervousness. But Victor nodded at you again, the usual stern line of his mouth quirking up, and your mind stuttered, committing itself to memorizing the precious curve of his mouth.

“In that case I’m glad we got to come here together,” he told you, and it took a good deal of effort not to gape at him. “It’s a first for both of us.”

You nodded, stunned by this unforeseen acting prowess. Seemed like you’ve discovered another one of his many talents.

“Hopefully, it’s the first of many,” he added, a smug lilt to his voice, and this time, you did gape.

“Y-yeah,” you answered, face heating up as you turned away for the sake of your dignity. “Hopefully.”

bandanaman @headaccs

are we all seeing this?? he’s such a gentleman!! I was not expecting this man to be smooth. #HopefullyYours

mintmadness @mintsallover

@headaccs HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? He doesn’t even need words, one look and I would be on my knees. #HopefullyYours #VictorLi

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover calm yo thirsty ass down lmao

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raspberrydream @berryberry

“the first of many” omg what does he mean???? #HopefullyYours

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freshasnow @crystalmoon

Yeah, I’m not really feeling this. I thought we were going to get Kai and Hollow this week? #HopefullyYours

‎

teatime ✓ @spillit

For those of you asking, yes, we knew Victor Li and Y/n were going to be on Hopefully, Yours. Don’t worry darlings, we’ll have some quality tea for you soon! #HopefullyYours

Spotting the first of the food vendors, you both headed over to it, peering at the fresh dumplings. The vendor straightened up at the sight of the camera, a benign smile spreading across his face when you asked him for permission to film, nodding and plating plump, steaming dumplings with the utmost grace.

Gordon, as he introduced himself, was more than happy to talk about his family business, their two restaurants in Loveland, while Homer took close-ups of the dumpling that Victor broke apart for a better look.

“My daughter comes here every year with me, insisting she can handle things by herself, but honestly, I just enjoy coming here,” he chortled, before fixing the two of you with a knowing look. “It’s a completely different atmosphere from the restaurant! And it’s always nice to see sweet young couples such as yourselves. Reminds me of my own fair dates with my wife…”

You couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Victor, who seemed content to chew on his snack. He caught your eyes, before his flickered over your head towards Homer and Jason. Inexplicably, his ears began to tint a deep crimson, as he swallowed with some effort and stepped closer to you.

It began to make sense when he lifted the other half of the dumpling to your lips, Gordon gasping an oh my! in the background, and even as your heart began to race, your eyes widening, you felt…bad. Jason had obviously asked him to do this, and you felt terrible about him having to embarrass himself like this. But he did it, and so you took a small bite of the dumpling, the juicy filling suddenly tasteless on your tongue.

And then there was a soft sensation on your chin, your eyes lifting to see Victor dabbing at your skin with a napkin, the little motion taking all his concentration until he stepped back with a satisfied glint in his eyes, which seemed to linger around your mouth.

When you were unable to do anything more than flush deeply and try to stammer out a thank you, Jason ended the shot.

The glint in Victor’s eyes didn’t fade, and something within you quivered.

raspberrydream @berryberry

he looks like he wants to eat HER #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry I CAN’T BREATHE. I thought he was going to kiss her LOL. And she looked so nervous and then he just wiped her chin THIS IS TOO SOFT I CANT #HopefullyYours

mintmadness @mintsallover

god I wish that were me #HopefullyYours

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only4food @bananabread

Okay I HAVE TO go to this place. I NEED TO EAT EVERYTHING. Who’s in??

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midnightmachine @musiclover

Gordon knows what’s up. We stan a hard-working man. #HopefullyYours

Things continued in much the same direction. With no signs of reluctance, Victor rolled up his sleeves and dived into the bustle of the fair. And with his hand curled around your wrist, you couldn’t bring yourself to doubt him. You’ve learned to read the signs of his displeasure, subtle and obvious, and they were nowhere to be found. He looked relaxed, trying out mini doughnuts, accompanying you to any shops you want to browse, frowning when you looked longingly at the ring toss.

“Let’s go,” he said, guiding you over to the booth. Well, you were supposed to try out the games too, but you hadn’t thought Victor would agree to play them. It seemed a little too childish for him.

“I haven’t come here in years either,” he told you when you looked at him curiously, the two of you standing in line with Homer right next to you. “I love my job, but I admit it takes up most of my time. I rarely have time to indulge like this.” He paused, as if wanting to say more, but his eyes flicked towards Homer and he ended it there.

While a part of you was startled in by his words, another softened at his truthful admission.

Victor seemed to have thought of something else, giving you a meaningful look. “But, of course, I always make time for the people in my life.”

You blinked, a little taken aback by sudden turn in direction.

“Even if they want to come to places like these, I don’t mind.” Victor seemed to be hinting heavily at something, and you smiled at that, almost excessively fond. Because it’s true that Victor makes time for the people in his life, especially his family. And even for you—he’s there for you, no matter how small the matter might be; huffing and puffing and going out of his way to help you.

Falling for someone like that, someone who effuses such stoic confidence and noble compassion in equal measure, it was all too easy.

“Then we’ll make sure to come again,” you told him, a wide grin blooming across your face at the thought. It was unlikely that it would actually happen, but it was nice to think about. You stepped up to the cashier, greeting him politely.

You finally got your turns after fifteen minutes, with Homer and Jason taking a quick snack break while you waited. You’d run a quick eye over the prizes available, quickly drawn to two pusheen cat plushies, a soft grey and a dark ebony. You didn’t think he’d judge you on camera, but would it really be okay to admit that’s what you want? The hair pin would be a more sophisticated pick, something more to his tastes.

Silently despairing over your proclivity for soft cute things, you turned to Victor for his choice.

Only to realize he seemed to have taken his jacket off while you were preoccupied and handed it over to Jason, his thin black t-shirt fitting him like a glove—and your words died a swift death at the back of your throat, shrivelling in the sudden dryness of your mouth. Silhouetted against the light of the late afternoon sun, his features seemed sharper, his gaze keener as he twirled the ring in his hands carefully.

As Homer began to roll the camera, and Victor prepared to toss the ring, you panicked with the realization that he didn’t ask you which prize you wanted like Jason had asked him to.

The ring landed around a bottle with a loud clink, and you hoped the surprise you felt wasn’t clear in your loud cheer. With the look he gave you, you knew he caught it even if others wouldn’t.

And then he handed you the dark pusheen plushy, which you took with trembling fingers and a sheepish smile. “Oh, thank you.” It was exquisitely soft to the touch. “This is the one I wanted.”

“Hm.”

“It looks like you.”

“What-” His head snapped toward you as you laughed, clutching the toy to your chest. Whatever outraged retort he’d been about to spit out was held back as he saw you hugging it contentedly, your eyes twinkling at him. “…I suppose.”

You handed him the toy, rolling your shoulders as you were given the ring. “Which one do you want?”

“I’m fine with anything,” he said, eyes locked on the grey pusheen plushy, the other half of the pair. So it was with a laugh, helpless in the face of his clear yet unspoken demand, that you tossed the ring. You got it on the second try, handing the toy to Victor with a triumphant grin, who took it primly and tucked it into his side.

“Thank you.”

“Isn’t this too childish by your standards?” you teased, unable to help it, but he only smirked down at you, stealing your breath with devastating ease.

“It is. But childish is…nice, sometimes,” he admitted carefully.

Your mind helpfully supplied you with all the instances of him calling you childish. “Oh?”

He shrugged, elegant, one shoulder lifting as he looked back down at the toy, before looking back up at you through dark, half-lidded eyes. “It’s grown on me.”

Kiro ✓ @kiromusic

Wow! This seems like so much fun, I kinda wish I got to go there too! :D @miracley/n invite me next time!! #HopefullyYours

Savin @agents

@kiromusic You just want to eat junk. And...well, I guess we can make an exception for today.

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

Before I proceed to scream over the clip, I just wanted to let y’all know I did some digging and apparently, they are friends! They’ve been spotted together in public many times, including the Loveland Gala last year. You know what this means. #HopefullyYours

bandanaman @headaccs

THE PUSHEEN TOYS. They won each other toys!! Y/n’s right, that does look like him with the dark fur lmao. BUT. Look at Victor’s heart eyes!! And she looked so happy omg T_T

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs NO WONDER. It seems like they already like each other but it seemed too soon!! They’re so cute omg please date!! #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry With how they look at each other? I smell pining ;) I’ve compiled a list of all their public appearances. He even took her to Souvenir! How are they not dating????

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs DM ME!!!!

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs I feel like that’s a bit of a reach. They certainly seem comfortable with each other, but that could easily just be friendship, which is nice too. I feel like we should allow people to be friends instead of just shipping them.

‎

mintmadness @mintsallover

@hotsauce they’re on a dating show, though.

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover yeah but plenty of other ‘couples’ were just friends or went on to be good friends. I just think these two are comfortable with each other, which is probably a good thing because Victor doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who can have fun with just anyone, you know?

You ended up having a lot more fun than you thought you would. Victor was always great company, but you could tell he’d tried his best to relax for the show and you didn’t know how to thank him for it. The warm gratitude bubbled up at the base of your throat, your heart sinking deeper into the ocean of affection you already held for him.

He’s so kind. His aloof demeanour, his nagging, his precise instructions and advice were things you’ve come to appreciate. But beyond those lies a heart so caring, so considerate, it made you yearn so deeply, to find yourself a place in it. But Victor had come to treat you as a friend and you could never ruin that because of your own feelings. It was precious, his friendship, and you wanted to treat it as such.

The line you’d drawn with so much care seemed to be straining, however, ever since you found out you would be riding the ferris wheel together, without Homer.

“The people in charge told us if we could just wait until closing time, they could keep things going until we’re done shooting!” Jason had told you as he briefed everyone. A bunch of the crew had left after packing up, as this would be the last take for the day. “That way Homer can fix the lighting and equipment in the cabin and won’t need to join you two! Give you some privacy, yeah?”

‘For what,’ you’d screamed internally, nodding along with a smile on the outside.

Looking to Victor for his opinion had been futile, because he seemed to have withdrawn into his own head, looking up at the ferris wheel absently. You were supposed to shoot the individual parts, but with how late it had gotten, Jason had asked the two of you to drop by the studio the next day. Only, you had a free slot in the morning while Victor would only be able to make it sometime during the late afternoon.

So you wouldn’t get to see what Victor said about you. That was perfectly fine. Things had gone well, and Victor wasn’t the sort to badmouth someone anyway.

It was supposed to be his day off. And he gave it up to participate in a show that was, for all intents and purposes, pointless for him. You felt terrible, heart aching at the thought that once again you had made him waste his time.

How on earth did Jason even get him to agree to this?

“You’re thinking something ridiculous,” came a low voice, and Victor seemed to have come back from his mental journey.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, the guilt getting to you.

“For what?” He seemed genuinely baffled, and it made you feel worse.

“For this entire day. You just came for a visit and now it’s after 8 pm and your day off is gone and you rarely get free time…” your shameful rambling tapered off as the furrow between his brows appeared to grow deeper and deeper.

His response was interrupted by a staff member, who came to let you know the ride was ready for you two. Walking together in complete silence, you wondered what he was about to say.

“Do you regret it?”

You arrived at the ride, and Victor had stopped in front of the open door. “What?”

“Do you regret it?” he repeated patiently, holding his hand out to you. “This entire day. Our date.”

Our date.

It was silly, how him calling it a date, with no cameras in sight, seemed to affect you so deeply. It was ridiculous but it was so real, how your heart fluttered and hope unfurled in the garden where you’ve buried your affection.

“Because I’m not sorry,” he added when you failed to do anything other than flush horribly. There was a question in his gaze, one you didn’t know how to answer, so with a deep breath, you focused on the one he’d asked out loud.

“No,” you said softly, your hand coming to rest over his as he helped you into the cabin. “I don’t regret it.”

How could you, when he was everything you wanted?

You settled on the plastic bench, watching Homer fiddle with the settings and light, making sure the camera’s fixed in place, basking in the heat emanating from Victor.

“Alright, that should work. You guys ready?” he asked.

“Yeah!”

“Yes.”

Homer stepped back to let Jason poke his head through the door. “We’re all set guys. Just call us if there are any problems. Be yourselves, don’t worry about the take. And remember, make sure to make it as romantic as possible!”

As the door closed behind him, with the camera rolling, silence rose to take the place of the sounds now cut off, the rest of the world falling away as the ride began and you began to ascend.

Outside the window, the stars shone in a twinkling blanket across the night sky, and Victor’s arm pressed into yours. Meeting his eyes was difficult, astoundingly so after the entire day you spent together.

This close, it would be so easy to let the words tumble from your lips. You didn’t know what your eyes could give away right now, and you were just as afraid of the softness in his gaze.

It looked too real.

“I’m glad we finally got some peace,” he muttered, and just like that a bright laugh broke out through your fear.

“This was not your kind of place at all, was it?” you said, snickering at the look he threw your way, because it’s so easy to make him huff like that.

“It was…lively,” he said, glaring at you as you stifle your smile behind your hand. “Exactly the kind of place you enjoy.”

“That’s true.”

“Then that’s that.” He shifted a little, trying to face you, his knee knocking into yours. “As long as you had fun, we’ll come again.”

Despite your warnings, your heart skipped a beat.

You tried to laugh it off, changing the subject to your childhoods, swapping lighter stories and carefully avoiding the heartbreaks. Your hands moved somewhere in between, in the dim lights, and your fingers had found each other’s. Make it romantic, Jason had said. That was the only reason. You talked about work, about Miracle Finder, about his public projects, how your busy lives don’t give you the chance to find love.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Victor cut in, still looking at you in that quietly dangerous away, his gaze a heated cloak over your skin.

You stilled. “You wouldn’t?” There was a tremor in your voice, one you hoped went unnoticed.

“I think, regardless of how busy we are, however reluctant…love finds us when it has to,” he said, his voice deep, unwavering, and you forgot how to breathe. Somehow, despite doing your best to avoid it, you had wound up on the proverbial cliff’s edge.

And it was time to take a leap.

“Victor...have you ever been in love?” you asked, part of you ready for his outrage, for him to brush it off with a roll of his eyes, and the other curling up in fear at the thought of the answer he might really give you.

He hummed, tightening his grip on your hand when you tried to tug it back, searching your face. His thumb swept over your knuckles, rubbing gently, and you wondered if he was preparing you for heartbreak.

“Yes. I have.”

Kiki @kikiki

@smilingwillow WHAT THE FUCK

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Anna @miracletv

@kikiki Language.

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Kiki @kikiki

‎@miracletv did you see the episode?? im going to collapse WHERE IS BOSS @miracley/n

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raspberrydream @berryberry

DID HE JUST???? OH MY GOD @headaccs DID YOU SEE THIS? ARE YOU OKAY? #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

THIS MAD LAD ACTUALLY DID IT. @berryberry I will never recover from this #HopefullyYours

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs @berryberry He just said he’s been in love before. He didn’t say he’s in love with her lol

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@hotsauce what will it take for you to finally see the light

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mintmadness @mintsallover

I could listen to this man talk all day. Y/n, you’re one lucky girl <3 #HopefullyYours

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cocoloco @chocolatedelite

I’m late to the party but lmao at everyone freaking out. Uhhh honestly I’m not sure. These things are usually scripted. They could just be faking it. #HopefullyYours

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@chocolatedelite Thank you!!!!

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victorshoe @mrsli

My heart is broken but their cuteness has mended it. I’ll give them my blessings. #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

oh thank god they just uploaded the individual bits!!! THANK YOU @jtv

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bandanaman @headaccs

...wait

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raspberrydream @berryberry

‎‎omfg

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bandanaman @headaccs

????? IS THAT IT??? COME BACK @jtv that can't be it!!

Thank you for reading!

MC/You: it’s a fake date. chill.

Victor: Goldman I need NINE roses and an outfit that makes me look like a sex god I HAVE A DATE

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mr love queen's choice #mr love li zeyan #mlqc victor x reader #queue are my sunshine

374 notes · View notes

samredding · 3 years

Text

The Darkest of Feelings So Far From the Shore

Summary: an alternative scene in Episode 5. Loki shows Mobius a memory from his past life.

Word count: 662

A/N: this is a pretty simple fic, and the idea is very self-indulgent. It’s not my best writing, but hopefully someone out there likes it.

___________________________________________

As Loki kneeled, he flipped his hair as he made an effort to stand up. Mumbling Sif's words as he got to his feet.

He heard a portal open behind him. He didn’t even bother looking. He guessed it was Mobius coming to take him away.

He was at least right about the Mobius part.

“What are you doing?”

“Passing the time!”

He didn’t want to waste no time.

“Can I ask you something?” Mobius grabs Loki’s arm, pulling him in a different part of the room. “Do you swear Sylvie didn’t plant those memories into C-20?”

“I’m sure.” Loki says. “I believe her, Mobius.”

“So I have to trust the word of two Loki’s?”

Loki sighs.

“You were right about the TVA.” Mobius leans in closer, as if there’s anyone around to listen. “You were right from the beginning. And if you wanna save Sylvie, you have to trust me. We have to trust each other.” Mobius points a finger at him. “Can we do that?”

“Absolutely.”

“We have the ability to burn this place to the ground. You two have the spark to do that.”

“Well, we can’t do it without you.”

Mobius turns to the portal. Loki expects him to walk to it, and he’s willing to follow him when he does.

Mobius turns back to Loki. He can see the thoughts running through his head. “Do… Do you know how to…” he does a motion with his hands. “how to show past memories? From our previous lives on the sacred timeline.”

“By enchantment?” Loki says, but quickly realizes Mobius doesn’t know what that is. “No, I’ve never done it.”

Mobius looks disappointed behind those blue eyes.

“But I could try.” Loki adds.

“No, never mind. We gotta go-“

“Mobius.“ Loki grabs his arm. “Let me at least try.”

Mobius dry sallows, looking into Loki’s eyes.

“Are you sure you’re prepared to see your past?”

“I want to know, Loki. I need to.”

Loki nods. That’s all he needed really.

“Sylvie said she needs to maintain physical contact with the person. So, let me.” Loki grabs his arm, then the other. “This might take a minute.”

Loki shuts his eyes. Mobius does so too shortly after.

Loki sees darkness. Then light starts coming through. It's blurry at first, but soon there’s an image of a beach.

What looks like a younger Mobius is standing on the sand barefoot. Fewer wrinkles, no mustache, and more scruff around his jawline. He’s sporting a blue button-up shirt with a name tag; Loki can’t read what it says. His shirt flows in the wind, along with his hair. It takes a minute for Loki to realize his hair is blond; along with it being a bit longer than what he sports now.

He’s gesturing like he did only a few minutes ago. Explaining something to a person sitting on a Jetski; it’s a younger kid. Mobius is pointing to the speedometer.

Loki can hear him blabbering about how the person about to ride it should be careful with the speed and turns. He points to the handlebars and throttle. He’s smiling. Maybe it’s the sun but Mobius (if that’s even his real name?) is glowing.

He looks happy.

It’s just one memory, but it’s enough. It cuts out shortly after. Whatever the TVA planted in him must be stronger than anything other memory he has.

Loki lets go of him. Allowing Mobius to get his bearings. Once Loki opens his eyes and looks at his expression; Mobius looks completely lost. Maybe even a little glossy-eyed.

He chuckles, a sad tone in his voice. “So that’s where my interest in jet skis came from.”

“Mobius, I'm….”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to say it. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Mobius grabs his shoulder. “Thank you, Loki. But you can do me another favor.”

“O-Of course.”

“Help me take the TVA down... and tell the rest of the agents the truth.”

#lokius #mobius m. mobius #mobius #Loki 2021 #Loki fic #Loki show

16 notes · View notes

gutwrenchflowerbomb · 3 years

Text

Note: This is long but I felt like getting it out there not just for the sake of newer fans but because it’s been a long time since I’ve written about wrestling and I’d like to get into the habit again.

So I’m still pretty new to the current form of WRESTLING TUMBLR™️ but I am a Tumblr vet (joined in May of ‘09 baybee). I am also a vet when it comes to being a wrestling fan. I’m talking 25 years (since I was 10). And I feel this urge to be the cool aunt to all the newer and/or younger fans. I don’t wanna act like I am some super authority figure or that my thoughts and opinions are fucking gospel, but like...apply the wisdom I’ve learned over the years.

Especially as someone whose favorite wrestlers tend to be somewhere in the lower to upper mid-card range.

There is a lot of anger/disappointment/etc right now regarding AEW and some of the recent booking and I just wanna say a few things about it that hopefully will resonate or ease some of that.

-People who are upset with Kenny and/or the Bucks being the champs because they are EVPs :

They deserve it. Why? Because AEW is their baby. Yes, Tony Khan is a big part of it but ultimately the Bucks, Kenny and Cody are the originators. They took a huge risk and it has paid off handsomely. So why is it that just because they happen to be EVPs that means they can never be booked to win big? This whole industry is and has been booked that way. Plus, it’s not like they put the straps on themselves instantly. It’s been over a year and I think it’s fair to say they earned it. Also: they won’t have them forever. Wrestling isn’t fun when the belts never switch hands. We know this and they know this as well.

- Chuck and Trent being underutilized and Orange Cassidy being pushed the moon:

I am a HUGE Best Friends fan. Have been for years. In fact, one of the first shirts I ever bought that wasn’t WWE was a Best Friends shirt and I’ve worn that bitch to All In, Double or Nothing, All Out and Revolution. Do I think they could be on Dynamite more often? Sure. Do I think they are being buried or anything like that in favor of Orange? It’s not that simple.

I love OC. He’s cool, fantastic in the ring, looks good but most of all he is just soooo different than what most casual wrestling fans are used to. In this case, it’s worked out to his (and the company’s) advantage. I can’t tell you how many videos I’ve seen online that show people who don’t know shit about wrestling reacting to him in the ring. The Buzz is good and the result is TNT is VERY interested in OC. We all know TK loves him too. The result has been Orange getting more screen time. But I hope most folks realize this is not his fault. Plus, there’s always gonna be like...designated roles in a wrestling stable. There’s gonna be your singles guys, the tag teams and sometimes a woman or two. It’s just naturally how stables are. And people who are in stables generally are seen supporting their fellow members.

The Best Friends do appear to be on the back burner as far as storyline/prominence goes right now and that’s ok. There is so much talent on that roster, especially in the tag division. If you pull back and look at the episodes objectively, you’ll see that they (the bookers) really try to get everyone screen time as much as possible. When’s the last time PnP had a match? Or Jurassic Express? I can count on one hand the number of times TH2 have been on dynamite this year. That means that a lot of times a team won’t actually have a match on Dynamite for a while. They usually try to even that out by having them on Dark. Again, that is ok. The only alternatives to this would be to A.) cut screen time to several other performers in favor or just one or two teams or B.) have more performers on but the matches would have to be cut to 3-7 minutes. Personally, I would rather have longer matches less often then every week have some dumb ass short matches.

- My favorite ______ deserves ___!

Listen, everyone has favorites and naturally we all want to see our favorites as much as possible and want them to be dripping in championships. The reality is, if the same people/teams are the champions all the time it’s boring as fuck. Seriously. In good companies, there is a nice ebb and flow of changing of championships. Titles changes that happen too often lose their prestige. When they take too long to change hands it becomes boring and predictable.

In my over two decades of watching wrestling I’ve learned to embrace this. When your favorite finally gets booked in a higher profile feud, it makes it all that much more exciting and important. Take my current favorite AEW star: I am patiently waiting for Colt Cabana to get something bigger than his current position in the Dark Order. It may be a while. It might be in a few weeks. In the mean time, I just appreciate it when I get to see him at all.

- The women’s division is trash in AEW right now

It could be better, but believe me: it could be way fucking worse. If any of you remember the Diva’s Championship era of WWE know what the hell I’m talking about. I think that right now, with Covid-19 and injuries for some performers, the women’s division is in a holding pattern. It sucks. There’s no way around it. If you watch Dark, that’s where the ladies shine. There is often 3-5 women’s matches on there and they feature some bigger players and some lesser known jobbettes. Sometimes that means there’s a squash match. But often the performers are given a solid 6+ minutes to go at it. That doesn’t sound long but it’s actually pretty generous especially for those performers who are new/unknown. Yet on Dynamite we usually only get one MAYBE two matches and generally it’s involving the same people.

I think this is probably going to continue to be the case until the pandemic is under control and they are able to travel again. Not just travel in the sense of going to different cities, but also travel for performers. I personally cannot wait until we get some of the wonderful Joshi ladies back in the mix. I honestly think AEW really truly wants to have the women in their company to shine as bright as the men but they are struggling to figure it out. When the company was started, they had some big, well known names in the men’s division i.e. Chris Jericho. I mean, Double or Nothing we got Mox debuting. That’s some name recognition that the women’s division didn’t get and I think they have suffered because of it. That doesn’t mean that the women are any worse than men or that they are any worse than other companies’ women’s divisions.

I hope if anyone actually read all this comments to let me know what they think. Again, I never want to come off as an elitist (lol) or know-it-all but rather like the weird old cat-lady who’s lived through some.

#aew #all elite wrestling #personal opinion #kenny omega #the young bucks #best friends #orange cassidy #chuck taylor #trent?#wrestling #pro wrestling #colt cabana #long post #seriously this is a long ass post

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years

Text

White Lies || Thomas Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “ Can you do 10&13 with tommy please? I obsessed with your writing” (Thank you honey, hope this won’t let you down ♡ )

Summary: n.10 & 13 from prompt list: “I swear to God, I’ll blind you” + “Don’t leave” Warnings: swearing, May Carleton insert, basically jealous reader, Tommy being the absolute cocky bastard he always is, me loving him even more

Author’s notes:

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

So, May appears in this piece too, even if she’s never been his lover. Is Tommy Shelby going to generate a mass murder with his cock? Maybe.

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Your sugar paper dress in lace and tulle gracefully fluttered in the wind, as you walked towards the Garrison, head up, a kind smile on your face and your right arm firmly placed on John’s left one. That same morning, Tommy’s new horse had won his third race in a row, for which reason the Shelbys had decided to have a little party at their pub, so that they could celebrate those amazing successes with their friends and closest fellows from Birmingham, seizing, at the same time, the opportunity to show to the whole town how the family was getting more and more powerful. Therefore, Finn, Michael and John were now escorting you and Polly to the tavern, where the rest of the Peaky Blinders had already got the festivities started. “If you ever get tired of Tommy, keep in mind that I’m here waiting for you, darling” The middle brother playfully whispered those flirty words into your ear, even though he was truly enchanted by the way you looked that night; you immediately glimpsed in his direction, seeing him keep an alluring smirk on his wonderful face and a toothpick held between his rose lips, just like always. A genuine chuckle spilled from your mouth because of his joke, a slight blush instantly covering your sweet face, while your lips promptly left a noisy kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry about him, Johnny, we can keep it as our little secret” You blinked at him, still giggling out loud, as you entered the Garrison arm in arm, finding a whole crowd of half-drunk people joyfully cheering for the increasing greatness and fortune of the Shelby Brothers Limited. “And that’s Thomas’s definition of small refreshment?” Polly’s usual sarcastic tone prickly referred to the massive amount of guests your fiancé had apparently invited; she lit a cigarette, carelessly throwing the used match on the floor, before her free forearm fondly stretched out to Michael, in a silent invitation to accompany her towards the table where Arthur had already made himself comfortable. Finn, on the other hand, immediately spotted Isaiah amidst the throng, for it took him a scant moment to literally run in his direction, eager as he was to finally spend a night out with his best mate, forgetting about work for a while. “Would you mind helping me find your perennially busy brother, mh?” You asked John, since you were now alone, standing at the entrance like two complete idiots, withouth a clue about what to do next. “Why don’t you come home with me instead?” His eyebrows quickly raised and lowered several times, in an intentionally droll attempt to make that indecent proposal sound tempting, his usual cocky smile never leaving his face. “Oh, shut up now!” you heartily laughed, jokingly punching his shoulder in the process “Let’s just find him, and then you’ll look for a pretty girl to dance with”

“No need to look for girls, love, they throw themselves at me” Your almost-brother-in-law defiantly stated that, while adjusting his houndstooth suit in one swift move, his large shoulders lifted along with his lower lip, giving life to an expression of pure smugness, which esponentially boosted when he found his way to the middle of the pub, performing his usual, cheeky, extremely bold walk. John’s lean and solid body shielded yours as you passed through that enormous amount of people, until you eventually reached for the cluttered counter; your watchful eye immediately caught Tommy’s figure standing with his back turned, a loving grin inadvertently springing upon your red lips, for he had left early that morning without waking you up, and, although it may seem corny, you had shamelessly missed him. Nevertheless, your jaw nearly dropped when, taking a few more steps in his direction, a beautiful woman entered your line of sight: she was talking to him, her clearly infatuated stare burning with desire, one of her palms randily caressing his bony cheek, but the worst part was that Thomas didn’t make a single move to stop her, he just stood there, listening to what she was saying, letting her pet his face. “Oh, fucking hell” John muttered, foreseeing a catastrophic epilogue to that risky situation, indeed, he was perfectly aware that you had no idea of who May was, moreover he could plainly tell she was without a doubt attracted to his brother, which meant no good, considering that you were in the same country as her. Still, before he had the chance to stop you from doing anything, you had already covered the gap between you and them, approaching your fiancé and heavily tapping on his shoulder covered by an elegant black jacket.

Tom’s icy eyes imperceptibly widened as he turned to you and realized how misunderstandable that scene could look; however, within a fraction of a second, he composed himself and regained all of his customary confidence, curving his mouth into an impertinent smirk and placing a hand behind your back, so to guide you in front of the mysterious lady. “Oh, you must be y/n, Tommy’s told me a lot about you! I’m May, May Carleton” Her falsely excited voice brusted out, preceding both of you, and that alone could’ve been enough to set you off, you were aching to ruthlessly punch her in the face, right there and then, yet your strong common sense led you to simply send her a long, eloquent death glare. “Well, he didn’t tell me anything about you, not a word” Perceptible hostility towards that woman infected your tone, still, while you spat that rancorous reply, your killer attention was utterly focused on Thomas, who, for his part, kept looking at you with amusement, blatantly revelling in your jealous little scene. “I didn’t have a chance to” His husky voice nonchalantly spilled from his full lips, whereon he was unchastely sliding a cigarette filter, his piercing black pupils continued to defiantly nail yours as he aimed to provoke you with that silly, senseless remark. Teeth sinking into the warm flesh of your inner cheek, while you tried your best to avoid a beastly outburst in front of everyone; sadly, hardly any moment later, May unwisely decided to throw more salt on your already stinging wounds. “How funny, I’ve been training your horses for three months now” a galling laugh of mockery eurpted from her throat and, once she was sure she had your attention, you noticed raw mischief twinkling in her brown irises “With excellent results, I might add”

She raised the glass of champagne she was holding, along with a hint of her head in Tommy’s direction, inviting him to make a toast to their incredible series of victories; a shrill tinkle filled your ears when his crystal cup joined hers, almost making your skin crawl, you watched speechless and powerless as a seductive expression deliberately contaminated his stunning features. “Obviously. Nothing but the best for my horses”

You just couldn’t believe your eyes, nor your ears; an alarming amount of emotions assaulting your defenseless mind, as you eventually figured out how many lies he had been feeding you during those past months. Soon after he had brought his first mare at the auction, Tommy specifically talked to you about how many expectations and resources he had placed on that brand new project, to the point of actually enlisting an expensive horse trainer, one of their comrades from France, a man they could trust, he did say. Your brain franticly reviewed all of the episodes in which he had called you to inform that he would’ve been late, for he had to stop by the stables in order to check on his beasts; a grievous boulder growing inside your chest, brutally crushing your heart, at the very thought of what could’ve effectively happened in those evenings, your breathing sharply stopped for endless instants, until you regained control of your body, blinking a few times to stop the world from spinning around you. Not a single world escaped your mouth, you only looked at them for one last time, before you hastened to turn tail and run away from that obnoxious situation. Only then, Thomas factually realized he’d gone too far with you, his vigilant stare followed your silhouette quickly moving amidst that mob of drunken yokels, while he briefly took leave of May, without even glimpsing at her once. Pushing and kicking his way through the crowd, he reached for you when you were practically one step away from the main door.

“C’mon, y/n, wait! Hey, don’t leave” Tom delicately grabbed your forearm in an attempt to hold you back, but, as soon as you saw him touching you, a calamitous rage exploded in your belly, leading you to violently yank your arm away. “Take your hands off me, or I swear to God, I’ll bind you with your own fucking cap!” Eyelids squeezing with autentic ire as you snarled in his face, fiercely smacking his hand several times and managing to get out of his grasp; yet, when you tried to leave the pub afresh, his imposing frame promptly interposed between you and the exit, his left palm firmly leaning against the jamb, so to cover the whole open space and preclude you every possibility to find your way out. “Get out of the fucking way, I said!” Frustration filled your yells, you had recourse to all your strength in a restless effort to shove him off, continuing to insult him and punch his chest, still your blows felt like nothing more than tickling to him. Thomas rolled his orbs and, at the same time, raised both his eyebrows, in a plan expression of his nuisance. “I think you’re being a bit overdramatic, love” Thomas was perfectly aware that he was being a total asshole, afterall, he had never even thought of May in such a way, but, for some strange reason, he wanted to tease you that night, he wanted to see you detonate. His imperturbable tone, together with his absurd words, totally made you lose your temper, you sensed your knuckles itching to crash with his perfect jaw, again and again and again. “Overdramatic?!” your voice raising of a couple octaves “You bloody bastard! You lied to me, God only knows what the hell’s been going on between you and that bitch. What’s more, you let her fucking flirt with you, in front of me!” Hot tears were now forming in your eyes while you kept shouting till you felt your throat hurt, Tommy simply kept watching you, not daring to pronounce a single syllable, but never changing his stoic countenance, nor moving from the doorway. “You were flirting back, letting her touch you that way, you fucking humiliated me, Thomas! In my place, you would’ve killed any man, without even thinking ‘bout it!” Tom’s look somehow softened as he observed your features contract with anger and sorrow, he knew he had unnecessarily and foolishly hurt you, he only was too proud to say it out loud; so, he kept his mouth shut and just came closer to you, carefully attempting to stroke your shoulders with tenderness. Nevertheless, you were too full of wrath and delusion to let him make it up to you that easily: actually, you desperately needed to cry, your cheeks were flushing with resentment, blind choler streaming in your veins. And, suddenly, a dull smack resounded in your and his ears. You slapped him so hard, that his head automatically tilted in the opposite direction, leaving both you and him speechless for a full minute; Thomas remained in that forced position, frozen, without going back to face you, consequently giving you the opportunity to finally pull him aside. “You don’t fuck with me, Mr. Shelby” That was all that you hissed, then leaving the Garrison and not looking back.

tag list: @spidey-pal, @shadow-of-wonder, @mclfoybaby, @peachlle, @livvtheangel, @myjbphase, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

Let’s Go to War

Requested?: Jack Ryan, Season One, Episode One, the army base scene. Lotta angst, basically.

Word Count: 6.7K+

Author’s Note: First, I’ve tagged a few people that might enjoy, just a one off thing. I have missed writing angst, and I think this is exactly what I needed. Had a think about how I wanted to do this, and thought ex-lovers added some extra spice. Get out the tissues, put on some sad music if you wanna. (DOD = Department of Defense)

Warning: Death, discussion of terrorism, gory detail, angsty.

Jack never thought he’d see her face again, but, fucking hell, was he pleased to.

As the helicopter flew over Joe Mueller’s estate and landed on his back lawn, Jack was drawn from a conversation to look over in shock. Why had the coastguard landed in his old boss’ country house yard? A part of him speculated for a moment that maybe this was some kind of arrest, or raid, that someone at the party was in some deep shit, but those thoughts quickly disappeared when a young woman emerged from the transport with a team of the coastguard’s finest.

She was beautiful, the sort of woman that left an imprint anywhere she went. She wore heels and a pant suit that complimented her skin tone, a black blouse underneath that left just enough to the imagination, and held a file in between her manicured fingers. The rotors of the helicopter, still spinning as if about to leave again, did little to disturb the bun in her hair, the wind that was causing teary eyes around him didn’t seem to touch her features.

Her eyes were still as bright as he remembered, even if it had been years.

“Doctor Ryan?” Her voice rang out over the sound of the chopper, and Jack raised his hand to indicate his whereabouts. Officers ran towards him, decked out in gear that would suggest a sea search and rescue mission rather than interrupting a birthday party.

“Doctor Ryan, I’m Petty Officer Second Class Dillard with the United States Coast Guard. I need you to come with me.” The first officer, a man, explained to Jack, who leaned his head forward just a touch to see if he had heard him right. Come with them? With her? What for?

“Sir, I need your keys.” The second officer, a younger woman, held out her hand, and Jack sat down his beer.

“For what?” Jack asked, now a little worried he had done something wrong. He wouldn’t put it past Greer to send the Coast Guard to arrest him after he froze the Suleiman account… That guy kept proving himself to be an asshole.

“I have orders to drive your car back to your apartment.” She said simply, like Jack was meant to know what was happening. He handed over his keys quickly, Officer Dillard taking him by the arm and leading him towards the aircraft, the pair a few steps behind the woman Jack just couldn’t quite believe was there.

She walked back onto the helicopter without changing her posture, unafraid of the spinning blades above her, and sat herself down in the back, fastening herself in like she hadn’t just crashed a party with the Coast Guard.

“Keep your head down sir.” Dillard instructed, Jack bowing his head and clambering into the transport with Dillard at his heels, the pair fastening up as the heli lifted off the ground and flew back the way it came.

“Well, you sure look nice, Ryan.” The voice came over the headphones, and after sorting himself out, Jack looked up at the woman across from him, who watched his actions with a smirk on her lips. “You started rowing again, I can see. You’ve put on muscle. It suits you.” The words didn’t throw Jack off-guard like her presence had, he remembered the tone, the pronunciation, hearing them again was like second nature, like they never really left.

“You are the last person I expected to see today.” He admitted, taking a second to glance out the window as they flew towards, Jack was quite sure, the Langley airstrip.

“Reminds you of old times, doesn’t it?” She asked, and Jack nodded instinctively, knowing she was right. Sitting in a helicopter with her was far too familiar, the trip reminding him of the first time the two had met. “You’ve garnered attention with Yemen, and I’ve been tasked with accompanying you. Don’t ask why, I really don’t have a clue why they need me here, but I follow orders.” She continued, handing him over the manila folder that was stamped with a bloody red ‘TOP SECRET’ on the cover. Before Jack opened it, he looked back at her, a small smile on his face.

“It’s good to see you too, Y/N.”

The helicopter landed on the airstrip about thirty minutes later, Y/N taking it upon herself to slide open the door once they hit ground and make her way towards a jet sat on the strip. Jack hurried out with Dillard after her, and once he was clear of the rotors and any immediate danger he bid adieu to the coast guard officer and headed after Y/N. She gestured with a quick wave to a set of awaiting cars, Jim Greer sat in one of them avoiding the rain for as long as possible. Jack and Greer fell into step behind Y/N, who was now chatting on her phone as she entered the jet.

“What’s the matter? Don’t like flying?” The older man welcomed Jim to the airfield with a smirk, a young officer hurrying past them to take bags of some sort onto the plane.

“What the hell is going on?” Jim replied, visibly confused. The manila folder had only explained a little to him, and he had actually laughed audibly when he saw how much was blacked out. Y/N told him Greer would tell him the rest of what he needed, and their conversation on the flight over ended there. By the look on Greer’s face though, Y/N was right: Jack was about to get the rundown.

“That account you froze: S.A.D and Yemeni PSO picked up somebody.” Greer explained, the pair coming at a stop by the plane steps. Jack glanced up in surprise.

“Suleiman?” He asked, a little too optimistic for a season CIA officer, but Greer liked his enthusiasm.

“No, a couple of couriers, they think.” Greer quickly set Jack’s expectations in check, the taller of the pair pausing.

“Wait, you said S.A.D but I didn’t order any surveillance.” What Jack made was more a statement than a question, but Greer was happy to answer it anyway.

“I did.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t there yet.” The revelation was certainly not what Jack expected, but he had spent the day being surprised by people.

“You weren’t, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong.”

“Well, how come you couldn’t have said that instead of throwing me out your office?” Jack continued his questioning, a scornful laugh mixing into his speech. The rain had begun to pick up, the shoulders of Jack’s blazer now a dark grey from water.

“Because I don’t know you. And I don’t answer to you.” Greer stated quite simply, and put a foot onto the staircase. “Now, S.A.D and the Yemenis are gonna run the interrogation. But you’re the one that knows all this financial shit, so I need you there to make sure they know what questions to ask.” Jack’s eyes widened; his throat went dry. Had he heard Greer right? Yemen?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What? N-no. I… I can’t go to Yemen.” He refused quickly, taking a step back.

“Why not?” a new voice entered the conversation, Y/N stood at the top of the plane steps with her arms folded, an eyebrow raised at Jack’s reluctance.

“I’m an analyst. I don’t interrogate people, I write reports.” Jack tried to reason with the pair, Greer and Y/N both sharing the same look of disbelief at Jack’s adamance that he should not be on the plane.

“Wow… It’s like you were never in the Marines, Ryan…” Y/N said with a breezy laugh, rolling her eyes and turning her back to the pair. “Get on the fucking plane.” She ordered, walking back into the jet’s warm interior, her words earning a slight chuckle from Greer.

“I’d listen to her.” He suggested to Jack, though it seemed the analyst had come to the same conclusion, letting out a heavy sigh before following Greer up the plane steps, into the unknown.

The plane and subsequent helicopter ride wasn’t particularly interesting for Greer, who slept most of the way, but for Jack and Y/N it was a reunion, a catch up over case files and coffee. Each was aware the other’s company made travelling easier, the casual back and forth they shared made it feel like they hadn’t parted ways all those years ago. There was no tension, no awkward moments: they were adults and, to the passer-by, friends. And Jack wasn’t blind to the beauty of her either, it looked like she had barely aged a day, and yet held the air of someone with authority and class.

Her eyes shone in the cabin light, like stars in the cosmos, and Jack couldn’t help but be mesmerised by her despite the job that was clearly more important than his daydreams.

The landing and transporting of Jack, Greer, and Y/N to the US Army black site named ‘Cobalt’ in the Yemen Sarawat Mountains was far from comfortable, the chopper that flew them in lacking any sort of shielding from the sand the wind and blades had picked up, but once the three were on the ground everything became slightly more bearable. Apart from the heat, both Jack and Greer had sweat through the clothes on their backs, the sun shining down like its only mission was to burn Yemen to a crisp. Greer took lead, approaching a scruffy haired soldier adorned by a scarf and sunglasses: Jack made a note that the sand draft here was worse than most places.

“Jim. Good to see you brother.” The man welcomed Greer with a smirk and a handshake, Greer quickly moving aside for his co-workers to meet.

“Matice, this is Dr Ryan.” Greer said with a nod, Jack quickly shaking hands with the solider, greeting him with a quick ‘how you doing?’ before Y/N stepped forward and nudged Jack.

“Not going to introduce?” She teased, and the solider, now known to be Matice, chuckled. Like Greer, it seemed that Y/N was friendly with the base.

“Why have they dragged you out of DOD?” Matice asked, and Y/N shrugged, sending a smile back at Jack as she walked across camp like she ran the place. Jack realised there was a possibility she could, in their catch up on the flight he had never found out exactly what she did at the Department of Defence.

“What you a doctor of?” Matice turned the conversation back to Jack, whose eyes quickly averted themselves from Y/N and back to the men around him.

“Economics.” Matice and Greer shared a look.

“Cool.” The former replied, turning to lead them in the direction Y/N had left for. “Man, I thought you were in Pakistan.” Jack walked alongside as Greer and Matice struck up their own reunion, his boss sighing at the thought of his old posting.

“No. Back at Langley.” He replied, and Jack found himself looking around at the impressive size of the camp. Turrets at all corners, tents and barracks set up around a clearing large enough to land a helicopter, their helicopter. Before them, flat top buildings came closer with each step, and Jack’s subconscious hope for air-con was quickly foiled.

“What about you? What’s your story, Doctor?” Jack tuned back into the conversation after a moment, taking the time to find his words and he fidgeted with the blazer in his arms.

“Oh, I’m an analyst.” Jack said quickly, making it very clear he wasn’t meant to be in a war zone.

“No shit? What do you analyse?” Matice seemed intrigued, and Jack licked his lips to ready himself for explaining his work, though not much needed said. Every breath here seemed to leave one parched.

“Global markets, mostly. Financial aberrations, stuff like that.” He managed to say through the heat, each syllable becoming easier as he acclimatised.

“You got any tips?” Matice questioned, and when looking over to find Jack confused, he continued. “Stocks and shit. Trying to expand my portfolio.” Jack thought for a moment, not quite sure how to explain that he hadn’t worked with stocks since his time on Wall Street, but luckily he didn’t need to. Their walking came to a stop as Matice stood outside a doorway, gesturing to the soldier in front of him. “Gentleman, this is Captain Ackhmed. He’ll be leading the interrogation.” He said, Jack and Greer taking turns to shake hands with the Captain before all of the entered the building.

Y/N stood on the door’s other side, her quick departure earlier seeming to have been a chance to change into lighter, more environment suited clothes. Her heels had been swapped out for a pair of black boots, her pant suit for linen trousers, her black blouse for a white top. Around her head sat a scarf, covering most of her hair and shoulders. Despite the change of clothes, she still looked professional, like her presence in the building was important. Maybe it was, Jack was still to find out.

With a nod shared between Y/N and Matice, the formed group walked down the dusty corridors, stopping only for Privates to open doors and locks, each one passed through bringing them closer and closer to the sounds of what could only be described as American country music. Jack found his eyes wandering around the space the second time they stopped, unable to block out the amount of panicked noise that seemed to be coming from his left. His gaze fell down, a pair of bare feet visible from under the door.

“Matice, you go ahead. I need to speak to Dr Ryan for a second, run through protocol.” Y/N spoke up, dragging Jack’s eyes from the floor. She had been watching him as codes were entered onto keypads and keys were fumbled through to match locks. Greer gave Jack a pat on the shoulder before going ahead, the door closing behind the rest of the team to the sound Matice offering Fanta over the din of Toby Keith.

“We did protocol on the plane, Y/N.” Jak said once they were alone, unsure of why she had kept him back.

“Stop thinking it.” She said, arms folded over her chest like she disapproved of him. Jack didn’t quite understand what he had done wrong exactly. “This isn’t home… This isn’t the Marines we were in. This is a war zone and you leave your merit badges at the door.” She explained, and Jack smirked at her scolding of him. “I’m serious Jack. This place isn’t friendly territory. I don’t want you underestimating people and getting hurt for being nice.”

“I thought you liked my boyish charm, Y/N.” Jack managed to crack a joke back, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. “You seem to have a lot of experience in places like this. If you can manage, I’ll be just fine.”

“Jack.” She warned again.

“Y/N, I’ll be fine. Why are you pressing this?” He asked, and Y/N took a step forward, straightening out his collar. It flashed him back years, the action so reminiscent of a time he had started to forget. Her hands rested on his chest for a moment, a smile on her face.

“I’d like to take you out for drinks back home with you in one piece.” She explained with a smile, and Jack felt himself nodding in agreement.

“Drinks sound great.” He agreed, and Y/N gestured towards the doorway, where Matice and Greer had gone through, where their couriers waited.

“You have a job to do, I have a base commander to speak with.”

“You’re that high up, huh?” He quizzed, and she rolled her eyes playfully at him as she headed the opposite directions.

“I’ll tell you all about my job on our date, Doctor.” It was a promise that spurred Jack into the room, eager to find out the information that they needed to get this whole thing over with. He didn’t particularly like being in Yemen anyway, but now he had a reason to get himself home as quickly as possible.

“You know, if you keep this up Ryan, you’ll be late to your own party.” The voice called from out in the hall, the voice warm and cheerful and no doubt already a drink or two into the night. Jack glanced at himself once more in his tiny New York apartment’s bathroom mirror, straightening his bow tie and letting out a held breath: it was hard to believe that it was happening, that he had had really managed to do it.

“Just a minute.” He called back, dabbing on a spot of cologne and running a hand through his hair, messing up the hairdo he had perfected, but it made him feel better. With one last sigh, he grabbed the dinner jacket from the back of the door and exited the bathroom into the one bedroom, stopping dead in his tracks once he caught sight of her. “Wow…”

There she stood, a smile as warm as the sunset outside and eyes just as bright. Her hair was up in a bun, a few curls falling down to frame her face, a sleek black dress to match his own suit hugging her figure tight, the satin fabric accentuating all the features he had spent the past eighteen months memorising. In her hands, delicate despite what they had been through over a four year tour, held a gift box, decorated with a white ribbon and note card.

“You look amazing, Jack.” She rushed forward, catching him in a kiss before he had a chance to respond. Their lips together were gentle, sweet, strong, and his hands landed on her waist as his nose was filled with the perfume he had bought her for their anniversary.

“This old thing? I’m nothing compared to you.” He smiled as they broke away, pressing another kiss to her forehead for good measure. “I thought I told you not to get me anything.” He feigned reprimand, but the grin on her face was too contagious, and his façade broke quickly.

“It’s not every day you become a doctor, Jack… Dr Jack Ryan…” She let the words sit on her tongue for a moment before handing over the gift, and marching back him in her heels to fetch her jacket and open the front door. “Open it in the car, you can wear it tonight if you like it, but we’re already late to your party.” She urged with a laugh, Jack nodding and following after her, stopping to press a kiss to her cheek, and whisper in her ear.

“You know, I like the sound of it too… Dr Jack and Mrs Y/N Ryan doesn’t sound like a bad pairing, does it?” He said with a cocky smirk, the type that made her blush red and playfully slap his arm to counteract the swelling of her heart.

In that moment, the words rang true.

The hours passed, and despite not speaking very much Arabic, Jack was growing bored of the repetitiveness of the interrogation.

They had moved the bodyguard to another room to wait, focused one their young businessman with the phone, but he seemed quite confident he knew nothing. In fact, Jack was sure the soldiers around him might have been tempted to use more… frown upon methods, had he and Greer not been present, had Y/N not been on base. From what he could gather, she was somewhat high up in the DOD now, what with the way the comrades on base treated her like she was the Command in Chief.

He stood from his chair after he registered the same words being used for the sixth time now, another time that question would go unanswered, and made his way to the door. He wiped a layer of sweat from his brow, the dust and heat doing him and his shirt no major favours.

“Where you going?” Greer asked in a low tone, the closest thing the man could manage to a whisper.

“I’ve been at this for hours.” Jack said with a sigh, stopping before he knocked on the door to be let out. “I need some air.” He added, rapping his fist twice on the metal and letting his shoulders slump a little. He didn’t wait for Greer to hold him back or say something to stop him, stepping out as Captain Ackhmed started shouting again.

The door closed with a slam, Jack taking a breath and running a hand through his hair to focus himself. He glanced up, a private waiting by the door, the outside world just seconds away. He thought for a moment about possibly finding Y/N, though she was no doubt busy with something Jack didn’t need to know or care about. That’s when his gaze shifted to look down the hall, at the room that hosted their bodyguard… The bodyguard who looked up when he mentioned the transfers hours ago.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” The private asked, and Jack nodded, a plan forming in his head.

“Where do I get something to eat?” He asked, the private giving him the directions to set off into the evening heat across the base, collecting two meals and starting his route back to the bunker building, with the intent of sharing a meal with one of their captured.

As Jack made his way for the bodyguard’s cell, Y/N finished up a meeting on the far side of the black site with the Base Commander, pleased with the information given to her to pass on. A part of her felt bad for not being completely truthful with Jack; of course, that was their work, not everything could be shared. He didn’t need to know she was there to collect information on possible locations for drone strikes by the US, and she didn’t need to know the ins and outs of his terrorist theory.

She made he way across the sand with conviction, her few bags stored in the barracks for safety, a manila folder in hand and ideas of home in her head. She wondered where she might take Jack once they got back: perhaps the bar on F Street, or the seafood place on 17th. What would she wear if it was clear this was a date rather than a reunion? A chance to talk as more than friends than just… whatever they were now.

The thoughts took her straight to her bags in the barracks, and right back out into the dark night after she had dropped the file in her locked briefcase, the cold of the night suddenly hitting her. She had forgotten how quickly the temperature in the mountains could change, how you could go from sweating through clothes to clambering for the extra layers.

Her mind now set on warmth, she begun her way to the mess hall, hoping to grab something warm to eat before having to catch up with Greer on their interrogation progress before she had to question Jack on how sure he was about this new terror plot against the free world.

The first rumble occurred on her way into the mess hall, a few off-duty soldiers saluting as she entered, quick to serve herself some cold meats and bread before taking a seat alone, sipping away at a bottle of water. It was weak, it sent a ripple through the bottle on her table, nothing more. Had she an all-seeing eye, Y/N would have known the rumble was the car bomb approaching the entrance gate, to the right of where she sat, through only a single layer of concrete.

The second sound was not a rumble, it was an explosion.

The first sensation Y/N felt was not the falling, nor the taste of dust in her mouth from the wall that had fallen to her right; instead, it was the ringing in her ears that remained her of the thud chopper blades made. It was whirring more than white noise, the same consistent thud that made her close her eyes to block out the light, made her breath in and promptly cough out the debris surrounding her.

“… move out now. Ma’am? Ma’am!” Through the thudding came a voice, deep and urgent in it’s pleas. It took Y/N a moment to come around, already being pulled to her feet by some of the soldiers who had been dining nearby, one pouring something cold over her face to allow her the privilege of sight once more.

Through the haze, she managed to make out two soldiers, both a dust covered as she was, urging her towards the south exit of the mess hall. She let her feet followed without complaint or resistance, still not quite sure what was happening, but more focused on managing the pain covering the right side of her face and temple.

“What… What happened?” She managed to ask once the three of them had exited the mess hall, now surrounded by the black night and the carnage of battle behind them: even from a distance, Y/N could feel the heat of explosions, the ringing in her ears did little to reduce the echoing gunfire.

“It seems we’re at war…” The second officer replied. Amidst the chaos, they were severely low on weapons or protective equipment, and as her vision and focus finally came back to working levels, Y/N quickly realised they were headed for the armoury.

“Won’t they attack there first?” She hissed, slowing as they came to a corner. Another loud bang forced her to cover her mouth and watch the incineration of one of the watchtowers. “Good-” Her blasphemy was cut off by a different noise: the sound of close gunshots.

She turned to the soldiers, hoping for backup, and instead met the barrel of a gun. At the man’s feet lay the pair who had tried to help her.

“Move.” He ordered, gesturing towards the interrogation bunker, and Y/N simply nodded, trying her best not to focus on the putrid smell of dead flesh sticking to the blood-soaked man.

Her steps were solid and quick, lucky she hadn’t hurt a limb in the explosion, much to the content of her captor. The last thing he needed was a damaged hostage, regardless of how important they looked. It wasn’t often you found women on bases, he was betting he had struck gold with grabbing her when he could.

By the look of worry on the first private’s face, he decided she was, and promptly shot him dead. Before the private had hit the floor, Y/N was being pulled along by her captor now, one hand gripping her shirt at the shoulder, the other aiming the gun into her side.

“Take me to him.” The captor demanded of the second private, who turned to find the face of a DOD representative. His eyes quickly travelled down to the gun in her side. “Now.” The captor demanded again, and the private nodded quickly, much to Y/N’s relief. The three started down a hallway, stopping at a door that the private quickly unbolted and opened for them, coming face to face with the businessman who had been brought in a few hours ago.

Bang.

“The other one.” Her captor demanded, prompting the private and Y/N to share a glance of confusion, then realisation: perhaps their team had been interrogating the wrong person.

With the gunshots close by, Jack shot to his feet and rushed to the door of the room he had been instructed to stay inside, taking a moment to listen for movement, and with the sound of footsteps approaching, he pressed himself to the wall behind the door, taking a deep breath and holding it.

The noise of it swinging open sounded more like a creaky garden gate than a cell door in a war zone, and for a moment Jack as hopeful to see uniform, to see linen…

“Run!” The soldier shouted as the bodyguard warned someone Jack couldn’t see in Arabic, prompting two gunshots to be fired as Jack came from behind the door and started to wrestle the gun off the attacker: a man who looked quite like the bodyguard, despite the blood that covered him.

Jack managed to throw the gun across the room, but his opponent had the advantage of the door, using it to throw Jack into the wall as the two hostages fell to the floor: the soldier in the centre of the room dead, the second tucked into the opposite corner, holding her hands over a growing patch of red as her eyes fluttered closed.

Jack was a trained marine by nature, quickly throwing punches into his opponent’s side from below as the other man tried to tackle him to the floor. He succeeded: he and Jack fell to the ground with a loud thud as the brawl continued, the bodyguard inching round the table as punches were thrown to try and reach for the gun with his foot, his hands still cuffed to the table’s central bar. The attacker managed to get on top of Jack, the CIA officer taking punch after punch to the face with little display of pain shown: he had been trained well enough to know never to show weakness.

Jack let his eyes lose focus for a moment, convincing the attacker he was out for the count, and let the man stand to reach for the gun before grabbing his leg and pulling him back down to the ground atop the soldier. It allowed Jack to get on his feet, ready for a second round, when a flash of silver and a sudden searing pain in his side sent him stumbling into the wall.

His opponent had taken the soldier’s knife, and Jack had been slashed.

When he had managed to process the situation, Jack’s opponent was already hot on him with knife in hand, this time aiming for Jack’s neck. He was quick to block, the pair battling over strength, over whether Jack died or escaped: but Jack had height and weight on the attacker, and after a moment of struggled, he had pushed him to the side, the knife falling to the ground, and then proceeded to bash his head against the wall twice.

“قام!!” The bodyguard shouted as Jack stumbled his way towards the gun, towards a sure win in this battle. Just as he leaned down to grab it, his opponent was back and tackling him onto the metal table, placing Jack in a fight of two against one.

The bodyguard and Jack’s opponent held him down, doing their best to get a grip on his neck, to choke him out and end it there, but Jack was a stubborn fighter, and seemed quite set on staying alive. He writhed and pushed, every time he was almost away they grabbed him once more.

Until, silence.

For a moment, everything stopped, and Y/N let her eyes flutter open to watch, to figure out just what was happening. The two attackers, the bodyguard and his rescuer, they were frozen by something in Jack’s hand she couldn’t quite make out despite the close distance and harsh lighting overhead.

“He’s bluffing.” She heard the rescuer, who held a gun pointed at Jack, say to his brother in Arabic. It seemed like she wasn’t the only one who knew a spattering of the language, because Jack responded instead of the bodyguard, lifting his opposite hand as he spoke, a ring of metal that looked like a key dangling from a finger. It didn’t take the ex-combat soldier very long to piece it together.

A grenade.

“No, I’m not.” Jack replied, Y/N’s eyes dropping shut at the words. The attackers shared a glance, the bodyguard giving a sigh.

“Don’t shoot.” He ordered in Arabic. “Get the keys from the soldier.” It was quick, a few seconds at most, but as the pair unlocked the bodyguard and Jack held that grenade in the air, he could’ve sworn an hour had passed. The gun was still trained on him, the pair moving to the door as the bodyguard finally switched to English. “I thought you were an analyst.” He remarked to Jack, who kept his grip firm and his gaze steady on the ground.

“I thought you were a bodyguard…” He replied, and took the moment for the men to reach the door to figure it all out. To piece it all together. “It’s you…” He said with a grimace, prompting him and the bodyguard to lock eyes. “Suleiman…”

No further words were exchanged, but the look he received told Jack he was right on the money: he had faced off against the man he had been following ghost stories of for weeks. No more words, just Suleiman and his saviour closing the door on Jack in that tiny interrogation room.

It was only once the door had swung shut that Jack could collect himself, letting out a slow and shaky exhale as he slotted the pin back into the grenade, his whole body collapsing after the fact. It took him a second to remember he wasn’t alone, to remember what had happened only a few minutes before.

Y/N.

He managed to scramble over, abandoning his own pain to focus on the sight before him, his hands immediately clamping down over Y/N’s stomach and causing her eyes to flutter open again.

“Hey, hey.” She croaked, a weak smile on her lips as her left hand, soaked in her blood that had pooled to the floor around her, coming up to rest on the firm grip Jack had on her intestines. “Jack…” She spoke again, and was met with the frantic eyes of a scared man.

The wound was bad, the blood loss was worse: and they both knew it.

Jack couldn’t help but notice the grey that had already settled into her skin, her lips losing colour. Her clothes, those brown linen pants and the white blouse to compliment were now deep shades of red, some of the blood already beginning to dry it had left her system so long ago. The bruises she arrived with, no doubt from the explosion that had rocked the ground beneath their feet ten minutes ago, had begun to show colour, turning her cheek into a mixture of browns and blues and purples and greys.

“You know,” She began again, pulling Jack’s attention away from her injuries. “It’s a real shame we won’t get that date. I was hoping to pay you back.” She let out a laugh, followed swiftly by a groan of pain that had Jack shushing her.

“Don’t… Don’t talk. You need to save your strength.” He said decidedly. “Medics will be here soon; they’ll sort you out and then you can take me out. To the bar on 19th in D.C, you used to love that one.” Jack smiled at the thought, looking back at the door. “MEDIC!” He called out. “WE NEED A MEDIC!!” He yelled the second time, a hand gripping his forearm in response.

“Stop.” Y/N begged, the smile never leaving her lips. “This is ok. Just us… This is alright…” Her hand moved from his arm to his chest, over his heart, and Jack couldn’t stop his lip trembling, his body shaking.

“Y/N please…”

“You know that girl from the party was really gorgeous.” Y/N cut him off, taking a laboured breath before continuing, “You should ask her out, take her to 19th Street for me.” She suggested, and Jack shook his head quickly.

“Why would I take her when I’m taking you? I’m not going to ruin a chance with you again by dating someone else Y/N.” He was stubborn, glancing around the room for something to stem the bleeding for just a little longer. “MEDIC?!” He called out once more, the desperation in his voice more than evident, and prompted another action from the woman he was trying to save.

“Hold my hand, Jack…” Y/N asked, the tears welling up in her eyes as she watched his frantic pleas. “I don’t want to die without you holding my hand.”

“You’re not going to die, Y/N!” Jack called through his frustration, tears of his own hitting against her linen trouser leg. He couldn’t believe what she was asking of him, how she could ask it of him, but that smile told him everything he didn’t want to think about, didn’t want to know. Y/N hands slipped over his own, lifting them slowly away from her abdomen, and bringing him closer to her as the blood flowed freely once more.

“I feel better already…” Y/N breathed out, a cold laugh coming from the man by her side, gripping her hands like it was the most important task in history: maybe it was. “Do you remember the first time we met? The helicopter flight out?” The word’s evoked memories to flash in front of Jack’s eyes: his nerves had got the better of him that day, and when the chopper took off he had gone to grab the seat edge. Instead, he had grabbed onto Y/N’s knee. Her laugh had echoed in his head for days after the event.

“You, you can’t talk like that, Y/N. You’re not…” He lost his words, the blood was now staining everything withing a metre of the pair, the white Y/N had chosen to battle the heat now completely red, Jack’s trousers bearing patterns from the liquid.

“I am, Jack…” Y/N corrected him, the tears now freely streaming down her cheeks, the smile she had feigned turning to a grimace of pain. “I shouldn’t have left New York… I’m so sorry I did… That I broke us off.” She admitted, letting out a gasp of pain, or relief, Jack couldn’t tell, after she let the confession slip.

“Hey, hey… You don’t need to apologise for anything…” Jack countered, and she let out a little laugh, strained and tired: but it was still hers.

“It’s my fault though… The past few years, I… I should have held on tighter to you.” A red hand came up to wipe away tears, decorating her cheeks with the blood. Jack leaned forward, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a napkin he had stored in there and wiped away the mess from her cheeks, a lump clumping in his throat.

“Y/N, please… If you just hold on for me now, we can get another shot.” He whispered, clasping her hands back in his and pressing his lips to her knuckles. Y/N giggled at that, the words brining a light to her eyes and a smile back to her face, though it was quickly interrupted by a cough. Blood edged the corners of her mouth. “Hold on for me…” She shook her head, and Jack let out a sob, unable to hold it back any longer.

“When they told us to go to war, I was ready to die for my country, Jack… I… I guess I’m lucky. I got more time than some, and I got to see you again.” She whispered, followed by another cough. “I’m so, so lucky Jack… We’re lucky. We got this… Didn’t we?” she asked, Jack looking back up at her with tear-stained cheeks.

“Please… Please I just got you back…”

“Promise that when you get those bastards, you’ll kill them. Shoot them dead for me.” She gripped onto his hands tighter. “It’s… It’s numb now… I…” She paused, letting the tears subside. “You did good Jack; you’ve always been so good…” Another cough, another wheeze. “You’ll have a drink for me when you get the chance, yeah?” The words were heavily laboured over, Y/N working past a film of blood that coated her mouth, against the pain that had turned to numbness. Jack pressed his lips to her forehead, her hands still enclosed in his own, trying to stop the tears that flowed so freely onto her linen trousers.

“I didn’t stop loving you Y/N, I never stopped.” The words, the truth, finally left him, and he looked up to see a smile on Y/N’s face, as weak as it was.

“Neither did I.” The words were more a whisper, but he heard them. What followed was a gasping breath, shaky and jarring amongst the quiet that had settled in the absence of gunfire. Her eyes dimmed, losing that brightness that Jack had always managed to catch sight of, had always adored.

Her eyes dimmed, and Jack knew she was dead.

Tags: @lullabieswrappedinlies @hiqhways @professorkrasinski @gingeraleluke @im-a-writer-right @random-thoughts-003

#jack ryan #tom clancy's jack ryan #jack ryan x reader #jack ryan x y/n #fanfiction #angst #fanfic #death

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for-i-am-dying-of-such-love · 4 years

Text

you know, where I'm headed, there'll be trouble...

...Ok, but can we talk about Sins of the Past?...

I’m not usually a fan of pilot episodes. Even the ones for my very favourite tv shows. They don’t tend to age well, hardly ever look like the shows they will become, and often suffer - like many First Seasons - from a laundry list of Unfortunate Things: actors still unsteady on their character’s legs, inconsistencies in plot and pacing and motivation, secondary characters that are too one-dimensional, low-budget wardrobe and set design. It takes time for a show to settle into itself and then a little more for it to evolve. So, it can be tough to revisit pilot episodes - awkward and maybe a little cringey.

Surprisingly, though, that’s not really the case with Sins of the Past. I say ‘surprisingly’ because the first episode of Xena Warrior Princess automatically starts out at a disadvantage. It’s a mid-90s, syndicated, genre television show, so it already contains a lot of elements that are fundamentally at odds with our modern sensibilities regarding visual storytelling. Coupled with the fact that it’s the first episode too? Well, you’d expect that it would feel dated and silly and trivial, but it doesn’t!

It’s actually kind of a joy!

Don’t get me wrong, the episode isn’t perfect. The visual aesthetics feel very late last-century, and the social mores of the mid-90s means there’s a woeful lack of kissing between Xena and Gabrielle (yes, even this early in the series, YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO SEE IT TOO, DON’T BE COY), but the storytelling holds up remarkably well. And, as far as first episodes go, it does a brilliant job of laying the groundwork for what the show will ultimately become: the Greatest Love Story Ever Told. Not just on tv. Ever.

Yeah, I said what I said.

On the surface it sets up the series’ two most obvious narrative arcs. Xena’s journey towards forgiveness, redemption and self-love. Gabrielle’s daring first steps into a world of adventure, heartache and self-discovery. But nestled in there too - the interstitial tissue connecting the two - is the show’s third, and arguably most fulfilling (and surprising?) storyline: the slow and magical weaving together of Xena and Gabrielle themselves. Their lives; their journeys; their hearts. And, ohmygod, it’s so fucking amazing and epic and lovely and the Greatest Love Story Ever Told.

So, let’s talk about where it all began. Let’s talk about SotP. Only, where to begin?!? There are so many moments worthy of exuberant and detailed praise. I have prepared a list:

Like this moment here. This glorious moment of first meeting...

Source: xenagabrielleforever

When Xena first lays eyes on Gabrielle. And she’s immediately struck by the sight of this farm girl - brave and foolish - who throws herself at Draco’s men in exchange for the safety of her fellow villagers. And I swear in that moment you can hear the rusty hinges on Xena’s heart creak slowly to life in knowing anticipation, as Gabrielle unwittingly takes a chisel to Xena’s defenses.

Or here. When Xena lets herself be distracted...

Source: hyxenagabrielle

The Warrior Princess. Confident and sure and untouchable. Completely disarmed by some young thing in some podunk village somewhere. Completely at the mercy of soft green eyes and youthful round cheeks and strawberry-blonde hair. Mesmerized by the tickling sensation of recognition as it cascades across her body when their eyes finally meet and hold.

Or, this gift of a scene. When Gabrielle wants so desperately to tag along with Xena.

Source: jadedownthedrain

And the entire time she might as well have a neon sign hanging above her head that flashes ‘Only Gay in the Village!!!’. Not that Xena isn’t immediately aware of this fact. She knows precisely everything she needs to know about this girl sitting in front of her. She knows it deep in her marrow. A long forgotten instinct dancing and swirling to life in the sleepy valley nestled between her lungs.

And here, just a few heartbeats later. When Xena pretends to act as if she doesn’t actually want Gabrielle to tag along.

Source: xenagabrielleforever

Only she does. Desperately. Except, she doesn’t know what to do with that feeling. So she drapes it in casual indifference and accessorizes it with empty threats, all the while secretly hoping that this inscrutable farm girl understands, is up for the challenge, feels the undercurrent too. And Gabrielle does. She tastes it on the air. Her blood is buzzing with anticipation. Make her mad? Of course, that is exactly what Gabrielle wants. No, not the ire, but the feel of the thrum that will course through Xena’s veins when her heart is set to pounding and her chest to heaving. Gabrielle wants to wield the mallet. Wants to see the fire in Xena’s eyes directed squarely at her. Wants to know the intensity of Xena’s scrutiny. She wants all these things very much. Even if she doesn’t quite know it yet.

Then of course there is this scene. When Xena is raw and vulnerable and exposed…

Source: xenagabrielleforever

And Gabrielle just steps from the shadows, like sunlight slicing through a storm cloud. Like her heart is saying: ‘I’ve been whisperin’ to you through the ether, listenin’ to your cry.’ And goddamnit, if they haven’t finally found each other again. This is a fucking homecoming! Of course I wanna talk about it!!!

But then there’s this. These two fools are already in love, can’t you see?!?

Source: hyxenagabrielle

But they’ve always been in love and they’ll always be in love. It’s muscle memory, the way one holds the other’s gaze. The smile that forms on their lips. The warmth that colours their cheeks. The pull, the pull, the pull. The inevitable surrender. The glorious fall. And somewhere back at the beginning of time and somewhere in the future when it all ends and here in this moment they just fucking know: ‘You were whisperin’ through the ether, letting me know you’re mine.’

All these moments. All these things. All of it, I want to talk about all of it. And maybe one day I’ll have more to say. But, right now I want to talk about Gabrielle’s prognostication skills.

Source: xenagabrielleforever

I’m being serious, though. I know this scene was played for laughs - Gabrielle says ‘do her’ and everyone giggles like a fifth-grader. It’s just an off-hand comment that Gabrielle tosses out there to get herself out of a tricky situation. Just a bit of inconsequential fun. Only it’s not inconsequential at all, it’s fucking prophetic.

And I’m not just talking about the fact that one day Gabrielle will actually get close enough to Xena to ‘do her’ - yes, that kind of do her, and ohmygod, just...

<ASIDE:> THIS BEAUTIFUL ASSHOLE SHOW KNEW EXACTLY WHAT THE IMPLICATIONS WOULD BE BY USING THAT LINE, THE SHOW FUCKING KNEW AND IT WENT THERE ANYWAY. GLEEFULLY. LIZ FRIEDMAN, WAS THIS ONE OF YOUR SCRIPT NOTES? LIZ? LIZ! LISTEN LIZ, IT’S OKAY, YOU CAN TELL ME. BECAUSE IT WAS A CHOICE, AND BOY WAS IT. A. CHOICE. SO, FAM, DON’T LET ANYONE TRY TO TELL YOU THAT THE SUBTEXT WASN’T THERE FROM THE BEGINNING. IT WAS THERE AND IT WAS DELIBERATE, AND YOU CAN FIGHT ME ON IT. </ASIDE>

No, I’m talking about the fact that this silly little throw-away scene both perfectly distills the essence of Gabrielle’s character - clever and unstoppable and pure-of-heart - and encapsulates the show’s most tender truth. And that is this: Gabrielle, the unsuspecting and innocent farm girl from Poteidaia will do the one thing that certainly no man - though handsome and strong and commanding - and, arguably no one ever, has been capable of doing. She’ll slip past Xena’s defenses and completely disarm her. Not physically, of course, but emotionally. And not to do harm, but to love unreservedly. Through all the changing seasons of their lives. For all of time. And the fact that this very poignant and romantic and fundamental truth is draped in humour and accessorized with innuendo makes it all the more perfect for a show that, on its surface, is campy and sexy and ridiculous, but at its core is tender and earnest and profound.

But, ohmygod, is it ever a wild ride. And Gabrielle, sweetie... you precious baby gay, giddy the fuck up.

Source: hyxenagabrielle

UP NEXT: Chariots of War

#xena warrior princess #xena #gabrielle #xena and gabrielle #xena rewatch #season 1 #s01e01 sins of the past #SotP #xwp #otp: for i am dying of such love #let the gay begin #diablog

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missfluffywriter · 4 years

Text

Purple Irises I Mafia Park Jimin x Reader

Author’s note: Ooof it’s finally out. That took way longer than I expected. And I’ll be breaking this chapter into two pieces. I hope you don’t mind. I have to say I did a lot more research than I thought I would, just to say but everything I’ve written are pretty accurate, emphasis on pretty. Of course not everything, and I can never really be sure of the medical stuff, cuz you know I’m not a doctor. lolol. Well, that’s it for me. Happy readings!

Word count: 10.9k

Genre: Mafia AU, (slight) Doctor au, (slight) Florist au

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

(Series) Summary: You were supposed to be delivering flowers, how did you end up in an operation room digging out a bullet from a mafia boss’ shoulder?

Purple Irises: Royalty and wisdom

Warnings: Guns, language, mention of drugs, inconsistant grammar lol

Previous chapter I Next chapter I Masterlist I Requests are open!

“If I hadn’t sent (Y/n) when I did, your boss would be six feet under right now,”

Nearly three days had passed since the ball and yet Soomin’s toneless voice continued echoing through your head. Ricocheting from one corner of your mind to another, there were instances where the voice would dull to a soft whisper but never was it gone, not for an instant. Her words ring in your head yet you don’t know why. You were not angry with her, not at all; as a matter of fact, you felt no such anger or animosity towards your former boss. Neither did you feel betrayal or despair.

Originally you thought you felt nothing towards the situation, but that wasn’t exactly correct. What you had truly felt was apprehension, you did not understand a situation you were brought into or the reason behind your arrival. Was there a reason as to why you were forced into this world? Was there a role you were meant to play in Ji-Eun Duri’s game? Were you brought into this to serve a purpose? And if you were, then what about after that purpose has been fulfilled? What then? And if you weren’t, then why were you here?

There were more questions than answers, and every time you thought you were close to an answer, more questions arose. You weren’t used to this, more questions than answers; usually, you would at least have some semblance of understanding of what you were getting into, but this? You had nothing. You didn’t like the feeling of being left in the dark, and you absolutely despised the episodes of hopelessness that seared through your chest. Like you couldn’t do anything, you didn’t have enough information to take either defensive or offensive action.

However, the negatives aside, you also couldn’t deny the buzz in your system. A low hum of excitement, like expecting the unexpected, similar to a game of tag played in a sea of darkness. And though you had your bouts of helplessness and self-doubt, those thoughts only worked to fuel your imagination, your instinct for survival, and your drive to win. When you felt helpless your mind would create a thousand different scenarios, predicting the flow and outcome of each one. Thus, creating a skeleton of a plan so if the scenario should occur, you had some idea of your future movements.

And when you felt self-doubt you would think up back-up plans to any what-ifs that came to mind. If you were feeling uncertain of any of your plans or ideas you would test as many scenarios that would come to mind, asking others for their input regularly; what would they have done? Why would they have done what they did? Was there a better way to achieve what they were planning or warning for?

You would spend the time restlessness took hold to prepare for whatever future that may come. Because that was all you could do, prepare, and prepare the best you could. Besides, you felt a bizarre sense of gratitude towards the female responsible for your current predicament. If it weren’t for her you would have never been involved in this dangerous world, but above that, you would have never met Jimin or Jin, or Jeongguk, or any of these wonderful people. Apart from that, what Soomin had said was correct, if you hadn’t shown up when you did, Jimin wouldn’t be alive today. And thinking of a world where Jimin didn’t exist wasn’t at the top of your to-think list.

So while you didn’t appreciate the negative feelings brought on by the situation, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Okay, but, what’s the difference between sutures, stitches, and staples?” Jin questioned; his ebony locks slipping onto his chestnut orbs as his head tilted in a query. His voice, sharpened by confusion, breaks you from thoughts.

“Technically speaking, all three are used for the same purpose, to close wounds or surgical incisions, but they aren’t the same,” You explain; setting the silver needle forceps onto the medical tray while smoothly covering that fact that you had barely caught the words of the ravenette.

“For sutures, doctors use a thread or strand of material to perform wound closure. The term "stitches" refers to the surgical procedure or process of closing a wound with sutures. Staples on the other hand are another material that doctors sometimes use to make sutures or stitches.”

“Hm, I think I get it,” He did not get it. The confusion muddling his expression was as clear as day. This was a tricky subject, even you had trouble completely grasping the concept correctly. But he had barely begun learning of sutures and stitches, he had ample time to understand the material. Although he had progressed much faster than you had imagined, granted you weren’t exactly going in order by chapter.

You decided it would be best to teach him things he was more likely to need once he had a basic understanding of bacteria, pathogens, and such. You could move to the actual medicinal and chemical aspects once he has the basic skills he could need out on the job. Though symptom recognition and diagnosis are a part of the current lesson plan, for the moment it is a lesser matter.

“Do you know the different kinds of threads for status and stitches?” You ask the older male, testing the knowledge he was supposed to have studied the night before.

“There’s absorbable and nonabsorbable,” Thoughtfully he recites the information he had learned. “Absorbable sutures are intended to be broken down by the body over time and eventually dissolve completely. Some materials used to make absorbable sutures are derived from animal products that have been specially processed. Other absorbable sutures are made from synthetic polymer materials such as polylactic acid to make Vicryl, polyglycolic acid for Dexon, polyglyconate makes Maxon, and polydioxanone for PDS. And then there are non-absorbable sutures that are permanent and have to be removed. These sutures can be made from nylon, polypropylene which makes the prolene thread, or silk.”

“Good一very good,” You praise, eyes fluttering as you listen to the older male recite the passage from your old textbook word for word. Had he really memorized all that in a single night? If he had legitimately chosen this as a career path, you were sure he certainly would have gone far.

“So, do you have any questions before we move on?” You ask, a pleased smile curved onto your lips as you move to lay the ground world for the next lesson.

“Yeah,” Bobbing his head, the chestnut eyed male continued, “Why do doctors still use permanent threads if we already have dissolvable threads? Wouldn’t it just be easier to use the adorable ones? Since then the patient wouldn’t have to return to get the sutures removed,”

“Ah, that’s a really good question,” You exalted, hands coming together in a prayer position. “Well you see, permanent or nonabsorbable sutures are sometimes preferred because they are resistant to the body’s chemicals that might otherwise dissolve the sutures too early in the healing process. Non-absorbable sutures are useful for maintaining long-term tissue wound closure and healing,” You explain, reaching for the text-book that had been forgotten at the end of the surgery table.

“Oh, I see,” Seokjin hums, his forefinger and thumb on his chin as his thumb rubs the underside of his chin. “So permanent threads are still very useful too,”

“Yes very much so,” Nodding, you affirmed.

“So any other questions?” Flipping through the smooth pages of the text-book, you pause on the pages lesson twenty-four, “Sutures and Stitches”.

Shaking his head side to side, he signals for you to continue with the lecture.

“Okay, so today we learned the Mattress stitch and the continuous stitch,” You listed the day’s practice. “With that, you should be able to handle minor lacerations or cuts,”

“But,” You continue, “I want you to keep practicing on the suturing pad and study about those stitches, you may know how to do them, you still don’t know how to do them correctly,”

“And tomorrow we’ll get into the subcuticular stitch and look over some other stitches too, but一 yeah, that's it. And we’ll get more into staples in a few days. Tonight’s homework is just to study about the sutures,” You concluded, your gaze lifting to the brand new clock hanging on the wall. ‘Good, right on time,’

“(Y/n)?” Came the familiar low yet soft voice. Turning your body to face the white-blond leaning against the agape door frame.

“Yeah, let’s go,” You call, easing away from the operating table, you make your way to the other mafioso. But your attention is paged back in towards the room.

“Wait, (Y/n),” Humming in response you briefly angle yourself to the ravanette standing by the table, “Can I write in your book?” Shifting from one foot to another, he asks, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck. “It just gets a lot when I have to copy everything down,”

“Sure! Go ahead,” Beaming at the male you answer his silly question. It was his book now, he could do whatever he wanted on it. “That book is yours now, you can mark and write on it as much as you want,” Giving him a gentle smile, you reassure him.

“Thank you, and good luck in training” A sheepish grin curling onto his lips, Jin gives you a double thumbs up.

“You’re gonna need it,” The white-blond behind you scoffs as you make your way to the door.

“Oh hush you,” Half-heartedly slapping the mafioso on the chest, you bustle out the medical room - a compromise you came to between the doctor's office and operation room. As it turned out Jeongguk was not very fond or aware of the new name for the tiled room. He argued it be called what it had been called for as long as it had existed. Which was the “Doctor’s room” and though it was a very endearing term, it wasn’t exactly correct, nor was it very professional. Besides, OR sounded cooler.

And so you compromised, the name would have aspects you both had wanted, and thus the operation room was newly dubbed as the medical room. The new name contained factors you both liked, all in all, it was a happy arrangement.

“Alright, which one do you think we should do today?” Yoongi’s voice brings you back from your flashback of the great compromise.

“You’re asking me?” Pressing your hand to your hips, sarcasm bleeds from your words as your (e/c) orbs scan over the cloud-grey wall decked out with every gun or rifle one could imagine. Then drifting to the black metal drawers that were about waist height sitting under the gun mounts.

His eyes move in a semi-roll, before humming thoughtfully he picks up a solid black handgun from the wall adjacent to the one your sight had been fixed on.

Since the days after the gala fiasco, Hoseok had given the clear for you to begin your firearms training. You still had daily hand-to-hand combat training with either Hoseok or Jeongguk

“We practiced with a single-action for the past two days,” He speaks his thoughts as he examines the weapon in his hand before his slender digits trace a silver-black gun resting on the metal holders. “Yeah, maybe we’ll have you practice with a double-action today,”

“A double-action?” You parroted, forehead scrunching at the foreign vocabulary terms.

“Well, maybe not. It would probably be safer for a beginner to use a double-action until you’re used to all safety procedures,” Yoongi continues, oblivious to the query lacing your words.

“Wait, wait, what do you mean double-action一single action?” Voicing your question, you head involuntarily leaning to your right as you did.

Moments pass as he blankly stares at you, his eyelids fluttering open and close as he processes your words. “Didn’t we go over that when we started?” He asks, frown lines setting on his pale face folds in confusion.

“No,” Shaking your head side to side as his own expression transforms into one of surprise.

“Did we talk about how a gun works or anything like that?” Emphasizing the ‘anything’ he asked.

“Nope,” You return popping the ‘p’ as your shoulders rise into a shrug. “You kinda just gave me a gun, showed me how to use it, then we fired a buncha times,” Thoughtfully you review the events of the last two training sessions.

Yoongi’s face contorts in disbelief before his eyebrows lifted, his mouth opening as his own memories of the last sessions. “I should explain all that shouldn’t I?” Sheepishly rubbing the scruff of his neck, he jested.

“Probably,” You return with a soft chuckle.

“Right,” He grinned, beginning his explanation, “Well you see when you pull the slide of the handgun back, it allows for the magazine spring to push a bullet into the chamber. It also cocks the hammer of the gun back,”

His statement only caused your expression to rumple further as he once again used terms you were not familiar with. What did the word hammer have to do with guns? “What’s a hammer?”

“The hammer is a part of a gun that is used to strike the percussion cap or primer, or a separate firing pin, to light the propellant and fire the projectile. It is so-called that because it looks like a hammer and kinda works like one too, here, look,” Waving you closer he showed you the tail of the gun, pointing to the little lever-like bump that sat at the end of the gun.

“A cap?” You question; did he not understand that you were a beginner and that you hadn’t even seen let alone touched a gun before you had met them, or did he assume you knew your way around firearms after the way you spoke in the Matsuuru deal. It may have sounded like you knew what you were talking about, but you really didn’t, you were simply reciting the list of words Namjoon had shown you.

“It’s called a percussion cap or just cap for short, and some people even call it a primer. It’s basically a thin metal cup that contains a small amount of pressure-sensitive explosive, often mercury fulminate. And when crushed, the explosive detonates, sending a stream of hot gas down through a hole in the nipple and into the touchhole of the gun to ignite the powder charge.” He tried his hardest to settle his annoyance at your thousand questions

“Powder charge?” Another query falls from your lips.

“Gunpowder,” He curtly simplifies.

“Then, when you pull the trigger of the gun, it causes the hammer to snap forward, which pushes the firing pin inside the gun into the primer of the bullet cartridge. When the firing pin strikes the primer, it ignites the propellant or gunpowder that will send the bullet flying down the barrel at a high rate of speed,” He finally finishes without your interruptions. “That is basically how a hammer-fired gun works,”

“I think I get it,” Thoughtfully, you hum, stepping through the door at the end of the room, into the actual gun range. Then realizing he Yoongi had just used another term you did not understand. “Wait, hammer-fired?”

A deep exhale leaves his lips, he does not have the patience nor energy to explain hammer-fired and striker-fired on top of double-action and single-action. “Ah, well you see there are hammer-fired guns or striker-fired guns, a Glock is a striker-fired gun, but we’ll get into all that stuff some other time. For now, how about we just focus on the actions,”

“Okay so, the gun you were using yesterday was a single action, meaning you pull back the handle slide of the gun to cock it, then you pull the trigger to fire the bullet,” Alluding you with the simplest words he could think of, making sure to avoid any other firearms-related terms and words. “A double-action is when the cocking of the hammer and the firing of the gun both happen as you pull the trigger,”

“So we’re working with a double-action today?”

“Yeah, let’s get you used to double-actions. In the long run, I think it’d be safer for you to have a double,” He concluded, pulling out the magazine of the charcoal-colored gun in his grasp. Before cruising back to the room with the guns, walking to the farthest drawers sitting underneath the gun mounts, replacing the magazine with a new one.

“Do you have your earplugs?” The white-blond asked, his eyes flickering to you from the weapon in his hand.

Nodding, you wordlessly respond to the male’s question. Digging through the pockets of your hoodie, you hold out a sable-black box that was about the size of your palm.

“Good, always keep them on you,” His head bobs in approval as he hands you the newly loaded gun along with a set of large headphones. “But for now, use these”

The weapon sits heavy on your free palm. Saliva pooled in your mouth as you carefully held the gun - forefinger away from the trigger - you daintily pocketed the black box. “What gun is this?” You questioned, feeling a tingling sensation run underneath the skin of your palms, sweat gathering on them as your fingers tentatively brushed the body of the firearm.

“It’s a double-action Tanfoglio EAA Witness,” A swift reply leaves his lips “Alright, now what are the rules I gave you?”

“Trigger finger off at all times unless I’m ready to shoot,” Your answer is immediate, having had the core rule drilled into you for two consecutive days.

“Good, next,”

Your mouth moved to sound the correct answer, but you pause, instead deciding to reply with the lesson you had learned the hard way. “Don’t touch the barrel or muzzle after it fires,” Grumbling out the words, you grimace as your brain replays the incident that occurred a day prior.

Being the novice to weapons that you were, you didn’t realize just how hot the gun could get. Normally one would think it common sense that the temperature of the gun’s barrel and muzzle exponential rise, seeing as a mini-explosion takes place within the barrel for the bullet to exit the weapon. But at that instant, all rhyme or reason had left you, and you had the magnificent idea to hold the gun by the head. Which ended with you accidentally touching the muzzle area, a minor burn, and a life lesson.

“I see someone’s learned her lesson,” Yoongi chuckles, exhorting you to continue. “Next,”

“Never point the gun at anything unless I intend to destroy it,” You list.

“Good, now do you have a lock on your target?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Put on your headphones and shoot whenever you’re ready, take your time to aim each turn,” The mafioso instructs, gesturing to the noise-canceling headphones in your hand.

Following his directions, you place the cushions of the large headphone over your ears, adjusting them to fit your skull, then taking your stance.

Your heart heavily thudding in your chest, you take deep breaths, trying to calm the throbbing of your pulse that translated into your hand, making them shaky. Your first breath comes out ragged and choppy, but the exhales that follow pacify the palpitation ringing through your body, smoothing the flow or circulation.

Once your body had steadied, you moved into the weaver stance. Feet planted slightly wider than shoulder-width apart, placing the foot correlating with your dominant hand a half-step behind your non-dominant foot. A soft bend in your knees, leaning slightly forward, bracing yourself for the backlash of the shot.

Continuing your focused breathing you aim the point of the gun at the paper human target, you intently watch as the gun bobbed up and down with the cadence of your breaths. Your expression relaxes as your vision focuses on the target nearly twenty yards from where you stood. ‘Never aim for the head, the target’s too small. Always aim for the chest,’ Yoongi’s words echo in your head as you shift to aim for the center of the chest, where the heart would have been.

On your next inhale you solidify your aim, tightening your grip on the weapon, squeezing the trigger as you exhaled. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter you inch closer to the end of the pull, increasing the pressure on the trigger. And at the trough of your exhale the curve of the trigger meets its end.

The powerful push of the gun drives your body backwards, your bent knees, and the forward lean absorbing the shock, keeping you in place. The impact of the bullet firing rippling throughout your body. You felt a slight tremble in your hands, a hum of the aftershock. You hold on the grip constricts, eyes narrowing on the result of the shot as you bite back the disappointment of missing your mark. The bullet had landed below the right shoulder, much farther than your marked target.

Keeping your breathing as stagnant as you could, you refocus your aim. The same spot as earlier, this time you adjusted your aim, a touch lower, and a smudged to the left. Then squeeze the trigger again. And though the bullet doesn’t land on the intended destination, it is just a tad closer, the bullet having ended on the mid-chest area, right on the line of your designated mark.

The process of shooting and adjustment continued as you build experience and feel for the weapon. The cycle continued for the entirety of the time Yoongi trained you, pausing only to give you pointers or to reload the magazine - which you did on your own - Yoongi had shown you how to replace a magazine the day before and you had been replacing the cartridge on your own ever since.

And as the operation flowed you noticed that the gun you were working with today was much smoother and easier to use than the one you had been training with previously. The elongated trigger time caused by the heaviness of the pull gave you a chance to readjust your aim or even reconsider your decision to shoot altogether. You liked that added time frame to think about your decision and finalize your aim. But that also may have been a drawback as the longer fire time may give the other person to counter or even shoot before you had the chance to.

Nonetheless, if you were able to choose the gun you would have, then you would most certainly ask for this one. The body was sleek and clean, the modern designs pleasing to the eye, and above that, the feel of the gun was marvelous. Not that you knew many guns or their feels, but this one just felt right. It fit perfectly in your palm, and the grip was comfortable, almost natural.

By the time Yoongi had called the end of this session, you had burned through three fourteen plus one magazines. For a total of forty-five bullets used.

Huffing out an exhausted exhale, you place the gun on the table-like area that was separated into a booth-like space by walls of wood. You jerk your hands in a flicking motion in an attempt to ease away the pounding in palms. Your hands flushed a vibrant red and a little numb from the continuous shooting. You remove the headphones protecting your hearing before stretching your limbs, easing them into a more relaxed state.

“Good job today, you’re improving really fast,” Yoongi praises, taking the gun you had put down, returning it to its mount on the grey wall. Humming a soft ‘thank you’, you lean against the table-like space in between the separators.

“Hey, so does this mean I get my own gun or something?” You ask the older male, curious as to whether you were actually getting a weapon or if this was just training to prepare for a situation.

“You will,” The white-blond cruises into the shooting range, hands in the pockets of his slacks. “But first you need to try a bunch of them to see what you are comfortable with and can actually use outside of practice.”

“Can I have that one?” You head tilts upward to gesture to the gun he had just put away.

“The one you were using?” You nod at his question. Sure it was true you needed to build more experience and try out more guns to see what worked best with you, but you just felt a pull towards the one you were using.

“Yeah,”

“A tanfoglio witness, huh?” A familiar silvery voice resounded throughout the room. “I think it suits you, beautiful and efficient,” Jimin muses, coasted over to where you stood, wrapping his arms around your waist when close enough.

Giggling at his corny statement, you nuzzle into Jimin’s neck, arms coming to rest around his thin waist, purring at the warmth of his delicately comforting embrace.

“What’re you doing here?” You mumble into the exposed skin of his neck, basking in the sunny feeling of his grasp around your body.

“Getting the two of you for the meeting,” Answering softly, he places a caste kiss on your forehead.

“You’re here to get us?” Scoffing a laugh, you part from the silver-blond just enough to meet his eyes.

“And?” A questioning brow raises on his face as eyes you, a smile curling onto his lips. “You gotta problem?”

“You guys are sickening,” Yoongi wretches at the disturbingly cute moment unfolding before him. However, despite his outward expression, he was truly happy for his boss. The white-blond couldn’t properly recall the last time the don had laughed so freely, enjoyed the minor things in life, like a cup of tea or just a slow day. For the longest time, the young mafioso had been focused solely on the jobs neglecting even himself and his own health, on top of that Jimin was fierce一 short-tempered, denying any help or counseling the other core members provided. So having you hound him for skipping meals or being careless with his health and Jimin actually being rendered completely helpless to your care and affection, was a delightful change of pace. Besides, Jimin was Yoongi’s brother just as much as he was the white-blond’s boss.

“Sickeningly adorable,” You correct the older mafioso with a blinding grin as Jimin chuckles into your locks.

“But seriously, the meeting’s about to start,” The mafia don tugs you by your waist. Leading you out of the shooting range and back into the lavish mansion. Yoongi exited before the two of you, not intending on being trapped behind two mush balls, especially with one of them Jimin melting by the minute.

“How’s Shelty doing?” You question, falling into an easy pace with Jimin beside you, still holding onto your hip. Having not seen your precious puppy since morning as you had left her with Jimin.

“Guk may be having a bit too much fun with her,” The silver-blond answers, a sigh following his statement. He was forced to leave the wolf-dog in the care of the younger as you had forbidden your puppy from being anywhere near the gun range while guns were firing as the loud sounds would hurt her sensitive hearing. But, Jimin had wanted to personally fetch you for the meeting. And Namjoon and Jin were busy preparing for the meeting; Hoseok and Taegyung were out for a minor deal meeting; Yoongi was with you, so he had no choice but to leave the pupper with the youngest.

Which, now that he had a chance to really consider his decision, may not have been the best, Joengguk was responsible and mature most of the time, but most of the time there wasn’t an equally excited ball of floof jumping at him. It was like leaving two overzealous golden retrievers together… in a small room… alone.

“You know what? I think we should hurry up,” Jimin grumbles, increasing his pace to a brisk walk.

“What? Why?” Your eyelids flutter in confusion as you match his pace, dashed down the west wing corridors, and up the winding staircase of the main building.

“I left Shelty with Guk,” He groans, hoping all was intact in the cramped meeting room. You let out a joyful laugh as you realized the thoughts running through Jimin’s head.

His eyes playfully narrow as the silver-blond pulls into his grasp, tickling your sides as you a shrill of laughter and pleas from him to stop floods from your lips.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sheesh,” Wiping away the tears that had gathered on the edges of your eyes, you chuckle. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Besides its Jeongguk he’ll take great care of Shelty,”

“It’s not Shelty I’m worried about,” A sigh escapes his plump, cherry-pink lips and you couldn’t help but give those plush pillows a soft peck.

“Shelt’s housebroken, she won’t jump or chew on any furniture,” You reassure the male with another chaste kiss on the cheek.

“See,” Your gaze gesturing to a placid Shelty, contentful snuggled into the youngest brunette on the floor as the elevator doors opened. And Jimin heaves a breath, stepping towards his seat then lowering into the armchair, relieved that nothing was destroyed or damaged.

“Shelty, I’m here,” You call the seventy-pound puppy. Her ears immediately alert when he hears the voice of her favorite human. She bounds over to you as you take your seat on the velvet armchair to the left of Jimin. “Heyya girl,” Cooing at the wolf-dog, you kiss her head, massaging her scruff and running your fingers through her silky fur. “Did you miss me?”

Even though he had an absolute blast with Jimin and then the chocolate brunette, she missed you very much.

“Jin, Taehyung, and Hoseok will be here soon,” Namjoon declared, coming to stand beside Jimin’s right with a touch screen tablet in his hand. Jimin nods to the tall, syrup-brown haired mafioso.

“Hey, (Y/n) wasn’t late today,” Jin walks into the room, Taehyung and Hoseok on his tail. You throw the elder a sheepish grin, which he returns as each man takes their respective seat.

“Alright, let’s begin the meeting,” Once everyone is settled, Namjoon’s voice resounds as he took his place in Jimin’s right.

“First thing’s first, how did the deal with the Myo’s go?” Yoongi asks, eyeing the pair that had entered with Jin.

“They were able to get five mill together but they don’t have enough for the nine-millimeter parabellum magazines,” Taehyung says, leaning his weight onto the armrest.

“What was their order,” Jimin questions, his right leg crossing over his left.

“A thousand units of M4 carbines, two-thousand units of Glock 20s, two-thousand units of Glock 43s, and four thousand units of nine-millimeter parabellum cartridges,” Namjoon answers his gaze, flickering to the don, examining his docile expression.

“I’m assuming the M4 carbines and the Glock 20s are the most expensive out of the bunch,” You say thoughtfully, eyes shifting to Yoongi and Jimin to confirm your belief. The pair affirm your words with a nod of their head. “Okay, do we know why they need the guns?”

“They were caught in a turf war, so they’re stocking up on weapons,” The tallest is once again to answer the question. Did Namjoon know everything?

“Well if they’re running short on budget, I would suggest they cut down on the guns and instead stock up on bullets,” Patting Shelty’s soft head, you bring your feet up to your chest as you speak. “It’s not like they’re just going to throw away the gun once they use them, they’re gonna need way more bullets than actual guns. Besides guns become as useful as your tailbone if there are no bullets for them to fire,”

Confusion floods the expression on the beautiful faces of the men, aside from Jin, who chortled at your medical analogy. The faces of the six contorting further, not understanding what their elder found so funny.

“It’s a medical thing don’t worry about it,” Waving off the query in the faces of the men, you dismiss the situation.

“ I’ll make sure to pass that along to the Myo’s,” Taehyung breaks the very, very short silence that had fallen after your unsuccessful analogy.

“Alright next,” Nodding at the chestnut-haired male, Jimin carries on the meeting. “The meeting with Ji-Eun Duri,” His expression hardens as the men sit up straighter, some toying with their suit cuffs.

“The meeting will take place tomorrow at one of her safe houses, we were told to come with minimal personale just,”

“Come with minimal personale? Does she want this to be like a ceasefire signing or something?” Ji-Eun Duri was truly an enigma to you. Every time you think you felt as though you were close to figuring her out, she does something like this. Why not meet at the safety of her own space, her own territory? It wasn’t as though the location of her home was a mystery to you, to Bangtan to be more accurate. But still, what was she doing? What was she really up to?

“Tell me,” You call. “Ji-Eun Dure, what is she like? What’s her business? What does she do?” Firing a barrage of questions, you try to piece together the puzzle that was Ji-Eun Duri.

“She’s sharp and cunning,” Yoongi speaks, his gaze hardening into a glare. ‘Well duh,’ That much was clear, by the way, she held herself, the way she addressed others, her smarts and wit were as clear as the crystal-like turquoise waters of the Maldives.

“She runs one of the largest drug rings in Seoul, and she holds power over many of the mafia families,”

“Where does she get her drugs from?”

“She has her own farms around the world,” Namjoon answers. “But, Peru and Colombia are the main producers,”

‘Peru and Colombia, huh?’ Two of the countries largely responsible for cocaine cultivation. However, it was surprising Bolivia hadn’t made the list of main producers, especially considering the abundance of coca plants in the region. Unless…

“Tell me, does she have anything in Bolivia?” You ask, acting on the bubbling in your stomach.

“Bolivia?” The tallest echos. “I’m not sure, I’d have to look into that. Why?” syrup haired male looks to you.

“Just wondering,” Humming, you mumble, leaning your head against the back of the armchair.

“What about guns? Weapons? Does she deal with weapons?” Twisting your head to the right you ask the man over Jimin.

“She doesn’t deal with weapons, no. She buys weapons frequently, but she’s never been known to sell them” Namjoon faithfully answers. She didn’t deal with weapons? Why?

“Then where does she get her weapons from?” If she has a running drug ring then she must need weapons. And the larger the operation the more weapons and supplies she requires.

“Ji-Eun gets all her firearms and ammo from the dealers and families under her and only from the people he has control over,”

“Yeah, she rarely makes deals with those who aren’t under her,” Taehyung adds.

Duri may have appeared to be arrogant or brash, but her actions spoke otherwise. She trusted no one other than the ones she had a firm grasp on. Those she could manipulate, those who couldn’t betray her. That level of caution was the making of a dangerous woman. You finally understood why the group might have been eager to align Bangtan ti Duri.

Aligning with Duri would mean not only her support but also the support of the families and groups beneath her.

“So it really surprised us when she wanted to make a deal with us,” Hoseok’s calm voice brings you back from the depth of your thoughts.

“If it were just us, we would have jumped at her offer,” Jin says, his hand coming up to brush the back of his neck. “So I’m glad you were there,”

“Yeah, you really saved us back there,” Yoongi chuckles as a sheepish grin forms on his lips

“I was so focused on what we could gain from the alliance, I forgot to think about what we would be giving in return, and just what exactly “loyalty” included,” Jimin sighs, his eyes shifting to your form.

“We all were,” Jeongguk quips. “Well, aside from (Y/n) I guess,” A smile playing at his lips, he gestures to you.

“How’d you catch it so quickly?” Taehyung asks.

“Well, you guys were so tense around her, I knew she was dangerous. And besides, I was already on guard because of the whole Soomin thing. So as soon as she presented her deal, I thought of every way she could benefit from having our “loyalty”. And the biggest one was that if she used her words right she could possibly have almost full control over our networks,” You explain, toying with the furs on Shelty’s head. “Which would mean she would have the most powerful weapon in existence,”

“Most powerful weapons in existence?” Taehyung parrots, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Accurate information,” Letting your feet down, you answer the male. “If used right it could bring the most powerful people to their knees,”

“But, you need to have reliable information to use it,” Adding to your previous statement, you make your point.

“Man I wasn’t even thinking of that,” The youngest grumbles, throwing his arms behind his head.

“That’s why words are so dangerous,” You hum. “If you don’t listen carefully, you might just end up understanding what you want to understand, and not what the speaker is actually meaning to say,”

“So you have to listen properly,” Chuckling you send Shelty over to the younger male, in an effort to heal his wounded pride. How could someone who has barely known the mafia world outwit him, someone who had been at this for years longer than you?

“Well then, we’re gonna need that kind of listening tomorrow,” Jimin concludes, coming to a stand. A sign the meeting was coming to an end.

“Tomorrow, we’ll be taking a unit of fifteen,” He instructs. “Jin, Jeongguk, and Yoongi, you will stay behind,”

A gentle smile curves on your lips at Jimin's decision. A smart choice on his part, he was leaving back-up just in case something were to happen while he was away. And if something were to happen to him, there would be people to look after the gang.

The mouths of the men called opened and closed, the words of protest dying on their tongue when faced with the hard glare of the mafia don.

“Tomorrow, the people I didn’t call the names of are to meet at the front of the house at 1 p.m. sharp,” He commands, his gaze landing on you as he leaves for the door. A silent demand for you to follow him.

“For now, the meeting is adjourned,” He calls, his back to the group.

Light currents of cool spring air wash through the front gardens. A gentle glimmer of sunlight shining past the few clouds that dotted the vast skies warmed the air, creating a comfortable temperature. The coolness of the wind soothingly caresses your body, crashing and receding like the fluid waves of the oceans as you wait for everyone to arrive at the front doors. If only you were able to properly enjoy this beautiful day.

A strange tightness had taken hold in your chest, forming a sort of a ball in the center of your chest cavity. It would have been easier to ignore if that was all it had been, but that metaphorical ball had been constantly exuding just a surge of nervous energy, almost like the winds that were blowing through the vicinity. It wasn’t that you were nervous about meeting Duri, you had already done that once, you could certainly do it again. And it wasn’t that not all of the core members would be with you, as long as one of them were with you, you would have been fine. Besides, Jimin would be with you.

And you knew it wasn’t because Shelty wasn’t going to be tagging along this time around. Seeing as before the mafia incident, you had rarely ever taken Shelty everywhere you went, aside from the flower shop and on her daily walks, she was usually home.

But perhaps the agitation you were feeling was somehow tied to the weights hanging from your thighs. You swallowed the saliva that had pooled in your mouth, gingerly brushing your fingertips across the bump jutting from the leather holster, skin making contact with the exposed grip of the steel gun.

All your training sessions for the day had been canceled in favor of letting you rest and mentally prepare for the meeting that was to come. And as you were doing just that, cuddled up in your many blankets and pillows when an unexpected visitor showed up at your door bearing even more unexpected gifts.

Yoongi was at your door, holding the leather holster you had currently donned, two guns - a charcoal-black Tanfoglio Witness and a similarly colored Glock 20 to be exact - and several magazines of ten-millimeter bullets.

At first, you had denied the need for the wraps as you would be with Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, and not to mention the other fifteen men that would be attending the meeting with you. But he immediately countered with a “They won’t always be there to protect you”, which was true though you were still reluctant considering you hadn’t had adequate training in firearm handling yet. You had only been working with guns for three days for god's sake! That was when he mentioned that the weapons could be entirely for show and that if Jimin were with you probably wouldn’t even have to draw.

And you finally caved, allowing Yoongi to fit the double thigh holster around your thighs. Which was thankfully not as awkward as you had thought it would be. You had slipped on the belt portion of the holster on your own, and Yoongi simply adjusted the straps to sit comfortably around your clothed flesh.

Heaving another breath lean your weight on your left leg, trying to acknowledge then move on from the heaviness on your thighs.

“Are you nervous, love?” A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Mm, a little,” You grumble, pressing your face against Jimin’s chest as warm arms encompass your waist.

“Don’t be,” He mumbles, placing a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. “You’ll do fine,”

Your cheeks puff at his words. He was talking as though you would be the only one carrying this deal. He was going to be there too.

“What?” He says, squishing your puffed out cheeks with his forefingers and his thumb.

The don chuckles as he watches you struggle to get out of his old. Groaning you twist out of the grasp around your cheeks. Then stepping away from him, an amused eyebrow-raising when he takes in your full form.

“What’s this?” He asks, gently tugging you back to him and facing you towards him. “Did Yoongi give you a gift?” His eyes travel the length of your physique, honey-brown orbs running over every curve.

“Yeah,” You murmur quietly, gaze falling to your feet. A sudden shyness blooming in your chest, the original anxiousness now forgotten. ‘This man,’ He always had an effect on you. No matter the situation or the circumstance - somehow every time he had either a calming effect or a flustering one. Personally, you preferred the calming one.

“You look hot," Jimin marveled, drinking in the image of you with leather holsters wrapped around your waist and thighs.

“Shush you,” You hiss, blood rushing to your face, a pretty pink settling on your cheeks. To which the silver-blond replies with a series of chuckles. But the moment is cut short when a loud ring of his cell-phone.

“Hold on,” He fumbled with his suit pocket, fishing out his phone and answering it.

“Hell一”

“Duir! She’s gone! She’s not there anymore!” Soomin rambles, her voice is urgent, almost frantic as she yells out unfinished sentences.

“Soomin, calm down. What are you talking about?” He calmly questions the girl on the other end. And although Jimin’s voice was as steady as a rock you could hear the slight worry leaving his tone.

“The safe house was attacked, they took Ji-Eun Duri,” Jimin’s expression changes to one of surprise, then to one of irritation.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Your head twists to meet the owner of the voice to land on a confused Taehyung and Namjoon with an equally perplexed Hoseok on their tail. The trio comes to stand beside you.

“What?” The male spat. “Do you know who?”

“Yeong!” Jimin’s eyes widened hearing the name of the culprit. Yeong, but how could that be? He was supposed to be injured, not to mention he had lost a sizable number of men, could he have called for this?

“Are you sure?” He asks the female,

“Yes, now, get over here! And quickly!” Frustrated by his many questions, Soomin curtly reaffirms.

“We’ll be there soon,” Jimin growls out a reply before ending the call and running a foul expression taking hold of his handsome face.

“What’s going on?” Tenderly taking hold of Jimin’s free hand, you question softly.

“Ji-Eun Duri was kidnapped,” Your eyes blew apart hearing the silver-blond’s words, and though you had a thousand questions, for the moment, you kept them to yourself. You would get all the answers you wanted once you met up with Soomin.

“Should I get everyone else together?” Namjoon inquired, his cell-phone already on hand.

“No, just us,” Jimin rebuffs. “Now, let’s head out,” He commanded, nudging you into the limousine that had been waiting for the group.

“You sure took your time,” Soomin grunts, leading your group into the safe house - which was more of a luxurious villa - with a bitter scowl etched onto her face. And the interior was in utter disarray; the furniture was displaced, fragments of glass and other materials littered the ground. Dull russet splotches of different sizes decorated the walls and floor. ‘Bloodstains,’ There was a fight, and a big one at that. The mayhem that began at the main entrance continued throughout the hallways you walked.

‘But why is she here?’ You eyed the female as you followed her through the grand corridors of the lavish home. A pressing question resonating in your skull of her current behavior, her actions. Why was she still here? From what you inferred from the encounter three days prior, the pair seemed close. And going by the agitated demeanor she was presenting, she was distressed. She was worried about her ally’s safety yet she was still here, why? Unless… ‘I see,’ There was a reason she wasn’t out there looking for her friend.

“Shouldn’t you be looking for her too?” A peeved scoff leaves Taehyung plush lips, articulating the question that you had been mulling over. Her corners twitch at the male’s words, her expression morphing into one of suppressed rage.

“She can’t,” Soomin's jaw opens to answer the chestnut-haired mafioso, but you cut her off before the situation had a chance to escalate.

“Well, it’s more of she’s already tried,” You clarify your words. “I’m guessing you only called for us because you couldn’t find Ji-Eun Duri on your own,”

“I’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone with a brain around,” Soomin sneers, banking left at the interaction between two hallways. Taehyung snarls at the female’s off-handed remark. “It’s as (Y/n) says,” She gestures to you with a nod. “I’ve put my best of the best at work they still haven’t found her,”

“I tried calling Duri this morning, but she wouldn’t pick up. But that's nothing new, so I didn't think much of it,” A deep sigh escaping her painted lips as she pushes open one of the double doors of the room at the end of the hallway you had been trekking down.

Once within the confines of the large office room, your eyes widened as you took in the condition of the space. It was pristine; not a single furniture out of place, only the rug had been muddied. But the rest of the room was clean, spotless even. It was almost as if this room was left untouched or…

“This place… ” Taehyung lets his gaze drift throughout the room, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his suit pants as Soomin leads the group towards the desk.

“Later when I showed up for today’s meeting,” Her hands spread to gesture to the interior of the house. “I came to this.”

“Then you couldn’t find her on your own and now you want our help, is that about right?” A questioning brow raises on the chestnut-haired mafioso.

“Yes,” Soomin’s jaw clenched at Taehyung’s brash words, before looking to Jimin, her gaze silently pleading for Bangtan’s aide.

“But,” She pauses. “There’s another reason I needed you, well specifically speaking, why I needed (Y/n),”

“Me?” You point to yourself. What did she need you for?

“That,” She gestured to the rectangular letter paper situated on a book. There was a table printed on the paper; eight rows with five columns. Each row of the first column held a single number, from one to eight with rows eight, six, five, three, and one being highlighted.

Each row of the second column held numbers one through fifteen with numbers highlighted on rows eight, six, five, three, and one.

Each row of the third column held numbers one to thirty with multiple numbers highlighted in two different colors on the same rows as the column before.

The fourth column was similarly organized, only these rows had numbers going from one to thirty-five, once again with some of the numbers highlighted, the colors corresponding with the ones on the third column.

But the fifth column was entirely different; it was handwritten rather than highlighted print. And what was even stranger was that only the first and the sixth row had numbers written in.

“What is that?” You question, gaze flickering back to the female that had brought you here.

“I don’t know,” Soomin’s shoulders rise into a shrug. “This was there when I came in,”

“I knew it was some sort of clue Duri left,” She heaves another sigh. “But I couldn’t figure it out,”

“You couldn’t figure it out so you wanted (Y/n)’s help?” Jimin reiterates Soomin’s words.

“Yes,” She affirms, her arms folding defensively over her chest. “Will you take a look?” Her pleading eyes meet yours. She talked as though you had a choice, if you wanted to keep the alliance then you had no choice to help find the older woman. But knowing that exactly didn’t do you any good, it certainly wasn’t going to help you find Duri any faster.

Exhaling a deep breath you focus your mind. There’s a very good chance she wasn’t even in this room while the abduction happened. But going by the mud on the rug and the way it is positioned, you could tell that whoever brought in all that mud stood on the spot, right in the middle of that expensive rug and chatted with someone. Someone sitting behind that desk.

Plus, seeing as there were no other footprints on the floor, no signs of people searching around the room. Duri must’ve been in here. Easing away from the group you carefully wandered the room. The answer to the clue was in this room. The way she highlighted those numbers, it wasn’t haphazardly done, the highlighter strokes were precise and clear. Not to mention the paper itself, most of the columns and numbers were printed out for god's sake. So this clue had been preplanned, she expected something like this may happen and had already taken precautions. Now the question was where was the answer?

Your intent gaze brushed over every nook, every cranny, every detail of this room. ‘It has to be in here,’ The sofas, the coffee table, the cupboards, the bookshelf一 the bookshelf. You briskly walked over to the tall bookshelf up against the wall behind the desk.

‘Are those numbers?’ Your eyebrows knit together as you delicately run your finger down the spines of a book before you. Examining the books, all of these books were in English, and each of them had numbers at the end of their spines.

‘One, two, three, four…’ Counting out the number of books in each row there were exactly fifteen books, all numbered. ‘Eight rows,’ Your eyes widened as you registered your own words, the pieces of the puzzle started to come together.

The carnage outside, and the lack of carnage in here, the footprints, the clue, it was all falling in place.

“She was in here when it happened,” You mused, your thoughts flowing straight from your head to your mouth. “There wasn’t a fight or struggle. Ji-Eun Duri left with them,”

“What are you talking about?!” Soomin is quick to defend the older woman. “My mother would never leave with the enemy!”

“She didn’t leave by choice, no. But she did cooperate with them. Oh yeah, she left with them, alright,” Hurrying back to the desk, you pick up the paper sitting on the book before your brain finally processing Soomin’s words. “Ji-Eun Duri is your mother?” You blanch at the other female.

“N一no, well, yes. She’s my adoptive mother,” The girl clarifies her hands creating round gestures as she did. “But that’s not the point,” Shaking off the question she speaks.

“Duri would never leave with the enemy,”

“Oh, but she did,” Your head tilts as you rush back to the bookshelf, pulling out the five books highlighted on the first column of the table. “But there’s a reason why she left,”

“Why are you getting books?” Taehyung asks, confusion muddling his already sour expression as he watches you gather book after book in your arms.

Once you retrieved the five books from the shelf back to the desk, you organized them by order of the rows they were in, believing that would be the order of the message.

“You mean the books?” Soomin’s voice quiets as the revelation dawns on her. “The numbers! The shelves! How did I not see that before?!” She exclaims, rushing to the desk, determined to lend you a hand. And to be useful to the search.

“If the first column means bookshelf and the second column means book number. Then the third column must mean page number,” The female mafiosos babbles, catching onto the pattern. “So the fourth column would be the word, but what’s the fifth column?” Frown lines set on her forehead as he faces another dead end.

“If we follow the progression, then the fifth should mean letter,” You chuckle when Soomin was unable to understand the last column even though the answer was right before her.

While you and Soomin were occupied with deciphering the message of the code, turning to the page the paper dictated, then to the word and letter. Another figure entered the chaos which was Ji-Eun’s office.

“Namjoon-ssi, I came here as soon as I could,” A smooth voice, comparable to softest silk spoke from beyond the agape double doors.

“Ah yes, Hyuk, come in,” Namjoon invited the owner of the voice into the room.

Even you couldn’t resist the urge to peek at the holder of such a honeyed voice. Your curious gaze landed on the figure of a beautiful man talking to the don’s right-hand man.

He had porcelain pale skin with a pair of the brightest hazel orbs you had ever laid eyes on. A sharp, defined jawline with pitch-black locks gracefully resting against his forehead. He was truly beautiful, of course to you no one could compare to Jimin, but the specimen standing before you was quite fine as well.

“Oh? Should I be worried?” Jimin chuckles, a deep fuschia dusts your cheeks, having been caught ogling admiring another man.

“Of course not,” You huff, pout puffing onto your cheeks.

“You’re adorable,” The silver-blond whispers, pressing a soft kiss against your plush lips, pulling you into him.

“Oh, hush you,” Mumbling into his pillowy lips, you place once last chaste kiss on them before returning to your code-cracking. A quiet chuckle leaves his cherry-pink lips as he eases away from the desk to the sofas where Taehyung had found himself a seat.

“So when did that happen?” Soomin goads as she flipped the first book of the list open.

“When did what happen?” You return cooly, taking the paper with the message, and rereading over the contents. The sly woman gives you a shit-eating grin, her eyes possessing an incredibly entertained glint.

“Whatever, just turn to page twenty-one,” You commanded. Soomin lets out a soft chortle before turning the page you had instructed to. “There are more than one numbers highlighter on this row, so I’m guessing two different pages,”

“And the highlighter colors must coincide with the which number is for what page,” Soomin adds.

“First is word number three, letters one and five,”

Craning your neck to look into the book, you count the words from the top line to the left, landing on “Jadeites”. What did that even mean?

“Jadeites, so a ‘j’ and an ‘i’,” Soomin noted down the two letters.

“Keep the capitals,” You instruct, a woman cunning enough to create such a message would know to keep those minor details in check.

“Alright, next page,” Soomin looks to you expectantly.

“Twenty-three; word five; letters one, two, three, and four,”

Turning to the commanded page, Soomin counts down the words before reciting her findings. “The word is “during”. So, “d”, “u”, “r”, and “i”,”

“Duri?” Combining together the letters you said aloud the word that came as a result. Your expression hardened at the outcome of the search - it was a sign - you were on the right track.

“Next book,” Sharply you call for the search to continues.

“Right,” Soomin sets down the book in her hold, lifting the next book in sequence.

“Page fifteen; words twelve and twenty,”

“It’s “thirty” and “eight”, any letters?” She asks. With a shake of your head, you reply a silent ‘no’.

“Okay next,” Picking up the next novel, she asks for directions.

“Page ten; words seven, twenty-eight, and thirty,’’

“So, “at”, “i” and “cloud”,” The peach-blonde woman read out her findings.

‘At I cloud,’ Wasn’t that... Your eyes wide as you finally understood Drui’s plan. And if your hunch was correct then this would certainly lead you directly to her.

“Soomin, what kind of phone does Ji-Eun carry?” You ask, urgency lacing your voice.

“An apple, why?” She answers, and the realization is immediate “Oh!”

“I’ll go get a laptop,” Soomin calls, scurrying out of the room.

“What happened?” Taehyung straightens in his seat when Soomin abruptly dashes out of the office. “What’s going on? Where is she going?” A slew of questions falls from the brunette's lips as he slowly lowers himself onto the sofa.

“What’s wrong, love? Did you two find something?” Jimin inquires, cruising over to where you furiously turned pages of a thick book.

“If this is what I think it is then it’ll only be minutes until we find her,” You say as you run your fingers across the page of the book, eyes scanning over the many words before taking a shaky step back. A wide grin curling on your lips.

“Oh, you sneaky woman,” Chuckling with a shake of your head you scribble down words onto a piece of paper.

“Alright, I got it,” Soomin returns with a slender silver laptop computer.

“I thought Ji-Eun didn’t have a tracker on her,” Hoseok said, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“That’s what I thought too,” Soomin admitted, taking long and unjustifiably confident strides towards the desk.

“Wait, so she does have a tracker?” Taehyung's statement sounds more of a question as he tries to piece together what the two crazy women were spouting.

“Not exactly,” The peach-blonde female purs.

“I am thoroughly confused,” The crimson-haired mafioso mumbles, arms folded over his chest, Hoseok stands beside Namjoon at the desk.

“You see she carries an Apple phone,” You begin, your excited gaze meeting their befuddled ones.

“And?” Taehyung grunts. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You see, most to all smart-phones these days come with a built-in GPS tracker, and that is especially for Apple,” The peach-haired female continues your explanation.

“All Apple devices come in with a “Find My Phone” feature where you can track your lost phone from an Apple computer or any other IOS device by using your Apple ID and signing into iCloud,” Piggybacking on Soomin’s continuation you fully expound the group in your findings.

“So you intend to track Duri’s location from her phone,” Jimin restates your intentions in clear terms, shuffling closer to better see the computer screen.

“Okay, settings, and here’s the Apple ID,” You instruct, shuffling the piece of paper the peach-blonde had jotted down the fragments of the encoded message.

As directed, she opens the settings of the computer, typing the email of the apple ID into the text bar before clicking the next option.

“The password?” Her questioning gaze lifts to meet yours.

“Come find me, no space,” You answer with a knowing grin.

“No, she didn’t,” Soomin crowed, pressing both her palms on the desk, her faze holding an oddly amused yet annoyed expression.

Scoffing, the blonde enters the password, immediately scouring the settings for the “Find My Phone” feature once the program accepted the password.

“And there she is,” Airily, Soomin breaths out. The tracking feature promptly displayed the image of the phone’s location. A smile erupts on your face as you see all your hard work pay off. Your chest blooming with pride at your achievement, in such a short time frame no less.

However, the sense of victory is short-lived when you realize that someone could have easily taken Duri’s cell-phone and planted it in another location, possibly a trap. It wouldn’t be too difficult to do so. Not to mention it would make an incredibly effective trap as you would have no choice but to fall for the trap, that is if you wanted to retrieve Duri.

“(Y/n)?” Jimin calls your name, quickly noting your now crestfallen expression.

“The phone could have been planted,” You mumble. “This could be a trap,”

The energy of the room falls, just as yours had, before a honeyed voice chime in.

“Then why don’t we have people scout the area from afar?” The charcoal-haired man that had later entered the scene suggests.

“And you are?” You ask the male standing across from you, beyond the desk. That was the man you had been caught ogling, his pitch-black locks falling to the side with the slight tilt of his head.

“Ri Hyuk, but please call me Hyuk (L/n)-ssi” He introduces himself with a soft bow.

“Oh, and you already know me?” Surprise lacing your tone, unaware that word about yourself had spread in the mafia community.

“With my line of work it would be strange for me to not know,” Chuckling softly, Hyuk pushes his fists into the pockets of his slacks.

“Right,” An awkward replay leaves your lips, unsure of how to react as the male stared daggers into you. His gaze was sharp, plush lips curling into a foxy smile. The more you interacted with the male the more he disconcerted you, you could feel his eyes appraising you, analyzing you. That man may have been handsome; he did not exude the warmth Jimin did, in fact, Hyuk’s presence brought a certain chill to the room.

“Okay so why don’t you give me the location you found and I’ll send out a team to scope out the place?” Namjoon offers, his voice bringing you back from your thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” Your head turns to Soomin expectantly, your brain having ceased all function at the moment.

“Here, just take the computer,” She lifts the slender body of the laptop, handing the computer to the tall mafioso.

The room settles into a stifling silence as the group waits to hear back from the team Namjoon had sent out. You quietly sat on the sofas beside Jimin, toying with the straps of the holsters around your thighs.

“I have to say (L/n)-ssi, the way you solved the case was quite impressive,” Hyuk speaks, breaking the long quiet.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Sheepishly grinning, you accept the praise before falling back into the silence. Only for the same male to break it once again with an interesting observation.

“I must say, Ji-Eun Duri has quite the taste in flowers,” Humming, Hyuk gestures to the vibrant yellow blossoms decorating the cylindrical lavender flower vase sitting on Duri’s desk.

“Huh?” With all that had been happening you had completely overlooked the beautiful blooms that gracefully sat on the older woman’s desk. You hadn’t realized the onyx haired woman had an interest in flowers.

“Tansies?” Out of sheer habit, your mind had automatically identified the vivid bloom. Your eyes widen, hearing your own words.

“(Y/n), what's wrong?!” Jimin exclaims when you spring out of your seat, your eyes trained on the seemingly harmless flora.

‘Tansies’

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Tansy: Hostiliy; “I declare war against you,”

#mafia au!#mafia au #park jimin x reader #Mafia Park Jimin x reader #Park Jimin #bts mafia au #Mafia Park Jimin #Mafia Jin #mafia namjoon #mafia taehyung #mafia hoseok #mafia yoongi #mafia jungkook #Doctor reader kind of #Purple Irises #Mafia BTS #bts fic

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